Fantasy

Chapter 2. Things go Astray. (The Sword Summoner: History Repeats)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

As soon as Trey and Billy had been recorded, they were ushered quickly through the stone corridors to the Language room. A tall, dark skinned, broad shouldered figure stood at the door. His shiny bald head was almost blinding as it reflected the morning sun. It was their teacher, Mr Xion. He wore fine clothes of subtle hues that fit him perfectly, while his face was handsome and his body well-toned. Everything about him was well kept and luxurious.

“Everyone enter the room in silence and seat yourself at your designated desks,” the man ordered the class in a stern voice. This was his usual before class speech.

Trey took his place at the very centre of the classroom. He preferred a back corner near the window and Mr Xion knew it. He didn’t like Trey and was always trying to make his lessons unbearable. All because of an accident involving a stray arrow nearly hitting him through an open window the previous year. Trey hadn’t intended the arrow to ricochet. It just went to prove that practicing archery while suffering through a bout of hiccups was not a good idea.

The test dragged on and Trey’s attention found itself straying to the different shapes on the floor. It was like cloud watching, but more varied.

“Trey!” barked Mr Xion. “What have I just been saying?”

Trey looked up slowly. “Something in the language of the northern desert tribes,” he replied.

“Yes, but what?” sneered Mr Xion through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know.” Trey shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

Mr Xion had been expecting this and had his next words planned. “You don’t seem very interested in my lessons, any reasons?” There was a long silence, then Mr Xion spoke again. “Well?”

Trey thought for a moment. “Well sir, I can’t say that I don’t like this lesson or you, because it is rude and you’ll give me a caning, and I don’t really want one.”

“Then why don’t you say that you are interested in my lesson, that should work,” said Xion with a smug look of satisfaction.

“I was taught never to lie,” Trey replied simply.

Xion’s face turned from tan to red in a second. “Trey!” he growled, barely holding in his anger. There was a piercing ding sound. The break bell rang and everyone started to file out of the classroom, including Trey.

“Talk about saved by the bell, Trey,” laughed Billy as they walked down the corridor. “I’ve got to do some stuff now for the archery team so I’ll see you later.” He turned a corner and left Trey by himself. 

Trey weaved through the ambling crowds of pupils and found his usual breaktime spot, a small table on the edge of the school grounds looking out at the bell tower and his house. He sat down, made himself comfy, and started to lose himself in one of his trance like thoughts.

“Oi! Move, I’m sitting here now!” came a sneering voice. 

Trey turned his head to see who was ordering him to move. It was Derrick Rol, or ‘Sharkey’ as his friends called him. He was about Trey’s height, thin, with ape like arms. His short brown, spiky hair looked like a hedgehog that had been swimming in grease and his eyes were a dark brown that sat in sunken sockets.

“Shift now or I’ll shift ya myself,” threatened the boy in a deep voice that was clearly fake.

Sharkey was meant to be the ‘big dog’ around the town, even though he was only a year older than Trey. His father had been convicted of war crimes after the infamous Ghibok war, and had spent several years in the Lord’s dungeons. He had been released and Sharkey had been born but it had been only a few short years until the man was back in the dungeon for domestic violence. Sharkey had grown up sharing his father’s violent temperaments. 

“Come on, you better move before you get hurt, kid,” said one of the older students who had placed a hand on Trey’s shoulder. Sharkey’s reputation preceded him.

“No, I’m alright where I am thanks,” Trey said casually.

“What?” Sharkey shouted in disbelief. His voice was petulant, clearly unused to not getting his own way instantly.

“I said that I am okay, thank you,” Trey repeated calmly.

Sharkey grabbed Trey’s neck and shoved him off the bench. Trey stood up, walked back to the bench and sat back down. Sharkey’s face turned red with rage. He swung his fist towards Trey’s face but Trey merely swayed to one side and Sharkey missed him. Sharkey then lunged his full body at Trey. His arms flailed around him in blind anger. Trey’s leg shot out and kicked him in the stomach, sending him staggering backwards. Sharkey recovered then charged again, this time getting ready to hit Trey with all his strength. Trey anticipated this move so he stood up, hit Sharkey in the throat, kneed him in the gut then turned slightly and elbowed him in the cheek. Sharkey collapsed to the floor.

Unknown to Trey’s peers, he’d had a lot of training and was stronger than he looked. His father had been an officer in the city guard and had been a skilled warrior. Even though Trey had never met him, he still felt a longing to live up to the man’s legacy. His practice sessions with Billy were the highlights of his week.

Trey felt a hand on his shoulder that pulled him around, immediately followed by a fist to his nose. He fell backwards, but as he was falling he remembered a move he had seen once used by performers at a travelling circus. He lifted his right leg up, placed it on his attackers thigh, grabbed his jumper, and as Trey hit the floor, he kicked up and flipped the thug straight into Sharkey.

Trey struggled to his feet and looked around. Sharkey’s friends surrounded him. They started to close in. He knew that he didn’t stand a chance against all of them. Suddenly, someone broke the tight ring of thugs.

It was Billy. He must have seen the trouble and ran there. The gang charged at the two friends. They started well, winning every thug that came at them, their basic training serving them well, but they just kept coming. Billy’s strong arms ensured that those he hit stayed down while Trey, who was a swordsman at heart, dodged most of the clumsy attacks. The bullies only used strength, knowing nothing about how to fight with skill, but soon both Trey and Billy became tired.

“Looks like we’re beat,” grunted Billy through gasping breaths. A purple bruise was already forming on his cheek. Trey sighed. They were only going to be beaten up, but it was going to be a defeat that caused them both a lot of pain and humiliation.

“Woo hoo! This is gonna be fun!” came a crazed shout from behind the crowd that had gathered around the brawl. A figure dashed forward through the observers, cackling madly. It was a boy from Trey’s class called Zak Malma.

