The Dreaming Fire

By Jeromy Henry

Burn in the fires of imagination. Lift with the smoke into airy realms you've never known before. These 14 tales of science fiction and fantasy take place in the near future, the far future and lands that never were. Many stories originally appeared in e-zines including Fear and Trembling, Residential Aliens, Aphelion and Quantum Muse. Step into the pages of these folded dreams, and see if you emerge the same on the other side.

Contents:

Orchestra of Bones
The Jewels of Zendeira
By the Book
The Gods Fall
Beyond the Rift
Automatic Love
Epitaph
The Digital Fire
Playing Cards in Limbo
Hydra
We're All Robots Now
The Thirteenth Knight
The End of Summer
The Ruined Tower

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeromy Henry
• Release date: Aug 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301780693

Jeromy Henry

Jeromy Henry earned a B.A. in English and Art from Drury College in 1997, and a B.S. in Computer Science from Columbia College in 2005. He spends his free time writing, drawing, programming, designing board and card games, reading, and running around after his two munchkins. A number of e-zines have published his work, including Flagship, Fear and Trembling, Resident Aliens, Quantum Muse, Defenestration, and 365 Tomorrows.

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The Dreaming Fire

by Jeromy Henry

Copyright 2013 by Jeromy Henry

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Author’s website: http://www.mentalwidgets.com

Table of Contents

Orchestra of Bones

The Jewels of Zendeira

By the Book

The Gods Fall

Beyond the Rift

Automatic Love

Epitaph

The Digital Fire

Playing Cards in Limbo

Hydra

We're All Robots Now

The Thirteenth Knight

The End of Summer

The Ruined Tower

Orchestra of Bones

An unlucky musician faces a terrible curse. Can he dig into his deepest creative passion and somehow escape his fate?

A violin scraped a lonely lullaby before a tardy musician put the instrument to bed in its crib. Hermann tucked a strand of thin red hair that dangled in front of his eyes and laughed.

He felt dizzy from the rush of conducting his masterpiece. It felt as if something in the top of his skull would fly away into the clouds and take the rest of him along for the ride.

The faces of the cheering, clapping crowd still filled his vision. The door creaked open as he put his shoulder to the wood and careened down a narrow flight of steps. He stumbled down the street, reliving the moment, his mouth smiling so hard it hurt. He hummed the crescendo of the second movement, the violins racing like a storm only to halt abruptly, when the voice of the horns took over and spoke long and low. After tonight, the music lovers of Gherent all knew his name. He would go down in history as one of the great composers!

He tasted a bittersweet thought and his smile dimmed. Did he crave the cheers of the crowd so much because he had nothing else? Memory conjured up a vision of his father's small estate, the plague signs scrawled on the door.

And why had Mark and Kelly never written back when he invited them to tonight's opening? Was he truly so caught up in his work that his last tenuous friendships from his youth had snapped? He knew he spent a lot of time wandering, humming under his breath. He forgot birthdays and weddings and dinner invitations all the time. But at least Peter...

The shock of running full on into something jolted him out of his reverie. He sat on the cobbles and blinked at the person sitting opposite him. Inky black robes covered by silver moons adorned a thin, angular body. A face as harsh as winter glared at him, pale gray eyes narrowed in anger. A thin beak of a nose jutted over thin lips disfigured into a snarl. A thin straggle of gray beard wafted between his chin and his waist, blowing lightly in the warm breeze.

You oaf! the stranger shouted, bounding to his feet.

I'm so sorry! Hermann scrambled to his feet. He had to crane his neck to look up at the stranger. I just left the music hall and... my apologies, good sir... I...

Spare your pathetic mumblings. Music hall? I despise scrapers and fiddlers and tweeters and their noise! I am Aberen the Great, you piece of dung!

Hermann stepped back. His heart beat loudly in his chest. He gasped as he realized exactly who he'd run into. The Necromancer of the North.

Suddenly, Aberen smiled. He stroked his beard and said, I know what to do with you. He pointed a bony, long-fingered hand at Hermann. A stream of harsh words broke past those thin lips.

AUCHLERE! shouted the wizard, ending his strange chant. He waved one hand and Hermann saw a beam of black radiance rush at him. A weight hit him in the chest, and he fell against the rough stone of a nearby house. A sharp point of rock dug into his back.

No town will keep you. You will wander the roads and wild places. When you pass a crossroads, the dead there will get up and follow you to the end of your miserable days! Musicians.

Aberen spat the last word.

His shape twisted and elongated, and an ebony stallion reared in the place of the man. The animal glared at Hermann with red eyes the same color as the nearly dead sun, and then snorted and galloped down the street.

Hermann grabbed a stone in the wall behind him and levered himself up on shaking legs as the sound of clopping hooves faded away. He stepped forward, thinking to go to his tiny house nearby and curl up in his cot.

But when he reached his house, he walked on by. Desperately, Hermann tried to turn. But his legs refused to obey. Hermann slumped as he realized what the curse meant.

No towns... he could never conduct an orchestra again. He could never feel the music pulsing in his veins and vibrating in the air. Tears coursed down his cheeks.

