Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: With the crisis at the Council building done, Tela setting down for a little peace and quiet. Something that lasted only as long as her patience allowed, and a summons from the chancellor of the Council of Seven. A long walk confirmed Tela’s worst fears, she was both heralded as a hero—and a kingdom-breaker—in equal amounts for her role in what happened. Neither a a title or position she wanted. But the discussion was brief, settling debts and scores leaving Tela one last task to handle involving the ancient Iraxi crystals…

Medilus 16, 1278: Port Side District. City of Ishnanor. Setting something right that was so very wrong…

The long ride from Arth Prayogar to Ishnanor was like a long exhale of breath I didn’t know I held. It was close enough to relief that I felt it counted.

A gray dawn kept me company as I walked out of Ishnanor’s Port Side along the shores of Embercrest Bay. Waves lapped at the yellow-white sands, steaming with sea foam and a haze from the newborn sunrise. The humid air was rich with the whisper of old rain. Amber-gold pinpricks of lantern bugs fizzed in the cypress underbrush, while a marsh squirrel squawked from a branch overhead.

Really, it was just another morning in Ishnanor. Shame I was about to do something pretty stupid to rattle it.

I’d sent word to Skarri where to meet me—a fallen log next to a narrow tidal pool, one hundred Ancient Order meters outside the city. That felt far enough away that no one, myself excluded, risked getting hurt.

She smiled and waved as I walked up, worry creasing the scales around her eyes. That was nothing compared to the person standing next to her. Kiyosi was the portrait of pained concern. My best friend stood with his arms folded, blue-skinned tail slapping an irritated tune against the feather-leaf ferns behind him.

They made a great set of bookends for the topic of ‘things Tela shouldn’t do with ancient relics’.

“I wish you had let me weave a few spell threads to try to crack the crystals open,” he said. “It wouldn’t have taken even an hour to check.”

“How about no,” I deadpanned, rummaging in my shoulder bag for the crystals in question. “Last you told me, no one knows how to really make portals. At least ones that didn’t cut people in half.”

Kiyosi’s face went through four kinds of frustrated before he replied. “There’s jumping out of windows, Tela, then there’s this. It was barely a year ago you nearly killed yourself stabbing a lich with a mind magic storm.”

I pulled the crystals out of my bag, waving them at him.

“This won’t be a mind magic storm,” I snapped. “… probably.”

Kiyosi threw his hands in the air with a wordless grumble, then paced around the log.

Resting on the log, Skarri tugged at her forest-green tunic, war-kilt pleats fanned out below her waist. Slowly, she’d dug a nervous furrow in the sand with the end of her tail. Silent through my argument with Kiyosi, her inner commentary staged a rebellion the moment he started pacing.

“Tela? I want the crystals made harmless as bad as anyone. But…” A sigh escaped in a low hiss. “… you make terrifying tactical choices.” Skarri shook her head as a flush darkened her scales. “I know your improvised plans usually work, but… this time… just how are you planning to do this?”

I drew a long breath. She had a good point. Old me would’ve been angry at the comment about my plans, but I wasn’t old me. They were worried. We’d seen what these elemental-filled crystals could do—which were memories that were going to gleefully haunt me for some time. I knew they didn’t want me to get hurt, and if my guess was wrong? I’d get hurt really badly.

But we needed to take the risk. Idly, I jiggled the crystals in my right hand, making them clink.

“I know this’ll be a shock, but I did think this through. It’s still risky, but this isn’t one of my ‘make it up as I go’ ideas.” I stopped rattling the crystals like dice, clenching them in a fist. “Instead of cracking the crystals—which I don’t think would work—my idea is to draw the elemental out using mind magic threads. Channel them in the way the bracer did, I think.”

Skarri squinted as Kiyosi stopped pacing.

In all fairness, I had left out some of the ‘what ifs’ of my idea.

My threads could fray trying this, or the elemental inside might not see, or care, about what I’m doing. Of course, the fire elemental might care a lot, then try to possess me by following those threads right back into my head.

Still, I’d explained the important part.

“That’s,” Kiyosi paused, nodded thoughtfully, “actually an interesting idea.” He glanced over at me, arching an eyebrow. “It gives the fire elementals a path out that isn’t through you.”

“Thank you!” I replied with a little sass under my words. “I may not practice like I’m supposed to, but I have been paying attention.“

Skarri pursed her lips, eyes tight. “What she catches fire? That’s raw elemental power.”

Kiyosi nodded, staring at the middle distance. “Then you yank her back as I weave some healing salve. It’s not perfect, but it’ll help. Still, using mind magic is a really clever approach… provided you don’t catch fire.”

I raised my eyebrows with a thin smile.

“These are fire elementals. So I’m betting it’ll get as hot as an open oven when I start.” I waved a hand at the water in the bay. “Which is why I pulled a favor or three to send word to a friend who can help.”

Kiyosi frowned at the bay, curious. Skarri simply smiled.

“Oh. That’s why we’re all the way out here,” she said.

I winked at her. “Exactly.”

Moments later, Azure’sella drew up out of the emerald-blue water, then walked to shore. As she did, the robe of jellyfish-like material she wore melted into a modest sky-blue tunic and black trousers. Water cascaded from her cobalt hair, running off her and into the water at her feet. By the time the water elemental reached shore, her long hair and magic-spun clothes were dry.

“Saint’s quiet tides, Tela,” Azure signed to me, smiling brightly.

I grinned, signing back. “Saint’s quiet tides, Azure’sella.”

“Azure is fine,” she replied, cheeks flushing a darker blue. “I was surprised when I got your message.” Her smile faded to a frown, concern flickering over her sea-green eyes. “It mentioned the Bargain, and that you needed help. You haven’t been bound, have you?”

Kiyosi and Skarri exchanged a glance that landed between confused and concerned. I shook my head for everyone’s benefit. Then replied to Azure with sign language, but also aloud for the others.

“No, thank the Lady Deep. I’m not trapped in some mystic Bargain; it’s nothing like that.” I paused, hands caught in mid-sign. “It’s the Iraxi. The crystals can’t be broken, but I’ve an idea how to make them harmless—free the trapped fire elementals.”

Azure stiffened.

“I’m not saying don’t do it, but they’ve been there for centuries. Even elementals feel the pain and passage of time,” she quickly signed. “Are you sure about this?”

After a deep breath, I repeated what Azure said to Kiyosi and Skarri.

“She has a point,” Skarri replied, pushing upright off the log. “Could you…” she hesitated, glancing between Azure and myself. “She can understand us?”

I nodded. “Mostly. Signing is more natural for her. Her name is Azure’sella, or just Azure.”

Skarri inclined her head in thanks, then faced the water elemental and bowed.

“Azure’sella, it’s a valid worry. Tela makes,” she slid a brief look at me, lips slightly curled, “interesting tactical choices.”

Kiyosi snorted softly, while Azure’s grin returned. I lightly rolled my eyes, then gave them all a deadpan look. There’s nothing like close friends to keep you honest. Skarri ignored me and pushed on.

“But that’s why Kiyosi and I are here,” she explained, gesturing at Kiyosi. “He’s a very skilled spellcaster. I’m a warrior. Between the two of us, we could hold off a fire elemental for a short time if we have to.”

Azure listened silently, then signed back as I translated.

“That would make sense. What’s my part?”

“Keep me from catching fire,” I replied. “Also? I’m hoping that when the fire elementals are free, seeing you will keep them from going on a murder spree.”

“I’m a water elemental,” Azure replied dubiously. “They’re fire. It isn’t like they’re a part of my water-clan.”

“Yes, but we look way too much like people who put them in there,” I countered. “You don’t.”

“Fair point,” she replied.

“So when—and how—do we start?” Kiyosi asked, looking at the rest of us.

I held up one of the crystals in question, gesturing with it at the shoreline.

“Easy. I kneel down, pull mind magic threads while you three get ready to grab me, the fire elemental, maybe both.” I grinned at them. “Let’s free some elementals.”

The first part was easy. I knelt down in the sand, then pinched the air in front of my forehead. Like always, I felt that warm push behind my eyes a second before silvery-blue threads trailed off my fingers. Quickly, I wrapped the glowing threads around the pulsing red crystal, like winding thread around a spool, leaving a long trail for me to pull. What I’d wrapped around the crystal sank like melted butter into bread.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Skarri asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Maybe?” I replied. “First time jail-breaking a fire elemental.”

A bright orange light flared from the crystal in my hand. Heat followed a second later. Shoving the stone partway into the sand, I slowly pulled at the silver threads. Fire sparked as the magic threads slid out of the crystal. Sparks turned into tiny gouts of flame before tendrils of molten fire spilled in all directions. It was like what happened with Marius’ lich crystal, only with primal fire—I wasn’t sure which was worse.

But in the end, my idea worked.

While I pulled the threads, the air turned savagely hot. My lungs burned as if they were on fire, but I wiped sweat off my face and kept at it. Time warped like white-hot metal, steam rising as if I were being cooked alive. Maybe I was. I couldn’t tell. In that soup of moments, I felt Azure summon water to keep me cool. Kiyosi wove his own spells to heal me, or draw off as much excess light and heat as he could.

One crystal was swapped for another. I wondered idly, hands and body trembling, if this was how I would die. Maybe so, but roasting alive while freeing two victims from a crystal prison felt worth it.

Finally, I toppled over as both fire elementals took form on the shore. It was a man and a woman. They were tall and human-looking, with sun-yellow hair and broad-shoulders. Both had skin like polished brass and deep orange eyes. Most importantly, they didn’t go on a rampage. If anything, they looked overcome with emotion, eyes filled with an ancient relief as they looked around.

I noticed a tendril of gravedust snake out of my bag while the others dove to haul my battered body out of the sand. It was the gray, powdery mist from the third crystal with the lich spirit inside. I might have been beaten to hell, but I still managed a glare that stopped the tendril cold.

“Not. Now,” I rasped, throat raw.

The gritty tendril recoiled like a snake, hissing before it vanished back into my bag and the third crystal. I would’ve warned the others, but that was when I passed out.

Minutes mixed with hours until time turned into gravy. I woke later—hours, maybe—with Kiyosi arguing nearby with someone about whether I was allowed to walk. Once I got my wits back, I cleaned up, slipping on a fresh blue linen shirt and brown trousers, both soot and blood-free. Boots on, I grabbed my bag, limping out of the Windtracer Company compound before anyone could stop me.

Naturally, I was caught less than an hour later at the Saltwind Tea House, overlooking the bay. Atha walked up with a huge grin on his face as I sat down, dropping my journal next to a cup of tea.

“There hyu are,” he chuckled. “Healer will be so happy. Hyu haven’t gone out to kick over any new kingdoms.”

I shot him a glare; he ignored it. Atha pulled over a chair and sat across from me.

“Ki worries too much. I didn’t burn alive.” I held out an arm, showing off my bronze-dark skin, dotted with bruises. “See? Nothing melted. I’ll be fine.”

Atha chuckled again as a server dropped off a large cup of tea, placing it in front of the minotaur.

“Jasmine?” I asked.

He nodded, sipping with a look of contentment.

I watched him for a moment, then shook my head. “So, Ki’s staying here. Mikasi and Skarri are here for a few days, then off to Banye. What about you?”

Atha gently set down the cup, staring off across the bay.

“Probably collect my brothers, then head to the northern lands. See if aunt has found new laws to break.” He shrugged. “It’s too quiet here… too boring.”

“Too boring?” I snorted. “Liar. You make out like a bandit, but I’m pretty sure I know better. You’re going to find something to fix or someone to help.”

The minotaur’s deep laugh rattled nearby windows.

“Maybe so,” he said with a wink. “Don’t spread it around. What about hyu?”

I sipped my own tea, then shrugged.

“Rest. Recover. Study the Iraxi bracers and spent crystals.” I tapped my journal with a finger. “You know, the more I uncover about the Ancient Order… it feels like the less I know.”

Out in the bay, water churned like a geyser. Fishermen in small boats frantically paddled, did anything to get away, as a certain threadmarrow basilisk broke the surface with a series of playful burbles. The fishermen cut loose with a torrent of curses, but a pack of local kids dove into the water. Both kids and basilisk were delighted. The fishermen, not so much. Atha and I laughed.

“Also, I need to figure out what to do about him,” I said.

Atha shrugged, finishing his tea. “Looks like he already figure it out. But I should go, and hyu have Windtracer things to do.”

I tapped my journal again, nodding. “Good journey, Atha.”

“Until we meet again, Windtracer,” he grinned.

I was quiet for a long time after Atha left, remembering Arth Prayogar, Deepland Hollows, even the odd things with that lich-possessed crystal I carried. Then there was Rima Nimad. I had a feeling she wasn’t gone, but was out there waiting.

Quietly, I pulled open my journal to collect my thoughts. After another sip of tea, I dug out a pencil from my bag, turned to a blank page, and wrote.

“Basysus 12, 1278: City of Osidore, Belari Trade Alliance. River Junction Inn. Where I had something like a plan.”

“It really was a great plan.”

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. For everyone that is reading Windtracer Tales: Kingdom of the Slithering Maze, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I hope you enjoyed the ride every step of the way. This story is dedicated to each and every one of you.

But!

Make no mistake…

Tela Kioni WILL return in

Windtracer Tales: Blood from a Stone

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: A quick decision and dive into death mist, put Tela on a slight edge. But it nearly cost her—and Garrik—their lives. Despite that, Tela used a risky gamble to bring down Rima’s plans of conquest once and for all. As for the lich, Rima Nimad? She went up in smoke—or did she? No one knows. But as the dust settled, Tela found herself the focus of concerns and questions… so very many questions…

Medilus 8, 1278: Arth Prayogar. Getting not quite what I wanted, but probably what I deserved.

I finally got that hot bath and nap I wanted. But they came at a price—three days at the Lemongrass Inn, more than one bruise rainbow, and a brutal headache. The last got worse every time I retold what happened to Council officials, sympathetic Trade-Wardens, and more. Admittedly, a visit from one of the Dream-Scribe’s people was a surprise.

That last visit confirmed my worst fear—I’d come down with a nasty case of being called a ‘hero’. No matter how hard I scrubbed, it wouldn’t come off.

“Hero of the city,” the emerald-skinned tiefling said with a polite smile, writing the phrase in his canvas-bound notebook.

“Wait. What?” I sputtered, nearly dropping my cup of coffee.

Zamien Ramode, the tiefling across the table from me, wore the typical gray and brown monk robes of a Dream-Scribe. It was the book-themed red stole around his neck that gave away he was a librarian-priest. Calmly, he set his quill on the notebook, then sipped his coffee with a chuckle. The amusement rippled down to the end of his tail, which twitched like an amused cat’s.

“Just what I said,” Zamien replied as if explaining how water really was still wet. “Hero. You and your companions. I’ve heard it more than once since what happened in the Council building. But if you prefer something less friendly, there are those calling you a ‘kingdom-breaker’.”

A grumpy moan, ragged as a torn sheet, fell out of me.

“Is there an option here for ‘none of the above’?” I asked, not quite able to keep a tiny whine out of my voice.

The priest chuckled again. I was glad someone was entertained by all this.

“No, there isn’t,” he replied. After another sip of his coffee, he picked up his quill, rubbed it against the ink-stone, then continued to scribble notes about the Iraxi and events three days prior. “A little advice, if I may, Lady Kioni?”

“Tela is fine,” I said, solemnly peering into my coffee for salvation. “You don’t have to toss more titles on.”

Zamien inclined his head. “Tela, then. What’s done is written. Titles? They’re fleeting. Titles can be as light as a flower laurel or heavy as an ox-yoke. The more you dwell on them, the heavier they become. Focus on today, not yesterday. The titles aren’t you.”

I pursed my lips, frowning.

“Thank you, Librum Zamien.” I turned the advice around in my head a bit, chewing on it for the flavor. “It’s… something to think about.”

By late morning, ‘think’ had melted into ‘worry’ with a steaming side of twitchy. It haunted me until an out of breath messenger arrived from the Arth Prayogar council building—Chancellor Fel wanted another private meeting. After they left, I changed into a fresh, cream linen shirt free of blood-stains, and my least-battered pants before I told the others.

They weren’t thrilled to say the least.

“Again?” Skarri hissed. She was still recovering, but Kiyosi had been doing his usual top-notch healing work. Today, Skarri was wearing more clothing than bandages, which was a good sign. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re not alone,” Kiyosi added, folding his arms over his chest with a glare. “Haven’t they asked enough questions? You need rest!”

I fought a very real urge to roll my eyes. They all made it sound so easy to sit, rest, and recover. I tried to rest. Other times I tried to sleep. Occasionally, I got lucky and managed both.

Secretly, I was glad to meet with the Chancellor; it gave me something to do beyond ‘be still’ since I just didn’t do ‘behave’.

“Now look, they’re scared,” I protested. “A lich very nearly stole their kingdom—maybe their lives. Everyone’s been questioned twice over. This is more of the same. I’ll be fine.”

“Of course. Which is why I go with hyu,” Atha said calmly as if discussing the weather.

I scowled at him so hard that he actually raised his hands in mock defeat.

“Then again, I could be staying here,” he quickly added.

Mikasi also started to say something, but wisely stopped himself at my glare.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “Really, I appreciate the concern. I do. But I think I filled my quota of near-death experiences three days ago, so I’m safe. Besides, the Trade-Wardens are out in force. Two bits says I get an unofficial escort.”

Kiyosi and Atha took the bet—I won.

Once I left the Lemongrass Inn for the street, Rhen Shotho melted out of the crowd and into my shadow. I grinned.

“Your turn today?” I asked.

He grunted. “Better to escort you in case you kick over a rock and find another conspiracy to solve.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed.

Arth Prayogar’s Market Square was back in full force after the near-coup. Overhead, the prairie sun was bright and merciless, making me grateful for my tinted goggles.

Faded banners on poles lined the road like a fluttering honor guard. Shade sails in a rainbow of reds, greens, and more, stretched from yellowed, cracked adobe patios. Under the awnings, merchants hawked everything imaginable. There was embroidered cloth from Osidore, fruit from Ishnanor, and all manner of goods from across the Thetari Trade Road.

Scents of cooking meat danced through the air with fresh-baked bread until my mouth watered. I solved that with flatbread-wrapped chicken and peppers I bought from a bald, halfling spice merchant with a weathered smile. He waved a hand when I pulled out coins to pay.

“I recognize you. It’s on the house, Windtracer,” he said with a wizened grin. “You’re the reason the city didn’t burn down while a lich dragged us to the nine hells.”

“Er… you’re welcome?” I replied slowly.

That’s when I noticed a feeling in the air around me; like I wasn’t overlooked anymore. A pair of centaur cloth merchants eyed me warily. It was hard to miss one whispering ‘kingdom-breaker’. I exchanged a brittle smile with them as I went on my way.

They weren’t alone. As I walked through the market, if I didn’t hear whispered remarks of ‘hero’, I saw subtle hand gestures at me to ward off evil. Both hit like arrows, making me flinch.

I tried to ignore it, but I’d never had this much attention before. It was like wearing soaked wool I couldn’t peel off. I hunched my shoulders as I hurried a bit faster. Rhen cleared his throat.

“It’ll get quieter when we reach the Council building,” he assured me.

“By the Lady Deep, I hope so,” I muttered. “All I did was punch a lich.”

He let out a low laugh.

“You did a lot more than that, but I know what you mean. It’s already a holiday—the ‘Day of Ash and Bone’.”

I rolled my eyes with a long sigh, stalking toward the city administration building.

The battered building was on its way back to normal. Masons worked to repair hoof-battered doors or blood-stained broken tiles. A few spared me a glance but kept opinions to themselves; there was too much work to do.

I paused a moment to take in the scene. A pair of workers peeled a torn, bloodied Herd Tolvana tabard off the ground. One sign of many that Rima had cut the kingdom to the bone. Not that she would’ve noticed. People who think that the ends justify the means never stop to see—or care—that the cost is always paid in innocent lives.

“Second floor to the Chancellor?” I asked Rhen, who nodded grimly.

I hurried through the foyer, past its bitter nightmares, for the ramp to the Chancellor’s office. As luck had it, he wasn’t alone.

Rhen held the door open as I stepped in to find Chancellor Fel standing, staring out a window. On the other side of a centaur-sized desk, Liru sat with his snake-like tail curled under him like a makeshift scaly cushion. Prairie wind gusted through the half-open window, carrying a hint of wildflowers and—like always—dust.

“Tela,” Liru said with a smile.

He started to rise, maybe to offer me a hug, but hesitated. Our conversation before the lich bloodbath hung like a pall over everything. Liru had lied by omission to get me to help, which contributed to how bad it had gotten. Still, healing had to start somewhere, so I lightly squeezed his shoulder when I reached the chair next to him.

Chancellor Fel nodded once I sat down.

“Thank you for coming, Lady Kioni.”

I shrugged. “Nothing like more conversation around the Day of Ash and Bone,” I said dryly.

Liru winced. Chancellor Fel arched a bemused eyebrow.

“So you’ve heard? Well, that saves me an explanation.” He lightly waved a hand at the window. “It was necessary. Naming it gives people something better to focus on. Hopefully, move on from what happened.”

“Can they?” I asked tartly, remembering people—just bystanders—who were run down by Herd Tolvana soldiers.

Fel’s eyebrows rose for his steel-gray hairline as he sighed, horse-tail swatting the air.

“Fair question. It’ll take work, but I think so.” He turned, hoofs clomping lightly against the wooden floor as he faced us. “Herd Tolvana atoning for their part in this will help. Sadly, their current Magister suffered an unfortunate accident three days ago. The Trade-Wardens assure me he’ll recover, but we’ll see. Until then, his temporary replacement has some hard questions to answer.”

“You mentioned that before Tela arrived,” Liru said. “How soon before they pick one?”

“Better question. Will the rotten lot say anything more useful than ‘oops’?” I asked, my frustration still on display.

The Chancellor shrugged. “I’m expecting real answers. The city deserves that much. So does Jata. Even a little would help me to earn back the people’s trust. Fix the cracks. Nudge the kingdom to something better.”

Liru nodded solemnly. “I hope they find their better nature and atone for their part in all this.”

Fel chuckled deep in his chest. “We’ll see. Jata sometimes rewards honesty with a knife to the back. Still, it’s worth the effort. To which, thank you for what you did, Lady Kioni. Jata came a hair’s breadth from horror.”

I sucked in a quiet breath, squirming in the wooden chair.

“Chancellor, please. It was—” The words caught in my throat. Calling it ‘nothing’ felt insulting. “—it had to be done. If history is any guide, Rima would’ve painted Jata in blood.”

The centaur nodded, folding his hands in front of him.

“So I’ve gathered. All the more reason my people owe you a debt.”

Those words, and the responsibility behind them, burrowed under my skin the worst way. It felt like I was sitting on an angry anthill. Unable to take any more, I stared at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

“If you really mean that, Chancellor, I’m calling it in.” I met his curious gaze. “Stop the persecution of tieflings, really anyone not a centaur. They’re people, not things.”

“It would be a good start,” Liru advised. “In some ways, it compounded the recent problems.”

The Chancellor’s eyes turned distant as he gazed out the window at the courtyard below.

“If I could only make it happen by decree,” he murmured. “I’ve proposed laws, but they’ll only go so far. Education and time are the real solutions. I’ve plans to work with the Dream-Scribe’s people on education. Time will take care of itself. Sadly, that means at least a generation, but maybe that can be sped up.”

“That leaves the crystals,” Liru hissed softly. “They can’t stay here.”

“They won’t,” I said flatly.

Fel’s mouth pulled into a smile.

“Nor should they. The farther they are from Jata, the happier I’ll be. Is it true they can’t be destroyed?”

Liru shrugged, clasping his scaled hands. “That’s what the ancient texts say—which is why my people keep trying to hide them.”

I folded my hands in my lap.

“If I may? I think they’re from a type of crystal golem called an Automatic Crystal. The lich, Rima, is a member of a group called the Gatekeeper Society that’s obsessed with them. But,” I bit my lower lip in thought, “there might be a way to make them harmless.”

“How?” Fel asked curiously.

“Free the elementals inside them.” I shrugged. “No elementals, no threat. I can handle that with the help of a friend in Ishnanor.”

“That solves two. What about the third one with the gray mist?” Fel asked.

I shook my head. “Different problem. It’s mine to solve.”

“Tela, I’d like to send Skarri along when you free the elementals,” Liru said, turning toward me. Then he smiled a little. “One last task before she leaves my service.”

I blinked. “What?”

The shaman shrugged. “She wants to settle in Ishnanor for a bit, then visit a little town called Banye?”

I grinned. So Skarri had asked Mikasi to show her his hometown after all. Good.

“Of course,” I glanced between the two men. “What about the ruins outside Arth Prayogar?”

The Chancellor gestured to Liru. “The Trade-Wardens will seal all access until a new viprin delegation arrives. They’ll take charge of the ruins, artifacts and all. I’ll make sure the Merchant Herds keep their hooves out.”

“Good,” I replied.

“Yes,” Fel agreed. Then he studied me. “Lady Kioni, don’t take this the wrong way, but hero or not, I’ll be glad to see you go.”

I laughed softly. “That’s fair. I know having me around adds more headaches than help.”

The Chancellor grinned. “A little, yes.”

I tensed, then glanced at Liru.

“Liru? You asked for my help, and I gave it. But I also did it because you saved my best friend’s life once. I know your people place stock in debts. Does freeing the elementals, even tossing the crystals in the first volcano I find, even things?”

He nodded, giving the floor a sad look.

“By our law, it does.” Then he met my gaze. “But… Tela, I never felt you owed me a debt. Yes, I saved Kiyosi’s life. But we spent days in the Deepland Hollow debating history, sharing findings.” A smile brushed his scaled lips, amber eyes dancing. “It’s a fond memory. Debts aside, I’d rather repair our friendship—if we can.”

I gave him a slight smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that. No more lying by omission, right?”

“Right,” Liru grinned.

I gave Liru a warm hug, then looked between him and the Chancellor.

“If that’s all, I’d best get packed. I’ve one last thing to set right.”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: In a tight spot against Gregori Elkerton, Tela tries a desperate gamble—swap the elemental infused gemstone with a lich’s soul stone. The results were wildly successful, and deeply deadly. Having to fight a two problems at once, Tela attempts to solve one with the other. It nearly works, but Rima isn’t so easily fooled. Which leads Tela to make a dangerous, and desperate, gamble…

Medilus 5, 1278: Arth Prayogar’s Council Building. Nearly getting dead was the easy part.

I had a list of things to do that day. Diving backwards into a rolling fog of murder dust wasn’t on it. Neither was hugging a scheming, walking corpse that kept oddly insisting we were the same—but also wanted to kill me.

There was a lesson in there, but I was a little busy.

My head hit the tile floor when I fell backward. Stars painted my vision with white sparks, and I lost the world for a moment. I came to with a scream wedged like a bone in my throat. That dry fog boiled around me. It was storm-thick, full of charred dust and damp regret.

I gagged, rolling to my right away from Rima and Garrik. It felt like I’d inhaled a tomb, along with bits of its residents. The problem wasn’t just the fetid smell; it was a bitter, gray powder eager to crawl between my teeth and down my throat. While I liked to study history, I didn’t want to swallow it—especially not when it was the powdered remains of a dead nobleman with a grudge.

“Marius!” My voice held a dry rasp that shocked me. “Get out of my throat!”

To my surprise, it did.

“By the Lady Deep and her Saint of Tides, that’s vile,” I swore, spitting a mix of blood and burned spirit dust from my mouth.

I had rolled onto my hands and knees, body shuddering as if from a sharp winter wind. The receding gravedust peeled off my skin, leaving a memory of chalky sludge along with the taste of tarnished coins and cruelty. It swirled around me; a lazy cyclone too bored to move.

Dimly, I realized I still held the Iraxi gemstone. It pulsed warmly. I shook my head, collecting my torn wits.

“Whip,” I sputtered, then found it next to me. I picked up the weapon before shoving myself upright, squinting through my confusion. “Where’s Garrik? Rima? Anyone?”

Past the lively haze, I couldn’t see Rima but did see Garrik. The elven thief fought like a cat fleeing a bath. Ribbons of charcoal-colored gravedust clenched at his arms, legs, neck—anywhere to get purchase. He’d swat a gust away, earning singed skin, only for two more to grab him elsewhere. Both his boots and legs had vanished under the dark mist.

Then a familiar tail lashed through the choking dust—it was Skarri.

“Go!” she hissed, voice rough with overuse.

Mikasi appeared next to her, tossing a vial through the dead haze. It splattered, chasing back the mist long enough for the pair to grab Garrik. They pulled—the gravedust yanked back harder. Garrik yelled.

I shoved at the dust cyclone around me to get through, but it pushed back. After that, I punched and swore it winced.

“Hells and high tide, Marius Apollinare! Dead or not, I’ll kill you again. Let me out!” I yelled, though my voice was barely louder than crumpled paper.

Again, it—no, he—cooperated. I tucked that away for later under ‘future problems’, then charged forward as if chasing my own death. Death wisely kept out of my reach, but Rima Nimad had not.

In the time it took with my misadventures with the dead dust from the lich soul crystal, Rima was back on her feet. Somehow she’d pulled Garrik’s dagger from her back, then started flaying the thick mist with her flaming whip. A wet pop slapped a hole in the dust, leaving the stink of burned blood behind. It was surprisingly effective—even if her whip was dying like old embers. But the death mist wasn’t to be outdone; it scorched her too-pale skin like acid in long strips.

Then the dust cyclone circled me again. Understanding—a shred of it—penetrated my fatigue.