Trey had never really talked to him. To put it lightly, he was insane. He had once voiced his opinion that sheep had been the rulers of mankind and only awaited the chance to retake that position once again. But here he was coming into the fight for no reason. His messily spiked hair was a mixture of mostly darkest black with odd streaks of vivid blond that flew around his face wildly as he ran. His blue eyes looked ecstatic as he smacked the first thug in the face. His jumper was on backwards.

He had a long ruler in each hand that he used like swords. The thugs couldn’t fight back against his reckless attacks. The cracking sound of the wood mixed with the pained shouts of his victims. During his rampage he also managed to hit some of the crowd as well, causing chaos as the bystanders attempted to stop him. Like a chain of dominoes, more and more of the students began to lash out. Soon there was a riot spreading across the entire school grounds.

Social groups had joined together, creating factions among the chaos. What had started as simple reactive violence rapidly became a full-scale battle with Zak at its centre. Teachers attempted to control the situation, but could do little to stem the fighting. Within the hour it had spread, spilling out into the city itself. 

A dark figure smirked, watching it all unfold from his window. 

The city guards in their polished armour eventually stormed the school and put an abrupt stop to the fighting, but everyone in the city was appalled by the children’s behaviour, and they had to point the finger at someone.

Previous – Chapter 1. Another Day

Next – Chapter 3. Expelled.

Chapter 1. Another Day. (The Sword Summoner: History Repeats)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Birds scattered as the old morning bell began to toll. Its deep echoes rang throughout the city of Pastrino. The noise was met by stirrings as the city below began to awaken, and the people rose from slumber to begin their day’s work. All except one: Trey Sted. He was still fast asleep like most mornings.

People were amazed how he could sleep through the morning bell since his house stood in the shadow of the bell tower on the wide hill that marked the centre of the city. It left any who were that close to the tower with ringing ears when it chimed, but Trey never stirred from his sleep.

“Trey, wake up! Trey, get out of bed!” his mother called from the doorway. Trey didn’t move. His cover was wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon even though it was the middle of summer. His mother called again. “Trey, get up now or you’ll be sorry.” Still he lay motionless. “I warned you, Trey.”

She went down stairs and left the house. A large aqueduct snaked its way across the city overhead, from which a pipe led down into the Sted’s garden, like similar pipes did for every other house in the city. You were always under the shadow of the aqueduct in Pastrino.

Sarah Sted had a way of waking up her son. She grabbed a wooden bucket and turned on the tap. A steady flow of water poured into the container. Once it was full she staggered back upstairs. She reached Trey’s bed and managed to lift the bucket just above his head. In one big movement she tipped it upside down. Water cascaded over him, and much of the room around it.

Trey’s eyes opened but his body barely moved. The remnants of water weaved through his long, dark brown hair, then soaked into his thin mattress. His green eyes looked tired, but they always had a shine deep within them. 

“Morning, Mum,” he said, moving his dripping hair from his eyes. He’d gotten used to his unusual wake up but could never go back to sleep because his mattress was soaked. He yawned again and rubbed his eyes.

“It’s almost time for school so I want you dressed and downstairs in five minutes.” Sarah instructed him briskly.

“Yes, Mum,” muttered Trey as he eyed the soaked bed longingly. 

Sarah left his room to carry on with her jobs, leaving Trey alone to get dressed. Getting up, he glanced around the narrow room. Between his bed, a chest, and a small bookshelf, there was little space left to move. He walked over to the chest where his school uniform was and just stared at the dull grey trousers and jumper.

Trey didn’t like school; that was, he didn’t like getting up at first light, he didn’t like crowds, and he didn’t like the uniform. The actual subjects were enjoyable enough, other than languages with Mr Xion.

Motivation was a hard thing to find for someone like Trey. Day after day he was forced to learn things that he would never need, all under the premise of future success. This meant little to Trey though since he had no grand ambition for fame or fortune. All he wanted from life was to live a quiet existence with enough money in his pocket to allow his mum the peace that she deserved. Learning a language from a country he would never visit just seemed a waste.

He got dressed then had a quick glance through his window at the city around him. That was what he liked most about his room; since his house was on a hill at the centre of the city, he could see nearly all of Pastrino. Not that there was a great deal of beauty to be found in the gloom of the aqueduct.

He could see the squat school off to his right and the tall shape of the old Sprite church to his left. He could also see the farmers’ fields in the distance, just past the city’s crumbling, once white walls. The winding aqueduct disappeared beyond the horizon to join up with a distant river that provided the city’s water supply. A crowded mass of grime coated white stone buildings lay below him like sea foam washing up on a beach.

With a yawn, he hopped down the stairs into the kitchen to get his breakfast. Trey loved his food and the thought of breakfast was the only thing that encouraged him to stay awake. The only time he could really eat until he was full though was at big events when he didn’t need to pay for the food. His mother had to look after him and the house by herself. She did other people’s odd jobs to get by.

His father had disappeared just before Trey was born and no one knew where or why. Some thought he was dead while others believed that he had just run away from his responsibilities. Trey had even heard some people call him a murderer, pinning the death of a young girl on him. Trey didn’t know the answer, and he never asked too much about it as he knew how much it hurt his mother to talk about it. 

Trey grabbed some food and began to eat. Sarah had just finished wiping up the water that had fallen through the floorboards from Trey’s room and stopped to look at her son. His mother couldn’t work out why Trey was treated like he was. He just didn’t seem to fit in. He was distant, always in a dream, wandering through life without a direction or purpose. It was like Trey had his own little bubble and just couldn’t connect with the world beyond it. 

He did have one friend though, Billy Delb. They had been friends all of their lives, even though Billy was more popular than Trey. They spent most of their school time together but didn’t see each other much outside. Billy had lots of clubs to go to and Trey enjoyed staring out of the window for hours on end just relaxing. Billy’s parents had been in the same class as Sarah during their school days and the friendship had been passed down to the next generation.

There was a series of knocks upon the front door. Sarah opened it and Billy stood just beyond. His short, light brown hair shone in the light of the sun and his brown eyes looked bored. He had a well-built upper body because of the hours of archery practice he did every day. His father was the school’s archery instructor after all.

