Geneve felt sick. It wasn’t just the poison. It felt like her soul needed care, a little time out, to just put its feet up and relax. She knew it’d only been days, but Geneve felt she’d run north for what felt like forever. Cut off from her fellow Knights, Geneve had done the best she could. She’d brought the sinner north, and during their time together, she’d learned he wasn’t a sinner. Meri wasn’t evil, any more than Sight of Day was, or even the monster, Armitage. She’d met evil people before, and none traveled with her. Iz and Tilly arriving felt like a condemnation of her choices. Israel’s voice held such pain when he called her name, and then she’d left his storm to die against the rock of Nicolette. That’s a little dramatic. I was poisoned, dying, Read More …

This is bullshit. It’s a lot of bullshit! Meriwether sprinted until he couldn’t anymore, then tried to push himself to merely run, breath running ragged in his chest. I need a plan, and I need it fast. Fire chewed the camp ahead. Meriwether headed toward it, Sight of Day at his side. The cat’s golden eyes were hard, like he hunted dangerous prey. His bow was in hand, and Meriwether was reminded that here he was, with a borrowed knife and no skills. Hey. I’ve got some skills. He hunkered beside a tent as it verged a makeshift road. Vhemin ran past, heading south. Meriwether almost ducked from cover when ten passed, but Sight of Day held his shoulder. A woman strode by, all black armor and cruel smiles. She was beautiful, but like the sun was to ice. Her face was hard, skin Read More …

Geneve stood atop the keep’s battlements, watching Wincuf walk away. The thug limped. Lucent Eleni claimed his injuries were past her skill with Sway, but she’d re-attached the Novice’s arm in times past. Cleric Eleni wasn’t telling the whole truth. They’d turned him out with silver regals in his pocket, a good Tresward Smithsteel sword, and a total lack of their blessing. The young man cursed them all, and Geneve in particular. She didn’t take it personally because she’d won. Footsteps turned her from the view and her reflection. Tilly walked toward her, armor gleaming in the sun. “Novice.” “Hello.” Geneve returned to the wondrous sight of a retreating Wincuf. “That’s that, then.” “What’s what?” Vertiline placed her hands on the old stone, leaning forward, shoulders hunched. “No more Wincuf.” The Chevalier laughed. “There will be plenty more Wincuf. He’s Read More …

Geneve approached the temple with her head high, red locks flowing in the desert wind. She’d donned her armor for this, because challenging Vhemin without steel around your heart was foolish, no matter how many patterns you knew. She didn’t have her helm because she’d left it on the sands to signpost supplies for old friends, so she’d need to keep her guard up. At least, I hope they’re still old friends. The desert was uncomfortably warm, the sands radiating the day’s heat back at her. Armitage looked happy enough, his leather armor strapped on tight. If his broken arm bothered him, he didn’t let it show. His massive club was held loose and easy in both hands. The plan was simple. Walk to the front door, knock, and enter. When they were still a klick away, Armitage pointed a Read More …

Meriwether lay on his belly, peering over a dune’s rise into the encampment below. It looked like a small military setup. He spied a makeshift smithy, complete with bellows and furnace. Horses were listless in a pen with a fabric gazebo to keep the sun off. Tents lay in neat rows, and Vhemin patrolled like soldiers. They were equipped with new-looking armor, but didn’t wear it the same way a human might. Many made do with a cuirass, not bothering to strap the breastplate and backplate together. It couldn’t be heat, what with them being cold-blooded, but it could be plain old laziness. The horse pen was their destination, but Meriwether couldn’t help but stare at the monstrous structure of the temple. From where he lay with Sight of Day on the sand, he could see the main building was a circular Read More …

The stables yielded Geneve’s prize: an ox-wagon front assembly. The hitch was sound oak, linked to two metal-rimmed wheels. Too heavy for her, but with four? Manageable. They also stole chain and pulleys, a set of hammers, and shovels. Kytto’s hand to hand training might not have been good for beating Wincuf, but working beside the Smith taught Geneve a thousand things most Knights would never know. They hustled the assembly from the stables with whispers and giggles. A few times they had to freeze, fearing a night-delivered noise as discovery, but through the Three’s grace no one found them. They made it to the hall. Geneve directed them on her plan. Hettie shimmied up the walls, the glint of her bald head disappearing into the gloom. Raja and Barbet stayed with Geneve, humping the wagon assembly to the middle Read More …