“It isn’t trying to hunt me. Not really,” I muttered, watching the chaos with a calculated look. “The gravedust coming out of the lich crystal… that’s Marius, but he’s just reacting like a wound does to salt.” My eyes cut over to Rima “As if reacting to something irritating.”

Rima glared knives in Garrik’s direction as the others pulled the thief loose. She lashed at the dust again as it tried to swallow her. It parted, and I filled the gap.

“What? Not hurt enough people yet?” I said with a glare.

Rima sucked a ragged breath, hurling the same look back.

“This from the same woman who drags her enemies to the grave, so she doesn’t die alone,” she said icily.

I gave her a casual shrug, sliding the whip beside me like the tail of an irritated cat.

“I thought you’d feel at home in a grave, Rima.” My smile fled. “You won’t get what you want out of this. This stupid plan of yours failed centuries ago when you tried it the first time. Admit it, you’ve lost.”

Rima circled me in the bitter dust as her flaming blood-whip sputtered out. Letting the ragged embers scatter to the floor, the lich slid a dagger from her belt—the same one she’d cut me with before. I drew a deep breath, trying to remember our fight last time.

The lich lunged, her knife a flashing blur. I cracked my whip but missed, getting sliced along my upper arm for the trouble. Hissing, I darted away to avoid being stabbed. We circled each other, the Iraxi bracer with the lich soul stone on the floor between us. Rima smirked, eyes dancing over me in a way that made me cringe.

“Lost? For now, but so have you.” She inclined her head toward my arm, punctuating the point. “That has to really hurt.”

I spared a glance at my latest wound. The gravedust and smoke curled around me like a shawl or some perverted death armor. Where Rima had cut me turned a shadow-slate gray; the blood a reddish-black. The horrid effect spread over my skin like a demented sunburn. I grimaced. Kiyosi, Mikasi, and the others were going to have a fit.

“Maybe,” I replied. “But the longer I keep you here, the better my friends can kneecap your bad idea.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time,” she countered with a twisted smile.

Rima thrust low, but I was waiting. The slice caught air and dust, parting both. I side-stepped, flipped the whip in my hand, using the handle like a bludgeon. It smashed along the lich’s jaw, snapping her head to the side. Wet gravedust—what passed for her blood—spilled over her lips. Rima staggered aside as I stepped behind her.

Suddenly I was all too aware of the elemental-possessed gemstone in my hand. The gem was a dull, insistent heartbeat of power—warm, steady, and so inviting.

“It could fix this,” I murmured as Rima winced, resetting her jaw. “Just open myself up to it. One pull of magic could end this.”

But I knew what that meant, and I’d been on the wrong side of it before. I touched the side of my head beside my goggles that protected my permanently altered eyes. Ghostly dust of a dead lich—one I’d killed before he killed me—brushed my skin, caressing my hands. A ragged breath fell out of me.

“No,” I told the crystal. “No, I won’t do it.”

My eyes flicked between it and the gemstone I’d stuck in the bracer. “Wait,” I murmured. “Is that why the Iraxi can’t be destroyed? They’re pieces of a shattered Automatic Crystal golem?”

I realized I’d been wool-gathering when Rima faced me with a glare so hot; I swore it burned the air.

“You’ll pay for that. For all of this.”

She darted in low again, dagger aimed for my guts, as I threw myself at the bracer on the floor.

I was faster.

The blade sliced past, cutting a new hole in my shirt. I rolled, grabbed the bracer, slamming the Iraxi crystal against the lich soul stone. They connected with a gentle click, as if part of the same structure. Immediately, both stones glowed in unison as if… talking?

I glanced up too late to see Rima looming over me. The lich hauled me up by my shirt collar as her dagger plunged. I reached to pull mind magic threads and failed—they frayed; I was too rattled. Desperate, I rammed my shoulder against Rima’s knife arm. Her dagger tip brushed my back as I shoved the Iraxi bracer and its pair of crystals against her gut.

The air felt as if it had ripped open and the world exploded at my feet.

Dark, brownish-black gravedust erupted around us like a hurricane. Red bolts of fire-touched lightning scored the clouds like cracks in the fabric of life.

“Tela!” I heard Kiyosi shout over the maelstrom. “Someone grab her!”

“We can’t get close!” Atha replied from nearby, yet painfully far away. “Storm will tear us apart!”

“Toss her a rope! Something!” That was Rhen Shotho.

I clenched my jaw. It was too late for last-ditch rescues. All that was left was to hold on and ride the storm.

Chaos raged. Rima screamed as if being torn apart. My legs shook, knees giving way, but I tensed to keep myself standing. For a moment, I thought I felt a pair of spectral hands steady me, then vanish.

All at once, the world felt too tight. Then it snapped like a frayed bowstring with an obvious, painful pop. Dust, false wind, all of it vanished as if it’d never been there.

I stumbled forward wide-eyed, accidentally kicking the burnt bones of Gregori Elkerton clattering across the floor. The Iraxi in my hands steamed.

Rima was gone.

Where the lich had been, there was the burned outer jacket of her monk’s robes and a mangled Fateweaver pin. I coiled my whip, hooking it onto my belt before I knelt. On the pin’s tarnished brass, the symbol of three daggers bound by a cord was twisted into a barely discernible mess. Almost as if the pin had an unexpected fight with a forge and lost.

“Gone,” I wheezed, drinking clean air. “No lich. Nothing.”

The area around me felt twisted. As if the air had been unexpectedly robbed, leaving a feeling of physical absence behind. I couldn’t place what to call it other than what nothing might actually feel like.

A gallop of hoofbeats yanked me back to the moment. I slipped the Fateweaver pin into my bag before I stood. Seven Council guards—all centaurs—galloped over to surround me with drawn weapons. I eyed them warily with one hand on my whip, the other clutching the Iraxi bracer.

“Yoi T’kalo, boys,” I greeted them casually, eyes drifting between them.

“You,” a centaur snarled. I recognized him from the inspection to get inside earlier, and braced to be grabbed. “Windtracer! You’ll…”

“… be still while I summon a healer,” a deep, older voice behind the guards interrupted.

Every Council guard went stiff as a board, like a collection of kids caught with their hands in a basket, stealing muffins. They parted, as the royal-robed Chancellor Fel, speaker and head of the Jata Council of Seven, walked over. The most powerful centaur in the Jata kingdom wasn’t flanked by Council guards. Instead, Nurkes and a certain Trade-Warden I’d come to know, Rhen Shotho, stood in those positions.

“You’re beat to hell, and I’d rather you not be bleeding everywhere,” the Chancellor continued. The centaur gestured to somewhere past the wall of guards, and I heard a scurry of footsteps. “I want answers, and Trade-Warden Shotho says you’re the best to ask. Also, he says I owe you my hide.”

I snorted softly. It might not have been polite, but it was where my mind rested as a headache took hold. For a moment, I didn’t say a word, just sighed as I looked at the Iraxi with its twin glowing crystals. Rima’s words haunted me again. I’d shaken Jata to its foundation—even cracked it a little—just to save its people. Did the ends justify the means? Silently, I wondered if Rima had been right all along, that she and I weren’t any different.

“Chancellor…,” I said with a rough rasp, before my throat gave up.

One of the Council building’s attendants, human by the look of him, appeared next to me with a bottle. I uncorked it, swallowed some water, then nodded. The dark-haired young man, barely old enough to shave, nodded back with a bright grin. Then he set about cleaning the wound on my arm.

“…there’s a lot,” I continued. “But I’ll bundle it up for you. A lich wanted to use Gregori Elkerton and Herd Tolvana to wipe out the Council of Seven. She—the lich—wanted to rule it all. Elkerton had his own plans to rule instead. He double-crossed her, and… well… here we are.”

No one spoke for a moment. Then the Chancellor nodded sagely, folding his arms across his chest.

“I… see. Can anyone back these claims?”

Rhen cleared his throat. “Respectfully, Chancellor, I can on behalf of the Trade-Wardens…”

Another voice, as ragged as mine, interrupted Rhen Shotho.

“Save it,” Garrik said. The elven thief looked beat to hell and back, with dark circles under his eyes. “I can explain all about Rima Nimad and her Fateweaver cult.” He shook his head. “Before anyone gets jumpy, no, I’m not a cultist, but I was on the inside before I picked a better path. So I can explain what Tela Kioni here can’t.”

“Go on,” Chancellor Fel said, looking from Garrik to myself.

I rubbed a hand over my face as another sigh spilled out of me. Quietly, I looked down at the Iraxi bracer with its twin gemstones glowing like a sunrise or maybe sunset. Then I looked up to see Mikasi and Skarri not far behind Garrik. Kiyosi and Atha joined them a moment later. They all looked worried, but still gave me smiles and nods of encouragement.

That told me all I needed to know. No, I wasn’t like Rima. Not in the least.

“Chancellor?” I said in a stronger voice. “How are you on history? Because this really started nearly a thousand years ago, in a land not far from here…”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Dead tired and down to the wire, Tela confronts Rima Nimad. The confrontation becomes a duel of words and philosophy, with lives in the balance. But it was all a smoke screen, distracting Rima while Tela’s friends put their plan into motion. The plan nearly worked, until Auditor Gregori Elkerton enacted a plan of his own to double cross Rima and overthrown the Council of Seven! Chaos breaks out, and Tela charges the auditor with a desperate plan in mind that might stop the madness, or get them all killed…

Medilus 5, 1278: Arth Prayogar’s Council Building. It’s what you don’t see that can kill you…

I held onto the abused shield for dear life. If I let go even for a second, it meant someone I cared about would die. That wasn’t going to happen—not today.

Auditor Elkerton snarled in pain, eyes burning with hot rage. Heat boiled off the ancient dark leather bracer in searing waves.

It felt like I’d stuck my face next to an open oven.

The shield smoldered where it touched the Iraxi bracer. Overheated tar-stained wood stank of burning rot, even as the metal frame warmed and warped out of shape in my hands.

“You!” Elkerton spat in my face. “I should’ve killed you myself on the road, or shattered your bones, leaving you to die alone in the Deeplands.”

I flashed a sharp smile. “Aw, and here I didn’t think you cared.”

The kneeling centaur grabbed for my throat with his free hand. I shoved the bent shield forward, ramming it against his fingertips. A dull, wet pop filled the air as Elkerton yowled in pain. One of Herd Tolvana’s soldiers galloped toward us, glaring twisted rage at me as he reached for his sword. I gripped the ruined shield and braced for the pain—it never arrived.

Before the centaur was on top of us, Atha smashed into the soldier like a muscled hammer with horns. I missed the rest when Elkerton slammed a fist into my jaw.

Stars exploded in my vision. I instinctively ducked, avoiding a second punch.

“Just die!” he screamed.

“Not a chance!” I growled.

A third hit from the centaur went low, around the shield and into my ribs. I wheezed out precious air. Then it hit me—my mind magic threads! I still had a bundle wrapped loosely around my right hand.

“Right. Those,” I murmured around the ache in my jaw.

Elkerton drew back his bruised fist. I slammed the heel of my hand right between his eyes. His head jerked back, eyes crossed, but more importantly—the glimmering magic threads grabbed his skull in the mother of all headaches.

The magic storm in his mind instantly went to work. I almost felt sorry for him.

Elkerton clawed at his hair, eyes wide and glowing silver, as he sputtered ragged nonsense that fell short of coherent words. Frantically, I yanked out a scrap of cloth from my bag, a dagger from my belt, then lunged for the Iraxi.

I pinned the auditor’s right arm with my entire body, slapping cloth over the steaming gemstone. The cloth immediately sizzled as I stabbed the metal prongs holding the stone in place. My dagger scraped metal as I gripped the gem.

“Come on! By the Lady’s Nine, cooperate!” I growled, fighting the bracer and Elkerton, who kept flailing.

Then everything exploded into pain when Elkerton backhanded me across the face. I went flying off the centaur, tumbling over the floor. My dagger clattered away, somewhere out of reach. Nearby, Elkerton kept screaming as my silvery threads wrung his deepest nightmares dry.

The tiles were cool against my cheek. I was battered and singed; there wasn’t a part of me that didn’t hurt. For the moment, I lay on the floor, gulping dry air. A surreal eye of calm in the room’s storm of bloodshed.

Finally, I blinked, scrubbing wetness from my cheeks, as the world swam lazily in front of me. Ten Ancient Order meters to my right, Kiyosi worked feverishly to heal a badly bleeding centaur. It was one of the locals. Some merchant who’d gotten swept up in the fighting. In the other direction, Liru and Chancellor Fel hurried for the nearest door to safety. Behind them, Skarri and Nurkes fought a hard battle against Herd Tolvana soldiers.

We were on the wrong side of a losing battle, even if for the right reasons.

I’d lost track of Mikasi and Atha. There were just too many people moving around, and most wanted us dead. Then I caught sight of Rima. She’d just stabbed a Trade-Warden to death, pulling a fistful of dripping red magic threads from his dying breath and blood. My own blood chilled as she narrowed her eyes at Kiyosi with a wicked smirk, winding the blood threads into a hellish mockery of a flaming long knife.

Kiyosi was too absorbed in his work to notice. I tried to yell, but the best I managed was a rough croak. Rima’s words rattled around in my head.

“How many people would die today because of me?” I asked myself, echoing the memory.

I touched my forehead against the stone floor. Somehow the battle kept ignoring me.

“Too many,” I answered, then angrily spat blood onto the floor. “Get up,” I ordered myself. “Get the hells up and stop this.”

My blood sang in my ears as I slammed a fist against the floor.

“Why do these jobs always turn out to be so painful?” I murmured.

With a hard breath, I struggled upright, getting my feet under me. Everything ached. I grunted as I slammed a boot against the floor, relishing the solid feeling through my legs.

“By the Lady Deep, I refuse to be done… not by a long shot,” I snapped, picking up my whip.

Rima paused, looking sharply in my direction as I got to my feet. I shot her a bloody grin, then planted my feet to face Auditor Gregori Elkerton—the consistent pain in my backside.

The centaur had somehow stumbled to his shaking hooves, knee still ruined by my whip a moment ago. Strands of my silvery-blue mind magic crumbled away from his head. They hadn’t lasted long, but they didn’t have to for what I had in mind.

My eyes flicked to the bracer, then locked onto Elkerton’s murderous gaze.

“I’ll enjoy making you scream,” he sneered, baring his teeth at me. The Iraxi bracer on his arm sputtered white sparks in reaction.

I stood my ground, whip in one hand and a fistful of cotton cloth in the other. Casually, I shrugged. A dark, lopsided smile spread across my face as I drew a deep breath.

“You first,” I taunted.

Elkerton’s eyes burned a hateful orange as he summoned the power of the Iraxi. The centaur shoved a hand in my direction, intent on frying me alive. The relic instantly responded, only it wasn’t a red-hot glow from the gemstone, but a ghostly, yellow-white light with a smudge of shadow-black in the center.

A corpse-light from a lich’s soul stone.

The auditor looked in horror at the enchanted relic on his arm. Tendrils of oily smoke dripping gravedust, snaked out from the gem. They wrapped around his arm, crawling eagerly for his neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rima stiffen, eyes wide and round with startled recognition. She started to move, but hesitated—a tremor of nerves rippled through her expression.

I lifted a hand, holding up a particular gleaming hot gemstone with the essence of a fire elemental. The very stone that had been in the bracer a moment ago, and key to Rima’s murderous plan. It steamed, slowly heating the ragged cloth—and my fingers—as it pulsed like a burning heart. Scents of burnt cotton rolled around me in the air like a harbinger of things to come.

“Looking for this?” I asked, rotating the stone so it caught the sunlight off its facets.

“How did you…?” Rima stammered in shock, taking a step toward me.

My grin widened in dark glee.

“Rima? Always bet on a Windtracer when lives, and a relic, are on the line,” I quipped.

“By the Nine… you put Marius’ soul stone in the bracer,” Rima breathed in disbelief. “Are you insane?”

Even as Rima’s words tripped over themselves, the fight in the room staggered to a confused stop as Elkerton shrieked in blood-curdling terror. All eyes turned toward the auditor, who yanked uselessly at the bracer on his arm while experiencing the destructive consequences of his bad decisions.

Ribbon-like tendrils poured from the lich’s soul stone. They’d already swallowed his arm and latched onto his neck and chest with a starving need. Everywhere they touched, Elkerton’s skin crumpled and cracked like an old painting left to rot.

“Give me that!” Rima yelled, lunging for me—really, the gemstone—with a free hand.

Aches or not, I darted aside just out of reach, bouncing a little on the balls of my feet. Fear kept me moving past the pain, even though I knew I’d feel it all later. But, so long as Rima stayed focused on me, she’d stop her murder spree—giving me a chance to end this nightmare.

“Not a chance,” I said, closing my hand around the crystal. “Especially since I’ve figured out how to destroy it,” I lied.

“You’re lying!” she exclaimed.

“Am I?” I asked with another bloody smile that made Rima narrow her eyes at me.

Behind me, I heard Elkerton’s shuffling hoofbeats as he staggered closer—a lot closer. Past Rima, the fighting had died down. Kiyosi stared at this unfolding bad idea in open horror, tail swatting the air. I knew from his expression that he’d figured out what I was going to try.

“Tela! No!” he shouted at me with a terrified expression. “Don’t!”

“Windtracer!” Nurkes bellowed, belting a Herd Tolvana soldier across the jaw. Quickly disarming him, the temple guard nodded to Skarri. She tore off across the room toward me. But Skarri was too far away to reach myself, Rima, or Elkerton anytime soon. Mikasi appeared in a doorway, saying something I couldn’t hear before he, too, ran in to help.

I stepped back from Rima, stumbling in the attempt. Some of that was a ruse, but not all of it. An icy chill caressed my back. Out of the corner of my eye, tendrils of ghostly death magic powdered with gravedust eased around me. I felt it curl around my ankles, even while it spread misty fingers over my shoulders from behind—a loving caress promising cold death. The foul, powdery mist swirled like a demented pixie swarm.

A glance behind me told me too much. Elkerton was dying, turned into a ragged memory of a centaur made of gravedust and bone. The crumbling corpse shambled toward me with a flicker of hate; just lingering memories of Elkerton drowning in a bad death. He wasn’t within arm’s reach—not yet—but that greedy ghostly essence pouring from the crystal was.

Atha bashed a nearby Council guard into surrender, found my lost dagger, then started forward. I caught his eye, giving him a tiny shake of my head. The minotaur paused, eyes flicking between Rima, myself, and impending, ugly death behind me. He inclined his head respectfully in a stern reply, but looked ready to leap.

To my right, a shadow moved wrong in a nearby doorway—way too deliberate to be part of the chaos. I knew that shape. It was what I had been waiting for. After all, that man owed me—as much as I owed him—and this was a fantastic way to settle our debt.

“I didn’t want to kill you,” Rima said coldly, stalking toward me. “Really. I didn’t. You would’ve been a wonderful ally. But… if you won’t give me the gemstone… I’ll take it off your corpse.”

The lich grabbed her flaming long knife, pulling the magic threads apart. One moment it was a blade, the next it was a burning whip. I snorted. The irony wasn’t lost on me. I readied my own whip beside me, practically feeling the last scraps of safety evaporate as Rima and whatever was left of Elkerton closed in.

“Come and get it,” I growled, standing my ground.

Rima’s eyes flicked between the tendrils of dust-laden smoke oozing around my shoulders like a shawl, then back to my eyes. Slowly, her mouth pulled into a sharp smile.

“Do you really think I’m that big a fool?” she asked coolly. “I’m not about to chase you into death mists spilling out of a lich crystal, even if I am a lich.”

“A fool? No, not really,” I replied with a casual shrug. “I figured you’d need a little push.”

“What?” Rima snapped.

Then she jerked upright, spine straight, with a sharp grimace on her face. Garrik twisted the knife harder in the lich’s back.

“Hello, my lady,” the cloaked elven thief said with fake elegance. “Remember me?”

Rima staggered off balance, but her hands were a blur of motion. She raised the burning whip to lash either Garrik or myself alive; I wasn’t sure.

So, I didn’t give her a chance.

I threw myself at the lich, grabbed her by the lapels of her outfit, and bodily yanked backwards. The overheated gemstone sizzled as I shoved it flush against her collarbone.

“No!” she yelled.

Her cry cut off as the death mist swallowed the three of us whole.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: With the plan in motion, Tela waits in a slow line to suspected disaster with Liru and the others. While there, she quizzes the shaman about the truth, starting with the Iraxi and how it actually works. The truth is grim, with anyone who uses the Iraxi is horribly altered, twisted into a nightmare. But once they are allowed inside the council building, the stage is set, even—to Tela’s wary surprise—the appearance of Rima Nimad. Worried the plan is about to come apart, Tela advances across the room to face Rima, even as the others put their plan into motion…

Medilus 5, 1278: Arth Prayogar’s Council Building. Some called it a building. I called it a volcano ready to explode…

I was tired. Not take-a-nap tired, but right to the bone tired. It’d been days of staying two steps ahead of death like I owed him a debt. All I wanted was to be cocooned in a warm blanket with a fresh cup of coffee and a good book. But no—I had to deal with this buffalo dung.

This wasn’t archeology. It was babysitting pit vipers.

I navigated the stream of people that flowed through the Council building foyer. They moved in clumps, like schools of land-based fish. Some drifted between influential people for opportunity, or the real currency of the realm—information. Others wandered past, basking in the glow of a trade-city’s inner workings, like watching a heated game of dice.

Then there was Rima, the undead shark among the fish.

We approached each other, stopping barely an Ancient Order meter or two apart. Close enough for conversation—or killing if the moment needed. Rima’s thin smile was like a sharp razor. The swish of her red and black monk’s robes was the perfect promise of death, topping off the moment.

“Tela, I’m almost surprised to see you here,” she crooned.

I clasped my hands behind me and rocked a little on my heels. It wasn’t helpful—beyond giving my nerves something to do.

“As opposed to sitting on my backside in a moldy cell? Maybe chasing down my journals you swiped only to meet a cutthroat you sent to kill me?”

Rima chuckled, idly waving a hand at my remarks like shooing a fly.

“Please, my dear. Allow me some credit. I understand how dangerous you are. It’s three assassins, not one.” She interlaced her fingers in front of her. “Though I did bet my mage, Sherkus, that three wasn’t quite enough.”

I shot her a tart smile.

“Well, it’s good to be noticed.” I glanced to my right, staring a quick hole into Gregori Elkerton, who was lost in some bombastic explanation to a crowd. Then I locked eyes with the lich. “Your plan with the overblown ego on centaur legs over there isn’t a secret.”

Rima sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms.

“It’ll be over in minutes. The Chancellor will be replaced. Your viprin shaman burned. Two Iraxi would’ve made this easier, but one will do fine. Elkerton will still be melted inside out, just like the Jata kingdom. Then both can be reshaped like fresh clay.”

She lanced a wicked look at me.

“But you knew that, since we’re really the same.”

“We’re nothing alike,” I glared, feeling her words sizzle under my skin.

“No?” Rima’s smile turned slick. “You’ve murdered one of my fellow liches, used dangerous lost knowledge to accomplish your goals, even manipulated people and situations to get what you want…”

“Improvise isn’t the same as manipulate,” I snapped back.

Rima inclined her head. “Fairly called. Maybe you’re not seasoned enough… yet.”

I fought back a hot remark. The damn lich got to me, knocking me off the plan. I swallowed a shudder, taking a slow breath.

“Sure, I take risks. But that’s because preserving history should support people, not dominate them. People choose the better path if given a chance and the truth. Power comes with responsibility. It doesn’t justify itself, Rima.” I grinned. “Also, I’m not an egotistical walking corpse.”

Nearby, I heard Elkerton’s voice explode in a tirade. A glance told me everything I didn’t want to know. The gemstone—the heart of the Iraxi on his forearm—glowed a hellish red. By the Lady Deep, it was happening, and all I could do was banter with a lich. Inwardly, I willed Mikasi to already be there, pouring slime over Elkerton’s bracer.

I glared at Rima and palmed a thin dagger I kept hidden in my sleeve. The lich cast a dismissive look at the blade, arching an eyebrow at me.

“How many people will die today because of your stubbornness?”

I gave her a casual shrug.

“As few as possible—though for you, I’m glad to make an exception.” A frown darkened my face as I pinched the air in front of my forehead. “After all, I’ve killed a lich before.”

Rima tensed, reaching for a tiny vial of blood she wore on a chain around her neck. The woman’s fingers tingled as blood magic threads swirled around them.

“With what, a dagger? Your untrained mind magic?”

A clatter of metal and swearing erupted from Elkerton’s direction. I stepped away from Rima, dagger in hand, giving the commotion a quick look.

In the middle of the small knot of people, Kiyosi had tipped, sending mugs of ale everywhere. Most of the ale splattered across the floor, the rest bathed the crowd—particularly one Gregori Elkerton. As the auditor verbally abused Kiyosi’s shape, intelligence, and ancestry, Mikasi quietly got to work.

The little halfling inventor slipped up beside Elkerton and, quick as a wink, emptied his vial of green goo across the bracer. As soon as the slime touched leather, the gemstone flared a furious red. Elkerton didn’t notice until two heartbeats later.

I threw a wicked grin at the lich, giving her a mock salute.

“No. Just by getting you to talk. See, I only had to buy time. I think your pet centaur’s having some magical performance problems.”

Rima’s eyes went wide as she shot a startled look at Elkerton. I saw she wanted to step in and stop Mikasi, but couldn’t—not without giving away her involvement.

Elkerton sputtered, eyes blazing, as he tried to summon the Iraxi’s power. The crystal glowed a furious red, smoke curling off the bracer like overcooked meat. Orange sparks shot from the thing as if born from hot, hammered metal. The bitter scent of rancid, fried eggs wasn’t the smell of victory I expected, but I took it anyway.

“What did you do?” the lich snarled at me, face a mask of rage.

“Me? Solved a problem by being one. Rima, those Iraxi belong in a museum.” I tossed a lopsided smile at her. “Technically? So do you.”

I really should learn to quit when I’m ahead—because that was when everything went sideways.

The seven members of the Jata ruling Council headed for their inner chamber. Not one cast a glance at Elkerton or his embarrassing display. At least, not until he started yelling for the Council guards.

“Guards! Arrest Chancellor Fel!” the auditor yelled.

“No,” Rima hissed. “Not now, you pompous idiot. It’s too soon!”

All seven representatives stopped in their tracks in a clatter of hooves, stunned as the rest of us. They turned, murmuring angrily, as gasps and conversations rippled through the crowd. One dapple furred centaur stepped away from the group, expression dark as a thunderstorm.

He was an older man in a dark, wine-red tunic, salt and pepper hair cropped close. Like the rest of the representatives, he wore a powder-white scarf of office littered with gold and silver trade symbols—which I took to be Jata marks of authority. Given the way the others looked at him with surprise or unease, I knew that was Chancellor Fel.

“On what charge?” Chancellor Fel demanded, stomping the stone floor with a hoof.

“High treason against the kingdom and its purity!” Elkerton snapped back, jabbing a finger at the chancellor, then at Rima. “Conspiracy with a lich to overthrow the Council—and concealing foreign grave-robbers inside sacred ruins! Grave-robbers such as the Windtracers!” The auditor reached into a belt pouch, yanking out a tied bundle of documents. “I’ve reports and incidents here going back months!”

Elkerton punctuated this with a savage grin at me. “Arrest them all. Especially her.”

“We could both stab him?” I offered to Rima. The lich ignored me.

Council guards in blue tabards rushed from either side of the room, invading the crowd. They headed for Chancellor Fel, me, Rima—basically anyone Elkerton accused. Hooves cracked like thunder against the floor. The onlookers went from calm to screaming panic in seconds.

“Aile Shavat!” I swore.

Glaring at Elkerton, I sheathed my dagger and yanked loose my whip. Before I could use it, one of the Council guards found me.

He sliced for my head. The guard missed—I didn’t. After a step back, I snapped my whip against the centaur’s side.

The guard screeched in surprise, rearing back as his front hooves kicked the air. Screams rattled around me as the serving staff ran for anywhere safe. Two more pops of my whip made him give ground—granting me a moment’s peace to get my bearings.

In short? Everything was a ripe mess.

Blue-tabard Council guards were everywhere. Some had attacked Rima, others fought against the Trade-Wardens who had surrounded the Chancellor. Nearby, Elkerton had finally noticed the goo on the Iraxi and was desperately trying to wipe it off—which, since it was basically slime, smeared across him. That last would’ve been fun to watch, had my life not been on the line.

The worst part of all were the locals who’d come to watch the Council of Seven proceedings. Spectators had turned into a panicked mob, scurrying everywhere in harm’s way.

“Rima and Elkerton are the real problem. How do I solve one with the other?” I hissed under my breath.

Then I saw Elkerton’s eyes glow a bright orange, drawing on the Iraxi’s power to try to burn off the slime.

The Iraxi.

I stared at the finger-sized crystal glowing the same orange-red as Elkerton’s eyes.

“Oh, I’ve such an incredibly stupid idea,” I muttered, grinning, while bounding on the balls of my feet.

I started toward Elkerton, but he spotted me first. The slime was only half-gone—enough to let Elkerton summon a trickle of the Iraxi’s fire elemental power. He snarled something I didn’t hear, then galloped over to a newly arrived Council guard, stealing a crossbow.

“Crossbow!” I shouted, diving for cover under a long, honey-colored wooden table carved with ornate scrollwork against a wall. A crossbow string sang before a bolt stabbed the table a second later. Another clattered across the tiles with a hard crack.

I scrambled to the edge of safety under my makeshift barrier in time to see a Trade-Warden—another centaur—crash into Elkerton. He grabbed for the crossbow as Elkerton unleashed a blast of bright, orange-white magic threads from his hand. The Trade-Warden screamed as the searing-hot magic tried to boil him alive.

