I dabble a little in a lot of things — writing, webcomics, gaming, photography, web design, music, and more. I write code full-time and words in the gaps in between.
Malika barked a derisive laugh. "If by 'grounded' you mean, did it feel more real than the lesser deathless we cut down? Then yes. Yes, it did." She reached up and pointedly rubbed at her shoulder again, even though the ache was barely there. "I don't know what that thing was exactly, but it was definitely different from the rest, and you and I both know it shouldn't have been there."
She looked at Reliath with concern. "So what are we going to do about it? Do you think there are more like it out there? We barely escaped with our lives. I'm not eager to attempt such a thing again. I doubt we'll get as lucky a second time."
Mistress, Morduth spoke up, and Reliath started. Apparently the sword was speaking into both their minds now, while specifically addressing her. Malika hadn't realized the sword had that kind of strength. There's more to consider. Malylech did not have to let us go. In fact, if history is any indicator, it should have crushed us, but it didn't. Why?
For that, Malika had no answer.
Comments (0 so far!)
Inspired by (sequel to):
As was his custom, Orthael watched the life of Trien go about before him while he thought about Mali…By Grace
- Published 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 6 times and rated 0 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?