*Complete* Summer Writing Contest: Sword and Sorcery

[Stanistani]

I approve heartily of your remarks.

I'm trying my hardest to set up contests that help y'all write stuff down and finish it.

Validate my love.

[RevBonestripper]

Nina's light goggles barely penetrated the deep dark water of the lake as she stared down trying to see fish being lured to Dani's line. Only an occasional silver flash indicated there were any fish down there at all. She gave up and sat back in the cockpit of her racing shell, deactivating her goggles as she raised them to her forehead. She reached up and hung her hands on the tiller, an extension of the keel curled up the stern and forward again. Although this little needle-shaped craft was perfectly sound on water, it was made to fly through the air, performing difficult and risky maneuvers at breathtaking speeds. Naming it Sundog, Nina had painted it in brilliant competition colors: rich orange on the prow and the full length of the keel, bright yellow along the sides, and purple over the top of the enclosed hull. The roof section had been removed and placed inside, leaving the interior open to stow light cargo. Currently a single large salmon lay next to their few possessions. Dani straddled the bow, his bare feet planted on submerged stubby fins angled away from the keel at the forward third of the boat. He held a long stick with a string tied to the end of it, waiting for another fish to strike the baited hook.

"Gods, this is so boring!" Nina complained to Dani. "I hate fishing. You already caught one fish that's more than enough for us to eat. Why do we have to keep sitting here waiting for you to catch another stupid fish?"

Dani sighed at her. "There's an inn in that little village we saw, and we can trade one fish to have the other cooked for us, and if we're very lucky, it might even be enough to buy us lodging tonight. Don't you want to eat a properly cooked dinner and sleep in a nice soft bed tonight?"

"I guess."

"You guess?" Dani was about to go on but his line went taut, bending his stick down toward the water. "Oho! It's another big one!" He yanked back on the stick to set the hook then began to pull in the line. He struggled against the fighting fish for several minutes before finally bringing it out of the water. It flopped wildly inside the boat until Dani bashed its head. He stretched it out next to the other one, pleased it was nearly as big. Dani said, "Look at that, two good sized salmon. Now we can go, since you're so bored."

"What's that smell?" Nina asked, wrinkling her nose at a noxious stench fouling the air. "Is that the fish?"

"No. I just thought you farted, but I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Darian, you jerk! That's not me!" Nina grabbed the helm handles and planted her feet on the trim pedals as she willed the boat to rise out of the water.

Dani said, "You asked. I don't know what that stink is. I think it's coming from the lake."

"Well, whatever it is I'm glad we're done here."

Once Sundog was completely clear of the water, Nina steered it toward the little village they had seen before setting down on the lake. The evening sun was low in the sky, about to set over the mountains enclosing the valley. Nina kept the speed low as she skimmed over the dark placid water. Dani leaned forward, resting with his forearms crossed on the long prow of the airboat. Over the past few weeks since they had escaped the sack of Farhur City, the two had become comfortable friends. He was a trained swordsman, armed with an ancestral broadblade of exquisite quality. While he was quite competent with the weapon, his other skills left more to be desired. Nina had just turned journeymage, able to seek her own employment, but her magical knowledge and skills were limited to those needed to construct and pilot these little airjammers. She was nearly helpless in combat situations. Nina came from a family of racers, and Dani from warriors. Traveling together without their families, they depended on each other to survive an increasingly hostile world.

A long dock stretched into the lake from the little village but no boats were tied to it. What few boats they saw were pulled well away from the shoreline and looked to have been there for a long time. The village wasn't abandoned, with friendly people waving at them as they glided toward the inn. Nina parked her boat alongside the empty stable, with the entire population of about a dozen people coming out to see them and their spectacular flying vessel. In this remote settlement, such a sight was certainly very rare to them.

Nina climbed out of the boat and stretched her back and legs while Dani put his socks and boots back on. Nina asked, "Are one of you the innkeeper? We'd like to trade one of these salmon for lodging tonight."

The people seemed astonished at her question, and at Dani who loaded the two big fish in his arms. One of the villagers asked, "Did you get those out of the lake?"

"Yep." Dani smiled proudly.

Nina asked, "Why? Was it wrong to fish in the lake? Are we in trouble for this?"

"Oh, no," The man said, "We're just surprised you survived."

"Survived?" Dani said, "It'll take a much bigger fish than these to take me down."

The villager shook his head. "Just don't go near the lake again. It's too dangerous. Ramas is the innkeeper, and he'll be very happy to trade for your salmon, and the rest of us will be happy to eat some too. It's been a long time since we've had fish." He led them to the inn, which was the single largest structure in town. The rest of the villagers followed them inside.

They were greeted by the smell of fresh bread, simmering stew, and roasted garlic. A skraad wearing only an apron was sweeping dirt from the floor out a side door into the stable. This birdlike creature stood as tall as a man and sported feathers with black vanes on white quills covering his wings and back, with buff colored breast feathers. His head was covered in dense, short filoplumes and his red eyes were framed by dark feathers that formed a beard under his beak. Clawlike three-fingered hands emerged from his wing joints, which were just as capable of rending flesh as handling a broom. His feet sported frightfully large talons that could easily kill a man with a single strike. Fortunately, skraad were well known to be peaceful scavengers who refused to kill anything, even at the risk of their own lives.

The skraad put the broom away behind the counter and spread his wings half open, "Welcome home! Dinner's almost ready!" Then, noticing Dani's load, "Ooh, fish! Please, bring them here." He had Dani set the salmon on the counter. "Mmm, very fresh. You took these from the lake?"

Dani said, "Yes. We hoped to trade one for lodging tonight since we don't have much money."

Nina added, "They were surprised we survived fishing in the lake. What's that about?"

"Oh, you're lucky the stinky menace didn't get you."

Surprised and stifling a laugh, Dani said, "The what?"

Nina snorted a snicker she couldn't suppress.

The skraad confirmed, "The stinky menace. It stinks worse than anything I ever smelled, like soggy death and rotting fish, and it kills people in the lake. It's a stinky menace."

Nina composed herself, "So, I suppose that's a perfectly valid name for it, but it does sound a little silly when you first hear it." She glanced around the room, finding only Dani seemed to agree with her.

"It's not silly at all. People have died and we're terrified of the water. This is a very serious matter." The skraad took up the two salmon, "I'll give these to Lena and have them smoked. Dinner's ready and you're welcome to it. You may stay here tonight, and a couple more days if you like." He walked into the kitchen.

Dani and Nina found seats at an already occupied table. A woman sitting opposite them said, "Welcome to Lahsport, though it's not nice to laugh at our trouble."

Nina said, "We're sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. We're just surprised at the name you gave your lake monster."

Dani said, "You know… I'm a trained swordsman. I'll be glad to slay that monster for you… If there's a reward."

"There is a reward, I don't know how much. It's the money from the poor dead folks the menace has killed. We thought it was best used to pay someone to avenge them. But even the two warriors who came before you were killed by it, not to mention the wizard and his apprentice who lived across the lake. You two are too young to die by this thing. You should just rest here a little while and go on your way."

Dani declared, "I'm not afraid of any beast, no matter how bad it smells. I'm sure me and Nina can kill it for you."

The skraad returned, distributing dishes of food. Once everyone was served he pulled a stool up to the table and joined them. He leered at Dani and Nina, "You can't kill the thing in the lake; it's already dead."

The other people at the table solemnly nodded at this fact.

Dani's bravado was undeterred. "A dead thing can get chopped just as good as a live one. However much or little the reward is, me and Nina need the money and we should do our best to rid Lostport of this terrible monster."

