In the next few days or weeks I hope to post my first short story on Kindle. Will it do well? Who knows. To be honest I hope so but I’d settle for it reading well and entertaining a few people. The setting is high fantasy with lashings of magic, invention and intrigue. 

 

Here is a snap shot of the first of many short stories I intend to post.

 

Maeordan.

 

Within minutes a crowd had gathered in the town square. Foss, woken by the chapel bell, followed them a good distance behind.

In the short time he’d been in Hallshad, he’d heard the bell rung four times. Each one was to signify the loss of a life.

Hidden beneath the blacksmiths awning, Foss watched the crowd. The men stood straight backed and silent, while the women and children whispered prayers.

A pained scream split the stillness and in unison everyone turned to see a haggard woman running barefoot down the frozen road. Without warning she slipped on the snow covered cobbles and fell heavily.

“Have you found him? Have you found my son,” she pleaded, struggling to her knees. The crowd shifted away from her as if buffeted by an unseen gust. No one moved to help. Instinctively mother’s scooped their children into their arms and enveloped them beneath thick winter cloaks.  

The townsfolk of Hallshad were as generous as they were superstitious. Foss had seen the look upon their faces countless times. They feared the wrath of the gods should they help the beleaguered woman. Parents taught their children to fear and revere the gods from an early age and with good reason.

At the end of the war, Foss witnessed friends turn on one- another over a loaf of bread. He’d been present when the order was given to burn the captured city of Sortune. Thousands of people both infected or otherwise, were burnt alive to stop the plague.

 

Foss spat. Where were the gods and their miracles then?

 

As Foss moved from his hiding place to help stricken woman, a man, a head shorter than the rest with blond not black hair, appeared from the front of the crowd. As he strode towards her he slipped his once plush cloak from his shoulders.

 

“Khelen, please, take my cloak. You must be—“

 

“My son, you’ve murdered him.” She screamed, lashing out at him. “Ever since you came the gods have abandoned us.”

A murmur rippled the crowd.

 

Matt..

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