The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Six

The Lighthouse

The Book of the New Moon Door cover image: A book with yellowing, wrinkled pages lies open on an old wooden desk, with a sprig of lavender lying in the center.

Lucian Warder.

Isabel examines the record. The date beside Warder’s name is today’s, the twenty-first of Isra’s Moon. He must have gone to the library this morning, after word of the murder in the Shell District spread. Nothing unusual about that. Anyone would be curious—Isabel was, after all.

Still, it’s strange that she’s run into him twice in such a short time, and stranger still that he sought her out after everything that had happened last night. What did he say his device did? Banish restless spirits, rather like she does? What she does isn’t banishment, but that’s only the first of many problems she has with the concept of Warder’s device.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Five

The Device

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Berend breathes in the stale, dusty air, ignoring the pervasive scent of decay. His neck aches. He’s a big man, and a proficient fighter; there’s never been an occasion when someone has managed to get their hands around his throat, but he is certain that’s what he felt in that blasted room. If he recalls it, he can still feel the individual fingers squeezing, pressing into his windpipe. He hopes he’ll never have to experience that again.

There is his pistol, his trusty friend through more fights than he can count, lying in the dust on the parlor floor. Berend doesn’t want to leave it behind, for its sentimental value and the fear of what new absurdities might lie upstairs.

That means he must reenter the parlor.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Four

The House

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“Did you see that?”

Lucian is already frantically scribbling in his book, a rough approximation of the young woman taking form under his pen. He balances the lantern on the top of his case and rummages in his satchel, producing a glass thermometer wrapped in a handkerchief.

“Was that the ghost?” asks Berend. With one last look around the stable, and no movement apparent in the body of the horse, he shuts both doors and places the wooden plank across the metal brackets on the outside.

“Not sure.” Lucian gives the thermometer a shake and frowns at it in the dim lamplight before wrapping it back up and returning it to his bag. “I’ll have to take a few more readings. What did you find in there?”

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Three

Belisia

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To place the box in which Mikhail’s corpse currently resides into the temple’s extensive graveyard, Berend will have to pay one hundred silver pennies.

He is informed of this by Father Reeves, the priest in charge of funerary services, a tall man with a shaved head and an aquiline nose. He is paternally comforting and coldly distant, often at the same time, and it’s an unsettling effect. Long brown fingers make notes with a quill in a yellowing ledger.

We all end up as numbers. Berend hands over the money. It’s most of what he has. He’ll need more if he’s going to continue sleeping in a bed until his next job.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Two

Warder

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Isabel sits at the small table across from Brother Risoven, her tea growing cold and a piece of bloody-colored fungus lying on a scrap of paper beside it. It’s stained the paper a wet reddish brown, and it’s shriveled a bit, but otherwise it hasn’t changed noticeably from when she pulled it off the side of a shack in the Shell District last night. In the thin early morning light from the high, narrow windows of the chapel’s living quarters, it looks rather like a severed finger, dark and twisted from putrefaction.

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The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter One

Mikhail

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The gods weep when a Son of Galaser dies.

Berend would know. It rained for five days straight after the battle on Braenach Hill, when nine Sons out of every ten were slaughtered in the grass, seven years ago. He stood in the mud, afterward, water pouring down on his bandaged head, and listened to the announcement that he and the handful of others still standing would be out of work, as part of the terms of their employer’s surrender.

Not many walked off that hill. Even fewer are still around.

And now one of them is lying in six pieces on an embalming table.

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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XXVII

Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea cover image: a wide, still river with forested mountain peaks rising on either side, underneath a clouded sky. — In which the journey continues.

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We made our way back to the gate, a grim procession through the rain and the rubble. Phyreios had truly and utterly fallen. There was nothing left of the temple at the foot of the mountain, once the city’s most magnificent structure. Of the arena, all that remained was a few broken pillars of soot-stained white marble, standing half-buried in a bed of broken stone. Over the husk of the city lay a miasma of smoke, and the rain brought up a thick fog. I could not see much farther than the reach of my arm. The Sword of Heaven hung heavy from my hand.

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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XXVI

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Weight bore down upon me. The broken earth cut into my flesh. Were it not for the pain, I would have thought I had perished, crushed beneath the rock. Absolute, impenetrable darkness pressed in all around.

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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XXV

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Another shake rumbled beneath our feet, but the approaching figure did not stumble. I placed myself between the door and Khalim. We waited, hardly daring to breathe, as the footsteps echoing in the darkened corridor came nearer and nearer. Beyond the arena’s walls, weapons clashed and barricades were shattered as Reva’s miners confronted the city’s soldiers. I prayed to whatever god might be listening that they would be safe, and keep the Ascendeds’ forces from our backs.

I stood between Jin and Jahan, and each had his sword at the ready. The air hummed and shimmered between their blades. I could almost hear the magic contained within. I felt a lingering fear in the knowledge of the power of these weapons, as much as I was grateful for their presence. If one could kill a god, what would it do to me, should I find myself on the wrong end of it?

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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XXIV

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The city still stood, and was recognizably itself, despite the fires that lit up its streets. Reddish light fell over the plain as the sun rose, casting the landscape in a bloody hue. There was a brief reprieve from the earthquakes, the aftershocks rippling under our feet, but for how long Phyreios would remain standing, I did not know. Aysulu’s horse stood with its legs planted wide, anticipating another shake.

“Oh, no,” Khalim whispered beside me. “No, no, no.”

He must have recognized the horror before him. He had seen it, and walked hundreds of miles to prevent it, and yet there it was, just as it had appeared in his nightmares.

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