Jessica Brown
Stories
7
Chapters
1,940
Words
857.1 K
Comments
0
Reading
2 d, 23 h
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“Where’re you going?” Ippolyte rose from beneath the blankets. Her face flushed and her lips curved in a dreamy smile. The lamplight danced along her sweat moistened skin; it was all Wurhi could do to tear her eyes away. “Let me breathe for a heartbeat,” the Zabyallan chuckled, slipping on her tunic. “Just a heartbeat.” “Oh, Wurhi fought the urge to wince. “Like the crazed knight said: live while you can.” Silence followed. “I can barely see you.” The Vestulai began to move…
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Wurhi broke the hot spring’s surface. Suffused in its heat, the Zabyallan breathed the steam deep to clear her senses. Her eyes immediately sought the grand bath’s entrances - open passageways framed by carven marble and lit by oil lamp. Nothing lay out of place to her eye. Next, she scanned the balconies above. They ringed the darkened spring in a circle far above the bathhouse’s black and white mosaic floor. Paradise’s finest rooms lay through their doorways. No Merrick the Hawk emerged onto a…
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The Eye of Radiin hung heavy upon Wurhi’s neck. Though balms and poultices numbed her wounds, the ruby seemed a burden whose chain ground into her flesh. As the thief burned the sacrificial flowers to enter Paradise, she wrestled a desperate urge to cast the stolen jewel into the flame. “Are you unwell, Mistress Wurhi?” Jeva peered at her in concern. “You are pale.” “Fine! Fine!” she insisted, throwing an agitated glance at the entrance door. She half-expected it to burst open and a tide…
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Haldrych raged silently beneath his blindfold. The theft had been an utter humiliation. An heirloom of his house - only recently freed from his mother - His only solace had been having the guards whipped for their carelessness. It ruled his mind as he followed Adelmar and the two men they’d met through this darkness. Haldrych gripped his friend’s shoulder for guidance while the merchant’s son gripped the shoulder of one of the men ahead. Despite this, the poet stumbled through what he assumed…
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Wurhi leapt back. The bronze mace swept the air just before her nose. She skittered backward. The priest rushed to the right, placing himself between her and the door. The Zabyallan cursed. “Let me be.” A voice like scratching glass answered her. “Leave the jewel, and go.” “The jewel?” Her scowl deepened. “You’re no priest!” His large, grey eyes narrowed. There was a coldness to them. Like a falcon’s. “Doesn’t matter who I am. I’ll crack you good in the head and leave you…
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“Can’t believe they’re finally leaving,” Wurhi the Rat muttered, blowing misting breath on her hands. Pain and numbness had seeped in from half a day standing in the cold. The last of the funeral procession trudged through House Ameldan’s gates, their black-clad figures contrasting the snow-crusted street. Wailing a dirge, a grey-haired woman led them, her steps in time with a deep drum. Her dark veil blew in the wind and Haldrych Ameldan followed with head bowed and body wilted. Not a single…
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“Cristabel, may I ask you something?” Kyembe dragged his gaze from his wine cup. “At any time, Kyembe.” The saint looked up from shuffling a set of hand-inked wooden cards. He glanced about. The Sengezian and Traemean were seated at a small table on the edge of the wine room. They were nearly out of reach of the firelight; distant chatter drowned their low tones. Good. Kyembe had sought the seclusion. He took a deep breath. “Did you hear anything of note on the night we slept beneath the…
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Ippolyte gasped, staring at the jewel on the man’s chest, her olive complexion paling by the heartbeat. Her eyes widened; the scar on her neck shifted with the tightening of her face. “ Another young man rode up on a black-coated horse. His blue eyes narrowed. “What’s this, Haldrych?” Haldrych Ameldan rose in his saddle, drawing his horse back. “A Vestulai. No surprise you recognize this.” He pointed to the red jewel. “I wear no shame. The triumph of my house hangs from my…
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Wurhi of Zabyalla screamed. “Good! Now push cut!” Kyembe the Spirit Killer barked. His blade flashed in the daylight. With a cry, she struck back. “You’re trying to kill me!” She retreated, opening distance with agile steps. The half-dark elf shook his head, running a hand through his cropped curly hair. “I am trying to prevent others from killing you. And you are making that difficult.” Silently cursing, she held her enchanted sword - taken from the tomb of the Wizard-King Gergorix -…
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Like a serpent’s tongue, a silk rope slipped over Haldrych’s balcony, gliding down into the winter night. The Heir to House Ameldan lowered it carefully, listening for movement in the hall or footfalls in crusted snow below. Icy nerves chewed his belly; every shadow seemed a witness. The rope tensed. His bed creaked as the knot tightened around its leg. Thin arms strained to steady the line for his invited intruder. A young sneak ascended with liquor-blunted reflexes, making what seemed to…
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