Glimpses: an Anthology of 16 Short Fantasy Stories: An exclusive collection of fantasy fiction

by Kevin Partner

  An ominous feeling washed over him; something was wrong.

  He scrutinized each bush along the edge of his property. The tiny red totems marking the safe zone were easy enough to spot even from this distance. His gaze followed them around, ensuring their spacing was even. No breaks in the line. He should be safe. They should be safe.

  “Damn spots,” he muttered to himself as he turned back around. When he reached into the box to retrieve the final gnome, he stopped. The box was upright, standing on its side. The large gnome was gone, vanished.

  He carefully felt around inside the box in case the little guy had gone invisible, but he felt nothing. It must have come to and crawled out on his own.

  “Take care, gnomes.” His voice shattered the silence, making him pause. “My name is Joe. This is my sanctuary, and I have rescued you off the streets of Madison. You will be safe here. I have wards; nothing can harm you while you are under my protection. I live over there.” He pointed behind him, at his little hut. “I only mean to help you.”

  He remained for a moment, hoping that one of them would reply, show himself. But silence reined the copse as it always did.

  Dejected, Joe got up, gathered his box, and placed it back in the Suburban. He thought about closing the window but decided against it. He was behind protective wards. Isn’t that what the shaman had said?

  He cracked open some canned chili, warming it with the propane stove he had found in an alley two winters before. It was slow and heated unevenly, but it beat eating cold food.

  Joe sat down at his small table overlooking the entrance to his domain, his kingdom. The sun’s rays were just starting to peek up over the tree-line, bathing the forest in a serene warmth. He had just put the first bite of food into his mouth when he heard an odd chirping and scraping sound behind him. Putting the battered second-hand spoon down, he turned.

  Two small green creatures sprinted across the small meadow from the direction of his vehicle. Their stumpy little legs pumped furiously. They ran on all fours, alternating thin, clawed hands and thick thighs. With each step, dirt flew behind them in a rat’s tail of spray. Massive claws that tipped each digit dug into the dirt. A snake-like tongue lolled to the side like a retriever chasing a ball, waggling in the breeze in-between grey spiky teeth that filled their mouths.

  It was their eyes that gave Joe pause, however. Small, dark and black, with a hint of glowing red. They were laser-focused on a specific spot of the meadow just out of sight.

  The lead creature, the larger of the two, opened its maw wide and bellowed. The shriek was repulsive and disturbing. The smaller of the two creatures called out as well, a death-inducing song in its pitch and dissonance.

  Joe finally realized what he was looking at.

  Gremlins had gotten into the sanctuary.

  The tree!

  He shot to his feet just as he heard tiny screams coming from somewhere around his small lean-to. He grabbed the nearest object he could find, a shovel, and leaped over the propane stove. He rounded the hedge that separated his living quarters from his guest’s home.

  Dozens of small, root-shaped bodies ran this way and that, chattering, screaming, hands in the air.

  The larger gremlin reached out and with a mere twitch of his razor-sharp claws, sliced through a fleeing gnome so easily that he never once broke stride.

  The second gremlin danced to the side, grabbing up both halves of the tiny gnome’s body, tossing one-half into his mouth and skillfully knocking the other one back to his partner. The larger gremlin caught the top half of the gnome, blood spraying from its still-beating heart, in between its jaws and bit down.

  Joe’s stomach churned at the crunch as the larger one bit down on the recently deceased gnome.

  He had to do something! He sprinted at the gremlins, swinging his shovel. The lead gremlin screeched and the smaller of the two broke off, charging directly at Joe.

  Joe nearly lost grip of his shovel, his resolve wavering. What do I do? He kept swinging, hoping to hit, but the flash of green dodged easily past him and swiped at his leg, shredding his jeans and causing him to topple over himself.

  He hit the ground and rolled, losing his shovel. He stopped when his head hit a tree, leaving him in a seated position looking out at the carnage. His head pounded and he twisted his ankle on the way down. He was pretty sure his leg was bleeding but was too scared to look.

