Icarus winced as he hit the ground.

“What are you complaining about? I was the one who crashed through the window,” Jason said, laying on the ground next to his mentor.

“Falling isn’t as easy as it once was.”

Both Jason and Icarus reached their feet and looked at the destruction before them. The ground had broken glass scattered about and they could see the fighting going on within the tavern from where the glass had once been.

“Do you think it was because I said other idiot?” Jason asked.

Icarus shook his head and they both turned north, towards the castle. They didn’t travel too far when they heard a scream. When they swung about, they saw Robert flying out the window and landing a few feet away from them. The dwarf stood up, brushed off the dust, and collected his battle axe. Before he could run back in, both Jason and Icarus grabbed his shoulders.

“Rob, enough is enough,” Jason said.

“The prince is right. There’s no reason to get yourself hurt—or worse—in there,” Icarus reasoned.

“Maybe I was a little harsh. Perhaps we could go somewhere private and talk more about this hat?” Jason asked.

“The name is Robert and wherever we go, they better have plenty of ale.”

“Okay Rob, okay.”

*          *          *          *          *

It had been centuries since the elf was part of the war for control of Ippius. Prior to the permanent settlements of that make up present day Arthica, many different races settled the three large islands that make up a majority of Ippius. It was the arrival of the minotaurs that forced the humans to fight for what they believed was theirs.

At the time, Icarus was staying in his thatched cottage found in what is now known as the Vanyatavar forest, just west of Argos. After years of adventure, he had finally settled down with the elven maiden, Zaleria Vamaer. The couple had met during a battle to save Zaleria’s tribe from an attack by a pack of lagano years prior and had fallen deeply in love.

The elven couple had decided to not interfere with the happenings of the other races, however the battle for land control had spilled into their home. The minotaurs had taken camp within the forest around their home and while out by one of the many streams, Zaleria was killed—mistaken as the enemy by a minotaur warrior.

When Icarus went to meet his love, he was horrified to find her body lying on the ground; lifeless. Without having a moment to mourn, the same minotaur that had killed his beloved came after the elf. Icarus was able to spring out of the way and readied himself for battle, however had no weapons to mount a proper offense. As the minotaur turned to charge, the elf was in motion and leapt into the air, his wings appearing and giving him extra lift. As the elf soared over his advisory, he grabbed a sword that was sheathed on his back—the wings disappearing as he landed behind the minotaur.

Icarus shook his head as he heard Jason calling his name.

“Icarus!” Jason yelled, practically in his mentor’s face.

“What is it, lad?” Icarus finally responded, with more anger than he had intended. “Jason, I am sorry, my mind was elsewhere and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

The elf had been lost in thought, reflecting back upon his long life—a blessing and a curse. Being part of much of Tellet’s long history was something the elf was proud of, but it came with great costs—losing his love during The Culling was one of those costs.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“A tale for another evening. What was it that you wanted?”

Jason returned to the table he was sharing with Robert—notes and ale were spread about the table.

“Robert and I were going over his notes from past explorations to try and determine where we should search next. We’re at a loss and there isn’t anyone who knows Tellest better than you.”

“Let me see what you have.”

Icarus followed Jason over to the table and thumbed through the notes. He saw that Robert and his previous teams searched most of Draconis, including the islands of Ippius. Before he flipped through any of the other notes, he noticed that it seemed like Iona, the second largest island of Ippius, had yet to be explored.

“You’ve taken a team to Norkoth before Iona?” Icarus looked to Robert.

“Aye. We had a lead that mentioned those lizardfolk and headed there. In all of our research, nothing ever pointed us towards Iona,” the dwarf answered.

“So, you’re telling me you that you decided to leave the mostly peaceful island of Iona alone while you explored one of the most dangerous lands? You really are daft!” Jason interjected.

“Who are ye calling daft, lad? Evidence is evidence – why would I waste me time?” Robert countered.

