NaNoWriMo 2016!

 For the second year the husband and I are doing NaNoWriMo, where you write an entire novel in a month. We went to the local kickoff meet and greet but we didn't stay for the midnight write-in, since it was a weeknight. We saw several writers that we met at ArmadilloCon, and I took away a lot of good information. We also met a lot of other writers, and are definitely looking forward to getting to know the local writing community better. 

 Everything else will be on hold until December, and with luck I should have a brand new book for you to check out. See you in 30 days!

Hero Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 Olak woke late, sun streaming in through the open window. A gentle breeze stirred the gauze curtains, and he could see clear blue sky beyond the treetops. Another picture perfect day.  

 Stretching, he turned over in bed, noting that he was alone. He grinned in memory of the events of the night before. Never had he slept so well, once he got to sleep! He assumed Kendris was up and about her duties, since the staff's day started far earlier than the guests. He got up and made use of the chamberpot, then slid it out into the hall as was customary. The potboy would be by shortly to empty it once someone noticed it. As he was pulling on his trewes, there was a knock at the door.  

 "Come" he called out.  

 The door opened and Kendris entered, carrying a loaded tray on one shoulder. Olak sprang forward to relieve her of the weight, sliding the tray onto the table. Much like supper the evening before, the tray was loaded. A plate of bacon fried crisp, another of sliced ham, hard boiled eggs, fried eggs, biscuits already slathered in melting butter. To round out the meal was a bowl of honeyed fruit, and a stack of pancakes dripping with even more butter, the top of the stack covered in a thick layer of berry jam.  A pot of tea with sugar and cream and a tankard of ale finished the repast.  

 Olak laughed. "If I stay here long, I'm going to be fat as a goose ready for the oven!"  

 Kendris giggled. "Tis to give you strength for the task ahead, good Knight. I will leave you to enjoy it."  She kissed his cheek and skipped out the door, closing it behind her.  

 Olak sat down and tucked in. Like supper, it was excellent. After last night's exercise, he was famished, and demolished the entire tray. Leaning back in his chair, he sipped his ale thinking about the coming event this evening, was there really a dragon? Or just a large lizard that was big enough to kill the sacrifice, provided they were chained up and couldn't fight back. There hadn't been a live dragon anywhere that he knew of since his great-grandfather's time, and the last recorded one alive had been small, barely the size of a pony. It did still breathe fire, and according to the record he'd read, could give you a painful scorch or set your clothes on fire if you weren't careful around it. Olak supposed it could have eaten a person, if given the chance.  

 There was a tap at the door just as Olak was finishing breakfast. "Come!" He called out. The door swung open, and the mayor stood framed in it.  

 "Good Knight, I have brought the town blacksmith to check over your gear for any damage or weak spots. When facing a dragon, it is best to have all your equipment up to the very best standards." Kreed Dogin gestured behind him to the blacksmith and his two apprentices standing there.  

 "Enter then my good fellows, and have a go at my rig." Olak gestured to the armor stand in the corner. The mayor bowed himself out, and the blacksmith got to work.  

 The assistants began unpacking the bags they were carrying, as the smith took the breastplate off of the stand and began a close inspection of it. He turned and motioned to one of his apprentices, who took the piece of armor and sat on the floor with polishing rags and jars in easy reach. As she opened a jar and dipped out some polish, the smith repeated his inspection on the helmet, testing the straps and inspecting the padding. Satisfied that they knew what they were doing, Olak drained the rest of his ale, set the tankard down on the table, and headed out the door to go check on Aman. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Daffyth spotted him and grinned. 

 "Sleep well?" The innkeeper asked, eyebrows doing a jig up and down on his face. "Well rested, I presume?"  

 Olak grinned back. "Very well rested, thank you. And tell your cook that breakfast was wonderful!"  

 "I will, she'll be thrilled. She lives to make people happy with her food." Daffyth replied. "Is there anything I can do for you, Sir Knight?"  

 "Not a thing, my good man, I'm off to give my warsteed a bit of a workout, and inspect my tack. I want to be ready for this evening." Olak answered.  

 "Well then, let me know if there is anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask. Luncheon will be ready noonish." Daffyth said.  

 Olak laughed and waved, turning to head out the front door. As he walked around to the stable, he noticed a larger than yesterday group hanging around in the vicinity of the inn. Probably wanting to get a look at the Hero. Olak smiled to himself and continued to the stable.  

 As he stepped in the stable door and whistled, Aman looked up from a bucket hanging next to his hay rack. He whickered a greeting, sweet feed falling from his lips as he chewed. Olak entered the stall, smirking as Aman buried his nose back into the bucket. Olak checked him over, but he couldn't find anything to complain about, Aman had been groomed within an inch of his life, his coat was soft and gleamed, his hooves shiny and polished. When Olak lifted a hoof, he saw that the warhorse had been newly shod, probably this morning, since there wasn't a scratch on the shoe. Not that there would be, the straw was knee deep, and completely clean. The stablegirl must be checking hourly and replacing the bedding.  

 Olak slapped the warhorse on the shoulder. "You're putting on weight, and no wonder. We stay here much longer, we might not ever leave. This place is amazing. Maybe I'll build a summer house here." Aman swiveled his ears back so he could listen while he ate.  

