The Sword and the Sorceress

Posted on by gmfx

Estrilda woke to the sound of argument from outside the cottage. Was that Nathyn’s voice? Her son sounded panicked. As the fog of sleep lifted, she heard a stranger’s voice, low and gruff” “Put that thing down before you hurt yourself, boy.”

“Not until you leave, villain.” Nathyn’s voice sounded shrill and thin in the night. His courage warmed Estrilda’s heart. She threw on a cloak and stepped out into the darkness.

Nathyn stood with his back to the door, struggling to hold up his father’s sword. Before them stood a pair of knights in dark plated steel. Armed and armored as they were, the two men staggered at the sight of her. “The sorceress!” One of them cried, lowering a pike.

“Silence!” Nathyn cried out, swinging the blade wildly. “You will not speak ill of my mother again.”

“Enough Nathyn,” Estrilda said. “This man names me truly.”

“See there, lad?” the other knight said, taking a step forward. “Now stand aside.”

But Nathyn wouldn’t relent. He took a quick step to place himself between the knight and his mother and raised the sword again. “Nathyn.” Estrilda’s voice was a gentle as a pale spring morning. “Don’t throw your life away on my account. Stand aside.” Teary eyes turned up to his mother. The sword in his shaking grip finally fell to the ground, embedding itself in the earth. “My cou rageous son,” Estrilda said with a smile. “I wish I could stay to see what an honorable man you will become.”

“So then,” one of the knight’s grunted. “You’ll come along peacefully?”

Estrilda’s smile widened as she raised her gaze to her assailants. “No, I don’t think I will.” She was glowing. The soldiers started shouting, but it was already too late. She was burning. Then, she was gone.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox

Shadows

Posted on by gmfx

The shadows shifted in the corner of Cal’s eye. It was back.

It never left.

“Leave me alone,” Cal barked.

“You’re always alone,” a grating voice replied. Darkness emerged from the shadows, a hulking form, long twisted limbs, a featureless head. “Worthless,” it croaked.

“No.”

“Pathetic.”

“No more.”

“Unlovable.”

“Enough! I’m done letting you control my life.” The thing cocked its head, curious. But Cal was already moving, knife in his hand. “Now die!”

A half stifled moan of surprise. The blade sank deep into the being’s chest and it crumbled to the floor. Cal was shaking, panting, giddy and terrified and sick. He watched the thing’s skin turn grey and brittle as cracks spread from the knife wound.

“I did it,” he whispered. “I’m finally free.”

“You’re a fool,” the thing announced. It’s skin had gone grey and dry. The cracks spread to its mouth as it spoke, then the skin began to crumble. “You can’t kill me.” The figure began to rise, large chunks of it’s flesh flaking away. “You don’t even know what I am.”

Cal staggered back, his features twisted into an expression of horror as he saw those same features emerge from the crumbling shadows.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Binding

Posted on by gmfx

Silence filled the space between the mage and his client. Alden knew his craft well, so it was very rare that he had repeat customers, and neither he nor Perin felt comfortable navigating the situation. He moved to the northeastern corner of the house, knelt at the base of the corner post and began carving the rune of binding in the freshly sawed boards.

“It’s a good house,” Alden offered over his shoulder. “Well built. The carpenters outdid themselves. I don’t know if you’ll even need magic to keep this house standing.” Receiving no response, Alden bent back over the rune to begin his spell.

“You said that last time,” Perin commented. It was true of course. Alden made that remark to most of the new homeowners who hired him. It usually made them smile. But Perin was frowning deeper than ever. “The old house is still standing,” he said. “The carpenters did their job well and so did you. I’m the one who ruined everything.”

Alden hesitated, “What’s broken can be mended. It’s not my magic, but maybe it’s yours.

Perin’s eyes shone, but he answered, “No. She deserves that house. Maybe now it can finally be a home.

* * *

Story by Gregory M. Fox