“And it is just your people wishing to come to the top?”
I tensed. “No, sir. I have with me the Prince of Otacia and a few of his subjects. He is the one who set us free.”
A moment of silence. “Who was it who attacked you?” the voice asked skeptically.
I cringed. “I know how all this must sound—but Igon gave me a message before he passed. I can trust them.”
I met eyes with Silas, who looked surprised, then relief washed over when the voice said, “Very well, touch the stone again, and you may enter. Just place a hand on your horses, and they will travel, too, if you wish.”
I relayed that information to Silas and his group, then obeyed by touching the stone of the mountain.
In a flash, I was standing atop Mount Rozavar. I gasped at just how beautiful it was. Lush, green grass with a medley of wildflowers, multiple wooden homes with smoke floating out of the chimneys. Behind them was the largest peak of the mountain with a cave mouth. And the view of the setting sun…an orange and pink sky with light fluffy clouds.
Just as Igon said, the temperature up here was pleasant.
Elowen flashed beside me, then Viola, then Merrick. Silas, his wife, and the men were next, and all of them gaped at the stunning sight as they held the reins to the horses. After them, one by one, my people found their way up the mountain top.
An older man and woman emerged from one of the homes, strolling hand in hand. I walked towards them, an anxious smile on my face.
The first thing I noticed was how familiar the older man looked.
“Immeron,” he cut in. He gestured to the woman smiling nervously beside him. “This is my wife, Ayla.”
She reached out, and I shook her hand. Both Immeron and Ayla had to be around Igon’s age—in their sixties.
“I must say, I was not expecting this many people,” he said. The company of one probably felt strange for him, after it being just him and his family for who knows how long.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I am so grateful for your hospitality. Igon told me of this place. He was a friend of yours?”
Immeron’s eyes went to the ground. “My brother.”
My eyes widened.
That’s why he looks familiar.
“My Gods, I am so sorry.” I could see the resemblance now—same straight nose, same full lips—though Immeron’s eyes were a contrast to Igon’s topaz; his were a deep blue. I wonder why Igon didn’t mention it…
“Who killed him?” Immeron asked with tears in his eyes.
I froze. I wanted to lie, considering I had no idea how Immeron would react to Silas if he knew he was responsible. But if Igon was a seer, there was always a chance his brother could be one, too.
“Silas,” I whispered. “But I assure you he has had a change of heart. Surprisingly, Igon even said he forgave him…with a smile on his face of all things…” I shook my head and then cringed.
Immeron stared off at Silas, then merely nodded. “That sounds like Igon.”
I looked over to Edmund, wishing to change the subject. “My…friend over here lost part of his arm and leg from an Undead,” I began.
Immeron tensed, and Ayla’s eyes widened. “An Undead? We…we have a necromancer in Tovagoth?” she exclaimed.
I nodded. “It seems so. One of them attacked Edmund, but thankfully, we were able to remove the limbs before the curse took his life.” I paused. “I was hoping there was some way you could make something for him to walk with. A new leg, perhaps. A new arm.” I looked at Ayla. “Igon told me of your prosthetic,” I noted, observing the black twirling of material that made up her limb.
She nodded as she raised her arm, and I gasped when she moved her synthetic fingers, the flow as natural as real fingers.
“By the Gods,” I breathed. “Incredible.”
Ayla smiled softly, and Immeron stroked his beard. Frowning, he looked to Silas. “Why should I help an Otacian soldier? The Prince has a reputation even us on the mountain are aware of.”
“Igon’s message was cryptic. But I know him mentioning your wife’s arm had to be for Edmund.” I looked over to Edmund, then back at Immeron.
