Sorry

I haven't written anything lately. Headaches, depression and other things.

Nightmares of Command

(I wrote this sometime around 1997 - it was the preface of a novel-length story that was lost)

Nightmares of Command

Tara Simmons had that same dream, nightmare actually, almost every night since it actually happened to her. It was something she was sure would never stop tormenting her. She awakened in a sweat, and stared at the ceiling for a few long moments before sitting up.

She glanced at the chronometer beside the bed, and saw that it was in the wee hours of the morning as usual. Sleep deficiency is the least of my problems, she told herself.

Tara stood up, and stretched her arms straight out to the sides. Then she walked into the small closet-style washroom adjacent to the living quarters, and washed her face. It was refreshing, but it only lasted seconds, until those memories returned.
memories of the hell that she had lived through, and she knew that she had had no right to survive the carnage that she herself had brought.

Its always going to be my fault , she thought to herself, I alone am responsible.

She sat at the computer terminal, and called up the latest news headlines. The Scree had attacked and decimated another heavily fortified Fleet position. The Fleet had lost twenty mainline ships, and barely managed to destroy three Scree vessels, one a cargo ship. This war is going very badly, she knew. Everyone knew that.

Her tribunal was still in the news after three days, and commentators all agreed that she got off too easy. Tara agreed, she felt that her life should have been forfeit. It will only torment me the more for not being punished for what I did. Tara told herself. She turned off the news reader, and checked her messages.

Her brother on Domascus wrote to tell her that he was glad of the outcome, and to remind her that she always had a place to turn to. She smiled, little comfort for the haunted soul. Jason always was a pal to her. They had grown up buddies, even when other siblings only fought each other. My only supporter, she thought, and mused how she didn't even support herself any longer.

She moved from the terminal back to bed, it was too early not to try and get back to sleep, even when the very thought of sleep is mortifying. It was quick to overtake her as she closed her eyes.

Gamma 5,
Its starting all over again.

Tara was again directing her troops into battle, on foot against a Scree munitions supply base that was right over a ridge from where they landed the ship.
She waved her three hundred troops forward, marching in four columns toward the enemy supply center. She was holding a laser rifle in one hand and shouting orders at the same time. 

As always she felt a violent heat wave and saw her troops being blown to pieces before she ever reacted. The ship was hit at the same time, as Scree fighters swept down and fired their weapons at the almost defenseless position on the surface. The plateau where they stood became a killing ground. 

It was her decision that had doomed the entire crew. As the Commander, she ordered them to land without another ship to keep them covered from space. In hindsight it was a foolish choice, but it had been made. That would not be changed.

Tara again woke up, and saw that it was daylight when she opened her eyes. She sat up and noticed that her white top was soaking wet. It always was in the morning, after the incident. She stood up, and stripped off her sleep-wear and walked into the washroom for the regulation one minute shower. Soon she put her uniform on, Commander the rank marks on the nametag meant, she considered it a dis-honor not to at least have been demoted.

The doctors told her that she was punishing herself, and told the tribunal that she should not be allowed to continue in the Fleet. It was because of her instability. The tribunal could not strip her of her commission since she was not found guilty of anything. They could however just not offer her the Command of another ship. That was three months ago, and she still was not back at her duties. Four and a half months since the incident and she had not even been sent back to a base. Outrageous, but a punishment in a sense. One that she deserved fully.

Commander Tara Simmons walked out of her hovel, and walked to the nearest cafeteria in her area of New York. She was ordered to wear her uniform, even now that she was as close to being a civilian as she was. Eight years in the service and this is my reward, that the entire human race thinks I'm scum, forced to pretend to work, and hate myself to boot. Wonderful. She thought to herself as she stood in line waiting for her breakfast among the civilians too poor to afford an apartment with a kitchenette.

They stared at her when she wasn't looking, that was obvious by the way they started moving again when she looked their way. Once, three weeks ago a woman tried to attack her, yelling about losing a son under her command. The guards were deliberately slow in getting the woman off of her.

Tara had traveled to a different cafeteria for two weeks afterward, missing breakfast altogether for most of that time. Others asked why she did not fight back, she usually ignored them. Once she was feeling especially bad and shot back by saying "Fighting is something I am not too good at."

She sat alone in a far corner of the place, trying to avoid contact with everyone else. Tara could not help reviewing her life, again.

Tara Simmons had joined the Fleet at eighteen, seeking travel and excitement. She also found order and rules which she had sought for a lifetime. It was a life she had wanted and she cherished it. She knew it was not normal for a girl to never fall in love with anything but fighting in war games and the odd pirate.

There were guys, even some men, but she had never loved and never has she been loved. She had always blamed the lax parenting she and her brother received back on Solaris, her home planet. That was why she was enthralled with military service, it provided what her parents had neglected.

