Dark Tales of Fantasy

By Wayne C. Hannis

'Dark Tales of Fantasy'

In the end, 

when Evil Things happen to Good People, 

there never is a happy ending. 

Four stories (novellas) of classic fantasy with a touch of horror from debut author Wayne C. Hannis.

Myth and magic collide in these four tales of tragedy, when Evil Things happen to good people. Like Oril Ahern, Regent of the Kingdom of Tasmorea. All he wants is to hand the throne to his nephew. Prince Coel Ahern, heir to the Northern Throne, believes it is his 'To Rule by Right' now that he has come of age.

And Niall Emayn, a black smith who just wants to live his life with his family, until a stranger appears and hires him to forge a sword. Niall will soon learn how 'The Sword cuts deep'.

Because in the end, when Evil Things happen to Good People, there never is a happy ending.

Including:

To Rule by Right

True Love Lost Forever

The Sword Cuts Deep

A Contract for Gold: The Cataclysm of Medhebah

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wayne C. Hannis
• Release date: Mar 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393443414

Wayne C. Hannis

Wayne is a writer of Fantasy and Alternative History. He lives in the fantastic realm of the sunny Shuswap Lake in British Columbia, Canada and has called it home since he was a child. While growing up he played along creeks and in ravines, climbed ancient spruce trees and swam in clear fresh-water lakes. So it's no wonder his life is steeped with imaginative magic, and the world he's created has a lore as old as the mountains. Growing up, Wayne played Dungeons and Dragons, while reading authors like David Eddings, Terry Brooks and Piers Anthony, who instilled a love for fantasy in him at a young age. For awhile now Wayne has realized there's something wrong with our world, and has struggled to understand it. Wayne always had a passion for history and has come to think that the history we all have been taught is a lie (as well as most things we are taught) and a our real past has been hidden. Join Wayne as he ventures down those proverbial Rabbit Wholes in search of a lost kingdom.

Book preview

Dedication

To: Colin Michael Soucy.

My best friend since we were kids.

I wish you were here to read the final story.

Warning: graphic scenes of violence

Dark Tales of Fantasy

When Evil Things happen to Good People,

There never is a Happy Ending!

Table of Contents

1. To Rule by Right

2.  True Love lost Forever

3.  The Sword cuts deep

4.  A Contract for Gold:

The Cataclysm of Medhebah

To Rule by Right

Hobgoblins

Hobgoblins are nasty creatures with vile intent,

they raid and pillage just to see the blood.

Slaughtering entire families makes them happy,

just to hear the screams excites them.

Hobgoblins are loathsome brutes with a deceiving smile,

you will know if you ever meet one.

The last thing you will see is the Hobgoblin laughing,

as he cuts off your head with his rusted weapon.

It makes him euphoric just to watch you die,

and see you writhe in pain.

So don't go out of your way to make a Hobgoblin felicitous,

because he will surely revel in your blood.

Hobgoblins find their own merriment,

it's not hard for them to do.

If you ever encounter one of the despicable creatures you will know,

as he's dancing on your corpse.

Handbook on the Goblinkind, page twenty-seven.

Carfaren Wynrel:

Bard of Magical Secrets of the College of Lore.

Chapter 1

Oril Ahern- Regent of Tasmorea, made his way quickly among the throng of people and commotion on the streets of the city, as he kept to the back streets and alleyways. Oril hadn’t expect so many outside this early in the morning, Thebel hadn’t even risen above the Eastern mountains yet, but the weather was pleasant and the air warm for this early in the spring. Shop keepers were cleaning up, and couples were strolling down the sidewalk enjoying themselves in the predawn light. No one took any notice of Oril.

The population of Daloseos- the capital city of Tasmorea, had increased with the coronation of his nephew that was to occur in a few days, and the citizens were in glorious celebration. The Kingdom of Tasmorea had waited fifteen years for their young prince to come of age, that time had finally arrived. The years had slipped away so quickly.

For days now, whispered throughout the city, rumours of the return of the kings of old, and the incarnation of Daloseos himself could be heard muttered above the expectations of the crowds.

Oril looked behind him, up the hill to where he had just come. The tall spires of the twin towers of Yagor Ar-mown, the elevated citadel, ascended high above Daloseos. The towers were a constant shadow at Oril Ahern's back. Thebel was casting its bright light upon the grey marble, making Yagor Ar-mown seem to rise even higher. 

