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The Erden Archives: Music of the Masters
The Erden Archives: Music of the Masters
The Erden Archives: Music of the Masters
Ebook29 pages22 minutes

The Erden Archives: Music of the Masters

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The Erden Archives Series #1

Jessica Barnett, a student studying abroad,  finds herself in an impossible situtation.   When a friend betrays her loyalty for profit,  Jessica makes a decision where lives hang in the balance.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherBookBaby
Release dateNov 1, 2016
ISBN9780997700336
The Erden Archives: Music of the Masters

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    The Erden Archives - Whisky Wilson

    Author

    Part One: Jessica

    The last of the lukewarm coffee touches my lips. I glance around and exhale with a smile. This bar is the best. Cigarettes. Bitter beer. High-backed booths. Real wood. I wouldn’t be surprised if some undiscovered author is in the next booth over, writing a fantastic world, full of romance and history. My eyes move to my table, stacked high with books and notes paper, then my chronometer. I realize I’ve been here four hours longer than I planned. K’ist l’amon, as they say in Signonese¹⁴.

    Through pane glass windows, I see another world, full of electric blue neon advertising and hovercars. The Isles are magical, in spite of modernity. In finding a gem like Foster Arms, I know the Old World¹⁴ still lives. This bar had been here long before the Brotherhood of Atar²⁰, before the attack, before the Great Hegemonic Crusade²⁰. Sitting here, I get the sense the bar will remain long after this era passes.

    ‘Nother pot, Jess? the knobby bartender asks me, making his way around three tables. His shirt had matched his receding white hair at the beginning of the day. Now, dots of grease and alcohol soil the front. At least his black trousers hide the mess. He’s the Last Paladin³ of the Forgotten² , I think.

    Pulling myself back to reality, I check my cup. Empty.

    Sure, Kennic. I smile as the grandfather figure turns back to the bar, hobbling to where the freshly brewed coffee waits.

    There are only two patrons, including myself, at this hour. Kennic’s Foster Arms⁰ is the sort of place that hurried people pass over in their fancy hovering cars²³. The ones who wear all manner of technobabble²³ on their brains, looking for their next euphoric hit or their next life-changing deal¹¹. Foster Arms⁴ is the

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