  He looked up instead. The bigger gremlin was trying to round up a group of gnomes while the smaller was chasing after one of the gnomes that had gotten too close.

  He glanced down at his leg. No damage to him, only to the pants. Panic replaced adrenaline in his mind; he looked around for something, anything to give him stability. His world teetered. He was supposed to be helping them, saving them, but he had let them down. What could he possibly do against such speed, such dexterity?

  And how did they get in?

  He looked at his vehicle, with its scratches along the side. He knew where those claw marks in the rust had come from. He remembered the flash of green in the road. Gremlins in the street. The sudden stop. He had left the window open! He had brought the gremlins in! Despite all the careful wards, and perimeter checks, he'd simply drove them into the sanctuary.

  It was all his fault. He had failed them.

  He turned back to look at the gremlins. Flashes of light blinked across his vision in a staccato beat, punctuated by chirps, whoops, and barks, finally ending in a scream of such volume, that Joe’s ear’s continued to ring after it ended. Something had flown past him!

  Using the tree to pull himself up, he stood, trying to make sense of it all. Something was attacking the gremlins, zipping in and out of their reach. A brilliant point of light that could not be contained.

  The light charged headlong at the smaller of the two gremlins, knocking it upside the head, causing it to miss its next step. As it fell, the gremlin swiped out with such speed that Joe could barely make out the movement, but the small bundle of light dodged artfully away at the last second. The light struck again, causing the gremlin to trip and crash headlong into the grass.

  The larger gremlin turned and swiped out blindly with its claws, digging into the dirt with its other arm, both to slow itself down and to turn around faster than anything Joe had ever seen, but the light evaded the strike again.

  He was in awe. He had never seen anything like it. It was a spirit incarnate. The bundle of light zipped and zagged, like a professional boxer in a prize-fight. It was beautiful.

  And it was headed right for him.

  His mind briefly entertained the notion of sidestepping the hurled bullet of light barreling down on him, but before he could decide, the light stopped short of his face.

  Instead of a bullet, it was a tiny woman, shining brilliantly in the twilight. On her back, beat tiny little wings, their rhythmic pulse in the air sounded like a car passing in the distance, low and rumbling.

  It was a faerie, and she was naked!

  She slapped him.

  “Come on Joe! Snap out of it and get in there and kill those things!” The little woman barked, her voice commanding and militaristic.

  Joe smiled, pride flooding his chest. His vision cleared, he wasn’t cloudy anymore. He knew he couldn’t change the past. He could only move forward, deal with what was in front of him. Try.

  “Let’s do it,” he replied.

  The little faerie zipped backward, so fast that it was almost as if she was attached to the tree with a bungee cord.

  Joe grabbed the shovel off the ground again and charged.

  The gnomes, regrouping from the terror that had beset them, finally organized themselves and formed a defensive line, partially boxing in the two gremlins, while keeping themselves free from harm. They held sharp sticks and rock-tipped spears, some carried wooden shields, though Joe could not tell where they had come from.

  Together, the gnomes, faerie, and Joe managed to separate the two gremlins, snarling, and spinning, their teeth and claws
glistening in the low light.

  But the real hero was the faerie. She zipped and bobbed and struck with such speed that Joe thought he would have permanent lines across his vision.

  Joe and a contingent of gnomes fought the smaller of the two gremlins while the faery kept the larger one at bay. Swinging wide, the shovel sang through the air as it threatened to slice the gremlin. The monster dodged and weaved, trying to stay clear of his weapon until finally it was backed against the invisible wall of protection drawn in the ground care of the shaman those many years ago.

  Against the wall, the gremlin had nowhere to go. Held in place from the sides by the gnomes, Joe was finally able to get a good solid shot. The shovel dug into its neck, cutting deep. The gremlin crashed into one of the totems holding up the perimeter, then, as if the wall was no more, it fell over into the outside.

  The perimeter was breached!