Now I am twenty six and washed up She thought to herself, finishing off the orange liquid the Health Authority had the gall to say was Orange Juice. Real orange juice cost a ton of credits here on Earth. This was some concoction of who-knows-what.

What a crazy life She told herself again as she dumped the trash into the recycling receptacles, and began the walk home. Home? Home was a place she had never known, and probably never will.

Entering her little apartment she quickly unzipped the drab gray uniform, and looked at her terminal and saw that a new message had been recieved. She sat to read it.

TO: Commander Simmons, Tara 095482901-A
FROM: Fleet Regional Command Center, Domascus
Admiral Huskins, John R. 109238452-C

Commander Simmons is ordered to be present, by Admiral Huskins for new mission briefing. 0700 hrs-12-2-2198.
The Bolivia leaves Earth Tonight for Domascus. Last scheduled ship for week. Please be on it.
Signed Admiral Huskins

Tara could hardly believe what she was reading. She could easily make the Bolivia, having almost no gear to store, and her brother would be getting a hug in person. Good timing, she thought. I only wished I deserved it.

Tara Simmons easily made the transport shuttle to the Bolivia, and was un-nerved that she was still getting those rude looks from everyone who recognized her from the news programs. They had already reported that she had been booked on a flight to Domascus, they didn't know why, yet.

Her brother had gotten her message and had replied how delighted he was to get to see his younger sister again in person. She knew that he meant it, but still....

As the vessel left Earth orbit and was preparing to warp space once outside the Sol system, Tara took a short tour of the ship. She met its Commander, one Ralph DeFazio. He did not look at her as if she had killed her crew on purpose, and didn't seem to be angry.

"I understand that in a war, bad decisions of command costs lives. That is war, commanders cannot be blamed for a bad decision. In your shoes I, or any other Commander may have made the same choice. It was your decision to make and you did it, there is no blame to be laid." He had told her, it was what the tribunal had concluded, but he seemed to mean it.

Tara went back to her Spartan quarters after the truncated tour, and saw that it was time to try and get some sleep. She dreaded sleep, it was when the ghosts haunted her conscience, and demanded that she give up what was no longer hers. The dead demanded her life as repayment, but she greedily held onto life.

Tara was tired of those nightmares, and tried to focus on something positive before she slept, maybe it would work for this one night. She thought of her childhood, and how her brother had helped her learn how to fly and land a remotely controlled shuttle toy. It had been the real thing, and they had even put into orbit once as a dare. It burned up on re-entry as the warning on the box had said would happen.
The poor mouse in 'Command' didn't stand a chance.

It didn't work, Gamma-5 was back.....

Tara saw the troops under her command being blown apart, they tried to shoot the fighters with laser rifles to no avail. Tara had been terrified and made her way into a crevice, and hid from the maelstrom around her. Oh, sure she took a few shots at the attack fighters as they made run after run against their position, but it was meaningless. 

She was showing cowardice in the face of the enemy, even if she did make those shots. That was something she had told herself all these months, even if the tribunal disagreed. 

Soon the other ship showed up to be their cover from space, its Commander was mortified that they had actually landed without them. He saw the carnage, and easily took out the Scree Carrier ship in orbit. After that the fighters had nowhere to run, and they were easily dispatched. The supply base was taken out within minutes afterwards.

Tara was found standing and in shock, staring at the blood which littered the battlefield before her. The crew of the second ship and the remnants of hers were trying to sort the bodies and body parts, she could not move to help, she was unable to even speak.
One hundred and thirty four dead men and women, forty seven wounded.
They demanded that she join them as a penance for her mistake.

Tara wondered why the Fleet would even allow an Admiral to even consider putting her back in command of another vessel. It didn't make any sense at all to her.

Domascus was a desert planet, with a very small population. It was also home to the Fleets' top scientific research center and proto-type ship building operation. She had only been there once, after the Incident, and didn't remember much about what she had seen. She had still been in shock.

Too early to go to breakfast, of course. It was always the same routine in the mornings, off with the sweat-soaked sleepwear and a one minute shower. What a life she thought, again.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and decided to try and remember how she had gotten that stupid tattoo when she was twenty three.

She had been with a group of Lt. Commanders at a base on Deplee, a rotted little planet, and had apparently been drinking a little too much. She had woken up in her quarters on the deck, naked with a tattoo of an anchor on her right arm right under the shoulder. There was a handwritten note stuck to screen of her terminal, all it said was Thanks!.

Some officer somewhere must remember me fondly, she thought to herself with a little giggle. Not many laughs for me in the last eight months.
 
They arrived at the tan-colored planet after a three day trip in warp, and she looked at it from a view-port in the cafeteria. Why would Jason want to live on a world like that?, she asked herself. He was a successful writer, he could live on Vega if he wanted to. Except that Vega was now under territory controlled by the Scree, as was Starrion and Aloure.

