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Posts tagged ‘flash fictions’

Flash Fiction Series – The Calling of a Myth (Episode Four)

There was a bit of a delay in posting this, but here it is. Hope people enjoy it :-)

 

Flash Fiction Series – The Calling of a Myth

Episode Four

The Capital was a hustle and bustle soup of market traders, entertainers, beggars and black market merchants. The sheer noise from the immense crowds was enough to raise the dead in a furious show of revival.

Justine followed a hooded figure with her dark, chocolate eyes as it slipped out from a doorway on the far side of the plaza. Any other person would not have noticed such a thing amidst the sea of people, but Justine felt the barrier that covered this person’s mind – it was stronger than any other mental ward she had ever encountered in her time as a psychic mage. Curiosity soon got the better of her.

As she waded through a variety of shoppers, traders and tourists, her mind was constantly projecting toward the one she could not touch. Her pursuit was becoming more and more frantic. She was not overly keen on coming back to Netheryn after this escapade. If this person was who she was tasked in finding then her first question would be why.

Her trail guided her down a side street that was scattered with a few dodgy dealers who obviously peddled wares that had either been stolen or ‘relocated’ before their initial destination could be reached. Either way she had never been one to enter into such a dark market that bred out and out mistrust and deception.

Another turn led into an empty alley.

The shrouded psyche faded into nothing.

Justine felt her heart skip a beat as she skidded to a halt, the scraping of her shoes echoing through the cobbled ravine. Where had her target gone? She glanced from side to side and then behind her, insecurity and paranoia gripping her chest like a deathly claw. She was suddenly fearful of what was going to happen next, regardless of it being good or bad. Her run of adrenaline had bled dry and she was now beginning to shake, the palms of her hands sweating with anticipation. What had just happened?

She did not hear a thing before it was too late.

The hooded figure came out of the shadows and wrestled her up against the opposite wall, an exotic looking dagger flashing in one slender hand. The blade was pressed against her neck with enough force to hurt, but not break the skin. The other arm was pressed dominantly across her chest to keep her against the cold brick façade behind her. She felt a warm breath from beneath the hood softly stroke her cheeks without malice or murderous intent.

‘Who are you?’ said the attacker in a calm yet aggressive tone.

Justine did not know what to make of this person. ‘I… I…’ She clenched her teeth and tried desperately to regulate her breathing. ‘My name is… Justine.’ She winced as the man exerted more force with the weapon.

‘Why are you following me?’ he asked in the same manner.

‘I was ordered to seek out a man that was apparently immune to mind magic.’

‘You are a very good psychic mage, Justine,’ said the man sincerely. ‘I had to adjust myself at the right time to give me this advantage.’

She locked eyes with his as best she could given the fact his face was mostly hidden. ‘Adjust… yourself?’

The man laughed casually, the arm he had across her chest relenting slightly and giving her some space to breath. ‘As soon as you hit my barrier I knew you were there, watching me like some vulture hanging over a dying animal. Who sent you?’

Justine swallowed dryly as she felt a desert form in her mouth. ‘M… my teacher – Lord Mage Velkus.’

‘Who does he work for? Where are his loyalties?’

She felt the dagger dancing on her neck menacingly. ‘W… with the School of Magic as far as I’m aware.’

‘West of here? The school in the middle lands?’ There was an air of franticness in the man’s voice, almost eager.

Justine nodded fearfully. The hold on her was released and the dagger sheathed in her attacker’s belt. She massaged her neck before coughing, sharp pain shooting up her throat.

‘I am sorry, Justine,’ the man apologised as he removed the hood from his head to reveal silver hair, sharp stubbly features and a pair of crystal-like eyes that stared directly into her soul without relent. ‘My name is Xander.’

‘I was told that you are someone from a long lost warrior tribe that used to reside in the northern lands before the freeze four centuries ago.’ Justine steadied her breathing enough to calm the rest of her body down.

Xander raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid you are misinformed, lady. I am an Evenian.’

Justine was immediately dumbstruck.

‘The Evenians were a secret breed of people from every corner of the realm – we are trained and enhanced both physically and magically.’

‘I… I’ve never heard of the Evenians.’ Justine licked her lips before biting her tongue.

