LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  Maev growled and drew her sword. The broad, leaf-shaped blade gleamed when lightning flashed again. “I’ll kill them one by one.”

  He grabbed her arm and tugged her deeper. “Keep moving! I told you I had an idea. Come on!”

  The shouts rose behind him, echoing in the chamber. An arrow whistled and slammed against the cave wall by Tanin’s head. Another sliced his hair. He winced but kept running. Torches blazed behind, filling the cave with red light. Dragging Maev with him, Tanin rounded a bend an instant before arrows clattered into the wall where he’d just stood.

  The cave became so narrow he had to stoop, then crawl on hands and knees. Icy water trickled beneath him. Maev crawled before him, cursing as she went.

  “I’m not a damn worm,” she said. “Let’s fight them, Tanin.”

  He shoved her onward. “Keep crawling unless you want an arrow in your backside.”

  The shouts rose behind them. “The weredragons are trapped. Find them. Burn them. Slay the diseased creatures!” Men cursed, grunted, and spat. One burst into a rude song about buggering dragons with his spear. His companions laughed, and another shouted that he’d grab the female and thrust into her with the spear between his legs. That incurred more laughter from the men—and a fresh stream of curses from Maev.

  “That’s it!” she said, stopped crawling, and tried to turn around. “Get out of my way, Tanin, or I’ll kill you before I kill them.”

  Tanin growled. “Keep moving!”

  He gave her a mighty shove forward . . . and she vanished.

  He blinked.

  “Tanin, you sheep’s wormy bladder!” she cried, voice distant and echoing.

  The torchlight grew nearer behind him. When Tanin leaned forward, he saw that the tunnel opened up into a great, round cavern. Maev slid down the smooth, bowl-like slope until she toppled over in its center. She looked no larger than a bean dropped into a goblet. A single hole, roughly the size of a heart, pierced the ceiling, letting in rain and a blast of light when lightning blazed.

  “Slay them!” rose a shriek behind him—Zerra’s voice. “Slay the reptiles!”

  Arrows whistled. One scratched along Tanin’s shoulder. He grunted and leaped into the sloping chamber.

  “Skin them!”

  “Shatter their bones!”

  Arrows flew.

  Tanin slid down the clammy stone slope, summoned his magic, and shifted.

  He beat his wings.

  He spun around, rose back toward the tunnel, and stuck his head into the opening. The corridor was so narrow his horns banged against the ceiling; he felt like a man trapped in stocks. His wings flapped behind him, keeping him afloat.

  The hunters were close now, crawling forward with their torches. Another bow fired, and the arrow slammed into Tanin’s cheek, shattering against his scales. He sucked in air. He blew his fire.

  The jet blazed through the tunnel, a shrieking inferno of heat and light, white-hot, spinning like a typhoon of sunfire.

  The hunters screamed. A few tried to crawl back, withering, dying in the blaze. Others farther back rolled as they screamed, trying in vain to extinguish the fire, only for new waves of the inferno to crash over them.

  Tanin pulled his head back long enough to look over his shoulder.

  “Maev, see the opening in the ceiling?” he shouted down to her. “Claw a way out!”

  She leaped, shifted into a green dragon, and flew up toward him. “Move! Let me into the tunnel. Let me kill them.”

  “You claw us an exit, I’ll hold them back. Go! Widen that hole!”

  She growled. “I’m not escaping. Let me through!”

  She grabbed his tail, but he shoved her away. More hunters were racing down the tunnel, crawling over the remains of their burnt brethren. Tanin returned his head into the tunnel and blew more flames.

  When his fire died, he heard Maev shout behind him. “All right, I carved your damn escape route. Come on!” She tugged his tail. “Hurry.”

  He pulled his head free, leaving the tunnel full of corpses, and saw that Maev had widened the hole in the ceiling—it was now just wide enough for his human form. He beat his wings, scattering smoke, and flew toward the hole. He grabbed the rim with his left claw, released his magic, and dangled as a human.

  “Maev!” he shouted.

  The green dragon still flew by the wall below. She was now blowing her own fire into the tunnel. Smoke blasted out and heat and light bathed the chamber.