“The boy is right,” Icarus started as Jason smiled. “Not about being daft. Going to Iona would have likely prevented the loss of lives. Although Andekus is known in all of Tellest, it is largely believed that she resided in the jungles of Iona for some time.”

“Now listen here elf, I’ve researched Andekus more than anyone else on this rock and I’ve never seen anything about her hiding out in a jungle,” the dwarf argued.

“Robert, although you have been around Tellest much longer than many other beings, you are still naïve. Plenty of history has been left to be forgotten. There is an abandoned temple in the jungles of Iona. It has been a very long time since I have visited, but since then, I had heard of rumors of an extremely generous soul making the temple their home,” the elf explained.

“Boys, dare I say it’s time for adventure?” Jason asked, putting his arms around Icarus and Robert.

“Your father won’t be happy,” Icarus mentioned.

“When can we leave?” Jason asked with a smile on his face.

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part Three appeared first on Tellest.

Three mugs of ale were suddenly slammed onto the table. Icarus and Jason, startled, looked to see a dwarf with curly red-brown hair that draped over his leather shoulder pads. He had a battle axe holstered to a strap on his back and looked like he would be ready for a brawl at a moment’s notice. Before anyone could speak, the dwarf downed his ale and signaled for another round.

“The ale is on me, lads,” the dwarf proclaimed.

“Why the generosity?” Icarus asked as Jason began drinking from his mug.

“I heard yer friend talking about an adventure, and I got one!” The dwarf beamed.

“And why would—”

“Please, give us the details,” Jason cut Icarus off.

“Aye, of course! You know of Wintertide?” The dwarf asked and continued after Icarus and Jason nodded, “There’s a rumor of an enchanted hat that offers the great gift of knowledge.”

“What does that have to do with Wintertide?” Jason asked.

“I know of this rumor,” Icarus answered before the dwarf could. “This hat is rumored to have belonged to Andekus.”

“Aye! The goddess of Wintertide. I been tracking this hat, the coxcomb of Andekus, fer decades—longer than you been alive, lad—and any true adventurer is willing to stick with the hunt, to whatever end.”

“And what’s in it for us?” Jason asked.

The next round arrived to the table before Jason and Icarus finished their mugs. The dwarf grasped his and finished the ale inside in what seemed like one gulp. He wiped away the sudsthat dripped from his red-brown beard before looking Jason in the eyes.

“A chance to wear that coxcomb, of course.”

Jason rolled his eyes and picked up his ale. After finishing his first mug, he looked the dwarf in the eyes before gulping down the second mug sitting in front of him. As he signaled for another round, Icarus sunk in his chair, aware of what was to come. “A chance to wear that coxcomb?” he mocked the dwarf. “Why, how could I resist? Who doesn’t want to wear the hat?”

“Now listen here lad—”

“The name is Jason—Prince Jason Dactyls—and you should watch your tone.”

Jason was standing, towering over the dwarf. Icarus looked around, and took a swig of ale, as many patrons of the tavern turned their attention to the prince. Icarus tried to signal Jason, but it was too late—the dwarf shoved Jason.

“You little man, you dare challenge the prince? I am a Dactyls, a descendant of the man who helped settle these lands. Who are you?”

“Perhaps we should take this outside?” Icarus interjected as more and more attention was being directed their way.

“Yer family wouldn’t exist without mine. Who am I? I am Robert Ipparius, descendant of Arthur—the man that ensured these lands could be settled.”

“And I’m Icarus, the one trying to save the two idiots announcing their famous lineage in a tavern full of criminals.”

Robert grabbed Icarus’ mug from the table and gulped it down before winding up and throwing a wild punch. Jason was quick enough to duck beneath that hook, and he grabbed one of the empty mugs from the table. He threw it toward the dwarf, who sidestepped the projectile, allowing it to hit an orc that was sitting behind him.

“Great,” Icarus sighed.

