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‘No matter,’ Killen murmured. ‘Turns out I like being the usurper, the most feared skylark on the planet,’ he added, clapping his hands around the taciturn warrior. ‘Not.’
Kaxim grunted. ‘I hear you. You’ve got a shitload of work ahead out for you, living to your reputation.’
Kione sucked his teeth. ‘Ignore him of little faith. Welcome to The Kambí of the elite Ka?'m??r? Hunters of the Kainôs Katáne Army. To your kälajan,’ the smiling man gestured about the tent.
‘The moment you’re announced to the military, it will become yours,’ he went on. ‘Its location is the nerve centre of the mobile camp – the war room, where all the generals discuss and agree on the battle strategies. Surrounding it are the tents of your commanders and warlords who lead the different squadrons of the Imperial army. You can ghost in and out of the kälajan as you wish.’
Killen shook his head. ‘I’ll keep to the humble grunt ruse for now and request a small kajan nearby. I want you two, of course, to keep heading the forces as you’ve been doing.’
Kaxim found a seat and settled into it, legs splayed. ‘How are you finding our small settlement?’
Killen sauntered to the fireplace, leaning in to warm his hands. ‘It’s impressive.’
‘So it should be. This valley is one of the most mysterious and evocative regions in the kingdom of Katáne.’
Feeling his temperature rise to a comfortable level, Killen turned to the outer edge of the tent and walked to it, touching it with one hand.
The kälajan’s fabric rippled, and an energy unfurled from his hand, running over the surface and turning it transparent.
Kione stared, eyes wide. ‘Need to learn that trick.’
‘You’re a magíkus; you can do it if you think hard enough,’ Killen drawled with a slight smile.
‘Correction. I’m an enchanter.’ Kione grinned, revealing dimples in his chiselled, handsome cheeks.
‘Which is why half the women of Kos are weeping in their beds this morning from his sweet nothings and empty promises,’ Kaxim groused.
‘To think I missed you two squabbling squawkers these last few days,’ Killen growled with a raised brow.
He moved to the edge of the massive tent and scanned the landscape. ‘What am I looking out at?’ he asked.
Kione jerked his chin and extended an arm to the roiling view: ‘KoLakainos, the Thousand-Mile Lands, a vast region of five continents. However, beyond those lands lie the land of the wild avi and the secretive Kingdom of the Ilki .’
‘I understand the Ilki are sovereign?’ Killen murmured.
‘They are,’ his Second Armourer said. ‘The two realms are separated and profit by trading their gold and other riches with Kos.’
‘But what do I see with my eyes before me?’ the Král-In-Waiting went on.
‘The Desolation of Karth and its untamed ranges. The harsh lands that flay, the skinning place, the paring ground of sharp stones and rugged soil. To get through it, you need to traverse its steep, inaccessible gorges, where one can find the fierce eyries of the fox owl. It’s where the spotted grey and banded k?str?ls soar to the ‘singing wells’ of the pitch-black lakes.
Killen gave his Second Armourer a quick chin jerk, his eye trained on the eerie and striking ebony form landform thrusting high into the sky. ‘Appreciate the poetic. Give me the real. First, the mountain. Why does it emit so much íkan energy?’
Kione stepped up to the view. ‘It is rumoured to be where Khiron the Great, the first Kíríga of Katáne, lies.’
Kaxim cursed under his breath. ‘The Desolation below and the kíwanja above it are sacred battlefields where spirits, powers, and principalities have warred for eons. Tis a place of mystery and legend. On the lee side of the ridge is the Umbra of K’Sia. Where the arokí roam and stir up their kätu and dark charms carried in the wind all over the planet.’
Killen’s eyes stayed fixed on the obsidian, craggy pinnacle looming ahead. ‘Those mountains have been speaking to me since we arrived on Katáne. One of these days, I’ll fly to those pinnacles to find out why they call to me.’
In the distance, below the murky glass-like summit, was a sprawling metropolis of ebony marble hovering above an arid black-lava landscape punctuated with rocks and boulders.
Even higher still, elevated over the peaks of the grand city, was a massive ancient sculpture of a winged bird of prey.
Killen jerked his chin at it. ‘And that? I came in from the south and missed any northern aspect views.’
‘It is one of the oldest effigies in all Katáne. A representation of our deity, Kag?an - the Sky Eagle, the giver of a favourable wind. It’s seen as a protective talisman against enemies, both human, natural or otherwise.’
‘If you scope with care at the city’s layout, what do you see?’ Kione teased.
