Rain pelted down onto the reed roof of the hut, leaking every few minutes in an errant dribble. Arn sat on old Stone Spear’s fur mat, his legs folded under him and his eyes nearly closed. When someone tapped on his door, he opened them wide. “Come,” he said, and watched the door flap pull aside.
Jorik straightened at the sound. The Embalmer and advisor had been here early, sitting next to Arn wordlessly. Continue reading Arn 34
Crickets were chirping. The sound, poignant yet occasional, slowly piqued the little hairs in Renado’s ears and lifted their lids of his eyes. It was dark, even when his eyes were open. But groggily, Ren could see a boot through all the blurriness. He took a deep breath and his sight clarified. It was Asar’s boot, with the respective man attached to it. Continue reading Renado 31
A man with a loose, sweat-stained grey shirt hanging around his malnourished shoulders offered his hand to Renado in the alleyway shadows. Ren grimaced, but clasped the stranger’s greasy skin nonetheless. The man nodded and said, “I’m Darr. As the lovely lady said, I was there, that night. I let fly arrows at Axar’s house.”
Ren nodded. The source had finally surfaced, and the days of sending Asar to walk past this alleyway had paid off. He licked his lips to speak, but was interrupted. Continue reading Renado 30
They were serving a delicious combination of palm wine and millet wafers laden with slices of fruit or cold meat, and Farek spent his first few minutes at the auction enjoying the hospitality of New Mallam’s wealthy. Of course, most of the nobility of the city had departed on the Baron’s dry-season raid. They were represented here today by stewards and contested by the wealthy merchants and their lower peers. Continue reading Farek 33
Wooden beams creaked as the dark waves were turned white against the shove of the Sunset. Spray climbed the height of the prow occasionally. Between the morning’s rain and the seafoam churned airborne, Aralim’s long hair was wet against his scalp. He watched the cat, sitting near the ship’s mast to avoid getting the same soak. Aralim’s lantern shutter kept the staff’s flame dry and cast a blue glow from his shoulder to his earlobe.
Dullah lavished the water, salty though it was, cooling her skin by lowering her arms over the rail. Devran merely stood beside her, watching quietly the approach of their next harbour. Barnacle, pink and yellow, clung to the wharfs, and only a weathered wooden walk was visible above. Varravar received them with a strange bitterness—the salty droplets on their lips, the pods clustered on the landing, the dreary, low-hanging clouds, the miserable looks of the dock workers, the distant wail of dying man, and the eerie whispering of the painted women at the mouth of each street. Continue reading Aralim 75
Leaning against the wooden wall, shadowed by the eaves and an old, empty wine keg, Farek was nearly invisible. He was impatient, while waiting for Diaren to get the nobleman drunk. They’d been in New Mallam for far too long, with only a few words of Kiaraka from the Ageless Academy and not a peep from anyone else. Farek’s money was running out, which had led to the hatching of this hair-brained scheme. He tapped his head back against the wooden boards and counted the days in his mind. Continue reading Farek 32
Twelve minutes. Arn figured it took him about that to walk from the gathering area back toward his new home. It felt like it took an hour. Though most of the village’s people were still there, finishing off their evening meals or playing games of cunning or reflex with one another, Arn found more than enough eyes on him, watching and analyzing him, to drag his twelve-minute walk into what felt like a short eternity. Let them look, he thought. Continue reading Arn 33
The story in Ith was a chilling one. Renado and his friends had pieced part of it together, but sat together in the Verdant sharing drinks in near disbelief. It seemed that Lotha’s plan to defeat Axar by turning the rebels against him had succeeded, though no one yet knew of Axar’s fate, nor Lotha’s. When the mob had stormed the streets, a proper riot had ensued. Flaming arrows fell on sleeping houses, and cudgels broke the most important skulls. The revolution had, as Irrith suspected, claimed another Mage King. Continue reading Renado 29
The last hill before Ith became Ren’s new home for a few minutes. Though the city covered several hills, its walls obstructed most of the city. Where Ren had been impressed by Vagren’s walls, he was in awe of Ith’s. The walls loomed over a hundred feet tall in some places, massive stacks of stones that dwarfed anything built in Sheld aside from the Worker’s Rise. While the enormous dome was nothing but memories, Ith’s winding defenses were right there, challenging his senses.
Woodro impatiently tapped his sword. “Are we going in?” he asked. Continue reading Renado 28
It rained from the evening after Hawsi until they reached the Pit. And it didn’t just stop then. When the rain stopped—it could begin pouring as suddenly as their ship’s cat might dash by—the air held such a stiff humidity that Aralim’s robe grew scentless sweat stains. Of course, he sweat a lot too. Dullah and Devran were more accustomed to rainforest life, despite both being city-acclimated, while Aralim suffered in ways he had never known he could. But, by determination, it didn’t limit him in any ways. Continue reading Aralim 74