Wielders of Magic, Book 2: The Trinity

Rey walked in front of them, yards ahead as it poured down rain. He didn’t want to talk to them, or anyone, and if anything disturbed him now, he would kill it. Rentham was gone, everyone was gone, it was just him and their small family.

Dwindling fast as the days went by.

“Rey!” Drusilla called from behind. “Can we rest a moment!? My feet hurt! Please! Jaden needs some rest too, his ankle is acting up as well!”

He stopped walking and stood their, as still as a scare crow. He didn’t say anything, just let the rain fall on his head as the sky rumbled. He had never seen it coming, the death of their leader. How could they manage without someone as powerful and wise as that man? How could they even think of going on without their golden key to unlock the next door?

The answer was simple. They needed a new key.

It had to be forged in a dragons breath, tried in the furnace of wisdom, and washed in the rivers of tears. It had to be a special key, not just anything that came out of the black smiths shop, but one that could both lock, and open doors ahead.

Kings don’t drag their feet.

He listened to the morning air, the rain sprinkling on his face from the clouds above. He knew what he had to do.

You must be strong in times so bleak.

Don’t drag your feet,

kings don’t drag their feet.

Your scepter is a heavy one,

I know, you know,

but we still don’t drag our feet.

Your crown is weighing on your head,

crushing your skull,

making you restless,

but we still do not drag our feet.

kings do not drag their feet.

Yes . . .

I know, you know.

We are the unloved,

the precious,

the unappreciated,

the damaged,

but the strong do not drag their feet.

We never have.