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Arn 21

Arn raised a short stick over his shoulders and brought the stone fastened to its head beating down.  It took five hits, nearly six, to pulverize the base of the straight mathhar sapling enough for Arn to rip it forth.  He tapped the ax against the thin branches, splintering each finger-wide sprout off of the main trunk, until he was left with an arm-thick pole.  He tossed it in the pile with the others. Continue reading Arn 21

Farek 19

The heavy wooden doors of the Mazaar’s office swung open as a servant let Farek enter.  He’d been working hard the day before to catch up on his responsibilities, but could not put off informing his sister of Lord Thrane’s grumbling exit two days past.  Though he was entering her office, she spoke first.

“How did things go with Lord Thrane?” Jannia asked, tossing her quill down on a scrap of ink-stained cloth. Continue reading Farek 19

Aralim 54

After the banquet with Dullah was a lull of uneventful days.  General Ro never showed up for tea—and secrets concerning Rattar’s flawed Crux—and Dullah extended him no new invitations, though they saw one another twice a week at Court.  Aralim walked quietly toward the Iron Palace.  Miresh had slept in, after a few days of alternating her sleep schedule in an attempt to attain new visions quickly.  She had not had another since her third.

Aralim spotted three guards patrolling the main street toward the Palace and put his pace in tune with theirs.  It took only a little small talk—and one recognizing his lantern staff—to confirm that General Ro was in fine health and public appearance.  Perhaps a second meeting to again invite the General to visit?  Aralim wasn’t sure that would work. Continue reading Aralim 54

Farek 17

One of the few benefits of Farek’s new administrative position was his proximity to the family records.  The prince of Soros didn’t quite realize it at first—after all, who considered a dusty roomful of self-published books was a positive?—but after a few weeks hunched over a desk, his wandering thoughts had led him to an insight.  In an old record book, he found mention of Master Gravagan.  The details were a little vague, but just as the sorcerer had told him many months ago, Gravagan had helped both Farek’s mother and his mother’s father. Continue reading Farek 17

Arn 20

Rain pelted the wall of Jorik’s healing hut, while Arn stretched his hands towards his feet and winced as his torso contracted.  He didn’t stretch far—he’d been told his broken ribs would take up to three months to heal.  He examined the scar on his finger.  Unlike his other scars, this one had seized up some of the skin around it, and, although Arn could still move it, a stiff ache stopped his full use of it. Continue reading Arn 20

Renado 18

Dried sweat was crusted against the back of Ren’s neck and made his forehead feel crinkly when he raised his eyebrows.  He wrung out the washcloth he had used to scrub his face with and gave it another go, this time rubbing his throat, his shoulders, the front of his scalp.  He was sore, exhausted, and starving.  With a muster of energy, he tossed the damp cloth onto a wall-mounted hook near the wash basin and strode away.

In the wide dining hall where the magicians that came and went from the Isle dined, he was greeted by the warm smell of fresh bread and honey, as well as his brother Lerran’s perpetually scowling face.  Ren slumped down in the chair across the long table from his brother and rested his head in his hands.  “They’re working us to the bone.” Continue reading Renado 18

Raya 37

Raya and Benn were sharing a small bowl of stew when a knock came at their door.  Raya stood up nervously.  Every unexpected situation made her worry: had the enemies of the revolution found her?  When Dondar opened the peephole, he shrugged and opened the door.  It was Ailo who strode into their dining area.  The lantern, hanging above the door, lit up his short, silver robe, as he rested his hands on the pommel of his curved sword.  “Afternoon,” he mumbled.

“Welcome,” Raya said, quietly.  The guard had sworn to protect their home of Creek Stead, but he rarely entered the establishment directly these days, giving Raya more privacy and secrecy in the rebellion. Continue reading Raya 37

Aralim 53

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The last concern for the Third Court that day was a simple building permit from a man who owned two bakeries in the northern part of Rema but wanted to open another closer to the city center.  His session didn’t last fifteen minutes, for the Selected were eager to attend their party.  Councillor Moy, of the Second Court, had already been spotted leaving.  Aralim wasn’t that impatient about it, but he was interested to see what this turn of events would entail.  He’d been serving as one of the Emperor’s Selected for three Moons but had yet to see them in any other setting than the Palace amphitheatre. Continue reading Aralim 53

Raya 36

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When Raya set out from her home in Fork Crossing the next morning, with Benn and Dondar in tow, she was still trying to understand of what coincidence Mistress Nerlav had spoken.  She lived in the neighborhood where Master Nerlav had once worked, the month of his death, and now was part of the leadership of a revolution that was affecting far more than the widow.  It seemed a stretch to draw any sort of connection from it, but the woman’s plea seemed earnest. Continue reading Raya 36