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The Sharpening IV (prelude)
The assassin shifted his grip on the hilt, ready to strike, stepped towards the Master. The cowled neck was within reach. His breathing slowed, his mind raced. The crimson figure did not flinch or retreat. It did not move at all. Moment of hesitation: is this creature untouchable? Is it paralyzed with fear? Why does it not react? The Master leered down at the assassin, thrusting that long neck forward. “Decide,” the voice intoned. Before even his eyes could betray him, the assassin whirled his blade in a hissing arc. Its edge devoured the space between, hit something hard, and slid through flesh. But it wasn’t the Master’s neck. Faster than the Chimera himself a crimson arm had shot up in a bar against the Master’s head. The blade jarred against a hidden metal guard, slid along the smooth surface till it slipped past, biting into the soft tissues of a mortal forearm. Immediately there was the twang of wires. Something slammed into the Chimera’s spine, and through hi...
The Heart of Yptah
He passed under the thirteen guarded arches, six of clay and seven of silver, until he reached the golden doors barring the entrance to the Seat of the Sun. There he paused, facing the spears and shields of two-score of Yptah’s most hardened warriors, their faces inscrutable behind helmets scored with the permanent marks of war. He became intensely aware that the only thing between their blades and his skin was thin a summer robe. But the swordbearers were expecting this visitor. The golden portal was opened and he entered. Wordlessly they swung the heavy doors shut behind him. He stood alone in the innermost heart of the palace. It was silent as a cave, and the night air hung hot and heavy in the moonbeams. He ascended the thirty-three colored steps, their subtle spectrum barely visible in the dark. At the top were several chambers, each lavishly furnished, and each utterly devoid of life. If there had been any manservants here before him, as there often were, they were gone now. To...
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