Nina said, "Dani's right, and he's good with his sword, but I'm not sure how useful I can be. Does the monster kill people by dragging them under the water and drowning them?"

The skraad said, "Oh, you'd be lucky if it only drowns you. Usually it'll break your limbs off and bite the bloody stumps, or it'll rip your spine right out of your back, or it'll grab your heart and tear it out through your belly button!"

"What?" Dani was incredulous, "That sounds like a scary campfire story. Are you sure you're not just trying to pull one over on a couple of strangers?"

The woman shook her head, "Oh no… We wouldn't do that to nice young folk like you… But you should be scared. I saw it myself. The innkeeper washed up with a big hole in his belly and his heart was gone."

"The innkeeper?" Nina asked, looking at the skraad, "I thought you were the innkeeper. Your name is Ramas, right? The innkeeper?"

The skraad nodded, "I am Ramas, the innkeeper. I took over after Brennan was killed. I felt I owed it to him after he took such good care of me…"

"Ack," Nina said, "I see. Now tell us more about this monster. When does it attack?"

"Any time after dark."

"Does it ever come out of the water?"

"No."

"Does it only attack near the shore, or in deep water too?"

"It only attacks close to shore, except when it pulls a boat under by its anchor."

Nina mulled this information. "It's not a good swimmer, so it stays on the bottom of the lake, but it can drag a boat underwater by its anchor, so it's very strong and heavy. Probably pretty big too. You say it's undead, so regular bait can't lure it out. You said it killed a wizard and his apprentice. I'd like to visit his house and see if he left any notes about it…"

Dani rolled his head backward, "Oh gods… You're going to make this so boring. Can we at least eat first?"

"Sure. I have to think about this anyway. We need to have a good plan if we're going to catch this stinky menace."
____________________

Only the light from Nina's goggles and the moon intermittently obscured by scudding clouds illuminated the wizard's stone cottage. Dani followed close behind her, wearing his padded leather jacket, his hardwood scabbard strapped to his forearm like a long, narrow shield. He held his father's broadsword ready to strike at anything that might be lurking in the shadows. The cottage sat on the steep bank of the lake and its door was open to the night breeze. Nina noted trails of dried slime and algae running into the house and its several rooms. The entire place reeked of death and rotting fish.

Nina said, "Looks like it does come out of the water."

"Is it in here with us now?" Dani was ready to attack it mercilessly.

"No. This is all dry. It probably hasn't been here since last night. Let's find his study." With only the main room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, there was only one other place they could look. Nina said, "That door probably goes down to a cellar—his laboratory."

"We can get trapped in there if we're not careful."

"Agreed. Let's go in quick and make sure it's safe, then you come back up and guard the door."

"Ack."

They cautiously opened the heavy door and descended into the dank, musty laboratory. The place was small but well stocked, with two walls filled with shelves of books and laboratory equipment occupying the rest. The only place anything could possibly hide in here was under the writing desk or one of the lab tables. They quickly checked these areas and decided it was safe.

Nina said, "So… Go upstairs and yell if you see anything. I'll see what I can find out as quick as I can."

"You bet your ass I'm gonna yell if that thing comes." He tromped up the stairs and stood guard in front of the door, leaving it open in case she called for him.

Getting bored after almost an hour, Dani sat on his haunches. With his thumb through the ring pommel, he idly dug the point of his sword into the floor in front of him, staring through the round holes in the broad blade. Leaves rustled on their branches outside and the wind blew the window shutters open and closed. Occasional sounds of night wildlife came from outside. Dani had become accustomed to these noises and kept his ears open for anything that didn't match them.

Faintly at first, Dani heard a light splashing sound and then a slow soggy splat like mud slapping on stone. Then he smelled the same foul stench as when he pulled in his second fish, except that it was far more intense and getting worse. Dani stood up immediately and whispered down the stairs as loud as he dared, "Nina! It's here! We have to go!"

No response came from the laboratory. Dani concluded she couldn't hear him. He ran down and found her poring over a pile of notes on the desk. He yanked her out of the chair by her arm and dragged her toward the stairs. He whispered, "It's here! We have to go before it comes inside!"

"The notes!"

"No time." Dani dragged her up the stairs and into the main room.

Both of them stood in shock at the thing blocking the front door. It was almost man-shaped, but seemed to be composed of several bodies merged together and wrapped in lake weed, algae and intestines. It flopped on the floor, splattering water and bits of fetid flesh all over the room. One arm broke loose from the disgusting mass, and it grabbed at them, still connected by long slimy strands of muscle and tendons. Nina let out a shrill scream and Dani's stomach churned to vomit. Dani instinctively chopped the arm with his sword. The severed appendage began flopping about like a fish as the rest of the shambling beast creeped closer. Dani shoved Nina into the nearby bedroom and barred the door closed behind them. He broke out the window with his sword and helped her climb out.

Nina ran to her boat with Dani only a short distance behind. She scrambled into the cockpit as he straddled the bow with his feet on the fins. She quickly guided Sundog high in the air, well away from the monster's reach and its awful stench.

Dani caught his breath and turned half around. "What did you find out?"

Looking down at the cottage as they circled high above it, she said, "The notes were a real mess, but from what I could put together, he was working on a cure for zombiism."

"I guess something went wrong."

"Obviously, very wrong."

"Why didn't he just go see Ramas? Skraad can put down undead just by touching them."

Nina said, "And that's exactly what we need to do now. Let's get Ramas out here to put that thing down."
____________________

Back at the inn, Dani and Nina found Ramas sleeping behind the counter. He woke up easily and stood up to see what they wanted.

Dani took him by the shoulder, "Let's go. The menace is in the wizard's cottage."

"But I can't fly," Ramas said. Holding his left hand close to his shoulder, he extended the rest of his wing. Many of the feathers were missing or cut short.

Nina asked, "What happened?"

Dani rushed them both out of the inn. "You can fly with us. Let's hurry before it goes back in the water."

As Dani helped him into her boat, Ramas answered Nina's question, "I broke my wing and Lena set the bone. She had to get the feathers out of the way to bandage it. It's healed now but I have to wait for my feathers to grow back."

Nina drove Sundog into the air and over the lake as soon as her passengers were ready. She said, "You can put down undead just by touching them. Why haven't you taken care of the menace yourself?"

"It only recently came close enough for me to tell it was undead, but if I tried to get it while it was still in the water, I could drown if it grabbed me first. People have been safe just by staying away from the water. We talked about luring it to shore where I could touch it, but no one wanted to be the bait."

Dani said, "I don't blame them. The bait always loses when you go fishing."

Nina said, "The wizard was working on a zombie cure. I think his apprentice might have had the disease. Why didn't he come to you for help?"

"I wasn't here when it happened. I only came here a few months ago when I broke my wing. By then wizard was already killed by the menace."

Nina said, "I think the wizard is part of the menace now. Whatever cure he came up with must have gone horribly wrong."

They reached the opposite shore of the lake and circled the wizard's cottage. They were close enough to smell the monster's lingering stench.

Nina asked, "Ramas, can you detect it in the house?"

"No. I think it went back in the water."

Dani complained, "Great. We missed it. What's our plan now?"

Nina landed Sundog next to the house. "You're pretty good at fishing, Dani…"

"Oh no, I'm not going to be bait for that monstrous abomination!"

Nina said, "You don't have to be bait. We know it comes into the house whether anyone's here or not. Let's set up a trap for it. Once it's caught, Ramas can just go over and touch it. No one has to be in danger at all."

Ramas said, "I think that's a good plan."

