Weaving the Strands of Love

(This story will be available for free through Smashwords which is down at the moment.)

Weaving the Strands of Love

By

Lazette Gifford

© Lazette Gifford 2000, 2012

(This story was originally published in Twilight Times ezine)

A storm invariably gathered over the mountains when Prince Idas visited his brother the magician.  He'd come to expect the weather and dressed for rain no matter how sunny the weather had been at the Dendari castle.  By the time he reached the mountainside, the weather would always have turned cold and wet.

He'd asked Pelias why this always happened, but his younger brother shrugged the question away.  Idas suspected the weather reflected Pel's moods. If so, this boded ill. Pelias was on his way to becoming the most powerful magician in the world.  Someone who possessed such inherent ability could be a danger to others, until they learned self-control. No one had realized the boy had magic until his teens, long past the time to begin training. So Pelias lived alone in his far tower.

"Damn weather," Idas mumbled as the clouds opened up yet again.  He grabbed at the slick pommel of the saddle, and cursed under his breath.

Marl, the Centaur he rode, gave a quick flick of his head and a snort of amusement.  "You say the same thing every time.  You still make this journey every few months.  You might think about taking one of the horses next time and at least let me stay dry."

"You know a horse won't come near this place because of the magic."

"Oh, true.  You'd have to walk, wouldn't you?  What a horrible thing that might be, the fine prince putting his dainty feet in the dirt."

Idas refrained from pushing his not-so-dainty feet into the Centaur's ribs.  He'd learned not to give in to Centaur wit, because a Centaur would leave even a Prince of the Line sitting in the mud.  Marl's grandfather had once bucked off the King himself, and lived to tell the tale to several adoring generations of Centaurs.

He appreciated Marl's companionship, which took his mind off the reason he came here.  Prince Idas's fingers touched the pouch beneath his cloak.  Under the fine silk he could feel the small mass of thirty long, golden hairs wrapped in a circle and placed them within.  These were the last ones he would have to bring to his brother.  Soon the spell would be finished.

Marl stomped through the mud puddles, either having a lot of fun or very mad.  Idas could never be certain of centaur temperament, despite having grown up with Marl.  Idas had spent more time with Marl then he had with Pelias, in fact.  His brother, younger by five years, had always seemed odd to him, though he had liked the boy.

He watched ahead, hoping to see his brother's tower.  He couldn't judge how long the journey might take since the tower moved from trip-to-trip, another vestige of his brother's vigorous magic.

"I think we're getting closer." Marl lifted a hand to the air, and felt for magic, which a centaur could sense.

"Good."  Idas pulled at his cloak and tried not to think fondly of the castle hall, and the warm hearth he'd left behind.  He'd be glad to see Pel.  He missed his younger brother.  Pel had come here when the priests realized the boy had magic, but not learned any control. And Idas. . . .

Idas knew his life would soon change because their father wasn't well.  The Prince already handled most of the daily work. The King wouldn't live through the next winter, and after the passing Prince Idas would become King Idas of Dendari. He shivered at the thought.

"You can't be that cold, and I know you aren't afraid of Pel, so what's bothering you now?" Marl asked.

Damn the centaurs, who never missed anything. He almost shrugged off the answer. However, they were alone here, and he could trust Marl, who was an old friend. "I'm thinking about the future, Marl."

"Ah." Marl stopped and twisted his head to look at him.  "You'll make a good king."

Idas couldn't have been more stunned if the Centaur had thrown him in the mud.  "Thank you.  Your words help.  Everyone accepts the change is coming but I doubt they've thought about what will happen when the king dies."

"Oh, some of us have considered the situation," Marl replied, starting along the trail once more.  He still found every mud puddle.  "The general consensus is you'll throw a damn big party.  You won't disappoint us, will you?"

"Ha!" Everyone knew Idas loved gatherings.  "We'll have to wait until it's . . . seemly. Besides, I'll need time to settle in."

"Just don't settle in so well you're no fun anymore," Marl answered. He sounded serious.  "We've had enough of dourness with your father.  He never was much for enjoyment.  He should have remarried."

Prince Idas didn't answer.  The conversation felt uncomfortable, touching on why he made this gods-be-damned trip.

His fingers brushed the silk and he thought about his wife, waiting for him to come home.  He wished he could trust she would always be there.

"You're too quiet," Marl complained.

A clap of thunder startled both him and Marl, saving Idas from having to answer.  Idas grabbed at the pommel, wishing Centaur saddles were a bit more generously proportioned.  He suspected the Centaurs made them this way because they liked to dump humans who annoyed them.

"And there the tower is," Marl said.

The sudden appearance of his brother's keep still amazed Idas.   He couldn't get used to the magical materialization of something so substantial which should have been rooted in one place.  The building rose in several odd layers, as though different architects had made designs and then someone jumbled them all together.  The trees and plants which had been displaced by the arrival still moved a bit, settling back in.  He couldn't watch those rearrangements without feeling a chill of distress so he watched the tower instead. He saw a glowing light in an upper window; a promise of warmth and someplace dry, at least for a while.

