Heretic

Reads: 93  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 01, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 01, 2019

A A A

A A A


Chapter 1

The Blood of Land

 

 

The fleet of carved pumice ships voyaged through the waters west of Biotia. A large band of gem hunters from Biotia was due for a visit to Jewel Island to gather the finer nutrients that the isle was frequently visited for. They had the need for a military escort from the Core Region so they would not fall victim to any hostile Amblers they may run into ate sea or on the island itself.

The two regions had always been at odds, even in the times of the Old Kings. They both felt they had rights to Jewel Island, but, except in times of hardship, they had tolerated the other’s presence. And these were times of hardship; the Amblers were not only hostile toward their longtime enemies but to any land in King Greygon’s Kingdom. The Biotia Region had come to the Usurper Queen’s side early in the uprising and helped in the ways of battle and resources. The Amblers then aligned themselves with the Old Kingdom, hoping that their help in crushing the opposition would win them official and final rights to the wealth of the island that the current King, Greygon, was heading to now. Of course, the Kings of Old were overthrown, now the Amblers were the last people of the mainland actively rebelling against the throne.

The King did not usually find himself taking part in matters such as this escort. But he had looked forward to this voyage; he had never seen Jewel Island and two of his larger ships would head even further west to the previously unknown Island of Mineralis.

This mysterious isle had apparently stayed hidden for thousands of years. Upon hearing word of new royal blood in the throne, a representative of theirs had offered an alliance with Greygon’s father just before his passing. Greygon would be the first from the Active Lands to set foot on the island and welcome them to his kingdom.

 

It had been 30 years since the peculiar passing of the previous king, King Swerdon, and thus 30 years since Greygon had inherited his majestic throne. Though he did not sit in it terribly often. He was a ruler like his grandmother, the Usurper Queen Ailammi; active in the battles and strategy that would eventually unite the land under him.

He had now ruled just as long as his father. But Greygon had already accomplished so much. He had moved the border of his kingdom nearly 300 miles further into the Ro region than when his father had first taken the throne. In Swerdon’s 30 years, he had actually lost close to 200 miles of land along much of the border. Greygon had kept peace with the Sawtooths and even managed to visit once; he was the first King to make the climb in 5000 years. Though they still didn’t receive any help or advantages from the Sawtooths, he had felt that his efforts were respectable to them; he would eventually win them over he thought. Now he was heading to the only land that his father managed to ally with to make them feel welcome. He must admit, his father had little to do with the alliance; the Mineralt, the messenger from Mineralis, had come to ally with Queen Ailammi before hearing of her death.

Greygon knew setting up a base on this new island would give them a stronger Navy and this an advantage at sea. This would make keeping the Amblers away Jewel Island easier for the most part. It would be very useful even if there were not many Mineralites to spare as soldiers. And word has it that this island itself has wealth of exotic gems and ores to feed the upper and middle classes of the mainland.

 

They had six transport ships and three battleships equipped with rock firing abilities and a recrystallized diamond and sapphire exterior designed for ramming and getting rammed. Each ship also had a water tank on board. The Biotians had discovered that, if a hard, metal container is sealed with water steaming inside, that the pressure can be used to spew the water up to 250 feet through a hose. The rebels didn’t know the technology yet. Hopefully, if they had to use it, there would be no survivors to carry word back to their own engineers. This wartime weapon could cool a golems blood to a lethal degree from a distance in just three to five minutes. The engineers hope to achieve faster kill times with colder water, but haven’t yet worked it out.

Greygon was in the right battleship at the front of the fleet, his brother, Sarq, in the left. They were nearing their first destination. Not a single Ambler ship had come into sight since the beginning of their journey, for that, the King was grateful. They docked their ship and let the gem foragers lead the way while the soldiers attempted to stay alert in order to keep their King and their mission safe. Greygon could tell after a few miles that they were having trouble staying on edge when no danger had announced any sort of presence.

While Greygon, as their King, should not have to be alert, he was also attempting to keep his eyes peeled. He was in an unfamiliar place, but it was a beautiful one: off the beaten path, leafy yellow plants grew. The ground shimmered with gem’s dust where the sun struck it. Towering ever-wood trees crept their way into the distance and up the very volcano that brought their nutrients to the surface; that erupted liquid land to harden, erode, and allow their roots to hold. There was a single mountain here and, for all it did for the plants and the beauty of the landscape, it was also responsible for the gems that the foragers were here for.