  “Burn, you bastards!” Maev shouted, and her eyes were red when she pulled her head back. “Burn in the Abyss, you goat-shagging clumps of shite.” Tears gleamed on her scaly cheeks, and she blasted more fire. “I will burn you all.”

  Tanin pulled himself through the makeshift opening, emerging onto the mountainside. Rain fell and wind beat his hair and tunic. When lightning struck, he saw the rocs farther below upon the mountain. Riderless, they did not yet see him.

  “Maev!” he shouted down into the hole.

  She sent another blast into the tunnel, beat her wings, and rose toward the opening. She too grabbed the rim, shifted back into her human form, and crawled out onto the mountainside. They stood side by side in the rain.

  “There are more in the caves.” Maev balled her fists and her legs trembled. “We’ll get them from the other side. We’ll burn them all. We’ll—“

  He placed a hand on her shoulder, hushing her. He spoke softly. “They still have rocs down there. We can’t fight them all tonight. We hurt them. We killed many. Now it’s time to fly south.” When she opened her mouth to object, he hushed her again. “Prince Sena needs us. Another Vir Requis. We can’t save him if we die here.”

  Maev spat and cursed, and her tears mingled with the rain. “They killed Mother. They poisoned Requiem. I hate them. I hate all of them.”

  Tanin closed his eyes, seeing that old memory.

  Kill the creature!

  Father, kill him!

  Forever would his old beloved fill his mind, he knew. Forever would Ciana’s words wound him.

  He spoke in a soft voice, more to himself than to his sister. “The best revenge isn’t killing your enemy. The best revenge is living well. We must live. We must build our tribe. And tonight we must fly south.”

  She nodded, finally silent. They shifted together and flew into the storm. By the time they heard the rocs pursuing again, they were deep into the clouds and rain, flying south in darkness, flying to that hint of light, that shred of hope, that dream of another—another like them, hunted and hurt, needing that revenge, needing that new life.

  They flew through the night, silent, leaving the Goldtusk tribe to lick its wounds far behind them. They flew until they saw it in the dawn, gleaming white and gold—the southern coast.

  “The sea,” Tanin said. He glided upon the wind, his wounds still aching.

  “Beyond it lies Eteer.” Maev flew with him, blood still staining her scales.

  They were both hurt, weary, consumed with pain and memory. They wobbled as they descended. They landed in the sand, shifted back into human forms, and huddled together, watching the waves.

  ISSARI

  ISSARI WALKED THROUGH THE CITY of demons.

  Once this had been a city called Eteer, the thriving, bright heart the world’s greatest civilization. Once this had been a beacon of light, of hope, of order in a world of chaos. Once this had been her home. Now as Issari walked down the cobbled street, she moved through a hive of rot, blood, pus, and evil from the depths.

  The demons swarmed everywhere. They scuttled up walls like monkeys. They perched upon domed roofs. They swung from palm trees, raced through gutters, and clattered and crawled and slithered along the streets. Their stench wafted, and their leaking sores coated leaves and stones. No two were alike. Some towered on stilt-like legs, withered beings like mummified corpses, their eyes glowing blue. Others dragged themselves forward, obese balls of fat, eyes peering between folds of skin, tongues licking their warty lips. Some flew as bats, scaled
and horned, cackling as their heads spun. Others lurked in shadows, conjoined twins stitched together, four or five in each clump, writhing things of many legs, eyes, and tufts of hair.

  “Creatures of nightmares,” Issari whispered, clutching her robes as she walked down the street. “Terrors of the Abyss.”

  She had grown up hearing tales of the Abyss, that forbidden land that festered underground. For many generations, the kings of Eteer had guarded that unholy kingdom’s doors; by ancient right, they governed the lands above and below the ground. Now her father had opened the seal. Now this terror swept across the city, and Issari—heir to the throne—did not know how this kingdom could ever light the world again.

  “Weredragons, weredragons!” the demons cried. “We seek weredragons to kill. Brides, brides! We seek brides to fill with our spawn.”

  Ahead, several creatures—they looked like men turned inside out, their organs dripping—moved down the street, sniffing and snorting.

  “We smell for dragons, brothers! Do you smell dragons? We smell for brides too.”

