It was October, the month of the Dark Moon Watching. As usual, Kiben Tel’rim brimmed with excitement. Evil’s favored month fascinated him. It was a chance for something to happen…
Category Archives: Short Fantasy
Where the Arrow Halted
Kylas rested his elbows against a steel railing, which ringed the main deck of the Larkspur and prevented tipsy or otherwise clumsy sailors from toppling over the rim of the deck to a laughable, untimely death. Officers of the Cloaked Hive—the specialized militia Kylas served—cared little if one of their worker bees drowned. Stupidity, like weakness, was best uprooted before it could sprout into full-blown incompetence. The officers of the Cloaked Hive installed the railing only to appease inspectors and to protect the company’s public image. Renowned for its ruthlessness and its effectiveness, clients hired the Cloaked Hive to sweep the most dangerous fields clean and leave not a trace of themselves behind. If worker bees met laughable deaths en route to one of those fields, they disgraced the company; tainted its public record as a one-stop solution to scheming aggressors…
House of the Maddened Son
When a second son was born, the D’Nier household grew cold to its heir. Annias was more amicable than his elder brother. Edward closed himself off to the world, locked himself in his bedchamber with charcoal and parchment, and sketched haunting images from beyond the grave. Edward’s attendants recounted what they saw as the guise of demon possession. Lord Rastan D’Nier collected his son’s sickening sketches, tied the boy to a pillar in the ballroom, and set the sketches ablaze. Edward writhed against the ropes that bound him, shouted, and screamed…
Erring Near the Elder Tree
A young Relaunkatheer leapt from the branch of a tree. Fayren ducked beneath his peer’s descending feet and somersaulted over the roots of the tree. The Relaunkatheer landed and laughed. Fayren stood and inspected his scraped limbs…
Caged in Eclipse
The dragons of Vesperus concealed their might. Too often thrill seekers, glory hounds, and treasure hunters paraded into their lairs, wielding steel and stealth. They raided nests, slew brood mothers in their sleep, and emptied hard-earned hoards of all that glittered and shined. They stole away the scales, claws, and teeth of beloved mates, of brood mothers and their protectors, but left the disgraced corpses behind. They speared hatchlings through their shells. They drained yolk from dragon eggs and starved the survivors of their assaults. They pocketed countless vials of yolk for sale, sustenance, and alchemical craft…
Wylock and the Spinal Strand
Wylock awoke with a thought. He shot up from his bedroll and settled on his knees. His eyes darted about the chamber after his misplaced satchel. His jaw and shoulders drooped when he found the satchel at the head of his bedroll. He swiped the satchel from its place and clamped his jaw shut. How could he have forgotten the satchel acted as his pillow the night before?
The dreams distract, Wylock rationalized…
Harmony
Rokesha snuck to the far edge of a cliff. A hundred feet beneath her toes, the unforgiving sea chewed and eroded the hazardous rocks that ringed the shoreline of Greyfeather Reach. The rocks mocked the will of the sea, and the name of the town, but they balanced the elements of Rel and Quera, which protected the once flat shoreline against raiders from Ghesimbari. The Norbayahkatheermor of Ghesimbari reviled a mortal from Greyfeather, who stole and corrupted a daughter of the Mantle. By raising the rocks to block incoming ships, and to balance the elements surrounding the village, Rokesha—the corrupted daughter—bought the village time, and momentarily escaped Ghesimbari’s pursuit…
The Changeling
Crack! Thud! A branch of the apple tree broke. Something hit the ground beneath. Was it the branch? Or was there someone in the tree? The sound woke Lady Rena. The worry pulled her from her bed. She threw off the covers, stumbled to the window, and opened the shutters. She peered into the darkness, but the dim light of the stars could not overcome the shadows of the moonless night. Lady Rena saw nothing and heard nothing more. She closed the shutters and crawled back into bed. She scolded herself for letting her overactive imagination get the best of her, ignored her lingering concerns, and again, she slumbered…
Maiden Souls
A troupe of goblin merchants sat on stone benches that encircled a crackling bonfire. The party totaled six. Each was known to the others by a name that echoed his most prominent feature: Tomcat, Shrill, Rodentia, Snail, Fuzzball, and Badger. They sat together—peering at one another through the flames—reminiscing through boastful tales told of the tricks they had played on maidens unaware, each goblin gaining his turn to speak when a spark sputtered towards him…
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