Queer Fantasy and Weird Tales for the People
I fell. The rope went taut, tearing at my hands, just as I broke through a web of thin branches and struck the surface of a wide limb below the platform. The rough bark bit through the thin fabric of my trousers.
As expected, the guards cut the rope. It fell in loose coils at my feet. I stood, brushed myself off, and held out my hand to summon my harpoon.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter L: The Way Down”I remained still, one hand on the latch to the vault door and the other hanging in the air, half-reaching for my harpoon. Who was this man? What was he doing here? Kural had assured me the vault would be empty of watchmen, but perhaps I was a fool to trust Kural. He did not make the climb himself, after all. My heart sank into my belly as I thought of Bran’s fate, left alone on the forest floor with an untrustworthy caretaker.
Bran was a steppe horse—a gentle one, but trained for a warrior, nonetheless. I had to trust that he could look after himself.
“Who are you?” I asked the incongruous man in the vault.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter XLIX: The Treasure-Hall of the Mage-King”
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