“Oh, that’s got to stop,” I muttered. “He’ll burn his way right to Chancellor Fel.”

The Trade-Warden and the auditor were too far to reach with my whip. Rushing out from under the table, I looked around for something I could use. I grabbed a nearby serving tray, hurling it like a discus. Mugs went flying, washing the floor in ale.

Elkerton turned toward me in time to take a hardwood serving tray to the mouth. The man stumbled sideways, eyes crossed. All around us, panicked locals turned into a mob running for the doors. Their screams echoed off the stone walls in deafening waves.

Purple-garbed centaurs of Herd Tolvana appeared in the doorway, shoving the innocent aside or trampling them as they charged into battle.

We were now outnumbered two to one by Herd Tolvana soldiers and Council guards. Worse, Elkerton wiped blood from his mouth, yelling in rage. The Iraxi burned sun-bright in reaction, cooking off the goo.

In the other direction, Rima stabbed one of the Council guards. As the life left the centaur’s eyes, she yanked blood magic threads from his wounds with a savage glee.

Everywhere in between was a sea of bodies—some running for safety, others fighting or dying. I rubbed a hand over my mouth, looking for a path through. There wasn’t one.

At least, not yet.

“Ki! Atha! Skarri! Make a hole!” I yelled. Grabbing a discarded shield from the floor, I ran toward the center of the chaos.

Time flowed like cold syrup. I ducked a sword aimed at my head, then sidestepped around another. A Herd Tolvana soldier galloped into my path with a sneer. I charged right at him, armored by faith in my friends.

Turns out, my faith wasn’t misplaced.

Atha crashed into the soldier like a one-minotaur stampede, knocking the centaur aside with a crack of bone. A Council guard tried to run me down before Kiyosi beat the man about the head and ears with a spear. That guard quickly decided he had better places to be.

Mikasi hurled small green stones with a hand sling at nearby soldiers and guards that got too close. The stones shattered like eggs on impact, splattering more of that foul-smelling goo over whatever they hit.

Skarri slithered past me, cutting into two guards before slamming a third with her tail. As I ran, I winced each time she moved—especially as blood welled up along her bandages.

Then I was through.

Gregori Elkerton was ahead of me, stalking toward the Chancellor. The madman wasn’t in a hurry, each hoof step sizzled the stone floor with raw heat. Ahead of him, Rhen and Nurkes made a two-person wall of muscle, protecting Chancellor Fel. Behind them, Liru was urging the Chancellor to leave.

“Elkerton!” I bellowed.

The auditor, drunk on raw magical power, wheeled around in a rage. He stepped toward me as I lashed out with my whip, hitting him in the knee.

A sharp pop slapped the air, leaving Elkerton screaming in pain as he stumbled forward. When he went to rise, I slammed the shield against the side of his head with a sharp whack. His eyes rolled for a moment, and the burning, molten magic threads sputtered out.

I glanced over my shoulder at Rima. She’d just murdered one of the Council guards with a blast of blood magic, and locked eyes with me. I bashed the shield down twice on Elkerton’s arm where he wore the Iraxi. Heat poured from the stone like a searing river, warping the shield’s metal and wood like beeswax.

The auditor grunted in pain, then roared in my face—eyes burning like a hot forge. I pinched the air in front of my forehead, pulling silver mind magic threads to life.

I grinned at him.

“Hey there. Miss me?”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

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Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Dirty, tired and worn out, Tela confronts Rhen Shotho about what is really happening in the Temple of the Slithering Sun. Just why were the Trade-Wardens secretly killing themselves to try—and fail—to seal off the ancient temple? Tela and her crew got the answers but didn’t like what they were. To counter a disaster in the making, the group invents a great big plan. Brilliant? Time will tell…

Medilus 5, 1278: Arth Prayogar’s Council Building. One hour before the Council convenes. Plans rarely survive first contact with anything…

There’s a certain kind of magic that blooms from buildings meant to house a city’s lawmakers. A special kind that makes a person want to tear their hair out from boredom while waiting in line—a very slow line.

“What if I poked a guard with a stick?” I whispered to Skarri.

“Please don’t,” she whispered in a withered voice.

I felt my plan had merit to at least ease the boredom, but I decided to save it for later.

We stood in line for the Council Chamber with what felt like a third of the city. The line stretched out from the double doors of the soft-cornered building, wrapping around the side. At least that stretch was shaded by sloping sand willow trees just starting to bloom purple-white blossoms.

“There’s twice as many guards at the doors today,” I muttered.

“It’s the emergency meeting,” Liru whispered back. “That set people on edge when it was announced yesterday.”

I grunted, studying the guards at the head of the line. They checked everything with a sharp eye. Anyone—or anything—suspicious was hauled away out of sight.

Liru and I stepped forward as the line snaked closer to the door. Skarri and Liru’s other guard, Nurkes, followed close behind us in the small entourage. The rest of my crew trailed a few respectful steps behind.

Kiyosi had done a fantastic job on the disguises. Fortunately, not all tieflings are born with tails. The fake horns, blue-purple skin dye, and a few other tricks made Mikasi look remarkably like a tiefling. Atha was more or less himself. Kiyosi had used a temporary illusion that made the minotaur’s horns curl like a ram’s and tinted his fur a light, dusty blue.

I looked back at the trio and got two nods and one bright grin from Atha. The last drew a snort out of me before I fixed my attention back on the guards ahead.

“This has to work,” I sighed. “Ki said the disguises won’t survive anyone getting too curious. Except maybe Atha; he looks more like he’s being fashionable.”

“Have faith. It’ll work,” Skarri whispered. “You trust us. So now, trust yourself and your plan. If it unravels, we’ll improvise. We’re getting good at improvising.”

That drew a small, crooked smile out of me. Trust myself. Azure had told me the same thing the other evening. I inclined my head a little.

“Fair point.”

The air was crisp and dry that morning. It tore down the bricked alleys and dusty roadways of Arth Prayogar with a vengeance. Sunlight glinted off the stained glass windows of nearby buildings, turning the clay walls to the golden color of baked bread.

Around us, the air buzzed like bees with locals gossiping about the Council of Seven and the emergency meeting. The gossip ranged from speculation about trying a rogue tiefling to whispers of charges against one of the council members.

“Feels like we’re in line to see a gladiatorial fight, not a dry city council meeting,” I complained softly.

Liru sighed, nodding as he smoothed his bead-trimmed outer tunic.

“Every meeting has been like this—no exceptions. One of the Council servants said the Merchant Herds considered it more open and honest for the people.”

“Right, and I’m a delicate, dainty flower girl,” I scoffed.

Nurkes grunted. “I didn’t need that horrible idea stuck in my head today.”

I shot a feral grin at the temple guard.

The shaman stretched his neck, looking weary and aged by months.

“Yes, the Council of Seven does play to the crowd a lot.”

“Samal, it sounds more like stirring up a mob,” Nurkes growled in a low voice. “Cracking a few Council member heads could fix this.”

Liru breathed a world-weary sigh, pinching the bridge of his snake-like snout.

“Nurkes? No one is cracking anyone’s head,” the shaman replied thinly.

The guard grunted, watching the line ahead.

I swapped a glance with Skarri but said wisely nothing—neither did she.

Two steps later toward the door, I watched food vendors nearby set up their carts for the crowd. I grimaced. The locals coming to watch the spectacle were a complication we hadn’t counted on. But then I remembered my conversation with Rima in the Shackle and her comment about ‘fear being healthy’.

“People could get hurt if things go wild,” I admitted. “But I think it’s part of Rima’s larger scheme.”

“What do you mean?” Liru asked.

“Fear,” I replied in a low voice. “That’s Rima’s real weapon. This crowd, the Iraxi, the Council of Seven being picked apart… it’s all about manipulating the locals, turning fear into a weapon. Revealing or using the Iraxi? I bet that’s the kindling to start it off.”

The line advanced a little closer to the stern-faced centaur guards.

“Which reminds me,” I said, a little more perturbed than I intended. “Liru, you left out a few things when you got me to sign onto this mess back in Ishnanor. Now’s a great time to come clean, given those spectators are in serious danger.”

Liru frowned a little, a flush hitting the scales on his cheeks.

“I did…” His words stumbled as I glared at him. Then he sighed. “Before I traveled to Ishnanor, the Trade-Wardens sent a courier saying the temple wards were failing. That Toshirom Ifoon could fall.”

“Go on,” I said, words tight.

“I really didn’t know what was inside the temple.” He waved a hand in the rough direction of Toshirom Ifoon outside the city. “Not many records survived. But I’d read enough to know it was lethal to anyone who tried to use it—no exceptions.”

Massive black bells, stored in small towers atop the corners of the Council building, rang. They chimed seven times—a musical announcement that the Council of Seven was about to begin. A trio of centaur guards walked past with a scowl hinting they’d not seen a good day in years.

“Samal, how does the Iraxi actually work?” Skarri asked her shaman. “Did the records explain that?”

He slightly inclined his head.

“Some. The Sun-Bonded seemed fine at first, drawing down magic threads and other spells through the Iraxi. It didn’t last long. The power twisted them physically, much the way a magic storm can change people from birth into tieflings, nightmarked, and worse.” Liru pursed his lips. “It was horrible. They became twisted. Misshapen. Craving the power like a drug, even as it melted them from the inside out.”

I swapped an uneasy look with Skarri.

“That giant skeleton in the temple.”

She nodded. “The Iraxi did that.”

“Some of the Sun-Bonded did turn into giants,” Liru replied. “But they all quickly went power-mad. If Gregori Elkerton uses it, the horror will start again.”

“Liru, you should have led with that back in Ishnanor,” I said with a hard look.

To his credit, he winced.

“I know I saved your friend, Kiyosi, but still—would you have helped? Knowing everything, would you?”

It was a good question, but—for me—the answer was obvious.

“Oh yeah,” I replied with a slight smile. “Absolutely.”

Liru smiled back. “Thank you for that.”

My smile faded. “So it seems your people were duped by the Gatekeeper liches centuries ago. Fooled into this mess by fear until they weren’t any better than a cult.” I shrugged, gesturing around us. “Like what’s happening with the centaurs.”

“Yes,” Skarri whispered. “There’s a lot of dishonesty lately.”

Liru’s expression landed somewhere between sad and worried.

“It’s why the Iraxi bracers need to be anywhere but here. Hopefully destroyed, but I’m just not sure it’s possible.”

I stared at the line ahead of us as it grew shorter.

“Don’t bet on that. I’ve a few ideas…”

It was another few slow moments before we reached the Council building doors. We were checked twice for weapons or anything that seemed a threat. I tried to look innocent, but the guards didn’t seem to believe me.

“Don’t try anything inside, Windtracer,” a broad-shouldered centaur growled. “We’ve heard stories about you.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I lied with a sweet smile.

He grunted, waving us inside.

We gathered in the building’s cathedral-like foyer, our group one of many in attendance. It was full of those waiting either to speak to the Council of Seven or to be allowed up to the audience gallery.

“Best behavior?” Mikasi asked suspiciously.

“Yep. About like a greedy kobold loose in a pastry shop.” I glanced around the building’s foyer.

It was wide, tall, but not very deep.

The floor was a colorful mosaic of stylized trade caravans crossing rolling hills. Similar scenes played out along the walls, but the subjects were all depicted as if moving toward the main council chambers. Which was about as subtle as a hammer in a trade-obsessed kingdom.

The important part was the army of serving staff. They moved nimbly in and around the crowd, offering water or slipping quietly through the room unnoticed. Some were centaurs or humans, but many were tieflings. I nodded to a pair that exited through a near-concealed door in one of the wall murals.

“Ki? You, Mikasi, and Atha go get lost among the serving staff.”

I paused when the crowd shifted, and I caught sight of the target of my overall discontent. On the other side of the room stood Auditor Gregori Elkerton, resplendent in a stylish tunic, a purple robe, and a white-gold auditor’s scarf of office. He already wore the Iraxi bracer on his right arm—the gemstone on it shone a dull, lurid red.

The man smiled as if he didn’t have a care in the world while he chatted up another richly dressed centaur.

“There’s Elkerton,” I told the trio. “Got the slime?”

Mikasi tapped a belt pouch with a grin. “Fresh-baked this morning.”

“There was… baking?” I blinked.

“He made me help,” Kiyosi told me with a long-suffering sigh. “No, you really don’t want to know the details.”

“Fair,” I grinned. “Get moving. Distract Elkerton with food, his ego, just something—then slime him.”

Atha chuckled. “Hyu no worry. We take care of his new toy.”

“No severing arms,” Skarri hissed in a low voice.

The minotaur rolled his eyes. “Fine. We do it slow way.”

I let out a long breath as they merged with the serving staff and drifted through the crowd like ghosts. Outside, I heard the massive black metal bells toll again. Conversation rolled around me like a hum of insects. Deeper in the foyer, someone laughed.

“Tela…” Liru murmured.

That was a warning if I’d ever heard one. Slowly, I turned around, tense and ready for someone to take a swing at me. Maybe dart aside if they tried to stab me.

Instead, I locked eyes with Rima Nimad on the far side of the room. The woman’s smile was all sharp edges as she strolled toward us.

“By the Lady Deep and her Nine Misbegotten Children,” I swore under my breath.

It turned out there was more than one trap in motion. We’d walked right into one of them.

Damn it.

“Get an audience with the Council,” I murmured to Liru.

I squared my shoulders. If Rima wanted a conversation, I’d give her one. Right between the eyes, if needed.

Then I walked away from the others to meet the lich halfway across the room.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Returning after a night on the run, Tela and Atha find the others at the Lemongrass Inn—along with complications! Skarri was hurt. One of the Iraxi bracers has been taken by Herd Tolvana. All of it adding up to a potentially painful problem in the making. But Tela and her crew only knew the half of it, until Trade-Warden Rhen Shotho arrived to drop the other proverbial shoe…

Medilus 3, 1278: Upstairs in the Court of Lemongrass Inn. Arth Prayogar—a few minutes later. Truth doesn’t like being denied, even by history…

I gave the centaur a sharp-edged smile. He tensed. Flipping my dirt-stained braid over my shoulder, I crossed my arms.

“Talk? Good idea! Why have the Trade-Wardens been killing themselves in secret trying to seal off the Temple of the Slithering Sun?” I raised my eyebrows at the Trade-Warden. “I thought local law put all those ruins off-limits. Let’s start there. That’s a good spot.”

All eyes turned toward Rhen Shotho as he fidgeted under the attention—pawing the wooden floor with a hoof. Then the Trade-Warden sucked in a slight breath, narrowing his eyes with a fragile smile.

“Well… er… that’s not—”

I cut his hesitation off at its brown, furry knees. There wasn’t time for that sort of nonsense. Besides, I felt like I’d left my patience alone in a room for two days until it turned a little feral.

“Oh, no.” I shook a finger at him. “For days we’ve been poked and prodded like funny-shaped bread dough. So, I think that is a great place to start. Especially since no one was supposed to know how to get in there!”

The Trade-Warden glanced at the others around the room. Muffled calls from vendors in the market below hummed in the air. It wove together with scents of grilled vegetables and passing livestock—life moving forward as if nothing was wrong. My stomach wanted to comment on the lack of attention, but I ignored the complaints.

A web of silence slowly stretched between us until it almost snapped. Rhen pinched the bridge of his nose, blowing out a weary sigh—one that came from carrying something heavy. His smile frayed at the edges.

“Ladies? Gentlemen? Pardon me,” he said, crossing over to the balcony of Skarri’s room.

He eased the cream, gauzy curtains aside, nodding to the market below. Across the road, past the mid-morning crowds, a pair of Trade-Wardens nodded back. They split up, watching the crowd. I’d seen this before. They were keeping the inn under close guard.

Rhen turned around, letting the curtain fall back into place. With a grunt, he stamped a hoof lightly against the floor, tail swatting at the air. The centaur had a pinched look like he’d eaten a fresh lemon.

For some reason, I had the impression he was about to share that feeling.

“I would’ve preferred to do this someplace more secure than the Lemongrass.” He pursed his lips with another look around the room.

Kiyosi clasped his hands behind him, tail swishing the air.

“Oh, you mean like the Shackle?” he deadpanned.

“That place is not very secure,” Atha rumbled, sipping tea with a scholarly expression. “I only help two—maybe three—guards take good nap to rethink their lives. Then we walk right out. It was very disappointing. I do not recommend.”

Rhen rolled his eyes.

“Most don’t know this, but the Trade-Wardens lost control of Shendril Fortress some years ago.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the prison. “We’ve a token force there, and really only have sway over one block of cells near the gate. The Merchant Herds subdivided the rest for themselves. Large sections of Shendril are poorly guarded or abandoned.”

Tension made my right eye twitch, and I desperately wanted a bath. Sleeping on the floor of an abandoned warehouse did that to a person.

“Fine. That explains why no one saw me get locked up in there. But back to the point, just why have your people been killing themselves off in Toshirom Ifoon?” I said, dragging the conversation back on topic.

The centaur’s mouth pulled into a thin line.

“There’s a lot but I’ll make it quick…” he indicated Skarri “…and her shaman knows some of this already. The Trade-Wardens were formed by the surviving viprin shamans before there was a Jata kingdom. We were told to keep Toshirom Ifoon’s wards intact, and the temple sealed. We’ve been at it in secret for centuries.” He shook his head. “The Merchant Herd doesn’t know—neither does the ruling council.”

I really didn’t know what to say to that. Neither did anyone else.

That admission swept over us like a cold draft of air. Kiyosi raised his eyebrows, letting out a low whistle as his whip-tail swayed. Others, like Skarri, gave the Trade-Warden a tense stare. I scowled like a thundercloud. Atha, well, didn’t seem that bothered.

After a moment, Mikasi nodded thoughtfully, scratching the salt and pepper stubble on his chin.

“For centuries?” He echoed. “But not now? What changed?”

“We’re not sure.” Rhen shuffled his hooves as if he wanted to pace, but the room—with us in it—wasn’t quite large enough. “They’ve been failing over the past year. We’ve sent Trade-Wardens in to reset the wards…” he pulled in a heavy breath, lightly stamping a hoof “… you saw the result. It’s as if something is eroding them faster than we can restore them.”

That struck a minor chord in my head, dredging up the unpleasant conversation I’d had with Rima.

“The lich,” I said, frowning. “It has to be her. We all know Rima Nimad has been running a Fateweaver cult here in Arth Prayogar. She didn’t know where the Iraxi bracers were stashed—just that they were here somewhere. Now I’m thinking that cult was her using death and blood magic to erode those wards.”

“But you said she didn’t know where they were,” Rhen countered.

I shook my head. “Not sure that mattered. I’d bet she’s been releasing death and blood magic threads into the ruins outside the city. Not that I’m an expert… but those would be drawn to the Iraxi since they’re tuned for that.”

The air went still as if the world forgot to breathe.

“Tuned for death and blood magics?” Kiyosi asked slowly.

“Er… yeah,” I winced. “Rima didn’t tell me the details, but the Iraxi are based on her formula to make a lich.” I mimed plucking something from the palm of one hand, then tossing it aside. “Only it was done to fire elementals.”

If the world had forgotten to breathe before, now it wheezed. I tried for an uneasy smile.

“What?” Skarri hissed, wide-eyed in horror.

Kiyosi pinned Rhen Shotho with a hard stare. “That. Maybe your Trade-Wardens could have warned us about that.”

In his defense, Rhen looked just as horrified as he raised his hands in front of him.

“How could we? That’s not in any of our Trade-Warden records about the thing.”

Then everyone started talking at once, turning the room into a tornado of noise. I tensed as aches and fatigue roared back to life. A headache threatened to join them. After a deep breath, I let out a shrill whistle. Quiet slammed down onto the room as everyone looked at me. I grimaced at the attention, but got on with the moment.

“Given how Rima acted when I was in the cell with her, I doubt anyone who isn’t a lich knew. So, yes, it’s horrible—really horrible—but we’ll fix it later.”

“How?” Kiyosi asked slowly, tail swatting the air.

“I have no idea,” I sighed. “But right now, Herd Tolvana has one of the Iraxi bracers. I just know Auditor Elkerton will be stupid enough to use it.” I rubbed both hands over my face. “Last time that man ranted at me, it was pretty clear he intends to put Herd Tolvana—and himself—in control of things around here.”

Rhen nodded, jaw tight.

“I know Gregori Elkerton, and yes, that would make sense. Especially since Herd Tolvana is Second Herd right now.”

The rest of us swapped a confused look. Rhen waved a hand to fend off questions as a fresh breeze off the market fluttered the curtains behind him.

“The Council of Seven elects a chancellor. Tanis Fel of Herd Calandras is the current one. That makes them First Herd. Tolvana nearly won the seat, so they’re Second.”

“Oh.” Skarri nodded wearily, reflexively massaging the scales of a forearm. “So if something happened to the current chancellor…”

Rhen finished her thought. “… Herd Tolvana would become First Herd, selecting a new chancellor from their auditors.”

“Elkerton,” I growled, saying the name like a curse.

“There’s a good chance of that.” The Trade-Warden sighed heavily, resting his hands on his belt. “Especially if he takes credit for recovering a near-priceless viprin relic.” He shrugged. “It would open a lot of powerful doors.”

“What if they selected him as the next chancellor?” Mikasi asked, worry shading his face.

The centaur shook his head, pawing a hoof on the floor.

“Nothing good. As chancellor, he could suspend the Council of Seven in a crisis.”

“You mean a coup,” Kiyosi said, words tight.

Atha grunted thoughtfully. “How does lich fit in all this? She just an evil-bodied advisor?”

The conversation with Rima played out again in my mind, feeling like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Pieces I’d missed before suddenly stood out in stark relief.

“Fear,” I said after a moment.

“What?” Skarri asked, scaled eyebrow ridges pinched.

“Fear,” I repeated. “Rima won’t ever use the Iraxi herself, but she’ll talk Elkerton into using the thing. Then, once he’s chancellor, she’ll kill him or have him killed. After that, I bet she steps in to take his place,” I said darkly. “That is, if Elkerton hasn’t found a way to destroy her first.”

“She has your journals,” Kiyosi said, gesturing at me. “I bet that’s a distraction to keep you out of the way. You’re the biggest threat she has. She knows you’ve killed a lich before, but not how you did it.”

“It’s worse than that,” Rhen said. “There’s been an emergency meeting called for the Council of Seven in two days. Members who aren’t already in Arth Prayogar will be on their way from Arth Calelos and Arth Akeall by now.”

“Joy,” I grumbled, clenching my jaw.

“Could we still sneak in disguised?” Mikasi asked.

“Your shaman could still get an audience with the Council,” Rhen said thoughtfully. “Him and anyone known to be in his retinue.”

I sucked in a long breath, rubbing the sides of my head. Nerves churned my stomach like a rattling waterwheel.

“All right, how about this? I go in with Liru and guards. They know me as part of his retinue, and I’ll be a fantastic distraction,” I suggested.

“I’m going as well,” Skarri added. Before I said a word, she slapped the end of her tail against the bed. “Don’t you dare say it,” she snapped with a hiss. Then she gestured to the bandages around her scaled right arm and those that vanished under her tunic across her chest. “I’m hurt but not made of glass. They’ll expect me to be there because I’m one of the Samal Liru’s guards. Besides, I will not just sit here while all of you take the risk.”

I might have a habit of jumping out windows, but I knew when to back down.

A sly smile crept over her scaled lips. “Also, they’ll underestimate me because I’m bandaged.”

Mikasi glanced at Skarri, eyebrows slammed together. “Be careful?”

“Oh, of course,” she replied gently.

I smirked a little at the two of them, but got back to our half-baked plan at hand.

“All right,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “Ki? That means just a disguise for Atha, Mikasi, and… well… Garrik if he cooperates.”

Kiyosi eyed both Mikasi and Atha appraisingly.

“It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good,” I said with a nod. “Once inside, mingle with the staff. Get close to Elkerton and clog the Iraxi with… whatever Mikasi mixes up.”

Rhen cleared his throat. “I’ll have Trade-Wardens in the Council chambers. It’s normal for emergency meetings like this. Once Herd Tolvana tries anything, we’ll step in to try and escort the chancellor out.”

“What about lich?” Atha rumbled. “No way she stand by and just applaud.”

No one replied, not even me.

I reached up, tugging at my braid as I glanced at the ceiling. The scuffle I had with Rima in the Mandami Hills loomed large in my thoughts—that fight had been rough.

“Leave Rima Nimad to me,” I said, staring off into the middle distance. “I’ve an idea that might work.”

A tiny sigh bubbled out of my chest. I’d killed one lich a year ago. Somehow I knew stopping a second one wouldn’t be easier.

I looked around the room at my group of co-conspirators.

“So, everyone ready to steal a coup?”

Kiyosi shook his head a little, but I saw the ghost of a smile on his face.

“We’re really doing this?” he asked—I could tell it wasn’t a real question.

I grinned back at my oldest friend in the world.

“Yes, we are. Preserve history to secure the future.” My grin widened. “Maybe also applying the boot of common sense to the backside of evil.”

“It’s the Windtracer way…” Kiyosi chuckled dryly.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Caught by Rima Nimad and her enforcers, Tela was tossed into a cell under Shendril Fortress—otherwise known as the “Shackle”—for questioning. But said questioning takes a different turn when the lich, Rima Nimad, visits Tela with an offer… join her and aid her efforts to manipulate the Jata Kingdom, or watch her friends die. A choice that Tela ultimately refuses. Once left alone, Tela tries to make her escape only to get unexpected help in the form of Atha and Garrik!

Now, on the run, they return back to join the others, only to find things may not be as hoped…

Medilus 3, 1278: Court of Lemongrass Inn, Arth Prayogar. Nothing like getting caught off guard to get you going…

Escape is never calm and orderly. Neither were we. Atha, Garrik, and I had bolted out of the Shackle, making ourselves scarce among the abandoned buildings in Prayogar’s Old Quarter.

It was rough. But sleeping on the musty hardwood floors of a half-forgotten warehouse was an improvement over a prison cell. It helped that we’d stolen most of my belongings back—like my bag and boots. I still felt one bad step away from disaster.

But the next day, the yellow clay walls with white trim of the Lemongrass Inn were a happy sight for my bleary eyes. My nerves didn’t agree.

“This doesn’t feel right,” I murmured, lingering in the alley shadows near the inn.

Sunrise had painted the broad, tiled back courtyard of the Lemongrass in old-penny gold. Blue and green tiles winked among the shine like signal flares. Last night’s rain left a gentle, watery shimmer. Not to be left out, a prairie breeze brought a soft chill.

Even muted slightly by my sun goggles, it was impressive and supposedly relaxing. It didn’t work. The chilling conversation with Rima Nimad murdered any enthusiasm for the architecture.

Atha patted me lightly on the shoulder. I knew it was supposed to be reassuring—I twitched anyway. Nerves are bastards like that.

“Is fine,” he rumbled. “Hyu been through a lot. Not to worry, Healer made a deal with the Trade-Wardens. They know who to bribe or blackmail to make everyone behave.” The minotaur gave me a broad, toothy grin. “Besides, Herd Tolvana’s busy bothering other districts by now, and lich is off wondering how hyu get out of cell.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, blowing out a sigh.

“Right,” I relented. A pair of stray sand-toned house cats and a fuzzy gray rat eyed us curiously. I stuck my tongue out at them, then waved a hand at Atha and myself. “It’s not like we stand out, anyway. We look more like survivors from a hard night of carousing, not escaping the ugliest prison in three kingdoms.”

Atha chuckled.

“True! Besides, looking rode hard and put up wet make good disguise sometimes. Come! Today needs more excitement. Let’s go get tea and get clean. Healer has to have some brewed by now.”

We crossed the inn’s courtyard, slipping in through the back like a pair of embarrassed teenagers late for curfew. A few patrons in the lobby stared, but I ignored them. The innkeeper shot us a pained look, but wisely kept his comments to himself. I refused to believe we were the strangest thing that had ever walked through the Lemongrass Inn.

I walked up to my room, Atha in tow, feet aching with every step as if they’d turned to iron. The scents of lemongrass oil and wet stone drifted around us as we passed. Relief washed over me the moment I saw the inside of my room, along with its current occupant.

“Ki!” I said raggedly.

Kiyosi jerked up from a wild mess of papers, drawings, and a fresh pot of tea on the table. One of the Iraxi bracers sat in front of him—the centerpiece of his chaos. He erupted out of the chair, racing over to me. I’d barely managed a step before he swept me up in a hard hug—I gave back as good as I got.

“Gods and tides, you’re intact,” he said, relieved. Kiyosi pulled back with a frown, running a hand through his unruly reddish-brown hair. “You are intact, right? No missing fingers?”

I wiggled my fingers at him with a lopsided grin. “All here, and I didn’t bring any severed or mummified ones with me, either.”

“Small favors,” he replied. “I see you got out with your bag and everything, too.”

“No,” I scowled. “Bag, whip, all that… yes. Rima kept the journals. Probably has them on her. She left Baron Marius’ soul crystal in my bag, though.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with a small groan.

“Of course she left the evil crystal thing in your bag,” he grumbled. “She’s probably using it to track you.”

A warm pulse of… something… behind my eyes countered his complaint. I shook my head.

“No. Don’t ask me how I know, but no, she isn’t.”

He grimaced, forcing on a tight smile.

“Still, I’m glad you’re back and safe.”

Atha chuckled, walking over to help himself to the tea.

“I told hyu I’d bring her back, Healer. No troubles. Guards had nap. Windtracer is free to cause problems to centaurs,” he shrugged. “Now I have tea. All is right in the world.”

