Tall, arid grass rose along the banks of the Sko River, brown and blurry and full of whistling insects. It hid the village of Squora from view until Lerran, Eseveer, Isar, and their guards were almost upon it. About an hour ago, faint trails of smoke had become noticeable over the brown fields in this, the most comfortable portion of the Barren Road. Continue reading Lerran 42
Voices, muffled and distant, slowly lifted Arn out of the dreamworld. Before he could see or hear clearly, he could smell. He wished he could not—his bed smelled of sweat, dried blood, and the bitter herbs Jorik had bound his wounds in. A tendril of the dreamworld, a memory more visceral than a simple recollection, bubbled through his waking mind. In it, he remembered Jorik’s confused words to him the day after he killed Garem. “Garem’s blade was poisoned with ashroot—how have you survived?” Arn had become immune, or partially immune. Continue reading Arn 11
Sometimes, the incense they burned in Rema was so strong for Aralim he felt tears in his eyes. In Trell, and across his Path-following homeland, the lanterns burned by the pious were often accompanied by opal tree leaves or bark. The candle tongue would softly eat their edges to produce a smooth aroma, not the harsh almond, lavender, or myrrh that was commonplace in the homes of Numa’nakres. He hadn’t seen rainbow wood like that since a month before his landing in Lantern Town. Continue reading Aralim 32
On Lerran’s birthday’s, everything went according to his plan. He awoke in the morning and enjoyed the usual small breakfast with Tass. After that, Eseveer and he had made their preparations for departure. If they left today, they’d reach Squora on the 20th, likely at the same time as the ambassadors from Var Nordos. Lerran had been readying himself all week for the tedious negotiations that would follow; at least the money figures would be high enough to give him a thrill. Continue reading Lerran 41
The open fields on the east side of Ith were dotted with dense villages and known as the Low Dales District. Raya and her friends stayed the first night in an large inn on Lord Warl’s Road—it seemed most of the outer roads were named after lords or kings. Raya was uncertain if Lord Warl lived nearby or not, or if he lived at all, but the inn was comfortable. And expensive. Continue reading Raya 29
The herald proclaimed the Queen’s entrance with a sequence of three flute notes, and a boldly intoned repetition of her titles and honours. Enormous wooden doors carved from the bright red wood from the Elder Jungle were pushed open by the servants, and her escort of guards went through first. The throne in the room ahead of them was built of the same vibrant wood and set atop a two-tiered stone stage.
Zanna walked quietly along the thick parchment runner that carpeted a line of floor from door to throne. It was a scroll covered in writings about the law and the rites of leadership. She only reached the throne by standing on the literal law of their people. In her right hand, she carried a tall spear painted gold. It was identical to one used by a guard or a hunter, save the shiny gilt layered across it. Still, it was not a sceptre. It was a weapon. Continue reading Zanna 1
A few days of travelling across the highlands brought Raya and her friends to the crowded outlying walls of Ith. She had never been here before; growing up in Olston, Raya had learned that both Ith and Vagren were major cities, and Vagren was closer. She had never really realized how much bigger Ith was than its sister city. Guards patrolled a lengthy row of palisades, that disappeared behind hills to the left and to the right of the entry that Raya and company approached. Behind the low wall were more hills, topped by the occasional house or storehouse or camp of pavilions and traveller’s tents. Far in the distance, she could see the wooden walls and mud rooves of shacks built against the looming stone fortification of the city proper. Ith must have covered close to fifty miles. As such, this entryway into the city had become a camp of its own. Continue reading Raya 28
“You’re going to be thirty-three,” Tass said, lounging on the cushions with her left leg across Lerran’s right. Rays of sunlight—at last breaching those dark, barren clouds—lit up the dust that hung between their bed and the window. Lerran’s wife murmured in his ear. “The Prince of Sheld’s birthday… will there be a feast?”
Lerran let out his breath, and felt her head sink as his shoulders lowered. He shook his head. Continue reading Lerran 40
Raya paused on a grassy hilltop and looked west. The valley between her and the next ridge was obstructed by the occasional cedar tree and a reed-robed pond. She looked back at Dondar, who groaned as he climbed the slope toward her. They had left Vagren three days ago, and left Olston after a short visit the day before. It was too costly to take the Crimson Highway, but the Radregar Highlands made the journey even longer. Continue reading Raya 27
Ashroot poison was a dark liquid, almost devoid of colour whatsoever. It was thick, like honey or mud—the tribes-people of Razaad added some resin from mathhar roots to thicken it—and adhered to the stone edge of Arn’s small knife. Usually, he only applied it to his spear point, but today was not a usual day.
Though there was still no rain, salty water from swamp streams dripped from Arn’s shins as he strode through the foliage of the forest tracking his target. Today was the day Garem had said. When Arn returned to the village, he would see what had become of their plots. He only had to worry about the hunt right now. Continue reading Arn 10