  Joe pulled the shovel back out as it lay twitching on the ground. The sight made him want to vomit, but he steadied himself and struck again, ensuring the creature was right and truly dead.

  He would have to track down the shaman, or a different one, to get the shield repaired, until then how would he keep the gnomes safe?

  A chirping-gurgle came from behind.

  Joe whirled, readying his shovel just in time to see the small brilliant light of the faerie get tossed halfway through the meadow by the backhand of the larger gremlin. As she flew in the arc across the canopy-darkened space, her light faded from her so fast, that she was invisible to his eyes by the time she landed on the forest floor.

  She hadn't gone down without a fight, however; the gremlin limped, bled, and had lost the use of one of its eyes.

  Anger flooded Joe. This fight had gone on for too long. He was the protector of the delicate forest creatures. He had worked far too long to collect and care for them. He would not allow them to die. Not on his watch.

  He pulled back and then hurled the shovel directly at the gremlin with a primal scream. The shovel arced slightly in its ascent, then began falling. The gremlin, eyeing the retinue of gnomes in front of it, had its back to Joe and never saw the blade coming. It sliced into its back and embedded itself in the ground.

  Gnomes swarmed the creature, striking with their spears.

  Joe turned and ran through the meadow, anxiety rising in his chest, as he searched for the small faerie that had fallen.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something small, round, and wooden. One of the gnomes he had rescued the night before, the one who had disappeared from the box. They locked eyes for a moment. Joe saw fear in those eyes, the hysteria one gets when their beloved is lost. He nodded back to the gnome. “We’ll find her.”

  Joe, being taller, spotted her dim figure first and called to the gnome. The two rushed over to her tiny body. Joe didn’t know what to do, but luckily the gnome did.

  The large gnome picked her up, cradled her in his gnarled arms, and began to sing. The song was wooden and hollow. Mournful, yet hopeful. An ancient song of loss and grief, begging the gods for hope amongst a tide of sorrow. Emotions overwhelmed Joe as he found tears streaming down his face at the melody.

  Suddenly realizing he was surrounded, Joe looked up to see a sea of gnomes crowded around the faerie. They nuzzled up against him, climbed into his lap, and perched on top of his head to get a better view, as they joined in on the haunting aria. Joe remained silent and gave them places to sit. One of the smaller ones took his hand to hold.

  After a few minutes, the tiny winged figure began to glow. Anticipation grew in Joe’s chest as her light began to intensify. Slowly at first, barely a dot of starlight in a sea of haze, then growing brighter and brighter until more light came from her body than did the rising sun.

  The gnome ceased his song as the tiny faerie opened her eyes and began to sit up. The gnome tried to get her to lay, but she pushed him away and sat up anyway. Still wobbly, she was alive.

  She looked up at Joe.

  “Thank you for helping. My name is Yyffora. So nice to meet you.” She gave a short bow from her seated position.

  Joe returned the half bow but found himself speechless in the company of such a magnificent creature.

  She continued to speak, but Joe could never seem to remember what she said, only the way she said it. Like a tiny angel from heaven, this perfect creature was talking to him. Gypsy Joe, they called him. Crazy as they came. But here he was surrounded by gnomes and a faerie after having fought a hard-won battle for their lives.

  He had everything he had hoped for, everything he had ever wanted, and then some. He’d met a faerie. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

  And he was in love.

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  Dance of Swords

  JC Kang

  Having vanquished the world’s last dragon with her voice, eighteen-year old Princess Kaiya of Cathay should have had no difficulty charming a man with a Dragon Song. Unfortunately, First Consul Geros’ grey metal pendant absorbed magic, rendering him immune to her power. Now, there was no way to escape this foreign city.

  Except to kill him.

  From where she knelt on a silk cushion, Kaiya cast a glance at the matching pair of ceremonial straight swords— props for the dance she’d offered as a way to separate Geros from his guards. He’d accepted the offer, despite the Bovyan people’s notorious disdain for the arts, no doubt to isolate her as well. The blades lay sheathed in a double scabbard on the marble floors, just within reach.

