Writing Blog

Due to stress levels, I'm doing something different for NaNoWriMo this year. Instead of meeting a word count, I'm going to start a new short story each day. I'll write as much as I have time/energy for, then the short will have to wait until December. Most will be set in the universe I created for last year's NaNoWriMo, Kymas. Most will be pretty gay. 

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 3: Meeting an Immortal

“So, you’re immortal.”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“There might be something that could end the spell, these things usually aren’t eternal, but I haven’t found it yet.”

“Are you looking?” Belen looked away from wrapping the wound in the taller man’s belly to squint up at him.

Khalid shrugged. “Sometimes. When I’m not doing anything interesting.”

Belen dug more linen bandage out of his pack, silence stretching. “For curiosity’s sake, what are you doing now?”

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 10

~O~

“Time for reciprocity,” Khalid said, holding back the branch of an overly ambitious tamarisk so Belen could pass. “Why are you travelling alone on such an overgrown road? You don’t seem to have much knowledge of outdoors craft.”

“Not here,” Belen huffed. “In Fikajie I could survive in the jungle for weeks, no problem. Everything here is so dry and barren.”

Khalid shot him a look. “We’re right next to the Great River. This is the lushest part of the whole region.”

“Ugh, I know,” Belen said.

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 20

~O~

Sometime later, Khalid said, “You could tell me the Fikajeen mountain legend. To pass the time. It’ll be several days before we can cross the river, and several more to get to Giyara after that.”

“I told you, I don’t perform anymore.”

“It doesn’t have to be a performance. It could just be a story. I’ve seen the mountains, you know. There’s something about them that takes my breath away. Possibly it’s the thin air. Possibly it’s the dragons.”

Belen huffed. “I didn’t see any dragons when I passed through. Just rocks and snow.”

“There are definitely dragons. One tried to eat me.” Khalid’s face was perfectly straight, giving no clue about whether or not he was joking.

“The legend doesn’t include any dragons.”

“Maybe you’ll have to add them, I wouldn’t know the difference.” Khalid’s eyes were so blue and clear. Belen had only seen sky that color when he was in the mountains, above the clouds. He had the sudden thought that the man and the mountains came from the same time, that they belonged to each other. It was silly, but it decided him.

“Alright,” he sighed. “You’ll have to take it without all the rhyming, though.”

Khalid’s face lit up, and his exaggerated eagerness made Belen roll his eyes.

“Many years ago, before the first empire, before the Ashralan exodus, before Docair rose from the sea, back when the Strait of Storms was calm, Fikajie and Ecorydice were at war.”

Khalid hummed encouragement.

“The Fikajeen say that the Ecorydine were invaders, the Ecorydine say that the Fikajeen attacked them. The cause of this war has been lost to time, perhaps it was lost before it had even begun. The cause is not important. What’s important is that it raged for generations. The villages near the border were depleted, men, women, and children, as they grew, fighting and bleeding and dying for their cause, whatever they believed it to be.”

“All war is like that,” Khalid said, without his usual exuberance. “Those who fight have very different reasons than those who send them to their deaths, if either has reasons at all.”

“So many died that there could be no burial. No death rites or memorials, for either side. The bodies were simply heaped in the middle, and battle continued on top of them.”

Khalid winced. “Fighting atop corpses sounds an absolute misery. People paid you to hear this story?”

“It sounded better with the rhymes and some music. Besides, people are blood thirsty. Now hush.”

Khalid mimed zipping his lips.

“This angered the Earth. She had been disturbed as the war went on, as her forests were cut down and farms burned. Those who had tended her and loved her were lost and left no replacements. I used to embellish a bit here, I’d add something about a love story between a Fikajeen and Ecorydine soldier that the Earth got invested in, but that’s not part of the legend. The only thing people like more than blood is doomed love.”

Belen found he was enjoying himself. He loved stories, he had since he was a child. Telling them had always made him feel connected to people, to history, to all that was and could be. Without Ehsan, the magic had dimmed. Perhaps he would never get that back, but he didn’t have to lose the stories.

“She shook with her anger, and the tremors leveled the military encampments, the forts and the towers. Catapults fell to pieces, chariots lost their wheels. No one could stand and no one could fight. The tremors lasted for hours. When they stopped, once the dust had cleared, the soldiers once again readied themselves for battle, but they found something in their way. The Earth had used the shakes to rise up, over the piles of bodies and into the sky. She had reclaimed her people and prevented any further bloodshed. It’s said that the dead wait there, under the mountain, ready to halt any army that tries to pass through.”

“Mountains make for good neighbors,” Khalid said. “There wasn’t anything about dragons.”

Belen scowled. “How about… Not all of those under the mountain were dead. When the tremors began, the armies left their wounded where they lay, with no one to care for them but the Earth. She could not save them, but she did what she could. She crafted them new bodies out of blood and stone, she gave them wings so that they might live among the clouds and impenetrable hides so that they might never again be harmed. She gave them allegiance to no king so that they might never be asked to take up arms. She asked only that they protect those peaks, and her people.”

Khalid nodded, eyes squinted against the sun. They’d have to make camp soon. “Not bad. The whole thing is quite morbid. Are all your stories like that?”

“Not the ones about forbidden love. Well, not all of them. I can’t deny its effectiveness though, Fikajie and Ecorydine haven’t been to war in a thousand years. Whether it’s the mountains or the legend stopping them, who can say.”

“I suspect the mountains. Kings tend not to be stopped by moral quandaries.”

Belen considered him. “Did you ever meet the Eklubian king? I can’t remember what terminology Eklub used.”

“By the time I was born, he was calling himself Emperor,” Khalid said. He was quiet, but the silence had a weight the size of his next words. “He was my father.”

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 6 (late): Unplanned Elopement

Is this what the fortune teller meant? Divya wondered as she dangled thirty feet above the ground from a rope made of her bedsheets. This feels very familiar.

The soft scrape of fabric against stone drew her attention. It wasn’t her, she knew how to muffle her movements. A glance upward calmed her racing heart – no one was leaning out of the window of her guest suite, ready to call for the guards. Turning while hanging from a twisting bedsheet wasn’t easy, but she managed to get herself oriented, and discovered the source of the noise.

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 19

“I’d be happy to leave you to get to know each other better,” Divya said, “but do those sound like boots?”

He scrambled to his feet, and she noticed for the first time the heavy pack attached to his back. Something in it clanked.

“You are a menace,” she muttered. “Quick, through here.” Hiding places near to her egress point hadn’t been considerations in the plan, and there weren’t many options. There was a vine covered gate leading to a small, overgrown garden surrounded by a crumbling stone wall, and that was where she dragged her erstwhile fiancé.

She flinched with every clank of his bag.

“I have never seen guards patrol back here,” he whispered. “Wait, the ropes!” She wasn’t quick enough to grab him as his hand slipped out of hers.

“Leave them! What can you even do?” she hissed, as loud as she dared. He didn’t turn back. His bag clanked the entire way.