He always knew that a land’s blood, the lava of a golem’s home, it’s hematerra, was a special, life-giving thing. But the beauty of it was masked on the war-torn mainland where he had grown up. Here, in this relatively unscathed land, he saw it and understood why the Kings of Old were obsessed with it. Why they would want to be a part of it and have it be apart of...

He pushed the thought aside, ashamed of the lust-like emotion.

He commanded his soldiers to tighten up and stay alert. This gave them a jolt of awareness that would likely wear off for most of them by the time they got to where the foragers were going.

 

The group pressed on, going deeper inland until they reached their usual spot in a dried river bed. Water had once carried many precious stones and it had dropped them when its current had dwindled. Now the river ran a few miles to the north, where future foragers would visit once its path is altered yet again.

The foragers did their work while the soldiers took vantage points and looked at the surrounding land for any sign of Amblers. Greygon partook in the foraging, carrying a couple hundred pounds of ores and gems and adding a couple hundred more to one of the carts they had brought. His father had loved gems, but Greygon found them somewhat sickening. Their melted form had a taste too sweet for his blood and he always felt their molten form stick to the innards of his body for days after consumption. He preferred ore and even common rocks over the stuff. The majority of these treats would go into the mouths of well-off golems in the cities who could afford the luxury and to the officials that enforced Greygon’s policy. The ones collected by Greygon himself would find their way to the less fortunate commoners. He wanted them to know he thought of them and sympathized.

 

When the carts were full and the foragers were carrying as much as they could safely transport, they returned to the ship. As they got closer something inside the king felt off. The foragers kept walking at their pace. Greygon signaled to his soldiers to be alert. He did not want the foragers to panic based on a feeling. Greygon looked forward and saw a glow toward the sea, he ran on all fours to the front of the group and past the tree line where his view would open up. Two soldiers followed.

He saw his brother using one of the hoses on a transport ship to shoot a jet of water toward a large rock on the beach. Two of the other troops left to guard the ships were running from the other direction where the beauty of the plants and Everwood trees was desecrated with fire. It appeared as though they had been ambushed.

Greygon and his soldiers charged the rock as he yelled to stop the water. Sarq heard him and diverted the water away as the King bounded. He came upon the rock and saw five light-colored golems taking cover behind it. He would be outnumbered.

 

Definitely Amblers.. Time to find out if they are trained or just commoners. He leaped into the air while the two following him kept their pace on the ground. One let out a roar as he tackled one of the Amblers. Greygon was coming down between two of them with his arms reaching for their heads to force them down. The golems each brought up their arms, stiff and braced. They caught the King mid air and slammed him into the rock. Trained damnit.

Greygon grabbed his foes at the shoulder and pushed from the rock with his legs. The left one went down while the right one stepped back with the force of the push. With his left side free he brought that foot down onto the grounded Ambler and gained purchase their. He heated his body as much as he could trying to turn the land below his foot to glass around fallen’s head. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded because a third golem kicked his leg with force. He felt a piece of it crack. He roared in anger and he flared brighter orange. He took his foot from the head of the golem on the ground and punched the Ambler on his right with all his might right where his grip at the shoulder had been. The top stone of his shoulder shattered and his yellow lava oozed out. Greygon grabbed the injured arm and swung him around into the one that had hit him in the leg. He used such force that the arm tore off where he had broken it. That’s one.

He felt blunt force hit his back, either one of the others or the one that he had stomped on. He backed off to the side as the leg hitter dropped his injured comrade to the sand and walked toward the King. Greygon saw the one that had been on the ground was the one who had hit him in the back. He also saw one of his men still grappling with an Ambler and the other was being beaten continuously in the face pinned to the ground. They couldn’t help him.

The two pale stoned golems approached him with an eerie calm. “Your majesty, what an honor.” The leg kicker, the one on the left, said. The other just flared his veins to a green heat. The left spoke again, as Greygon backed up, telling himself he was just sizing them up, “oh, do you like what he did there? Green with heat, while you can only brighten your cool orange. Hah, you new Kings will never be as strong as the true Kings of Old.”

