Aralim 130

Aralim had already laced up his sandals when Nill appeared, bursting through the door carrying a long linen-wrapped tube.  She grinned at him and blurted, “Aralim, you have to see this. It might be the largest map either of us have ever seen before.”

They hurried into the dining room, with a disapproving glance from Ko’nagar at Aralim’s dusty footwear.  Nilless hurriedly unrolled the map on the table while explaining, “This is the culmination of Rema’s master cartographer, your own insights from the lands south of the Stormy Sea, and my knowledge of the regions your friend Dullah had mapped in Tal’lashar.” Continue reading Aralim 130

Arn 66

An island of rubble showered the ocean and Arn nearly leapt to his feet.  For once, blessedly, he could not remember what he had dreamt.  He calmed his heartbeat—something that was quite easy for someone who was practically dead inside.  He looked across the shack at the unused cot nearby.  Gamden wasn’t there; it was same as the ten days prior.  Arn had glimpsed him in the yard, glaring at him.  Arn had only closed his eyes or looked down. Continue reading Arn 66

Therelin 25

Master Byranim, who was responsible for the Isle’s defence, had been oddly absent the week Therelin had spoken with Tarka.  Therelin had been given an explanation by Telan—the thin brown-haired man seemed to be the Master of Ceremony for Dusk, in addition to monitoring new arrivals.  According to Telan, Master Byranim had gone to speak with a number of resident mages in a few other locations.

Telan had explained that they needed to be pre-emptive about contact off the Isle during these uncertain times.  If the Grey Sea grew too dangerous, magicians would seemingly stop arriving—their Journeying spells would be delayed by their presumed deaths.  Byranim needed to ensure that the Isle of Dusk was still a safe and neutral place when such Journeyers did finally reappear.  Obviously, the preferred option was to prevent such a state from even coming to be. Continue reading Therelin 25

Corbaan Ryo

It was mid-morning when the seafoam turned red.  Corbaan Ryo, formerly Master Ryo of Ryo’s Baked Goods, sat between Dorim Longheel and Evela Kriya—one of Baron Kriya’s many nieces and nephews.  Dorim pulled an oar, though Corbaan and Evela were fortunate enough to sit as passengers in the middle of the rowboat, by happenstance.  Ahead, the murderous chanting of a thousand bloodthirsty pirates echoed to the beat of a drum. Continue reading Corbaan Ryo

Farek 81

The hills of Var Nordos were creased into sharp ridges only nearer to Noress-That-Was.  Though locals called them “the mountains”, the occasional fishing village was really nestled between grassy rises and forested slopes that could hardly be considered true peaks.  Farek and his guards had followed the road on the north side of the ridge, between green land and blue sea.  Now, at last, they neared Soros again.  Farek was always gone longer than he planned. Continue reading Farek 81

Aralim 129

The Eternal Emperor was sinking a broken piece of bread into a dip thick with seeds when his Aura escorted Aralim out of the iron pillars.  The Walker was often surprised by how lavishly Tag’na dined—after all, he preferred to dress shirtless and walk barefoot across the warm floor of his Palace.  His ample table offerings, even for a midday lunch, seemed more extravagant than many of his other habits.  There were three meats—one Aralim was certain was heavily seasoned boar steaks—a soup set above a candle, a few baskets of various breads and fresh produce, and dozen accompaniments of sauces, seasonings, and snacks.  As Tag’na waved Aralim forward and finished his mouthful, Aralim thought, No doubt he’s eaten every food his chefs can prepare to the point of exhaustion. Continue reading Aralim 129

Arn 65

Arn had been sitting in the dark room for nearly an hour before he thought to examine the black walls.  His calloused fingers found the rough surface oddly warm—this was metal, he realized.  Like the sword he had once carried, like the plates covering some of the soldiers in the siege camp, this metal wall was smooth and seemed utterly unbreakable.  He followed it to the corner and paused… had he heard something?  A whisper?  Or was that just the shuffle of his tattered sandals? Continue reading Arn 65

Renado 77

When Renado pulled on his a brown cloak that morning, he was ready to mourn Woodro’s death.  He was ready to stand there and watch the consequences of their revenge.  In truth, he was ready to leave Saanazar.  He had made the Brethren pay, and—he hoped—the Matriarchs, too.  He was nearly ready to find Rado again.

That was not what happened.  Continue reading Renado 77

Therelin 24

The Isle of Dusk was as quaint as it was secret.  A dozen aged men and women lived peacefully within its ancient protection.  They claimed the Isle was a mountaintop that had sunk in the molten remains of the Orrish.  It had been Ular Graan, Therelin learned, that had declared the Isle a neutral ground for practitioners of magic.  The same great magician that had brokered peace between the Old Empire of Noress and the Kingdom of the Orrene had sought peace among mages following a sub-conflict during that war.  Therelin couldn’t find anyone to tell him specifics of this alleged sorcerers’ war. Continue reading Therelin 24