Sethlzaar was halfway inside his tent when Saelin pushed passed him. Surprised, he studied her, choosing to remain halfway into the tent as she turned to face him. She watched him with wary eyes, worrying her lower lip between her teeth in nervousness.
Sethlzaar's brows furrowed in curiosity. "Are you drunk?"
Sethlzaar stroked Saelin's hair where it fell from her head rested on his chest, wondering what she was still doing in bed with him four hours past the crack of dawn. On previous days she would have made her exit three hours earlier only after ensuring his breakfast was ready and he wanted for nothing."Where do you go every morning?" he asked her, giving life to the thoughts that had always danced in his mind.Saelin shrugged.
It was high noon when they began their return to the tribe. Despite the hunt being ended, the men never broke formation. Always alert with each step, unlike their arrival, they walked with a caution, weapons drawn and arrows notched. It was an almost trained disposition, and Sethlzaar might have been impressed if more troubling things did not plague his mind.It bore it too, he thought, eyes fixed on the carcass of the animal they'd hunted. He had taken aim, and in those moments he had caught sight of the darkness of wisps clinging to its features; del
Sethlzaar crossed the expanse of the tribe, by-passing the tents as he moved. Wraith's attention twitched at his movement while a boy watched from a tent far removed from the wolf with a focused intensity. The child was no more than his tenth summer, and though he thought himself hidden, Wraith was just as aware of his presence as it was of Sethlzaar's. He passed Cenam where he sat tending to his veils without a word of acknowledgement even when his brother looked up at him. Eventually they would have the talk that was long overdue, and unlike the one he'd had with Narvi, he knew it would be void of platitudes.
Sethlzaar crossed the expanse of the tribe, by-passing the tents as he moved. Wraith's attention twitched at his movement while a boy watched from a tent far removed from the wolf with a focused intensity. The child was no more than his tenth summer, and though he thought himself hidden, Wraith was just as aware of his presence as it was of Sethlzaar's. He passed Cenam where he sat tending to his veils without a word of acknowledgement even when his brother looked up at him. Eventually they would have the talk that was long overdue, and unlike the one he'd had with Narvi, he knew it would be void of platitudes.
"The nerve of you, Priest!" Iyvena snarled. "You will have us break an oath given by ancestors who walked Ayla as early as time began. This is madness, even for you. And thinking we will help you simply for who you are is greater proof that you don't know what you are asking. If you think it's so important, then why don't you reveal it yourself, hm?"Valerik was losing a hold on his patience as she spoke. Women her age were never intended to talk so much. He'd always thought age came with wisdom, and a certain amount of sluggi
relationship with Saelin, Sethlzaar found he had to work harder if he intended on revealing nothing. The report was short lived and his brother ended it with a suggestion that at this rate he was bound to break his oath of celibacy. Sethlzaar wondered if the annoyance he'd heard in his brother's voice as he spoke of Saelin had been his imagination or if it had truly been present as Monsignor Shrowl mulled over the report."Father Vi Sorlan," Shrowl addressed him. "We have also received report from the church on this issue, and were advised to withdraw you from the fort. Or at least, bring your pastoral service to t
The cathedral wasn't far; a short journey by any means. But it was frustrated by Takaris' mumbled complaints at having to take a carriage for such a distance. Suffice it to say, they didn't care.Cenam joined Sethlzaar in taking Wraith to the stables at the heels of a priest there to receive them, leaving their brothers to take the lead. The stables were large enough to house ten Lire wolves but surprise was far from Sethlzaar when he saw the massive chains spilling from the side of the building beside it. He really hoped it accommodated no one.
Sethlzaar lost his touched to his brother. An acceptable sacrifice, he thought, taking Soartin's bishop. He had sequestered it to a point at one end of the board, hoping Soartin would be forced to claim it so he could in turn take the bishop that had caused him so much trouble in the past five minutes. Although, that piece had troubled his brother as much as his brother's had troubled him. Perhaps Soartin had seen the loss of his bishop as an acceptable one as well. What if he had walked into the priest's plan thinking it was his own? This was why he hated playing the man. The second-guessing never did him any good.
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