Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Dreams: An
Anthology of
Webfiction VolI
Various
Contributions by Ted Campbell,
Eva Shandor, Cassandra Stryffe,
Bex Aaron, J.J.Adams, Alexander
Hollins, Rebecca Wilson,
Christopher Wright, Kyt Dotson,
G.L. Drummond, Miladysa, M.E.
Traylor, Kendal Black
2011-04-11
Table of Contents
Forward
Story Descriptions
Flyover City!
Cold Ghost
Zombie Diapers
Independence Day
The Undeadslayer
Phoenix 2125
Soul Chaser
The people who told us we could, and inspired us with their faith;
The friends and family who were our first critics and fans;
And the readers who enjoy our dreams, if it weren't for you, we
wouldn't be here.
DreamFantastic Publishing
Forward
Webfiction. It's a newer term in the publishing world, like
most terms having to do with the internet. It means different things to
different people. It means publishing a novel in progress online, like a
blog, for people to review and comment on. For some, it's a never end-
ing story, shared publicly for all to read and enjoy. For some, webfic-
tion is a completed novel, being sold or given away online, rather than
publishing with a traditional publisher. For myself, webfiction means
freedom.
9/168
With great shifts of power stretching the very balance of the universe
https://www.unexploredhorizons.net/novel/pay-me-bug/pay-me-bug
If Oscar Wilde had written a Space Opera in the 1970's it
might have looked like this. A "great heist" caper set in the far future,
featuring cunning smugglers, star-spanning empires, cheerful amoral-
ity, evil cyborg slavers, and a hyperintelligent bug. Pay Me, Bug! keeps
the laughs coming as the crew of the Fool's Errand strike against the
universe around them, desperate to give as good as they keep getting.
Black Hat Magick by Kyt Dotson
http://www.blackhatmagick.com/
Black Hat Magick: Not Your Ordinary Detective Agency A
strange take on the modern cyber-detective story involving magic and
technology all mixed together with geek humor and life at Arizona
State University. Dread Vote is the first of the supernatural gumshoe
series where Elaine loses her computer lab, gets mixed up in ASU stu-
dent body politics, and tangles with an unknown menace slowly in-
sinuating itself onto the students and campus.
Enter the Weird by G.L. Drummond
http://midnightintentions.com/ser/weird/
My first clue life was about to go weird was a goat-headed de-
mon trying to French kiss my soul away. The second, my cat morphing
to the size of a tiger and kicking said demon beyond the night.
Then kitty announced he’s my familiar and by the way, con-
gratulations, Cara Smith- you're a witch.
Okay.
But it wasn't until Hawksville, with its grabby road Romeos,
cute married deputy, and killer gossip vine, that I truly entered the
weird.
16/168
heroes, bad guys, glory, tidy romance, or saving the day. You'll find
human dysfunction, illiteracy, non-civilized cultures, gender fluidity,
sex that isn't love and love that isn't sex, homosexuality not defined by
modern gay identity, and politically incorrect protagonists.
Guts and Sass does not hand you answers on a silver platter.
Characters will never conveniently tell you what’s going on. Throw
your expectations out the window.
The Ghost King by Kendal Black
http://kendalblack.blogspot.com/2010/02/welcomedod.html
The Ghost King chronicles a part of the history of the Twelve
Kingdoms. Where, you may ask, are the Twelve Kingdoms? They are
east of the sea, extending over the mountains and as far as the Great
River, about two hundred leagues inland.
The Twelve Kingdoms are a loose federation of states, united
under a High King. At the time of our story the High King is Bonfort.
He leaves his palace to attend a secret council, leaving a double in his
place. He expects to be back soon, with no one the wiser. But the
double is assassinated. The secret meeting comes under attack. Bon-
fort escapes but is stranded far from home. Control of the Twelve
Kingdoms is seized by the evil sorcerer Mograsom.
The Ghost King recounts King Bonfort's struggle to free his
homeland and regain his throne. Trusting to fortune, and with the
help of magic and unlikely allies, he wages a resistance war in the
shadows.
A curious aspect of this history, and one that makes it signific-
ant to the student of Faerie, is that there was at this time an alliance
formed between the otherworld and our own: Queen Goronla ha
Tentitee, the Faerie Queen, actively supported Bonfort, king of the hu-
mans. The threat Mograsom posed was dire to mankind and eldritch
creatures alike, leading to the curious era called the Grand Alliance, in
18/168
“Cupcakes: for years they've been hottest thing going in coastal cities
like New York and L.A. Now, those of us who live in the flabby,
stopped-up mid-section of the U.S. can take a bite of this trend, hope-
fully before it's all played out.”
And I have to admit, my own personal tragedy doesn't exactly lend it-
self to the most dynamic theme. At the end of the day, there will no
doubt be the naysayers who view me the same way I look at the "Arch-
er of Justice".
But am I having second thoughts? Not on your life.
I may not have a costume, or a body of taut, perfectly sculpted
muscles (yet); but I have something deeper than that. I believe. I'm
not waiting for some exploding microwave to shower my body with
malphysical radiation. There's no Grayraven Diet book on the shelves
to guide me toward my goal (for the record, there should totally be a
Greyraven Diet book). But - all my airs of cynicism aside - I truly be-
lieve that an ordinary man, with nothing more than a dream, and a
plan - can accomplish great things.
The first time I ever saw a superhero - in person - was my juni-
or year of high school. My dad has this annual insurance adjuster's
convention that he goes to every year, the one big to-do in his whole
career. That year, it was in New York City, so dad decided to bring me,
my mom, and my little brother along for the trip. (Yes, believe it or
not, I have been out of Colorado once or twice in my life) He figured
we'd visit the Statue of Liberty, maybe get in a Broadway show while
we were there.
That book had just come out, detailing The Agency's declassi-
fied World War II files, from when they were still called "The Allied
Force", with guys like American Eagle and Fighting Yank on thier
roster. Ultraphenomenon was making an appearance at the Virgin Re-
cords in Time Square to sign advance copies. The whole event was a
benefit for kids with cancer.
Like everyone else in the lower 48 states at the time, I was a
huge fan of Ultraphenomenon, so there was absolutely no way I was
going to miss my one chance to meet him in person. Much to my chag-
rin, my mother refused to let me go down myself, so she and Brent
24/168
http://evashandor.wordpress.com/category/new-reader-start-here/.
In addition all of the stories and novels in this volume are linked to
from www.DreamFantastic.com.
Something wasn’t quite right.
It was the next morning, and Yukihiro was loitering not far
from the Golden Lotus restaurant. His nose was stuck deep in a ro-
mance novel, something nice and fluffy about an office lady and a
trucker from Hokkaido, but his eyes were watching the restaurant en-
trance very closely. He’d been sitting there for quite a while now, on
the lookout for Liu’s arrival. At this time in the morning, there had
only been service and delivery men, and a handful of regular dim sum
breakfast customers. There’d been absolutely no sign of Liu or even
any of his associates or relatives in the restaurant front.
Yukihiro twitched uncomfortably, and took a bite out of his
chocolate orange parfait. As much as he enjoyed the opportunity to eat
cake and read utter trash, the obvious issues worried him.
He had seen no sign of Suzuki or any of his lackeys hanging
around, not since the airport. Suzuki’s right hand man, Toru, was
nearly seven foot tall and had a face like a disgruntled pug, tended to
stick out like a sore thumb no matter where he was. This wasn’t
Suzuki’s home turf, and he didn’t have any love for the Yoshida family.
There was no love between the Hanaokas and the Gao family, but
neither was there any contention. So why would he even show up and
interfere on this one in the first place? Had he managed to get to Liu
and scare him off or deal with him? There were far too many
30/168
http://evashandor.wordpress.com/category/new-reader-start-here/,
and all of the stories and novels in this volume are linked to from
www.DreamFantastic.com
Jump back to the Story Descriptions
Zombie Diapers
And I didn’t want to leave her alone. But if I left and didn’t come back
she would starve, and if I didn’t go, she would starve.
I decided my best course of action was to put the basket on top
of one of the old crates, and drag Anna’s body outside. Then I could
take the old red truck Sarge had left me and drive to that little daycare
about a mile up the road. While I was out, maybe I should try to figure
out how to operate the swing bridge to the island. If I could do that, I
could leave it open and I wouldn’t have to worry about any of those
things walking here from the mainland. Maybe not, I would have to
stop at the library too and grab some baby books. Assuming they had
any. There might not be time, how long can you leave a newborn alone
anyway?
Well thinking about it was not going to get it done so I put the
basket-turned-cradle up on one of the big shipping crates where the
things couldn’t get the baby if they got in while I was gone. After
checking to make sure the coast was clear I dragged Anna’s blood
soaked corpse outside and dumped it the huge pit that Sarge had dug.
I hopped in his old truck, carefully steering around downed trees and
corpses. Some of the corpses were up and walking around.
My first stop was the library. I had worked there every sum-
mer since I was fourteen and I knew that there was a spare key hidden
on a nail behind the “returns” box. It was still there and getting in was
no problem. While I was there I loaded up about ten old Wal-Mart
bags full of books, mostly baby books, but I got some books about guns
too. Sarge had left me an old handgun when he went out for supplies
and never came back. But I didn’t even know where the safety was, let
alone how to turn it on and off. I knew guns needed to be cleaned, I
mean bad guys are always cleaning guns in the movies, but I didn’t
know how. I also grabbed some of the urban fantasy books I liked to
read. There was one series about a mechanic who was a werecoyote
that was my favorite. The library trip was mercifully uneventful. No
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corpses here. I knew I’d have to drive through a residential area to get
to the daycare though. And that scared me.
I drove slow and careful down Lighthouse Road to get to the
daycare. In the last 5 weeks Sarge had cleared all of the abandoned
cars off the main roads on the island so I didn’t have to worry about
that. The last storm had left a lot of tree branches and trash in the road
though. There were also at least twenty ambulatory corpses between
the library and Rainbows End Daycare. I tried not hit them, I was wor-
ried about hurting the truck. The only thing I knew about cars was
how to drive and pump gas. If something broke, I was screwed. I ran
over one though. I didn’t see him at first, I was to busy trying to watch
all directions at once and then Kevin Anderson popped up from in the
tiger lillies at the edge of the road and I ran right over him. Before he
had died I had HATED that kid. He was the most annoying 4 year old
in the world. Always filthy and covered with snot, he was always cry-
ing. Like, constantly. Non stop. I hadn’t wanted to hit him though, but
his tiny body disappeared beneath the hood before I could hit the
brakes. The truck rolled over him lurching a bit, like a speed bump, I
thought with a shudder.
There was one corpse shambling around the small parking lot
in front of the obnoxiously purple building with the cheerful rainbows,
now splattered with old blood and darker things. I got out of the truck,
raised the crowbar up, and walked straight towards it. It was Mrs.
Moody, my 9th grade art teacher. She had two kids that went to Rain-
bows End while she was at work. I hit her in the head. Really hard, so
hard the shock reverberated up my arm. Her head crumpled like an
empty soda can.
The doors were locked, so I wrapped Mrs. Moody’s gory
sweater around the crowbar and broke the glass with as little force as I
could. I had to hit the window five or six times, each time I did I
cringed inside at the noise. The dead were attracted to sound.