 Olak stepped out of the stall and looked around for his tack. Before he could shout for someone, Zusi came out of the tackroom carrying his saddle. She jumped when she saw Olak, her eyes wide. 

 "Oh, Sir Knight, you startled me! I was just cleaning and repairing your tack, it is all finished and ready for your inspection."  

 Olak held out his hands, and the girl surrendered the saddle. She darted back into the tackroom and brought out his bridle, the metalwork so highly polished that he could see everything in the stable reflected in the surfce. The blanket hanging on the side of the stall had been freshly washed and dried. Now this was the way they should be treated! Not like the last place where they couldn't get him out of town fast enough, despite cleaning out a nest of bandits for them. 

 Olak saddled up and took Aman out for some exercise. As he turned into the lane, he noticed the warhorse was a bit slower than usual. He tapped his spurs to Aman's sides to speed him up a bit. The warhorse turned and looked at Olak sadly, but obliged by increasing his speed until he was at a slow canter, pretty much all the speed Olak could ever coax out of the aging beast these days. He noticed that the horse's barrel seemed larger, probably all the food the warsteed had been stuffing himself with over the last two days. Greedy pig. Zusi have noticed and lengthened the saddle girth to fit, it wasn't too tight and pinching when he saddled up. 

 Olak cantered around the town for an hour, giving the warhorse's legs a good stretch. He allowed Aman to walk back to the inn to cool down, although as they grew closer, the horse sped up. Olak laughed and slapped Aman's shoulder affectionately.  

 Maybe when I slay the 'dragon', I'll ask for a new warhorse and leave you here to retire. You can live out your days at my summer house."  

 The horse snorted as if he could understand Olak, and then pricked his ears, as he saw the inn in the distance. His walk increased to a slow trot, and Olak pulled him up in the stableyard, grinning at the aging beast. Zusi came out of the stable, and Aman started to do an impatient little dance, wanting Olak off his back now so he could return to the pampering the warsteed obviously thought was his due.  

 Zusi giggled, and took the reins that Olak tossed to her as he dismounted. I think someone is ready for lunch!" she exclaimed.  

 "That he is. Now, don't overfeed him, I need him in top shape this evening." Olak told the girl.  

 "Absolutely, a light meal for him. Come on Aman, time for lunch and a rubdown!" Zusi led the eager warhorse away into the stable to remove his tack and groom him. Olak returned to the inn taproom where Daffyth was supervising some young people putting up decorations and restocking the bar. The innkeeper turned and spotted him.  

 "Sir Knight! I hope you had a pleasant morning!" The innkeeper hurried to Olak's side.  

 Olak waved his hand at the banners hung from the stairs and rafters. "What's all this?"  

 Daffyth beamed. "It's for your celebration tonight, after you slay the foul beast. We want everything to be perfect. Now, did you work up an appetite? Luri has prepared something special for your nooning."  

 Olak nodded. "That I did, although I'm surprised, after the breakfast I ate, I didn't think I would be hungry the rest of the day."  

 Daffyth grinned and took Olak by the arm, leading him to the same table he had occupied last night. "Please sit Good Knight, and I will bring you a drink. We should be done here by the time Luri has your luncheon ready."  

 Olak sat at 'his' table, and Daffyth waved to one of the helpers to bring a mug of ale over, and turned back to supervise the remaining work. The boy brought Olak the drink, ducking his head and smiling shyly as he set it on the table. Olak thanked him and watched the bustle as Daffyth directed the chaos like a seasoned general. Now that Olak thought about it, watching them, it was almost like they had done this before, everyone seemed to know their job very well and did it without questions.  

 Almost as soon as Olak completed the thought, Daffyth has rounded up his crew and had them haul out the refuse, and then he vanished into the kitchen, presumably to check on Olak's lunch. Olak leaned back and sipped his drink, thinking about tonight's exercise. A bit of sword waving, poke a few holes in the 'dragon's' hide, then back here for the celebration. From the looks of it, it was going to be a good one. Olak grinned to himself, pleased with his plan.  

 The kitchen door swung open, and Kendris came out with another massive platter of food. The savory aroma hit Olak even before Kendris was halfway across the taproom. As she slid the tray onto the table, Olak saw that there was a whole roast capon, a bowl of mashed tubers with a puddle of melted butter nestled on top, a huge salad with fresh tomatoes and onions, soft rolls with more butter and large bowl of trifle smothered in whipped cream.  

 "Lovely!" Olak exclaimed. "This is my second favorite meal in the whole world!"  

 Kendris giggled. "I know, Sir Knight, you told me last night. And I told Luri. She'll be making your most favorite for the celebration feast."  

 "Suckling pig?" Olak asked hopefully.  

 "Yes, with all the trimmings, just the way you like it." She batted her eyelashes at Olak. "And you should definitely save room for dessert tonight, I have something special that will be waiting for you."  

 Olak leered at her briefly which made Kedris giggle again. He waved her away, pulling the plate towards him. "You have enough to do I'm sure, so I can serve myself." She dropped him an impudent curtsy and vanished into the kitchen again. Olak loaded his plate and tucked in. The capon skin was crisp, the meat slid off the bones and melted in his mouth. The potatoes were like a cloud, they were so light and fluffy, the salad at peak freshness and dressed with a lovely sweet vinegar. Olak leaned back in his chair, chewing happily. What a place this was! He couldn't wait to tell his friends about it when he got back to the Palace. 

