The Horn's Call...

 Chapter two

The rustling sound echoed again through the darkness, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.

"What was that?" Adrielle whispered, her small voice trembling, her wide eyes reflecting the moonlight.

Regent Cormac's face darkened, his posture stiffening as he scanned the shadows beyond the porch. His hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his belt, but he quickly relaxed, trying to maintain a sense of calm for his daughters. "I'll go check," he said, his voice low but reassuring. He gave Nella a quick glance, a silent promise that he would return safely.

As Cormac moved to rise, the faintest shuffle of footsteps interrupted him. A figure emerged from the shadows, moving toward the porch with a purposeful gait. It was Mrs. Ailsa, their neighbor, wrapped in a heavy cloak. The old woman's face was partially hidden by the hood, but her sharp eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

"Nella, Cormac," Ailsa called in a soft voice, her presence both unexpected and oddly comforting. "I hope I'm not interrupting. I brought the herbs for you, dear," she said, stepping forward with a small bundle of dried leaves and roots wrapped in cloth.

Nella relaxed visibly at the sight of her. "Ailsa, you're a godsend," she said, her voice soft, though there was a hint of weariness in her tone. "Thank you."

Ailsa handed her the bundle, her wrinkled hands brushing gently against Nella's. "These should help ease the pains and give you some rest," she said with a reassuring smile. She paused, glancing toward Cormac, then back to Nella. "But, dear, you must be cautious. The nights have been strange lately."

Nella's brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Strange how?"

The old woman leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping lower, though there was no one else nearby to overhear. "Whispers," she murmured, glancing toward the edge of the woods, where the darkness seemed deeper. "Drakmarites. I've heard talk of them moving again. Some say they're gathering in secret, meeting in the shadows, plotting things we can't yet understand." She glanced at Cormac, her expression growing more serious. "Be careful, Cormac. There's unrest in the air."

Cormac's gaze hardened at the mention of the Drakmarites, but he kept his voice steady. "I'll keep my eyes open, Ailsa. Thank you for the warning."

Ailsa nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the horizon, where the faintest hint of a storm cloud loomed on the edge of the sky. "And you, Cormac," she added, her voice more insistent now. "Be careful going out for the fishing tomorrow. The tides can be treacherous, and the waters have been... unsettled, like the land itself. It wouldn't hurt to take extra care."

Ailsa's words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. Cormac met her gaze and gave a firm nod. "I will, Ailsa. I promise."

The old woman gave a small, knowing smile, then turned toward the woods. "I'll leave you to your peace, then," she said, her voice warm again as she began to retreat. "Take care of yourself, Lady Nella. And you, Cormac, stay safe."

Nella watched her leave, feeling a tinge of unease settle in her chest, her thoughts swirling. The mention of the Drakmarites was a stark reminder that there were forces at play beyond their quiet little kingdom—forces they couldn't yet fully understand.

Turning to Cormac, she caught his eye again. "Do you think the Drakmarites are truly stirring? What if it's more than just whispers?"

Cormac looked at her, his face unreadable, but his hand gently rested on her shoulder. "We'll find out soon enough," he said quietly, his tone resolute. "But for now, let's focus on tonight. We'll face whatever comes together."

Nella nodded, her heart still heavy, but the steady presence of her husband beside her was a small comfort in the growing tension that had begun to settle over their home.

**********

The following morning, Regent Cormac Maris arrived at the riverbank, he frowned as something felt amiss. The river, usually teeming with fishermen at dawn, was eerily still. The usual bustle of voices and laughter had vanished, replaced by a strange silence. The water—normally full and flowing—seemed almost dry. Only the occasional chirping of birds and the hum of crickets filled the air, as if the whole world had paused.

He unrolled his sleeves and began pulling his canoe into the water, the creak of the wood beneath his fingers the only sound. It was strange—everything felt off today. His wife, Nella, should have been here with him, setting out the nets and preparing to sell the day's catch at the market. But she had stayed home, bedridden with the child they were expecting. Normally, his three daughters would be here too, helping with the fish or setting the market wares. But today, he was alone.

As he pushed the canoe deeper into the river, he set the net, trying to shake off the unease creeping in his chest. Just as he adjusted the sails, a distant sound reached his ears—a harsh, frantic horn blast, its mournful echo cutting through the stillness of the morning. His hands froze on the paddle. The sound was unmistakable. Something was wrong.

The horns continued to blast, confusion gave way to alarm. Regent Cormac swiftly paddled his canoe back to the shore, his heart racing with every stroke. He leapt out of the canoe, his feet pounding against the dry earth as he hastened toward his home.

Fear crept up his spine as he wondered what could be happening in the kingdom. The horns were usually reserved for emergencies, and the incessant blasting sent a chill down his spine. He quickened his pace, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.