"all right," Dani said, "Let's look for some rope, maybe a net, and see what we can come up with."

The three of them began searching the area for items that could be useful in trap construction. With her light goggles, Nina was most successful at spotting things in the dark. She was the first to find a coil of rope and a fishnet on the short dock in front of the cottage. Afraid to get too close to the water, Nina stayed well away from the dock. "Dani, there's some rope and a net right over there on the dock."

"Perfect." Dani trotted down the steep slope to the dock and bent down to pick up the rope. Then he realized he was surrounded on three sides by water that contained a deadly monster. He slowly picked up the rope and net, hoping not to draw attention to himself. He looked up at Nina, her hands covering her mouth in fright. Ramas stood next to her with his mouth agape in a silent scream as he pointed past Dani. Dani turned around and saw the creature heaving its ponderous bulk onto the end of the dock, its slimy wet skin hanging over the bones of multiple corpses fused together in a decomposing mass. One of its gangly long arms snaked toward him and grabbed his ankle. Dani yelped and threw the net at the stinking conglomeration of death. He drew his sword and cut off the rotten hand.

Though not completely trapped in the fishnet, several appendages were ensnared which had the ghoulish creature preoccupied. Breaking through many of the net's thousands of tiny knots, it managed to further entangle itself. Dani knew this wouldn't last long; that net wasn't strong enough to hold the thing. But the rope in his hand was. He dropped the coil and quickly ran the end of the rope through his sword's ring pommel. A moment later he had a figure eight tied and then a simple slipknot. He pulled the loop wide open as he charged at the monster. Dani stabbed his sword deep into the creature's body. The creature responded by wrapping some of its lower limbs around his legs. Ignoring the creature's tight grip on his legs, Dani threw the loop over it and pulled it tight. He yelled back, "Someone grab the rope!"

Nina and Ramas both ran down and grabbed the rope. Nina threw a loop over a dock post while Ramas took up the slack as quickly as he could. Dani struggled in vain to break free of the creature's grasp, but was glad to feel the rope go taut. The stinky menace had finally been caught. Dani yelled, "Ramas! Touch it now! Put it down!"

Ramas let go of the rope and leaped at the creature, wings spread wide as he struck with his talons. As soon as Ramas landed atop the creature it fell limp and lifeless. Dani and Nina celebrated this triumph, but the stinking mass of the menace began rolling off the end of the dock by its own dead weight. Dani scrambled to free his legs from the tangle of rotten bones and sinew. Ramas dug in his talons and flapped his great wings furiously, trying to keep it from falling over. The rotten flesh tore away in his talons and he landed on the dock behind Dani. The decomposing mound slumped into the lake, taking Dani down with it.

Nina and Ramas pulled on the rope with all their strength to keep the thing from dragging Dani completely under water. Dani struggled to keep his head above water as he kicked vigorously to break free from the deadly grip. He could see the rope slipping over the edge of the dock; his friends were doing all they could to help but the thing was just too heavy. Suddenly the rope went loose and Dani gulped as much air as he could before going under.

Looking up at the lake's surface receding away from him, Dani felt a moment of awe at the beauty of the moonlight shining on the water like undulating quicksilver. He continued fiercely kicking and pumping his arms, trying to claw his way back to the surface. It seemed utterly useless as he continued to sink into the deep water and the light from above grew dim. His lungs burned for air and his body betrayed him, exhaling what air he had and sucking in cold water. Dani knew this was the end for him. He had escaped drowning once before, but luck wasn't with him this time.

Above him on the dock, Ramas finally finished tying the rope to Sundog's curved keel. She immediately drove it straight up, pulling the wet corpsey bundle out of the lake and Dani with it. Dangling upside down over the lake, Dani coughed out the water from his lungs and he began breathing again. Unable to withstand the coughing convulsions while inverted, Dani's stomach gave up its contents in a stream of vomit almost as putrid as the noxious slime covering him. Nina gently lowered him to the shore where Ramas helped cut him away from the filthy dead mass.

Breathing heavily as Nina landed near him, Dani was glad to still be alive. "Ye gods…" He coughed. "Thank you for saving me."

Ramas said, "Your clothes are contaminated. We have to burn them."

"What? No. Nina knows a cleaning spell."

Ramas shook his head. "It won't work. We have to burn them. I'll wash you with soap." Ramas asked Nina, "Do you have soap?"

"No, but I'm sure there's some in the cottage. I'll go find it."

Dani said, "I can wash myself."

Ramas said, "No. You're contaminated too. You must be scrubbed by a skraad."

"Fine." Dani waited until Nina was inside the house before getting up to strip off his clothes. "These are all the clothes I own."

Ramas took off his apron. "I have to burn mine too." He picked up Dani's clothes and threw them on top of the dead menace.

Dani shook his head and stepped into the water with Ramas right behind him. "I guess we can find some clothes in the house." Dani asked, "Will we still get paid for this, even though you helped?"

"Yes."

"How much is it?"

"I don't know. Around fifty mo."

"I nearly got killed for only fifty mo? Well, I guess it's a lot more than we had to begin with."

Nina returned and gave them a bar of soap and a coarse wash cloth.

Dani said, "Nina, please don't watch us."

Nina rolled her eyes and looked away until she was sure Dani's back was turned.

Ramas said, "She won't have time to watch while she's gathering firewood to burn the menace and our clothes." He turned to her, "Please gather firewood to burn it. Do you know a fire spell?"

"I know fwsh. It's not much but it'll get a fire started." Nina sighed at the prospect of the work but knew it was necessary to burn the menace as soon as possible.

"Wait a minute." Dani asked, "Are you sure there was only one stinky menace in this lake?"

"I never thought about that. We all assumed there was only one. But if there's another one, we know I can put it down, and you make good bait."

"Gods…" Dani huffed. "I hate fishing."

[AuroraDon]

How many people have entered the contest ?

[RevBonestripper]

So far I'm the only one. It's so very lonely. Please join in. If you've already got a story written that fits the contest specifications, post it on up. Otherwise, get your inspiration on and come up with something completely new (my favorite). Anyway, it's a hundred bucks up for grabs with nothing to lose; we just need four more people to join in. Come on folks, it's time for swingin' swords and slingin' spells!

[Falamh]

First Battle
Julia C. Miller

"Y'may 'ave sung wi' the women before, lad, but until y've bloodied y'r spear, y'r not a man," Damon spoke lightly, nudging the young Prince. His blue eyes twinkled, his red-gold curls catching the morning light. They were all eager and nervous in equal parts, even the battle tried like Damon and Eamonn, excitable as they readied to ride with their fathers for the first time into battle.

"Hah! 'E's a bit precious f'r that, yet," laughed Oisin as he made his saddle sure. The younger boys looked to each other in confusion as the elder burst into racuous laughter.

"Aye, 'e'll need a sight maer meat on them bones afore THAT kind o' sparring, I'd say!" Damon tossed his head, looking to his younger brother. "Eh, Ildr?"

Twelve to Damon's vastly ancient thirteen, the slim youth's pale eyes took in the young prince with amusement. "Aye, but he cannae 'ave OUR little mistress anyhow, eh?" This, with a flash of white teeth.

"Oh, do not REMIND me. Viviene asked me to bring her a FINGER. Of all the trophies for a little girl to want..." Prince Gareth rolled his eyes, then assured himself of his tokens one last time. While the Twelve were all strong and bold lads, tall and broad as the folk of Bryoni tended to be, eleven year old Gareth was girl slim and had the pretty features of his Mistland mother. While several of the lads were golden haired, HE had hair as glistening pale as thistledown that floated about his fine featured face, and there wasn't anyone with eyes quite like his. Fairy-eyes, they said, all night sky violets. But his hands were as rough as any, for he had learned the ways of sword and bow, spear and javelin, along with the rest.