 Finishing up the last of the trifle, Olak finally pushed his plate away, and sighed. He wondered if Luri might be enticed to join his household as his personal cook.  He'd definitely remember to ask her before he left for home. She couldn't be making that much as a village inn cook, and she was definitely wasted here.  

 Seeing Olak had finished, Daffyth hurried over to the table. "Is there anything I get you Sir Knight? Another tankard?"  

 Olak stretched his arms over his head for a moment. "Not a thing, my good man, I am totally stuffed. Once again, my compliments to the cook."  

 Daffyth bowed slightly from the waist. "She will be most pleased. Now, is there anything else you require?" He asked.  

 Olak shook his head. "It's time for me to check my gear. I'll just head up."  

 "Very good then. I'm sure the mayor will want to speak to you as well. I'll let him know you are getting prepared. " Daffyth told him. 

 Olak nodded, and turned away to head up the stairs to his room as Daffyth began clearing off the table. As he opened the door to his room and stepped inside, a bright gleam caught is eye, and he turned towards the window.  

 There on the stand was his armor. At least he thought it was his, he had not seen it this clean and polished since he left home. First having been the squire, and then not having one, his armor didn't get as well cared for as it should be.  But this was amazing! Olak reached for one of his gauntlets and slid it on his hand. As he worked his fingers into place, he noticed the leather had been treated until it was butter soft, like the finest doeskin. He made a fist and rotated his wrist, feeling the action of the joints. It was smooth, no catching or grinding. He pulled the gauntlet off and replaced it on the stand and looked over the rest of his gear. Anything worn or the slightest bit damaged had been replaced or repaired, scratches buffed out and subtle ornamentation in the way of scrollwork had been added to every piece. He picked up his sword and slid it partially out of the scabbard. As he suspected, it was sharp enough to shave with. The leather of the scabbard had gotten the same treatment and now sported scrollwork picked out in silver. Only the scions of the richest and oldest of noble families could afford armor like this, and being the youngest, Olak had not been in line for anything better than what he received, at least until he had made a Name for himself and either won or bought new gear.Only the King had armor that was better. The rest of the gear had received the same treatment, and when Olak stepped back, he noticed the entire suit of armor glowed softly, as if lit from within. Better and better! The blacksmith must be a smith-mage, and there were now enchantments on the gear. At this point, Olak did not see how he could be anything except victorious. 

Revamping a joint project

 Back about this time last year when I decided to retire from cooking and return to writing, I started a joint project with my husband. We had to use a nom de plume however, due to the fact he worked for the Death Star at that time, because of the slightly pornographic content of the story. Halfway through the first of a trilogy of novellas, the Death Star decided to close his department and move it out of state. We were not interesting in following it and he wasn't interested in going back to his previous department, so a new job was procured while we finished the first part of the trilogy. The new company doesn't care what you do in your off time, so we have decided amp up and rewrite the first book, and publish under our real names. It's a fun little story, I think you will enjoy it. Once we get the rewrite done, I will post a bit here for your enjoyment. 

You Really Can't Go Home Again

 I sat in the back of the Uber, watching what passed for scenery streaming by. Barb wire fence, mesquite trees, cows, cotton and wheat fields just as I remembered. I left this place decades ago. I never thought I'd be back.

 As the car approached the town, I noticed a few changes. There was a McDonald's where an empty field once stood. The big car dealership was gone, the lot full of trash and the building windows boarded up. The convenience store across the street was still there, still just as dirty as in the old days, with the same rusted gas pumps and the same overflowing trashcan out front.

 The car turned down a side street, and headed east. The houses became more run down, cars on blocks in the front yards, hordes of filthy children screaming and playing in the street. The driver had to slow down and swerve more than once to keep from hitting them.
Why did I receive an invitation to my nephew's wedding? I hadn't laid eyes on or even spoken to anyone on that side of the family in years. The last conversation with my sister didn't go so well, a repeat of so many others.

 As the car slowed, I looked out the window, and realized I had reached my destination. The driver pulled up in front of the house, got out and went to the trunk, pulling out my bag, and then to the rear door. He opened it for me, and as I got out, he said in an undertone "Ma'am, are you going to be okay to be left here? This neighborhood is pretty tough."
I ducked my head to hide a smile. "Thanks for your concern, it is a bit rough, but I grew up here. It's all good."

 The driver swept me with a look, then took a sideways glance at the house. "If you say so ma'am." I knew what he was thinking, that I totally didn't look like I ever belonged here. And he would be right. I never did.

 I smiled and took the handle of my suitcase from him. "Thank you for the ride, I hope you have a great rest of the day."

 He smiled back, if a bit warily. "You too ma'am." He got back in his car and drove off, and I turned to face the house where I had grown up.

 Hard to believe, but it looked pretty much the same as the day I drove away in my battered old pickup truck, heading to the big city. The male family members were gathered on the porch as usual, sitting on a motley collection of ancient and broken chairs, milk crates and wooden boxes, beers in one hand and cigarettes in the other. As it was a wedding day, Harley-Davidson t-shirts were the prevailing fashion statement. At least most of them were clean, since the wedding was later that day.

 As I walked up the driveway, every eye was on me. The cloud of cigarette and weed smoke was eye watering. One of the older men stood up and walked out to meet me right as I got to the edge of the porch. He was wearing a black Hard Rock Café Las Vegas shirt and jeans with the right knee torn out. Classy, as always.

