“What? Guardian?” Collin’s face must have looked as upset as his stomach did. Regardless, Egrid kept on grinning with all the fatherly pride he could manage.
“You have no idea what this means. When I hold this stone, it is just a stone. But when you hold Continue reading “Heathen Fate”
“I’m not sure. The stone I recognize. Archagus Valus has mentioned it once before, and it is recorded in an old scroll. With any luck, Vilder will know it by heart. As for the gate of Vrell, I have never heard of it. What did he say? What did he want from you?” Egrid queried Collin. Continue reading “The Guardians”
“How?” The king pressed a hand against his forehead as he stepped back from Collin.
Collin gave Egrid a puzzled look, “I had hoped it would work, but you knew therewas always a chance it wouldn’t.”
The king shook his head, “No. Not that. How did you find out it Continue reading “King Egrid”
“Hump! Men! They’re all the same!” Amora snorted as Collin headed off.
Collin followed Balfus down several twisting passages—ancient lava tubes he was told. Balfus talked about the city as they journeyed toward the council chambers. It one of the Continue reading “Revelationary”
Collin trudged up the winding slope, his men trailing behind. The sun once again shone brightly on AnteraSvell, marking the end of the phase of the second moon. He had only ever traveled through AnteraSvell once before, during the great Tuskin war, but he had never set foot on the inside of Ingri, the capital of Ingrua. Though Egrid had told him great tales of his city while they were in Belux, Collin had since wondered if those same tales had been romanticized and exaggerated by a homesick man.
As he Continue reading “Royal Greetings”
Amora reached her hand into a bowl of tiny blue spheres, pulling out pearl earrings. She was about to greet someone, a man called Captain Daybreaker. She knew very little, only that her father had been held up at a council meeting, and so he had asked her to greet him. She looked into the mirror trying to ask the face staring back at her countless questions. She was eighteen, though most would guess younger. And her white-blonde hair, her mark of royalty, spilled over her shoulders, falling down her chest. Her eyes sparkled with blue starlight, and her features were cold and still as if she were Continue reading “Princess Amora”
Was it a spirit, demon, ghost, or an Angel? Collin did not know. All he knew was that the being who now stood before him was no mere mortal. His silver white hair extended down to his waist, and he stood a foot over Collin, so that as he drew closer he had to look down, adding to the sensation that Collin stood before a god. His features were noble and distinct, with his ears drawing up in sharp points, and his nose growing forward, straight off of his face. In addition, his jaw was narrow, but his eyes were wide. His skin was as pale as snow. The man spoke not a word but only drifted his gray eyes over Collin, as if searching for a fault, searching for some reason to put the insignificant man out of existence. Collin dared not speak a word, though the rapid pounding of his heart and staggered breathing spoke all too well for him. Continue reading “The Message Bearer”
Collin drew his sword, a deadly curved piece from the East colonies, as he charged his enemies. Several of his men were up instantly at the sound of his warning shout, others less so. The hooded figures continued to flicker, popping up on one side of the room only to disappear and reappear somewhere else. Yet they still didn’t attack. He stood now, in the chamber with Keeter by his side. “Can you see them, Keeter?” Continue reading “The Ghost Walkers”
Collin jumped from the ship, feeling his boots crunch against the snow. The sky was dark now, and it would not see the sun again for several more days. He knew he needed to act fast or else he and his men would run the risk of being detected. Continue reading “On a Mission”
Today, I will meet a man, who others propose, has the answer to a question I have been searching for. A question that it has taken me many years to answer. It is nothing as tragic as an orphan’s tale, nor sobering as news from a long lost brother. No, not even the despondent letter from a dead loved one. The task set for me is not my own. I bear the standard and the weight of another. I will carry this burden until either I die or it is completed. A dying friend’s last words can have that sort of effect on a man. I cannot, and I will not rest until he is answered for. Continue reading “Just a Job”