"A finger? HAH!" Comcha, as broad a boy as ever you saw of twelve, grinned widely. "Y'hear that, Art? Our wee little Princess wants herself a FINGER!" His mirror in all but intellect, golden haired Art, loyal as a hound and dull as an ox, laughed.

"We'll 'ave for ourselves quite a bride, eh?"

"I would prefer you not humor my sister in that." Prince Gareth laughed. Little Viviene was the darling of his friends, as dark as his fairy mother, fierce as a tiny hawk. At the grand age of six, she already fancied herself every bit as bold as the 'men' of her brother's company, hand-picked to be his companions on the hunt and in battle. She had not quite known what suitor meant, when she began to call the lads such a thing, fancying by the handmaids' tales that it had something to do with knights and all that nonesense, but when they'd the right of it, she had grinned like a coquette and the lads had come to joke that she was their wee little Lady and bring her tokens.

Some took their play duty a little more seriously than others, and Art was the worst for that crime. Mind, he did not quite imagine that young Viviene would really be so pleased to be presented with a Northman's finger, but he would prefer to not find out.

This earned all the more laughter. "Not squeamish, are ye, lad? They done said y'seen th' dead a'fore, waer it but exaggeratin? Or afeared t' see 'em wi'out y' Maman thair?" Oisin joked, brushing back his hair, as red as his horse's coat. There were a few calls of, "Oh! Mama, Mummie, MAMAN!" in jest from the others, even golden-haired Eamonn, his dearest friend.

But so were lads, and Gareth didn't trouble to answer, instead stooping to take up the dust of the field, take it betwinx his fingers, and let it float off on the faint breeze. His other hand played out the shapes of the old call to blessing. Earth below, Sea surround, Sky above, ye three who make us Bryoni, watch over these, said the signs. Signs his Maman taught him as a wee little thing. Though she was a Mistlander, dark and tiny, she was Bryoni; the Earth had accepted her pledge, the Air had caught her promises, and the Sea had listened to her songs again and again. He knew none of these had been there, when he and Maman had stood to defend Gwyfar, his Maman with little Viviene growing inside her, he barely four, the bold women of the Circle telling her to run while SHE told him that they were Bryoni and he was Papa's pride, to help her wake the land to protect what Papa had been tricked away from.

They could laugh because that little lad of four had sung the songs of power with the tiny Queen, and between them they had waked the stones to crush and the seas to boil, and oh! Hadn't the bodies been like little toys? It would have been funny, if Maman had not taken him down after she had woken from her swoon to show him these men with their swirling tattoos and hair wound with bone and iron ornament were still men.

"Never fear, mon petit," Maman had told him, "to take a life. Yet never take them lightly. You will learn to choose as we have today. Take joy in they who will live through your work. Sorrow not over those who deserve death. And they bleed red, like these beasts today, or they run black with ichor, know that any who would harm our land are monsters, and go to the fight full with the knowledge that you are Bryoni, and you will protect her."

He had touched the cold flesh of the dead, and it had been cold horror to know just how many had died at the hands of Bryoni, stirred by their songs, his own three words of power sung again and again, over and over, until Maman said it was finish, her own complex and wild, and paired with the mad Mistlander spelldances and the bittersweet smells of her herbs. But it was not the first time their songs would be needed, and it was not the last that she showed him their harvest.

He was not indifferent, but he was not afraid to kill for their land. Wild and harsh she might be, but Bryoni was part of them, as they were part of the land. Each dedicated by blood at birthing. Each consecrated to her soils at death, or pledged to the wild sea. He would not fear, for there was naught TO fear, not for a true son.

Yet still, with the anticipation aquiver in his gut, young Gareth offered up the old words with the gesture, to call upon them all the blessings of Sea, of Sky, of Earth.

And then, the laughter of the others, their inane talk, it was all ended as the men called for the youths to make ready, for they would ride. The Northern raiders had more than earned what would come. This was not really a game, no matter how his Twelve looked on it, but he would ride in their excitement instead of in the great anger that might have risen to think of their crimes. It was a bold move, indeed. They had taken a small fishing village, and made it their own for a winter home. They killed the youths and what women remained were they who hadn't the strength to fight, and their daughters. It was not worth speaking, what such men would do to the daughters of Bryoni.

It was a righteous blood for the Prince to claim as his first, or so the King had spoken.

King Gareth was nothing like the little son named for him. He towered, a figure straight from legend. He led the others, seven foot six and broad shouldered, his golden hair rich as a mane, his gray eyes hard as the sea-stones that Gareth the Younger had called upon before to bash the bottoms out of enemy ships. He had no song in him of power, like the Prince and Princess, like his bold fairy wife, but he had the kind of fierce strength that men respected. And he led in such battles, though he might have grown fat in keep and sent out others. His wolves ghosted after his great horse, even as the Prince's own young wolf and halfblood hounds would follow his Twelve. They attended better than men, the beasts, and swelled the untried young warrior's personal command to twenty and four.

Twelve boys, one half grown winter wolf, eleven fine hounds between them.

They rode out into the crisp, cold day, the light flashing on armor, on tokens braided into the heavy hair of the battle-tested, on spear and axe and sword. Their breath turned steam, and the frosted grasses broke crisply beneath many hooves.

It was almost a disaster. They had ranged themselves, the woods to their left, the fields to their right, the sea below the cliffs on which Hylainn had stood. Father had risen the great horn to call the charge, that their enemy know his doom came, when one of the wolves broke away and set up a howl towards the forest, and some of the men wheeled their horses, and the forces were divided as there came from the woods a great gout of flame.

As the King called his own ranks, young Gareth shouted to his own lads. "MAGOS! Ildr! Ready to counter! This is our own, lads! Damon! Oisinn! Ready to left, Eamonn, Comcha, Art! To RIGHT! You rest, form behind, ready!"

His voice was sweet and high, girlish and young. Yet it carried as well as the men with their great booming calls, and though Damon had looked half ready to bolt, for rare were such battles with one who knew the Songs, and Art had been bewildered as the older men broke into what felt like utter chaos, they latched onto it, whirled into position.

The thistledown haired Prince swept his hands through the air, and while greater men were forced to retreat back, his own little company found themselves feeling the chill of the world clasp them like babe in mother's arms. He guided the shields as Ildranach canted the same three precious syllables he had sung beside his mother as a little lad, keeping his horse steady, then snapped the patterns tight and gave a cry for them to charge.

The gelid air glistened before them. The mad group of boys who broke away from those avoiding strikes, led by a tiny, girlish thing, got the calls of startled grown men behind them. But THIS, they had practiced, and in the teeth of fear, the elder laughed, even as the younger followed the Prince's lead out of instilled habit even as they charged the tree line. Those who would have cut them off found themselves under attack from the village, while a much smaller force was kept back to protect the spellsinger. Gareth half stood in the stirrups, his spear still through its straps across his shoulders, his light sword at his hip. He called signal to Ildranach, who shifted his cant and rose similarly, and they who handled the hounds called commands.

Screams and the fierce baying and howling of the half wolves filled the frosty woods as the two spellsong-trained boys kept their focus forward. "Bows ready. Tight spread. Paired! Damon! Eamonn! Attend left and right! Oisin! Comcha! Attend bow! Art, spear readied! And by the THREE, watch your HEAD!"

