Coffee House Writers

Top Menu

Main Menu

  • Home
  • Article Categories
    • Creativity
    • Culture
    • Design
    • Family
    • Fashion
    • Fiction
    • Food
    • Environment
    • Health
    • Home
    • Lifestyle
    • Media
    • Memories
    • Music
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Politics
    • Relationships
    • Sports
    • Style
    • Technology
    • Travel
  • About Us
    • Our Story
    • Our Founder
  • Meet Our Admin
    • Chief Editors
    • Editors
    • Poetry Editors
    • Advertising Team
    • Recruiting Team
    • Book Club
  • Testimonials
  • Apply
  • Login

logo

Coffee House Writers

  • Home
  • Article Categories
    • Creativity
    • Culture
    • Design
    • Family
    • Fashion
    • Fiction
    • Food
    • Environment
    • Health
    • Home
    • Lifestyle
    • Media
    • Memories
    • Music
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Politics
    • Relationships
    • Sports
    • Style
    • Technology
    • Travel
  • About Us
    • Our Story
    • Our Founder
  • Meet Our Admin
    • Chief Editors
    • Editors
    • Poetry Editors
    • Advertising Team
    • Recruiting Team
    • Book Club
  • Testimonials
  • Apply
  • Login
  • The North Wind – Part 6

  • Emily Part II

  • Roaring Pageant Murders: Part Three

  • Part 2: They Came For Munchies

  • How to Self-Edit

  • My Freedom, Mon Amor

  • Arvid, Chapter 2

  • The Untouchable and Invisible World

  • The Mystery of Cash Castle: Part 10

  • Like A Naked Branch

  • The radiance on his face

  • Pillows

  • 5 Benefits of Touch

  • CRESCENT MOONS PART 30

  • Stone Walls

  • 2023: Year Of Dreams

  • Same Day Different Universe – Part 2

  • Monrovia

  • Circle of a Day

  • The Mystery of Cash Castle: Part 9

  • Choices

  • The North Wind – Part 5

  • My Ghost, My Beloved

  • On Days Like These

  • Emily

  • Failure Is A Setback

  • Cycle Of Life

  • Rising

  • Ma Millie-2

  • Mr. Keith’s House – Part III

TravelEntertainmentCreativityRelationshipsFiction
Home›Travel›Cascade Falls – Part Three

Cascade Falls – Part Three

By Xander S. Lee
July 29, 2019
1361
0
Share:
castle, hall, window
Photo by Peter H. | Pixabay.

Part One | Part Two


She sat on the steps that preceded the throne. Night encroached, a darkness imposing despite the fervent glow of lit torches. Her garb spoke of a warrior, with leather greaves and a chestplate made of the same. Steel-tipped boots tapped the marble floor, a measure of impatience in the beat. She tied her locks into a neat tail fastened with a blade held at an angle. A bow and quiver lay at her side.

Slowly she let out a sigh.

“I hold no good fortune to those who make me wait,” she whispered to the empty hall. As if the universe had an answer for her frustration, the hall doors groaned open. In its wake stood two figures, man and woman. They bowed in greeting and walked in synchronized step toward Wierna.

The man had a mess of silver hair, his polychromatic eyes unblinking as he stared ahead. He donned no combat gear and instead sought a simple white tunic embellished in gold trim. A head shorter than he, his partner had long white hair, and her eyes shone a bright blue, so much so that they seemed aglow from a light within. She too appeared dressed down for the occasion and bore a similar assemblage, though the trim was a deepened ruby.

Wierna frowned at the sight of them. “Are we not here to form a war pact?”

The man smiled. “I am Naimirth. This is my soul-born, Urila. We are here on behalf of our people and to tell you that we reject your proposal of an alliance. At the very least, under these trying circumstances.”

His voice poured like honey, sweet and pleasurable to the ear, but the words themselves only poisoned that impression. Wierna glared, nostrils flared ever so slight. She rose. Her fists clenched.

“You mean to tell me you’ve wasted hours to arrive, well into the night and late as is, only to say that you are to die in your cowardice?” said Wierna. Barely a whisper, but inflamed with all her anger. “Where are your spines? Did these bandits collect them, then?”

“These are not your ordinary cadre of pillaging fools, your ladyship,” chimed in Urila. Her voice was small and had litte strength to project further than a few paces. Wierna bent closer to hear. “They are much more than appearances would suggest.”

“If you carry on as is,” continued Naimirth. “Then you will surely die. And your house burned to ash.” He said those last as if they were fact, a prophecy engraved in stone. There was no ill-will in his voice. That as much sent Wierna’s heart into a frenzy.

Her initial rage simmered. “Who are they?”

Urila answered. “A cult, of a kind. A kind whose nest you ought not be kicking. These hangings must end. You must cease your hunt.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then may your soul carry on. Farewell, Lady Wierna of the House of Credence.” At that, they bowed low and left her to her own devices.

