Elder Epoch: A Dark Fantasy Epic (Gunmetal Gods Saga Book 3) by Zamil Akhtar

Author:Zamil Akhtar [Akhtar, Zamil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eight Point Press
Published: 2023-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

I awoke. I was not wearing my armor, only a crisp caftan and leather socks. Candlelight throbbed in the corner niches, reflecting off the frescoes on the walls, which showed a shah and his court in a tulip garden. A sandstone pillar stood in the middle of the room, painted in alternating gold and bronze, the colors of Seluqal Alanya.

My body rested upon wool sheets, and a silk-wrapped feather blanket covered me. At my side sat a crystal jug filled with ice water. I poured some into a glass cup and cooled my parched throat.

Someone lay asleep on a floor bed against the far wall. Between us, my complete set of angel armor sat in a pile upon a pillow, along with Black Rose.

I got up and walked to the far wall. An unveiled Ruhi rose from her bed suddenly.

“Where are we?” I asked.

She rubbed her eyes, trailing her fingers across the bloodrunes covering her face. “At the palace in Dorud.”

“I don’t remember coming here.”

“I don’t know how you got here, either. I suppose a jinn carried you.”

Could it have been Kinn? Or an Efreet?

“You look like you’ve had a hard time,” she said.

“You could say that. Did you and Hurran meet with Barkam?”

“Briefly. Barkam isn’t being forthcoming. I could tell he was lying. And more than that, hiding something.”

“Hiding what?”

“Not sure. Some sort of ill intention. He claims to want nothing more than to restore the Seluqals to power in Qandbajar, and yet… it was not what he wanted, not truly. What he really wanted… he buried deep.”

I sat facing Ruhi. Even the carpet was silk. It was like sitting on water.

“I always hated talking to people like that.” I massaged my throbbing forehead. “What’s funny is that I’ve been surrounded by such people my entire life. I’ve been surrounded by what I hate, in layers and layers.”

The chirping of night crickets was my favorite thing about Alanya — far sweeter than Sirm’s shrill cicadas. You knew, by their intensity, how late the evening had gotten. We were in the midst of the night — perhaps the most peaceful of all hours.

“I’ve never asked… but how old are you, Kevah?”

“I’m forty years old. But sometimes, I feel like I’m eighty.”

“And yet you don’t look a breath over twenty.”

“That’s the only thing I enjoy about all this.”

I wanted to ask her about Sadie, but I knew there was no point. She would’ve told me had she learned anything. And my constant pining must’ve been a sad thing, especially when she’d lost friends and family, too.

“Did you learn anything about your family’s whereabouts?” I asked instead.

She took a moment, as if she needed to collect her scattered sorrows. “Three of my cousins were killed. Their father — my uncle — is here in Dorud.” She pressed her forearm against her eyes and sobbed. “When I found him in the camp, he was…” She sucked in a tearful breath. “He was praying to Saint Death. Praying for her to ask Lat to take his soul.

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