There was an oily concussion of fire, heat that sought to suck the warmth from the very air, greasy as it was caught in the defensive weaves and wicked away. His horse did not start, though Ildr had to speak the calming rune to his own. He anticipated his lads could handle their own.

They were TRAINED for this, his Twelve. His very special twelve, for the half-Mistlander prince who could sing spells like a magos, but must know the blade and battle to ever have a place in the trials.

Bowstrings twanged. Gareth sighted at last the slim figure of the magos, calling to him defenders even as he slid into pattern for a greater spell, hardly expecting Bryoni to shrug off fire like it was nothing.

"KYAAH! GWYDDA! K'shku!" he called out, before giving a lift of hand to Ildr and pulling his horse short, swinging down from the saddle. He had seen older men swing out of the saddle and roll with the momentum, barreling forward like mad, but he was far too little to do so yet. Ildr caught the threads of their fading shields and tensed for the signal, as slim Gareth called forth his challenge.

"PAH! Summerland dog!" The pale child pulled his spear loose from its moorings, gave it a practiced spin and shift with step, with flick of hand to make his little voice boom through the trees, even as the rest ranged themselves. The Twelve had brought with them others, if not so well protected, for when fathers saw sons going in a headlong rush towards the source of the fire, some had panicked and redirected their own. But they spread out through the trees, as the little Prince stepped forward. "Child! Your guardians are dead! Surrender, or try the mercy of Bryoni's son!"

The mage's fire splashed uselessly once more. Gareth pretended, and pretended beautifully, that the shields could take far more than one hit more before they were spent, striding forward, little shoulders back. He was a bright shape in the dark woods, bold in his golden-white lindorm-hide armor cut to spin and shift with the wild turns of Mistland spelldance and the quicker style he had adopted on the practice field. Men cried out as the dogs, the arrows, found their marks. The little prince called forth his challenge once more.

"Southern dog! Sandworm or snake you be, come forth and meet the mercy of Bryoni's son, or my wolves shall have your heart!"

The raiders knew the madness of Bryoni, and the remaining four guardians called, "He is yours!" to the little girlish boy with his great spear and his mad twilight eyes, and as the battle raged on behind, out in the fields, the dogs were called to mercy and two of the four shoved out their rune-painted mage, looking to this absurd child expectantly.

"I call right!" Gareth informed them, and those behind formed about, while the raiders laughed.

"Haakim, your skin, you may keep yet," one spoke to the magos, a wiry man with skin withered from some long ago accident with some nephew of the fire he wielded and confounded dark eyes. "You to fight some little girl! For honor, ke?"

"Await your mercy, I call right. Ready yourself, and if you break form, sandworm, your blood is my price! Prove yourself before Bryoni's mercy, at the hand of the King's own son!" Gareth called, and the mage looked to the still, cool faces of the little boys around him, the few men who had lingered, the bloody-mawed dogs returned to handlers' sides, then spat and rose.

"You truly are mad, little girl," the mage growled. "Whatever your tricks."

Gareth straightened, his narrow shoulders stiffening. "Magery or blade, sandworm." He would not let himself fall into protesting the man's mockery. "Choose your death."

"A little girl means to best Haakim of the Flame? Whatever your mother's gift, dear one, do not think I fear to mark your pretty face. This mercy. You fall, and we are free, yes? To go unmolested by your little boys?"

There were shifts and creaks of motions for weapons. Pale eyes narrowed at this whorish son of the sands who had hired his power to such scum as the raiders, who dared to insult their prince.

"I fall, and you are free. You fall, and your men are my prisoners, to face the King's Justice." A kinder fate, sometimes, than being torn limb from limb by wolves and rent by the boys' spears and blades? Either clean death or penalties. Bryoni did not torture, for clean death was sweetest, they said, to the wakeful land.

"Very well, pretty one. I call power."

Little Gareth sunk his spear into the earth. "Bryoni, bear witness," he spoke, then slid into expectant, readied position. His wolf fell back to stand by Eamonn, her muzzle red with gore. There was an expectant hush throughout the ring. It was madness.

It really was. A boy of eleven, challenging a mercenary A'skani mage who hired himself to brigands. Yet the men among the boys watched it with the same solemnity as the rest, for here was the blood of Kings, and this was a kind of justice as ancient as Bryoni herself.

Haakim gave a short laugh, then bowed to the boy before moving to slide into the motions of spell. He had once been grander than a sellsword, and knew formal dueling. It was more surprising that this child actually looked like he knew what he was doing. Gareth held his ground, as the man began his gestures, then whipped out with the swiftness only so very young a boy could muster, his twilight eyes following the man's motions as he rewove the last of his own protections. With whirl and shift and hard syllable, the mercenary called forth a focused burst of flame. The air grew terribly dry in the wake of it, and it seemed that it would overpower the Prince's altered shield, gathering, burning, building the air to a strange breeze that stank of ozone and scorched the grasses around the arc of it.

At the last moment, Gareth spoke a hard syllable, pivoted a quarter turn, and caught the air with hands, twisting, thrusting forward. There was a concussion of mad sound, a brilliant flare that blinded all, a great and terrible roar of winds frigid and liquid hot blending, and a scream.

"Garth!" Eamonn cried out as spots danced before his eyes. There was cursing in the burbling tongue of the son of the sands, and there was something purer, sweeter, as the air grew gelid again, heavy with strange anticipation. A defiant cry filled the air, and there was, amid the strange dust and madness of the rest, the sight of slim Gareth the Younger throwing forth spikes of ice. The half-wolf hounds grew excitable, while his Gwydda simply watched with an almost human patience. The mercenary had been scrambling to rise from against a shattered-limbed tree, the smells of blood and sap mingling with dust, only to cry out as he was pierced by the darts. The very earth seemed to shift a little below Haakim, a sickly pitch as the youth snapped down and twisted through another complex set.

Haakim's companions cried out in fear. There were many tales of Bryoni's Witch-Queen, but who were they to truly comprehend that her blood stirred in this pretty boy with the fierce twilight eyes and floating hair?

There were no cheers, though the boys grew more excited at the sight of blood wetting the mage's dark clothes. It was unnatural, to the A'skani man, how these boys watched like the wolf-dogs they attended, eager to see him ended. Full with terror, at last realizing that whatever this child was, it was NOT weak, there was a desperate scramble, a catch at something in his robes, a quick gesture interrupted by another powerful, concussive strike of wind that knocked him hard against the tree. A small pouch dropped, its powder scattering over the scorched pine needles. There was a final snap and step and heavy tone, and the earth itself caught his hands, his feet.

The boy strode over to stand above him. Tiny and girlish, expressionless. Should not any earthly thing either be full with anger or joy at such outpouring of power? Should not any face, small or large, be painted with any emotion at all in the midst of madness?

"Bryoni has made her choice, Haakim." His sweet voice was calm and even, but pitched to carry. "Ask the King's mercy, and it is yours. Otherwise, you belong to the land."

His companions had fallen to their knees, wide eyed. Haakim struggled against the bonds, then spat. "Release me, CHILD."

"As you would," the boy replied in his lightly accented Trader's tongue. He bore no expression, still, as he drew the littler blade at his waist. Haakim's eyes widened more, and he began to cry out a malediction, only to be cut off by a weighted strike deep into his throat. The boy wrenched the blade through, wrenched it free.

Haakim did not die well. He struggled and gurgled, his eyes starkly wide, choked and foamed. The Prince wiped his blade, eyes fierce, expression flat, as he spoke to his companions, "Bind our prisoner's hands and remove their weapons. Ready to return to the field. Our work is hardly done here."