42/168
her banging on the doors had almost made me pee my pants. She had
never told me how she wound up all alone, pregnant on a boat in the
middle of nowhere. But I was really lucky to have a roof over my head,
running water, and tons of stockpiled food. Not to mention electricity
to cook it with.
After my shower I curled up on the couch with the tiny baby
and fed her a bottle, carefully following all the direction in the “Your
Newborn and You” book. It was a lot harder than it looked. But the
baby was quiet and small and so cute. Even if her head was shaped
really funny from the birth. I stared down at her and sighed again.
How the fuck was I supposed to protect her from crazed flesh eating
corpses, winter storms, and everything else?
She began wearing makeup and lots of it - something she'd never done
before. She took 20 pounds off her already slight frame. She started
spending less and less time at home, often forging off on solitary pil-
grimages at dawn and not returning until dusk...leaving Lance angrily
waiting for his wife (and his dinner) sometimes up to two hours.
And then, when she met Lucas in the park, things really went
insane. Terri now considered that chance encounter in February the
point of no return...and the point in which she knew she could not de-
lude herself into believing she was happy being nothing but Mrs. En-
glund anymore. There was more out there. So, so, so much more.
Awkwardly, Terri pulled the sleeves of her cardigan down over
her wrists. Yes, it was a bit hot for such attire, but there was no way
she could meet Brett with those things showing. He would never for-
give her - and she would never forgive herself for such blatant disreg-
ard for what he stood for...what the whole Woodward family once
stood for. For a moment, Terri was overcome with emotion, remem-
bering what was and never likely would be again, before wiping at the
smudges in her heavy eye makeup and pulling herself together. She
had to focus on the matter at hand.
It was going to take a lot of courage - courage Terri wasn't en-
tirely sure she possessed. Still, something had to be done about this
situation. She couldn't handle it on her own. She just had no idea what
to do. But Brett would. Brett always knew what to do.
The usual suspects (Brett and Marnie) were at First Baptist of
Haven Park when Terri arrived, but oddly enough, no one was stirring
in the church office when she used her key to come inside. It was
quiet. Way too quiet. Marnie was not at her desk. There was no radio
on, no ringing phone, nothing but chilling silence. Terri felt a bead of
sweat begin to dance down her neck, as a flood of worried, paranoid
thoughts invaded her mind. "Brett?" she called, upon noticing that the
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door to the pastor's study was slightly ajar. "Brett, it's me. Are you in
there?"
Before Terri could open the door, Marnie Blake emerged from
the pastor's study. The dramatic eye makeup she wore on a daily basis
was steadily running beneath her eyes and her nose was blood red, but
she still mustered a warm smile. "Terri, darling, good morning. How
are you?" she greeted.
Terri reached out to her friend. "What's the matter? You look
like you've been crying! What's happened?"
"Oh, dear, I..." Marnie hesitated. She did not want Terri to
hear this news from her.
"Marnie!" Terri hugged her. "Oh, come here. Talk to me.
What's happened? Is it something with Evan?"
"No. No." Marnie's answer was instant. "Evan is fine."
"Peaches..." Brett Woodward came out of his study and imme-
diately grabbed his sister in an embrace. His eyes were red-rimmed,
and his usual smile was replaced with a look of utter sorrow. She
began to feel a cold numbness creep up over her entire body. She'd
only seen Brett look this way one time before...when he had to tell her
that their parents were dead.
She withdrew from the embrace to stare at him, eyes wide.
"What? What's going on?"
In that moment, he realized she didn't know. "I don't know if
you should hear this from me," he begged off, his voice somewhat
unsteady.
"No," Terri insisted. "I want to know. Something's happened,
and I want to know what. I need to know, Brett. I need to know!"
49/168
"I can't believe this!" Terri cried. "I just can't believe this!"
Brett ran his hand down her back slowly. "I can't either. May
the Lord have mercy on their soul..."
obliged. Jeff ran a hand over his face, as the knocking on the door
grew louder and more persistent. “Okay, okay, okay!” he called. “I’m
coming, Carol.”
Though Jeff hoped to see his apologetic fiancee when he
opened the door, he was instead greeted by Shane Marcette and Of-
ficer Brinks. “Good morning, Jeff,” Shane began. “Hope we didn’t
wake you. Mind if we come in?”
“Shane? Huh? Uh, yeah. Okay. I guess.” Jeff stepped back to
allow them entrance. “What - what’s going on? Is there a problem?”
Immediately, he turned toward Shane, fear evident in his eyes. “Is this
about Carol?”
“Why do you ask?” Shane met his frightened gaze with a chal-
lenging one.
“This is about Carol, isn’t it? Did she get herself in trouble? Oh
God, I told her not to leave last night! Oh God!”
Shane could not remain professional any longer, reaching for-
ward and violently pulling Jeff toward him by his t-shirt. “Don’t play
games with me, Jeff. We both know what this is about!”
“What? What are you talking about?” Jeff wiggled free, staring
at him. “What’s going on?”
Officer Brinks stepped up at that moment, and moved
between Shane and Jeff. Something was about to escalate here, and
that was the last thing anyone in this town needed. “We’re gonna need
you to come down to the station,” he informed.
Jeff blinked repeatedly. “And why’s that? What’s going on?”
“You know damn well what’s going on, Jeff!” Shane yelled.
Brinks turned around and gave him a sharp look. Emotions
were running high right now, no doubt about it, but Shane needed to
53/168
get a grip. He couldn’t accuse this guy of anything yet – not without
solid proof, or a confession. And he wasn’t gonna get either of those if
he kept acting like this.
Clearing his throat, Brinks turned back to Jeff. “We just need
to ask you a few questions about last night.”
Jeff took a step back. They didn’t even need to tell him. He
already knew. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Shane’s eyes widened at that question, but Brinks only nodded
solemnly. “Yes. I’m afraid she is.”
Jeff raised both hands to his face. “My God. Oh God. What
happened? Oh…oh God!”
Brinks turned immediately to Shane, to silently warn him
against another accusation, before turning back to Jeff. “We are hop-
ing you can help us answer that question. We need you to come down
to the station with us, okay?”
"I - the kids. I can't leave the kids...Let me...Oh, God, Carol!"
Jeff felt tears well up in his eyes, but rather than break down in front
of them, he closed his eyes and nodded. "Okay. Okay. I'll do whatever
you need me to do."
before and with a small inward sigh knew that she was the reason for
them being there. After all, she was most likely the only elf they’d ever
see in their lives.
“Kat,” Celine called to the girl at the bar dusting off some
bottles. “Come help with this.”
Kat looked at Celine and smiled with the same sweet enthusi-
asm she always had when smiling at Celine. Kat was a pretty girl in her
own right, shorter than Celine with reddish hair and tan skin. Kat’s
curves also filled out her dress much more impressively than Celine’s
slender figure did. Though Celine still got all the attention Kat never
seemed to show any sort of jealousy. Kat always did seem to stare at
Celine as QSz m\d]]k alongside each other for several months. The
two cleared some empty mugs off a table and carried them off to the
kitchen together.
“Kat,” Celine said softly to the girl when they’d left the dinning
room. “If those boys call for more can you tend them? Their eyes won’t
be so disappointed to have only you to feast on.”
Kat giggled a little. “I suppose so. The dark-haired one is
handsome I think.”
“Thinking of entertaining him?” Celine said with a slight grin.
“Ah, I’m not sure. Our room is small and I don’t want to both-
er you.”
“I can be elsewhere.”
“No!” Kat hissed, “You should not sleep in someone else’s bed!
You are too pretty for them!”
“I think you misunderstand,” Celine said.
“Good,” Kat replied. “Their hands are too rough and dirty for
you.”
56/168
“Hmm,” Celine mused “Mine are rough and dirty as well,” she
said while holding them up.
“They are not!”
"I'm done here finally," Celine says stretching her arms over
her head. “I need air.”
“I think those boys are calling,” Kat said. “I will go! You rest!”
Celine smiled as Kat departed, then stepped through the kit-
chen and out the back door to the yard facing the forest. It was a clear
and crisp early autumn night, the quarter moon low in the starlight
sky hanging above the tall unspoiled tree-tops. The smell of pine from
the forest tickled her nose as a light breeze drifted through the forest
to the inn. She sat down on the back steps of the doorway and inhaled
the clean night air deeply. She slowly smiled in contentment, like a
dozing cat in front of a fireplace, with her eyes closed. Suddenly she
opened her eyes upon remembering that this would be the last time
she could see the countryside for an hour or two, wanting to drink in
the sight before more drudgery.
She was overcome by the desire to strip off all her clothes and
run into the woods, dancing and bouncing about, like she'd heard that
some of her wilder cousins would often do. She began to think seri-
ously about doing exactly that during an hour in which most would be
well asleep and unlikely to be startled by a vision of the local elfmaid
dancing wildly in the forest immodestly.
In the distance came a sharp sound that startled her. It was an
extraordinarily loud popping noise that seemed to echo through the
vale. Not unlike the sound of a firework when they would explode in
the sky. The unaccustomed noise disturbed a few sleeping birds in the
distance who took wing with some complaint. Celine's body tensed as
she gazed in the direction of the noise, apprehension rising. What ever
could it be?
57/168
Another noise came. This time low and pulsing. A deep sound
that you felt in your bones before you could hear it with your ears. At
the distance she and the town were at it was barely discernible but she
wondered how bearable it would be if she were closer. A light blueish
glow could now be seen in the direction of the sounds. The glow was
pale and seemed to go just beyond the boundaries of the treetops.
Some of the light filtered through the surrounding trees, giving the im-
pression that it was coming from something remarkably luminescent
on the level of the ground in that area. The forest grew still and the
wind itself seemed to die. Suddenly the darkness of the forest around
the inn gave an impression of something ominous. From windows on
the back of the inn Celine could see faces of patrons in their rooms as
others beside herself took notice of the strange occurrences. She be-
came aware that some of the other maids were gathering behind her
now, chatting quietly to each other in question of what they'd heard.
But almost as soon as it started it was over. The sky grew dark
again. The noise of birds and nervous horses from the stable died
down. After a moment of silence it became apparent that whatever
transpired had passed.
Some people gathered to discuss what it was that had oc-
curred. Talk of putting together a group of men to scout around was
put around. Celine had decided that whatever this was that it was most
likely to be none of her own concern. Nothing else followed it, no more
sounds, no rushing hordes of monsters. People who had been closer
looked about the area but reported nothing strange.
Inside the inn the young men had left, presumably to join the
other men who were doing informal patrols of the town. The innkeep-
er, Tarl, had been pulled away from wherever it was he had been holed
up by the ruckus. He was at the bar grumbling about the odd happen-
ings in usual grumpy manner. Celine told Kat to go ahead and go to
bed and let her finish the night as thank you for dealing with the
58/168
young men earlier. Shortly after Kat’s departure up the stairs to the
room the two shared, a man came in through the front door.
“Welcome,” Tarl said in his rough voice with his usual lack of
personal warmth. He looked sideways at Celine who gave a soft sigh
and put down her broom to move over to the table the stranger was
sitting down at.
“Welcome,” she began, “we have some leftover stew, bread,
and cheese and we only have ale available right now unless...” was as
far as she got before catching her breath.
