《Savage Errands I - The Sixth Kuinkazner》The False Lornlariat
Advertisement
In the sixth month, on the 33rd day of the month, young Tristanué Yale returned to Anzioch. She traveled by the Pier of Ventures, a remarkable artifact that belonged to her cousin, Orland, but since her disappearance, it had been entrusted to Tristanué. Controlled by the Prism of Orlandra, a beveled crystal ring resembling a thick chakram, the Pier of Ventures, a sizeable five-sided stone platform with the power of flight, traversed the great distance between Arbonhale and Anzioch in mere hours to the astonishment of all.
That evening, the sentries of Anzioch cheered when the Pier of Ventures, so distinct and recognizable, came into view, eventually gliding over the walls silently before descending to its regular landing zone. Each group member disembarked casually as the Sablers received them without suspicion. Such was the reputation and trust the men placed in Tristanué, from the foot soldiers up to their captains, even General Duralamayre, who watched the reception from his command tower.
Tristanué’s welcome, though warm and genuine, could not compete with the loud greeting the Sablers gave Lady Skythorn, whom they regarded as much a song-prophet and warrior as her legendary mother, the founder of the Sabler Commonwealth. Also, the Sablers counted it all good fortune that Lornlariat — to them the sharpest sword in the world, that celebrated Sword of Saints — was nearby. Despite being fiercely competitive, Tristanué did not mind coming in second to so adored a saint, one most explicitly sponsored by powers not found in the mundane world.
Days into her visit, she wore Sephragelo’s masterwork with great assurance, secretly enjoying the boost in height the boots imparted. She even liked the sound of her heels as they clacked against the polished tiles of Ashen Garde, the Paledragon-controlled sanctuary around which Anzioch had been built ages ago. She was no longer that tall, gangly girl on Arbonshire. No, she was a woman, with a woman’s body, and a woman’s beauty, and now a woman’s walk. And for the first time, she was learning just how much power lay in these two possessions — the clay and the curve of it — and what power did not: dying men, barely older than her, calling for their mothers as they bled out, did not care how pretty or poised she had become.
Advertisement
While strolling along the city walls, passing by the banging smiths, walking past archers repairing their bows, or patrolling the blackened northern fields where enemy siege engines had caught fire and burned to the ground days before, whenever a whip of wind or blast from the bellows fluttered one drape or the other, or both, she reflexively and palmed them down.
But now, less than a week later, she paid those breezes little mind. She knew some of the soldiers, far from home and longing for the kisses of their women and the hugs of their children, stole glances as she passed. The Sabler Order was a good thing, founded by a benevolent prophet and prospered by monks and clerics into the open society it was today. So, in the middle of a war, along the high battered walls of Anzioch, or the buckled terrain surrounding it, if the men took to prizing her as something warm and beautiful against all that cold, if one woman reminded them of their own, if a bit of lust helped them heal — well, she did not mind. Respecting their morale, she did not flaunt herself, but neither did she flee from her brand-new self-confidence, one she could tell the Sablers regarded as a debut.
Emboldened, she was committed to a new list of actions.
First, she met Samwand of Plume, an overweight young chronicler attached to the Sabler army. On loan from the Ministry of Remote Ages, he was familiar with the history of Sanzakarth, the city of Anzioch, and Ashen Garde. A rosy-cheeked legalist, he was intimately acquainted with the Paledragon Amendment, that old covenant that sanctioned the Sablers’ taking of the city. Since Tristanué planned to return to Kimjudeya, she inquired if Samwand knew of any officers who were experts in mystichora (the Vyn Vanir term for magical creatures), particularly those found in deserts. It turned out a man named Starwood, a former associate of Tristanué’s aunt, Allessia, was in Anzioch tallying the sightings of Sudar-Calbion: a colossal hammer-headed sand serpent scouts had seen sliding through the great dunes of the western desert known as the Dry Silence. Thus, she committed the name Starwood to memory.
Tristanué was not a thief. Nonetheless, she was not above a little larceny when (in her reasoning) the fog of war allowed bypassing the Sablers’ overly strict ban on looting. She found Samwand in the middle of taking inventory of the dozens of illegal reproductions of the famous witchsilver sword Lornlariat. The personal weapon of the Sabler Queen for over a thousand years, now wielded by the fast-moving song-prophet, Lady Skythorn, Lornlariat, and her two sisters, Drae Selenè and Aslanjuris, held a privileged place in the lore and law of the Sablers and the Vyn Vanir before them. All three blades had been imparted with perpetual warrants granting them sweeping legal powers to forgive debts, seize property, pardon prisoners, conscript servants, and strike without liability before the law. Historically, such warrants were sparingly granted to famous swords until they broke in battle: a divine sign their purpose had ended. However, no one realized the three sister blades were indestructible.
Advertisement
Consequently, anyone wielding the vorpal Lornlariat could murder whomever they wanted and not be brought to trial for it, at least not in the Sabler Commonwealth. It was a terrifying form of social and martial carte blanche, now regarded as the “six-thousand-year mistake.” Fortunately, the holy hands in which the blades found themselves did not take advantage of these permissions but battled from conscience rather than colder motives. For this reason, reproductions of the swords were illegal as they could unlawfully annul, seize, and strike down men and women under powerful pretenses. While Samwand moved back and forth in his chamber, checking his books and ledgers, Tristanué picked the most convincing counterfeit to the silvery Lornlariat and concealed it up in her poncho. Shouting fast farewells, she skipped out before he detected the theft. Later, at the end of the hour, Samwand found he was one long sword short. After a recount, he simply corrected the ledger down by one.
