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The Way of the Buffalo – February 17, 2024

February 17, 2024

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Hello Readers!
Welcome to The Way of the Buffalo, my new weekly roundup newsletter! If you are receiving this via email, it is because you’ve subscribed to my WordPress blog, and they have rolled out email integration. My plan going forward will be to continue blogging during the week, with a digest post on Saturdays with links to the individual posts. I’ll also be including announcements, links, and other thoughts here, with a bonus piece of flash fiction or a serialized story at the end.
Thanks for reading!

This Week in Reviews:
Since it was Valentine’s Day, this week’s reviews were romantic. I hope you had a good week, wether or not you were spending it with someone.

The Godzilla Valentine’s Day Special – Hugh Likes Comics

I’m only a casual fan of giant monsters, but this one-shot issue was a ton of fun.

A Market of Dreams and Destiny – Hugh Likes Fiction

This was one of my favorite novels from last year, and the narrator crushed it for the audiobook version.

This week’s fiction – “Captcha”

Click on all the images that contain crabs, the computer instructed. I stared at the collection of underwater creatures, choosing the images. My mouse hovered over the last decapod as I considered the features of the creature in the image. It looked like a crab. I clicked on it, and hit ‘submit.’
A dialog box cheerfully informed me that I had failed the security captcha, and that my login would be locked for the next hour. I sighed and closed my laptop. Not for the first time, I was a victim of carcinization.
The squat lobsters had gotten me again.

Want more flash fiction? Check out my collect, The Mountain’s Shadow!

Have a great week!