The man had pulled his hood down an looked up at her from
his seat. She cursed herself silently, she should have known. He was
tall, slender, and seemed graceful. Nothing out of the ordinary in that
but with the hood down it was plain to see, he was an elf like her.
“The bread, cheese, and ale will do,” he said simply. She
simply nodded and moved quickly back into the kitchen.
As she assembled the meal her mind raced. Was he after her?
Did he have any clue who she was or why she was here? His hair was
dark and skin more brownish, he was probably one of her wilder cous-
ins, not like her of whose people the men sometimes referred to as
“city elves.” He didn’t seem like he thought her anything special, plus
he knew she was there. No point in trying to hide or run off. No, it was
more important to know if he was in fact here for her. It was unlikely
he’d try to kidnap her with Tarl in the room and all those men walking
around outside. He knew she was there but she was safe for now.
She took the tray with the food and drink and returned. As she
passed by Tarl grumbled “Took long enough” under his breath at her.
She moved to the table and began to set the items down.
“What brings you to these parts?” she asked conversationally.
59/168
“Hunting,” was all he said, gazing at the fire. She didn’t like
that response. He shifted his gaze up at her. “You’re awfully far north.”
“So I am,” she set his drink down.
“I didn’t know city elves ever came this far.”
“It seems we do. And you?”
“As I said, hunting. Anyway I live around here though I’m just
passing through.” With that he took his eyes off of her and began tear-
ing into the bread. Seeing as the conversation was over, Celine went
back to her broom. If he lived near, she thought, he probably had no
clue that anyone would be looking for her. She let herself relax a little.
_____________________
The front door suddenly swung open with unusual force, as an
odd gust of wind seemed to be behind it. In the doorway stood a young
man, local farmer from the looks of him. Plain clothes and short
brown hair, plain of looks but far from unpleasant. The elfman sitting
alone seemed to regard the young man from the side of his eyes.
“Kennet,” Tarl began at the young man. “I figured you’d be out
with the others searchin’ for whatever caused all that racket.”
“No,” Kennet said distantly. “I’m not with them, so I came
here.”
“Well that’s plain,” Tarl grumbled. “Come over here and have
a drink, lad.”
Kennet seemed to ignore him however and made his way over
to where Celine was half-heartedly sweeping the floor. He stood before
her with an odd look, bordering on happy and delirious. Celine looked
at him uncertainly.
60/168
“Could you get me a drink? And, and one for yourself? Let’s sit
together for a while.”
“Kennet,” Celine said with some concern. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, that’s silly. Don’t be silly. Let’s sit together, Celine.
We never have.”
“I don’t think I want to,” Celine said. His words did not per-
turb her but the manner in which he said them. Something was wrong.
“Why not? Am I not good enough?” The distant look of va-
cancy began to melt away from his face, gradually being replaced with
a rejected look before becoming a look of anger. “You never sit with
anyone, why not me? Is it because I am a man?”
“Ken, really, I-”
“What must I do for you notice me!?” he shouted and grabbed
her arm. The broom she held clattered to the ground and she gave a
small shriek.
“Now really, Ken!” Tarl thundered from across the bar, begin-
ning to move towards them. “It seems as though you’ve hit the bottle
enough now!”
“Stay back!” Kennet shouted, punctuated by an odd gust of
sudden air that hit Tarl full in the face sending him staggering back-
wards onto a table.
“Tarl!” Celine shouted. The door from the kitchen burst open
as Kat ran in.
“What’s going-” Kat began before giving a start of terror.
Celine’s eyes followed Kat’s from Tarl picking himself off the floor to
Kennet’s face beside her. His eyes glowed red and his face was contor-
ted into a hideous mask of rage.
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“The shadow! The spirit! I yanked it out but couldn’t hold on!
Don’t tell me you didn’t pay attention to where it went?”
“I just saw a flash...” Kat said.
“C-Celine?” Kennet said.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“I, I don’t know. I did, oh. I didn’t mean to do anything! I
mean, oh no.” he seemed to deflate a bit where he sat.
“Yes yes, he was possessed. Now help me find it! It’s a shadow
that moves on it’s own. Keep your mind clear! If you let your thoughts
dwell on something like a regret or a painful memory it could slip into
your heart like it did to this boy.”
“A regret? I,” Kat began, still baffled. The elfman stood up
sharply and looked at her intensely.
“What? You what?” She just looked him, he moved right in
front of her and she took an involuntary step back. “Is there something
you are hiding? Hiding from yourself? Or from someone? Hmm?”
“No!” Kat said weakly.
“What is it? Love, perhaps?” Kat blushed. “Love! Someone you
care for? Someone you want? You can’t have them?”
“Why are you...?” Kat said frustrated as a shape suddenly
streaked across the room. The elfman grabbed her by the arm and
yanked her to the side stepping between her and the shape. Holding
up his open hand, it began to glow and the shadow seemed to try and
divert itself but he caught it at the last moment.
“There! Thank you, girl. You standing there stammering with
uncertainty made me guess that you might be an ideal target for this
spirit, so I had to goad you on a bit. Sorry for the yelling at you and all
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that.” he moved over to the bar, pulling out a piece of chalk with his
free hand while the small shadow continued to writhe snakelike in his
hand.
“What in the hells is going on!” thundered Tarl, managing to
his feet at last. “Are you writing on my bar?”
“Yes, but it’s chalk. You can wash it off later.”
People from outside were starting to gather in front and a few
braver souls were venturing inside to see about the fuss. When people
saw the shadow many gasps could be heard. Tarl clenched his teeth
and moved to the elfman’s side.
“Get that thing out of here!” he hissed in a whisper.
“Isn’t that what I’m doing? Done,” he said putting the chalk
back in his pocket and slamming the spirit down onto the bar in the
middle of a complex series of circles he’d just drawn. It immediately
tried to jump away but something held it in place. “I need both hands
free to send it home.” He clapped his hands together and began chant-
ing as energy filled the air.
Tarl moved away with disgust. Magic. The people were mur-
muring about it, and Tarl could feel business leaving his grasp as the
seconds flowed by. But the moment didn’t last long, a sudden loud
CRACK! and the shadowy spirit disappeared with a wisp of smoke.
“Done.” the elfman said simply. “Your troubles are over. That
thing gave me quite a fight earlier but as weak as it was it couldn’t
manage to hang onto this realm. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to fin-
ish my ale.”
“YOU’LL DO NOTHING OF THE SORT!” Tarl roared finally
finding both his wits and his courage. Money was on the line here.
“Come again?”
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“GET OUT!”
“But I paid for this!”
“GET OUT!” Tarl’s face reddened to sickening color.
The elfman regarded the tavern owner for a moment. “Fine.”
He picked up his cloak and was out the door without another word.
The people who had been milling around the front seemed to follow
the odd elf.
“I guess we should clean up, eh Kat?” Celine began.
“You too,” Karl croaked in a horse voice.
“What?”
“I said you too! Get out.”
“What!” Kat shrieked. “She didn’t do anything! What are you
on about?!”
“I took pity on Celine so I let her stay. Figure she’d bring in the
curious. But she brings in this! And if it’s not spirits and other weird-
ness, its men who can’t keep their hands or take no for an answer
causing problems!” The quiet Kennet seemed to shrink a little more at
that.
“You’re not worth the trouble, girl,” Tarl said. “Get out. Follow
the other weird one back to wherever it is your kind comes from.”
Celine seemed to be carved from marble for all the emotion
she showed then. She regarded him very calmly, almost puzzled.
“Okay,” was all she said before moving to gather her things.
“You, boy. You help clean up the mess you made. Kat, get to
it,” Tarl barked.
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Kat dashed out the front door, like a kid who had been caught
doing something wrong. Celine instead paused for a moment and re-
garded Kennet.
“This is who you are, Kennet. Not the thing that came out of
you before.” she said with a soft smile before turning and gliding out
the door.
“Yes, well, no. First time since I was a child. I’m actually just
back in Arizona. It’s been just under 20 years for me. ”
Both men reached for handles set in the roof, Tom with a start,
the old man with a practiced ease, as the cable car jostled and bumped.
It swung around a tall building along its gear and pulley driven line. As
the car settled itself on its new direction, the elderly gentleman settled
his glasses back firmly on his nose, and looked back up at Tom, as if
seeing him again for the first time.
“20 years? Parents moved your family away after the quake, I
take it?”
Tom gave a half smile. “Something like that. The government
home I was living in was destroyed in it. I was moved out to an
orphanage in New York. I’ve been trying to get back here ever since. I
love the desert. “
The old man snorted. “Well, there’s precious little desert left
now, and its shrinking all the time.” He stuck out his hand. “Ed, Ed
Marrow, by the way.”
Tom took the offered hand and pumped it briefly. “Tom Har-
lan. Wait. Edward Marrow… Director of Planning and Revising?” Tom
took a second look at the inquisitive old man. The suit was obviously
expensive, but not inordinately so. His hair, gray going on white, was a
rather non conservative cut, a ponytail coming down past his
shoulders, something that had been out of style in men for over a dec-
ade. But if the man’s claim was true, then he was looking at the 12th
wealthiest man in the state. Considered a Barry Goldwater of the day,
Edward Marrow was a man who worked in public service, it was said,
for the mere enjoyment of it.
Ed’s face brightened further, if such a thing was possible.
“Indeed! You’ve caught me out! Tom, eh? You must be Feli-
city’s new assistant, then, fresh from Abrahim Tech? Well, at the very
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least I’ll be seeing you at the bi-weekly status meetings. You must let
me know sometime what you think of our fair state these days. “
He turned back towards the window they were standing in
front of and gazed out, almost longingly, Tom thought.
“It is a gorgeous place. So much lost, yes, but so much gained.”
“Indeed sir, I’ve been thinking the same. But… if you don’t
mind my asking, why are you taking the cable car? Surely you can af-
ford a private landing, or at least a parking spot?”
“Afford? I can afford many things young man. But if I took a
car to the capitol, I’d be stuck in that.” Ed pointed to a bridge coming
up quickly underneath them, their cable heading for one its supports.
Traffic crawled slowly in both directions, a bumper to bumper sea of
red lights over a river of brown mud. “As for a private landing, I don’t
trust aircars, and besides, if I didn’t take the cable car every morning,
which I do, I’d miss out on this!”
With those words, the man grasped Tom by the shoulders; he
turned Tom around and pulled him next to himself at the window,
looking outwards. As the car bumped and jostled at another turn
around the supporting tower of the bridge, now under their feet, Tom
gasped in wonder.
The sun was just rising over the top of the twisted black En-
canto Peaks, a solid beam of sunlight streaming through the shattered
mountain top towards the dome of the capitol building. Still two miles
away, the air that had already been afire nearly exploded with shining
light, a rainbow of color as reflected beams from part of the dome fa-
cing away from the car stretched out for a mile further to strike the
spray from the North Bay Rim, shimmering and glittering. The lights
strengthened, most people on the car instinctively looking away from
the window, as Tom and Ed stared at the sight, as did one or two oth-
ers. Then, suddenly, the car was rounding another turn, and the light
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faded, leaving Tim blinking away the bright purple blotches across his
sight. Stumbling again as the car made its final course correction, now
heading down a slight slope towards the ground, Tom realized that Ed
was staring at his face, the bemused look back on his face.