 "Well, look what we got here. Never thought I'd see you at this house again. Whattaya doin' here?" He asked.

 "Well Uncle Rich, I was invited to my nephew's wedding. That would be why I am here." I replied. Oh yes, we were off and running. The start of twenty-four hours of unmitigated hell.

 My uncle glanced over his shoulder to my nephew sitting off to one side, leaning over a table to snort something off the plate sitting there. "Boy, you invite your aunt to the wedding?"
 My nephew sat up rubbing his nose and sniffling. "Nope, not me." He glared at me with bloodshot eyes. The last time we spoke was my nephew calling me names that would make a sailor blush. He took a swig off the bottle of beer in his hand. "Weren't Brandi neither, she fucking hates you."

 I sighed. I knew I shouldn't have come, but I thought I would try one last time for some sort of reconciliation. I stepped up on the porch, pushing past my uncle who just stood there blocking the steps and drinking his beer. No one bothered to get up and open the door, or offer to help with my suitcase. Typical. Not like I expected it anyway. I opened the screen door and stepped inside.

 The first thing that assaulted me was the smell. I remembered it from my childhood; a combination of mildew, ancient dusty carpet, stale booze, and rancid grease. I walked through the entry into the kitchen, which was full of my female relatives and their friends, all talking at once, getting various things ready for the wedding. As the younger women noticed me standing in the doorway, the chatter died away. The looks ranged from amazement to inquiring to animosity and outright hatred.

 The bride was standing in the middle of the large kitchen surrounded by what I could only assume were bridesmaids. They looked more like a group of dancers from the local strip joint and whore house. Considering Brandi, the bride, was a 'working girl' there at the Blue Bunny, most likely these were her co-workers. My sister was standing in front of her, adjusting her veil. When my sister realized that everyone was staring at the door, she turned and saw me. Her face ran through a range of emotions, none of them particularly pleasant. She finally settled on a look of pained antipathy, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand, the other on her hip.

 "What are you doing here?" She asked, her lips tightening into a thin line as she looked me up and down. Of course I was dressed in my usual attire, a Christian Lacroix suit with a matching silk blouse, and a pair of Louis Vuitton pumps. The outfit probably cost more than most of the cars out front.

 My sister made a noise of disgust, and turned back to finish adjusting the bride's veil. The bride's hate-filled eyes narrowed and slid up and down, taking in every detail of my appearance. Her mouth opened, and she let out a hiss of jealousy. She took a deep breath, nearly causing her bargain basement double Ds to pop out of the too-small bustier top.
"What are YOU doing here?" She demanded. She looked at my sister. "What the FUCK IS SHE DOING HERE?" Her voice grew louder with each word.

 "I don't know." My sister said through gritted teeth. "I sure as hell didn't invite her."
One of the girls dressed in a strip of slashed Spandex that barely covered her nipples and genitals came over to Brandi and offered her a hit from a tiny spoon. Brandi snorted it and her nose started to run immediately. Another young woman dressed in a tube top that looked like a strip of bandage and a micro miniskirt a size too small rushed to Brandi's side with a wad of toilet paper. Brandi continued to stare hotly at me while she wiped her nose.

 My sister turned to me and hissed, "I want to talk to you. Now." She walked out of the kitchen, leaving the bride to the ministrations of her flock of gabbling bridesmaids. We walked past the game room, several men playing pool or watching the others, well on their way to becoming drunk. I followed my sister up the stairs to her bedroom, still hauling my suitcase. No chance I was going to leave it down here in Coke-Whoreville. The room still looked exactly the same, hideous avocado green shag carpet with the ancient cheap furniture gotten from our parents house when they died. Even the bedspread was similar to the one I remembered. Welcome to 1975.

 I walked into the middle of the room, and my sister shut the door behind me. I turned around to see her with her hands on her hips, chest heaving angrily. This was going to be a good one.

 "What in the fuck do you think you are doing, showing up here?" She demanded.

 "I got an invitation." I replied shortly.

 "That was so you could send money, NOT show up here and fuck up everyone's day. Do you really think anyone wants to see you? What with your big city attitude and expensive clothes, acting like you know every fucking thing. When did you ever help out around here? You KNOW we could use some help!" My sister exclaimed.

 "Yeah, help. Right. Looks like you have more than enough 'help', as my nephew was snorting up half of Peru out on the front porch." I said, disgusted.

 "He HAS an ILLNESS!" My sister screeched.

I shrugged. "Whatever. This was a bad idea, I see you people are just as bad as I remembered." I pulled out my phone and ordered an Uber. ETA was five minutes. Huh, that was weird, must have been one in the neighborhood. "I'm out of here. You enjoy the wedding."

 I turned and left my sister's bedroom and started down the stairs. A flood of profanity flowed down the stairs after me. My sister's vocabulary had never really progressed past junior high, and she was reminding the neighborhood of the fact.

 I walked into the kitchen where the bridesmaids were all whispering to each other. I pulled an envelope out of my purse and threw it on the counter.

 "Congratulations." I said to the air, not bothering to look at anyone. As I walked out of the kitchen, I heard a mad swishing of cheap Wal-Mart taffeta as Brandi made a beeline for the envelope. I opened the door and stepped onto the porch, pulling my suitcase behind me. Most of the men had wandered out into the yard, or into the living room to watch TV before the wedding.

