“Great!” Lia chimed. This was the signal she and Rina had been waiting for. Lia threw back her head and guzzled the rest of her drink in one long gulp, giving the half-ogre a generous view of her bosom.
Rina downed her ale in the same lusty manner. Once finished, both girls wiped their lips clean with the back of their tanned forearms.
“We should drink to our future success!” Lia declared.
“Barman,” Rina called, “another round!”
The barkeep wiping tables nearby bobbed his scraggly head.
“And one for the captain as well!” Marg added.
Ali al Shahar shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t drink spirits.”
“I insist,” Marg replied as the barman pushed through a throng of patrons to fetch the drinks. “We must toast our partnership. You wouldn’t want to bring bad luck upon our venture, would you?”
“The gods frown upon those reluctant to seal their oaths,” Rina put in cleverly.
“There is but one God,” Ali replied, never taking his eyes from Marg. “I’ll join you in your toast, but without breaking my oath to Him, either. A birch beer will suffice for me. Kor, fetch it, would you?”
The half-ogre seemed startled by the request. He tore away his gaze, which had wandered back to the sisters, and grumbled, “Eh?”
Marg rose. “Never mind, Captain, the barman can get it. You there!” she called across the sea of unwashed heads. “Make Captain al Shahar’s drink a birch beer!” The serving man nodded.
“Now, about that map . . .” Ali said.
Marg patted a bone scroll case fastened to the jeweled belt circling her full hips. “I have it right here.” She unhooked the container and offered it to the captain as the drinks arrived.
Lia, Rina, and Kor took their beers, and Marg handed over the case. As Ali began to open the container, the Silver Pearl’s captain lunged across the table at him. Simultaneously, both sisters flung their drinks into the half-ogre’s face.
Read more in “Sisters in Arms” found in Blue Kingdoms: Buxom Buccaneers and in single-story form at better e-book sellers everywhere!
FESTIVAL AT WOLFNACHT
~ A Blue Kingdoms Story ~
Stephen D. Sullivan
I. Intruders at the Gate
Konstantine crept up the stairway and peered over the spikes topping the wooden palisade. Falling snow made the nighttime countryside around Wolfnacht a blur of gray and white. The young villager could barely see the Timberline Mountains—though their peaks loomed just beyond the forest trail. He wiped several large, wet flakes from his eyebrows and stared into the gloom. He’d heard a sound, but what was it? What kind of man or beast would be out on a frigid night like this?
Normally, the village guard would have investigated such noises, but Wolfnacht’s guard posts remained empty, and snow covered the catwalks atop the surrounding wall; no one patrolled the palisade tonight.
The sentries are all safe in their homes, Konstantine thought. Or maybe they’re busy with the town elders. The adults were always busy nowadays, and, as usual, they hadn’t seen fit to tell “Stan” what they were up to. Konstantine fumed about that. He was fifteen, and nearly in his majority, but no one had seen fit to tell him the purpose of all the hushed meetings.
Melting snow dripped down Stan’s hair and splashed into his eyes. He pushed the sopping black locks away from his forehead. “Fool!” he muttered quietly to himself as he continued peering into the storm. “If you had any sense you’d be inside with all the rest!”
But, despite the wet and the cold, he didn’t want to go back inside. There was something about the storm that had compelled him to venture into the night, something he’d felt even before he’d heard the muffled chimes.
This blizzard was different. Something about it was making the coarse hair on the back of Stan’s neck stand on end. If he could figure out what, then he could go back inside where it was safe and warm.
He heard the noise again—a tinkling, bell-like tone, cutting through the hissing of the wind.
A flash of movement drew Stan’s eyes to Wolfnacht Pass, barely visible through the snow. Dark shapes lurked at the base of the mountains, trudging away from the rocky cleft, heading toward the city. Konstantine strained his eyes, but he couldn’t make out what the shapes were. He turned toward the alarm bell, dangling from a scaffold on the parapet a dozen yards away. Should he ring it?
