Valley Run

He was making good time on his Sunday morning run, Gerald thought as he jogged along the wet pavement of the quiet country road.

It was a damp morning after the night rain which made for a pretty and peaceful jog in the light mists that hung low in the air amongst the trees of the woods that lines either side of the straight-running road.

Only a handful of vehicles had passed by so far, so he essentially had had the road to himself, which was one of the perks of living so far outside of town; quiet and private.

As he came down the side of a large dip in the road, a bunny hopped quickly across the lanes, diving down the grassy ditch before heading into the thick covering of trees to Gerald's right.

He passed by where the bunny had disappeared into the woods and looked down into the valley that led into a streaming brook at the basin. He slowed to see if he could spot the little bunny rabbit but it had already vanished in the camouflage of the foliage and shadows that filled the fairy-tale scene below.

Moving over to the narrow shoulder of the road, he peered down for a moment, but it only took that moment to lose his footing on the loose gravel and slip, sliding down the slick, wet grass of the hill, which gave no purchase to slow him down.

He kept sliding and rolling down the decline and into the dim light of the forest valley.

When he finally came to a stop he was laying on his back looking up at the canopy of pine and cedar trees that reached up and blotted the grey morning sky so that only slim cracks of light made it through to give the forest floor a diffused illuminance.

He sat up and brushed the clinging leaves and grass and twigs that had collected over his arms and legs on his chaotic trip down.

Wet and embarrassed, he surveyed the peaceful scene he had abruptly crashed into. The babbling stream to his left continued on its merry way, undisturbed by his arrival.

Birds chirped their songs high up on the tree branches and for a long moment Gerald just sat back and took in the serenity of the nature surrounding him; calming his breathing to match the soft breeze that moved through the leaves above.

Even though it had been a painful way to go, he was almost glad he had taken the fall; it had allowed him to discover this hidden little oasis he would not have found if...

Across the brook Gerald caught sight of a small figure standing on a tree stump looking directly at him.

It was what looked to be a traditional garden gnome one would find nestled in any number of backyard flowerbeds.

The pointed red capped little chap, who stood no taller than Gerald's knee, wore a grey beard down to its chest that framed the rolly polly features of their face. A blue short-sleeved shirt with brown suspendered trousers and little black leather boots completed the ensemble.

The two stared at one another in the middle of the forest tableau; Gerald with astonishment whilst the gnome's rosy cheeks plumped as they smiled quite friendly, they glistening black eyes shining happily.

Not wanting to make any sudden movements to scare the little creature off, Gerald slowly lifted his hand from where it was propping him up and waved in a neighbourly fashion. He tried to find his voice to say hello but before he could begin to speak, the gnome held up a stubby finger to their lips and silently shushed him.

They then pointed their finger up and around, motioning that perhaps they were not alone in these woods.

Gerald's eyes followed to where their little finger pointed to see if he could catch a glimpse at any other hidden creatures of the forest but none presented themselves, just the lone gnome standing before him on its well-worn stump.

Bringing his eyes back to the storybook character made manifest before him, Gerald saw the gnome then move its arm downwards slowly, until pointing their chubby digit towards their rear.

Cupping its ear with its other hand as if they wanted Gerald to listen harder. They stood in stark silence, while Gerald obediently strained to head whatever it was they wanted him to hear.

The serenity of the quiet sounds of nature was then shattered by the single loudest fart Gerald had ever heard.

Disgusted surprise plastered itself across Gerald's face as the rude gnome giggled at their own immature little joke. 

Before Gerald could say an admonishing word, with a wink and a coy bop of its finger along the side of their red little nose, the farting forest gnome twinkled out of existence before Gerald's very eyes.

Leaving only the musty stench of its gaseous blast.

 

David the Mole

David the mole did not have many friends, and those that he did have were more just work acquaintances from his job in the tunnels rather than close comrades.

They were friendly towards him and would invite him out to drink with them at the watering hole just passed the farmer's field after their shifts ended but he would always politely decline and head home to his little burrow on the outskirts of the mole underground town.

Too busy working on his project, he would tell them, but never elaborate further.

So while his coworkers would go off to enjoy themselves, David the mole would go back to his mole hole alone and work on his mysterious plans into the wee hours of the day, before finally getting some rest and then heading back out in the early hours of the night to begin his shift in the tunnels.

The mole council had decreed it was too dangerous to expand the Mole Town tunnels any further to the west for fear of being discovered by the humans that dwelt there in the city at the base of the mountain.

Thus the tunnelling teams had to burrow through the rocky grounds to the east; which was slow and hard going due to the big boulders they would encounter, causing them to either have to find a way around or backtrack to start an entirely new tunnel.

Needless to say, it was an arduous task and many a mole had been injured, and even a few had lost their lives when a tunnel had collapsed when of a patch of loose boulders got hit upon.

Such losses were tragic, but the devastation that the moles would suffer if discovered by the humans would be even more catastrophic the council had ruled.

So the tunnel teams toiled on through the perilous nights to ensure Mole Town would stay secret and safe as more and more space was needed for all the new moles moving in from the dangerous wilds beyond the farmer's field.

But David the mole had thought of a better way, and it was to that end that he spent his many tireless days planning and calculating.

Until finally it was time to put his plans in motion.

In the early mornings after his shift tunnelling eastward, while the others headed for their post-work wind down, David the mole would go to the west end tunnel and begin burrowing in secret.

Towards the mountain base in the west he would dig alone into the late day until he was almost too exhausted to make it back to his burrow and pass out for a few precious hours of sleep before having to get up and dig at his actual job.

For months he went on like this, until his coworkers grew concerned he was becoming ill due to his weight loss and gaunt visage. But he would just say he had not been sleeping well and trundle off to his mysterious project.

After a couple of these explanations his tunnelling team members decided to see what was really happening.

Keeping their distance, they followed David after work one morning, through the maze of tunnels westward, until they reached what should have been the end of the boundary of Mole Town, yet there was a new tunnel that continued on under the forbidden human realm.

None of them had ever ventured this far west, burrowing under the human city above, but their curiosity and concern for what their enigmatic friend was up to drew them further on.

Up ahead they saw David round a bend and disappear.

Cautiously, they crept around the corner of the tight tunnel and were caught by surprise as they tumbled into a vast empty void that sparkled with refracted light coming from the exposed gem stones that littered the high domed ceiling of the space.

They all rolled out of the tunnel that dropped a ways down to the dirt floor of the shimmery arena.

David turned from his spot higher up the far slope in surprise himself at seeing his coworkers taking in the awe inspiring space.

Scurrying over to the huddled group, David tried to usher them back out the tunnel from where they had all come, but a rumbling had already begun to shake the subterranean room.

The group stopped stubbornly and refused to move until David explained what he was up to.

There was no time, he explained as the shaking intensified. The mountain, he shrieked, the mountain was coming down!

A huge piece of the rocky ceiling came crashing down beside them, shattering into bits and that was enough to get the group scrambling for the tunnel, with David leading the way.

Once in the cramped tunnel the team started to head back the way they had come, but David took them straight into a secret off-shoot tunnel that began to incline through the darkness immediately.

Up and up they climbed as the entire ground around them threatened to collapse and swallow them into the earth.

