"I'm going." Lyst stood glaring up at the officer, a scowl furrowing her brow and her pale, frekcled face waxing red. Her uniform was disheveled, jacket undone, shirt untucked and covered from head to toe in dust. Her auburn hair was pulled back and damp curls lay matted against her sweating cheek ( Read more... )

She laughed softly and touched his hair. "Not by you, Dearest, but a greater calling bids me leave. You shall be my right hand in my absence. I have already arranged for my voice and ear and eye to find you ( Read more... )

Those who found no power in their movements found their voice a tool. Their Awen was called Cyfaenad. There were the Cym, whose voices could speak any language. They feasted upon the song of the world, needing only water and breath to sustain them. All of Tereth spoke with them and the moment anything of import occured, they were informed. ( Read more... )

The monestary was perched precariously on the western most edge of Grismynydd, on the bank of the Bywydol. At sunset, the small river looked like a thread of gold, and with its gilded domes and stained windows, the monestary became a pendant of glittering jewels hung upon the craggy neck of the great, tiered mountain. Though utterly devoted to ( Read more... )

The announcement itself was not altogether what was so worrisome. It stated simply that there was to be a gathering of the council, and all representatives were requested to be in attendance. This was, in fact, fairly commonplace, the council gathered every five or six new moons, to discuss some aspect or another of Ebon's government. It ( Read more... )

There was, and is, Kutoa, the first; who on Tereth is called the Weaver; and he made his children whom he called his Tehda, makers. They were as ageless as the sky, children of light more brilliant than all of the stars. When he had crafted each of them, he bade time begin, and upon the sky he fixed stars and moons and dead worlds and worlds ( Read more... )