Coming around the corner of a busy intersection, Oril almost ran into a group of people, so he pulled his grey hood lower on his face to conceal himself better, and tried to blend into the tall, stone buildings. He hardly noticed the colourful carving of a snow dragon breathing its frost on a group of dragon hunters that hung above the doorway of the three-storey building, when he promptly entered The Snow Dragon inn, even though the sign said it was closed.

Oril found it hard to see for a moment, when he came into the dim, contrasting light. He saw Alton, the owner of the establishment, nodding to him, and glanced towards the far corner of the room.

Two men sat at a table in the secluded section of the Bar. He had an appointment with the pair, and knew he could trust them. They were both dressed in plain clothes, similar to his own, not their usual uniforms. Oril was glad to see his friends had come.

Oril walked across the room, and sat in the chair with his back to the wall next to, Vaunder Iowerth. Alton brought over a cup of tea, Oril nodded his thanks.

Good morning, Oril, the man with short hair, and a clean-shaven, thin face said. His light blue eyes had a look of concern in them. Oril knew that look.

Vaunder, Oril replied back.

Vaunder Iowerth was older than Oril by a few years, but they had known each other for a long time. He was one of the most intelligent men Oril knew, having a sensibility he could always trust. His advice had guided Oril well over the years as leader of the Council of Ten Lords of Tasmorea.

Hello, Meogin, Oril said to the man across from him. The large man returned the greeting.

Meogin Kamil had come to Tasmorea from the deserts of Omral as a child, and had worked his way up through the ranks of the army. Oril vividly remembered meeting him at the battle of Bad Fairy mound, the last big Hobgoblin incursion five years ago- he had promoted Meogin with the field commission as general of the Tasmorean army at a crucial time, and Meogin led them to victory that day. They were now close friends. Oril would trust him with anything. His coppery skin and thick curly black hair always stood out among the blonde and pale northerners.

Its good to see you both. Thank you for meeting me at this time of morning, Oril said. But I needed to give you an update in private. He met their eyes with all seriousness, making sure he had both their undivided attention. I received word last night that they will leave Citadel Ahern at dusk, and he will have The Radah Guard with him.

The Subjugation Guard, Vaunder replied, shaking his head. We have heard nothing from them in years. That doesn't look good, Oril.

I know the council doesn’t like it, Vaunder. But we expected it, Oril shrugged his shoulders. The Radah Guard have always been ceremonial in the past for the Ahern family, so there's no reason to think otherwise now. As I've explained before though, the genuine threat is Othion Tacur. That's why I'm riding out today, he paused looking at Vaunder, trying to ease his friend's ill feelings. I plan on joining them at Winter-acre bridge in two days, so I can spend some time with my nephew. I just need to persuade Coel that Othion is dangerous. I want you to bring two battalions to Fallwood Hedge in three days, Meogin. That should reassure the council. If all goes well, I'll meet you there. I'll make sure you'll just be an escort. Coel will be king with the sanction of the council, and I will be his adviser in all matters. I'll see to it.

I will Oril, Meogin said in his deep reassuring voice. You can count on it.

Oril nodded and took a deep breath. All I need to do is talk to my nephew, know I can convince him. Vaunder, tell the council not to worry, and to keep the festivities going. Everything will be fine, and I'll see you in three days, Meogin.

Oril gulped his cup of tea. It was time for him to start the trip, even though he wasn't sure where he would be going. There is someone I hope to find first, he said finally, as he got up to leave. I think they might help me figure a few things out.

Chapter 2

He knew it was early when he opened his eyes, but felt well rested and eager for the day. Looking over at the youthful woman lying on the opposite side of his large, plush bed, he smiled thinking of the pleasure he took from her. The gods gave her to fulfill her purpose of serving him in life and death. She was exquisite, older than him by a few years. Lying on her front, she was naked, looking rather peaceful. The bruises around her neck stood out like fresh tattoos on her pallid skin.

Coel stretched as he climbed out of bed, feeling the soft carpet under his feet. Daylight was dimly passing through his thick curtains as he walked over and threw them apart, revealing the morning through the glass windows. Opening the finely crafted double doors, he stepped out onto the balcony. Ahern Mountain was still in shadow, Thebel- the bright star wouldn't shine through his windows until late morning. He took a deep breath of the cool, early morning spring air. It felt stimulating on his naked skin.

