Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection

by Andy Peloquin

  Micah walked shoulder to shoulder with her now, though his face was concealed by the side of his hood. “Will we see the spirits?” he asked.

  The pair’s footsteps crunched on the frozen twigs and stones. Micah slipped on the ice once and nearly lost his balance, but regained his composure quickly. He immediately stood straighter and made himself bigger, as if nothing had happened.

  Pythia ground her teeth. “I think we would see going in what I saw come out. The white cloud of fog. But I can’t be sure. I’ve never done this before.”

  They reached the stone tablet then and Pythia knelt beside the hole. She took hold of the hare and turned it onto its back. “Oh no,” she whispered.

  “What are you going to cut the hare with?” Micah asked, speaking aloud what she was wondering.

  A small stone knife clattered on the ground beside her, startling her and Micah. The pair looked up and Micah jumped backwards from the minotaur standing feet away.

  “You forgot knife,” the minotaur said.

  Pythia nodded and offered a quiet “thank you” as she took the makeshift dagger and slowly pressed the tip into the hare’s sternum. Blood oozed from the gash and Pythia tilted the corpse in a way that the blood might drain directly into the hole.

  One look from her work at hand found Micah standing at a distance.

  “Did you not want to watch?” she asked, pulling apart the hare’s ribcage. She glanced at the minotaur, then back at the man as she broke a rib from the hare and slipped it into her sleeve. “If he wanted to hurt you, he would have already.”

  Micah briskly shook his head.

  “Come on,” she urged. The minotaur grunted and created a greater distance between Pythia and himself so as to make Micah more comfortable. “You’ve spent your life traveling, Micah. You must have cooked a lot of small game. Could you skin the legs for me? I’d like to keep the bones. They’re good luck, but I tend to crack them when I try.”

  Still wary of the bull-like monstrosity so close to them, Micah nervously took the hare and dagger into his hands. Holding the small animal by its legs, he twisted the furs around its ankles until the skin broke, then pulled it down to its hips, exposing clean, pink meat and muscle.

  Pythia kept her face angled down to the hare and looked up through her lashes at the minotaur, who stood at a distance. His massive horned head nodded subtly and Pythia returned the gesture. She looked back to the work at Micah’s hands and pointed to the way he sliced away the meat from the femur. “See, there. That’s the bone I want.”

  Micah’s focus narrowed onto the femur and Pythia took the bone.

  “Thank you. Now, hand me the dagger,” she said.

  The handle of the dagger wasn’t very strong but the stone blade was thin and sharp. Pythia pulled back the ears of the hare and gently slid the blade across the throat, spilling the thick crimson blood into the hole in the ground. She nudged Micah with her elbow and said, “Here. You hold it over the hole, and I’ll say the words of the spell.”

  Micah glanced once more to the minotaur but nodded as he took the hare into his hands. He shifted his weight to his knees rather than his feet and squeezed the animal slightly to produce more blood. It was clear he was in a hurry to leave.

  “A hare of white, and bone of pale,” Pythia started. Her stomach roiled and sweat trailed down her cheek, despite the furs falling from her back. The minotaur stared intently at her as she continued the spell. “Cut in the neck of one born male.”

  Micah stiffened as Pythia grabbed a handful of his hair and stuck the hare’s rib into the side of his neck, pulling the sharp bone across his jugular. His shoulders lifted and his arms flew up to his neck while blood spurted across the stone. As Pythia lowered the convulsing man onto his side, he continued draining into the passage.

  “I’m sorry, Micah,” Pythia whispered as she tossed the bone into the hole. “But my village hates me, and they would hate me more for sacrificing one of their own. Now, I am the one who saved them from their torment. A witch I surely have become, but at least I am also something of a hero, and must no longer carry their hate with me.”

  Micah’s wide eyes quivered as life left them, and a cold gale began to swirl around them. Pythia’s black hair lifted in the rush and whipped wildly. Hushed whispers were carried on the wind as the first white spirit returned to the hole in the ground with a hungry gasp.

  Dagger in hand, Pythia stepped away as a steady stream of white fog descended into the hole. The pixies fluttered around the blood at her hands thirstily and she didn’t even flinch. The air grew colder as Pythia set her gaze on Micah’s body. Her nerves were no longer rattled. Her heart slowed to its natural beat.

  “It shouldn’t have been so easy to kill him,” she said to the minotaur standing just behind her.

  “When da black is in your blood, all is easy,” he replied.

  The black? Pythia turned to face the minotaur with furrowed brows. He nodded to the pixies, and she understood. The pixies would not be near her if there was no darkness in her. They accepted her the moment she made up her mind on what had to be done.

  The stream of spirits stopped, and the cold wind came to an abrupt halt. The minotaur walked to the hole, picked up the tablet, then placed it over the hole. “You come wid me if you like,” he said as he made his way toward the Everdark.

  Without thinking twice on it, Pythia followed. “I suppose I have no better option. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

  “Curiosity is dangerous in da Everdark. Do not ask question dere. You act. You do not ask.”

  The two stood at the edge of the water of the Everdark and the pixies urged Pythia on. In one more step, she would belong somewhere for the first time in her life.

