by Avell Kro
another arrow, aimed at his friend. His hands were shaking.
I stood up. “Put your bow up. You did it, it’s dead.”
“She. She’s dead. Have some respect.” He looked at the body, his face a mask of disgust, his eyes full
of sorrow. “She was my friend before this curse fel upon her.”
As he had the bow, I didn’t argue. “She, sorry. Damn good shot though, I didn’t have you pegged as
an archer.” I retrieved my blades and sheathed them before grabbing the bag of loot and slinging it
over my shoulder. He stepped into the crypt. I noticed he still held the bow at half draw which
should have put me on notice, but I just assumed he was in shock. “Be at peace, friend. ‘Tis over.” I
smiled.
“No, it isn’t. Light a torch, it’s dark as hell in here.”
Even though I should have known better, I put his sharp tone down to his recent bereavement and
set a spark to one of the torches bracketed by the arch. Light flared and cast dancing shadows
against the walls. “Now that’s been dealt with, I really must be going and so should you, she might
not be the only fiend in residence.”
He gave me the fisheye. “No indeed,” he said, his tone weighted. “Why, there’s at least one other I
know of in this keep. Now, sheathe those blades, or I’ll put this shaft through you, and as you
know, my aim is true.” The bow creaked as he went to full draw. I’m fast, but at this distance and in
such a confined space, I didn’t fancy my chances of dodging the shot. I would have to rely on my
charm and wits rather than my reflexes to get out of this pot of arsepickle.
I sheathed my swords. “I have no skill at divination, but something tells me you’re upset about
more than your friend being a blood-drinker. Oh, and thank you for saving me.”
“Don’t bother.”
He eased off the draw but kept the arrow nocked. “You are a thieving bastard.”
“Comrade! It pains me to hear you say that.”
“Not as much as it’s going to fucking pain you. Now put your hands up.”
I did as he bid. “Happy now?”
His bushy brows knitted together. “No. My friend is dead, and you lied to me and then you stole
from me.”
“Stole is such a strong word. I merely took that which you owed me. I risked my life— twice as it
turns out.”
“I just discovered one of my oldest comrades was a fucking infernal, and you’re more interested in
coin. Have you no honor, no decency?”
I was a stranger to both but now wasn’t the time to tel him. “Yes, of course, what do you take me
for?” I spoke with confidence as there was only one way to lie when something pointy was aimed
at your face and that was confidently. More often than not, it isn’t what you say that matters, but
how you say it. The arrow wavered, the head dipped.
“Why did you come back?” I guessed that he was asking out of more than idle curiosity. This was a
test, which if I failed would probably result in me taking up permanent residence in this demesne
of the not-quite-dead.
“Because I couldn’t live with myself if I left, knowing that she would kill more innocents who
wandered too close to her lair. You know it wasn’t for coin, because I already had that.” I grinned.
“Why did you come back?”
He lowered the bow. “Same.”
Despite the grim surroundings and the blood-drinker’s festering corpse, there was a moment’s
peace as we came to a place of mutual understanding. It was entirely bogus on my behalf, but I
allowed myself to indulge in the fantasy that I, like him, had acted out of a sense of duty and honor
instead of greed. It was amusing, if odd. This must be what it felt like to be a hero, although,
intruth, I could only guess at that. “I really must be going now,” I said.
He nodded, his gaze drifted to the corpse. “I’ll take care of Mur. Give her the warrior’s pyre she
should have had. She was a great fighter.” His eyes glittered with tears. “She was also a talented
potter, but that was more of a hobby. You haven’t seen the best side of her, but take my word…”
While he haltingly eulogized, I slipped out unnoticed. I had a sackful of chink and his modest coin
purse and deemed it best to be on my way before he remembered one and noticed the other. To
give the big lump his due, it didn’t take him long.
“Oi! Come back here you scaly fucker. Where’s my purse?” His words thundered after me, followed
by the sound of his pounding footfall. I laughed. I’d met a few humans over the years who were
almost as fast as I was. Ulthvarr wasn’t one of them. I dug my claws into the dirt and propelled
myself towards the bridge where I came to an immediate, screaming halt. Climbing on the span
were the misbegotten spawn of the blood-drinker.
The poor bastards who’d been drained and hurled off the keep like empty wine bottles had it
seems been cursed to rise from the dead and seek out their own victims. Whether she’d
summoned them to her aid before she ‘died’ or whether some other dreadful imperative had
driven them to climb out of the gully at this inopportune moment I couldn’t say. What I could say
for sure was that I was in a bit of a pickle.
There was a dozen, ragged corpses staggering around on the bridge. Leprous and gaunt,their
fingernails had turned into talons, their teeth into fangs. I stared at them, and they stared at me.