“Yes, you’ll do.”
“I’ll do? What do you mean?”
“Well,” Ed began, “I just find that one doesn’t last long in
Planning and Revising if they aren’t able to see the natural beauty
around them. Like those dolts, shielding their eyes from that sight.”
Ed motioned to the occupants of the car around them. “Blind fools, all
of them.”
Ed turned and continued to look out the window, seemingly
done with conversation. Tom stood, looking first out the window, then
at the people around, until the car shuddered to a halt on the pier, and
people began filing out the doors. As he passed Tom, Ed clapped him
on the shoulders.
“Well, I shall be seeing you around.”
With that, he left Tom, disappearing into the crowd, as Tom
began following signs that pointed to the entrance to the capitol
building.
**********
Hurrying across the square towards a copper framed glass
building, he took the steps up towards the entrance three at a time. Es-
chewing the large ornate double doors intended for visitors, he turned
to a side door marked “Employee’s Only”, and again his thumb in-
stantly released the internal lock. Opening the door, he walked into a
simply appointed hallway right as a woman walked around the corner
towards the door. She looked up from her watch, and the look of
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irritation that was plainly plastered across her face melted away. She
ran an appraising eye over Tom, and strode purposefully towards him.
The long hallway gave him time to do some appraising of his
own as he stood just inside the door, waiting. The first thing anyone
would notice was red hair of such a color that the phrase “flaming”
could do no justice to. It fell down just below her shoulders in gentle
waves and curls, framing an oval face dusted across the cheeks in
freckles. Emerald green eyes dominated her face, and quickly drew all
attention to themselves. Of medium height, she possessed the gentle
curves of a woman who exercised regular, but didn’t starve herself, a
fashion that had been making a come back lately.
“Hi, you must be Tom. I was starting to get worried about
you.”
“Hi, yes, I’m Tom. Sorry about that, there was a detour. I still
would be not here if I hadn’t run into a precocious young lady that
knows this place like the back of her hand. Since Ms. Craven’s picture
on her profile looks nothing like yourself , I would assume you are Ms.
Stryker?” At this, he held out his hand in the traditional greeting.
Taking his hand and shaking it, the redheaded woman nodded
in the positive. “Indeed. And Deborah, please.” She clasped her other
hand over Tom’s, now holding it with both hands. “We tend to be
rather, informal, here.”
As she took his hand, Tom felt a tingle at the point of contact.
Shaking hands with her, the tingle spread up his arm, a warming sen-
sation much like sunlight on his skin. When her other hand clasped
over his, the warmth spread, growing stronger, and suffusing his body
inside and out. As the heat grew, strongest at the point of contact, his
hand felt as if it were about to burst into flames. It wasn’t entirely un-
pleasant, in fact, some part of the heat felt very good, but that part fled
as it intensified. Just as the sensation started to become truly painful,
Deborah released his hand, and motioned towards the hallway she had
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just come from. The feeling of heat instantly fled, but the tingle re-
mained, pulsing in waves across his body, slowly back and forth. He
could feel the hairs on the back of his neck lift and bend one way then
the other, as if the wave was some form of static electricity.
“Well, no sense dawdling. Let me give you the five buck tour,
and we’ll get you to work!” As they headed down the hallway, Deborah
watched Tom cautiously waving his hand at his side, and now and
again run his fingers through his hair and across his neck. “So, by pre-
cocious young woman, I assume you met Daneel?”
” I did. She says hello by the way.”
Deborah smiled broadly, and Tom felt momentarily weak in
the knees. “Well, I expect we’ll be seeing her later, after shes done in-
forming the whole of the island about our new boy. She does gopher
work for pretty much everyone, so that also means she’s the main
source of gossip for just as many people.”
Turning a corner, the hallway opened up into a wide room
lined with steel filing cabinets that stretched ten feet up to the ceiling.
Wheeled ladders ran along tracks mounted at the top of the cabinets,
and several small desks were scattered about the room.
“Well, here we are. P and R central. This will be your desk
here,” she said, sitting on a mostly empty desk in the middle of the
room, thumping the pine top, her legs folded and swinging. “And there
across the room are the bathrooms. I would assume that after the
cable car ride in and getting lost, you’d like the opportunity to freshen
up before I introduce you to every one else?
“Thank you, I would indeed.” Tom turned towards the direc-
tion Deborah was pointing and started towards the door as she
hopped off the desk. While doing so, her fingers brushed his shoulder,
and he jumped as a new wave of fire raced across his skin.
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My work took me to the old Viking city of the north, York. I sipped my
hot cappuccino in Starbucks, and crossed off another name on my
quota. I heard the radio in the corner announce that a serious car
crash had occurred on the A64, east of York. The road would be closed
for at least four hours. I wondered which of my colleagues had per-
formed well that time.
I gazed out through the open door and onto the street. I ob-
served in silence as tourists, teenagers and families, who passed by go-
ing left, carried no bags but the necessaries. The rest of the crowd, go-
ing right, held several bags from a variety of stores. York was always
good at selling. My elders told me the city had been a fast and strong
trade centre for countless generations. Through the era of Britons,
Romans, Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, Normans, Tudors and Stewarts, York
had survived. Through years of civil war, invasion, rebellion,
slaughter, the Blitz and financial ruin, it still survived. This resilient
city deserved to be known as the capital of northern England. The Vik-
ings understood that and made it so when the entire county of North
Yorkshire was once under their rule. When for a blink in the eye of
British history there was an independent Norse kingdom known as the
Danelaw.
A shadow blocked out the summer sunshine as Kate joined me
for our first coffee break of the day. A silver torque bracelet, the
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you and the girls.” My voice became distant as memories of that belief
shattering experience drifted around me. I found my gaze had re-
turned to my half empty cappuccino. I didn’t see the warm liquid but
all the faces of those I had saved and lost, swirling in the froth and
rising in the steam.
“We had a challenge that night. What with the children and
women crying and the men, well they weren’t being much help to
anyone.”
“Oh Kate, have you forgotten how you felt when you dis-
covered the truth?”
She paused in replying and stared at me. I could see the an-
swer in her eyes. The endless battle to control the memories, the
sights, the sounds, the faces, the emotions. All the women on the team,
like me, lived a torn existence between what was, what is and what can
never be. She couldn’t have forgotten, no one ever did. The truth is the
truth, unavoidable and undeniable. It is now a part of us we can never
escape nor forget.
At least they had a past to mourn the loss of. My old life was as
ghostly to me as the sun concealed behind a dawn mist. No one yet
knew the cause of this strange amnesia I suffered from or how long it
will last. I kept recalling the old adage, time is a great healer. After
nearly ten years I was beginning to doubt my mind would ever
recover.
“OK, I admit it; if you weren’t there we wouldn’t have been
able to escort so many to Valhalla safely. It was unfortunate that we
had to lose so many of the men, but Hel must always claim some, we
can never save everyone. Besides, it’s not our fault that the powers that
be took so long arguing over who should be allocated where. Lucky for
them we don’t turn away suicides. We weren’t the Angels they were all
hoping for.”
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“And leave you to cause a mess? I don’t think so. Five years
doesn’t make you an expert in this business.” Her smirk lessened the
criticism.
“Have some faith in me, Kate.”
She laughed and released the bent menu to sprawl itself free of
creases on the table.
“Come on, let’s not keep our clients waiting.”
I gulped the last of my cappuccino and slung my white leather
bag over my shoulder. “Ok let’s go.”
With that we left Starbucks and made our way through the
throbbing streets towards the York District Hospital.
“You got your leaves?” Kate asked briskly as we lingered be-
neath the only small piece of vegetation in the entire District Hospital
car park.
“Yes, somewhere.” I rummaged through the depths of my
handbag and eventually pulled out a rather flattened hessian pouch.
“Get a handful out, I’ll set the marks.”
“Thought I was going to do that this time?”
“Tell me how you were going to do it then?” She folded her
arms and stared hard down at me making me feel nervous as I ex-
plained it to her.
“You forgot one thing.”
“What?”
“Cameras. A modern girl like you should know we’re watched
now more than ever and it’s not always mortal eyes behind the lens.”
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She swung her head to the left and right and I saw there were two
watching over the car park.
“Damn.”
“Yes, you could have given our position away all too easily and
invited trouble right on our tails.” She tutted and moved further round
the tree out of sight from any surveillance. She pulled out a short knife
from her pocket and began to whittle several lines into the wrinkled
tree bark. I could feel the air tense as each rune was carved deep into
the tree. “That is why I’m still the teacher and you are still the student.
Now add the leaves.”
I scrunched the green Ash leaves together as tight as I could
and pushed them into the runic cracks.
“Now add the fire.”
I took out a lighter and lit the leaves and runes, the fire crept
amongst the cracks without engulfing outside the runes, the flames
flared white and then all was quiet. We had evoked the spiritual di-
mension of the earth around us. Only spiritual beings, such as
ourselves and those that have passed from the physical dimension into
this would exist. Everything else became a background of statues. We
both unfolded our bags into our luscious white swan feather cloaks. In
either form our belongings were not lost as the special design had en-
chanted pockets. We strapped around our waists a leather belt with
sheathed runed daggers hanging from it. Every job has its dangers
after all and ours wasn’t any different.
“Mine is on the second floor, where is yours?” Kate asked after
checking her own quota.
“On the fourth floor.”
“Just remember, trust the jar not the soul. Anyone can spin a
tale full of reasons for why they shouldn’t be dead and why they should
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have a second go at life instead of anyone else. Such tales are as false
as Loki’s claim to Odin’s throne. There are no exceptions in this busi-
ness. We’re not a charity, we don’t give second chances.”
“I know, I know, if the jar turns red they’re better off dead, if it
turns white guide them to the light.”
With a final nod to each other we strode back round the
corner, across the car park and into the building. No one gave us a
glance as we walked around the motionless people inside.
I found the man I sought in a quiet solitary room at the far end
of the ward. He lay in his bed as if sleeping. The monitors were quiet
and his drips didn’t stir. All the cables and leads hung loose at the side.
A woman with a milk white face sat beside him holding one hand, yet
she sat at a small distance, as if afraid to get too close. She did not look
up when I arrived. I stopped at the end of his bed.
I lifted up one side of my cloak and pulled out my tall ash
wood spear, tipped with silver. My name in Futhark runes glowed
upon its hand grip in dazzling gold. It was a holy item, specially made
by Odin. Just like his favourite son’s great long ship that could fold
away into a pocket. This made it easier for us to hide and transport our
most prized possession and most lethal weapon. All the women in the
team received these spears, Freya, our team leader, gave them to us on
our ascension into her squadrons.
Once I confirmed his identity, I crossed his name off on my
quota. I banged the butt of my spear upon the cold plastic floor three
times.
“David Garret, you can wake up now.”
His face, plain and peaceful, began to twitch and twist. His
tongue ravaged his lips as if thirsty. He gave a yawn and stretched his
arms as if he had been in a deep sleep. I came closer to his bed ready
to shake him awake if necessary. At my movement, he opened his eyes,
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gave a small groan of alarm and scrambled back against the head of
the bed as if I was a vision from his nightmares. To many in the past
we were such terrible visions. Not everyone saw us as beautiful, athlet-
ic, warrior women, who rode the winds on the backs of Odin’s wolves.