The orc stood up from his stool, brushing shards of glass off his shoulder. He looked at the group in front of him and growled. Jason’s heart pounded, as his sight settled on the burly patron.  Orcs were not often found in Argos. Humans filled most of the city, especially the north side. Although people were staring, they clearly tolerated the orc’s company.

The orc lifted his mace and swung it toward Jason. The prince jumped out of the way, nearly falling into his mentor. Before anyone could react, the orc chopped that spiked club toward Robert, who rolled to the side, avoiding the damaging blow that destroyed a table.

“Hey! Calm down. It was an accident. I wasn’t trying to hit you—I was aiming for the other idiot over there,” Jason said, pointing in the direction of the dwarf.

The orc didn’t take too kindly to Jason’s words and charged toward the lad and his mentor. They leapt in opposite directions, avoiding that unexpected foe. A man dressed in the garb of the Saphron Brotherhood was not as lucky. The orc hit him squarely in his chest, launching the assassin across the room.

Every patron in the Falcon’s Nest erupted in a roar. Blows were exchanged, chairs were broken over backs, and mugs of ale were broken over heads. Jason took the opportunity to charge the dwarf, who was distracted by all the commotion. As he approached Robert, he leapt and drove his shoulder into the dwarf’s chest, taking him to the ground. As soon as they landed, Robert winced and Jason rolled to the side, gripping his shoulder that had collided with the dwarven armor.

Robert was able to climb to his feet before Jason, his armor taking the brunt of the hit and the fall. He grabbed the closest chair and swung it toward Jason, who had managed to climb to his knees. Before he could stand and defend himself, the chair cracked over the prince’s back, sending him back to the floor. The dwarf smiled and grabbed the closest mug of ale to celebrate

Before he could take a swig, Icarus was there and slapped him upside the head—causing the mug to drop. The dwarf grabbed his axe, ready to remove it from his back holster to continue the fight. When he saw the old elf, he dropped his hand to his side.

“Ye should never make a dwarf drop their ale.”

“Oh, I see.  And inciting a bar fight is so elegant?” Icarus helped the prince to his feet. Once standing, Jason cocked his fist back, but Icarus caught those tightly bound digits before they could collide with their new acquaintance. “And you should know better, my liege.”

Before either Jason or Robert could utter a word, a large man approached them. The three patrons prepared for a fight, waiting for the stranger to make the first move. Physically imposing, standing about a foot over Jason, with arms the size of his head, the man wore simple black slacks with a white tunic. He stared at the group of three before looking at the chaos that was swirling within the tavern.

“Enough!” The large man bellowed.

The fighting instantly stopped. Every patron stared at the large man. The ones closest to him had turned white, their bodies shaking at the thought that they may be within his grasp. The only noise that squeaked into the tavern was that of broken furniture continuing to settle to the ground.

“Who?” The man’s voice was deep.

Everyone pointed in the direction of Jason, Icarus, and Robert. Icarus hung his head in disbelief while Jason pointed directly at Robert. The dwarf had grabbed his battle axe and seemed ready to take on the entire tavern.

“This is my tavern. Look at it,” the large man revealed.

“To be fair, the orc really was the one that turned this into a brawl,” Jason reasoned.

The owner’s eyes grew wide with anger. He reached out and grabbed the prince by his collar, lifting him off the ground with ease and pulling him in close. “I don’t care what family you come from, no one wrecks my bar.”

Once the owner threw Jason across the room, the entire tavern erupted back into a brawl. By the time Jason was back on his feet, the large man was upon him once more and tossed him through the window, onto the street. Icarus ran towards the exit to check on his pupil, but he was cut off by a member of the Saphron Brotherhood. The assassin had his dagger drawn, ready to slice into the elf. He began tossing the dagger in the air and from hand to hand—showing Icarus that he was skilled with his weapon.

Icarus pulled out a golden baton, with several emeralds adorned on each end, from under his cloak and held it at his side. The assassin chuckled at the sight of it, and took a step towards the elf. With a quick squeeze, the elf’s baton grew to a full sized wooden bo staff. The entire weapon was carved with elven scripture—it was a piece of art combined with the golden and jeweled center.

