Tag: stories

The Book of the New Moon Door: Chapter Two

Warder

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.

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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

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.

Table of Contents

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

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 our heroes confront the great worm.

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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

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 there is a confrontation with a god of war, and the ritual ends at last.

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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

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 our heroes return to the arena under very different circumstances.

Table of Contents

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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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XXIII

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 a god appears, and our heroes return to Phyreios for the last time.

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“You must not tarry. Gather your leaders.” 

The person who stood before me was not Khalim. Though his appearance had not changed—I had become accustomed to seeing the light of his magic shine from his eyes—it was clear that he had become someone else. He stood perfectly straight, a warrior’s posture. The voice that came from him was deep and booming. I had heard it earlier that day, when the lance of light had fallen from the sky and turned the assassin who meant to kill me into ash, and I had heard it once before, in the arena. It had stilled the crowd that had nearly overwhelmed Khalim, quieted them into order. I had been bewildered then; now, I was afraid. 

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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter XXII

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 battle concludes, and time runs out.

Table of Contents

The being of fire burned a dark path through the brush back toward us. 

“Brace!” I cried, and the shields on either side of me rose up to meet my own. For all the miners’ inexperience, they had risen to the challenge admirably. The flying orbs of fire broke on the wall of shields, and though I felt the heat and smelled scorching hide, nothing caught. That would not be the case for long—the air was dry, and through the smoke I could still see the elemental coming toward us. A spear of ice that glittered in the sun flew from the wall and struck it at its base, and it slowed, its progress obscured by a sudden cloud of steam. 

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Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Interlude Four

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 Tribe of the Lion and Wolf attacks, and Aysulu faces Alaric.

Table of Contents

“What,” Aysulu retorted, “are you afraid to fight the women?”

Alaric only sneered up in her direction. It was likely he could not see her over the hoardings. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew back her bow, leveling it at his chest. Beside her, Roshani was completing her magic circle, scratching runes into the wooden platform with charcoal and chalk. 

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Love Song in Six Verses: a Star Wars Story

One.

The Force sings to Samara. It has as long as she can remember, like music beneath her hearing, resonating through her body and into the air around her. In the gentle rise and fall of its harmonies, she can sense her fellow students, moving through their drills; the instructor, beyond them, is a still, watchful hum. Through her mask, she can’t see the drones, but she knows where they are, and they dip and bob in the stale air of the temple.

Samara takes a step back and brings her training saber up. The drone’s laser bounces off with a buzz. There’s another student just behind her, who steps easily out of her way. He— she’s almost certain which student this is, a human boy about her age—raises his arms in an overhead block. Samara ducks and shifts her stance into the empty space left by his movement, blocking low and then high, above her face. Two lasers strike the training saber behind her, and her own saber echoes them. 

The Force sings, and Samara falls into it, letting it move her through her forms. She does not need to remember them when her thoughts are only music.

She can sense her fellow student, and he’s just behind her, closer than would be strictly safe, but they do not collide. He moves when she moves, in perfect, glorious harmony.

The instructor claps her hands, and the exercise ends. The soundless music of the Force quiets, but it never goes away. Samara still hears it at the back of her mind; her constant, faithful companion.

She pulls off her mask, untangling the straps from her lekku. The drone is dark and silent now, and she brings it to her hand. It’s faintly warm.

She turns at the same time he does. He’s small for his age, quiet and serious. The mask has tousled his shiny, dark hair. His eyes are a luminous green.

He is familiar, though she has never spoken to him before. She knows him—has always known him.

“I’m Samara,” she says. She holds out a hand.

He takes it, brown fingers over blue. “Iskandar.”

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