Category: Fantasy

Scorched

It had been a week since Grims and I had sealed ourselves into the storm shelter. Fortunately for us Grims was a bit of a prepper. There had been enough food stored in there that we didn’t starve, although the composting toilet left much to be desired. In fact, as soon as Grims said we could check the surface I carried that thing out and dumped it. I didn’t even care what was waiting out there.

Now that essential task was complete, we had to figure out what to do next. If I didn’t know for a fact that we had been stuck in a hole for the past seven days, I wouldn’t have known where we were. The house was gone, not even charcoal left to mark where it had stood. The air was thick and gray with stale smoke, gusts of wind lifting dust devils of choking ash from the unrecognizable ground. Grims’ orchards were nothing but twisted stumps, stark against the smudged sunlight weakly fading through the smoky cover.

I coughed and covered my nose with my now smelly t-shirt. Grims grunted in displeasure at my exposed midriff, but I didn’t see the point. From the looks of things no one was going to be around to see it. I wondered how many of the neighboring farmers had made it to shelter in time. Maybe they were better off if they hadn’t. On the bright side, there wasn’t anything left for the beasts to come back for. We’d die from starvation instead of fire. Or maybe from suffocation; the inside of my shirt was as bad as the air outside.

Book Teaser: The Mer

   Marinus and his companion turned and dove into the ocean, waves having piled up around us against the sloping sand. Our bubbles kept pace with them, seemingly drawn by invisible tethers emanating from the merman’s outstretched hands. I tried to look around as we were drawn into the deep water, but the rushing water flowing past me around the edge of the bubble so disoriented my senses that I had to close my eyes to conquer the bile rising in my throat.

   We slowed and excited voices reached me through the liquid shell surrounding me. I opened my eyes to find myself in the midst of a crowd of staring swimmers. Eyes the color of the depths of the sea in scaled faces sharing the bright hues of a coral reef examined every part of us. The voices spoke in a strange language, reminding me strongly of whale song I had heard on Earth. I listened, fascinated, as Marinus responded in the same language, his own voice no longer the roaring of surf, but overpowering the others the way a lion’s roar would drown out the mews of his cubs. The crowd quieted and drew back but continued to follow, attracting more swimmers the farther we went.

   With our speed slowed I was finally able to look around me. Mer was one of the most mesmerizing places I had ever seen. Houses seemingly grew from living coral, pockets across their surfaces filled with small fish and sea creatures that darted about with abandon. Wide thoroughfares of deep sand ran between them. Here and there floated odd water sleds of what appeared to be some exotic leather stiffened with whalebone, harnessed behind huge fish that despite fins and gills reminded me incongruously of cattle.

   The merpeople themselves were nothing like Earth stories had painted them. The men were large and fierce, heavy fins protruding from their forearms and upper backs. Many of them bore scars that broke the sleek lines of their bodies. All carried spears strapped to their shoulders, connected to leather cords wrapped multiple times around their waists. The women were smaller, slimmer, and their fins streamed behind them like rippling trains, but their teeth were as sharp as those of the men and their fingers were tipped with sharp spikes. I was surrounded by colors brighter than I had imagined possible enhanced by the rippling sunlight making its way below the waves.

Book Teaser: Dwarves and Elves

   “Look there,” Dagda pointed out suddenly in a hushed voice. “Be quiet and move slowly; try not to draw eyes to us. With any luck we’ll slip by unnoticed.” I followed his gaze to see a pair of dwarves supervising a small group of what I could only assume were elves. Another pang of disappointment rewarded my observation. These elves were slender with the pointed ears I expected, but they were far from beautiful. Barely taller than the dwarves, they were unkempt, with tangled hair flying wildly around their ears. They fawned at the feet of the dwarves, who appeared to be giving orders with the aid of blunt spears used to poke and prod any unfortunate elf who did not please them. The elves were sullen as they tended the trees in the orchard under the scowls of their masters.

   As we passed uncomfortably close to a small group working near the road, one elf who was heavily laden with what appeared to be a bucket of dung tripped over a root and landed hard on his belly with his face in the bucket. The dwarves roared with laughter, insults indistinctly heard even at our distance, and prodded the poor fellow mercilessly until he rose to his feet. One even thumped the unfortunate creature over the head with a spear point, producing a yelp of outraged pain. A scowl covered the elf’s face along with globs of manure and a trickle of blood from his mouth where he apparently had bitten his tongue, and without warning he dumped the entire contents of the bucket over the head of the closest dwarf. The dwarf, stumbling about yanking on the bucket now stuck on his head, howled with rage, and other elves ran to the support of their fellow laborer, gabbling angrily. We tiptoed by, slowly moving from tree to tree just off the road to try to escape notice.