  The creatures approached a brick house and pounded on the door, shattering the wood. Screams rose inside. One demon raced through the doorway, then emerged dragging a woman. A few years older than Issari, her hair disheveled and her eyes wide with terror, the woman screamed and kicked.

  “Dragon? Dragon?” The demons tossed the woman onto the ground and sniffed, their snouts quivering. “We smell no dragon blood. Bride! A bride!”

  Issari stared in horror. Her fear froze her; she could barely even breathe. The glistening creatures, blood seeping from their skinless bodies, tore at the woman’s clothes, ripping her tunic, revealing her nakedness.

  “She will be my bride!” cried one of the demons, the largest among them. His heart thudded outside his chest, and his entrails bustled with worms. He leaned down and licked the struggling woman’s cheek. “You will spawn my offspring.”

  The woman screamed, pleading for aid, trying to free herself, but the other demons held her down.

  As the demon began lowering himself over the woman, Issari finally snapped out of her paralysis.

  “Stop!”

  She marched forward, reached into her robe, and pulled out her mother’s amulet. Shedah the crone had brought the silver charm home from the north, proof of Queen Anai’s death. Upon its round surface appeared an engraving of Taal, the god of purity—a slender man, his arms held at his sides, his palms open. It was a symbol of goodness, of light and hope. To Issari, it was also a symbol of her mother. She shook in the presence of this evil, but she held the amulet out before her.

  “Stand back, demons!” she cried.

  In her hand, the amulet burst into light.

  The demons squealed. The inverted creatures stumbled back, covering their bulging, bloodshot eyes. One’s liver burst, showering blood.

  “The light burns!” they cried, shattering, organs ripping. “How can she burn us? Who is the seraph?”

  Issari took a step forward, the amulet thrumming in her hand, casting its light.

  “This was the amulet of Queen Anai of Eteer!” she cried out. “She ruled the throne that rises above your underground lair. From this relic shines the light of Taal, a god greater than your mistress.” She took another step, and the light intensified, bleaching the world. “By this light and blood, I banish you!”

  The demons screamed. Their bones snapped. Whimpering, they fled behind several brick houses, leaving a trail of gore and a lingering stench.

  Issari breathed out in relief. She lowered the amulet, and its light dimmed. Her legs trembled and sweat dripped down her back.

  Her father had traveled north a few days ago, following the crone’s map, seeking Laira in the cold hinterlands. Issari had only this amulet for protection—a guard against the demons he had freed, a shard of holiness, a gift from her mother.

  “I was only a babe when you left, Mother,” she whispered. “And you’re gone now. But still you watch over me.”

  Fingers shaking, she tucked the amulet back under her tunic.

  “All flesh is theirs to claim,” King Raem had said before leaving. He had stroked her hair. “All but yours. Stay in your chambers. Do not tempt them. They are forbidden to enter your room.”

  Yet Issari had left her sanctuary. She could not remain in her palace as her city bled. The people of Eteer needed her. How could she stay in safety while they suffered?

  Still trembling, she approached the fallen woman.

  “Rise, friend,” Issari said, reaching down a hand to the woman. “You are safe.”

  The woman rose, clutching her tattered tunic to her nakedness. Issari wore a veil of tasseled silk and a hood hid her hair; only her eyes were visible. To all, she looked like a simple priestess, not the Princess of Eteer.

  “Thank you.” The woman wiped away tears. “Bless you, daughter. Bless you.”

  As the woman stepped back into her home, Issari pulled her hood lower, praying the woman did not recognize her. If Raem returned and heard of Issari’s doings, he would beat her. She took a shuddering breath, raised her chin, and kept walking.

  Down a street strewn with smashed pottery, the bones of an eaten dog, and puddles of blood, she saw it. The pottery shop. The safe haven.

  A demon lingered on the street. It had the body of a massive centipede—as large as a python—covered in metallic plates and lined with many clawed legs. Its torso, arms, and head were those of a human child, pale and warty, its mouth full of hooked teeth and its belly swollen and bulging with kicking, living innards. When Issari pulled out her amulet, the creature fled from the light, its many feet pattering.