No, he thought. No sense stirring things up. Not on a night like this with everyone so busy. Those shadows could be just a trick of the light and the snow. We’re not expecting visitors. And, besides, no one ever comes to Wolfnacht anymore—not unless there’s a festival.
The idea struck a chord within Stan. Could the elders be preparing for a festival?
Konstantine didn’t remember any festivals being at this time of year—though Wolfnacht had a very long history, and sometimes an ancient remembrance would catch him unaware.
If they’re preparing for a festival, where are the tourists? Stan thought. He tried to find the shapes again, but they’d vanished like specters amid the blowing snow.
Maybe the shapes are tourists on their way to town, Konstantine thought. Maybe it’s some kind of snow festival, and they were waiting for a blizzard.
The idea seemed unlikely. Few tourists visited Wolfnacht nowadays, and even merchant caravans had become a rare sight. The remaining villagers refused to leave their decaying town, despite the struggles of daily life. Wolfnacht had been a thriving city once, before the Third Wizard War, and none of the remaining elders were willing to admit that those glory days had long past.
Stan knew his people would hang on as long as they could, eking out a marginal living by hunting and farming, rather than retreating to the safety of the Atrian Plains. Stan didn’t share their devotion. As soon as he reached his majority, he would leave Wolfnacht and never look back.
“Those shapes aren’t tourists,” he muttered, not caring that there was no one around to hear him. Not even the bravest merchant or the rowdiest tourist would venture through the mountains during a snowstorm like this.
A chill, entirely unrelated to the weather, ran down Konstantine’s spine. Would a blizzard bother the Enemy?
Stan didn’t know. The elders of Wolfnacht seldom mentioned the supernatural threat lurking beyond the Timberline Mountains, and when they did speak of it, it was always in hushed and furtive tones.
Could this be the Enemy, looking to catch Wolfnacht unaware?
The shapes emerged from the snow again, but this time they weren’t at the foot of the mountains—they were much, much closer.
How can anyone move so quickly through this kind of weather? Stan wondered.
The shadows resolved themselves into mounted figures, moving in single file, plowing rapidly through the fresh-fallen snow.
Konstantine hurried toward the alarm bell, near the main gate. He wrapped his hand around the cold, wet pull-cord, but then hesitated.
Maybe it’s not the Enemy, he thought. Better to get a good look at the intruders before stirring up the whole town. The adolescent took a deep breath to steady his nerves.
Gradually, seven figures emerged from the storm. Clouds of breath and steam rose from the riders, only to be whipped away by the snowy wind. The riders appeared human. They were dressed in heavy cloaks, wearing armor, and carrying weapons. Dirt and blood stained the travelers’ clothes; they looked as though they’d been through a war.
Konstantine gaped and his arm dropped away from the alarm bell. It wasn’t the warriors that riveted the young man’s attention, though; it was their mounts. Though one of the steeds was a simple pack horse, the remaining six animals were unicorns.
Stan had never seen anything like the unicorns before. Three were brilliant white, nearly invisible in the storm, save for the blood staining their coats. The fourth was dappled gray, and the fifth shone like gold. Ahead of the rest came a magnificent silver mare with a long, spiral horn protruding from her forehead. The
unicorn stopped a respectful distance from the gate, and the lead rider—a big man with a serious face and a drooping moustache—called up to Konstantine.
“You there!” the man said, glowering. “I am Lance Sergeant Carl Volstag of the Sixth Atrian Cavalry, and this is my mount, Stardust. Your village is in dire peril, and my company needs rest and healing. Open your gates and let us in!” The sergeant wore tarnished and dented plate armor and carried a spiked mace.
“Please,” added the rider of the gold unicorn, waiting just behind the leader. She shivered slightly as she spoke; she appeared barely older than Konstantine.
Stan couldn’t seem to find the words to reply. He gazed at the strange visitors, one after another. Despite their wounds and their weary faces, he had a hard time believing the riders were real. He’d heard tales of the Atrian Cavalry, of course—everyone had—but he’d never seen so much as a single cavalry trooper before in his life. He noticed for the first time that there was a body, bloody and unmoving, slung over the back of the pack horse in the middle of the group.
