high fantasy – Joan Spilman

Flight, Chapter Seventy Eight

The team reared and suddenly the wagon was careening wildly, dangerously, down the street.

Elymas had sent the poison in a silver chalice on a silver tray.

The murders had been simple. He’d added ten drops to the good and the Warrior King, invincible in battle, had passed.

She glanced at the statue that had consumed flesh of her flesh and knew she’d earned her reward.

Rizla flew in an indigo cloud and rejoiced at the gift of flight. Flight was the gift she cherished.

Suga stalled by kissing the top of her head. Rizla didn’t approve of his outside friendships.He wanted Gustie to live.

A feral nature lucked beneath her beautiful face, a twisted spirit clothed in magnificent skin.

With care, Quinn had painted “Flight” on his refurbished boat.

Quinn wasn’t destined to live in a kingly palace, but he could smell rain.

“Go now,” said the voice, “Before it fully wakes.”