fantasy-fiction

Tori gazed out on the calm Ancific Ocean across which, incredibly, she would be taking a coach.

If Emrys was acting normally, like the typical self-gratifying narcissist he was, then it would have been easier to keep him in that special category of potential enemy.

No queen has had to fight an insurrection in half a millennium. And she takes it personally. But it was her fate to be a good queen that followed four poor ones

The forest smelled fresh here and the ground was soft, carpeted by leaves and fallen pine needles. It was tranquil and enchanting in its way. Ursula was lovely; she just wasn__ a naiad. Her hair was dark and sleek, and so long it fell below her waist, swaying this way and that as she walked. Her eyes were a piercing blue, always aware, and she had a keen eye for the smallest details. She may have been a merchant, but she__ also trained as an archer for the city militia, and she could easily spot movement at a distance. That was her intention now; it was just a different kind of movement.

The prince is blind to subtlety. He knows his own ignorance and stupidity so is ever suspicious of others, especially when they say things he does not understand. One cannot negotiate when dragged in the wake of emotions.

Shelby looked over to see Andrew silently mouthing syllables to himself, as if he were part of an ecstatic rite. He grinned as he bit fricatives and tongued plosives. He was tasting English origins, mulling over words ripped from bronze-smelling hoards. Words that had slept beneath centuries of dust and small rain, sharp and bright as scale mail. Poetry had never moved her quite so much as drama. She loved the shock of colloquy, the beat and treble of words doing what they had to on stage. Andrew preferred the echo of poems buried alive.

Lost_What if all of the folklore elements your grandfather spoke of__ctually were?What if there was only a paper thin separation of less than one degree?Who would save you? How would you survive?

Be satisfied in your ignorance for there is no safety in knowledge.

Living with thieves, it would be a matter of moments before they picked the lock, but she certainly was not going to make it easy for them.

Colm was a good sleeper. But if there was one sound at night that should wake him, and any sensible man who loved his family, it was the barking of dogs. The noise was coming from the village. It was not just one or two dogs, but surely every mangy cur and mongrel that lived there. Something was abroad, and in this time of the dying of the year, when fell creatures roamed the countryside as hunger began to bite, it was not likely to be anything good.

Would you like me to put you out of your misery, before I put you out of your misery?

If the ending is not happy, the story is not finished.

I already feel like the Girl Who Lived around here.

Draw a cart with horses, or push it down a hill...Both move the cart, aye?_ -- Daerwin of Brannagh

Winter Liar" by Liam Doyle the IncubusWhat come once here will never come again,no matter monument nor memory;all sunwarmed green succumbs to winter's wind.And you, my love, were also my best friend,and had your life to live. The tragedywas not just my youth's recklessness, althoughI trusted much to impulse, whim, freedom,a destiny excluding doom. Frankly,youth can be our insanity. But now I'm curedof that fever, although the price was high;and chilly April wind can only sighat my regrets, yet sun will brighten wind so,one knows that soon green stirs, and wild bees hum.And summer once more will make winter liar,but I won't warm. You're all I'll ever desire.

I don__ think I would be very good at killing,_ Merla said.__o be honest, nor do I. But you may have to.__ disturbing thought came to Merla. __aye,_ she asked, __ave you killed a person?__here was a moment__ silence. __et__ just say that I am familiar with the techniques.

But for today, my friends, we have the Sword and the Promise," Creedus said. With the fire again rising, he bent low to the ground and grabbed the sword that had been lying at his feet. As he pulled it slowly from its scabbard, it sang softly. With a light all of its own, an emblem at the base of the blade shone most brilliantly of all: Amilum.

Now it was Arla__ turn for astonishment. The Boy gave Perry a wide smile as he shook his hand. __ou know the land you say? Up along the promontory? Good. Well, perhaps we should take you along. Do you have a horse?___o_ Perry replied. __ut I can ride.___rla is quite slight,_ the Boy said. __erhaps she can ride the packhorse with our gear.__rla gave a strangled gasp, and the Boy grinned at her. She realised he was joking, and breathed a sigh of relief. But she did not trust herself to speak. What did Branguin think he was doing?