Very happy to announce that my story, The Deaths of All We Are, is live at Heroic Fantasy Quarterly. Going back to my love of epic fantasy, this is one of my favorite short stories - a retelling of the Arthurian romance "The Lady of the Fountain" from the Mabinogion, a collection of Welch stories from the 12-13th century.
With permission of the artist, the artwork above is from from the Gwyn Jones, Thomas Jones translation, The Mabinogion, beautifully illustrated by Alan Lee, and containing a translation of the original story, "The Lady of the Fountain."
A preview of The Deaths of All We Are:
Waking before dawn, I shift under the blankets that lie heavy on me; or is it soil covering me, nesting me deep and safe?
The stone floor beneath the rushes leeches cold into my bare feet when I rise. Pouring from a pitcher, I dip my cupped hands into the icy water, but pause partway to my face. The Great Mother Earth exhales deeply, a sigh of change. Her shifting pulls me entirely into Her world, the world of woods and streams. It must be a large change coming; Her beats of time tick too slowly to consider the small threats, a season of flood or fire. I shift with Her, like a sailor on a rough sea, one foot on the flagstones, one on the floor of Her autumn forest, and then I am wholly of the castle world again.
I finish readying myself so I may be there before my lady rises, to be on hand to dress her, to tell cook what she desires to break her fast.
Stepping into the hall, her husband emerges also from his bedchamber, which lies next to my lady’s own. He is fearsome in his black armor. His dark eyes — all that show beneath the raised visor — sweep past me. He is unaware of what I have felt. Did he know, he wouldn’t care; he is attuned only to threats to his wife’s lands.
The Earth shifts minutely as he pushes past, his armor brushing my arm, his musky scent filling my nostrils — a natural scent, more pleasing than the cloying perfumes of my lady.
My lungs full of him, I see a wolf dead in the woods, little more than a pelt. Sharp teeth have been bared by the drying skin of the lips. The bones of the chest show through great rents in the desiccating skin. Death. It comes for this Black Knight soon. I wonder if my lady will mourn him.
*********
You can read the rest of the story for free at:
http://www.heroicfantasyquarterly.com/?p=2221
Waking before dawn, I shift under the blankets that lie heavy on me; or is it soil covering me, nesting me deep and safe?
The stone floor beneath the rushes leeches cold into my bare feet when I rise. Pouring from a pitcher, I dip my cupped hands into the icy water, but pause partway to my face. The Great Mother Earth exhales deeply, a sigh of change. Her shifting pulls me entirely into Her world, the world of woods and streams. It must be a large change coming; Her beats of time tick too slowly to consider the small threats, a season of flood or fire. I shift with Her, like a sailor on a rough sea, one foot on the flagstones, one on the floor of Her autumn forest, and then I am wholly of the castle world again.
I finish readying myself so I may be there before my lady rises, to be on hand to dress her, to tell cook what she desires to break her fast.
Stepping into the hall, her husband emerges also from his bedchamber, which lies next to my lady’s own. He is fearsome in his black armor. His dark eyes — all that show beneath the raised visor — sweep past me. He is unaware of what I have felt. Did he know, he wouldn’t care; he is attuned only to threats to his wife’s lands.
The Earth shifts minutely as he pushes past, his armor brushing my arm, his musky scent filling my nostrils — a natural scent, more pleasing than the cloying perfumes of my lady.
My lungs full of him, I see a wolf dead in the woods, little more than a pelt. Sharp teeth have been bared by the drying skin of the lips. The bones of the chest show through great rents in the desiccating skin. Death. It comes for this Black Knight soon. I wonder if my lady will mourn him.
*********
You can read the rest of the story for free at:
http://www.heroicfantasyquarterly.com/?p=2221
HFQ is a long-standing online magazine about to enter their 8th year in publishing. If you enjoy the story or the magazine, maybe you would consider supporting their Kickstarter to put out a Best of HFQ, V2 or support it by helping to spread the word.
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