Seeing him against the outer wall of the castle, one rope coiled against the ground and one length of bedsheet a stark contrast above him, she had to admit it was a problem. Even the least observant guard would be hard pressed to miss them, and it was much too early for their escape to be discovered.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard his quiet curse, then a flame caught the end of the rope, travelling up the wall like a flare and consuming everything behind it. She followed the spark until it disappeared into his window, at which point it was much too late to stop what happened next.

He wasn’t a complete idiot. He’d studied at a university, his achievements there were enough to impress even Divya’s mother. The entire trip east had been filled with exaltations of how smart their children would be. He did take off his pack before he started jumping, the spot of flame between his fingers coming closer and closer to the fabric gently swinging in the breeze with each leap. There was no clanking. There was, of course, his quiet grunts and the scuffing of his shoes against the stone. There was the bright burst of flame as the sheets caught, burning a streak into her vision as it was consumed.

When he was finally hunched next to her beside the rusted gate, she asked, “Were you planning to do that? To get rid of evidence?”

He grinned, teeth flashing in the dark. “Yeah. Pretty smart, right?”

She nodded, begrudgingly impressed. “What’d you tie your rope to? Something not flammable?”

“A heating pipe for the steam. I tested it for my weight and its built to handle more heat than I can produce.” He glanced at her. “Why?”

“Because I tied mine to my bed.”

He nodded. “Sturdy, sounds good.”

“My wooden bed.”

He followed her gaze. Smoke was just visible against the backlight of flickering orange marking her window.

“The castle is made of stone, right?” she asked, not looking away.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away either.

“It’s a good distraction.” There were shouts from the castle, a faint pounding, like fists on wood, barely audible from this distance.

“I think the guards left.”

She hummed, then snapped out of it. “We need to leave, they’ll know we’re gone soon.” Upon standing, her foot caught on a bit of jagged stone. “Hey, Adrian. Is this your family cemetery?”

“No? I’ve never been back here before. My mother said there were poisonous snakes.”

“Thanks for not mentioning that before, but I really think this a gravestone. Look, it says ‘Lost as a daughter but found as a mother’. Tahmina of Doukas. That was your family name before the empire fell, wasn’t it?”

“That was what all the dukes were called. The first name isn’t familiar.”

“Tahmina sounds Hajian. No self respecting Hajian would marry into your family if they’re so overtly racist.” Divya decided to dismiss it.

“Maybe we weren’t always like this! Or maybe she wasn’t self respecting. Don’t be rude to my great aunt Tahmina.”

“I thought you said you didn’t recognize her. Also, what is making that horrible racket?” She stopped, still hidden behind the low wall. “Don’t you know we are on a covert mission?”

A blush rose on his cheeks, turning the light brown rosy. “I packed everything into a cooking pot, but I must not have muffled it very well.”

“A cooking pot? On the run?”

“We’ve got to eat, right?”

She sighed, then cast around for something to muffle the pot with. She came up with mostly dry leaves, but a handful of fresh ones, some sort of root, and some purple flowers with an interesting shape also served as a barrier between metal and- “What are those?”

He blushed again. “My gardening supplies. I was going to be a farmer, remember?”

“With a hand trowel?”

“I thought we were in a hurry.”

She shook her head as if to clear it, nodded, and flipped the pack closed. Hers was still on her back, filled with nothing but the essentials: clothing, a blanket, her hair products, and a bottle of perfume. She hadn’t managed to smuggle much food from dinner, but it was wrapped in a napkin, on top so it wouldn’t be crushed.

“Onward, then.”

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 1: A Letter Changes Everything

Dear Sir, the letter read, We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted a position at the Cachian Academy. As your gift has been deemed either powerful or unusual enough to require training, your attendance is mandatory under the Interkingdom Agreement Regarding Magical Accidents. Please present yourself for measurement and assignment within three weeks. If the estimated travel time for your region is not sufficient, you may request an extension via –

Kennan stopped reading. He wanted to tear the paper to shreds, but there was no point. He’d been caught, and it was all over now. The second line made him scoff. Powerful or unusual were interesting ways to say useful or dangerous. The admittance board must have started salivating when they heard about him.

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 8

~O~

The walk to the port was long, but he managed to catch a ride with a farmer bringing excess harvest to market. No one had much extra in Docair, so there was plenty of room in the cart. The market the farmer used was a bit out of Kennan’s way, but he wasn’t interested in rushing, and he picked up a job with a caravan heading back to the port. He didn’t know how much ship fare would be, but he suspected it would be more than his meager savings.

Finally, they reached the horizon, farther from home than anyone he knew had ever been. The cliffs dropped away in front of him, waves from a far away storm dragging at them. The clouds darkened barely a mile off shore, and a veil of rain separated where he was from where he needed to be.

The port was less of a harbor and more of gulf. It was the most protected place on the island, but that wasn’t saying much. The ships rocked in their moorings, the wood of their hulls scraping against stone piers so loud he could hear it from town. Even those willing to live so close to the storms backed themselves as far up the cliffs as they could. The town, such as it was, was built about three quarters of the way up with a long switchback slope leading to the water’s edge.

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 16

Kennan shook his head, managed to get a bit of bread down his throat, and said, “I thought you worked here?”

“Oh, well yes, for room and board. I’ve been waiting for a ship out for going on three weeks now. Matron was kind enough to give me work or I’d be camped out on the bluffs.”

“Might be drier up there,” Kennan said. His voice was drier than the air, which rather proved his point.

Corwin guffawed. “Might be, but I don’t want to miss my ship. I’ll be late as it is.”

“Late for your somewhere better?” Kennan asked.

“Aye, Cachia in the end. Got a scholarship to their school of magic. I’m looking forward to getting a bit of sun. Reckon I’ll see more my first day than ever in my life.”

This conversation was starting to feel dangerous to Kennan. “Are you sure you should be telling people that? I’ve heard – people go missing in ports, if they have enough magic.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go about shouting it from the rooftops, but I’ve no training and it’ll be years before my power is any use. Once I can use it, I’ll stay silent until I can protect myself. Besides, you’re not going to sell me out, are you?” The man said it as if it were a joke, but Kennan didn’t think it was. The harbormaster, for all he’d been necessary, prickled at him. He tried to smile, but even he could tell it was strained.

Corwin squinted at him. “You’re not one of them that’s afraid of strong magic, are you?”

Kennan could feel his eyes widening in surprise. He’d never been good at hiding what he was feeling, but he’d have to learn. He wondered if he should pretend he was afraid. It would dissuade questions. “Not sure,” he croaked, “Never known anyone with strong magic.”

Corwin shrugged, all easy acceptance. “Well, you don’t now.” He glanced around, as if to ensure they weren’t observed, and motioned Kennan closer. With his hand hidden between their bodies, though not particularly subtly, he clicked his fingers. Then he did it again. Then he growled softly, snapped them very deliberately, and a small flickering orange flame grew in his palm. His proud smile danced in the moving light.

“Oh,” Kennan breathed.

The flame went out. “See, it’s hardly anything. Nearly burned down a haystack though, when I lost control. Reckon that’s how they heard of me.”

“That’s a really useful skill though,” Kennan said, “Once you get yourself trained, you’ll be able to find work wherever you want.”

Corwin’s mouth twisted. “Depends on what they’d want me to burn. There isn’t a lot of kind work for a Firestarter.”