Only one of the four could even think to try to struggle, and he was felled efficiently, neatly. The boy did not turn away from his prey until the A'skani mage's eyes went blank and his writhing ended. He gestured, spoke flat syllable, and the earthen shackles fell from his bloodied wrists. He sheathed his sword, pulled his spear from the earth, and gave a whistle for his horse. He could feel his hands trembling a little as he mounted, but he prayed it did not show.

It must not show, for as he told his Twelve, the battle was not DONE. Three dogs, four boys, these were devoted to keeping their three prisoners in line, as the rest formed rank and burst out to find the men either falling to mercy or retreating, the head of one with mad blue patterns all up his cheeks skewered on the end of the King's sword. Some of the Twelve's arrows, javelins, these found their way into the cowards who would not try for the King's mercy. Gareth the Younger found himself swept off his horse as the last prisoners were secured and presented to his father by Dubhain and Oisin the Elder, proud as though he were their own son in telling the King what battle the young Prince had won.

"Aye, m'lord, y'ought 'ave seen 'em! Called out that misbegotten son of a dog like a MAN!"

"Nary so much as a flinch!"

Gareth the Younger knelt before the King. "The Twelve served well, Father. They rode boldly and struck well for Bryoni. Nary once did they break formation." He then dared to look up. "I am sorry I broke away. Can you forgive me?"

The last was fairly soft, his curious eyes uneasy. Father's stony ones peered down at him intently. At last, the man gave a short laugh and caught up his son. Exuberant. "That's my lad! A commander," he told the boy, "knows his men, and knows his limits. A GOOD commander knows to handle diversion for the main force. Come, Garth!" This, as he released the boy. "Come, all! See what sons we have! The magos' head shall pretty the coast with the raider's!

Then, Gareth the Younger smiled at King Gareth's praise, and as he saw his father, bloodied from battle but exuberant, he knew pride. At his mother's side, he had known necessity, power, force.

Here, sword first bloodied, the little cold lump of killing fading away, melting with adrenaline, he knew pride.

[Stanistani]

Two excellent contenders so far. I hope for more.

[Stanistani]

Less than one week left.

*sounds warning siren*

[Stanistani]

The Sunwalker

By Christy Wardlow

Lizzy stood over the cauldron, fondling the charm on her necklace with a smile on her face. She was feeling lighter than ever, the sun was shining through the kitchen window, the children were in the backroom with papa playing kings and knights and she was brewing up a special potion contracted by the Queen herself. The steam from the pot was rising and the smell of jasmine, roses and gardenias exploded its fragrance bathing the musty humid air. She took a deep glorious breath, looked down at her potion, the petals simmering, heard her husband and children playing and felt like there could never be a moment better than this one.

Bang! Bang! There was a knock at the front door. Lizzy wiped her hands on her apron, yelled to her husband, “I’ll get it!” Well, her day couldn’t get any better but it sure could get worse and it just did. On her doorstep stood the Master of Spells himself and the most evil sorcerer in the land, Yalura. Her heart dropped as she felt the evil around the door and she knew whatever she would be contracted to do next would not be a lovely potion like the one she was preparing for the Queen. She did not like dark magic but she had a family to protect and when it came to doing what Yalura wanted, you did whatever he said and didn’t ask questions.

“Hello, Lizzy, my love. May I come in?” he yelled through the door.

Lizzy answered, “One minute, please.” She walked into the back room where the children and her husband were playing, put a finger up against her lips, said “Shhh,” made a 'Y' in the air for her husband to see and motioned for him to take the children out back. He hastily picked them up, gave his wife a kiss on the lips and left with the little ones who had just been sobered from their game.

The less Yalura knew about her family the better and he was not a fan of small children. He once turned a five year old boy into a mouse because he was annoyed with him and never returned the boy back to his human state. The parents had to keep their transformed son in a little box until the day he died.

As soon as she knew the family was outside, she went to the front door and opened it.

“Yalura, please come in.” She said quietly.

“Lizzy, I have a contract for you and I do say you are not going to like it but you will have to make it work or there will be big problems.” He put his large pointy hat down on the table, hung his cloak on a peg and walked into the kitchen.

Lizzy looked at him with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and asked, “What can I do for you, Yalura?”

Yalura look down at her with an intimidating grin. He was six foot tall, very lean to the point where you could see the veins popping out of his skeletal neck and the last of the Wizzica tribe, the most powerful and evil group of sorcerers that ever existed. She could see the blood pumping through his veins and his blue eyes pierced her soul. When a small, petite Sunwalker, no matter how powerful your light shined, was petitioned by Yalura, she did what he wanted, regardless of how you felt about it.

“What is it you have boiling in your pot, Lizzy? The air smells wonderful. It’s almost like breathing in a little bit of sunshine.” He said as sarcastically as he could.

“It’s a contract for someone, I can’t say, sir. I have to deliver it this afternoon or will be reprimanded harshly.” She looked at him with a frown because she knew that she would have to put the Queen’s potion aside to do his bidding. She hoped what he wanted would be an easy spell to make.

“Lizzy, my sweet Sunwalker, I need you to whip up a spell that will give me something I’ve always wanted.” He caressed the knife he always carried in the sheath and smiled at her showing his black, dirty, rotten teeth. He continued, “When I was a little boy, I had a grand desire to be the most handsome in town and well, considering my tribe and since beauty isn’t in our ancestry, I cannot become this unless a Sunwalker creates a potion for me. I have thought very carefully about who I could contract for this desire to become reality and well, you are the last and most powerful Sunwalker in the land. This being the case, I have given you the honor of helping me.”

The family puppy came bounding up to Yalura from the backroom panting with excitement at the visitor he had never met and Lizzy’s insides moaned. Yalura pointed his wand at the pet and transformed him into a tiny cockroach, stepped on it, squashing it on the floor. “You know I don’t like animals interrupting me, Sunwalker.”

Lizzy wiped away her tear because she knew that she had been the one to forget to send the pet with her family. Her children would be devastated. She sucked in her anger because it was a very dangerous thing to be angry with Yalura.

She looked at him and said quietly, “This potion and its spell are very complicated and I am under contract by a very influential person. Please give me time to finish it and then we can work on what you are requesting.”

“Oh, Sunwalker, you know that my bidding comes first and you have to put aside what you are doing so that I can be the most handsome man in the village. I need it by sunset so you better get working or the sweet little family that you’ve sent into the woods may no longer be alive tomorrow.”

“Please, Yalura. Leave my family out of this! I will make you what you need. Don’t take them away from me!”

With that plead and an angry look from the sorcerer, he put his pointy hat back on his head, grabbed his cloak off the peg, opened the door and walked outside. She heard him yell, “Okay, Sunwalkers, You can come back in now! I’m done with her.”

She watched him disappear into the woods and her family came back in. Her husband looked at her with a grimace and the children came running in calling out for the puppy. Lizzy broke down and started crying. “I’m so sorry, little ones. Yalura killed it.” The children screamed in horror and she picked them up and tried to calm them. She put them down and said, “Okay, run off and play now. Your poppy and I need to talk.”

The children ran off wailing about the loss of their sweet little pet and her husband looked at her. “What is going on? What did he want?”

“I have to create a potion for him that makes him the most handsome man in the village and he wants it by sundown — but I have this potion I need to get to the Queen! He told me that he’ll kill you and the children if I don’t get it done on time!

Her husband leaned over and started crying. She walked over to him; they put their arms around each other and cried together.

“Okay, I have to get this done. Please distract the children because I have so little time left.” She reached up to the bookshelf, grabbed her book of potions and spells and started working.

