The Mephit's Tales

Day 19, late evening.

Lots to take in lately. Too much. Will anyone believe me? Even with this feather I hardly believe it myself.

Got to try.

That feast the Davai have been preparing for the last eight days was today. Only see now just how extensive those preparations were. The food has just been the last few days – lots of it. Hunting, first – never knew so many beasties around here were edible. They’re economical about it, too, using everything they can, right down to tanning the hides. Stews and cuts of meat, spice breads, at least a dozen kinds of fresh fruit – incredible variety, all of it freshly harvested or found within an hour or two’s walk.

(more…)

It took Vernon longer than usual to find his name on the chore roster.

Granted, that was the result of habit. Different apprentices were at the Academy to study somewhat different things – all under the broad aegis of magic, yes, but there was little in common between a biomancer’s work and a pyromancer’s, say, beyond the very basic underpinnings. So, having seen his name confined to some sections of that roster for two and a half years, when the young man didn’t find his name there at first glance, he checked again – twice – before letting his gaze roam farther.

There it was. But…

He looked around. Off to his left was Rolund, the journeyman who taught the basic elements of conjuration; all things considered, that seemed like a good person to ask. “Pardon me, Instructor Rolund?”

(more…)

It was the vernal equinox – the Planting Festival; another winter was fading, and crops were in the ground in preparation for a rich harvest in later months. Irishal Mastrieth, though not directly concerned with the planting, found himself with much more to celebrate than usual: he, the youngest of Master Farion’s students in the arcane arts, was also the only one deemed fit to graduate – not only was he no longer an apprentice, he was leaving that state before people who’d been studying for twice as long! Master Farion had said this and that about talent, but inwardly, Irishal wasn’t sure that a good portion of that wasn’t merely focus; he’d spent more time concentrating on his studies than had some of his fellow pupils, and this was his reward for it. Now, instead of a bunk in the cramped apprentice quarters, he had a house of his own, with a yet-largely-vacant workshop to call his.

And he was going there with a beautiful woman and dear friend, one who hadn’t minded his indulgence in the no-longer-forbidden pleasure of wine. One who’d seemed eager for a bit of privacy with him.

Who could yet say? Perhaps the farmers wouldn’t be the only ones sowing seed today. (more…)

The summer heat was inescapable. Even in the stone depths of the temple, where the acolytes were housed, the muggy air, the harbinger of rain that yet refused to fall, was all around; merely being away from the sun wasn’t enough to give proper relief.

It was high time for summer to wane; and Kallen remembered that from the instant a hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

“It’s time,” murmured the sub-priest who’d woken him. “They’ll be starting the ceremony soon.” And with that, the man moved on to another pallet, another body lying uncomfortably under a thin blanket.

Kallen put aside his own blanket. There would be time to fold it later; for now, he needed to help prepare. He tied his loincloth in place, and over that he drew on a simple brown robe, knotting the belt with care. Once he’d done that and slid his feet into sandals, he hurried out of the quarters and into the temple antechamber.

(more…)

It wasn’t often that Brandon saw a boomer he didn’t know.

Most of that was because he didn’t live in a place where kangaroos and the like were in any way common. Those that did live around here, for the most part, were already familiar. And yet there one was that he couldn’t remember seeing before – young, maybe just starting college; that’d explain him being a new face. He looked reasonably fit, as well as could be told given that their kind tended to be rather pear-shaped regardless. He had slate-grey fur and well-kept clothing.

He also looked rather wilted – slouching, ears drooping, a perfect picture of someone who was Not Having A Good Time – and he was scanning the club crowd with an expression somewhere between wistful and envious.

When the music turned to a slow number and the people on the dance floor started pairing up, that expression shifted decidedly toward envious.

A loner at a club, wishing he could be one of the couples… heartbreak, Brandon guessed. Or romantic issues of some kind, anyway. And there was something about the way this new boomer’s gaze lingered… Brandon put that out of his mind. Whatever happened, happened; but here was a good-looking guy who didn’t deserve to feel totally alone. Not on a nice early-autumn evening like this, especially.

(more…)

The great blue dragon heaved a heavy sigh. “Truly, you are the most curious human I have ever encountered. Many have come seeking my blood. More – and some few of my own kind – have come seeking my wealth.”

With the outward curve of one obsidian claw, he stroked along the human’s side, where that human lay on the dragon’s own stomach. “None of them – except perhaps one fetching but greedy red, and certainly none of the humans – showed nearly so much interest in my sex.”

Kalen laughed, gliding his hand along the broad expanse of the dragon’s arousal. “I’ve more interest in knowledge and magic than in coin. And I’m young yet. A lover, however temporary, means more to me than a purse of silver.”

(more…)

It was not a fit night to be travelling, not for man nor beast. Wild magic had crept into the storm; rain and hail pelted down with unnatural force, ripping away needles, shredding bark, and pulverizing much of the ground cover. Mere boughs simply weren’t enough to keep the icy rain at bay; anything that could, huddled under leaning or fallen trunks for some cover.

But not all errands waited on the weather, and so Kalen, out gathering the last of the season’s rimeberries, had been caught on the trails when the full force of the storm hit. A magical barrier kept the rain and hail from falling directly upon him, but it couldn’t keep the ground from being treacherous, nor did it keep the chill bite of the air from his lungs. But even if he was inclined to wait out the storm – and as the sky grew still darker, that was a possibility he was strongly considering – there simply wasn’t good cover to be had. Not down in the woods.

And so he trudged upwards. The going was harder, especially as the trees thinned and the ground became icier, but there were caves in the foothills. Better to stumble into a bear’s den than to be caught out here; his magic could subdue such a beast, but he could drain himself trying to keep away the fickle anger of the Green Goddess and still succumb.

In searching for such shelter, he was better-equipped than most men. He could sense air under stone; all he needed to do was follow it to the surface.

(more…)

Aaron fumbled with his keys, and barely managed not to drop them onto the hallway floor. It took him three tries to get the key in right way up, his hand was shaking so hard.

What was the big deal? He kind of had to wonder. People did this sort of thing all the time, right?

Well, maybe people did, but he, Aaron, sure didn’t.

(more…)

Everything was perfect.

Eric had been trekking all day to get to this place. He was tired, sore, hungry, parched, and panting from the heat that boiled off of him. But as he looked over his campsite, the otter knew it was all worth it.

He set his pack down, loosening the straps that held his tent against its side. Over there was a spot of flat ground – he swept it with a small broom, and found it to be smooth, clear of rocks, roots, twigs, or other lumps. Unrolling his tent, he also found it to be just the right size.

He convinced his weary body to keep going a little longer, setting up the tent, getting his clothes and other daily supplies into it, and hanging his pack and the food in it safely between two trees. Finally, he turned to the real prize of his labours.

His campsite lay just a short distance away from the foot of a cliff, and a stream spilled over that cliff. It was a short enough drop at this point that the sound of falling water wasn’t thunderous; and there, at the base of the falls, the swirling water had gouged out a pool, with his home for the next few days right beside it.

Overheated as the otter was, that pool was like a piece of heaven brought to earth.

(more…)