Category: Aralim

Aralim 73

“Did you leave any friends when you started walking the Path?” Dullah asked.  As they sailed the last few miles toward the city of Hawsi, Aralim’s friend had come to him for a cup of tea to keep loneliness at bay.  She went on, “The way I recall it, you said you left upon the destruction of your home and loss of your family.”

Aralim put down his tea cup.  “No, the entire village was killed, including the others that returned on the boat with me. Though I’ve made my share of friends since then.” Continue reading Aralim 73

Aralim 72

Aralim was fast asleep when his guards knocked gently on his door.  The forty-seven-year-old man rolled back into sleep after first hearing it.  A few more raps finally disturbed him enough, and he sat up.  With disheveled greying hair and a ruffled linen tunic hastily thrown over his sweaty torso, he hoped it wasn’t anything important.  He opened the door to find Grendar bowing his head.

“It’s Gathim, sir,” the man said.  “He’s begging to speak with you again.  I can tell him off, if you’d like, but I thought we should accommodate his willingness—” Continue reading Aralim 72

Aralim 71

Two dozen bodies crammed the railing of Flying Sunset as they drifted towards the harbour of Old Numa.  They’d made it across Trader’s Bay without incident.  Some of the passengers, including a pair of tanners who’s shop in Maykren had been lost to fire, were departing here.  Aralim knew a little bit about just about everyone board—if he saw an unfamiliar face, he made it his goal to speak with them a little. Continue reading Aralim 71

Aralim 70

The stern of Flying Sunset cut through the waves of Trader’s Bay as the evening sun set the ocean’s surface ablaze with orange rays.  Aralim, Dullah, and Devran watched the clouds turning purple and dark blue from a porthole in the galleon’s side.  This two-and-a-half decked vessel housed abundant crew and carried several passengers as its sails carried them southeast.

“It was good stew,” Devran said.  “All things considered.”

Lerela sat with them and nodded.  On the public ship, the guards had been wearing torso armour, unlike their time on the somewhat secluded riverboat.  She stiffened suddenly, and Aralim looked across the mess hall.  A few crewmen were socializing near the door, but stepped out of the way for Sergeant Grendar to enter.  The soldier looked at Aralim, as he approached. Continue reading Aralim 70

Aralim 69

Of course, their captive assassin offered a handful of details to ward off his torture.  His name, Gathim, and his claimed stash of coin in the port of Maykren did not.  Aralim had no use for treasure, so they didn’t go in search of it.

The Ake’ma River widened until Aralim thought they were sailing across a lake.  A few buildings appeared on islands in the lake, and the islands turned into wide branches of land covered in city.  Their rowboat drifted through the delta alongside a thousand other riverboats.  Citizens of Maykren wandered along the banks or piloted city watercraft between buildings.  Some shops seemed to have storefronts on the waterfronts, adjoined with docks, while also allowing access from the streets of the islands.  Aralim watched a bridge passing overhead as their guards eased the rows through the water. Continue reading Aralim 69

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

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

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

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