rough stuff -- Kveta the Kelvish Girl 2

Kveta followed in Mira’s footsteps as they traveled along the river. Mosquitos and gnats filled the air, though Kveta found it no longer bothered her after so many days spent in the Wash. Every hour they walked, Kveta felt they’d walked a hundred kilometers from Risto. A hundred kilometers further from her family.

Mira stopped them on a flat slab of dark granite beside the river. Kveta sat, facing the gently flowing water. When Mira sat next to her, Mira had taken off her armor, leaving on a surprisingly civilian jacket and khakis underneath. The image of those that took zamarkite emblazoned in Kveta’s mind made little room for any commonness, and yet Kveta realized Mira had likely been as her, once. Barefoot, Mira dangled her feet into the water.

Clearing her throat, Kveta asked, “Are you a long way from home?”

Mira nodded. “Twice as many leagues as from here to Lun.”

rough stuff -- Kveta the Kelvish Girl

Kveta cowered underneath the branch as the beast stalked overhead. It was as alike a dragon as she had ever seen, like those in the books at the library in Ristor, scaly and fork tongued. Though it walked with a limp, its body was the size of carriage, and its teeth jutted out as long as swords. She clutched her rifle tight to herself, shaking.

And then, a snap near to her. A flash of steel and the beast roared, staggering as it turned to face the new aggressor. Kveta caught only glimpses of the huntress, her armor black and red, her sword nearly as tall as she was. The huntress flashed the blade as though to dazzle the beast and then held it up at shoulder’s height.

Howling, the beast charged, swinging its forelimbs, alternating with each step.

The huntress stood her ground until she leapt up. Kveta could see little else than a spray of the beast’s sour green blood, coloring the air as the huntress landed on the neck. Though the beast’s head had been cleaved in two, from nose to skull, the huntress planted her sword just under the base of the beast’s skull, and twisted her blade.

A Prologue for a Quest - Commission

The courtyard stretched back from the house a few hundred yards. Taika and Laika sat, hunched in their furs near the far end, while Father Jarvinem sat off to the side. They were far enough out that the warmth pumped up from the underground vents couldn’t well reach them, and so their breath frosted in the air.

Echoes of Old Kingdoms - 00

Still burdened with a headache, her stomach uneasy, Belka stumbled out into the harsh morning light. “What?” She asked, blinking. “Who?” Someone had been knocking.

A pair of soldiers with sheathed swords and the royal insignia painted on their breastplates stood on the landing outside of her apartment. “Are you Belka…?” Trying to read her last name from the sheet of paper in his left hand.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“You are hereby placed under arrest,” the leftmost soldier said.

Scholar's Knowledge

“What happened here?” Belka asked, as the man started along the table toward Belka and Kellja.

“What is happening,” he said, “is not over.” He started to trot, facing Belka as he came around the side of the table, lifting up his mace.

Disappointed, Belka swung to parry with her halberd, and as her halberd’s axehead struck the mace, a white flare overwhelmed Belka’s eyes. She cried out in alarm as her ears began to ring, and a moment later stumbled backward into a chair, tumbling onto her side. She heard another swing and a crack, and then turned herself over.

The Lords' Scholars

They crept along narrower tunnels. “These passages are older,” Kellja said, almost to herself. She held a torch forward, half tilted toward the dark ahead of them. “There are more memories here than elsewhere. The Scholars say it is more conducive to thought, to be in the presence of it.”

“Have you often spoken with Scholars?” Belka asked.

Guilt-Ridden Cavaliers

Belka faced the two cavaliers, halberd leveled. One wore a helmet and the other had a mad look in his eyes. Both were sullen, and their armor was spattered with blood. “Throw down your swords!” Belka called, gripping her halberd. She found she was shaking, to be subject to their maddened attention. Dust floated in the dark blue air of the fortress hallway.

The helmeted cavalier lurched forward with a swing, and Belka swatted his blade aside with the flat of the axehead. He stumbled, nearly falling, as the second cavalier approached. “And should we let another one through?” The helmetless cavalier called hoarsely to his fellow.

“I need to be through,” Belka said. “I’m not with the madfolk outside, I’m—”

The helmetless cavalier leapt toward her, and on instinct, she cut him down. Her axehead lodged in his side, and with a grunt he fell to his side. A line of blood trickled and stained the carpet on the granite floor as she wrenched the blade free.

The helmeted cavalier, still disarmed, ripped off her helmet—for it was a woman, and not a man as Belka had thought—and ran toward the body of her fellow cavalier. “Athalu!” She cried.

Belka stepped backward, uneasy.