A short bit of fantasy writing

“…and so Te’or said, ‘I told you, that’s no banshee, that’s my sister!’”

The court erupted in raucous, drunken laughter.  “I tell you, Carus, no matter how many times I hear that story, it gets me every time!  Banshee…hah!”

Carus grinned and saluted with his cup, “Thank you, dear Prince.  I’ve got a new one for you, about a busty tavern girl and a dimwitted dwa-“

His words were cut off as the enormous oak doors flew open, their iron bands ringing off the stone walls.  Standing at the doors with dusk gathering behind her was a disheveled, panting young woman holding a gleaming sword in her hand.  Struggling to raise the blade above her head, she breathed, “Prince Ekor, this is for you!”  Staggering weakly, sword in the air, she stumbled and was caught by the palace guard.  The last thing she heard before passing out was the clatter of the sword hitting the floor.

*****

Ekor stared at the woman’s prone form.  She was obviously a Westerner, with dark hair shot through with strands of silver, her skin the color of iron-rich desert sands.  The patterns of scars on her shoulders and arms marked her as a member of the ruling class of Kidhan.  Ekor wondered what she was doing in his lands; after all, Kidhan was a two-week ride across hostile terrain.  He’d been studying her for two days now, ever since she’d burst into his court with the sword.  ‘Two days,’ he thought, ‘and she hasn’t even opened her eyes once.  Gods, who is she?’  Perturbed, he walked to the window.  As he watched the sun fall below the horizon, Ekor barely noticed the lightning clouds in the far distance.

*****

“Aaahhh!!  Wh…Wha…Where am I?”

Ekor started from his chair, blinking as the woman sat bolt upright in bed, screaming.  “Easy, girl.  You’ve been unconscious for days.  You’re safe.  Who are you and what are you doing here?” 

Before she could open her mouth to answer, a trio of guards burst into the room.  “My liege!  We heard screaming.  Are you safe?”  Ekor waved them off with a nod and a slight smile, and turned back to the woman.

“Well?”

Gathering the covers around her, the woman began, “P…Prince Ekor, my name is Te’ara.  I’m from the West, from Kidhan.  My father sent me; he said you could help us.  He said that now was the time to call on the ages-old friendship between our lands.  He is certain that Ladrys will come to our aid.  Please, Prince Ekor, you must help, we will die otherwise.  We’re in dire need.  You must…”

Ekor held up his hand, “Hold on, girl.  Te’ara.  Slow down, you’re panicked.  Now, take a breath and explain what you’re saying.  First tell me, why did you burst into my court with that sword?”

Trembling, Te’ara began, “The sword, Prince, is a gift from my father.  It was presented to his grandfather by Prince Ralan of Ladrys after the Battle at Seven Elms, as a token of alliance and friendship.  We return it to you in kind, with the hopes that you will aid us in our time of need.”

Ekor leapt up, “By the hells!  You’re from the House of Te’or!  Long have we recounted the stories of Seven Elms.  What is the trouble that brings you to us?

A tear trickled down Te’ara’s cheek and she shuddered, “The dead…they, they came from the South.  Horrible, rotting creatures of flesh, marching in armies across our lands.  They’ve slaughtered our people and added them to their armies.  Our fields are burned, our army is shattered.  We have no one else to turn to…please, I beg you, help us…”  She broke down sobbing, her body trembling with each cry.

The guards burst in again but Ekor again raised his hand and stopped them.  “Fetch the doctor and tell him to bring a calming draught, then tell my chamberlain to assemble the Council.  We’re going to war.”

*****

A little bit of spooky fiction

Just a bit of raw fiction below...first draft, unedited, and a nice little vignette, I think.

Twelve years.  It had been twelve years since Aaron had been home, twelve long years since he’d felt the warmth of his family’s love, the warmth of a home-cooked meal, any warmth at all.  He didn’t even register the heat of the sirocco moving through the air as the desert surrendered the day’s swelter.

Night came fast in the desert; it was one thing Aaron was grateful for.  The sun was too hot, too bright, too oppressive.  It obscured details that the moon’s glow seemed to highlight.  Even on a moonless night, the galaxy of stars above provided enough light to navigate by.  Travelling by night and sleeping by day, Aaron kept mostly to himself.  He’d occasionally cross paths with a caravan, stopping to appreciate their hospitality.  The company was nice sometimes, Aaron thought, but he also knew he was safer on his own.  As much as there was safety in numbers, there were monsters that stalked the caravans.  A single traveler didn’t attract much attention; no braying donkeys, no large and smoky fires.

Whenever Aaron met a caravan, the Bedouins would invariably urge him in, offering one cup after another of strong, sweet mint tea, sticky dates, and morsels of the ubiquitous roast goat.  After a show of feigned humility on both sides, Aaron would at least sit down for some tea and conversation, trading gossip about the other tribes in the area, and intently listening to stories about the monsters that came in the night, the monsters that stole life from the tribesfolk, leaving them sickly and weak.  It was valuable information to Aaron; even as a lone traveler, it was important to stay abreast of the troubles of the tribes.  Being able to share news between the various families and tribes made Aaron a valuable visitor, and he never left hungry.

On this night, though, Aaron sat alone once again.  At the top of a dune, he stared off into the vast field of stars, remembering that night twelve years ago when he left home to explore the desert, and his decision shortly thereafter to never go home again.  He remembered every fright he’d had out in the desert, every death of a friend, every near miss.  He was roused from his reverie by the faint scent of incense wafting across the air, followed minutes later by the sight of a caravan some two miles distant.  Peering intently across the night-time sands, Aaron hungrily flicked his tongue over his needle-sharp fangs.  Yes, Aaron mused as he began hiking towards the flickering torches, there certainly were monsters in the desert.