The image of a ship in flames, sailors jumping overboard backlit against the burning mast danced in Kennan’s mind. He’d never seen a ship before that afternoon, but they seemed very much made of wood. “I see.”

Corwin arranged his face into happiness so quickly Kennan wondered if it had ever been otherwise. “In the meantime, I’ll get me an education, a soft bed, and three square meals a day, not to mention off this miserable rock. Whatever the future holds, it’s got to be better than accidently burning down farms.”

“That,” Kennan said with a slow nod, “is an excellent way to look at things.”

~O~

Even though he was paying for his room and board, Kennan ended up helping Corwin with his chores. The other man had an endlessly sunny disposition and plenty to say on any topic Kennan presented to him. The days until their ship left went by faster than he had feared, and his longing for his dry, if lumpy, bed and his Ma’s cooking stayed manageable.

“Wonder what’s going on there?” Corwin asked as they made their way to the harbor. There did seem to be a great deal of activity around one of the inns nearer to the edge. A large, well-muscled woman with bright blonde hair was shouting at a group of sailors.

“Now, Ciara,” Kennan heard one of them say as he walked past, face turned away.

“Might be they didn’t pay their bill,” he said quietly.

Corwin laughed, as he’d intended him too, and promptly forgot the whole thing except to begin a story about a man who’d not paid Matron while he’d been working for her.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 13: Marked for Death

The horror with which he examined his hand outstripped all the horrors he had felt in his thus far horrific life. It hurt, of course it did, but the pain would fade. The mark would not. It would eat through dirt, dust, and powder. The leather of his gloves might hide it for a day, but he couldn’t afford to be continuously replacing gloves, not to mention how suspicious it would be to wear them in the summer heat. No, there would be no hiding this mark, which was rather the point.

Ashrala did not employ executioners. They were expensive, and the moral cost of killing all those sentenced to death in the kingdom was considered too great for a single soul to bear. Instead, the mark had been developed. Anyone who saw a marked palm was honor bound to immediately end the life of the one who bore it. A marked hand, removed at the wrist, could be exchanged for coin at any magistrate’s office, though few bothered. The feeling of contributing to the safety of the kingdom was sufficient.

Now the mark burned against Vihaan’s flesh, eating away his life line. He hadn’t thought his crimes were that great, but perhaps their number had earned him this fate rather than any single heinous act.  

There was only one thing to do, and his mother would be rolling in her grave to know he considered it. Perhaps she should have lived to prevent it, he thought bitterly, and, he suspected, uncharitably.

Packing didn’t take long, he had never owned much. His second set of clothes, a hairbrush and razor, his mother’s crystal charm, and the book he had stolen only yesterday hardly filled his pack. On a whim he grabbed his well-used medical kit. He had no particular talent for medicine but he had had plenty of practice.

His mother had lived in the port city her entire life, and so had he. He had always cursed that choice, making plans to move every other week, soon thwarted, but he was grateful now. The sooner he got away, the better.

There were no ships going to Tamans. This shouldn’t have surprised him, but it had never occurred to him that pirates in port might not mark themselves as such. He sent a fitful glance at his hand, burning in its leather glove. He envied that luxury.

He couldn’t just sign with the least reputable looking ship, either. Ashrala didn’t officially do business with Bria, but they were still their closest neighbors.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 4: Parents Solve a Problem

A shriek awakens Zhi just before dawn. Gasping her way to consciousness, she yells for her wife. “Huiyin, what is it?” The night had been cold, and her mother-in-law’s quilt is wrapped tightly enough around her legs that she has to fight her way free.

“Quickly!” is the only response.

She doesn’t bother to get dressed, just throws a shawl over her night things. Their house is small, so it isn’t hard to find Huiyin. She’s in their daughter Feihong’s room, already dressed for the day in a winter hanfu, made of thicker materials and dyed darker colors than her summer outfits. Her hair has fallen from its careful arrangement and begun to frizz.

“She’s gone,” she cries, her eyes finding her wife’s in the midst of the destruction of the room. Blankets are strewn about, the bed is on its side, and the wardrobe doors hang open, contents haphazardly thrown to the floor. “Feihong is gone.”

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 11

~O~

Across town, Feihong is feeling very pleased with herself. She is dressed in her favorite shirt, with her favorite skirt tied very neatly around it, if she does say so herself. Her mother says the colors don’t match, but Feihong doesn’t believe in colors stopping her from doing what she wants. In fact, she believes that very little should stop her from doing what she wants.

Sometimes we must do what is right, even if it is hard, her mother has told her. That’s why Feihong is here instead of getting ready for school, which is what she really wants to be doing.

We must make sacrifices for family, she thinks with as much dramatic largesse as a five year old can muster.

The sounds of deep voices drift toward her. She draws herself up to her full height, takes a deep breath, and heads in that direction.

“Oh. Um, hello?” Three men, one with bulging muscles and the other two of a more willowy build, startle a bit as she rounds the corner. The one in the middle, one of the tall and thin ones, spoke and so it’s he that she directs her words to.

“Hello. My name is Yong Feihong. I am looking for a gang to join. I am very good with numbers and coloring, so any gang would be lucky to have me. I would be bena-fish-oil.” She thinks this is a very good speech, having practiced it the entire time she’d been packing and as she searched for a member of the Baoli to present it to.

“Oh, sweet gods,” the muscly one mutters, sounding as if he’s having trouble breathing. He turns his back on her to examine the architecture of the nearest roof.  

The one who had spoken before nods seriously and bends down so his head is only a little higher than hers. “We don’t get many young ladies joining our ranks, particularly ones with family names. Could you tell us why you’d like to join a gang?”

Feihong has been told her entire life to be careful of men, particularly if there isn’t a woman nearby. They’re so violent, her mother said. It isn’t their fault, they just can’t help themselves, said her mama. Most men won’t hurt you, their wives won’t let them, continued her mother. But if you see a man alone, especially in the Docks District, that means he doesn’t have a wife and can be dangerous, her mama finished.

It wasn’t as simple as that, of course, but for a long time Feihong had believed it like she believed the fairy tales about the woods and the palace and what makes the trees change. Men who were married were good, but she should still be wary of them, while men who weren’t married were bad and she should be afraid of them. It was only last week at school that she had heard two older girls gossiping about the men who lived by the docks. They can’t find wives, so they can’t have jobs. That’s why they steal and run child gangs, one said. I don’t know why they don’t go somewhere else. Men in other kingdoms are allowed to be as cruel as they want, said the second. The first was quiet for a moment before saying in a small voice, I’m glad we live here, where it’s safe. The second had nodded decisively. The poor Empress, she has to deal with all the men who run other kingdoms. I bet she always has to stop them from going to war over their tempers. The first protested, Ashrala has a lady queen! Not for long, the other said, a little meanly, They kill all their queens. My mom says it’s because they’re afraid of them.

Feihong was not interested in political intrigue, but she was interested in this news of the life in the Dock District. What did people do in child gangs? Probably they did the things the men couldn’t, like cooking and accounting. She wasn’t very good at cooking, but her mother promised to teach her once she could reach the stove. She was the best in her class at math, though. They probably need someone like me, she had thought. Then she had set it aside, because she wasn’t responsible for them and they had been fine eating bad food and doing math wrong for this long.