“Are you ready, Trey?” he asked. “I’m really looking forward to school today.” Sarcasm dripped from his every word. He rolled his shoulders absently. Unlike Trey, Billy was never happy unless he was moving.

“Why?” Trey asked, thinking over the day’s schedule. “Oh.” He sighed. He remembered he had a language test first lesson with Mr Xion and then no good subjects afterwards. 

If only he’d been born sooner, Trey thought. Back when his mum had been at school they had still taken practical subjects like swordsmanship. Then the former lord of Pastrino had passed away and was replaced with a man involved with the Neototes. They were a group that saw the past as nothing more than a hindrance to the evolution of society and tried to cut all ties to the more ‘barbaric’ ages. 

“Come on then,” Trey said wearily, dispelling his sour thoughts as he pulled his school bag onto his shoulder. “Bye Mum. See you later.”

“Bye Mrs Sted,” said Billy.

“Bye,” she replied with a smile. “Be careful.”

“I’ll try,” Trey answered as he closed the door behind him. Trey had a strange feeling about today. He got this feeling whenever something was going to happen. Was it something good or bad, he pondered to himself as they walked to school along the same path they had used since their first day there. Maybe he would pass Language, that would be a strange miracle, he mused cynically.

Previous – Prologue: Time of Troubles

Next – Chapter 2. Things go Astray.

Prologue: Time of Troubles. (The Sword Summoner: History Repeats)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

At the dawn of the fourth era of man, three cities were built in the land of Farava. To the southeast was Onlasar, carved into the very rock of the Endii Mountains near to the vast southern sea of Verinadia. It was the oldest of the three cities and was known as the shield of the East. Established during the Klade wars, it had been converted to defend the eastern lands from the vicious barbarians who ravaged the rocky landscape and raided the windy coast.

In the northwest, only a few leagues east from the ruins of the Old Kingdom’s once sprawling capital, was Lanstiro. It was the most fortified of the cities, constructed to stop the monstrous creatures known as Forukks that roamed in the far west from escaping their shadowy realm of Miankkuth. It had been built in celebration of victory over the Klades. The Old Kingdom had been shattered, but humanity had survived. Lanstiro’s strong walls and stronger warriors were the mighty sword of Farava’s people.

The final city was Pastrino. It was built in the centre of Farava and was the most pleasant of the three cities. No threats were able to bypass Onlasar or Lanstiro, so its people were peaceful and naïve as to what occurred beyond their city’s vast white walls. Dense forests as ancient as the world itself boarded its northern boundaries while the sun parched Amion desert separated it from Onlasarian lands. Steep cliffs that led to the lower steps of the country partitioned Pastrino from the outer confines of Lanstiro. 

The foul creatures of the west were eventually beaten down, forced to stay in their own twisted domain by the powerful warriors of Lanstiro. Confident in their victory, the Lanstirians failed to be prepared when the Forukks amassed once more and laid siege to the battle hardened city. Lanstiro’s contact with the other cities ceased.

Onlasar sent its finest scouts to investigate, but they never returned. Then in the snowy winter, while harsh blizzards ravaged the land and visibility was poor, Pastrino was attacked by the demonic Forukks and warped human savages from the shadowlands. They fought bravely, but they were no warriors, and after two days of battle, few men remained. In what looked to be the last stand, the few surviving defenders fortified the city’s bell tower and made ready for the next wave of invaders. 

Before the enemies reached the tower, a lone man appeared to face the horde. He had no weapons or armour of any kind. A blinding sapphire light flooded the blood soaked streets. The stranger now held in his hands a blazing blue sword with a lance like hilt that was embossed with jewels. He charged forwards and slashed. Screams echoed through the ruined city. A cloud of dust rose around them as azure energy ripped through the Forukk’s ranks like a ravishing wave. When it cleared, the barbarians and Forukks were dead.

After a council between the remaining people of Pastrino and representatives from Onlasar, the decision was made that the two cities should send their combined armies to Lanstiro to discover her fate.

Men from the outlying villages joined the gathering army in droves. Even the isolated warriors of the desert rallied to the call. It was the largest gathering of soldiers since the Old Kingdom had fallen. The assembled armies marched with all haste to the lost city. 

The once lush ground had taken the first steps toward becoming a barren wasteland. Trees that had formed vast forests had been felled, and a creeping fog rolled across the newly formed plains. As the army moved onward it encountered no signs of life. Unable to hunt, food became scarce. Finally, they crested a high hill that revealed structures on the horizon. 

The fortress city was bigger than ever. Its walls were blackened and spikes lined every surface. Beaten metal covered the cold stone like armour. Newly constructed parapets and turrets formed a web of defences around the original structures.

The Faravian armies marched forward cautiously. The sky suddenly darkened, and for an instant, the allied soldiers thought it was rain. Many never thought again. Arrows punctured armour and flesh alike. The largest battle since the Klade War had begun.

Arrows rained down upon the allied armies as they desperately tried to force open the iron doors. They had expected to face the Forukks in revenge of their sister city, but instead had been betrayed. 

Siege crossbows fired and the bolts plunged into the stone of the city’s walls, leaving a rope line that could be climbed. The first of the allies reached the top of the fortress and were immersed into heavy combat. Bulky, leather skinned Forukks, and heavily armoured men in the red and black livery of Lanstiro, battled with the lighter armoured soldiers of the East. As more allies scaled the wall, Lanstirian bodies joined the litany of dead.

A bright light filled the area around the fortress like the dawning of a new day. In the middle of the battle stood the stranger, his glowing azure sword pulsing with life. He ran towards the wall and his sword became large near its hilt as it roared with a sudden violent energy that fired him up into the sky in a blaze of blue flame. As he came down he ripped into the enemies on the wall.

The stranger led the assault on the gate, killing all who stood in his way. The outer sections were quickly captured, but the city itself had also been fortified. Barricades had been erected in the streets while archers fired down at the attackers from boarded up windows. Pits, rockfalls and other such traps had been installed at every turn. 