The gate opened without one around.  They entered the courtyard as the storm let loose once more.  Idas scowled at the sky, growling a little curse at the weather.  He slid from Marl's saddle as Pelias hurried out into the rain.

"Idiot!" Marl shook his head in disbelief. "Get in out of the weather!"

"Come in, come in!" Pelias grinned with delight to see him so Idas refrained from complaining about the ride and the weather.

"Is Ela around?" Marl asked, looking off to the left where a light flickered.

"She brought me books earlier so she might be," Pelias replied.  "Check the stables.  If not, come and join us.  I'll leave the door unlatched."

Marl pranced off toward the stable.  Idas grinned, watching him go.  No wonder Marl had been so willing to bring him here if he thought the lovely centaur Ela might be around.

"I wasn't sure you'd return," Pel said.

"Is there something I should know?" Idas asked.  "And is this something which must be discussed in the rain for some arcane reasons which are beyond the understanding of poor, magic-less humans?"

Pel grinned and glanced into the sky, shaking his head.  "I don't know why the weather keeps changing.  I had a lovely, sunny afternoon.  Come in.  The fire's warm."

Pel led the way inside.  Idas always enjoyed visiting is brother, despite the weather.  Pel didn't treat him like the heir-apparent or the soon-to-be-king, bowing and simpering at his presence. 

Well, maybe the most powerful mage in the world didn't need to bow and simper to the king of any country, including the one at the base of his mountain.  There was a humbling thought.  He needed humbling now and then.

They climbed one set of stairs past the ground floor storage area and to the living quarters.  The place felt warm, but lacking in the trappings of civilization.  The tower room held no more than two chairs placed by the central hearth and a table stacked with books and papers sat by the open window.  A soft breeze blew through the opening, though no rain penetrated his brother's warding spell.  A parchment lay half uncurled and weighed down with an odd shaped rock.  He wondered what Pel studied.

Pel reached the fireside damp dark hair falling across his eyes.  Idas couldn't make out his expression, though from the sudden flash of lightning and the crash of thunder, he could guess something troubled his brother.

"What's wrong?" Idas asked.  "You're bothered by something."

Pel paused for a moment.  "There's nothing you can help with."

"Not surprising. You can still talk to me anyway.  Pel, I've been worried about you here alone.  This life can't be easy, despite your magic."

He started to speak and stopped himself yet again.

"You could always talk to me," Idas replied as he settled into one of the chairs by the fire.

"This place is empty," Pel admitted softly.

Idas suppressed the urge to answer with something trite or to order Pel home.  Neither would help.  "I'm sorry," Idas replied.  "Perhaps you should get a servant or two at least."

"No.  I can't.  They wouldn't be safe." Pel threw himself into the other chair, pushing aside wet hair and shaking his head.  "I'm not safe to live with.  And at least Ela comes by to visit often."

"After all this time you must have gained some control," Idas said.

"Some," he agreed.  "Otherwise you wouldn't be safe here.  But there are times when I can't control what happens.  I could hurt people, which is why they made me come here, and why you're the only one who visits."

"No one else?"  Idas frowned now.  "I thought you had friends who would visit. And the priests come here.  They told us you needed teaching."

"They send me books by Ela.  No other humans." He stopped and took a deep breath.  "This is the way things have to be."

"Why?"  Idas felt angry for Pel's sake, which surprised him.  "You were not that much trouble at home!"

Pel laughed suddenly.  "I took half the roof off-the keep, Idas."

"But you never hurt anyone!"

"Because they got me away in time," he replied and glanced once around the room.   "Staying here is the best answer.  Just not a comfortable one. But enough.  Do you have the strands?"

"Yes."  Idas pulled the pouch from his belt, quelling the surge of guilt as Pel took it.

Pel looked into Idas's face.  Idas couldn't remember the last time his shy brother had done so. He'd forgotten Pelias had their mother's bright green eyes.

"You don't need this spell," Pelias said.

"I can't risk the chance!" Idas gave voice to the thoughts he'd harbored in the dark of the night, the fear growing over the last two years.  "I don't want to be like our father.  If Vania left me the way mother left him --"

Pelias winced.  He'd been very young, and Idas didn't think the boy remembered the day their mother had packed her belongings and her servants to return to her father's great castle. She'd told the king she'd done her duty, and given him two sons.  Their father let the woman go.  He never trusted another one.

And never cared much for her sons, either, though he did his duty to the Prince Heir, and made certain he learned what he needed to rule.  Pelias, though, had gotten nothing from the man and precious little notice from anyone else. Idas had been too busy, half a decade older, and heir to the throne.

"Idas?" Pel whispered, drawing his attention again.  "Will you take my advice and drop this?"

"I can't risk the chance," he repeated automatically.  "Dendari has suffered enough, don't you think?"

"The land is at peace, the people prosperous and content," Pel answered.  "Dendari hasn't suffered for our father's lack of love."

"But you've suffered or else you wouldn't be here, would you?"

"Maybe not. If someone had taken the time and noticed my gift when I was younger --" He stopped and waved those words away.  "But the real truth is you are the one who wouldn't be here if you hadn't suffered."

