Tales: A Collection of Short Fantasy Fiction

By Jason Varrone

From fantasy fiction writer Jason Varrone comes five stories about love, honor, vengeance, and bravery.

"Loyal" – Renowned knight Sir Dellan is reeling after a brutal attack leaves his king mortally wounded. Dellan seeks answers, and his world is thrown into chaos once he discovers the truth. Forced to confront the attacker, the knight holds the fate of the kingdom in his hands. This story tells the stirring tale of a knight's devotion as he faces the ultimate test of loyalty.

"Dragon's Vengeance" – A dragon still mourns the loss of his soulmate decades after her death at the hands of humans. While pursuing his vengeance, his fundamental assumptions about the world are shattered after an encounter with a village girl and her father. This story is a heartfelt yarn of undying love, wrath, and empathy.

"Courage" – Edwyn, an inferior soldier, is still haunted by the murder of his mother years earlier and his inability to protect her. He finds himself caught in a battle between acceptance by his peers and doing what is right. Now, as his demons threaten to overwhelm him, his courage and conscience will be tested against the sociopathic whims of his fellow soldiers. "Courage" is about a man's search for redemption.

"Knight's Oath" – Danthane has spent decades in service to his kingdom as commander of the army. When the newly crowned king orders the invasion of a peaceful kingdom, Danthane's loyalty clashes with his long-held oath. Soon, he will have to decide which is more important: loyalty or honor and his life. This story tells the tale of one knight's struggle against his values as he faces his life's greatest challenge.

"Second Son" – Jonah yearns to be king and to rule with honor and integrity the way his forebears ruled. But fate has cruelly delivered him as the second son of a king who rules with an iron fist. All Jonah can do is bide his time and wait for his father and older sibling to die. When fate hands Jonah an opportunity to rule, he'll have to decide which is more important: his ambition or his morality. This story is about a boy who struggles to become the leader he always wanted to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Varrone
• Release date: Jul 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201833688

Jason Varrone

Jason Varrone accidentally stumbled into the world of fantasy fiction in elementary school, becoming quite obsessed with the genre, and then fostered that love by delving into the realm of fantasy role-playing games. Little did he know that his desire to write was born during those carefree days as a child. It took him until adulthood to throw caution to the wind and realize his dream. By day, he is a captain of the insurance industry, a husband, and a father, all the while trying in vain to keep his houseful of cats content. By night, when the magic takes hold and the dreams begin, his mind fills with valiant knights, deadly spells, and flame-breathing dragons. When not reading or writing, he is playing the drums to his favorite '90s-era grunge songs.

Book preview

LOYAL

Death is coming for my king tonight, thought Dellan, and my world will be thrown into chaos. The weathered knight stood outside the king’s chamber door like a gargoyle standing watch over an abandoned fortress. Twilight approached, and the pink hue of the western sky battled with advancing gray clouds. The forest surrounding the castle was often alive with chirps and chitters, but tonight no sound emanated from the woodland. He hunched his aching shoulders against the night’s chill, the cool eastern wind penetrating his brown wool cloak. Dellan cursed himself for not dressing in warmer clothes. There was no time.

He stood on his king's balcony, the door behind him opening into King Marek's royal chambers set in the tallest tower of the castle. The king treasured the view from here, often using it to think and escape kingdom politics. Dellan watched the curved path of the river meander into the western edge of the forest below, the soft hum of the water's churning heard from here. Funny how life follows that same path, twisting and turning, never a simple open road before you. It can lead to joy and comfort, but also sorrow and pain.

The God of Death is coming tonight, Dellan said to the air, looking behind him at the heavy, wooden door, and he will be merciless. His king lay within, covered in his blood. Muffled cries of pain crept through the door. King Marek, the man who taught Dellan how to be a man and a knight, was in agony.

Dellan recalled the moment he received word of the attack, his feet barely touching the castle floor as he raced to the king’s room. He found the king's trusted steward keeping a silent vigil at his bedside. Towels and rags were strewn all about, crimson seeping through sheets and dripping to the floor. The steward, after conferring with the castle surgeon, had advised Dellan that the wound was mortal.

Dellan shuddered against the cold, the chill stifling the memory, the stiffness in his joints sending waves of discomfort through his bones. His mail felt heavier than normal. He was desperate for answers. The door behind him creaked open on worn hinges, and the humpbacked steward shuffled through. Steward Grynne, the ever-faithful servant of the king, looked haggard.

Sir Dellan, he said, the wind making his thinning gray hair dance, our healer has done everything in his power. The wound is mighty. It pains me to say that it is only a matter of time.