Kiyosi opened his mouth to reply, but instead shook his head.

“Where’s Garrik?” he asked.

Atha sniffed his tea, smiling.

“Tracking down Herd Tolvana. Lich, too. Say he knows where lich hides in Old Quarter. Garrik say he let us know.” Atha indicated me with a nod. “He say he owes Tela, so wants to pay back the favor.”

I yawned, waving a hand at Kiyosi when he studied me with that physician’s look.

“Sorry, Ki. Just tired. We slept in an abandoned warehouse when we weren’t running through the worst of Old Quarter. I know I need at least a bath and some hard sleep in a bed. But before I fool with that, what’ve you figured out? Where’s everyone else?”

He looked uneasy, beckoning me over to the table.

“I’ll make it quick so you two can clean up and rest.”

The way he said that unnerved me, but I kept my mouth shut. Kiyosi shuffled through several pages he’d made about magic flow and threads, along with sketches of the Iraxi bracer. Then he opened the old artificer’s journal. Like most Ancient Order books, the page gave off a soft glow, backlighting the letters. Kiyosi tapped the book.

“So, the crystal matters, but it’s the bracer that makes it dangerous. Magic threads inside it bond to the wearer, letting them bleed the trapped elemental for power.” He shook his head, sighing. “It’s both brilliant and disgusting.”

I skimmed his notes. Magic—my stupid mind-magic aside—wasn’t my area. But I knew just enough to understand what he wrote. I gingerly picked up the bracer, turning it over in my hands. Sunlight glimmered through the crystal, and the center danced a lurid reddish-orange—a hint of the fire elemental trapped inside. Delicate lines were carved in the brass bracer like blood grooves. Each was worn smooth from use, lined with amber-like dragon-glass.

“Channels to siphon the magic?” I asked.

Kiyosi nodded solemnly. “Like a vampire sucking blood from a victim.”

I shuddered, putting the bracer back on the table.

“Is the other bracer with Skarri like this one?”

Kiyosi narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips. Atha froze mid-sip, then was really interested in the nearby sheer cotton curtains. I frowned at the two of them.

“What?”

Kiyosi drew a deep breath—which never meant anything good.

“Not sure. We don’t have it.” He quickly held up his hands before I started ranting. “Wait. Listen. We slipped through the groundwater lift ruins like agreed, following some ancient tunnels to the surface.” He ran a hand through his hair, then across his curled tiefling horns. “That’s when we ran straight into Herd Tolvana. It was all really bad luck. Skarri was pretty hurt in the fight. One of the soldiers grabbed the other Iraxi bracer…”

I bolted out the door, aches forgotten.

“Tela! Wait!”

I charged into Skarri’s room—a disheveled, one-woman invasion.

“Skarri?”

The temple guard in question was on her bed, snake tail curled protectively around her. She wore a forest green tunic, war kilt, and way too many bandages. There was enough of the latter that I flinched in sympathy. Her leather armor, sword, and the rest of her gear lay in a neat pile at the foot of the bed.

Mikasi jumped up in alarm from a chair next to the bed, nearly dropping his tea. Skarri’s mouth pulled into a thin line, her cobra-like hood around her head pulled tight back, eyes downcast.

“Tela… I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “Herd Tolvana has one of the Iraxi bracers. I tried, but we were badly outnumbered. They were on us so fast…”

“No,” Mikasi firmly said, setting aside his teacup for safety. “It was my fault. Atha and I got there about that time and I called out like an idiot. It distracted them when they crawled out of that half-collapsed cave mouth. If I hadn’t yelled…”

Skarri gave him a shy smile. “We were still outnumbered. I knew you and Atha were there; it wasn’t your fault.”

I rubbed at the grime on my forehead, crossing over to both of them.

“Stop,” I breathed, frustrated. “Both of you, just stop. This happens, and it’s not anyone’s fault.” Tense and tired, I studied Mikasi and Skarri, bleeding out a sigh. “Blame keeps you standing still, if not chasing your own backside,” I said.

Skarri nodded as Mikasi’s smile returned.

“Herd Tolvana has one of the Iraxi,” Mikasi replied. “They might give it to Rima Nimad. But they also might try to use it, too. From what Ki said, it channels elemental fire. I was thinking that if the channels in the bracer were clogged, it might stop the bracer from working for a little while.”

I paced at the foot of Skarri’s bed, wiggling a finger at Mikasi. Kiyosi and Atha appeared in the doorway.

“Ki knows better than I do, but elemental fire is stupid hot. So whatever we use has to be thicker than water. Also, we’d have to get close. Real close. Still, good idea.”

Kiyosi crossed his arms.

“A thick oil would do, probably laced with sand. It’d smother the fire for a while, but that only delays the problem.”

Atha sipped his tea.

“Then we cut arm off,” he nodded sagely.

Kiyosi slowly turned to look at Atha with a look of pure physician’s horror.

“What?” the minotaur protested. “Hyu thinking same. Besides, they should not put it on in first place.”

I ignored them.

“Rima said both crystals contain fire elementals, shoved in the same way a person becomes a lich.”

The others stiffened as Kiyosi turned a bit green.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered.

I waved a hand at him.

“It’s what she said before she tried to get me to join her in this lunatic plan.”

It was Mikasi’s turn to sputter.

“Isn’t that what Baron Marius tried—”

“Yes, it was,” I interrupted quickly. “I told Rima no. In any case, if Herd Tolvana has the other Iraxi bracer, things are about to get real nasty. Remember Auditor Elkerton?”

Skarri glowered. “Hard to forget someone so pompous.”

I nodded, still pacing.

“True, but he’s got it in for Rima Nimad. Somehow thinks he’s got a plan to kill her. I’d bet he’ll add that Iraxi bracer to whatever dumb idea it is.”

Atha stared off into the middle distance, then caught my eye.

“Three-way war,” he rumbled.

I stopped pacing and nodded in agreement.

“Maybe. Probably.” I frowned, recalling conversations. “Rima wants Arth Prayogar—really all the Jata kingdom. Elkerton wants Rima’s head and Jata for himself. The Council of Seven isn’t going to tolerate either one trying.” I rubbed my chin, eyeing everyone. “Just like during the Brass and Gold Crusades centuries ago, the Iraxi are at the center of this mess. History’s repeating itself.”

No one spoke, so I pushed on.

“Rima has my notes and journal. Herd Tolvana has the other bracer, so Elkerton will try to use it. We need my notes back, and that bracer… er… clogged.”

Mikasi frowned, sitting back down in his chair.

“That’ll delay what they’re doing.” He looked over at me, concerned. “It won’t stop it.”

I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes. “We’ll need a way to prove to the Council of Seven they’re in danger… and keep the Iraxi bracers out of it.”

Skarri shifted in bed, wincing.

“We’d need to get past the lich’s guards and Herd Tolvana,” she said. “So we slip in at night?”

I shook my head. “Sort of… but you can’t.”

“But—” she protested, but I cut her off.

“No. We’ll have to move at the same time to pull this off, then get access to the Council of Seven.” I gestured at Skarri. “Talk to Liru. Get him to set up an audience for us with the Council. He also owes us some serious explanations for what he didn’t tell us about all this with the Iraxi. The rest of us? We’ll need to slip in unnoticed to get the journals and the other bracer.”

“A disguise,” Atha said as calmly as ordering a drink. “We get disguise, we walk in.”

I blinked. He glanced at me, then at Kiyosi, before sipping his tea. A half-grin spread across my face.

“Yeah, we do. Ki? Can you make the rest of us pass as tieflings? The centaurs overlook you here—and we need that.”

Kiyosi scrubbed a hand slowly over his face.

“Oh, of all the… you know what? Yes, I can do that. But it won’t be perfect. We’ll still need a way to move around without getting harassed by the locals.”

Slow hoofbeats and a deliberate throat-clearing from the hallway shattered the planning. Kiyosi and Atha parted like curtains to either side as a centaur filled the doorway.

“Tela Kioni… you have a knack for interrupting my day.” Rhen Shotho sighed wearily. With a look around, the Trade-Warden folded his arms over his chest. “But from what I’ve overheard, you’ll need help from the Trade-Wardens. Also, we need to have a talk about the Iraxi… all of it.”

I gave the Trade-Warden a lopsided grin.

“That’s music to my ears.”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: With a desperate moment calling for a desperate plan, Tela leads Kiyosi and Skarri over the top of the sliding rooms. Leaping from one to the other they outpaced the fire salamanders, but not the skeletons. Delayed by the undead, their lead vanished—but not their determination. A last-ditch effort severed one of the support ropes, giving them the break they needed to race for the exit. But instead of safety or freedom, they found a greater threat—the lich, Rima Nimad—who took Tela captive…

Medilus 2, 1278: Maybe imprisoned beneath the Shackle in Arth Prayogar. It’d been a long night…

“No—!”

I snapped awake with a full-body jerk, nearly falling off the rope cot. The stench of forlorn sweat and wet livestock yard rose off the yellowed mattress like a rancid caress. Panic fogged my head; I had no idea where I was.

It lasted only a few seconds until my sideways understanding of the world snapped back into place. I’d been tossed into a dark, half-lit stone room that had bold aspirations of civility. But old dungeon cells were like that, even the nicer ones—this just wasn’t one of those.

My eyes tracked a limp shaft of sunlight leaking between gray metal bars high on one wall. It wasn’t much, but for my altered eyes it was plenty; not that there was much to see.

I pushed up onto one elbow, scrubbing a hand along the side of my face. A brisk cold radiated off the brick walls, which the gray-green mold in the corners didn’t seem to mind. I swung my feet to the floor, listening to the distant rattle and rasp of wagons beyond the barred window.

A choir of aches sang today’s laundry list of complaints—and I’d added one or two new verses.

“I can’t believe they took my boots,” I grumbled, wiggling my toes against the stone floor. “All I did was kick that skinny mage twice in his pride, before I stomped on his tail.”

Drawing a breath, I winced at the new bruises along my ribs.

“Even my hair hurts,” I exhaled. “So, they took my boots, socks, and vest, along with my bag and whip, too. I’m surprised they didn’t stick a sackcloth bag over me. They must be new to this ‘humiliate a prisoner’ thing.”

I looked down at my bare feet, then up at the barred window. Memory of the trip from Toshirom Ifoon rolled in like morning fog—insults, then questioning, and finally a brawl once I got loose. I gingerly touched a scrape on my cheekbone.

“If they hadn’t outnumbered me, I could’ve taken them,” I grumbled. “At least I dropped two of Rima’s bruisers before they tied me up again.”

I clasped my hands in front of me, rocking a little from leftover nerves.

“They didn’t ask me anything,” I whispered to the bricks. “Not really.” Slowly, I pursed my lips, staring at the strips of weak sunlight. “At least Kiyosi, Skarri, and the others got away.”

A thread of tired relief and sadness worked through me, warring with my aches.

“My plans really are terrible. Maybe splitting up was a bad idea.” I chewed a little at my lower lip. “No, it was fine. Maybe Ki’s right, and I need to quit charging off to play human bait.”

I shook my head.

“All right, damn it, get it together. Wallowing in a problem isn’t solving it. Get up,” I ordered myself. “The only time you can’t escape is when you don’t try.”

I shoved to my feet, stretched my back, then looked at my oppressive brick surroundings.

Methodically, I paced the cell. It wasn’t so small that I’d need to step outside to change my mind, but I wouldn’t have passed up the offer. The brick was a dark, quarried gray—older than the yellow-sandy clay Arth Prayogar loved to use. Green-gray mold kept me company in the corners, and fuzz had claimed damp patches of stone.

“The floor’s pretty wet. I could be near the Ordess River,” I murmured, keeping my bare feet away from the fuzzy green spots. Carvings at knee-height decorated the walls—crude centaurs, half-forgotten symbols, and other things whispering a desperate need to be remembered. Besides the rope cot, the only other feature was the swollen wooden door with its own tiny barred window.

“Charming. This has to be Shendril Fortress.” I slowly shook my head. “How in the nine watery hells did they get me into the Shackle without the Trade-Wardens stopping them?”

Out in the hallway, I heard rats trading rumors in the dark. After another look around my cell, I glanced between the door and the window. The window won my attention. I stalked across the grimy floor to the back wall, jumping up to grab the bars.

They were plain, solid iron bars mortared into brick. I pulled myself up for a better look.

My window wasn’t really one. It was a stone shaft that angled up to somewhere above ground. I could almost see clouds at the top of the shaft.

“No wagons or people, so it’s not opening at the street,” I mused. “The brick at the top looks more like Arth Prayogar’s usual baked clay. So… the Shackle is built on top of an older building. That could mean loose bricks, and any number of forgotten servant’s tunnels.”

I shifted my grip to the bars on my right, trying for a better look up. As soon as I did, one gave a little under my weight—barely the width of a finger. I stared at it, dumbfounded, then peered close, heart hammering my ribcage.

The bar itself was solid—round, thick as two fingers, and freckled with rust. But the mortar was less secure. One tug, and the lower end worried the weathered mortar to powder, making a shallow rut of dust and hope. Carefully, I brushed aside the grit and smiled.

“Someone tried to fill the gap between the old and new bricks, but it’s still a bad fit. If I can just wiggle this, maybe I can work the bar free.” I braced my bare feet against the wall, tugging at the bar. “That might give me a hole big enough to crawl through.”

A muffled jangle of keys and heavy footsteps from the hallway interrupted my plan.

I dropped down from the barred window, brushing at the mortar dust on my clothes. It didn’t come off, but smeared with the existing soot, sweat, and other grime. Grumbling, I crossed over to my rope cot with its questionable mattress, flopping down with a frustrated sigh. I tried to appear dejected and forlorn, but I suspected I looked more like a feral woman raised by wolves ready for a meal. That last part wasn’t far wrong.

Keys rattled with a metallic echo as the stained wooden door swung outward. A broad-shouldered man with shaggy tan hair, a gray quilted leather jacket, and a fresh scowl glared at me. He didn’t seem moved by my attempt at forlorn. So I leaned into feral with a thin smile hinting at kneecap-biting violence. That made him step back.

“M’Lady Nimad?” he stammered in a low, scarred voice. “Are you sure about this…?”

Rima Nimad appeared in the doorway as if summoned, idly gesturing at her retainer’s chest. The lich looked much the same as before—only this time, there was less blood splatter on her charcoal clothes and blood-red shirt. Rima strolled inside as if for afternoon tea with a knife-sharp smile across her bone-pale face. The air chilled around us.

“Oh, it’s fine, Charles. Tela just woke up on the wrong side of the ruins.” She lightly waved a hand. “Close the door. She doesn’t actually bite.”

“Yes, m’lady,” he rumbled.

Charles brought in a stained chestnut chair, setting it just inside the cell. Then with one last narrow-eyed look at me, he returned to the hallway and shut the door. With a casual smile, Rima sat down as if gracing the chair with her presence.

“At least, I’d prefer you didn’t bite my retainers,” she said casually, folding her hands in her lap. “I have precious few with me in this frustrating city.”

Really, as conversation starters went, it was as good as any.

“As long as they keep their fingers to themselves, I won’t bite any off,” I replied. “So, is this where you torture me until I answer your questions?”

Rima arched a delicate black eyebrow. For a moment, her eyes wandered over me, taking in my disheveled, barefoot condition.

“Hm, no,” she said flatly. “I don’t condone torture. It’s rather useless and a waste of time. I prefer negotiation.” The lich tilted her head, a predatory gleam flickering in her eyes. “Which of my people did all of… this?”

I met her gaze, jerking my chin toward the door.

“Mostly your combat mage,” I replied bitterly. Slowly, I rubbed my hands against my thighs. “The donkey’s ass took my boots, bag, and all… probably in revenge for what happened in the Mandami Hills temple.”

“Sherkus?” Rima’s eyebrows reached for her hairline. “Well, he does have a mean streak. It seems I need to stomp on it again. You’ll have most of your things returned.”

We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Finally, I sighed.

“While I appreciate the concern, you’ve tried to knife me before. So what do you actually want?”

Rima crossed her legs, smile sharpening. “Same as anyone, Tela… peace and order.”

I scowled. “A little blood and fear, too?”

The lich shrugged.

“A little fear is healthy,” she said, as if discussing the weather. “It keeps the powerful obedient and the reckless polite.”

“You mean you do,” I countered.

“If a city benefits from my ambitions,” Rima replied, studying her nails, “is that truly a crime?” Her eyes slid to me. “By the way, I’ve browsed your journal. Interesting reading. You’re quite good at what you do.” She folded her hands in her lap again. “I had an idea this morning. What if we leave the past where it is, and start fresh as collaborators over the Iraxi?”

Traps came in all shapes and sizes; I’d triggered enough to know.

“Oh, so this is where you murder me with blood magic, then bring me back as a lich? Life eternal as your mindless whatever? Baron Marius tried that. Didn’t work.” I wiggled fingers at my face. “Got the messed-up eyes to prove it. Just like I told him, the answer’s no.”

The lich sighed as her smile melted.

“Be reasonable, Tela. I’ve my own retainers and Herd Tolvana scouring the city for your friends. They’re here somewhere, and I know they have the Iraxi crystals. Once I catch them, they won’t walk away—unless you agree to work with me.”

It was my turn to grin. While it probably wasn’t smart to goad an ancient undead creature like a lich, sometimes I couldn’t help myself.

“I get why it’d be hard to find Ki… trust me, he’s damn hard to catch. Mikasi? Skarri? Sneaky when they want to be. But one of my friends is a minotaur. Your retainers can’t find a minotaur in a city of centaurs? Are you kidding me?”

Rima wasn’t smiling. Since I never know when to quit, I pushed on. I crossed my legs, mimicking a little of her pose.

“Since we’re chatting… why did you Gatekeepers trap fire elementals in crystals then leave them out for the viprin tribes? It didn’t wreck the Ancient Order—it forced them to join the viprin tribes to stop the nightmare you unleashed.”

The lich narrowed her eyes with a sour expression.

“I’ll admit my brethren and I… miscalculated. But in all fairness, it wasn’t the whole fire elemental. My process extracted the essence of the elementals, imbuing them into the crystals.”

My jaw fell open, eyes wide.

“You ‘liched’ two fire elementals?”

Rima sighed, lightly waving a hand at the idea.

“Roughly. It mostly worked. If I can get the Iraxi back, perhaps I can… adjust… the two in there. Give them some guidance so they won’t possess whomever is wearing the bracers so… painfully.”

“No,” I growled, fists clenched. “Those elementals should be set free. The journals, crystals, and all belong in a museum… not used to topple kingdoms.”

Rima studied me for a moment, then exhaled as she stood.

“Well, I see we need time to think. If you agree to help me, I will call off Herd Tolvana and your friends will stay unharmed.”

I shot to my feet, quivering with rage.

“Auditor Elkerton won’t call it off. He’s out for himself, planning on taking down anyone in his way—especially you. Acts like he’s got the means to do it.”

Rima Nimad’s face went still, eyes glittering.

“Hm, is that so?” The ghost of a smile returned. “Well, either way, think about my offer. Oh, and please don’t ambush anyone bringing you food. It’s not helpful.”

After a soft knock on the door, Rima breezed out of my cell with Charles in tow, carrying the chair. The door shut like the seal on a tomb. My heart sank. I could’ve sat down on that horrid mattress and sulked—overthinking all my mistakes.

Instead, I ran for the loose bar in the window, frantically grinding it against the broken mortar.

“Come… on…!”

After a few minutes, the bar popped loose, sending me to the floor. I caught the rod before it hit the stone, and none too soon. Keys jangled in the door’s lock.

Anyone would’ve expected an ambush from beside the door, so I didn’t hide there. My only other choice was under the rope cot, which wasn’t a lot better. I dove under as the door opened. A lean figure in travel-worn boots casually walked inside.

I rushed from hiding, swinging my iron bar with all I had. My intended victim shrieked like a siren before a meaty, fur-covered hand caught the bar, stopping it in mid-swing.

“Garrik?” I blinked in surprise, then focused on the furry hand. “Atha?”

“I told you she’d try to cave my skull in!” the elven thief snapped, glaring at me.

Atha ignored him, letting go of my iron bar. A warm smile spread over his broad minotaur snout like morning sunshine.

“Windtracer! This is no place for hyu. This is boring place… not nearly deadly enough. Come. Let’s go. Guards are having a good nap to rethink their lives.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but hugged Atha instead—Garrik, too, but mostly Atha—hard enough to leave bruises.

“Okay,” I breathed. “On the way out, can we steal my boots and bag back?”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Chased by fire salamanders and murderous skeletons, Tela devises a risky plan… don’t run through the shifting maze, but instead over it. But the plan is far from foolproof. The trio still have to leap between stone platforms, risking a fall to the death each time. Along with that, comes a slight miscalculation over the threat chasing them and how fast they move…

Medilus 1, 1278: Minutes later, in the Temple of the Slithering Sun—only a few steps ahead of death…

I took two steps back and ran for the next doorway with a sideways grin. Beyond the opening, another platform of rooms descended, dust curling like a hungry fog. I kicked off the edge, vaulting the ravine.

In the humid, musty air between platforms, the temple’s guts were on display.

The entire complex lay inside a giant cavern. Curved blue-gray walls were worn smooth by centuries of moving stone platforms. Tarry black ropes and pulleys—a nightmarish spiderweb in motion—held it together.

Far below, at a drop so deep I heard my ancestors cackle, the bottom gaped. Diverted sections of the forgotten Bromcour River split the world along ancient, rocky seams. Water turned the metal waterwheels that cranked lime-coated gears, keeping everything in motion.

It was machinery so old, I could taste the rust and history of the thing.

I landed on the flagstones of the other platform with a hard thump. My boots skidded. I pinwheeled my arms, stumbling forward to safer footing. My heart hammered against my ribs like a manic blacksmith as I wiped cavern dust from my mouth.

“Now!” I rasped. “Jump now, before it moves too far!”

Kiyosi’s eyes flicked between me, the platforms, and the near-death gap.

“Are you kidding me?” he yelped.

Skarri didn’t waste a second. The viprin warrior snatched the healer by the shirt, bodily dragging him along.

“No time!” she shouted, propelling Kiyosi into a run.

Skarri coiled her tail under her, then slithered fast for the edge. The glossy tarred ropes groaned as the platform swayed.

She leaped, snake-like body stretching out over the gap toward me. I grabbed her arms as she arrived, keeping her on the right side of a deadly fall.

Kiyosi arrived a second later—subtle as a landslide—shrieking through the jump. But he landed in a tight shoulder roll as if he’d made that jump every day.

“How will we know where to go?” he wheezed, wiping at the smears of black grime on his cobalt cheeks.

“Follow the sun,” I panted, thrusting a finger toward the next platform rising up to meet us. Crudely carved on the outside was the face of the Storm-shed Sister. “Remember the model? We followed the sun’s path from Sister to Sister to get in…”

“Quick, it’s almost here!” Skarri hissed, already slithering to leap for the next platform.

Kiyosi, bruised but wide-eyed and breathing, ran after her with me beside him.

“So we follow the faces to get out. What about the salamanders?” he rasped.

A salamander clawed its way onto the ceiling of the platform we’d left behind. It ripped gray-brown flagstones away, leaving an orange, half-molten maw in its wake. Four skeletons joined it a moment later. The salamander hissed furiously at us. I raised my eyebrows at Kiyosi, tilting my head at our pursuers.

“Unless they fly, they have to wait for the right time to jump,” I said. “We bought ourselves some time.”

My smile faded like dew against the morning sun when the four skeletons leaped with unearthly abandon. They breached the gap, landing on our platform like brutal, bony gazelles with a murderous grudge.

“Make that very little time. Run!” I snapped, sprinting for the next edge like a madwoman.

“I really hate necromancy and the undead!” Skarri snarled, leaping over to the next stone rooftop.

It was a desperate, mad relay race across ancient platforms, wobbling like drunken ships. But my insane plan partly worked. The fire salamanders were too large to quickly leap after us. It made the platforms sway too wildly, scaring the beasts.

The skeletons didn’t harbor any such idea of self-preservation. They landed hard and charged before we could escape.

Kiyosi snagged magic threads from the air, tangling one of the skeletons in a net. It wriggled, tearing at its bonds. Skarri crossed swords with another, as the last two rushed at me, blades gleaming.

I sidestepped wide and snapped my whip at bony ankles. Kiyosi bound the pair in golden threads, and we shoved them over the edge.

A sharp hiss of pain got my attention. I spun around as Skarri snarled, flaring the cobra hood around her head. She bobbed twice, then lashed forward like a snake striking prey. Parrying the skeleton’s blade, she hacked twice at the thing’s bony neck—it collapsed like a broken puppet.

Panting hard, Skarri touched the fresh bruise along her snout and winced. Then she looked back the way we’d come with dismay. I followed her gaze, seeing six more skeletons crawl like deranged spiders up the side of a nearby platform.

“They’re so fast. We can’t fight them all,” she hissed wearily, then stood up straight. “Wait.” She pointed at one of the glossy, leg-thick ropes attached to our platform. “Why not sever most of a rope right before we jump again?”

I shook my head, crushing the skull of the skeleton still with us under my boot.

“Those look like Ancient Order work. It’s some kind of silky thread, not hemp or flax; stuff is hard to cut.”

Three platforms back, one of the fire salamanders leaped forward, claws skittering over the flagstones. It would’ve careened over the side if one of the thick ropes hadn’t stopped it. Instantly, the glossy material turned red, melting slightly. I narrowed my eyes.

“Heat.”

I snatched up a nearby discarded sword—a short Ancient Order saber that wasn’t all that short for me. The brassy metal gleamed like new between dark stains. Lucky for me, the frayed leather on the grip was somehow more or less intact.

“Ki! Can you heat this? I mean, really hot.”

He blinked, eyes flicking between the saber and myself.

“Ah, yes?” he said uneasily. “I think? Not something I’ve done too often outside of heating a skillet.”

A manic, dry tapping against stone got our attention. The six skeletons we saw before had reached the top of their platform, and were heading for us. They leaped, but three missed—spiraling toward the underground river and giant gears below.

The other three breached the wide gap, skidding to a stop, burning orange-yellow orbs sizzling in their eye sockets. Then they charged.

“Aile Shavat!” I tossed the saber to Kiyosi. “Try hard! Imagine you want to burn some bread.”

He caught the saber in mid-air with both hands, stunned.

“What?”

I jabbed a finger at the ancient sword, running off with Skarri to get rid of our new uninvited guests.

“Bread! Burning bread! Really hot!”

He rolled his eyes, snapping his tiefling whip-like tail back and forth—a portrait of pure exasperation.

Skarri and I crashed into our attackers—I went low, Skarri high. On a moving platform against animated skeletons, it was risky, but it worked. A skeleton sliced for my neck, but I dropped under the blow, kicking at its bone-ankles with both heels. It stumbled off balance into Skarri’s waiting claws. She yanked it in front of her as a second skeleton tried to slice her open.

Metal splintered bone as one skeleton hit the other, shattering it. I snatched up a saber, and we set to work. Bruises, cuts, and two broken animated skeletons later, we managed to survive.

“One morning, I’m going to wake up sobbing over the priceless history we keep destroying,” I muttered, scrubbing at the grime on my chin.

“Yes, but you’ll be alive to do that,” Skarri countered wearily.

I grimaced. “That’s a fair point.” I rolled my eyes skyward. “Lady Deep, is it too much to ask to study history without the ‘might get dead’ part?”

Skarri let out a tired chuckle. “I think you’d be bored.”

I snorted, giving her a sideways grin.

“Done!” Kiyosi called out.

We hurried to his side of the platform. Kiyosi, sweat pouring off his face, held the Ancient Order saber in both hands by the hilt. Its blade held a white-hot edge that shimmered in the muggy air. He carefully handed the saber over, avoiding burning either of us.

I studied the nearest black rope holding up our platform, then looked at our pursuers. The fire salamanders were perched on the edge of their stone platform, drooling eagerly—if it was even drool. I didn’t want to know. Six more skeletons on another platform swayed in creepy unison with the infinite patience of the murderous dead.

A sigh tumbled out of me as I met their stern expressions. I didn’t have to explain my plan. They already knew.

“Jump,” I told them, jerking my chin toward an incoming platform. “It’s the next in order. I’ll be right after you.”

“No,” Kiyosi replied flatly.

Skarri shook her head, echoing Kiyosi’s clipped reply. If the lady had feet instead of a snake tail, she would’ve planted them.

I groaned and walked over to the massive black rope. The platform swayed like a ship sailing the air.

“This is not the time…” I protested, but Kiyosi interrupted.

“It is exactly the time,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “We can talk about this more later, but really? This is one of your ‘make it up as you go’ plans. You can’t do this one alone.”

I glanced back at the other platforms with their passengers of painful death, then gave my friends a ragged sigh.

“It makes sense.” I sliced at the thick black rope. It sizzled, melting strands popping loose with an angry vengeance. “You two can catch me when I jump. I’m smaller and lighter.”

Kiyosi drew the centaur short sword that he, by some miracle, still had with him. Skarri hefted her saber, giving it a careful swing.

“Those skeletons jump farther than the salamanders. They’ll keep you busy while at least one salamander tries the leap. We’ll hold off the skeletons. You cut the rope.”

I winced as one of the black cords snapped with a sharp twang, painfully whipping my upper arm. When I turned to snap at Skarri, Kiyosi fixed me with a hard gaze.

“Like you’ve told me, what? Hundreds of times? We came in here together; we leave together.” He pulled on a thin, warm smile. “Now cut the rope. We’ve got your back. It’s what a crew does.”