Finally they emerged into the bright midday air, momentarily blinding them all as the dust and dirt shot out of the tunnel behind them in a great gust air.

Once they donned their tinted work goggles in order to see in the intense light of the sun, the moles looked around at where they had escaped to.

With astonishment, they surveyed the area where the mountain had been just moments before, and the rubble pile that was previously the human city.

As the dust and debris settled they could see that there was nothing left of either the city or the mountain, only a fresh new pile of dirt, for as far as they could see to the west.

The tunnel team looked back at David who was fidgeting awkwardly under their gazes.

With a triumphant cheer, they all rushed to him and lifted him up onto their furry shoulders.

He had done it; quiet, shy David the mole had brought down the mountain and changed everything.

Now began the rise of the Empire of the Moles.

Cloud WIzard

Up through the clouds I rose; looking down passed my feet the hundreds of meters below to where I had, until a few moments ago, been standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street.

My stomach turned as I continued to ascend into the cold, crisp air where the wet wisps of clouds began to gather around me, obscuring the world far below.

Through my confusion I could hear a distant voice, booming yet froggy, seemingly uttering an incantation in a kind of a singsong cadence.

I drifted dreamily through the misty clouds, closer to the voice, spouting in unfamiliar languages as I drew nearer.

Breaking thorough the thick white cover, I came into an opening within the clouds, like a huge pocket hidden inside, and in the middle of the spherical area stood a bearded old wizard, wearing his tall wizard's hat and long wizard's robes.

The wizard waved his wooden wizard's staff back and forth as he continued his enchantment and I floated over to where he stood.

Landing tentatively upon the surprisingly springy cloud floor, I steadied myself as the dizziness from the height wore off unnaturally quickly.

The wizard went silent and regarded me; taking in my regular street clothes with his wizened-eyed gaze.

After an awkward moment of staring in silence I ventured a greeting.

"Hello..." I began.

"I have brought you here!" the wizard's voice boomed loudly and thunder rumbled through the clouds.

"Ahem," he adjusted his voice before continuing, seemingly as surprised at his volume as I was.

"I have brought you here to aid me in a task, mortal." He stated in his quieter, yet still deep, froggy voice.

"Okay, but..." I began again before the wizard cut me off, again.

"For many ages I have been exiled to this realm of clouds," he explained, "by my nemesis, the vile dark wizard, Hemel!"

He spat with rage as he said the name of his enemy; his eyes now filled with wild anger.

"The miscreant became jealous of the fact that I had gained the affections of a fair and powerful witch, and so he flung me here to the far reaches of the realm of winds and sky with an underhanded spell."

I listened to his tale with half interest as I was also concerned with not sinking into the clouds so I did not catch all of the sorted details of the wizard affair, until he got to the point of levitating me up here.

"And so, it is to you I ask for aid." The wizard addressed me directly again. "For I need a mortal's help in collecting the final item necessary to counter the dubious spell and allow me to return down to the surface below."

"Will you help me, my mortal friend? Will you be my champion and quest to retrieve what I need to complete my spell?"

The wizard's voice was regal and commanding, yet there was a hint of a desperate plea within, and I felt compelled to help the old fella out, despite being magically whisked up into the clouds by him, without my consent.

"Yeah, sure," I answered. "What do you need?"

The old wizard practically did a jig right then and there as he took hold of my shoulders and laughed gleefully.

"Oh, ho!" He exclaimed with a mirthful smile. "Thank you, my friend! Thank you!"

He spun around in kind of manic pacing and began to go through the planned spell excitedly, most of which was a mumbled mess in my ears.

"I have almost everything I need," he finished. "Yet, the last ingredient is most difficult, for I cannot simply harvest or cultivate it from up here on high. It maybe difficult to find, for in my time it was only found in the remote parts of an unexplored land, full with dangerous beasts and harsh landscapes."

I began to regret agreeing to help out so quickly as he listed all of the hazards that might be involved in retrieving this mysterious ingredient, until finally he said what the ingredient was and I balked in surprise.

"Wait," I interrupted his rambling explanations. "Do you just mean that sap they use for making chewing gum?"

The old wizard looked at me incredulously. "You know of the ancient Sapodilla tree?"

"Yeah, that's it!" I replied excitedly as the recollection of the name I had learned in high school science class. "They make gum with it. Here you go!"

I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out my packet of gum and handed it to the wizard.

"It's a little flattened because I was sitting on it, but will it do?"

The wizard took the slightly smashed pack of gum and read the ingredients on the back to himself.

"You mean," he started, a little dumbfounded. "You just carry around these little sticks made with the rare sap to chew on all day?"

"I don't know how rare it is, it might be synthetic nowadays, but yup. Is that it?" I asked helpfully.

"Y... yes, that's all..." He sounded deflated after his triumphant excitement of only a few moments ago.

"Alrighty, so can I go back down now?" I asked. "I was on my way to the movies and I should be able to still make it if you could zip me back down."

Still staring with astonishment at the pack of gum, the wizard didn't even look up as he waved his hand in my direction.

"Yes, of course, thank you again." He said distractedly as I was lifted once more into the air and began to descend back down through the clouds.

"Oh, wait!" I shouted to the shrinking form of the wizard as I was flung down from the cloud chamber. "Could you make me a magic potion!?"

My voice was lost in the rushing air as I zoomed back down to the Earth below.

Shoot, I thought to myself. I should have asked for it before giving him the gum. Oh well.

The Stone Wolves

Once there lived two strong and proud wolves that loved each other and made their way throughout the vast forests, hunting together as strong and proud wolves do.

Keeping to the deep woods, the wolves usually tried avoided people; not out of fear, but because people always made trouble, both for the animals of the land and for themselves.

Yet, on one hunt, their quarry brought them close to a modest hut, further into the forest than people usually made their homes. This was because the hut belonged to an old, cantankerous wizard who himself wanted to stay away from other people as well, for he found trouble for himself always.

And as of late, a pesky fox had been making trouble, poaching the wizard's chickens; so it was that when the wolves passed by the old sorcerer's wooded home, he was surveying the latest of the fox's crimes.

He spotted the grey and white wolves as they darted through the trees, stalking a majestic white-tailed buck that leapt and bounded ahead of them, and thought they had pilfered his meagre chickens.

His ire raised, the wizard took his anger out on the unlucky wolves, who would have been too proud to ever have resorted to robbing chickens from a pen, as it would be very low and undignified.

Casting a powerful spell with his crooked staff, the wizard blasted the wolves in a blinding flash of light that sent them both to the far ends of the immense forests, separated from each other; cursed to a life in the shadows.

For the spell the malevolent, old wizard had cast upon them would turn them to stone if they ever were touched with daylight again.

As soon as the wolves awoke from their abrupt journeys, they knew their fate in their hearts; if they felt the warmth of the sun's light again, they would be petrified.

Alone, with thousands of leagues between them, the wolves began to make their ways back to each other, for they also had a love in their hearts for one another that drew them together like a shimmering beacon.

Long, cold nights of travelling through the wild and thick woods they spent hunting alone for whatever creatures that were foolish enough to venture out in the darkness; fighting fierce battles with other predators that were the reason most of the animals feared to come out into the night, but their determination to get back to one another gave them the strength to persevere no matter the challenge.

