A wagon carrying kegs of ale passed along the cobblestone road. Aralim and Miresh waited until it was across, and then strode forward. Narr, with a dark green hood thrown over his head and a formless cloak concealing the hefty sword on his back, stalked along behind them, quiet and watchful. Aralim was a little sore—similar to how he had felt after training with Grendar on the deck of the ship a few months ago. Continue reading Aralim 122
They had taken Arn and Gamden to a strange wooden house with a slanted roof. The place was surrounded by bare tree trunks, similar to the siege wall that surrounded the smouldering stone settlement. Between the wall of tree trunks and the wooden house was a yard as wide as the central campfire area in Razaad. A few small shacks were built here, and Arn and Gamden were given one to sleep during the nights; they found a pile of several cots inside, a small fire for light and cooking, and a single, small box for storage of their clothes. Master Quenden’s guards had passed Arn a pile of tunics and trousers upon their arrival. Continue reading Arn 61
The Wind Daughter had once been an ordinary cargo galley, Farek learned. It had two masts sporting enormous sails, rowing lanes to seat 32 men, and a vast cargo deck at water’s level. Now Daughter was fit with a ram, there were disassembled walls and ladders for archery towers running along the center of the rower’s deck, and three aisles of bunks had replaced any empty cargo space. Farek, Erril, and Archpriest Hartho were given small cabins facing the hull on the top deck, but their guards each took opposing aisles in the cargo deck. Continue reading Farek 75
For Renado and his henchmen—as well as most of the inhabitants of Trellios’ drinking houses—the celebration of the Raderan New Year lasted well through the first day of the year. When they were not drinking, they were gambling. Virn always won the former—despite Asar’s and Woodro’s years of expertise—and Ira the latter. Ren did more observing of the activities than partaking. Maybe it was his recent weeks in Trellios’ archives and libraries, scouring dull texts for information on the Grey Brethren, Archpriest Roithe, and the recently murdered scholar-or-Conclave-member that made Ren’s eyes remain glazed over for the first thirty hours of their New Year’s celebrations. Continue reading Renado 72
Selram wasn’t a large city, even by Ketho standards. As he trudged uphill, Therelin spotted its assorted huts appearing beneath towering bamboo trees. The largest building in town was the storehouse, where Selram’s mine and lumberyard collected their resources before export. The second largest building was the Magister’s Chamber—a meeting building of sorts, designed exclusively for the gathering of the Isle’s inhabitants.
After his time in Saanazar and Noress-That-Was, Therelin found Selram particularly small. He took advantage of that village mindset by making pleasant conversations with a berry forager on the edge of town. “Good day, friend,” Therelin called amiably. Continue reading Therelin 21
It was a sunny day after the morning showers over the rainforest of Numa’nakres. When Aralim reported to the Aura near the Second Court, he was ushered through the shadows of the Iron Palace and reborn into the sunlight where Tag’na stood, near one of the many side-staircases. These were out of reach of the public, behind short fortifications that divided the Palace grounds. Continue reading Aralim 121
The sun was instantly replaced by a pale cloud-veiled moon. It was night. That was the first thing that Therelin noticed after his Journey spell did its work. The waterlogged streets of Cobblestone Bog were replaced by the gentle vine-crusted walls of the Temple of Stone. He had reappeared right at his destination—the space where he had often trained with Master Myandin during his seven years in Keth City. Continue reading Therelin 20
Emrez made Arn and Gamden man the oars this time, as he captained their little rowboat across the last few waves to the shore. They were landing slightly east of the smouldering city, just outside the wooden wall that Ponark had called the “siege wall.” Yet another term with which Arn was unfamiliar. It was harsh labour under the scalding sun; Arn’s muscles—regrown on fish and a salted meat called “boar”—were glistening with sweat by the time he put down the oars. Ponark grabbed a wooden platform that extended into the water and pulled them alongside it. Others quickly tied ropes around wooden pegs on the deck of the platform while Arn wondered how such a thing could have been built, into the ocean, like that. Then Arn and Gamden were brought ashore under the protection of a dozen of Emrez’s armed fighters. Continue reading Arn 60
The city of Trell did not compare to Saanazar or Ith in size, but it was grand in its own way. A nearby marble mine provided the city with a nearly unlimited supply of what importers considered expensive building materials. Grand pillars lined the road approaching the gate, while a governor’s mansion rose from a hilltop on the northern seaside. Continue reading Renado 71
Pain. Someone had burned a hole right through Arn, he realized, as he emerged from another restless night of the dreamworld. It had been two weeks since Emrez had brought Arn this suffering, but that wound never let up, it seemed. He lay face down on Morlo’s bottom bunk and groaned as he tried to sit up.
Ponark yanked him off the bed and Arn floundered across the floorboards of the doctor’s quarters. Gamden yelled defensively, rising out of the chair in which he slept. Ponark yanked the curved sword off his belt and pointed it at Arn’s head. Gamden was forced to stop, glowering at the second-in-command. Continue reading Arn 59