 The same Uber driver who had dropped me off at this hellhole pulled up. He jumped out and all but grabbed my bag from me.

 "That didn't take long. Glad you were still in the area." I told him.

 He grinned as he stowed my suitcase in the trunk. "I was parked around the corner, just in case. I had a suspicion you wouldn't be staying." He winked at me.

 He opened the door and I slid into the seat, ready to get the hell out of this half a horse backwater. He closed the door and got behind the wheel. As he put the car in reverse and started to back out of the driveway, the screen door to the house crashed open, and Brandi came flying out screaming, followed by the rest of the wedding party and my sister.
"Holy crap!" The driver blurted out, whipping out of the driveway and slamming the car into drive. As he sped away, the wedding party tried in vain to intercept us. The driver floored it, and we leapt away down the street.

 I turned to see Brandi running down the street after the car waving the envelope I left on the counter, my sister in hot pursuit, both screaming like banshees. Brandi's carefully adjusted veil blew off and my sister nearly tripped over it. It tangled around her feet and she couldn't avoid trampling it.

 As they grew smaller, I started to grin. I couldn't help it, and then a giggle burst out despite trying to hold it back. I looked up at the rear view mirror, and the driver was looking back at me, grinning from ear to ear. He joined me, us both giggling madly for a few moments. He pulled onto the freeway, and we were well away from anyone trying to chase us down.
We finally got ourselves under control, and the driver asked me "Well, where would you like to go ma'am? I'm guessing you don't even want to stay in town?" He looked dubiously at me in the mirror.

 I laughed again. "To the airport, my good man. I figured this is how things would go down, so my return ticket is for later today. Even if I had stayed for the wedding, I would have left immediately afterwards."

 He nodded. "If I can ask, what happened to cause them to act like they were a pack of dogs on a mail truck?"

 "I grinned. "My wedding card to the happy couple. It was just that. A note written inside said 'May you both get exactly what you deserve.' And the card was empty. They were expecting a large sum of cash like I gave my niece. Like that was going to ever happen, they'll just drink, snort and tattoo it away."

 The drive to the airport was relatively quiet, broken by an occasional snort of amusement from the driver's seat. I stared at my hands, thinking that this was the last time I would ever see my family again. And I was okay with that.

 After about 20 minutes we arrived at the airport.The driver looked into the rear view mirror as we pulled into the airport loading zone and grinned again. He hopped out, grabbed my bag from the trunk, and opened my door with a flourish. I got out and took my bag from him.

 "Thank you so much for the ride." I said, shaking his hand.
He grinned, returning the shake with both of his. "Thank YOU for the best laugh I've had in a long while. I'll cage a few drinks at the bar with this story."

 He shut the door as I stepped up on the sidewalk and trotted back around to the driver's side. I waved as he got in and drove away, and he waved back, probably still grinning. I gave my boarding pass to the airline employee waiting to check my bag, and as soon as he saw it was first class, waved a porter over to deal with my bag. I entered the airport, heading towards the first class lounge for a drink and something to eat while I waited to board my flight back to NYC where I belonged.

Hero - Chapter Three

Chapter 3 

 Olak left the inn, and headed out to walk through the town. The townsfolk had all returned to their labors, but everyone had a smile for him. This was the most attention he had ever gotten, even when he was an unattached prince at his father's court. As he passed the blacksmith's forge, he noticed the big man working to pound a largish curved piece of metal flat. To one side of the building, there was an unusual looking stack of metal scrap, but Olak couldn't quite make out what it was. He shrugged mentally and continued his walk. A group of children were playing off to one side in an open area. One had a stick and a pot on her head, and was pretending to attack another child with a scrap of green cloth tied around his shoulders, fanning out the material as if his arms were wings. Olak grinned, stopping to watch for a few moments. The children played on, oblivious to their audience. Suddenly Olak noticed that what he thought was an old pot on the girl's head was actually a helmet, of the kind called a 'mace landing', due to the flat top. A really nice helm, with filigree work on the front and all around the top. Before he could walk over and ask the child where she got it, the door of a nearby cottage opened, and a woman leaned out. "Alright children, time for chores!" There were groans from the group, but they scattered, presumably to attend to their afternoon duties.  

 Olak wandered about for a bit longer, then headed back to the inn. He walked around to the stables behind the building, and pushing the door open, found Aman happily ensconced in a huge loose box, munching his way through a scoop of sweet feed. There was a manger full of fresh hay and a bucket of crystal clear water beside it. Olak let himself into the box and inspected the warhorse, but everything looked fine. Aman had been impeccably groomed, even his hooves completely cleaned out and polished. He turned to check his gear, it too showed signs of being cleaned, polished and repaired. Glancing around at the stable, he noticed the hock deep clean straw, and the floors shined. He was liking this place more and more.  

 Giving the warhorse one last scratch, Olak let himself out of the stall. As he turned to head back to the inn, he saw that there were several rows of harnesses hanging on the wall. That was unusual, a small village inn wouldn't have that many horses. Maybe it was a refit station for delivery wagons or something like that. He stepped outside and he could smell the enticing aromas of supper coming from the kitchen at the rear of the building. Picking up his pace, he walked around to the front door, and went in. The inn was fullish, and as he opened the door and stepped inside, everyone turned to look at him briefly, then returned to their meals or drinks. Next to the fireplace, a small table was set, but empty. Figuring this was for him, Olak headed to it. The innkeeper met him there with glass and a bottle.  

