Tharan is fairly certain he’s dying. The pain sears through his entire being. He has just enough focus to attempt to heal himself. But what must be poison of the highest potency continues to fester and eat away at his skin. He has never endured pain like this before, not in all his long years. […]
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Alkara edges down the darkened tunnel. Dre and Chiron slip in behind. She peers into the void and small variances of shapes greet her. Tinges of needlepoint stab around her eyes. Dre’s potion helps a little but the tradeoff pains her. Castoff items mark the absence of their Harvester owners. Dre taps Alkara’s shoulder, “They
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Tharan stares at his office wall. Its grain sits beyond his perception as he tries to absorb the full context of the missive he received. Dorië stands inside the door, unseen but Tharan feels the attendant’s presence. They pursued him. The warnings. Iroshi’s instruction. Common sense. Ignored. They had gone in spite of them all.
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Alkara stares into the fire, holding a glass of wine. She feels warm. Too warm. Might be the wine. And the fire. She’s pretty close to it. “What happened next?” A familiar voice asks behind her. She turns to Tharan, sitting back in his chair. His eyes twinkle with a true smile on his face,
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“Alkara?” Eryl’s voice clings to her from the darkness. Startled from her thoughts, Alkara peers through the dim street to where Eryl stands at The Melted Griffin. A small part of her, somewhere deep inside, loosens. “Eryl!” She picks up her pace to a slow jog, “Where have you been? I— I’ve been worried about
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Alkara sighs into the tavern’s counter. Minutes creep by. Nearly an hour has passed with no sign of Eryl. She worries the wooden countertop with one hand, rubbing the grain with calloused fingers. Nearly a week had passed since she’d seen him. Where is he? Someone claps her shoulder and she fidgets. She smiles at
Alkara rotates between the line of archers. The range struggles to accommodate them all. Merchants and porters and tailors. Most every kind of profession found themselves training. The fifth day of training stretches toward sunset. Many trainees come and go, having to return to work and earn their living. Still, improvement descends on some in
Three Rivers attracts bad actors like a corpse brings carrion eaters. Past generations built a third of the city on the western bank. Those structures fell to ruin. Now it serves as a hive for the aberrants. Nests and honeycombed hideouts. So it isn’t long before Alkara gets to test her new bow. The hunter
Alkara sits quietly next to Dre in Uncle Iro’s room as she sleeps. Alkara has a meeting with Charlotte soon, but she’s loathe to leave Dre alone. And Uncle Iro and Chiron are both busy. There’s a soft knock on the door. Alkara quietly rises and goes to answer it. “Ileta!” Alkara whispers exitedly. “Thank
Alkara spends the next few tendays keeping a low profile. She finds new routes through the guilds’ stomping grounds. Except the Rook’s. Leaving town is out of the question. She doesn’t even stay at the Melted Gryffin often. And it’s all to avoid the few opportunities of trouble that find their way to her. She