The Freelance Hunters Season 1: The Ice Box

January 20, 2024

hughjodonnell Free Fiction, Freelance Hunters , , , , 1 Comment

Magus Glorianna Bywater, Matriculate of The Esoteric Academy for the Wise of Carabos, and member of the Order of the Astral Circle, Spellcaster of the Freelance Hunters and part-time adjunct faculty at the EAWC, woke up hung over. Cheerful morning sunlight streamed through her window and onto her face. She grumbled and turned over. She contemplated blotting out the sun and plunge the whole land of Elanterra into a thousand years of darkness. But that sort of thing took a lot of prep time, and she could barely sit up without being sick. She tabled the idea until at least after breakfast.
Instead, she stumbled carefully out of bed and nearly crawled to the privy. When she reached it, she found the water butt had frozen in the night. She grumbled for a moment, then she took a deep, cleansing breath and stretched out her hands. The silvery tattoos that covered her small hands glinted in the morning light. The angular patterns were the mark of her training. As the runaway daughter of a prosperous Hillfolk trading clan, she was one of the few outsiders to ever wear them. The technique had been designed for the graceful, flowing movements of the long limbed Riverfolk, but Glory had adapted them to her small frame well enough.
Staring at the frozen water tank, which stood half-inside and half-outside the little lavatory, Glory felt an irrational stab of hatred. She had requested a heated one, but their landlord, cheap lout that he was, refused the expense. So they had to suffer with the damned thing constantly freezing over in the winter months. As she began the spell, she hoped that Mr. Gannet, doing whatever it was that the Riverfolk did under the ice in the winter, felt a sympathetic like of flame.
Glory concentrated, and waving her hands in complex looping gestures, pulled the image of the runes she wanted from the chaos of glinting motion. The spell gathered itself in her mind, and she channelled it outward, expelling a simple blast of fire at the irksome water tank. There was a squeal and pop of protesting metal, and a wave of steam engulfed her small frame. She ladled out a pitcher of warm water and washed up. The satisfaction and warm water soothed her headache, but did little to improve her mood.
Having washed, Glory dressed in a casual robe of green wool and stomped down the hall of the suspiciously quiet apartment. She had to admit that the rooms were actually quite spacious for Carabos. She shared it with her fellow Freelance Hunters, the Pikeman Joachim Verne, a tall human from the barbarian regions of the Icy Mountains, and their fingerman, Bingo Proudfoot. Bingo was a half-tall Hillfolk like her, but his surname marked him as a clan-less city dweller.
She stepped out into the parlor that served as their sitting room, dining room and meeting space for clients and found it in complete disarray. Bottles of varying sizes and colors littered the tables, along with the remains of meals, yellowing old broadsheets, and other assorted rubbish. Her roommates/coworkers were useful in fight, but such slobs. She almost regretted not keeping a room on campus, even if it did shut down for half the year. The rooms were damp and chilly, and the astrologers and astronomers spent all night arguing as they climbed up and down the stairs, but at least there was a cleaning staff. She started clearing up the worst of the leftover chicken bones and apple cores when she spotted Bingo snoring on the couch, the lazy bastard.
“Wake up!” She shouted testily, and noisily grabbed a pair of bottles. The reformed thief sat up and stretched. He stared blankly at her for a moment before his face broke into a wide grin.
“Good morning, Glory! Is the tea on yet?”
“Don’t you good morning, me, Proudfoot! How are you so blighted chipper after “how much you and Verne drank last night?” Bingo hopped to his feet, stretched, bringing his height to nearly four feet, and cocked his head thoughtfully.
“I don’t granny why, but I feel great today,” he said.
Glory eyed the debris of the previous night’s debauchery. Carabos was the center of commerce in Elanterra, and nothing traded better than booze. While her own memories of the events were hazy, it looked like they drank their way across the Great Island. There were empty bottles of Hillfolk-brewed ale and whiskey from Goldenfields, Human corn liquor, wine and ciders from the southern orchards, and even an empty bottle of Dwarven vodka. There was also a trio of little bottles that she couldn’t immediately identify, but something itched in the back of her furious mind when she looked at them.
“Are you saying you don’t have any hangover at all?” She demanded.
“Of course not. My head’s killing me, but I’m just in the best mood. Doesn’t that just butter your bacon?” He gave a little giggle. Glory remembered what the other bottles were for.
“Nameless god smite me,” She muttered, as she hunted across the room for something. There was a slight whiff of brimstone and she felt a tiny jolt. Wizards had to take care when swearing, but fortunately the invoked deity had little power or interest. Finally, she found what she was looking for: a trio of neat corks, each labeled with her initials and the date in neat, tiny letters. She rounded on Bingo. “Were you degenerates keeping your beer in my ice box again?”
The ice box had been a luxury she permitted herself on the excuse that it was useful for her research. It was a white metal box, about two feet square. A low powered frost spirit was bound to it with runes of power. The well-to-do in Carabos used it to store food, but the magicians and alchemists of the city-state kept them as a certain way to regulate the temperature of their potions.
“They were freezing on the balcony, so we kept some inside, just for the party. Why?”
“Because, you buffoon, I just finished an experiment I was running with humor-altering potions. Do you know how much those reagents cost me? And there’s no way I’ll see another fresh ewe’s kidney before the thaw. Salted just doesn’t do at all!” She went on griping while Bingo processed her complaint and eyed the three mysterious bottles, the remains of iridescent liquid still lining the bottoms. His nausea increased, but he found it did little to dent his sense of well-being.
“Do you mean to say we slipped ourselves love potions?” She glared even harder at him.
“I’m the first person you’ve seen all day.Are you overcome with desire, Proudfoot?” She only called him that when she really wished to irritate him. The magician was only a little shorter than he was, with wavy black hair that she kept trimmed short and hazel eyes. She had a good figure, as their constant running about kept her more fit that most mages. But then, Glory was a singular Hillfolk Magus.
Bingo made a show of considering the sharp-witted and short-tempered woman before replying. “No more than usual.”
“There are, obviously, other emotions than love, or lust, as they are usually concocted. I was brewing something to enhance them as a bit of study. And now you’ve gone and drank them!”
“There are three of us, and there were three lushes,” the fingerman replied, almost casually. She grimaced again, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
“We drank them,” she admitted. “But we never would have if you had just kept your damn beer outside like I asked!” He raised his hands in a placating gesture.
“Fair enough. My apologies, Magus. So what have you hit us with?”
“Well, based on my foul mood and your fair one, I must have taken ‘Wrath,’ while you are in the throws of a potion of Delight. Which means Joachim drank the third potion, Regret.” Working out that her temper was enchanted took a slight edge off her mood, but she still felt like strangling someone. When Bingo burst out laughing at the news, he noms”noted himself. “What is so godsworn funny?”
Bingo struggled to catch his breath between gasps of laughter. “Joachim got the regret potion,” he wheezed. “The bludger who’s left more destruction and tragedy in his wake than anybody in Carabos City. The man whose personal motto is live for the day. The man who refuses to talk about his past, and you gave him the regret potion!” Bingo doubled over in another fit of giggles.
“I didn’t GIVE it to him. He took it, as you will recall.” How dare the little twerp imply that it was her fault for leaving poorly labeled bottles of spirits around. It was true that Joachim was reticent about his past, and vague when pressed for details. But he had told them his fare share of tales, mostly of his exploits in his youth as a mercenary. He had traveled to every corner of the Great Island, and had a romantic misadventure in most of them, to hear him tell it.
But he always got quiet and somber when pressed for details. He had been born in some backwater village so small it barely had a name, deep in the Icy Mountains. That was all she knew. He wouldn’t even tell her where he had acquired Incisor, the enchanted spear he always carried with him. Whatever that story was, it was clearly a painful one. And he had taken a potion to bring to the surface and amplify his regrets.
As a rule, wizards avoid swearing. A magician’s curse can have real consequences. Glory took this moment to be an exception to the rule. “What has gotten you so fussed?” Bingo asked, his giggling fit finally subsiding.
“We have to find Joachim before does harm to himself!”
“Yes, I can see how that would be a problem,” Bingo said. He took a deep breath. They checked his room first. It was empty, and the spear was missing, although his armor was standing on the rack. The big set wasn’t quite matched, having been cobbled together from the various mercenary company’s Joachim had served in. Each one was etched with a different boss. Glory thought it made him look like a piece of lost luggage. She picked up a greave, which bore a soaring eagle, and carried it out into the parlor.
“What are you going to do with that?” Bingo asked as she cleared off the dining table and set the piece down.
“Locator spell, and be quiet, I need to concentrate!” Bingo did his best, but the cost of his silence was constant pacing. The spell was a simple one, but as she waved and shaped her hands over the object, she couldn’t fix the proper runes in her mind. Each time she came close to completing the spell, some fresh wave of anger or irritation would catch her attention and it would collapse like a soufflé in a wind tunnel. Bingo wouldn’t keep still, or another tenant made noise on the stairwell, or a bird chirped outside. Why was the world so blighted distracting? Glory took another breath and tried again. It was really herself she was angry with, she decided. Drinking her own potion, was a exceptionally stupid thing to do, and magecraft was not a field that suffered fools. She’d never achieve anything of note if she didn’t pay better attention. And worse, what if her carelessness killed Joachim? If he harmed himself or others during his fugue, it would be her responsibility. That would be something unforgivable. She had to get to him before that happened. Rather than working against it, she poured her anger into the spell. It was dangerous, as the emotion was unstable. But she had to work with what she had or she’d never get anywhere. The spell wobbled, but it held this time. The leg-guard began to shake like a dowsing rod, and would have flown off the table if Glory hand’t picked it up with both hands. It was all she could do to stop the thing from pulling her out the door.
“Bingo, get our coats. We’re going out!”
A few minutes later they were hurrying through the slushy streets of Carabos. Winter was the off season, and with the Academy closed the streets were clearer than usual. But Glory still had to narrowly dodge horse-carts and apologize to pedestrians as the enchanted greave pulled her like a magnet towards Joachim. She prayed that she wasn’t too late. She anticipated the sounds of battle or carnage, but as they drew closer, she was surprised to hear music instead.
They found him standing in front of an inn, surrounded by a band of all things. They were repeatedly playing one short piece while Joachim shouted something up to one of the high windows. In her opinion, they could use some practice.
“Joachim!” She shouted. He didn’t seem to notice. The band broke off mid-song.
“Does he belong to you?” The lute player asked.
“Nominally,” Glory said. “What has he been up to?”
“He hired us up in the middle of the night to stand out here and play the same ballad, over and over again. He’s corked. You’d better take him home. After paying us, of course.”
“How much do we owe you,” she asked, fearing the answer.
Joachim turned around, apparently noticing them for the first time. The tall man was leaning on his fearsome spear for support, and he had been sobbing into his beard.
“Screw them, I paid upfront!” He said. “And it’s no use anyway. She won’t see me.” Glory glared at the musicians and they decided discretion was the better part of valor. She entertained the idea of shooting a ball of fire or lightning at their retreating feet, but couldn’t muster the energy. The relief at seeing Joachim unhurt seemed to have broken the spell, leaving her more tired than angry.
“Who won’t see you?”
“Margolotta, of course!” He turned back to the window. “Margolotta! I’m sorry!” He apparently was unaware that he had lost his accompaniment. Finally, the window opened and a red faced young human woman in a maid’s cap stuck her head out.
“For the last time, it’s Margery! Go the hells home, Verne! You’re drunk!” Bingo fell down in the street giggling. Rather than help him up, Glory led the weeping barbarian gently home by the sleeve. This sort of thing shouldn’t happen to mages, she decided. It was an affront to their dignity.
The Freelance Hunters spent the next two days recovering. Glory and Joachim, aside from a bit of embarrassment and exhaustion on top of their hangovers, were none the worse for wear. Bingo took the worst of it, and spent the entire week lying in bed, depressed. Glory made careful study of the phenomenon.
After everyone had fully recovered, she gave the ice box to her companions as a gift. “What about your potions?” Joachim asked.
Glory shrugged. “I learned what I needed to, and saw no point in repeating the experiment. Besides, I ran the numbers and the profit on making and selling potions isn’t worth the trouble.” She grinned at them and held up a box of carpentry tools. “Wands are the next big thing.”