Water stung the corner of my eyes, and I wiped it away. Then I sliced all nine watery hells out of that rope. Moments later, the skeletons hurled themselves at our platform. Two missed the edge, but four didn’t.

I focused on the rope, but every clang of metal, grunt, or hiss of pain from Kiyosi or Skarri made me wince. It was the abrupt silence that jerked me away, wide-eyed from my frantic work, brandishing the saber.

Skeletons lay in shattered pieces across the platform. Four against two are lethal odds, but somehow Kiyosi and Skarri turned it into a success—though they came away with fresh bruises and light cuts in the process.

Kiyosi grimaced at a razor-thin cut along his upper arm, then jerked a thumb behind him.

“Tela, the salamander platform is almost here. How’s the rope coming?”

I jammed the overheated blade into the deep, melted gap I’d sawed into the rope. Acrid smoke bubbled up from ruined threads around the blade, flooding the air with the stench of burning beans.

“Good enough, let’s go!”

We leaped for the other platform just before the salamander arrived. As we landed, I turned to stare at the savaged rope, willing it to break.

“Come on… come on…” I muttered.

At first the rope held, smoking like an overcooked dinner—until it didn’t. It popped with a ragged tear and snapped completely. The platform abruptly tilted sideways. Off-balance, the salamander scrambled against the flagstones, then slid off the side. With a long, sharp hiss, it fell to the glowing water below. The other salamander hissed, looking around in confusion at how to reach us.

With a tired sigh, I followed Skarri and Kiyosi across the platform as we ran for the exit—and found a different problem.

Outside the temple, I brushed my fingers over the smoking, char-blasted bricks of the doorframe into Toshriom Ifoon itself.

“More salamanders?” Skarri hissed in a low voice.

“No,” I shook my head. “What little I know is they aren’t this precise.”

Kiyosi frowned at the scorch marks.

“Blood magic,” he said with a facial expression like he’d eaten a rotten pear, worm and all. “I can taste it in the air. Also, more water magic. Someone tried to pry that door open to get in.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tela, we need to get out of here. That other salamander can’t be that far behind, and whoever did this is still nearby. These burns are too fresh.”

“Saint’s Tide and damn toes,” I spat, turning to look at the door, then the ancient dam. “I hate saying this, but split up…”

“No!” Skarri hissed emphatically.

“Absolutely not,” Kiyosi added firmly.

I spun, fixing them with a firm glare.

“Yes! Don’t fight me this time.” My hands clenched into fists. “You two, Mikasi, Atha… all of you mean something to me, damn it! So, quit arguing and just trust me. That dam looks like an ancient groundwater lift, so it’ll have tunnels inside it. Take those. I’ll head over the dam. We meet up above ground with Atha and Mikasi.”

Kiyosi and Skarri tensed with wooden expressions, but they nodded.

After a silent look of farewell, they set out for any way to get into the dam. I took off running over the top. Out in the open, I figured the salamander would chase me, or not, if the underground river scared it off.

I made it to the other side before I realized it wasn’t the salamander I needed to worry about.

A muscled mass of human in leather armor tackled me the moment I left the dam. I kicked, bit, and punched, but my attacker was joined by a second. Clad in gray, they pinned my arms hard behind me.

“Hey! Watch the hands!”

When they turned me around, Rima Nimad cupped my chin in her dead-cold, pale fingers. Her mage, that red-skinned tiefling, gleefully took my shoulder bag and whip.

“Well, good day, my dear. Fancy meeting you here.” The lich’s smile was all splinters and sharp edges, able to curdle milk at ten paces. “So, you and I are going to have a long conversation. I doubt you’ll enjoy it.”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

Available at the following retailers…

Amazon!

Barnes and Nobles!

Kobo!

Bookshop.org!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Tela, Kiyosi and Skarri eased into the main temple chamber—a giant cathedral of a room—dominated by three, massive Sunfate Sister statues and a giant skeleton on a throne. Around that lay dozens of normal skeletons… the past victims lost to time. After a closer look, and hints from an old journal, Tela devises a plan to defeat a trap triggered if light beams are broken. Sliding metal in place to reflect the light so it isn’t touching the Iraxi bracers, they realize too late that maybe there was more than one trap…

Medilus 1, 1278: Maybe midnight. Temple of the Slithering Sun. When almost everything went pretty wrong, but a little bit went just right.

The temple bucked like a mad bull.

I swapped a horrified glance with Skarri, then glared at the giant skeleton on the throne beside us. Light reflected off the bucklers strapped to its shoulders, hitting the statue’s crystal discs as planned. The mechanism didn’t care.

Previously concealed levers pushed the giant skeleton’s arms up, reaching for the sky. I stared at them wide-eyed.

“The Iraxi bracers were counterweights for a pair of levers. Run!” I yelled, waving an arm toward the archway out.

We leaped off the black granite throne, Iraxi bracers in hand. I hit the gritty floor in a roll, old bruises greeting new ones, as Skarri landed beside me. Cracks split the tiles behind us into jagged, spider-webbed patterns. We’d barely landed when ear-bruising pops of stone grabbed my attention. I glanced back like an idiot, abruptly wishing I hadn’t.

“Oh, by the Lady Deep’s rocky teeth and nails…” I breathed hard.

Around the pool, all three marble Sunfate Sister statues blazed to brilliant life. Their eyes burned like bonfires, smoke curling up along their flawless faces. They hadn’t just turned their head—their entire bodies moved. With a cascade of brittle, broken snaps, they yanked themselves free of their platforms. Stone chewed stone as they slithered out into the room.

The Hungered Sister—the muscled crone of the three—hurled her crystal lens at us like a discus. I tackled Skarri in a leap, as the thin, polished lens sliced overhead, cutting the air like a headman’s axe. It slammed into the left side of the temple’s exit, embedding itself partway into the bricks.

At the same time, the Sunbound Sister raised her arms in a beckoning gesture. Sunlight glowed over almost everything in the temple but us. Dozens of skeletons on the floor jerked to nightmarish life. They staggered upright. Arms and jaws dangled as their metal armor rang like a thousand tiny death bells.

Skarri yanked at my arm as we climbed to our feet.

“Don’t stop! Keep moving!” She raced ahead, saber in one hand, one of the Iraxi bracers in the other.

Behind us, the three giant statues advanced, stone tails kicking up ragged clouds of orange sandstone dust, black soot, and gray powdered bone. Around them and us, the small army of skeletons drew weapons or snapped off an arm as a club, then ran right for us.

“I hate necromancy,” Skarri yelled, slicing through the spine of one skeleton before slamming another in the chest with her tail. The first fell like a discarded puppet, as the second exploded in a clatter of cracked bones, bouncing away over the gritty stone floor.

“Here!” I yelled, tossing Kiyosi the other Iraxi bracer. “Stuff it in your bag!”

“Got it,” he said, catching it with one hand. Yanking the Ancient Order hip pouch open, he stuffed the bracer inside. It fit—barely. “This bag better hold,” he added.

I yanked my whip from my belt, then lashed out with it at the closest threat. The popper tangled the ankle of a skeleton ahead of us with a rusty-looking saber. I yanked hard. It fell. I jumped over to smash both heels into its skull, turning it to powder.

“The bag will hold. It’s Ancient Order weave,” I replied, wiping sweat off my face with a hand, then coiling my whip. “Run for the hallway… the Sisters are two stories tall. They won’t fit.”

Skarri shattered the next nearby skeleton, then beheaded another with the wild fury of a woman possessed.

“What about the skeletons?” she panted.

“One problem at a time!” I sputtered, running like a madwoman for the hallway with the others.

Kiyosi ducked under the large, crystal-clear disc half-embedded in the doorframe. The horrified look on his face melted into a wicked gleam as he narrowed his eyes at the lens.

“Oh, so we’re playing with light today, are we?” he murmured with a grin.

I darted past him into the hallway, Skarri slithering close beside me. Bitter stone and bone dust billowed around us in a gritty shroud.

Standing next to the sun-styled crystal lens, Kiyosi didn’t pinch the air—he grabbed it with both hands and yanked. Most of the time, when he pulled magic threads from nearby light, it was a few threads at best. This time, it was practically a tapestry.

Golden magic threads streamed from his clenched fists. Kiyosi rolled them all into a messy ball of glittery yarn, then ripped it in half. With a snarl, he slapped one ball, then the other, against the large crystal disc.

The ancient lens flashed twice like a sunburst with each hit; thick, amplified golden threads erupting out the other side. Instantly, the enlarged magic threads shredded into a web of sunlight. It fanned out, latching onto the running skeletons. Strands threaded cracked ribs and joints, gluing the horrific mob to the cracked floor.

“How long will that last?” I asked him.

Kiyosi shook his hands as if they stung.

“Not nearly long enough,” he panted.

We had just turned for the hallway when the third Sister—Storm-shed—clenched a fist. Liquid sunlight bled from between her fingers, and a sharp clang of metal answered from deeper in the temple. The stench of rotten eggs rolled over us in nauseating waves. I peered inside the room for the noise, then wished I hadn’t.

An heavy paw, half the size of my head, reached up out of the nearest flaming brazier, grasping the edge. It pulled, tipping the whole thing over. Burning coals rolled across the ancient, ruined floor, tumbling away from the thing crawling out behind them.

My mouth went dry the moment I got a good look at it.

A slime-wet, serpentine body spilled out of the crackling flames. The creature was the size of a pony, with mottled red and black skin, a thick, dexterous tail, and six muscled legs. Burning amber reptile eyes studied me like today’s lunch before it opened a blunt snout with a hungry yawn.

Worse still—a second one scampered out of another brazier with the same murderous glee.

“By the Lady Deep… fire salamanders,” I breathed, scurrying back a half-step into the hallway.

The molten creatures bolted right for us, crunching over the skeletons in a frantic, clawed stampede. Flame-broiled sandstone smoked behind them as they ran.

I bounced anxiously on the balls of my feet.

“Fire salamanders!” I yelled to the others. “Run for the moving rooms!”

We bolted down the hallway as the fire salamanders blazed across the temple floor. The Sunfate statues slithered behind them in a devilish hiss of marble chewing sandstone.

Skeletons to either side of us struggled to their feet as we ran—soldiers and stonemasons responding to a murderous siren’s song. We hacked and slashed blades at anything too close that wasn’t us. Ahead, a block of rooms rotated into place with a heavy thud.

All at once, air exploded in a wave of sickly heat that hammered us in the back—the salamanders had arrived. They tore along the hallway, shattering skeletons to pieces, leaving burning bones and scorched bricks in their wake. At the wide temple archway behind the beasts, the trio of Sunfate Sister statues—too large to get through—punched and clawed at the bricks, shaking the ruins.

“We’re not going to make it!” Kiyosi yelled, eyeing the salamanders behind us, then the door ahead.

“No! We have to!” Skarri snapped, slithering beside him.

I glanced over my shoulder at the salamanders, then ahead at the sole doorway out. An idea sprang to mind—a really stupid one.

“Aile Shavat!” I swore, skidding on loose grit as I turned to face the salamanders.

Kiyosi and Skarri swapped an alarmed look. I cut my eyes over at them, shaking my head.

“Don’t stop! Get the Iraxi bracers out of here. I’m right behind you.”

Then I turned to face the salamanders and committed to my bad idea.

“It worked with the centaurs…” I muttered, uncoiling my whip.

Time condensed into a thick syrup as the salamanders charged down the hallway. I stood my ground, watching them slap, crush, and shatter animated skeletons in their path.

“Come on. Just a little closer. Come to mama,” I intoned, licking my lips as I slowly fiddled with my whip handle.

Both creatures darted in fast, low to the floor—just burning hunger in a dead run. I tensed. Raw brimstone and sharp heat scrubbed my skin like hot sparks. It tried to steal my breath, but I held onto it.

One beast stopped, then the other, both lashing out with impossibly long, sticky tongues. It was exactly the moment I wanted. I side-stepped to the right, avoiding the first tongue, then kicked a forgotten piece of Ancient Order bronze armor in the way of the other. Both tongues snapped back, one getting a mouth of rock dust and the other slapped in the snout by a brass shoulder plate.

No sooner had the brass plate clanged, I stepped forward, lashing out with my whip twice, once for each salamander. The popper cracked the air in front of the blunt, burnt-red snouts; sound hitting them like a slap.

Both salamanders jerked away from the noise, letting loose with a spitting, hot hiss mixed with brimstone smoke. Two more whip cracks startled them back again, and right into the skeletons they’d battered down. The salamanders tripped over the loose bones.

“Tela!” Skarri yelled from down the hall.

“This would be fantastic if I knew what I was doing,” I muttered, half-skipping away from the salamanders to dash down the hall.

I was ten paces from the door before the salamanders stampeded after me, trailing fire in their wake. A dull thump vibrated through my boots.

Kiyosi stood in the doorway with an alarmed look at the ceiling.

“Hurry!” He waved a hand at me. “The rooms are shifting!”

I sprinted forward, chest burning as I gulped down air.

Claws clattered over the floor behind me, a chaotic ballad of death ticking a mad tune that made me question my life choices. A tongue lashed out, narrowly missing my ankle by a finger. I stumbled sideways as the wall—really the entire hallway—shuddered again; bits of rock from the ceiling dusted me like burnt cinnamon on bread. Back down the hall, I saw the Sunfate statues slowly tearing the walls open.

The room holding Kiyosi and Skarri lifted up, already rotating away. I saw the new block of rooms moving down to replace it.

“Not today,” I snarled. “Not dying today!”

In a burst of manic speed, I shoved off the wall, vaulting another greedy salamander tongue. Five paces later I leaped for the retreating doorway. Kiyosi and Skarri threw themselves flat, arms outstretched in my direction.

I grabbed their arms, and they grabbed mine. A hard yank pulled me up and inside as the room lifted away. I lay on the dirt-smeared floor, panting, joints and bruises a choir of complaints.

With a grunt, I pushed to my feet. The all-too-familiar muffled scrabble of claws against stone made me yelp. I spun around to see Kiyosi glaring out the doorway we’d come through.

“The maze rotations are too slow.” He shook his head, giving me a worried look. “Those fire salamanders will rush through these rooms faster than we can.”

Skarri drew a long breath.

“A barrier? Maybe if we can find a table, we break it loose and shove it against a doorway?”

I frowned, my mind running over a dozen ideas—all bad. Then I got a glimpse through the door opposite the direction of the salamanders. The soft blue glow from the underground river cast the massive gears and dozens of moving temple platforms on mysterious black ropes in ghostly shadows.

Like before, each platform was engraved on the outside with the face of a Sunfate Sister. It was the hidden guide we followed to get in and needed to follow to leave.

An idea took shape. I gave the others a lopsided grin.

“Through? Who said we’re running through the rooms? We’re taking the high road and going over. Come on!”

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

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For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Past the door with its mysterious mind magic threads, Tela, Kiyosi, and Skarri race through the shifting maze, one block of moving rooms at a time. Finally, reaching the heart, they discover the truth behind the myth—that the Ancient Order knew and were helping the viprin clans try and seal off the nightmare. A struggle that continued to the current day Trade-Wardens, with possible diminishing returns—leaving Tela, Kiyosi, and Skarri to pick up the lethal slack…

Medilus 1, 1278: Temple of the Slithering Sun. Sometimes when you find a trap, it’s best to set it off and get it over with…

It felt like I’d walked into a hungry oven.

I approached the double archway. A gust of warm, stale air hit me like a hard shove. A bitter, burnt-oil stench burrowed up my nose. The same kind as from the hidden temple in the Mandami Hills. The tension in the air felt as inevitable as an executioner’s blade to the neck.

Heart racing, I glanced to either side as Skarri and Kiyosi moved up next to me. A solemn quiet greeted us. The old temple was a forgotten battlefield that remembered every footstep, every shouted prayer, and the last sobbing cry for mercy. I had the uneasy feeling that the ghosts had stopped to watch, wondering if we’d really disturb the dead.

Which—of course we did.

“Let’s do this,” I whispered in a ragged voice.

I crossed the threshold into the main temple—the beating heart of Toshirom Ifoon. The moment I did, the world shifted. As if the place had struggled for centuries to contain something that shouldn’t exist.

The ceiling, with its impossibly graceful wavelike arches, soared overhead. Each of the eight thin, elegant supports came together at the top in a round circle. Together, they supported a curved ceiling painted like the sky. It looked as if the sky had been poured into an inverted ceremonial bowl waiting for an offering.

It was the same story we’d found before—the Sunfate Sisters locked in perpetual conflict between day and night. Here, it played out across the ceiling, spilling down the walls. A long, cosmic story that wrapped around the room, which was easily fifty Ancient Order meters across. Those walls weren’t pristine. They were marred by age and tall, thin smears of gray-black soot. Each mark sat above burning braziers on the floor, punctuating the walls at eerily precise intervals.

Like any Sunfate temple, the center was dominated by the usual wide, glassy reflection pool of blue-black water. Three massive white-marble statues of the Sunfate Sisters, two stories tall, loomed over everything with stern expressions. All three had fixed their marble gaze on an enormous black granite throne in the middle of the pool. A viprin skeleton—easily three Ancient Order meters tall—in battered bronze armor sat slumped on the throne.

I glanced around from the crackling fire to the mural and all. Curved brass plates high on the walls reflected the firelight, focusing it on the Sunfate statues. Each statue held a sun-shaped, dusty lens the size of a serving tray. They caught the yellow-orange light and bathed the giant skeleton between them in a flickering warmth.

“Wonderful,” I muttered, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. “The exact kind of wonderful that gives me hives.”

“It’s… giant,” Skarri breathed, horror lacing the words together as she stared at the throne. “My people aren’t that… large.”

Kiyosi rubbed his thumb and fingers together, feeling the texture of the gritty air against his skin.

“Magic,” Kiyosi said in a flat tone. “Enough of it in one place—especially uncontrolled—alters anything… or anyone.”

He meant magic storms, like the one that had made him a tiefling at birth. I slid Kiyosi a concerned look. It was an uncomfortable topic. Kiyosi gave me a tiny, reassuring nod. I focused back on our temple-sized problem.

“Well, at least it isn’t moving,” I murmured, walking ahead. “At least… not yet.”

We moved farther into the cavernous room, wary of anything that might have a deep, abiding need to hurt us. Orange light from the burning braziers made the air tremble, heat shimmering against the walls. It was enough light to see by. I dropped my Sun Orb crystal back into my bag.

Flames rose in narrow columns, casting seductive shadows against the walls. They licked the air greedily, but never seemed to devour it. More broken skeletons littered the gritty stone floor—another mixture of humans, viprin, and others. They were arrayed in clumps, where they’d fought to the death as allies, not enemies.

I glanced warily at Kiyosi. “How is that fire even burning? Is it real?”

He pinched the warm air between a thumb and forefinger and tugged; eyes burning a dim sun-yellow. Glowing golden threads spun out, trailing after his hand.

“The fire’s genuine,“ he said. “It’s not enchanted, but…” Kiyosi rubbed the magic threads between his fingers “…it feels like whatever’s keeping the fire lit is just wrong. Not magic threads, anyway. At least, not how I understand them.”

“Another trap,” said Skarri, flicking her tongue.

“… or part of one,” I added. “Skarri? I’m not sure this was meant to seal something away. It feels more like a prison.”

“I know that now…” Her voice trailed off into a sad echo. “But Herd Tolvana? Jata kingdom? That lich and the Fateweavers? They don’t need to touch this…”

My words rolled out like a vow.

“They won’t. I meant what I said. By the Lady Deep, we’re putting a stop to this.”

I studied the plethora of skeletons, statues, and the pool’s bony centerpiece. Slowly, I hissed air out from between my teeth.

“It’s here… I can feel it,” I grumbled, eyes settling on the armored skeleton in the pool. “The Iraxi or whatever keeps killing people.”

“Both? Both are good,” Kiyosi said with a tattered chuckle. “What’s the plan?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, wiping away sweat as I stared holes into the giant skeleton and its armor. A short glimmer of light winked at me from the metal bracers on the bony forearms, hands in its lap. I tilted my head a little, with an ironic half-smile. A question I’d been wrestling with just got an answer—and it wasn’t a nice one.

“Liru told me the Iraxi, the Fire Loom of Heaven, was a device. A tool that let its user draw out sun threads—light and fire braided together.” I reached into my battered shoulder bag with a free hand, digging around. “But no one’s really described it. So I figured it was worn like a ring or an amulet.”

Skarri frowned, glancing at what I was doing.

“Maybe a pin or a brooch?” She tapped the center of her scarred, leather breastplate. “Those fit under armor.”

“Yes, something easy to carry.” Shaking my head with a bitter smile, I withdrew my fist from my bag. “Also, your people’s history is adamant that they never made the Iraxi, but found it. They called it a gift, but nobody’s asked… from whom?”

Kiyosi wiped sweat off his cheek with the back of a hand, leaving a smudge of rock dust across his blue skin.

“You’ve got something… you know who.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, stepping closer toward the giant corpse and the odd glimmer.

“I had a guess. Someone who had a lot to gain by giving the viprin clans this Aile Shavat of a gift,” I said. “Someone willing to sacrifice those people Fateweaver-style to break the Ancient Order.”

Slowly, I unclenched my fist, holding up the finger-length quartz crystal toward the giant skeleton and its armor. The crystal shone a warm yellow, a complementary contrast to the orange glow surrounding us from the nearby pyres. At the crystal’s center, the smudge of the lich’s dark, corrupted spirit danced like a devil on a pin. My eyes darted between the quartz in my hand and the wink of light on one of the skeleton’s bracers—a small, dusty bit of gemstone.

It glimmered orange in the brazier-light—dark center swirling with the same wrong motion.

I clenched my jaw. The crystals matched.

Kiyosi and Skarri’s eyes went wide—horrified, disbelieving.

“The Gatekeeper Society of liches,” I said solemnly. “They’d erase an entire people, just to break a kingdom and install their own bloody rulers.”

“By the Mending Brother and his healing hands…” Kiyosi stammered.

Skarri shivered, caught between cold understanding and outrage.

“They used my entire people as a sacrifice?”

I gestured at them with the lich-crystal.

“They tried.” I glanced over my shoulder at the giant skeleton. “Centuries ago, someone in the Ancient Order, or among your people’s shamans, figured it out, too. That’s why there were mind magic threads on the front door, like some kind of lock. Gatekeeper liches are fascinated with mind magic. They just can’t use it, and it hurts if they touch it. That was why Rima Nimad was so intrigued by me in the Mandami Hills temple.”

“Tela,” said Skarri. “Samal Liru specifically wanted your help to get the Iraxi—no one else.”

We shared a bitter look.

“I know. He’s got some serious explaining to do. Also, I think the Gatekeepers are trying this lunacy again with Herd Tolvana to break the Jata kingdom.” I blew out a hot sigh. “Ki? If the Ancient Order worked with the viprin stonemasons, there had to be artisans here. Search the dead. You know what to look for. Notes, journal… probably a journal. I’m betting the Iraxi is a set of items—a pair of crystals with someone trapped inside each one.”

“Right,” said Kiyosi, turning away.

Skarri coiled her tail underneath her, a determined look in her eyes.

“What can I do?”

I gave her a lopsided grin, returning my whip to my belt.

“Let’s get a look at that skeleton, and figure out how to get the Iraxi crystals.”

Kiyosi moved with a healer’s steady precision between the centuries-old dead. Viprin clan bags and more hadn’t done well over the centuries, but the Ancient Order worked with sterner stuff. Near the massive black granite seat and the Sunfate Sister statues, I climbed onto the pool’s rim, Skarri close behind.

I studied the throne with a wary eye. The sight of charred manacles on the throne made me hesitate.

“Are those… steel?” asked Skarri uneasily.

“Saint’s damn tide, they are,” I breathed. “They weren’t broken… they’re melted.” I glanced at Skarri, gesturing farther up the throne with my chin. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

Skarri nodded back, speechless and wide-eyed, mouth set in a determined line.

I hauled myself onto one of the wide granite arms, crouching on the balls of my feet. One of the bracers with its glowing quartz crystal was in tantalizing reach. Skarri pulled herself onto the other armrest of the throne. We were careful to avoid the enormous viprin skeleton as best we could. I swapped an uneasy look with Skarri and then set to work looking for needles, or worse, that might kill us.

“Got a bag!” Kiyosi called out.

He eased a dark blue canvas belt with a pouch from underneath a skeleton. The impossibly durable material had a coating that reflected the firelight like a midnight promise. Kiyosi worked the buttons loose, pulling open the flap.

I watched him for a moment, then squinted at the bracer in front of me. There wasn’t anything to keep us from taking the bracers or the single gemstones set in each one. That scared the hell out of me. I glanced over at the temple guard.

“What do you think?”

She shook her head, the tip of her snake-tail flicking irritably.

“Nothing. It looks too safe.”

I glanced at the skeleton, whose fire-baked bones lounged in the granite throne. The skull was tilted toward me, jaw open, as if laughing.

“Not funny,” I snarled at the skeleton, then studied the throne and statues again for any hint of pain we were about to touch. Finding none, I looked at the statues. Really looked. “Wait. The Sisters. Normally they’re smiling, all goddess-like. These are frowning at our giant, bony friend.”

“What about their glass lenses?” Skarri suggested.

My jaw fell open when I saw it. I snapped my fingers.

“The light from the lenses reflects off the gems. If we break the light, I bet it sets off the protection.”

“Tela!” Kiyosi shouted from the floor, lifting an old, battered journal. “It’s the light! Break the reflection, and all nine watery hells tear loose. I found a journal from a Venerati Arcanist. It explains why. There are notes on the crystals, too—something is inside them.”

The bargain Azure suffered through leaped to mind.

I traced the light with my eyes, then looked around the ruined temple with its carpet of the dead. There were bronze bucklers and other shields among the skeletons.

“Ki! Keep that journal. Also, grab two shields and hand them up.” I raised my eyebrows at Skarri. “I’ve got an idea.”

In moments, Kiyosi handed up two metal bucklers. Large as dinner plates, Skarri and I rubbed some of the dirt away from the metal. Kiyosi put the book back in its bag, then buckled on the Ancient Order belt.

I locked eyes with Skarri.

“Ready?”

She nodded. We hooked the bucklers’ straps around a ragged stone spur at the throne’s spine, wedging each rim against the skeleton’s armored shoulder plates. It was just stable enough to keep the light’s path intact. We sat back warily. Nothing happened. A ragged sigh practically hollowed me out.

“Grab the bracers. We’ll rip out the stones later.”

We unbuckled the bracers from the skeleton, then turned to climb down and rejoin Kiyosi.

Fire vomited skyward from the braziers around the room—smoke curling above them in acrid tendrils. Marble cracked with deadly finality as the three Sunfate Sister statues turned their heads, stabbing glares at us.

Which was exactly when everything went wrong.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Echoes of hoofbeats from back in the catacombs calls for a hard decision. Atha and Mikasi head back to seal the hidden door, but also confuse—and mislead—any pursuit. Meanwhile Tela, Kiyosi, and Skarri head down to the legendary Temple of the Slithering Sun. But the crossing to the door in gives time for some deeper thinking about the past, present, and possible futures. At least, until they find a way inside when it turns twisted in a way no one expected…

Medilus 1, 1278: Temple of the Slithering Sun. Sometimes it isn’t just choosing wisely; it’s making a choice at all. Oh, and the running…

It turned out the riddle of the door into Toshirom Ifoon wasn’t so much a riddle after all. Mostly, it felt like a joke at my expense.

The three of us stood side-by-side, staring at the door. It was tall and broad, strapped with a pair of long, possibly iron bands slick with an oily sheen. The planks were a dark, stained wood that I couldn’t identify. It lacked any embellishment, save for the three faces of the Sunfate Sisters and a haphazard set of chopped cuts that adorned the middle.

Those cuts said more than a hundred books. Someone had tried to get in here before—many times before.

“Another slide puzzle?” Kiyosi asked, arms folded, squinting at the door.

“Is it? The Sunfates are in the right order,” Skarri hissed, idly tapping the pommel of her saber.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing. “Let’s try anyway.”

Before my hand touched the first symbol, silver threads erupted to life, spinning wild spirals around all three.

“Oh, damn it!” I yelped, yanking my hand back to make sure I still had all my fingers.

“Mind threads,” Skarri whispered.

The glimmering silver threads circled each Sunfate Sister in turn—Sunbound to Storm-shed to Hungered. Then they receded into the door, and it popped open.

Kiyosi arched an eyebrow at me, mouth pulled in a complicated line.

“That wasn’t me!” I snapped, glancing uneasily at the door. “At least, I think it wasn’t…” I added in an uneasy whisper.

The three of us swapped wary looks, then studied the open door.

“I’ve got such a bad feeling about this,” I murmured, walking through the doorway. “Death mazes aren’t supposed to welcome you inside with open doors.”

“They do if they’re hungry,” Kiyosi murmured at my shoulder.

I gave him a withering look, then kept walking.

Beyond lay a tan, slab-floored anteroom wrapped in narrow, sun-yellow knotwork banding the room in neat lines along the ceiling and floor. Murals of battles—both won and lost—filled the space between them. It wasn’t the usual clash of armies frozen in artwork. This was a struggle of day versus night. At the far end of the room, the Sunfate Sisters had turned their attention to burning beasts with way too many legs and worse.

I adjusted my shoulder bag to a more comfortable position. Skarri and Kiyosi moved up on either side of me.

“Ready?” I asked them.

They nodded.

The stone slabs quivered beneath us. Mortar dust powdered down in cloudy bursts as the door behind us swung shut with a solid, final crunch. Grit from savaged bricks and bitter, burnt bone sanded my cheeks like an ugly promise.

Toshirom Ifoon itself shrugged—the entire room moving as one.

