Raising a hand for the others to wait, the woman and her bearded companion kneed their horses gently forwards into the moonlight. The woman spoke, her voice light and contemptuous. ‘If it isn’t my old friend the Archdruid. One wonders what business is so fraught with peril that the chosen of the goddess needs the protection of a pair of Paladin knights.’
The bony old man didn’t choose to reply, but the Paladins bowed.
The younger one put up his visor and replied, his voice a pale copy of the ironic tones of the dark-haired woman. ‘One might also wonder what brings a lady warrior with an armed escort to the sacred grove on this of all nights. It is my hope that it means no evil to the Archdruid, as we have a contract to protect him.’
His companion put up his own visor and turned to look at the lady, his eyes burning red in the bloodless face of a golem. He bowed again, then turned to his companion. ‘Don’t be any stupider than you can help, my friend. This is not a lady to be spoken to with disrespect.’
‘Silence golem. Who is in charge of this detail?’
‘That depends on your perspective. According to your uncle, you are. But according to the Council, who rather outrank one knight, even if he is treasurer, I am. This was thought to be an easy job, and I’m supposed to make sure you do it properly, and return home safe.’

While he had been speaking the golem moved his horse closer to the Archdruid, and, moving with the superhuman speed of his kind, he reached over and bashed the bony old man over the head with one mailed fist. The Archdruid slumped over his horse’s neck, quite unconscious.

‘What are you doing?’ his companion almost screamed.
‘Saving the old fool’s life. He was building a forbidden spell and if I hadn’t stopped him, the elf over there in the darkness would have shot him dead.’
‘What elf? What spell? Who are these people?’
The golem looked at his companion with barely concealed irritation in his scarlet eyes. ‘What do you know of the Chaos Lords?’
The young knight closed his eyes, concentrated hard, then repeated as if learned by rote: ‘That they are set over the worlds in order to ensure that the fates of humankind pass according to certain rules, and that they come among us when dark forces seek to interfere with the course of history.’ He opened his eyes and looked at his companion in puzzlement. ‘But what does that have to do with meeting a woman in the sacred grove at Samhain?’
The golem groaned. ‘Use your eyes, fool. The woman you have just insulted is the High Lady of Chaos herself. She could obliterate you with a word. Beside her is her consort. In the shadows are their sons, called in this world Strength and Fortitude. Alongside them is an Elf Lord, with an arrow aimed at your stupid heart. And if you think your armour will protect you, then you are a bigger fool than even I thought. Your family may have paid for all sorts of charms of protection for your armour, but nothing is proof against an elf arrow.’
The young knight swallowed audibly, and when he spoke his voice had risen a couple of octaves, making him sound even younger. ‘Oh. I didn’t know that. What are we supposed to do now?’
The golem groaned again. Then it raised its sword high into the sky and muttered a few words. At once an irritable voice could be heard echoing around the clearing ‘Yes. What? This had better be urgent. It’s supper time.’
‘Golem D10/1 reporting. Have just encountered Chaos Lords in Sacred Grove. Orders?’
‘Cooperate with Chaos Lords, of course. Who is with you?’
‘Newly knighted Sir Amyas.’
‘Just the two of you?’
‘Yes my lord.’
‘Ah yes, I remember now. Well do your best D10/1, and try to keep the treasurer’s nephew alive if you possibly can.’ The voice disappeared as abruptly as it had started.

Jane Jago

“The form you need is over there.” The man behind the counter pointed to a wall of pigeon holes full of forms. “And no, you can’t apply online, only on the proper form.”

Rosie wheeled herself away across the Welfare Office and studied the bank of forms. None had a label saying ‘Disabled’ or anything like.

Another client reached up and took a form from an unmarked section on the top tier and handed it to Rosie.

“They keep them up there so wheelchair folk can’t reach them, and unlabelled so anyone else who might need one gives up looking.”

E.M. Swift-Hook

“What’s this one?” Shaldre picked up one of the vials of genetic material which had rolled out of the old storage cylinder and ended up by her feet.
Hepestin shrugged. “Just because I’m a researcher in ancient genetics doesn’t grant me magical powers to read ancient DNA.”
Shaldre picked up the vial in her servo-gauntlet. Of all the things they had found in this long-abandoned human colony, this collection of genetic samples which the labels hinted might even come from Earth itself, was the most exciting discovery her archaeological team had yet uncovered.
Churn Hepestin had been assigned to the team at the last minute to explore any interesting genetic variants in the traces they might discover from the crops these colonists had been growing. Which considering this find of a sealed cache of genetic samples, was serendipity. Originally, Shaldre had not really expected to have much use for her.
“Might they be viable?” she asked, still peering into the vial.
Hepestin was packing the other vials into a secure portable containment chamber and held out her claw for the one Shaldre was studying.
“Unlikely.”
“But you could try?” Shaldre asked, as she parted with the vial despite an odd reluctance to do so.
“The funding could stretch to that.”
Some rotations later Shaldre was looking into the eyes of the sweetest creature she had ever seen, holding it carefully in two of her arms. They had done some research in the colony database so she had some idea of what this was and what its kind had meant to long lost humanity.
“Hello Dog,” Shaldre said gently. “I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