Everyday Drabbles #1049: Dawn of the Final Day

December 30, 2023

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The hero sat on the cliff and watched the Sun rise over the ocean.
It had been a long quest, but it was finally over. After many trials, he’d saved the world. He could finally rest.
He sipped his coffee as he watched the Sun climb into view, making the water below shimmer and glow.
Suddenly, the Sun stopped. It hung just over the horizon, casting long shadows.
The hero sighed. Stories ended, but there was always another one waiting in the wings. He’d probably have to fix this one too.
He hoped he had time to finish his coffee.

Thank you for reading!


When I began Everyday Drabbles at the end of 2018, I didn’t have a plan for how long it would continue. It was just a little morning exercise, something to get my fingers moving. I started publishing on Wattpad, then moved to WordPress, Facebook, and Substack. I never expected to create enough material to create a collection, much less write over a thousand little stories.
But the time has come to put Everyday Drabbles to rest. New stories are calling, but I want to say thank you to all of you, the readers who have been with me along the way, for providing feedback, encouragement, and accountability.
I hope these stories have brightened your day. I hope they made you laugh, or sigh, or provided a tiny break from the troubles or worries of your daily life.
I’ll be announcing new projects soon, but the meantime you can continue to read weekly entries in my light-hearted heroic fantasy series, The Freelance Hunters, along with reviews and announcements on my blog at HughJODonnell.com.
Writing is by and large a lonely enterprise, and I was happy to have all of you come along on this journey.
Fondly,
Hugh, sitting with a cup of coffee on a rainy Saturday morning.
December 30, 2023