The battle lasted hours and cost many lives, but with the stranger’s aid, the allies managed to push their way through the city’s gruesome defences, capturing the buildings in concentric rings as they forced themselves closer toward the centre. Finally, they managed to push through into the central castle, breaching the keep after a brutal assault.

In a bloody one on one battle between the stranger and the enemy leader, the traitorous monarch was killed and the turncoats were captured and executed. The remaining Forukks managed to retreat back into their own mysterious lands amidst the chaos. None dared to follow them into Miankkuth’s death filled shadow.

The victory felt hollow. The body count was high and the damage to Farava as a whole was unimaginable. The very air within Lanstiro seemed to corrupt the mind, turning friend against friend. To counter this, much of the city was destroyed, while the rest was abandoned to the merciless hands of time. 

Despite this victory, Forukk assaults continued against the humans’ defences as the years passed by. Many farms and villages were wiped from the maps. In an attempt to bring about true peace for the land, the stranger set off alone into Miankkuth to put a stop to the attacks once and for all. The corrosive fog that marked that land had now consumed the ruined fortress of Lanstiro, vastly expanding the monsters’ domain. Forukk sightings ended, but never again was the sword-summoning stranger seen by human eyes. All memories of him faded with the many generations that passed peacefully by, as did the memories of the Forukks, and of the battle itself.

But history has a way of repeating itself and old enemies never lie still forever. Peace makes men grow weak while hatred lets others grow strong…

Next – Chapter 1. Another Day.

Words of Fate: Darkness of Men. (Issue 3)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

A low fire crackled in the predawn several miles north of the segmented city of Moorhenda. Sytheis Tia Menrha, a young wordsmith, prodded the flames idly with a stick to keep the fire burning. It cast a red light through the trees around him, illuminating the sleeping forms of his unlikely companions.

Strange circumstances had him working the a Banndnori mason called Fortas Tillor, a beggar child known as Chipper and two street thugs known as Rantier Zalnot and Bibbi. Together they had entered the inner city’s sewers to hunt a monster but had ended up fleeing for their lives from Draknori warriors who were thought to be long dead. Their escape had left them in woods miles from the city with one less man than they had begun with.

The sleep that Sytheis had managed only served to stiffen his battered limbs. He had been set to watch the camp for an hour now and that time had been spent trying to loosen up his protesting muscles. There was little else to do. His journal and ink bottles had been destroyed and he had left his instruments back at his room. Luckily his Klash cards had survived inside their waterproof case but he had no desire to handle them in his numb hands.

The air was humid and warm even without the fire. Sweat prickled his skin. He stood up and stretched before walking a short distance from the camp to gather more wood. The sun would be rising soon but a meal of cooked rabbit before they set off would go down a treat. Rantier had assured them that he could catch something for them. Continue reading →

Words of Fate: Monsters of the Past. (Issue 2)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Buildings shimmered sickeningly outside the window of a second floor room of an inn called The Rose and Thorn. The distant towering wall of Moorenda’s inner city was little more than an indistinct blur. Sytheis Tia Menrha stood by the window staring out at the city beyond. The sun hung heavily in the sky and only the most determined of people were out in the streets unnecessarily. The days were only getting hotter it seemed and Sytheis had no intention of leaving the shade of his rented room.

He studied his reflection in the glass for a moment, running a hand through his sweat-slick blond hair before slumping back into the chair at his desk. Papers lay scattered all across the surface and words were scrawled across every piece. Some of it was his own work while others belonged to other tellers or bards. He grouped them all together into a category that he liked to call ‘the competition’.

At the top of the pile was Moorenda’s most popular Venndi news pamphlet The Stag. Most of the issue was dedicated to the battle that had taken place outside of the city on what was now referred to as Queen’s Hill several days back. The centrepiece of the pamphlet was written by none other than Sytheis himself. It had been written under a pen name to avoid awkward questions but all of the coin had gone into his pocket. It was pure propaganda filled with buzzwords and emotive phrases but with little depth. This was what sold best though.

He had also sent another version to a Chalemite teller under a different name that outlined the events of the battle in a grim, unflattering light. It had been a commission from the queen of Chalem herself and had paid well. It was that bloodsoaked retelling of the battle that had allowed him to rent this room within a good district of the city.

Absently he flicked through the pamphlet, skimming over the pages about the battle and its political implications, until a rough sketch caught his eye. It depicted some kind of large animal lurking in the shadows. The artist had tried to make it appear terrifying while applying only the vaguest of detail to what the creature actually was. He read through the accompanying writing with growing interest. Continue reading →

Chapter 1. (A Crown of Blood and Ash)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Streaks of green flame slid through the darkness of the sky, leaving an ever changing trail of colours in its wake. The stars around it shimmered and distorted like reflections across disturbed water. Mallan Rilarendir watched it idley from the rooftop where he was laid. Vague thoughts crossed his mind, but mostly he was content to just enjoy the view. It was rare to have a clear sky.

“You ever think it’s strange how the past never really goes away. It’s always here in some way or other. We lay here and look at the sky, watching as chunks of a once powerful civilisation drifts through space, and we know all about it even though it happened long before we were born. It’s like they didn’t want to be forgotten so they keep drawing our attention to them, whispering for us to remember them.”

From Mallan’s side, Lilarith Rilarendir snorted. “I think you think to much. Of course the past is here for us to see. Every second becomes the past, becomes history. Us waiting here now, talking about nothing, is history. Maybe in the future someone will think we’re important and look back to this moment. That’s what decides the past. Nothing more than what people in the present believe deserves remembering.”

Mallan shrugged and continued to watch the comet split the sky asunder. He was only a young boy, but to him the great war was something that fascinated him. Even trying to imagine the scale and power involved as titans clashed was something beyond his comprehension. Yet it happened. The fragments of alien worlds were a constant reminder of it.

