Spell Failure: A Fantasy Anthology of Magic Gone Wrong

By Brett P. S.

Short stories of mishap and mischief in the realm of fantasy. Hold steadfast as dragons fly and rip the sky with terrible wings. Few lives end well for those who fall prey to arcane spells. This collection contains five short stories in the genres of contemporary fantasy and epic fantasy: Ungrateful Heir, Gold Dragon, Blessings of an Immortal, Alive, and Dragon Blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brett P. S.
• Release date: Nov 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370818099

Brett P. S.

Brett Sawyer (1986), born in Old Saybrook, Connecticut, is an indie author who writes short stories & novellas, from science fiction to heroes. He graduated from Eastern Illinois University in 2015 with a Bachelor’s in education and currently teaches game design at Lake Land College.Short Change arrived at retailers in November of 2014, the start of a hero series where ordinary people gained powers over oddly specific domains, following the story of a shorter than average hero who can telekinetically manipulate small units of currency.Short Change is free on “smashwords.com/profile/view/BrettPS” and Barnes & Noble along with other samples and short fiction.Brett’s popular releases in science fiction include “Dark Station” and “Tales from the Colony: An Interstellar Saga.” Dark Station is a deep space thriller set aboard an abandoned orbital science station where Ben Gebbley and his crew secretly investigate the disappearance of the original staff before others come to claim the lost assets.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Ungrateful Heir

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

Gold Dragon

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

Blessings of an Immortal

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

EPILOGUE

Alive

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

Dragon Blood

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

Ungrateful Heir

Chapter 1

Breaking In

Gerald cracked open the gates to the catacombs, and a soft beam of moonlight crept through. The door was heavy, like it was thick stone, even though the better half was iron and glass. Hugging close to the side, he slipped through the crack. It was a cold autumn night, and he could see the chills of his breathing puff up in wisps of white air. So cold. He should have packed a coat. Why didn’t he?

Hello, Nina, Gerald said.

The family cat slid by his muddy boots and rubbed the side of its head as it trotted along. Nina must have followed him out here. Her black fur didn’t show up well, even with the full moon. It was no surprise he didn’t see her following.

Well, he said, I think I should have a witness.

The cat meowed, as if in agreement, and jumped down the first step. Gerald nodded and followed her, closing shut the front gates. His hands were clammy from the meal he finished an hour prior. Eating heavily always drained him. His heart was weak, and it only took a bit of food to set him back. A hot meal was the least of his worries though. A foul odor gushed up from the depths of the staircase and into his nose. The scent brought up thoughts of diseased corpses his body was ill equipped to handle. Gerald covered his mouth and breathed through his tunic.

Lead the way, Nina.

Nina strode downward with a springy bounce in her step. A creature like her would be at home in this place, but Gerald didn’t like it. A feeling in his stomach made his meal want to climb back up out of his throat. Moreover, the playful animal was too comfortable. The feeling was neither natural nor mutual.

I hope you know where you’re going, he said.

They traveled down until his feet planted firmly at the base cement flooring of the family catacombs. The stench grew stronger than from the entrance. It was almost too much to bear, but with a heavy sleeve of his tunic pressed against his mouth, he could bear it.

I’ll take it from here, he said. We’re going to pay my dear uncle a visit.

Nina meowed again. While Gerald squinted and stared forward, she sat down and licked her paw.

Chapter 2

Other Brother

Gerald paced across shelves of old urns. Cracks in the clay showed on some of the older ones, but he didn’t have the time to bother. The family also paid little respect to the upkeep. After all, this wasn’t a museum. It was a place to discard the dead. Reaching further back, he passed the urns. Now, cleaned corpses of shriveled flesh