The House of Hex

By Michael S. Miller

A world of dark sorcery—a time of sharpened bronze.

A city carved of ancient bones. Scheming houses wage subtle war in dark alleys and decadent pleasure chambers. Lives are sold to the highest bidder and the dead are made slaves for eternity. Captured by a family of powerful sorcerers, can a young Oshala free herself, or will she become one more conquest of the House of Hex?

This is a 21,000-word (86 page) novella in the sword-and-sorcery genre.

This tale includes a broken chain, a cunning trap, a decoy corpse, a daring escape, foul vertigous sorcery, eldritch workshops, lurid dens of pleasure, dark-dwelling serpents, entreaties of the ancient dead, a joyous wedding pact, a laborious magical ritual, hunting by beetle, a skeletal distraction, a battle of bulk and blade, a working of poison, a surprising ceremony, the crimson sheath of the unliving, betrayal, murder, torment, salvation, and liberation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael S. Miller
• Release date: Mar 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370605736

Michael S. Miller

Michael S. Miller has played with stories all his life. As a game designer, he has published the superhero role-playing game With Great Power. As a writer, he pens the sword-and-sorcery tales of Oshala the Hex. He lives in Pennsylvania with his wife, three cats, and far more books, comics, games, and movies than his grandchildren will possibly want to inherit.

Book preview

The House of Hex

A tale of the early years of Oshala the Hex

Smashwords edition

Incarnadine Press • Pennsylvania

Copyright © 2017 by Michael S. Miller

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 your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Author photo copyright © 2016 by Cory Hendricks

About the Cover:

Cover design by Michael S. Miller

Fortress on the hil: https://flic.kr/p/8KqZBA

Heart of Fire: https://unsplash.com/photos/fQfeZn3Drzo

Hand silhouette courtesy http://openclipart.org

Fonts Tillana and Cinzel Decorative courtesy http://www.google.com/fonts

Contents

Dark Sorcery in an Age of Sharpened Bronze

Tales of Oshala the Hex

Wayfarings of Sabit

Support Sword-and-Sorcery

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

More from Michael S. Miller

About the Author

Dark Sorcery in an Age of Sharpened Bronze

Tales of Oshala the Hex

A world of dark sorcery—a time of sharpened bronze. Oshala the Hex makes her way through this rugged landscape, amassing power. By what means? To what end? The Tales of Oshala the Hex chronicles her journeys in a series of spine-tingling short stories in the sword-and-sorcery genre. Follow Oshala's tales at http://ipressgames.com/oshala/

Wayfarings of Sabit

The Wayfarings of Sabit feature a mighty spearwoman making her way in a world full of threats both mundane and bizarre. These sword and sorcery tales of adventure are filled with dark sorcery, pulse-pounding action, the lush spectacle of things that ought not be, and the thrilling flash of sharpened bronze.

New chapters post every weekday at various sites. The chapters form a complete sword-and-sorcery short story each month:

• Tumblr: http://wayfaringsofsabit.tumblr.com

• Medium: https://medium.com/wayfarings-of-sabit

• Google+: https://plus.google.com/collection/4QXinB

• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stalwart1000/

You can always follow Sabit’s adventures on http://ipressgames.com/sabit/

Support Sword-and-Sorcery

You can support this and other sword-and-sorcery fiction on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller

Chapter 1

The thick chain link was nearly worn through.

As she walked, Oshala continued to work at the metal link affixed to the iron collar around her neck. The chain stretched to the collar of the tall boy walking before her. Oshala kept her gaze fixed on the patch of peeling, sunburnt skin on the boy’s pale left shoulder—her ear still smarted from the fat overseer’s hand the last time she had dared gawk at her surroundings.

Through the city they marched, a line of thirteen captives—all young and destined for the auction block. The night before, they had slept in their chains upon the dusty roadside. All day they walked toward the strange, slanted shape of the city of Talus looming before them. Songs claimed that the city had been carved of the foot bones of a long-dead giant, but who could believe such wild tales? It was not until the captives had seen the smooth, yellowed expanse of the city walls stretching away to the edge of sight without seam of rock or brick, that the old stories gained credence. The city itself was a warren of grooves and passageways, crannies and fractures, cavities and alcoves. Doorways carved out of the yellowed, old bone walls were covered with sheets of bone fastened with hinges of sturdy hemp.

Cityfolk—cramped close in their tiny, carved rooms—gazed with pity or greed at the chain of captives wending their way through narrow streets, up twisting stairs, and across narrow bridges. More than one spectator commented on Oshala—the girl of sixteen years was no beauty, and rather scrawny for her age. The most remarkable thing about the last captive in the line was her bizarre left hand. While the girl’s skin glowed the bronze of many people of the steppe, her wrist and hand were deepest black—not the deep brown of the scholars of Lytrops, nor the rich purple-black of the sailors of Kelmaars. The hand’s color was deeper than a midnight well, darker than a moonless night. The cityfolk wondered who would buy such a cursed girl, regardless of price? Surely the slavers could have saved everyone a great deal of trouble and let the wretch die out in whatever wasteland they’d pulled her from.

Oshala shared the gawkers’ disdain for the slavers. Their gruel may have been the only food to pass her lips in a week, but their delight in cruelty soured every moment in their company. Soon enough, that forced proximity would end. For six days, Oshala had been rubbing the fingers of her unnaturally, fathomlessly black left hand along the same path upon the iron chain link at her throat. The magic did not work quickly, but each finger stroke had leeched away the slightest hint of the metal’s strength. Now, after nearly a third of a million touches, a band the width of a single finger had grown nearly brittle enough to crack.

Now that the line of captives was well within Talus’s sheltering gates, smiles began to crack the cruel visages of the overseers. Several of them discussed which vices they would first indulge with their share of the auction proceeds. Oshala knew the auction block must be close to distract them so. She had no interest in learning what sort of buyer would bid on a scrawny, cursed girl, or what tasks they would force upon her. The time for action had arrived.

The line of captives marched over yet another narrow footbridge fashioned of sturdy slivers of bone lashed together. Oshala clenched every muscle in her neck, seized the chain with both hands, and pulled with all her might. She felt the brittle band crack clean through like a breaking bone. Yet, the chain did not come free. The thickness of the iron ring on her collar kept it pinioned between the fractured ends of the link of chain.

The fat overseer shouted and struck Oshala hard on the ear. She fell along with the blow, toppling to the side—perhaps the added force would help bend the broken chain link to the open U of freedom. Her neck braced for the strain, Oshala felt the chain go taut moments before she expected her shoulder to hit the ground.

The footbridge was far more narrow than Oshala realized.

She kept falling into the void. Her thin sandals slid along the surface of the bone-slivers and off the edge. Oshala’s legs dropped and her whole weight