***
It was closing hours in the emberlit markets of Bakaar. The pumice streets were still crowded as venders were finishing their last sales for the evening. The crimson street lamps had begun to take over for the setting sun, steam rising from their magma glow.
Amongst the settling crowd was a young blonde woman waiting at a bakery’s storefront. She had a petite figure and soft features, a small nose under wandering brass-colored eyes and above gently bitten lips.
Is this really normal? She thought, eyes grazing the people packing their goods, Or do we just pretend that well. I’m picking up food for refugees waiting in my kitchen and I still have to step over craters a Mad earth-user left in front of my door.”
“Samas?”
Samas stumbled out of her thoughts, “Yes?”
The vendor sighed, a parcel of loaves in her arms, “I was telling you that you should stop biting your lip, you’re going to end up with a scar.”
“Sorry.”
“Where did your mind wander off to?”
It was Samas turn to sigh, “I was just thinking about how calm everything is already.”
The vender waved her hand and the lamps of her bakery went out, “People can only panic for so long.”
Samas began to dig in her belt pouch for a silver tap when the vender shook her head, “Don’t worry about it, I know you have extra mouths to feed tonight.”
Samas took the parcel from her and pressed the tap into the vender’s palm, “You can’t bake milk. Or new windows for your house.”
The vender smiled, “Thank you missie. Don’t forget to open your vents, it’s going to be a cold one this evening.”
Samas hurried off down the street. Gregory keeps his butchery open a little longer than the others. I should be able to pick up some ham from there and-
Samas came to a stop. Standing in the middle of the street was a man wrapped in a simple black cloak. He looked peculiar amongst the heavy red or ochre jackets and wraps that passed him by. No one else seemed to notice the figure, they walked around him as he stood there, looking up.
Samas walked up to the man, not seeing much else besides his chin under his hood, “New to Bakaar? You’ll want something warmer to wear, you’ll catch a cold even with the magma pipelines.”
The man didn’t answer, still looking up. Samas followed his gaze in curiosity.
Strange for a newcomer not to be complaining about the sulfur, Samas thought, but still be this fascinated by Krakrenenor.
The great tower of fire stood at Bakaar’s center. There was a wide field of obsidian between Krakrenenor and the rest of the city; no one wanted to build under the mist of embers from the massive tower’s lavafalls. It never was truly night in Bakaar, there was only the fiery twilight in the deep of night.
Samas turned back to the man, “Are you a refugee? I know of a few places that should still have room.”
When the man still didn’t acknowledge her, Samas asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m waiting,” he finally answered, tilting his head to look at her.
Samas felt a chill snake up her spine. Even though he spoke quietly, there was powerful tone of authority that resonated in his voice. For a moment she could see his eyes beneath his hood. Onyx discs wreathed in ruby so bright they almost seemed to glow.
I’ve never seen eyes that kind of red, Samas thought, and I’ve seen eyes. Mother’s are gold and father’s turn purple when he laughs.
Something in the way the man had looked at her, the way he had spoke and stood so still, unsettled her. He seemed so indistinct, even with the prescence his voice and eyes commanded. Like he wasn’t quite there. Like he was part of a dream.
The man returned his gaze to Krakrenenor. Samas shivered, even though she wore a thick jacket. I don’t think he wants me bothering him, she convinced herself, growing uncomfortable in the strange man’s prescence. She walked a few steps past him then glanced over her shoulder.
The man was gone.
I can’t have imagined him, Samas shook her head, Could I? It has been a very long day.
Samas tucked the parcel more snugly under her arm and resumed her walk back home.
***
The cloaked man looked down at the dark, snow-swollen clouds. The lava that welled up from one of Krakrenenor’s arms cooled to obsidian beneath his feet. He raised one hand, fingers intertwined with unnatural shadow. Great jags of magma struck up from the flowing mass, blackening quickly to dark glimmering glass. Soon they formed a harsh black throne, its form crude and its edges cruel. The man sat between its scythlike arms.
With the roar of a tower’s burning fury falling around him, he waited.
End of the Thirteenth Chapter
End of Saranoda
End of Part One of Book One of The Towers of Adrala
About the Author
Andrew Suzanne is an easily bored individual who came up with a world where people can move rocks and fire with their minds while he was in the shower. After a decade’s worth of boredom and countless minor characters that refused to stay minor, Andrew had a sizable collection to turn into a series of books. He hopes that you enjoyed your stay in his home in Adrala and wishes you to come back soon in Book One – Part Two: Krakrenenor.
He lives with roommates he often keeps up till dawn with Adrallian ‘what-ifs’ in Tennessee.
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More about the Adrala universe, including short stories, can be found at Adrala.com
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