“Let’s follow the Sisters,” I grinned, projecting confidence I didn’t quite trust. Pulling out my Sun Orb, I strode toward the other side of the room and deeper into the temple.

It was one door, one hallway, and then a block of rooms at a time—following the path of the Sunfate Sisters. Each corridor looked safe and straight until the temple moved—then they weren’t. It felt like the architectural equivalent of a liar running a long con on the gods. Dark, soot-stained stone seemed to smirk the deeper we went.

We barely made it through each doorway before the rooms behind us lifted and rotated away. Anything of interest, from braziers to chests, was bolted shut against the motion. My history-loving heart ached at the muffled rattling sounds as we ran past. But there wasn’t time to stop—I felt the beat of an invisible water clock counting down with each step.

The deeper we went, the rooms shifted from warm to hot to cool. Singed brick was everywhere—scarring sun murals and knotwork—but nothing in a regular pattern. Warped, cracked, and brittle skeletons rattled around in some rooms, trapped in the slithering maze as their last nightmare. At each doorway we braced for a pit, darts, or just gouts of flame.

Instead, it was dead silent, except for the ragged lick of stone against stone.

I stepped into yet another room lined with two closed chests and four braziers. The floor clicked. A puff of hot air slid past my legs, the breath of a long-dead trap with lethal aspirations. I closed my eyes, whispering to my heart that it was safe to beat again.

Kiyosi ran through next with Skarri on his heels. She flicked her tongue, tasting the air, then grimaced as she regretted it. The temple rumbled again, and we watched the blocks of rooms behind us lift and twist away. At the same time, our block moved up and forward like an out-of-control wagon. A trio of viprin skeletons in the corner to our right clacked as if laughing at us.

“Tela, how by the Lady’s Nine Misbegotten Children will we get out of here?” Kiyosi panted, kneeling down to inspect the skeletons.

I steadied myself against the rough gray stone doorway, studying the room. Looking back the way we came, I lifted my Sun Orb high, catching a glimpse of the temple’s inner workings.

It was an impossibly detailed collection of gears, pulleys, and dark ropes. Below that was what fueled the whole thing—waterwheels churned by the underground Bromcour River.

Another block of rooms wheeled past, walls carved with the wild-haired face of the Storm-shed Sister, eyes looking skyward. The next section bore the fanged, withered face of the Hungered Sister.

“Symmetry,” Skarri gasped, wiping rock dust off her mouth. “If any of the history I was taught is true, my people loved symmetry then, like they do now.”

I looked up as ceiling slabs rattled overhead. New dust clouds draping down over us teased that we’d come to another stop—a dull thump of stone to stone confirmed it.

“That’s it.” I dragged a hand over my face, wiping away grit and sweat. “This place honors symmetry.”

A warm breath fell out of me.

“Which is exactly how we get out.”

Skarri flicked me a glance that said she understood. Kiyosi frowned before hefting an ancient stonemason hammer, now warped by some intense heat.

“So we just… keep going?”

I gave him a tired half-smile.

“Nope. We’ve been chasing the rising sun to get in. To get out, we go the other way—chasing the setting sun.”

His mouth pulled into a tight, thin line.

“Now we just need to find where all this ends,” he sighed.

I nodded toward the next door across the room.

“That’ll be the center. If my guess is right, it won’t be moving.”

“Promise?” he replied, rubbing his eyes.

I grinned, backing toward the next door.

“Hey, come on, it’s me. Let’s go before the rooms move again.”

No one was smiling a short hallway and two rooms later. There in a long corridor, we discovered more skeletons. It wasn’t one or two—but dozens carpeting the stone floor.

I ducked under the doorframe, stepping down into the hallway as our room section thudded into place. Skarri slithered out next, slowly easing her saber free of its scabbard. Kiyosi eased out, stepping to the right, drawing from his belt the stolen centaur short sword I’d given him.

“Oh, sweet Lady Deep…” I breathed, and swallowed dread down a dry throat.

My eyes trailed over the mess, tracking down what I’d hoped I wouldn’t find—tools. Stonemason tools, lying on the stone floor next to daggers, warped spears, and more.

“… the stonemasons,” I finished, voice practically a low benediction for the dead. “They never left, even after all their planning.”

The hallway was different from the rest. It stretched at least thirty Ancient Order meters from end to end; certainly far longer than anything we’d jogged through to that point. Tan, soot-stained, curved arches ribbed the gray, chipped stone hallway like the gullet of some dead beast. Open-topped wide metal braziers engraved with knotwork punctuated the hallway at regular intervals. Charred lumps of ruined coal rested inside.

It was ominous and impressive, but it paled compared to the far end of the corridor. There sat a lone, sinister double-sized archway in the shadows of the right wall. An eerie orange glow spilled out of it, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“We’re here,” I breathed, warily surveying the gently curved walls. It looked all too close to a smooth throat for my comfort.

Skarri eased forward, saber out and ready, eyes moving between each brazier and skeleton for threats.

“Of course. No lids on the braziers,” Kiyosi observed. “This part doesn’t move.”

We eased down the hallway, expecting traps, but something in the stale, warm air promised worse. Ten paces later, Kiyosi frowned at a cluster of skeletons. A quartet who’d died together, brandishing tools and weapons that had melted in their hands. I looked away, eyes downcast, my mind conjuring the victim’s last moments against my will.

“Tela? Skarri?” Kiyosi said solemnly. “You need to see this.”

I swapped an uneasy look with Skarri, joining Kiyosi at the skeletons. He knelt in front of them, fingertips brushing the warped bones with a respectful caress. Without a word, he tapped the ancient, ruined tools and belt pouches. Some threatened to crack when disturbed; others were already split from some ancient heat.

Kiyosi sorted the bones as best he could. It was hard to tell one of the ancient dead from another. While he worked, sections of ruined clothes and armor fell away. I saw the remains of vashu’tel—viprin war-kilts, like what Skarri currently wore—half-draped over three skeletons. That was when I realized the fourth skeleton wasn’t viprin—it was human, wearing the remains of Ancient Order armor and uniform.

Kiyosi nodded at the armor, then glanced at me meaningfully. Skarri gasped as I spun around, looking horrified at the hallway with new eyes.

“Is that…?” she asked.

Kiyosi nodded. “Yes. Ancient Order. This one was just a rank soldier. Shield-bearer, I think. These other three are—were—stonemasons, judging by the tools and clothes.”

“They were… fighting?” Skarri swallowed. “The Ancient Order discovered the temple? Killed the stonemasons? I don’t understand.”

“No,” I countered. “The shield-bearer had his back to the stonemasons when he fell, like a guard would.”

My eyes swept the hallway, and the gift—not mind magic, or anything of the kind, but my talent—rose to life behind my eyes. As it did, history spilled out like water from a tipped pitcher.

Ghosts of stonemasons and soldiers rushed along the hallway. Stone grumbled and ground under the memory, as sandstone dust clouds bore witness to the moment and the following carnage.

“Look at how they fell,” I said, words barely a whisper. Raising my Sun Orb higher, I watched its warm, yellow light brush over ancient armor and skeletons, all facing the far end of the hallway. “It’s a battlefield, but they didn’t fight each other.”

I shook my head, licking my dry lips.

“The history of the Brass and Gold Crusades was wrong. We were wrong. They were trying to save each other.”

Skarri and Kiyosi didn’t move. They glanced warily at each other and then down the forgotten hallway turned battlefield.

“From what?” Kiyosi asked in a hushed voice.

“That,” I nodded at the end of the hallway.

“The Iraxi,” Skarri hissed, shuddering. “The shamans didn’t stop or kill the bearer or bearers. They buried them… alive.” She shuddered again. “My people did this. All this. Caused this…”

Then my eyes latched onto the last thing I ever expected to see. A not-so-ancient, savagely burned centaur skeleton lying on its side at the far end of the hallway. The tarnished sigil of the Arth Prayogar Trade-Wardens shone dully on the heavy armor in the dim light. Half-finished runes, as if drawn using ragged magic threads, scored the stones next to the corpse.

The others saw it a second after I did.

“Is that a Trade-Warden?” Kiyosi said, wide-eyed.

Skarri shifted the grip on her sword, knuckles turning white.

“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head rapidly.

I eased into the center of the hallway. Tearing my eyes from the dead Trade-Warden, I looked around again at the ancient, narrow battlefield. This time I studied it all again with fresh eyes, as history peeled back like a page turned in an old book. I saw them run, the work done, but they weren’t trying to escape. My eyes snapped back to the centaur.

The runes were jagged, hastily made.

No one escaped.

They couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

My breath hitched. A tear etched down my cheek; I savagely wiped it away.

“Oh…” I breathed in the sickly, warm stench around us. “They weren’t trying to leave. No one was. They were trying to stop it.” I nodded, biting my lower lip for a moment. “Also, the Trade-Wardens knew about this. They said they guard the ruins. But really, they’ve been trying to stop whatever is down there before Herd Tolvana or someone else finally comes to get it.”

The silence turned brittle as thin ice. Kiyosi broke it first.

“Tela, what do we do?”

As if in reply, the orange glow changed—moved—in the room beyond. A large, lazy motion, like a predator waking up to pay attention.

I gripped my whip tighter. It suddenly felt very small.

“What Windtracers always do—preserve history to secure the future…” I huffed out an angry breath “…and to make sure people quit dying for this damn thing.”

I started down the hallway toward the orange pulsing glow.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Behind the catacombs, Tela and her crew uncover a hidden room with a lethal trap. But one that whispered a lesson in what might be actually true… or what they’ve really got themselves into. Now, the group faces hard choices and difficult history in the friction that lies between the past, present, and future…

Medilus 1, 1278: Temple of the Slithering Sun entrance. When in doubt? Split up. You get to be a bigger headache to someone else that way…

I’ve never really thought of myself as having good instincts. If I had, I probably would’ve caused fewer headaches for the Windtracer Company over the years. But I did have a keen sense of when things flipped from ‘bad’ to ‘worse’ to ‘are you kidding me?’

Right then, in my expert opinion, it was the latter. Oh, it was so the latter.

The ground rumbled again as if it were hungry, peppering rock dust from the ceiling. A dull pulse of mean beat through my leather boots and into my calves. Behind that, hammered the echo of slow hoofbeats in the distant catacombs—an impending slow stampede of dread.

“What do we do?” Atha repeated with a stern look.

I scrubbed a hand over my face.

“Either they found our cloaks where we stashed them, or it’s just a wandering patrol being careful. Still, bad luck both ways.” I blew out an exasperated breath.

“We’ll need a distraction again,” Kiyosi said. “Give them something better to think about.”

“Agreed.” I glanced at the ancient dam, feeling history tug at me like a moth to a flame. On the far side, Toshirom Ifoon slithered again—or maybe shrugged—but the doors had swapped. “So, first we move fast through the damn dart room, then close up the hidden door. Then, oh, set up some sort of—”

“No.” Atha’s deep, patient voice was like the toll of a funeral bell. “We’ve come too far. Right now? Hyu need speed, not strength. I am strength.” Then he grinned. “Also? A fountain of wisdom.”

I almost objected; wanted to object. But, like when Azure pointed out the obvious the other night, I swallowed my protests—even though my heart knotted up.

“Noise,” I replied softly. “Once you’re past the sun-dart room, shut the hidden door, and use noise. Those Ancient Order catacombs are marble-smooth. Sound echoes. They’ll hear you, but I bet they won’t know where it’s coming from right away.”

The minotaur’s grin was practically sunshine. “If there is one thing I can be, it is loud.” His smile softened, like warm beeswax in the summer sun. “Don’t worry. I will keep them away from hyu.”

“Especially with some help!” Mikasi piped up, patting his vest. “I’ve got just the trinkets with me we can use. Let’s go.”

I blinked, feeling a sharp stab in my chest. “Hold on now…”

“Mikasi? Don’t injure yourself, please?” Sharp concern laced Skarri’s words, as worry lines creased her forehead.

Atha simply glowered at the halfling inventor, holding him back by the collar.

“This is not a good idea…” he began, but Mikasi waved him off.

“Oh, it’s fine,” the inventor said with his customary cheery grin. “One set of echoes can be tracked down. But two in all those marble hallways…?”

Nicodemus promptly padded over and sat on Mikasi’s boots, purring. The inventor glanced down at his smoke cheetah.

“Ah, sorry. Three!” he shrugged. “Three making a commotion will be terribly hard to track down.”

Skarri’s tail tip thumped the stone floor once. I saw a silent battle in her eyes between helping recover the Iraxi, and an intense need—no, a want—to protect Mikasi. Given what I knew of her private nature, the intense emotion there caught me off guard.

Also, when did that happen?

I suddenly felt like I’d missed out on something right under my nose. Maybe it was when I dodged that cave-in; I wasn’t sure. True, there had been little time to breathe, but maybe knowing a lich was involved had made me panic.

“None of this is a good idea,” Kiyosi countered firmly. “You two know as well as I do what that lich and her centaur partners do about problems in their way. Also, this will split us up over half the ruins, and we won’t be able to help each other. Why not just go shut the hidden door and find another way out?”

“Seal ourselves in?” Mikasi squeaked. Skarri shot Kiyosi a stern, narrow-eyed look over Mikasi’s mild panic.

Atha grunted, looking in my direction. So did the others.

I pressed my fingers against my forehead and sighed, carefully avoiding pulling mind magic threads. Somehow, this was my life now.

“Oh, for the days when all I had to do was study history, and steal artifacts from greedy, self-centered people who stole them first.” I slowly scrubbed my hands over my face, hating my next words. “We don’t have time to debate this. Atha, it’s fine; let him go with you. Mikasi?”

The diminutive inventor gave me a look of wide-eyed glee over possible improvisational mischief. I sighed.

“Just… be the best you, and stay alive.”

“You got it! Either we catch up, or we meet back up outside,” he said cheerfully, then squeezed my arm. “We’ll be fine,” he added in a reassuring voice. “You watch your back, too.”

I nodded with a fragile smile.

With a last look, Atha and Mikasi—with Nicodemus a step behind—hurried for the catacombs.

After they left, I faced the underground river cavern. Slowly, I pressed both palms against the cold, lime-coated railing, staring holes at the dam.

The entire chamber reeked of unknown history, wet stone, and old iron. Each trace of mist from the glowing river was a thousand-year-old echo of pain. Skarri and Kiyosi joined me. The river’s soft blue glow cast veiled shadows over her scales and his sea-toned skin.

I forced myself to breathe, following Kiyosi and Skarri down the stairs, boots clipping against ancient stone. As we descended, I watched as Skarri momentarily glanced over her shoulder, eyes damp.

This wasn’t the first time I’d let someone walk away into danger while I went forward—sometimes they were dragged.

Memories hit me harder than the last quake; especially Kiyosi being hauled away at knifepoint by the lich and her lackeys. A twisted, sickening feeling that if I’d been faster, smarter—just more—maybe he wouldn’t have been taken at all. Maybe I wouldn’t have been dragged off other times.

It was the hazard of being a Windtracer. You chased history until you eventually turned into history.

I shook my head hard, banishing the self-incrimination. That path didn’t help anyone.

Kiyosi was here. Walking. Breathing. Alive. Mikasi and Atha were alive. Skarri was alive. Even Azure was alive out there—somewhere. I fidgeted with the weathered edge of my vest as we walked—maybe I did need to pay better attention to the people beside me.

Halfway down the stairs to the dam, I noticed Skarri subtly glance back the way we came again. It was obvious she wasn’t looking for threats. I gently nudged her arm.

“Hey.”

The temple guard twitched, scales flushing dark on her cheeks for a second when she glanced over.

“Yes?”

I grinned at her while we walked. Part of me wanted to say that Mikasi and Atha would be fine. They’ll be clever and inventive. A real proper pain in the ass to the centaur warriors. I didn’t think that was what she wanted to hear. Not that I was an expert—I had horrible luck with this sort of thing. Still, I gave it my best shot.

“Did Mikasi ever tell you about his workshops in Banye? That little town he’s from?”

A shy smile tugged at her lips, then shone in her eyes.

“Yes. While we were going to rescue Kiyosi.” She cleared her throat. “They sound very interesting.”

I laughed a little. “That’s one way to put it. He has one main one, and several others he occasionally blows up.” I nudged her again. “You ought to ask him to show them to you. He’d like that.”

Skarri’s eyebrow ridges lifted slightly. “Oh, I… well…” Her scales flushed a little. “I’ve my duties…”

I snorted. “Don’t we all? Still—” then I remembered what Azure told me over the campfire “—sometimes you just have to stop running and take a breath.”

Skarri fidgeted with the pommel of her sword, tapping the temple guard insignia. Finally, she gently slapped it with the palm of her scaled hand, as if lightly slapping a thought away. Another shy smile crept over her face.

“True.” She met my gaze with another shy smile. “So, I will if you will.”

I tried not to wince, but didn’t quite succeed. The last thing I expected was for my words to have a double edge to them.

Then I thought of Kiyosi, my best friend, and basically brother, since we were kids. I watched him drop off the stairs where they met the ancient stone dam. Kiyosi knelt to study the obvious difference in age of stone between the stairs and dam.

Losing him to that lich taught me exactly how much time regret gives you.

None.

Just like history.

I walked over to see what he had found.

“So… a frying pan?” I asked with a sly grin. “You got yourself loose from the lich with a frying pan?”

He looked up from the stones at me, grinning. “It’s a little bit of a story. I’ll tell you later, but yeah. Frying pan. At a certain distance, they made a damn good throwing weapon.” He shrugged. “I just did what you do—improvise.”

I snorted, glancing away to look out over the dam. “That’s fair.”

The memory of Kiyosi getting dragged off by the lich rose like a specter behind us. The ground trembled gently, and I let the memory go.

“These bricks were clearly made with two different carving methods,” he continued, brushing his fingers lightly over the damp, gritty stones. “Different ages, too. Proves the idea that the viprin stonemasons didn’t make this place but used it.”

Skarri slithered up to where the gray stone stairs and their landing ended and the dam began.

“I’ve heard the stories of the Temple of the Slithering Sun; was taught them when I was young.” She pursed her lips, shaking her head. “I feel like I don’t know my own people’s history.”

“History, real history, is pretty unvarnished.” I licked my lips a little. “It takes a lot to look at it with clear eyes. Some people can’t, so they try to cover it with a pretty coat of paint that suits them.” I shrugged. “That paint eventually still flakes off.”

Kiyosi stood up, brushing sandstone crumbs from his bare, calloused hands.

“All right. So, what’s the plan?” he asked, lips pulled tight. “Toshirom Ifoon ought to be swapping out another door soon. Just take that door and hope for the best?”

I shrugged.

“It’s all we have.” I bit lightly on my lower lip. “I don’t think the door in is the problem here, though. It’s what’s inside.”

I walked onto the impossibly old, gray-white stone dam.

“The Iraxi?” Skarri hissed nervously, slithering along beside us.

I shook my head.

“Not just. It’s the movable rooms. If the rooms are constantly shifting around…”

Kiyosi nodded as the river roared along around us.

“… then the hallways move,” he said, finishing my thoughts. “Which means the location of the Iraxi moves, too.”

I glanced at them both as I hesitated at the edge of the dam.

“Maybe. I want to hope not, but maybe.”

Skarri frowned into the middle space between us and the doorway into Toshirom Ifoon, then gently touched my arm.

“There could be a pattern to that, too.” She flicked her forked tongue, tasting the air. “In my long-town back home, no one I know follows the Sunfate Sister beliefs. It’s too violent, and just history. But the sun patterns? Everything so far? It’d be consistent with what I’ve been taught; it would be that and more inside.”

I blew out a sigh as the bricks under our feet flexed with a low, angry tremor. For a moment, a portrait painted itself in my mind. A series of shifting rooms that made up the Temple of the Slithering Sun, moving along a path.

“So, the temple rooms will follow the Sunfate path. Got it.” I drew a slow breath, then gave them both my best reassuring smile. “Let’s go find a door marked with the Sunbound Sister’s face.”

We raced along the curve of the dam until we reached the other side—and stopped. There indeed was a door into Toshirom Ifoon.

It had all three faces of the Sunfate Sisters staring out with cheery, sun-bright divine expressions.

“Aile Shavat,” I muttered sourly, then stalked for the door.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Armored with a desperate idea, Tela and her crew set out on a clever, if desperate, plan. With a decoy campfire to distract the guards, they slip inside the Herd Tolvana campsite and the ancient outpost ruins. Two doors later, they find what they were hoping to—Ancient Order catacombs and a hidden entrance to the ancient viprin complex.

But the Herd Tovlana camp and the hidden entrance is only the start of their worries, as things take a decided unexpected turn…

Medilus 1, 1278: Hidden chamber behind the Ancient Order catacombs. Sometimes translations are never that straightforward…

It’s one thing to stare a thousand-year-old death trap in the face. But it’s another to hear its heartbeat, then find out it’s lying.

Dust whispered beneath our boots—every step a calculated effort—as we eased along the wall. A narrow gap ran between the pressure-plate tiles and the wall beside the door; we clung to it like mud on boots.

Blue-glazed tiles layered almost every surface—floor, walls, and ceiling. The latter two formed a majestic landscape in mosaic, like an artist’s half-remembered morning daydream. I couldn’t come close to saying that about the former.

“It’s like a demented chessboard,” I grumbled, kneeling down by the floor tiles. “Every tile has a different Sunfate Sister face.”

Kiyosi knelt beside me. At the door, Skarri and Mikasi eased along the wall in the other direction. Atha wisely stayed in the doorway—pressure-plate traps and two-hundred-kilogram minotaurs don’t mix.

“There has to be a way through,” Kiyosi murmured. Gently, he brushed his fingers over the nearest tile. The blue glaze was almost the same shade as his skin. “Only the penitent and reflective will pass,” he mused, echoing the engraving at the foot of the door.

I put a hand on my shoulder bag for comfort, raising my Sun Orb higher to see better. Yellow-gold light glimmered off the tiles like a wave of sunrise.

“Already found ‘penitent’,” I snorted. “That’s ‘duck or get stabbed.’ Reflective has to come from ancient viprin beliefs. Remember that reflection pool inside the Mandami Hills hidden temple?”

Stone rattled stone. Mikasi yelped as Skarri hissed. I snapped to my feet and turned left, hand on my whip. On the other side of the door, Skarri had Mikasi in a close, protective hug against the wall. Wide-eyed, the inventor tapped a hand-length dart that had speared his vest, but thankfully missed him as he hugged her back. A finger’s width away, the nearest floor tile grated into place.

Atha nodded sagely. “In my expert opinion, room say ‘go away’.”

I shot him a flat look; he simply smiled.

“Tela, wait. You’re right.” Kiyosi touched the nearest floor tile. “East to west. This was meant for the Sunfate faithful.”

I narrowed my eyes at the floor, nodding. A zigzag pattern trailed out over the tiles, marking the path of the sun from sunrise to sunset—the way of the Sunfate Sisters. Then my vision blurred, as ghostly silver threads of uninvited mind magic snaked over the tiles. Pressure throbbed behind my eyes. I rubbed my temples, willing the mind magic to leave me alone.

“Walk the sun’s path,” I told the others. “Sunbound to Storm-shed to Hungered Sister. It zigzags…” I glanced at Skarri, more pieces snapping into place “…like a viprin slithering along.”

“What about the ‘reflective’ warning?” Mikasi asked nervously.

I shrugged, stepping onto the first tile. “Think about your life choices? No idea. I’ll go first. Wait there.”

“Tela…” Kiyosi said sharply.

I scowled at him. “Wait. There. Mikasi and I are the lightest—and with his tool vest, I’m probably lighter than him.”

Kiyosi snapped his mouth shut, eyes hard with concern.

Each glazed tile was wide enough for heavy armor—even Atha’s muscular shoulders—but not by much.

I stepped onto the first tile and ducked. Nothing happened. No telltale dust or deadly wall darts. Sweat traced a line down my cheek. Slowly, I stood and continued along the pattern. Then I reached the third tile.

My boot touched the stone, and the room hissed. Tiles rattled, and dust blossomed along the walls—every Sunfate Sister wall-carving spat darts into the air. I froze, swallowing a curse.

Large darts stabbed everywhere except right where I stood, and every third tile in the path ahead. I slowly blinked, letting out a long breath. Dust blurred the air, a dry shroud thick enough I could taste the history. Somewhere behind me, I heard gasps. Stone met stone with a gritty kiss under my feet.

“I’m fine,” I breathed. “Darts went around me.”

Then I looked down.

The tiles—and pattern—had changed.

Every stone tile other than the three I’d walked over had flipped in place while I was distracted by the darts. I bit my lower lip, scrubbing the sweat off my face with a hand.

“Aile Shavat!”

“They flipped,” Mikasi said from near the door. “When you stepped on the third tile, all the others turned, showing different faces.”

I glanced back to see Mikasi squatting down at the edge of the tiles, eyes narrowed in thought. Skarri hovered next to him, practically quivering to hug him to safety again. I nodded, lifting my glowing Sun Orb over my head.

“That’s the ‘reflective’ part.” A wry grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Clever. On the third tile, don’t advance—just stand still and… reflect.”

Atha grunted from the door behind me.

“Hyu call this studying history?” he asked, astounded.

“Ever hear of ‘field study’?” I quipped dryly, staring intensely at the surrounding tiles.

“More like, ‘oh look, this is how I get stabbed today’,” he groused.

“Not helping,” Kiyosi murmured.

“Healer? I am fountain of pure wisdom,” Atha retorted.

I glanced around, then saw Kiyosi standing at the edge of the tiles, tail lashing nervously. He gave me a clear-eyed nod. I nodded back, then squatted down to study the floor tiles. Not only had the order changed, but the faces were blurry.

“Right. Now I can’t tell the faces apart.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Fine. Everything so far has a meaning related to Sunfate shamanistic beliefs,” I murmured. “So what would this mean?”

I stared at my Sun Orb, then glanced at the tiles I’d walked over. “It’s all aspects of the sun.”

I stood and raised my Sun Orb over my head. The tiles at my feet remained blurry, as I realized the pattern I needed was on the ceiling. I shook my head slightly.

“The sun passing over the horizon. Is it that easy?”

Then the ground trembled. Tiles shivered, and darts spat again out of the walls. I froze, holding my breath, then patted my head, chest, and stomach for fun new holes to bleed through. There weren’t any.

“No, not easy. But that’s it.” I looked over the floor and ceiling again, then turned toward the others, gesturing to the tiles. “It’s all about the sun passing through the sky, marking time. So we’ll need to do this together. I step, the next person steps, and so on. Do what I did. At the third tile, look up or down for the next three safe tiles. Ready?”

I stepped onto the first tile of the next set, while Kiyosi started on the ones I’d left behind. It was a slow stroll with death, but he let us go with a smile and a promise to catch up.

On the other side of the room was a bare, plain corridor. It was dusty, wonderfully boring, and ancient. A single archway stood barely ten Ancient Order meters away, with a soothing blue glow seeping out from whatever was beyond.

Kiyosi patted me on the shoulder with a smile, then escorted Mikasi and Skarri to the archway. Atha remained at the doorway, facing the tiled room we’d just left. The minotaur looked pensive, holding his tiny lantern up over his head. I reached over and touched his furry forearm.

“What?”

Atha glanced at me, then back at the room. There wasn’t any hint of dry commentary in his expression.

“Tela.” The way he filled my name with worry shot ice along my spine. He gestured to the tiled room we’d survived. “This… not right. That room eats stupid thieves. Smart ones getz through too easily.” The minotaur shook his head, as if he didn’t want to say his next few words.

He didn’t need to.

I stood beside him, looking back the way we’d walked. Finally, I broke the silence first.

“It wasn’t meant to stop anyone from getting in,” I said, feeling a cold uncertainty settle into my bones. “This was meant to keep something from getting out…”

Atha sighed heavily, meeting my eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Tela!” Kiyosi barked from the archway. “You’d better see this.”

I trotted down the hall with Atha close behind me. Once I got to the others, Kiyosi simply gestured at the arch, then at what lay beyond.

The stone archway was a ‘wave’ design, like the kind Azure and I had found before. Beyond it was a round platform, like the top of a tower, with what looked like a lime-encrusted railing. The entire space had to be at least five Ancient Order meters across, or more. I stepped through the arch to see a massive underground chamber, and nearly swallowed my tongue.

A gentle blue light was everywhere. It filled the air with a quiet, glowing certainty that paired well with the soft rush of water below—and the damp mineral chill rising off it. The platform was a rough, mottled brick, shot through with marble veins. It was carved with just enough roughness to keep a person from slipping off damp stone. I eased my Sun Orb into my shoulder bag, walking to the railing.

On either side of the round landing, there were stairs heading down a modest incline. They met at the top of an impossibly ancient stone dam. It connected our side of the underground chasm to the other. A wide underground river—the source of the soft blue glow—churned right down the middle and through gaps in the dam.

My best guess put the dam at one hundred Ancient Order meters across, maybe more. The dam also looked five times taller than it was wide. It almost made my head hurt to imagine.

Mikasi joined me, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Tela! Those… those are waterwheels!” he exclaimed, pointing at building-sized waterwheels in the stone dam. “Five? No, six. I’ve never seen any so large. They’re like giant water pumps.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Neither have I. That river? It’s glowing like a Deepland Hollow pool.” I gestured to a soft carpet of moss vines along the ceiling. Blue-glowing firefly motes danced in and out of the fronds. “It’s like one enormous Hollow.”

The others joined us at the railing.

Skarri stared wide-eyed, as if having a religious experience.

“Those stonemasons who were working with my people—how did they do this without the Ancient Order knowing about it?” Her words were hushed and underscored with a soft hiss. “Someone would have known.”