‘You’re not supposed to hear of us – we are a secret and we strived to make it that way. We’ve played a hand in the formation of this world as you know it for centuries.’ Xander looked to either end of the alley. ‘I am one of the last few Evenians in this land.’

Justine hesitated. ‘Why are you telling me this? You’ve just had a dagger to my throat and now you’re giving me your life story…’

‘You are unaware of the fact that I have seen your mind, obviously.’

This took Justine by complete surprise. A psychic mage was trained to detect and repel any intrusion into their minds, but she had not felt a single thing attempt to breach her mental defences. ‘How?’ she asked with a shrill voice, shock radiating from her.

‘My training allows me to completely block all sensory abilities and reflect them back at whoever is directing them.’

She was still dumbfounded.

‘But, unfortunately, time is of the essence. I need to return to my lodgings. If you choose to, you can accompany me and I can tell you more.’

‘But… why? Why would you divulge such information so easily?’

Xander breathed heavily through his nose. ‘Because I have seen your heart, Justine… and your soul.’

Flash Fiction Series – The Calling of a Myth (Episode Three)

Here is the next exciting instalment of my flash fiction series. Hope you enjoy the read :-)

 

Flash Fiction Series – The Calling of a Myth

Episode Three

Something intangible shifted in the coolness of the air that filled the musty drawing room like a tempting mist of perfume. A heavy breath resounded from a dark-skinned figure, attempting to mask a sense of stressed thought.

‘Why are you here?’ the figure asked slowly in a deep male voice. In one hand the man swilled a crystal glass of whisky. ‘You’re supposed to be dead, gone from the world years ago.’ He fiddled with a silver earring in his right ear anxiously.

A second figure emerged from a corner, nothing but a few tufts of silvery white hair poking out from beneath a light grey hooded jacket. ‘You must know that I was never dead,’ said the hood. ‘Surely you’ve heard of these raids going on along the coast? I am after the instigator of these atrocities.’

The other man sipped his whisky and refilled the glass. He turned and addressed his counterpart with a deep set of brown eyes that could break stone with one angry stare. ‘Xander, why does that concern you? I’m… I’m still trying to grasp the fact that you’re alive and that you, obviously, faked your death all them years ago. You must’ve died for a reason – to disappear. So why, in all that’s sacred have you decided to surface for such a trivial matter? I’m sure the investigators can handle whatever it is that’s going on.’

Xander pulled his hood back to reveal a pale, sun-deprived face with thick brown stubble sprouting around a sharp jaw line. ‘Katso, my dear friend; the investigators of this land have no clue as to what’s behind these attacks, whereas I do.’

Katso placed his glass onto an oak dresser and rubbed his forehead, a heavy sigh coming from the tension in his chest. ‘How do you know this?’

‘The person behind this is the reason why I disappeared.’

‘Who is he then?’

‘You mean she.’ corrected Xander with a troubled glance to the decanter of whisky on top of the dresser. ‘Pour me a glass, would you please?’ As Katso obliged his request he grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat down.

Katso took a seat opposite his old friend and stared at him stoically. ‘Then tell me about this woman you assume is behind these raids.’

Xander shot a warning glance at Katso. ‘I’m not assuming anything; I know she is responsible. The reason I faked my own death was because she found out who I was and what I’m capable of.’ He took a long swig of whisky and hummed with a distant satisfaction befitting someone who had been away from the luxuries of life for too long. ‘This woman, I don’t know her name, is one of the foremost Dark Blade assassins in the land.’

‘The what?’

‘Dark Blade assassins – they’re an old established guild that strive to be an eternal secret in the world and its history. They have been playing a hand in anything political for centuries, as well as having their own agenda for things concerning the world. These attacks are a mystery in terms of why they’re being influenced by one of the assassins, but needless to say they are more than uncalled for.’

Katso pursed his lips and huffed, rubbing his short black hair with a rough hand. ‘So what is it that you are wanting me to do?’

Xander smiled softly. ‘I knew I could rely on you, friend. I know you have many fingers in many pies and I would appreciate it if you could find out who the assigned investigators are for me.’

‘What for?’

‘I am nowhere near powerful enough to fight this assassin one-on-one so I need help in doing what needs to be done.’

