Read Online The Way of the Blade by Stuart Jaffe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stuart Jaffe
Tags: Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Magic, Epic, Science Fiction & Fantasy, apocalypse, Monsters, Sword & Sorcery, post apocalyptic, sword
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happened?” Fawbry said.
“Some kind of blinding magic to disorient us.” Malja heard the rustle of leaves off to the left. She glimpsed the receding form of the woman. “There,” she said, tearing off into the woods.
Sharp branches slapped across her body as she sprinted. Moonlight sprinkled in and out of her view, making the dangerous run worse. Her foot snagged a root, and she slammed into the ground. A rock bit a piece off her cheek.
Back on her feet, Malja sought the woman. Movement off to the right. Malja ran in that direction until she broke through to a clearing.
A thick, anchor rope had been secured to a massive metal link in the ground. The rope stretched up to a farm skirting the treetops. Halfway up, the woman climbed like an animal born in the trees.
Malja hopped onto the rope and started after the woman. At first, the rope rose gently, but about a quarter of the way out, it turned steeply upward. And the wind increased.
Glancing up, she could no longer see the woman. Malja knew she could climb the rope and reach the farm. But by the time she safely arrived, that woman could be anywhere. She could have blended in with the people living up there, or grabbed an autofly and soared away, or simply found a dark place to hide in until Malja passed her by.
Malja spit on the ground and kicked at the rope. Worse than losing the woman, worse than the fact that the woman had possibly mentioned Malja and definitely ran off like a guilty criminal, Malja had to return to Fawbry and admit that he was right. Something odd had happened.
Chapter 8
Javery
The morning arrived with the distinct, sweet smell of lorrali trees in bloom. No surprise there considering Javery’s sister had them planted one year ago for this exact purpose. After all, in every romantic tale told to little girls, the weddings always began with sweet lorralis in full bloom.
Javery washed up and put his robe over his shoulder with a pleasant flick of his wrist. Though his first meeting with Malja had not gone as planned, she and her companions had agreed to attend the wedding. He had one more chance, and if it failed, he would ask them to stay one more day. How could they deny him a simple day extra during the wedding of his sister?
He took his personal autofly and headed up to the Wrenley farm that floated over the western border of Raxholden. Masen Wrenley had offered the use of his large acreage for the ceremony and festivities as a gesture of goodwill toward Shual. That was, of course, the diplomatic way to say that Wrenley wanted Shual to owe him a favor.
As he flew over the long, colorful stretches of vegetables, Javery pictured his own wedding and how the Wrenleys of Carsite would trip over themselves to make such gestures to him. Someday.
Javery nearly lost control of his autofly. His wedding was no longer some fuzzy idea far in the future. He had agreed to wed Druzane. Not that he objected to such an incredible woman, but he had to start thinking differently now.
His body warmed at the idea. His heartbeat increased. Maybe I really love her .
He landed in an open field next to four autoflys. By midday, that field would be full of autoflys but for the morning, peace surrounded the land. Walking toward the Wrenley farmhouse, a large but modest white home, Javery caught sight of Soralia in the second story window. One of the few great privileges of owning a floating farm — more than one floor to a building.
I’ll have three, no four floors.
“Oh, Javery, you look handsome,” Mrs. Wrenley said as he entered the house.
The three Wrenley boys, two of their girlfriends, and four hired helpers rustled about the downstairs in an orchestrated pandemonium. They hung flowers and poured drinks and tuned instruments and dozens of other small tasks as assigned by their director, Mrs. Wrenley. If they were going to host the Raxholden wedding, then by Carsite and Pali, nobody would have anything but praise to say.
Javery
“Some kind of blinding magic to disorient us.” Malja heard the rustle of leaves off to the left. She glimpsed the receding form of the woman. “There,” she said, tearing off into the woods.
Sharp branches slapped across her body as she sprinted. Moonlight sprinkled in and out of her view, making the dangerous run worse. Her foot snagged a root, and she slammed into the ground. A rock bit a piece off her cheek.
Back on her feet, Malja sought the woman. Movement off to the right. Malja ran in that direction until she broke through to a clearing.
A thick, anchor rope had been secured to a massive metal link in the ground. The rope stretched up to a farm skirting the treetops. Halfway up, the woman climbed like an animal born in the trees.
Malja hopped onto the rope and started after the woman. At first, the rope rose gently, but about a quarter of the way out, it turned steeply upward. And the wind increased.
Glancing up, she could no longer see the woman. Malja knew she could climb the rope and reach the farm. But by the time she safely arrived, that woman could be anywhere. She could have blended in with the people living up there, or grabbed an autofly and soared away, or simply found a dark place to hide in until Malja passed her by.
Malja spit on the ground and kicked at the rope. Worse than losing the woman, worse than the fact that the woman had possibly mentioned Malja and definitely ran off like a guilty criminal, Malja had to return to Fawbry and admit that he was right. Something odd had happened.
Chapter 8
Javery
The morning arrived with the distinct, sweet smell of lorrali trees in bloom. No surprise there considering Javery’s sister had them planted one year ago for this exact purpose. After all, in every romantic tale told to little girls, the weddings always began with sweet lorralis in full bloom.
Javery washed up and put his robe over his shoulder with a pleasant flick of his wrist. Though his first meeting with Malja had not gone as planned, she and her companions had agreed to attend the wedding. He had one more chance, and if it failed, he would ask them to stay one more day. How could they deny him a simple day extra during the wedding of his sister?
He took his personal autofly and headed up to the Wrenley farm that floated over the western border of Raxholden. Masen Wrenley had offered the use of his large acreage for the ceremony and festivities as a gesture of goodwill toward Shual. That was, of course, the diplomatic way to say that Wrenley wanted Shual to owe him a favor.
As he flew over the long, colorful stretches of vegetables, Javery pictured his own wedding and how the Wrenleys of Carsite would trip over themselves to make such gestures to him. Someday.
Javery nearly lost control of his autofly. His wedding was no longer some fuzzy idea far in the future. He had agreed to wed Druzane. Not that he objected to such an incredible woman, but he had to start thinking differently now.
His body warmed at the idea. His heartbeat increased. Maybe I really love her .
He landed in an open field next to four autoflys. By midday, that field would be full of autoflys but for the morning, peace surrounded the land. Walking toward the Wrenley farmhouse, a large but modest white home, Javery caught sight of Soralia in the second story window. One of the few great privileges of owning a floating farm — more than one floor to a building.
I’ll have three, no four floors.
“Oh, Javery, you look handsome,” Mrs. Wrenley said as he entered the house.
The three Wrenley boys, two of their girlfriends, and four hired helpers rustled about the downstairs in an orchestrated pandemonium. They hung flowers and poured drinks and tuned instruments and dozens of other small tasks as assigned by their director, Mrs. Wrenley. If they were going to host the Raxholden wedding, then by Carsite and Pali, nobody would have anything but praise to say.
Javery
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