Twelve of the twenty four human settled planets were now cut off by the Scree, and they were making sure to bomb the planets back to the stone age without having to actually invade them. The Scree wiped out every vestige of human presence in space, sort of like isolating a disease. The purpose of isolating a disease was to find a cure to destroy that disease.

Last accounts showed that the Scree totally surrounded human occupied space and had began making raids into every human solar system, recon of course. They planned to isolate every human on the planets and then wipe us out. Tara thought to herself.

Commander DeFazio had mentioned that they seemed to regard Domascus as the last of their targets, with its small population and its seeming unimportance.

Soon the shuttles began to land and Tara was brought down outside of the main city, to a small space-port that was actually a slab of concrete with some guidance sensors protruding from the ground around it. She saw her brother waiting for her as she exited the shuttle.

They hugged, making up for a long five years since they had last met. That was at the funeral of their father on Solaris, it was not a happy time of course.

"I missed you" He told her, as he held her at arms length for his inspection. He noticed the tattoo right away and made a face that said "You?!"

"Don't ask" She said with a grin, "What's with the beard?"

"I forgot to shave so often that I decided to let it grow. I think it makes me look like a writer. What do you think?" He asked stroking his beard, and raising his eyebrows.

"You look older than twenty nine, I shall leave it at that." She said, as he led her to his hover vehicle for the ride to his home. He mocked disappointment at her comment, but then smiled.

"Tara, you didn't say why they asked you to come here." He said as the craft lifted off the ground to an altitude of ten feet, and then forward.

"I was not asked, it was an order. I may be getting a new command." She told him. Now he really was disappointed. She could tell.

"Why haven't you quit? I mean after what happened....?" He asked, not really wanting to finish the question.

Tara was silent for a few moments, "I can't quit. It would drive me crazy, it would be unfinished business that I left behind."

The ride to his home was silent after that.

It was a grand three story house, it looked like old fashion wood and shingles. She knew that it wasn't, it was actually a clever design for a high tech home. It was for those who liked it to look older than it was and who could afford the high price. Such a large home for a single man. Tara thought to herself. Neither one of us married, and we are both wayward souls. Way to go Pop.

After a tour of his huge huge home, which sat on 1000 acres that he owned, they sat down for a nice dinner. Pre-prepared, of course. He might write well, but cooking wasn't one his good points. It may also be a reason that he hasn't been married.

"So when are you supposed to meet the Admiral?" Jason asked as he put a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Locally grown, and even exported to Earth and the other planets.

"Tomorrow. Early in the morning, can you get me there?" She asked as she bit down on what had to be processed food. Real meat couldn't taste that good, it never did in the military.

"Of course. That hover vehicle is new, made right before they stopped production. The company started making space vehicles for the military. Seems like we are losing worse than it sounds. What do you think, how bad is it?"

She looked up from the meal, and sat her fork down. She looked him in the eyes and said "We are being whipped like school kids. We have barely slowed them down, they are doing recon in every sector and we will not be able to stop a full fledge attack. I hear that it may happen in the next few weeks."

"If we don't find a way to stop the Scree- and the Fleet can't... Then we are all dead, and the Scree will have all of our planets and systems." She continued, "We are close to running out of ships, and most of the experienced crews have been killed. What are left are defending the Sol system, and that leaves most of them unprotected, including Domascus."

Jason was dumbfounded, "That bad?"

Tara shook her head in affirmation, "Yes, maybe worse"

"So much for my next novel."

The next morning they were at the base. It was an underground base accessible only by several landing sites covered by huge automatic doors on top. They were ordered to land in the one used by base personnel, the parking lot.

Jason had to wait in the Visitors Center as a couple of guards escorted Tara to where Admiral Huskins office was located. They were nervous, and she wondered what had happened to cause that.

She entered the office and began to do an inspection of the place. It tells a lot about a person how they decorate and what with. The man behind the desk seemed to be very patient with her, even smiling to himself as he watched her.

After the look-see she walked up to the desk and stood at attention, "Commander Tara Simmons as ordered, sir."

He motioned to the comfortable looking chair and said "Please sit down, we have a lot to talk about."

She sat in the chair. Just too soft for her taste, as she sat on the edge straight as an arrow. He looked bemused by this sight. He was wondering if she knew how to relax.
For several moments they regarded each other, they already had read up on each other, but some things can't be put on paper.

For a sixty-four year old he wasn't bad looking, and he was in great shape by the looks of him. She preferred men more her own age though. They cannot by rules be superior, or inferiors in rank. That really cut down on who she saw after she got promoted into command.

This man has been through many battles, and now he was stuck out here. It was literally the last place an enemy would attack, having no discernible strategic value. The real secrets were not discernible.