Greygon didn’t reply, he didn’t know what he meant. Of course, he couldn’t get hotter than an orange; his home was in the Core Region and his ancestors were natives. But he didn’t understand what this had to do with strength, there were pros and cons to running hot, just as there were pros and cons to running cold. He lunged for the talker's chest. He hit a wall; he had glassed his feet into the sand anticipating the attack. The green one grabbed the king from behind and held him in a lock that wouldn’t allow him to move.

Feeling very confident the talker leaned in, “My name is Jokule, by the way, if I must kill you, I want you to know that. But I will spare you if you come to the Ambler region and consume our Land’s Blood. Then maybe you will see the err of your grandmother’s ways.” Greygon struggled to break free but he could not get any leverage. Jokule continued “Oh fine, I figured it would be that way.” He broke free of the glassed sand, took a step back, and punched Greygon in the stomach.

Lava spilled from his mouth, he spat it away. “Your heat makes you soft” he managed. A second blow sent up more blood.

“And your blood makes you stubborn” Jokule returned. Greygon saw the light colored golem’s feet melt back into the sand, preparing to deliver a stronger blow. Jokule wound his arm back going for the face this time. The King closed his eyes and heard a grunt of effort. But no blow had hit him.

He opened his eyes to see Sarq gripping Jokule’s fist. Jokule’s face was surprise, he brought his other hand up but Sarq squeezed until the fist crumbled and Jokule fell to his knees. Greygon was thrown aside by the green-veined Ambler. He turned and charged but before he could reverse the grip he saw his brother had it under control; he was holding him away by his arm, he then pulled him closer and punched with the other arm at the same time, these combined forces caused his fist to break through the front layer of stones of the Ambler’s midsection. The green golem fell bleeding green, then yellow, then orange. The puddle he left cooled to red and black rock.

Greygon went to the writhing one with the missing arm and put him out of his misery, none could survive: they had seen the water hose. Then he remembered; he wanted to know what Jokule meant, they should take him back for questioning. “Wait” he called out, turning around, but his brother was already holding the dripping head of his kill. “I would have liked to ask him a few questions…” the brothers locked eyes for a moment. “But what is done is done, thank you for saving me, brother”.

“It was my pleasure… and my duty, King.”

 

 

The army and the foragers were back on the ships. The Amblers had all been defeated and their bodies piled on the sands out of the ocean’s reach so that their people would eventually find them and perform any customs they wished. The pile consisted of nine cooling bodies and four bodies whose blood had been turned to obsidian with the hose: an unexpected side effect of its lethality.

There was a debate about whether or not to bring those bodies along in order to hide the evidence of their new technology. The debate mostly stemmed from the Biotians, as they did not want the Amblers using their technology if they pieced together the cause of death. The King had the final say though, and he would not break the honors of battle. To handle a brave soldier’s body in a disgraceful way suggested the soldier was killed in a disgraceful or otherwise cowardly way. Greygon wanted them to know this was not the case.

Four of their own had fallen, one was killed by the group Greygon had rushed toward. They were in the cargo section of one of the transport ships that would be heading back to the mainland. Other than this, the foraging was a success; no foragers died and they left the island with all they had gathered. This would not have been the case without the escort that the Biotians had requested.

Sarq and Greygon now resided on the same ship. Even sharing a quarters as only two ships would be heading to their new allies on Mineralis. They spoke of the ambush and the roles they had played in defeating the Amblers.

Sarq was the oldest of the three siblings, Greygon the youngest. The youngest claim to the throne of Volcania was the heir by their lineage rules. This allowed more time to accomplish goals and learn the proper duties. The elder claims to the throne, in Greygon’s case, his brother and his sister if she still lived, were responsible for counseling the king, protecting him, and putting him in his place if need be.

“You should not have run in blind, Greygon, there could have been a dozen Amblers behind that rock. I might not have been able to get there in time, then where would we be?”

Greygon accepted the criticism, but spoke light-heartedly despite this, “Well I suppose you would be King as there is no other claim.”

“No, no I do not want the throne, and you are lucky in that regard because today would have been a great time to let you die if I did.” Sarq quipped.

Sarq may be relentless on the battlefield, but in the ways of words, he was easily disarmed. The strong golem was light-hearted at his core but, when performing his duties as an elder claim, he always attempted a serious tone. Greygon couldn’t stand the sound of it so he always made the conversations a little less serious. Sometimes he had to convince his brother that he did actually take the council and critiques to heart. “I know there were to be no survivors, but I wish you would have waited to kill Jokule, he had said something about the Kings of Old being stronger than our royal lineage I wanted to ask him what he meant by it.”