“But believe me,” Lilarith continued. “People will remember us. I’ll grab destiny by the horns, and with your help we’ll tame it and ride it on to victory after victory. Just you wait.”

The conviction in her voice was captivating. She believed every word she said with every fiber of her being. So did anybody who listened to her. She was just that kind of person. She commanded belief as easily as she breathed. Mallan knew that if she said everything would be okay then he’d run straight into an unwinnable fight without hesitation. Lila was the one constant in a swirling world of fear and violence.

Lila yawned then flipped onto her feet in one swift movement. She stretched then glanced around her.

“It looks like it’s going to be a bit longer before Kass shows up. You want to play a game?” she asked.

Mallan got to his feet himself with a smile. “What have you got in mind?”

“I’m thinking a game we haven’t played in ages. I challenge you to stone throwing! Kass isn’t here to win so it’s anyone’s game. Go on, I’ll let you pick the target.”

“Sure,” Mallan nodded. He stepped up to the edge of the rooftop and scanned the city. Sherham was a mess of buildings with little thought towards street planning. Half a prewar church stood beside a wooden shamble complex built in the last few years, while an imposing tower of concrete from the war itself loomed over them from the other side of the road. Few buildings were from a single period of time, additions, extensions and repairs were haphazardly slapped across just about everything in sight. 

Further away, his eyes were drawn to the large ring of the stadium that was built around one of the many craters from the war. That was far more than a stone throw away though. Beyond that, encircling everything he had ever known was the cloister, a grand wall that protected the city, its surface curling inwards like a half dome. Closer to them stood The Office. It was a large, squat building of brown stone that served the city council’s public offices. It was made distinctive by the ancient relic that was securely fastened to the roof: A large plastic ring that still bore faded pink paint. Some of the locals said it was a symbol of avarice, others that it was an old world symbol of law enforcement. To Mallan, it looked like a perfect target.

He pointed to the object, noticing that Lila had already gathered an armful of various sized rocks. Stones and general rubble was the one thing that Sherham had in plentiful supply. She handed him one then motioned with her head for him to take the first shot.

Mallan sized up the target then threw the stone. It clanked heavily into the ring and bounced to the street below. Lila placed the stones in a neat pile then grabbed one for herself. She threw it almost instantly, taking no time to measure up the distance, yet it still hit the plastic just a few inches from the hole. She made a slight frustrated sound then stepped back.

With the next stone in hand, Mallan took his time to carefully aim. Lila had won the last three games and he didn’t want to make it four. There was no coming back from something like that. He took a deep breath then swung out his arm. The stone flew straight through the hole and clipped the wall of the next building. He grinned, then controlled his features. It was too early to celebrate.

He had been right to stay reserved. Lila cast her stone clean through the ring and returned his grin with interest. The pressure was on now. All he had to do was replicate exactly what he had done on his last throw. He looked over the pile of stones and selected the roundest one he could see. Seconds ticked by as he tried to line himself up exactly as he had been before. He released the stone and watched as it dipped and skidded across the rooftop below the ring.

Lila scooped up a stone without looking and stepped up to the ledge. She made her through almost instantly and Mallan could tell from the moment it left her hand that she had won. The stone sailed through the centre of the ring then smashed a window somewhere on the other side.

“You overthink things,” she said with a slight shrug as she stepped down. “The world’s only as complicated as you make it. I remember my dad telling me that once.”

Mallan frowned. “That doesn’t sound true.”

Lila just shrugged again in response. That was the way she was. The girl had a natural luck about her. Things always tended to work out how she wanted it to. It was one of the reasons that Mallan was drawn to her. She had convictions, and against all odds, she saw them through.

He blinked as a stone whistled past his head, followed closely by two more. Without turning he watched all three follow a perfect path through the ring.

“It doesn’t count if you use your eve,” Mallan muttered. He turned to see a taller boy with dark skin and long black hair standing behind them. It was his best friend and third member of their family trio, Kassim Rilarendir. He held three more stones in one hand, maneuvering them between his fingers in complex patterns with a casual ease.

“No eve use here. I’d have looped them around the ring a few times for extra points if that was the case.” One of the stones rose up from his hand and circled Mallan’s head to emphasise his point. “I just have a feel for these things, you know?”

Lila approached the boy eagerly. “Yes, yes, we all know how the mighty Kass is the greatest at flinging dirt. Let’s get to the real news. Is everything ready?”

“As ready as it can be. The warmups have already started so most folk will be inside. Main gates are well guarded but the tunnels only have a single guard. We should be able to slip past him nice and easy down there.”

“What are we waiting for then?” Lila exclaimed. “We’ve got a show to see. Come on!”

She jogged across the roof then hopped down onto a wall below, disappearing from sight. Kass gave Mallan a knowing look then followed suit. Kass was older and took to most things he tried with ease, but just like Mallan, when it came to Lila, he was a follower along for the ride.

The twisting streets below were all but empty of humans. Dogs barked and stray cats lazed on just about every surface, sauntering around like the city was theirs. Mallan was surprised by just how quiet it was. He’d known that the match would draw a lot of people, but to think so many had saved enough for entrance was impressive.

Their goal was the stadium that dominated the ruined skyline of the city. The Champions Stadium served as the centre of modern life in Sherham. The competitions and sports played within was a big draw, and today’s match promised to be the best seen for a long time.

“We’re definitely going to make it in time, right?” Mallan asked. 

“Of course we will!” Lila declared with her usual confidence. “I’ve planned everything out. Even if we have to face down an angry guard we’ll still have time to spare. Such an important match is going to have a lot of lead up. You think I intend to miss this?”

They ran on, vaulting over low walls and skidding around corners without slowing. Their path led them veering away from the stadium to the outskirts of the city were a small pipe connected with a sickly stream. The fetid water was green and smelled bad but the three children jumped straight in. The stream didn’t even reach the top of their boots.

The pipe itself was about a foot wide with three rusted metal bars sealing off the entrance. Kass bent down and grabbed the central bar.

