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Aralim 125

The wedding of Hayan and Arith was held at a vineyard on the spacious north side of Rema. Estates, lodges, and work-yards dotted a landscape of sapling trees and deforested, grassy hills. The chalet where they hosted the ceremony was decorated with white silk wall-drapes and floral arrangements that would have filled a dozen carts. Aralim wondered what deals Hayan had struck so far during his tenure as a Selected to afford such extravagance—others had assured Aralim that Selected were not paid because their jobs provided personal reward, though he, personally, had never seen any. He had no need for excessive capital. Continue reading Aralim 125

Farek 78

“Did you want to say anything?” Sha asked.

Farek glanced around the small, reeking room again. He had expected Lord Sha to utter some judgement over the kneeling prisoner, before the executioner brought his axe down—but Sha looked content to give a nod and have it done. Farek stared at Polanar for a moment. The man had been brought in a few moments earlier, shoved down at a chopping block, and remained there quietly. He looked starved. Continue reading Farek 78

Renado 74

After Ira left them for a vine-cloaked terrace, they were seven. Three walked ahead of Ren and three walked behind him. Ren was armed with his bastard sword on one hip and his hand-span knife on the other—plus the little knife in his boot. Virn, walking straight ahead, carried that enormous two-hand blade hung upon his back. Asar had a shortsword and a handful of knives strapped across his chest. Omma, a head taller than all of them save Virn, pushed his way through the crowd with burly hands or the weighty staff he carried in one arm. Bran walked beside him, hand resting casually on his own sabre. Urro preferred a one-handed axe, though his man Kal was armed with a buckler shield and a hefty thrusting blade.

The mercenaries, armed to the teeth, cut a wide path through the streets of Saanazar. It was time for answers or for blood—or both. Continue reading Renado 74

Aralim 124

Fortress Marana bustled with soldiers and servants. The mosaic bricks that spread across the floor in the shape of a grand tree were still drying from the morning rain. Aralim walked across those gleaming branches, his old staff seemingly mute in the sound of heavy boots marching and sharpening wheels turning. He must have stood out in his dark green cloak and grey-brown hair, for Sergeant Grendar, coming down the steps of a nearby barracks, spotted him while everyone still seemed like nondescript soldiers to Aralim. Continue reading Aralim 124

Farek 77

When Farek asked if Matek could remain on account of his witnessing Polanar’s crimes, Matriarch Valakono waved her ring-laden fingers. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not believe there is much more to discuss about Polanar. Your man should remain in the hall with the other guards, unless needed.”

“Very well,” Farek replied. He gave Matek a nod and was promptly left alone with Valakono and Sha. Continue reading Farek 77

Aralim 123

There was a hawk of some sort, circling far overhead. As Aralim walked down the evening street, between scattered rings of chatting townspeople, he watched it glide. It didn’t even need to flap its wings—as though the wind spirit itself bowed in service to it. Was it hunting here, in the middle of the city?

Soon, Aralim arrived at the estate of the Hanez family. Miresh had given him instructions on how to find it. He had not arranged an appointment with the Selected or his wife, but that served his purposes just fine. Continue reading Aralim 123

Arn 62

A dry, salty wind tore at Arn’s scarred face as he drifted across the Deep once more. The sky tilted between day and night—ahead of Arn was a low moon and behind him was the setting sun. With a long oar and bulging muscles, Arn pulled his raft across the scattered waves for hours. Glaring at one another across the ocean plane, the sun and moon did not set.

Arn finally grew weary as he began to remember that he had once been weak. He had nearly starved to death, hadn’t he? Continue reading Arn 62

Renado 73

The return to Saanazar had been unfortunately uneventful. Renado and his entourage to Trell reunited with Urro and his men in one of the taverns they had learned to trust—only to learn that no news had returned from their Squora assassin. Then two weeks had passed, but still no news had come. Either it had been very successful, Ren told his men, or it had been very not. Continue reading Renado 73

Farek 76

“It’s been many years since I’ve been,” Archpriest Hartho said, in answer to Erril’s question. The two sat behind Farek, in the middle of the rowboat. Farek knelt in the bow, watching the mist rolling out of Cobblestone Bog as they glided into it. Around them rose skeletons of centuries past—first a watchtower from the Reclamation Period, after the Fall of the Orrish; then the seaweed-strewn flying buttresses of the New Empire’s glory day, now an overgrown ribcage scarred by saltwater; and there, the waterlogged wooden buildings of yesteryear’s slums. Farek lifted his eyes up to the dark mountaintops and the lonely castles that overlooked the city. This was Noress-That-Was, a city in constant loss.

And Farek brought news of more. Continue reading Farek 76

Therelin 22

Therelin was walking back up the path toward his makeshift camp when it started to rain. He had just picked a half-dozen herbs that he had not seen since his departure from Keth, as well as two handfuls of acai berries, a passion fruit, and a piece of redtree bark which strengthened the teeth when chewed. By the time he reached his leaf-strewn lean-to, his hand was smeared with dark berry juice and the bark had started to soften. Continue reading Therelin 22