Admiral Huskins had read the bio and all the news, and neglected to look at any photo's of the Commander. He was surprised at how beautiful she was in person. I'm glad to have her under my command he thought jokingly to himself. He didn't kid himself, this woman had been through hell and he was sure that she was stronger for it. That's why she was asked to come here.

"I want you to take command of a new ship we have just completed building. It is not an ordinary ship, which is why its here. Its a proto-type, utilizing an entirely new technology. Are you with me so far?" The Admiral asked her.

"Why would the Fleet allow you to choose me?" She asked, "After what happened."

"They are not making this decision, its totally under my authority. You were to be one of a half dozen prospects for this mission, but with recent events ...."

"What events?" She broke in.

"You haven't heard?" He asked, surprised that she wasn't reading her news.

"No, sir. I was visiting my brother, we had a lot to catch up on." She said, and looked at him.

"This morning the Scree attacked ten planetary systems. They were reported to be more than a hundred thousand ships strong, and the Fleet didn't stand a chance against them. Our forces were wiped out" He said, and cleared his throat. He was very saddened by it, judging by his demeanor.

Tara was speechless, to say the least. "Wiped out?"

"We have no warships at this time, Commander" He told her, "We have one in our hangar, the proto-type. Its new technology can rip open space-time and have you from here to any solar system in an instant. An Instant."

Tara was nonplussed. Impossible!, her mind told her, "How?"

Quickly she saw that the Admiral was not kidding and saw a chance for revenge on the Scree. I can get them back for Gamma-5.
 
"Do you accept this assignment?"

"Yes, sir"

"You do realize that this ship, the Vortex is now our last hope to fight off the Scree? I wish you all the luck in the galaxy Commander. You will need it." He said and he stood up, and saluted her.

Tara also stood up, and saluted back. No superior had ever shown her that much respect, and she was then to be escorted to the Vortex for a quick tour.

Those demons inside want her blood, not that of the Scree, Tara knew.

-----------------------------

I really need a book cover. You can donate something, even fifty cents, on the sidebar or buy a copy of New Arrivals, Oasis or Reward: Stolen Planet (each is 99 cents). If you donate $2 or more toward the cover I will give you a copy of the e-book when it is finished.

New Arrivals Discount (just for a short while)

http://www.amazon.com/New-Arrivals-Floyd-Looney-ebook/dp/B00X8KV396

Dinner for the Broke

I splurged.

On a Ramen Noodle (beef flavor)

Quite a luxury right now.

I hate being this broke.

Updates & a request

Fantasy is not my genre but apparently some people like the Torik Chronicle stories, and I will be adding to that in a day or two.

I wanted to say that my next science fiction novel is basically done. I think it might need a new title, though. The girl who was to be the main character turned out to share that spot with the guy who was supposed to be the bad guy, but who refused to be the bad guy. So I have decided that she has to have another book eventually.

My problem is that I have no ability to make a cover. I really have no talent for it at all, nor can I afford one at the moment. Not even a really cheap one.

If you could donate even 50 cents to my PayPal (sidebar), I promise that it will only be used for making a cover. Even if I can raise only a few dollars I can get something thrown together by a Fiverr artist.

Thank you.

Lord Jasper & the Dragon of Torik

Road to Torik

False Dragon of Torik

Lord Jasper & the Dragon of Torik

Third Instalment in the Torik Chronicle

*from Big Stock*

Lord Jasper

Lord Jasper was taller and thinner than Duke Willoughby, but his eyes were beady and shifty as. He met in the rustic sitting room, where there were wooden benches.

“What do you know of these stories about a dragon?” Braccus asked him, “They have a lot of people frightened, workers refusing to work the fields.”

“Oh, that silliness?” Lord Jasper asked, almost surprised to be asked about that topic instead of something else. “I've told my workers not to listen to such balderdash. Nobody has seen any dragon and until they do they need to be doing their jobs, or I'll replace them.”

Kester leaned forward, “You don't think it might be suspicious that your people are working while everyone one else was hiding?”

The man sighed. “It's not my problem that people are frightened of stories and tall tales. I find it hard to believe people are really scared of this nonsense like children.”

Hodkins twisted his face around. “If you didn't spread those rumors, who did? Where are the missing people?”

The man laughed. “Are you sure those people truly existed? None of my workers ever knew or met the so-called taken ones. I definitely asked them too.”

Meritor was confused. This man was no doubt linked to the troll attack, the dwarf had mentioned him and it had been very clear to Meritor's ears. If he wasn't responsible for the disappearances and the rumors of dragons, then what in the world had he been trying to hide? Something worse?

Braccus had been rubbing his bearded chin again. He looked around the room at every one of them and said, “Torik is the southeastern-most town of Archlandia, before the Baleful Mountains. So the idea of dragons being seen is not totally out of the question. If there were dragon attacks, and I have seen one of them myself, everyone would have heard and seen it. Dragons are not subtle creatures.”

