Queer Fantasy and Weird Tales for the People
“How is it that you can do that?” I asked. I would not have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes, and felt the heat of Jora’s fever and smelled the putrescence of his wound. He had surely been close to death, and now he walked back to his house under his own power.
“Khalim has a gift,” Reva said. “When the time is right, the people will follow him to the ends of the earth.”
Continue reading “Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter V”We had twenty silver between us come morning. It wasn’t enough for another night at this inn, and with the tournament a day away, we were unlikely to find somewhere better. Such was the fate of an adventurer, to go from feast to famine faster than a spinning wheel. There was surely work to be found here, and silver to be paid for it; we would just have to find it.
Continue reading “Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter IV”In those days, the city of Phyreios was ruled by seven divine beings. They had reigned for centuries, deathless and unchanging in their ancient wisdom and unearthly beauty. Their predecessor, the immortal god-emperor who took the throne after driving back the demon hordes and uniting the southlands under one banner, had left them in his stead when he ascended beyond the mortal realm, giving up his worshippers, his kingdom, and even his name in pursuit of ever higher mysteries. In his absence, there was a period of bloody civil war, chaos reasserting itself as it always must, but the Seven guided the lands into an era of peace and prosperity that seemed without end.
Or so their many subjects believed, though there were whispers that their kingdom was not as wide as it once was, nor was it the land of wealth and harmony it claimed to be. And gods, I would soon learn, do not die, even when they are forgotten, and the lies they weave alter the very fabric of the world.
Continue reading “Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea: Chapter III”The wind howled across the steppe. I should have been afraid, but I was not aware enough for fear; hunger and cold were my constant and only companions for so long that I had ceased to notice even their presence. I stood and gripped my makeshift spear, my fingers numb and my body shivering. I was accustomed to cold, but I was undernourished and insufficiently clothed.
Listen. Let me tell you a story.
I will tell you of my journey, from the ocean at the end of the world to the mountain of iron, beneath which slept a horror of ages long past.
I will tell you of the daughter of the stargazer, who found me on the northern wastes at the end of my long winter.
I will tell you of the woman who dared to defy the seven gods of the citadel.
And I will tell you of the barefoot prophet, for the man who now sits on the throne of Phyreios is not the same as the one who walked among its people in the days before the cataclysm.
Space Whales Press 