Caught off guard, the assassin wasn’t expecting the quick assault. Icarus swung the bo staff into his opponents chest, then his back, and finally an upswing to his chin, knocking him to the ground.

The elf had no time to celebrate as he heard charging footsteps. He turned just in time to see the orc from the earlier scuffle. He lowered his head to slam into Icarus, but the elf was ready for him and jumped over his adversary. Instead of ramming into another patron, the orc was able to stop himself. However, when he turned, his face met with the end of the elven bo staff. Icarus smirked at his good fortune.

The fortune would not last though; the owner of the Falcon’s Nest picked the elf up and tossed him toward the same window Jason had crashed through. Luckily for Icarus, there was no glass to smash through. That did not make landing on the hard ground outside any easier.

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part Two appeared first on Tellest.

Jason stood before the Nadeus tree, a twelve-foot pine adorned with albino flutterballs, in the holiday room of the castle. It was the holiday season, the time of year where citizens of Argos, the city of which Jason was prince and heir apparent, celebrated Wintertide. The town was bustling with traffic as families shopped for loved ones and friends gathered for Wintertide Festival, a weeklong celebration, activities.

Ten years had passed since Jason last thought about Wintertide and its meaning. He never understood the weeklong festival, or the celebration of Andekus, the goddess of charity and the deity of the holiday. He couldn’t grasp the idea of celebrating seven different ideals when it was clear to him that it was all made up. However, he did understand that his father, King Iollan Dactyls, despised everything related to Wintertide.

Although the Dactyls ruled Saffraan, the western nation of Arthica, they were part of a small community that believed in one creator, rather than the gods and goddesses of the land. Believers of the one, true savior also disregarded the Wintertide holiday and celebrated Nadeus. But even the most powerful believers were afraid of what the majority would do if they found out about their belief system.

“Son,” a voice from behind Jason snapped him out of his thoughts.

Iollan stood behind his child, stroking his black, bushy beard. He was imposing, standing at six feet tall with muscles bulging through his heavy royal garb. He was looking his son in his eyes when Jason turned around.

“It wasn’t so long ago that you looked up to me.”

“That was long ago father. I’ve grown much since I was a child.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Jason looked to the floor. He and his father had a tenuous relationship in recent years, specifically with how non-humans were being treated in the kingdom. He looked to his father, brushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes.

“You treat those not like us without respect. We were all created equal in His eyes.”

“That may be true, but that does not mean we all grow to be equal. The world is more complicated than you believe it to be, son.”

“Maybe you make it more complicated than it needs to be, Father.”

Jason walked out of the room. He had spent the last ten years following his family blindly in what they believed. When he witnessed his father kick a down on his luck gnome—just looking for a warm place to sleep—out of the city, he was heartbroken. Jason confronted his father about it and when he saw that his father held no remorse, he knew he had to follow his own path.

As he made his way out of the castle, he was stopped by Arik Purdell, the five-year-old son of his father’s top General, Alan. Jason didn’t acknowledge the young boy, the thought of his father’s treatment of other races still on his mind, and quickly walked by with purpose. He was running late to meet a friend.

“Master Jason,” the boy said.

“Arik, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Oh, okay…”

Jason stopped walking. He could hear the disappointment in the boy’s voice. He turned and stared at the child and gave him a brief smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, it’s just Jason,” he said as he knelt down beside the lad.

“Sorry, sir,” Arik said. “You seemed angry, and I wanted to try and make you feel better.”

Jason smiled. “The fact that you wanted to help me is all I need to feel better. You are going to make a fine general one day.”

“Thanks,” the boy smiled, “what are you up to?”

“I’m meeting some friends at the Wintertide Festival.”

“Won’t the king be angry with you?” Arik asked, befuddled.

“That’s the idea.”

