Wyrm's Warning

By Michael J Allen

When the red star glares, danger stalks the land...

In the dark ages, women were property and nobles took whatever they wanted.

When a peasant girl is forced to travel through a dark and foggy night filled with ill omens, fortune and misfortune ambush her on the road home.

Beneath the glare of the red star, she discovers  a rare treasure. Pursued by a mad Lord and stalked by a mysterious stranger, her whole world is turned upside down. 

When everything she loves comes under attack, she must choose between running away and revealing a gift that could  alter the kingdom forever....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Delirious Scribbles Ink
• Release date: Aug 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781944357467

Michael J Allen

Originally from Oregon, Michael J. Allen is a pluviophile masquerading as a vampire IT professional in rural Georgia. Warped from youth by the likes of Jerry Lewis, Robin Williams, Gene Wilder and Danny Kay, his sense of humor leads to occasional surrender, communicable insanity, a sweet tooth and periodic launch into nonsensical song. He loves books, movies, the occasional video game, playing with his Labradors - Myth and Magesty. He knows almost nothing about music. A recovering Game Master, he gave up running RPG's for writing because the players didn't play out the story in his head like book characters would - we know how that worked out. Suddenly fresh out of teenagers, he spends his days writing in restaurants, people watching and warring over keyboard control with the voices in his head.

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Author’s Note:

CONTENT WARNING: WYRM’S Warning takes place in a feudal land set in the dark ages. The values and beliefs attributed to this era are dark and sometimes cruel. My attempt to create a realistic fiction in this setting meant including violence and mature themes. It also necessitated display of despotic attitudes many may find objectionable.

If you are sensitive to such fictional representations, please return this story unread.

Wyrm’s Warning

I SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN afraid to hit the perverted old fool, but I was. Fear was a maiden’s world until her da found a husband to protect her. Even then, worse horrors lurked.

Stepping to the sideboard gave me escape from Boyd’s hands. I took a deep breath, tearing off half a loaf. Ma’d sent me to see him fed only, certainly not to be groped by the old woodsman’s palsied hands.

I set the bread beside his stew. Now you eat all of that, Ol Pap.

Boyd’s hand covered mine, setting gooseflesh rampant up my skin. I forced a smile and eased my hand away. Boyd looked almost all the way up to my face, hesitantly licking his lips. Such a good, pretty girl you are, Tala. Fill my cup? I’d do it, but it ain’t easy getting my hands to obey.

I bent to fill his mug. His hand shot toward my chest, tipping the ale pitcher all over my plain, wool dress. I snatched up the pitcher, brandishing it with a growl. You clumsy old...ugh!

I stepped back, cold down my front and heat in my gut. Sour ale wafted into my flared nostrils, joining the ambient funk of old man that permeated the cottage. I grabbed a spare scrap of linen and blotted the dress.

Calm down. Ma said I was to get him to eat no matter what.

Boyd waggled the salt and pepper bramble over his eyes. Warned you my hands weren’t behaving. Besides, was you at fault, making a man’s blood gallop and tempting him so. Should wed you to my boy Eard, he’d breed you good.

Eard got hanged five years ago, Boyd. I hefted the pitcher once more, debating what I’d do if he grabbed me again.

Probably nothing.

Boyd fell silent. His gaze wandered out the cottage window and shifted out of focus. He came back to himself with a jerk. Best head home, girl. The fog’s rolling in thick tonight and the Red Star’s glaring.

A prickle danced in the hairs along my neck. Moonlight through the window silvered the tallow candlelight. Are you still trying to scare folks with that old story? I’m not to leave until I’ve seen you finish your stew.

It ain’t a story. Folk disappear. The fog be malign under the red, be Wyrm’s Warning.

I snorted. People escaping the King’s heel is hardly mysterious. Whatever happened to them doesn’t change Ma’s claim you aren’t eating or that she said I was to see you finished a bowl.

Now you listen here, girl.

Enough! My raised voice surprised him as much as it did me. Shouting at a man could be dangerous, but I’d seen Ma do it to get the stubborn coot to eat. If you’re so set to have me gone, worried about my safety and all that, then gum your stew and not me.

Told you true, Boyd mumbled around a bite of stew. Wyrm’d like nothing better than to sink its teeth into a sweet little thing like you.

A SHIVER AMBUSHED ME before I cleared the stones making up Boyd’s walk. I set the stew pot down and pulled the dress’s clammy collar away from my skin.

Perverted, clumsy old fool. No wonder he never got himself another wife.

Temper warmed me against the chill