The Freelance Hunters, Season One: The Unknown Package, Part 4 of 5

December 24, 2023

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The two Proudfoots took a table in a corner of the store’s backroom. They watched a small army of clerks unload cart after cart that arrived and departed like clockwork.
“We’re in the last of our Parade Night rush,” Big Jim explained.
“I’m chuffed to see you still doing well,” Bingo said. He sipped tea from a chipped brown mug. It was as sweet and strong as he remembered.
Big Jim took out a pipe and lit it with a match. He offered his bag to Bingo, who declined. It was one of many habits he’d never picked up. “It seems like every merchant and farmer on the island wants to get one last shipment in before the city freezes. And where do they think I’ll store it, I ask you. Am I a mage? My sons will have my hide if they catch me smoking back here, so let’s keep this between us,” he said conspiratorially. “Now, why don’t you show me one of those presents everyone has been whispering about?”
Bingo hesitated before reaching into his coat and producing a fledge. It seemed a small thing, resting on the chipped tabletop. But was probably worth more than most of the goods in the stockroom put together. Jim whistled around his pipe appreciatively, but made no move to take the object. “That’s the genuine article, alright. Why don’t you put it away before someone sees?” Bingo gave him an appraising look as he disappeared the object into a hidden pocket.
“And what makes you so sure, Mr. Proudfoot? I always thought you were a legitimate businessman. Can you spot such elicit goods with a glance?”
“First of all, call me Jim. You’re well past your coming of age. And I know because there has been little talk of anything else around town. You’d know that if you stuck closer to the ground.”
“I’ve been out of town.”
“On assignment for that Bywater witch?” Bingo grimaced.
“I don’t work for Glory. We’re a part of a team.”
“Are you sure about that? Mages are crafty, and women, well they can be worse. Especially for a man of your age. I’d hate to see you get out from one woman’s thumb to only be led around by another.”
“It’s not like that. We work together, is all. She’s useful.”
“My mistake. I assumed you had an interest, but maybe I shouldn’t have. You were awfully close with… what was the lad’s name?” Bingo slammed his mug on the tabletop, harder than he’d meant to, but he kept the steel in his grimace as he stared down the old man.
“That was a long time ago, and I got out.”
“So you say, so you say,” Big Jim made a placating gesture. “But now Madame Rosemary’s found a way to stir it all up again. And with not just one fledge, but two? She’s got you over a barrel, no mistake.”
“Your ear for gossip is better than I’d expect. A re you on The Five?” Bingo asked almost before he could stop himself. Unlike traditional Hillfolk clans, the exact membership of the council of elders was kept strictly secret, for safety.
Big Jim gave him a wicked grin from behind his pipe. “I hear things, is all. But never mind about me. What are you going to get Miss Rosemary in return?”
“That isn’t possible.”
“The adventuring business can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”
“She didn’t commission those expecting an exchange. She means to shackle me with them.”
“Well, surely a clever boy like you can find a way out of a snare as simple as that.”
“There’s nothing I can give her that would come close to clearing that balance. The whole town’s already in an uproar! I may have to bend the knee to her just to save my skin.”
Big Jim chuckled. “And here I thought you the boy that bought himself out of clan debt when nobody else could. A gift isn’t the wrapping it comes in. It isn’t something that you buy, it’s something you feel.”
“What do you mean?”
“If this is a trap, outthink her. You can’t give Rosemary Proudfoot what she expects. So you’ll have to give her something she doesn’t know she wants.”
Bingo took a deep breath. He’d been running since he’d unwrapped the fledges. He’d been trying to protect himself. Jim was right. He needed to slow down and take stock of his situation. But this was a new depth for him. He’d been trained as a thief. Giving wasn’t a part of his nature. As he looked around, all he saw was the trimmings. The tinsel and the stockings and the oranges. The parts of the feast that he’d dreamed about when he was eating gruel and listening to fireworks, the bonfires he’d longed for while he was huddled in bed, pretending to sleep as the chill of winter fell over the city.
And suddenly, all at once, he found the answer. It would be expensive, and it would be dangerous, but he’d managed to sneak out of the Proudfoot home when he was still in training. It was considered a right of passage. Surely breaking in couldn’t be that hard. He grinned.
“Jim, I think I have something, but it’ll be a big order.”
It was nearly sunset whenBingo returned home. He had a stack of packages under his arms and a phalanx of delivery boys and girls trailing in his wake. After making a brief stop to settle accounts with Mr. Gannet, and to give him a little something for his trouble, Bingo marched upstairs and oversaw the stacking of boxes in the sitting room.
Joachim and Glory sat by the hearth. The warrior was darning his chainmail while the mage frowned over a thick tome. They paused to watch the proceedings with interest. When the last crate was delivered, making a pile that nearly reached the rafters, Bingo gave each of his helpers a copper rat and sent them on their way.
“Rent’s sorted,” he said by way of greeting, and tossed each fo them a jingling bag.
“We ate, but there’s some soup and bread left if you’re hungry,” Joachim said, and went back to his work. Glory eyed the pile of goods with an arched eyebrow.
“What is all this?” She asked.
“Oh, just a few odds and ends. For Parade Night, you understand.”
Glory set down her book and examined the stack. “Candied oranges, tinsel, holly, an entire storefront window of toys, and that a ham? What did all this cost you?”
“Most of my share. I’ll be eating light until spring, but it won’t be a problem.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” Joachim asked.
“I’ve been thinking about my predicament, and I’ve come up with a solution. It’s not just a way to get clear, but maybe do some good for once, too. You remember that I said I never had a proper Parade Night celebration?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the kiddies at the orphanage are going to get the Parade Night of their lives this year!”
“From what you told me of your mentor,” Glory said, digging into a box of sugar biscuits. “She will hardly stand for this act of generosity.”
“Those aren’t for you,” Bingo snatched the tin away from her. “But you’re bang on. I guess I’ll have to sneak in. If only I had a set of top of the line burglary tools, eh?”
“Well, it sound like you’ve got it all figured out,” Glory said.
“There is one thing,” he asked.
“Looking for helpers?”
“I’ll handle the distribution, but I’m going to need away to carry it. You wouldn’t be able to magic me up a bottomless sack to carry all this loot, would you?”
“If you only need it for a day, it shouldn’t be a problem. I’d be happy to help.”
“Butter on bacon! Joachim, I do have a spot for you in this little heist too.”
“Oh?”
“Grab a good spot on the Bridge of Blessings and start celebrating early.”
The big human smirked. “I suppose.”
“Don’t get too pickled. I’ll need you to keep a lookout. Can you and Glory send me a signal when the urchins are on their way back?” The pair nodded.
“Magic. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this feast in the oven in time for tomorrow’s festivities!” Bingo set to work, looking happier than his companions could ever remember seeing him.

