Free Stories 2014

by Baen Books

  The taller of the two cracked his knuckles while his comrade drew a sword. “We’re not here to take your horse, we’re here to keep anyone from causing trouble.”

  “Trouble? I thought the princess’s challenge was for anyone who cared to enter.”

  “It is. But nobody except our master cares to enter.” The tall man drew his sword too. “Now will you go or shall we break both your legs?”

  I hoped these were the thugs who had attacked Alan. “Come, you’re wasting my time.” I beckoned to them and called my bear. It came roaring to meet me.

  #

  I stepped out onto the floor of the arena. The stands erupted in cheers as I strode toward the center of the ring. There I stopped and turned slowly, taking it in. There must be ten thousand people here. I hadn’t seen so many since the day I left my father’s army behind me and headed back east. And they were all cheering. Their shouts filled my ears and warmed my blood.

  “Who are you?” someone shouted. “Why are you here?”

  There she was, right in front. I called the bear, who answered with power and a murmur of laughter. My eyes sharpened. Lady Ana sat on a throne, her hands clasped together, between a blotchy-faced fat man wearing a crown and a narrow-eyed younger man. She leaned forward in her seat, looking at me, hope on her face. She must recognize the armor. She must be wondering what it meant. Near her, Alan sat propped up on a litter. His eyes were wide, his mouth wider. He knew the armor, all right.

  Ana turned to the younger man beside her, who wore armor and a scowl. She said something to him. The man shook his head and turned away. That had to be John. “Are you a coward?” I called up to him.

  He stood up, glaring at me. He wore his armor like a fighter. Leaning out on the rail, he shouted down, “Who are you?”

  “Someone who doesn’t like bullies. Who are you?”

  “I am the Earl of Vindersham, you fool,” he snarled.

  I stood with my back straight, legs apart, shoulders square. “I challenge you, Earl Vindersham, in front of all these people. Come down here and fight me, or admit yourself a coward and go home!”

  His face red, he spat, “You’ll wish you hadn’t crossed me. Someone bring me my sword!”

  The crowd went wild.

  #

  We faced each other and the crowd cheered. The sun had started down from its peak. I held myself loose. Vindersham lowered his faceplate. I called the bear and it leapt to meet me.

  Our swords met, and his strength matched mine. With the rune armor, he could go head-to-head with my bear. We struck at each other, swords clanging as we trod the grass to mud.

  After a while, we broke apart. Attendants brought water. Vindersham studied me as we drank. Let him look; my face would tell him nothing. “Why did you challenge me?” he asked, handing his water back. “You’re the Aradori lout my brother brought back with him. But he said you were a cripple.”

  “Did he.” My leg wasn’t even twinging. I told you I’d fix it if you gave me a chance, my bear said smugly. “I challenged because you are a coward who had his own brother beaten for standing up to him.” I lowered my own visor and picked my sword back up.

  The sun was low in the sky when we paused again. The crowd had stopped cheering. They sat silent, expectant. We were well matched. Too well matched. I hadn’t expected Vindersham to be able to counter my bear. I could hear my father now, scoffing at the idea of Theis warriors being any match for Aradori. Father was an idiot. Always had been. What was the point of allying with the Theis if they had nothing to offer us?

  “Give up now,” Vindersham panted. “I’ll make it worth your while. You can’t win, and even if you did, you won’t get Ana. Her father will put a stop to it.”

  I laughed. “This isn’t about your princess.” Her drowning look still haunted me. Whatever happened here, I wanted to give her a chance. “This is between you and me.”

  “No need for us to be enemies. My men were overenthusiastic. I’ve already punished them. Why do you care what happens to the boy?”

  “Because he’s my squire,” I said, and attacked again.

  Vindersham kept his guard up as night fell. They brought out torches to light the field. We fought, slower than before. Both of us were worn down, drawing on our reserves. I didn’t know how long a good set of rune-armor could last, but my bear was near its limit. I pressed Vindersham. He surged back, smashing his sword into the side of my helmet. “Don’t you know when you’re defeated?” he panted.