However, she had recently found herself in need of an occupation.

 I’m still not a huge fan of the way this is turning out, but what’s the point of all the world building for an oppressive matriarchal culture if I don’t play in it?  

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 3: Meeting an Immortal

“So, you’re immortal.”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“There might be something that could end the spell, these things usually aren’t eternal, but I haven’t found it yet.”

“Are you looking?” Belen looked away from wrapping the wound in the taller man’s belly to squint up at him.

Khalid shrugged. “Sometimes. When I’m not doing anything interesting.”

Belen dug more linen bandage out of his pack, silence stretching. “For curiosity’s sake, what are you doing now?”

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 10

~O~

“Time for reciprocity,” Khalid said, holding back the branch of an overly ambitious tamarisk so Belen could pass. “Why are you travelling alone on such an overgrown road? You don’t seem to have much knowledge of outdoors craft.”

“Not here,” Belen huffed. “In Fikajie I could survive in the jungle for weeks, no problem. Everything here is so dry and barren.”

Khalid shot him a look. “We’re right next to the Great River. This is the lushest part of the whole region.”

“Ugh, I know,” Belen said.

“Don’t think you can dodge the question, but remember that I grew up in the desert of central Eklub.”

“We could talk about how it’s the Haji desert now and if you don’t want people to know you’re immortal you should stop using such outdated terminology.”

“You know more about terminology than the average person, we could talk about that.”

Belen sighed and rubbed at his ear absentmindedly. “I used to be a poet.”

Khalid lit up. “An entertainer! When one has lived as long as I have, entertainment is the only worthwhile profession.”

“I think farming and house building are pretty worthwhile.”

“I can live without food or shelter, but without entertainment it would be no life at all.”

“Most people can’t live without food or shelter.”

“I insist you take the compliment, and perhaps recite something for me.”

“I don’t perform anymore,” Belen said with finality.

Khalid shrunk, an amusing action on someone with his tall frame.

Belen sighed. Talking about himself was seeming like the lesser of two evils. “I left home when I turned seventeen, like all Fikajeen children. I wasn’t planning to go far, but I wanted to see the mountains. There’s a legend about them, you know. I learned a lot of Fikajeen legends. But then I wondered if the Ecorydine legend was the same, so I crossed.”

“You don’t look Fikajeen,” Khalid said. “Belen is an Ecorydine name.”

“My father is Ecorydine, but also you should know that commenting on someone’s skin color or origin is extremely rude outside of Fikajie. I had to learn that the hard way.”

Khalid snorted. “I can only imagine. So you crossed the mountains. Was the legend the same?”

“More or less. The Fikajeen legend makes us out to be the good guys, the Ecorydine legend does the same for them.”

“But you didn’t go back, after you’d heard it.”

“No. I continued north, to the city. I’d never seen a city before. I gave the capital a wide berth on my way to the mountains. It was…” Belen thought for a moment, “not kind. But there were people who would pay to hear my legends, especially after I learned to make them sound nice. Ehsan, my – my friend. He played music and we made enough for a small room and a decent living.” He was quiet for a long minute. “I give kindness freely because the world doesn’t.”

“What happened to Ehsan?”

“I’ll never know, will I?” The bitterness from before was back.

They traveled in silence, only the cracking of dry twigs and the wind through the small trees.

“Will you come with me to Giyara and help me solve the murders?” Khalid asked finally.

He thought maybe Belen wouldn’t answer, but after a time he replied, “Yes.”

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 2: Four Friends Who Have Never Been Camping Before

“So… none of you know how to start a fire,” Muza said to his assembled friends, sans one.

“You don’t either!” Alvaro protested.

“I’m a tailor, this is not where my strengths lie. You’re a blacksmith! Isn’t fire kind of important to your livelihood?”

“Sure, in a forge, with a bellows and some hot coals. Do you see a bellows anywhere around here? What about Isadora? She grew up on a farm, why doesn’t she know?”

“I know that we shouldn’t be screaming in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, when on a covert mission,” Isadora replied, deadpan.

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 9

~O~

Even Rayyan’s outlook suffered from a night spent huddled together behind the biggest boulder they could find, though she was the only one who had slept the full night as Isadora, who had had the watch before hers, had fallen asleep.

“I should definitely have had the first watch,” Isadora protested. “You know how I am about sleep!”

Muza and Alvaro, who had turned their backs to allow Rayyan to fix her headscarf, grumbled uselessly.

“And hey, we weren’t attacked by anything, so it was fine.”

“First order of the day is to find food,” Alvaro decided. “Isadora, you know what plants are edible, right?”

Isadora rubbed absently at a sore spot where she’d slept on a pebble and shrugged. “If it’s something people farm, I can probably identify it.”

Alvaro pointed at her. “Gonna put that down as a maybe. Anyone else?”

Muza raised his hand. “I know about berries and such. We use them for dyes and I know which ones are non-toxic.”

“I could kiss you.”

Muza wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t. Our friendship can’t take that again.”

After Muza had identified a blackberry bush and they’d filled their bellies, Isadora found a prickly pear cactus heavy with fruit, and they filled their packs.

“That’s a load off my mind,” Rayyan commented. “The extra rations were supposed to be for Isadora, if she felt faint.”

“That’s so sweet, luludi mu,” Isadora said, and kissed Rayyan’s cheek.

“So if we follow the river, we should be able to find our way,” Alvaro said, “and there will be fresh water.”

Muza glanced around dramatically. “What river?”

“Obviously we will have to find it.”

“Do you mean the Dromos or the Tainia?”

“We need to follow the Tainia to get to the Dromos.”

“You knew what I meant! The big river or the little river?”

“The little river,” Alvaro conceded. “Tainia.”

“They’re both to the north,” Rayyan broke in.

“And that’s the information I was looking for. Thank you, Rayyan,” Alvaro said.

Isadora pointed out the next problem. “Who knows how to find north?”

“Moss on trees, right?” asked Muza.

“Do you see any trees?” asked Alvaro.

“Moss on rocks?”

“Do you see any moss?”

“Which way does the wind blow?”

“Any way it wants.”

“Do you have anything useful to contribute?”

“The sun rises in the east,” Rayyan cut in.

“You are a treasure,” Alvaro told her.

“I know, right?” said Isadora, and her eyes were uncharacteristically soft.

The goat track they had been following to stay off the main road had led them off course, but only barely. They had to sneak across the main road, but after that they walked for only minutes before the river was visible though the stone. It was surrounded by a copse of small trees and undergrowth on either side, using the small stream to combat the hot sun.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 1: A Letter Changes Everything

Dear Sir, the letter read, We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted a position at the Cachian Academy. As your gift has been deemed either powerful or unusual enough to require training, your attendance is mandatory under the Interkingdom Agreement Regarding Magical Accidents. Please present yourself for measurement and assignment within three weeks. If the estimated travel time for your region is not sufficient, you may request an extension via –

Kennan stopped reading. He wanted to tear the paper to shreds, but there was no point. He’d been caught, and it was all over now. The second line made him scoff. Powerful or unusual were interesting ways to say useful or dangerous. The admittance board must have started salivating when they heard about him.

