Queer Fantasy and Weird Tales for the People
Action poses are so much fun but so difficult.
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As you might expect, there is some blood and violence on this page.
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Continue reading “Last Watch Before Dawn: Volume 1, Page 80”
They came before dawn, the men from the ring-fort; their lights were like fireflies in the distance, darting and bobbing, harmless as insects. I was fortunate enough to have taken a watch upon the palisade, and I shouted an alarm as soon as the first distant spear point reflected its bearer’s torch, gleaming sharp and wicked. Fog lay on the ground like a heavy blanket, turning the trees into soft shadows and hiding the undergrowth. The path through the forest was a treacherous one, and more than one torch fell into the mist and went out.
Ansgard led them from the back of a black horse—Bran, wearing a different saddle and flicking his ears in agitation, coming out of the trees like a specter. The rest of the men were on foot.
My hand tightened around my harpoon. How dare this obsequious coward presume to ride my horse. Ansgard had never seen the steppe. He had never fought alongside the daughter of the stargazer to earn her respect, nor had he walked with Bran over the endless miles that had led us here. He had no right to lay a hand upon my horse, much less saddle him up to ride against me.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter LVIII: King Wulfric’s Frontier”Sondassan fixed his gaze upon me, but it was not I who would first face the half-dead king’s wrath. As Hamilcar and his crew entered the room, they descended upon the priests, knocking them down and silencing their chanting. Soon, only the sound of the heaving earth and the clashing of steel remained in the room. I recognized Halvor and Kelebek, both armed with curved swords and small round shields. With them were Issa and Adama, a pair of brothers from the southlands, Issa with his dark pate shaved bald and Adama’s hair twisted into a mane of tiny braids. Their swords came in matched pairs, one in each hand. Halvor also carried my harpoon on his back. Languishing in the dungeon, I had thought I would never see it, nor any of my companions, again.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter XVIII: In the Hall of the Dead King”I held the unlocked manacles close to my chest and kept my head bowed, being led as I was to the slaughter. For all I knew, I would be sacrificed at the end of the tunnel. I had received no news since Mara Suryan had promised me she would try to contact my companions on the Lady of Osona and prepare a daring escape. I feared she had not been successful. Or, perhaps, she had decided that my death was an acceptable loss for the sake of the lives of her young charges. I would not fault her for that.
Ajan led me through the bowels of Salmacha. Behind me walked two other guards, mailed and armed as he was, to prevent my escape. They were unnecessary—the way back led only to my cell. The only way to go was forward.
Silence fell upon the corridor. The digging had stopped. Beneath my feet, the earth tensed and trembled; not quite a quake, but the warning of one. Whatever slept under the island was close to waking. If it did, all hope was lost.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter XVII: The Hollow Chamber”
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