The wind whistled off the mountain, the air was drawn taut with unexploded tension. At last one of
the damned broke the deadlock and threw back her head before unleashing a piercing shriek. I
took this as my cue to run back into the crypt. I bounded down the stairs and just managed to see
the rind of the barbarian’s grinning face before the door slammed shut leaving me on the wrong
side. The sound of the bolt being thrownwas underscored by the furious scrabbling and baying
closing behind me.
“Uli! Open up.” I hammered my fist between the broken thorns.
“I don’t think so, comrade.”
“I’ve got your purse. Here, let me give it to you.”
“That’s all right. I’ll collect it when they’re through with you. Or not.”
“What about honor and courage, a warrior’s death?”
“Maybe later.”
“Prick.” I drew my blades. The dead crawled and crept towards me. Thinking darkness was their
shield, they grinned as they closed. I let them come, and when the first one leaped, I side-stepped
and took his head off his scrawny neck with a well-timed swing. The soggy cabbage hit the wall,
the uncorked body floundered and fell twitching amongst its kin. I shrugged my shoulders pleased
to see a look of confusion, if not outright fear cross the face of the screaming wench as her fellows
fel upon the body. “What?” I said to her as I flicked the ichorous blood off my sword. “Did you
think you were the only monsters ‘round here?” I laughed, bared my fangs, and waited for them to
come.
You have finished this prequel novella, Breed’s exploits and problems are only going to get bigger.
You can discover how in The Chronicles of Breed.
Pick up your copy of Dangerous to Know now from Amazon.
Author’s Note
Hi. Thank you very much for reading The Best Laid Plans. I am really pleased that you decided enter
Breed’s world.
I hope you enjoyed it all and yo
u will be joining me for Breed’s later, remarkable exploits in
Dangerous to Know, book one of The Chronicles of Breed.
Thanks
K.T.
About The Author
When I’m not writing books, I work the day job, wrangle my kids, four dogs, and a grouchy, old cat.
When I get the chance I play computer games, ride horses, practice medieval martial arts, grow
vegetables, throw axes, and read, not at the same time, that could get messy.
I have a website here http://kdavies.net
And a Facebook page here https://www.facebook.com/KTScribbles where we can hang out, have a couple of brewskis, and talk about the good old days.
You can also find me on Twitter @KTScribblesOnce again, thank you so much for going on a ride with me and Breed. I hope I see you again soon.
All the best,
K.T.
TO PREVENT WORLD PEACE
Emily Martha Sorensen
Copyright 2018
Chapter One: The Future
It was a microphone, shaped like a flower. A tall woman stood behind it, elegant and emanating
authority, for all the fact that she was barely eighteen.
She lifted her chin, surveying the crowd before her. A sea of teenagers and children watched
breathlessly, eager for her guidance. Anxious to hear what they should do.
“The villains,” the woman said, “are dead.”
A sigh went out across the whole audience. A sigh of relief, of pleasure, of anticipation.
“The Olympians are slain,” the woman continued. “The Deathwaves have disbanded. The invaders
from other worlds have all fled. For the first time since magic came to us in order to save this
world, we have world peace.”
A murmur of excitement danced across the crowd. Almost all of them were children and
teenagers. Almost all of them were female. A great many of them wore colorful costumes, were
surrounded by animal critters, or had magical glows or sparkles around them.
“But!” the woman snapped sharply, bringing their attention back to her.
The crowd stilled. Murmuring stopped, and eyes fastened back onto the speaker.
“But,” the woman said more softly, “our problems are not over. For now there are those saying
that where there is power, there can be both good and evil. Now there are those saying that we
are no longer needed. That our magic should be set down. That we should renounce our powers
and join the ranks of mediocrity.”
Her voice rose sharply.
“Is this right?!”
“NO!” the crowd shouted.
“Is this fair?!”
“NO! ” the crowd shouted.
“Will we do this?!”
“NO!! ” the crowd screamed.
Teenage girls clenched fists in outrage. Middle school girls looked hurt. Younger girls looked like
they had no idea what was going on, but they enjoyed the opportunity to yell.
The woman at the podium held up her hand.
Silence fell.
A few little girls shouted “No! ” from the crowd, just in case there was about to be another question.
The speaker waited for a moment, and then she answered.
“No,” she said quietly. “We created this peace, and we are the only ones who can defend it.
Without us, everything we’ve built will crumble, wither and die. So even now, we must continue
to fight — to protect world peace!”
“World peace! World peace! World peace!” the crowd shouted. “World peace! World peace! World
peace!”
One little girl near the front looked baffled. She stared up at a slender teenage girl beside her,
probably an older sister. Then the small child’s face brightened, and she started chanting along
with the rest of the crowd. “Would peas! Would peas! Would peas!”