  The End

  * * *

  Continue the Chronicles of Jaydür with Bounty of the Everdark, An Ogre’s Tale, and Nahtaia!

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  About the Author

  Lilian (aka L.F. Oake) is an award-winning fantasy author who writes for all ages. Originally from Phoenix, AZ, she now happily lives in the bushy part of North Carolina and writes full-time with her husband and fellow fantasy author, Joshua Robertson.

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  A Tale of Two Thieves

  Sara C. Roethle

  Chapter 1

  Anna

  Anna peered down at the man lying on her bedroll near the fire, his body cast in moonlight. No, not quite a man. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen, perhaps younger. She’d found him beaten and whipped half to death, left alone in one of the many fields bordering the Gray City. She wasn’t sure what had inspired her to drag his limp body further away from the city, into a dense copse of trees where the Gray Guard wouldn’t likely find them, especially now that it had grown dark. The sympathy she’d felt for the young man had been out of character for her.

  She stood from her seat on a nearby rock, moving to crouch beside him. His hair was a rich chestnut color, trailing down the line of his strong jaw, covered with angry purple bruises. She found herself wondering what color his eyes were, then shook her head. Perhaps he’d incurred too much damage during his beating, and would never open them again.

  Sighing, she returned to her original seat. He was clearly of the lower class, likely a farmer, or one of the indentured servants trapped in lifelong debt to the Gray City. That he’d been beaten wasn’t terribly telling. Perhaps he’d stolen bread for his family, or tried to escape his state of servitude. He was practically a kid. He shouldn’t have been blamed for such things.

  A rueful expression crossed her sharp features as she shook her head, tossing her long, dark braid over her shoulder. She was barely just a kid. At least it felt that way. She was fast approaching her twentieth year, and still had no place to call her own. No family. No friends.

  The Gray City hadn’t been kind to her either. She hadn’t been a farmer like
the young man on her bedroll. She’d been worse. One of the poor street youth, skulking around the alleys of the Gray City, begging for crumbs. Once she was old enough she’d turned to a life of thievery. She’d been caught one too many times and could no longer return to the city streets without being recognized by the Gray Guard.

  Perhaps it was for the best. She’d always wondered what the cities were like up North. Perhaps she’d leave the South altogether and venture to Migris. There were more sailors up that way. She might be able to find work on one of the ships . . . if she could find someone who’d actually hire a woman to their crew. She’d considered cutting off her long hair many times in an attempt to pass as a man, but her large brown eyes were too feminine, and there was no hiding the curves of her body, even with the taut muscles honed from a life of always running away.

  The young man groaned, pulling her out of her thoughts. She hurried to his side, kneeling near his limp arm. His eyes fluttered open. In the dim firelight, she thought they were a pale brown, or maybe hazel.

  He slowly lifted his arm toward his face, wincing as he touched the bruises along his cheek and jaw. “Where am I?” he muttered.

  “Not far from the Gray City,” she explained. “I found you half dead in a field.”

  With a grunt of pain, he sat up, bringing his knees gingerly to his chest as he curled over them, exhausted. “I have to go back,” he moaned. “My family cannot pay their debts without me.” He shook his head. “I’m such a fool.”

  Anna knew she should leave him. Now that she’d ensured he wouldn’t die, she needed to be on her way. She’d become accustomed to a life of solitude, and she wasn’t about to let this young man change that.

  She sighed in spite of herself. “What happened?”

  He met her gaze for a moment, then dropped his head. “A mistake, that’s what. I was fed up with the Guard and acted without thinking. I refused to work the fields to pay my family’s debt. Two of the guards dragged me to the field and beat me. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  Anna pursed her lips in thought, then decided, “If that’s the case, you cannot go back. You’re lucky they only beat you. Others have been hanged for such insolence.”

  “I have to go back,” he said again. “My family needs me.”

  “Your family thinks you’re dead,” she countered, “and it’s likely for the best. If you return, they too could suffer as a result of your brash actions.”

  He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “You’re right, I know it, but how can I just leave?” He turned hopeful eyes to her, as if she might possess the answers to all of his problems.

  She shook her head. She didn’t even possess the answers to her own.

  “You can travel with me to the nearest burgh,” she offered. “You should be healed enough by then to find work.”

  He turned his head to peer past the fire, toward the distant lights of the Gray City. “What’s the point?” he asked softly. “I have nothing left to live for.”

  She jabbed his shoulder with her fist.

  He whipped his gaze back to her, clearly shocked.

  “You have yourself to live for, you fool,” she chastised. “Do you think I have anything else to live for? At least you knew the love of a family for a time.”

  He blinked at her, at a seeming loss for words. “I apologize. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  She glared at him. “If you don’t want to insult me, then don’t be a fool. You’re young, and you have an entire life to live. You should not take such a gift for granted.”

  He stared at her. “I suppose you’re right,” he said after a moment. “Though I still have no idea what I’ll do from here.”

  She sucked her teeth. Why did she even care? She should have no interest in this young, lost, farm boy. “You’ll have three days to figure it out while we travel to the next burgh. Now get some rest.”