She found the list of ingredients she needed and started a pot to boil. She would have to work on both potions at the same time. The smell of the Queen’s potion was being taken over with the smell of hogs feet, frog’s toes and the putrid bowels of a dragon. That was the last of the poo she had from the dragon and she hated using this precious ingredient on Yalura but she had to save her family.

She put the ingredients on the pot to boil and went out in the woods into her protected circle and prayed for the Sungoddess to help her.

“Oh Sungoddess, please protect my family and give me the wisdom to do what needs to be done.“ She sat in the circle and envisioned the light surrounding her and had an idea.

She went back inside and called her husband. She put the Queen’s potion that had just finished brewing into a small bowl and told him, “Get the cart ready, we are taking a trip to the castle.”

Her husband readied the wagon and the horse and the little family jumped on. “Move on, horse! Go!” He yelled and snapped the reins as the wagon barreled forward into the woods.

The woods were dark but a bit of sunshine shined its beams through the trees. There is hope she thought. There is hope.

They traveled along the dirt path in the woods through a tiny bit of sunshine, rounded the corner and saw the castle which stood like a giant in the distance. Dragons flew around it and she could see the guards with their swords flashing by their sides. The wagon rolled into the village and people were bustling around selling their goods from tiny little vendor shops and she waved as she passed by. The wagon approached the gate slowly and the guard stepped forward holding his sword high. “What is it you want, Sunwalker?”

“We are here to see the Queen, sir. I have a delivery for her.”

“Wait here,” he demanded and walked over to another guard, whispered something to him and the messenger took off up the castle bridge. Lizzy and her family waited patiently and the messenger came back with a note for the guard holding the sword.

“Come in.” He motioned them forward past the gate. “Your family must wait inside the gate house at which time you will be escorted to the Queen alone.”

Her husband rode the wagon inside the gate and was sent to a small house that stood alone. He climbed out of the seat , grabbed his children from the back and walked inside. Thankfully, there was a place for the children to rest.

Lizzy took her small bowl filled with flowers and followed the guard up through the castle door and stepped into a small sitting room. She sat down waiting nervously.

The door opened and the guard escorted the Queen inside. She waved him away shutting the door behind her.

“Hello, Lizzy, sweet Sunwalker. Do you have my potion ready?” She handed Lizzy a bag of coins as Lizzy gave her the bowl.

“May I speak freely, your highness? I have a matter of great concern to tell you and it’s a very scary matter than I need assistance with, if you will help me. It concerns Yalura and a contract that he has me doing and has threatened to kill my family. He’s already killed my puppy and he wants this potion tonight or he will kill my husband and my children.”

The Queen looked at her in horror and said, “You know, Lizzy, I don’t like Yalura, but you putting me in this position is very dangerous indeed. I’m not sure I can help you.”

“Please Queen, I have a plan to rid the village of Yalura forever. I’m sorry to ask you for help but I’m desperate to save the family. You know, I am the last Sunwalker and if my family is killed, I will be left alone with no sunshine to share.”

The Queen sat down and sipped her potion quietly, changing the subject. “My dear, this tastes wonderful and smells like the Heavens. Will I be able to conceive a child with this?”

Lizzy gulped. “I made it extra powerful and have prayed to the Sungoddess for your wishes to be met. Come here, please.”

Lizzy walked over to the Queen and placed her hand over the royal's womb. “Yes, I have offered my prayers to the Sungoddess so that you may conceive and she has promised to grant your wish.”

The Queen smiled brightly and said, “Thank you!”

Lizzy took the Queen’s hand carefully and started talking. “Yalura’s potion is one that I must sacrifice my life in order for it to work. This potion will kill me and I ask that you help save my family. I have sacrificed myself to the goddess for this dark magic to fulfill his wishes but I will be taken. There is the possibility that my children are Sunwalkers but they are too young for us to know yet. If my children die, there may be no Sunwalkers left and Yalura will be the only one in the village with powers. I am sure when I am dead that he will kill my family to rid the world of any possible future Sunwalkers. Please, dear Queen. Help me!”

The Queen realizing that Lizzy, her long time friend had offered her life to save her family softened to her request. “Sweet Lizzy, you have offered your life for evil to save your family? I will help you.”

Lizzy hadn’t told her husband about what would happen when Yalura drank his potion but had understood what she needed to do to save them. She couldn’t let them die and asking the Queen for protection was the only way she knew how to keep them safe.

The Queen looked at her oldest friend and said, “Tell me how to help.”

After a few moments of whispering, they both stood up, Lizzy bowed to her Queen and walked out of the castle.

She met with her family and they all climbed into the wagon headed back to their little cottage in the woods.

The sun was setting as Lizzy stirred the last ingredient into the potion when she heard a knock on the door. Her husband kissed her on the mouth passionately and the children hugged her with all of their might and showered her with kisses. “Mommy, we love you,” they said.

She hugged them tight, “Mommy loves you and no matter what happens, I will always walk in the sunlight with you.” Her husband looked at her with a worried expression and he realized what was going on. “I love you, sweet husband for eternity.” He embraced her tight around her tiny waist and whispered, “My darling, I can’t let you do this.” She felt the tears meeting between their cheeks.

The rapping on the door started and Lizzy whispered, “This is for the sake of our children and the sun that may live within them. I love you and when you see the sunbeams shining through the trees, know that I am there. Now go and tend to the little ones. Please.” He looked at her one last time with tears streaming down his face. “The sun,” he said.

Knowing that her family was tucked into the back room, she opened the door. “Hello, Yalura. Come in.”

This time he did not put down his hat or hang up his coat. He stood there with evil pouring out of his eyes and his black teeth were gruesomely showing. “Hand over the potion, Sunwalker.”

Lizzy handed him the potion and he drank so quickly that he nearly gagged on the formula. Every drop he swallowed, every life he stole were all for sake of his desire to be handsome. The air started swirling around him and his figure turned into that of a stocky man, teeth shining white, face turned chiseled and healthy. He was handsome as he always had wanted to be. He walked to the mirror gazing at his reflection gleefully and started laughing.

There was banging on the door and Yalura glared at her. He was furious for the interruption.

“It’s the Queen’s guard! Open up!”

Lizzy went to the door and the guard stepped in, “Who is this man? The Queen petitions the Sunwalker’s potion. I’m here to collect on your contract. “ Lizzy bowed and said, “I’m sorry, sir. I have not been able to make the potion as I have been interrupted by Yalura’s contract which he gave me this morning.”

Yalura with his new handsome face turned to the guard and said, “I’m Yalura. I was just leaving.”

He turned to walk out of the door and LIzzy grabbed her small boiling pot of water and flung it on him. He screamed as the steaming hot water burned his brand new chiseled face! “My face! My beautiful face! What have you done, SunWalker!” He turned pulling his knife out of his cloak and lunged at Lizzy stabbing her in the chest. The guard pulled a sword out of his sheath and swung hard, wiping the head right off of Yalura's body. Blood, magic and a dark demon flew out of his body, circled around Lizzy and squeezed the dagger that had gone into her chest a little tighter and flew off when it knew she was dead. Her lifeless body fell to the ground and Yalura's remains disappeared.

The guard put his bloody sword into his sheath motioning to the guard on the wagon. The Queen stepped out and entered the house to find her oldest childhood friend dead on the floor. The husband and both children came running out and when they saw their mother’s empty body on the floor started screaming. “Mommy! Mommy!”