‘But what makes you think the investigators will be of any use in a fight?’ Katso topped up his glass.

‘I have heard along the grapevine that they are a highly skilled duo – a male hunter and a female warrior.’

‘You heard this did you?’

‘I have visited a couple of the decimated villages and spoken with the locals; and a few have mentioned these two people from here in the capital along with their stirling reputation.’ Xander drank the last of his whisky and placed the glass onto the table. ‘Can you help me?’

Katso mulled things over as he swirled the whisky around in his glass, his eyes gazing on the hypnotic rhythm intently. ‘I can have a word with someone, but I doubt I could arrange a meeting or anything.’

‘That’s fine. Just find out their names and where they might be and I can do the rest.’ Xander stood up, the effects of the whisky having taken a swift hold on his legs. ‘Boy, you can tell I haven’t had the good stuff in a long time,’ he chuckled.

‘What are you doing this for?’ asked Katso as he stood up with an ease, indicating that he was attuned to the impact of the spirit.

‘What do you mean?’ Xander glanced sideways at his friend as he stifled a belch.

‘I mean all this good deed stuff… what reason do you still have? Your kind are somewhat forgotten about these days.’

Xander’s gaze drifted across the room contemplatively. ‘Forgotten…’ he mumbled.

‘Yes forgotten. You would be surprised how quickly people moved on since you all disappeared.’

‘We weren’t here to be prominent in the world – we were here to do what had to be done.’

‘Xander, my old friend, things have changed over the years. The Evenians have no sway in this world, regardless of how prominent or not they once were.’

‘Things that are happening in this world that need our attention once more,’ Xander stated as he stood stoically. ‘We Evenians may not be high in numbers anymore, but they day we stop making a difference is the day we are all dead.’ He shot a firm, fiery glance to his friend and clenched his jaw. ‘Send a messenger to the Yearning Maiden Inn when you’ve found out where those investigators are – I am staying there in the meantime.’

Many people had never known how big a part the Evenians had played in the moulding of the world as it was now. They, along with the Dark Blade assassins, had made a point of being a group whose true purpose in history was secretive to the end. The only difference between the Evenians and the Dark Blade was that the Evenians were sworn protectors and upholders of what was generally believed to be righteous, whereas the assassins had no trouble with breaking moral and ethical standards wherever they saw fit.

As Xander left Katso’s residence with his hood replaced to hide his face, a searching mind was scanning the crowds outside. Katso had his place right on the edge of the business district of the city, so bustling crowds and loud noises were ideal for a swift and silent approach or escape.

The minds of everyone in the plaza were being probed by a highly skilled telepath overlooking the anthill-like scene with relentless intent. The mind hit a brick wall as it touched an impenetrable void of thought. This was it… that was him.

Flash Fiction Series – The Calling of a Myth (Episode Two)

A good way to start the week? I hope people think so. Enjoy episode two of ‘The Calling of a Myth’ :-)

 

Flash Fiction Series – The Calling of a Myth

Episode Two

A soft salty sea breeze blew its way across the land, mixing intimately with the smell of smoke and death that was hanging around like a vulture.

What had transpired in the coastal village of Pisca was despicable by anyone’s standards. The day before had seen an immense raid by the barbarians from the eastern hills – an unusual spectacle as they were known for keeping themselves to themselves and only fighting with each other. Nonetheless they had come and they had gone through this small fishing village like a lava flow setting fire to people’s homes and demolishing the traders’ huts without conscience. Women and children had either been slaughtered needlessly or taken as slaves; all the able-bodied residents who had fought back in a futile attempt at resistance had been gutted and left to rot in the smoky sun; and crucial food supplies, drinks and silver had been taken with a gluttonous greed. The wide dirt track that was the village’s spine was littered with charred wood and discarded belongings that had not been deemed worthy of taking.

Amidst the wake of the brutal ransacking two figures waded their way through the littered path. One of them stopped, assessing the devastation from beneath a thick dark green hunter’s hood. Tenrian idly adjusted the brown leather gauntlet on his right hand as he rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth. ‘This is getting out of hand,’ he remarked blankly to his companion.

