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Fantasy Romance

Short Stories

Short Story: Siren’s Song – Part 2

by

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Siren’s Song

Elysia had only seen Lorik this bad once before, and it was the night he’d agreed to throw his life away to see justice against Thorne Thaaxune done.

He was sinking back there because of her.

Because she’d tested him rather than trusted him.

After all they had seen together, all they’d been through, she’d known Sy wouldn’t win. But Lorik hadn’t known that, and she wanted him to give him that knowledge.

Elysia sheathed her sword and offered him her hand. He looked at the whiskey and then at her.

“Please.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but she knew he’d come. Lorik had never denied her anything, not even joining her on this fool’s errand.

Lorik groaned, but he pushed the glass away and followed her back to their room.

She closed and locked the door, then took off her armor.

Lorik climbed into bed and faced the wall, counting backward from 100 as he controlled his breathing.

She sat on the bed beside him.

“We both need our sleep. Go to bed,” he grunted. “Sy is too scared of you to come back.”

The hint of regret in his words stung her. She reached for him, then drew back her hand. “The Light doesn’t forbid physical contact.”

“Good thing, because I’ve seen you slay a dozen zombies with one strike. Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She lifted his hand and laid it against her cheek.

“I know what you meant.” He turned and met her intense violet gaze. “And you have no idea what you’re saying. No idea what I want to do with you.”

His dark hair curled over his cheek. He was as battered and worn as his armor. Used and hardened by it. But he was still a good man. One of the best she’d ever met. And she loved him all the more for the dents and dings. Because he’d endured them, and they had toughened him, but they hadn’t broken him.

Lorik thumbed over her cheek as the heat of him caressed her through her shift and the scent of him stole through her.

“Show me,” she whispered as she leaned forward and touched her lush full lips against his.

 

Short Story: Siren’s Song – Part 1

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Siren’s Song

Lorik plunked down at an empty table and waved to the innkeeper. A hearty bowl of stew and cold ale appeared. Lorik grunted his thanks, handed a few coins to the innkeeper, and dug into the food.

He polished off the first bowl, and a second slid in front of him. Lorik dropped another coin on the table and ate. Slower this time, actually tasting the rich stew.

“Hungry?” a voice purred as an all too familiar pointed tail traced the inside of his thigh.

Lorik kept eating. “What do you want, Sy?”

“To play.” Her tail slid higher.

“Not on that team anymore.”

“You’re still on the team, even if your new master has you sitting out.”

Lorik stiffened. “She’s not my master. And she’s not into those kinds of games.”

“Too bad.” Sy’s tail brushed him. “We always had such fun.”

Lorik grabbed her tail. “Enough.”

Sy glanced at the stairs and then towards the inn door. “Where is she?”

“Scared?”

“Hoping she’ll see us together.”

“She’s not the jealous type.”

“All women are the jealous type.”

Looking up from his stew, Lorik knew what he’d see, and he looked anyway.

With the low-cut black leather corset and matching panties, you barely noticed Sy’s leathery wings or hoofed feet. Her ruddy skin radiated heat, making you want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingers as you-

Lorik licked his lips, but he didn’t look away. “Who sent you?”

“If I said I came myself?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“The sex with you is good.”

Lorik snorted. “Sex is always good for you.”

“Better with you. You can take more punishment.” Hellfire lit her eyes. “I could let you be the master tonight.”

“Then punish me for it in the morning.”

“You know you’d like that.”

Lorik swallowed hard. Yeah, he would, but he knew what it would cost him with Elysia. Cost him more than a night with Sy was worth. Besides, he’d worked too damn hard to free himself.

He pushed away the stew and downed the rest of his ale. “Not gonna happen, Sy.”

She smiled, a dark sultry expression that made it painful to stand in armor.

“Goodnight, Sy.”

Her smile faded as she leaned forward. “Lord Thaaxune is giving you a chance to come back. He won’t make the offer again.”

“Way I figure it, he’s making the offer because he’s afraid of Elysia. Which means she has a real chance of ending him.”

“Lord Thaaxune is not afraid of some upstart paladin.”