Glancing over the burnished stone balustrade, he saw the fast moving muddy waters of the Silver Borne river far below. The turbulent waters echoed off the steep cliffs, rushing down from the melting glaciers high in the Tasmorean mountain range. The whole of Tasmorea was a panorama looking westward from Ahern citadel and as a child he used to imagine vast armies battling for supremacy in the wide world, his armies always won. He wouldn't have to imagine anymore.

Far to the north, Saractica, icebound for most of the year was the wealth of the kingdom, the city mined precious stones from deep within the Tasmorean mountains, and soon the frozen city would be his. The sturdy walls protected the inhabitants from the constant attacks of the warmongering Hobgoblins that would ride into battle on Winter Wolves. The Goblinkind killed everything in their path.

Coel looked beyond the fir and spruce forest that covered the Tasmorean lowlands. He envisioned Daloseos, the capital of Tasmorea, on the northernmost shore of Lake Shanderan. His inheritance of the Northern Throne was in the middle of Yagor Ar-mown, a journey of three days from the citadel.

The Council of Ten Lords assembled at Daloseos. He scoffed at the thought of them. Just a bunch of stupid, old men in his opinion. He would have to get rid of them when the time came.

Coel thought of his Uncle just then. The last time he had seen him was at the Heir Apparent dedication nine years ago. It was a festive occasion at Citadel Ahern, but his uncle never came to see him again after that.

Tasmorea had prospered with his uncle as Regent of the realm. He would not have expected any less from another Ahern. His family had ruled over Tasmorea for three hundred years, ever since his great grandfather Daloseos united the northern kingdoms, and took control of the Twin Towers. He would be the ninth Ahern to succeed the Northern Throne.

He had waited since he was four years old, when his father and mother died. He hardly remembered his parents. They were only characters in a history book. But in five days he would be nineteen, old enough to claim his inheritance. It was his to rule by right on the Northern Throne. He would no longer be just Prince Coel Ahern, he would be King Coel Ahern. His ambition was more than ruling a small kingdom in the icy wastelands of the north, he would establish an empire.

It wouldn't be long until they left on the three-day journey to Daloseos, so he had to get ready. Turning around, Coel went back inside and looked down at the youthful woman in his bed. He noticed her body was stiffening, and her jaw dropped opened, as if mocking him. Her eyes stared into nothing.

He hated it when rigor mortis set in. It always made it difficult to dispose of the cadaver. Struggling with the weight of the rigidifying body, he dragged the youthful woman to the balcony, and unceremoniously dropped her over. He gazed down excitedly as the corpse tumbled off a few rock outcroppings before splashing soundlessly in the river far below. Watching them fall was half the fun.

Chapter 3

Coel slumped with a sigh when he heard a loud knock on the door. He couldn't decide which cloak he should wear, and it was making him angry. He roughly heaved a cloak at his servant, Mack, before stomping to the door. Mack jumped, flinching he let out a muted grunt.

What, Coel yelled angrily, flinging the door open.

Othion Tacur stood dressed in brown leather pants, and a padded jacket which showed his wide shoulders. He looked taller than normal with his long, straight black hair pulled into a tail, and his grey streaked beard braided to his chest. It annoyed Coel that he had to look up to him. Othion always had been a striking figure, but Coel knew he was more than how he looked. Penetrating, blue eyes calmed Coel down right away, as the dim grey light in the hallway made him seem like a spectre from the grave.

Hello, my Prince, Othion said calmly. He smoothly curled his tongue around each word when he spoke.

Coal hesitated, he always felt apprehensive when meeting his mentor like this. Stepping aside, he let Othion enter. The walking stick Othion gripped in the palm of his hand made a soft thump on the tiled floor. The staff was a polished branch, shaped from natural hardwood, that came to his shoulders, topped with the stone figure of a running wild cat, the kind that roamed the jungles of Quelin far to the south. Othion held it with his long fingers wrapped comfortably over each black and white vertical stripe of the cat's thick body. The gaping mouth of the enormous head held a small, rough, opaque gemstone. The item had always fascinated Coel, and he wondered what powers it contained.

Is everything all right? Othion asked.

Yes, Coel said, nodding his head, looking sad. I just can't decide which cloak to wear.

The fur-lined cloak, Othion quickly suggested. It will be cold tonight.

