fiction

“Okay, the Hot Wheels Maneuver still needs more workshopping, but we’ll get it perfect next time.” Green stepped into the hideout through a warp in space, Red in tow. She brushed at a soot stain on the smoldering remains of her uniform, frowning as it refused to wipe off. “I think if you wait another half-second for my ring to stabilize before you launch the fireball into it, we oughta be able to – oh, hey Yellow. How’s it going?”

These stones have no name. They bear markings carved with care and precision, they stand neatly arranged in a perfect circle, but no trace of their origin remains to history. It’s too convenient; maybe this is where my mind betrays me again, floor crumbling under me just as the light of the exit comes into view. But it’s all I have. If any of this is real, I’ll know soon enough. I’ll know.

BOY OF TALL HOUSE COME OUT AFTER SNOWFALL, MANY YEARS. RUN WITH HOUSEWOLF. I STEAL HIS HAT. OLDER, RIDE THROUGH FOREST IN ROARINGSHELL, OUT BEYOND TO BARREN TOWERS AND BACK. OTHER ROARINGSHELLS COME NOW, BRIGHT-EYED, HOWLING. HOUSEWOLF OLD, LONELY, HOWLING TOO. …

Harrisley gingerly puts down the leaf, covered in a fine spidery writing. “And, this is…?”

“north wind... i transsslate...“ says the Walker Amid The Pines, in a voice that is the rustling of swaying branches.

“The first thing you must understand about the Wizards of the First Age is this: the Wizards of the Second Age dubbed themselves ‘wizards’ after painstakingly assembling half-understood fragments of their art; the Wizards of the Third Age inherited the barest slivers of surviving knowledge from the Second Age, and called themselves ‘wizards’ in turn; and so it goes. Though we of the Sixth Age have seen fit to adopt the same title, we must not imagine ourselves the equals of our forebears. If the greatest and most learned among us were to seek to comprehend the magics of the First Age, they would be as an ant contemplating the gulf between galaxies.

“Oh, dear. That is quite a dilemma.”

Rosandra waited for As-The-Spider-Weaves-And-Weaves-Again to continue, doing her best to stay patient. Her demonic moral development research project had been slow going so far, but this could finally be the progress she needed to get her faculty advisor to take her seriously.

“The suffering of five humans facing their rapidly-impending gruesome demise is exquisite, certainly; but compared to just one who believes themself to have escaped danger, only to suddenly be marked for death… And confronted with the knowledge that another actively chose to murder them, rather than the five dying in a mere accident…” It licks its lips. “I suppose personally, I’ve always favored quality over quantity. Although – these humans who’ve all been tied up at the same train junction, are they acquainted with one another? If the one on the other track were forced to live with the guilt and isolation of being the only survivor among their group of friends, when their death alone could have saved all the others – that might well be the best of both worlds, wouldn’t it… Oh! Can I hand the lever to one of the five on the main track, force them to make the choice? But then I suppose that having control of the situation themselves could just as easily create assurance and purpose, rather than guilt and recrimination… You humans really do come up with such devious conundra!”

Six re-emerges through the hatch onto the cramped bridge, swearing in several languages.

“How bad is it?” Anya asks, tossing over a ration pouch.

Six catches it and takes a long swig before answering. “Fucked, is how bad. That missile the Blowjob Brothers hit us with had a bio payload, one of those engineered slime molds the fucking Accordance use for sabotage ops. Kill to know how the hell the bastards got their hands on that shit… Anyway, it ate half the engine before I could vent it, plus I think some of it might’ve gotten into the fuel lines, so I’m gonna have to empty the tanks, decontaminate the fuel, flush the whole system before I can even start on repairs…” She does some quick mental math. “Five days.”

To:
Suffer Wayte-Archer IV
Aesyl Hall, Room 13γ
Aletheia University, College of Medical Magick

Kiddo,

Thanks for your letter! Your friends sound like great fun, and your lava pit immolation notes were a fascinating read. I only wish the Tigerfang Band were half as willing to help further the progress of medical science.

The Band have certainly been giving me plenty of work, although most of it is fairly boring stuff – spiked pits, decapitations, the occasional rolling boulder trap. Honestly, they’d save a fortune on trap-related deaths if they were willing to get over their paranoid prejudices and recruit a rogue. I can’t exactly complain, though, seeing as they’re footing your tuition and then some.

King Zarik IV, Lord of All Demons, Emperor of Cunning, stared down at the report his spymaster had handed him, reading it over once more to make sure he apprehended every detail correctly.

“The king of demons shall return, and attempt to sacrifice the princess of elves to return to his full power. In her moment of need, a hero with a blade that shines as the sun will appear, to slay the demon king and take her hand in marriage. And you are certain these are the exact words of the prophecy?”