Jason smiled and stood up. He tousled Arik’s hair before turning around and heading out of the castle. As he left the castle grounds, his mood began to change to match the holiday décor—the more fantastical the town looked, the less he thought about his father. Jason’s eyes grew large as he soaked in all that Wintertide had to offer.

*          *          *          *          *

The Falcon’s Nest, a tavern in the south side of Argos, was the home to criminals and lower level Saphron Brotherhood members that visited Argos. The brotherhood, a group of assassins from the region, often had their initiates use the tavern as their home base. Once they had proved themselves worthy, the initiates were promoted and invited to the Saphron Brotherhood’s main hideout, which remained a secret to all but those who belonged.

Icarus Callatuil sat at a table in the tavern, waiting for his friend. With its dim lighting, insipid odor and penchant for attracting the least trustworthy citizens of the city, the elf could never understand why his friend chose the tavern as their meeting place. He didn’t mind though, for the Falcon’s Nest had some of the best ale in all of Tellest.

Jason walked into the tavern as the elf finished his drink. He scanned the room for his friend, before locking eyes with Icarus. The elf waved him over and pointed to the bartender, holding up two fingers to request another round of drinks. Jason walked to the table and sat down as the drinks were delivered.

“I’m surprised you continue to agree to meet at the Nest. My father would be livid if he knew you were complicit in my rebellious actions,” Jason smiled.

“Your father would be even more livid if I shared all his dirty secrets from his rebellious years to you,” Icarus smirked as he responded.

“My father? Rebellious? Even so, he wouldn’t forgive my choices.”

“Jason, my boy, there will come a time when you complete your training and take the throne. We will become friends and work together often. I will also be sitting with your future son, training him,” Icarus paused to take a drink, “aiding him when he rebels against you.”

Jason smiled and they clinked their mugs and gulped down their ale. Icarus signaled for another round.

“I will never understand your stubbornness about meeting here. It’s a dangerous place, and this is just to anger your father.”

“I’m disappointed. I thought you would know me better. The fact that coming here bothers father is just an added bonus.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“Argos is the capital of Saffraan. If you want to find information, the Falcon’s Nest is the place to find it.”

“And what information can the prince of Saffraan get here that he can’t get from official contacts?”

“What information could I possibly receive at the castle that could lead to an adventure? Come to the Nest enough, you’re bound to hear about something exciting. You can’t tell me that an elf of your age doesn’t know how to find adventure?”

“And I suppose you want my help when the time comes?” Icarus asked, ignoring Jason’s question.

“What are mentors for?”

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part One appeared first on Tellest.

A Story by Kevin Gallagher

The sun burned bright, not a cloud in the sky blocking the warm rays. A slight breeze offered minor relief from the heat as Helios strolled through the woods that surrounded the thatched cottage the lad called home. The teen stopped to stare into the sky, narrowing his blue eyes as the sun shone down on his clean-shaven face. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Helios continued down the path, kicking up dirt with his boots as he walked.

It was rare Helios took advantage of the weekly day off his mentor offered; he rather enjoyed working off his frustration during his training sessions. It had been over a decade since his father, the king of Saffraan, Jason Dactyls, sent him to train. Since then, only his mother, Queen Selene, had visited on a regular basis. The only interaction he received from his father had been that of his birthday gift. The most recent, for his eighteenth year, was the new training attire he wore: brown leather pants with a matching vest and bracers, along with a white tunic to wear underneath.

Helios approached a small cliff that offered an open view of the forest. He smiled as he approached the ledge, taking a deep breath, soaking in the fresh air and the complete quiet. He unsheathed his sword as he sat upon the cliff’s ledge, allowing his legs to dangle, and stared out at the vast scenery before him. The green of the tree tops stretched on as far as the eye could see, and beautiful fields of flora lay to the west. Arthican bluebirds, with azure feathers on their body—save for their torsos, where reddish-brown feathers could be seen—flew about.