  No. I didn’t. I’d never learned how to give up. Even draped over a mast with the sharks at my heels, even as all my friends and followers drowned, even as I was powerless to save them. I hadn’t been able to give up.

  I’d almost managed, after I washed up on shore. With my men dead and my life gone, I’d had nothing to live for. But I hadn’t quite been able to stop breathing. And then Alan had come and shaken me out of my slumber. Now here I was, fighting a man whose skill was equal to mine. Who hadn’t spent the last six months letting his muscles turn to fat. Six months ago I could have beaten him easily. Today, I should give up and lie down. But I couldn’t.

  I raised my sword and thrust. He sidestepped and tottered, off-balance, giving me the opening I needed. I swung and caught him under the arm. I felt his armor give. I stepped in and smashed my sabaton against his leg, sent him staggering back. I slammed my gauntlets down on his helmet and Vindersham crashed to the ground. I stood panting, staring down. The torchlight flickered across his armor. I bent and pulled off his helmet. His eyes were closed. Knocked out cold. I wasn’t much better off myself.

  They were cheering, they were all cheering. I didn’t have the strength to salute. Where was the damned bear now? I needed to leave before someone caught me and made me answer questions. I called for the bear and it didn’t answer. My legs buckled and I collapsed to my knees, exhausted.

  And it was too late. They came spilling down onto the field, well-dressed men and well-armed men and Lady Ana, wearing gray silk and moving through the crowd like a swan through water. “Halt,” she told the men with her, and approached me alone. She stared down at me. I couldn’t read her expression at all. Resignation, despair? Or was she still clinging to hope? It was such a treacherous companion. As bad as the bear. It kept you from drowning yourself and then left you when you most needed it.

  “Rise, my lord and husband,” she said, extending her hand to me.

  How could I take her hand? What did I have to offer? Stop waiting to die, the bear whispered. Start living again.

  Alan hobbled onto the field, followed by what seemed like half the crowd. Now what?

  I had come to give them a show. I might as well make it a good one. I called the bear again and this time it answered. I got to my feet. Lady Ana stared up at me. “I know your armor. Now let me see your face.”

  I took off my helmet and gave it to her. “Thank you for your gift,” I said.

  Alan gaped at me. “Davik?”

  I could see the hope in Ana’s eyes. And the fear. She didn’t know anything about me, but she’d just called me her husband in front of her entire city. Her courage was like a roaring fire, warming life back into me. Alan wasn’t the only one who needed me after all. “Who are you, really?” she asked.

  “I am Garadon,” I said, and the bear roared. “Prince of the Aradori.”

  “Garadon.” Ana’s eyes widened. “Then you will keep the agreement that my father drew up with yours? To wed me and unite our peoples?”

  I could hear the intake of breath, like a gasp, from the crowd. I let them wait for ten heartbeats. Twenty. My last chance to run and drown myself in the crowd. “No,” I said, and Ana’s face fell and the crowd’s sigh swept past me. “No, Lady Ana, I will not be bound by my father’s word.” Ana opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her speak. “I will be bound by yours. I do not come as a prince of the conquerers, but as the man who answered your challenge.” I stood straight. I didn’t have to favor my leg any more. “If you’ll marry me, then
I am your husband.”

  “My husband,” she breathed. She held out a hand.

  “My wife.” I leaned over and kissed her hand. “Thank you for throwing me a life-line.” She looked confused. “When you sent Alan.” Her smile brightened again.

  The crowd cheered. I looked up and Alan was staring at me. “As soon as that arm’s healed, I’m teaching you how to win an unfair fight,” I said. “I can’t have my squire beaten up every time some lowlife decides to send me a message.”

  A slow smile spread across Alan’s face. “Yes, sir!” he said.

  Bare Snow Falling on Fairywood

  by Wen Spencer

  Law had just hooked a three-foot waewaeli when her phone started to ring. She ignored it as she fought the twenty-pound fish. "Not, now, not now, go to voice mail!" Only a half-dozen people had her phone number and at the moment, she didn't want to talk to any of them. It stopped ringing for a minute, only to start again. And again. And again.