Othion motioned for Mack to leave. Mack grunted, hurrying out of the room. Coel met Mack's eyes sternly as he watched his servant leave.

Everything is prepared and ready, my Prince, Othion said.

So I'll have no worries, Coal replied.

No, my Prince. I’ve assembled the Radah Guard in the courtyard, and the reserve force will remain hidden. And don't forget, I also have my magic, Othion replied.

Magic, Coel scoffed. You put too much trust in your magic. It's the concrete I want. Magic is too abstract. What can your magic do that my army can't?

You should feel lucky to have magic, my Prince. There are realms that don't have magic, and people on those worlds that wish they did. I'll show you how constructive magic can be. I have a present for you before we leave, Othion said, smiling over a heavy brow, making the creases in his face stand out.

Coel burst with enthusiasm. He loved Othion's gifts. What is it?

Follow me and find out, Othion said, turning to the door.

Coel grabbed the fur line cloak, wrapped it around his shoulders, and followed Othion into the back stairwell. Down the old, stone steps that were ground smooth over time with countless feet. Down into the lower levels of the keep, past the dungeons, and through a few locked doors. They went deep into the bowels of the mountain. The way was fast, with wide corridors leading the way.

Where are we going, Coel asked, getting impatient.

We're here, my Prince, Othion stated.

Othion took the top of his staff, and inserted the head of the cat into a small niche on the stone wall, then pushed with a twist. A click resonated in the stone, as the wall slowly ground on the floor to reveal a hidden door. Othion was always full of surprises as it opened into a chamber. He stood to the side, letting Coel enter. Othion closed the door behind him and thumped his staff on the floor. Torches that lined the circumference of the sizable room ignited in flickering flame.

Coel could see that it was once a natural cavern, but now the walls and ceiling were smooth. The striations in the stone stood out in horizontal seams. Tables and work benches lined the walls, and small hammers with saws with various other tools neatly arranged in their proper places. Bowls with pots and cauldrons were on one table, while others had various herbs and plants. A desk full of books, and tidy stacks of organized paper was in the far corner, with a framed map of the celestial kingdoms on the wall above it. Another corridor led into darkness directly across the room from Coal, and a thick curtain hung on the wall between Othion's desk and the passage. Coel wondered what was behind it.

A low, rectangular block of stone stood in the centre of the room, covered in a jumble of insignificant pieces of small rocks. Concave sheets of bronze and iron covered the debris. It was unmistakably all put together in the shape of a large, humanoid figure.

I've never been here before, Coel commented, looking around the room. He thought he had been everywhere in the citadel.

No, my Prince, Othion responded. This is my private workshop. There are things I do with my black magic, that I would prefer to do in secret.

Coel nodded absently to his teacher.

Stand beside the altar, if you would, my Prince, Othion instructed, as he went to his desk.

Opening the top drawer, Othion retrieved a large pendant the size of Coel's fist that dangled on a thick silver chain swinging back and forth. The medallion held two stones, one black, the other white, that twisted around each other within a circular gold inlay. Coel wanted it instantly. It was beautiful.

Othion opened the curtains, revealing a small chamber behind. It surprised Coel to see a small child lying prostrate on a cot, his feet slightly raised. Covered with a blanket, his tiny head was on a fluffy pillow, he looked only to be asleep. Upon closer inspection, he got excited when he noticed little hands hanging out from under the blanket. Fresh blood dripped into two identical bowls from the thin slashed wrists. It wasn't long ago the small boy took his last breath.

Othion covered the child's head with the blanket. Taking the two bowls, he poured the blood into a larger container, and pulled the curtain closed when he finished.

Standing at the altar opposite Coel, Othion placed the pendant in the centre of the figure, and began chanting magical words that Coel couldn't understand. Coel started feeling a little frustrated, Othion would never instruct him in that language. When your older, Othion always told him. As king, he would command Othion to instruct him in that language.

Runes glowed around the sides of the altar that were unseen a moment before. Watching in astonishment, Coel let go of his vexation.

Magic, my Prince, is the energy that courses through everything, Othion explained. It is the spark of life at the moment of creation.

Othion poured the fresh blood onto the pile of debris, starting at what Coel guessed would be the head. Blood found every crease as it flowed smoothly like crimson silk around the round plate of bronze, and down the two big flat rocks it had for a neck.

Magic is the force that binds everything together, from the largest star to the smallest blade of grass. It is what protects us from Thebel's intense light and is the flash of electricity within the clouds.