Sarq regained his seriousness again. “Did he? And did he say anything else?”

“He then tried to get me to bargain for my life; said he’d spare me if I came with him to consume the Ambler hematerra. I don’t know that it had anything to do with our apparent weakness though.”

Sarq’s hand came to his jaw with consideration, “He was trying to get you to practice the way of the Old Kings. They would consume the hematerra of every land in their kingdom. This was one of the practices grandmother despised them for. She thought it acknowledged too assertively that the land could be divided, or that a region could fall from the kingdom based solely on whether a king had consumed its blood. At least those are the reasons that made sense to me. Apparently, a golem could have an unhealthy reaction to a foreign land’s blood. But that’s the part I never quite understood, after all, the Old Kings had done it for tens of thousands of years. Besides all that, you know this, it is the biggest change she had offered when she threw out the Old Kings’ ways. Jokule was just trying to label you as an Old King rather than a true king…” he paused bringing his hand to his lap. “I am hungry, I think I will go and get some of the gems the foragers left us with, excuse me.”

 

The exact location of the Isle of Mineralis was not documented by Volcania’s own cartographers, but the messenger that had visited some 30 years ago had provided them with a roughly drawn map he had attempted himself. The scale was not correct by their standards. They knew the general direction and they searched there and around there for days, then weeks. The navigators informed the King that they had traveled much of the calm waters and were nearing territory close to 1000 miles from Jewel island where they would need to revisit in order to get more food.

As they were about to turn toward Jewel Island and end their journey, they saw a land mass. They had found Mineralis after a month of voyaging. They corrected their course and landed within the day. There were no ports large enough to accept the ships. And so they awaited the Mineralite’s smaller ships to transport them to the island. The smaller ships arrived and the royal crew members were escorted onto them at spear point. “It is okay”, Greygon assured everyone, ”they do not know who we are.” The Mineralites did not speak a word as they shepherded the Volcanians onto their boats.

They made landfall and the natives led the group up a mountain and into a cave that was filled with loose gemstones. Sarq turned to Greygon saying in a hushed voice “Are we sure about this?”.

“Yes, we need this island to get a better hold on Jewel Island and to improve our Navy, the Amblers don’t even know of its existence”.

They continued their forced walk through the cave and came to an opening where several dark green golems with green joints were gathered. All heads turned to the foreigners and their deliverers. The native that had led them here took a knee facing one of his own that distinguished himself with green peridot gems welded onto the plates of his head. The kneeling man spoke in a language that the Volcanians were not familiar with.

The decorated superior then spoke in a booming voice in Greygon’s language, “Yes yes, I can see who it is.” He turned to the king, “You are king of the mainland, yes?”

“I am, the son of the late King Swerdon who accepted an alliance from your people that was offered by the one you call The Mineralt”.

The crowned native looked confused for a brief moment, then laughed. “I know no Mineralt and certainly have never offered my alliance to the Gluten King Swerdon. I will not fall for your pure blood antics of trickery. Even the Kings of old did not dare come here planning a conquering, so either you are stupid, profoundly ignorant, or mad with brevity.”

Greygon was the one confused now. “Yes, the Old Kings never came here because they did not know of your island’s existence. It was told to us that the Isle of Mineralis was kept a secret from the Kings of Old for fear they would consume your hematerra”.

Nearly every native in the room scoffed or hid a burst of quick laughter. “So, you are profoundly ignorant then. I am my own king, King Jin of the Burrijji islands, the ones your people call the Unconquerable Islands. And you have come here in warships speaking of fake alliances. You must realize how this looks to me Greygon.”

Greygon looked at his own people, his eyes landed on the navigator. His voice was gravelly with anger, “you brought us to the Unconquerable Islands?” He walked toward the navigator with a bright orange heat coming off of him. He felt large while the Navigator seemed to attempt to shrink.

“I didn’t have the last two weeks of star charts Your Majesty” his speech was hurried in an attempt at salvation, “ I have only been able to estimate our location. I…”

“I didn’t realize we had a second-rate navigator on board” Greygon spat glowing phlegm that found its way into his mouth.