Keep reading

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 8

~O~

The walk to the port was long, but he managed to catch a ride with a farmer bringing excess harvest to market. No one had much extra in Docair, so there was plenty of room in the cart. The market the farmer used was a bit out of Kennan’s way, but he wasn’t interested in rushing, and he picked up a job with a caravan heading back to the port. He didn’t know how much ship fare would be, but he suspected it would be more than his meager savings.

Finally, they reached the horizon, farther from home than anyone he knew had ever been. The cliffs dropped away in front of him, waves from a far away storm dragging at them. The clouds darkened barely a mile off shore, and a veil of rain separated where he was from where he needed to be.

The port was less of a harbor and more of gulf. It was the most protected place on the island, but that wasn’t saying much. The ships rocked in their moorings, the wood of their hulls scraping against stone piers so loud he could hear it from town. Even those willing to live so close to the storms backed themselves as far up the cliffs as they could. The town, such as it was, was built about three quarters of the way up with a long switchback slope leading to the water’s edge.

The harbormaster was a challenge to find. Kennan had to ask at what felt like every pub and eating house in the town before he tracked him to his house, a wooden door set into the cliff’s face.

“Oh, you’re in luck,” he told him, squinting at a sheaf of papers. “There’s a ship leaving in two days, bound for Haji.” He turned a page. “If it’s Ganxi you want, we’ll have one next week, but you’d be better off to travel from Haji if you’re in a hurry.”

“I need to get to Cachia,” Kennan said on a shiver. His farm wasn’t much warmer than this but at least there it was dry.

The man huffed, sending his white beard fluttering. “You’ll have a long wait. Ain’t nothing direct between here and Cachia. There’s still some as will do business with Bria, but they’ve left for the season. Won’t see them until spring, and I don’t know if I’d risk it.” He surveyed Kennan keenly. “Only one reason you’d be headed to Cachia, and that makes you a valuable commodity.”

Kennan shivered again, and this time it had nothing to do with the salt spray. He thought about denying it, but the man’s eyes turned kind.

“Don’t you fret, I’ll not sell you out. If you’ll take an old man’s advice, take the ship to Haji. You’ll have to hike as far as the river, but you’ll be as far from Bria as you can get. I’ve been told Haji is nice this time of year. Get yourself some sun, see more of the world than this miserable hunk of rock.”

Kennan wasn’t sure he trusted the man, but he wanted to. His green eyes were just the same shade as Kennan’s grandfather’s had been. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “If I could request another piece of advice, are there any inns in town that won’t use up my entire fare?” He smiled, tremulously.

The man puffed up a little, pleased to be asked. “If it’s cheap you want, you’ll go as close to the edge as you can get. Ciara won’t fleece you, and she’s as fine a cook as one can hope for. If you’re looking to be dry,” he gave Kennan’s hunched form a significant glance, “those built into the rock are your best bet. Maeve is just down that way,” Kennan craned his neck to follow the man’s finger, “She’ll treat you right, but her ale might as well be piss.”

“I don’t care much for ale anyway. Thank you for your advice, and the ship schedule.”

Kennan walked along the cliff face until he was out of sight, then turned back towards the harbor. He had no intention of going to either inn, but the information that inns closer to the water were cheaper was useful.

It didn’t take him long to find an inn one street back from the edge that he thought he could afford. The matron took one look at his bedraggled form and tutted, bustling off for a hot meal after sending her husband to light a fire in a vacant room. A young man about his age took pity on him, standing bewildered in the doorway and dripping on the stone floor, and tossed him a towel.

“So you can earn your keep,” the matron huffed, returning from the kitchen with a steaming plate.

“Sometimes, ma’am,” the man replied with a cheeky grin.

The matron rolled her eyes, but Kennan saw her smile when she turned back after setting his meal on a long table. Several men in the garb of merchants chatted at the other end, and a group of men and women in headscarves played cards by the fire, but otherwise the common room was quiet.

“I’m Corwin,” the man said, sitting down across from the plate. “Come, sit. That won’t be nearly as good cold.”

Kennan spread the towel on the bench, hoping to catch as much of the water dripping off of him as possible, and sat down. “Kennan,” he replied. The food, what looked like the inside of a meat pie on a crust of bread, was good, though he nearly broke a tooth on the bread.

“You have to let the gravy soften it first,” Corwin told him. “So where are you headed?”

“Who says I’m headed anywhere?”

Corwin fixed him with a look. “No one comes to Duir Port for the ambiance. People come here to catch a ship to somewhere better.”

Kennan wasn’t sure where he was going would be better, but he conceded the point. “Haji, in two days.”

“Me too,” Corwin exclaimed. His whole face lit up, catching the firelight in his brown curls. “It’ll be great to know someone on the ship! I’ve never been on a ship before. Have you?”

[talesfromkymas]

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 6 (late): Unplanned Elopement

Is this what the fortune teller meant? Divya wondered as she dangled thirty feet above the ground from a rope made of her bedsheets. This feels very familiar.

The soft scrape of fabric against stone drew her attention. It wasn’t her, she knew how to muffle her movements. A glance upward calmed her racing heart – no one was leaning out of the window of her guest suite, ready to call for the guards. Turning while hanging from a twisting bedsheet wasn’t easy, but she managed to get herself oriented, and discovered the source of the noise.

“Hey,” the shape a few feet over and a story down said. The dark hid most of the person’s features, but the voice sounded male and about her age.

She sighed. “Duke Adrian, I presume?” The castle was full of guests for tomorrows wedding, but there was only one young man her age in residence.

“I’m not likely to be duke of anything after this,” he said. She looked closer and saw what the darkness had hidden. He too was clinging to the side of the castle, but he seemed to have lost his grip on his rope, saved only by the window ledge he was now hanging from. “Would you mind perhaps kicking that rope a little closer?” he asked.

She swung her foot at it, missed, and swung again, her foot making an unpleasantly loud noise against the stone, and finally nudged the rope (actual rope, stronger than her bedsheets but not as easy to grip, evidently) into his reach. His hand, when he caught it, shook.

“How long have you been there?” she asked, shimmying down a knot in her sheets. Her feet were now level with his head.

“Long enough to start wondering if I should just jump the rest of the way,” he said. His tanned skin was white knuckled around his rope, but he wasn’t moving from the ledge. She slid down another knot so she could look him in the eye. His dark hair was more tousled than it had been when they’d been introduced that morning. Well, their parents had been introduced. They had stood demurely two steps behind, sneaking the occasional glance at their future spouse.

“You’d break your legs, if not your neck,” she informed him. She had carefully calculated how many bedsheets she needed to request from various servants in order to safely make it to the ground, so she was fairly confident in this assertion.

“That would spare me the indignity of being discovered frozen here in the morning,” he said.

“Nonsense,” she said briskly, climbing a bit below him. “It’s not cold enough for that. I’m sure they could thaw you in time for our nuptials.”

“It’s certainly a good bit colder than I’m used to,” he muttered distractedly, taking a shaking breath and stepping from the ledge, putting his weight on the rope.