Lorik shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But she’s the best chance I’ve got to be truly free of him.”

“There is no freedom. Just another form of servitude. You like servitude.”

Lorik swallowed back the lump in his throat as he looked at her leather clad curves and the whip she wore at her waist. A whip he knew wasn’t just for show. He drank in the view, sucked in a breath, and turned toward the stairs.

“You’ll regret it,” Sy whispered.

“Already do,” Lorik mumbled.

He half stumbled to the room he shared with Elysia. Closing the door behind himself, he bolted it and slid his shield under the handle. He’d know if anyone tried to break in. Not Sy’s style, but if Thaaxune was desperate, he might have more than Sy coming after him.

The room glowed with candlelight as Elysia knelt beside the bed, her hands clasped and head bowed in prayer. She’d shed her armor for a diaphanous white gown, and her silver hair flowed down her back and over her full fluffy white wings.

“How was your dinner?” she asked as she looked up at him with her hypnotic violet eyes.

Lorik grunted. “I swear you survive on rainbows and unicorn farts.”

“I ate at the temple,” she said as she stood.

With the candlelight behind her, he could just make out a snip of lace underneath the gown. He looked away from the purity of her silver and white beauty. She deserved better than him. Way better.

“You don’t smell of brimstone.”

He paused. “You knew Sy was waiting for me?”

“It is impossible for me not to sense her kind.”

“Why in the Seven Hells didn’t you say something!”

“You know why.”

Lorik glowered at her as he stomped to his bed. “Still shitty on your part.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to know. I’m trusting you to take me to Thaaxune. If she could have derailed you-”

“She can’t, okay?”

“Now I know. And so do you.”

“Yeah, I guess I needed to know that.” Lorik started taking off his armor.

Elysia came over and stood beside him, her slender fingers helping him unhook and unclasp it before lifting it off of him.

By the Seven Hells, she smelled good. Soft. Ephemeral.

Must be all the unicorn farts and rainbows.

Lorik balled his fists and tried not to respond to her touch. It was easier to ignore how soft and feminine she was when he wasn’t already aroused. Sy was good at her job.

“You’re tense,” Elysia said. “I hadn’t expected your meeting with Sy to be so trying.”

“You don’t understand men.”

“I’ve witnessed that sometimes your heart and your body are not aligned.” She knelt on the bed behind him and teased her fingers over the wide expanse of his back and up along his broad shoulders. She then began to rub, easing out the knots and chasing away the tension.

Lorik eased back into her skilled hands and closed his eyes. “That’s an understatement.”

“This disconnect, does it happen just with demons like Sy?”

“Happens all the time. Part of my mortal failing, I guess.”

“All the time?” Elysia echoed and her hands stopped rubbing. “Like when?”

He cracked an eye. “You know you’re a constant temptation, right?”

“I’m not Sy.”

“Sy was made to twist and warp men. You do it without realizing it. Might be worse.”

“I never intended harm.”

“Definitely worse.” Lorik pushed away from her.

He grabbed his sword and shield, stomped back down to the common room and ordered a whiskey neat. After downing it and two more like it, he felt Sy’s tail wrap around his leg.

“Girl troubles?”

“In spades.” Lorik glanced over at her. The whip and leather had done it for him once, but that’s not what he wanted. Not now. Maybe never again. “Can you look like her?”

“What?” Sy asked.

Lorik leaned over and gave her his demonic half smile. “You make yourself look like her, and I will tie you to the bed and give you the ride of the century.”

“Want her that bad?”

Lorik raised his brows as he sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest. “Can you or can’t you?”

Before Sy could answer, the thud of heavy armor on the stairs had Sy on her feet. “Looks like your little paladin is coming for you.”

Lorik’s grin deepened. “She’ll smite you if she catches you. What happens to your kind when a paladin, even an upstart one, hits you with holy light?”

Sy took three steps back and disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

Elysia appeared at the bottom of the stairs, her silver armor gleaming and her sword pulsing with holy energy.

“She heard you coming,” Lorik said.

Elysia studied him for a long moment, nodded, and turned back towards the stairs.