"I --"

"You wouldn't want a spell to ensure the love of a woman who has already given you all her heart."

"I can't take the risk!" Fear and frustration pushed him to his feet.  "Our parents had an arranged marriage, like mine. How do I know theirs didn't start out this way?  Pelias, I couldn't risk it. I couldn't bear the loss."

Pel's his face grave.  He had never seen such a look before.  "Sit.  Let me explain to you how this spell works so you fully understand."

Idas settled in the chair, his heart pounding.  He knew magic always came with a price.  When Pelias had accidentally destroyed the roof at the keep, the boy had been ill for days afterwards.

 Pelias reached towards the right; a little flicker of light appeared, and he held a small canvas in his hand, painted with the likeness of Vania.  A very good likeness, in fact.

"You've never used magic to bring something to you before, Pel."

"You can learn all manner of tricks from books."  He shrugged and held the portrait out to the light.  His brother had been very good at drawing.  He'd gotten better.  "I've woven her hair into the canvas.  These last strands will complete the spell, and the magic will be set before you get home.  However, we need to talk about the price magic takes.  This isn't something paid in gold."

"I know."  He felt a little surge of dread this time.

"Love spells are especially complex because love is a magic all its own. This is the only magic all humans have the ability to create. There is a kernel of love in everyone which can blossom, but, as with all magic, this kernel is finite.  A mage can create a spell to give someone more than their share of love.  However, to do so, he must take love away from someone else."

"What do you mean?"

Pelias stared into his brother's face once more. "You take more than you create, and deny someone else their share of love."

Someone else?

"They'll never marry?" he asked.

"Love is more than the relationship between a man and a woman, Idas.  All love this person might have created with others will be gone."

The knowledge bothered him . . . but not enough. He'd been trained to be king and he knew about difficult choices and matters which would not always be fair to all sides.  Idas had accepted such burdens and responsibilities. There would be worse choices when he became king.

Idas gave a bow of his head. "I understand."

Pel held his stare for a long moment. The storm raged and then subsided as his brother turned away.  Pel pulled the first strand from the pouch and laid the golden hair against the canvas.  Sparkles of light traced where his finger moved.

"Once completed there is no going back," Pel added as he smoothed another strand into the cloth.

"Good.  I want this finished."

Pel straightening another strand. A soft glitter of light brightened the strokes as his brother meticulously worked each strand into the portrait.  The work took time and Idas soon grew bored.  He wanted to go home and smiled at the thought of Vania waiting for him, his forever.

Another strand.  Idas stood and headed towards the door.  No reason to stay.  Pel didn't need his help.

He took a dozen steps before he turned to watch his brother working, the magic growing stronger beneath his fingers. 

Gods!  A truth Pel hadn't explained reached him.  He froze.

"Pel."

Pelias glanced up, his face calm and remote.  "Yes?"

"You know from whom you are taking the love, don't you?"

"Oh yes."

"And the spell began to work as soon as you began weaving the spell months ago, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"No."  Idas crossed to the fire and grabbed his brother's arm.  "Not you.  I can't do this to you."

"And I can't do steal from some poor stranger who might have a real hope of family and friends."  He pulled away and his finger wove a little more of the strand into the painting.

"Pel --"

"You are the only one who ever visits me, Idas.  Ela only comes by to drop off the books. Even before the spell.  This is the best choice."

"No." Idas took the canvas from his brother's hand. "This is the best choice."

He tossed the painting into the fire.  Magic flared bright and exquisite for a moment and died away in normal flames.

Pel stood with a hand on the arm of the chair.  He appeared stunned and unsteady as he watched his older brother.  "I never thought even you loved me."

"Gods, boy.  I'm sorry." Idas held out his arms.

Pel took a step forward and collapsed against him.  He felt almost limp and unexpectedly cold and trembling.

"Pel!"

"A moment," he whispered and waved a hand towards the fire.  "That was a harsh way to break a spell."

"I'm sorry!"

"It's all right."  He laughed and stood straighter, smiling brightly.  "It's wonderful!"

Idas stayed, talking with his brother all through the night.  The visit helped them both.  When he and Marl walked out of the courtyard the next morning, the day had dawned bright and free of any hint of clouds.

He and Vania would visit soon. He'd already promised Pel.

"Beautiful day," Marl said.  He looked at the tower which, remarkably, remained in place as they walked away.  "About damn time he settled down.  Now we have to find him a woman."

Idas thought to berate him for his usual crass irreverence and changed his mind.  "Yes, Marl," he agreed as he walked beside the centaur. "I think you're right."

The End

###

About the Author:

Lazette Gifford has publications in both electronic and print format, including material from Double Dragon Publishing, Yard Dog Press, Eggplant Literary Productions, Ideomancer, Fables, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine and more.  Having joined the ranks of Indie Authors, she has published both new material and previously released stories and is having a wondrously fun time.

She also owns Forward Motion for Writers and is the editor/publisher for Vision: A Resource for Writers.