A flash fiction by E.M. Swift-Hook. You can listen to this on YouTube.

Writing made easy – if you don’t mind the bumps!

The wit, wisdom, joy and frustration of a writer’s life summed up in limericks…

Is writing inherently risky?
Is that why it makes me feel frisky?
When the dragons and knights
Get into a fight
Should I duck so the bullets will miss me?

Jane Jago

What happens when the hunter becomes the hunted…

The unknown woman smiled vacantly, a perfect political smile. “What I am saying, is that we can’t afford to take any risks around the issue. If it were to turn out that some obscure aspects of the theoretical predictions had retained an ongoing residual relevance to reality and we had not taken any action, the consequences could be unhelpful for the Coalition.”
Her words left a distinct chill in the air behind them.
“Unhelpful?” Grim echoed, not sure what degree of hazard that was really suggesting.
“Yes. Extremely unhelpful, in fact.” The woman’s voice was as toneless as an AI announcement. “It could lead to the coalescing of a number of anti-establishment elements in a manner that might even pose potential issues in our overall security management.”
Which made it all as clear as mud. Grim wondered if it was a prerequisite for political life to have mastered the fine art of using language to obscure whilst appearing to clarify.
“You mean, something a bit like The Legacy?” Cista Tyran asked, frowning. She must have played this game before.
“Right. Like — but not the same as,” Jecks said, brusquely. “In fact — just possibly even worse.”
There was another chilly silence, but this one was stark. Grim found it hard to imagine anything much worse than the terrorist attacks of The Legacy and he was pretty sure the others were just as uncomfortable at the idea.
“So — if that is all you need me for?” The unknown woman was getting to her feet, the same politely vacant political smile still in place. Rather than making an attempt to detain her, Jecks rose too.
“Right. Of course. Thank you so much for coming. I will show you the way out, Var Dray,” he said. Then he seemed to remember there were two others present and looked at Grim and Cista Tyran with a scowl as if resenting their presence. “If you two would like to review the material, for now. I’ll return to complete your briefing in a short while.”
The door slid closed behind them and for a few moments the silence grew awkward, as Cista Tyran pulled up some remote screens and plastered the walls with images of the two men they had been considering. Then she looked round at Grim.
“Guess this means we will be working together.”
Nightmare.

From Iconoclast: Mistrust and Treason a Fortune’s Fools book by E.M. Swift-Hook – which is only 0.99 to buy for a limited period.

Writing made easy – if you don’t mind the bumps!

The wit, wisdom, joy and frustration of a writer’s life summed up in limericks…

Don’t start out with the thought you will fail.
Lest your words become skinny and pale.
Feed them a diet.
Of confidence – try it.
And you may find the truth in your tale.

Jane Jago

Things are not quite how you might remember them in the 100 Acre Wood for Christopher Robin, Pooh Bear and their friends…

***** ***** *****

Jane Jago

A darkling drabble offers a shiver of horror in a hundred words…

The squire’s daughter had few friends, and many enemies. But, friend or foe, they were appalled when her father gave her in marriage to the bony octogenarian who was the king’s tax collector.

Next year, a much younger man came to collect the taxes. When asked where his predecessor was he laughed a cold sort of a laugh.

“My father is no longer with us. It is often thus when a foolish old man takes a bride young enough to be his daughter. The woman? She lies at his side as a good wife should. I cut her throat myself.”