“Speaking of, what exactly was your plan?” she wanted to know. “Your school is the first place they’ll look for you, and while I don’t know what kind of education young men get, I doubt it includes evasion and wilderness survival.”

“The plan is not well thought out,” he admitted. “I may have panicked a little. I thought perhaps I could be a farmer.”

She snorted, but that was close enough to her own plan that she thought she shouldn’t judge. She reached the last knot in her bedsheets and released a slow breath, preparing to drop.

“I should assume you’re just out for a midnight stroll, then?” he asked, his voice tight as he lowered himself. His descent involved a great deal more scrambling than hers had. “Thought you’d familiarize yourself with the castle via the outer walls?”

“My plan had to be hastily constructed after your mother informed me of her expectations of a daughter-in-law,” Divya said, grunting quietly as she hit the ground. She wished she could take at least one of the bedsheets with her, but the blanket she had stuffed into her bag would have to suffice. “You’ve had weeks to think of something better.”

“My father also took me aside to instruct me of my ‘manly duties’,” Adrian said. His path had taken him to another window, and he gratefully stood on the sill. “Until then I thought we could make this work.”

“What, you’re that repulsed by me?” Divya asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“I assure you, my repulsion had less to do with you and more to do with the things he believes will be required to ‘break you to heel’.”

Divya’s gut clenched, but she nodded briskly even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes, that was the impression I got from your mother. If I’m to be married off to the highest bidder, I’ll not be treated as a second class citizen in my own home.”

“Not everyone here thinks like they do,” he said softly. He looked like he was trying to make himself start climbing again but couldn’t quite manage it. “Cook was thrilled to have an Ashralan to cook for. She was so disappointed that you hadn’t brought any spices for her to play with.”

“That’s very kind of her, but still a little racist,” Divya said. “You guys know I haven’t even been to Ashrala? Also, are you coming down anytime soon? Patrols could find us at any moment.”

“You could leave without me,” he said, but he cautiously stepped from the ledge and squeaked as his rope spun wildly.

“We might not have managed to get married, but I think we may as well be in this together.”

“Cool. Great. So glad I’ll be able to look you in the eye after you’ve seen me like this.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You’re almost to the ground, anyway.” He wasn’t, not really, but since she’d decided to keep him encouragement was necessary.

It took much longer for him to slide the last ten feet than her entire descent had, but eventually he had both feet on the ground, followed quickly by both hands. “I’m never leaving you again,” he told it.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 7: The Beginning of a Problem

He was not a nice person. His actions would affect millions of people, long after his death. Throughout this story, I want you to remember that.

Long ago, magic was distributed equally through the nine kingdoms. Sometime during their lives, every person would discover a gift or a talent or a purpose depending on who you asked. Most of these magical gifts were not useful, or were useful only in specific situations, or if you devoted your life to making them useful, as the Cachians did.

Chadwick’s talent was particularly useless. He was a healer with a talent for diseases, which seemed extremely unfair, as he watched his younger sister bind songs into crystals and his best friend draw sunlight from the cloudiest days.

If the Academy had offered him a place, could they have changed anything? Perhaps, but perhaps not. After all, Chadwick was not a good person.

“It’s not right,” he huffed. “My magic isn’t even for me, it just does things for other people.”

“Are you kidding?” Leonard said. “You’re set for life. You can go anywhere in the world and get a job. You can save lives.” Leonard wanted badly to move somewhere warm, to spend his days soaking in the sun and his nights dancing with beautiful people who were very impressed with him, and never see a crop again as long as he lived unless it was on his plate. His parents had received three job offers for when he was old enough, all in northern Bria, all in remote areas, all on farms. His father, a charitable man, wanted to send him to Docair as they ‘needed a bit of sun more than the rest of us’.

“I’d have to spend time with sick people,” Chadwick pointed out. “There would be vomit and blood and excrement. No amount of money is worth that.”

Leonard, who did not have nearly as much money as Chadwick did, didn’t agree but said nothing.

Chadwick, seeing his friends’ disapproval, quickly added, “I guess you’re right though, about saving lives.”

Chadwick rarely used his power unless his father ordered him to, something that grew less and less common as he aged. Then, not long after Leonard left for an orchard in northern Bria and Chadwick’s younger sister was sent to finishing school, a plague broke out in Evart.

“You will leave in the morning,” Chadwick’s father informed him. “You will have to arrange housing for yourself, but I trust you will not find the city lacking.”

Chadwick didn’t agree. He had never been to a city, but he thought they were probably loud and dirty, rather than quiet and dirty as the countryside was. However, for lack of a better option, he went.

Chadwick learned a lot in Evart. He learned how to pull infection from wounds and how thick to pack bandage in order not to waste it. He learned to identify plague from common diseases and how to ease symptoms and aid in the fight against bacteria. He learned how to interact with people who were not afraid of his father and who he was not afraid of. He learned to drink without becoming drunk and identify eating houses that wouldn’t upset his stomach. He learned where to find cheap entertainment and how to mend his own clothes. He learned that there had been a secret inside him all along.

This most precious piece of information he hoarded for himself. He told no one, not even Leonard in the rare letter he managed to send north.

He stayed in Evart after the plague ended. No less than six doctors had requested his services as an apprentice, and he chose an Ashralan who had studied at the Academy and could help him hone his gift. Shaurya assured him that with time, he could be the most sought-after healer on the island.

He also practiced his other gift. Secondary gifts were rare, but not unheard of. Most were physical gifts, such as a stomach that reversed poisons or an immunity to extreme temperature. One of Shaurya’s patients was a young woman who kept accidentally impregnating her partners despite her lack of the typical organ. It turned Chadwick’s stomach, but Shaurya insisted that this was the most widespread of the secondary gifts. Chadwick’s gift was not physical.

When he thought he could get away with it, he sat in the town square and suppressed any gifts he saw being used. A man making shapes in the water of the fountain for the amusement of a gathered group of children was suddenly drenched. A woman dragging stains from her washing found them unusually stubborn. A man with an affinity for horses found himself kicked for the first time in his life. This made Chadwick feel more powerful and useful than ending an infant’s wracking cough.

As he practiced, he thought about the young woman, too afraid to have sex until Shaurya could develop a birth control that would work for her. He thought about Leonard, who could have been so happy if only his gift hadn’t decided his life for him. He thought of himself, wrist deep in blood and organs and barely controlling his gag reflex. He thought of his father.

He knew exactly what he was going to do.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 5: Weddings and Rain

“My dear, are you listening to me?”

Adalia looked up from the rain dripping down the windowpane. “Yes, mother.”

“Repeat back to me what I just said.”

“So and so’s ball will be the social event of the season and I simply must be there,” she said dully.

“You weren’t listening! It was the Clarke wedding!”

Adalia sighed. “May I stay home from this one? The dinner at the Shaw’s was a disaster and I’m still recovering, emotionally.”

Her mother stomped her foot. “Weddings are the most important events of the season for young ladies in need of husbands. All the young men are desperate and the best ladies have been taken already. Honestly,” she huffed, “You’d think you would want some input into the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with.”

“I do,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. She just wanted the rest of her life to hold on for a few more years. Maybe until she’d grown out of this infatuation with Larkin.

