by A. S. Etaski
“Oh, I know this well, and we’ll watch how she enjoys the tables turned.” Vene squatted down beside her, showing his open disdain, presenting his chin within striking distance. “Won’t you?”
She couldn’t resist.
Her black leg swung up fast as a serpent despite the added weight, her face as venomous. Vene reached out, intending to snatch at her ankle at the right height. He was prepared to make her feel why no one had ever kept secrets from him when he wanted to know.
Her foot struck an obstacle unseen before her kick connected. She yelped, rolling away clutching her ankle which had fallen short of the Inquisitor’s reach.
She feels true pain inside a living body. Good.
The High Inquisitor gradually lowered his hand as if in disappointment and looked up at the Capitan of the Wall. “Well done, bodyguard.”
Now, to know for certain which body Isboern had been guarding was the real question. As always, the Westerner’s blue and gold aura was nonthreatening; his matching blond and blue-eyed countenance were impossible to read.
He saluted as the High Inquisitor came to his feet. “Sir.”
Stepping away from the creature, Vene added casually, “I never felt the spell go off, Isboern. How do you do it?”
That charm again. “With a lot of practice, sir.”
Heh.
The riddle of the shield nudged for attention, and Vene made eye contact with the naked captive who would tear his throat out if she could.
He spoke in blunt Trade. “Shield?”
She blinked, an odd expression overtaking her face as she forced out, “Sh-shield…”
Her eyes darted to Isboern. The Godblood was telling the truth.
“I will report to the Archbishop,” Vene repeated calmly, “and recommend keeping the God Warriors away until I find this relic.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is much to be done, always, but I will research what old stories there may be, whether by mouth or book.”
“Good, sir. I do think it should be looked into, given that she came here.”
“Indeed. Continue your preparations and defenses, Capitan.”
“Absolutely, sir. To be worthy of Musanlo.”
The High Inquisitor waved his hand, retrieved his torch, and handed over the key. It was interesting how even Vene could not hear anything but a truth every time Willven Isboern said that. He was the only one who had when he first arrived, but now half the city mimicked him.
After some further minor annoyance expelling the God Warriors from the dungeon, Vene Kegyek retraced his steps through the undercroft, toward the crypts. His heart pulsed in his chest as he approached the point where he had seen that damned soul, but it did not appear again.
Deathless one returns.
He supposed it could be a reference to the Ma’ab liches sending their hungry deatheaters, but how would a spirit chained to a different time and death know about their army bearing down on the City of the Sun? Perhaps it alluded to something older. Something in the “before” times, like the shield sought by the black witch.
Vene Kegyek paused where the hall split. To go right would lead him to the crypts; to go left would rise him up into the sun. He raised his torch higher, trying to see down the darker hall without taking a step.
The whispers called to him.
“Be silent,” he whispered back, baring his teeth at the chilling abyss. “Lies. Nothing but lies.”
Acknowledgments
Many thanks, always, to my beta readers, who are the life pulse for each chapter and the compass for finding the way again.
Eris Adderly, Leonard, Dark Pulse, NecrosisBob, Axelotl, & welcoming Pastor of Muppets to the crew.
Much love to my Hubs, your delight in this tale will be the halcyon days of my youth.
Boundless appreciation to Doc Kangey, for his years-long dedication, design, and guidance to launch the Miurag Archive to my website. Check out our hard work and lore yet to come! https://www.worldanvil.com/w/miurag
Finally, to my top patrons who have backed us for every step along the way:
Sir Cumference, Baelus, Lesley P.L.A.Y., Jesse C., Does, John K., Roy & Stacy Meyer, Julie S., Paul B., Carla H., Briana R., Josanna, RainbowNight, Kalculyszero, NotSoWeird, Kelly D., Linda H., Raymond T., Lexanii, Zeroharas, Neil M., Fingon, & Johnathon Matlock.
About the Author
Etaski has entertained herself with fantasy stories since the first day she sat on a school bus looking out the window. When hand-written letters were disappearing, she scribbled no less than five pages to be worth the postage. Her early stories were written by hand, and she had a writer’s callus and three embarrassing novels before graduating high school.
She studied science, archaeology, history, and theater. Frank discussion of sexuality was rare growing up, so she wrote fantasies, theories, and observations within stories for deeper contemplation or just to be entertained.
History speaks little on sexuality, yet biology demonstrates how it sways basic choices. Drama reveals our strongest bonds but may fade to black at its most intimate. In the Sister Seekers, the sex and the story are inseparable, and their discoveries will change the journey of Miurag without cutting away.
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