©jj 2022

The tale of a bold knight, a valiant steed, an innocent maiden and a cunning dragon…

The watchers on the high hill to the east of the castle looked at each other with identical expressions of resignation.
Needless to say, it was Salazar who found his voice first.
“It’s up to you, sir knight. But strictly speaking we ought to go and rescue that female.”
Barney looked down at his utilitarian garb and winced. When his companion would have spoken again, he held up a hand for silence.
“Hush now. I’m thinking.”
The big horse subsided.
“Okay my friend, this is what we are going to do.” Barney unhooked something from Salazar’s saddle as he spoke, but whatever else he might have been going to say was strangled in his throat by the sound and down-draught from a pair of massive leathern wings. A huge shadow blotted out the sun before there was a sound almost too loud to hear and the earth beneath their feet shook as a humongous dragon crash landed in the grass about three man lengths in front of the duo. It wasn’t the handsomest of mythical creatures, and it didn’t seem at all happy to be doing whatever it was doing.
“Why isn’t the earth flatter?” a somewhat peevish voice complained. “It isn’t as if…”
Barney cocked the crossbow he had unhooked just seconds before and levelled it at the saurian head.
The creature held up its forelegs with their massively taloned claws.
“I say,” it said plaintively, “there’s no need for that y’know. If I’d have wanted to hurt you I’d have flamed from up there. You two would have been toast. Literally.”
It laughed gleefully at its own joke, but Barney kept his crossbow pointed to where it would do most harm. Once it got over its pleasure at its own wit the dragon sobered sufficiently to speak about the situation.
“I’m sorry to drop in unannounced, but I’m suffering somewhat of a moral dilemma. Rather hoped you chaps could assist one.”
“Moral dilemma?”
“Yes. Y’see there’s a young woman down there. Chained to Dragon Rock. Offered as a sacrifice…”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to eat her.”
“Well don’t then.”
The dragon sighed. “If I was to give you my word not to harm you, or your noble steed, would you please put the crossbow down and let me explain?”
“Salazar. Are we trusting the lizard?”
“Yeah. So long as you stop insulting it.”
Barney lowered the bow. “Explain then.”
“When the humans chain a virgin to that rock a dragon has to come. Unfortunately for me, I was watch dragon when they locked the last chain about her waist. One minute I was reading a fascinating treatise on medical herbs, the next… boom. Just had time to remove m’spectacles before I found myself hovering over this hilltop.”
“Spectacles? I never heard of a dragon wearing spectacles.” Barney had the distinct impression that Salazar would have scratched his head if he could.
The dragon looked pained. “I don’t suppose you did. Look. I’m a librarian. All I want to do with my life is curate books. But I’m here. And the only way I can get home is by touching the Dragon Rock.”
“So. Touch it and go home.”
“I can’t. If that young woman down there is really a virgin I will eat her. I won’t be able to help myself. That’s just how it is.”
A huge and boiling tear ran down the dragon’s scaly cheek. It had Barney and Slazar leaping backwards to avoid being scalded, and the dragon looked truly abashed.
Salazar grunted. “So. If I have this right you were brought here against your will. You can’t go back without touching that rock. And if that’s a virgin you won’t be able to stop yourself from eating her.”
“Yes, noble steed. You have the right of it.”
“Cut it out with the noble steed. The name’s Salazar. And the human is Sir Barnabas. We will try to help you as soon as we can think of a way.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you Sir Barnabas and Salazar. My name is Cicero.”
“I’m assuming we can’t just go and set the young female free.”
“No, noble Salazar. There will be watchers. With weapons trained on the Stone. They really aren’t going to let anyone remove their sacrifice before I get there.”
Barney scratched at his incipient beard. “When you get down there do you have to eat the virgin immediately?”
“No. I will be tempted, but until I touch the Stone I should be able to hold out for a while. Although I don’t know where that is going to get you. And before you suggest it I won’t be able to let you just take the virgin and run away. I will want to but the compulsion is too strong. If she were not a virgin…”

This adventure of Barney and Salazar will continue next week…

Now comes the day of fire and a knight of courage rare
Who bears the blade of Dragon’s Bane and braves the dragon’s lair
Who fights upon the bones of all who’ve been devoured there
Who fights the ancient dragon, where none before would dare. 

The clouds above are sundered, shedding endless, saltless, tears
As lightning cleaves the sky across and strikes our very fears
And mighty roars the thunder, as the echo fills our ears
The dragon’s doom has come after a thousand tortured years.

The ocean deeps are riven as the chasms break apart
And lift the land that’s living forth from the seas that part
As massive waves are driven on far shores no one can chart
For Dragon’s Bane has sunk into the dragon’s very heart.

The earth itself bears witness to the moment of the deed
The gems and precious metals, plundered by draconic greed
Reclaimed by chthonic forces that had been made to cede
As on the stony ground, the dragon now doth bleed.

And in the mists of evening, when once the blood is shed,
People come a dancing, who would have been dragon’s bread
Had Dragon’s Bane not pierced scale or severed dragon’s head
And now there is rejoicing for the dragon’s surely dead.

E.M. Swift-Hook