The Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop is a weekly event in which writers are invited to share eight sentences from one of their works for other writers, readers and random bloggers to read, critique and comment on. Visit their site by clicking on the button below for a list of other participating writers and share the love!
‘Patience,’ he thought, watching the doorkeeper work his keys in the impressive lock of Southgate. ‘Sheul, O my Father, give me patience. If not enough to get me through this life, at least enough to get me out of Xheoth without disgracing the name I carry.’
“Fire in the sky, they tell me,” grunted the doorkeeper.
Meoraq did not reply. Doorkeepers were born of the warrior’s caste, like watchmen and the slightly higher-ranked sentries and, for that matter, butchers and smiths and fleshers and even the lowly handlers whose job it was to stand watch in the kitchens and see that no man took up the bladed weapon in defiance of Sheul’s law, but instead used only those poor tools built for them. Yes, this man had been born in God’s favor, and Meoraq supposed they must have at one time stood some of the same training, but he was not a warrior, he was not a brother, and he was not a friend.
‘I am in a truly piss-licking mood tonight,’ Meoraq thought in a faintly wondering way.