Many moons passed and the two wolves had travelled such a long way, always careful to find shelter from the day before the sunrise broke through the forest's thick canopy of trees.

And though their arduous journeys were solitary and taxing, they never felt abandoned, for they could feel one another coming closer and closer as they made their way across the lands.

The pull of one another became stronger and stronger, until, after almost a year apart, the wolves could feel they were finally nearing the other and their hearts swelled with love.

All through the last night they both ran, the knowledge their lost love was close at hand drove them on, through their hunger, through their exhaustion; soon they would be together again and that was enough to keep them going.

Leaping and bounding up the last rocky slopes of the climbing forest ridge, they felt one another just over the next peak, and as they reached the crest of the hill, the trees abruptly ended and there was a clearing of sun-bleached stone ground.

Spotting one another breaking through the tree line, they sprinted with all their might towards each other; all thought of the early dawn light creeping over the horizon forgotten to their joy of reuniting with their lost love.

But their reunion was not meant to be, for as they came within a few last paces of one another, the sun's rays breached the horizon to their left and they stopped dead in their tracks; turned to solid stone by the wizard's curse.

So now it is that the stone wolves stand facing each other in the clearing at the top of the forest mound; strong and proud, they watch over one another, forevermore.

Gnorman

Once there was a gnome named Gnorman who lived near the edge of the woods that bordered the suburb, which in turn bordered the big, sprawling city to the south.

But Gnorman had never ventured that far away from his house; hidden within the exposed roots of an old oak tree, just a little ways in from where the backyards of the well-kept neighbourhoods touched the forest's edge.

He was content with staying in the woods of his ancestral home and did not feel the draw to the big city like so many of the other gnomes his age; roughly 108 years old in human years, yet still just a youngling in gnome society.

While others his age wanted to move to the big human city to fill one of the many positions there, Gnorman felt he had a duty to stay and take up his father's district; covering the subdivision that had been their family's responsibility for many hundreds of years, possibly since the very beginning of humans settling in the land so long ago.

Each day Gnorman would wake up before the sun rose, have a good breakfast of mushrooms and moss porridge and then head out to along the twisting and winding path to the old fishing pond that lay safely hidden away in the deep woods.

Setting up his rods, nets, baskets he would sit on the soft green grass that surrounded the glimmering waters of the pond as the morning sunlight filtered down in beams through the canopy of trees and cast his line in.

Soon he would start to drift off to sleep to the sounds of the birds chirping in the distance and the soft breeze blowing through the branches of the trees; until a bite would come on his line and startle him to alertness as he gripped his rod and began reeling in his catch.

It would not take long once the first bite was on the line before his baskets were full and he was at his limit for the day and it was time for him to head home with the afternoon sun hanging high in the sky above.

Once back in his cozy little tree home, Gnorman would prepare all of that day's catch for that night's outing and after a tasty lunch, lay down for a nap before heading out again once the sun set and darkness blanketed the night sky.

Heading out under the cover of night, Gnorman headed out toward the houses of the suburb, lit by the street lights lining the roads in the front, yet the darkened back yards still made it easy for the little gnome to approach unseen with his knapsack full upon his back.

Slipping in to each house by the little nooks and crannies that the humans failed to pay attention to, he would make his way to the bedrooms of the sleeping children, dig into his sack and sprinkle the good dreams he had brought to put into their slumbering minds.

It filled him with a great sense of pride to know that he was tasked with bringing all the children of this subdivision their happiest of childhood dreams from the magical pond of wishes back in the forest.

He smiled as a child he had just sprinkled a dream of flying through space in a cartoon rocket ship on grinned in their sleep, but then a movement in the corner made him frown and stare into the shadows there.

From the dark of the corner, two red glowing eyes appeared and were joined by a crooked, toothy grin. Gnorman gave a little growl as a dark gnome stepped out of the shadows with its own sack full on its back.

Stalking around the room, the two little gnomes circled each other as Gnorman tried to keep the dark gnome away from the still sleeping child.

"You get out of here, Ggordon!" Gnorman hissed in a whisper. "I've already given the child their dream for the night; they don't need you mucking it up with your rotten ones. Now get!"

Gnorman lunged at Ggordon but the other gnome did not flinch, only smiled mischievously and tried to edge his way closer to the child's bed; always keeping his eyes on Gnorman.

"I've just as much right to do my job as you do." Ggordon croaked hoarsely. "Gotta have some bad dreams too, ya know." He said as he tried to jump up on the end of the bed, but Gnorman pulled him down.

"Not your brand of bad dreams." Gnorman whispered loudly as he dragged Ggordon back down and pushed him towards the window. "I know you've been putting a little extra darkness in those dreams of yours, kids ain't supposed to be havin' those kinda nightmares yet."

With a sweep of his leg, Gnorman kicked Ggordon in the rear as the dark gnome growled and rounded back to tackle him.

The two pint-sized gnomes rolled around on the floor of the moonlit room, gnashing and clawing at each other trying to get the upper hand, until they hit into one of the play table chairs and knocked it over with a thud.

Both gnomes froze and looked over to where the child lay in their bed and saw their eyes fluttering open; woken from the noise of their scuffle.

Forgetting their scrap, the two gnomes scrambled for the windows on the opposite walls from each other, leading out to the east and west sides of the house.

Clambering up to the sill of the west window, Gnorman looked over to see Ggordon was breathing heavily as he stared over at him from the east window, still sneering bitterly.

Taking a last look at the child, he saw that they were looking from him to Ggordon with sleepy disbelief, before the two gnomes slipped out of the house and into the night.

As the child sat up in bed, they tried to decide whether the little bearded men they had seen on the windows had been real or jus part of their dream. In the end, they figured it was just part of the dream and tried to fall back asleep so they could get back to the awesome space adventure dream they had been having.

From now on, Gnorman thought as he headed back home before the dawn's light broke over the horizon; he was going to have to keep an eye out for that jerk, Ggordon and his sack full of bad dreams.

The Maze

The three of them ran down the corridor as the medieval-looking walls closed in on them further and further.

Trace, Chad, and Melody gradually moved from a three-abreast to a single-file formation, desperately trying to make it to the opening at the end of the long, ever-narrowing passageway before being crushed to death.

Ahead of him, Chad watched Trace as she reached the opening and disappeared around its edge moments before he made it himself and leaped around the corner of the opening.

Once around, he found Trace stopped dead in her tracks in front of another opening and barely had time to stop before ramming into her.

From behind he heard Melody's guttural shout as she leapt out of the opening just as the walls slammed unforgivingly together.

Not slowing, she kept right on running passed him and Trace, but snapping out of her gaze, Trace snatched Melody's arm just before she careened straight off the edge of a deep chasm that led into darkness below.

"Whoa, there!" Trace shouted as she held onto the still yelling Melody and pushed her back against the pockmarked stone of the wall that connected to the ledge they stood on; no wider than a few paces.

"Oh, shit!" Melody exclaimed as she realized what was in front of her and her eyes bulged at the seemingly bottomless void they now were faced with. "What's with this place!? I just want to get the hell outta here!"

