A few days before Raya and her companions reached Ellakar they began to see smoke on the horizon, and on one morning, ash fell on their makeshift camp. They awoke under a dusting of the horrid stuff and began coughing and trying to clean themselves off to little avail. Smudged and tired, they continued on their way. Lotha said, “This isn’t good,” and they all knew it in their sinking stomachs to be true. Continue reading Raya 18
Miresh’s next task for Rattar was not as pleasant as making a flower grow. Each day she went to train, Aralim and she sat on either side of a small wooden cage. Inside sat a fat grey rat, eying them nervously. There was a cup of water and a cup of seeds for it, but it ignored them. It was as focused on Miresh as she was on it. Rattar had told her to kill the rat. To poison its health. Continue reading Aralim 22
The week was like most others. It ambled past as Farek attended a meeting with his sisters, spent two days enduring supervision of their trade goods warehouse, and another two counting bank notes—thankfully coin counting was left to his subordinates. The Bank of Soros employed some two thousand individuals in its various departments and Farek was certain that most of his jobs could be handled easily by a trusted supervisor. But that would just leave him more time to waste away with his head over a bar, and he’d rather do his part, if only to the letter of it. Continue reading Farek 2
“Just like the good old days, isn’t it?” Kolt asked Lerran as their horses walked quietly along the dirt road.
Though the rainy clouds had covered them the last few days, only a few traces of grey remained in the sky and the partially blocked sun beat down on Lerran with the heat to melt a candle or cook a pork. Sweat dripped from Lerran’s forehead into his eyes and he started rubbing them, only to find them so dry it hurt. When at last he recovered, he had only to deal with the overwhelming layer of sweat on the inside of his legs from the heat of his horse. They’d be better off walking the Barren Road, except for how much longer it would take. Continue reading Lerran 27
Raya and four others set out toward Vagren, knowing full well they might need to go further to find the source of the light on the horizon. Throughout the day since, Raya had doubted what she had seen. It must have just been lightning, or a trick of her eyes. But Hemsten told she was wrong. He had been on sentry duty and had seen the long flash himself too. Continue reading Raya 17
The dry parchment pages of the tome turned as stiffly as Aralim’s blinking eyelids. He was exhausted. Three days ago, Master Rattar had observed that Miresh’s flower was growing faster than Aralim’s, which meant she was affecting it with her abilities. For two days they barely slept, and Aralim watched in amazement as the tiny stalk grew taller and sprouted leaves. It had a bud at the top, but had not yet bloomed. The third day involved a lot of sleep, and Miresh had sunken into a deep frustration at her inability to finish the task faster—likely due only to her fatigue. Continue reading Aralim 21
It was only on slow days that Raya thought about aiming her bow at an oryx. The tall gazelle like mammals looked so majestic to her, and though many of the hunters from Olston slung them around their shoulders and hauled them home, Raya had never chosen to kill one. She had once found an already slain oryx and it had fetched a decent enough price in the town market. She eyed a distant herd as she briskly trotted across the hilltop looking for distant birds or rodents. As Olston grew with refugee settlers, the lands around had become more and more scarce, and Raya had been forced to venture further and further out in search of the rabbits and pigeons she sought. Continue reading Raya 16
Rain fell on Soros for the tenth time of the new year. Slick wooden shingles trickled down along the ornate stone walls of the mansions on Coin Hill and fell from curved eaves to reflect lantern light like spears of light that reached heavenward. Everything seemed a little brighter, the edges a little softer, the night a little warmer—because Farek Gallendris, the wealthiest bachelor in the city of sorrows, had already a few drinks within him. Hand on his sword pommel and buckled collar keeping the water on the outside of his barkcloth brown coat, Farek paced along the cobblestone street from Coin Hill, where his family lived, toward his favourite bar: Norrey’s Pub. Continue reading Farek 1
“Are we ready?” yelled Captain Smetter, with his hands on the big wooden wheel. His crew barked back a handful of incoherent words—could be the wind, or it could be their sailor’s dialect—and the stocky man turned his scarred cheek to Vaenuth and her friends. “Shall we?” he asked, quietly. Continue reading Vaenuth 31
It took Lerran two days to get all of his affairs in order—mainly that just involved convincing Tassina to let him leave. On the morning he was to depart, he was awoken by her singing. He couldn’t remember the name of the song, something about the little boy from Varravar, but he remembered its flitting melody from late nights in the tavern as a younger man. He crawled out of his blankets and hurriedly got dressed in his black uniform tunic. He armed himself with his short sword, and buckled up his leather riding boots. Tass came into their room, humming the chorus to herself and started when she saw him. Continue reading Lerran 26