“I just want to stress how difficult this was,” he said in an easy tone. “I didn’t even know I could use gravel like that until I tried. Controlling tiny particles of grit to errode the pipe around the bars took a long time. You’ll be happy to know that I Used a rock to scout out the tunnel. It opens up after about thirty yards into the main sewer. Not bad, eh?”

“Not bad at all,” Lila said with a devilish smile. 

Kass twisted his grip and the bar came loose. He passed it over to Mallen then removed the other two, keeping one for himself and giving the other to Lila. Without any question or complaint, Lila got down on her knees and slid into the tunnel. Mallan went next, steadying his breath as they were immersed into darkness. 

“Hey, Mal,” Lila started. “I don’t suppose you want to manifest an eve right about now? Like fire, or maybe just the ability to glow in the dark?” 

“Afraid not.”

“I’ve told you,” Kass said. “Mal’s eve is that he doesn’t feel fear.”

“That’s not an eve, that’s psychological scarring. Something like that anyway.”

“I’m right here, guys…”

The good natured jabs didn’t really bother Mallan. Not much did. It was true that he didn’t feel emotions in the same way that everyone else seemed to. That being said, the fact that he had yet to develop and kind of eve at his age was something that played on his mind a lot. It wasn’t exactly uncommon, but it made life markedly harder.

Kass was able to control earth. At first he had just had a good sense of the land. Then he could move individual stones slightly. Now he could direct rock and dirt with ease. It was an ability with unlimited uses if you had the imagination. This power alone had helped the trio get to where they were today.

Just as Kass had said, the tight pipe opened into a wider tunnel that was knee high in slurry. Mallan took a flintbox from a pocket and lit a small lantern that hung from his belt. It didn’t do much to dispel the darkness. He glanced around through the gloom. 

“If I’m right, which I am, then down that way is the locked gate. There’s no way past it in here but they neglected that little hole. If this section of the sewer is the same as the outer city then there should be a way to come out right at the stadium,” Lila explained.

Kass picked up where she left off. “I spoke with old Gungil. He worked down here years ago and says the tunnels are a mess. The crater cut straight into pre-war basements and sewers. Some collapsed, others were joined to newer tunnels. Walking around the stadium, I’m pretty confident that there is a half collapsed pathway from the sewers into the stadium’s waterways. From there we sneak past one guard then find the small rain grate that looks into the arena.”

“Easy as that?”

“As easy as that.”

They moved through the sewers quickly, backtracking several times as they familiarised themselves with the layout. Under Kess’ guidance, it wasn’t long before they found themselves in a crumbling section of tunnel that looked to be long abandoned. It ended abruptly where a wall of rubble blocked the path.

Mallan watched as Kass scrambled up the rubble. The fickle light of the lantern barely reached the roof of the tunnel, leaving his friend obscured in darkness. They waited in silence for a moment until Kass skidded back down. 

“The rocks here are old. They’ve been under a lot of pressure. We’ll have to be careful. Stay back until I say.”

Kass approached the wall slower this time. He placed the palm of his hand on each rock for several seconds. 

“Here,” he muttered. His hand was resting on a large rock that was midway up the pile and rested on the right-hand wall. “This is the only rock here. If I can move it without displacing anything then we’re in luck.”

He took a deep breath, placing one hand on the rock in question and the other on the rubble beside it. There was a deep rumbling sound. The very walls of the tunnel shook. Dusty rained down on them. Neither Mallan or Lila moved an inch. They had complete faith in Kass.

Little by little, the rock edged its way out until it final tumbled down to land dangerously close to Mallan. Kass motioned them through the hole. As Mallan passed he could see the strain on his friend’s face. Sweat was rolling down his face. No sooner had they passed him, Kass shuffled through the gap then collapsed into the grime.

“You okay?” Mallan asked as he helped Kass back up.

“Yeah, just took a little more effort than I thought. Holding that much weight in place is apparently not easy. I had to shift some around a little too to prevent it all falling the moment I let go. Not too bad an effort, if I do say so myself.”

The section of tunnel here extended a few dozen yards then stopped. There was only a single passageway leading from it, but unlike the usual mossy stone, the archway around the passage looked much newer and was in the simplistic style of postwar construction.

Lila approached the door slowly. “That’s got to be the way under the stadium. No talking from here. Keep your eyes open for guards. Mal, shutter the light.”

Mallan snuffed out the flame, plunging the dank space into darkness once more. Kass took the lead while Lila motioned that she’d cover the back. Mallan found himself in the centre of the small group without any real role to play. That was how things usually worked out. 

They crept along as quietly as they could, although any attempt at stealth was ruined by the splashing of water that accompanied their every step. The poorly made cement that marked buildings constructed over the last century was not made for constant water exposure. A spiderweb of cracks ran along every surface. The lightest of touches sent chunks tumbling noisily into the water.

The waterways snaked and branched off without rhyme or reason. Even Kass’ sense for the earth was having trouble choosing the right paths to take. He came to a stop and held up a hand for them to be quiet. On the edge of hearing was the distinctive sloshing of footsteps. 

“We won’t be able to sneak past any guards with this water,” Kass whispered. 

“I’m not turning back.” Lila hissed. “Take him out.”

“You sure?”

She nodded decisively. Kass frowned but did as she asked. He took a stone from his pocket and waited as the approaching splashes grew louder. A shape emerged from around a corner surrounded by an aura of light. It was the shadow of a man. Then a stout man in the basic grey uniform of the city guard followed. In one hand he held a lantern, in the other a small pistol. A metal baton also hung from his waist. The man noticed them immediately. Without hesitating he raised the gun. 

“Hands up! What the snazz are you doing down ‘ere?”

All three of them obeyed, lifting their hands above their head. Mallan noticed that the stone floated out of sight behind Kass’s back. The boy’s finger twitched slightly and the stone shot forward. It kept low, skimming over the water until it visibly turned and dove upwards, curving at the last second to slam into the guard’s temple. He made a sharp grunt then fell to the floor.

