by Ben Galley
“Prince Ma, put down your sword and come away from the door,” the Winter Warlock commanded. “This is madness.”
“The only madness here is the killing of Shan children!” shouted the prince, pointing his blade at the wizened sorcerer.
“And they are dead! Nothing can bring them back!”
“Please, my prince,” entreated the Autumn Warlock, “you know not what you do. You endanger us all –”
“I saw that child again!” interrupted the prince, his tone softening as he addressed his old tutor. “The one he killed. Its ghost came to me and begged me to let its soul free.”
The two sorcerers glanced at each other. “Impossible,” said the Winter Warlock. “A dream or a touch of madness –”
“I am not mad!”
The key screeched as it finally turned in the lock, and Jhenna nearly fell over.
“No!” cried the Winter Warlock. The sunlight pouring through the open portal seemed to shimmer and twist, hardening into glowing tendrils that gathered around the sorcerer’s hands.
Jhenna pulled on the stone door, though she knew it would be too heavy for her to open by herself.
But it moved, almost as if something was pushing from the other side.
The Winter Warlock snarled and raised his hand, and the gleaming snakes twining around his arms erupted outward, slithering toward her and the prince. Prince Ma was struck first, the sorcery plunging into his chest and passing through him like his flesh was only paper held over a candle flame.
Jhenna screamed.
The golden serpents twisted toward her, and she raised her arms even though she knew it was futile, that this was her death approaching.
Yet she did not die. The sorcery had halted a few handspans from her, writhing, sparks falling away to glitter in the cave’s darkness.
Why had he spared her? But when she looked past the shimmering snakes, she saw surprise in the old warlock’s face.
A sound made her glance to her side, at the thin slice of darkness where the door had cracked open.
Tiny fingers curled around the door’s edge. Then it slid open wider.
Jhenna stumbled back a step as a shape emerged from the black beyond the door. It was the child, but it did not look like the ghost she had seen in her room. Something had changed. It was pale, but not the pure white she remembered from her chamber; rather, it was sickly and mottled, and black veins were etched beneath its almost translucent skin. Its hair was a tangled mess that hid its features, but Jhenna could see the line the dagger had made across its throat. The child lifted its face toward her.
…midwife to us, we thank you. Its voice was terrible, the hoarse whisperings of many small children.
“No!” cried the Winter Warlock, gesturing at the ghost like he could banish it back behind the door. “You are dead!”
…we are, the thing said, stepping forward. It raised its hand and brushed its fingers against the sorcery that still hovered, crackling, in the chamber. Like ink dropped in water a darkness unspooled within the golden serpent, and where it bled, the warlock’s magic melted into shadow.
“Go back, demon!” screamed the Winter Warlock, a bubble of shimmering power flaring around him.
…but father, the ghost said, walking calmly toward the sorcerers, we’ve wanted to meet you for so long.
More children were emerging from behind the door. Their clothes were rotted and torn, and their white flesh was webbed with black lines. All their faces were hidden behind long, ragged black hair.
The ground buckled, and Jhenna fell to one knee. Stones and dust rained down from the ceiling. The dragonhelms glanced above, then at the approaching children. Some unspoken agreement passed between the soldiers, and they turned and ran.
Jhenna rushed over to Prince Ma and crouched beside him. His eyes were open. A black hole had been burned into his chest, and beyond the charred fringes of his robes, she could see his blistered flesh. She cradled him, the horror of it all threatening to overwhelm her.
Again, the ground shook, and a great chunk of the ceiling tore loose and plummeted toward the sorcerers. The rock struck the shimmering bubble they had summoned and bounced away with a ringing clang, as if the magical shield was forged of metal and not light.
The first of the children reached the edge of the ward and stepped through it unhindered.
Another quake. Jhenna climbed unsteadily to her feet and ran toward the smear of green she could see through the shuddering doorway.
A rending crash and an old man’s screams followed her as she fled the cavern. Sunlight enveloped her.
Her hands cracked and bleeding, Jhenna pulled herself up onto the ledge where she had first beheld the valley.
She lay on her side panting, her ribs aching and her legs numb. Waves of pain were coming from her right knee; she had smashed it against a rock one of the countless times the ground had spasmed and sent her sprawling.
The earthquakes had worsened as she’d fled through the forest and scrambled up the stony hillside. She had feared that she would be swept back down in an avalanche of gravel and rock, but somehow that had not occurred, and now from this higher vantage, she could see what was happening in the valley below.
She couldn’t understand what she was seeing.
The forest was rippling. Swells like waves on the ocean seemed to be passing beneath the valley, sending great swathes of trees crashing down. Pillars of stone were exploding from the canopy, as if something were thrashing deep below the surface.
What was this?
Far away from her, a great patch of forest many li wide shuddered and lifted toward the sky. Earth and forest debris fell away from whatever it was that was pressing upward; Jhenna couldn’t see it clearly, but what was emerging from the ground reminded her of a newborn serpent pushing through the shell of its egg. Scales flashed in the sunlight as a living river emerged from beneath the valley.
Jhenna watched in numb horror as the world began to unravel.
