Nevermore Vol. 2

BTW this is a continuation of my (planned) Nevermore series, set 21 years before the first book. Please read the first one (find it under stories-fantasy or on my profile) and give me advice about writing under comments.

Velten grimaced as he rode into the capital of Nevermore, Greenhelm. Lines of refugees queued to enter the city. As Velten joined one of the queues, he heard scraps of conversation from the other tired people queuing: "They say the Beken Bay fell to the Kargs yesterday", "Apparently Neverhelm is riddled with spies" and even "The Kargs are led by wizards, you know. They're demons!"
Velten sighed. As he reached the gate one of the guards stopped him. He showed the guard his left palm. An odd symbol was tattooed there; a triangle with three lines slashing through it.
"Lord Velten! I'm so sorry!"
Velten hated that sort of thing, sucking up just because he could have them boiled alive at a mere whim. It wasn't like he was GOING to.
The leaders of all 15 kingdoms were assembled in the only council of all the kingdoms in the history of Nevermore.
Velten was Lord of the Beken Bay, a once quiet area of fishermen. He observed the other lords. King Argamir, a young, quiet man who ruled Neverhold. Garna, Duchess of Stran, which neighboured Velten's land. Velten and Garna detested each other, each regarding each other as a Kargish spy. Then there was the High King Yolc, the one who had called the meeting. He was old, not particularly clever but so guileful and experienced you'd never know.
"My land has fallen" Said Velten, "A real war is upon us."
"We do not want a war." Said Argamir, solemnly.
"We already have one!" Shouted the hot tempered chieftain of the three most southern islands, U'Ra.
"Have no intention of trying to fight the Kargs," Said the rather oily Earl of the Plains of Kren, Solberian.
"Anyone who wishes to surrender, surrender and leave this council now!" Shouted Yolc, livid with rage.
No one left.

***

That night, Argamir couldn't sleep. He hated the idea of war, although he was a skilled fighter and a brave man.
A quiet noise bled through the night, a kind of singing. He pulled a dagger out of his pillowcase and crept out of his suite in the palace of kings.
The young king slipped down the corridor towards the mysterious noise, which seemed to be coming from Garna's suite.
As he crept in, to his surprise he saw that Garna was asleep, with 2 figures standing over her. He watched and listened to the chanting, which was like the voice of mountains.
He had heard about the chants of the Kargs, which worked by some kind of hypnosis. The Kargs could be trying to control the council via hypnosis. If the legendarily brave Garna gave up, or joined the Kargs, the people of Nevermore would feel there was no hope.
Argamir crept up and knocked one of the chanters out with the butt of his dagger. The other one yelled, and Garna was awake with her knife in the belly of one of the Kargs.
The Karg murmured, blood pouring out of his mouth, "This is just the beginning. The beginning of the end of Nevermore."