I glanced at the lime-coated railing under my hands. Thoughts collided with memories like ingredients in a stew. Slowly, I narrowed my eyes, remembering Rathalla Vasam’s journal, and a paper I wrote about my near-fatal expedition last year to the Great Chasm.

“Not if it was already here,” I murmured.

Even though my words were low and thoughtful, it got everyone’s attention. I glanced around at them, then gestured out at the ancient dam.

“It’s a groundwater lift, but Skarri’s people didn’t build it.” I cast a meaningful look at Mikasi and Kiyosi before I continued. “Last year, Ki, Mikasi, and I were dealing with a problem in the Great Chasm. We found a ruin. A city carved out of a massive cavern ceiling. It had similar architecture for a lost underground culture that traded with the Ancient Order.” I focused on the glowing river. “Skarri? Your people found this. Kept it hidden from the Ancient Order when the armies marched through, folding it into what the shamans were doing down here. I’m sure of it.”

Skarri looked between me and the underground river.

“That’s the Bromcour River, isn’t it?” Her voice was small, like a child who’d just discovered a butterfly for the first time.

“Yes,” I replied quietly. “I’m pretty sure it used to be before it was diverted down here.”

Mikasi, who leaned on the railing so far I thought he’d fall, squinted at something on the far side of the dam.

“Another arch? No, a door.” He pointed.

I looked hard at where he indicated. It was a small, heavy door, bound in metal. Given the way the river light glimmered off it, it seemed lime-crusted as well. I jabbed a finger toward the far door.

“So that…”

The ground interrupted me with another quake. Rocks cracked, and the river rippled while moss vines shuddered overhead. I glanced around in alarm as I heard Kiyosi’s gasp.

“By the Mending Brother…” he breathed, staring across the dam.

I turned in time to watch the stones, even the small door, shudder. Then, right before my eyes, I watched it move. Not just a brick, but the whole section of stonework. Stones and door rose, then slid sideways out of sight. Another door—similar, but not quite—slid into view and stopped.

“It… moved?” Atha asked warily.

“No,” I sighed. “It slithered. That’s what the movable rooms on the model meant, and why people haven’t gotten in there. The old temple? That maze? It slithers, shifting doors around.”

As the ground settled, there was an eerie silence. In that moment, a dim echo brushed our ears over the gentle rush of the underground river.

Hoofbeats—slow, methodical, even wary.

“Centaurs,” Atha growled, jaw tight. “They’re in the catacombs. What do we do?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was a great question. I just wish I had an answer.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Tela returned to Arth Prayogar, reassuring her crew she was alive before getting the rest and recovery she needed. Sleep and a morning meal later, she caught up with the others at the Koriss Grand Archive, also known as the library-temple of the Dreamspinner goddess. A debate kicked off, over where to head next. But a flash of insight on the part of Mikasi showed the way… the abandoned outpost ruins by a dry riverbed. The location right where Herd Tolvana has camped! Now, if they can only get in without being spotted…

Medilus 1, 1278: Herd Tolvana campsite at the Ancient Order outpost ruins of Shmiara. Who thought this was a good idea anyway?

We hit the books in the Archive for another hour, digging into Merchant Herd camp tactics. Along the way, we made five plans, discarded three, and I picked one of the last two—mostly on a guess. Still, this wasn’t my plan; it was ours. That, more than anything, made it feel like the right choice.

It was later that evening before we set out. Cloaked and soot-smeared, we crept across the flat expanse around the centaur camp in a ragged line.

I didn’t stop sweating until we reached the outpost ruins. After that, I shook like a leaf. It wasn’t from the cold evening wind, but because of what we’d just pulled off.

“By the Lady Deep, it worked,” I whispered, dragging off my sand-colored cloak. I stuffed it out of sight in a forgotten closet for the trip out.

Kiyosi grinned, looking around at the broken-toothed stone ruin.

“Setting a campfire on the flatlands near the trade road was brilliant.” He shrugged off his own battered, dirt-smeared cloak, stashing it with mine.

I brushed a hand reverently along the stones of the outpost walls. It felt like the dust and rocks whispered their history in my ears. Visions of battlements, soldiers, and tradesfolk from centuries past, drifted through my thoughts like ghosts.

“Hey, you know the rule,” I replied, studying the walls. “Never set a campfire on the flatlands unless you want to be seen. Can’t take credit for the cloaks, that’s Atha.”

Skarri removed her cloak, which Mikasi accepted with a smile to hide it with his own.

“I’ve never heard of these cloaks.” She brushed her fingers along the ragged edge of hers before Mikasi hurried away. “Dirt-stained wool, sewn with grass clumps to make you look like… well… the ground.”

“Is nothing,” Atha rumbled. The minotaur shed his own cloak, which had made him look like an escaped rock from the Mandami Hills. “My aunt use Hairgrass cloaks when she rustle mountain goats or smuggle cheese. Goats and shepherds never see her coming. Move, wait, move again. Easy.”

Past arrow slits and narrow windows, we saw a forest of brown wooden banner poles rising over a sea of canvas centaur tents. A solid reminder of how close we were to genuine trouble. I pursed my lips, ran through three options for what to do if caught, then saved them for later.

A persistent unease nagged at my nerves until I almost twitched.

“I still think this was a little too easy,” I grumbled, despite my elation at our not getting caught. “The lack of guards here in the old outpost feels a little rude.”

Kiyosi gave me a perturbed glance, swatting the air with his whip-like tail.

“What? Would it help if I said ‘halt, who goes there’ a few times?”

I shot a sour expression at him, but he deftly countered with a grin. It’s hard to stay exasperated at him, so I gave up and grinned back.

“All right, spread out,” I whispered. “Watch the noise; it’ll echo in here. But look for anything related to the Sunfate Sisters. Judging by what I saw underground, that’s how the stonemasons marked their way.”

We split up, picking our way over ancient fallen stones and through cracked doorways. Shadows rubbing shoulders with history and its ghosts, both avoiding being seen.

The ruins were a collapsed stone lung, full of ancient wars and older paranoia. I saw a glimpse of the Ancient Order fortifications, holding the place up like a mythical titan. Brickwork from ancient armies and cultures was piled on top like a cake made by a drunk baker. No two were alike, which resulted in a mad maze of hallways and rooms, some even with a ceiling. I swore I could almost smell the ancient blood in the mortar.

It didn’t take long before we uncovered a lone, weather-beaten wooden door. In the moonlight, I found a faint carving at the bottom of the doorframe that closely resembled the face of the Sunbound Sister. It was so small, it almost looked like Ancient Order graffiti, not a deliberate trail marker. To the right of the door was a narrow window that looked out over the cracked clay line where the Bromcour River once ran.

I stared at the door, then the riverbed. Kiyosi’s hand on my shoulder rattled me out of my wool-gathering.

“What?” he whispered.

I glanced back at the door.

“There’s something about this door and the dried riverbed out there.” Worry lines creased my forehead as I crouched. “I found a Sunfate Sister symbol down here at the floor. The door is almost at the outer wall. So, false trail?”

Kiyosi knelt beside me, brushing his fingertips over the carving. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head.

“I don’t think so. These outposts were supposedly built during the Ancient Order’s Brass and Gold Crusades. If you’re right, those stonemasons were avoiding the Ancient Order, and trying not to get murdered to keep the Iraxi secret. Their trail wouldn’t be out in the open.”

“Hm,” I grunted, raising my eyebrows. “So what… down?”

Kiyosi gave me a grim smile that lacked any humor.

“Down to catacombs or a narrow room. We’d better get the others.”

As it turned out, someone from Herd Tolvana had either thought ahead or was just that paranoid. A small group of centaur soldiers—three at most—patrolled the ruin’s hallways. It took some care, but we avoided them and didn’t get lost. A half-hour later, we’d collected the others and returned to the splintered door. We headed inside, with some tiny lanterns and my Sun Orb to cut the darkness.

The door was, in fact, a way down. At first, it was forgotten old storage with rotten bags and barrels. But another half-hidden door and stairs later, we found something far more interesting.

“Good call.” I patted Kiyosi on the arm. “Catacombs.”

“Ancient Order, too,” Mikasi added, gently brushing his fingertips along the ancient sandstone-cream brick walls. “Perfectly aligned and smooth. Almost no mortar. But why would the viprin stonemasons come this way?”

Atha grunted, stomping past us to peer inside burial alcoves with a lantern, then inside what looked to be a prisoner cell.

“I’m no Windtracer, so history is just so much dust to me. But this,” he waved a calloused, fur-covered minotaur hand at the cells, “is disguise. Look around. Hyu want to hide something? Easy! You go work for hyu enemy, and hide it under their nose.”

Skarri pursed her scaled lips. “More lessons from your cheese-smuggling aunt?”

Atha folded his arms over his chest with a satisfied expression. “I have very smart aunt, even if she in bad business.”

Right then, the ground rumbled beneath us. Skarri and Atha looked alarmed, but Kiyosi and Mikasi ignored it. I shook my head and sighed, giving the tunnels a withered glance.

“That happened in the other Deepland tunnels; the ground must be unstable around here. Everyone, watch your step.”

“What do we look for?” Skarri asked. “More Sunfate Sister icons?” She glanced down the nearest hallway, holding a lantern high. “These passages are very straight.”

I nodded while Mikasi offered the details.

“Yes! The Ancient Order loved efficiency. So their catacombs were for burials but also prisoners, too. They’ll be straight, laid out like a grating. We could get lost, but I brought some chalk to mark the walls so we’ll find our way back.”

“Good idea on the chalk,” I said. Then to Skarri I added, “Atha’s got a really good point. If the stonemasons were hiding this entrance under the Ancient Order’s nose, it’ll be a concealed door.”

I waved at the nearest corridor.

“Look around for any Sunfate Sister faces. The Ancient Order loved to use mosaic wall art to depict great events. That would be a fantastic place to put a hidden entrance.”

Everyone spread out, except Kiyosi, who hovered next to me while we searched.

“So, the water elemental?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head.

“Gone. Her name was—is—Azure’sella. We had a long conversation after we lost Elkerton and his knee-breakers. She was worried that if she stayed, it would draw too much ugly attention our way.” I knelt down in front of a large mural of a Crusade battle; there was a curious pattern along the edge. “Getting that model out of the reflection pool set her loose from some nasty ‘bargain’ she’d been caught up in.”

Kiyosi peered closely at the mural’s upper edge.

“No Sunfate anything here. Just elaborate knotwork,” he said, then glanced at me. “A bargain with who?”

I stood up, brushing my hands against my trousers before we continued along the hallway.

“Viprin shamans.” I frowned at the memories. “Not sure Azure knew all the details, since it was way before her time. But her people owed the shamans a debt. To pay it back, they were sending someone to stand guard for ten years at a stretch in that old underground temple.”

Kiyosi stopped dead in his tracks, whip-tail swatting the air. I watched him do the mathematical acrobatics in his head.

“Tela, that’s… centuries. Nearly a thousand years. Really? Over a debt?”

I nodded, sharing his mild horror with a look.

“Over a debt,” I echoed.

“That’s unsettling,” he said somberly. “Also sounds desperate. If those shamans were that desperate, what other lengths did they go to in protecting the Iraxi relic? How much of all this was shaped by that desperation?”

My mind flashed back to when I bargained with Liru to save Kiyosi’s life. That put me in debt to a viprin shaman. I worried about how much it would really take to pay back my debt, and if I’d survive to the end. Suddenly, I realized Kiyosi was studying me with his ‘healer diagnosing a patient’ expression.

“What?” I asked irritably.

He arched an eyebrow at me.

“I was going to ask you that.”

I harumphed, then scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to wipe off sweat and strain. Mostly, I managed the first, not the second.

“Thinking too much.” I stared at my hands. “Feeling like all this keeps getting more knotted up by the moment.”

Kiyosi reached over, gently squeezing my shoulder.

“Then we get a knife and cut the knot. Worry at it a piece at a time.”

I gave him a thin smile, patting his hand.

“Found it!” Mikasi’s voice echoed from another hallway.

We sprinted down the corridor, past murals and prison cells until we found the halfling inventor with Skarri studying one of the larger murals. This one was another battle, but I thought I recognized the Mandami Hills in the artwork. Atha stampeded up a few seconds later.

Mikasi and Skarri were hunched over what looked like a decorative band of sun-yellow knotwork tiles that framed the mural. The inventor touched one of the delicate knots, grinning. At the center, was a tiny carving of a Sunfate Sister face. I looked in awe at the interwoven knotwork bands—there were hundreds.

“Every knot?” I murmured.

“Yes! Every one,” Mikasi replied. “They’re in a pattern except for here. Three faces aren’t in the right place.”

He tapped a trio of knots that weren’t at all close to each other. But sure enough, each one held a Sunfate Sister face. I saw what Mikasi meant instantly.

“They’re out of order. Skarri, correct me on this. Aren’t the sisters supposed to be arranged from Sunbound to Storm-shed to Hungered Sister, east to west, following the sun?”

“Correct,” she hissed, coiling her tail underneath her.

“Another lock,” Kiyosi mused. “Which could have a good old-fashioned trap in it. Old trap might mean residues of mold or poisons. Check the knotwork. Look for black stains, even an odd smell; though the smell might be a long shot.”

I folded my arms, studying the carved knots with the others. Those three faces really were the only ones out of order, and easily half an Ancient Order meter apart.

“Order. Patterns. Flow. The knotwork looks like it flows.” I mumbled, leaning closer to inspect the mural. “No stains or odd smells.” I touched one of the out-of-order faces.

It wiggled.

“I wonder…”

The piece didn’t come loose when I tugged at it, but it did move. In fact, it slid. When it did, I grinned.

“Oh, I get it. By the Lady Deep, this is a slide puzzle.” I traced the wagon-lengths of knotwork with my eyes. “Damn, there’s a lot. All right—everyone trace the knotwork. We’ll need to slide these three pieces, and some of the correct faces around, until everything is back in order.”

We got to work. It was slow, and mind-numbingly tedious. But twenty minutes later, the last piece clicked into place. A section of the mural split off from the wall and swung inward. Beyond was a long room with a blue-tiled floor, walls, and ceiling. A large inscription filled the floor just past the doorway.

“Only the penitent and reflective may pass,” I translated. “Ominous.”

The moment I stepped inside, there was a soft click. I ducked, and a finger-length dart sliced over my head. I swore it took off a few hairs. Slowly, I let out a breath I didn’t know I held.

“So, anyone feeling penitent and reflective today?” I said over my shoulder.

“Windtracers,” Atha grumbled. “How hyu lot stay alive is beyond me.”

The ground trembled again, as if the stones chuckled at our expense.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Having escaped Gregori Elkerton and his bloody-handed warriors, Tela and Azure make a small camp in the Mandami Hills. They take the time to rest, recover, and plan their next moves. But what starts as a moment to catch their breath turns into deeper conversations, and a small goodbye. One where Tela is left to return to the city of Arth Prayogar alone to face the future waiting ahead.

Medilus 1, 1278: Arth Prayogar. History doesn’t forget. People do, or at least try to make it look that way…

It was a long walk from the Mandami Hills to the city gates. The evening winds pelted me with rust-red dust devils that tasted like regret. Overhead, the diamond-speckled night sky pressed down on me like a judgment.

I reached the gates before midnight, then slipped in with the last merchant caravan for the day. The gate guards barely gave me a second look. They were either too busy to notice one short human woman in yesterday’s sweat-stained clothes, or too tired to care. I certainly wasn’t going to question it.

It was another half-hour along a winding route until I reached the Lemongrass Inn. To my surprise, the others were still awake in my room; nose deep in some plan to rescue me from the tunnels. That made me pause—it meant Garrik really had warned them. Maybe I owed him a little for that.

“Yoi T’kalo,” I greeted everyone wearily. “Look what the basilisk dragged in.”

Kiyosi and Mikasi leaped up from the table and all but tackled me.

I let out a relieved rat-squeak when they did. They wrapped their arms around me so tightly I thought my ribs might stage a revolt.

Even Skarri and Atha seemed glad to see me. The temple guard dropped some of her professional stiffness for a relieved, but slightly awkward, hug. Atha? He offered me a steaming mug of tea that he swore was jasmine, and so hot I thought it scalded my eyebrows. It almost smelled like jasmine—once you got past the honey taste and what I swore was whiskey.

“Next time, please keep to jumping between balconies, not trying to bury yourself in a cave-in.” Skarri hissed firmly with a sharp nod. Still, there wasn’t any heat in her words, just a subtle relief as she gently squeezed my arm.

Kiyosi snorted lightly, scowling over my latest injury.

“Don’t hold your breath,” he sighed, tail tucked tense and low against the back of his legs. “I’ve been trying to encourage her to take the safe road for years.”

He stuffed a long slice of the brown, honey-pepper awari root into my hands.

“Now you. Chew. I see that new cut on your arm. It also needs a fresh bandage. Do you know how many diseases are in the Deepland tunnels?”

Mikasi pursed his lips. “Actually, Ki, I did some calculations. It might not be as many as people think.”

Kiyosi rolled his eyes, wandering across the room to grab his healer’s kit. Mikasi followed as my best friend’s usual rant about ‘mysterious diseases that will kill us all’ chased them both.

I chewed on the bitter, spicy root and winced from the taste.

“Now, wait. How did you get Ki loose?”

“While hyu was off playing ‘dodge the falling ceiling’, healer go off and freed himself,” Atha chuckled. “Gave lich’s pet mage a headache, too. Iron skillet to the head beats magic threads, who knew? I gotz to get me an iron skillet to carry along. So, where hyu get to since you didn’t get squished?”

“Ah, well…” I said, gathering my thoughts. Then I briefly told the story, with a few of the sharp edges sanded off. Kiyosi didn’t need the extra strain. But I hit the high points of the Deepland Hollow, ancient workrooms, and all the rest. The long conversation with Azure? That I kept to myself.

When I told the part about the basilisk coming to our rescue, Kiyosi raised his eyebrows at me in an ‘I told you so’ expression.

“Shut up,” I said without any heat to it.

Normally, I would’ve said something snarky at the lot of them for being worry-warts, if my tongue hadn’t been strangled with emotion.

With the moment past, we broke up for our respective rooms after Kiyosi patched my knife cut. As for me, I had a long moment with a hot bath, then a bed, in that order.

The next morning, after a breakfast of eggs, fruit, and oats, I left the inn with journals and more in my satchel. Azure’s departure had bought me a little time being ‘invisible’ and I wasn’t going to waste it.

So, I met the others at the pale-wooden tables inside the Koriss Grand Archive. It was the nearby library, run by an army of priests and monks devoted to the Dreamspinner Scribe goddess. By the time I arrived, they had already fortified themselves with books, maps, and old papers of questionable origin.

“They’re a little ragged, maybe even weird. But they’re my crew,” I murmured with a grin. “That’s good enough for me.”

A small ache thumped in my heart as I noticed Azure wasn’t there. Of course, she wouldn’t have been, but I still felt her absence like a sore bruise. I took a slow breath, then joined the others.

Most think being a Windtracer is leaping off unstable ruin walls with a knife or whip in their hands to ambush art thieves. Then you dash away with some half-baked, but daring, plan to save a precious relic from greedy fingers. Maybe even grin, despite getting a few bruises in the process.

Well, all right. I’m guilty as charged. But that isn’t the entire story about Windtracers.

The truth behind it all was that Windtracers—even me—spent about ninety percent of their time in a library. Reasons varied, but in the end it was all research to learn about long-vanished cultures, languages, and more. This wasn’t an exception; only here you had to play nice, since the Archive was as much temple as it was library.

I slid into a chair between Atha and Mikasi, bearing a few books and two maps. Atha removed the tiny reading spectacles from the end of his snout.

“What is this?” he rumbled.

I handed a book to Mikasi and Skarri, then unrolled a generations-old trade map. Two other books were slapped down to keep the parchment unrolled.

“Hopefully, what we’ll need to sort this enormous mess out,” I replied. “We can’t take this with us, so we’ll need to make a lot of notes.”

“We can steal them,” Atha suggested helpfully, yet not quietly.

I winced, glancing over into the steel-eyed gaze of a brown and gray robed monk of the Dream-Scribe. The elder human arched a gray eyebrow at me. His sky-blue eyes gave so little quarter, I felt I owed him a debt.

“Ah, hm, just a joke,” I told the monk, wiggling a hand nervously. Naturally, that was when my voice cracked.

The monk harrumphed, then went on his way. I spun back toward the table to give everyone a hard-eyed look.

“Don’t even joke about swiping books.” I pronounced each word as if my life depended on it. “These are the Dream-Scribe’s people. Libraries, books, and knowledge are sacred to their goddess. Practically blessed.”

The minotaur pursed his lips and subtly unfolded the corner of a page he had dog-eared.

I rubbed my eyes, suddenly wishing for a cave-in. But that didn’t happen, so I looked around the table.

“Now, so. We’ve got the Sunfate Sisters, who have way too much to do with the Iraxi and Toshirom Ifoon. Including a really peculiar stonemason model with moving parts.”

Kiyosi tapped a finger on the book in front of him about early Sunfate Sister religious practices.

“A model that they needed to reference but went out of their way to keep hidden and guarded by a water elemental for, what, centuries?”

I opened my mouth to say ‘ten years’ but decided against it. This wasn’t the time to explain that horrid ‘Bargain’ Azure’s people had been trapped in.

“Something like that,” I replied. “What else?”

“There’s the Deepland Hollow you found,” Mikasi suggested. “The one you said might predate just everything here?”

“Journals, too,” Skarri added. “You said you saw the name ‘Vasam’ on a door. That he had written about places built like you found yesterday? Water patterns to archways?”

“Yes.” I rubbed my chin. “A lot of water designs on everything, and there’s an ancient groundwater lift structure down there, too.”

“The stonemason model was submerged in water,” Mikasi added, raising his eyebrows at us. “That’s a lot of water references.”

“It is.” Slowly, I tapped the table as I stared into the middle distance. “I can’t say why, but my gut says those water patterns are important. More than hiding the model underwater or forcing a water elemental to guard it against her will.”

Kiyosi arched a subtle eyebrow at me, but I gave him a subtle shake of my head. He nodded.

Skarri leaned against the table, chin in her hands.

“My people don’t hold anything too sacred about water. Yes, we like water, as does any water reptile. Our long-towns are always along rivers or lakes. We’re taught to honor the water spirits.”

“Binding one to guard an underground temple is a strange way to honor them,” Kiyosi said warily.

Skarri sighed with a frustrated hiss.

“I know. It was upsetting, and I don’t understand it.”

Azure’s explanation about her people and ‘debts’ rang loud in my memory. I kept my mouth shut. But Skarri’s comments about rivers gave me food for thought.

“What if it’s not the waves but the motion?” I suggested.

Mikasi’s eyes went bright at the idea.

“Tela, the model had portions that moved, right?” His words tumbled out of him in an energetic rush. “Skarri’s ancestors dealt with the Ancient Order. The Ancient Order liked making underground buildings with movable rooms. Just like that place you wrote a paper about last year.”

“The Tirak ruins to the southeast of here?” Even as I said the words, I knew what he meant.

The halfling inventor waved a hand at the copy of Ancient Order Aqueducts in front of him.

“Exactly. Those. Remember how those model pieces moved? You told us you suspected those stonemasons were being hunted.”

I nodded. “They were. How else would anyone keep knowledge of the Iraxi secret?”

Skarri’s facial scales flushed in shame over the idea her ancestors might have committed mass murder. Atha patted her on the shoulder, the minotaur looking suddenly sage-like with those reading spectacles perched on his snout.

“Hyu no worry. I gotz aunt who rustles mountain goats and runs an illegal cheese smuggling ring. Not proper mercenary work. We all have stinky skeletons in closets.”

I blinked, giving the pair a pensive glance. Kiyosi leaned forward, intent on Mikasi’s idea.

“So, you’re saying that Toshirom Ifoon has movable rooms?” he asked uneasily.

“No idea,” Mikasi shrugged. “But I think there was more to that model than just a ‘model’. What if it’s also a puzzle? It shows the wrong picture—or route—until you turn the pieces in the correct direction.”

The air went brittle as none of us spoke; instead, we stared at each other. Atha, who hadn’t seen the model but only heard our stories, spoke first.

“So tunnel path on model was a lie?” The minotaur narrowed his eyes at us, then at the map on the table. “Oh, no. Not lie… a lock.”

I sat back in my chair, letting go of a slow breath.

“One set up to keep the Iraxi a secret, or maybe escape getting slaughtered. Could be both. By the Lady Deep, that’s a lot.”

“Yes!” Mikasi was practically bouncing in his seat. “That! We could go back and check the model, but I’m pretty sure I remember all the moving pieces.” He scrambled for a blank piece of paper, then pulled a pencil from his vest. “Here, I can draw what I remember.”

We poured over Mikasi’s meticulous sketches. At first, not a bit made sense. But then one comment from Skarri made everything snap into place.

“The tunnels? They almost look like rivers,” she hissed, flicking her tongue.

Between the trade map, Mikasi’s sketches, and three books, the truth took shape.

Kiyosi ran a hand through his hair and over his horns. Skarri grinned, and Atha cleaned his reading glasses on his vest while Mikasi looked ready to cheer. I simply sat back, stunned.

“That tunnel,” I said, low and almost reverent. “It was the wrong direction from the start. That’s why the Deepland Hollow had a hidden tunnel. It connected to the real way in.”

Mikasi tapped the sketches, then the ancient map on the table.

“If we’re right, it also means that ‘front door’ Herd Tolvana is trying to pry open is a fake. The real front door is near a dried-up riverbed.”

“Water,” Skarri hissed reverently.

I frowned at the sketches, then positioned them over the old map of the area.

“Problem. Elkerton will be all over that Deepland Hollow, so that’s out. Also? Sure, Herd Tolvana is digging in the wrong spot, but they’ve put their camp on top of the real entrance.”

Kiyosi turned pale, putting his face in his hands.

“Oh, Mending Brother and Lady Deep,” he moaned.

Silence fell like the cave-in I had wished for.

“Exactly.” I traced the route along the map with a finger, then tapped a location along a bend of a dry riverbed where Herd Tolvana currently had set up camp. “All we need to do is slip into their camp without getting spotted, then find a way down to the real entrance.”

No one said a word. Instead, we just exchanged uneasy looks. We knew where we had to go; now we just had to survive.

I rubbed my hands together, grinning. “They’ll never see us coming. Probably.”

“You just had to say that,” Kiyosi groaned.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Trapped inside the Deeplands, Tela and Azure flee through ancient tunnels pursued by Auditor Gregori Elkerton and his centaur enforcers. Cornered and outmatched, Tela risks drawing mind-threads as a last ditch effort—only for an unexpected ally to answer her call. As stone breaks and predators wake, the Deeplands remembered more than Elkerton ever planned…

Basysus 30, 1278: Above ground in the Mandami Hills. Some moments give you miracles. Others take them right back, leaving you standing in the dust…

The thing about a prairie, Planus or otherwise, was that the evenings were cold. But sometimes, that wasn’t what made you shiver.

Once we’d found the surface, I built a tiny fire from old grass and a few unlucky tumbleweeds that crossed our path. A sentry of small, red rocks kept it contained in a shallow pit. The wind stole part of the warmth and carried it over the fescue into the dirt-red hills, leaving the dusty scent of fresh sage behind.

Barely five paces away, a basilisk-sized pit, two wagons wide, was an open maw to the Deeplands and their ruins. That hole was as quiet as the wind. There was no Elkerton, no centaur warriors—just nothing. We lost sight of them once the basilisk chased them off.

The sky above the Mandami hills was a bruised evening canopy speckled with glimmering stars. It was soothing, but my eyes still wandered toward the horizon and Herd Tolvana’s excavation. The campsite was a sprawling blight beyond the farthest hills and the north-south wagon trail.

“Do you think they’ll bother to search this far?” Azure signed, then glanced uneasily at Herd Tolvana’s encampment.

I squinted at the section of camp we could see past the rust-red hills and wind-blown fescue. Nothing moved out that way. Specks of large campfires glowed around the tents, broken by the occasional shadows. Slowly, I signed a reply.

“They will. This horrid mess means business and money for the Jatans. It’s practically religious dogma for them.” I forced the tension from my face, giving my elemental friend what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “But they’ll start by searching the Deeplands, not up here. Not at first. We’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

“What about the fire?”

I shrugged, waving a hand around us.

“Too many grassy hills—it breaks up the glow.” A soft sigh fell out. “Now, if this were flatland? They’d see us for leagues away, so we would’ve needed a cold camp.”

Azure nodded. “Fire isn’t my friend, but after what happened? I think we all needed this.”

The basilisk, and sole reason behind our dramatic escape, let out a low snore like a damp landslide. It didn’t roll over, but instead curled a bit tighter; as if it were the world’s largest cat that ate magic. I swapped a grin with Azure and then jabbed our fire with a stick. A burst of orange embers mushroomed into the air, losing themselves in the wispy smoke.

“Still not sure resting here is wise, though,” I added.

Azure wrung dark water from her cobalt hair into a small puddle in front of her. Then, she combed out the strands using her fingers.

“It was necessary,” she replied, indicating the crude, blood-stained bandage on my arm that had been torn from my shirt. “Still is. Tela, we were bleeding. Sometimes you just have to stop running and take a breath.”

I slid a narrow-eyed glance at her, then stabbed the fire again to set free another cloud of embers.

“Is that a fancy way of telling me I look like a used, third-hand knife target?”

Azure simply replied with a superior smile, then went back to combing. I snorted, then studied her as she fussed with her hair. It didn’t take long before she noticed, giving me a mildly perturbed look. Her fingers were quick with a response.

