is the largest, most well-stocked, best sourced shop chain in all of Terra. They have a shop . . . a warehouse in every capital in Terra. The owners are a cooperative of several races and classes who were once adventurers themselves. As Corelon is the center of magic and progress, it’s the home of the company. It’s the location of their flagship store; a massive, sprawling, three-story building. As the years passed, it became home to a small branch of the Fleur holding house, a magical communication center, and a charter office.
The warehouse generally is divided into weapons, armor, magical items, and potions. The company divides their weapons of both magical and mundane nature. The armor is separated in the same manner. The magical items are divided into jewelry, accessories, and traveling accoutrements. The potions are separated into arcane and divine based. They commission the best and most skilled creators in Terra to supply their facilities.
Depending upon the city and country The Warehouse is located–Glendar, Morgath, Dorath, and the Free Lands do not host the business–there is also another, specific section. Sometimes there is an artificers’ corner. Sometimes there is an alchemists’ corner. Sometimes there is a secret rogues’ corner. There is even a Warehouse with a writers’ corner.
As the company continues to expand, they are establishing the Warehouse in other, large cities. They will not be as large as the capital ones.
He drew back the bow with graceful ease. Sable eyes sighted along the shaft. He exhaled and released the string. The arrow flew straight and true, finding its mark in the beast’s heart. A small sound of victory slipped from his lips as he trotted over to recover his trophy. With effortless skill, he hoisted the carcass over his shoulders. He slung the bow over the quiver at his hip and began the long journey back to the citadel.
“Impressive, Quent,” the head chef praised as he dropped the carcass onto the prep table. “This will feed the entire citadel for the next day.”
The half-breed inclined his head, dusted off his hands, turned, and headed out of the room. With a soft sigh, he made his way to his quarters. There, he placed his weapons in their designated spot near the door. At that, he grabbed a clean tunic, trousers, and small clothes. He kicked off his boots at the foot of his bed and strode out of the room.
The door to the bathing room clicked softly closed behind him. Several individuals opened their eyes and nodded their acknowledgement.
He nodded in return and stripped off his dirty clothing. At that, he rinsed and scrubbed the dirt and filth of the forest from his strong form. Once rinsed, he sank down into the communal tub, leaned against the edge, and closed his eyes.
A dainty figure sprinted down the street followed by a pair of city guards. Somewhere overhead an excited and rapid tune swept along on the air with them. As the figure darted down a blind alley and the music changed. A tittering giggle followed along with the music.
Abruptly, the two guards skidded to a stop and looked around. The one on the left pointed to a girl balanced precariously on top of a ramshackled house. He scowled and shouted.
The girl lifted her guitar and held it close to her head. She smirked, plucked out a taunting tune, slung the instrument over her shoulder, and leapt into the street behind the building. With a snicker, she turned and slammed into a solid form. She stumbled back two steps and landed hard on her buttocks.
“One of these days, it’s not going to be me standing here after you taunt the wrong guard, girl,” the man stated as he folded his arms over his muscular chest. As he regarded her, he shifted his weight and held out his left hand.
With a sigh and shrug, she pushed herself to stand. She dusted herself off and casually reached into her tunic. She hesitated.
He cleared his throat impatiently, and motioned more insistently. “Don’t toy with me, girl.”
After another moment of hesitation, she bobbled her head and dropped the sizeable pouch into his waiting palm. “There.”
He tested the weight of the contents, not taking his eyes from hers as he did. After a moment, his gaze narrowed.
With a final, frustrated sigh, she took three coins from the small pouch on her hip and slapped them onto his palm beside the bag. “Bastard,” she grumbled.
“Don’t forget it.” He spun on his heels and vanished into the crowd.
She uttered a curse after him, then turned and moved through the crowded streets.
With trembling fingers, the boy picked up the worn bow and fiddle. Despite it’s size, he adjusted it on his shoulder, rested his chin lightly on the end to ensure it was secure while strategically placing his fingers, lifted his left hand, and drew the bow gently over the strings. A haunting chorus of notes drifted out across the room.
A slight smile played at the corners of the boy’s mouth as he pressed ahead. He closed his eyes and let the music consume him. It swirled around him and seemed to fill the whole home. As the melody ended, he lowered the bow and opened his eyes. The blue orbs widened at the figure standing in the doorway. Hurriedly, he returned the instrument to its place and scurried out of the room, trying to slip by the man without disturbing him. He muttered an apology.