“Quick! The match is going to start any second!” Lila said, completely unperturbed by the violent crime they had just participated in. She was already jogging past the guard.

Mallan and Kass followed, Mallan pausing long enough to position the guard with his face out of the water. They now sprinted through the tunnels until a new sound started to reverberate through the stone. 

At first it was a physical force, something felt rather than heard. Then it became a low rumble that rose in intensity until it became the clear sound of thousands of voices cheering in unison. Up ahead a beam of light cut through the mirk. The children clustered around it like their savior. 

Mallan allowed Lila and Kass to press their heads up close to the small grate that was set in the wall at the perfect height for them to see through. He positioned himself so he could see over Lila’s shoulder.

The light resolved itself into a desert landscape. His view was limited but Mallan could see the sandy ground and large boulders that dotted the circular space. Beyond the sand rose a large wall that transitioned into a series of steps that sloped at a gentle angle outwards. People stood tightly packed along the steps, all of them focussed entirely on the arena below them. 

“We made it in time!” Lila laughed triumphantly. “We finally get to see them.”

A horn blew and the cheers of the crowd became even wilder. A mechanically enhanced voice cut across the noise.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the time has finally arrived, and boy are you in for a show tonight. I want you to offer a warm welcome to the heroes that have graced us with their presence here. We have two esteemed teams ready to put their skills to the test for your entertainment!”

The cheers were near deafening now. Some unseen signal called the crowd to be calm. The voice continued.

“Our first team today are known far and wide across the world yet hail from this fair land! This year marks their ninth as Reclaimers. With six stadium wins, nineteen migrations and a total of over twenty six thousand logged hours in the Scorch, this is a team with a proven pedigree. Please show some love to the Scarlet Arrows!”

The crowd was going wild. Mallan bobbed and twisted his head to try and see the entrance way but was blocked by one of the boulders. Then three figures walked into the centre of the arena, soaking in the adoration of the people. They each wore red bodysuits beneath chainmail and leather armour. An assortment of pouches and items hung from wide belts. It was only the weapons that were different, one having some kind of metal crossbow, another a sword and shield, while the third had what looked like a flamethrower.

“You see their arms?” Lila asked. “Those metal things have arrows in them. The hooded guy with the crossbow is Robin. Say’s he’s Robin Hood reborn. With his eve he could be. He controls localised air currents and can direct things like arrows with ease. He’ll stay back and try to keep the other team pinned while the other two move to flank. I guarantee it.”

The Scarlet Arrows returned to their side of the stadium as the announcer continued.

“Our second team are relative newcomers to the Reclaimer scene but have left a big impression in that time. Travelling here from across the Ship Graveyard, these three have racked up three migrations, twelve thousand hours in the Scorch and two stadium wins. This will be their first appearance in Sherham’s Champion Stadium so give them a warm welcome. I present to you, The Future Rains!”

Mallan could see the entrance at this end. He saw another three Reclaimers enter the arena to the roar of the crowd. These three were very different from the last team. Each wore different armour without any central theme flowing through them. At their centre was a shorter man with two pistols and a large coat. Flanking him was a large woman with an equally large hammer, and a tall man who didn’t seem to be carrying any weapon at all.

“They’ve won,” Lila announced confidently.

“You think?” Kass said. “The Arrows have way more experience. They’ve mastered their technique.”

“That’s why they’ll lose,” Lila answered. “They do what they do well. And everyone knows it.”

Mallan considered this. “So you think these Future Rains know what to expect and will have a plan? But doesn’t everyone know what the Arrows do? Why would this be different?”

“Look at them. They’re all kinda ugly, right? They aren’t here for fame. They aren’t here on good will or glamour. Their stats say the same. In two years they’ve done as much as the Arrows did in five. Every story I hear about them in battle is different too. They adapt and they survive. The Arrows are here to put on a show, the rains are here to win.”

“Is everybody ready!” shouted the mechanical voice. “Then let the match begin!”

A screeching airhorn sounded then bolts began to fly. Mallan watched as a dozen bolts wove and weaved through the air, approaching the Future Rains from several directions. He didn’t have Lila’s faith in the team but he did have faith in Lila. The match was now a game of seeing not if the underdog team would win but how.

Flames erupted from the tall man’s hands, incinerating the bolts in a heartbeat. More bolts followed though before the man could ready another blast of fire. The woman, Jayne Farstride as Mallan recalled, had already started a direct charge forward. The bolts ignored her and aimed straight for the shorter man, Lampron. He didn’t move. The bolts passed straight through him without the slightest flicker of emotion crossing his face. There was no blood, nor any holes in his clothes or flesh. 

Lampron stepped forward, unfazed by the attack, and sedately approached the closest boulder as the taller man, Tim Tallow, strode towards the opposing team with fire streaming out from his hands.

“That’s a hell of an eve,” Kass said admiringly, his eyes following the waves of flame.

“Yours is better,” Lila answered without looking away from the battle. 

The two teams exchanged attacks in a terrifying display of power. It was obvious why these men and women were regarded with such reverence. The Reclaimers were the best of the best, the strongest humans that put their lives on the line to protect any that needed to cross the ashes between cities. Their reputation had made them into celebrities, and now many worked as much for entertainment as they did for utility. 

Mal watched the two teams clash. It was the first time he had seen Reclaimers in action, and the sight filled him with amazement and doubt. He couldn’t ever imagine being at that level. 

Then, just as Lila had predicted, The Future Rains came out on top. The stadium erupted with cheers as the match ended. Lila laughed derisively. “I expected better from them. Both teams, to be honest.”

“Are you disappointed?” Mal asked her.

“No. It just added to my excitement. These guys are considered some of the best in the trade yet they fought like that? Hah! That just proves that we’re going to be the best Reclaimers ever!” Lila grabbed Mallan and Kass’ hand without looking away from the stadium. “Just you wait. In a few years we’ll be out on that sand, all of those cheers and chants aimed at us. We’re gonna shoot straight to the top. Believe it!”

Next – Chapter 2.