As he sat, taking in all the beauty Saffraan offered, the heat brought on a thirst. Helios detached the cup from his waterskin and poured himself water. Before he could quench his thirst, he caught his reflection staring back at him. The smile had left his face as he thought of his brother.

I understand why father never visits, Helios thought to himself as looked down to his sword, but why not you, brother?

Almost identical, the only difference between him and his twin brother, Kevin, was their hair color—Kevin had long blond strands, while Helios’ was uncharacteristically white. Kevin was the first born by only a few minutes, but it was enough to make him the heir apparent to the throne. The other was left to be sent away for training to help protect the kingdom one day.

Helios winced and clicked his tongue.

Without realizing it, he had cut the palm of his hand with his blade. The wound wasn’t deep, but the blood still dripped. Helios placed his sword to his side and ripped a portion of his new shirt’s sleeve, smiling as he imagined his father’s disapproval. As he wrapped his hand to cover the wound, he looked to his left, thinking he had heard something.

When he didn’t hear anything further, he focused on his wound once more. The blood stained his makeshift bandage as he finished tying it off. He looked at the view before him once more, appreciating the beauty for which he did not take for granted—it was one of the few benefits to him living away from Argos, the country’s capital. A frown took over his face as he thought about his brother again.

“I’ve told you for years they don’t love you,” a strange voice said.

Helios grabbed his sword and jumped up, ready to defend himself. There was no one around as he circled the area.

“Where are you?” Helios asked loudly.

“At what point do you stop asking?” The voice sounded like it came from every direction.

“Show yourself, and I, Prince Helios Dactyls, will spare you.”

“When will you accept me as the only one who cares for you?”

“Cares for me? What are you talking about? I don’t know who or what you are!”

“You don’t? Think back. I’ve been with you since you were left at that old elf’s door.”

Helios took a moment and thought about what the mysterious voice said. It was only vaguely familiar, as he’d been hearing the whispers for the last few weeks. As time passed, the voice grew louder and clearer. The more he thought, the more he felt like something was very wrong.

Helios felt a stabbing pain and dropped his sword to clutch his head. Dropping to his knees, the lad saw a flood of memories from his past. Some he remembered, like the time he and his brother found their father’s sacred sword, while others were unfamiliar. Those were the most painful.

The pain dulled slightly when a single memory came into focus. Helios saw himself as a young boy being dropped off to Icarus’ house. His mother consoled the boy, visibly upset about his situation. His father put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze. Helios’ eyes teared up, and he touched his own shoulder, the same as his father.

When they walked away, Kevin approached and offered his hand. The boy took it, and as they shook, Kevin brought him close for a hug. When they separated, both boys had tears running down their faces. As the family walked away, the pain intensified in Helios’ head, and the memory morphed into an unfamiliar scene.

The same young boy sat in the very spot Helios writhed in pain. Not remembering the moment, he focused through the pain, staring at his younger self. The boy’s legs dangled over the cliff’s edge as he sobbed. Even though he wasn’t in that moment, Helios could feel the brisk evening air. The boy’s sadness was his sadness; the pain had left his head and gone straight to his heart.

“What kind of father just abandons his son?” the strange voice returned.

Before Helios could respond, he saw the boy react. The voice was part of the memory. Wiping tears away from his face, the boy looked to either side, as did Helios.

“Icarus? Is that you?” the boy asked.

There was only silence. Helios could feel how scared his younger self was and wanted to reach out and comfort the boy. There was a howl in the distance that caused the child to run. As he passed through Helios, the older lad returned to the cliff, on his knees with his sword by his side.

“I’ve been with you since the beginning,” the voice called out to Helios.

“Why?”

“A father doesn’t abandon his child. It’s time you claim what is rightfully yours.”

“A family reunion is in order.”

“There’s one last loose end to tie up.”

Helios stared out into the wilderness, towards the east—where Icarus’ home stood.

The post Short Story – Another Lazy Day appeared first on Tellest.