 “How did you find our little town, Sir Knight?” Daffyth asked Olak.  

 “Nice. And very clean and neat.” Olak answered.  

 “Thank you for noticing! We do pride ourselves on a neat and clean town. Makes life ever so much better, don’t you think?” Daffyth responded.  

 He set the glass down in front of Olak, and pulled the cork out of the bottle of wine. Taking the glass, he poured it three quarters full of a rich dark red wine, and handed Olak the glass. Daffyth corked the bottle and set it on the table.

  

 Olak swirled the wine around a bit, then took a delicate sniff, as he had learned at court. Personally, he’d rather have a big tankard of ale, but when one grew up Royal, one was supposed to appreciate fine wines. He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised, this was better than average for a small inn like this one. “Very nice! Not too dry, with a nice crisp finish.” Daffyth beamed, and turned at the sound of his name being called from the kitchen.

 “If you will excuse me, Sir Knight, I will see what they need, and check on your supper as well.” Daffyth said. Olak waved him off, taking another sip of wine. Yes, things were definitely looking up.  

 The kitchen door swung open and Kendris came out with a huge platter balanced on her shoulder. She stopped next to the table, and Olak sprang up to help her. 

 “Here lass, let me give you a hand!” Olak set the heavy tray on the table. “Is this all for me?” he asked in bewilderment.  

 Kendris giggled. “It is, Sir Knight, the town wants to make sure that you are well taken care of before your big day.” She curtsied and winked at Olak, and scampered away as Daffyth brought him a tankard of ale. 

 “Here you are Sir Knight, I figured this would go down a sight better with your meal than wine.” The innkeeper set the tankard down in front of Olak.  

 “My good host, is this really all meant for me? Olak asked, waving his hand at the immense amount of food. "This would feed half the village in a bad spell.”  

 Daffyth laughed “We’ve it to spare, and can’t have you fainting away with hunger when you meet the dragon. There now, tuck into that, we want you fit and ready.”  

 Olak shrugged and grinned. “If you want to stuff me like a holiday goose, who am I to argue?” He looked down at the groaning tabletop, and missed the innkeeper’s change of expression. Daffyth's smile disappeared, and a frown creased his brow. Olak looked up to catch the innkeeper smoothing away his strange look into a bland smile. 

 “If there is anything else that you need Good Knight, Kendris will take care of anything you might wish for.” Daffyth bowed slightly and turned away to return to behind the bar.  

 Olak wondered briefly about the innkeeper's strange look, but then turned his attention to the food. There was a steaming bowl of turnip pottage to start, with a hot loaf of manchet and a dish of soft butter. On a platter was a sizzling haunch of rare roast venison, just the way he liked it, garnished with crispy whole roasted baby potatoes. Next to that was a meat pie with a piece already cut and waiting on a small plate, chicken, bacon and peas oozing with juices under a flaky crust. For dessert, a huge berry tart with a pitcher of sweetened thick cream to pour over it. Olak started eating, a bit of this, a slice of that. Kendris was quick to remove the rapidly emptying dishes, and kept his tankard full of the inn's excellent ale. After the meal, Daffyth appeared at the table with a tray containing a snifter of fine brandy, and a pipe. Never one to turn down choice intoxicants, he availed himself of both. In due course, as the brandy and pipeweed took effect, everything seemed to be washed with a glow, and he smiled around the room at the other customers. Some smiled back, a few looked away, as if they were ashamed.  

 Olak finished his brandy and pipe, and as he carefully set both on the table, Kendris came and whisked them away to the bar. She returned and stopped by his chair. 

 "I think you are ready for bed, Sir Knight." She giggled, and hauled on his arm. Grinning, he stood slowly, draping his arm over her shoulders. They headed to the stairs, Olak only weaving a little. He waved in Daffyth's direction. 

 "I am off to bed, my good fellow! The food and drink were most excellent, and I look forward to breakfast!"  

 "A most pleasant evening to you, Sir Knight!" Daffyth called to him as Kendris pulled him up the stairs to his room. They made their way down the hall and stopped at his door. Kendris opened it, and they went in. She didn't seem to be in too big of a hurry to leave.  

 Olak kicked the door lightly to shut it behind them, and turned Kendris in his arms. He doubted he was going to have to make much of an effort, she had made it perfectly plain from the beginning that she found him attractive and was interested in sharing his bed. Their lips met, and Olak scooped Kendris into his arms and crossed to the bed. They fell on the bed together, and that was the last thing Olak thought about for a very long time.  

So much pink....

 Valentine's Day is this weekend, and I have been swamped at my day job making red velvet cake balls for two days, and pink colored white chocolate hearts with sprinkles. After soooo much pink and sugar and sweetness, I was ready to work on something not those things.
 I had an idea for a story running around in my head for a few weeks. I had gone to the debut of a new RPG game and I heard something during the worldbuilding session that made me think "That would make an awesome story!"
 After kicking it around for a bit, things began to gel. Here's a sample, enjoy!

My cell phone woke me from the sleep of the dead. I fucking hate that. I rolled over, cleared my throat a couple of times and hit the button. "Speak."  I growled, rolling over onto my back.  