  The instruments of murder. How could a musician, who’d never hurt anyone, transform into a cold-blooded killer? Her stomach twisted as all resolve faltered.

  Kaiya lifted her gaze to the other side of the knee-high table where the hulking dictator lounged. Grey strands streaked through his dark hair and a scar across his right cheek marred his olive complexion. His white toga exposed sculpted arms, and provided little protection from the cool breeze blowing through the gazebo. He yawned, his bored expression suggesting he didn’t mind the cold. His eyes followed hers from the weapons until they met.

  He snorted. Daring her to try.

  So dismissive. And why not? Coming from a warrior race cursed to a short life of thirty-three years, he loomed a head and chest taller, his monstrous frame at least twice her size. He’d likely killed hundreds of enemies in battle even before her birth. Her pulse skittered like a tentative rabbit. Forget resolve. Maybe she didn’t have the skill to hurt him.

  Still, she couldn’t betray weakness to this tyrant. Kaiya closed her eyes, letting the gentle thrum of the handmaiden’s zither settle her racing heart. By prearranged agreement, both his and her guards waited outside the hilltop gazebo, halfway down the slope. They could see everything, but stood too far away to intervene. In here, it was just her and two handmaidens.

  And two ceremonial swords.

  Without the magic of a Dragon Song to balance out his advantages in size, skill and experience, the odds looked bleak. No, it would be foolish to even try. There had to be some way to escape, without gambling on a desperate attack—one which would leave a stain on her soul even if she somehow succeeded.

  Kaiya opened her eyes to find his leer on her. His wolfish grin left no doubt as to what he wanted. The Teleri Empire used systematic rape of all female subjects to breed its army. Now, his eyes roved over her, as if formulating a plan of attack with her curves as the battlefield. Her only defense was a maroon gown with gold-embroidered borders, and the gold pin which held up her hair.

  And the two swords, which weren’t meant for actual combat.

  She was powerless and trapped. Stomach juddering with summersaults, Kaiya shook the terrifying thoughts of being pinned beneath him out of her head. Disguise strength in weakness, her ancestor had written. In these dire circumstances, it meant acting demure and deferring to the male ego. It was all part of her u
pbringing anyway. She could do this.

  But first, he needed to lower his guard. What better way than for her to serve? With her left hand holding the end of her right sleeve, Kaiya leaned forward to the tea set on the table. She lifted the kettle and poured into his eggshell cup. “Please,” she offered with a bow of her head. “Admire the tea’s color and savor its aroma before taking a sip.”

  Eying the cup with a frown, the consul pushed it back across the table. “You first, My Lady.”

  Such vulgar behavior. Still, the situation required hiding her disgust and fitting his image of the weaker sex. Kaiya lowered her head while still maintaining coy eye-contact through her lashes. She covered her mouth with a hand and softly laughed. “First Consul, it is not our custom to poison even our most hated foes when serving them tea. And while Cathay and the Teleri Empire have our differences, we are certainly not enemies. But if you insist.”

  Kaiya took up the cup in both hands, reveling in its warmth. She closed her eyes and let in a long sniff. Her shoulders relaxed and her concerns unwound. Bringing the cup to her lips, she took a sip. With a smile, she returned the cup to the table, with an unfortunate hint of red from her lip balm.

  As Kaiya reached for the kettle to fill the unused cup, Geros snatched up the one she had just sipped from. The contrast of his large, rough hands emphasized the dish’s delicate lines. It was a miracle he hadn’t crushed it between his stout thumb and forefinger. Holding her gaze the entire time, he emptied it into his mouth and gulped it down without so much as pausing to savor its scent or flavor. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then thrust the cup onto the table and grinned.

  Barbaric. To think such uncultured thugs ruled over the world’s largest empire. Looking up from the two swords, she forced her expression into indifference. “Consul, how can you enjoy the tea if you wolf it down like so? Appreciation of tea reflects our appreciation of life. Without simple pleasures, what is the purpose in living?”