“Don’t wait up,” Lorik said as he raised his whiskey glass.

She climbed a step and looked back as Lorik stared into the bottom of the glass.

 

Short Story: To Catch a Dragon

by

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To Catch a Dragon

Ndrek sat behind the bar and studied his mid-afternoon customers. Some had started drinking early, others had rented a room for the night and were just starting their day. Nothing terribly interesting among the entire lot.

Boredom itched.

Perhaps it was a good time to start work on the new spell he’d discovered.

As he slid off his stool, the door to the bar opened and the man that entered stooped to get under the door frame. Sir Leopold’s shoulders matched his height, and the gold dragon on his breastplate seemed to glow in the dim light.

The archetype for the Knights of Valor.

Now was more definitely not a good time to work on the spell.

Sir Leopold grimaced and lifted his boot off the sticky floor.

“To what do I owe this…” Ndrek paused. “Honor?”

The Knight leaned against the bar, his back to the wall as his faded blue eyes surveyed the tap room. “Don’t believe for a minute you’ve settled down as a barkeeper.”

“That is not what brought a High-Knight to my humble establishment. Perhaps you came for a Fire and Brimstone? My establishment is said to make the very best.”

Leopold stared at the pristine glasses behind the counter. “At least those are clean.”

“Too much cleanliness would scare away my best customers.”

Leopold’s eyes narrowed. “Not what I came to see you about, though I probably should.”

“Your presence is not conducive to my business. What has brought you here so you can be on your way?”

The Knight ignored the jab, reached into his cloak, and withdrew a sheaf of papers imprinted with the wax seal of the dragon church.

“A writ?”

“Interested?”

Ndrek sucked in a breath as he studied the sealed documents. “You have an army of Knights blessed by Dracor Himself. Why would you have need of me?”

“We’ve been issuing more of them lately. Not enough Knights to oversee all of Tamryn and the eastern provinces.”

“Then you need more Knights.”

“That’s up to Dracor,” Leopold said.

Ndrek bit back his quip about fickle gods. Knights were notoriously touchy about such things.

“Figure you’re getting bored about now. This’ll keep you busy and out of trouble. Pay’s not bad either.”

Ndrek grinned and took the papers, but he frowned as he read them. “This is a goose chase, as you Tamarians say. Dragons have been extinct since before men walked these lands.”

“Locals of Kelleran don’t agree with that assessment.”

“A dragon.” Ndrek rocked back on his heels as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea. “Are you sure?”

“Nope, but that’s where you come in.”

“Would not the followers of the Dragon God Dracor wish to be first on the scene?”

“Already sent a contingent of Knights.”

“They did not return?”

“Of course they returned. They didn’t see any dragons, and they didn’t find any proof that there’d ever been any.”

“Then why send me?”

“Found a few things that made some folks worry there might’ve been a dragon. Knights couldn’t tell if it was real or a hoax.”

“Would not the Knights know this best?”

“Dracor might take the form of a dragon, but dragons are magical beasts. Or they were.”

“No wizard was with the team you sent?”

Sir Leopold shook his head.

“So you think I will be able to tell for sure.”

“That’s the reasoning, anyway.”

Ndrek stared at the bundle of papers, including the generous payout. Far more interesting than tending bar.

Sir Leopold pushed off the bar. “I’ll send Knight Kailis over. She was on the original expedition. And Priestess Vaiya.”

“Was she on the original expedition as well?’

“No, but I figure if you find a dragon, you’ll want the healing skills of Priestess of Thalia on your side.”

Ndrek frowned. “You think there might actually be a dragon.”

“Doesn’t much matter what I think. It’s what you find that counts. I’ll send Knight Kailis over in the morning.”

The High-Knight nodded to him and left the bar, leaving Ndrek with the writ in his hands.

If Sir Leopold thought it was a goose chase, he wouldn’t be sending Ndrek, a Knight, and a Priestess of Thalia to investigate.

Sir Leopold also hadn’t become a High-Knight by being wrong.

Short Story: Goldleaf

by

GoldLeaf

 

He signed Evan Goldleaf on the document then slid it across the desk. Jerold Bellamy scrawled his signature across the paper then held out his pudgy hand to shake on the deal.