Connect with Zette:

Web Site: http://lazette.net

Twitter: http://twitter.com/lazetteg

Joyously Prolific Blog: http://zette.blogspot.com/

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LazetteG

Other works by Lazette Gifford

Kat Among the Pigeons

Katlyn is a member of a fae clan whose job is to stand the line between human and magical lands, a secret she has trouble hiding from her new human boyfriend even before she unexpectedly finds the fate of the world in her hands.

She isn't magically strong, and unlike other fae who understand all animals, she only caught birds and cats -- not a good combination. However, when she isn't able to reach other fae for help, Kat and her boyfriend frantically fight the enemy with the aid of a lazy tom cat, an African gray parrot who only speaks in verse, and a wise-cracking cockatiel with a bad attitude.

She's trying very hard not to think the world is doomed.

http://aconspiracyofauthors.com/acoajoom/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=39:kat-among-the-pigeons&catid=17:acoa-publications&Itemid=64

Summer Storm

Summerfield grew up traveling from one odd place to another while his parents searched for enlightenment.

And yes, he does work for the nation's leading paranormal publication, Wolton World News -- or Woo Woo News as the scoffing locals call it.

That doesn't mean he's prepared for all kinds of weirdness in the last place he expected to find it . . . Omaha, Nebraska.

http://aconspiracyofauthors.com/acoajoom/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=53:summer-storm&catid=17:acoa-publications&Itemid=73

Silky

Life as a slave robbed Silky of his magical abilities and left him with no expectations of a better life -- until his own act of bravery delivered him into the hands of a powerful Lord of the Land.

Working with Lord Reed starts him along a path that will lead to power, danger and heartbreak . . . and a future the young slave boy could never have imagined.

"Exciting, complex and richly textured, with a world you'll believe and a protagonist you have to cheer for -- Silky is wonderful." Holly Lisle (Quote from original 1998 Embiid Publishing release.)

http://aconspiracyofauthors.com/acoajoom/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=2:lazette-giffords-silky&catid=17:acoa-publications&Itemid=19

Sample Sunday: Summer Storm

Summerfield grew up traveling from one odd place to another while his parents searched for enlightenment.

And yes, he does work for the nation's leading paranormal publication, Wolton World News -- or Woo Woo News as the scoffing locals call it.

That doesn't mean he's prepared for all kinds of weirdness in the last place he expected to find it . . . Omaha, Nebraska.


An unexpected storm and the search for a large mutant cat are only two of the unusual things happening as a Wolton World News reporter finds himself involved in something a bit odd even for him!  
            
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/89286

Read chapter 1 below!

Chapter 1
Lightning blinded me, the flash so bright that for one heart-pounding second I thought an atomic bomb had gone off over the city. I hit the brakes at the same time thunder shook the world and wind swept through the area in a frantic gust, driving dirt and debris across sidewalks and the street. I still feared the end of the world until rain began to fall in a sudden deluge.

Just a storm after all.

Although just didn't approach the description for the sudden fury unleashed around me. Rain obscured the view as though a semi-sheer curtain dropped between me and the rest of the world. A moment later hail the size of marbles fell in a pinging frenzy as they dented the car and shredded leaves from nearby trees.

Despite the weather, a wave of relief rushed through me at how lucky I had gotten this morning. If I hadn't played the good son and gone out to help with some paperwork at my parents' house, I would have been walking to work in this mess.

I contemplated my luck while hail approaching the size of golf balls hit the corner of my hood. I stomped on the gas and darted for the underpass beneath the railroad crossing about two blocks away. Various sizes of hail pounded against the windshield as the car slid on the slick street. I saw a half dozen other cars far ahead, but no one nearby as I came to an ungraceful stop beneath the concrete bridge. Torrential rain and large hail pounded the world outside my little shelter, changing my view of 13th Street into a veil of running colors, swirled by a vicious, erratic wind which changed direction with each gust.

Dangerous storm. Lightning hit a tree about three blocks away, shattering pieces of a limb. The roar of sound afterwards made the car tremble and I blinked as bright patterns played across my eyes. For a moment I thought I saw odd shapes racing across the intersection a block away. I blinked: They disappeared. Good. I had enough weird in my life.

With nothing better to do, I turned on the radio. Lighting cascaded across the cloudy sky and trailed static on the stations but I fiddled with the settings until I could hear voices.

". . . unexpected! An unusual cold inversion along the Missouri River came out of nowhere, and hit the warm front and . . . chaos!" The woman sounded breathless and static covered a few words before I could hear again. "We're getting some of the wildest readings on Doppler I've ever seen!"

Static rose over her words. I tried another setting.

". . . Lake Manawa," a man shouted, loud even over the storm and the interference. "Damnedest thing I ever saw! The sky lighted like a bomb went off!"

"There was no bomb," the DJ replied, cutting him off. Wise to quash that rumor right away. At least I hadn't been the only one who had experienced the gut-wrenching moment of fear. "This is nothing more than a very unusual storm. We have another call . . ."

". . . Angels calling out to hold tight, to hold back. This is the apocalypse . . ."

