Raya 35

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More than a month had passed since the explosions in the Norzeen District of Ith.  Though the Mage Kings had not wavered in their strength, the revolution was growing bigger than it ever had.  In Massed Alley, starving men and women flocked every inn, stable and shop.  Houses that once sheltered families were now homesteads for dozens.  The streets housed even more warm bodies, starting to stir in the morning as the rebels made their way along.  Though even Fork Crossing felt the bustling growth of the metropolis’s underclass, it was in the midst of the Alley’s chaos that Raya found herself that morning. Continue reading Raya 35

Farek 16

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Jungle rooks were pecking at some shredded bird carcass on one of the nearby shingled eaves.  The stairs that Farek descended soon sent the rooks out of sight, but the disguised man could still hear the beck of their beaks and their squeaks.  This was one of the lower-income boroughs of Soros and Farek had to keep his wits about him as he stepped over the crossed legs of a bearded, sweat-stained tramp, resting against a wall, and through a veil of gnarled vines that clung to a rotten support beam overhead. Continue reading Farek 16

Renado 17

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Ren dropped down, one hand bearing his weight against the sandy ground, and shoved forward under the swipe of Shan’s enormous axe.  The magician stepped back before Ren’s diving thrust could make a connection, and brought the disproportionately large weapon smashing into the ground.  Ren barely rolled out of the way.  With practiced dexterity, he kicked his legs up and flipped up to his feet again.  With one hand against the back of his sabre, he blocked the speedy follow up attack and skidded back a few steps. Continue reading Renado 17

Arn 19

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“You have another visitor,” Jorik said, quietly.  He only attended the hut where Arn lay recovering twice each day now.  During each visit, he helped Arn slowly walk around the circumference of the hut, once or twice.  This morning was different, he tapped Arn’s forehead until the wounded hunter awoke, and said, “You’ll want to sit up for this one.” Continue reading Arn 19

Aralim 52

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Miresh and Aralim met in the foyer and laced up their own sandals as they always did.  Ko’nagar said it was easily something that the servants could handle, but Aralim insisted they not handle it for that very reason.  Narr stood there, behind them, in his big leather boots and long black cape.  Did the servants dress him?  The silent man did not offer Aralim any answers. Continue reading Aralim 52

Aralim 51

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While Aralim was lacing up his sandals to attend the Third Court, someone knocked.  It had been a few uneventful weeks for the Selected and Aralim was arriving slightly later some days.  The most interesting matter in the last two months had been a criminal case that was eventually sent before the Second Court.

“Come in,” Aralim called, standing up straight.  It was Ko’nagar, their household steward, who bowed and entered his quarters.  “What’s the matter?”

Ko frowned and spoke uncomfortably.  “Miresh has locked herself in her quarters, sir.” Continue reading Aralim 51

Renado 16

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The settlement on the Isle of Dusk seemed to have no name at all, or was referred to simply as Dusk.  Ren was given a simple guest room in one of the buildings, along with most of his loyal warriors.  When he awoke each morning, it was because the sun had risen over the edge of the hill and set a glow across his bed.  He rose from the hammock, and strung it out of the way.  His room was small, and a trunk with his belongings had been placed beneath the sleeping sack.  He pulled on a tunic and dabbed his hands into a small basin of water.

Lerran and Tassina had been given a larger suite in the adjacent building, but Ren had suggested a capable warrior join them.  Karsef had volunteered for posting as that sentry, and slept on a small cushioned couch that had been already been present. Continue reading Renado 16

Farek 15

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The innkeeper shoved two mugs across the table, and the man seated next to Farek took one. Dorgan Thrane smoothed his greying brown hair back with one hand while he palmed the drink.  Then Farek led the way to a table near the window of the Royal Whale.  They peered out into the afternoon ocean, before the two lords turned to look at one another.

“Why’d you distract me from my beloved warehouse?” Farek asked. Continue reading Farek 15

Arn 18

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The smoke—scorched sea-root and sandy grains of ground teba flower—kept Arn in a daze between the dreamworld and the real one.  When he wasn’t chatting with the critters and gods of the world after, he was being moved about by Jorik in a strange assortment of stretches and exercises to prevent his muscles from wilting completely.

“It’s ironic, don’t you think,” Arn mumbled, one day, “That you’re both my healer and my embalmer?” Continue reading Arn 18

Droelin

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There was only one crate left of their hefty supply storage when Droelin’s wagon finally rolled through the old stone gates of a city tossed by turmoil.  He had been here once, probably fifteen years ago, he reflected.  It seemed like an eon ago, but the man steering the wagon was still a young man to his peers.  A brilliant young man, admittedly, and one far beyond his fifty-two years.

“Well,” Droelin said, to his unresponsive companion, “this is even worse than I imagined.” Continue reading Droelin