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Renado 22

A few days of walking convinced Renado that he preferred to cross the miles on the crest of the waves, not the pacing across miles and miles of grass. In the past six years, he’d never been on land as much as he had now, he felt.

“Look,” had said Asar, on their third day out of the village of Terben. The seasoned mercenary had pointed across the hilltops from the crest of one. The spectacle he had seen first was now a daily sight, as they approached the city of Vagren. Continue reading Renado 22

Aralim 68

Lapping waves rocked the boat as Carrak held the starboard rail against a dock. The muscular guard had no trouble keeping them in position while Devran helped secure a tether to a hook on the dock. Aralim had developed sea-legs forty years ago, as a boy scampering around on rafts and galleys alike. He planted the base of his lantern staff on one of the three steps attached to the wharf and easily stepped off the rowboat. Continue reading Aralim 68

Renado 21

Renado was looking at a field that stretched toward the horizon. It was dotted with lone trees and the rare copse, but in a way, it was similar to another view in a similar context. The first time he had reappeared, he’d gazed down into the ceaseless waters of the Grey Sea. Today, he gazed out across a sea of tall grass.

“We’re here,” Asar muttered, and Ren looked at him. His old sailing mate looked around them and added, “Wherever here is.” Continue reading Renado 21

Arn 27

Arn was not superstitious enough to leave the ruins altogether, but he never descended into that horrid abyss a second time. His skin was covered in bumps and standing hairs whenever he touched the cold, shiny handle of the blade he’d brought up from down there, but he kept it nonetheless. If he survived Scoa, no one need know the potential evil that anchored the mysterious weapon. Continue reading Arn 27

Aralim 67

Insects’ buzzing had become a constant drone, day and night, and Aralim forgot what silence sounded like. He spent an hour each morning, aboard their small rowboat, with his legs crossed, forcing a bubble of peace around himself. He was not greatly bothered, simply challenged to assert his position on the Path to create a breath of air from incessant noise. He swatted a mosquito that had landed on the back of his sweaty neck and smiled. It had been a long time since he’d done that. Continue reading Aralim 67

Farek 26

Seagulls spiraled overhead, screeching down at the sailors of The Borala. The two-masted galley left a trail of foamy behind them, regardless of what the winged hagglers called for. Keeping the vessel on course were fifteen crewmen and six passengers. They’d only been out of Soros for a few days, and their pursuant birds still judged the land close enough. Every other morning, the sailors would drop down nets, and the gulls would take their picks from the haul. Continue reading Farek 26

Aralim 66

A determined knock echoed through the wooden door and into the rounded foyer where Aralim had just set his leather travelling sack. He’d been given a bundle of rations from Ko’nagar—dried and wrapped meat, salted bread and cheese, and a canteen of water. He’d also packed a change of clothes. After all, the Emperor would hardly want him standing before the rules of Tal’lashar in the same sweaty travelling robe he’d wear on the voyage.

Ko bustled into the room, his remaining hair dangling in a tail behind his head. He blinked as he saw Aralim reaching for the door, but Aralim shrugged and opened it anyways. He wouldn’t always have a servant to open his doors after today. Continue reading Aralim 66

Arn 26

As far as Arn could determine, he was alone on Scoa. Perhaps the tribal tools he’d found in the ruins were his deceased uncle’s, but he had not found any remains either. This puzzle would have to wait. He had not yet thoroughly explored the ruins themselves, which amounted for a town similar in size to his home. He had found a few points that led deeper underground, as though this city had sunken, or Scoa Isle had landed upon it.

It was time to explore those. Arn had a second spear, shorter in length, strapped to his back, along with a few chunks of meat he’d roasted that morning, for lunch and dinner respectively. He laced up his sandals and stood up. Even if it was more screechers that lurked in these ruins, he’d be ready. Continue reading Arn 26

Aralim 65

“Tea—a selection of tea,” the Eternal Emperor said, setting aside a handful of pages from the short wooden table in front of which he rested. With his toned muscles and a thin layer of dark whiskers on his chin, he hardly looked like a man who should be doing paperwork.

Aralim slowly sat down on the green and beige cushion across the table. “This is the last time we’ll have tea for a long time. Next time, I’ll think the world has changed, and you’ll insist nothing changes.” He would be leaving the city of Rema in two days, according to all the plans he had made. Continue reading Aralim 65

Farek 25

Droplets of condensation formed on the cool brass cup of beer, collecting in a ring of water on the polished wooden bar of the Royal Whale. Farek’s fingerprints filled with water when he lifted the cooled drink to take a sip. It was a hot day, as the rainy season took a brief hiatus and the sun beat down on the city of Soros.

Farek’s first important conversation after his return from Noress-That-Was had been held in Jannia’s office. He had explained to his sister that he had discovered the origin of the assassin—the House of Kiaraka. But of course, the Mazaar had done her best to convince Farek to stay in his office, counting coins, and send paid adventurers to seek out the mysterious estate. Continue reading Farek 25