My sweet Scythia died there to avenge her Lord, King Brandt, leaving young Ylia orphaned and in my keeping.Īs much as such a one could be in anyone’s keeping. Of 2,000 Koderrans, only 9 of us escaped the final battle. I have spoken already at length-greater length than is normally my wont-of the journey north from shattered Koderra, after the barbarous Tehlatt swooped down across Nedao and slew 8 parts of the folk. And so I went preforce to the walled City Koderra, for where my Scythia was, I had to be.

You who have heard me speak before know of that: how the Lady Scythia of the Second Ylsan House came to Nedao to wed its King Brandt. It is my tale, as it was from the first, and so I shall continue: I, Nisana, the only AEldra of cat-kind to journey east of the Foessa Mountains and dwell among the Nedao. And, perhaps, he might have seen the faintest glow of sullen red light within a row of tall, shattered windows. Here, had any man stood and listened, he would have heard nothing but the thin scree in his own ears-or the overloud thump of his heart, for there was fear here, an ancient fear, as old as the shaping of the stones themselves.

Creatures hunted or were hunted and not in silence. Stone lay in crazy piles, slabs of rock-slanted against bare, intact walls, chunks and shards flung wide as though by a giant hand covered an expanse of close-cropped field.Įlsewhere in the mountains, nightbirds flew and uttered muted calls, small beasts crackled through the brush.

Across the bowl-like valley, there was a deep silence. Rock shone faint blue the shadows under the trees were impenetrable to normal eyes.

It was cold the stars were a frost of light from tree-lined high horizon to cliff-edged high horizon. It’s been help above and beyond the call of, and I deeply appreciate it.Īnd the triple cross for conspicuous bravery Ginjer, there have been so many times we’ve sat and talked, and something truly exciting has come of it: an idea, a twist, something about a character’s personality I hadn’t realized. When that happens, sometimes you can work it loose yourself occasionally it needs to be coaxed free with outside help.ĭoug, you’ve helped that way more than once: having a roommate with taste you can trust is better than just nice. Sometimes, even when the plot flows and the characters cooperate, there’s something not quite complete about it all.

The Xena Scrolls by Ru Emerson