A strong hand caught his slender arm and held him firmly. Dark orbs gazed down at him. “Where did you learn to play like that?” the question held a demanding edge.
His eyes blew wide with terror. Frantically he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The man shook him roughly. “Don’t lie to me boy.”
“I’m not, sir,” he squeaked. “I just listened and watched.”
His brows knit together. “She never played anything like that.”
He managed a shrug. “I just play what is in my head.”
He glared down at the boy, unblinking. After several heartbeats, the man released his hold. He nudged the boy toward the opposite side of the room. “You have chores to finish.”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded frantically and scurried out of the house.
She shifted her stance as she watched the others move the goat-skin ball down the field. Her gaze darted about as she moved between the two blazing torches that stood spaced farther apart than the others in a sizeable rectangle, except the two opposite hers.
Her voice carried above the others as she called encouragement to her teammates.
“Kae,” shouted a girl from the other side of the field.
“Yeah,” she replied as she caught the ball, dropped, and kicked it in the direction of the voice, “Kim.”
Most sprinted off after the ball. Only two or three lingered in proximity to her.
A shout, and the ball flew in her direction again. Once more, she caught it, and lobbed it in the direction of her preferred teammate.
Moments later, a shout erupted from the opposite end of the field. She pumped her fist in the air and refocused as the ball zipped toward her face. Her hands flew up reflexively, stopping the momentum. She punted it toward the opposite end.
Another cheer went up from her team at the opposing end.
Just then, a shrill whistle pierced the air.
Kimshira trotted over and thumped the girl soundly on the shoulder. She nodded approvingly. “You have incredible reflexes. Have you thought about joining the scouts?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not of majority age, yet.”
Another sound thump on the shoulder. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Come by my tent tomorrow morning and we’ll talk to the chief about it.”
After a moment of contemplation, she inclined her head slightly. “As you will.”
He lounged comfortably on a lower branch of a sprawling, ancient pin oak tree at the edge of the field. His left foot dangled but was still concealed by the drooping limbs of the tree. Propped carefully against the thick bole leaned his crook. Draped from his belt hung a hand crossbow, a quiver of quarrels on his opposite hip.
His clear blue eyes swept back and forth along the open pasture. He knew and recognized each sheep, the rams and the ewes, and understood their habits and behaviors. A slight smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he watched the youngest ram, barely a year old, challenge he oldest ram in the herd. He pulled his right knee tight against his chest and settled in to watch.
“Krevitz,” called a sing-songy voice from somewhere in the distance.
An uttered curse slipped from his lips as the older ram knocked the younger one senseless.
“Where are you, Krevitz?” the female voice persisted.
He wondered how much trouble he would get in, if he simply ignored his elder sister. At last, with a sigh and a shake of his head, he put both hands firmly on the branch and rolled down. He landed graceful and silent, crouched directly behind her.
She looked this way and that, her left hand drifting to take hold of his shepherd’s crook. With a growl and a sharp word, she called him again.
“I’m right here,” he scolded in her ear.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. With an indignant shriek, she spun and swatted at him.
“What?” he grumbled, knowing full well why she sought him.
Another blow, this one a closed fist against his shoulder. “You know good and well that father expects your chores done before he returns. Don’t you understand? If we’re not all there, father will be cross.”
He shrugged as he snatched his crook from her grasp. “When isn’t father cross? Especially with me. In fact, that seems to be the only time he acknowledges my presence.”
She placed a gentle hand on his arms. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how sad mother is when he treats you like that.”
With a shake of his head, he let the subject drop. It wasn’t worth it for him to argue with her over such trivial matters. He noted his older brother enter the clearing from the opposite side as he fully turned his back and kept pace alongside her.
“Are you certain this is what you want to do?” the woman questioned as her daughter crammed her belongings into her pack.
The younger elf straightened and turned to study her mother. She inclined her head slightly and chose her words carefully. “I understand why you and father chose to come here. I even understand why you encouraged me to study at one of the mage academies. However, I’m grown. Word has come of the state of our homeland. I want to help.”
Her mother placed her hands on slender shoulders, squared the younger woman, and wrapped her in firm embrace. “Your father would be so proud of you. Your skills are impressive and the new king would be more than fortunate to have you at his side.”