“Magical girls have protected our world for four and a half generations!” the woman shouted from
the podium. The microphone shaped like a flower trembled. “And yet now, the politicians say we
are no longer needed! We were given this magic to protect the world! We were given this magic to save it! We must do that! ”
“World peace! World peace! World peace!”
Gigantic feathered wings sprouted from the speaker’s back, and she zoomed up into the air,
presiding over the fervor of the crowd. Then, just as the screaming reached its peak, she plunged
down and soared off into the distance.
An alarmed-looking man scrambled up to the stage and grabbed the microphone. “A big thank you
to our chairwoman — Avenging Angel!”
“World peace! World peace! World peace!” the crowd chanted. “World peace! World peace! World
peace!”
There was no “Would peas” any longer. The little girl near the front had fallen asleep, sucking her thumb.
***
The blonde-haired woman with the glorious feathered wings landed. Waiting for her was another
woman, dark-skinned and bat-winged. This woman wore a crimson blouse and a long, layered
skirt that looked like it had once been fluffy, but had morphed into shreds.
“Terrific, Kendra,” the brown-skinned woman said. She put her hands on her hips. “That was not
what you were supposed to say. Presidente Santos will be furious.”
“Presidente Santos can do what she likes,” the blonde-haired woman said. Feathers glowed around
her as she detransformed back into ordinary attire: a T-shirt and jeans with a butterfly patch on
each of the back pockets. “It had to be said, and you know it.”
“I do not know that,” her friend snapped. “We’re magical girls, not governments. Who elected us to
decide the world’s fate?”
“Magic itself did,” Kendra said. “We were chosen as the most pure in heart. Who else is so
qualified?”
The brown-skinned woman looked troubled.
“Do you disagree?” Kendra demanded, folding her arms.
“No . . .” her friend said slowly. “But I do believe in democracy. Not . . . whatever you’re doing.
You’re the reason governments are getting scared of magical girls.”
“They were always scared of us,” Kendra said scornfully. “Why do you think there’s so much
pressure to relinquish powers in early teenage years? Because children can be controlled. ”
“I know that that’s a touchy subject for you,” the brown-skinned woman said slowly. “I know you
think all magical girls should keep their powers until magic decides to leave because they’re
unworthy or too old. But Kendra, the only reason Presidente Santos allowed you to call that press
conference in the first place was because you agreed to . . .”
“I’l agree to anything,” Kendra cut her off, “if it’s a necessary step to reaching my goals. That
doesn’t mean I’ll do it. Listen.”
In the background, the chanting was growing louder and louder and louder. Other flying magical girls were now filling the sky. “World peace! World peace! World peace!”
“What did you do?” the brown-skinned woman asked in horror.
“You might ask, rather,” Kendra said in satisfaction, “what did Namikaze do when I gave her the
signal?”
“What did she do?!”
Kendra smiled. “They’re going to the border. For a . . . peaceful demonstration against Brazil’s
demands that we give up our powers. Such an unimaginably stupid thing for them to do.”
“You’ve probably just started a war, you know.”
The smirk fell from Kendra’s face. “I know.”
“And you really think that ri
sk was worth it?” her friend snapped.
“If there’s a war, we’ll win,” Kendra shrugged.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Kendra sighed heavily. She reached out and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear. “Flo, you
know someone has to rule the world. And the only people pure enough to do it are the magical
girls. If it takes a war to stop all wars forever, that’s what we’ll do.”
***
The myriad future wars, the multitudes of deaths and chaos, smashed through Chronos’s mind and
jerked her awake. She sat bolt upright, gasping.
It was that dream again, she thought numbly, clenching her bedsheets. The point of no return.
She had woken up from that dream every night for two weeks straight, and that hadn’t been the
first time she had seen it. Two years ago, when she’d first seen it, it had been so unlikely that
she’d dismissed it as one of the many irrelevant futures that haunted her at night. But unlike most
of those unlikely futures, this one had persisted. It had gradually become more and more likely,
until it was showing up once every few weeks.
And then it had doubled in likelihood and started showing up every night.
Chronos clutched the bedsheets in angry frustration.
Two weeks ago, something had happened. That much was plain. But she couldn’t see the past,
and there was no way she would ask the person who could. She knew what her sister’s advice
would be: “Just kill the kid.”
Chronos, unlike most of her family, didn’t believe in killing children and teenagers. It just seemed
so obviously wrong. That was why she wasn’t on speaking terms with her sister. That was why
she hadn’t gone to her parents’ funeral. That was why she basically lived like a hermit.
Wel , that was a small part of the reason. The major part was that she didn’t like people much.
Chronos muttered furiously under her breath and pounded the pillow beside her. She hated that
dream. Hated it. Hated it. Hated it. Hated it because it was growing more likely. Hated it
because it wasn’t going away.
Chronos’s dreams were never dreams. They were her born mage gift acting out of control.
Chronos could see the future, which wasn’t the problem.