The Cultist and the Wyrm: Tales of Elderealm, #1

By Scott King

Fantastical monsters. Deadly battles. Dark creatures and otherworldly spectacles.

Tales of Elderealm collects short stories starring your favorite Elderealm characters. This volume can be read before or after WRATH OF DRAGONS.

Stories appearing in this volume: 
• The Kings of Hedwick
• Nesta & Connstello
• The Witch's Curse 
• The Cultists & the Wyrm

With original tales ranging from the deadly serious to the absurdly hilarious, Tales of Elderealm is a must-have collection for every devoted Elderealm reader.

Get this page turner and start your adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott King
• Release date: Nov 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781982037215

Book preview

I

The Kings of Hedwick

The Kings of Hedwick

3RD of Sowe, 1128.111

Kane was a child. Not that she acted like a child or had the emotional depth of a child. She literally was in the shape of a child. Particularly one with curly black hair and dark skin. She had trouble nailing the exact age of kids, but thought she looked to be about eight or nine.

The problem with her current form was that her arms were too short and holding onto the wreckage was becoming tedious. Each wave jerked her, threatening to pull the wooden wheel from her grasp. She couldn’t let that happen, so she shifted her fingertips, growing needle-thin hairs as tough as dragon bone. She hooked the hairs into the wood and when the next wave washed over her head, she had no problem holding onto the wheel.

White rolling waves pounded her over and over again and she wasn’t sure if they were actually taking her toward shore. They seemed to be breaking on a sandbar or underwater reef that was more than two hundred parses from the beach. Tired of the waiting, and already feeling her skin pruning, she shifted again, this time melding her legs so they became a single fish tail.

Even with the tail, it took her eleven minutes to reach the beach. The rip currents were extra rough and it surprised her that anyone without special abilities would be able to survive.

Washing onto the white sand, she reverted her legs back to those of a child and retracted the needles on her fingers. Taking a deep sigh, she also re-opened the holes on her nostrils. She had closed them to protect herself from the stench of the sea. She hated salt water and she hated the briny smell of seaweed, but she was on a mission. As much as she would have liked to keep her nostrils closed, she would need all her senses in unraveling the mysteries of this place.

Curling into a fetal position, Kane coughed and let the powdery sand cling to her wet face. Knowing it was a bit over the top, she tinted her lips a bluish shade.

No one seemed to have noticed her so she coughed louder.

Got one! a high-pitched voiced yelled.

Kane heard the patter of feet on sand. When she looked up, she saw the face of a boy. Red mud or paint smeared the spaces under his eyes.

It’s ok, the boy said. You are back on land.

The boy offered her a hand and Kane shrunk away from it. She wasn’t scared, she just wanted him to think she was.

Really, it’s alright. He was maybe six or seven at best, but spoke with full confidence. I’m Pekro. You are safe.

More feet pounded on the sand and two older children arrived, a boy and a girl. They were older than Pekro, maybe eleven or twelve. The girl had long blonde hair that split into swinging braids. She held out her palm, motioning for Kane not to move. We will help you, she said. Before we do, I need to know if it hurts anywhere. Do you have any bones—

Stop it, Candece, the older boy said. You are scaring her.

Candece put up her a hand, preventing the older boy from reaching Kane. Remember what happened with that Garan kid? We didn’t know he was bleeding on the inside. If we had known we—

The older boy shushed Candece. He then bent down and placed an arm under Kane’s knees and another behind her neck, as if he intended to lift her.

Not liking how the older boy had brushed Candece aside, Kane bit him. Not hard. Just more as a warning. He flinched and pulled back, tripping in the sand.

Kane rolled away, tucking her knees to her chest, and kept her face down so that the children couldn’t see her smile.

Stop being a baby, Pekro the six year old said. I got this.

Pekro stepped over the wooden wheel that had washed ashore with Kane. He plopped down in the sand next to her, keeping his hands to himself. We saw the lightning strike the ship. We were sure no one would survive.

My parents didn’t survive. Kane lifted her head. She made her eyes water. The fire got too big. I saw them burn.

Pekro closed his eyes and nodded as if understanding. My parents are gone too.

Kane slide closer to Pekro. What happened to them?

It was … Pekro took a long breath. It hurts to talk about, but it’s ok. I have Candece, Borta, Ticha, and all the others. We are a family now.

Pekro