Feran Stormweather is a dark mage. His family has held off the forces of the Army of Radiance for generations. After Feran sacrifices everything he holds dear to keep his people safe he must go into hiding and becomes known as The Man of the Daggers. "Sounds interesting!"
The Cool of the Shadows
eran Stormweather knelt, closed his eyes, and felt rich, damp, soil beneath his fingertips. He inhaled and thought of shadows, the cool shade, and protection from the light. A cool energy surged through him. Light and the heat from it blistered the skin, scorched the earth, blazing across Ardor, not caring what it burned away or who it left as a heap of ash. It was the ever-present danger to the people of The Daggers, the city Feran called home.
He eased his dagger from its sheath with his f...
The Heat of the Day
Before the Stormweathers returned, Norrel was moved into a cell. The walls were made of solid stone and iron bars held him there. But it was well kept, there were no rodents running around, and there was a window to let light into the room. They placed him in the cell next to Sebastian’s. Sebastian snored loudly which Norrel found to be a comfort. It meant the man was alive and resting. That’s all he was hoping for. If they could either escape before Leonis arrived or if Sebastian and he coul...
The Cruelty of the Light
he Keep had a wooden drawbridge to protect against invaders. The structure was as tall as five men standing shoulder upon shoulder and just as wide. Lord Stormweather insisted upon inspecting every board and nail himself. Feran tried to maintain patience as his father ran his hands along the same wooden panel for the tenth time.
“If there is a fault you would have found it by now, father,” Feran called, craning his neck to shout up to the man. Lord Stormweather sat upon a wooden seat, ...
The Death of the Wilton Men
hat in the name of the first moon has happened here?” Feran asked Grubb.
The stout boy rubbed a smear of grease against his breeches and stood up. It appeared as if he were struggling to stand. The boy was smudged with dirt and his eyes darted around as he spoke. Unlike the other boys, he wore no armor and his clothes fit him. He was the closest thing to a man in the whole castle beyond Feran and Lord Stormweather.
“They came in the early dawn, at first light. We had been ...
The Blood of the Battle
Feran Stormweather had not expected the smell. His fingers gripped the arrow loosely. He took a moment to look down at the fletching. It was symmetrical, the white feathers stiff and even like the soldiers ahead of him. He had heard stories of grand battles and heroic deeds but never been a part of them. His father, Dillan, stood three feet away from him. His father, who had slain great creatures, battled men, taken on the greatest of odds. He looked to his father, wanting to ask about the scent of flowe...
The agony of the victory
The fields of flowers were awash with blood. Crimson mixed with the violet and green fields in a grotesque picture that might be the imaginings of an artist’s brush. Bodies were dragged into piles. There were neat mounds of limbs, torsos, and whole bodies piled one atop the other. The sigil of Stormweather Keep was emblazoned on much of the armor but the enemy dead outnumbered the Stormweathers. Feran shuddered at the volume of bodies he had killed. Men who were suffering but still alive found the ...