Chapter 1. (Forge of Icarus)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

“If everyone isn’t in a line by the time I cross the threshold then there’ll be no dinner for the lot of you.”

There was a bustle of feet as two dozen children ran through the drab corridor to line up before a simple stone fireplace. Their clothes were well worn and they all bore a uniform haircut regardless of their age or gender. At a glance they looked to vary in age from three to twelve, though all of them looked underfed and overworked. Their eyes weren’t the mature eyes of adults or the haunted eyes of soldiers, but neither were they the eyes of average children.

A nervous ripple ran through the line. Every head swiveled to the doorway where a tall man stood beside the rat-featured speaker who called himself the Orphan Master. The master’s given name of Ral Colcot was far less grand and suited him much better. The children examined the stranger with every inch of scrutiny that he gave to them.

“Listen well,” the orphan master announced. “This is Sir Theaspin Rothsgrave and he has graced us with his presence. None of you deserve to even share the same air as such an esteemed lord but he has gifted you all with just such an opportunity. Muster what dignity you have and obey his every word. Is this understood?”

“Yes, Master!” the children answered as one.

Rothsgrave sneered. This ‘orphan master’ seemed to derive great pleasure from his complete command of these children. He was lanky with thinning hair and sunken eyes. A failure of a man who took out his frustrations on the one group of people who couldn’t resist him. Pathetic. Rothsgrave took a step forward, his presence filling the room. Continue reading →

Chapter 1. (Reflections of the Blood Moon)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

A gust of wind blew down an old dirt road. Dust billowed and rose like a dark cloud, obscuring the town ahead for a few brief seconds. Konta Farshore shielded his eyes with a pale hand. Each fleck of grit that hit him stung his near translucent skin. He didn’t breath. Any irritation on his lungs would have caused hours of painful coughing.

The wind faded. Konta waited a few moments then lowered his hand and resumed his breathing. If he’d known the weather would pick up like this he would have stayed at home. He shifted position on his seat. Bruises were already forming where the jostling of the cart had knocked him against the wood. 

   He yawned then set his eyes on the sparkling blue horizon. The Eastern Ocean extended out into infinity, consuming the world beyond the cluster of brightly coloured buildings that formed the port town of Blencca. It was a large settlement that was fuelled on an economy of fish and little else. Despite this, it was the centrepoint of the area and drew in the residents from the hundreds of farms that dotted the plains around it.

Konta and his family were one such group. They had just had the first harvest of the year and were making the trip down to the merchant quarter to sell that which they didn’t need. Tannar Farshore, Konta’s father, sat beside him with reins in hand, urging the old horse onwards at a gentle pace. Two of Konta’s brothers, Jakks and Samil, walked either side of the cart. Jakks walked hand in hand with a young woman bearing the unmistakable bulge of heavy pregnancy.

Konta was the youngest of seven children. He had four brothers and two sisters, all of who might as well have been another race entirely. Looking down at his eldest brother he couldn’t see any similarity that was reflected in himself. Jakks, and all of the men in the family, were tall with broad shoulders and tanned skin. Coarse hands and muscular arms were the hallmarks of all the local farm workers. He was so strong and confident. Continue reading →

Blood, Blades and Bacon is available now!

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

My new book, Blood, Blades and Bacon, (book 1 in the Thorns of the Shadow series), is now available to buy. Grab a paperback or kindle version from Amazon.

KT and Kai Redthorn are both failing at life in their own ways. Childhood has ended, dreams have fallen to the wayside, and mind-numbing jobs are all that awaits. KT is driven to succeed but has still fallen short, while Kai has found that his skills are better suited to drinking and flirting. Left to dwell on the future at their aunt’s Highland lodge over the New Year, it’s set to be an uneventful family gathering. That is, until their perception of reality is shattered when an encounter with a succubus throws the twins into a secret society of monsters and magic.

Standing between them and certain death are an eccentric monster hunter called Déaþscúa and their own determination to embrace this new world. Their family is held captive by a cannibalistic witch, so the twins must fight against the clock to save them. Déaþscúa has his own battles to fight, though, and his own secrets to keep. Can the twins stay afloat through the unearthly dangers that surround them, or will Déaþscúa’s private war pull them under completely?

Thorns of the Shadow: Blood, Blades and Bacon is a fast-paced action fantasy with a quirky mix of off-the-wall humour and bloody battles that will leave you thirsty for more.

21617686_834737976708787_4796379943517869168_n

In Death’s Shadow – 1st Chapter (2017)

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

It has been over a year since I first posted an extract of my current story. In that time I have learned a lot about editing and actually pushed to get reader feedback so now have a far more polished version of the story. This polishing isn’t fully finished yet but I figured that I would show how far the story has come by posting the 1st chapter of its current draft.

The original version can be found here.

Once again, any feedback is welcome. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

A dark shape flew through heavy clouds far above Abernethy Forest. In a land of ancient myths such as Scotland, where mountains vie with dark forests while snow and cold winds dominate the rugged landscape, it was all too easy to see contorted faces staring down from the icy heavens. The shape disappeared into the churning clouds before erupting out from the silently screaming mouth of an angry god to swoop down low above the treetops. Leathery wings glided serenely for several seconds then lunged into the greenery to vanish from sight completely.

A short distance from here was a large wooden building known as Aife’s Lodge. It had once been a private manor house but had been converted into a hotel in recent years. Fitting with its remote location it was the kind of place where people went to escape society completely.

The clouds parted just enough to reveal the moon through the black veiled sky. A warped howl echoed through the snowy night. Nobody heard it over the festivities though. It was just before midnight on New Year’s Eve and the few guests of Aife’s Lodge had forgone seclusion and gathered together in the main hall to celebrate. A stone fireplace dominated one wall while numerous stuffed animals showcased the local fauna. Long dead deer and wildcats seemed almost alive in the flickering light. The guests mingled awkwardly in groups of two or three, the conversations gradually becoming less passive as the alcohol flowed. Continue reading →