“Who…who are you? What are you doing? What do you
want?” He managed to ask his voice trembled. He was frightened.
They always were at this stage. His eyes kept flickering upon his fe-
male visitor who remained still and silent.
“Welcome to the next life David.” I answered with a soothing
tone in my voice. I sat at the end of his bed, trying to show I meant
him no harm by keeping a distance between us. But near enough so I
could grab him if he tried to flee.
It was inevitable that he wouldn’t believe me. After all, a young
woman, holding a tall spear, wearing a white feathered cloak and a
pink v-necked t-shirt along with a long white skirt promote all the
signs of a deluded mind.
He looked me up and down. “What do...do...you mean? I’m
not dead. Tell her? Laura?” The appealing looks of support on his face
did not register with her.
“I’m afraid you are David. Laura can’t hear you, only the dead
can. There’s no one else here but you and me.”
“No, no, I can’t be! I’m alive! I’m alive!” His eyes were trans-
fixed upon Laura in her statue pose. “Laura? Can you hear me? No,
no! It can’t be…I can’t be… Laura, look at me! Nurse? Doctor?
Anyone!”
Before he could move any further in fright, I grasped his arm
and pinned it against the bed. I whipped out a dagger from my belt
and slashed it across him. The blade passed straight through. David
gave a sharp shriek, then seeing no blood drain from what would have
been a severed arm, became silent.
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Jump back to the Story Descriptions
Pay Me, Bug!
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to from www.DreamFantastic.com.
bridge proper. Immediately he felt the bridge crew tense: the click of
his chair entering the bridge meant their captain was going stir crazy.
Grif looked at his crew, the older, white-haired man sitting to
his left, and the dark-haired beauty to his right -- both trying their best
to ignore him -- and sighed again.
"Morgan."
The white-haired man sitting to his left shifted at the mention
of his name, but didn't look up.
"Shouldn't we be getting a beacon signal right about now?"
"I don't know." Morgan made no effort to disguise his annoy-
ance. "I'm a sensor tech. Ask your navigator."
Amys tensed slightly. Grif grinned and allowed himself to be
momentarily distracted by the curve of her neck.
"Amys?" he asked hopefully.
Amys exhaled, letting the breath escape through her teeth in a
slow hiss. "Grif," she said, "you are being a pest. More so than usual. It
stopped being charming about five are-we-there-yet's ago."
"Er. Yes. Sorry," Grif said.
"Honestly, I'm on the verge of mutiny. And I think the crew
will support me."
"Yeah..." Grif sighed again and leaned back in his chair, star-
ing at the bulkhead ceiling as he scratched at the stubble on his face.
"Mea culpa. Our daring escape was a little more daring than I would
have liked. I'm a little on edge."
Amys laughed sharply. Morgan grunted in agreement.
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"... and I'm looking forward to making that daring escape offi-
cial so I can gloat and caper. With glee."
Amys relaxed, smiling slightly. "That will be fun to watch.
Once we get there."
"Which brings me back to my original question. Morgan,
shouldn't we be getting a--"
Morgan's station beeped.
"Hold on," Morgan said. He tapped a few keys at his station
and hunched over his datascreen. "Superluminal beacon confirmed.
Amys, I'm sending it to your station."
"An end to monotony!" Grif happily slid his chair forward un-
til it had descended into the nest and was locked securely in front of
the pilot station. "It'll be good to see stars again!"
"Thanks, Morgan..." Amys scanned through the list of avail-
able drop locations supplied by the beacon. "Selecting drop
coordinates."
"Stars," Grif continued, "and planets. And, of course, centers
of commerce. Never forget the centers of commerce."
"Got it," Amys said. "Sending drop location to
communications."
"Sending coordinates," Morgan replied. And a second later:
"drop location confirmed and reserved."
The SL beacon would no longer give out that location to other
ships. In theory, at least: three years ago an SL Beacon in the Timur
Barony began sending out the same drop location to every ship trying
to enter the system, and the resulting unpleasantness took a year and
a half to clean.
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"... yes," Grif admitted, "that was a little more interesting than
I'd have liked, but we're dropping into friendly space this time."
Ktk described an occasion when entering into friendly space
had resulted in their immediate arrest and arraignment for murder.
"Also an unfortunate incident," Grif agreed. "And a case of
mistaken identity."
A booming laugh echoed over the intercom, as Cyrus Mak,
Grif's chief gunner, joined the conversation. "That's because we were
using a stolen signature key that matched his ruddy ship! That you
bought from him."
"I still say that was a good deal. Anyway, prepare for drop in
seventeen minutes. All hands, strap in: clean getaway is imminent."
A second later, almost reluctantly, he added: "Doma, get on
the bridge."
Minutes later the bridge door opened. A gangly, sullen kid
floated on deck, glaring at Amys and Morgan before gliding over to a
station on the starboard side of the bridge.
Doma Enge was Grif's nephew, a fact Grif tried to not to dwell
on overmuch. They bore a certain physical similarity: both were of
similar height and build, both had dark hair and eyes, but in counten-
ance they were very different. Grif looked disheveled; he sported a fine
layer of stubble that never quite coaxed itself into a beard, and always
appeared to need more sleep. Doma, on the other hand, obviously
spent a great deal of time grooming himself, not always to his
advantage.
Doma looked down at his station and frowned. "It's turned
off."
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"If you ever do that again, I will cut out your tongue with this
knife. Nod if you understand."
Doma nodded.
Amys lowered the knife, patted him once on the cheek, then
floated back to her station. Grif slid his chair back down into the pilot's
nest without comment.
The next few minutes were devoted to restoring ship's gravity.
After a general announcement from the captain, the crew set about se-
curing anything that might shift when the gravity plates were activ-
ated. This largely consisted of taking sealed containers and placing
them in larger containers, then strapping themselves back in to their
chairs once more to make sure unexpected gravity spikes didn't cause
injuries. The bridge crew was secured relatively quickly, then a report
from Cyrus announced the gunnery crew was secure as well. It took a
little longer for the engineering crew to report because, as Cyrus liked
to say, "there's never a clean way to fix something proper." Eventually
Ktk announced the engine room was secure.
"Right." Grif settled back into his chair. "Morgan, ready?"
"Grav plates online and ready. Nullifier plates online and
ready."
"All right. Gravity on in five... four... three... two... mark."
The floors emitted a soft hum as the gravity plates came to life.
The ceilings groaned slightly as the nullifer plates did the same, pre-
venting the ship's gravity from extending beyond the hull. Grif felt a
slight jerk as he pulled deeper into his chair, and heard a dull thud as
Doma, who was apparently unable to pay attention to a countdown,
wound up banging his head against the deactivated communications
console.
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Morgan and Amys laughed. Grif grinned, but didn't join in.
That had happened to him his first time out.
Of course this wasn't Doma's first time out.
The grin disappeared. He would never have suffered this level
of incompetence from another crew member. The only reason Doma
was still alive at this point was because he was family. Grif, as a rule,
hated family... but they were still family.
"Amys, set a course for Tylaris Prime," Grif said, removing the
chair restraints and stretching. They'd been in zero gravity for more
than a week, and while the calcilate supplements in their food negated
any potential effects on bone density and muscle mass his muscles still
ached for a while when gravity was restored.
"Nothing unusual on scanners," Morgan reported. "The only
other ships in the vicinity are the warships guarding the SL Beacon."
Grif turned on the intercom. "This is your Captain speaking.
Looks like we're in the clear. I need a drink."
Over the intercom Grif heard Cyrus shout "Pay me, Bug!"
Grif laughed. "Bet against me again, Ktk? You should know
better than to--"
The entire ship lurched violently. Grif was thrown from his
chair, his shoulder hitting the top of the pilot station as he landed face-
first against the viewplate.
"What the hell?" he shouted.
"We are in a gravlock!" Morgan's voice was tight and anim-
ated, not quite shouting but definitely vigorous. "A ship just dropped
from tach... I don't understand, it's right on top of us, and--holy hell,
that's a Battlecarrier."
102/168
https://www.unexploredhorizons.net/novel/pay-me-bug/pay-me-
bug, and all of the stories and novels in this volume are linked to from
www.DreamFantastic.com
Black Hat Magick
sound of his own voice or he just liked to know that other people were
listening. He was also a worrier.
Helicopter client, she’d pegged him. The last time she fixed
one of his computers he stood over her shoulder the entire time,
steaming cup of coffee in his hands. It took her half-an-hour to finish
something that should have taken five minutes because of his constant
pestering and continuous monologue that stuttered into repeated
questions, forcing her reply, when she didn’t respond.
Like she didn’t respond now. Instead she set one part of her
brain to parse his ramble in case he said something useful to the task
at hand
Elaine hoped she would never need to take one of his classes.
Sociology, someone said.
Her eyes followed the haphazard bundles of CAT5e cables that
ran along the top of the corridor as she walked. Timing her footsteps
with the rattle and chink of the keys swinging from her guide’s belt,
she also counted her paces. Adjusting for her own stride, she meas-
ured almost two-hundred feet from the elevators, vaguely west, put-
ting them, she guessed, somewhere beneath one of the public re-
strooms in the building.
The technician kit felt light in her hands she let it swing side to
side. Working on a Saturday. Not exactly how she wanted to spend the
weekend, but she needed the hours. Computers were always breaking,
especially on campus, and the extra money would come in handy for
that new video card.
“Here,” Professor Nickolich said; his keys jangled in the lock.
The door swung open into a dark room the size of a walk-in closet. A
gush of frigid, dry air blew out of the room. “The trouble seems to have
started in here. These machines are MSTATS A, B, and C. Originally
we thought that C was suffering hard drive failures—but then the issue
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migrated to A and B as well. We replaced all the hard drives, still hap-
pening. Don said to give you full access to everything. Here you go.”
The telltale sound of computer fans and clicking hard drives
greeted Elaine as she peered inside—constellations of lights glittered
there in the gloom. A moment later the tzz bzz of fluorescent lamps
started as several bars lit up in the ceiling, triggered by the door.
“Thank you,” she said. She put on her best I’m-a-cheerful-geek
smile as she slid past him hoping that he would take it as a gesture of
friendship to offset her speechless accompaniment. The body language
cue appeared to mollify him, as he nodded and let her slip past him
without further comment.
The mess of CAT5 slewed like bundles of spaghetti through a
roughly cut hole in the outside wall, and broke into a vein-like spray
that connected the numerous machines in the room. Someone had
never heard of Ethernet switches. That was when she noticed
something odd—stripped wires in a three-bundle of CAT5. Copper
glinted from the bare wire here and there in a most unseemly manner.
Elaine felt a sudden sense of empathic hurt for the damaged network.
The professor shifted behind her, noticing her sudden change
in expression. “Do you see a problem already?”
‘Mynocks,” she said, her fingers straying over the frayed CAT5,
“chewing on the cables.”
“What?”
“I can handle this from here.” She grabbed the door and star-
ted to swing it closed. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“But I—”
“Thank you, Professor. I can handle this from here.” With that
she shut the door and leaned against it as if he might open it.
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Muffled by the door he said, “If you need any help just come to
my office.”
It took a full minute before she heard the chink-chink sound of
his office keys fade from earshot.