My. The storm had unsettled quite a few people. I fiddled with the radio, watching hail build up on the ground and looking like a fall of hard snow. The winds began to lessen, though the rain continued to fall as though someone had opened a spigot. A huge limb swept past in the growing rush of water and a pond began to grow in the depression beneath the bridge. I'd have to leave soon or risk water in the engine.

". . . Flying through the sky . . ."

When another limb wedged itself into my little sanctuary, I eased the car forward, despite the hail. The tires slipped on the slick road and leaving even the slight depression proved difficult.

"... Adams Park," a woman said over the static. "And it's raining huge rocks!"

I glanced towards grey clouds glimpsed between the snap of my windshield wipers and fervently discounted the idea of falling rocks. The hail proved bad enough, pinging off the roof and hood with loud thumps. I fought the wheel of the car and pushed on the gas, fearing the storm would sweep me away with the rest of the debris.

And my cell phone went off; Age of Aquarius rang out, startling me into a breathless curse. The tune repeated twice. My boss was calling, of course. She has an incredible knack for calling at the wrong time. I pulled over to the curb and yanked on the emergency break. My hands trembled as I took out the phone.

"Julia." I tried to sound calm while hail fell harder and a circle of cracks appeared in the middle of my windshield.

"Summerfield." She sounded distracted and I could hear the police band radio in her office squawking in the background. Things sounded pretty lively. I switched off my radio but could barely hear her. "Where are you?"

"Not far from the office."

"Walking?"

"No. I drove out my parents' house today."

"Bless the Lady. I worried," she replied with such sincerity I remembered one of the reasons I enjoy working for her.

She must have leaned closer to the police band radio; feedback made me yank the cell phone away from my ear with a near curse. I thought I had heard someone yelling about Valkyries this time. Damned odd weather when you can get the Angels of God and Norse Valkyries in the same storm.

"You there?" she asked.

I dared to put the phone to my ear. "Yes. I'm waiting out the storm."

"What's that odd pinging noise?"

"Hail hitting the car." I could count the insurance money with each of those dings in the hood and the new chip in the windshield glass.

"We have hail here, too," she replied.

"About six blocks away. What are the odds?"

"I don't know. I'll have to find someone who can tell me." Sometimes irony is lost on this woman though she made me smile. "I'm glad you have your car, Summerfield. Tessa gave me a reading last night and said today would be important. Hold on. I have to check something."

Tessa, the astrologer, ran a little shop about two blocks from the office of Wolton World News, where I worked. The paper covers stories on the unusual side. Julia frequented Tessa's place for readings and Tessa had been right predicting this one with the angels and Valkyries and falling rocks.

Julia Wolton, owner and publisher of Wolton World News, had a knack for smelling out good stories for the paper, even here in Omaha which is not exactly the arcane capital of the world. People reported from several places around the world and she had hired two local reporters to cover stories she unearthed and to rewrite material from elsewhere.

I enjoyed my job, though I wasn't certain you could call my coworker, Jacobs, a reporter. He got far too many of his stories from the bottom of a beer bottle and I spent too much time fixing the man's prose to consider him a writer of any sort. He fabricated more than he investigated and we had to double check everything. He did answer phones, though, and sometimes we needed him in the office to catch things while Julia and I did the real work.

Someday there would be an accounting for his actions. Karma. I'd seen the power at work too often in the past to doubt the ongoing tally of good and bad. Jacobs' attitude and ethics inched him ever closer to a big fall. I'd try not to snicker.

The storm eased. Water, mud, bits of trees and other debris raced along the edge of the street. Stalled cars sat in the street ahead and a few people took cautious steps outside. A blue jay landed on the hood of my car, glanced around as though startled by the destruction, and took off with a raucous shout of protest.

"I've got something for you, Summerfield," Julia said, startling me. "Something came in about two minutes ago -- a report from out near Ralston, along the Big Papio Trail. Several people have spotted a huge, strange cat."

I held the phone out and stared. Angels of God, Norse Valkyries, falling rocks, storms like atom bombs going off . . . and she wanted me to go check into a lost cat story?

"Summerfield?"

"Cat?"

"The police have sent a couple squad cars already," she added, which at least made this sound a little more interesting. "They have several witnesses in the area."

"Something loose from the zoo?"

"The zoo says no. Maybe someone raising a big cat got careless. The people out there are saying this is a strange cat, though. Can you go check? Or I can wait for Jacobs to come in and send him instead."

I sometimes think she plays the Jacobs card on purpose because she knows I don't trust him to report honestly on anything. I snarled something rude under my breath.

"Summerfield?"

"Yes, fine. Where am I going?"

"The police are at the Big Papio Trail along Towl Park. Stay off the main roads. I'm hearing reports of stalled cars and accidents throughout the city. And don't go anywhere near the Interstate or Bypass. It'll be hours before they clear that mess out!"

Good warnings. I inched the car towards a driveway where to turn around. I would have been closer if I'd stayed at my parents' place for a while longer.

"I'll see what I can find, Julia."

"Good luck. Goddess go with you."

