A storm rattled the Chapel of Peace throughout the night, but Aralim slept through most of it. He remembered waking up once, in a layered linen bunk, to listen to the pounding rain. There were no currents; the storm was not soft then hard. It was fierce the whole time, an incessant torrent. Rainwater collected in a few puddles on the floor, even though the bunks were in the basement of the small church. Continue reading Aralim 15
They had gone to the Iron Palace the day before, walking right up to a big closed gate. Overhead, the flat balcony on top of the fortress had loomed like a tower, though the buildings dimensions more resembled a cube. From there, only one face could be seen, an enormous wall of shining iron columns. Continue reading Aralim 14
Trader’s Bay never really ended, it narrowed and widened into a long murky channel dotted by The Sweating Isles. As they sailed them, Vaenuth learned why. She could not remember her journey here on her way into Numa’nakres, some five years ago—she could only recall the darkness of the water and the captain she had been hammering for passage. Now she paid for passage, and in irony, remembered that other captain’s words to her about this dark channel of water. “The shadows before the dawn,” he had told her. That whole time in her life had been just that. She had fought for the light and earned her place in it. Continue reading Vaenuth 25
Naeen led the way, through the winding streets of Rema. The city was overwhelming, but it was similar in size to Bellasa. It seemed to have begun as a small town between two sharp foothills, rocky points that jutted up out of the earth. Now the city had filled the valley, and surrounded the slopes too. Continue reading Aralim 13
Lerran was below his office, in the mansion’s dining hall, when he got word. They were serving him a fruit salad, with a topping of sesame seeds and pecans. For meat, he was offered a platter of cold cut pork, well-seasoned, and for drink, white wine. Tass had joined him, and Eseveer sat with one of her friends nearby. It was not a formal dinner, just a lunch break from their work. Lerran’s wife worked with the property care staff, both overseeing their labours and getting involved with the gardens of their estate. Continue reading Lerran 19
All of Razaad seemed like chaos. Dark clouds, twisting and coalescing above, cast unpredictable shadows and weaving curtains of rain across the lowlands of the isle. Where the tall grass grew, it was pulled back and forth, dark green tendrils on the edge of Arn’s crouched viewpoint. Where the puddles of water and motes of murk dotted the swampland, the wind from the rainstorm picked up spray and blasted it against Arn’s painted face. Continue reading Arn 1
“Good morning,” a voice whispered, gently cracking Lerran’s eyes open. The room was bright, illuminated by a band of sunlight entering the curtained window. The light was blocked by the pillow Lerran’s arms were wrapped around. He lay in fetal position, under the blankets, clutching the pillow. He was damp with sweat, and his head immediately pounded with the light that blinded his eyes. Continue reading Lerran 18
Weeks of hunting were only halted by another rainstorm—this one battered Olston for a whole week before the clouds let sunshine slip through once again. When the rain finally let up, Raya had been helping her dad with some firewood behind the house. She did most of the work of course, but she was cheerful despite getting drenched. She hung those clothes to dry for a few hours, and then headed out after that. In the market, only a few stalls had opened; errant drops of water still fell, and only a handful of people had left their homes. Continue reading Raya 15
“Up, I say,” Yau said, and Aralim opened his eyes. The sun, though blocked by the winding tree branches overhead, blinded him. He raised his hand to block it, like a second canopy. Light spilled through his fingers as his eyes grew accustomed. He sat up and stretched his arms sorely, before looking around. Continue reading Aralim 12
The Ake’ma River split, and then it split again, and a hundred times more, until, like a shallow lake, it ran though the streets of Maykren and out into Trader’s Bay. Fifty docks were built on the north side of the city, and fifty more on the south side. Ul’ma’s barge seemed like it might crash into one, until four members of the crew jumped overboard—to Vaenuth’s surprise—and easily used its momentum to run it alongside a dock. They deftly looped ropes around the mooring posts and the craft came to a lurching stop. Continue reading Vaenuth 24