Once she was certain he had evacuated her personal space,
which Elaine considered to include the entire region of her workspace
and the immediate other side of the door, she prepared for work.
Flinging her arms to her sides she worked her fingers in stretches like
a maestro preparing to conduct an orchestra. She flipped open the
tech kit and fished out a pair of heavy goggles and a microwire USB
spool.
The goggles fit snugly onto her forehead and she flicked a
switch recessed into the left lens. A soft beep emitted as they powered
on, using a short series of watch batteries sewn into the band for star-
tup power. The emitters inside couldn’t run on that power, but they
did have to warm up before they could be used. She had designed
them in “ENG495: Wearable Miniaturization and Design” and at full
drive the emitters could transpose high resolution video onto her
vision.
The USB cable spool whzzed as she pulled it out and plugged
one end into her cell phone and attached the other to her goggles. Two
bars. 15 Mbit/s wasn’t good but if it was the best that the wireless net-
work could handle down here, she would make do. The cell’s display
flipped an hourglass a few times as it got itself connected to the net-
work and finally displayed a grainy image of the server rack. She
flipped it closed and clipped it to her belt.
The room would have been generously measured at 6x8’ with
only a few feet of walking room in the center not crowded by server
racks and humming machines. Two vents on either side of the room
stood high in the wall and breathed out extremely cold air. A work-
bench made of aluminum had been set up against the far wall with a
107/168
short stool, where she had placed her tech kit. Keyboard. LCD
monitor.
Elaine ignored them.
The goggles pulled down over her head, she hit the lights.
The HUD inside the goggles produced a totally different view
of the room. The constellation of orange and green LEDs returned
with a vengeance, glimmering in the dark like faraway boats. With the
lights out Elaine also noticed something else: brief flickers of blue-
white electrical arcs. Spidery fingers of discharge walked away from
one of the servers—MSTATS C, she guessed—along an Ethernet cable,
and slid across the ceiling overhead.
The discharges by themselves would have been curious and
very bad for a computing environment, but with her goggles on she
could see the telltale symptoms in their wake that suggested an alto-
gether less mundane problem than simple static electricity.
Answer: Chews on wires; causes network disruptions; random
static discharges; and sudden hardware failures.
Question: What is a gremlin?
Prepared for this eventuality, she kept several silver anti-static
bags in her tech kit, along with etched Mason jars. While a static bag
would certainly hold a gremlin nearly indefinitely, nothing escaped
from a properly sealed Mason jar. Plus, fresh gremlins had value to
other arcane practitioners—value that included a monetary payout if
undamaged.
Next to them she had a small canister of canned air. She
popped the tab.
Chime-chime! Alerted her cell phone. 3 missed messages.
108/168
soon as I’d caught my breath. Not that Hawksville, Oregon and the Tip
Top Diner could be considered greener pastures, but it was quiet and
had been free of strangeness.
Going back to the table to finish cleaning, I silently hoped the
man didn’t signal that my life was about to take a deeper dive into
weirdness.
“Hey.” Cheryl’s surprised voice made me glance at her a few
minutes later. “Where’d he go?”
Turning around, I saw the empty coffee cup and a fiver stuck
under the edge, but no guy. The bells hadn’t jangled when he’d left. A
tiny trickle of cold fear slid down my spine.
Man, I hate weirdness.
***
the top and had a swallow while grabbing a saucer down from the
overhead cabinet.
“They’re not all begonias. Aren’t you going to ask me why it
was creepy?” Setting the saucer on the table, I collapsed on one of the
padded mini bench seats and poured a little beer for him.
“You’ll tell me anyway, so why waste my breath?” He lapped at
the beer after speaking.
“Smart ass.” I took another drink. “My skin tried to run away
from home right before this dude walked in, but then it stopped. And
like five minutes later, poof! He was gone and neither Cheryl nor I
heard him leave.”
“So she saw him as well?” Thor looked up from his crouch over
the saucer.
“I didn’t imagine him. He drank a cup of coffee and left a five.”
“I was merely ruling out the possibility of a ghost,” the cat
haughtily informed me. “Did you bring the bill home?”
“Duh.” I fished the fiver out of the pocket of my apron and laid
it on the table. Thor, who was a small Siamese, sniffed curiously at it
before sneezing so hard that his tail went straight and puffy. “Ooh,
bad?” My anxious question had to wait for an answer while he sneezed
again.
“He’s a shape shifter,” Thor replied, sounding stuffed. “Do you
have pepper in your pocket?”
I peeked and saw that there were a few tiny paper packets
present. I’d probably dropped them in while sacking up takeout or-
ders. “Yeah, sorry. Did you say shape shifter?”
He sneezed again, wiped his nose with the back of a paw be-
fore nodding. “Yes.”
115/168
Waiting for more only resulted in watching him down the last
of his beer, so I prompted “And?”
“More beer, please.”
“Dude, c’mon.” I tipped the bottle to refill the saucer. “Shape
shifter? So he’s dangerous, right?”
“Not unless you’re a deer on a full moon night.” The cat
smiled. “Shifters are usually peaceful individuals, Cara.”
“Usually means not always,” I pointed out before finishing my
beer. “And are we talking werewolf here?”
“Yes. What’s for dinner?”
“Fancy Feast. Chicken or beef?” Rising, I tossed my empty
bottle into the trash. “Which is it?”
“Chicken,” Thor decided. “You’re not eating?”
“I ate during my last break.” Bending to look into the bottom
cabinet, I checked labels until I found a can of chicken. Pulling the
tabbed top off and dropping it in the trash, I collected another saucer
and a fork before returning to my seat. Forking the stuff out, I asked,
“Why haven’t you mentioned shape shifters before?”
“Mmm.” He was chewing a bite, blue eyes half closed. Swal-
lowing, Thor replied, “There weren’t any around to mention.”
“Maybe you’d better start mentioning things before it’s neces-
sary to.” Glaring at him, I recalled how he’d lived with me for two
whole weeks before the attack forced him to reveal that he was more
than a rather runty kitty cat.
It had been a shock to watch my cute little Siamese morph into
one the size of a tiger after popping out of thin air. Okay, so that shock
hadn’t been as big of one as the goat headed demon drooling over the
116/168
idea of eating my soul, but still. I’d let Thor sleep with me – and I pre-
ferred sleeping nude.
Try to imagine finding out the stray cat you adopted, that had
been sleeping curled up next to your bare boobs every night, is actually
a creature as old as the world is. Yeah, we’d had a long talk about per-
sonal boundaries after that, believe me. Thor wasn’t allowed to watch
me change clothes or take a shower anymore, and now I wore a t-shirt
and panties to bed.
“If I did that, you’d have no time for anything else.” His tail
twitched. “And trying to determine what you might need to know
ahead of time? A nightmare. For example, I seriously doubt you’ll ever
run into a dragon.”
“Dragons are real?”
“Everything’s real, Cara.” With that statement, the cat began
to get serious about devouring his dinner, leaving me to freak silently
out. I managed to get mostly past it by the time he’d finished his meal
and started asking questions.
“Mermaids?”
“Yes.”
“Selkies?”
“Yes.”
“Unicorns?”
“Yes,” Thor sighed in his most put upon tone.
“Is the virgin thing for real?” was my next question. Seeing a
unicorn would be way cool, but the horn through the chest for not be-
ing virginal? Not so cool.
117/168
“They can’t come inside unless you for some reason invited a
vampire to do so. You don’t really think all I do is laze around while
you’re at work, do you?” Thor sniffed at the expression on my face.
Yeah, that was pretty much what I thought he did while I was
slaving away and getting my ass bruised by overly friendly trucker
types. “Sorry.”
“Our little home on wheels is secure from unexpected visitors
such as those.”
“How?”
“I’ve warded it quite well, from top to bottom. Many forget
about the bottom, you know. At least until something comes through
it.” Thor flicked an ear, looking thoughtful. I decided not to ask and he
blinked a few seconds later, returning to the present.
“This is your refuge and part of my duties as your familiar is to
make certain that’s exactly what it is.” He grinned and I returned it be-
cause you have to smile back at a grinning cat. They just look too
damn funny when they do it. “You could drive this box through Hell
and come out the other side safe, as long as the windows and door
were kept closed.”
“I’m not going to have to test that theory, am I?” My smile had
fallen off my face to land with a thump on the tabletop.
“I seriously doubt it. No witch has visited the Netherworld in
the past eight centuries.” Thor yawned, revealing every one of his
white, needle sharp teeth, pink tongue and dark gullet that an amazing
number of cans of cat food had disappeared down into the past two
months.
My jaws cracked into a reactionary yawn. “Okay, okay. It’s bed
time.”
119/168
http://roydss.blogspot.com/2009/09/refuge-of-delayed-souls-
part-1.html. In addition all of the stories and novels in this volume are
linked to from www.DreamFantastic.com.
2007
Elizabeth brushed aside her long fair hair with black leather-clad fin-
gers and fought a constant battle with the ever present wind as it
gathered pace and pushed its way through the cemetery. The drone of
the approaching lawnmower brought her thoughts back to the present
day and the rows of well-manicured graves and regimented
gravestones.
She strode past the names of the family members resting in
the ground beneath her feet and then stopped to study the dates chis-
elled into one of the cold granite headstones before her. Only five
names were engraved and yet there had been six burials. Elizabeth
turned and made her way into town.
A solitary tear trickled slowly down her cheek as she left the
cobblestone rake leading down from the cemetery and entered the
main street of Whituth. As a town it was nothing special. None could
deny its glorious location though, nestled as it was in a valley between
moorland and a breathtaking dell.
121/168
***
was a large, highly polished black marble fireplace and a roaring coal
fire.
Sitting in one of two oxblood leather armchairs by the side of
the fireplace was Stanley Thomas Birch, an eccentric gentleman whose
demeanour, despite his civilian attire, gave away the fact that he was,
or had been, in the military. He was quietly sipping an amber liquid
from a cut crystal tumbler and when he caught sight of her, he stood
up and smiled.
“Ah, Elizabeth! Please do come in and take a seat." He pointed
to the armchair facing the one he had just left.
Elizabeth shivered slightly; someone else was in the room with
them. Turning to her left she caught a glimpse of Wilfred placing a
small silver tray with a large mug of tea and some chocolate biscuits
upon a nearby table.
“Took the liberty, Miss,” remarked Wilfred. “I thought you
might be in need. Can I take your coat, Miss?” He held out his hand.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you,” she replied removing her
long red winter coat and passing it to him.
“Please do take a seat and enjoy your tea,” said Stanley fussing
after her lightly.
Elizabeth reached for the tea that Wilfred had made for her.
She was delighted to discover it was as delicious as ever.
“Welcome back,” said Stanley with a broad grin.
124/168
1940
There was a whooshing sound and Peg floated towards the
ceiling. She noticed a cobweb in the corner of the fanlight above the
front door and a ray from the streetlight outside crept its way in
through one of the glass panes. A finger-like beam reached towards
her and instinctively she edged away, tilting forward erratically and
hovering above the heavily congested hallway below.
Her body on the floor was the next thing she noticed and then
Anne on her knees beside it, sobbing as Billy rushed down the hallway
and out of the house. The finger of light hummed softly, its intensity
increasing steadily. Above it, she could only just make out a distant ca-
cophony of shouts and sobs amidst the rage that was Michael.
