Read Online Aethersmith (Book 2) by J.S. Morin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.S. Morin
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Distant as he
was with people, Anzik seemed almost on the level of the dog when they were
together. The dog was old but playful, and it reacted simply to Anzik’s
commands in a way that people never did. He had been despondent when the dog
had died. Days later, he seemed happy again. His mother Frenna had been
relieved, but Jinzan had been suspicious. They had found the dog stationed out
near the kennels, awaiting commands, animated from the dead by Anzik’s magic.
He had fixed his broken pet and been so proud. It crushed his spirit anew when
Jinzan had destroyed it as an abomination, much more so than the beating and
reprimands that had followed.
Thus it was no surprise that none of the other children had
wished to play with him or even gave him a thought as they played. The
governess who was looking after the children that night usually paid him little
mind; none of his worst offenses had occurred during her watch.
Anzik had unrestricted access to the house, especially since
he could see his way through most of his father’s wards. Since Jinzan had
returned, he had been watching for an opportunity to slip away for an extended
time. He looked up at the Staff of Gehlen, warded away in a glass case, and
smiled.
It looks so wonderful.
Chapter 5 - Sizing Up Foes
Dogger’s Shack was among the worst ale-halls in Scar Harbor,
and the owner, Dogger, liked it that way. The age-greyed wood of the walls and
floors only got washed enough to get the occasional splatter of blood off, but
the tables and chairs were always near to new, though of the cheapest make that
could be found. Fights were regular to the point of almost being expected on a
busy night, and the furnishings took a beating or were used in dealing one out.
It was a place where a man with one eye and a few rotten teeth could go to
drink with his social inferiors. The regulars ran the name of the place
together as Doggershack, and could tell anyone who did not belong when they
used two words to name it.
Foreigners were not unheard of in Doggershack, being right
near the water where newcomers first set foot in Acardia after getting off the
boat that brought them. Some stumbled in by mischance, often to their dismay.
Others sought it out with purpose for the same two reasons the locals did: it
was a place where ruffians might still find welcome and piss-poor ale still got
a man drunk.
The door was jammed open with a bit of driftwood to keep the
stink of the place manageable and let out the heat from hot, sweating patrons
on a warm late afternoon. Folk came and went all day, so it took something more
than passingly unusual to draw attention. The lot that entered that day
qualified.
They were preceded by a woman, Kheshi by her look, with a
short mop of yellow hair and a few tiny braids hanging to one side. Her eyes
were so deep a blue that they looked nearly black; they flitted back and forth
as she swept the room appraisingly before passing the threshold. She was tall,
comely despite her stern look, with youthful, pale skin—probably even had all
her teeth—and thin limbs. Her most womanly features were obscured by her
leather armor, close fitted, but still vague enough to leave hungry eyes
guessing at the shape beneath, and the loose black tunic thrown over it only
made things harder on the lecherous eyes sizing her up like the day’s catch.
The armor was Kheshi styled, with a steel neck guard running from collarbone to
collarbone with the front left open. Her arms were left bare. They bore no
scars despite being left exposed by her armor, which might be taken as a sign
of being untested in battle, if not for the tattoos.
Kheshi warriors of a certain mind-set had tiny circles along
their upper arms. Each circle represented a coin left on the body of a slain
enemy, ostensibly to pay whoever found the body for the trouble of disposing of
it. It was not a tradition among soldiers, who might leave a wounded foe and
never know his fate, or who might range about the
was with people, Anzik seemed almost on the level of the dog when they were
together. The dog was old but playful, and it reacted simply to Anzik’s
commands in a way that people never did. He had been despondent when the dog
had died. Days later, he seemed happy again. His mother Frenna had been
relieved, but Jinzan had been suspicious. They had found the dog stationed out
near the kennels, awaiting commands, animated from the dead by Anzik’s magic.
He had fixed his broken pet and been so proud. It crushed his spirit anew when
Jinzan had destroyed it as an abomination, much more so than the beating and
reprimands that had followed.
Thus it was no surprise that none of the other children had
wished to play with him or even gave him a thought as they played. The
governess who was looking after the children that night usually paid him little
mind; none of his worst offenses had occurred during her watch.
Anzik had unrestricted access to the house, especially since
he could see his way through most of his father’s wards. Since Jinzan had
returned, he had been watching for an opportunity to slip away for an extended
time. He looked up at the Staff of Gehlen, warded away in a glass case, and
smiled.
It looks so wonderful.
Chapter 5 - Sizing Up Foes
Dogger’s Shack was among the worst ale-halls in Scar Harbor,
and the owner, Dogger, liked it that way. The age-greyed wood of the walls and
floors only got washed enough to get the occasional splatter of blood off, but
the tables and chairs were always near to new, though of the cheapest make that
could be found. Fights were regular to the point of almost being expected on a
busy night, and the furnishings took a beating or were used in dealing one out.
It was a place where a man with one eye and a few rotten teeth could go to
drink with his social inferiors. The regulars ran the name of the place
together as Doggershack, and could tell anyone who did not belong when they
used two words to name it.
Foreigners were not unheard of in Doggershack, being right
near the water where newcomers first set foot in Acardia after getting off the
boat that brought them. Some stumbled in by mischance, often to their dismay.
Others sought it out with purpose for the same two reasons the locals did: it
was a place where ruffians might still find welcome and piss-poor ale still got
a man drunk.
The door was jammed open with a bit of driftwood to keep the
stink of the place manageable and let out the heat from hot, sweating patrons
on a warm late afternoon. Folk came and went all day, so it took something more
than passingly unusual to draw attention. The lot that entered that day
qualified.
They were preceded by a woman, Kheshi by her look, with a
short mop of yellow hair and a few tiny braids hanging to one side. Her eyes
were so deep a blue that they looked nearly black; they flitted back and forth
as she swept the room appraisingly before passing the threshold. She was tall,
comely despite her stern look, with youthful, pale skin—probably even had all
her teeth—and thin limbs. Her most womanly features were obscured by her
leather armor, close fitted, but still vague enough to leave hungry eyes
guessing at the shape beneath, and the loose black tunic thrown over it only
made things harder on the lecherous eyes sizing her up like the day’s catch.
The armor was Kheshi styled, with a steel neck guard running from collarbone to
collarbone with the front left open. Her arms were left bare. They bore no
scars despite being left exposed by her armor, which might be taken as a sign
of being untested in battle, if not for the tattoos.
Kheshi warriors of a certain mind-set had tiny circles along
their upper arms. Each circle represented a coin left on the body of a slain
enemy, ostensibly to pay whoever found the body for the trouble of disposing of
it. It was not a tradition among soldiers, who might leave a wounded foe and
never know his fate, or who might range about the
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