Excerpts and Short Stories
The first five pages from published works and various short stories I've written over the years.
Warren stood on the battle-scarred streets of Fortitude, wiping blood from his sword. He stared at the blade in his hand, the pommel no longer glimmered, the leather grip worn and stained, the blade scratched by war. How many more years would he spend like this? He had little time to rest before a shriek echoed a few streets away. His eyes flicked open, and his thick muscles coiled. The western district again.
Blinding light slammed into Lillian with such great force she stumbled. This is the power of the Beacon, incredible. She relaxed her shoulders as the light sank deeper into her skin. She sensed a weight being lifted from her that she didn’t know existed. This was what Warren and his team had been searching for. This was what she risked her life to follow Warren for.
Initially, we thought the large magic conduit was a holy temple, that we dedicated our religion to worshiping. But, there are few who believe in it now. This is my account of the Xellic’s fall from grace.
Warren smirked at the orphanage’s masters from the rafters. He was nearly invisible perched in the shadows. The only way it could have gotten any better was if his skin was as black as his hair. Oh well.
“Your objective is to retrieve the artifact from the enemy without destroying it.” Master Klimik gave Cassidy a pointed look. Cassidy smiled and blinked sweetly as though he hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant.
Fortitude wasn’t as pretty as Methril. No sweet-smelling flowers in window sills, no ornate tapestries hanging over doors, no salt from the ocean lingering in the air. Vallerie sighed and let the carriage curtain drop back into place.