The Snails of Dun Nas

By K.L. Noone

Giant magical snails aren’t exactly at the top of the list of heroic quests. But the village of Dun Nas needs help, and Aric needs money: being a legendary swordsman might be nice, but so is getting paid. Anyway, snails -- even giant ones -- aren’t anything he can’t handle, especially with his half-fairy partner Emrys. Together, the Storm-Wielder and the Shadow can fight anything, or so the stories say.

But this job’s more complicated than it seems. The lake holds a dangerous magical mystery. Aric trusts Emrys with his life -- but he’d also love to offer his heart, and he doesn’t know whether Em feels the same. Em isn’t human, after all ... and has a few secrets of their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Nov 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781646569212

K.L. Noone

K.L. Noone loves fantasy, romance, cats, far too sweet coffee, and happy endings! She is also the author of Port in a Storm and its upcoming sequel, available from Less Than Three Press, and numerous short romances with Ellora’s Cave and Circlet Press; her fantasy fiction has appeared in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress anthologies. With her Professor Hat on, she teaches college students about Shakespeare and superhero comics, and has published academic articles and essays on Neil Gaiman’s adaptations of Beowulf, Welsh mythology in modern fantasy, and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Snails. Aric crossed his arms, raised both eyebrows, and glared at the village council members from the advantage of his height and muscles and swordsman-for-hire reputation. That generally worked. "You want us to go hunting for snails. Your messenger said it was lake-dragons."

Around the heavy oak table, in the sturdy local guildhall, the seven members of the ruling council of Dun Nas found various ways to avoid his gaze. Behind him, a thin dark knife of a shadow, Emrys propped a shoulder casually against the wall. Aric couldn’t see his partner’s expression.

He could feel it, though. Aimed like an amused arrow at his back.

We apologize for the deception. The youngest of the council members finally unearthed words in the face of mercenary displeasure. Under shaggy mouse-brown hair, his equally soft brown eyes found a hill of courage to stand on. The table where his hands rested was heavy and battered, hand-carved and solid, a piece hewn from the local forests. We know it isn’t your…more usual line of work. It isn’t glamorous. But we need the help. And we can pay you.

The rest of the council nodded, some more reluctantly than others. Aric guessed that these were the ones who had put up the most resistance to the idea of hiring a traveling swordsman; whether that meant concern over the finances of the village, or just disapproval of himself and Emrys, he didn’t know.

That disapproval might take any number of forms. Aric knew perfectly well what they saw across the table: for one, a certain amount of hulking blond Northern height and worn leathers and a reputation for swinging a large sword successfully at threats. Most likely the sort of barbarian who could barely read a contract, unlike the merchants and guildsmen across the table, or at least that was the usual assumption. Uncultured but useful, here at the edge of Pretania’s wildest magic-tinged frontiers.

All that was one part of the unease on the other side, he guessed.

Emrys was another part. One that unnerved anyone who knew what Em was, and also anyone who didn’t but who’d just encountered that cool evaluative silence for the first time. But that was also a cornerstone of their reputation, the two halves that made up the working whole; they’d built the legend together.

Disapproving councilors would just have to disapprove. Aric wasn’t going anywhere without Em, in any lifetime. No argument. No other outcome allowed.

He wasn’t thrilled about the outcome of this particular message, however. He said, "You called us for snails."

Er…they’re very large snails?

Aric tried not to sigh aloud.

We think it’s supernatural. A terrible enchantment. Dangerous sorcery. A straight-backed silver-haired woman wearing the insignia of the Brewers’ Guild leaned forward, with a surprising amount of passion on the subject of possible black magic. Your reputation suggests that you— Her gaze flicked to Emrys, and back. —might be able to deal with such. And, again, we can offer payment. The usual rates, I believe, would be sufficient.

Aric tried not to sigh, again. He also couldn’t help running through some possible supernatural threats—sorcerers at war, a curse, a villager disturbing a grave-site from an old magical combat—and weighing the odds of each, mostly out of habit.

He also wondered whether any of the well-fed, worried, and neatly-dressed councilors across the table had ever had to personally face a witch, a demon-wolf, a conjured-up blood-drinking bat. He tried to picture that for a moment. No.

He said, "Can you pay us? If your village’s crops are being destroyed. No offense." He did not glance back at Emrys, who probably wouldn’t be visibly rolling those expressive grey eyes at his lack of tact.

The quiet young man, slightly less quiet at this insult to his home, squared his shoulders. Dun Nas has been prosperous. Cloth, wood, the traders from across the lake…we have money.

Enough to afford us?

A middle-aged and very well-dressed man, with the insignia of the Weavers’ Guild pinned at his throat, said sharply, There are cheaper swords for hire—

There are, Aric agreed. There were, of varying balances