Everyday Drabbles #1048: Seasonal Flight

December 16, 2023

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He sat in the launch bay and waited for orders. His mech made its usual standby noises. The hisses and pings were almost comforting.
Out in the distance, he could see the raging battle. An occupied rebel asteroid was on an Act-of-God trajectory, and it was up to him and his comrades to stop it before impact became an inevitability.
His chronometer blipped out the time, setting the mission clock. LST was midnight, December 24th. He should be home, but once again he was stuck working over the holidays.
Why did they always have to pull these stunts on Christmas?

The Mountain’s Shadow is now available from Amazon and Smashwords!

Everyday Drabbles #1047:

December 13, 2023

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Word came down that they were automating the factory, and the elves whispered nervously to each other in their ancient, magical tongue. The big man called a meeting to allay their fears.
“There will be no cuts,” he explained. “But we need to ramp up production to meet the demand. There are too many children in the world. We can’t do things by hand anymore. There will be a place for everyone here.”
At first, the elves were relieved. But when they saw the new toy designs, they realized they were made by AI. The ensuing strike nearly cancelled Christmas.

The Mountain’s Shadow is now available from Amazon and Smashwords!

Everyday Drabbles #1046: Beneath the City

December 11, 2023

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Everyone knew about the tunnels underneath the city. But aside from some kids who recorded themselves exploring the upper levels, they were sealed, and their original layout and purpose had long been lost and forgotten.
Eventually, a campaign was launched to excavate the lower tunnels and find out what was down there. The mayor reluctantly agreed, but insisted that remote drones be sent down first.
The structures descended further than anyone expected, revealing perfectly preserved ancient buildings and beautiful, if strange, statuary.
When something off-screen destroyed all of the cameras within a few seconds, the mayor ordered the tunnels resealed.

The Mountain’s Shadow is now available from Amazon and Smashwords!

