《Hidden Jewels》 The War Dance Metal kisses flesh; blood anoints the dying. She is the Knight Commander. Her sword cuts down one Barbarian after another. He is the War Chief, howling to the sky, leaping from one encounter to the next, heart pumping and fueling his frenzy. He stops when he sees the Knight Commander, gracefully stepping over one of his fallen men, her helmet missing, armor glinting like diamonds under the sun, and ruby red adorning her face; her own war paint. Her bright eyes light on him and she stalks forward, her mouth curving with a white smile among the crimson. Grinning in return, he grips both knives tightly, balancing to the balls of his bare feet.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. They clash. Brutally. Passionately. Weapons sweep in elegant arches, moving with rhythmic metallic strikes and the cries of the dying around them. They hear nothing. They are absorbed in their own movements while the world around them is flame and blood. He leads her back with a slash of one blade and the Knight Commander blocks his advance. She smiles so beautifully; the War Chief almost regrets their dance. Almost. She slices him, forcing him to drop one of his blades. Her eyes sparkle with a false sense of victory. He growls in determination and, with a kick of his leg, he makes her stumble, catching her before she falls. The War Chief holds her close. He feels the rhythm of her heart thrumming like beats on a drum. Her eyes stretch wide with surprise by the speed of his embrace. He plunges his remaining blade into her chest. Her breathing stutters as he lowers her gently to the forest floor. She smiles one last time, wearing her death like a wedding dress. Dragons and Punishment ¡®You have been banned from existence.¡¯ I blinked at the piece of paper in my hand and swiveled my head around me. Everything was white. I couldn¡¯t tell where it ended. I stared at the paper once more. ¡°Is this because I killed that dragon?¡± I yelled, knowing someone was listening. ¡°I told you I was sorry! The knights were completely useless.¡± I crumpled the note in my hand and tossed it behind me. It felt good to smash something. The magic in the room that skated over my skin felt strong and I knew I wouldn¡¯t be able to punch holes into the walls without needing godlike strength. ¡°Bloody ridiculous,¡± I muttered. I stomped off and began ranting to the air. ¡°It was eating villages. It stole the gold from seven kingdoms! And it left its stinking scat everywhere! It took days to shovel that crap off the roads!¡± I stopped when I noticed another page floating down to me and snatched it from the air. ¡®Arthur was in charge of destroying the beast. This is your punishment, Merlin. SHUT UP.¡¯ My magic pulsed from my hand and the note burst into flames. I wouldn¡¯t apologize for fixing Auther¡¯s messes and feeding an entire continent fresh meat. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Make me,¡± I said and marched forward in the neverending white. Messing with the Fates apparently meant harsh punishment. They didn¡¯t seem to understand the young king was an idiot blonde-haired, blue-eyed dunce who couldn¡¯t figure out how to pull a magic sword out of its scabbard, let alone fight a dragon. The coward hid behind me the entire fight. Days, weeks, or years later, I found the wall. Slammed right into it and nearly broke my damn nose. I groaned and sat against it, feeling the vibrations of strong magic against my back. ¡°Been nursing those toddling knights for two decades. I deserve some downtime.¡± I lifted my head up. ¡°You hear that ya boogey eating fairies? I want to be left alone!¡± Thunder rumbled under my feet and I tensed. A shriek pierced my ears and I looked up in surprise to see a woman falling from above and landing hard in front of me. The Fates are jackasses. The woman wore a strange black leather and rough blue breeches that would have made the ladies back home blush. She pushed herself up glaring around the room, her white tunic sleeves shortened, showing delicate black and white art patterns on her skin. She brushed her short hair away from her face as she looked around. "What are you in for, my lady?" "Killed a fucking dragon," she grunted, standing and rotating her arm back and forth with a grimace. "Didn''t know they still existed." "Were your companion''s knights? Heroes of the sword?" She shrugged and sat next to me. "I suppose, but he had a gun. Froze like an idiot when that monster showed up. Glad I''m here now." I nodded. "All we need now is some strong ale." She snorted. "Or some whiskey." Cassandra They say I am insane, but really I¡¯m a free bird. When I climb trees, trying to get close to the sky, my father¡¯s guards pull me down with rough, calloused hands and drag me back to my barred chambers. I counted the days by unraveling the stitches of my wedding shroud. Each thread I cut is a reminder of how short our time was. There would be no beau for me. No extravagant feast of honeyed figs and salted lamb legs. I would not dance with the fires of desire. When my father approached me, it felt as if I had been staring at nothing for days. I blinked, raised my gaze to him. My father, the king, shook before me and it weighed on my heart. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Cassandra,¡± he said voice firm despite his unease. ¡°You know you can¡¯t leave your rooms. You¡¯re unwell.¡± I tipped my head to the side, locks of raven hair falling over one eye, and it fascinates me how his image was split in two. So appropriate. ¡°I¡¯m well enough.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± He slashed an arm out to the window. ¡°You scream through the night! Treasonous things that I may not be able to protect you from! You must stop telling these lies!¡± ¡°They¡¯re not lies.¡± I snapped another thread from my shroud. The pretty blue strand fluttered to the stone floor. I picked it up and marveled at the vibrant color. ¡°Troy will fall in a week. Your sons will die.¡± ¡°Hush, child! We will be victorious in our war. You simply don¡¯t understand the mechanisms of battle. I am only lenient because I know you¡¯re afraid. But our warriors are strong. Your brothers will win.¡± He strokes my hair and leans in to kiss my forehead, beard pricking harshly against my skin. ¡°Troy will fall,¡± I said. ¡°Beware your victories, father.¡± Vintage (Flash Fiction) I hate being obsessed with time. Each tick of the grandfather clock keeps us aware of our mortality. The past is far and the future is near. As a professional horologist, it consumes me. Each cog and wheel I shine is a puzzle piece to time. I may be called to tend to your vintage clock, but you will be getting something unexpected from me. Perhaps I bend the golden mainspring or I slip a stolen piece of gear into my pocket and proclaim your precious timepiece is beyond repair. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. You think me a fraud, but for a short time, I¡¯ve given you immortality.