Trace gripped the panicking Melody by the shoulder and tried to calm her.

"It's okay. We're okay." Trace tried to placate her. "We'll just figure this one out like the rest and we'll be on our way out. Just calm down and take a breather."

Chad strained his eyes to look across the expanse and could see another ledge and opening on the far side. Tracking the opposite side to the left and right, he could see no way across.

"I don't know." He stated in his unperturbed voice. "I can't see any way to get to that other side, and..." Squinting to focus further on the far side, he continued, "...I think, Trace, do you see what I see over there?"

Trace looked from Melody to follow Chad's outstretched arm to where his finger pointed across the wide gorge. To the other side where she could just make out three figures standing on the ledge opposite them. One of them pointing back to where they stood.

"Oh no." Trace said in a downtrodden voice.

"What?" Melody asked frantically as she looked across at what the other two were staring at.

"Great." She exclaimed once she finally saw the others staring back, "a giant mirror wall! So there's probably nothing over there at all to even get to; a trick to make us try and jump or something and just fall forever into this bottomless pit!"

Her voice echoed across the expanse as she slid down the wall to a crouch, holding her head in her hands as she began to rock back and forth.

Chad continued to watch their far reflections as Trace tried to comfort Melody again.

"It's okay, Melody." Trace soothed, "we'll figure something out, maybe we'll just go along the ledge here until we find another opening. What do you think, Chad?"

Before he could respond, Melody laughed derisively.

"Ha! Chad is probably loving all of this!" She huffed accusingly. "An endless, mysterious, and ancient maze, full of deadly traps, all hidden below a legitimately haunted house that he goaded us into exploring! He's probably having the time of his life!"

Starting to laugh hysterically, Melody pushed Trace's arms away and continued to rock on her heels.

"Hey!" Chad's booming shout jolted both women's attention to their usually mild-mannered and good humoured friend.

"Stan is dead!" He cried out. "We evoked the wrath of the spirit of the evil necromancer that built that house up there, when YOU red aloud the inscription on that ebony orb I might add, and have been wondering this ghost-riddled maze for who knows how long. If we don't get killed by the maze's puzzles, or a ghost of one of that guy's victims, we'll probably starve to death because I haven't found anything to eat down here, have you?!"

Calming a little, Chad shivered and continued in his regular voice as the other two stared in shock.

"So, no, Melody," he said with a sigh. "I am not loving it down here."

The three stood in silence for sometime before Chad stomped at a loose stone with his foot.

"Sorry." He said mildly. "I'm hungry and tired and scared. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I just want to get out of here too..."

He stopped as he kicked the loose stone over the edge of the ledge, and instead of falling down into the void of the pit, it seemed to just roll over the ledge and continue on.

"What a second." He said as he peered over the edge.

Trace and Melody looked at each other with mutual puzzlement and then to Chad just as he was stepping over the edge.

"Chad, no!" Trace shouted as she moved to grab him, but it was too late, he had disappeared over the ledge.

She scrambled over to where he had stood and reared back with surprise as his head popped back into view from beyond the darkness.

"It's corner, not a ledge!" Chad told them with glee. "Just step around and the ground is beneath you! Come on, there's an opening just down there!"

He pointed off to a direction hidden by the ledge.

Looking back at the flabbergasted Melody, Trace was flummoxed herself.

"I think we'll be out of here in no time!" Chad reassured in a chipper voice as he stood at an impossible angle.

Later, after escaping the soul survivor of the necromancer's accursed maze, though he would never admit it to anyone aloud, Chad was indeed having a really good time!

Hijack

It was the tiniest of things; a spark in the early hours of mornings dim light that almost went unnoticed, except for the keen eyes that had been watching for it.

Eyes that flashed with the reflection of the pop of light that was visible for only a moment before winking out of existence again. Eyes that then narrowed to slits that nearly vanished into the shadows that surrounded them.

Soon they would be coming and the hidden figures laying wait in the shadows would welcome them, in their own special way.

The sound of a blade sliding out of its sheath whispered in the dark as the glint of the razor sharp steel signalled to their counterparts that they were ready and waiting.

Soon, with the rising light of the sun behind, a coach rumbled along the well-worn dirt road that led to the palace which stood to atop the high-reaching cliffs so that it overlooked the lush forest of the valley.

Its train of horses pulled the coach at a brisk pace along the road as it wound its way through the tall-standing trees, their green leaves heavy with the moisture of the previous night.

The coach's driver sat on its padded roof edge seat as they worked the reigns, steering the horses deftly along the curving roadway. Their high-collared coat and pulled down hat, with its broad brim hid the driver's features to the point that they resembled a phantom driving the midnight-black coach faster to beat dawn's creeping light.

The windowless coach gave no hint of who or what might be riding inside, but it was clear from its lacquered and well-maintained exterior, that it would be a prime target for any daring marauders who might try to highjack it.

As the coach turn a bend, four shadowy figures leapt silently from the surrounding trees and onto its roof behind the unsuspecting driver; their entire bodies cloaked in close-fitting black garments from head to toes, with only their eyes visible from a slit in their face masks.

Nimbly, the four figures moved toward the seated driver as the coach continued to rumble along the forest road at a brisk clip. Steel flashed as they unsheathed their long swords in unison and made ready to attack.

With choreographed precision, the four marauders moved as one, plunging each of their swords into the back of the driver, yet there was no reaction from their victim, no blood spurting out from the swords thrusting all the way through their body. Only, electrical sparks shot out from underneath the driver's cloak as it tore away to reveal the mechanical carapace of an automaton.

The galloping horses flickered for a moment as if they were only a visual illusion, as the coach was well capable of driving itself.

The four assailants looked to each other with a moment of confusion before the flash of a steel blade sliced them in half with one blurred slash.

As their bodies fell in pieces from the coach, blood spraying off in gushes that splattered the passing trees before tumbling to be left unceremoniously on the side of the road, a red cloaked figure stood alone atop the still speeding carriage.

Their face hidden as well, save for bright blue eyes staring steely ahead, they cleaned their blade before deftly re-sheathing it and abruptly springing into a back flip off the roof to land on the back rack of the coach, with the grace of a lithe cat.

Catching onto the bar that attached to the back of the carriage for use as a handle on the rare occasions when guards were used, the figure in red made their way around the side of the carriage to unlatch side the door and slip inside.

The interior of the coach was red leather to match the cloaked figure's outfit, which they quickly unfurled to reveal a young woman with auburn hair that fell in curls around her freckled cheeks.

She placed her outfit and sword underneath the plush bench that hid a storage truck within, and took out a white ruffled dress which she thought of as more a disguise than her previous clothes.

Donning her respectable lady's attire and placing her hair up in a more fashionable style, she took her seat on the coach's passenger beach and touched a panel to her right, causing a screen to appear as its display glowed into the image of a well-groomed man in fine livery.

"Yes, my lady?" The groomsman spoke in a hoity drawl. "Has the journey been uneventful as you predicted?"

"Quite, Harrington," the lady replied while nonchalantly pulling on her lace-embroidered gloves. "Very dull indeed; though we will need to do some repairs on the driver; a minor malfunction, still operational, nothing to worry about."

