There was blue water in the Stormy Sea, and over the Orrish, and green water in Copper Cove. The Grey Sea was as dark as it had been named and Farek had heard that the Sea of Origins was grey too. But nowhere else had pale red water than Raider’s Bay. The waves lapped pink against the hull of the Royal Crester, as the familiar coin ship cut out of the river and into the Bay. Continue reading Farek 42
Once in a while, along the road, they passed travellers. The first two were merchants, whom Aralim spoke to briefly, before continuing on. They passed two or three men in sandy robes who did not speak their language. These three encounters were spaced out by days, for the road from Crossroads to Tal’lashar was long indeed.
When Aralim and his friends were coming down from the arid mountains, they spent a few days walking through the foothills, up and down each ridge, or between when they could. On the second of these days, they came down a hill toward a man that was untying a sizeable dead rodent from a trap. He spotted them coming along the road and hurried what he was doing, yanking at the rope that held the critter. Continue reading Aralim 84
Never, since the capture of Neeko and Pais’ca, had the Field Roamers stayed outside so late. They usually retired to their tents an hour after sunrise, but they showed no sign of turning in this evening. Their speaking around the gathering area was a murmur to Neeko, who sat with his back against his cage and watched them. Sparks rose overhead after a loud crackle. They put another log on one of the campfires. Continue reading Neeko 8
Farek tapped the bar top for another round. He had already bought his men a few shots of Deylus spirits, with a toast of ‘to poor choices and poor people!’. The clamour of miners and fishermen crowding around the bar made it hard to speak, but Farek made sure his men could hear him. “I know this adventure has been long,” he said to him. “We’re all eager to get home. Just wanted to take a minute with you three. How have things been?” Continue reading Farek 41
Had it been ten days? Or five? Neeko should have been keeping track. He and Pais agreed on eight, and made some notches in the mud. But then, on the ninth day, Neeko awoke to the patter of rain, before sunrise. By the time the tribe stirred in their tents, the precipitation had turned to a thunderous downpour. The storm charged north of the rainforest, soaking the savanna and the prisoners as well. Continue reading Neeko 7
Aralim had been so used to walking along a Crimson Highway that was straight as a scar, that the twisting and turning cobblestone way soon became unnecessarily irking to him. Scattered mountains and rolling foothills twisted the Highway like a piece of grey yarn, and Aralim kept thinking, If we only went straight, it would be half the distance… Continue reading Aralim 83
A hush fell over the hunters and fishers and warriors, and they listened to the jangled words of the Scoa tribe. Arn sat on an old window sill, an opening in one of the rocky ruins. Shar stood close—he had spent their time on the isle seeking out the solution or object to any thought Arn voiced. On Arn’s other side, Logern stood, with burly arms folded across his bare, muscled chest. Together, the trio overlooked their fellow tribespeople.
And across the open moss-claimed yard a force of fighters in intricate wooden masks and bone jewelry stood and bristled armaments toward them. One man stood in front of their spears and bone knives, like Trakak had during Arn’s first arrival on Scoa. Continue reading Arn 44
A yellow-striped beetle crawled along the wooden branch that Neeko’s elbow rested on. The sticks that composed their cage varied in size, but leaning against them stretched his back in a way that he needed to after a night sleeping on hardened dirt. He reluctantly flicked the beetle away with his counting finger and then leaned his head back once more.
“If we’re going to escape,” Pais’ca said, her rough voice hushed. “We’d best do it during the day, when the hunters are gone.” Continue reading Neeko 6
Arn stood at the bottom of the cliffs, looking out into the saltwater lagoon. His raft leaders and band chiefs stood in a circle with him, looking out there with him. Joroth and Keeya stood opposite each other, while Jorik the Embalmer and Logern stood nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. Coniran stood separately from the others, with crossed arms.
“Bravar will maintain the fishermen,” Logern said.
“And Im, the hunters,” Coniran added. The rising sun shone on the sun above and cast an eerie glow into the lagoon. Continue reading Arn 43
Neeko and Pais’ca walked through the tall grass as the sun beat down. A gentle rain had fallen that morning, but when they looked south, they could see it pouring over the rain forest. The green canopies and sprawling hills drank it all up, while the grass seemed to feed on Neeko’s blood more than the water. Every time they passed through a dense wall of foliage, their machetes proved somehow insufficient. A few blades scraped skin from bare spots between Neeko’s pant leg and his sandals, or from his forearms. Continue reading Neeko 5