The Queen took out a small vial from her cloak and asked the husband and children to move. She lifted Lizzy’s head onto her lap and drained a liquid into her mouth. “I would rather give life to the one who sacrifices their own life to save the ones they love. I wish to not claim this gift as my own.” The potion the queen had been given is one that can be only consumed once in a lifetime and she had sipped enough to have had her life’s share but not enough to conceive. She had just sacrificed the conception of a child to return life to her friend.

Lizzy’s eyes opened and the sun shined brightly into the kitchen. She was revived by the kindness of the queen who gave up a new child for her. The children laid on top of her afraid to let her go, her husband was sobbing, caressing his wife's tired face and their life had been restored thanks to the kindness of the Queen.

In the following year, the Queen did give birth to her only child because the Sungoddess was pleased with her for giving up her own wants for the good of the light. The Queen‘s son was born a Sunwalker by magical intervention and there were no dark wizards left in the land. Even if there had been evil it could have never matched the strength, integrity, the power, love and friendship that thrived in the kingdom.

(Forum member chatterbrew submitted this by email)

[Martin Higgins]

Ó hUiginn Awakes

When I saw that the Raven-girl had turned on her wing to look back toward me, I knew I was once again within the dream. And there came the sinking realization that she would, again, try to rescue me… to talk to me… to guide me. As the sky darkened with roiling thunderheads, her copper eyes flashed a blade-edged glint of steely light and she mouthed a wide, but silent, “NOW!”

My Spirit Paladin raised her arms on high and rose, effortlessly into the low, ruddy ridge of rain-heavy clouds that hung over the muddy graveyard where I stood, barefoot and bleeding. Leeches clung to my feet, some placed there by her to draw out venom, others merely following the rivulets of blood that ran thin and rain-driven from a scattering of bramble-tears on my bare shins. The fat, engorged worms fell to the ground to lie in the muck digesting their ghoulish meal, leaving pocked blood bites that oozed fresh jagged tracings – some dark and dull, others bright and glistening –that dripped and spread crimson across the surface of a foot-shaped pool of mudwater.

A blinding bolt flashed with a thundering clap and I looked upward, squinting into the rising gale. Before me I saw only the silhouette of an obsidian marker at the gravesite. A second light, thrown from the distant clouds provided an brief image that burned into my sight. I pressed my hands on my eye to hold what I could of what I had seen. The shimmering silver and black vision held there lingered, and in it I recognized on the stone a crude carving of three castles - side-by-side - and a fresh gouge in its glassy surface that looked as though it had been scalloped by a sharp metal edge. Serrated crystalline shards stuck to its smooth, wet surface, unmoved by the light rain that fell, hinting at the mighty force that had brought them into existence. I knew that sign well. I had lived in those huts… I had wielded that edge.

A long shadow darted across the ground, chased by the last shaft of sunlight that passed through the mounting storm. My heart pounded faster as the Raven-girl’s spell took hold. I felt my legs go light and then dangle limply from my hips. She was drawing me up, above a fieldstone charnel house into the swirl of leaves and terrified birds that were as caught in her spell as I. Their claws and beaks tore at me and I covered my eyes from their frenzied panic as I rose higher into the mounting rain.

Rolling peals of thunder deafened me and I shielded my eyes to take in the sight of the Raven-girl, hair swirling about her pale face and her rage mounting to a cry and – high above her – a clear space in the clouds that revealed a blue sky above and the columns of a great stone building and trees. I could see the divine abode, unsullied by the clouds, untroubled by the thunder, beyond understanding and, yet, as real as the earth that receded below me.

And from that lofty perch fell an arrow; long fletched plumes spiraling behind its copper shaft; the point, a dazzling tongue of blue-white fire. I cried out, knowing its target, having seen its soul-searing mark struck and dispatched more times than I can number. But my cries were to no avail. My heart sank as I watched, suddenly cold and feeling the air rush against my face as I fell headlong back down into the cemetery… where a dark emptiness told me there was an open grave awaiting.

And…I AWOKE! My muscles tense, my body trembling in anticipation of the fall I knew I could not survive. I did feel the ground beneath me, and yet, in my mind, I still fell, - at once on my way to death and also at the break of a new day that shone its brilliance into my eyes. I lay on that ground pulling myself back from the night terror, letting my racing thoughts cease their quest for meaning. I have always known this vision and yet I do not truly know it.

I was safely on the ground: cold, aching and sheltered inside my wattle and daub hut. Sunlight streamed down through its smudged smoke hole. My clothes were damp with morning dew and the hide bindery that held my belt and shoulder harness was stiff and they pressed deeply into my twisted body. I sat, searching for my waterskin, my mouth dry, my lips cracked. As I stood, my joints ached. Parts of my body were numb and I found that rubbing them to bring warmth did not return the feeling of life to them. I drank deeply from the skin and, licking my lips, found the taste of iron within their craggy fissures.

Daybreak animal sounds reminded me that I had chores that must be done, so returning to sleep was not a choice. Chasing the dream was impossible as the images blended like my rain-spattered blood that gave up its color to run freely. Having cleared my mouth, I took a second drink from the skin and it tasted of bitter yeast and vinegar.

I walked into the ruddy light that streamed in through the hut’s door. Outside there are other huts, shacks, tents in the field about mine and others beginning to go about their day.

In the stockade pen, my goats and pigs were awaiting water in their basin and a ration of morning grain. I knew where these things were, but walked to each one of them as though if I were doing it for the first time – as in a waking sleep. I grasped the bucket, and it was like I had never held it before. I knew the feed was in a wooden bin but had to search the pen to find it.

The animals were impatient; I was taking too long to give them what they craved. There was tightness in my chest and, as I ran my hand inside my burlap shirt, I felt a thick welt of scar running from my shoulder, down across my ribs. I was shocked by its feel, foreign and not of my body at first, but then, wisps of memories coalesced into a brief flashing images of being stuck and cut, that resolved into weeks of searing pain. When I pulled my shirt further back, there were many long-forgotten wounds. I stripped to examine my legs and arms and shoulders – all of which bore the marks of what could only have been a life of combat. I remembered more with each discovery, the sense-memories mounting, until I knew who I was and what I must do.

Walking to the far side of the pen, I approached my plow horse. I gazed at his noble countenance, marveling for a brief moment that owned such a magnificent steed - his eyes burning with the light of a distant fire - his bared teeth telling me he is agitated and needs to be free of his tether. But it was knotted so tightly, and it had been soaked with rain and baked by the sun so many times that its rope had become as hard as burl wood. My hands struggled with it until I looked aside and saw the plow he pulled these many years. At first it looked broken, unfamiliar in its skewed angularity. Where I expected to see a cupped cutting edge to fold the soil, there was a single tall blade, lashed to the plow handles. Though covered with dried mud, I saw the indentation of the fullers that ran its length and, above them, a curved cross-guard is a tear-drop pommel.

I freed my sword and, before cutting the knot, overturned the animal’s steel water basin. There, on its convex side, was my family’s coat of arms with its three castles and ermine tails. I remembered what had happened to me and why I was waiting at this farm for this day.

Severing the tether brings my mount to his full stature. His nostrils flare and jets of mist blast from them into the morning air. I climb to his back, lifting my sword to the sky. Across the meadow, I see others astride their plow horses in the warming daylight, each with a raised weapon. There would be a long day ahead for all.

The dream has passed and left me resolute that I will not fail. I am where I must be and the time is now. My horse takes to the field and the thrill comes upon me.

There, on a distant hillock, she waits - astride her horse, her breastplate emblazoned with the ensign of the Raven, her hair undone and her champion… on his way.

[Wandered_In]

Hey, just saying I've got a story (6000 words right now) and I just need to finish editing down.
I've got an hour!
Wandered In (good to be back)