Short Stories in Collections

I have two short stories in the two current collections by Cake and Writing Desk

‘Interview with the Banshee’ in Of Orphans and Adventures 

“Tore the high priest Reft O’Dern’s arms off?”
“I broke them. But only in a few places.”
“Stole the emerald eye of Lord Gor-Al-Thuz’s dread golem?”
“He had another one!”
“Slaughtered the Hundred Good Men of Tarn?”
“There were less than a bloody hundred!”
“Stole the wife of the warlock Erizgrah?”
“It weren’t stealing as such…” the goliath woman smirked darkly. “And she never asked to go home after.”
Fenly nodded and went back to his quill scratching. “And where is she now?”Raiza looked at him like he’d just asked her to write an epic love poem in Celestial. Something he could do near enough in his sleep, but which he very much doubted the infamous Raiza Deathrattle could ever put her mind to! Fenly knew that she’d never thought on Erizgrah’s wife after whatever intimate ‘use’… he shuddered and tried to pass it off for a cold induced shiver… she’d put the poor woman to.
“Waddya mean?”
“After you ran off with her… where did you leave her?”
“Dunno. About… somewhere.” Still standing, Raiza nonchalantly leant on the handle of her evilly spiked Warhammer. In the flickering fire-light the jagged points were all the more vicious.
“Is that the Screaming Warhammer?”
“Yeah. You want to see it up close?” She lazily swung the weapon in a loop or two towards the flames, and he found himself drawing back against the cave wall as the low whispers of the air passing through its spikes became low moans, verging on the hideous screams that the elf had long heard about…

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‘Stolen Time’ in The Between…

“A very good evening to you, Captain Ryl.”
She sounded casual, acting as though it was perfectly natural to be greeting him convivially while half in and half out of a window, six floors up.
“Melirri” He stood in the doorway but made no attempt to charge across the fine bedroom and to grab for her, “Nice place you have here.”
“Its good enough, but I find it a little chilly.” Her long fingers gestured, shaping beautiful golden lights and glyphs in the midst of the air. An invisible shape passed him, just disturbing the air, and pushed the door closed behind him. A magical hand, an old trick of hers that he remembered well. He could have drawn his sword, but instead, he looked closer at her, making a judgement. She was wearing bright yellow silk tonight, a shift with the thinnest of straps that barely covered her modesty, the lengths of it swirling over some costly leather trousers that’d stop no blade at all. She had a glittering of rings on her fingers. Her usual amber and gold beaded chain lay on her hair, with its finely crafted beryl bee resting on her forehead. No sign of her hand crossbow. No obvious daggers, but that was no certainty that she was unarmed. And with her magic, she really never was. But the colours, the jewels glinting, her loose hair… had he actually disturbed her rest? Had he really caught her off guard this time? Melirri?!
She was off-guard, but she was recovering quickly. The mage hand was an old trick and not an especially hard one. But magic always threw Ryl. Unlike her, he was a solid, practical sort, and magic was just too strange for his mind. Solid? He damned near blocked the door frame he’d suddenly appeared in! Melirri’s eyes traced over the Captain of the Guard’s shoulders and arms. Even hidden under chainmail they were impressive. He was so different now to the scrawny boy she’d known at Mother Mayla’s… she put such memories aside and concentrated on her current predicament. She could either fling herself out the window and get on with the inevitable chase across the rooftops… yet another chase with the Captain… or…
“I didn’t like the last poster.” She complained, pouting dramatically, playing a part.
“Fair enough. Our guardhouse sketcher’s not seen that many elves.” She watched his eyes as they first caught the bronze blush that spread on her cheeks before wandering to her blade-like ears. No, I don’t expect he has!
She tried to push away old angers and resentments. The other children at Mother Mayla’s hadn’t seen elves before either, and definitely not yellow skinned scruffy ones with odd golden eyes. Ryl hadn’t cared though…

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