There was blood everywhere; thread-like streams trickled in
the grouting between the patterned floor tiles as others navigated the
heavily embossed Lincrusta wallpaper.
The light was persistent. She refused to turn and face it and
instead pushed down towards her body in a failed attempt to rejoin it.
She tried again, concentrating all her effort into moving away from the
ceiling, but merely ended up shooting off through an open doorway
landing forcibly on the bedroom floor beyond. The startled baby wit-
nessed her arrival and ceased wailing. Peg smiled at her reassuringly
before picking herself up off from the floor and rejoining the others in
the corridor beyond.
I must be dead
“I’m afraid yer assumption's correct,” remarked a young sol-
dier sitting on the stairs smoking a rolled up cigarette.
“Is that you, Hughie Nuttall? I thought your Millie said you'd
been taken prisoner following Dunkirk!” replied an incredulous Peg.
125/168
“Aye, most likely she did, but as yer’ll have gathered by now,
the bloody pen pushers got that bit wrong an’ all.”
Peg blinked, at least she felt like she blinked, “I’m not dream-
ing then?”
“Nope,” said Hughie. “Sorry, Peg. Bloody terrible way to go
too! I mean, I expected to get shot but no one would have guessed any-
thing like this would happen in yer own home.”
Peg moved aside to let her sister Catherine pass. She noticed a
smear of blood on her cheek and splashes of it on her dress. She
looked down at her own; there was none to be seen. She half expected
to see the wounds evident on her abandoned body and was relieved to
discover she was whole, or at least gave the impression of being so.
“Can’t work out why that is either,” said Hughie, standing up
and walking towards her. “I had one of me legs blown off and half me
face missing but yer would never have guessed it looking at me. The
police'll be here in a minute, I should imagine. Looks like yer staying,
then? The light’s gone.”
“The light?”
“Yeah, it came for yer. Don’t yer remember?”
Peg shook her head, “The street light?” She looked up at the
fanlight above; there was only a dim glow now.
“It’s something else, that light, Peg. I’ve seen it loads of times
now. Comes for yer when yer die, it does, but I never fancied going
with it meself. Most people do though.” Hughie bent down to adjust
his puttees and then straightened up.
Peg couldn’t take her eyes off her family.
I can’t leave them like this
126/168
Michael banged his fist on the wall and cried out. The baby
started to wail again and in an attempt to pull herself together, Anne
made her way over to the cot.
Above the baby’s cries, Peg just about managed to make out
that her family were communicating verbally with one another and yet
the only things she could clearly hear were the baby’s cries and Hugh-
ie’s conversation. The world of the living was gradually muting, and
something else was happening; everything appeared to be turning grey
and had a slightly washed out appearance.
“That’s what some people call the veil, Peg. Don’t worry,
though. Yer’ll become accustomed to it after a while and hardly notice
it’s there at all.”
The front door opened and Billy rushed in accompanied by Dr
Lord and his black leather medical bag.
“Fat lot of use that'll be now,” remarked Hughie grinning. Peg
looked at him disapprovingly and he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, if
yer don’t laugh there’s nowt left to do but skroike, lass,” he said put-
ting his arm around her comfortingly.
Peg hadn’t felt any real emotion up until that moment and the
reality of it all hit home at once. Sobbing, she leaned against Hughie
resting her cheek on the shoulder of his jacket. Almost immediately
she pulled back and looked up at him. "Why are you here, Hughie?
What’s all this got to do with you?”
“Look, lass, it’s going to be a bit like Piccadilly Station in here
for a while, so what say we go take a stroll and find somewhere a bit
more peaceful like? I’ll do me best to explain things as we go along.
How’s that sound to you?”
127/168
2007
“I don’t know where to start...”
It was Elizabeth’s second day since her return. She studied the
smartly dressed and obviously professional young woman who had
just walked into her office and came to the conclusion she was prob-
ably at her wits’ end.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I make us both a nice cup of tea and
then you can tell me all about it?” Elizabeth smiled encouragingly be-
fore walking over to a connecting door leading to the kitchen at the
rear of the room and putting the kettle on.
Sarah Entwistle definitely was at her wits’ end. She looked
around the room. To all intents and purposes it looked like any normal
tourist information office except that the local tourist office for this
town was situated in the library.
Elizabeth re-entered the room carrying a tray holding two
large mugs of tea and a number of rich tea biscuits. She put the tray
down on the table and passed one of the mugs to the young woman.
“Here, Sarah. Help yourself to the biscuits. There’s some sugar
too, if you take it.”
“What exactly is it that you do here?” Sarah asked cautiously.
Elizabeth could see that Sarah looked a bit suspicious at her
surroundings.
Whatever it takes
“We investigate paranormal activity,” replied Elizabeth
matter-of-factly.
128/168
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part-1.html/, and all of the stories and novels in this volume are linked
to from www.DreamFantastic.com
Jump back to the Story Descriptions
Guts and Sass
Guts and Sass is a high seas fantasy novel by M.E. Traylor. It can be
found at
Her eyes bulged and she craned her neck to stare at the
ceiling.
"We are getting nowhere. Can we see that we are getting
nowhere? Wait!" Her head abruptly snapped down, her eyes still wide.
"I get it! It's a code, or an analogy, or something. The widest water is
the pacific, and the other ones are the atlantic, mexico and canada.
Blink twice if I'm right." She stared at him with intense expectation.
Alan returned her gaze with nothing to offer. "You are not helping."
Wood creaked as Werser shifted, and the woman's eyes shot
toward him, brows knotted in suspicious alarm. When it appeared the
ship would not collapse, she looked back at Alan. After so long under
an ocean sun, her unburned paleness was startling, improbable.
"Why are you here?"
"That's my line, Blondie." Before he could respond she contin-
ued, "So did you use beaming technology or drug me and have me
shipped to the nearest body of salty water which is probably the
pacific?"
"It is my question, correct?" he asked with some amusement,
to avoid the maze her speech presented.
"Technically," she agreed, "but if I have no frigging clue how I
got here, that means it's a pretty sure thing you do."
He sat back slightly, evaluating her once again.
"You claim to not know how you came to be on this ship."
"Yeah, I don't habitually wreck renaissance fairs."
"And you believe that I have better knowledge of your pres-
ence here than you do."
"Uh, yah."
140/168
"Wyoming…?"
"Where is this?"
"Um, north of where I'm from. Why do you care?" Alan lifted a
brow. "Why I have green eyes."
He let out a silent laugh through his nose, and could think of
no reason not to answer, and something to be gained if she were
provoked.
"Because the only people we have ever observed this in are the
Drifalcand."
She stared at him evenly for a long breath.
"You must be fucking joking."
And that was where he felt the need to end. Giving no explana-
tion, Alan began to stand, and the woman instantly became alert, fol-
lowing his movements.
Before he could reach the door, she called, "So, have I earned
enough brownie-points to get untied?"
~~~~~
"Well. It worked."
"In a way," Alan agreed.
Ashur did not feel better. Alan was in one of his moods.
They had decided to take advantage of Ridiath's absence.
Ridiath had been taking food in the morning. The day after
she left, they told the guards to wait until late in the afternoon. Then
they had brought in food and water, provided their prisoner with a
bucket, untied her wrists, and said nothing. No explanation, no
143/168
question, no threat. Alan and Ashur had stayed away from her for the
past seven days, waiting to see what she would do.
Alan sat in the spare hammock, chin propped on folded
knuckles, patiently watching Ashur take a pace past the map table.
"She's waving smoke in our faces," Ashur said sharply. "She
wants us distracted, looking for possibilities that aren't."
"There are lands beyond Crec," Alan pointed out, voice subtly
tinted with amusement. "And north of the Duchies. Your people live
deep in the west, which we say to be landless."
Abruptly, Ashur spun on the ball of his foot to face him.
"And from out there," he slashed his spread fingers toward the
porthole, "she just happens to be more comfortable with Seclednar
than you are?" he demanded.
Alan's mouth only curved up, which was infuriating, but so fa-
miliar as to be taken for granted. Ashur's hand dropped and he jabbed
at the floor with two fingers.
"We've held her for most of a pass, and two days before the
earliest we can expect the raid back, she decides to start talking. A raid
on the one target through which we can cause any significant damage.
The raid we just sent ten of our people on. I do not. Like it."
~~~
As they sat behind their oars, Ridiath felt the keenness, the an-
ticipation that made the tension of waiting melt away.
Barely enough time had passed for them to expect him when
Idishe's compact shadow reappeared at the prow. They filed carefully
onto the rocks, except two watchers in case the galley were discovered.
She followed carefully behind Felghaim, stepping only on the rocks he
did, and felt nothing shift beneath the supple leather shoes tied
around her feet.
Behind a boulder they gathered, squatting, and Idishe spoke
loud and crisp with his hands to compensate for the dark.
Five sentries with bows. No sign of patrols. Idishe would take
the west and the south sentries. Efeddre would take the north-east,
east, and the steeple. They disappeared softly.
Ridiath heard the rattle of a rock, but it could have been water
against the ice-rimed shore. Four breaths and Ibleton led them a
winding path around the boulders to within a slingshot of a darker
shadow in the overcast night. Ridiath rested her palm lightly on the
pommel of her lhir. No sound came from the watchers on the walls.
She could feel her clouded breath against her cheeks, hot and wet.
A soft scuff against stone, a great door swinging upward. They
stayed still, and silent, fading into the piercing breeze. Someone
stepped out, and the movement was like Efeddre, but they waited until
he approached their hidden position, signaling them on.
Creeping inside, they met torchlight and a body in the fork of
the wide entrance corridor. Gathering around Efeddre, his brown
hands gave concise reports.
He paused and glanced behind his shoulder, and a heartbeat
later Idishe slipped into the torchlight from the right fork, cleaning
gore from his knives with a cloth.
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her face, pulling them forward. A ticklish, medicinal smell wafted into
her nose and mouth, and Efeddre gestured her in.
Ridiath stepped in after him, found the door as thick as her
torso.
The room was stacked with herbs and shells, hooves and
powders, organs, the torchlight painting shapes and shadows in or-
ange. Bales, crates, baskets, jars, all brimming, each clearly and simply
marked.
Efeddre crossed room and squatted beside three wooden jars
against one wall. He carefully twisted the tightly fitted lid off the
nearest; it had no seal. In the torchlight the contents seemed clear,
shining with a ripple, almost like water. A sharp, pungent smell
reached her, filling her lungs, and Ridiath felt a jolt behind her eyes.
Rethor.
Efeddre pulled a small clay flask from a pouch on his rope
belt, and submerged it in the dense liquid. When it was filled, he let
viscous streams and beads drip back into the jar. She had never seen
so much, and never so thick. One could have bought a ship with that
flask. With those three jars one could have bought half of Endonsárre.
Corking the flask, Efeddre stowed it back in the pouch.
Efeddre worked the lids off the two other jars. The pungent
smell intensified. From inside his pouch Efeddre took a small bundle,
and Ridiath watched as he carefully shook a portion of the grainy con-
tents into each jar, until the cloth was empty. He refitted each lid, and
studied the area all around. Licking his finger, he picked up something
from the floor Ridiath couldn't see.
Suddenly, she understood Efeddre's plan.