“Stop gaping and let us in, boy!” Volstag commanded.
“I-I’ll have to ask the elders,” Stan called back. The riders didn’t seem evil, and he’d never heard of the Enemy using unicorns before—Could unicorns even become undead? But the arrival of a patrol of Atrian Cavalry in the middle of a blizzard was unlikely as well. Perhaps it was some kind of Enemy trick.
Stan couldn’t leave the palisade unmanned with intruders at the gate, so he grabbed hold of the wet, chilly bell cord and pulled. He beat the alarm in a clear, steady rhythm—hoping to convey a sense of urgency, rather than panic, to the people of Wolfnacht.
As the peals echoed above the storm, the doors of Wolfnacht flew open, and the villagers spilled out into the snowy streets. Some people pulled on clothes as they ran, others hefted weapons or buckled up ancient armor. Many of the townsfolk appeared frightened, others seemed curious, and some looked annoyed at being called out on a snowy evening. Many of the townsfolk carried torches and lanterns as they bustled toward the gate.
Berman, the chief elder, spotted Konstantine standing atop the wall and glowered at him. Many of the other villagers glared, too.
“What is it?” Berman called. He finished buttoning his trousers over his large belly and slogged up the palisade stair.
Nikolas, a rangy man with scruffy black hair and a stubbly face, laughed. “It’s just my little brother, Konstantine,” he barked as he followed Berman up. “Stan’s a bit daft. Just havin’ some fun with us, I’m sure.”
“Well, Konstantine will find I don’t have much of a sense of humor on a night like this,” Berman said.
“I swear, Elder Berman, this is no jest,” Stan said. The wolfish look on his brother’s face made Stan’s stomach twist.
Sweat dripped down the adolescent’s brow and mingled with the melting snow. “I-it’s important,” he stammered. “We have visitors. Look!”
Read more in “Festival at Wolfnacht” available in Zombies, Werewolves, & Unicorns and in single story form at better e-book sellers everywhere!
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ABOUT THE STORY
Written August 2-September 23, 2010
It all started with Shark Week in August of 2010. I had been meaning to write an Umira the Accursed story, “The Haunter of the Deep,” for a while. I even had a rough cover finished. I’d intended to write Haunter, part of a trilogy of undersea tales, that week.
And then the sharks came and, without my really intending to, my plans changed. I suddenly had this vision of a shark, a huge shark, chasing Umira through the depths of the Blue Kingdoms. “What would that story be about?” I wondered.
Maybe the shark was a megalodon. I’ve always liked dinosaurs, and prehistoric beasts, even more than I like sharks. So a dino-shark? That seemed like a good idea: Umira vs. a Meg. And maybe I could tie the adventure, in a very backhanded kind of way, to my upcoming Dungeons & Dinosaurs tales, as well.
What was the name of that mage I intended to send to the D&Dinos sub-world? The one who was the sister of Persha, who’d appeared in The Blood-Red Isle? Nissa, yes. Maybe she could be involved in this, and maybe it could be related to upcoming storylines she appears in, too. Since I had a prehistoric monster, I needed a D&Dinos tie-in, didn’t I? I like it when my Blue Kingdoms stories relate to one another, even if it’s in almost imperceptible ways. Yes, the story ideas were all coming together now . . . But how did the pieces fit?
At some point, as all of that was . . . er . . . swimming through my head, the cover image became very clear in my mind’s eye. So, naturally, I had to stop everything I was doing and create it. Luckily, I had a shiny new Meg in my 3D library, and just as luckily, I’d recently bought some good knives for Umira and finished up designing her 3D figure. I love it when an illo comes together!
So then it was just a matter of setting up the scene and posing the figures, and doing the lighting, and creating the background, and fiddling with all the other usual art stuff , and hours-long renders, and . . . Voila! (Fifteen iterations and half a week later.) The perfect cover!