Goldleaf merely smiled, letting his reputation take over.

“Sorry about that,” Jerold mumbled as he took back his hand. “Customary and all.”

“I hope this will be a long and prosperous partnership.” Goldleaf dipped his head as he stood. He never took off his gloves, not even in the afternoon heat. Another of Goldleaf’s idiosyncrasies, but one others tolerated as doing business with him tended to make them wealthy. As it would Jerold Bellamy if he abided by the agreement. If he didn’t, well, Goldleaf would deal with Jerold accordingly.

“As do I,” Jerold said.

Goldleaf motioned toward a young man with a thick shock of unruly blond hair. “Nathan will see to all the particulars.”

It was likely the one and only time Goldleaf would meet Jerold Bellamy face to face, and he was glad for that. The man washed too little and wore too much perfume.

Nathan bowed then took the chair Goldleaf had vacated. The lad had a sharp mind and was eager to prove himself. This was a rather simple deal, but if the boy handled it well, Goldleaf had a great deal more for him.

It was too bad he’d lose the young man in only fifty years or so.

But then humans just didn’t live very long.

Turning the meeting over to Nathan, Goldleaf strolled through the offices, assuming a bored indifference. Few glanced his way as he appeared to be like every other successful merchant in Aerius.

His glamour spell was holding beautifully, but then most saw what they expected to see. The spell simply reinforced it. Yes, the occasional child pointed at him, or stared, but most parents quickly corrected their children and fussed at them about their lack of manners.

That suited Edrahil Goldleaf quite well.

Edrahil.

He hadn’t thought of himself by his birth name in years. Easier to adopt a human name than listen to them mangle his elven one. Besides, no one questioned Evan. Edrahil might draw attention.

And he’d rather stay unnoticed.  It had worked for 200 years. He wanted it to work for 200 more. Maybe longer.

His time in Aerius had originally been intended as a way to make amends for his trespasses. Now, his position in the capital city of Tamryn made him valuable.

Of course it did.

Few other elves could tolerate life among humans, much less build a thriving mercantile empire. And unlike so many of his kind, he liked humans. Yes, they tended to be dirty, uncouth, and always in a hurry, but they didn’t dwell on the past and forget to live. Sometimes that caused them to repeat foolish mistakes, but it also propelled them forward.

They were a boisterous, messy race, trying to cram too much into their short lives, but you’d be a fool to underestimate them. Most of the world already bowed to their dominance. If the elves wanted a place in this world, they had to find a way to coexist. Better yet, they’d have to find a way to thrive.

And Goldleaf would help them. They were still his people, no matter what else had happened.

But few elves agreed with him.

Another wedge between him and his home.

Goldleaf had been away so long, changed so much, he wondered if the woodlands of his youth were still his home. As his cane tapped against the marble floors, he knew the answer. Admitting it was something else.

But then, he had little need to admit anything. And if he were wise, he’d emulate his human companions and forget about such troubling things while enjoying an excellent glass of brandy.

He stepped out onto the street, planning to indulge in the brandy or perhaps open a cask of elven wine. Humans had never made good wine, but brandy was quite a different story.

Goldleaf’s carriage driver tipped his hat and pulled up to the building. As a footman opened the door, magic slapped Goldleaf.

Strong magic.

The kind he hadn’t felt since leaving the elves.

His breath knotted in his chest as he searched the street for this threat.

Short Story: Practice

by

Back from vacation and plagued by computer issues. Here’s a repost of an older story while I try to get my Alienware computer back to acting like a computer and less like a very expensive brick.

 

 

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Practice

Mara swept the first young Knight’s feet out from beneath him and shoved him hard with her shield. He crashed to the ground, and before he could roll away, she hit his breastplate with her sword.

A second Knight charged her, but she pivoted, letting his momentum in full armor carry him past her. As he tripped over the first Knight, Mara hit his back with the flat of her sword.

Two kill shots. Both Mara’s. Anything but a training exercise, and the two Knights of Valor would be dead.