It seemed like hours before Hermann came out of his funk and looked around again. Night blackened the foliage that loomed around him. Moonlight silvered the road and the tops of the trees, but left most of the scene a secretive blur. It reminded him of some pictures he saw at a gallery once, black canvases with only the barest of highlights drawn with faint silver lines.

He turned his head partway and froze. Behind him lay a wide X where two roads crossed. He had passed it without noticing.

The wind picked up. Rusty iron slats groaned as they ground against one another like teeth. Chains squeaked. Hermann turned around all the way and cast a nervous glance at a cage filled with bones that guarded the crossing.

The skull raised itself from the ribs and the empty sockets looked at him. A skeletal hand reached out and opened up the cage door, and a bony foot dangled down and planted itself on the road.

Hermann backed up, breathing heavily. He glanced around wildly and spotted a stick. He snatched it up and held it between himself and the bone man.

Hermann backed up some more. His boots scraped over the dry soil, and he nearly stumbled when his heel hit a rock.

The skeleton stepped forward.

Hermann stepped back.

The skeleton stepped forward.

Hermann wheeled 180 degrees and sprinted up the road. A whimper crouched in his throat but couldn't quite get free. He felt the jar as his thick-soled boots slammed into the earth. His sore muscles stretched, and he gulped air. Then, hope rushed over him- surely he could outrun some flimsy construct of bone! A grin split his face as he thought about putting one over on the enchanter and beating his curse.

But when he looked back, the grin vanished. The skeleton ran behind him, only a dozen paces away. He slowed, and the skeleton slowed. The moon's eye winked out and left them wrapped together in night's ratty cloak.

Hermann walked, scowling, for he knew not how long. He heard the skeleton's bony feet shuffling in the dust behind him.

He could barely see anything in the black. He used the stick as a blind man used a cane, so at least he kept on the road. When he heard squeals of rust and the groan of an iron cage up ahead, he knew he'd passed another crossroads.

He heard the creak of a cage door opening, and he heard the rattle of bones. He walked some more. The scratch of the dead men's feet hoeing the dry earth followed him. He guessed from the sounds that two more of the dead had joined his company.

The moon emerged from its cloudy blankets again. It limned the oak trees that lined the road on Hermann's left. A fence ran along the right side, and he saw the thatched peak of a whitewashed cottage and the neat furrows of a field. A rust-red barn and a stone silo squatted beside the house.

He could see the three skeletons behind him now. Scraps of brownish flesh and a few strands of hair clung to one of them. Though the breeze carried most of the scent off, he still smelled decay. He twitched when he saw that one of his followers carried a shattered sword, with only a thin icicle blade above the cross guard. Another carried a rusted spear.

His thoughts turned over, rather like the way fresh earth turned over and waited for seeds. But no thoughts planted themselves in his tired mind.

Another crossroads came and went. Three more skeletons joined his army.

Hermann yawned and swayed on his feet. He sat against the rail of a nearby fence. His followers mimicked his posture.

Chills crawled up his spine whenever he looked at his unwelcome companions.

Why don't you lot go home and leave me be? Hermann asked. Go home! he shouted.

The skeletons shook their heads and clacked their teeth.

Hermann's shoulders slumped.

No town will keep me... well, I guess we're all in the same boat. You all can't go home either, can you?

The skeletons nodded.

He felt a surge of sympathy for the dead.

Come on, then. We'd best go in the forest. The king's men will shoot me on sight if they see you lot, Hermann said. He briefly thought of sprinting to the barn and locking himself inside, but knew it for a fool's hope. The skeletons would surely wait outside, and the farmer would find him at dawn.

Dry leaves and branches cracked sharply as he forced his way through the oaks. A few minutes brought them to a grassy clearing.

Herman lay down on the grass. He wished for a cloak or blanket. Cold seeped through his thin tunic.

He lay rigid. He expected bony hands to close around his throat at any moment. His own hand tightened on the stick. Instead, he heard the clack of bone on bone. He turned his head and saw the dead men lying in a row, a dozen feet away.

Hermann shrugged, and felt the taught ropes of muscle in his shoulders saw at his bones. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. The skeletons had not harmed him yet. He couldn't outrun them. Surely they could climb trees, if he tried to get away. Unless he chanced upon a powerful wizard to undo the spell, he would simply have to trust to fate.

He closed his eyes and listened hard. An owl hooted, and the wind caressed the oaks. Twigs snapped and something rustled by his ear. The bones lay still. Hermann's head felt lighter and lighter, and finally he passed out and knew no more.

A thread of light woke him in the morning. He yawned and stretched. Then he nearly jumped as he heard something rustle the tall grass. His entourage rose to their feet.

Well, you did not kill me in the night. I don't suppose you'll leave me be?

The skeletons shook their heads.

Hermann groaned and rose to his feet, shivering. He sniffed a few times. Sleeping on the ground in summer was bad enough, he thought. What about fall? Winter?

His stomach growled at him like an angry beast. Hermann sighed and looked around at the forest. He knew nothing about foraging in the wild. How could he live? Then it hit him-- how many farms had he passed?

Alright, he told the skeletons. "I intend to go back to one of the farmhouses we passed last night. I know the curse makes you follow me. But... just try to