I think I finished the cover before completing the story. Though, to tell you the truth, once The Muse perches on my shoulder, things tend to become something of a creative frenzy. In any case, both cover and story were soon mostly done, though not quite in time for a Shark Week release. (As I’d initially hoped.)
Thus, I moved on to other things and left the reworking, editing, and finishing up for after Labor Day. In mid-September, I returned to “Monster Shark” and—with a bit of luck—the completed story might just come out in time to coincide with the release of Sharktopus: a movie that I have nothing to do with, but which has a cool shark-monster in it. I’m a sucker for monsters, you see, and, well . . . Coincidence, or some dastardly Sullivan cross-marketing plan? I guess that’s up to you to decide.
In any case, whether you bought this story upon its initial release in September, 2010, or in the midst of some future Shark Week, or during a less-sharky time of the year, I hope you enjoyed my monstrous tale . . . er . . . tale. Why don’t you drop me a line and let me know?
Special thanks to Paul McComas, Kiff, and my usual sounding boards for helping to make the story even better. I could do it without y’all, but it wouldn’t turn out nearly as good!
—Steve Sullivan, September 2010
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Since 1980, as a writer, artist, and editor, I’ve worked on some of the best known and most influential properties in the world, including: Dungeons & Dragons, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Star Wars, The Simpsons, Middle Earth, Fantastic 4, Speed Racer, Thunderbirds, Dragonlance, Legend of the Five Rings, Iron Man, Darkwing Duck, Mage Knight, and many others.
I’ve written (and published) more than 30 books and numerous short stories. I’ve won the Origins Award, gaming’s highest honor, for my fantasy fiction twice: first for “The Lion” (the final book in the original L5R series), and then for my Mage Knight short story, “Podo & The Magic Shield.” I created, wrote, and colored The Twilight Empire(tm) comic strip, which ran in Dragon magazine for more than 4 years. I can’t even count (or remember) the number of comics and game projects I’ve worked on.
All that is nice, but what really matters to me is that my readers enjoy my stories and art. I hope that you will give my work a try, and if you enjoy it -- and I feel confident you will -- please mention me to your friends.
If you have questions or suggestions, you can contact me by writing to [email protected].
* * *
Thanks for reading my book!
© 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan
www.stephendsullivan.com
Adventure guaranteed. (Monsters optional.)
www.walkaboutpublishing.com
~ Official Home of The Blue Kingdoms ~
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, you may enjoy my other novels and short stories.
You can find more of my e-book & online stories o
n the Books & Stories Online page of www.stephendsullivan.com.
Tournament of Death – my free online novel is currently available at www.tournamentofdeath.com.
You may also enjoy some of my other books & stories, available online in e-book form and in print at many fine booksellers.
WALKABOUT PUBLISHING BOOKS BY STEPHEN D. SULLIVAN
(Some of these books are also available in e-book form.)
Martian Knights & Other Tales – A collection of my Fantasy, SF, & Horror short stories.
Luck o’ the Irish – Hard-boiled modern fantasy about a wandering gambler.
Uncanny Encounters: Roswell – Where alien fact meets fiction.
Zombies, Werewolves, & Unicorn – Featuring the novellas Blood-Red Isle and Festival at Wolfnacht.
Tournament of Death – Featuring Crimson, Brion Wilde, and more in a monster-filled battle to the finish. (Coming Soon!)
Frost Harrow: Scream Lover – The first full-length Frost story. (Coming Soon!)
Anthologies featuring stories by Stephen D. Sullivan
Pirates of the Blue Kingdoms – Featuring the story “Shipmates.”
Blue Kingdoms: Shades & Specters – Featuring the story “Court of the Blood-Red Queen” (an abridged version of The Blood-Red Isle).
Blue Kingdoms: Buxom Buccaneers – Featuring “Sisters in Arms.”
Stalking the Wild Hare – Featuring “Time War” featuring Crimson, Orm the Demon Borne, and many other Sullivan characters & tributes.
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