I dropped the phone on the seat beside me and began the laborious work of going back the way I had come. I couldn't get through on 13th because stalled cars and downed power lines. I cut through side streets, helped clear two branches and found damaged trees all the way to the Henry Doorly Zoo. The Desert Dome stood to be intact. I hoped the botanical gardens hadn't been hit too badly.

I found less damage once I got south of the zoo. I didn't think I would have too much trouble getting to Ralston.

Where I would go looking for a big lost kitty.

The clouds moved in odd ways, and sometimes the wind gusts came so hard I had to fight the steering wheel to keep from careening off the road. Once I thought I heard voices somewhere above me; my imagination playing with me after the radio reports.

After more than an hour, I arrived at the area of the missing cat and found two police cars and big crowd. Given the weather, I would have thought they'd have better things to do. Ah, but maybe watching the Big Papio rise in its banks drew many of them out here. I could see it stood almost bank full already. Not a good sign.

I parked well back in the Towl parking lot with a half dozen other cars and dropped my cell phone under the passenger side seat for safekeeping. I hated when the thing went off in the middle of an interview. I also grabbed my press pass from the glove compartment and a camera bag from the backseat before I braved the weather and threw open the door.

I don't know how it could be so hot, humid and raining at the same time. I'm used to summer weather in the Midwest, but I paused, almost gasping this time. As I crossed the lot, the rain lessened to a drizzle, which was no help since I was already drenched. I could see trash rolling into piles near the storm drains and rivulets of rain water rushing through the street. However, the storm hadn't hit this area as hard as some locations I had driven through.

Clouds skittered across the sky in several layers and each chaotic mass heading in a different direction. I'd seen such movement happen with two layers before, but not four or five. I watched in amazement for a moment and then forced myself to head for work.

The cops were starting to herd some of the people away from the trial along the banks. Holding up my press pass won a couple grunts and nods until a tall, lanky cop with gray sideburns, a mustache, and a no-nonsense look stopped me. His plastic raincoat couldn't be comfortable, though at least he stayed dried.

"Summerfield?" he said looking at the press pass. The plastic made an odd crinkling noise as he moved. "I'm Officer Lenz and I'm in charge here. I have rules. Don't go down the bank to get closer to the water. It's moving pretty damned fast and the bank is slick. The cat was last seen heading south, so unless you want to chance meeting the animal by yourself, don't get out of sight."

"Did you see the cat?"

"Nah. But the first cop here did see some tracks before the rain washed them away."

"What am I looking for?"

"Huge golden-brown cat with glowing green eyes." He stared me straight in the face without even a glimmer of a smile.

"Right."

I headed towards the closest group of people watching the water and asked who had seen the cat. After four tries I found a nervous, anorexic woman of about thirty who must have been out jogging. Her mascara ran in lines from the corner of her eyes and her bleached blond hair hung in limp strands, clearly showing the darker roots. She'd be appalled when she realized how bad she'd looked in public.

"Yes. I saw it not long after the rain started. The cat ran right past me!" She gulped air a couple times. "The zoo -- the zoo will be held accountable for this. They should do better!"

"The zoo hasn't lost any cats. Someone near here might have illegally raised something --"

"No one in this neighborhood would do such a thing!"

I buried an amused grin. "Well, cats can run for quite a ways. Can you describe the animal?"

"Golden and brown, ticked fur," she said and her eyes narrowed. She held up her hands, flashing perfectly manicured fingernails which didn't look any more natural than her hair. "A long tail, too. Not short haired, but not a Persian or angora length, either. Would have made a gorgeous coat."

"Thank you." I pulled out a little notebook I always keep in my pocket and jotted notes, hoping I could keep the paper dry enough to avoid the ink running like her makeup. Glancing upward, I could darker clouds moving in, promising more trouble soon.

The woman dabbed at her eyes, got a horrified look on her face, and hurried away without saying anything more. I moved on to another group of people, but most had arrived after they saw the cops show up.

One person had seen the cat sniffing around at the edge of the trail. He gave the same general description, adding that the face had been a little flat, the eyes huge and glowing and with paws a peculiar long and narrow shape.

Julia would love the part about the glowing eyes if I could get the detail confirmed somehow. I followed the path along the edge of the Big Papio with a wary eye on the weather and the water. The winds kicked up and rain fell in a sudden burst and stopped again a moment later. The crowd thinned out and one cop car took off so I didn't think anything more would come of this.

I considered leaving. I glanced at the clouds and felt as though I stood in the heart of a hurricane, with everything swirling around in different directions. The sight could almost make a person dizzy.

"Damned impressive, ain't it?"

A short, older black man moved along the path towards me. The weather didn't bother him in the least. He squinted through raindrops on his gold-rimmed glasses and brushed water from his short, coarse hair as he watched the sky for a moment before turning back to me.

"I've never seen a storm like this," I admitted.

"Me neither. Lived here all my life and the weather can still surprise a person. Sure hope it doesn't get any colder, though. Don't want snow."

"This is summer," I pointed out.

"Yeah?"

Okay, the weather had been odd enough. I couldn't tell what might happen next so he had a point.

"My neighbor told me you asked about the cat," he said. "You're a reporter?"