Harrington raised a questioning eyebrow, "As you say, my lady."

"I should be there within the hour," she advised. "Have the east gates opened. I have a few items I've pick up along the way."

"Of course, my lady," Harrington answered dutifully as his image winked out and the display screen sunk back into its hidden panel.

Looking sufficiently proper once again, the young lady looked to the chests sitting on the floor of the coach and lifted one of the lids to reveal the shimmering glow of its contents.

With a wickedly mischievous grin, she scooped up a handful of the gold coins that filled the chest and let them trickled through her fingers to drop back down with their satisfying clinks.

Yes, she thought to herself as the coach rumbled towards the palace, very dull indeed.

Ring of Power Anthology

Ring of Power

It was a simple ring; nothing extraordinary. Just a plain band with tiny etchings around it, but it had caught her eye and drawn her in immediately.

She had stumbled into an area of the city that she was not familiar with; a dark and shadowy section of the city that seemed to have sinister eyes in its various corners; watching her as she walked hurriedly down the narrow streets.

A chill ran through her as the feeling that the watchful eyes were moving in closer fell upon her, so she had ducked into a little curio shop that, despite having strange odds and ends in its window, had a warm glowing light that seemed to be safer than that of the shadow-casting street lamps outside.

Inside was a clutter of knick-knacks and old curiosities that, although looked as though they were from a time long forgotten, had been cleaned and polished and cared for so that they could have been crafted recently.

Making her way through the maze of strangely carved furniture, statues, and other such items, she found a glass case near the back of the shop which held a variety jewellery set with various gems of all colours and shapes.

Her eyes scanned over the wonderfully shimmering pieces as they caught the light from the multiple crystal chandlers that hung from the shop’s low ceiling, each one casting a rainbow of colours upon her soft-skinned face.

And then, there it was. Amid all the fancy, elegant rings, broaches, and necklaces, a plain and simple, silver ring with its tiny black markings crisscrossing its surface.

A strange smile spread across her pink lips as she gazed down upon the ring. The others were glitzy and glamorous from a bygone age, but this simple, unassuming band seemed to be timeless. And it gave her the sense of warmth and comfort.

A rustling from the doorway leading to the shop’s back rooms startled her as she looked away from the ring to see a little old man coming out to her. He looked as though he too belonged to the shop; an old curiosity, a little stooped over but still in fine working condition.

His smile settled her startled heart and she smiled shyly back. He came to stand behind the jewellery cabinet and looked down at the rings with her. She looked back down at her ring and knew that she had to have it; it called out to her to possess it.

She pointed to it cautiously and the old man’s smile broadened as her cheeks went flush with embarrassment. He opened the case and gingerly took out the ring and laid it on the counter atop a small velvet cloth.

She put out her hand to take it and hesitated for a moment; warmth seemed to radiate from the ring and touch her finger tips with energy.

Slowly, her fingers made their way to touch its smooth surface. Thinking it would somehow be a hefty weight, she was surprised to find it a light as a feather in her palm.

Looking at it closely she could see the etchings are diamond shapes that seem to be endless pools of darkness; the far-reaching eternity of space within each etch.

Fumbling, she nearly dropped it as she slid it onto her middle finger. It fit perfectly.

Immediately, she was filled with a sense of energy; of power. All the fear and uncertainty that had filled her before she had entered the old shop washed away in the wearing of the ring.

She breathed in deeply and looked up at the old man who smiled and looked kindly into her shining blue eyes. She began to ask how much the ring would cost but he held up his hand and shook his head slightly.

Taking her by the hand on which she wore the ring, he kissed it gently and patted it kindly. She blushed once again as the old man nodded gentlemanly and led her back through the shop to the front door.

She opened the door and turned back to him as he waved goodbye and closed the door behind her. She walked slowly away turning back to see the old man still waving from the shop window as he turned the open sign over to indicate the shop was now closed.

She walked along the street, her hand held up in front of her as she regarded it with love and awe.

Even though the light of day had grown dimmer, she felt as though there was now nothing to be afraid of. Not here along the strange streets, not anywhere. Not now that she wore her lovely ring; her ring of power.

Ring Indeed

As she slept, the ring rested peacefully on her bedside table.

There had not been a day that had passed that she was without her little silver ring since she had found it in the curios shop. And there had not been a night when she had not slept soundly knowing that it was laying beside her; watching over her as she slept.

When she wore it upon her slender finger, she felt stronger, more secure, and confident. It was silly to think that the ring could endow her with some sort of magic power. But she still felt as though it was her little ring of power.

Going about her daily routine she would give it very little thought; yet, every so often during breaks in her activities, she would look down at the simple ring and smile.

In the morning, she would put it on even before going to the bathroom, and carefully put it into the little seashell dish she had purchased especially for it by the sink while she showered and did her make-up; donning it quickly again after she was done. And only taking it off again at night when she lay down to sleep; its tiny silver light protecting her in its reflective glow.

And so, it was, as she slept one night, a shadowy figure came creeping into her small apartment, uninvited.

There had been several break-ins in the building over the past few months, but no one had been home at the time. Unfortunately, this was not the case now.

As she slept peacefully, the shadowy figure moved noiselessly though out her darkened apartment. To get to at a stack of DVDs high up on a shelf, the thief pulled a chair from the dinning table across the hardwood floor.

The chair scraped loudly upon the floor's surface and at once she was awake in her bed; a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

She lay frozen for a moment and listened for further noise. She heard the shifting of items on her shelves that lined the living room walls. She sat up and automatically slipped on her ring. Her first thought was to call the police, but reaching for her phone she remembered it was out on the kitchen counter charging.

She would have to slip out there and grab it, unnoticed by whoever was out there ransacking her apartment.

Cautiously, quietly, she moved to her bedroom door and pulled it open as gently as she could. The noises of the intruder became louder without the closed door to muffle their movements.

She was afraid, but felt confident that she could quickly grab the phone from the counter in the kitchen and run back to her room before the thief even heard her.

She waited until it sounded like the thief was at the far end of the living room, then took a deep breath and dashed out of the hallway and around the corner to the narrow kitchen.

Knowing exactly where the phone sat, she grabbed for it and snatched it up quickly.

Having her cell in her hand she made to head back to her room. However, she had forgotten that the power cord was still attached to it.

The cord reached its end and snapped the phone out of her hand. It bounced off the tiled floor loudly and the shadowy figure quickly turned to see her standing surprised in the hall.

Before she had a chance to react, the intruder had made a dash for her, growling in anger at being disrupted so abruptly.

Not thinking, she held out her hands to shield herself from the attack and screamed. A flash of silver light erupted from her right hand and engulfed the darkness in light.

The light quickly faded and she opened her eyes; surprised that had been no attack. There was only her, alone in her moonlit apartment.

She turned the light switch beside her on and saw no one else was with her. She looked to see that the chain lock on her door had been cut and a few items were knocked off the shelves. But there was no intruder.

Looking down at her feet, there were the soldering remains of a black hoodie, black jeans, and a pair of black sneakers.

Her gaze moved from the smoking clothes to the silver ring on her middle finger of her right hand. She held up her hand and marvelled at how the simple ring seemed to glow warmly around her slender finger.