  He watched her for a moment more, then nodded. He laid back down on the bed roll, then curled up on his side, turning his back to her. He was far too trusting of a stranger, but then again, she had rescued him. He had no reason to fear her.

  Still sucking her teeth in irritation, she returned to her rock. She’d forgotten to ask his name, which irritated her almost as much as the fact that she only had one bedroll, and she’d told him to go to sleep on it.

  With a sigh, she spread out her heavy black cloak on the forest floor, then laid down on her back. She stared up at the stars until sleep finally took her, smiling at her final thought before rest. Despite her irritation, it was nice going to sleep with the sound of someone gently snoring nearby.

  Chapter 2

  Kai

  Kai’s entire body ached. He’d known when he’d refused to work that he would be beaten, or worse, but truly, he hadn’t thought the consequences through. At the time it had seemed a good idea. Now the sun was rising on a new day, and he could never return home. He couldn’t risk what might happen to his family if he did. They were better off thinking he was dead.

  He rolled over in his bedroll, then startled. The woman who’d rescued him the previous night was perched on a rock, staring at him. A bow was leaned against her thigh, and twin daggers rested at her slender hips.

  He sat up, rubbing his aching head and coming away with dry flecks of blood.

  “What is your name?” the woman questioned, her mood unreadable. For all he knew, she felt the same way about him as she felt about the rock on which she sat, but then, why had she saved him?

  “It’s Kai,” he answered honestly. “Though perhaps I should change it now, just in case any guards from the city decide to search for me.”

  She tilted her head, trailing her long, nearly black braid over the shoulder of her charcoal vest atop a loose, white blouse. Her black breeches hugged her legs tightly, tucked into knee-high black boots. A black cloak was flung back over her shoulder. What was this woman doing hiding in the woods with a man who was now on the run?

  “No need to change it,” she said finally. “They won’t look for you so long as you don’t attempt to return. They’ll assume your body was dragged away by small predators.”

  He shivered at the thought, knowing that would have been his fate had this woman not found him.

  “I’m Anna,” she continued, rising from her perch. “Make yourself ready and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Do you have a horse?” he questioned without thinking.

  She smirked down at him. “No my lord, some of us have little choice but to get around on foot.”

  He blinked up at her, not sure how he’d managed to offend her . . . again.

  “Prepare yourself,” she said again. “Unless you’d rather venture off on your own. It is your choice.”

  He immediately stood despite his body’s protests. He had no food, nor did he know the location of the nearest clean water, and he’d just lost the only people who cared about him in the entire world. He wasn’t about to lose the one person who now knew the truth about him, even if she seemed to scowl far more than she smiled.

  * * *

  Kai

  Twenty minutes later, now with a meager portion of food in his belly, Kai started along the small trail through the woods with Anna walking a few steps ahead, her pack of supplies slung casually over her shoulder along with her bow and quiver. He watched her cautiously. He wasn’t used to people offering aid for no reason. In fact, he wasn’t used to people offering aid at all. The nearby trees shaded them from the murky sun, birds chattering in their branches. It would have been a nice walk if his body wasn’t screaming in agony. He limped along, favoring his right leg, and wincing at a sharp pain in his side with every step. He was quite sure the guard who’d beaten him had broken at least one of his ribs.

  “What will you do in the next burgh?” he questioned, wanting to distract himself from his predicament.

  Anna glanced back at him as she continued walking. “Resupply, then continue on. I’d hoped to find work on a ship at the coast, but none wou
ld take me. Not that they’re sailing right now regardless. The men still jump at shapes in the night, though the Faie have all but disappeared from the land. They fear Merrows in the shallows and Sirens in the deeps.”

  Kai couldn’t help his smirk. He’d never seen one of the Faie himself, but he’d heard stories of the Faie War, which had ended roughly seventy years before he’d been born. No one knew why the creatures had vanished, and many lived in fear of them returning.

  “So you’re a sailor?” he asked.

  She snorted, not glancing back at him. “Sometimes. You’ll soon learn to do what you must to survive, whether it’s sailing, farming, or hiring out your sword.”

  He glanced at the daggers at either of her hips warily. He’d never handled a sword in his life. “I can farm,” he mused, “but I’d likely drown if I sailed or stab myself if I tried my hand at swordplay.”

  She whirled on him, her dark eyes wide. “You don’t even know how to use a sword!”

  He blinked at her, stunned, then shrugged. “Why would I? I’ve spent every day of my life working on the farm to support my family. We could never afford a sword, let alone the time needed to become proficient at wielding it.”

  She sighed heavily, then turned to continue walking. “You can inquire at farms in the next burgh. You wouldn’t last a day on the road on your own.”

  He scowled at her words, but couldn’t exactly argue. Instead, he hurried to her side with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or,” he countered, “you could teach me to use a sword.”

  “You said it yourself,” she growled, “swords are expensive, as is the time needed to learn.”

  Unwilling to give up so easily, his mind raced for something he could offer her, but he had nothing to his name, not even a single coin. “I’d do anything you asked,” he blurted. “I’ve lived my entire life as a slave to the city. I’m used to the work.”