Don’t Get Killed ~ Flash Fiction

May 2nd, 2013 by Theresa

Only a few women in the Sagittarii, the most elite horse archers of the kingdom, looked at him with a measure of respect. He was the only man to make it this far in the trials. He reset the strap of his quiver a few times and stroked his horse’s mane.

“Berit? This way please? You can mount when you get to gate.”  Mylam, the captain spoke softly, her voice carried far.  Berit followed his instructions carefully.  At the designated stall, he got in the saddle and waited patiently. The captain herself walked up to him, new bow in hand.

She didn’t smile as she handed up the bow. “You do know how to do this, right? You know, aim and shoot?” Her voice carried farther now, as if she spoke for all to hear. Berit looked down at her face. His keen eyes detected that something was amiss. Was it a set up?

He raised a brow slowly.  Mylam rolled her eyes.

Definitely a set up.  Berit let a half smile flash for a moment. This was his time to shine. “Aim,” he said loudly, “like this.” Laughter broke out as he purposely fouled his grip.  He looked back to Mylam to see her grin.  He was ready as she stood back and slapped the horse’s rump.

He took the course in a blur, arrows hitting their targets. As his horse slowed and walked back to the gate, silence greeted him.

“You’re in the third flank. Don’t get killed,” Mylam said.

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A Gift for a Gift ~ Flash Fiction

March 18th, 2013 by Theresa

King Jayson stormed through the castle.  Raw power dripped from him setting the dust and paintings afire.  Courtiers and minor nobility ran for their rooms.  Knights trailed in the King’s wake to soothe bruised egos of ignored dignitaries.  Chambermaids rushed to keep the flames at bay.

“Where is she?”  The King’s roar shook the foundation of the castle.  “Where is my wife?”

As the power rolled off him, the King’s least favorite tapestries burst into flames.  “Thania!”  His roar set off a sound wave breaking all the windows in the Queen’s Wing.  “Face me and answer for your actions!”

The soft tinkling of bells surrounded him.  Thania. The Queen emerged from her rooms to face her husband.  She curtsied low and stayed down.  Vanilla and amber scents filled the hall.  None let her gentle powers fool them.

“Arise,” Jayson said softly. While the power still rolled off him, all saw his demeanor change as she stood.  The Queen still that that effect on him.  “Why is it, my love,” he said through clenched teeth, “that four of my flying dragons are missing?  Are you waging war without me?  AGAIN?”

“They were small countries, my King,” The Queen said evenly.  “I thought them fitting as a gift for you to prepare for the birth of your progeny.”

The King’s power flared then subsided.  Kneeling before her, Jayson searched Thania’s face.  He stood smiling and kissed his wife thoroughly.  “A boy or girl?”

“Twins.”  Thania clarified softly.  Jayson fainted on the spot.


Honorable Mention

As seen on Siobahn Muir’s Thursday Threads

Flash Fiction ~ One Perfect Shot

August 29th, 2012 by Theresa

‘One perfect shot,’  I thought, ‘ and I take my name and horse again.’

Taking calming a breath, I nudged Snowwind  into motion.

I practiced this move many times in my old village before their terrible raid.  Day, night, injured or blindfolded – the bull’s-eye was mine. It took a challenge to the Chieftain himself for the chance.

“I play for keeps, woman,” he snarled then. I smiled. I did too.

I didn’t hear the beat of Snowwind’s hoofs or the distracting cries from the hecklers.  I didn’t hear my own breath or heartbeat. There was only a slight rustle of my chemise as my body took over. Arms a blur, the arrow let fly.  Snowwind took his head and galloped around the arena again. I didn’t bother looking at the target. I knew hit it.

I came to myself as Snowwind slowed to rear at the Chieftain’s dais. I bowed my head as my horse knelt. He knew his training as well as I. All looked to Chief Vale for his final decision. He only had one choice.

“From this day on,” he intoned grimly, “You ride at my side, head of my archers. Snowwind is yours, Evony.”



As appeared on Menage Monday with Cara Michaels