Free To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) by Claire Frank Page A

The hum of conversation grew as the companions settled into their meal.
    Callum looked across the table at Daro and raised his eyebrows. “What’s that in your pocket?”
    Daro lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile as he leaned back from the table and patted down his pockets. He felt a round disk and pulled it out. One of Callum’s coins. Daro laughed, shaking his head, and flipped the coin back to Callum. “I don’t know how you do that,” he said.
    Callum shrugged his shoulders, caught the coin, and made it disappear again with a flick of his fingers. Daro loved it when Callum showed off his sleight of hand. One might assume Callum was an Illusionist, with a Wielding ability that aided his tricks. He was a powerful Wielder, but his gift was Empathy, the ability to influence and control emotions. Daro didn’t know how Callum had learned to fool people the way he did, but it always made for an amusing evening.
    Daro turned to his wife and she smiled, the stress gone from her eyes. He lifted his mug and washed down his food with a long pull of the rich ale.
    “Serv and I were in Madrona a few months back,” Griff said and the table quieted at the mention of the town. “The Keep is fully manned again and the town is looking downright lively.”
    “Daro and I haven’t been there in a long time,” Cecily said. “I think they were still rebuilding the last time we were there.”
    Madrona Keep was where the war had begun, and where Daro had first met many of the companions. Fearing a rebellion, King Hadran had called together the heads of the noble houses he believed to be traitorous. He ambushed them under a banner of peace in what had become known as the Madrona Massacre. Mira, Sumara and Alastair were among the survivors.
    Mira spoke up. “I’ll never forget climbing over that wall, seeing Daro reaching up for me. I thought I was dead and then there he was.”
    “We all thought we were dead,” Alastair said.
    “How did you get out?” Edson asked, his glance roving around the table.
    “It was chaos,” Alastair said. “Hadran’s men attacked without warning, killing people and setting fire to everything. I don’t think Hadran expected anyone to get out, but a few of us did.”
    “Daro and I came running to help when we saw the smoke,” Cecily said, her voice quiet. “We had almost left the town before the conclave began. As soon as I heard Hadran would be at the Keep, I wanted to leave. A problem with one of our horses kept us longer than we’d planned.”
    “There wasn’t much we could do,” Daro said. “We grabbed as many survivors as we could and ferried them into the woods. Hadran’s men rampaged through that poor town, burning most of it to the ground.” He put an arm around Cecily’s shoulders. He knew it was hard for her to relive those memories.
    “That was a dark day,” Alastair said, nodding slowly. “But not without its bright spots. Daro here did manage to save a certain man by the name of Rogan, and that certainly had important ramifications later.”
    Edson’s eyes widened. “You saved the king?”
    “He wasn’t the king yet,” Daro said. “We helped whoever we could that night.”
    “I can’t forget the night we were all holed up in that cave, north of the city,” Griff said, shaking his head. “We were so sure Hadran’s soldiers were coming for us, we must have jumped at every sound.”
    “Or the night Callum snuck us all back into the city,” Sumara said. “I recall Cecily was the only one willing to trust you when you hustled us down into your underground hiding place. The rest of us wondered if we would end up worse off than before.”
    Callum smiled. “Cecily, you always were my favorite,” he said with a wink.
    Daro took another swig of ale and listened as the companions recalled moments from the war. The strange, the surprising, the frightening and even the amusing. No one spoke of the truly bad memories, particularly the night that had ended the