Rotting Aether

By Amanda Barylski

A novella set in the Modern Era of Arellea, Rotting Aether follows graduate student Altemintha Xalsh as she journeys to the province of Abdurehn to study the aether well hidden deep within its forest. While there she stays with Marquis Dariehn Abdurus, a strange young man whose past holds secrets he does not want to acknowledge. He fights to con

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Barylski
• Release date: Mar 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985857801

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

ALTEMINTHA XALSH CRANED her neck to get a good look at the looming towers of Abdurus Manor. Gloomy, isn't it? she asked, voice ringing out, too loud in the unnaturally quiet air. Did this place not have birds? Insects? Even the air was still, not the slightest breeze to make a dent in the humidity.

Never gave it much thought, ma'am, the coachman-- coachman! What was this, the 980s?-- replied, taking down her suitcase before looking at her expectantly.

Mint pulled out her wallet and paused. Passage on the mail coach from Tarinth to Abdurehn was fifty scalens, so the tip should be... oh, what did it matter the exact percentage? He'd done his job. Probably didn't see many tips. She might be his only passenger this month. She dropped a twenty-scalen coin into his palm.

His eyebrows shot up. Thank you kindly, ma'am, he said, swinging back up into his seat. Tipping his hat to her, he flicked the reins, taking his horses around the loop of the cobblestone drive and back out into the scattered town that sprawled out in front of the manor.

And what a town Abdihr was. Cobblestone roads, stone houses with arched wooden frames, all sprawled loosely out before a manor taller than it was wide. Like a picture out of a history book. In fact, the manor house itself probably dated back to just after the province was formed. Mint eyed it. Did it even have electricity? She hadn't seen a cell tower here, though there were telephone poles by regular intervals by the main road into Abdihr.

Well, she had a few minutes. Wouldn't do to invite herself into her host's home fifteen minutes before scheduled to arrive. Her mobile phone, heavier than the papers around it, had slipped to the bottom of her briefcase. Mint dug for it and flipped it open. NO SIGNAL, she read. So much for letting Ers know she'd gotten here safely. Maybe he could have told her when the manor had been built, and if they'd ever had electricity added.

Sighing, Mint turned the phone off and tucked it away. Ers knew where she was headed. He was the one who warned her she might not get signal all the way out in a rural province like Abdurehn. A shame. She hadn't researched the history of the place before coming, counting on his expertise. Maybe the marquis would be able to tell her more than what she'd already heard.

She was still ahead of schedule, but she wasn't going to stand in the intense sunlight and humidity any longer. The drive was long enough that it would take a couple of minutes to make it to the front doors anyway. Mint hefted her bags and started up the walk, a narrow stone path that wound between scraggly, half-dead shrubs and wilting flowers.

She'd spent too long at a desk in the past few years. Lack of moving about in the field had lowered Mint's endurance, and even the few minutes' walk with her bags left her short of breath. Another reason to prefer practical research, she muttered to herself, clutching at a stitch in her side.

No amount of exercise had ever slimmed her figure. It had taken her years to accept it, most of the way through her undergraduate degree, but once she focused less on appearance and more on strength she found she was both stronger and healthier than most would expect a woman of her weight to be. Except when she let herself get out of shape, apparently.

Mint set down her bags and took a moment to catch her breath and get a better look at the massive front door. Crafted out of a reddish hardwood, the centermost panel was carved with what she thought was the Abdurus family crest.

The symbol was odd. Leaves or petals formed the approximate shape of an anatomically correct human heart, surrounded by a ring of thorns. The knocker, crafted out of the same tarnished silver of the doorknob, was a braided twist of vines and leaves. Mint shrugged and knocked hard, one, two, three times.

Pushing up her glasses, she stepped back and waited, counting seconds. A minute passed, then another. Just as she was beginning to wonder if anyone had heard her knock, the door swung inward.

The tan-skinned young man behind it stared at her for a long moment with a blank expression. He was a full-blooded Selken, not something you saw often with how common intermarriage had become. The catlike ears that marked his heritage were covered in a thin layer of rusty fur, lighter than his hair. A tattoo curved around his right temple and over his cheek, almost S-shaped with three dots around the outer edge of each of the two curves.

Mint's eyes dropped to his clothing choice. How old was that style? The undergraduate-- don't call him that out loud, she told herself-- wore a fine white shirt, mostly covered by a bright red cravat and a deeper read waistcoat patterned with silver swirls. The cravat matched his cufflinks, teardrop-shaped stones that caught the light entering the doorway around her. His brown trousers were nearly covered as well, as his black boots came up just past his knees. The buckles looked to be silver, or at least silver in color, as did his waistcoat buttons, though they were clean of tarnish. A silver pendant hung around his neck-- a phoenix, meaning he was either a Lightbearer or liked their symbology.

Perhaps she should introduce herself? It wouldn't do to have them just stare at each other in the doorway. The young man beat her to it. I presume that you are Altemintha Xalsh? he asked, tone flat and eyes looking past her as though reading cue cards over her shoulder. She couldn't place his light accent-- it must be regional, she thought.

That's right! she said, with too much forced brightness. She winced internally and adjusted her tone to a polite interest. And to whom am I speaking? Are you the marquis-- what was his name?-- Dariehn Abdurus? She was pretty sure she was pronouncing it correctly, having practiced beforehand.

That is correct, he said. Blinking, he looked at her bags. I'm terribly sorry for my rudeness. I... wasn't expecting you so soon.

I believe I'm right on time, though. Unless I misread your last letter?

He frowned. What day is today? His eyes glazed over again as she told him. Yes, I see. I apologize again. It seems I... lost track of time.

She hefted her bags. Mind if I come in?

Oh, yes. Would you like me to take one? he asked, stepping back into the hall and holding the door open for her.

A marquis