I understand, Dellan said. His bearded jaw clenched. He expected this news. His blue eyes stared at the steward, trying to conceal the fact that he struggled to keep his emotions restrained. A brief vision of a young King Marek entered his mind, a comely youth who wore his nobility with the lightest touch. The memory calmed him. He put a hand on Grynne’s shoulder, more to steady the steward than provide comfort, but accomplished both. You must tell me what happened.

Steward Grynne tried to speak, but the effort was more than his mind could bear. Tears streamed down his lined face and he crumpled to the stone floor, his body shuddering with sobs, his gray robes saturated with the king’s blood. Although he grew impatient waiting for answers, Dellan allowed him time to regain control.

I am sorry, Sir Dellan. Steward Grynne looked up at Dellan, the dark circles around his eyes growing wider and darker since the last time Dellan saw him. Forgive my weakness.

Dellan knelt before the steward. He lifted the steward’s chin with his hand, looking into the man's eyes. I have never met a more devout servant of our king, Steward Grynne, nor have I known a better friend to him than you. We have disagreed over the years, but never have I questioned your faith in King Marek. Believe me, old friend, I understand your pain.

Dellan shook his head, the world spinning in his mind. How could this have happened? he asked himself. How did it come to this? I know it is difficult, he continued, but now is the time for strength. Grief will come, sure as tomorrow’s sunrise. Tonight this wrong must be made right. Please, tell me.

The steward placed his hands on the floor and pushed himself to his feet, body groaning with effort. You are right, Sir Dellan. I am sorry. This all happened so fast.

Steward Grynne limped to the wooden bench on the balcony and sat down. He looked over the guardrail at the forest and took a deep breath. After gathering his blood-stained robes about him, he began to speak. The blood, so much blood. The steward stared into the sky for a moment before shaking himself clear. I was in my chamber when I heard the screaming. I was reviewing the notes for tomorrow’s council meeting when one of the servants burst through my door. Something red had stained her gown as if someone splashed her with dye. Grynne paused, the memory clear in his mind. What little color he had drained from his face. She told me the king had been attacked. I ran as fast as my old legs could. What I saw next was a nightmare. Sir Dellan, I have been around men dying and have seen my share of blood, but never have I seen so much at one time coming from one person, my king no less. He was on the floor outside his room, a sword through his back, trying to crawl but unable. I yelled for the surgeon and took King Marek in my arms. He tried to speak, but the pain made it difficult. Grynne paused a moment. Dellan watched the steward struggle to keep his composure. It was a laudable effort, and Dellan gained more respect than he already had for the old man.

It took some time, Grynne continued, but I was able to drag King Marek back into his chamber. I had no idea if his attacker was near. He kept trying to speak. The healer came and we placed the king on his bed. The healer did everything in his power, and removing the blade was no easy task. The pain must have been... Grynne shuddered again as if feeling the blade himself. We bandaged him and gave him something to ease his discomfort. King Marek slipped into unconsciousness. I commend the healer's efforts, but he is no god. It is in their hands now. I fear they look elsewhere. The king will be dead before the night is through."

Dellan listened to the steward’s words, haunted by the scene he described playing out in his mind. His heart beat faster as his jaw clenched, over and over, and his hands balled into fists. He felt like he was about to enter a battle. He remembered that same feeling before many such battles, King Marek at his side.

Was he able to say anything? Dellan asked, desperate to know who could have done this to their king.

He did. The look on Steward Grynne’s face was one that Dellan had never before seen. It was a look of horror, wide-eyed and terrifying. Two words. It took time to understand him. His voice was so strained. I... He faltered.

Steel yourself, Steward, Dellan said, kneeling before the old man. Tell me.

He said, ‘My son.’

DELLAN STOOD BEFORE the door, lightly fingering the pommel of the longsword sheathed on his left hip and the dagger on his right. He knew what he must do. Tonight he held the fate of the Kingdom of Jaliel in his palm. Life’s winding river was taking another twist, this time rushing straight at Dellan with the most difficult of choices. This should not be his decision to make. Men more skilled in kingdom affairs should be in control, but it would come down to politics as usual. Physical and mental strength the knight understood, but politics he avoided at all costs, its underhanded scheming ways too much for him to stomach.

He scratched his graying beard, a practiced stroke repeated countless times. His late wife often joked about that habit, warning others not to disturb her husband when she saw his hand reach his chin. With that simple movement, she knew his mind was lost in another time and place. His eyes glazed over and his thoughts reached into the past.

HIS MIND'S EYE TOOK him back to the side of a young King Marek, riding into battle. Their horses streaked a path across the dusty plain, the sun reflecting off their silver plate armor. It was a beautiful day, clear and warm. Their enemy awaited in the distance, confident in their ability to stop Marek’s army. They would soon learn otherwise.

Dellan worried about his king’s insistence on leading the charge. Most kings before Marek would stay behind when at war, barking out orders hundreds