Fantasy Short Stories: Five Fantastic Tales

by Quincy J. Allen

  As he came around the burned oak, his attention focused on the hillside, he almost walked right into a Zylet scout sitting in front of a small campfire. The man turned, and they looked at each other with surprised faces.

  “Well, look what the good Lord has delivered unto me,” the man said a bit wickedly. “They said folks from Geevagh might come here to hide.” The man cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at Colin. “I don’t suppose you know where the Carrowmore caves are supposed to be, do you? It would save me a great deal of trouble.”

  Colin shook his head slowly, fear stealing away his voice.

  “Well,” the scout said, “I supposed I can pry it out of the next one to come by. It matters not. We’ll be sending the lot of you to those pagan gods of yours.”

  Colin, terrified, thought about running, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. Besides, his duty to Bekka still held sway. He reached behind his back and slowly pulled his dirk, knowing full well that he had little chance of beating a trained soldier of the Zylet army.

  “That anxious to die, are you?” The solder asked. He patted the strange looking sidearm at his right hip. “It would be easier to just shoot you where you stand. But I’ve been bored all morning and wouldn’t mind a little exercise.” His hand crossed to his other hip and pulled out a heavily curved saber. “Try and put up a good fight, will you?”

  Two dark gray shadows passed through the hillside, as if the earth had spat them out, and a low, thundering growl came from both as they crashed into the soldier. Dagda latched his massive jaws around the man’s hand, and the saber went flying. Ogma went for his throat, and all three went down in a massive tangle of limbs and fur. The scout never even had a chance to scream. He flailed his arms and legs helplessly as the two wolfhounds torn into him, and then he lay still. All Colin could do was stare open mouthed.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw the hillside start to shimmer and melt away. He turned to see Bekka walking out through the fading illusion. She stood before the two open cave entrances and smiled at Colin. “Like I said, we couldn’t ask for a better escort.”

  “What—?” Colin managed. “How—?”

  “It’s time you knew the truth, Colin. Come inside.” Bekka turned and walked back into the caves. As she did, the air shimmered once again, and the illusion of the hillside reappeared. Colin could only stare. First, Dagda released the scout and disappeared through the illusory hillside. Ogma followed.

  Colin took a few furtive steps and then pressed his foot against what looked like solid earth. His foot disappeared through it. He took a few more steps, watching his feet and legs disappear before his eyes. Then he strode through, almost leaping the last bit. The inside of the cave, illuminated by torches every ten feet or so, stretched out before him. He followed the cave back about fifty feet into the first open area and saw the glinting hull of the beast, its dull, gold metal reflecting torchlight.

  Bekka stood before a fire, and suspended above it she had a wide, intricately etched silver bowl dangling between three copper rods that met above in a tripod configuration. The water inside the bowl boiled fiercely, and she dropped leaves of some kind into it that turned to smoke as they touched the roiling water.

  She did not turn as she spoke.

  “I am the exile Bé Chuille. I have also been known as Becuille and Bé Chuma over the millennia. I’ve loved Eogan Inbir and Gaidiar and Conn of the Hundred Battles and even his son Art mac Cuinn. I slew the witch Carman when the Greek civilization was in its infancy. I was there when Lugh used his mighty spear of light to bring down the bastard Fomorian, Balor, whose evil eye you now carry with you. I am six thousand years old, Colin. And I’m tired.”

  Colin was dumbstruck. His head reeled, and his legs felt weak beneath him.

  “It’s not possible.”

  “I told you. Everything is possible.” Bé Chuille, last daughter of the line of Tuatha de Danann, turned to Colin and gazed at him with eyes that glowed like white suns. “The Tuatha de Danann were a mighty people once, their punishments equally mighty. Cursed was I for my infidelity, at least I thought it was a curse at the time. I was left alive after they had all passed into memory … left alive for this day. Our heritage must be protected, Colin.”

  “Protected?”