The blood flowed in one graceful motion over the iron chest and torso, Othion doused the pendant and continued down the bronze-plated arms and legs. He didn't waste a drop, and soaked the entire pile, as the runes increased in illumination.

Magic is the hyaloid veil that separates everything and is the Great Attraction that draws everything to itself. It is everywhere and in everything, the very space between all things. It is what makes our hearts beat.

Othion set the container aside. Retrieving the pendant, he handed it to Coel, Coel snatched it without hesitation. The stones and metal gleamed, as the blood radiated with an intense crimson light, as if little embers were burning inside the figure. The blue light of the runes, and crimson light of the blood mingled, as the detritus vibrated.

Magic is the greatest power there is and dominates all others. If someone learns to manipulate magic, they can harness infinite strength.

The metal twisted violently as the rocks condensed and restricted, tightening under the confinement of the metal. The grinding of stone made Coel wince. Thick arms and legs formed, constrained by the bronze, the iron wrapped around the torso. Finally, the head developed as the small stones crunched like ice on a frozen lake, conglomerated under the bronze sheet, shaping a small head with a blank face and small eyes.

When the magic seemed at an end, the light sharply intensified, then quickly vanished. Coel thought whatever the thing was, it looked rather ugly. The gangling arms and legs were disproportionate to the body, which was thick and round. Its head was small, the bronze seemed more a mask that hid something horrendous behind it as a red spark grew behind the tiny, round stones that were its eyes while the pendant glowed blue suspended on its chain. The creature smoothly climbed off the altar, standing directly in front of Coel. The creature was a lot taller than him, and twice as wide, resembling a giant stick figure with stony appendages.

What do you think, my Prince, Othion said with a smug smile.

Coel looked at his mentor with a puzzled look on his face. What is it, Coel asked.

It's a Shield Protector, Othion said as he stepped around the altar and pushed the Shield Protector with all of his might. It didn't move at all, it just stood like some hideous stone statue.

As long as you have that amulet, it won't let anything harm you. It will follow you everywhere, obeying your every command. It will protect you until it no longer can, my Prince.

Coel grinned and slipped the pendant around his neck. It hung heavy to his chest.

So, Othion asked, do you like it?

Like it! Coel responded gleefully, It's amazing.

Good. I'm glad it pleases you. But its time to leave now, my Prince. Your coronation awaits, Othion ushered Coel down the unknown passage.

Coel followed, not sure of what would happen, when to his surprise, the Shield Protector lifted its awkward stone foot and followed him. With every pace the Shield Protector took, the pendant faintly pulsated like a heartbeat. Coel quickened his pace as Othion stopped to close the door, sealing the chamber.

Chapter 4

Mack was very comfortable on the top of his Master's trailer and found he was enjoying the trip as the scenery passed by. There was a small canopy over his bed to keep him dry, and he had two blankets to keep him warm. Looking back, he saw Citadel Ahern precariously perched on the steep, rocky cliffs of the mountains, catching the last light of the day. He wouldn't miss that place and hoped he would leave the horrors behind.

He knew he would have nightmares for the rest of his life of the things he saw, and the girls who went missing, like KatieAnn, he would miss her; she was always nice to him. She went into his Master's room last night and never came out. Mack hoped his Master didn't let her suffer, like he sometimes did.

Mack subconsciously played with his missing tongue. He missed it often, but hardly remembered what it was like to have one. He remembered the rage of his Master the day he ripped it out.

Mack couldn't recollect much before he came to be with his Master. Only flashes of playing with someone he thought might have been his sister, with vivid recollections of two people who may have been his mother and father. He held on to those images, because he knew they were memories. He had always been with his Master, though, and probably always would.

The carriage slowed as the convoy came to the old wooden bridge that crossed the Silver Borne river. The fast moving rapids rushed in his ears, while spraying mist in his face. Fifty soldiers at the head of the caravan carried his Master's banner, a soaring falcon on an emerald green background. Dressed in their crimson armour and their beak shaped visors down, they crossed in straight formation. Mack could faintly hear the stomping of their armoured feet over the roar of the river.

Mack grabbed onto the side railing to catch his balance, as the four, large spoked wheels of his Master’s trailer rocked onto the bridge. It forced Mack to look down at his Master's creature, the monster never left his Master's side. Even now, with his Master inside, the thing kept perfect step. He could easily have reached out and touched it, but it scared Mack the way it gleamed red. Mack jumped back to the other side of the roof, not wanting to look at it anymore.

