The Emperor was leaning against one of the very first metal-plated columns this time, and met Aralim in advance of the meeting that the Walker had been invited to. Wearing a dark purple cape and a golden clasp around his neck, the ruler of Rema smiled to his friend and asked, “Have you enjoyed the month of celebrations?” Continue reading Aralim 64
There was no sign of a Scoa tribe in the swamps surrounding the ruins. Only screechers prowled there, and the occasional meek forest creature, like the gently creeping mammal that had spied him building the trap. If the timid leaf eater had known how to dig, Arn was certain they would help him fight the island’s hostile populace. Instead, he searched the coast of the island while living like prey. When the isle whispered, Arn held his breath in tall reeds or half-submerged in salty mud-water. When an ear-splitting hiss split the air, Arn lowered his spear and scoured the limits of his eyesight. Continue reading Arn 25
No matter how many times Farek saw the Bank of Soros from the land approach, he would never get used to it. He had spent years working in the waterfront, seeing the miles of winding streets and uneven storeyed buildings that covered the lowland before Coin Hill and its lofty estates. From the rear, the shape of the city became more apparent. If Soros was an egg, then Coin Hill was its yolk, off-centre and protected by only a small band of residential and commercial districts. Continue reading Farek 24
Braziers full of fire and a stone wagon with a towering bonfire illuminated the early morning festivals in the courtyard of the Iron Palace. Though the sun had started to rise, the mountains still blocked it and the Ceremony of Flames lit itself with flickering firelight. Aralim stood between Dullah and Miresh, watching as people pressed shoulder-to-shoulder into the courtyard. He had never seen the Iron Palace packed quite so tightly. Continue reading Aralim 62
Through the scattered groves of swamp trees and across the scattered streams and tidal ponds of the salty marshes, Arn glimpsed something he’d never seen before. He could not be certain, from the rocky slopes where he had survived his first few weeks on Scoa, if they were cliffs or some form of tree made of rock. In the distance, near the opposite coast of Scoa, were tall, angular shapes, made of dark rock.
Yesterday, Arn had set out from his familiar crest of the isle to investigate. Today, he would reach them. He’d left the small highlands before during the evening, but as the sun rose this day, he realized that from the lowlands, the distant shapes took better shape. They were not trees nor stone ridges, but something else. They were structures. Continue reading Arn 24
A pair of stained leather boots did little to protect Farek’s feet from the stagnate water of Cobblestone Bog. They walked along a scaffold that ran down the center of one of the main streets, but in occasional low dips, Farek and his friends found their boots slowly dampening as they splashed through ankle-deep water.
In front of the Wily Window, a small drinking house off one of the central avenues, they sploshed their shins through the tidal swamp water and up a set of eroded stone steps. “Sievus and Diaren, wait out here,” Farek ordered. “Matek, wait out here a few minutes, then go to the bar.”
“You got it, boss,” Matek replied, putting his back against one of the deck supports. Continue reading Farek 23
The next morning, Aralim walked with Miresh to the Iron Palace. A dark, cloudy sky, was brightened by a clear horizon, giving everything an eerie glow. Rain did not come, and they arrived at Rattar’s meditation yard dry and in good spirits. Aralim sent Miresh ahead; the young girl carried a small wooden rod with her wherever she went, but would spend the morning testing its strength after her efforts to bind it’s grain tighter. Continue reading Aralim 61
Aralim and a few others were discussing a complaint from a citizen who’s newly constructed home had been declared only half on his property and half on a neighbour’s, when the summons came. The Aura politely waited until the particular conversation in the Third Court died down. When a new citizen stepped onto the dais before the Selected, Aralim shuffled out of his seat and toward the aisle. He glanced at Dullah, but she just rolled her eyes. Continue reading Aralim 60
The city of Noress-That-Was, if it could still be called such, reached from the heights of cliff-side castles to the depths of drowned ruination. Under the orange sky of twilight, the royal homes of the Matriarchs rested, with smoke-stained walls and drearily aged roofs. Only miles away, the sinking land slowly lowered the city’s original palaces and sprawling streets into the obscured depths.
The Old Empire had fallen nearly fifteen hundred years ago when the Orrish had crashed down from the burning skies. Though it was nearly old enough, this wasting city had never been built during those days. The Grand City of Noress had been completely obliterated when the meteor came down, and the provinces had splintered. One alliance had built a glorious new home, on the point they deemed closest to the old land. Thus, Noress-That-Was had come to be. Continue reading Farek 22
Arn jumped awake. Part of the grass binding he had made for his face tore as he yanked his face away from the stone he’d been sleeping on. He cried out, half shriek, half moan—his face throbbed with an agony he’d never known every moment that adrenaline did not blind him to it. He scrambled back, as his blurry sight clarified, and pressed his back against a tree. A wooden shaft reached through the nook of his elbow; the stone he had tied to the spear-point rested near his feet, ready to wield.
He was alive, he realized, panting. He was still alive. Continue reading Arn 23