Short Stories of the Sorcerous Siblings by VA

Author:VA [VA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Feather Publishing
Published: 2019-03-06T23:00:00+00:00

Storm Front

Velyn

Four years before the Mage-Born Bounties

1

Wind whistled through gaps in the old planks that had been haphazardly nailed together. Floorboards creaked underfoot. Shards of moonlight broke through the boarded-up window like knives through chinks in a suit of armor. Cloth rustled as the room’s inhabitants sought warmth or darkness or both. Only one slept soundly, wedged tightly in a corner of the room, wrapped in a wool blanket that was very nearly whole. Having grown up in a noisy, undisciplined orphanage, Velyn had learned to sleep through anything. And while the firm, strong stride of footsteps across the screaming floorboards didn’t wake him, the sharp jab to the ribs did.

“Velyn!” a voice hissed in the near-darkness.

He grumbled and tried to turn over. Another sharp poke in the ribs.

“Velyn!”

He thrashed in protest, lashing out with his legs in hopes of kicking his persistent assailant. He missed and received another jab, this time to his gut with the toe of a boot. He finally yanked the blankets down from over his head to glare up at his rude awakener. “Shove off, sea-scudding oar-stroker!”

“Stow it, ya bottom-dwelling muck sucker.” Dim moonlight revealed a tall, slender youth with short, sand-colored hair, freckles, and a lopsided grin. “They’ll run out of boats to rent if we don’t head out soon.”

Velyn grumbled a dark response as he pawed through the clothing folded and stored beneath his blankets as padding against the hard floor. His friend ignored the sparks in his eyes as well as his muttered death threats as he pulled on rough-spun, short-cut breeches and a loose, cut-sleeve shirt. He ran a hand through his thick, nebulous gray hair before picking up his boots and picking his way around the room’s inhabitants. Though a few nests of blankets and clothing were already empty, the majority still contained sleeping occupants striving for another hour or two of sleep before the day truly began. Velyn could tell by the scant light peering through the boards that daybreak was only an hour away.

The other room off the short hallway revealed just as many ragged bundles of blankets, many still slumbering and shuffling within their nests. The hallway ended in a small common room that was a combination of kitchen, entryway, and sitting room. A few of Velyn’s housemates were already up and shuffling quietly around in the somber, red glow of the kitchen’s hearth fire. The general rule everyone in the house followed was to keep quiet at almost all hours since you never knew who had spent their night working the docks. Velyn crumbled a few tea leaves into a clay mug and set it on a flat board balanced on an overturned barrel. One of the lurking housemates used thick mitts to lift the steaming cauldron from the fire to pour water into Velyn’s mug.

“Thanks, Barol,” Velyn muttered gruffly, his throat still rough from sleep. He sat down on a crate to pull on his boots.

“You thank Barol, but not me,” the gangly youth accused playfully.

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