Land of Salvania

  Ritter caught a glint in the grass ahead of him, shaking him out of another meandering daydream. He had been trudging across the featureless moors for days with only the wind and his wandering thoughts for company. Was the glint just an illusion of a fraying mind? It had been four days, or was it five, since the gargs had rolled his camp and stolen his horse. He had managed to inflict enough harm to run them off before they took everything. Still he was missing some of his food, two daggers, and one of his boots. That was the most evil thing of all. Why take one boot? They were both sitting together. Why not take both? As the monotony of the endless heath took hold, his mind kept chewing on that over and over. Why one boot? It was maddening. He started singing to kill the time, but the songs kept turning toward the missing boot. Oh you shitty gargs you took a single shoe I hope you die real slow I really hope you do Oh you shitty gargs why do this to a bloke you took one si

  Captain Droth walked silently among the ancient ruins. Weeds reached for the spring sunshine slanting through rotten roof timbers. A shutter creaked back and forth in the warm breeze. The sound reminded him of ship's rigging, and the sadness of losing his beloved Misty Maiden washed over him again. He imagined that fish roamed her sunken decks trying to make sense of the alien cargo. Signs of battle were everywhere among the ruins. Bones were scattered and cleaned by the feasting birds and dragons. Large troll skulls were also mingled with smaller human and elf remains. "I doubt dragons did any of this," Pall said from outside the gate. He was too big to walk through, even if he folded his wings. "Why? You dragons are known to enjoy a tasty human from time to time." "There would be no bones left," was the simple reply. Pall was always straightforward even in the face of sarcasm. His nostrils opened wide. "Nothing but ghosts here. Or, m

  Ritter had grown to despise the night. It seemed like all the things that wanted to harm him loved the night. He stood outside the tavern, a thatched building just outside the outpost's main gate. The townies said it had been burned down a few times, but not recently. Not since the Jirrahs had arrived. Cold rain was falling, and the sun was mostly gone. "I love the rain," Coriander said beside him. "I suspect a dryad would," Ritter groused. The tall, leafy creature next to him rumbled with mirth. "It is delicious." "It is cold," Ritter said. "I love the cold," Coriander said. Did anything bother this placid creature? "Well, there's plenty of that tonight." A large raindrop magically found its way under his collar and down his back. He raised his woolen hood in disgust. "When I was small, barely your size, we would throw enormous parties when the monsoons came." Coriander raised his arms and closed h

  Ritter, Ace, and Crow watched the wagon burn. The smoke was black from the unknown potions and oozing liquids they had glimpsed inside. That, and the creature now crisping in the flames. The day before, the pirate captain Droth had given them some important news about a shadowy figure lurking in the Dreamwood. "Misha the Wylderkin has seen and smelled this stranger. Misha says they smell like burned hair." Misha was one of the few forest people who would deal openly with the outpost, and their keen eyes and nose had proven invaluable. Misha had take a special liking to Captain Droth after being mesmerized by his many flowing tattoos. Ace, whose Elven name was almost too complex to shape on human tongues, had remarked, "Yes, I feel it too. Something has been moving, veiled, on the edge of my dreams for many days now." /// Before daybreak, three shadows slipped away from the outpost and followed a narrow trail through the Dreamwood. Ace was in the lead, movin

  Ritter stood at the water's edge, dense fog hiding the opposite bank. His sparse campsite was only twenty paces away, and he could barely see it through the uncanny mist that had descended overnight. He yawned. His sleep had been uneventful, even though the local villagers had warned him about the old barrow near the lake. He stretched, letting his back crackle like breaking celery. Every village had their local superstitions. A mossy pile of stones denoting an ancient battle would not scare him. Still, something seemed odd. He couldn't quite place it... /// Copyright

  Ritter never had a good feeling in the Dreamwood. He always felt eyes on him. Watching. Planning. It was like he was interrupting a sinister gathering, and "they" were waiting on him to leave. He never had this feeling anywhere else. He grew up surrouned by deep forests, and he loved the opportunities they afforded for boyhood mayhem. But today, he was crossing the heart of the Dreamwood. The outpost required his tracking skills to follow some horse thieves back to their lair. The thieves had been scattered during a fight the night before when all but one horse had been recovered safely. Every nerve in Ritter's body was strung as tight as a harp. Every careful footstep seemed as loud as a tree falling. Any moment, he expected an arrow to slice into his belly. /// He was not wrong. A pair of green eyes watched him from the high branches. She smelled his strange scent: an enticing mixture of bacon and leather and clean soap. Not like the stink of the other man-

  Ritter was still panting from his run toward the smoking portal, a healer's quick bandage streaming behind him, her potion still bitter in his mouth. He felt the heat as another fire elemental roared out of the portal and tore a scorched path through the outpost's defenders. It was shaped vaguely like a human with crackling arms of flame that lashed out like whips. It was midnight, and the creatures had been coming through the portal all day. It started as a few at a time, probing the defenses. Then, as the winter darkness rolled in, they began pouring out by the dozen. The defenders were exhausted, but the healers and the blacksmiths kept everyone vertical. Ritter ran past the latest elemental and got in a few hits with his sword. The heat was almost unbearable. The hellspawn screeched and veered toward Ritter. Then Crow and Ace appeared from the darkness and laid on from behind. The elemental turned toward them, and Ritter spun to attack from behind. They had learne

Maybe the bandits thought he was dead. That was the only explanation Ritter could dream up as his vision swam from the three-on-one attack that left his head pounding and his nose bloody. He got up slowly as the world spun around him. He blinked and spotted movement through the trees. He saw the three bandits in a clearing an arrow shot away. They were standing over a body. Ritter blinked again. It looked like Ace. Yes, his ringing brain remined him, Crow and Ace had also been with him when the bandit meeting had gone sideways. Ace wasn't moving. Shit. They killed the kid. And it was only his first adventure. Suddenly, a bandit fell, an arrow magically appearing in her left eye. Another cried out and fell, writhing on the ground, an arrow in his guts. It would take him a long time to die. Another figure emerged from the woods, his quiver empty, his longsword drawn. Crow! "Back off or I'll finish him," the last bandit said, his sword poised above Ace's chest. It wa