  “From extinction.” Bekka held out her hand and looked at the sack in Colin’s hands. He handed it over, and she quickly pulled out the casing, its runes still glowing brightly with a faint pulsing. She turned towards the mekanik before them and whispered a few words Colin did not understand. She held the casing before her in outstretched hands. The casing lifted up from her grasp and silently floated up towards the open helm of the mekanik. It rotated mid-air and lowered slowly into the housing designed for it. As it settled into place, the housing lowered with the faint whirring of gears and a release of pressure. Then the back of the helmet closed.

  The entire mekanik flashed with ruby light. Colin briefly saw runes covering the machine from head to toe, but they faded quickly, leaving only the dull, golden glow of the armor plating. The cave was suddenly filled with a dull thrumming sound, a pulsing that made his bones tremble. “You are the steward of our legacy, Colin. You are the last of the true Tuatha de Danann and the direct descendant of Manannán mac Lir. The time has come for me to leave this place.”

  “Go?” Colin asked, suddenly very frightened. “You can’t leave. You still have so much to teach me.”

  “I’m tired, Colin. I must go. But don’t worry. I’ll be leaving something behind for you. Now get on up there. I need you inside for the last step of the ritual.”

  “But—” Colin started.

  “Go!” Bekka cut him off. “We’re running out of time. Dian Cecht tells me that our forces have taken heavy losses and are in grave trouble.”

  Colin nodded, his sense of duty to Bekka ever-present. He dashed upon aching legs towards the beast, climbed up its legs, and scurried over the back. With his arm muscles screaming in protest, he grabbed hold of the crossbar across its shoulders and slid inside the machine. There still were no levers to control the mekanik, but the panel within was now illuminated, small indicator bulbs showing the steady green state of working joints and an active power source. He pressed a button on the left side of the panel, and the back of the mekanik closed with the sound of hissing pistons, followed by a clang-thunk as the metal sealed behind him.

  Bekka stood on the far side of the silver bowl, the water within it boiling even more fiercely. She reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a glowing amber jewel. She began chanting again, and a white glow enshrouded her body. It pulsed with the tempo of a heartbeat, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. As Colin watched, Bekka’s features shifted with each pulse, her appearance morphing from a haggard old crone to that of a young, beautiful woman. She stood straight now and filled out her emerald armor.

  Bekka lifted her hand and placed the jewel above the water, leaving it floating in mid-air as she drew back her hand. Steam rose towards the jewel and was drawn into it. Then the light that surrounded Bekka did the same, drifting away from her body like steam to be sucked into the jewel that now glowed like a tiny sun. Seconds ticked by, and Bekka began to fade out of existence, her form slowly drifting from sight as the jewel grew impossibly brighter. And in the instant when Bekka was no longer visible, the jewel erupted with a pulse of light and a thunderclap that shook the cavern walls. A beam of light shot from it and pierced the center of the mekanik, bathing it and Colin in light that hurt his eyes. Warmth filled him … and knowledge. All of his fatigue was swept away like mist in a strong wind. Bekka’s six thousand years of memory flowed into him, and in an instant, he understood it all, knew the full history of the Tuatha de Danann as one who had been there.

  Suddenly he was aware of three other minds, that of Dagda, Ogma, and Dian Cecht. They were connected to him, and he realized that they too were extensions of the Tuatha De Danann, created by Bekka as guardians. He saw the battle thr
ough Dian Cecht’s eyes as the great raven circled above. It was a mass of flame and smoke and screaming men. Captain Byrne’s squad of mekaniks lay scattered and in ruin, several of them still on fire, and Colin could see a full battalion of Zylet troops regrouping behind a line of fifteen smaller mekaniks covered in the white and red of the Zylet guard. They had four kilometers to get to Geevagh, and Colin was three kilometers behind their rear formations.

  He needed to move, but he didn’t know how to operate a machine without control levers.

  Will it, a voice whispered in his mind, so he did.

  He willed the machine to take a step, and it did. Then he willed another … and another.

  Colin strode out of Carrowmore into the forest, the massive metal feet of the beast thudding into the turf below him. The mekanik was now an extension of him, his movements becoming those of the beast. He broke into a jog, something most mekaniks couldn’t accomplish, and began chewing up the distance between himself and the Zylet army.

