#StoryADay May 12, 2017

Welcome! This month I’m writing a small story each day to try to brainstorm a future full-length novel, a sequel to my current WIP Memories and Magic.
I have been playing around a bit and have tentatively titled the sequel Rulers and Rebellions.

I missed yesterday! I know! I was doing so well. But unfortunately, it was just one of those days where there just weren’t enough hours to get everything done.  Life goes on.

While I have been  using the Fictioal MAYhem prompts, nothing was coming to me for today’s prompt, so I just went with my own muse. I’ll admit the ending is somewhat lacking. It’s rather late so I just wanted to finish it up.

“These people are assisting with our enquiries,” Rikard explained vaguely.

The other woman nodded towards Max and Clara, but eyed them warily from the other side of the table. Clara was once again aware of her much darker skin, and how it made her stand out in Racharan.

“Could we borrow something that belonged to your husband?” Max asked, and she tilted her head, frowning slightly but still not saying anything to them. “It doesn’t have to be anything significant,” he added. “As long as it was his alone.”

She glanced at Rikard, who nodded. She left the room, skirting as far around Max and Clara as she could. A few minutes later, she returned, holding a plain white shirt. She handed it to Max without a sound.

Max moved to pull out his pen there and then, but Clara clamped a hand on his wrist, staying his hand. “Not yet,” she said. Max glanced over at the Guard’s wife and nodded.

Clara and Max excused themselves, and Rikard joined them outside a few minutes later. Max had begun drawing a Rune on the cotton shirt. The ink from is pen spread thickly on the material, but Clara knew it would disappear as soon as the Rune had served its use.

Max pressed his thumb into the Rune and a blue light shot up from the surface of the shirt. As Max and Clara watched, it spread out into a circular shape, leaving a black gaping hole in the air in its wake. They waited to see if anything appeared, and after a while, it did.

An image appeared, and they saw through the soldier’s eyes. He was alive, at least, though what condition he was in, they couldn’t tell. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to see. From the looks of it, the soldier was in a tent. Yellowed canvas surrounded him, with tent poles at regular intervals. A gap in the tent flaps revealed someone on guard, though only the guard’s boots were visible.

“What does that mean?” Rikard asked. He was standing away from them, distancing himself from the magic. He looked faintly ill, but at the same time, curious about what was going on.

“We’ll need to do this a few times,” Max said. “There isn’t anything to identify his location here. But maybe some of the others will be moved somewhere where we can get a glimpse of something more helpful.”

Rikard nodded. “I’ll take you to the other homes. But first, let me go and give Tobias’ wife the good news.”


Published by Emily Wrayburn

She/Her. Writer. Reader. Blogger. Hufflepuff. Theatre nerd.

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