Her eyes caught movement in the yard, and she tried to watch without letting her mother see what she was doing. It was him, leading a horse out of the stables. He told a joke to the message runner who came to take the reins, then gave him a boost into the saddle. His arm muscles bulged. If she looked closely, she could see his thigh muscles where the rain was making his trousers stick to his legs. They were lean, but she knew they were strong. She watched them tense and stretch as he stood.

She knew nothing would come of it. She was a lady and he was a stable boy. Even if he one day became head hostler, it wouldn’t be enough. She would need to marry a gentleman, someone like the baron’s son she had seen him sneaking off to the orchards with, and he would be free to do as he liked, as long as it was with someone of his own station. He could even continue to sneak off with men, if that was what he desired, while the pangs of longing she had felt for Luella at finishing school had remained unfulfilled. She had also never spoken to him.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 4: Parents Solve a Problem

A shriek awakens Zhi just before dawn. Gasping her way to consciousness, she yells for her wife. “Huiyin, what is it?” The night had been cold, and her mother-in-law’s quilt is wrapped tightly enough around her legs that she has to fight her way free.

“Quickly!” is the only response.

She doesn’t bother to get dressed, just throws a shawl over her night things. Their house is small, so it isn’t hard to find Huiyin. She’s in their daughter Feihong’s room, already dressed for the day in a winter hanfu, made of thicker materials and dyed darker colors than her summer outfits. Her hair has fallen from its careful arrangement and begun to frizz.

“She’s gone,” she cries, her eyes finding her wife’s in the midst of the destruction of the room. Blankets are strewn about, the bed is on its side, and the wardrobe doors hang open, contents haphazardly thrown to the floor. “Feihong is gone.”

Zhi rushes to her, taking her hands. “Was the room like this when you found it?” she asks.

“No,” Huiyin shakes her head, her voice breaking. “I thought she was hiding and then I panicked.”

“Qinai de, my love, you must be calm. You will hurt yourself, or the baby,” she pleads, pressing her hand to Huiyin’s belly. She has not yet begun to show and Zhi is terrified they will lose it the way they had lost several pregnancies before Feihong was born. She cannot bear to see the pain on Huiyin’s face again, nor does she want to have to tell Feihong that she won’t be getting a brother or sister after all. She almost wishes they hadn’t told their daughter yet, but it had been such a happy day and joy came to them so rarely.

Perhaps it’s the fear in Zhi’s eyes, or maybe the thought of the child, but Huiyin takes a deep breath and lets it out in a trembling stream.

“Was there anything out of the ordinary? A note, or something missing?” Kidnappings are rare in Ganxi, but Bri ships still come into port only miles away, and everyone knows the Bri will sell anyone.

“No, I don’t think so,” Huiyin says, voice thin. “Oh, let me check.” She drops Zhi’s hand and sinks to her knees, where she sifts through the pile of clothing. “Her favorite shirt. The wrap with the hole you mended. I don’t see her schoolbag either, but, oh.” She points at the small desk, where a pile of paper and pens rests, neatly stacked. The pens are lined up equidistant apart. The contents of her schoolbag, placed with more care than anyone else would give them.

“If she was taken, they would not have packed a bag,” Zhi says, letting her heartbeat calm a little.

“Why would she leave on her own? What if she meets the Baoli?”

“We will find her before that happens,” Zhi assures her.

Huiyin takes another deep breath and wipes her cheeks, smoothly standing. “I will go to the palace and ask for a Heping. They cannot deny us.”

Zhi nods, grateful to see the return of confidence to her wife. “I will ask our neighbors to watch for her in case she comes back and I will search the streets.”

“Search the docks,” Huiyin says, pointedly. “There’s only one place a five year old can go alone and not be remarked on.”

Zhi sucks in a breath and rushes to dress.

 So they didn’t like...solve the problem? But they will. I promise, Feihong is fine. I actually don’t really like this, but I guess the nature of this challenge is that I won’t like a lot of what I write.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 3: Meeting an Immortal

“So, you’re immortal.”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“There might be something that could end the spell, these things usually aren’t eternal, but I haven’t found it yet.”

“Are you looking?” Belen looked away from wrapping the wound in the taller man’s belly to squint up at him.

Khalid shrugged. “Sometimes. When I’m not doing anything interesting.”

Belen dug more linen bandage out of his pack, silence stretching. “For curiosity’s sake, what are you doing now?”

Khalid laughed, the motion opening the partially closed wound to allow blood to drip once more. “I’m always delighted when I find kindness in unexpected places, but you would do better to save it for another lonely traveler.”

“Kindness is the only thing I have left to give, and I will do so whenever it pleases me,” Belen said, a hint of iron under his gentle demeanor and gentler hands.

This time Khalid didn’t laugh, but a smile tugged at the side of his full lips. “A delight indeed.”

Once Belen had the bandage arranged to his satisfaction, he drew himself to his full though not particularly substantial height, surveyed the man draped over a fallen tree branch, and allowed himself to drop to a seat next to him. “Are you going to tell me why you happened to be travelling such an overgrown road, rescuing hapless peasants from bandits?”

“It didn’t used to be so overgrown,” he said fondly. “Once upon a time, these roads were the finest in the world.”

Belen wrinkled his nose. “Yes, sometimes invaders build nice things. And sometimes 200 years pass and better roads are built and only bandits and those who don’t want to be found still use the old ones. So I repeat, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Khalid said, leaning lazily on his hands.

“You could, but kindness is the only thing I give away for free. Answers require reciprocity.”

Khalid examined him sideways, the smile still playing on his lips. “Alright. I heard there was a slew of murders in Giyara, so I thought I would investigate.”

Belen flapped his hand dismissively. “There are always murders in big cities. No one cares or cares to find the killer.” There was something bitter in his voice, a hint of sour fruit left to rot in the sun.

“Oh, I’m not looking for the killer. These are powerful men, prominent in several spheres. Mostly politics and religion, but one on the Shah’s council. When so many are killed at once, and no one can prevent it, there’s usually a reason. I want to know what they were mixed up in.”

“You know no one uses the word ‘Shah’ anymore.”

Khalid blinked, his dark lashes brushing his tan skin. Belen had to tear his eyes away. He had never had any interest in lashes before this. “They don’t? What do they call him, then?”

“Just ‘king’. I don’t know if the Hajis stole it from the Docairs or vice versa.”

“Docair has a king now? I need to come north more often.”

“If you don’t want to find the killer, why do you care why they were killed?”

Khalid grinned, and it was more sharp than expressing anything close to happiness. The teeth were the point. “I need to know if I agree with the killer, and if they finished the job.”

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 2: Four Friends Who Have Never Been Camping Before

“So… none of you know how to start a fire,” Muza said to his assembled friends, sans one.

“You don’t either!” Alvaro protested.

“I’m a tailor, this is not where my strengths lie. You’re a blacksmith! Isn’t fire kind of important to your livelihood?”

“Sure, in a forge, with a bellows and some hot coals. Do you see a bellows anywhere around here? What about Isadora? She grew up on a farm, why doesn’t she know?”

“I know that we shouldn’t be screaming in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, when on a covert mission,” Isadora replied, deadpan.