Once across the bridge, they entered the Tasmorean forest, and the chilly night closed in around him. Mack looked back to see Othion's trailer cross the bridge being pulled by four gigantic horses. The driver jostled back and forth, sitting under his hood like he was one of the undead.

The kitchen and luggage trailer followed Othion's carriage. It was full of everything his Master could need and want. Pulled along behind were two more horses tied to the back. Finally, following close behind were fifty more of his Master's soldiers. Mack wondered why his Master had so many. He was just going home.

Quickly leaving the raging river behind, all became quiet as the dense forest closed in. Mack looked into the approaching darkness, through the rows of gigantic spruce trees that lined the road, past the hidden shadows. He sensed something out there, following just out of his vision, ready to pounce. Mack didn't like that feeling at all, as he shivered in the cold. Pulling his blanket tight around him, Mack tried to fall asleep with the swaying of the trailer.

Chapter 5

Oril rode fast through the day and into the night. It had already waited too long. He had kept putting it off through the years, exhausting every other possibility, and it had become essential for him to know. So, he rode north in search of someone he had not seen in many years. She had left Daloseos hastily the night his brother expelled all the Elves, on penalty of execution if any should remain. Oril had not heard from his friend since then, until he heard of a witch living in seclusion north of Winter-Acre bridge, rumours of an elf woman living all alone. Oril hoped it was who he wanted to see. She was the only one who might show him what he needed to know.

He would have changed the law of proscription against the elves if he could have, but he was powerless to change any law that a king had established. He was only Regent of Tasmorea. The Council of Ten really ruled now, Oril had seen to that, and he let them decide what was best for Tasmorea. They never wanted to change the law. Most of the Council had been in favour of it all those years ago.

He respected the position of Regent, but never wanted it. Some on the council thought it should remain this way, thinking it was a system that worked, so why change it. We no longer need a king, they said. While others were even willing to make him king, but the position of ruling Tasmorea wasn't his, it belonged to his nephew. The citizens of Tasmorea wanted their king, and Coel was that king.

The rumours coming from Citadel Ahern were disturbing, but they could trace none of it to Coel. Convinced Coel was innocent, Oril was sure Othion Tacur was the one who was guilty. Othion Tacur had manipulated his way into the Ahern family years ago, and Oril remembered the day he first appeared offering his service to King Bowen. Othion performed some flashy magic, giving a grandiose speech about why the king needed him. Oril had voiced his concern about Othion Tacur even back then, but somehow his brother listened to Othion instead.

When his brother and sister-in-law died, Othion quickly took Coel to Citadel Ahern. He tried to prevent it but failed; it was all set up even before that fateful day, sanctioned by the council. He knew something was wrong about Othion Tacur; he had to find out what, but now he regretted putting it off for so long.

Oril rode on through the long hours of the night, as if some monster was on his back but he continued through the darkness. The silver light of the two moons; Cha'dash- the older, who shines light into the dark places of the world, and Ka'shaph- the younger who weaves magic into creation, streamed through the tall trees. They created apparitions in the darkness that mimicked his concern. Even though he was getting tired, and his body ached, Oril's foreboding perception drove him on.

Chapter 6

A bump on the road shook the trailer, jerking Mack awake. He was having the familiar dream where he would have to clean up the endless blood of his Master's latest victim. He never could clean it all up. His Master would come in and start hitting him for not doing a good enough job.

Mack was glad at that moment, when he realized he was no longer at Citadel Ahern. He always dreaded nights in that old castle, when malevolent spirits would roam the gloomy halls seeking anything that didn't belong and they always terrified him.

Mack blinked awake for a moment to get the dream out of his head, and they quickly faded. The two moons were directly above him, bathing the black forest in silver light. Cha'dash wasn't full yet, not until the night of his Master's coronation. On that night Cha’dash would be the brightest of the year.

Looking out from under the canopy, bright stars shined in the inky sky. Mack knew of the constellations of the Mazzaroth, but learned none of the patterns, so he would make up his own stories. There was Samfiru the dragon with his long tail holding the bright star down, and Tymdall the gnome would take it upon himself every year to fight the dragon and reignite Thebel. He made sure Tymdall never missed a year,