Tales of the Freelance Hunters, Season One: A Splash on the Big Bridge

December 10, 2023

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The Freelance Hunters stood on a hill overlooking the castle’s outer wall. The night was cloudy and chill. Mist rose from the lake beyond, and the air held the promise of the coming autumn. The gate stood against the water like a dark bulkhead.
“So this is Isleheart Castle,” Bingo said, his slim, four-foot tall Hillfolk frame was shaking with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to crack it!” He was manic, practically giggling at the thought.
“The keep’s a long way to go, Master Proudfoot. This is just the outer gate.” Their patron, a finely dressed Hillfolk man of about middle age said. “And there isn’t much time left before sunrise.”
“We’ll get you to your meeting on time, Ambassador Peacebridge. But I must admit, I hadn’t expected the need to assault the defenses. Isn’t the gate supposed to be open when the Council of the Five People is gathered?” Glory the magician asked. She fixed him with a shrewd gaze.
“Normally, yes. Which is why I have hired you to escort me back inside. I couldn’t raise a guard, and I feared for the safety of my fellow ambassadors. I fear something is terribly wrong.”
Joachim, the warrior of the group, looked down at the three of them and frowned. “How is it that you happened to be out at this time of night, Ambassador?” Peacebridge had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Well, I received a letter…” He trailed off sheepishly.
“And when you returned from this promised rendezvous, the gate was shut and locked?” Glory surmised.
“Exactly, Magus.”
“I see. But why don’t you just wait until they open the gates at dawn?” Joachim asked.
The Ambassador gasped at the suggestion. “Young man, the Renewal Ceremony begins promptly at first light! The Human kingdoms might not take the alliance seriously anymore, but for the rest of us, this is a sacred tradition! If even one of the councilors is not present for the ceremony tomorrow morning, it will be considered a grievous insult. Twelve-hundred years of cooperation dashed, and before long, all of Elanterra could be at war!”
Joachim looked out over the still, black water. “Can we boat across?”
“They didn’t put a castle here for the view. The waters are cold as a hag’s knickers, and the currents are deceiving. It’s a quarter mile deep, and loaded with feral krakens. No one who’s put a boat out has gone more than twenty feet in before being tipped in and shredded.”
“Alright then, the boat’s out. But I don’t see anyone guarding that gate. Could we just climb over it?” Glory asked.
“There aren’t any fires, but someone is surely in that gatehouse. I can feel it,” Joachim said.
“It wouldn’t work, anyway. The surface of the wall makes climbing impossible, and whoever’s in there’d be on us in an instant!”
“Bingo, what is it with you. You’ve been practically bouncing up and down since we took this job.”
“Joachim, this is Isleheart Castle. Out beyond that gatehouse is the Big Bridge, the most famous mile in all of defensive lore!”
“And?”
“And in the twelve-hundred years this castle has stood, it has never, ever fallen. During the war against The Enemy, it supposedly held off a siege that lasted for a decade! This is the tightest drum on the island! Nobody’s been mad enough try it since, but it still holds an ubeaten record as having never been infiltrated, ever. It’s an unpopped cherry, mate! We’ll be famous for this one.”
“So how do you suggest we get inside?”
Bingo paused, stood perfectly still for a moment, and finally shrugged. “We could Knock?”
“Fine. Glory, cover me.” Joachim marched up the winding path to the bridge gate. He met no resistance along the way, and out in the night, there was no sign of anything amiss. There was a bell, presumably for service, set in the wall next to the iron-banded oak. Joachim rang it in a long and loud peal. Soon, a shadow poked its head from between the crenellations.
“The gate is closed,” a high raspy voice said. Joachim couldn’t see the speaker, but he could guess who it belonged to. This might be interesting after all.
“Closed by goblins?” He called up. “They don’t have a seat on the Council. By what right?”
“By right of conquest. We claim this castle for our lost god. You will not enter, dale man. We are the Wolf People, and our pack is strong. You dare call me ‘Goblin?’” The figure was barely a silhouette in the night, but Joachim heard the sneer in its voice. “We remember the god that yours bound, because they feared his power. We keep the laws that you forget, because you are weak. You cower in stone houses and claim land you cannot see. We take nothing we cannot lift, or carry on a wolf’s back. Our ways are the pack’s ways, and they make us stronger than you. Begone.”
There was a ragged cheer. The leader had his pack behind him. That was to the good. If Joachim could insult the alpha badly enough, he’d have to come down and fight, or else get ripped apart by challenges from his own ranks. He cleared his throat.
“You are far from home, and I see no wolves here. You squat in a stone house made by the hands that bound your fallen god. Why are you here?”
“Vengeance. Justice. We have forsaken our wolf pack and come to the soft lands to break them.”
“You’re a fool if you think the Council will do anything but kill you when they find you playing on their doorstep.” A pebble flew over Joachim’s head. He pretended not to notice.
“Maybe, but your alliance is a fragile thing, made of promises and paper. If those pretty words failed, who would they kill first, us, or each other?
“So your plan is just to hold the gate and hope you aren’t discovered by morning? Too bad you’ll be dead long before then.” A few more rocks, and some sticks came down. They all missed him, but the pack’s aim was improving.
“You can’t reach us, unless you grow wings, human.”
“Maybe not from up there, but I can make a lot of noise if I want to. A shout can carry, across a lake like that. Unless, of course, you agree to a formal challenge.” A single rock whizzed past his ear, and then the barrage paused. The buzzing crowd on the gate was silent.
“A human has no right to challenge. Besides, your master would never allow himself to be discovered in this way.”
“I’m not his vassal. I’m just a hired spear.” Joachim reached behind his back, to where his spear was wrapped and tied. Incisor came free instantly, and Joachim could feel the unearthly pressure of the magical weapon in his hand. The runes on the fang-like head glowed icy blue in the darkness. There was a sharp intake of breath as the goblins recognized it.
“You are Joachim Verne, the Dale Knight, Wolf-killer and pack breaker.”
“You’ve heard of me? Open the gate and fight me.”
The figure climbed to the very top of the gate, and Joachim could see him for the first time. He wasn’t tall, even for a goblin. He didn’t stand more than three and a half feet high. His skin was a pallid gray-green, and his long hair was tied back and woven with small bones and charms.
“Foolish, Dale Man. I am Kor-fu son of Ak-ron, and I am the chosen of my dark lord’s people! I do not need to open the gates to fight you!” A ball of red fire appeared in the goblin’s hand, lighting up the battlements. With a grunt, he threw the fireball down on Joachim.
“Glory, shield! Shield!” The magical fire reached a point a few feet above the warrior’s head and stopped. It seemed to bounce like a child’s colorful toy before breaking against the barrier spell and flowing out in all directions in jets of scarlet flame before it disbursed. Kor-Fu cursed and withdrew from the wall. The gates opened a moment later.
The rest of the crew drew up as the gate reached the ground. They braced for a rush of goblin fighters, but nothing but darkness lay beyond. Bingo clapped him on the back, as high as he could reach. “Nicely done, Joachim. Now all we have to do is get past whatever traps they have waiting for us.”
“I don’t know. He claimed to have godly powers.” Glory glared at him like he were a slow student.
“Joachim, the Enemy is sealed away. That was just magic.”
“I’ve never seen a goblin use magic before. They consider it civilized.”
“Me neither. He certainly wasn’t Academy trained. He must be a hedge wizard.”
“It ain’t a bad con,” Bingo said. “Go off and learn a few flash spells, then come back and play prophet to your tribe of rubes.”
“Could take him, if it came down to it?” Joachim asked Glory.
“Did some other wizardry doyen save your life when I wasn’t looking?”
“Good. You should protect the client, then. Bingo, you know this place better than either of us do. You sweep for traps, I’ll sweep for goblins. Right?”
“Just don’t spook, Dale Knight.”
Joachim led the way inside. They were only a few feet into the castle before they hit the first ambush.