“But they are quite rare, these days.” Lord Jasper told them, “As a child, I think I saw one in the distance once flying high toward the mountains. It didn't look like a bird, but it was so far how could I be sure? Other than that, I have lived a lifetime and never saw or heard one.”

Hodkins crossed his arms. “Okay then. I will grant that there was no dragon. Who benefits from the rumors and the frightened people? Isn't it you, Lord Jasper?”

The man sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It would seem so, on the surface, I suppose. I protest my innocence, though.”

Braccus leaned back. “We have no evidence against you on this matter.”

Meritor stopped leaning against the wall by the door, something had moved upstairs. “There is one other thing we need to ask you about, though.”

“I see.” Lord Jasper said, clasping his hands together. “What might that be, then?”

Braccus sat up straight. “Do you employ a dwarf, by any chance?”

Something fell over at the top of the stairs and Meritor slipped out of the room and started quietly up the stairs, hand on the hilt of the knife sheathed in the small of his back.

“Employ?” Lord Jasper asked, slightly confused. “I would not call it employed.”

Meritor reached the top of the stair where a tall vase lay on its side and the form of a small dwarf was balled up next to it, shivering. He let the knife stay in the sheath. He reached down and pulled the dwarf into a standing position, the small man did not resist.

“Please, I beg you, don't tell Lord Jasper about this.” the Dwarf pleaded in a whisper. “He can't know about it, he is terrible when he is angry.”

Downstairs Braccus was asking Lord Jasper “If he is not employed, as you say, how would you describe him?”

Lord Jasper stood up and clasped his hands behind his back. “You aren't from around here, so you wouldn't know. He, in fact, is my nephew.”

Upstairs, Meritor released his grip on the scruff of the dwarf. “I'll talk to you later, and don't try to run away from me.”

The dwarf slunk down against the wall and nodded. “I will not run away from you.”

Meritor walked back down the stairs to join his comrades.

“I see.” Braccus said, “I guess we'll be on our way. I might come to ask you different questions tomorrow but it's so late, I understand if your tired.”

“There's a spare room if you want to stay here until morning.” Lord Jasper informed them, “You are welcome to it. I'll have your horses tended to in the barn.”

The four spent the night in a room with four beds. “How come there is a room with four beds? Another coincidence?” Kaster asked. “This seemed like a simple matter a few hours ago, but I haven't any idea how this ends.”

“It will end one way, or another. No sense thinking about it too much.” Hodkins said as he laid on one of the beds. “I'll be getting some sleep at any rate.”

“So the dwarf is his nephew. I wonder if he knows what his kin has been up to?” Kaster asked idly but amused. “Is the little man a master criminal?”

“I didn't get that impression.” Meritor said, thinking about the meeting at the top of the stairs. “Although I wonder what his nephew has been up to, as well.”

When the others were asleep Meritor slid out of the bed and quietly left the room. He found himself in a dark and unfamiliar hallway. He had no idea which room might have belonged to the dwarf so he walked by them all. One of the doors at the other end of the second floor had a doorknob that was much lower than normal.

He tapped it lightly. Several moments later the door opened with a click and he entered to see Malwort's profile lit by the sole candle in the room. This room was not like the others in the house, indeed it was quite shabby.

“I am a member of a secret organization, sir. I do not wish to divulge anything about that, but I will try to explain the situation as I know it.” Malwort told him, without ever once looking in the direction of the door. “From what I know, and these are not rumors these are the word of those in position to know, is that it seems Duke Willoughby is trying to fool the King into taking action against Lord Jasper.”

Meritor lifted an eyebrow. “You think Willoughby is possibly sabotaging his own business, to remove his main competitor?”

Malwort put up one finger. “I do not think anything, I know. I have many contacts in this region.”

Meritor wanted to play devil's advocate. “He is your uncle, I can see how that might bias you in his favor.”

A grin passed over the face of the dwarf, he could see it even in the darkened room. “My uncle is a devious and cruel man. A lout really. I would have no trouble telling you about his misdeeds. There are many, but there is nothing like what the Duke is doing.”

Meritor believed Malwort. “Tell me what you know.”

“I know that his hands have been working at night in the field. I know who was paid to spread the dragon rumors. I know he plans to use the king's guard to eliminate Lord Jasper and seize his fields as compensation.” The dwarf said. “On many levels the Duke is a better man than my uncle, but he is a greedy accountant at heart. Lord Jasper and Duke Willoughby have butted heads for decades on many issues, especially trying to control the flow of pepper in the kingdom.”

Meritor asked, “Roget Willoughby doesn't look the type. I doubt he ever worked hard in his life.”

