Ice or Steam (P)

The latest assignment in my painting class was "Ice or Steam." Not incredibly inspiring, but painting glacial ice was an interesting process. The decisions to paint a very simple pyramid instead of an iceberg, and then to invert the whole, came late in the process. Just keeping things interesting, I guess...

Holiday Cards and Wrapping Paper Now On Sale! Get Some!!

I put a few of my past holiday designs on cards and wrapping paper in my Zazzle store. There should be a way to edit them to however you'd like them to look, but if you need my help please let me know! Happy Holidays!

 

Flash Fiction: "The Reaver Princess" (W)

I recently did two rounds of a flash fiction contest (1000 words max), this is my first round entry. There are always three prompts: genre, setting, and object that has to be featured. Mine was "fantasy, desert, bracelet." Kind of right in my wheelhouse, and I scored second place in my group. Thanks NYC Midnight!

“The Reaver Princess”

The eyes of the undead army caught the pale light of the desert moon and glittered like some strange ocean, gently undulating in the windless night. Their numbers stretched as far as the little group of thieves could see, standing in a silence so absolute a blind man might have thought himself alone, were it not for the stench. 

            “I’ve never seen so many ghouls in one place,” whispered the princess. It was, as usual, difficult to discern her tone, if she’d meant to convey one at all.

            “With all due respect, my liege,” said Hollow Tree, at her elbow as ever, “You still haven’t.”

            Hollow Tree was among the few who could – who dared – contradict the Reaver Princess. But the princess, without turning to her Most Trusted Advisor, said only, “What mean you?”

            “These are det-kessin, my lady,” she said softly. “Desert ghosts. Lonely souls hungry for company. And living flesh, of course.”

            All eyes watched the quiet figures. After a long moment, the princess asked, “Why are they just…standing there?”

            “They await the dawn, princess.”

            The princess’s brow wrinkled slightly, prompting her swordguard, Seven Clouds, to grunt impatiently, “What happens at dawn, woman?”

“I am no oracle, but if the stories are to be believed, they will most probably rip us all to pieces and devour the fragments.”

A gasp, difficult to determine from whom. “They apparently believe chewing to be beneath them,” continued the older woman, warming to her subject. “And so before they put anything in their horrible little mouths, they spend a great deal of time—”

            A collective outburst now, crowned by the princess’s “By the twin gods, stop!” 

Hollow Tree shrugged her shoulders, annoyed. “I do believe I was asked,” she muttered.

They’d set up camp on a solitary dune. Wind, the axeman, had been on watch when he’d seen the first det-kessin. By the time he’d woken the rest of the party, their ranks had swelled to the horizons. The ghosts had walked, he recalled, though how they had all moved so quickly was beyond his rather limited mind.

“Why wait?” Wind asked now, his voice higher than seemed reasonable for such a large man. “Why until dawn?”

Hollow Tree sniffed sourly, and for a moment it seemed as though she might refuse to answer. “Centuries of tradition, I would think.” Her eyes swept the silent figures below them. “They honor a variety of treaties made to ensure peace between our kingdoms.”

Sage, their pathfinder, could see a hairline of faintly lighter blue where the vast expanse of pale sand – and pale ghosts, it seemed – met the sky. The sun rose quickly here, she knew.

“But what do they want, Hollow Tree?”

 Hollow Tree frowned for a moment. “I believe...they are drawn to the bracelet,” she said carefully. “They will not allow it to leave this place.”

Now the princess turned her full stare upon her advisor, and under its weight the woman’s head bowed satisfyingly.

“What?” asked the princess softly, fury underlining her tone.

They had spent the better part of a year planning this venture, slipping in and out of White Horse House unnoticed and unscathed. The bracelet they had stolen would at last earn the Reaver Princess a seat at her mother's table, and her bloodsworn allies would rise with her. 

Unless they were all eaten in this desert, of course.

"You were warned, my liege," Hollow Tree whispered. Several pairs of eyes slid her way. Only Hollow Tree would dare. "The prophet dogs at Palleum. The Great Lion’s maps. There were warnings of this."

"Permission to kick her mouth out of her skull, princess?" This from Riven, the princess's jester and chief assassin. His cold eyes were fixed on Hollow Tree, who studiously avoided them.

"No, Riven," said the princess, looking down again to the silent horde. "And thank you for asking first, that's good progress." The assassin shrugged.

"What do we do, Hollow Tree?" hissed Seven.

The older woman's eyes flicked briefly to the princess's profile.

"We must give them what they came for."

"I cannot," said the princess immediately.

A stunned silence.

"My lady," said Hollow Tree, looking at her now. "It would be a declaration of war. Your pride cannot overweigh the peace that has been—”

“I cannot remove the bracelet, Tree. I’ve tried. It will not physically leave my arm.”

They had been so careful. All their planning, all their training. They had forgotten the trip home; the desert between the two Houses had barely been an afterthought. 

The creatures below were shifting, greater detail emerging in the thickening morning air. A low cry echoed from the thieves’ right, another answered from behind them. A dreadful quiet followed.

The princess’s muscled arm rose until it was level with Hollow Tree’s eyes, obstructing a portion of the lightening sky. Hollow Tree looked at the bracelet where it encircled the princess’s arm. A simple thing, really, a dull yellow-white band. She’d not noticed the dimpling of her skin where it squeezed.

The Reaver Princess took a deep breath. She let it out, then nodded.

Hollow Tree blurred, swinging her curved sword from within her robes and deftly cutting the arm in two at the elbow. Catching the braceleted limb with her free hand, she swung it down and then up, releasing it out over the waiting expanse of det-kessin. 

The move was so swift there was not even time to cry out, and to her credit, the princess made not a sound; her eyes filled with tears, which all present politely ignored.

The det-kessin began to disperse, bearing their grisly prize westward. Hollow Tree leaned in to the princess’s ear, speaking over the buzzing spell that would seal the wound closed. “Your mother will see your bravery, my sweet girl. She will recognize your worth. This I promise.”

And as the Reaver Princess collapsed into her loyal counselor’s arms, the sun rose, flooding the empty sands that surrounded them with warmth and light at last.