Colors

By Barbara G.Tarn

White as snow, as Nerian's skin and pure heart.
Black as ebony, as the Sorcerer King's clothes and soul.
Red as blood, the blood of confrontations meant to happen.
Yellow as honey, as Riander's eyes, as the golden crown restored to the rightful heir.
Blue as the sky, the freedom, the bright future.
A fairy tale revisited, a sweet m/m romance, a Silvery Earth novella.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unicorn Productions
• Release date: Feb 21, 2016

Barbara G.Tarn

Barbara G.Tarn had an intense life in the Middle Ages that stuck to her through the centuries. She prefers swords to guns, long gowns to mini-skirts, and even though she buried the warrior woman, she deplores the death of knights in shining chainmail. She likes to think her condo apartment is a medieval castle, unfortunately lacking a dungeon to throw noisy neighbors and naughty colleagues in. Also known as the Lady with the Unicorns, these days she prefers to add a touch of fantasy to all her stories, past and present – when she’s not wandering on her fantasy world of Silvery Earth or in her Star Minds futuristic universe. She’s a writer, sometimes artist, mostly a world-creator and story-teller. Two of her stories received an Honorable Mention at the Writers of the Future contest. She writes, draws, ignores her day job and blogs every other day.

Book preview

Colors

by Barbara G. Tarn

***

Barbara G.Tarn copyright © 2016

electronic edition by Unicorn Productions

February 2016

***

White as snow, as Nerian's skin and pure heart.

Black as ebony, as the Sorcerer King's clothes and soul.

Red as blood, the blood of confrontations meant to happen.

Yellow as honey, as Riander's eyes, as the golden crown restored to the rightful heir.

Blue as the sky, the freedom, the bright future.

A fairy tale revisited, a sweet m/m romance, a Silvery Earth novella.

***

Table of Contents

1. White as Snow

2. Black as Ebony

3. Red as Blood

4. Yellow as Honey

5. Blue as the Sky

About the Author

1. White as Snow

Nerian opened the window to let in the cool morning air. The sky outside was blue and cloudless, but the breeze made it clear summer was over.

Nerian smiled and sat on the bench under the windowsill. Soon a family of swallows glided onto the stone of the windowsill. He'd seen the parents arrive with the spring and now they left with three little swallows in their wake. Their nest was right under the roof of the tower where Nerian lived and he'd often watched the adult birds feeding the little ones from his window.

You're leaving already? he asked, knowing it was time for the swallows to go back south. He could feel the fall coming in the air as much as them.

The couple chirped a good-bye. Nerian was always amazed that he understood the birds' languages. Swallows and sparrows were his best friends. The night owl that lived in the next tower sometimes kept him awake at night with spooky stories.

I'll miss you guys, he said with a sigh. In winter only ravens kept him company, and their voices weren't as gentle as swallows'.

He watched the birds fly away and put his chin on his crossed hands, staring at the landscape outside. The mountains looming behind the walls and towers of the castle – snow had already fallen on the highest peaks. The forest spreading at its feet. And further away the hills and plains he'd never visit, since he was locked in that room.

He sat straight and gasped in awe as a winged being glided towards the mountain slopes. He knew they had a nest there and wondered if he'd ever be able to talk to any of them. They had human bodies like him, but also big feathered wings that carried them where they wanted. Males and females wore tight-fitting clothes and mostly short hair.

They never came close enough to enter the arrows' shooting range, but Nerian's keen eyes caught all the details of the feathers and the clothes and the androgynous faces of the winged beings. He had eyes as keen as the falcons that sometimes swept by.

The winged one vanished and Nerian sighed again. Hopefully his breakfast would arrive soon. The breeze pushed his long black hair onto his face and he tucked it behind his ears. He turned back to the room that was his world except for glimpses of whatever he could see happening outside of the castle windows.

The square tower was divided into two rooms by a staircase. A little door allowed him to move from one room to the other – he was currently in the bedroom, but kept his few books and some writing implements in the ante-room. The bedroom had no door to the stairs, only the passage that led to the ante-room.

The canopied bed was unmade, so he pulled up the blankets and sheets, and fluffed the pillow filled with feathers. He closed the curtains and went to the basin and jug to wash his face. Still no trace of facial hair, but he could feel his cheekbones now. He didn't have a mirror, but his face must have lost the roundness of childhood.

Tying his hair in a ponytail with a leather thong, he headed for the chest that held his clothes. Another summer gone. He searched for the woolen tunic and hoped he hadn't grown too much, or he'd have to ask for a new one that fit him. He wasn't getting any taller anymore, but even though he wasn't allowed outside of his rooms, he did exercise every day, and had put on muscle that strained to be contained by the older tunics.

He caressed the one he was wearing when he'd been locked up some ten years earlier, wondering what had happened to that child, that prince that had good cotton tunics in the summer and warm velvet clothes in winter. The cotton he now wore was rough and more for a peasant than a noble young man.

I'm nineteen, he thought. I wonder what Kariel will do with me. Why didn't he kill me when he killed my father and stole his castle and his lands?

His late mother had wished for a child with skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony and lips as red as blood – and her wish had been granted. Unfortunately she didn't live to meet Kariel but passed away along with Nerian's sister.

Nerian had strong memories of the Sorcerer King coming to power and throwing him in that tower, but hadn't seen him very often since. Kariel never visited, therefore he couldn't ask the Sorcerer King what his fate would be. He could see the usurper when he walked by or exercised in the courtyard, but hadn't talked to him since he'd been locked up.

He took off the nightgown and pulled on a tunic and breeches, struggling to adjust the tunic to his shoulders. He'd have to ask for a new one.

He headed for his desk in the next room, stopping in the closet with its wooden seat to relieve himself. The other room was similar to the bedroom, except it had a desk, a couple of stools and some shelves where he kept his treasured books – all from childhood, since afterward he hadn't been deemed worthy to continue his princely education.

The usual servant brought him breakfast, barely bowing and not daring to look him in the eyes.

Can you please inform the Sorcerer King that I'll need a new winter tunic? Or at least a cloak?

The servant nodded and rushed out, leaving the tray of food on his desk. At least they weren't starving him. Nerian still had his appetite, and wolfed down the pastries and tea before pulling out his journal.

The swallows are gone. Soon it will be winter. They will light the fire in the hearth and bring me warm water for the bath-tub. I wish I could be part of the castle life. This tower is boring. I wish the winged beings would see me and take me away.

The quill broke before he added how lonely he felt. He decided not to write it down. What if Kariel came one day and read everything he'd written? Well, just thoughts of a lone boy who had grown up alone, but who knew what the cruel sorcerer could do with it...

He put away the journal and took one of the illustrated manuscripts. The morning went by, the midday meal came and went, sparrows visited and interrupted his reading. And then the door opened at an unusual time.

Startled, the young man looked up, and met the dark eyes of the Sorcerer King. Kariel was tall and handsome, with black hair and an oval, clean-shaven face. His lips thinned at the sight of Nerian and he frowned as Nerian asked, How come you're here?

Just checking, Kariel snapped, retreating towards the door.

You haven't changed at all, unlike your old counselor, Nerian said. Sir Streilan's hair was gray when he had reached the castle and it had become white since. Sparrows said the two men were the same age, but it wasn't possible since Kariel looked so much younger than his faithful companion.

Streilan came to see you? Kariel narrowed his eyes.

The other day. The young man shrugged and looked