I held out a hand. "Summerfield, from the Wolton World News."

We shook. He had calloused hands and a good grip. "Tim Dorey, from the Retired and Damned Glad of It. Wolton World News -- that's the odd paper, ain't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is odd enough," he admitted. "Biggest damned cat I've seen outside of a Siberian Tiger. I worked for the zoo for twenty years and I've never seen or heard of anything to compare to this one. I'm going to call my old boss and tell him about it."

I grabbed my notebook and began to take notes not only on what he'd seen, but also who to contact at the zoo. He gave me an excellent description with the height of about four feet at the shoulders, lean, long legged and with big, odd shaped paws. The face had been somewhat flat like a tiger, with small ears and green eyes. He didn't say glowing, but I saw the way his eyes twitched at that point.

"Has to be some kind of cross-breed," he said, shaking his head. "You can cross a lot of the big cats, you know. Lions with tigers and such. Or something mutated. I don't know. It was just the damnedest thing I'd ever seen, though. The cat saw me, too. I couldn't have outrun it."

"What happened?"

"The truth? The cat nodded his head like he was saying howdy-do and walked down to the edge of the creek bed. Well-trained. Maybe something from a circus? You know, sometimes they dye the animals and trim them up to look odd."

"Maybe," I agreed. I could tell he didn't believe such a simple answer. I did not, suddenly, want to think about such an animal loose in Omaha.

"Odd day. Damn strange storms, damn strange cats." Tim Dorey glanced around as though he expected something else strange to turn up. "I hope things don't get worse."

Lightning flickered across the sky, several bolts darting from cloud to cloud. The wind bore down on us and rain began to pound the area in a torrent. We both glanced up and back at each other. Mr. Dorey shrugged.

"I think I'll just head back to my apartment," he said with a casual nod. "Before I provoke the Almighty into some other little show of humor. Get out of the rain before you catch a cold."

"Thanks for the information." I shook his hand once more. He appeared pensive. "You have something else?"

"Yeah. But this will sound odd."

"This is the day for it."

He laughed, brushing rain from his hair. "Okay, this is going to sound more than odd. I saw the cat there by the bank and I swear he searched for something. He'd dig a little bit at the weeds and then move on. Not hunting the way normal cats do, big or small. Cats, when they hunt, get all tight-muscled and slinky. This one acted annoyed and bothered in a . . . well, in a human way."

I glanced towards the Big Papio and measured the height of the water from the top of the banks. "Here?"

"Right there in the grass and weeds where everything is kind of flat. I don't know you should go down there, Summerfield --"

"You better get in out of the rain, Mr. Dorey," I said with a smile.

"You be careful. I don't care what anyone else thinks; I know what I seen and big cats are dangerous." He turned and walked away. He had a good point, and one to remember as I stood there in the rain. I knew I should head to the car, but I found myself staring at the flattened weeds and grass.

I had to know what might be hidden down there.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/89286

Sample Sunday: Summer Storm

This is a part of a chapter from Summer Storm, an urban fantasy.  The main character found something earlier in the story and he has no idea how important it really is.  I hope you enjoy it!


I drank the cup of tea and decided bed would be better than sitting there, shivering. Bed and warm covers where I could let myself slip off into sleep. I felt exhausted. I stumbled into the room stripped to my underwear and crawled under the blankets, grateful to be still.

I didn't sleep so well.

The nightmare began almost immediately. I think I jerked awake once, grateful to be out of it -- but maybe I dreamed I was awake, because as soon as I went to sleep again, I dropped right back to the same spot.
I stood in the midst of a medieval battle. I could hear the sound of swords and the yells of men and other creatures as they fought. I directed things, which on one level scared the hell out of me since I know nothing about tactics and strategy. My dream self knew what to do, though.

People surged through the courtyard, shouting, angry, worried and afraid. Then other things came out of the darkness and through the already destroyed gate: huge creatures, with red eyes and blood stained mouths. I watched one catch a woman, break her neck, and bury his mouth in her chest. I could hear the crunch of bone and the tearing of flesh. I would have been ill, but the me in the dream ordered an attack.

When I raised my hands and blasted the creature, the magic felt right, though I could see we wouldn't stand up to this onslaught.

"We can't hold!" I shouted. I heard cries of dismay and shock. "Get to the keep! Protect Vane!"

"There is no protection for me," someone said at my back. I spun to see a tall, thin man shaking his head with loss as he looked out at the fallen and the continuing battle. "I must fight with you or we are all lost."

"If you are lost, sir, we lose ourselves. Go back to your chamber!"

"They have already breached my chamber. There is no safety, my friend."

Shock, horror; but I fought those emotions aside. We could not have fallen this easily! There had been treachery involved, but I didn't have time to hunt out the threads with all else falling around us.

I wouldn't give up! I spun to fight, creating my sword from the magic around me while trying to keep Vane at my back. He wouldn't stay from the battle, though. More of the clan surged in around us, and we formed a square, but the enemy broke through before we could draw on the power. Others rushed past the breached gate, swinging axes and killing everyone they saw. I couldn't tell the clan. They hid their identity from us.
I knew we couldn't hold, but I refused to give up the fight. We had to do something to survive.