Head to www.authoralechutson.com to discover more stories by Alec Hutson.
about the
Authors
Ben Galley
www.bengalley.com
Currently hailing from Victoria in Canada, Ben Galley is the author behind the Emaneska Series, the Scarlet Star Trilogy, and a standalone novel, The Heart of Stone, which was voted Best Self-Published Novel in the 2017 Booknest Fantasy Awards. Aside from dreaming up lies to tell his readers, Ben works as a publishing and marketing consultant. In his spare time, he photographs the wilds and is a maker of vlogs and mischief.
Benedict Patrick
www.benedictpatrick.com/lost-lore/
Benedict Patrick’s life changed when a substitute primary school teacher read his class part of The Hobbit and later loaned him the book – he fell in love with the fantasy genre and never looked back. He write novels set in the Yarnsworld, a place where fantasy and folklore meet, where the monsters from stories are real.
Steven Kelliher
www.stevenkelliher.com
Steven is a fighter turned writer who resides in the Boston area. A former sports and entertainment writer, his work has been featured on ESPN.com, LA Weekly and other known outlets. He wishes all disputes were still settled with a friendly game of hand-to-hand combat, is a fan of awesome things, and tries to write books he’d want to read. He hopes you like them.
Mike Shel
www.mikeshel.com
Mike is an RPG adventure designer currently at work on an epic fantasy trilogy entitled Iconoclasts. The first novel in the series, Aching God, is slated for a 2018 release. Mike resides in Indianapolis, Indiana with his lovely wife, children (a toddler and a teenager), and two dogs. He has a master’s degree in clinical psychology and works as a psychotherapist.
Timandra Whitecastle
timandrawhitecastle.com/books/
Strong-female, character-driven, hard-boiled, action-heavy - that’s how Timandra Whitecastle enjoys her fiction. When dark and gritty are the price of admission, and you want gut punching feels with heroics on the side, there’s Whitecastle Fantasy.
Dyrk Ashton
www.paternusbooks.com
Dyrk Ashton is a Midwestern boy who spent some time in Hollywood. He teaches film, geeks out on movies and books, and writes about regular folks and their trouble with monsters.
Laura M. Hughes
www.lauramhughes.com
Laura works as a freelance editor beneath the grey, pigeon-filled skies of northern England. When she isn’t writing for Fantasy Faction or Tor.com, you’re most likely to find her absorbed in Dragon Age or working on her first novel. She co-founded The Fantasy Hive in 2017; her sanity has been steadily disintegrating ever since.
Michael R. Miller
Dear Reader — I sincerely hope you enjoyed Elsie’s story. These events are set 700 years before my series, The Dragon’s Blade. Though dragons and humans later unite against a worse demonic threat, bitter memories from past conflicts remain. My main series switches the perspective to that of the dragons, specifically to their prince, Darnuir. He is arrogant. Scornful. Full of pride. Death is his redemption. Reborn, and secretly raised by humans, he must learn to become the king his past-self never was. If such a fast-paced epic piques your interest, you can follow the links below to Amazon. For those taking the plunge into The Dragon’s Blade, you have my thanks!
Amazon US – www.amazon.com/dp/B06WRVZLJ2
Amazon UK – www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06WRVZLJ2
Phil Tucker
Phil Tucker’s Books
Dark worlds, extraordinary heroes. Phil Tucker is a Brazilian/Brit who currently resides in Asheville, NC, where he resists the siren call of the forests and mountains to sit inside and hammer away at his laptop.
Bryce O’Connor
www.bryceoconnorbooks.com
Bryce learned the importance of a well-crafted story at an early age. Raised on the tall tales of Brian Jacques’ Redwall and J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, he fell in love with reading when he realized that one’s imagination is the only place where dragons might actually fly free. Graduating from Ithaca College with his BA in Creative Writing and Doctorate of Physical Therapy, O’Connor currently resides in Rochester, NY.
T L Greylock
Author.to/tlgreylock
A baker of pies (debatable) and lefse (decidedly), a brewer of beer, and more at home on skates, Taya’s first series, The Song of the Ash Tree, is a Norse-inspired saga. When not writing, she’s coaching hockey or lacrosse, reading, or planning her next trip. She also likes neon socks.
Jeffrey Hall
www.hallwaytoelsewhere.com
Jeff resides in the suburbs of Boston with his wonderful wife and infant son, with another one soon to be added to their tribe. When Jeff isn’t exploring different worlds through the written word, doodling, or spending time with his family, you can find him playing basketball, reading, trying new restaurants, and thumbing away at a videogame or two. His debut novel, The City of a Thousand Faces, will be released in December of 2017.
J. P. Ashman
www.jpashman.com
Born in Lancashire, England, JP is a northern lad through and through. Now living in the wilds of the Cotswolds with his family, JP is inspired daily by the views they share and the things they see, from deer in the fields to buzzards circling overhead. The next installment of his Black Powder Wars series is due out in 2018.
David Benem
davidbenem.com
David Benem is the author of the dark, epic fantasy trilogy A Requiem for Heroes. He is an SPFBO finalist, an SFWA member, and a generally angry sports fan.
Alec Hutson
www.authoralechutson.com
Alec lives in Shanghai, China. The Crimson Queen is his first novel.
