Training Day
The girls had been sparing for hours and the red sun had baked their sweat into a thick salty crust. Two forces of nature crisscrossing like Quirilian weaver rods.
Charn Exploration Part III
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Again. And make it quick, before I have to fight you myself. “I’d like to see you try,” thought Jadis and exchanged a knowing look with her sister. Gabaridrel was not as angry as he was impatient. He preferred the term efficient and as the captain of the palace guard ran his regiment as such. The man didn’t look half bad either with that biopump bulging out of chest—Gabaridrel was no stranger to conflict. He had been training the twins since their youth and was impressed with their progress, but Charn was not kind to those seeking praise.
The girls had been sparing for hours and the red sun had baked their sweat into a thick salty crust. Two forces of nature crisscrossing like Quirilian weaver rods. They were an even match for one another although differed in combat style. Jadis the Sharp was light on her feet, watching for gaps in the defense then striking with deft precision—Jadith the Blaze, an unrelenting powerhouse. She could take and deliver blow after blow. These girls were tough, a fact Gabaridrel knew all too well. He watched closely as the battle raged on.
White Magic and the Fringe
In those days magic was not as rare, or as persecuted, as in the present, although at the time of this writing I have no conception of the present timeline of your universe.
Charn Exploration Part II
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But she would not be easy to find. Her exit through the city wall had been discreet—Jadis was always discreet. She had been sneaking out of the palace undetected for years, trading contraband with a who’s who of the Empire’s underbelly. Her list of favors ran deep, and her list of rivals deeper still. She could still taste the blood from that bare-knuckle brawl in Barritorei. Left a nice scar too. Jadis was as content as a jitterbee among the Fringe.
In those days magic was not as rare, or as persecuted, as in the present, although at the time of this writing I have no conception of the present timeline of your universe. The Archive might be a useful resource to consult in this matter, but alas, this or that might not exist in your world either. I digress. Various schools of thought existed among the Arts, but the most popular (and safe) was white magic.
The Queen of Charn
She was its head, its heart, its song, a constant rhythm in a sea of progress and promise.
Was anyone else fascinated with the world of Charn mentioned in C.S. Lewis’s The Magician’s Nephew? The exercise below is the beginning of my search for answers.
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Any word of the Traitor? No, my liege, quipped Captain Tibor.
She was not worried—the Queen of Charn did not worry. She was its head, its heart, its song, a constant rhythm in a sea of progress and promise. The kingdom had blossomed under her rule; at least, that's what the Loyalists assured her. Besides her father has been too old and too preoccupied with his pearls and string of lovers to bring the kingdom into its golden age. He didn't feel a thing when she split his throat in the middle of the night. This was, of course, the way of Charn.
Find her.