 

—-

Eqira journeyed through the dense wood. Her warhorse kept at a steady plod, his head bobbing to and fro. As evening descended and a fog wreathed among the trees, she continued to whistle her tunes.

“Strange environment. Arid flatlands, a forest in the midst of it all, and now a fog? Hmm, yes, must be, Gerder.” She scratched her steed behind the ears. “A rather intricate spell meant to keep this place hidden. Seems my runes allowed me to see the ruse. Should we press on? I don’t see why not, old friend. After all, we are here for a purpose, aren’t we? That madman Eloean breathes down our necks as we speak. Many centuries, much lost to this chase…” Her voice trailed off, lessened by the regret that now held her.

“Worry not. The plan must adapt.”

The further she traveled, the fog thickened, and she led Gerder blind, trusting him to make his own corrections. “Believe in yourself, dear friend,” she muttered near his left ear. After a bit, Gerder slowed his pace and stopped altogether. Eqira wrinkled her nose and raised both brows.

“Curious. There’s a fort up ahead.”

The faintest outline of grey stone pierced through the fog-riddled veil. She licked her forefinger and pressed it against the air, feeling the soft breeze pass through.

“Hardy any soul-breath. Wonder how they were able to conceal themselves with so little power to draw upon, and unwilling as well. Curiosity deepens. Carry on.”

 

—-

Eloean twirled the blade between his fingers. He walked without haste along a bridge made of stardust, sparkling in the forever dark. Bits like falling dirt crumbled from the bridge and fell away until their light snuffed out. Far ahead, a swirling pool awaited his arrival, to cross the Eternal Void and into Cascadia. But the road was long and would take a few days at most.

A cold breathed into him, iced his bones and frosted his every exhale. Those not soul-born felt the chill of the Crossing. He grit his teeth. A detour, then. He veered right and the Void path changed in accordance to his will.

“Be patient, dear Eqira. I am coming.”

TagsWizardCoffee House Writersfictionspellrunecascade fallsmagicshort storycreativitywritingcreative writingcreativefantasy
Previous Article

I’m No Ordinary Girl, Chapter Two, Part ...

Next Article

The Enchanted Press Part 7

0
Shares
  • 0
  • +
  • 0
  • 0
  • 0
  • 0

Xander S. Lee

Xander was born in Massachusetts but grew up in Nebraska. He is an avid gamer, reader, and is currently a Creative Writing & English major at SNHU. He can be rather introverted but easily coaxed out of his shell with promises of chocolate. Give a shout on social media!

Related articles More from author

  • campfire
    CreativityFamilyFictionEntertainmentCulture

    Hobo Willie, Part 2

    November 4, 2019
    By Ainsley Elliott
  • LifestyleEnvironmentHealthCultureMemories

    Failure To Cope

    February 28, 2022
    By Stephanie Wyatt
  • Various pills
    ThrillerCreativityRelationships

    The Great Escape

    December 19, 2022
    By LC Ahl
  • bloody rose
    MemoriesCreativityFamilyHistoryFictionFantasyPoetryMystery

    Secrets

    September 20, 2021
    By Chelsea Wolfe
  • Black iron fence surrounding a section of unmarked graves
    HorrorThrillerCreativityFictionFantasyMystery

    Unmarked Graves

    February 7, 2022
    By Douglas Hoagland
  • Boulder
    EnvironmentLifestyleNonfictionCultureBusinessCreativityMemories

    Sisyphus

    January 24, 2022
    By Lorelei

Leave a reply Cancel reply

You may be interested

  • summer nights with mother and child
    FamilyMemoriesCulture

    Summer Nights

  • Hollow Moon
    LifestyleCultureFantasyCreativityFamilyFictionEntertainment

    Hollow Moon Part 21

  • Legs out car window
    CreativityFamilyRelationshipsHealthLifestyle

    The Good Things

Timeline

  • January 23, 2023

    The North Wind – Part 6

  • January 23, 2023

    Emily Part II

  • January 23, 2023

    Roaring Pageant Murders: Part Three

  • January 23, 2023

    Part 2: They Came For Munchies

  • January 23, 2023

    How to Self-Edit

Latest Comments

  • COFFEE HOUSE WRITERS/POEM, By IVOR STEVEN – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    January 11, 2023
    […]   MORE FROM AUTHOR […]

    On Days Like These

  • Derrick Knight
    on
    January 10, 2023
    A beautiful tribute

    On Days Like These

  • On Days Like These, is up at Coffee House Writers Magerzine – Ivor.Plumber/Poet
    on
    January 9, 2023
    […] Hello dear readers and followers, I now write for “Coffee House Writers” magazine on a ...

    On Days Like These

  • LC Ahl
    on
    January 3, 2023
    I am loving this story! Can’t wait for more

    Mr. Keith’s House – Part III

  • Jill Yodere
    on
    January 2, 2023
    Excellent! A great read!

    A Willing Way

Find us on Facebook

About us

  • coffeehousewriters3@gmail.com

Follow us

© Copyright 2018-2022 Coffee House Writers. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s administrator and owner is strictly prohibited.