Storm lives alone, shunned like all witches for her gift of prophesy. She can't hide her gift: Every augury comes with a compulsion to tell the person their future. Storm has now foreseen the destruction of Alokai temple, as well as the priestesses who burn witches. How can Storm tell them their fate without revealing her true nature? Can she also escape the doom of Alokai? This story is part of the Baker's Dozen challenge. Includes the bonus story, "The Oracle of Seattle." This story is part of the Baker's Dozen challenge. Leah Cutter's first three novels ("Paper Mage," "Caves of Buda," and "The Jaguar and the Wolf") are all historic fantasies, set in diverse periods of time, such as Tang dynasty China, WWII Budapest, and the Viking era. Her recent novels, ("Clockwork Kingdom," "Zydeco Queen and the Creole Fairy Courts," and "The Raven and the Dancing Tiger") are all contemporary fantasies, and set on the Oregon coast, in rural Louisiana, and around the city of Seattle, respectively. Her short fiction includes fantasy, mystery, science fiction, and horror, and has been published in anthologies, magazines, and on the web. A collection of her recent short fiction is available in "Baker's Dozen." A collection of her mysteries, set in the same world with the same ghost detective, are available in "The Shredded Veil Mysteries."
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|Title of Fantasy eBook: The Doom of Alokai Temple|
|Release Date: 12-12-2011|
|Publisher: (Indie Author)|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||The Doom of Alokai...|
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The Doom of Alokai Temple
The Doom of Alokai Temple
Storm stirred the sand with her cane, smearing the runes and sigils. She didn't deny the future they foretold—she couldn't—but she didn't have the strength to face it just then. Instead, she picked up the long trails of seaweed and flung them into the encroaching waves. The water would purify them, scour them with sand and salt before casting them back onto the land to proclaim another future for those who dared read it.
Painfully, Storm bent down to collect the handful of bright serat shells, purple and luminescent in the fading light, still warm against her palm, the bodies they contained shocked by their death. The serat lived for centuries: to kill them when they were so young was cruel, however, the goddess Brikal had demanded an extravagant sacrifice that night.
Storm now knew why.
Finally satisfied that she'd covered her tracks and no one could divine her work or easily spot the trails of blood, Storm allowed herself a few moments to stare across the water. The moons had yet to rise and clouds blocked the rivers of stars, ominously hiding the sea—if Storm believed in omens, which she did not. Fortunes drawn out of the deaths of small beings, bespelled chalk lines and weeds coaxed from the depths? Yes. Mere physical phenomenon, without the geas of augury? No.
Still, Storm pulled her shawl closer as the night blanked out the ocean, until all she knew of it was the soft splashing of the waves. Even when Ty rose, its red light barely reflected off the water....