#fictionfriday, number 52

Welcome to #fictionfriday. Each Friday, I’m going to dedicate to something that has to do with novels, short stories, or even brief pieces. I may write some history pieces for the world of Tasguliere, pieces that have emerged since the publication of my first book, or create a whole new story. I also could review or speak in depth about some particularly interesting pieces of writing that are out there. Sit back, read, and enjoy.I suppose this seems to be becoming more of a #fictionsaturday or #fictionsunday lately, but I’m going to stick with #fictionfriday.Today, we continue the journey of Malair.
Malair winced at the tenderness on his hand. It was bright red from where the flames had licked his skin.
“Sir, we should get that looked at.” Dailen’s eyes were still puffy red from crying.
“It’s fine boy. There’s no need to worry. I’ll make sure to get it taken care of.” Malair slowly tried to flex his hand and it barely moved. “Although, perhaps we should get it looked at soon.”
“I found a good place in the town tha’ would do well.” Dailen grabbed Malair’s arm and began dragging him towards the exit of the Great Library.
“We might as well head back to The Drooping Sky to rest. It’s been some number of days since I’ve truly slept.” Malair pushed open the door to the city and squinted in the sunlight.
“Bu’ firs’ we need to care for your hand, sir.” Dailen pushed Malair off to the right outside of the tower.
A massive gust swept through the valley bringing with it a fresh shower of red leaves creating a dazzling display of swimming sunlight.
Dailen pulled Malair towards an apothecary shop called The Red Leaf Mortar. Malair allowed Dailen to lead the way.
A small bell tingled as Dailen pushed the door open.
Sunlight streamed in through the rafters, great beams crossing the ceilings inside. Bunches of herbs, flowers, and leaves hung in bunches from the rafters. Dust drifted lazily in the sunbeams and vines curled around the columns. The shop smelled deeply of the woods. Glass jars lined the shelves filled with a variety of powers, liquids, and substances. In the middle of the shop stood a massive red mortar on a pedestal with a black pestle surrounded with small tables.
“Madame Adlow!” Dailen shouted.
“Dailen, use your inside voice.” Malair admonished him.
“It’s fine, Malair.” A sweet voice echoed damply in the shop.
A thin woman in a simple smock appeared from the back of the shop. She picked jars off of the shelves, plucked some fresh leaves from a couple of plants and plucked some dried herbs. She dropped a number of ingredients in the mortar and began to crush the ingredients with the pestle. She muttered to herself as a thin smoke began to rise from the mortar. She walked over to the side of the shop and pulled open a small drawer and produced three dried red leaves just like the ones found outside.
“Come closer, Malair. The salve is almost ready. Stretch out your hand.”
“Go ‘head sir. She’s real good with the healing stuff.” Dailen dragged Malair to the middle of the shop.
“Dailen…I’m not too su—” Malair was cut short as Madame Adlow grabbed his hand.
“Relax,” Madame Adlow said. She turned his hand over in hers and inspected the burns. “These are not too bad, but we will want to keep them bandaged after I apply the salve.”
She dipped her hand into the mortar where a mist was frothing over the side. Bringing her hand up, the salve formed around her hand and seemed to crawl from her hand to Malair’s.
He shuddered at the sheer coldness of the salve and felt it seeping into his skin. A weird tingling feeling like a thousand needles ran up his arm. Malair felt it run into his head and his world began to fade into darkness.
“Relax, Malair, let it take you.”

That’s it for today’s #fictionfriday! Feel free to leave a comment or your thoughts. Pick up a copy of Plight of the Carnor, J.B. Patricks’ first novel from Amazon in paperback or get the Kindle version and learn even more about Tasguliere!

#fictionfriday, number 53

#fictionfriday, number 51