There was warmth radiating from the little ring; warmth that made her smile broadly; her ring of power indeed.

Ringless

She awoke upon the rocks at the bottom of the mountain that she herself had created, a scar blinding her left eye, and her ring of power gone.

The details of the battle that had transpired atop the mountain where veiled in a haze of pain, all she could remember was that he had taken her ring. IT had taken the cursed ring of power.

The ring that had shrouded her heart in malice was gone; the darkness that had crept into her heart had drained away.

What lay in her heart now was not darkness or revenge, but sadness and remorse. She had caused so much destruction. She had caused the world to war with itself; her and her selfish need for attention. And now she had given the demon the means to destroy the world, once and for all.

Her body broken and bleeding, she stumbled back through lands she had been the inspiration to turn into barren wastes; their old beauty torn apart by men's' lust to conquer for her.

Only remnants of civilization now remained, and she was now no different than any of the other poor retched that scrounged the scorched earth just to survive.

How could she have let this happen? She had only wanted to help with the powers the ring had allowed her. But the demon had twisted her dreams into nightmares, and she had let it.

Now it would fashion the world into its own vision of hell, enslaving the remaining humanity for its dark pleasure.

Huddled in a rock hovel, shivering in the cold of the constant rain, she vowed to make things right once again; vowed to rid the world of the demon that had plagued it for so long.

So, a patch over her scared eye and purpose in her heart, she set out across the world to gather up those she could, to band against the evil of the demon.

Though she was without her ring, the passion she had roused in those before remained; having been inside her all along. She found that she did not need the power of the ring to capture the hearts of those she met, but only her own inner strength to convince people to join her in her fight against the demon.

Seeing that they too were guilty in letting their hearts be taken over with darkness, the people of the world came together under one banner to revolt against the ancient evil.

Upon her steed, she galloped, the armies of the world behind her, crying out her return amidst the deafening thunder of hoofs as they charged upon the demon's mountain.

She would get back the world she had helped fall into darkness, and now, she would not use the power of the ring, only the power that had always been hers alone.

Ring Thief

She gritted her teeth in a begrudged smile as he offered his hand to her.

Her one good eye glared with apprehension and embarrassed fury, looking from the scoundrel's outstretched hand, to where her men sat around the flickering camp fire.

If any of them had so much as a smirk on their face, she would have slashed them in half with her blade; yet wisely, they all seemed to be very busy being preoccupied with the pretty maidens and handsome lads that filled the bandits' hideaway.

She looked back to their leader, whose hand was still awaiting hers; The King of Thieves asking her to dance. Ha!

His roguish smile matched the mischievous glint in his green eyes, as he looked down at her where she sat upon one of the felled logs they used for benches.

Raising her hand she started to reach out for his, but changed directions in mid-motion to run her fingers through her short-cropped, auburn hair.

Snapping her eye patch strap as an unconscious habit she had adopted when wary of a situation, she gave a snorting smirk and took his hand roughly, pulling herself up almost before he had a chance to back up.

The villain was quick on his feet however, and swooped gracefully into a deep bow at her acceptance to join him. She bowed slightly in return, keeping her azure blue eye on him.

They began to dance; him with a jovial spring in his step, while she countered his moves with the quick caginess of a jungle cat, stalking around a rival.

The minstrels' music roiled with their lutes, flutes, and drums, on which they fervently played as they twirled and spun around the flames of the fire that danced to its own licking rhythm.

Her men now watched blatant as she let the Thief King lift her into the air with a spin and bring her gracefully down again in one fluid motion.

As they dance and the music played on, she found herself lost in the moment. She felt herself as a young girl again, not the fierce and harden warrior she had become.

Feeling as light as air on her twirling feet, she even thought she heard herself laugh along with the handsome scoundrel whom continued to spin and toss her wildly as the music grew more frantic.

The camp scene spun round and round until she was not sure which way she faced and she made herself stop at once with sudden embarrassment.

Looking around the camp, the music no longer played, only the crackle of the fired could be heard, its pops a stark contrast to the silence that now hung in the night air.

Her men stirred from their log seats as if they had just woken from a deep slumber.

Only her men stirred.

The camp was empty, save them. The band of thieves and their king had vanished into the night.

With a snarl she snatched at the five bejeweled rings she kept hung around her neck on a chain at all times; her ancient and powerful treasures, for which she had quested all those many years ago; had sacrificed so much to find.

Gone.

Letting out a rage-filled roar, she drew her sword and barked at her men to mount their steeds as she ran to her own black war horse that stood lashed to a near by tree.

The stallion reared as she swung herself up with another guttural bellow. She turned to find her men already upon their horses facing her, awaiting her command.

"Find them, all of them. And destroy them! But leave the Thief King to me." She ordered in a dark, dangerous voice and they all galloped off with the speed of a pack of wolves setting out to hunt their prey.

As they all disappeared into the darkness just beyond the fire-lit tree line, she looked down at her left hand that gripped the reins. Still resting upon her finger, her most prized possession glowed fiercely with shared anger; the sixth and most powerful ring of power was hers still. With it she would find the others again.

And as for the King of Thieves, he would pay for his mistake of taking them from her.

She clenched her fist and the ring's massive gem stone seemed to radiate its glow outward, causing the camp fire to extinguish, letting the blackness of the night enshroud the scene; only the light of the ring and the intense blue of the warrior's eye gleaming in the darkness.

Raine

It had been some time since the world moved on; all that remained of the great civilizations that had once been, were are ruins and desolation.

Those that have survived eke out a desperate existence, trying to live in dying world; trying to remain hidden from those that have come after. Half-human nightmares that hunt down the innocent for sport, terrorizing an already horrific wasteland in which there are worse things still, laying in wait; watching out from the darkness.

Yet, there are some who bravely fight against the murderous hordes and the rising darkness that have grown stronger with each passing year, while the remnants of the old world corrode away in the unforgiving winds that whip across the land.

Lone warriors that have found a new life after the catastrophes of the old, helping those in need as they roam the wastes; heroes some call them, though they only think of themselves as fulfilling a duty to protect the precious good left in the world against the evil that now fills it; defending the light against the dark.

Like the master-less knights of old, they are Ronin.

Or at least that's how she pictured herself, but for the most part, Raine just escorted groups of families through the more treacherous areas of old Tokyo as they made their way to the oasis on the other side of the Nagoya ruins. She was little more than a babysitter, making sure they didn't get lost in the maze of vestiges of what was once the great metropolis of Japan.

She knew all the paths to take, but what made her such a good escort through the old city was that she knew all the routes not to take. The best way to stay out of trouble was to avoid it completely.

It was a sound practice, even if it did make the jobs she took tediously dull, she thought as she leaned upon her bow staff, watching the line of travellers clumsily make their way over the rubble pile that blocked the way to the next clear street.

One of the travellers slipped on a cache of loose rocks as they walked passed Raine and without thought, she quickly grabbed them by the arm to keep them from tumbling down into those that were already making their way down the other side of the hill.

The noise of the falling rocks echoed between the hollowed-out buildings, Raine, however, heard a second echo, coming from beside them and to the east. She scanned the open windows above; all seemingly empty, until a slight movement caught her eye.