For a moment, her gaze dropped to the floor between them. “I certainly hope I can prove you right.”
The woman patted her daughter’s cheek. “Off you go, now. I know you can travel far, but even your significant skills cannot take you across the ocean unaided.”
She bobbled her head, took a step back, and made a simple gesture with her left hand. The world around her shifted from her room in her family home, to an empty alleyway. A slight smile turned up the corners of her mouth. With a deep breath, she stepped out into the bustling streets. She made her way toward the docks. It was easy to secure passage to Karnak.
The voyage was uneventful.
After she disembarked, she made her way to a quiet alley. She took another deep breath and focused on a residence she knew intimately.
The elf woman yelped and jumped back several steps. After an uttered curse, she flung her arms around the younger elf woman. “Blessed Ardole, it’s good to see you.” She gave her a playful slap on the arm. “Your skills have clearly improved, Silestria.”
She inclined her head and grinned. “I couldn’t help myself, Drusilla.”
“Good,” she replied with a sly smile, “then you’ll fit in perfectly in his court.”
Silestria’s brow furrowed as she took in her friend’s words. “Whose court?”
Wild black-brown hair fluttered in the wind as his fists clenched and unclenched on his hips. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart. His young brow furrowed as his chocolate gaze swept from the ancient man to the buildings and grounds around them. He glanced over his shoulder to see the receding backs of his parents.
A firm hand on his young shoulder drew his attention back to the man before him. “Come, boy,” he instructed. “Let’s . . .”
“Kaine,” he interrupted. “My name is Kaine.”
The ancient man chuckled and smiled, “Come, Kaine. Let’s get you settled into your new room. The evening meal is still a few hours away. I’ll have Kou show you around. He’s about your age.”
He offered a sharp nod. Then, his nose wrinkled as his gaze fell on a dark-haired girl sparring with a smaller boy. “A girl?”
“You don’t care for the fairer sex?” Ryohei chuckled softly. “That’s perfectly natural.” A boy slightly smaller than him hustled over. “Kou, this is Kaine. Would you show him around?”
The other boy pressed his right fist against his left palm and bowed, from the waist “Yes, Master.” He turned to Kaine, picked up the small sack on the floor beside him, and hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “this way.”
At that, the two started off across the plain toward the two-story building.
A soft sigh slipped from the ancient man as he watched the pair. He shook his head and turned his attention to the bamboo building behind him.
“How long have you lived here?” Kaine asked.
Kou shrugged and bobbled his head. “I just came a few months ago.”
Kaine scowled. “Did your parents not want you either?”
“Of course they wanted me,” Kou replied indignantly. “They want me to become a strong warrior. After I master Kenchido, I’m to join the imperial military academy.”
“Oh.” At that, he fell silent and followed Kou around the rest of the grounds.
The evening meal was a quiet and simple affair. White rice and steamed vegetables. Everyone helped clean up and wash the dishes.
More tired than he thought possible, Kaine collapsed onto his pallet. The black nothingness of exhaustion swallowed him up.
Her gaze narrowed as she adjusted her grip on the spear shaft. With a soft growl, she charged her opponent. A slight smile tuned up the corners of her mouth as he moved to strike. She uttered a word and a ball of light exploded in front of him. Not slowing, she dropped to one knee, her lead leg extending out in front, and leaned back parallel to the ground.
His strike swished harmlessly overhead.
Using her knee, she popped back up behind him. The spear tip pressed firmly against his ribs. “You are beaten,” she declared.
Pressure against her left thigh. “Not quite, firefly.”
She stared sullenly at the practice blade and uttered a curse.
He chuckled and patted her shoulder. “That was a clever move, firefly. Were I anyone else, you would have had me.”
“But you weren’t anyone else,” she stated.
He flashed a wry grin at her. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to train harder. Think of more clever ways to use your magic and fighting techniques together.”
Her gaze flicked over his features. A fierceness danced behind her dark orbs.
“Come, firefly,” he coaxed as he draped an arm over her shoulder. “It’s time for you to get ready for the evening meal. Your mother will have my head on a pike outside the front gate if you aren’t presentable in half a candlemark.”
She threw her hands in the air in surrender and uttered another curse.
“You’d better not use that language around your mother,” he scolded. “She’ll forbid me to train you and blame me for your poor manners.” He took her spear and urged her along with the butt end. “Go!”
