Portfolio: Story excerpt - Starlight Hall
Short excerpt from my story-in-waiting, Starlight Hall, part of the Tower Light Harbour series.
Tower Light Harbour, built around the main port of Makwi Island, was an old city by Isonadian standards. While not quite as ancient and stately as Soleris, Ocara or even Stormhaven, it had its own character born of an eventful history. Damned by its strategic emplacement right at the convergence of crucial sea lanes, it had changed hands far too many time until the Accords of Shrimp Cove made it an independent and neutral city-state, sovereign of its own island, the surrounding waters, and not much else.
Through the centuries, the seemingly eternal cycle of conquests and reconquests had gifted a decidedly eclectic personality to the city and its streets; the perfectly straight alleys bisecting the rigorously symmetrical gardens so favored by the Alpanceans often led to the winding trails of wild, sacred groves planted by Tokape sorcerers and Northlander priestesses, or to the tortuous backstreets typical of Kerrian urbanism. The Ocari’s love of fountains and golden stone was surrounded by the walled houses of Pastoria, built in red bricks from Stormhaven and roofed with slate tiles like the noble dwellings of Ondeverte.
Even now, several years after the Accords’ Centurial Anniversary, architectural tastes from all over Isonadia still influenced the ever-growing city. Itari merchants had brought their love of vivaciously colored walls and their Guléan counterparts their preference for curved roofs; it wasn’t rare to see both styles competing against Alpancean tallhouses on the very same streets, curving around the gloriously lush communal gardens still favored by the Tokape communities.
Qersaan Riusavielle had travelled all across Isonadia, studied old and new building trends for many years; and despite all that, Tower Light Harbour still held the first place in her heart. No other city was quite this discordant, this uneven, this oddly, incongruously charming. Not in all the portion of the world sheltered behind the Isonadian Shields, and this was all the world she knew of.
“The Harbour is the most alive city I’ve ever visited or lived in,” she said to her companion, standing silent by her side, “but I guess that decay and death are parts of life, too.”
At first glance, Silverpond Cycle was a good example of this saying. The surrounding neighborhood, built centuries ago by the last surviving nobility hailing from Old Sarria, had fallen derelict and neglected these past decades. Power and class now belonged elsewhere, and the unevenly cobbled alleys and inexistent street lightning made it a dangerous place to wander, especially at night.
Silverpond Cycle was even worst than the surrounding area, however, its once stately terraced houses now turning grim and dilapidated facades toward the round garden that gave it its name. The garden itself was a sad thing to look at, its pathways overrun by wild vegetation and its fountain silent at the heart of the pond. It was sad, and bleak, and yet still infinitely preferable to the house that stood at the exact center of the eastern crescent.
“But that,” Qersaan admitted in a lower tone, “is worse than death. It’s evil.”
Her companion made a noise of agreement, watching the house in question with narrowed eyes. Her face looked as grim as their surrounding, and momentarily just as old and dangerous, despite her apparent youth. Qersaan blinked, and barely resisted the urge to step back. She must have made a sound or moved, however, because her companion turned toward her with a eyebrow raised in mocking inquiry.
Qersaan swallowed her disquiet, and answered with a look of her own.
Nali Salk smiled, and the atmosphere suddenly felt much less dangerous. “So… this is the house.”
Qersaan nodded. “It was once called Silverlight Hall. It was built by and for a powerful family going by the name of Luthell. They’ve been gone for a long time, now.”
She trailed off, hesitant.
“Go on, please, Councillor” Miss Salk encouraged her, her attention still half on the looming townhouses.
“Nothing I read or heard about the Luthells, or any branch of their family…” Qersaan hissed, annoyed with her inability to find the right words. She was usually so good with words.
“They don’t have the reputation, or the history, of people who do that kind of things to the houses they inhabit,” she finally went with.
“Indeed, they do not.” Miss Salk’s expression was wry when she looked at Qersaan. “And while some people hide terrible natures behind upstanding facades, I do not think this is the case here. I think this was caused by… subsequent inhabitants, for lack of a better word. The Luthells have always been powerful magicians, and not always inclined towards selflessness and kindness, but they never dabbled in the kind of magic that could corrupt an house to quite this extent. Not that I know of, at least.”
Again her expression went wry, as if to admit her distaste for the notion that she could be wrong. Qersaan knew the feeling.
“What does the City Council want me to do about it?” Nali Salk asked after a moment. The inquiry was a polite courtesy; she already knew the brunt of it.
“We left it alone for years, hoping it would… dissipate,” Qersaan explained nonetheless. It was her job, after all, the entire reason why she was here in the first place. “Calm down.”
“Indeed. It’s worst than it was. Its shadows, its darkness... it is spreading. There has been many efforts, in the last decade, to revitalize this district. The foundations of those houses are solid, their walls built to last. It’s such a damn waste, you know.” A city built on such a small island as Makwi couldn’t afford to waste space.
If only this was the only problem.
“None of the restoration work done here ever endure, and we think… no.” She frowned. “We know that it also influences the minds, the acts, of the people who work here, or still live around here. It pushes them to violence, to despair, to committing despicable acts. It’s like a collective disease of the mind, a madness with deadly consequences. And still, it spreads,” she said again, trying to keep the despair at bay. She was better equipped than most to resist the grim influence of the place, but she was no magician.
Which was probably a good thing, considering what that light-forsaken place turned sorcerers and priests into.
“That house has a contagious disease, and it must healed.” She swallowed, still grieved by what she was about to say. “And if it can’t be healed… then it must be put out of its misery, before it manages to push the entire city to madness.”
As a child, Nali hadn’t destined herself to house-whispering. Despite growing up in an half-sentient mansion, the possibility had never even come to her mind. One week she’d wanted to become a surgeon, the next a princess, a gardener or a knight. Sometimes all of that at the same time. Polyvalence, she’d believed, was the better part of valor.
Then life, in that brutal way it sometimes had to turn dreams to smoke, had made sure to narrow down her fields of interest to survival. For a long, long time, the animal instinct to survive at all prices had been the driving force behind Nali’s every decision.
Relearning the most basic of sentient wisdom had been a painful process, made even more so by how late in life she’d started it. Many old dogs could and would learn new tricks; it still didn’t come to them as easily and as fast as it did to young pups. Age brought experience, but it also brought a rigidity of the mind Nali wasn’t all that fond of.
Still, on her best days, she was willing to admit that she’d come a long way indeed. As for what she thought on her bad days, it wasn’t worth mentioning. Bad days were pains in the ass, and agonizing over them on good or not-so-bad days was counterproductive. Nali prided herself on being a very efficient person.
She took three days to prepares herself before entering Silverlight House, because this was going to be a tough one, and you didn’t go to war without a battle plan… unless you wanted to lose it.
And that was the most inefficient state of mind of all.
What did you think of it? Please tell me in the comments!