Book Teaser: In the Giant’s Hall

My breath caught in my chest. Was it possible he had heard my silent scream? My fear hadn’t lessened, but somehow my need directed it outward. Dagda had said to use my feelings rather than letting them control me. I kept my eyes on the Eimlach and begged wordlessly. He didn’t move, but shreds of music began to separate the gray.

   I turned my attention inward, listening with every fiber of my being. The Eimlach’s eyes bored into mine, the sneering laughter of the vampyr fading under the swelling, unifying song in my mind. I didn’t realize I had begun to sing, words that I did not understand, until my hands began to tingle. I lifted them in front of me and watched as the notes shaped a great sword, unsheathed and deadly sharp.  Movement around the room pulled at the periphery of my vision.  The giants moved, slowly stirred by the battle song.

   My eyes returned to the Eimlach, whose lips moved with the words of the song though little sound accompanied them. I turned slowly to find Dagda and Balhon watching.  Balhon lowered his head and a whirl of red light streamed from his horn, wrapping itself around me and the Eimlach, seeking the Eimlach’s warriors. I could feel the heat of its intent; fight, it said, fight for your lives! Dagda stood, sword drawn and ready, seemingly as tall and mighty as the Eimlach himself. His smile to me glittered through the retreating gray and the swirling notes in my mind.

   I whirled back as the Eimlach’s voice boomed suddenly behind me, his deep bass joining my girlish tones as he heaved himself to his feet, face still gray but with color quickly returning. A sword twice the size of mine formed in his hands, and the other giants in the hall stood and joined the song. Dagda shouted the windows open and both the song and Balhon’s red-hot light flowed into the city.

Book Teaser: The Innkeeper

   Dagda led us to an inn near the edge of town. The door, large enough to accommodate the tallest of giants, was made of solid oak planks, heavy and impenetrable. Fortunately for us, a smaller door was set into it, still solid and heavy, but with a latch that was accessible to smaller beings like humans or Tuatha De. Dagda lifted the latch and opened the door to a huge room filled with light and people.

   A centaur, his human torso wearing a linen shirt and an apron that hung to his knees, approached us as we entered. “Welcome, Your Majesty!” he exclaimed, rubbing his palms on his apron before extending his hand. Dagda grasped it with a warm smile, and the centaur pulled him in to slap his back with the other hand, towering head and shoulders over him. “It’s good to see you again, my friend!” They turned to us. “Balhon you know, of course. Kizi is the one sticking her tongue out at you from beneath his mane. And this is Selene. Selene, meet Khirrafi, the best innkeeper in all Fae.”

   “Nice to meet you, Khirrafi,” I acknowledged, examining the centaur with interest. In all the fairy tales and legends, creatures like centaurs and giants were spoken of as fierce, terrifying warriors. I had never considered them as people, with families, homes, and occupations. Yet there was Khirrafi, his dark skin and long straight hair looking not at all incongruously civilized. A leather thong tied his hair into a braid down his back, and grease stains adorned his apron.

   He smiled broadly at me and bowed slightly. “The pleasure is mine, Chosen,” he responded. “Whatever you need is at your disposal with my compliments.” He turned to Dagda and Balhon with a similar bow. “You as well, my friends.” Kizi twittered, an indignant note in her voice as she propped tiny hands on her hips in midair. Khirrafi laughed suddenly, a guffaw that startled me and drew momentary attention from half the occupants of the room. “As for you, mischievous sprite, mind your manners and refrain from annoying my cooks and there will be a sweet treat for you!”

Dark Star

Her sisters already framed the night sky, swirling gently into the place reserved for them by Zeus. Only she remained, already touched with the stardust of the light she would become. The light she had not chosen.

The grasses crushed softly under her bare feet as she walked slowly across her mother’s pasture, their scent drawing agonized tears to her eyes. If she joined the others in the globe of the heavens as commanded, would she ever smell the sweet scent of life again? How could this be protection? Why could not Orion be cursed to travel the heavens, far from his beloved forests and the game he sought?

Her sons were so young, only millennia yet gifted to them. Especially Lycus, so impetuous and headstrong. He was his mother’s son, she thought, a quick smile chasing stardust from her face. He would take what he wanted, she knew, but without her guidance he would never escape the consequences. After all, had she not learned from her father’s fate? Some battles could not be won by force, only by wit and cunning.