“Just because I’m a water elemental doesn’t mean I actually like groundwater and mud clogged in my hair.”

“Fair,” I gestured back with a chuckle.

Eventually, she seemed satisfied that the muck was gone, then brushed her hair out of her face. Her summoned clothes were another story. They were as mud-caked and smeared as mine, but those didn’t seem to matter. She stared at the fire thoughtfully before shaping her next question.

“That centaur man? Gregori Elkerton? He’ll lead the searching, won’t he?”

I nodded and signed back, picking my words.

“He will, because now it’s personal. Most here in Arth Prayogar… really in all of Jata… aren’t all bad. They’re trying to navigate corrupt laws sewn with prejudice.”

A slow breath fell out of me.

“But Elkerton’s one of those people who likes power. You can see it in his eyes.” I shrugged. “We rubbed his nose in the idea that he’s not as superior as he thinks he is. So yes, he’ll chase us until he’s dead or we are.”

The dire conversation relaxed into a calm silence, broken only by the light rumble from the sleeping basilisk. It was quiet and should have been soothing, but my nerves wouldn’t accept it. I leaned back against an old sandstone outpost marker. The lettering was partly weathered off, and as for the rest, I had no idea what it meant. But at the moment, it made a good backrest, and that was enough.

I avoided the urge to stare into the campfire. Even if my eyes weren’t sensitive to light, it was still a bad idea. Doing that would’ve blinded me to anything that wanted to creep up on us in the dark. I stared worried holes at the shadowy Herd Tolvana campsite until Azure tapped me on the knee.

“What is…” Then she made a sign language gesture that I didn’t know. When I shook my head, she spelled it out. “Vasam? You got excited when you saw that carved on the door?”

I grinned and nodded, despite my aches, pains, and persistent dread of the moment.

“Rathalla Vasam. He was a mercenary who had an eye for architecture. When he wasn’t planning defenses, or how to crack them, he ran ancient ruins with exploration crews.” I leaned forward, legs crossed, as I gestured to the hills. “His name on that door tells me he’s been here. I hoped that his journal might tell us what.”

“You have it now?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s back in the city. But this also explains why someone wanted to steal it. There’s something in it about what we found. My guess is that Rima Nimad or Herd Tolvana wants it. But I don’t remember any mention of viprin ruins like Toshirom Ifoon, though.”

Azure tilted her head a little, brow furrowed.

“I know that name. It was part of the Bargain placed on my people centuries ago.”

An uneasy dread ghosted over me.

“Centuries? You’ve been trapped in that temple for centuries?”

She looked away into the evening. A sad, distant look misted over her eyes before she formed the reply.

“No. Only five years. The Bargain was because of a shaman’s debt—an old one. Every ten years, one of my people had to serve as a guard. I had five more years to go.”

Her explanation hit me like a frigid bucket of water. The horrid idea of being forced to stand guard alone in some underground ruin for ten years made my stomach twist. Doubly so, since it was a debt to a viprin shaman.

“Azure, I…”

The water elemental quickly put a hand on mine to interrupt me. She shook her head with a gentle smile.

“Don’t,” she signed. “You broke the Bargain. No one will ever be forced to stand watch there again. So, what does Vasam have to do with what we found?”

I studied her for a moment, then drew a shallow breath before I replied.

“I’m pretty sure I remember Rathalla wrote about that style of bricklaying and wave-shaped archways.” I leaned back against the flat stone marker again. “It got me wondering if that Deepland Hollow wasn’t natural, but made. If so, by who? Did they make the other ruins down there, too?”

My thoughts about the journal drifted like a meandering stream to swirl around Mikasi, Skarri, and Kiyosi. Worry creased my forehead as I stared holes into the evening air.

Azure must have guessed my thoughts. She raised her eyebrows at me with a smile.

“They’re probably fine. Remember what Elkerton said? He doesn’t know where your friends are. Since he doesn’t, the lich doesn’t.”

I shot a worried glance at Azure and then back to the evening stars with a sigh.

“Which means they got Kiyosi out. Also, I bet Herd Tolvana will never get permission from the city council to raid inns in broad daylight. The Trade-Wardens would shut that down.”

“There’s something else, though,” Azure signed carefully.

I met her eyes with a shadowed frown.

“You,” she explained. “What you did. Mind-threadcasting. Lady Nimad was very interested when you did that. Elkerton was terrified. Your threadcasting will make them hesitate. It’s a gift.”

I glanced away with a derisive snort. A crimson flush slapped my cheeks as I clenched my jaw. The words I signed were all sharp and pointed.

“It’s a curse. I barely trust healing magic and certainly don’t trust the other kinds.” My hands trembled, so I clasped them until I got my nerves under control. “It keeps trying to destroy me.”

Azure gestured to the sleeping basilisk, who let out an oddly adorable drooling snort.

“The basilisk doesn’t look destroyed.”

I looked from Azure to the basilisk, then glared holes into the middle space between myself and the evening.

“Luck.”

Azure shook her head. “Perhaps you see people as they are and accept them as that. You did when you saw me. Maybe you should try doing that for yourself?”

I’ve had stab wounds that hurt less than that. Instead of fumbling through a reply, I wrapped my arms around myself and glared defiantly out at the evening.

Our silent conversation of hand gestures wilted into a quiet moment of wary reflection. It was Azure who broke the moment first. With a careful look around, she gracefully rose to her feet, then brushed her blue hands along her trousers.

“Time to go,” she signed.

I leaned over to toss dirt over our limp campfire to extinguish it. As I stood, Azure walked over to rouse the basilisk, who yawned sleepily.

“We should make it to Arth Prayogar in a couple of hours,” I signed with a measured glance at the distant, dark city walls. “The Trade-Wardens might need a little convincing, but…”

“No,” Azure interrupted me.

Thoughts collided in my head and turned into bad conclusions I didn’t want to think about. The water elemental continued before I signed a word.

“I’ll lead your basilisk back home to others like it. Neither of us can stay. Should stay.”

“Wait. Hold on now,” I gestured back, but Azure’s expression was determined.

“It wouldn’t be safe for you.” She gestured to the sleepy basilisk and then herself. “The Jatans would notice and break off searching the Deeplands. You’d lose your advantage. Tela, you need this time to be invisible, not draw attention. Not yet.”

I blinked as my eyes stung.

“But…” Then my hands froze as I ran out of words.

Azure was so very right, and I hated it. Once in Arth Prayogar, no matter how careful, word would reach Herd Tolvana faster than a prairie fire. It would erase any small advantage we had. We needed that advantage.

I drew in a quiet, shuddering breath.

“All right.” My hands trembled again. “I called you Azure, but what’s your real name?”

Azure’s bright smile almost eclipsed the moon.

“My real name is Azure’sella Unaru’Mere.”

I let out a bitter chuckle. “Well, I was close.”

“You saw the shape of it. That’s enough,” Azure replied.

“Hey, if you’d like, come find us in Ishnanor. It’s along Embercrest Bay,” I signed.

Azure nodded. “Of course.”

Once the fire was fully out, we returned to the gaping pit we’d used to get up here in the first place. At the edge, I studied Azure and the basilisk in turn. The huge beast gently shook its head before it blinked at me. I gave a hard hug.

“Stumpy? Be careful, okay? Play nice with the other basilisks,” I breathed against his head-scales.

It mewed softly.

When I turned to face Azure, she had folded her arms with a soft, sad expression. I gestured to the basilisk I now thought of as ‘Stumpy’.

“I really would love to take him to Arth Prayogar, but I know they’d try to collar and use him as a magical siege weapon.”

Azure let out a musical laugh. “He’d eat their city council.”

I rubbed the corner of an eye and bit my lower lip.

“Tempting,” I signed.

I stood by the hole while Azure climbed down, then urged the basilisk to follow. It did reluctantly. About three Ancient Order meters down, they stood at the bottom of the pit next to an open tunnel. Azure raised a hand to me with a smile as Stumpy mewed. My eyes stung again as they vanished into the Deepland’s darkness.

With a sigh, I turned away. I owed Kiyosi and the others an apology, hugs, and probably a week’s worth of sweets. After a damp sniff, I rubbed my eyes and nose. After that, I started the long walk back to Arth Prayogar—alone, but maybe a little less lost.

Some roads are paved in ruins, others in regret. Maybe, just maybe, mine had a little hope. Time would tell.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Inside the Deepland Hollow, Tela an Azure choose discretion as the better part of valor and survival! Sliding inside a hidden, narrow crack in the back wall, they discover there is more to that Hollow than just a place to rest and old altars. Concealed in the back is a bricked tunnel, workroom and more! But, before they can explore this amazing find, Auditor Gregori Elkerton and his centaurs find them! A safe space turns deadly as they run for their lives into the unknown darkness…

Basysus 30, 1278: Upper Deeplands. The trick about outrunning death is remembering it has more legs than you do…

Running through a damp tunnel in the gloom has never been a good idea. I would know. It’s a lot worse when someone slams their shoulder into me.

The centaur warrior shoved me sideways. I bounced off the mold-slick brick wall, then hit the ground like a discarded rag doll, the air knocked from my chest. I rolled away before I was trampled into a bloody stain, then scrambled unsteadily to my feet, dagger drawn.

“Try that again, jackass!” I snarled with a wheeze.

“Gladly!” he snapped.

He kicked out with his forehooves and let out an ugly growl. I darted aside, jabbing for his ribs, but my knife skittered off his chain armor. He slashed at my neck, but I avoided his short sword. The worst I got was a sliced-up sleeve. Quickly, I stepped along his side out of reach of hooves and blade.

This was just one of the five centaurs, probably their tracker. Which meant the other four weren’t far behind.

“Grab her!” Elkerton bellowed from back the way we’d come.

I shot a hard look toward his voice, then turned to stab this centaur’s flank to slow him down. Before I could, Azure leaped onto his back and upset his entire world.

In a flash, she slapped both hands hard against his ears. He let out a yell as he staggered from the blow, ears probably ringing like a temple bell. Azure struck his ears twice more for good measure. I punched his hand with the pommel of my dagger, and he dropped his sword. It clanged to the ground. I snatched it up and backed away.

A throwing knife sailed out of the darkness and grazed my upper arm.

“Hells and high tide!” I swore, grabbing my arm; warm blood greased my fingers. “Damn it, I’m running out of fresh shirts.”

“Run!” Azure signed sharply with a concerned look at my arm.

We bolted away from the wounded centaur into the unknown. It wasn’t pitch black, at least not to my eyes. This was one of the rare times I blessed the magic poison that gave me kobold eyes to see in twilight. It was the best lighting the tunnel had at the moment.

Moss vines trailed across the ceiling and burned with a gentle inner light. Where there weren’t vines, there were blue-glowing firefly motes. Some rushed with us a few paces; others flew aside.

Everything here was the same as before; the tunnel had clearly been made by stonemasons. Age and mold-stained bricks were in even rows. There wasn’t time to stop and check, but it seemed like every nine Ancient Order meters there was a carved stone archway. Smooth and even, the arch looked like water frozen in stone—the two curled waves meeting at the point.

What I couldn’t decide was who had built it. This wasn’t Ancient Order design, and it wasn’t viprin clan work either. So they might have used it, but they didn’t build it.

Bruises and cuts—both old and new—drained my breath. Azure ran easily beside me, not even winded. She was quicker in the dark than anyone else I’d run with, save the blessed Shade of Ishnanor herself when I had to outrun an assassin.

We ran and turned, then ran again. Each tunnel looked like the last. The constant thunder of hooves chased after us. Finally, we left the tunnels behind for a wide chamber shaped like a dome. The walls were streaked with chalky white strata that glimmered in the twilight blue glow of moss vines that dangled everywhere. A stale, coppery-bitter stench harassed the air; it smelled like a forgotten pit of someone’s worst day.

I squinted at the glow and glitter, trying to squeeze out what light I could. What I saw didn’t leave me with any sort of good feelings.

This was a dead end with nowhere to hide.

At least it looked like that at first. High up on the wall—maybe three Ancient Order meters—was another tunnel. Dark smears of what might have been stone stairs led up to it, now just mold-slick, unforgiving broken stones. I drew a bitter breath as I touched Azure’s arm to get her attention.

“A tunnel out,” I signed, then indicated the opening. “We’ll need to climb.”

Azure glared at the broken stairs, then nodded with a quick glance over her shoulder.

“Hurry. The warriors sound too close,” she replied, then stalked for the ruined stairs. I shoved the stolen sword into my belt next to a dagger and ran after her.

We hugged the wall and climbed. What was left of the stairs was barely wide enough for our toes, which meant too narrow for centaur hooves. The bricks had been set into the wall, so that gave us something to lean on. We managed five steps before hoofbeats battered the stale air of the bricked dome.

“Nowhere to run now, is there, Windtracer?” Elkerton snarled, panting from the near gallop. “What? Think you can just scale the wall out of our reach? Stupid.”

His four bodyguards spread out around him. The one Azure and I had slapped around looked like an ocean of seething anger stuffed in a tiny bucket. I saw Elkerton’s eyes fly open wide as he realized what our plan was.

“Rope! Daggers! Just something!” The damn stamp-licking waste-of-a-centaur flailed his arms in an enraged panic. “Yank them down! Now!”

I waved to Azure with a quick sign.

“Go!”

Daggers cracked the ancient wall with metallic pings. Bits of gritty stone dust and pebbles rained around us. We managed another two steps before a dagger slapped the wall in front of my nose. Dust stung my eyes, and I yelped. Off-balance, I slipped on loose rock and pitched headfirst, grabbing at air.

A quick tuck and roll on the floor saved me from any broken bones, but not bruises. I scrambled unsteadily to my feet, drawing the stolen short sword, as the centaur warriors closed in around me. They charged, but not before Azure landed next to me.

With a feral grin, she flexed her hands like claws. Murky water erupted out of the damp walls like hundreds of sling bullets. The closest pair of centaurs yelled as they wheeled around, racing aside, their exposed skin a raw mass of welts as if the water had teeth. The other two centaurs used their companions as meat-shields to race in and around Azure’s muddy assault.

One rushed at me with a slashing attack. I parried, deflected his blade, then swung hard for his exposed side. He wheeled sharply away from my sword, but that was fine. It put me out of his reach as well. I could use a sword, but I wasn’t a swordswoman by any means. By the time he turned to face me, I’d swapped the sword to my left hand and drawn my whip with my right.

“What’re you going to do with that, little lady?” The smug bastard’s sneer was bad enough, but the malicious glint in his eye? That made my skin crawl.

“Oh, not much,” I replied with a coy grin, then cracked the whip twice with a savage snarl. Once across his knuckles that sent his sword clattering to the ground, then a second near his chest. Breastplate or not, the air cracked with a vengeance that made him recoil in panic. I grinned nastily. Centaurs have a devilfish of a time recovering weapons they’ve dropped, which worked in my favor… until it didn’t.

The centaur scrambled away, hooves scuffing stone as he yanked a dagger from his belt. He frowned, eyes cutting to the sword on the ground between us, then back at me. I grinned and eased forward to kick his sword away, my weapons held ready.

“Give it up.” My voice was dry and ragged from running. “You’re done.”

“You first,” he replied with an evil tone.

A shrill spike of sound split the air next to me with a blast of blue-white light. I instinctively jerked aside, until I realized it was Azure. The water elemental fell to the floor wrapped in what looked like a three-weighted bola, filthy with shimmering pale-white runes that sizzled the air. Each time Azure struggled to change shape or break her bonds, a bolt of white magical lightning arced through the cord and her.

“Azure!” I ran to her side. The blade couldn’t cut the cord, so I stood over her, sword raised. I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves. “Let her go! Let us go!”

Elkerton motioned to the other centaurs to surround us before he casually rolled up his sleeves.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Windtracer.” The auditor’s grin was a portrait of dark slime and nightmares. “You two are a problem. First, you smeared my reputation. Do you know how many favors I had to call in to repair my standing after our… little disagreement… on the road? Second, you’ve become a problem for a business associate of Herd Tolvana.”

My temper rose with my panic.

“She’s a lich, you idiot!” I glanced around as if my head were on a swivel, trying to keep the surrounding centaurs in sight. If they moved, I sliced, in hopes of taking off a finger. “Lady Nimad will gut the lot of you for fun when she’s done with you.”

Auditor Elkerton clopped slowly forward as the circle of centaurs drew as tight as a noose. The man shrugged, but there wasn’t anything casual about the dark, evil glint in his eyes.

“Lady Rima Nimad might try that. But I’ve not lived this long without my own solutions to problems like her. She’ll burn like the others once we have the viprin relic.” He glanced at the four centaur warriors, then chuckled. “Speaking of solutions, I’ve one for you.”

I took an involuntary step back until I literally stood over Azure. The water elemental struggled harder with the enchanted bola. It fought back, burning her with lightning until she spat up a dark blue, watery kind of blood.

Elkerton rubbed his hands together like a starving noble at a feast.

“Your little watery friend? She’ll go to Herd Tolvana’s excavation and dig until she dies with the filthy tieflings there. Thanks to your stupid ruse, we’ve a better idea of how to get into that viprin temple.” He rubbed his hands together. “As for you? Well, I truly hate Windtracers. Every last one of you should be hanged. So, I’m keeping you for my personal amusement—at least until you give up where your companions are. Don’t worry, I’ll dump all your bodies in some ruin to rot.”

“Try it, donkey!” I snarled with more fear than anger as I felt a headache pound behind my eyes.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Elkerton replied, idly gesturing to his warriors.

They rushed us all at once. Elkerton naturally hung back to keep his hands clean. They were too close for my whip, but not for the sword. I slashed twice. One centaur recoiled as I cut open his arm. Another took a slice along his leg.

When they knocked the sword out of my hands, I turned my whip over and used the leather-wrapped wooden grip like a bludgeon. Jaw, hands, anything attached to a centaur was a target. I lost ground with every hit.

Next to me Azure fought with a manic frenzy. Her hands were bound at her sides, but her legs were free, and she used them. One centaur hauled her up by the bola ropes like a bale of hay, but she kicked him square in the mouth. When he didn’t let go, we learned that water elementals had something like shark teeth. Azure sank those teeth through the warrior’s leather bracer.

Seconds later, a centaur had my arms pinned while two others had trapped Azure with a second enchanted bola that nearly killed her.

“Are we done?” Elkerton’s bored voice was like poisoned oil as he strolled forward.

Desperate, drowning in panic, I squirmed an arm free. Instead of a dagger, I pinched the air in front of my forehead, then pulled. Elkerton’s eyes bulged in terror. Silver threads glimmered between my fingers, filling my imagination with countless ideas. But, no matter what idea came to mind of how to warp the centaurs’ minds, every thought centered on escape.

Then the threads fizzled with a sparkle of glimmering dust and vanished. All that remained was a splitting headache and massive pressure in my head. My eyes watered from the intense pain.

Elkerton blew out a snort. “That’s the best you…”

Whatever else he wanted to say vanished when a tremor shook the room. A second followed the first. We watched dark, ominous cracks crawl up the walls. Elkerton shouted orders; the centaur warriors shouted back. I had no idea what anyone said; my headache grew so bad that a sharp whine filled my ears.

Then a massive paw with digging claws shredded the wall like stale cake. A beaked snout and scaled face—half the size of a wagon—with six cloudy eyes peered through the hole at us. The moment it locked eyes with me, my headache faded like dew before a warm morning sunrise.

My breath hitched as my eyes flew open wide.

“It’s you,” I breathed.

The threadmarrow basilisk mewled once at me, then trumpeted an enraged roar at the centaurs that I swore shook the heavens.

I never knew centaurs could run that fast or scream that loud. It’s amazing what you can learn in an old ruin.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.

Each installment will be released each week on Wednesdays!

Missed a chapter? (or ‘Episode’ if you like!) Well, I’ve got you covered! Jump on over to the Chapter (ok, Episode) list here!

Previously: Tela, rescued by Azure from the tunnel collapse, take refuge in a Deepland Hollow—an oasis in the subterranean realm. While there, Tela uncovers strange markings and lost altars. Some for the Sunfate Sisters, but others for older, forgotten, beliefs which hint at much older ruins no one has seen before. But before Tela and Azure can discover more, hoofbeats and a loud voice herald the arrival of Auditor Gregori Elkerton, who has nothing safe in mind for Tela…

Basysus 30, 1278: Upper Deeplands. If the Deeplands didn’t kill me, Auditor Elkerton was glad to give it a go…

There’s an old saying that Windtracers are among the best at knowing when to run, fight, or hide. Then there’s me. I’ve always been good at the running and fighting part.

Hiding? Well, not unless someone dragged me off by the collar and shoved my face in it.

I grabbed my whip and snarled, ready for a fight. Azure sighed and yanked me into a jagged crack behind a curtain of glowing, feather-soft moss vines. What the vine didn’t hide, a natural stone column did.

The gap was narrow, barely wide enough for both of us, but she manhandled me inside anyway. I swallowed a sharp yelp from a new bruise on my right hip, then pressed my back against slick, cold blue-gray stone. Sickly yellow lantern light swept into the Hollow past the vines with a clop of hoofbeats.

Azure was braced nearly chest to chest with me in the fissure. For a deadly moment, she shot a sideways glance at the feeble light past the vines, then met my gaze with a stern expression.

“Not now. Not worth dying for.” She signed the words as quick as a knife cut.

I nodded, jaw clenched, as I shot a frustrated glare at the newcomers.

“Fine,” I replied as best I could with one hand. “Hope they trip on a rock.”

Irritation aside, Azure had picked a good hiding place. Through finger-thin, narrow gaps in the soft, glowing moss vines and around the thick blue-stone column, we could see most of the Hollow. On the left was the wide, natural archway entrance. The right was all ancient lime-coated altars, Traveler’s Wall, tinderbox, and more.

The breadth of the Hollow and its glowing pool of blue water spread out between both sections. Above, blue motes drifted lazily around the hair-like moss vines that carpeted the rock ceiling. I had no idea where the herd of mushroom-like hornwort climbers got to, but I figured it was someplace safer than we were.

In the middle of it all, or at least in the cavern’s entrance, four centaur soldiers wearing dirty gray leather and chain armor stomped into the Hollow. Stained purple tabards bore the golden-winged ram’s head of Herd Tolvana. They were grim and all business, heads on a pivot for any kind of threat.

Recent claw marks, half-melted into the armor, suggested they had plenty of reason to worry.

But it was the fifth centaur that was the biggest problem. It was Auditor Gregori Elkerton. The centaur looked much like he had before, from his tailored tunic and tabard to his styled sandy-colored hair and horse tail. His eyes swept the Hollow with a practiced, disgusted glare.

“The Windtracer’s here,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at the Hollow. “I just know it. She’s stuffed herself into some dark crack in there.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Yank her out.”

He seethed at the other four centaurs when no one moved.

“She’s a Windtracer and a thief, not a damn assassin or something that oozed out of the Deeplands. Show some damn initiative! Find her!”

The four soldiers spread out with scowls and drawn swords as they got to work. They looked done with Elkerton, this place, and just everything to the point they’d set it on fire if they could.

Two stepped outside the Hollow, probably to see if we’d already slipped past them. Another searched the altars, and the last studied our feeble campsite with its green fire. Elkerton? He stood out of the way and tried to look in charge. The effect mostly made him look a little constipated.

Azure glared at them with a brittle expression, but held her place. I watched them warily, then studied the fissure we were in. My water elemental friend had a good point. Five against two weren’t odds I liked. We needed another way out.

The Hollow itself was made up of different types of rock, such as limestone and gritty sandstone. I’m no stonemason, but fissures like the one Azure and I were in could have been just a deep break in the rock wall. But the break was unusually even, like a tight arch. The edges were broken and jagged, but that even shape made me wonder.

As silent as I could, I slowly shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Then I eased past Azure and deeper into this narrow gap. I hoped it was the start of a narrow tunnel cut by underground water runoff.

It was, in fact, something else entirely.

I leaned closer and explored the almost straight edges of a rectangular rock. That turned into me scrubbing at that wall with my fingers like a deranged squirrel looking for a nut. I paused mid-scrub when I noticed Azure staring, worry lines creased above her sea-green eyes.

Most people other than trained wizards knew very little about elementals, and even the wizards really didn’t know all that much. So I didn’t know how well she could see me, but I suspected her eyes—like mine—were well suited to the flickering twilight around us.

“Brick!” I signed rapidly to Azure. “This isn’t natural. It’s worked stone that someone tried to hide.”

She looked sharply into the Hollow when one of the soldiers clopped over to the pool to prod the deeper end with a sword. The other looked around, having searched the obvious places for cracks to hide in. There was a shout from outside the Hollow that drew Elkerton and the other two centaurs into the tunnels.

I swapped a nervous glance with Azure. She sighed, then lightly brushed a hand against the rock wall.

“Water remembers what the stone won’t say,” she signed quickly. “This place is old, Tela. Older than the temple.”

It took a moment before I realized she had signed my name. I’d introduced myself to her before we left to lure Lady Nimad on a wild goose chase; this was the first time she’d used it. Slowly, I repeated the gesture back, memorizing the word as I got lost in learning a bit more about the Merehaffru sign language.

Azure spared a thin smile.

“Yes. That was your name.” She indicated the walls. “Now. The Stones. What do they say? A way out?”

I shook off the moment and quickly studied the bricks. We needed a way out, and soon. I knew it wouldn’t take the centaurs long to know we didn’t sneak past them out of the Hollow.

Most of the bricks were just that—bricks. Nothing special, other than they shouldn’t have been inside the cleft of a cavern wall. Unlike the Sunfate Sister temple, these bricks had been set into a charcoal-tinted, glassy mortar. Where the bricks were coated in a thin lime, the mortar was clean. Bits of it glimmered with a muted green glow that I believed was from the firelight in the Hollow.

Then I found a familiar small carving on one brick in the middle of the wall. I squinted in the gloom.

“That’s a Sunfate Sister emblem,” I murmured. “The Sunbound Sister, I think. But what’s that carved under it?” I scrubbed away grime until it was easier to read. “That’s not a language I know, but I’ve seen those words in Rathalla Vasam’s notebook.”

I yanked open my bag and scrambled for my journal. But Vasam’s journal never mentioned this language alongside any viprin temple—yet, here it was near Toshirom Ifoon. I flipped to a blank page, then pressed it flat against the brick to make a rubbing with a pencil.

Azure glanced at me, then at the wall before she made a few quick signs.

“What is it?”

Before I replied, the brick slid back and vanished into the wall the second I touched the Sunfate emblem. Azure froze while I scrambled back until my spine thudded against the far wall. My skin crawled as I watched a dark seam split the mortar in two, dust trickling to the ground. It carved the outline of a wide door-like section in the wall. The bricked panel swung open on silent hinges. A soft glow spilled out the open doorway along with the gentle sound of running water.

“Check the cavern again!” Elkerton called from the far side of the Hollow. “Pull down those moss vines. Look for a gap in the rock. She’s here, I know it!”

I swapped an uneasy glance with Azure. She nodded, and we rushed through the door.

The room on the other side was a narrow chamber, where long wooden tables crusted in lime lined the walls. Forgotten chisels and folding rulers littered the top along with the rotten remains of ropes, pulleys, and what might have been gears. Channels, like stone drains, had been carved into the walls. Glowing water, like that in the Hollow, trickled down from above in steady streams along the channels. Soft moss vines reached down from the ceiling.

I took it all in with a concerned glance, then helped Azure to shove the hidden door closed on what looked like bronze-gold, dragon-glass hinges. We turned around and took in the room. That’s when I noticed a more normal and time-worn door at the far end.

“What is all this?” Azure signed with a frown. “I don’t understand. They were hiding?”

I glanced back at the hidden door, then at the normal one. After a hard frown at the tables, I crossed to the battered door that I hoped was a way out.

“There’s a good chance of that,” I signed to Azure. “There are tools scattered across the tables and floor. It looks like people left in a hurry. Which we also need to do.”

Azure studied one of the tables.

“Almost like they were attacked.”

I shrugged and signed back. “Maybe? Not sure yet.”

The door at the far end was wood banded in metal. Neither had handled the years well. The metal was rusted, and the wood looked more petrified than anything. I started to kneel and examine the handle for a hidden lock when I saw a small symbol carved to the left of the handle. It was the crested wave emblem of the Lady Deep, with the word Vasam carved beside it. My mind immediately jumped to Rathalla Vasam.

“Oh, I have got to get out of here and read his journal again. I missed something,” I murmured as I studied the lock, then tried the handle. It opened.

I had barely opened the door when Azure froze, eyes wide.

“What?” I signed.

Before she replied, the hidden door clicked and then swung open. Lantern light spilled through the crack and flooded the room with a sickly yellow glow that sliced the gloom. I saw the looming shadow of a centaur through the partially open door.

“Damn it!” I hissed under my breath.

I threw open the door, and Azure grabbed my arm. We didn’t look, didn’t stop. All we did was run.

“There!” Elkerton’s voice sliced the gloom. “After them!”

Hoofbeats pounded stone behind us, slamming closer with every heartbeat.

There wasn’t time to think, barely any to swear. Only run.

Curious about what came before? Book 1 of the Windtracer Tales is out for eBook, paperback, hardback, and audiobook! Click below to learn more!

For more about Windtracer Tales, Hoist the Colors, or any of my other works, please consider subscribing as I would really appreciate the support, sometimes I post behind the scenes on writing, worldbuilding and more. If you’re wanting a deeper look at Hoist the Colors, take the plunge here at the link: Hoist the Colors, for Windtracer Tales and the world of Awldor, take take the leap at the link here: Windtracer.

Subscribe now

Buy Me a Coffee!

Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.