Rise of the Archmage by Martyn Stanley

Author:Martyn Stanley [Stanley, Martyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Martyn Stanley
Published: 2016-03-26T23:00:00+00:00

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She gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, her hand reaching straight to her chest. Her fingers pressed onto wool-cloth and a strong heartbeat, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was the most terrifying nightmare yet - though she’d had others. She was soaked in sweat, her brilliant-white hair sticking to her face and clammy skin. She swivelled her legs off the bed and rose, shuffling wearily towards the window. When she unlocked and threw open the shutters she saw the orange glow of the sun about to rise over the horizon. It was a beautiful and mesmerising sight. Ever since she’d left Durth Orza, she’d tried to see every sunrise. It made part of her sad, sad for all those poor souls whose lives she’d taken - who would never see this amazing sight. Resting her palms on the windowsill, she leaned out into the cool night air and allowed her tears to flow. How could any gravian ever forgive her? Part of her thought she would never forgive herself. Partly she never wanted to, for to her, her past seemed unforgivable. After reflecting for a few moments and enjoying the sensation of a chill breeze on her brow - she backed away from the window. Kneeling, she lit a fire in the hearth and poured water from a large urn into the cauldron. She would wash, dress and then go about her duties in the village. Helping others might not have allowed her to forgive, or to forget - but she thought it went some way towards allowing her to atone.

The open shutters flooded the tiny cottage with orange light. The cauldron bubbling away and the fire crackling in the hearth - she pulled the ancient tin bath off its nail on the wall. In truth it hadn’t seen much use. Humans seemed content to reserve bathing for special occasions; though given their lack of hot water, she wasn’t entirely surprised. She wouldn’t fill a bath, as that would take her all day and she had work to do. Instead she used a thick rag to lift the iron cauldron from the fire and placed it next to the tin bath. Then she grabbed a clean wooden mug off the table and put it alongside on the floor. She topped the cauldron up with cold water from the jug to achieve a comfortable temperature and stripped, throwing her wool-cloth dress and undergarments onto the bed. After stepping into the bath she began dipping her rag in the warm water and scrubbing her blue-grey, naked body. She’d have liked to use soap, or something, anything - but she had nothing. After methodically scrubbing herself, she knelt in the murky water and began using the mug to scoop water and pour it onto her hair. Untangling her hair after washing with just water would be a challenge, but she had to command respect. Presentation and cleanliness were as important here, as back in Durth Orza. Finally she scrubbed her face and wrung her brilliant-white hair out into the bathtub.

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