Hundreds of tiny braids bounced off her slender shoulders as she fidgeted under the attention of the women dressing her. The gown restricted her movements and confined her gestures.
“That’s enough, Skyden,” snapped a strong feminine voice from the doorway. “No daughter of mine will be seen at a state dinner dressed in anything less than the finest silks and brocades.”
“Then let us be thankful that this will be my last state dinner,” she shot back.
“What?”
She shoved aside the two closest women and snatched up a scroll case from her desk. With a defiant smile, she thrust it at the woman.
The older woman grabbed it up and skimmed the parchment. Her eyes widened. Face blanched and cheeks flushed. Her hands trembled as they fell to her sides. “Harland,” she hissed, spun on her heels, and was gone.
“Enough,” Skyden demanded, as the women moved to finish their work. “There’s nothing more to be done for me now.” She started down the corridor to the great dining hall where her family and a handful of guests awaited. “Apologies,” she offered, with her best curtsy.
One of the younger women giggled.
The woman, clearly her mother, slapped her arm with her fan. “It’s not polite to laugh at those who were born different from you.”
“But . . . her arm,” the girl protested.
Skyden fixed her with a withering gaze, and the girl shrank back. A wry smile turned up the corners of her lips as she took her seat to her mother’s right.
“You look lovely, firefly,” her father murmured, from his place at the head of the table. “Doesn’t she, Harland?”
The warmage seated across the table from her mother flashed a wide smile. “Radiant.”
Her mother huffed at the man.
“Why, Etheria, my beloved,” he gasped. “Whatever is the matter?”
She noticed the parchment in her mother’s lap and glanced to Harland.
He met her gaze, studied her dark orbs, and stifled a snort.
“Brother?”
Harland waved his napkin in front of his face. “Apologies, brother. I must have breathed in some of my wine.”
“Later, my beloved,” Etheria hissed.
At that, he let the matter drop and the meal commenced.
She sat in a meditative pose: soles of her feet pressed together, backs of her hands resting lightly on her knees with a muladhara mudras held in intense focus, eyes closed, back straight and tall, and breathing slow and steady. “La-a-a-a-am,” she chanted.
Behind her, a figure swept in from the doorway.
Quicker than the assailant could follow, she was on her feet, standing directly in front of him, left palm resting lightly against his naked chest. As her eyes flew open, a flame burst forth, launching him into the air.
With skilled grace, he flipped midair and landed in a crouched defensive position. “Well done, firelily,” the man praised as he straightened to approach her. “But what are you doing here, by yourself? Instead of with the others your age celebrating Warna?”
She folded her arms over her chest, shifted her weight to her back foot, and regarded him with a slight scowl. “So I can have one of the boys who snuck a little too much hashish or alcohol paw at me? Or perhaps so I can have one of the older girls look down her nose at me?”
A gentle, knowing smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Would it make you feel better if I told you it’s all because they’re jealous of your gifts, ibna,” he offered. “And one day, when I’m gone, you will be the one to take over for me. You will teach the younglings the way of the flames.”
She heaved sigh and shook her head. “I didn’t think that was something you were able to decide on your own.”
He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “The shaman and I have spoke about this often and at length. There is no one better than you.”
After several moments of silence, she relaxed and inclined her head slightly. “I’m honored.”
“Go, Hasna,” he said with a gentle nudge, “enjoy yourself. Just remember that they are still foolish children. It may sting, but it will pass. Yours is the heart of a true pyromancer, unlike most in our tribe.”
She hesitated for another minute. Then, she left the room and started down the corridor toward the music and clamor. She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin as she entered and those closest to the door turned to watch her. Slowly, her gaze swept over the crowded space. With a deep breath, she plunged into the press. Caught up in the music, she danced with those around her.
A shout of delight erupted as powders of a myriad colors filled the air. They showered all in proximity with a fine dusting of pinks, blues, greens, and yellows. The noise reached a deafening cacophony. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders, slammed his mouth against hers, and kissed her breathless.
Her eyes widened with rage. Realization hit her and she smiled, closed her eyes, and leaned into it, wrapping her arms around his neck. As he disentangled from her, she glanced over his shoulder to see a figure in the corner, casually leaning against the wall, smiling broadly at her. Hasna inclined her head and then returned her full attention to the youth still in her arms.
The World of Terra 