  He pushed his limits, and the machine obeyed his will, running faster and faster until the green hill of Carrowmore was far behind and the open forests and fields of Sligo county stretched before him. It didn’t take long for him to cross the battlefield. He saw hundreds of dead soldiers, most in Geevagh uniforms, and then ran through the shattered formation of Captain Byrne’s squad. Tears filled Colin’s eyes, and a fury rose within him … a fury that needed an outlet.

  Harder he pushed the great machine, and faster it ran. He passed through a thick copse of trees and spotted three armored airships floating about seventy meters above the ground and a half-kilometer distant.

  Open the eye.

  It was Bekka’s voice that spoke in his head, but not Bekka’s mind. It was only her memories floating up from within and guiding him, but he did as the voice said. He willed the iris set in the face of the machine to open. The beast’s head tilted upward, and Colin could see the first warship in his mind’s eye.

  The iris opened, and the air hissed as a ruby beam of light cut through the space between the beast and its prey. It pierced the armored hull of the airship and sliced through the vessel like a razor through flesh. Colin swept the beam sideways into another airship, and then the third. All three were in flames before the first shattered hull hit the ground and exploded. Colin closed the iris and kept running. He heard horns blowing as he ran, and then he saw troops come running out of a dense grove of oaks at the far side of a wide field. They charged towards him on foot and horseback. Seconds later, a dozen Zylet mekaniks broke through the trees and opened fire with canons mounted on their arms and shoulders.

  Shells erupted around Colin, sending turf and shrapnel clattering across his armor.

  Let them come, the voice insisted.

  The distance shortened between the beast and the Zylet forces. Shots from the mekaniks and troops began clanging off his armor.

  They cannot harm you. Stop here and wait till they’re all in sight.

  Mekaniks and men swarmed towards the beast as it stood motionless in the middle of the field. A holocaust burned around Colin, the air thick with flame and earth and lead, and it sounded as if he stood within a hailstorm hammering at the metal skin that encased him. Dian Cecht showed him that the Zylet army had flowed completely into the field, quickly moving to surround him.

  Six massive concussions from Zylet cannons hammered into the beast, forcing Colin back several steps and spinning him around. The heavy armor of a Zylet mekanik crashed into him, forcing him onto his back. Another metal body crashed on top, and another. He heard and felt them hammering at his metal skin, and the green lights for his right arm went amber then red. Fear gripped Colin, and he couldn’t move.

  GET UP.

  With strength he didn’t know he possessed, Colin roared from within the armor and lurched to his feet, sending the three mekaniks sailing away from him. He pivoted on his feet and spun the helm around to take in where the biggest concentrations of Zylet mekaniks and troops stood.

  Just at the edge of the trees where the Zylet army had entered the field, stood an intricately decorated mekanik twice the size of the others. It was covered with gold and silver filigree, and a bas-relief carving of an old, bearded man’s face adorned the chest. The helm was decorated with a large cross made of glittering rubies and outlined in sapphires. A thick circle of troops flanked by six armored, steam-driven catapults surrounded their armored leader, and they were advancing in a tight formation.

  The catapults launched black spheres that smoked as they sailed through the air. They exploded when they impacted upon the beast and the turf around it. The air turned to flame, and Colin heard the men around him screaming. A glow enshrouded the beast, and Colin strode forward through the flame. The Zylet commander’s mekanik came into view as Colin stepped out from the flame, his hull glowing like the sun as he stood before them.

  Now.

  Colin opened the iris and loosed the fury of Balor’s ancient eye upon the enemy commander’s mekanik. The beam hammered into the machine with a clap of thunder and burned through it like so much paper. Then the machine exploded as its powerplant overloaded and pent-up steam pressure was released in a single burst. The men around it went flying, and three of the enemy catapults were caught by shrapnel, tearing them to pieces and flipping them over.

