. . . “A warning,” the young man stated, pointing to each line of runes as he continued. “In both Veerzhun and Zhue-orlzin dialects. The symbols have changed slightly in the last dozen centuries, but it’s still understandable.” His bright, pure blue eyes never ceased moving as they examined every miniscule detail of the sign. “All right, it’s only slightly understandable. It’s clearly a warning to stay away – but it looks as though the writing goes into more detail. I can’t make sense of it.”
Lemit stepped back as the Jenoce turned to look down the path at the black-haired man who stood apart from the small group. “Vozhen, can you make any sense of this?”
The Zhue-orlzin seemed not to have heard him, his bright green eyes narrowed and the dark skin of his forehead furrowed in concentration as he stared up at the towering castle. His gauntleted right hand subconsciously gripped the blunt edge of the massive sword strapped to his back. The metal-plated glove, made up largely of fol-ty and encompassing his entire right arm, ended in a thick leather shoulder pad attached to his sleeveless tunic. Both the extensive gauntlet and the ridiculously large sword were marks of his position as a Zholdun of the Jezhoaldun.
“Can’t any of you feel that?” The broad-shouldered Zhue-orlzin looked rigid and alert, a far cry from his usual carefree manner.
Lemit arched an eyebrow and cast about him, searching for anything out of the ordinary.
“If you mean the immense Power radiating from the structure, then yes,” Zholin answered. “Legend has it that a few of the strongholds of the Old Houses were trapped long ago in a state of limbo between the worlds of Khytowg and our own Ivarun.”
As the Veerzhun spoke, Lemit noticed a massive accumulation of nayrl in the direction of the building and a constant pulse of energy emanating from it. The building suddenly took on a far more surreal and dangerous aura as Lemit stared down the broken and overgrown black stone path.
“Now that doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered to himself. A silence fell between the men and he felt their eyes on him. “Li`neen has a far more attuned ability to detect nayrl than I do,” he stated. “Why would she enter a building practically bathed in the stuff?”
“Perhaps she was curious as to why so much nayrl was collected about the building,” Vozhen supplied as he walked back over to join the trio standing at the gate.
Lemit gave him a look that left no doubt of his opinion on that guess. “Giant, manmade, inanimate objects soaked in nayrl have never boded well for good situations in our experience,” he stated flatly as he drew his gun and cocked off the safety, getting a sharp, quick whine of power from the disyldon in response.
“So you expect to find her in some dire situation involving a crazed Nayrldosh or a colossal monster that was trapped in there a millennia ago.” Zholin made it a statement of fact as he crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow.
The Nanhew did not reply, he merely holstered his weapon and started down the broken path toward the foreboding structure.
“Right.” Zholin exchanged a look with Vozhen as he spoke before turning to follow Lemit. Shrugging, Vozhen took the huge sword from his back and followed, leaving the small Quyd to stare after them in disbelief. . .
And there you have it, combined with the excerpt I posted last week, this makes up the entire opening chapter of my latest project, The Kassul (which is planned to be published in ebook format later this year) . . . Let me know what you think! :)
Hope everyone has a great week! Psalm 7:17
P.S. I hope to eventually have some more concept art up - for this and for Warrior's Fury . . . and I hope to post some more Scripture related stuff soon...