Just some more of my book. Enjoy and feel free to critique!
Stillness stung the silence, injecting an eerie atmosphere into the inky black vault. The clouded sky stretched overhead as Lucrious stepped out into the cool night air, the lantern he carried pricking the darkness with a patch of light. Delving his hand into the inner recesses of his cloak, he produced a small sheet of paper, neatly rolled up and fastened with string. Nudging the bird along his arm, he secured it to its leg, mentally rehearsing his carefully crafted plan. A cold smile crossed his face as he released the bird into the air, whispering, “Fly, friend, fly with the speed of the wind!
He remained on the balcony, watching until the darkness absorbed the little black speck flying in its midst….
Isabel stirred the fire in the hearth, the sight of it surging forward and lapping the stone walls delighting her. Inhaling deeply, she allowed the smoke to rage through her nostrils, burning them with the ferocity of the stench. Reaching up, she felt along the upper shelf, probing into its contents until she struck a single bottle. Bringing it down, she gazed at it steadily, studying how it bubbled and churned, listing crazily from one side to the next. She nodded, the cork coming off as she twisted it about.
The liquid drained slowly from the bottle, hissing hideously as it entered the kettle over the flames, the scandalous scent of scourging chemicals permeating the air. Speckling some spices into the white palm of her hand, she tossed them into her creation.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
She sighed, striding over to the window to face the intruder. Thrusting back the windowpanes, she opened her mouth to unleash a hail of curses in ancient Lydacian. But the words clogged in her throat, and she immediately forced them down when she saw who it was.
“Liarino macia keria, my little one,” she whispered. “Yes, you must keep more quiet.”
The bird hopped into her outstretched hand, extending to her the leg burdened with the message. Firelight dancing of the glazed surface of its dark eyes, it cocked its head, staring at her with intimate expectancy.
Loosening the knotted string, Isabel separated the paper from the limb, cradling the precious object in her fingers. Setting the bird in its cage, she locked it behind bars, allowing it to peck at the feed filling its bowl.
Trepidation sending trembles through her being, she fingered the rolled message, unwinding it with slow uncertainty. Quivers traversed her body as the fire’s flames glanced off the letters scripted in bold, scarlet ink:
“YIN NIKAN LEIN MWOK. REWT NITI TA YIN.”
“I can get the medallion,” she repeated aloud. “Leave it to me.”
Chapter #12
Arrenia stabbed her sampler, thankful for the quiet company of her faithful friends. The incessant sound of the clock reverberated through her, ticking off time with maddening monotony. A tear slipping from her eye, she brought the needle up and delved it deep into the stitchery once more.
She sniffed. How many times had she cried now? Countless it must be, by her reckoning. How many droplets from her bleeding eyes had dribbled down her cheeks unnoticed? Too many, she was sure.
Oh, how lonely could the world become before the sheer absence of consulate care broke her heart? Those closest to her she now barely knew, so grave and withdrawn they had become in these bleak hours. Silence seemed her only companion- and one for which she was partially grateful.
A knock came on the door, interrupting the constant flow of her thoughts. Smothering the tear with the back of her hand, she whimpered, “Come in.”
A slave girl opened the door and peeped timidly in. Striding to the center of the room, she clasped her hands together, wringing them gently in self-conscious sympathy. “My lady, the queen requests your presence in the throne room immediately.”
Arrenia sighed. “Please, Seraiah, tell her I am under no presentable state of mind.”
The girl’s gaze refused to meet her own. “My sincere sympathies, Miss, but Mistress said it was impertinent to your future.”
Hanging her head, Arrenia sighed. The heartache weighted her being with its leaden burden, dragging her spirits to the ground. Trembling with every move she made, her body atrophized beneath the heftiness of it, fading with every fleeting second into sheer collapse. She massaged her brow with thin fingers, trying with all her strength to beat back the waves of tumultuous thoughts crashing in on her.
Her future! What more was life than a series of inevitable pain? Of storms hailing curses, and rain spilling from the sky? All life had ever done to her was take away. Why should she give back to it?
“Everything I ever lived for is gone. Whatever happens to me now is of little matter.”
Callused hands enveloped hers as Seraiah knelt at her feet. “Oh, my Lady, don’t say that! Your life matters very, very much!”
“In what way? Tell me…I would like very much to hear.”
Exhaling, she stroked the skin of her mistress’s white hand. “I know you miss your father, Arrenia. We all do.” Her hand stopped as her fingers wrapped securely about the girl’s knuckles. “Without him many of us wouldn’t be here. Without him Lydacia wouldn’t be where she is today. He was kind. Generous. But, above all, he fought fearlessly for justice and what is right…not unlike you, Arrenia. The people need you. They need you more than you know.”
Arrenia bit her lip, attempting to force down the tears now pouring across her face. Someone saw her pain! Somebody cared!
She wanted laugh. To shout her emotional joy to all who might be around. Tossing her arms around Seraiah’s neck, she wept upon her shoulder, whispering, “Thank you.”
“Will you come?”
Arrenia let go and straightened her back. Smiling slightly, she said, “Tell my stepmother as shall come as soon as I am able.”
Standing, Seraiah smoothed her simple frock. “I will do that, my Lady.”
When the girl left, Arrenia rose to her feet, slipped on her courtroom gown, and glided over to the door. Pulling it aside, she stepped out into the hall, the first warm rays of hope shining in her soul.
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