The dwarf shook his head, “When he was but a boy, Roget was a bit more active. He actually wrested control of the estate from his older brother. His brother has never been heard from again, not even a letter for more than three decades now.”

“Are you suggesting...?”

“No.” The small man said, “I wouldn't suggest what I do not know.”

“What about the trolls?” Meritor asked, “What kind of person sends people to a trap and forces them to face trolls? What if my comrades hadn't known the best ways to defeat them? Who sent you to do that?”

“My source says Willoughby was having assassins sent to kill Lord Jasper. My intelligence in the matter was erroneous, for once, and I couldn't let you kill my uncle under the wrong pretenses. Not that I would really mind it otherwise.” The dwarf said, “I thought you were hired killers. When the trolls were dispatched with ease, I was certain of it. Fortunately, you aren't assassins after all.”

Meritor told him, “I'll have to think about changing careers, though.”

“If you are not assassins, then you work for the King to scout out the situation. Please tell them not to send the soldiers after my uncle. He is not guilty of this thing. If you have no other questions, please let me get some sleep. I have a kitchen to scrub before dawn.”

Meritor had a hard time believing that the bad guy here was Willoughby instead of Jasper as he laid back down on the fourth bed. He believed that Malwort was telling the truth, though. He would demand some evidence of this before they would report back to Prince Harald.

The dwarf said he had sources. The noise he had heard at Willoughby's might not have come from the next room, but from within the wall. The dwarf could have been listening to their conversation the whole time! Some source.

Meritor slept fitfully and woke before dawn. He wondered through the house and found himself in the kitchen and, sure enough, the dwarf was scrubbing the floor.

“Malwort!” he said, “Have you scuttled inside of walls lately?”

The dwarf threw down the scrub brush and removed the rag from his head. “Forget that. My sources tell me that you and those larger men are in grave danger.”

“Why? What from? How can you possibly know?” Meritor asked.

“The secret organization is not just me, idiot. Did you really think it was? No time to talk about that, right now. Deep in the night the Duke sent some of his top men with a wagon, pigs tied to it, to the distant foothills. One of my inside sources was forced to go along. There was a cave and there they fed it the pigs.”

“It?”

“A real dragon. In chains.” Malwort told him, “They spread those rumors so no one would suspect anything when a real dragon shows up. The Duke's top hand explained that you four will be the first target.”

Meritor was impressed but shrugged. “Hodkins can handle the dragon, so he says. But how do I know that this was all the Duke and not Jasper? Or you?”

The dwarf closed his eyes and covered his face. “I'm sitting on the floor, scrubbing the kitchen and you think I run a conspiracy?”

None of this was evidence. If there was a real dragon somewhere, that did not necessarily implicate Willoughby. All of this was second or third hand information, filtered by Malwort. Meritor thought about this as he walked back through the house and back upstairs.

Braccus opened one eye as Meritor entered.

“The dwarf?”

Meritor nodded. “Says the Duke is about to send a dragon after us.”

“Wake those two lumps. We best be watching our backs.” Braccus said, sitting up and stretching. Meritor walked over and kicked the beds and two men finally started waking up. Both of them wanted to know what was happening.

“Looks like trouble is finally coming.” Braccus told them.

“Finally.” Kaster said, “I've been bored.”

“Play time, eh?” Hodkins said with a smile, “It's about time. Is it trolls again?”

“Better.” Meritor told him, “A dragon.”

Hodkins face fell just a bit, he might have even gone a bit pale. “Is that so? Then, uh, nothing we can't handle. I suppose.”

Just then one whole wall exploded inward and an ear-piercing shriek gouged into the quiet of the night as the four of them retreated against the walls. Except where Hodkins and Kaster had gone, there was no door. Both had some scratches from the flying wood and rock.

The claws and the face of a dragon was peering into the room from the dark, the head was as large as one of the beds. It shrieked again and Meritor fell to the floor and wondered if he should bother even looking for his bow.

“I would say this is a real dragon.” Braccus said in a low voice.

-----------------------
 Torik Chronicle: Final

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A Bunch of 99 cent Sci-Fi & Fantasy Ebooks

 A bunch of Sci-Fi and Fantasy ebooks for 99 cents.

http://pattyjansen.com/promo/99c-books/

Patty Jansen and other authors are making this weekend a time to promote all of their books for 99 cents! Every book cover on the linked page are 99 cents for this weekend only.

I counted at least 39 or 40 ebooks at the page, there could be more being added.




I have a short and a novella for 99 cents right here on my page for 99 cents.

Reward: Stolen Planet is a 9,000 word, 39 page short, for 99 cents.

It is my attempt at a humor book in my own weird writing style, like not using a period inside of quotes. I mean, the end quote means they stopped talking, so what's the point of the period, really. lol.

Two of the characters are my homage to Laurel & Hardy.