 "Boss, we need you upstairs, the testers found a major issue with some of the graphics on level ten." the voice of my assistant issued from the speaker.  

 I groaned, ran a hand over my face and looked at the clock. 10 A.M. My assistant knows how much I don't do days, something must be on fire. "Give me a few and I'll be up." I told her. I levered myself out of the nest of blankets I was snuggled into, and looked for my clothes. They were on the floor where I had dropped them two hours ago. I grabbed my pants and slid off the bed into them. The shirt was next and last I jammed my feet into a pair of Crocs. I didn't bother with underwear, this was as decent as I was getting.  

 Yawning and rubbing one eye, I headed across the living room into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and took out a bottle, shaking it as I wandered across to the tablet on the counter. I powered it up and did a quick mail check while I sipped my drink, trying to get my brain lubricated enough to function. Nothing that couldn't wait. I put it to sleep and headed to the entry and the elevator.  

 The motion sensor activated elevator doors opened as soon as I approached them, the whole thing was state of the art and cost a small fortune. Luckily I had a large fortune. I stepped inside, and took a slug of my drink, letting the chill liquid slide down my throat. It was finally starting to kick in, I might just be coherent enough to deal with whatever issue had cropped up. It's a special blend that my assistant makes up for me, three parts Red Bull, two parts V-8, one part cow blood, powdered desiccated rabbit liver, Grains of Paradise and 5 grams of Moroccan honey hash. Miraculous stuff.  

 The doors closed and I told the elevator "Level Six, please." The car started upwards so smoothly it was hard to tell that it was in motion. I took another sip of my drink and swirled the bottle to keep it from settling.  

 The doors opened, and I stepped out of the car and headed down the hallway to the Pit, the big conference room that my designers liked to use for group coding sessions. I could hear them before I made it ten feet down the hall, it must be a hell of a problem.

Fairy Magic

She didn't know how long she had sat at the kitchen table, staring at the shotgun. It felt like an eternity. When she had confronted her husband this morning, and he told her that yes, he had been having an affair, she felt like a hole had been blasted through her chest. She picked up the shotgun and loaded it. Might as well get it over with and finish the job. 

 She walked out the back door of the house, down the hill and into the ravine that led to the spring way in the back on the property. As she got closer to the spring, the sides of the ravine grew higher. Good, it would help muffle the noise. The neighbors weren't very close, but the sound of a shotgun carried. The people living in this area would definitely call 911 if they heard it. The vegetation grew thicker and it choked out the light with a green gloom. She realized that she had probably better stop here. She was in mid step as the thought crossed her mind, and her foot came down on some greenery into nothing. She let out a shriek as she fell forward down a slope that she did not see. She dropped the shotgun as she rolled downhill, crashing through trees and bushes, bouncing over rocks. She finally slid to a stop at the bottom of the slope, and lay there stunned for a long time. Gradually she became aware that she was laying on some broken branches and rock, as pain began stabbing her from various injuries. She slowly rolled off the debris of her fall, and carefully moved her arms and legs. There was pain, but everything seemed to be working. She pushed herself to a sitting position, every part of her body screaming in pain. She was sure she had wrenched joints and torn muscles all over as well as cuts and abrasions, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. She sat shaking in pain and shock for a long while.  

 The sound of dripping water caught her attention. She turned and crawled towards the sound, pain racking her whole body. As she parted the long thick grass, she found the spring.  

 Spread out in front of her was a flat area covered in short brilliant green grass leading down to the water, studded with tiny purple and white flowers. Overhead, the trees grew up and over the entire depression, wrapped in vines; pink and blue morning glories, honeysuckle, climbing jasmine. The air was thick with green and flowers and water, but not oppressive. The back wall was nearly hidden under maidenhair ferns and moss, slow waterfalls making their way through the vegetation to splash into the pool at the bottom. Dappled sunlight pierced the vegetation and played over the water.  

 She rose shakily to her feet, and slowly made her way to the water. She tried to kneel, but one of her knees refused to work, so she rolled over and sat. Cupping her hand, she leaned down and dipped out a handful, carefully wetting her face. The cold water brought things into focus a bit more, and she gazed around the hollow. Had this always been here? She didn't know, she was always too busy to venture back here and check it out. 

 As she was gazing up into the flower bedecked canopy, she heard a tinkling giggle. She looked around in alarm, but didn't see anyone. "Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?" 

 Another giggle and a tiny splash answered her. She looked down into the spring, and her eyes grew round as she saw what was making the noise.  

 It was a a tiny woman, clothed, if it could be called that, in water weeds and her own long hair. Her skin was translucent, with a pearl-like sheen, and her hair was several shades of blue and green. A pair of delicate pointed ears peeked through the wet tresses. 

 "Greetings Daughter of Eve." the elfin creature said.  

 "W-what are you?" the woman asked, sliding back from the water's edge.  

 "You have forgotten us, Daughter of Eve, but we have not forgotten you. I am a water sprite. I live here in this spring. Do you like it?" the sprite asked.  

 "What do you mean, you live here? I don't understand."  

 The sprite giggled again, the sound like tiny crystals falling into still water. "I am of the Fae, those that the Daughters of Eve and the Sons of Adam called fairies. We have always been here, and we will always be here." 

