Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
In one of the very few fortunate occurrences in her entire life, Marian had a Go’En who did not question her request. He simply granted it.
It was even more fortunate now.
In this time of greatness.
Marian read this as what the visions she was seeing in her meditations and bowl readings and colorful dreams were telling her.
It was all coming together.
Her destiny.
So now she was riding swiftly after stopping at a brothel for a rubbing of her back, neck and shoulders and a hot scented bath then taking a nice meal at her leisure in a pub (Ry was also generous with his travel tithe, though Marian preferred to think of it as it actually was: him paying her for her bloody service, something no Go’Ella received).
She needed to be there in the night and the Ancient Ritual Ground was close to Go’Doan, less than a full day’s ride away.
But after she spent the part of the day she’d have to spend waiting for the night if she got there too early (she’d learned that right away), she took the route quickly for the ride was rife with concerns.
This was partly due to the fact it was also close to the edge of The Enchantments, and there were all manner of men who regularly journeyed there for whatever purpose they got in their heads to go.
Over two hundred years, and not a one of them got in.
Men did not learn speedily. In some aspects it took centuries.
Even millennia.
Not to mention there were Zees.
Marian had no squabble with the Zees. She understood them traveling in their bright caravans, keeping themselves to themselves and very much not liking when anyone poked their nose in their business.
The problem was, they were known to set upon travelers. They didn’t tend to harm them, just steal their possessions, including their horses.
And Marian needed her horse to get to the Ritual Grounds and then get back to Go’Doan. Ry could be downright fatherly when his mind was turned from his writings. If he knew Marian had been harassed by Zees, he might demand a G’Tish accompany her.
And that would not do.
She set her sights on her destination, settling the small dagger she had more firmly in her belt.
The pixies were out, their zip and buzz could be seen all through the dark of the trees with a light like a firefly’s, except far less leisurely and they were lit constant. That was, when they were in motion. When they landed on something, their light dulled.
They’d soon be fewer and fewer. They disliked the cold, but more, the trees when they were naked of their leaves. They’d forage for food and go to share with others of their kind. But they would not dash and soar for flying’s sake in abundance as they did in the summer.
And it was growing cold.
The next quake (which she hoped would come sooner, and not be delayed as the last, something that had alarmed her greatly), instead of the light cloak she now wore, she’d need fur robes to keep her warm.
Wodell had a wet chill that seeped into the bones in the autumn and winter (and a good part of the spring, especially up north). Something, as she’d come from the north, she was glad to see the back of when she made the mistake-slash-blessing of leaving behind her cruel mother, her oftentimes vexing profession of a prostitute, and going where many of her ilk went when there was no other choice.
Go’Doan.
It could get cold in the Dome City as well. But not near as cold as the north of Wodell. Not to mention, Ry kept the fire in his Go’Ella’s cell blazing.
Marian rode on, thinking of this and deciding, when she met her destiny, she would be kind to G’Ry, as he had been to her.
And she was nearing. She knew it by her location but also by the quickening.
She’d need no fur robes as she got closer.
No.
And she sensed all would happen soon. After the power of the last quake, and that plaintive cry, it could be nothing else.
She finally reached her destination and her skin felt flush all over to the point it was heated.
And thus, she wasted no time in doing as she’d done the many times before, first divesting herself of the Dellish garments that Ry insisted she wear for her own protection when she left Go’Doan.
She also wasted no time, wearing nothing but her white Go’Ella sheer, in laying herself upon the ground.
She did this on her back with arms over her head and legs spread wide.
Like all the others.
Without the tethers.
Marian smelled the blood. The sweat. Centuries of it permeating the dirt.
But some of it was so very fresh.
She closed her eyes as saliva filled her mouth at sensing the struggle. The cries. The pleadings. The sobs. The eventual despair and capitulation. The prolonged death. Sensing it so strongly, with each passing moment that sensation growing to the point she could hear the cries and see the struggles…