Oasis, as many know, was blogged here chapter by chapter. Now the whole thing is available as an ebook. I didn't spend much time and any money on a cover for this one.

It is 16,680-words and 71-pages, for 99 cents.

A "backwater" desert planet where people have divided themselves into "tribes" find their world threatened by outside forces.

Story False Dragon of Torik

Road to Torik (earlier part)

 

False Dragon of Torik

Second Part of the Torik Chronicle

*Public Domain Illustration

The four horsemen arrived at the town of Torik in late afternoon and while they could see the road continued up a small rise to the large chateau of the Duke of Torik, which also doubled as the townsfolk redoubt and keep. The Duke, Roget Willoughby, also owned a lot of the peppercorn fields overseen by such a residence.

They tied their horses and then entered Torik de Arms Inn. Most of the bottom floor was taken up by tables where supper was being served to patron. Upstairs there were actual rooms to let, not just a hay loft. The sign out front with the name Torik de Arms Inn had a wooden representative of a disembodied arm, with the end of it being painted red.

At first glance it was quiet and no one was in the street. Then again that was also suspicious to Meritor who still had no idea why they had been sent by the senile King's son, Prince Harald. Meritor looked from table to table as Braccus approached the man at the counter.

“Are you still looking for that dwarf?” Kaster asked, “Seems rather pointless. No doubt he was hired by someone else to get rid of us.”

“Funny little man.” Hodkins said with a chuckle.

Meritor frowned. He hadn't told them about “Lord Jasper”, but you would think they would at least have some desire to run a blade through the dwarf that tried to have them killed by trolls. The dwarf, Malwort, had no way of knowing how much experience the big men had at killing the beasts. A pathetic attempt to slay them it might have been, but really, he still tried to kill them!

Braccus returned. He had acquire a room for the night, just one, but there was a good chance they would do no sleeping. “I think our contacts will give us a message before long. They couldn't have missed our arrival in this small town.”

Braccus led them to the dining room where several rough-hew tables sat. Wine, bread and cheese were delivered to the table by a young lady. Meritor really hoped that Hodkins or Kaster didn't call her “wench” or they'd be asked to leave.

“If they approach us soon, we'll take to the ale house across the way.” Braccus said.

“Sounds like a good plan!” Hodkins said pouring the wine in his cup down his throat, although some missed and dribbled down his beard. Meritor tried to act civilized but his compatriots were chowing through the bread and cheese like it was their last supper.

“Calm it down.” Meritor said, “This isn't even the main course.”

Braccus laughed. He had already known but, he always let the men enjoy themselves. Sure enough a plate of baked chicken, potatoes and carrots with a side of raw tomatoes was delivered. Meritor was nodding deeply and saying “Thank you, young miss.” while the brutes were already tearing the meal to bits and stuffing it into their mouths. Meritor tried to think about something else besides his partners having the manners of a full-grown hog.

He was thinking about the large manor on the hill. The Duke was central to everything in the area and the town of Torik, his hill overlooked everything. Roget Willoughby was part of this whole thing, one way or another. Meritor also wanted to find a good time to ask, as casually as possible, about this Lord Jasper. Hopefully when the others were not around.

The dwarf would have to stand out. Probably everyone knew the dwarf, Malwort. Maybe he was the town mascot, might be he ran errands for employment. One never knew before one asked. A shadow fell upon the table and they looked up to see a thin, balding with the bearing of a noble.

“The Duke requests your presence at the manor house.” he told them in very precise language. Meritor didn't expect to find anything but illiterate bumpkins in these parts, he was impressed. Maybe this Roget Willoughby was a decent chap after all. If he was in contact with Prince Harald, then he already knew how things were going in the kingdom too.

The Duke's messenger had his own horse and they followed him up the hill and through the opened double gate in the fence. Another of the Duke's servants took care of their horses as they were bid to follow the messenger into the main house. Once inside Meritor noted how clean and well furnished the place was. It was like being in an antechamber of the palace.

“Please take a sit in the library.” The messenger said and waved his armed toward a door. Braccus opened it and entered a room as big as the dining room they had left. The walls of this one were covered with shelves holding books of all shapes and sizes. It would be heaven for Meritor to have the time to study this room and the books in detail, but he was afraid these three bears would trample these precious tomes.

“If it was a troll problem, we might have already taken care of that.” Kaster said with some amusement as they sat on the plush-cushioned couch.

“It is probably not so simple as that.” Braccus replied, “Otherwise they might not have needed us. A troop from the King's guard could have been dispatched. I think this is something else altogether.”

“I don't feel good about this and I don't even know what we're here for.” Hodkins said jiggling around antsy in the comfy chair. There was a light clinking of glass in the next room, Meritor was going to check it out but the door swung open.

