The Lamien's Dancer: The Abandoned Labyrinth

By Atra

Pentaworld, continent of Lamien, year 1765.
Pupil 1153 is almost thirteen years old, the minimum age to become a Lamien's dancer. One cold winter afternoon, teacher Asalle takes her to the front door of a labyrinth: inside, she will find her opponent.
It will have to be a fight to the death: the next morning, at dawn, the teacher will come back to get the winner and only one of them will have  to be alive.
Pupil 1153 has only one friend: she is one of the other dancer pupils. And she hopes with all her heart that she will not be her opponent.

"The Abandoned Labyrinth" is the first short story of the series "The Lamien's Dancer", set in the dystopic steampunk universe of "The Pentaworld Cantos" created by Atra.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atra
• Release date: Sep 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9788835893424

Book preview

= The Pentaworld Cantos =

Atra

The Lamien's Dancer:

The Abandoned Labyrinth

The Lamien's Dancer: The Abandoned Labyrinth

This book is part of the series The Pentaworld Cantos.

The stories and novels in this series, although set in the same narrative universe, can be read individually or in any order.

However, it is advisable to read this book before the other ones in The Lamien’s Dancer series.

The Lamien’s Dancer 1: The Abandoned Labyrinth

Digital edition 1.0: September 2020

Copyright ©2020 Marco Atra Pizziol

This work is protected by copyright law.

Any unauthorized duplication, even partial duplication, is prohibited.

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Cover: Below New Belora by Atra, 2020

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - The First Crow

Chapter 2 - Blacker than Darkness

Chapter 3 - Stone Fishes

Chapter 4 - Sunrise underground

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

The First Crow

The year 1765, 2nd Winter’s day on the continent of Lamien.

New Belora, Western Fesden Region (Technophile Front).

= Pupil 1153 =

The mill wagon had been stationary for many sandglasses. Pupil number 1153 of the New Belora Combat Dance Academy was sitting on the ground in the vehicle’s load compartment: she could feel the rough wooden floor under her butterfly legs and the cold metal wall behind her back.

To her right, the door from which she had entered had been sealed for the duration of the trip. There was no window, and the oil lanterns she had seen on entering that small compartment were always off.

Just darkness around her. And cold, reaching down to her bones: the dancers’ uniforms were of very thin cloth, more suitable for summer than winter. She was as white as snow: with that darkness, however, whatever color she had, it would have made no difference.

The cotton tights reached the canvas shoes, with that frost,