“We dedicate these deaths to the God of the Pack!” A pair of high voices shouted from above them. There was a great commotion as something tipped, and a steaming oil came streaming down from hidden holes in the stonework. Glory raised another shield, and the hot oil began to pool in the air above their heads.
“Move, I can’t hold it up for long!” the magician shouted. Joachim burst through the doors at the end of the hall.
“Don’t step on the white stones!” Bingo called as they moved forward. Bingo pulled the ambassador through with him, and Glory followed. The shield buckled just as she did, and hot oil splashed onto her boots, making her wince. By then, Joachim was already cleaning off his spear. The hidden crawlspace was now marked in blood.
“A strong defense from the front, but not from the other side,” he said. “Are you alright, Glory?”
“I’m fine.”
“They’ll be hidden all over the bridge, anywhere they can get a shot at us.”
“Is that your warrior’s intuition?” She asked. Joachim seemed to have a sixth sense for enemy strategy. He glowered.
“Just good tactics. Bingo?”
“This room’s clear.”
Joachim opened the gate at the far side of the room, careful to only step on the square black stones of the checkerboard floor. They got their first good look at Isleheart Castle’s famous bridge. It was mostly made of wood, rather than the stone Joachim had expected. The path snaked between a line of gatehouses which jutted from the water like stones in a stream. The castle keep stood on an island not more than a few hundred feet away, but the twisting bridge was at least a mile long.
“No wonder they call it the big bridge,” Joachim said. He took his first step, but bingo put out a hand. He paused. The cracksman tossed a rock out instead. Where it struck, a section of planks tilted, rose, and flipped over, tipping the stone into the water with a plop.
“The lake’s full of wild kraken, eh?”
“So they say.”
“Never seen one of them.”
“Stop by the Caribos docks some time. A few of the madder Riverfolk use ’em as draft horses. Bingo wedged a stick underneath the bridge, jamming the mechanism. “This one should be safe now.”
Joachim and Bingo forged ahead, treading cautiously in the darkness. A pair of goblins attempted to hold the second gate with javelins. Joachim kept them busy at the front while Bingo climbed around the side of the tower. A few busy minutes later, Bingo opened the second gate for him. This one was a little smaller than the first.
“Well done, Bingo.”
“Thanks. The bridge is designed to hold off a superior force, but the goblins don’t seem to have even the numbers for that. What were they thinking?”
“This is a suicide mission. Maybe Kor-Fu didn’t get all the recruits he was hoping for.”
Glory and the ambassador moved into the second gatehouse while Joachim and Bingo cleared the rest of the bridge. They quickly fell into their established rhythm. Bingo would back up Joachim as he fought the goblins from the front, and Joachim would watch Bingo’s back while he disarmed the multitude of hidden blades, tripwires, and counterweighted floorboards built into the bridge. Once a gatehouse was clear, Glory and the ambassador moved in and the mage protected their rear. The system worked, but the sky was getting lighter all the time. Dawn would come soon, and they were running out of time.
Joachim was astonished by all the different ways the builders had thought up to flip, twist, swing, and tilt sections of the planking. Bingo didn’t miss a single one. When Joachim mentioned this, he modestly admitted that most of the defenses were famous in burglary circles. Since the Alliance was established, no one had ever actually tried to assault Isleheart Castle up until now. It was used by cracksmen as a sort of primer on how to spot and get around traps.
The path narrowed as they went along, from the width of a horse cart at the first gate, down to where they had to march single-file on the last leg. That’s where they found Kor-Fu waiting for them. He’d changed into an ornamented suit of armor, cobbled together from a half-dozen sets and brightly painted to look like one piece. Joachim surmised that the original owners had been humans or dwarves ambushed by Kor-Fu’s tribe, as the gaudy iron breastplate was a bit too large for him.
“I’m impressed that you made it this far, but you’ll never get past me in time. I didn’t need to take the castle, just the unprotected bridge. In a few minutes, your treaty will be dead, and the alliance with it!” The goblin sneered at them from under a lopsided visor. Pointed teeth stuck up from his lower jaw. Joachim thought he might be right. It was nearly dawn. It would be a bright, clear morning, and the Council’s ceremony would begin when the first rays peaked over the horizon.
Joachim dispensed with banter and thrust Incisor in a precise jab, aiming for a gap in the armor plates. He felt a curious sensation of weight, and the head of the spear stopped, just a fraction of an inch from the metal. Bingo fired a bolt behind him, and it actually hung in the air for a second before dropping to the planks, robbed of all momentum. Joachim pulled back, but it took nearly all his strength, as though the spear were stuck in glue. Kor-Fu laughed.
“You didn’t expect me to just rely on armor, did you? This suit is well enchanted.” He pulled a thick, black sword from behind his back. “Your spear will make a fine trophy.”
“Bingo, go get Glory. I’ll hold him here.”
“Right.” The Goblin lunged, and Joachim stepped back, parrying the attack and fighting to keep the distance between them. He had to buy some time for Glory to get there and undo whatever spell he was using. Time they did not have. The goblin wizard was not a skilled fighter, but he didn’t have to be. The magic armor ensured that if Joachim made so much as a thrust against him, his weapon would be trapped. Joachim was far less well protected. He pushed at Joachim with a set of wild slashes, and Joachim parried and stepped back, looking for a way to disarm him.
“Your witch won’t be able to undo this spell. Any force fed into it just makes it stronger. I am as living iron.”
“It must be heavy,” Joachim noted, turning aside another clumsy strike. Kor-Fu found this comment particularly amusing.
“Fool, I don’t have to outrun you, just outlast you. In minutes, the Sun will rise, the Ambassador will be missed, and a thousand years of oppression will be undone!”
“You can’t honestly think that one treaty will change anything,” Joachim said.
“Twelve centuries breeds contempt, and hatred. Even with the alliance, small border wars and disputes rage. The River Men will take revenge on the Hillfolk who dump their waste upstream. The Humans will again war with the dwarves for gold and iron. And what will the Elves do, from their remote and hidden forests?”
As mad as he was, Joachim knew the warlock was right. He’d fought in a few of those border wars, and they were ugly things. The only thing that prevented outright war was the tradition of the Alliance. If it broke down, Elanterra would bleed out in the wars that followed.
Korfu pressed Joachim back further along the bridge until Joachim’s retreating step brushed against something, nearly tripping him.
There was no time to think about it, as Kor-Fu brought down is blade in triumph. Joachim dodged it by a hair’s breadth, and sunk into a crouch. He saw Bingo had placed to keep this bridge section in place.
“I hope that suit doesn’t rust, Kor-Fu,” Joachim said, and kicked the makeshift support away. The Goblin leader had only a moment of confusion before the great weight of his magic armor shifted the section of planks, and the bridge unceremoniously dumped him into the water below. The splash echoed across the water, and was so loud that it soon sent staff from the castle running, just about the same time Glory, Bingo, and Peacebridge opened the gate from the other side.
“Sorry,” Bingo said. “The gate came down after me and it took me a minute to get it open again. What happened to Kor-Fu?”
“He went for a swim,” Joachim said.
The Freelance Hunters rushed the ambassador to the ceremony, whose celebrants were none the wiser about the attempted invasion the night before. They made it with moments to spare. Bingo and Joachim opted for a hearty breakfast and a nap instead. Although the servants of the castle plied them with questions, they kept stoically silent. They had yet to collect their fee, after all.
That evening, the corpse of a freshwater kraken washed up agains the shore of the lake. A cursory examination showed that it had choked on a large metallic object. about three feet in diameter.
The Freelance Hunters were not on hand to provide an explanation. Peacebridge had already paid them and sent them on their way.