  Colin swept the beast’s head back and forth, rending great furrows through the earth and cutting man and machine apart like a great, red scythe cutting through wheat. Dozens of Zylet men were cut down with each pass, and the vehicles exploded when the beam cut through them.

  Colin lurched again as one of the Zylet mekaniks hammered into him from behind. He reached back with his working arm and grabbed the mekanik by its shoulder. He squeezed and felt metal fold under his grasp. He pulled the mekanik over his shoulder and slammed it into the ground twenty feet in front of him. The iris opened, and Balor’s eye burned into it, cutting through metal and man, forcing another gout of earth skyward.

  Pass after pass of Balor’s eye decimated the Zylet army. They started to run for their lives, but Colin thought only of the men and women cut down by the Zylet army and its Crusade. He thought of Captain Byrne and the squad, of the people of Clan Kilney, and Gooding’s Hold. He thought of what would have happened if the Zylet army had reached Geevagh. Mercy was as far from Colin’s heart as was the sun. And Colin, through Balor’s eye, burned like a sun. It was over in minutes, and when Colin was finished, the beast was an iris set in the eye of Zylet corpses and burning wreckage.

  Colin scanned the field one last time, looking for survivors, for he was determined to ensure there weren’t any. He saw no movement upon the field, so he set off towards Geevagh at a jog. It was another kilometer, and as he passed through a thick line of oaks, his village came into view. The southern edge of the village had been fortified. Men shouted as Colin appeared at the edge of the tree line, and people scrambled for cover.

  Dian Cecht flew over the defensive line, and Colin saw the people of Geevagh huddling behind overturned wagons and hastily built emplacements. Several steam-powered catapults were in position, and the villagers were armed with a peasant’s assortment of weapons, anything from shotguns and hunting rifles to swords and pitchforks.

  These people would have been slaughtered by the Zylets had Bekka not given Colin the beast. Colin stood there wondering at how many other villages, how many other innocents had or would suffer at the hands of the crusading Zylet King. As Colin pondered his future, pondered what he felt he must do, the red lights for his damaged arm turned yellow then green.

  “It can repair itself,” Colin whispered in awe.

  Dian Cecht landed on Colin’s shoulder, and both Dagda and Ogma strode up and sat before the great machine, staring up at its occupant.

  His decision made, and the armor whole once again, Colin turned the beast south and began his march towards the Zylet capital to ensure the future of his people.

  The End

  Such is the Jungle
/>   Ula, Kai, and Jumu raced into his cave.

  Hon knew who it was without looking. The three children were always the ones to come rouse him when the tribe wanted a story. He hadn’t told any of his stories for many days, preferring to stay in his cave. Their feet slapped against the cold stone with a sound reminding Hon of rainfall. It made him ache with memories of a youth long past, just as it always did when the children came.

  He rolled onto his side, faced the cave wall, and pulled the hides up to his ears. It had been a long time since he stood in a downpour and felt alive. His old bones grew stiff even at the smell of rain, and standing in even the hot rains of summer left him with a chill that sent him scurrying under his hides for warmth.

  “Tell us the story of The Last Qwilai!” Kai shouted. He stood just beyond a small fire burning in the middle of the stone floor. Kai was the bold one, and his voice, not yet deepened by manhood, also made Hon’s heart ache. The boy lived by his heart, not his head, but the whole tribe knew he would become a mighty hunter… maybe even Leader someday.

  “Yes!” Jumu chimed in, peeking over Kai’s shoulder. “It’s been so long since you told it!” The two boys were never far apart, and many believed Jumu would follow Kai over a cliff if that was where the bold one led. He placed a hand on Kai’s shoulder and gripped the hide shirt nervously. Kai gave an irritated shrug, dislodging his friend’s hand.

  “Quiet,” Ula said in almost a whisper. “Hon doesn’t like loud noises.” She stepped past the boys and kneeled at Hon’s feet. “Please, Hon,” she said, resting a gentle hand upon the hides that covered his leg. “The men killed a kuduk today, and there are fat tubers. You can tell the story again while you eat. You need to eat.”