  "Who the frigging hell?" She'd lost too many phones trying to cradle them on her shoulder and reel in a fish. She would need at least one hand free to answer the phone. Finally she locked the reel and jerked her phone out of her breast pocket.

  "What?" she cried as her rod bent as the big fish fought the line.

  "Who is this?" a female voice asked.

  "Law!" she shouted. "Law Munroe." At least that was the name she was using most recently. The joy of having a mother who had been married ten times meant that even close family friends weren't sure what your real, real name was. "Who is this?"

  "Oh good. You'll be a perfect match. Go to Fairywood and find snow."

  "What?" Law cried. "It's in the middle of freaking June! Mid-summer eve is less than a week! There's no snow!"

  "Fairywood. F. A. I. R. Y. Wood. It's next to Windgap. Just out of the Rocks—if there was still a bridge. Lots of urban prairie. You need to find snow. Collect snow up and get someplace safe. All hell is going to break loose regardless but let's not give anyone a nice little goat, shall we?"

  And the connection went dead and her line snapped.

  "Who? What? Hello?" She glared at her phone. Not only had she lost the fish but she lost her streamer fly, too. A Clouser deep minnow. She handmade her flies, so she wasn't out money, just time. She needed one more fish before her ice chests were full and she could visit her customers. If she didn't land another big fish, she'd have to short someone because she could only put off deliveries for so long.

  "I thought there was some kind of rule against crazy people on Elfhome!" Grumble as she might, her experiences with her family confirmed it was only diagnosed crazy people who had been deported back to Earth. All the unknown crazies were free to terrorize their relatives and random people. At least with strangers, she could ignore the phone call. "Not my circus. Not my monkeys."

  She was standing knee-deep in Chartiers Creek in Carnegie. It was about six miles from where the stream met the Ohio River. In the summer, that section of the Chartiers was too shallow for river shark and jumpfish to navigate the water. She took another fly from her hat and tied it to her line. She'd dropped coolers alongside of Campbells Run and Chartiers Creek every few hundred feet. Parking at the end of Glass Street before dawn, she'd walked back to Campbells Run. In the last hour, she'd worked her way down to where the smaller stream joined the larger one, slowly making her way back to her truck. She had her biggest coolers full of trout and crayfish from traps on other streams, but she enjoyed angling for the waewaeli. Summer was her favorite time to be a professional forager since she could devote much of her time to the sport of fishing. The dry hot months meant that the Chartiers was shallow enough to wade. She was too far upstream to worry about river sharks and jumpfish; they needed at least four feet of water to navigate a channel. The undergrowth lining the creek screened the ruins of the abandoned neighborhood. The play of water and singing birds masked out any distant noise of civilization. It was her and the fish, one on one, just the way she liked it.

  Until her phone ran again. Same mystery number.

  She sighed and answered. "What?"

  "I forgot to tell you: look for the white door."

  "Not a red door and paint it black?"

  "Oh God no, black would make everything worse. There won't be time to paint it. Just take it with you when you leave."

  She knew it was useless to argue about the lack of snow in June. Crazy people didn't listen to logic. Her parents had at least taught her that. "Okay, I'll take the door with me when I find snow."

  "Good." And the mystery Crazy Lady hung up again.

  She spotted a big shadow in the next deep pool. She played out line until she could feel the rod load, and casted. The morning light was still fragile with dawn, the sun not fully climbed above the hills. It was amazing that anyone was awake enough to be calling her. The woman didn't even seem to know whom she had reached. Had she just randomly punched numbers until someone actually picked up the phone?

  She'd just landed the big waewaeli when the phone rang again. Same Crazy Lady. Law sighed and answered. "Yes?"

  "You only have a few hours to save her. You have to go today."

  "Her? Her who?"

  "Snow! They're going to kill her if you don't get her to safety."

  "Oh Jesus Christ! Why didn't you tell me that Snow was a person? That changes everything!"

  "What did you think? It's June!"

  Lawry considered just dropping her phone into the water. No. She knew from experience that didn’t really help in the long run. "Who is going to kill her?"