Fiona closed her eyes as a fresh wave of salty sea air whipped at them suddenly. She breathed in heavily, her curvy blonde hair dancing behind her. She murmured to herself before addressing her friend’s words. ‘Someone must be instigating these attacks. There’ve been seven in the past three weeks. If they were all being carried out by the same group of people then it wouldn’t seem so unusual, but that’s not the case.’ She looked across to the opposite side of the track at what used to be some kind of thatched wooden building that had probably been someone’s home. She felt her heart sink to her feet.

Tenrian shook his head not out of disagreement, but out of despair. ‘We’ve been investigating each of these attacks since they began and we’ve gotten nowhere.’

‘You never know – this one might reveal something to us.’ Fiona gazed up at the hazy sky, her sharp blue eyes failing to pierce the shroud of smoke above.

‘You’ve said that the last four times now and nothing has come to light.’

‘We mustn’t be so negative, Tenrian.’

The hunter huffed and walked forward slowly, his deep brown eyes scanning for something; anything that would shed some light on what had been going on in recent weeks. He finally stopped walking around after a few moments of silence and kneeled down, laying the points of his fingers onto the warm ground and angling his head to one side.

‘Getting anything?’ asked Fiona as she shuffled her armoured feet through the blackened dust. She laid a gloved hand onto the hilt of her broadsword and sighed.

Tenrian sniffed deeply, longingly. ‘All I can sense is what you’d expect after such a display of sheer brutality.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Maybe if we look around we’ll find something more.’

They commenced their investigation, examining the remains of burned out buildings and sifting through the scattering of bodies and belongings. The variety of twisted faces that were strewn across the floor was stomach wrenching. Tenrian and Fiona had both seen their fair share of bloodshed and death, but nothing could have compared with what lay before them this day.

‘Fiona – look at this.’ Tenrian stooped over the mangled corpse of a young brunette woman, her legs broken and body slashed viciously.

What is it? You found something?’ she inquired, her voice releasing a mound of enthusiasm. She may have been in her early thirties, like her companion, but she acted with a teenage enthusiasm that betrayed her initial appearance.

Tenrian ran an analytical forefinger across the dead woman’s body, slowly coming to hover over a single wound that was set aside from the rest. ‘Look at this wound.’

Fiona bent down and peered at where Tenrian was pointing. ‘Let’s take a closer look.’ With that she reached forward and tore the clothes of the corpse apart to reveal the fatal array of injuries. She scanned the pale body intensely, noting the distinct difference of the body’s reaction to the wound. ‘That wound is a lot more precise, not to mention the black scarring around it.’

‘I think…’ Tenrian leaned forward and sniffed the wound cautiously, swiftly reeling back with a look of disgust. ‘It’s poison – this woman was stabbed with a small poisoned blade. The entry wound isn’t typical of a barbarian weapon.’

‘That we know of?’

Tenrian shook his head. ‘No, Fiona; this wasn’t a barbarian led attack if I were to hazard a guess. I know we had our suspicions about the attacks being instigated by someone and this has more or less confirmed it in my eyes.’

Fiona stood up and looked around at the edges of the village and beyond, paranoid that they were being watched. ‘What poison is it?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Tenrian replied as he straightened up to his feet. ‘I have a sneaky feeling that it maybe something rare and unobtainable in this part of the world.’

‘We should take a sample and return to the city as fast as we can.’ Fiona walked a few paces forward and looked out over the sea, the rush of the air whistling in her ears with the souls of those who had been lost.

Likes, shares and comments welcome :-) Thanks for reading

Flash Fiction #13 – Seraph

Here is number 13 for you all to enjoy. I am seeing what I can get in 150 words :-)

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Flash Fiction #13 – Seraph

One thing you must know is that I am here by my own free will; not sent by a single supernatural being that a lot of humans worship. All they see is their own false idol to give them some kind of orderly reassurances about their own mortality. What they need to know is that constant warring is putting their world through such turmoil that it will correct itself, regardless of the cost.

They are obsessed with monetary gain and where does it lead? It leads to power and then results in such corruption that it is near impossible to overcome. Life has to revolve around money to such a degree that it is no life at all.

With much reluctance I must pick up my own weapon of clarity and show them what will happen to their own kind if they persist.

This is the hand of their judgement.

**********

Don’t really know what to make of most of off-the-top-of-my-head flash fictions :-P

 

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