Tales of The Heroic & The Fantastic

By T. J. Dipple

Saviour- A race against time to save the life of a small child. But why?

Believe - What would you do if your son told you he could see things that no one else could?

Worthy - A heroic quest for a sacred stone. But can Sir Dale overcome the final trial and be judged worthy?

Echoes - Is there something sinister behind an echo. What if they started talking back?

Hero - How far can a man go for revenge and honour. What is the final price?

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.J Dipple
• Release date: Jan 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466153196

T. J. Dipple

T.J. Dipple was born in Birmingham, England. He graduated from Newman College of Higher Education with a degree in History and now works as a full-time science communicator. He now lives in Stourbridge with his wife and daughter. His debut novel 'Reaper's Challenge' is also available through Smashwords.

Book preview

Tales of The Heroic

&

The Fantastic

By T.J.Dipple

Published by T.J.Dipple at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 T.J.Dipple

http://www.tjdipple.com

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Table of Contents:

Saviour

Believe

Worthy

Echoes

Hero

Saviour

Thunder boomed overhead as Methidas ran. His breathing was short and shallow as he carried the child through the forest. His job was to ensure that she lived to accomplish her destiny. They had been hunted for days now, the squads were relentless, and driven solely by their belief that the girl needed to die.

Though it had been a decade since his last visit; Draken Forest had not changed at all. It was still black and dead. Methidas's long scraggy hair dangled low in front of his eyes making it hard to see. The journey had been long, but worth it. Like a hero of old he had found the girl at the last moment before she was sacrificed. The cultist had died swiftly. When facing Methidas, that was the only way to die.

The hounds were still on their trail; their howls echoed through the night and chilled his blood. The Hounds of Azkadar were not meant to be challenged by mortals. Most of them were larger than a man and they were fierce, and rabid. Methidas increased his pace.

The child still slept, that was good; it was better she did not witness this journey. She was exhausted, and the herbs he had given her would keep her still long enough for him to save her. His task now was to get to the small village in the valley, once there he would make his stand against the squads. The heathens wished the girl dead. It sickened him to think of what their sacrifice would entail should they get the chance to execute it.

The dead forest grew thicker the deeper he ran. The girl was tied to a harness on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck. He needed both his hands free to fight. Sensing the hounds closing their distance at frightening speed Methidas drew his sword. The spells woven into the blade sang as it was pulled from its scabbard.

The child, Sarinta, stirred. He prayed to his gods that she would not wake up. The last thing he needed was for her to panic when she realised what was chasing them. The forest was too dark to see much of anything; he had forsaken his torch to hide in the darkness. The only light he had was the few moments when the lightning flashed. He was almost to the ridge, once there it was a short climb down into the valley and he would be at the village, where safety waited.

Methidas slowed his running, the hounds were close now and he needed to be ready. There was never any hope that he could beat them to the ridge but the closer he could get the better. He stared at the blade of his sword; it was still stained with the blood of the cultist. It would never do, he saw the blade change aspect so he used his shirt to clean it. Until he reached the village he needed it to be clean so he could make use of the storm. The sounds of scratching alerted him to the presence of one of the beasts. He looked up into the branches that swayed viciously in the gale.

The sight of the first hound made Methidas feel as though his knees would buckle.

The hulking mass of muscle stampeded through the trees, on all fours it stood the same height as a man and was nearly twice as wide. Its paws padded the ground, the claws breaking through rotted bark. The lightning blast from Methidas's sword did not even make it pause. Its fur was singed but it lumbered