From Old Numa, the Ambassador and his companions sailed to Maykren. Aralim met a second time with Captain Yau, who continued his raft service. The man had expanded his business and now owned a few rafts, each staffed by a single crew member. His business model—of having the passengers of his rafts help crew them—seemed to be working for him. To Devran and Lerela’s chagrin, Aralim decided to hire one of Yau’s rafts. Continue reading Aralim 113
In Old Numa, Aralim finally went back ashore. He had not bothered when they resupplied in Hawsi. After all, he had no interest in reacquainting with Gathim, his would-be assassin, whom they had left there the year prior. Unlike that fateful voyage to Hawsi, Aralim had only pleasant memories of Old Numa. He went ashore to retrace his steps with Miresh and to remember those simpler days. Continue reading Aralim 112
“Again!” shouted Grendar. Yovin stood up slowly, rotating his arm and grimacing. Overhead, gulls yelped as loudly as the sergeant. The sailors sat on barrels or worked with rigging while they watched the soldiers training. Over the last month, Grendar had ramped up his training regime, trying to get everyone back into shape after their injuries and exhausting marching. So far, Yovin was doing better than Carrak, and Carrak better than the ever-bitter Lerela. But even Yovin had only scored two hits on Grendar at the cost of many bruises. Continue reading Aralim 111
The voyage from Varravar to Hawsi was as rainy as expected. As Devran had told them on their departing journey, the Sweltering Water and the Pit were places on Gethra where humidity reached its highest; it rarely stopped forming droplets in the air. During most such lulls, the top deck of the Wayward Traverse became a popular location for the travellers to gather. Grendar would train his warriors; Devran would remove his sweaty shirt and relax, to ponder and occasionally make notes in his notebook; and Nill would speak with members of the crew, watch the guards fight, or read from a tattered book she had trade for in Varravar. Rain or relief, Aralim contemplated the Path and the visions he had seen under the lake of Maga. Continue reading Aralim 110
Last time that he arrived in the port of Varravar, Aralim’s pet reed cat had run off to lose itself in the winding city streets. Sadly, he did not spot the cat again on his return journey.
It was sunny today. The humidity felt stifling, but Aralim was quite certain it was only his own impressions after acclimatizing to the arid climes north of the Elder Coast or on the now-distant Torn Shore. Aralim moved with purpose, both out of desire to minimize his time moving around on a day like today, but also to hurry their visit to Varravar. Continue reading Aralim 109
Supposedly, the great Toringa River flowed through five biomes; Aralim would see three this journey, though he had seen the fourth on his approach to the Eye of Maga as they fled from the bandits. According to Maga and Rema residents, the river began in the foothills of the Iron Mountains, though it would take Aralim the next few months of sailing to reach them by the recommended route. Their riverboat drifted south along the wide waterway, passing fishing dugouts and passenger vessels as they transitioned from savannah fields to algae-strangled swamps. The marshes didn’t last long, if Aralim recalled his first adventure through these parts correctly. Continue reading Aralim 108
Time slipped by. Aralim entered the Eye of Maga every other day, carrying his wounded subordinate into the famed water. After the fifth unsuccessful attempt, he grew anxious to move on. He was quite certain that the mages in Rema would be capable of healing the poor guardswoman, so there was little point in wasting week after week in King Eilar’s cursed lake. At last, Aralim told his guards to begin their preparations for departure. Rel, notified by the servants, hurriedly pleaded with Aralim. He told Aralim that often the Lake took this long to work, and it was too soon to know if the gift from their Goddess was truly gone. Continue reading Aralim 107
Aralim grew vaguely impatient with the tardiness of the priests of Maga. It took them over a week to complete their preparations for Lerela’s ceremony. He passed the time meditating or studying some of the artwork he found in the Palace of Maga. His comrades slept more than he could have imagined they would, except for the guards. The latter took turns between training and visiting their injured comrade.
At last, the call came for Aralim to prepare himself. Servants brought him a thin robe he could wear into the water. After he changed, he and the Aura were led to the back of the Palace and out onto a long boardwalk that ran along the shore of the Eye. Dark blue water lapped at the underside of it—Aralim spotted a fish darting to and from, almost seeming to watch them. He had not heard anything about the Eye’s affects on aging, but he was certain these fish lived full lives. Continue reading Aralim 106
Uncertain of what to expect, Aralim and his friends filed into a meeting room in the western wing of the Palace. It was a broad room with a centered table framing rectangular panels of glass on its surface. Aralim had heard enough boasts in Rema to know the rarity of quality glasswork beyond Numa’nakres, though glass like this would have been commonplace in his own homeland across the Stormy Sea. As his friends seated themselves around the expensive furnishing, Aralim prepared himself for a religious tutoring. Continue reading Aralim 105
The throne room of Maga’s Palace was a wide corridor painted with gold and washed in mosaic gemstones. At the end of the hall, before the arched ceiling ruffled into a gleaming mahogany waterfall, rested the serene white throne of the King. Narrow canals of pristine water ran alongside the throne’s sides and tall golden reeds grew up from the murky soil beneath. The throne itself was draped with a lilac runner and hefty glass crystals were encased in its hands. Sunlight shone through round portals in the gem-crusted ceiling and lit up the room with a reflective haze.
Under Rel’s guidance, Aralim entered the room and paused. He took a moment to admire the beauty of the tapestry-like designs in the wood-panel walls and the blue motley tiles that ran toward the throne. In many ways, he felt completely out of place. Continue reading Aralim 104