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She did not hear Efeddre return, did not sense him creep on
board with his lifeless burden. Only felt Gerril's reaction when he real-
ized Efeddre was there. The signal passed up the length of the boat,
and Ridiath laid her hands on the oars in front of her, felt the others
settle into position.
When they reached deep water at the first blue light before
sunrise, Efeddre gently lowered the body into the ocean, and let it drift
away.
Before she slept she sent a message to Demhlei.
Don't use any new rethor.
~~~
Sucking in a gasp at the sharp twist to sensitive flesh, she
bolted almost upright, one hand already on her knife and the other
starting to shove the grasping thing away. They had found her sleep-
ing— fury and disgust roiled in confusion when her hand connected
with a small forehead, and soft tufts of hair. Her thrust lost its mo-
mentum before she could knock the body away.
Not a man, fondling her as she lay sleeping. A child. The Lrid-
risy child, latched on her breast, slowly suckling, already asleep. The
details of the dark, still beach penetrated the not-quite-memory, not-
quite-dream, confirming that she was not in the walls of Lum, that one
of her hiding places had not been discovered.
She had woken Solme. He had already grasped his lhir before
he even came fully awake.
"No danger," she said. "The child startled me."
He took a bleary second to process that, then dropped back to
his roll, pulling his blade to him like a partner.
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Awkwardly, Ridiath pulled the rest of the boy into her lap,
feeling him drag her nipple into his mouth, his small hand digging into
her other breast through her tunic. Her eyes strained through the
darkness, looking for Efeddre's profile in the dark, but could not make
him out. She sighed, wondering if she should take the child back to
him. Holding him with one arm, she tried to gently pry her breast out
of his mouth, but his thin, sharp fingers only dug into her more, and
he made a muffled noise of discontent. She persisted, and the mewling
grew louder. Letting out another breath, Ridiath stopped. She had
already woken Solme.
She sat there, eyes gritty, wondering what to do. Cheek in one
hand, she looked around, seeking out forms in the darkness. The collar
of her tunic rubbed where the boy had rucked it down to her ribs. She
tried to adjust it, running a finger underneath the tight hem. It didn't
help. Her eyes picked out the watchman, probably Fis, sitting on a
rock. She had begun to absently rub between the child's shoulders. As
her gaze travelled toward the impenetrable darkness of the island's
tree line, one shadow abruptly peeled away from the others, revealing
itself to be separate, closer. Disconcerted, her eyes took a breath too
long to adjust and perceive a figure crouching just a step behind where
her head had lain, watching her. Her mind jumped too late to her
knife, and then she knew it was Efeddre, and did not reach for it.
"He was sleeping fitfully." His voice came low out of the dark-
ness. "He found his own way over to you. I wanted to see what would
happen." It flashed through her with great irony that Efeddre could
certainly never be faulted on his honesty. His closeness, and her un-
awareness of it, was unsettling. But then she realized he had posi-
tioned himself close enough to reach out and scoop the boy away, or
stay her hand if she had been more than startled.
"I can't feed him."
158/168
http://kendalblack.blogspot.com/2010/02/welcomedod.html. In ad-
dition all of the stories and novels in this volume are linked to from
www.DreamFantastic.com.
day was fair and it was pleasant to have a good horse under him. He
stepped up the pace to a trot. To ride again at the head of cavalry, it
had been too long since he had done that, and he began to hum a rid-
ing tune. He wanted to sing out loud, but that would never do. Cousin
Chet's singing voice was much better than his.
He turned south down the harbor road, remembering to swing
wide so the column could follow gracefully. The clatter of the horses
echoed thunderously among the buildings. Sailors and merchants
turned to stare. Then he turned the column eastward and inland, on
the King's Road. Spies watching the harbor reported, "Arrend heading
for home."
The sun was setting as King Bonfort and his escorts arrived at
the Arrend country estate. It felt strange, even to a king, to stride into
another man's house as if he owned it, but the charade called for it. He
regretted not taking the time to admire the riverside setting, with its
well kept grounds, orderly hedges and trees in straight rows. As a child
he had thought the place magically lovely, and had been sure there
were fairies about. He was now not so sure about the fairies, but the
place was beautiful still.
But a man returning home after a brief absence would hardly
pause to admire the scenery. So, keeping in character, Bonfort simply
walked in the door. Behind him the guards dismounted and saw to
putting away the horses.
Indoors the light was dim. The windows were shuttered, but
candles were lit. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. A woman was
curtsying: Ali, Chet's wife. Her long auburn hair was done up elabor-
ately with combs, and she was wearing a shimmering dress of white
and gold--always the one for fine manners, and fine clothes. She had
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fascinated him, years ago, but his cousin had been the better catch. No
one ever expected Bonfort to become High King. He smiled at her.
"You husband understands, of course, that he is not to issue
any edicts?"
She laughed. "Yes, Bonbon, and he's not to sell your horses.
How long are we to keep up this game of yours?"
"I should be back in ten days, I hope not so long that. It really
is a bother! For all of us."
"'Born to rule, born to trouble.' Go on now, Ingdor is in the
carriage porch and he acts like he's in a hurry." But she grasped his
arm as he left, and held it a moment. "Be careful!"
One ought not, in proper etiquette, touch a king unasked, but
he said only, "Right, see you soon. Good luck!" He gave her arm a
squeeze in return.
Ingdor was tall for an elf, as tall as most men, but with the thin
frame and face of his kind. "Watch," he said, and he disappeared. Then
he reappeared. "This porch uses an Old Road as its foundation. That
was a poor idea. But now it serves us well. I have brought these." He
held out two pendants, each set with a small yellow gem. "Wear one
and you are invisible while you stand upon the Old Roads."
Bonfort looked puzzled. "Take one and put it on," Ingdor said.
Bonfort did.
"Everything looks the same," Bonfort said.
"And why not?" The elf looked vaguely impatient. "It is you
that are changed, not anything else." He put on his own pendant. Bon-
fort expected him to vanish again, but he did not.
"But I can see you," Bonfort said.
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The elf shrugged at that. "Yes, that's the way it works. It's...a
bit involved, there. I'll explain later, if you like." There were two knap-
sacks laid ready. He took up one and gestured at the other, then
opened the door. Staying on the white stone path that led into the
woods, he set off at a brisk walk. Bonfort put on the other pack and
hurried to catch up.
…
Many miles and several adventures later, Bonfort arrives at a
secret meeting. The Faerie Queen is speaking:
2. Queen of the Night
Queen Goronla rose to speak.
"Bonfort King," she said, "I said I would lay aside past differ-
ences. So said I, and so I do. I hold you blameless in all I shall recount,
hoping you, also, will not blame me.
"Earlier this year you and your friend Dickson killed three
werewolves and a spoorn. I myself was hunting them, for they were
renegades. You did not see me, but I saw you. You reached them be-
fore I did. All four were dead when I arrived. As well for them!
"Or, it was as well for two of them--for only two had eaten
children. The others were sheep stealers, and I trust you see the dis-
tinction. The one is theft and the other, murder. But you could not
know, Bonfort, and did as you saw fit to protect your own people.
"That was not the only hunt I made, of late. What is bad for
the reputation of faeriefeys is bad for one and all, of course. That is
why we work to police our own. Lately, though..." She waved and a
servant came over, a Boneless, flapping as he walked.
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"Gort is my court historian," she said. "He has the facts of all
judicial matters at his fingertips. Gort, tell us how many have been ex-
ecuted for crimes this year."
"Fourteen, milady. So far. Not counting Bonfort's hunt, which
is, from the legal standpoint, the action of a separate jurisdiction. All
told, eighteen."
"And in the last four centuries?"
"Three, milady."
"And how many have I turned into toads as punishment,
whether for a time, or permanently?"
"Forty-three this year. Again, an unprecedented number.
There were nine in the preceding four centuries."
"Thank you, Gort," she said. "You may resume your place." He
flapped and shuffled away.
"Gentlemen," said Goronla, "I am faced with a most unheard
of rise in evildoing. I preserve my own kingdom by protecting my
neighbors. So it must be. We eldritch folk keep to ourselves, and when
some don't, we clean up our own messes. But lately the matter has
gone beyond all bounds. Many humans have been killed, or cursed in
various ways, or haunted. Just what I don't need! Believe me, Bonfort,
I am doing all I can to stop it, but it continues. And as harm begets
harm, some of my people have been killed by farmers and villagers,
some for cause, some not.
"After your business with the werewolves I and my hunters
pursued a shagfoal who had taken to trampling people to death,
simply because he did not like humans and was tired of my orders to
keep out of their way.
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"I did not think I would do this," said Goronla. "But I want no
doubts left as to what we are facing." She began to unwind the veils
from about her hat and head. "Who has not heard of the legendary
beauty of the Faerie Queen? Beauty to make men's knees knock, and
all women jealous. When I heard the words of my subverted subject,
the shagfoal, I went looking for Mograsom, or for some sign of him, to
see what I could learn about the new evils he is hatching. Would that I
had not!" And as she took away her veil, Bonfort saw her face was a
bat's face. He shuddered. She took off her gloves and her hands were
like the feet of a chicken. "A reversing spell made me as hideous as
once I was beautiful. Have a care, Bonfort! The rest of us know this
foe, but you do not."
There was a great commotion outside their chamber. Horns
blew and gongs rang. Many voices shouted, or whinnied, or grunted,
or roared, or squealed, according to their kinds. A page-bat flew in,
crying out in a high pitched tongue Bonfort did not understand. It
knelt to the queen, after landing on the table before her, and they con-
versed rapidly in the same language.
"Gentlemen, we are under attack. I suggest you go at once.
Take them out of here, Lu!" She was throwing off the rest of her
clothes. Leathery black bat wings unfurled from her body, and her skin
was like a snake's.
"Come with us, Gorrie!" said Lu.
"Nay! This is my land, these are my people. I will stay and
fight." She flew from the cave, crying, "To me, my people, rally to me,
all that are not gone over to the side of evil and hell!"
Bonfort stared after her. Ingdor took his arm and led him to
where Lu stood, wizard's staff held out horizontally. "Grasp my staff,
both hands, hold on tight! Bonfort, it would probably be best if you
closed your eyes. You haven't done this before. Holding on, Ingdor?
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Good." Lu took a deep breath and shouted more words Bonfort did not
understand. With a flash and a bang, the three were gone.
Bonfort's ears were ringing and he felt dizzy. His eyes were
still squeezed shut. "You can let go now, Bonfort, we've arrived," said
Lu.
Bonfort opened his eyes and looked about. They were in a
place altogether different from the one they had left. "Where am I?
Where are we, I mean?"
"Many, many leagues from where we started", said Lu. "Far in-
land, in a tower I use sometimes -- Oh, blasts and maledictions!" He
was looking at the gemstone that topped his staff. It was now dark and
crazed, cracked through. "And here we stay! That last trip used up the
last bit of virtue in this stone." He detached the stone and threw it into
the rubbish bin.
"It's a long walk back to the Twelve Kingdoms," Ingdor said.
"I daresay," said Lu. "Well, here we are, and here we stay, until
we think of a better plan."
"Did you see her wings?" said Ingdor. "They used to be soft
and white, like dove wings." His voice held a note of bitter outrage.
The war had begun.