Once she was off the ship, Akna took a moment to relax, then get her bearings. She could make out the bluff in question in the distance, a silhouette with a single building rising above even the tallest buildings in the city. Getting there should be easy enough.


    There was a maze of piers and quays to get through first. They twisted and turned all over the place, and it was impossible to go in a straight line. Perhaps she should have accepted the guide.


    It was a long trip. With the docks at the south, she had to cross the entire city, and Dorg was a big place. Why had Felit?a left her there? Why had Felit?a even taken her there and let complete strangers have some sort of charge over her? There was probably a good reason, but it bugged her anyway.


    That was another problem with Felit?a. She had a way of taking charge, even when she explicitly said she wasn’t going to. Like she had in Ninifin. She had said Akna was in charge, but most of the decisions had been Felit?a’s. But that wasn’t the infuriating part. If it had been anyone else, Akna would have told her off and not listened to her. But Felit?a’s decisions always made sense at the time. Akna had to go along with them because otherwise, even more people would have probably died. Now they were out of Ninifin, Felit?a really had taken full charge.


    An Isyar stood at the corner of an alley a short distance ahead. With the exception of Jorvan, this was the first Isyar Akna had ever seen outside of Scovese. Her white, sweat-glistened skin was wrinkled with age, her wings drooped behind her back, and she stooped over a cane for support. Like Jorvan’s, her clothes were a single thin piece that hung loose over her thin frame. The Isyar raised her head and for a brief moment, her and Akna’s eyes met. The Isyar’s cracked lips twitched into a smile.


    Akna stood near the entrance to the alley for several minutes, waiting for the crowd to lose interest. When most of the people were gone, she entered the alley and looked around for herself. It was short, with a few barrels against the building walls on either side. A rickety shed stood at the far end, its door swinging wide open, the lock on it broken. The buildings didn’t have side entrances, though each had a window on the second storey. There wasn’t anywhere for the Isyar to hide. However, she could have flown away, either over the buildings or into one of the buildings. Akna didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have wanted a crowd rushing over to her either.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Two men stood at the alley entrance, looking at her. They were burly—not tall, but broad and buff—with the coppery brown skin and round faces of the local Orwinian Eloorin. Each held a dagger.


    The other one had drawn another dagger and rushed at her.


    Her prisoner tried to wrench his arm free, sending pain through Akna’s arm. She raised one leg and drove her foot into the back of his knee, knocking him off balance. She twisted round to bring him into the path of his ally, then swiped her dagger across his neck, letting it dig deep. Then she let go of him. He fell over, knocking his ally aside.


    “His name’s Omer. Omer Ebwood. He’s one of the Dusk Supreme’s top lieutenants. He wants you dead, and if he wants you dead, you’ll die, girl. Maybe not today, but in the end. You can’t get him. He moves too fast, faster than you can see.”


    Another death for her nightmares.


    “I know someone who might be able to help,” Jorvan had told Felit?a while they were making their way out of Ninifin. “My...” He’d struggled with the words. “Sorry, the words do not have good...translations in your language. Mother is closest. My mother is a skilled mentalist. One of the most skilled there is. Maybe she can help you understand your telepathy and find a way past the block. I can go to Isyaria and maybe I can convince her to come back with me. I cannot promise, but maybe.”