"Run!" she commanded as she spun around, swinging her bow staff over her head and down to her side, blasting two shots from its pulse-gun tip, both hitting their mark as the limp body of a Cybred sniper fell from their perch in one of the windows overlooking the plaza they had just crossed through.

Murderous shouts came from the neighbouring buildings as she saw more figures move quickly in the shadows of the open windows above; those dreadful voices that were a mixture of enraged humans and screeching mechanics which had come to mean death in the new wastelands.

Not hesitating to think of the horrors she had witnessed at the hands of the Cybreds, Raine spun her staff and shot its grappling hook-shot from the other tip. Catching the frame of one of the windows, she retracted the cable and flew through the air while drawing her blaster with her free hand.

Shooting two more of the gang members out of the building opposite of where she now repelled to, she was able to holster her weapon and tumble through the open window with a somersault into a full run to smash another surprised Cybred sniper in the face with a swing of her bow staff.

Not slowing down, she leapt out of the next window and onto the rubble-litter roof of the connecting building, where two more screaming Cybreds fell victim to her spinning bow attacks.

Another grappling shot to the building across the narrowing plaza and she was leaping away to meet the four gang members who were moving to pounce down upon the still fleeing travellers.

As she landed with another roll, Raine let fly two of her bandoleer knifes to hit the first two charging Cybreds dead center in each of their cybernetic eyes. Small electrical bolts fizzled over their heads as they fell to the ground, their fellow marauders leapt over their dead bodies to get at her.

Raine swung the grappling tip around and shot the pointed hook out and through the flesh and metal chest of the front runner as she ran toward the second and veered to the side with the cable strung between her and the Cybred that now stood looking down at the harpoon in their chest.

The cable caught the still charging Cybred in the neck and Raine pulled the razor sharp wire tight, slicing their grotesquely enhanced head clean off their diseased body.

Retracting the hook with a button click on the side of the staff, the already dead Cybred fell to the ground and she turned to look down to see that a couple of the Cybreds had gotten to ground level and were screaming toward the terrified caravan like rabid wolves.

Quickly judging the distance between the building she now stood on top of and the one beside it, she ran toward the edge of the roof and engaged the thrusters in her boots to give her the extra boost she needed to reach the side of the other building.

Hitting the crumbling wall, Raine quickly rebounded and hit the thrusters again to make the leap back down to the wall of the building she had just left.

Making a few jumps back and forth, she made her way down the sides of the building to land with the last of the thrusters' fuel to soften the impact into a dead run towards her caravan, trying to head off the attackers before they reached them.

The one closest to her she managed to pick off with her blaster, but the other was nearly upon the straggling traveller that had almost fallen down the hill only a few minutes ago.

The Cybred marauder was aiming their rifle as they ran and Raine dove to tackle the stumbling caravanner.

Luckily the Cybred's targeting implants must have been deteriorating because its shot went wide of their heads, but Raine felt the searing pain of the laser blast hitting her hand as she went down, covering the screaming traveller as they both rolled across the gravelly ground.

With blurring speed, Raine was back up on her feet and had drawn her katana as the Cybred fell upon her. With a deft up-sweep she caught the cybernetic monster in the chest, and then decapitated them with the down-stroke.

Both the body and head tumbled forward and careened to the ground as Raine stood still in her stance, sword blade dripping with black, oily blood.

The caravan of travellers had stopped their frantic escape and was now looking at their guide as she caught her breath and checked for anymore threats.

When no more came, Raine bent down to help the fallen traveller up, and as she held out her hand, the traveller recoiled in horror at the blast mark on Raine's out-stretched hand.

For, instead of cauterized flesh and blood that should have been there, the exposed robotics of her cybernetic mandible could be seen through the hole in her glove.

"You're one of them!" The shocked traveller screeched as they rolled away from her and scrambled up to join the others. "She's a Cybred!"

"I am NOT..." Raine started to protest against being called one of those filth, but the rest of the caravan started to scream and run away from her as she stepped toward them, bloody sword still drawn.

"She led us here to be slaughtered and used for parts by those monsters!" The feeling traveller shouted. "Run! Get away from us, you animal!"

Raine started after them, but stopped after a step with a sigh; what's the use, she thought, they've been hunted too long, they wouldn't believe her if she told them her robotics were from before the world had moved on; that they had always been apart of her.

So she let them run, they had paid half up front and since they had only come half of the way, it wasn't a total loss.

Bending down to wipe her sword off on the tattered pants of the dead Cybred on the ground; she looked at its mangled body, a horrific mix of rotting flesh and corroded metal. She then looked at her own hand; the exposed metal wasn't even marked from the blast, it glistened in the noon sun.

Soon the bio-flesh would begin to heal itself over the wound and it would be good as new, not even a scar.

No, Raine was nothing like those creatures that had come after, she thought as she sheathed the sword upon her back, picked her bow staff off the dusty ground and began walking in the direction the travellers had run off in.

They were stupid and afraid, but she had still given her word that she would see them through the city safely, even if she had to do so from the shadows.

In truth, she wasn't like anyone; a prototype from a dead past, a relic in a dying future. A Ronin.

Dawn Patrol

The stars had begun to fade from the still dark skies as he made his way across the grassy field, dew wetting his leather riding boots.

Brisk, fresh air tussled his dark hair as he approached the staging area, his leather helmet tucked under his arm.

There was the usual bustling around the corrals as he arrived; the young Handler apprentices running to and fro at their masters' commands. The old Handlers, most of who were retired Pilots themselves, making sure all was prepared for the early morning departure.

He neared the corrals' blackened Stonewood fences and one of the apprentices ran hurriedly up to him to take his leather satchel from him, and then sprinted back to the pens to pack it on his mount.

Stopping just outside the corral gate, he looked up at the blackness of the clear sky; deep, purplish blue began to seep into the edges of the horizon as the sun made its way back from its nightly journey.

This was his second favourite part of the day; his favourite would come soon enough.

A familiar sound came from behind him and he turned to see a grizzled, old Handler leading his mount out of the shadows of its pen.

While some of the other mounts of the Patrol pulled and lashed against their reigns as the Handlers struggled to keep them in check, his simple strode toward him, its head held proudly high and its gaze held steadily upon him.

Pride filled his own chest as well as the magnificent creature cantered closer to him, not needing to be led by the old Handler at all. The old man grunted his greeting and passed over the reigns before ambling off to attend to his other duties back in the pens.

With a soft whisper, he patted the creature's armour-skinned neck and it purred deeply, rumbling like some massive feline at its master's touch.

A quick adjustment of the stirrups and saddle upon its strong back and, donning his helmet and goggles, he clambered up onto the beast and strapped himself in.

Behind him, the other members of the Patrol were mounting up as well.

With a quick shout and a gentle prod of his heels, his mount leapt into the air agilely and began to beat its powerful wings.

Almost spanning twice its own length, it beat its leathery wings gracefully, lifting both rider and beast easily into the chilly dawn air.

Deftly guiding its movements, he spun them around in a smooth arc that faced them with their backs to the rapidly approaching sunrise.

The entire team of the Dawn Patrol came into formation around him in its standard flying wedge as he took the lead.