Everyday Drabbles #1045: Imperial Guard

December 9, 2023

hughjodonnell Everyday Drabbles, Free Fiction , , , , Leave a comment

When Henry enlisted, he through he would make any sacrifice to serve the Emperor. And he did, through endless space and surface battles.
Serving in the Imperial Guard was the highest honor he could have hoped for. But Henry hadn’t expected the surgery. His limbs were replaced with cybernetic enhancements, directly under the Emperor’s control.
His nerves shot endless lightning bolts of pain, vainly attempting to reconnect to missing flesh, while he stood at attention for a man who didn’t even see him.
Someday, Henry would get the codes to free himself, and show the Emperor what real sacrifice was.

The Mountain’s Shadow is now available from Amazon and Smashwords!

Everyday Drabbles #1044: Green Apocalypse

December 4, 2023

hughjodonnell Everyday Drabbles, Free Fiction , , , , Leave a comment

The wasteland Sun blazed overhead. She checked the gauge and sighed. Her truck still had half an hour left to charge.
On the horizon, a cloud of dust said that she was about to have company. She pulled out her scope and confirmed the worst: raiders, and they’d get to the station well before she was done. She reached into the truck’s bed and pulled out her shotgun. There was a trick to appearing to tough to be worth bothering with, but not so strong as to seem a threat.
She cursed herself for buying electric just before society collapsed.

The Mountain’s Shadow is now available from Amazon and Smashwords!

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