Free Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3) by A. Evermore

gone to the One Light, there’s no shame in that,’ he said the last proudly although his lips trembled.
    ‘I had wondered at the quietness of your mourning,’ Marakon admitted. There had been no sobbing wails, or inconsolable people amongst the Gurlanka, only a shared solemn silence. ‘But I agree. When people said my father should leave the army and war behind, and live to a good old age, he used to say, “Better to die on the battlefield than to die an old man in bed.” I have never found a reason to disagree with him. I have lost so many friends I find it hard to mourn anymore. I think I pity myself more for not having fallen.’
    Tarn smiled, his eyes glistening with tears that did not fall.
    ‘Is she your partner?’ Marakon asked, indicating behind him to the Elder’s house where Jarlain still slept.
    ‘No, she’s my older sister. Half-sister, we have the same mother. Her father was killed by Seadevils before she was born.’
    ‘Ah, you seemed alike,’ Marakon nodded.
    ‘She likes you,’ Tarn grinned. Marakon simply smiled back sheepishly. Knowing that pleased him.
    Two of the Elders, the deaf High Elder he’d nicknamed Red Beard and a woman, joined them. The High Elder spoke.
    ‘You fought bravely and selflessly today, half-elven. You did not have to help, but you did even after the horrors you faced in the Drowning Wastes. We thank you. You and your knights are always welcome as equals among us,’ he said spreading his arms wide to include the other knights.
    Marakon stood up. ‘It is my duty,’ he said. Even though the man was deaf he could lip read and understand what was said in other ways. Something which Marakon marvelled at. ‘The Seadevils took many from me before I arrived here. It was an honour to fight back alongside the Gurlanka,’ he bowed slightly to the High Elder.
    The female Elder smiled and said, ‘There are things we need to speak on, Marakon half-elven. If you have time now, the sooner the better for we know you will soon leave us.’ Marakon raised an eyebrow, how could they know he planned to leave?  
    ‘I have time,’ he said. He’d given up trying to work out how they always seemed to know so much about him. Whoever these Hidden Ones were that they spoke to, they knew about a lot of things. She inclined her head, and led him inside the house via another door that bypassed the sick and wounded.

    Marakon followed the Elders up a winding wooden staircase until they came to the top floor. A large open room stretched out in front of them. There were no windows or doors, just thick wooden posts supporting the roof and a waist high protective handrail all the way around. The climate was so warm that the Gurlanka did not need to shut out the weather, and welcomed the constant sea breeze. Huge purple flowers wound themselves around the supporting posts and balcony, scenting the breeze with their sweet fragrance.
    The floor was made of orange wood polished to a high shine. The house was no different to the other Gurlanka houses in material, just bigger and of a slightly different layout. A small pot atop a metal tripod under which a flame flickered stood to one corner of the room. From it steamed a delicate scent of incense that Marakon did not recognise as it mingled with the smell of the purple flowers.
    The other Elders came up the stairs, nodded respectfully to Marakon, and sat cross-legged in a circle in the centre of the room. He admired their flexibility despite their age. Red Beard motioned him to join them and together they sat in the circle. His stomach rumbled. He’d already had plenty of bread and soup but his hunger was insatiable today. He hoped they couldn’t hear it.
    They sat quietly in the circle. The minutes ticked by, but still they sat, their breathing slowed, their eyes focusing in front of them but seeing nothing. He tried not to fidget and wondered if they were somehow communing silently. He never sat still and hated to be alone too long with his