“Good point, actually. Maybe we shouldn’t start a fire at all guys,” the final member of their group, Rayyan, contributed.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t know how,” Muza said.

“We’ve established that none of us have any useful skills and could probably have planned this better. Do you want to rescue Divya or do you want to go back to your nice safe tailor’s shop?” Alvaro asked.

“See, this is why we broke up.”

Alvaro closed his eyes as if asking for peace. “You can’t say that about everything we disagree on.”

“We all know you broke up because the sex was bad,” Isadora said cheerfully.

Alvaro stared sullenly back the way they’d come. Muza’s dark cheeks hid most of his blush. “It was… fine,” he mumbled.

“Oh, leave them alone,” Rayyan chided. Her skirts draped as elegantly around the rock she was sitting on as a couch in any noble’s drawing room. Not a hair fell from her patterned headscarf, despite the day’s dusty travels. “I’m hungry, who has dinner?”

“I thought you had the food,” Alvaro said slowly.

“I had our lunch. Who was supposed to pack dinner?”

All three turned their gazes on Muza. His eyes were wide. “I was definitely not in charge of the food. I distinctly recall not being in charge of the food.”

Rayyan’s smile was fond. “I packed extra rations. It won’t be much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“You’re the best,” Isadora said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Now who knows anything about setting up camp for the night?”

Three blank faces stared back at her.

[talesfromkymas]

Pre NaNo Test: Encounter at Sea

When ships pass in the night, it’s difficult to recognize them if you see them later. All the distinguishing features are masked by the darkness. Still, Mareva knew she had passed this particular ship before. It wasn’t the soft blue flames hung in glass bottles from the prow, stern, and yard arm, though those were unusual. Nor was it the scent of spices drifting on the breeze, taking her closer to home than the tides ever would.

It was the music. Mareva had never heard anything like it in all her years as a sailor. The songs her shipmates played when they pulled out their violins or flutes or guitars at night were hauntingly sad, an ache for the land, for a lover or family who lived there. During the day, when they sang as they worked, it was cheery, more about the beat than the words, keeping them all in sync as they hauled and released ropes, adjusted sails, worked as one body with the sea as their blood and the sound as their beating heart.

This music was played by no instrument she had ever heard before. Was that the ring of a bell? The vibrato of winds? The pluck of a string? Perhaps she would never know. The melodies were sweet, hopeful. They sounded like the dawning of a clear day, like the first sighting of land, like an embrace. She wanted to sink into them and didn’t think she’d mind if she drowned.

It was like clockwork in a way nothing was at sea. They passed the ship twice every trip, once while carrying textiles and fine wines to Cachia and once while returning to Ecorydice laden with preserved seafood and magical devices. The shipping lanes may follow a steady path, but ships usually didn’t, unless they had a Navigationist aboard. No non-magical navigator could compare to a Navigationist’s precision, even one like Jacinto, who would readily admit his Sense had never been strong.

All this amounted to the four things Mareva knew about this ship. First, they carried a Lightbringer. Those lanterns were unmistakable and would need to be relit every 6 to 10 hours, depending on the Lightbringer’s strength. Second, their cook used spices even at sea, something unusual enough that they must hail from, and have easy access to, one of the more spice heavy cultures. She suspected Ashrala, but it could just as easily be Cachia or Haji. Third, they employed a Navigationist, probably better than Jacinto but unlikely to be as strong as those that directed the ships of ambassadors or those merchants brave enough to sail the Deacair Strait. And fourth, their musician was missing.

She lasted two trips, which was one trip longer than she’d wanted to, before she stepped off the gangplank in Cachia’s main harbor with no intention of getting back aboard until she had found the musician and heard them play one more time. She doubted they would be in Cachia, but Fikajie or Cachia were the only places worth going in this part of the world so odds were good this was where they’d left their ship.

[talesfromkymas]

NOV 1: A Letter Changes Everything

Dear Sir, the letter read, We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted a position at the Cachian Academy. As your gift has been deemed either powerful or unusual enough to require training, your attendance is mandatory under the Interkingdom Agreement Regarding Magical Accidents. Please present yourself for measurement and assignment within three weeks. If the estimated travel time for your region is not sufficient, you may request an extension via –

Kennan stopped reading. He wanted to tear the paper to shreds, but there was no point. He’d been caught, and it was all over now. The second line made him scoff. Powerful or unusual were interesting ways to say useful or dangerous. The admittance board must have started salivating when they heard about him.

He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, hard, letting the ache ground him. Could he have done anything different? If he’d known what it would cost him, would he have left well enough alone? A sigh hissed from his compressed nostrils. No. His boots thumped the dirt floor as he stood. Three weeks was nowhere near enough time to get from Docair to Cachia, even this time of year. He’d have to leave immediately and hope a ship was leaving the Duir Port sometime before next spring.

Ma and Pop said nothing as he packed, nor as he slung his bag over his shoulder and started down the path. Just before he reached the cornstalks, still tall enough to block his view, he turned back. His Pop wasn’t looking at him, he surveyed the fields with his hands on his hips, probably wondering how to manage the harvest with one less set of hands. Ma’s eyes were on him though, and her hands were too tangled in her shawl to stop Sada from barreling out of the cottage behind her. She only just managed to grab for the end of one braid, plucking the ribbon free but leaving Sada to dash through the kitchen garden towards him.

Kennan knelt to catch her, and she didn’t slow down, flinging herself into his arms. “Why are you leaving?” she gasped, out of breath from her dash. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to,” he said softly. He let his fingers drag the braid out of her hair, memorizing the way the strands felt in his hands one last time. He’d braided her hair every morning for the two years since her mother died, his brother having no interest in children, particularly his own. “I have to go learn how to use my gift.”

“Because you never used it before?” she asked, her tiny hands rasping against his stubble. No, he didn’t regret his actions in the least.

“That’s right. Like you have to learn how to read.”

“Gramma can teach you just like she teaches me!” Sada cried. “I’ll share my lessons!”

Kennan laughed and hoped she couldn’t tell it was a little wet. “Remember how I told you there are some things even Gramma doesn’t know? This is one of them. I have to go somewhere they know about what I can do.”

Sada scrunched up her face. “I guess. How long until you learn and can come back?”

Kennan’s heart clenched. “It might take a long time, a stóirín.” He knew they would never let him out of their clutches. Unless she manifested something powerful or unusual, he would never see her again.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she had already known more disappointment and loss than the average little girl. The tears stayed put. “Take this then,” she said, ripping the ribbon out of her other braid. “It’s my second favorite ribbon, so you have to bring it back.” She tied it tightly around his wrist, and he could tell it wasn’t coming off without a blade. She’d always been good at knots. He hoped that was all her gift was.

“I’ll keep it with me, always,” he promised. The sun abruptly fell behind the stone cottage, drawing his attention to how late it was. “Stay within Gramma’s sight, ok?” he told her as he pulled her close one last time, hoping that would keep her from following him.

“Ok,” she said, and her voice held the roughness he’d been fighting back.

When he stood and forced himself not to turn back, it was the hardest thing he had ever done, but he still didn’t regret saving her life.