The cold wind whipped around him and could not help but grin with the pure pleasure he felt as they flew across the skies; racing against the dawn's orange light.

Tapping the beast's sides with his heels in a complicated pattern, he sent a message to his mount and felt the surge of energy within its mammoth body.

With a deafening roar, his Dragon belched forth a torrent of flames from its mouth, signalling to all those below that the Patrol was high above; keeping them safe as always.

This was his favourite part.

Black Tower Return

Against the hazy horizon it stands starkly contrasting the golden glow of the dawn sun, the Black Tower radiates its darkness into the very air that surrounds it; its evil trying to bleed into the world as it has always attempted to.

Its true nature hidden from the rest of the world, the Tower cannot hide from me. I see it, not as the modern, sky-scraping building that it disguises itself as to the rest of the citizens that dwell in its shadow, but as the ancient abode for the earliest of evils.

Throughout history it has always been, not always in the same location, not always taking the guise of the looming monolith against the sky; sometimes as the tower of an ancient stronghold, or a lone lighthouse on the cliffs surrounded by the crashing sea, or even as a sacred cathedral on occasion.

Yet, how ever it has hidden itself in plain sight, I too have been there to prevent the evil within from seeping out into the world and infecting it like a deadly virus, and turning it into a insidious nightmare from which there is no waking.

Over countless years I have fought my way to the Black Tower; fought my way inside and to the very apex, to face the evil that I always find there, each time, sacrificing myself in order to prevail.

Though, this time it has taken me much longer to find my way here, to realize my purpose. So much of this time is distraction. In days gone by, I was able to focus my attention, sharpen my mind against the darkness that threatens to envelop the world, but this time feels different.

This time feels as if too much of the Tower has leached its way into the world; leached its way into the hearts of the people. And it is growing.

Perhaps my spirit has grown tired and weary, having battled the undying evil of the Tower over and over, through the millennia, but this time feels different, this time feels wrong.

As I stand looking out over the sprawling cityscape, the Black Tower looming ominously in the distance, I feel alone.

I feel that I am missing a part of myself, the part that gave me strength in times of yore.

Did I have a companion once? One who fought along side me, as we moved as one, our combined strength out-matching even the primordial evil of the Tower?

If so, where have you gone, my friend? Did you fall in battle some time before and throughout the years I have forgotten you? Or did the evil behind the Black Tower find away to wipe you from my memories?

Where are you now; now, when I need you most; now when I face the Tower once more, alone and unsure.

The sun rises up from behind the Tower's dark outline and its golden light falls upon me, warming the chill that has descended upon my heart.

From behind, far off in the distance, a fierce roar echoes out and I turn to look over my shoulder as a memory blossoms in my mind and a smile appears across my face.

Have you return, my old friend? Have you come to my aid once again?

With a roar of my own I charge forward down the slopping hill, courage and strength returning back to me as you have done, and even as I race along, I can feel you fast approaching to join me. Your strong legs hurtling you along, coming up strong so I can almost feel your breath on my neck from behind.

Not even death could keep you from my side, could it, my trusted friend? Come; let us face the Black Tower once more; come, let us roar.

In response, you bellow thunderously, heralding our charge.

Be warned it cries out to the Tower and the evil therein; man and beast have come for you once again.

The Jungle

With the jungle floor far below and the green canopy of leaves above, she sped along the high branches, effortlessly leaping from tree to tree, rushing to the danger that awaited her to the east.

The muscles of her strong limbs worked beneath her sun-soaked skin as she used the vines and hanging branches to carry herself across the tree tops along side her companions that had come to warn her of the distress on the far side of the jungle.

Twin chimpanzees moved deftly beside her; their unusual silence telling her of the urgency of the situation. Down on the ground, travelling as their shadow, a midnight-furred panther tracked its fellow travellers with unmatched skill.

All together, the four of them raced eastward toward the rushing of the river that splits the jungle in two; toward the darkness that lay on the other side.

Soon they reached the edge of the tree cover and came to an anxious stop, the panther pacing back and forth along the river bank while she and the twins stood high up on over-hanging branches, scanning the rapidly moving water for their young friend.

She held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright light of the sun that shinned in the sky overhead. Her amber hair and spotted cloth garments flapped in the moisture-filled breeze as she searched the waters for any sign of the cub.

Excited screeches beside her caused her to look over and find the twins pointing and jumping wildly down at the river bank to her right; the far river bank.

Down on the muddy shore of the wide river, a small orange and black figure pulled itself out of the speeding waters and scrambled up the bank to collapse with exhaustion on the dirt ground at the foot of the towering trees of the other side.

For a moment she was relieved the tiger cub was safely out of the river, but the loud roar of the panther brought her attention to the shadowy figures moving through the darkness of the trees toward the resting young cub.

Without hesitation, she jumped to the next branch, grabbed hold of a strong vine that wrapped itself around the tree from the jungle floor, and, with a dashing leap, she vaulted herself sidelong through the air above the river.

The tension of her weight and trajectory of her swing caused the vine to unravel itself from the top of the tree, giving her enough length to just reach half way across the water. At the apex of her swing, with a loud grunt, she let go and let herself fly freely down toward the other side of the river.

With acrobatic agility, she rolled herself into a tumble as she landed somersaulting onto the muddy riverbank, covering herself from head to toe in the dark muck.

Not stopping a beat, she rolled to her feet and raced toward where the unconscious tiger cub lay. Running parallel to her, amongst the dark shadows of the trees, the threatening figures uttered terrifying shrieks as they neared their prey.

Pounding her bare feet on the hard-packed ground, she quickened her paced but could feel the other creatures' speed up as well, with only a few lengths between her and the cub she could see that the loud screams had woken the tiger out of its daze and his dark eyes were bulging with terror.

One last push of effort and she dove out for the cub and snatched him by the scruff, tumbling into a ball; the swiping of razor-sharp claws narrowly missing the exposed skin of her back and legs as she rolled down the river bank.

Not daring to look back she came out of her tucked roll and dove directly into the rushing river, holding the cub by its scruff in her mouth as a tigress would. Paddling hard and fierce, she slowly work her way across the river, the wild screams of the creatures on the east bank muffled under the splashing water.

With barely enough strength to move her arms she felt herself being pulled along the current toward the all-engulfing falls that raged over the colossal drop to the craggy rocks below.

Opening her mouth, she let the cub slide into her arms as she began to sink under the rushing water.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she felt herself being lifted out of the water and dragged roughly to shore.

The panther pulled her with his massive jaw clamped onto her shoulder until she was fully out of the river and then her let go, leaving puncture wounds that bled freely; though they would heal more quickly than any injury she would have sustained being dashed upon the rocks at the bottom of the falls had he not intervened.

Coughing out water, she sat up and lifted the young tiger up to glare at him in the eyes as he looked sheepishly back.

Across the river the screeching creatures slinked back into the shadows of the trees, their sickeningly yellow eyes glowering at their lost meal, while the group of friends stared silently back as they gathered on west river bank.

Looking back at the young cub she growled her own threatening disapproval and the little tiger flinched as she only ruffled his soaked furry head with her hand.

The little prince of the jungle would be getting enough punishment from their majesties when she got him home as it was. Perhaps, she thought, we can take our time getting back.