Sarq’s voice of reason broke the tension “King, no use acting rashly, what’s done is done. Right?”

Greygon cooled himself and looked back to Jin who appeared amused at the spectacle. “My apologies Jin, this seems to have all been a big mishap. If you could please pardon our ignorance and point us in the direction of an Island called Mineralis, if you know of its whereabouts that is, otherwise we can be on our way if you grant us leave.”

Jin smiled bringing his hands to a point at his mouth. “Oh, I know of Mineralis, it is no Island though. At least not a real one. We have a legend here. The short of it is do not accept the Mineralites or their gifts. Really just a story to keep children from talking to strangers, for their gifts are poison and their intentions not always good. I do not think you will find Mineralis, and besides, I do not give you permission to leave just yet. I think we can discuss much. Allow me to treat you as guests here today.”

Greygon knew his ships were running low on food and nutrients, so he accepted the hospitality and even attempted to be gracious while doing so.

 

 

The king of the unconquerable islands, Jin, was known in the mainland as a savage just as his predecessors were known to be savages. These islands were first inhabited by a pirating people who laid waste to any transport ships that took goods between lands in the calm waters. The pirates had found a distant and uncharted string of volcanic islands in the north near the seas they pestered. They slowly made it their home and eventually grew comfortable there, creating a tyrannical government that only benefitted those close to the self-proclaimed king. It had been rumored that the natives of these islands were extremely fertile and that, to keep their numbers sustainable, thousands and thousands over the years were ordered to walk into the sea between the islands in an attempt to bridge them. They had several more miles of shallow sea to fill before any success was to be had with that goal. Even as they are unbridged they still called themselves the Burrijji, which translated to “the bridged”.

Greygon did not particularly like being the guest on these islands with their unorthodox and vile tradition at the front of his mind. He had accepted the hospitality of Jin knowing it could be a trap and also knowing his people may become weak or even perish without food. Despite that, escaping without permission would be hard as they were not armed.

Jin did feed Greygon’s people. They sat around amongst the natives eating common stones and rock and the soldiers got to enjoy some ores of copper, common in these parts but flavorful. Greygon himself ate as his people did. He was offered more, he didn’t accept it. He wanted to show Jin that a king did not have to live at the expense of his people.

“You know, Greygon,” Jin said to the king who was sitting at his right like a true guest of honor, “you have none of your father’s characteristics. You sit here and turn down gems to eat as your people do. And, more impressive than that, you made your way here rather than sending someone in your stead.”

“I have learned quite well how a king should act, I practice ruling as my grandmother Ailammi did. I do not find my throne as comfortable as my father did and I find the taste of battle and journey to be more delightful than the tastes of gems”

Jin nodded, “Commendable, so how goes it, these battles; your war. Last I heard half your continent was in shambles. The regions closest to me are against you. Is that still the case?”

The kings locked eyes: Greygon, looking for the intentions behind the question. And Jin looking for an answer he hoped the golem’s face wouldn’t defend. “That is not a matter you should burden yourself with, I know where you lie.” Greygon finally answered.

“No burden, just trying to keep up on current events is all. Truth is, I know that it is going quite well for you. But I think that will change very soon” Greygon’s face went hot at Jin’s words. “No, no.” Jin said, “I am not threatening you, I am warning you. I have seen something the Amblers are preparing and I fear it will be your undoing. And maybe mine”

“Why fear for my undoing? I would think you would hope for it.” Greygon said.

Jin stood, “Follow me, we must speak in more solitude. And I have a demonstration for you. Call off your guards, no harm will come to you.” The king of the Active Lands stood, cautiously. Greygon had the feeling Jin wanted something, if Greygon could give it to him for use of his islands, it could give him a much more favorable position to finally unite his land and take down the Amblers. He followed but stayed alert.

Jin took him through a smaller cave that had been covered with a boulder. After emerging from the tunnel, they stood looking over a churning pool of greenish lava. There was a native man kneeling in front of it facing his king. Jin swept his arm in an arching motion. “This is the hematerra source for this island. It connects to the sources of the other islands of Burrijji. This is what nourishes us, what gives us life, heat, and color. You know that, just as the hematerra of the Core Region gives you your heat and color and life.”

“Yes,” Greygon said looking at the kneeling man, wondering about his purpose and horrified by the possibilities. He had a look between scared and calm: A look a soldier might have before charging into a battle.