Yet even she seemed unable to win this one. Celaeno, the daughter of the mightiest Titan ever to walk the earth, would be banished forever, while her tormenter remained free to choose his own fate. The stardust thickened and she clenched transforming fists around the folds of her now radiant gown. “I will never be a star!” hung voiceless in the windless night as a seventh light joined the circle above.

Symphony

He flexed his fingers and shifted nervously. He stroked the keys, drawing a deep, ragged breath as he moved his hands into position. The first notes were soft, tentative, sending dim blue tendrils into the darkness of the sound chamber.

His pulse quickened, notes grew stronger. The tendrils thickened and swirled, the darkness within their coils taking shape. He closed his eyes, desperate to focus on the music, but that coalescing shape tugged at his consciousness.

A face emerged, sound pulsing across delicate features. His chest rose and fell with increasing intensity, and first one note then another fell flat. A discordant clang echoed around the room as the song ended. A set of wave blue eyes opened, lighting the chamber with their residual glow. Symphony awoke.

Book Teaser: Songs of Fae

Ballad of the Door, excerpt

“With ancient feuds forgotten, and minds with ballads filled,

Two worlds long torn asunder will find the door again.

Pure of heart and human, a Chosen warrior comes,

The barrier shall be broken, two worlds unite as one.”

Sterntaler Fairy Tale Child Fairy Tales Human Girl

Irvu’s Lullaby, excerpt

Born of power, born of flame,

The one has come her throne to claim

The child of light our hearts will tame,

Daughter of earth with heaven’s name.

Seasons

She stretched her nearly thawed wings to brush the trees on either side. How much fun dancing among the branches had been, their bare bones crackling beneath the ice of her feathers. How delighted she had been by the cooling that had silenced the world and dressed her in crystal lace. The touch of her dancing feet had adorned every surface with a shining imitation of her, and the flakes that fell from her fluttering wings left white drifts into which she plunged again and again in gleeful abandon.

How strange when warmth began to creep upon her, first little more than an odd spark within her belly but quickly growing to melt her lacy garment thread by thread. The warm drops that fell from her exploded with color where they landed, transforming her playground into an artist’s palette. Silence slowly filled with song and chatter. The wind that had played with her became drunk on her increasing warmth and ripped the melting ice from her wings to fling it to the ground where it sprouted green in soggy puddles.

Soon enough she understood. The warmth had tired her, left her sitting or walking quietly among the blossoms, until her body could no longer contain it. Her child, this flame that had transformed her, hovered near her with the uncertainty of infancy. Wings still unformed, she blinked at the world from the familiarity of her mother’s palms. Her mother fed the last of her strength into the child, who sprouted wings of flame and hurtled skyward with all the enthusiasm of youth. Her fire would grow until the world reflected it’s brilliance, then cool in the last fling of youth before the birth of her own spring.

Book Teaser: Chosen – The Vampyr

At first glance the figures gliding down through the trees seemed non-threatening, almost human. They wore leather jackets that hung low and had ragged holes worn in elbows and tail. As their feet touched the ground, my skin began to crawl. Three pairs of red eyes stared out of bloodless faces. One of them focused its gaze upon me, a smile snaking across its face to reveal the tips of sharp yellow teeth. His head slowly tilted to one side then the other as he moved with sinuous grace in a semi-circle around me. A finger tipped with a long, cracked nail traced a line up my arm, setting my hairs on end and sending a shudder through my entire frame. The finger traced its way around the back of my neck, and I could feel its breath in my hair, its scent oddly metallic, but I could not will my feet to move away.

   “Enough!” Dagda’s voice cut through the fog beginning to fill my mind, carrying a sharp anger I would never have associated with the gentle Dagda of Earth legend. The creature sucked in a breath and stepped away, turning attention to him.

   “Your Majesty,” he hissed, making the words an insult rather than an honor. He bowed low, sweeping an arm wide as greasy tendrils of hair trailed across the grass. I shrank in disgust to the protection of Balhon’s great side as I realized that everywhere a part of the creature’s body touched the grass turned brown and yellow, as if the land itself sickened upon contact with him.

   “What brings you to Tylwyth, Grigore?” Dagda demanded, his voice icy. “This valley is far from Upir, and I don’t recall granting you safe passage.”

   “Dracul rages against your enforced borders,” the creature sneered. “We starve in the dead lands; we need blood.”

   “You are provided with blood in plenty,” Dagda responded coldly. “Live game is driven through your borders daily upon which your people sate themselves with disgusting abandon.”

   “Animal blood!” Grigore spat. He eyed me with his tongue caressing the fangs revealed in his sudden feral grin. “What kind of life can be eked from blood with so little power? Dracul craves the blood of intelligent beings.”