There was laughter and teasing from the sidelines, but a quick look from Mara silenced the other Knights. “How long will you survive in the eastern provinces?”

Knight Keenan helped the two younger men back to their feet. “We’re practicing. They’ll get better.”

“But not good enough.”

“Not all of us can be Sir Marcus,” the Knight Mara had tripped said.

Mara pierced the boy with her hard stare. “Sir Marcus spent his life training to fight a lich. You spent yours training to protect the safe streets of Tamryn.”

Knight Keenan cleared his throat. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”

Mara looked over the assembled Knights, her gaze resting on each man in turn. “Anything you face in the eastern provinces will be alive because it’s survived worse than whatever haunts your nightmares. Do you think your enemies get knocked down during practice then toddle off to say a few prayers?”

The Knights stared back at her, and several of them clenched their fists at their sides.

“Good. Get angry at me. Better angry than dead. Next lesson.” Mara motioned to a figure dressed in a plain brown cloak.

The woman walked over to Mara and bowed, then turned toward the Knights.

“Skyla,” Keenan said. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s helping me demonstrate a lesson,” Mara said. “Are your healers out here?”

Keenan nodded toward Knight Matthias, but concern reflected in his pale green eyes. “Is this safe?”

“Less dangerous than sending out half-trained men.”

Knight Keenan glanced at Skyla then stepped back. “Be careful.”

Mara looked at the woman in the robes. Her rich brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her large grey eyes seemed too big for her face. She was easy to underestimate as so many mages were.

“Just like we practiced,” Mara said.

Skyla nodded and moved several sword lengths behind Mara.

“Do you think your Knights can beat Skyla and me?” Mara raised a challenging brow at Keenan. “Or are you going to send them to their prayer vigil and hope Dracor gives them fighting skills?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Not what I asked.” Mara smiled at the gathered Knights, a taunting expression meant to rile them. “Pick your best seven. If they can get three points in before I get a killing blow, you win, and I’ll come back and help you train them until the new moon.”

Keenan glanced at the recruits and then back at Mara. “You called for a healer. What do you have in mind?”

“Don’t think seven of your Knights can get in three hits?”

“And if they can’t?”

“You owe Skyla and me a hellfire at Ndrek’s bar.”

“Seven against you and Skyla?”

Mara nodded.

“Until the new moon?”

Mara nodded again.

“They could really use the practice against someone with your skills. You’re sure Skyla won’t be hurt?”

“It’s not her you should be worrying about.”

Mara fell into her battle stance, and she felt Skyla building the first spell as seven young Knights took their positions opposite her.

Keenan signaled the start of combat, and Skyla let loose with the spell.

A wall of flames scorched the ground and rose up between Mara and the Knights. Mara ignored the fire, ducking her head as she charged through it and tapped the chest plate of one of the Knights. Pivoting, she tapped the chest plate of a second before any of them had recovered their wits enough to close their mouths.

The remaining five backed away from the fire and Mara’s blade. Just as she’d anticipated.

Skyla loosed her second spell, and the ground under the remaining Knight’s feet turned to mud.

Mara charged.

Slamming her shield into the first Knight’s sword, she shoved hard and sent him stumbling back then barreled into the second. Surprise widened his eyes, and when he tried to turn, he slipped in the mud.

Mara slammed his chest plate with her sword, and if it hadn’t been a practice blade, she’d have killed the Knight. Instead, she sent him into the mud with the first, who’s chest plate she tapped.

They’d hurt, but the bruises would teach a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

The remaining three Knights extricated themselves from the mud as Mara circled around them. She smiled as one tried to flank her while the other two came at her. Sprinting towards one, she used her shield as a battering ram and knocked him to the ground as the second scored a glancing blow against her arm.

She pivoted and knocked his feet out from underneath him them hit his chest plate with her sword. Leaping over him, she tapped the Knight she’d steamrolled to the ground.

One Knight remained.

As he stood watching her, black vines shot out of the ground and encased his feet, rooting him there.

Mara circled around him, but he couldn’t turn to face her. She came up behind him and tapped the middle of his back.

There were growing whispers that the battle hadn’t been fair. That they hadn’t been warned.