 The woman rubbed her hands across her face. "I must be hallucinating, I must have hit my head, and I am seeing things. You can't be real."  

 A tiny spray of ice cold spring water hit her in the face. "Hey!" she sputtered, wiping her face with her forearm. "Why did you do that?"  

 The fairy grinned. "I am no hallucination Daughter of Eve, I am as real as you." The sprite swam to the edge, and propped herself up on her elbows, reclining half in and half out of the water. She kicked her tiny feet, making little ripples in the water behind her.  

 The woman crossed her arms, wincing as her palms brushed across scratches and cuts. The Fae frowned slightly, her brow wrinkling. "You are injured, Daughter of Eve. May I help you?"  

 "How can you help me, you are so tiny, there's no way you can carry me up the slope."  

 "Place your hand in the water, and you will see." the sprite replied.  

 The woman leaned forward, and slowly stretched out her hand towards the water. "I can't believe I am listening to a hallucination." she mumbled. The Fae waited, and as soon as the woman's hand touched the water, she made a gesture, and tiny glittering motes drifted down from her hand like flower petals. When they touched the water, the woman felt the water stirring around her hand, and she saw the motes flowing through the water, and then with the water, flowing up her hand! She tried to pull her hand out of the water, but she couldn't, it felt like it was being held in a soft wet firm clasp. As the water flowed over her skin, where ever it touched began to heal. Not completely, but enough that she felt the pain subside and the abrasions scabbed over in seconds.

  

 The grip of the water loosened, and she pulled her hand out. She still felt battered and bruised, but her body was no longer screaming at her in pain.  

 "I'm sorry I could not Heal all of you, but I am a very small Fae, and my power is little." the fairy said. 

 "Thank you, I guess. Is this really real? I'm not imaging all this?" the woman asked, looking at her half-healed hands.

 "No, Daughter of Eve, you are not. I will not burden you with our history, you can find out about it for yourself."  

 "You said you were always here, are you immortal?" the woman inquired. 

 The sprite giggled. "No, we are mortal as you, but very long lived. Time runs differently for us than it does you."  

 The Fae cocked her head and perused the woman. "And now, I must ask, what is the darkness on your soul? I felt it even before you fell into my spring. What black sadness rips at your heart?" 

 Memory returned, and she burst into tears. The sprite splashed a bit of water on her, and she was able to draw a shuddering breath, and she wiped her face with her hands. "My husband told me this morning that he had been cheating on me."  

 The Fae frowned, and said "Your mate has caused you much pain, yes? Because he strayed?" 

 The woman nodded, sniffling. "Yes, so much pain." The tears began to fall again.  

 "I see in your heart that you came here meaning to do yourself harm. Why is that, Daughter of Eve?"  

 "Because, I...I can't do this anymore. This is not the first time he cheated, and I don't think I can take it again, I just can't!" she sobbed. 

 The Fae wrinkled her nose and said "This pain is because the Son of Adam lay with another?" The woman nodded, tears dripping down her face. 

 The sprite did a sudden backflip into the water, and disappeared beneath the surface. The woman took a deep breath, and wondered if she had dreamed it after all. As she got to her knees, she heard a splash, and looked at the water. The sprite had surfaced, and was swimming towards the bank.  

 "Hold out your hand, Daughter of Eve." she commanded. The woman did so without thinking, and the Fae dropped something into it with a tiny plash. "Make to drop this into your mate's drink, and I guarantee you will never have this particular problem again."  

 The woman looked into her hand, and resting on her palm was a large drop of water, the surface quivering slightly, shivering through all the colors of the rainbow. "I don't want to kill him!" she exclaimed. 

 The Fae laughed, flipping her wet hair over one shoulder. "Nay, twill not kill him. I told you, I am but a tiny Fae. You'll see."  

 The woman rose to her feet, carefully cradling the drop. "How can I thank you?" 

 The Fae pushed away from the bank, slowly swimming backwards. "Come and visit. I like visitors, but none before you have come in a too long a time." she said. "And Daughter of Eve, remember, you are never alone. We are here for you." She waved once more and did a backflip to dive under the surface.  

 The woman turned and climbed slowly and carefully out of the hollow and into the ravine. Halfway to the top, she found the shotgun, and picked it up, cradling it under her free arm as she walked back up to the house. 

 She entered the house through the laundry room, setting the shotgun on the top of the washing machine. She went into the kitchen and listened, he was upstairs. She went to the coffeepot and pulling cups out of the cabinet, poured two cups of coffee. Into  one she slipped the drop of water.  

 She heard him come down the steps. "Is the coffee ready?" he asked, as if he had not shattered her world just hours ago. He didn't seem to notice her appearance or injuries, as usual. She nodded mutely, handing him the cup. He took it and sipped, walking into the living room and turning on the TV. He sat in his recliner, drinking the coffee. She sat down at the kitchen table with her cup, waiting.  

 After a while he got up, and headed to the bathroom. The door closed, and within a moment, she heard a strange sound coming from behind the closed door. It was a moan, like a dying animal. The moan escalated into a shriek. She heard something about 'it' being gone. Then it dawned on her, what the fairy meant, that she would never have this problem again. She heard a loud thump from the bathroom, like a body sliding down to the floor. The shrieking and moaning continued. As she lifted her cup and took a sip, a smile slowly spread across her lips.