Jessica Brown
Stories
7
Chapters
1,940
Words
857.1 K
Comments
0
Reading
2 d, 23 h
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The words hung in the air. Blurted out at a foolhardy volume, the wine room’s din still drowned them out. Haldrych slowly realized what he’d just admitted to his friend. Adelmar’s face was stone, but his eyes flickered as though examining a ledger. His mouth opened. “Then do so.” Haldrych blinked. Had he misheard? He gave a nervous chuckle. “You’re jesting-” “I am not.” Adelmar’s voice ground out. “You had the right of it.” “…the right of what?” “We are meant to…
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Haldrych’s tension eased as he reached his favourite bathhouse. It stood among white grounds as majestic as a palace on a grand estate, its façade supported by braided columns. Wood panelling sealed its balconies from winter’s cold. When the weather warmed, panelling would be replaced by patrons drowning in wine and spirits, filling the balconies to bursting. Painted courtesans would lean over balustrades draped in silk and flowers, flashing smiles that stopped the heart and calling with voices like…
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It had not been the first time he had considered murdering her. Haldrych Ameldan slumped in his silver inlaid chair, scowling at the burning fireplace. A letter of introduction curled and blackened as flame consumed the parchment to a husk. The wax seal of the Gomentrude family boiled, hissed, and melted away. Shadows writhed about the corners of the bed chamber, matching the darkness of the young man’s mood. His soft fingers played along a sword balanced on his knees, smearing the mirrored finish.…
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The wide river shone in the evening sun like a line of fire in emerald lands. An orange sky hung in the wake of the sun above rolling hills and the last towering sentries of the Forest of Giants. Early fireflies danced above the current like sparks kicked off the flaming sunset, and water lapped against the hull of the dugout, pulled along by two oars powered by inhuman might. St. Cristabel Esclanore rowed, her armour and kit packed away lest she were to tumble into the water by accident and sink like a…
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…and he found nothing. A coldness began to grow within him. He thought he could hear something in the distance. “Come forth!” he cried to the egg. “Being that dwells within! I call on you as your new master! I do not fear you, That Which Hungers! Serve me as you served Gergorix!” He sought to bring to life the magics that would lure the mighty entity within. His breath caught. Something was wrong. Something was missing! “What are we doing?” the small woman cried. “We should attack!”…
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Lukotor the Wise’s hands trembled around the Vessel of Altak-Tur, which had penetrated the minds of the guards from the southern gate and seized their bodies. It was a powerful spell that strained the vessel terribly; it shuddered as though in agony. Cracks were forming in the magical clay. Only a little more, he promised himself. Triumph thrummed in his breast as the enthralled ogres led them through the low wall to the barrows. King Gergorix’s tomb rose before him. He was certain of it. He could…
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More signs of Lukotor’s passing greeted them. Another sentry with its lungs burned out. A patrolling ogre with three spears skewered through its neck, surrounded by a trio of broken bodies. “Shit! Shit!” Wurhi hissed. “Think they have that magic egg?” Kyembe growled. “If they did, we would be dead.” “Look at that!” St. Cristabel pointed forward. Beyond the trees up ahead rose an ancient greenish wall, cyclopean in structure and jagged at the top. Vine and moss crawled over the stones,…
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As morning broke, Kyembe, Wurhi and St. Cristabel continued their journey north to Gergorix’s city. A man’s scream shuddered through the western foliage, piercing the dawn and echoing through the colossal trunks. Wurhi the Rat dropped into a defensive crouch. An ogre’s bellow followed. The Zabyallan’s little hand gripped a bronze sword plundered from the body of one of Eppon’s trackers. It trembled as it hung ready to strike. “What was that?” “Shh!” Kyembe raised a hand, while the other…
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The ogres overran the camp like scores of mad titans. The trees belched monsters with eyes shining and spittle flying from their maws. Innumerable tents were trampled, and sickening red oozed from the wreckage. Warriors mounted a desperate defence, but they stumbled in confusion - half-blinded and crazed by terror. One towering beast took a spear to the chest, snarled, then grabbed the thrower and squeezed the life from him. Another fighter was tossed high into the air, her terrified wail abruptly ending…
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