  Issari approached the shop. Its bricks were pale white, splotched with demon drool, and a winged bull was engraved on the door—the god Kur-Paz, a sigil to ward off evil. When Issari stepped inside, she found that the sigil—unlike her amulet—had failed at its task. Three small red demons, no larger than cats, were hopping upon the shelves, smashing clay plates, bowls, and vases. The potter, a graying man with a wide mustache, was fighting them off with a broom. His daughter was flailing, trying to rip off a demon that tugged her hair. When Issari raised her amulet, the light blazed, and the scaled creatures fled out the window, leaving trails of smoke.

  “I think they smelled something this time,” said the white-haired potter, visibly shaken. “We can’t keep them here any longer.”

  Issari nodded. “The ship sails out today.” She handed the old man a few coins. “For your trouble.”

  He shook his head, gently pushing her hand back. “I don’t do this for reward.”

  “I know, kind sir.” She kissed his bristly cheek. “But keep these coins. They’re pure gold. Rebuild your shop.”

  Tears dampened his eyes as he pocketed the money. “Taal bless you, Princess Iss—“

  “Hush.” She placed a finger against his lips, her heart leaping. “I’m but a nameless priestess, that is all.

  She tightened her shawl around her face, knelt, and pulled back the rug, scattering pieces of broken pottery. She revealed a trapdoor. Issari gave her braid a nervous tug, squared her jaw, and climbed down a ladder into the darkness.

  A dark, dusty chamber awaited her. Packs of clay wrapped in cloth lay upon a dozen shelves. The only light came from a small sliding window near the ceiling. A sunbeam fell into the chamber, gleaming with dust. They huddled behind the last shelf, wrapped in cloaks, their hair dusty and their faces pale—the weredragon family.

  Issari knelt by them. She spoke softly. “It is time. A ship awaits.”

  They peered up at her, lost souls, thin and pale. A mason and his wife. Their five children, their eyes huge in their gaunt faces. Cursed. Diseased. Or maybe blessed.

  Weredragons, we call them, Issari thought. The name of monsters. But if they are monsters, so is my family. So are my exiled sister and my dead mother. So is my brother, imprisoned in the tower. She reached down a hand to help the family rise. To me they are simply souls to save.


  “We will walk quickly,” she said. “We will head straight to the port. The ship will take you north to the cold, barbarian lands. I don’t know what awaits you there. I don’t know how or where you will live. But you will be free. You will start a new life.” Her eyes stung. “Nobody will hunt you there.”

  The family stood up, shivering.

  “But there are demons outside!” said the youngest child, a girl with tangled brown hair. “They can smell us. They smelled my grandmother’s magic.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “They ate her.”

  Issari knelt and embraced the girl. “My amulet will protect you. I will protect you.” She kissed the girl’s forehead. “You will be brave.”

  The girl nodded. Issari smiled but trembled on the inside. What if the demons spared her but slew the family? What if the amulet’s power could not overcome their lust for weredragon blood? She tightened her lips and began to climb out of the cellar. She had no choice. She had to risk this. The demons had already invaded the pottery shop’s ground floor; during the next raid they might find the cellar.

  I must lead these people to the sea, and they must sail north. This kingdom is death.

  As they stepped outside the pottery shop, the family blinked in the sunlight, momentarily blinded after long days in the dark. The youngest child whimpered and clung to Issari.

  “I will be brave,” the girl whispered. “I will be brave like you.”

  They walked down the street, moving slowly, barely daring to breathe. White columns rose around them, and a palm tree grew from a ring of stones, swaying in the wind. The sun was bright, the sky azure. Trails of demon drool gleamed upon the street. Drawings covered houses’ walls—some depicted the sigils of the gods, wards against evil drawn by the city folk, while others were demon creations painted in blood, depicting demons devouring the heads of men, tearing off children’s limbs, and mating with women. Issari held the child’s hand, and the rest of the family walked behind her, their footfalls soft.

  When they rounded the corner, Issari grimaced. Several beasts clustered ahead around a well. One demon, a lanky being like a strip of dried meat, was chewing on a dying dog. Two other demons, blobby creatures like dripping tallow, blinked and groaned as they copulated in the dust. A few more demons danced atop the well’s rim, skeletons draped in bits of flesh. All turned toward Issari and the family. All sniffed. All let out shrieks and leaped forward.