As for Tristanué, she had plans for the false Lornlariat in her newly acquired mountain refuge in Kimjudeya. After she returned to her quarters to stash the replica under her mattress, word shot through the camp that a Sanzakarth prince named Jansekadé had arrived ahead of thirty thousand men from the south. Reports claimed Lady Skythorn, months ago his prisoner, had won her freedom by healing his dying wife and reforming the twisted limbs of his crippled son with those sacred songs which had forged her legend. Stunned by the dual miracles Lady Skythorn performed, the hard political bias of the southern prince was shattered when his son, seconds before simple-minded and lame, straightened out before his eyes, stood, and ran to him. Against such overwhelming grace, even the most rigid political loyalties disintegrate. When he had regained himself after many tears, he begged how he could repay such staggering and unmerited mercy, going so far as to offer the better half of his kingdom in gratitude. Being a slave to holy intentions, Lady Skythorn demanded the necks of the Rovian priests who had secretly cursed the son to control the father. Realizing their manipulations, the prince acceded to the young prophetess’ request. Freeing her and returning her mother’s sword (the real Lornlariat) to her, the deceitful priests of Rove Kisaya were arrested and dragged to the courtyard. In the same place they had humiliated, tortured, and condemned innocent people for decades in mock trials, Lady Skythorn turned their system back upon them, executing one-hundred-and-twenty men, one after the other, until no disciple of that mad lying angel Rove Kisaya remained. In their deaths, no bones were found that could stop the astral edge of Lornlariat, which passed through their stiff necks like wheat.
Tristanué’s purpose for the replica of Lady Skythorn’s famous blade was far less grandiose. Since the reputation of Lady Skythorn was spreading so fast throughout Sanzakarth, it occurred to Tristanué that she might be able to bluff her way out of some minor confrontations if future rebels believed Lornlariat was in her possession. Or better, possessed by her bodyguard, Jocasta Valan, who Tristanué thought was just a few wardrobe choices and one haircut away from resembling the celebrated prophetess. On this, Tristanué wondered if impersonating a saint was all that much of a sin. Undoubtedly, the powers of heaven, those flawless Nuon Jion, would consider her good intentions when weighing her schemes on their holy scales.
Advertisement
The Wedding Plan
What happens when we put together two workaholics with their hearts closed to love? Eleanor, a clumsy twenty-two-year-old, had everything in her life planned out and was focused only on her career and everything was going smoothly until she tried to walk into the same elevator as Sebastian Crain. After that, she thought she would not meet him face to face again, until she started working at his company and he made her an outrageous request. At twenty-six, Sebastian had just replaced his father as CEO of Crain enterprises. Not only was his professional life in total chaos, but the media had also depicted him as having an extremely active romantic life when, in fact, it was inexistent. But everything changed when he received his sister's wedding invitation and was told that he needed to attend with a date. To him, Eleanor looked perfect for the part. They only had to pretend to be a couple and attend a wedding. But what will happen once they realize that what they have is a lot more than a fake relationship?P.S: English is not my first language, so if you read something of mine, please be kind in the comments and constructive criticism is really appreciated.
8 182Girl Gone Rogue (The Shadow Hunters #2)
He was an established Enforcer among the Elite Syndicate- one of the best in the Shadow Hunters. I was a girl that got lucky. I may have developed a fondness for the man who made it clear to me that I was strictly one of many Enforcers in the Pack. I think it was time to bid my crush goodbye and move on. I just didn't expect Alexei Vasiliev to force his way into my life when I was ready to let the curtains close on our could-have-been story. WARNINGMATURE LANGUAGESEXUAL CONTENT
8 133EXPOSED
(Sequel to NAKED)She's a high school graduate and she's heading to college! Camari has already had a rough year, and through the Summer she made it clear that she'll put herself first for now on.Moving in around the corner from Trevor and her brother she will come face to face with the guys that she thought she once knew. Camari wants to forget the past and focus on her new college life. But with Trevor always lurking in the background will she be able to fully get over him?As the past comes back to haunt everyone, their lives is starting to look corrupt in the near future. Relationships form and fall. Friendships bail. Careers fold and hearts get broken.Too many secrets are on their way to getting EXPOSED!Started: February 6th, 2019Ended: June 5th, 2019
8 222Waters of Oblivion | ✓
FREE with Paid Bonus Content. Sometimes you just might have to die to live again. *****When art historian Reine Baldwin meets Gabe Moran, a charming journalist, she has no idea their blossoming love will shatter her comfortable life. But a series of clues lead Reine to discover that she's not alone in knowing that she was born centuries ago and-worse yet-there are many things she apparently doesn't even remember. Reine has to face a forgotten past and a forgotten ex-husband (the handsome billionaire Max Baldovini), who-like her-is immortal and cannot truly die. Should she trade her ordinary life with Gabe for the love of Max, a man who's worshipped her for half a millennium? The choice should be easy, until Reine starts to remember things that Max is desperate to make her forget.[[word count: 100,000-150,000 words]]
8 199Dork Days and Bad Boy Ways (BoyXBoy)
Falling for bad boy Reed isn't something sixteen year old Caleb planned on doing this summer. In fact he planned on being as antisocial as ever. When he and Reed go a little far one night, poor Caleb is left confused and he ends up hurting the ones he needs most. But what happens when they decide to get revenge? One mistake will turn Caleb's whole life upside down. Will he get his happy ending, or will reality come crashing down?
8 162Cupid Falling
Eros thought he knew everything about love. Being a Cupid and all. But that was before he met Penelope...For nearly a decade, he's tried-and failed-to match her and her true love, Trevor. If he doesn't make the match by the ten-year deadline, he faces demotion to a position that would mean horns. And his face really deserves better than to be marred by such unsightliness.By now he's tried every trick in the book to get his unwilling targets to fall in love. Every meet-cute, every setup, every skill in his Cupid repertoire. Everything but dating Penelope himself...
8 144