  "Do you blame the maker of the gun or the person that pulls the trigger?"

  "The person who pulls the trigger."

  "Then you would be wrong." And the woman hung up again.

  She waded downstream, replaying all the conversations over in her head. She'd leapt to the assumption that Snow was the name of a person but thinking back, the crazy lady hadn't actually confirmed that. It could be a white dog or cat. And for "where" all she knew was Fairywood—wherever that was—and look for a white door. She had all the fish she needed for her customers and a little time before she needed to deliver them. She could see if she could find Snow.

  "Brisbane! We're leaving!" She whistled to fetch him back. Hopefully he hadn't wandered too far from the truck as the porcupine never moved faster than a waddle.

  It took her five minutes just to find the bloody neighborhood on her map. Fairywood was a postage stamp of nothingness even before the first Startup, which was why she didn't recognize the name. She only found it because of the mention of Windgap and the Rocks, meaning McKees Rocks. Windgap fared little better than Fairywood after Pittsburgh shifted to Elfhome; it had lost three of its bridges in and out of the neighborhood. Far as she knew, both neighborhoods were now uninhabited. There were businesses in McKees Rocks with people clustered around them.

  The bad news, it was in the wrong direction for her deliveries but the good news was that were only a handful of streets officially part of Fairywood. It wouldn't take her long to drive up and down them and see if any white doors popped out at her.

  Brisbane came waddling out of the brush. Elfhome porcupines were twice the size of Earth ones and a rich red color. Nothing short of Black Willows and saurus tangled with them, not even pony-sized wargs and steel spinner spiders. As a result, they had one speed. Trying to get them to go faster usually resulted in a couple hundred quills to the face. A porcupine for a pet was the test of true friendship: love me, love my porcupine (and not as a main course for dinner.)

  "Come on, Brizzy, get your spiky butt into the truck!" She opened the passenger door so he could climb in. A carrot on the seat just out of his reach was incentive to do just that. "We have some kind of damsel to save."

  She wheeled the last cooler of waewaeli up into the back of her pickup with the help of the winch, strapped it down, and covered it with reflective cloth to help keep it cool. By the time she finished, Brisbane had climbed up into the cab and was chomping down
his carrot, squealing with glee. Porcupines were noisy as well as slow and stubborn. She closed the passenger door and climbed in the other side.

  There was a time when all the roads and bridges in Pittsburgh had been well maintained. At least, according to her grandfather, they were. The roads into Fairywood were a maze of missing bridges and broken pavement. Some of them were only passable because her Dodge had six wheels and massive ground clearance. She wasn't even sure how anyone would get out this far, unless it was a wrong turn off the misnamed Interstates onto Route 60 and then get majorly lost.

  "I bet it’s a goat. Crazy Lady said 'goat.' Goats are white like snow. Or an indi, they kind of look like goats, only a hundred times cuter. They're like cotton balls with horns."

  They crossed into Fairywood and the roads got rougher. Because of Chartiers Creek and the steep hillsides, there were only three streets that led into the heart of the place to do the planned neighborhood with the circling loop things. With the exception of someone's yapping dogs barking up a storm in the distance, the neighborhood seemed utterly lifeless. The houses looked like they'd been abandoned years before the first Startup. Unlike most of the places in Pittsburgh, they'd been boarded shut instead of left open to the elements. Weather had blasted all the paint from surfaces, leaving graying wood. As she drove through, it seemed to her as if life had been bleached out of the world by time.

  Then on the most remote corner of the neighborhood, on a street that ended in a cul-de-sac—there was a house with a stark, freshly painted, white door.

  Law pulled to a stop and stared at it. "I guess it isn't a goat."

  She had a variety of weapons in her pickup. She spent too much time out in the middle of nowhere not to go armed. She had everything from an easily annoyed porcupine to an Barrett 50 caliber rifle. The question was which was appropriate for the situation. Crazy lady stated that someone was willing to use deadly force, but Law only had the mystery woman's assurances. She was going to look like the crazy one if she went in waving a gun and there was just some scared female inside.