Hello Peeps!

Where I’m at

As you’ve probably noticed I’ve only been updating once a week. This is mostly a time thing but also an energy thing. I will start trying to update Tales of the First again this Friday (ie 2nd August) as I have a reasonable amount of buffer. If this proves feasible I will aim to start updating Whisper again at the end of August/beginning September. I’m going to try putting everything in the backend as drafts at the weekend and then publishing on the correct day and see if that helps.

Moving forward

Okay the first part of this is going to seem a little negative. Please don’t take it that way. I’m trying to be realistic.

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They found Denri and Kivit together. Kivit had healed well but he would always have a bad limp now so he had been given the task of recording the harvest as it was loaded onto the cart rather than actually helping in the fields. Denri meanwhile was loading bushels of wheat into the cart and he looked up as they ran towards him.

“Well look at you, apprentice battle mage Kilit!” Denri exclaimed with a warm smile. “Battle red suits you well.”

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High Mage Kadriya must have taken Lilat’s message very seriously because only two days later Vessin rode into Shael accompanied by Kilit, who was wearing a set of red mage robes similar to those Lilat wore on certain occasions except that they were plain without any trim.

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The next year marked the turning of the Octade and even in Shael most lessons were cancelled so the children could celebrate and the adults took time from their work to feast, dance and sing as their celebrated the holiest of festivals, the only one that all eight peoples of the Alait archipelago celebrated, the Arosia – the feast of Deliverance and Arrival.

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A/N: This week’s installment is an interlude. This is the Benari’s story about how they came to live in the Alait Archipelago. If you are curious it’s as told by Lilat to the children of Shael.

When humanity first arose from among the animals they did not yet have the Lawgiver’s wisdom to guide them for the Eight were still engaged in shaping the world. So they wandered many false paths seeking something they didn’t understand. Some fell in with the great spirits of earth, sky and nature who though born of this world are almost as powerful as the Eight themselves. Others began worshipping the ghosts of their dead ancestors – offering them gifts and sacrifice that allowed their material soul to stay in this realm instead of fading into the light.

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“Natlin?” Tamasa said after they told them about the conversation they’d overheard. “She pious and traditional but not a bad woman. She was probably just nervous.”

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“I knew you’d say that,” he said. “So I already cleared it with Kadria.”

He picked up the bowl of stew that Imalia had been eating from prior to the news of her husbands’s death and held it out to her. “And I know that the news has killed your appetite but you need to eat if you are to stand any chance of recovering your magic.”

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She must have dozed off herself because the next thing she knew her father was shaking her awake. Tamasa was standing behind him with two bowls of a rich, spicy stew. Hunks of meat floated in the rich gravy.

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At home they found Imalia lying on a mattress near the hearth swaddled in their winter bedding she was still shivering. Tamasa was kneeling by her and holding a steaming cup of broth to her lips.

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It was early evening Imalia finally finished with her last patient. Tamasa was preparing the evening meal and Mayin was down by the lake watching her husband work on the boat again, so Alidra was playing chase with her friends on the Green when Imalia emerged from the Shrine. Her shoulders were slumped and she was walking even more slowly than the previous day. Alidra broke away from the game and ran to tell Tamasa.