"We have to go," I said, feeling frantic. "We have to get out of here. Retreat to one of the lesser holdings."

"There is no time," Vane replied, his voice steady. "But I will give you what help I can."

Vane began to change: his human outline melted, shifted and grew. Huge. Gigantic. Others leapt away as the dragon took shape. I knew this meant we had little chance of winning, if we needed the dragon to help us.

And we did need him. A wall of creatures like none I had ever seen swarmed through the gate, and charged forward at us: Black, shapeless things from the Other Side which made them dangerous and unpredictable. We were already losing against the other fae and creatures. We could not fight these as well.

They swept in and killed everything they could reach and before I could shout a warning, they swarmed over the dragon as he threw himself before the last of us. He howled and began thrashing. We all backed away, friend and foe alike. I had to help him!

Vane rose on his back legs, screamed to the sky, and threw himself amid the enemy again, crushing quite a few and tossing aside the black creatures. He battled away others and broke a path for us to the gate. We could get clear!

And the dragon fell and didn't get back up.

A great shout went up from the enemy, which spurred us to new anger, though we had lost all hope. I fought and killed everything that came at me, heedless of my own wounds, and reached the dragon. Vane blinked at me, the left emerald green eye already half clouded. Wounds bled everywhere across his damaged silver scales.

"Get the egg," he whispered, a sound too soft from such a huge creature. "Get the egg and go . . . elsewhere."

His eyes closed; his breathing stopped. I saw a flutter of color lift from his skin, dance in the air and dart into the keep. The essence of life would migrate to the dragon egg and impregnate it with life so the dragon could be born again. We had to protect the egg, which I knew we couldn't do here.

"Get the egg!" I shouted. The others hadn't realized the dragon had died and a cry of despair rose around me. I sent a wave of magic at the enemy and so did a dozen others, using all we could to make a shield, though the magic wouldn't hold long. "Gather, everyone gather! We're going to ride the wind. We're going outbound!."

I heard more calls of alarm but everyone obeyed. People came from the keep carrying something large wrapped in magic. We didn't have time to take more precautions. Damned dangerous work, to take off like this.

"Brandis, try to center us," I yelled to a man who came limping towards me. He had good, strong magic.

The shield started to flare and break. I glanced frantically around. "Protect the egg! You hold our only hope!"

We grabbed horses out of the magical wild. I glanced back at the dragon's body and shook my head as I put my hand to the symbol at my neck. "We will meet again, Vane. You'll remember us. We won't let you go."

And then we wove magic so strong the power felt like fire in the air. The shield went down and we went up and outbound through the nether, the battleground disappearing in a blur of colors. The others formed into squares upon squares, those holding the egg in the middle. We traveled the netherworld for a breath and another, holding to this cold place of too bright colors.

I brought us out somewhere else and skimmed along clouds stretching below us. I caught a glimpse of buildings and a river. We drew magic from the flowing water and the air tasted fresh after the stink of battle, though I felt the taint of technology all around us. We wouldn't be staying here. I put my hand on my medallion and tried to believe we would survive, regroup and win over the enemy. The sun rose in our faces and while half-blinding, still felt warm and welcome. I could see hope in this new dawn.

"We'll follow this river for a little ways, gather power, and then head outbound once more. We need to gather strength and catch our breath!"

"Where shall we go?" Brandis asked. His long dark hair hung in snarls and he sounded worried and lost.

"Not far."

"What took down the dragon?" he asked, his eyes narrowed as he glanced back at the egg.

"I don't know, but I felt they came from the other side."

I heard shouts of anger as the rest of the clan learned the enemy had banded with such creatures --

Magic!

I felt a shield spring into existence before us, so sudden and strong the air turned to ice. The storm clouds we had ridden danced in a chaotic frenzy and lightning flashed bright, blinding us. We turned, spun -- I tried to keep track of the others, and see where the egg had gone, but the squares broke up. Dangerous --

"Hold on! Hold back!" I shouted, knowing we'd fallen into a trap.

Then I saw a few hundred of the enemy rushing us with weapons and magic already flying. My horse faltered. I put my hand to my chest and the dragon medallion I wore there, and wished the next leader of the clan a better chance. I took it off --

I saw the javelin flying toward me and I dropped the chain as the weapon hit.

I fell, fell, the storm, the wind the rain --

Falling. . . .


I leapt up, calling out in surprise, dismay and loss, with my hand on my chest. I expected to find blood.

No. I stood in my bedroom, not riding horses in the clouds.

I had never, never had a dream so real in my life. I could still feel the wind in my face, the smooth glide of a horse flying beneath me. I felt sadness at the death of the dragon and hoped the egg had survived and hadn't fallen to the enemy --

Not real. The battle, the dragon -- everything had been a mishmash linking the storm with the dragon medallion I had found.

I settled into bed, looking out the window where another storm raged. The remnants of the dream haunted me through the remainder of the night.

(Back cover to upcoming Summer Storm novel)