Mara only smiled. “Combat isn’t about fair. Or justice. Or right and wrong. It’s about winning. In real combat, Skyla would’ve been using fireballs, flame clouds, and ice storms. Never ever under estimate a mage.”

“Good lesson,” Sir Leopold said. “Well done, both of you.”

Mara felt the High-Knight’s faded blue eyes fix on her. She met his stare, her face impassive even as her stomach clenched. Tall and broad, the only thing that belied his age was the silver in his hair and the rank insignia on his uniform.

She wondered again what he’d feel like beneath her and how hard he’d fight her for top. How much she’d relish that fight. The thought made her belly tighten.

Stabbing the thought and leaving it to bleed to death, Mara handed her practice sword back to Keenan.

She picked up her battle-worn sword and wiped the soot from her cheeks. “One hit to seven kills. See you at Ndrek’s.”

Keenan only nodded as he checked on his men.

Short Story: A Knight’s Prayer (Part 2)

by

Continued from A Knight’s Prayer Part 1.

Based on the previous stories Adrift and The Vision.

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A Knight’s Prayer

Sir Gabriel blinked then stared down at the elf wrapped in his tabard. “It’s not what you think. I didn’t-”

Leopold chuckled. “Unless you’re an elf, I know you didn’t.”

Relief loosened Sir Gabriel’s shoulders. “She couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old when I found her. I was walking along the sea as part of my rehabilitation and found her among the wreckage of a ship.”

“So you brought her back with you.” Sir Leopold bit back a smile. Sometimes the gods gave you what needed in the strangest of ways.

“I’ve been searching for her family since I found her, but I haven’t found them yet.”

“Can’t be easy taking care of a child by yourself with your duties and working on healing that leg.”

“I’ve been very fortunate. People have been willing to help. Thalia’s compassion beats strong in Tamryn.”

Sir Leopold chuckled as he watched the tall, broad-shouldered Knight gently brush a lock of hair from the little girl’s cheek. Thalia may play a part in people’s willingness to help, but he suspected the Twins had a hand in it, too.

“I brought her to Aerius at King Eli’s request.”

“King Eli?” Leopold’s brows shot up. “What does he want with a foundling elf?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m supposed to be meeting with him and Queen Auburn.”

Leopold leaned back against the pew. That meant Auburn had a vision. One strong enough and with big enough implications that Eli felt it necessary to investigate. Both interesting and terrifying. The elves were formidable but isolated.

Or they had been.

And he’d preferred it stayed that way. The fewer uncertainties the better while dealing with the eastern provinces.

“Tell me when you go meet with King Eli. I’ll come along with you. He can’t intimidate me no matter how much he tries.”

“I’m afraid he’ll tell me to send her away.” Sir Gabriel tucked his tabard around the child. “I don’t know where I’d send her. I’ve tried everything I can to find her family.”

“They may not want to be found. Elves are an odd bunch.”

“You’ve met them?”

“A few times, though none that look like this one.”

Sir Gabriel cupped her tiny hand in his. “There’s something else you should know. Her eyes aren’t human.”

“Of course they’re not. She’s an elf.”

“They seem to glow.”

“Like I said, elves are an odd bunch. Never met one that wasn’t more than twice my age, and most were a lot older than that. Maybe all of their eyes almost glow as children.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Sir Leopold pushed himself to his feet. “Staying in the barracks while you’re here in Aerius?”

Sir Gabriel nodded.

“You’re not anymore. Get your horse. You’re gonna come stay with me, and I’ll introduce you to Marcus and Brelynn.”

The young Knight’s eyes widened. “But Sir Marcus-”

“Is a good man who’ll help Brelynn spoil Aurora. Might even catch Mara spoiling her when she thinks no one is looking.” Sir Leopold knelt before the altar to Dracor as Gabriel stared at him, whispered a prayer, then straightened. He nodded toward the young Knight. “Don’t make me make it an order.”

Sir Gabriel gathered up Aurora and cradled her against his chest as he pushed himself back to his feet without his cane.

Sir Leopold smiled. Boy had a long way to go, but the gods were on his side.

 

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