“I am the Duke of Torik, Roget Willoughy.” The rather high and squeaky voice called out as a short, plump fellow in fine clothes entered. The other three rose to their feet, towering over the poor man who seemed to want to flee. Or at least that was Meritor's translation of the look on his chubby face.

He seemed to regard the men in the room with some trepidation for a moment before remembering what he had called them for. “Ah, yes.” he said reaching into the inside pocket of his tailored suit coat.

He withdrew a parchment. “I am in regular correspondent with His Highness Prince Harald and Heir to the throne of all Archlandia. According to him the King is without all of faculties, so when there was a problem I was to... to make it a short story he sent you to help.”

Braccus accepted the parchment and looked at it.

Dear Duke of Torik, Master of the Keep and Keeper of the Redoubt, Roget Willoughby of House Willoughby.

I understand your concerns. It is absolutely not an ordinary thing that field hands are being made too frightened to work and townsfolk dare not venture outdoors.

I am sending four men. They should arrive almost as soon as you receive this letter. You will explain to them what has happened and who you suspect. Explain whatever local politics you need to let them draw their own conclusions.

Since a power play may come at any time, I sent you men that you can trust to guard your back.

Yours truly and always,

Prince Harald.

Braccus gave the letter back to the Duke who folded it carefully and replaced it to his pocket, as if it would some day be considered a historical document.

“Dragons” Roget Willoughby said boldly. “A few people disappeared and the stories someone I spreading are blaming dragons. I placed lookouts on the top of the keep and there was never any sighting of a dragon. Suffice it to say, I do not think there is a dragon.”

Then men nodded.

“A dragon we could handle.” Hodkins said with a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Wouldn't be a problem at all.”

Kaster grinned and shook his head. “If I find a dragon's nest, I'll let you go in first.”

Meritor just frowned. He was leaning against the wall to the next room, the same one with the clinking glass. He heard shuffling in the wall.

“You might want to think about hiring someone to catch some rats.” Meritor said.

The Duke grinned but said nothing. “As I said the towns people and the hands are all frightened, I have peppercorn in the fields that need to be harvested. I would even have trouble finding a beggar to hunt rats at this point.”

“The letter said something about your top suspects?” Braccus said, rubbing his chin again.

The little man nodded. “The second largest landholder, Lord Jasper, hasn't had as much trouble keeping his workers in the fields. I find it rather suspicious.”

Meritor was all ears. Lord Jasper was involved in this after all. This man had sent the dwarf and trolls to stop them from coming to Torik. Suspicious was an understatement, this Lord Jasper needed to be in chains as soon as possible.

“I have little doubt that his men were the ones spreading the rumors about dragons.” Duke Willoughby told them, holding out hi pudgy white hands. “But I will defer to you and your men on this one. You work for the crown, or its prince, after all.”

“We need to speak with this Lord Jasper.” Braccus said, “If we can clear him, then we can start hunting the real culprits.”

“My assistant waits for you in the foyer, he can tell you how to find Lord Jasper. It is my bedtime and I bid you well and goodnight.” the man said before taking a bow in the hallway as they left the room and then he walked up nearby stairs.

“Funny little man. Seems harmless enough.” Hodkins mumbled on the way.

To Meritor, who knew what the dwarf had said on the way to his escape, Lord Jasper was most definitely the guilty party. It was dark but they followed the Duke's servant who carried a lantern on a stick in front of him. The gave him enough light to see where he was going.

“Are you certain we should call on Lord Jasper at such a time as this?” Kaster asked, for they weren't going fast enough to not hear each other quite well.

“Call on him?” Meritor said, “We should chain him and drag him out.”

Braccus chuckled. “That seems quite harsh for a first meeting, especially from someone who is usually the most cautious among us.”

“Maybe he knows something?” Hodkins said, grinning “I could make him talk.”

“He's on our side.” Kaster said, going along with the joke, “I think.”

Braccus hushed them. Even the Dukes man, stopped and listened. There was nothing but some rustling grass in the wind. “I thought I heard someone moving through the high grass.”

After another moment Braccus shook the reigns and his horse moved again, the rest of them followed suit.

“The house is up ahead. I take my leave of you now.” The servant said before galloping off in the direction from which they came. Meritor rode up closer to Braccus and said in a low voice. “Malwort, the dwarf mention Lord Jasper as he escaped. I didn't want to say this with anyone in hearing range.'

“Indeed?” Braccus asked, although barely more a question than a statement. They rode up to the gates of a large house. It was not nearly as large-looking as the great home of the Duke, though.

They dismounted and walked to the gate, There was a large metal door knocker there that Braccus pounded. It seemed like it might fall by the time someone in nightclothes and carrying a candle reached them.

“What is all this ruckus about? What do you, er, gentlemen want?”

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Lord Jasper & the Dragon of Torik

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