Jin continued, “This is Grovel, at least that is what I call him.” Jin planted his feet and hit Grovel in the chest without warning. Grovel screamed, and Jin winced. Grovel’s sternum was cracked and slowly bleeding. The blood hardening to heal the wound as much it could. Jin was cradling his hand saying “Now you Greygon, this is a dead man anyways, he stole from me. Grovel, turn around.” Grovel obeyed exposing his back to Greygon.

“I will not hit a man who is not facing me,” Greygon explained.

“Oh, let go of your honor this once, just do it, he will die either way and none of your people will know of this, you will find you can kill him much more humanely than I will.”

Reluctantly Greygon swung down his fist as hard as he could. Grovels back shattered and green lava exploded from the crack that had been started on his chest. The remains of him lay at the edge of the rock. Jin casually pushed them in the pool with his foot. “There, back from where he came, likely to be born again, a better fate than he deserved, I would much rather have added him to one of the bridges. But, I wanted to make a point. That was easy for you, no? Physically I mean.”

Greygon nodded looking at the cooling blood on the floor.

“And do you know why that is: when I hit him so hard my hand cracked and it only cracked his chest? Whereas you blew him apart and emerged unscathed?”

Greygon looked to Jin still holding his hand, curious once more, “you are softer… hotter.”

“Yes,” Jin replied, “ and I want what you have; the ability to be cooler and hammer through those that disobey, that steal, that wrong me. Just as you hammered straight through Grovel. I want your hematerra, Greygon, and I am willing to make you a deal to get it.”

 

“You want to be like one of the King’s of old and consume another land’s blood? It can only hurt you! I will gladly make you a deal if your end of the bargain will likely kill you ha!”

 

Jin smirked shaking his head, “brainwashed fool... you think foreign hematerra harms us, why is it that the Old Kings would harm themselves? He looked down to the pool. Why don’t you try? I offer it to you, and also help in your war. As long as you allow me yours.” Greygon remembered on Jewel Island he had felt a lust for it, to be apart of the life of another land. To have its lava run through him.

“The reason your grandmother usurped the throne was because a man she loved got too greedy and killed himself by consuming a land that was not his to consume. He wanted to become a god among men. Hematerra courses our veins and gives us different properties. He wanted to skip to the ultimate goal and bath in the Mouth of Volcan, he was not ready for the power that that land held. And so she wanted to bring the practice to an end. It wasn’t the land’s blood that killed him, it was greed… I have been truthful to you, you have my word, you will not be harmed. Imagine what would come of me if you were.”

“How?... do I do it?” Greygon asked. “what will happen?”

Jin smiled “Just put your arm in, or leg, whatever you want, and hold it there for a little while. You are cooler than it and so you will feel a sensation foreign to most Volcanians, you will feel burning. But hold through it. Afterward, you should have a little more control over your body. But you will have to discover that on your own, it is an unknown to all but the Old Kings.”

Greygon looked to the pool and bent over. He readied to put his hand in. He looked to Jin to make sure he wasn’t going to shove him or attack him while he was off balance. “You will help in the war, you swear it, whether I die or not.”

“Oh yes, surely. Use my islands as ports, use our many people as soldiers, I just want you to keep your end of the bargain. And if you die my word means nothing here. I probably won’t live to honor it. But you will not die”

Greygon dipped his hand in, it wasn’t so bad… at first. Then it started to sting, he could feel his home’s lava leaving out of his arm, going into the pool and he felt the heat replacing it. “Deeper!” Jin yelled, “Up to your elbow!”. Greygon fought the pain and did as Jin said. He began feeling his body’s stones heat up and burn further. Lava stuck to them. He held wincing with pain. He held for another 10 seconds looking to Jin for guidance. Jin looked on, smiling, maybe proud. “That should be enough”

Gregon pulled his arm from the molten pool. And observed it as the bits cooled, sticking to him. He could feel the difference between this place and the Core Region that he had already had running through his veins. He felt them mix but they still felt separate somehow. His hand’s joints were greenish, turning to yellow in his arm then to his regular orange at his shoulder like the rest of his body.

“Congratulations King Greygon, now let’s make good on your end of the bargain shall we?”


© Copyright 2019 Nick Jackson. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Fantasy Short Stories