"So you leave the battlefield and she reckons it alright to break the chain of command to follow you. But when she starts running for the battlefield, you—No...We... follow her, simply 'cos you find some horse shite sense of loyalty to follow her to her death for the sake of love."
A distance past the camp blacksmith Sethlzaar caught sight of Saelin. Beside her walked a young soldier doing his best to make conversation with her. It was the third soldier to make an attempt since their return.The third Sethlzaar had seen.Saelin wasn't quick to note him so he slowed his pace and observed them both
"I reckon I should've chosen the class of Polymath."Soartin let out a quiet laugh at Takaris' words. "Scared of the dark, Brother?" he asked, ducking beneath a branch.It was over two hours since they'd left the camp. Narvi led the way, the brothers following quickly behind. The map of this part of the forest was not
Cenam moved with the grace of a predator in the wild. His descent down the wall was immediate, and oddly faster than their ascent had been."You should've sent me," Sethlzaar muttered when Cenam hit the ground. His eyes never left him. "This is a task most suited to me."The orders had been made, and carried out. His a
Sethlzaar snapped to his feet. Bow in hand, arrow nocked, he took aim. He paused, not knowing what exactly he was aiming at. The people within the walls were too far for even his arrows to reach."What is it?" Soartin asked, sharing in his alarm but not rising.Fully drawn from his memory, it took Sethlzaar a moment to
High noon found Sethlzaar in his room, having given their reports of their findings to the captain over an hour ago. The tent was without personal effects, as was the case with his brothers', save the sack bundled in the corner housing three cassocks and two other war cloaks. Next to it laid another sack, this one held the war garments popular to priestesses.Since their return to the encampment Saelin had been spending more time in his tent than ever. It did much to make his nights confusing. She no longer kept her distance while they slept. Often he'd sleep before her only to wake up to fin
Saelin's opponent shattered the stems of the arrows that covered his torso in one motion, surprisingly taking the stem of the one in his head too, and rose his club high above his head. Saelin turned her head away from him and looked at Sethlzaar. Their eyes met for a second time and she offered him that easy smile he loved so much. The one that always met her eyes. And in that moment, Sethlzaar knew Rin had failed him too.He stepped again, and the world faltered. It was a feeling he knew all too well. A feeling that had plagued him years ago. The dizziness hit him and he staggered. He had c
Pain has always proved itself capable of conquering even the greatest of men. It would reach into their minds, demanding of them a submission they never knew themselves capable of. It's one of the few things men have grown to feel and, no matter how much they experience it, never truly adapt to.
Sethlzaar's head turned immediately. Looking over his shoulder he saw Saelin standing in front of the tent, eyes casting in different directions, searching. He returned his attention to Cynth but the man was gone, as though he had never been there in the first place.Cynth had seemed like a dying man the last time they had met. Tonight, he'd seemed like a man cheating death. And he smelled something putrid. Sethlzaar discarded the thoughts. If he could believe the man, then he would see him again. And then, he would have his answer. For now, he turned around and walked towards Saelin.
Darkness has never truly been a thing of worry here. Basically, it’s most often dark here. Most of us don’t like it, but time is enough to make anyone adapt to it. Still, it’s not like we have much of an option. Wether it’s dark or bright or generally colorless, it wouldn’t matter, this is the life we live. We would claim we didn’t choose it, that it chose us. But I’ll be honest, we chose it as much as it chose us. Every action we ever took has led us here; at least all the actions I ever took led me here.
Maekil snapped his finger in recognition. “Yes,” he almost exclaimed. “The Shadow Child of the Conisoir. Even the Lords employ it to scare their children from bad deeds.” He placed a finger to his bottom lip in puzzlement. “Although, yours is different. Why is that?”“Because it is the true tale.”“And you believe this
Red wine twirled within a transparent cup made of glass and fashioned for the simple and unnecessary sake of aesthetics. By Truth, Maekil never could understand the desire to be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it was because all his life he had been nothing but pleasing to the eye, perhaps it was not. He dropped the cup without taking a sip.He would only taste of the wine when the night was over and the morning greeted him with the light of the sun. Normally this wasn’t the case: not in his manor.
Valerik came awake screaming and gasping. His cassock was soaked in sweat and a terror grasped at his heart as he cried into arms that held him with so much untainted love. But somethings were greater than others and he knew that no love or hate or indifference could triumph over the terror that held him.“What’s wrong, father?” a voice asked.He knew who
Valerik opened his eyes from his slumber, instinct propelled to reach across him to ensure he bow still lay where he’d left it last night when he’d bedded down for the night. The bow was the livelihood of his people. A man with no knowledge of where his bow lay at all times was a failure of a man. Assured it was where he’d left it, he rose from the ground to a sitting position and watched the man who sat on the log on the other side of a fire that was nothing but ash. No doubt it had fizzled out sometime during the night, considering no one had paid it any attention.
Sethlzaar blinked the darkness away, but he might as well have waved away the air. Unable to see, he sat up with ease. The floor was covered in grass and served as a soft bed to his rump, so much so that he hesitated to rise to his feet. But he did.Around him was overshadowed in a familiar darkness, and when he took a step forward he frowned at the sight before him.A rub
They couldn’t afford to let the fight drag on. But if there were no wisps, how could he change its course? If Berlak evaded him at every turn, how could they turn the tide? The answer came to him as quickly as the question. There’s more you can do in the dark.Stepping forward, he moved his hand in as he spun from the cover of Cenam’s back to oppose Berlak. The god turned away from his attack easily, striking a closed fist against the flat of Cenam’s veil.
Sethlzaar saw the moment the fight was decided. The climax to the torrential build up. Cenam swung the veil in his left hand. A downward stroke designed to take his enemy’s head. Berlak reacted as fast as the stroke itself, his longsword striking the veil from Cenam’s grip, taking away the priest’s advantage. But Sethlzaar had seen such decisions before. Cenam had intended it. The strike, although intended to take the man’s head, had never truly been expected to. Not a feint. A sacrifice.Cenam’s second ve
The war raged on within the city walls, though the carnage was not as depressing within as it was without. Sethlzaar carried himself in a full sprint, his previously perceived fatigue ebbing away at the touch of darkness as he followed where Cenam led. Bratvi kept pace beside him and paid no obvious attention to his broken wrist. One thing was certain; even if the Most Reverend could fight, it would be impossible to use both veils.There was no doubt that those who had given the once mythical city of Arlyn its reigning title had never stepped foot within its walls. Still, there wa