Two stories up today! First, “With Wings to Fly”, a shape-shifting take on King Arthur and his infamous foster brother, Cai. This is part of Shifting Back, the latest in Rob Knight’s Shifting series of anthologies.
An excerpt:
Cai stared at the tent wall, his eyes not seeing the roughly woven wool in front of him. From the inside, it didn’t look like the pavilion of a war chieftain, not even one of the Pen Draig clan. The only evidence of status was the standard that hung above Artur’s empty pallet–a red dragon, wings spread, on a field of white. A little presumptuous, since Artur himself wasn’t even at the camp right now. But even if he was, Myrddin wouldn’t risk Artur’s safety, or the surprise of their attack, by flying the long-unseen banner of the Pen Draig clan. Not since Uther’s death had it flown in battle. Not since Uther’s death, at the hands of the father of the man they faced now, had the Pen Draig name called the men of Gwynedd to battle.
But Artur wasn’t there to rally the men. Not yet. Not the true Artur.
“Cai?” Myrddin’s voice shook him out of his reverie. “It’s time, bach.”
Cai nodded. He stripped off his tunic and trews, leaving them on his pallet. Artur’s ring he kissed once before dropping it on top of his clothes. He shivered in the chill morning air. “Aye, cyfarwydd. I’m ready.”
Myrddin stood on his toes, leaning up to kiss Cai’s forehead. “For luck, bach. Bring him back to us.”
“We won’t lose another Pen Draig,” Cai said, closing his eyes. “I promise.”
Pain lanced through his body, his very bones shifting and shrinking. His skeleton curved and bent in ways it wasn’t meant to, his arms spreading, spreading until they felt as if they would break. His skin itched as feathered quills began to cover his naked limbs. As Cai opened his mouth to scream, the raucous cry of a falcon was heard.
“Fly high, bach,” Myrddin urged as he opened the tent flap. “Fly high and bring our boy back.”
***
And then my contribution to the Halloween Sips Blitz, Positions Vacant:
It hadn’t been bad for a Halloween night, and a rainy Halloween night at that. No teenagers had egged his door this year. No one had smashed the Charlie Brown of a lopsided pumpkin he’d carved a half-assed face into just minutes before he’d shoved it outside with a candle crammed down its throat. Er, mouth. And hey, he still had candy left, which meant he’d done something right this year. All Hallows wasn’t too bad, once you divorced it from the neo-pagan rituals of your roots and let it exist in its purely commercial birthright. Especially when it meant a night off from classes, since no college student in their right mind would pass up one last chance at trick or treating.
So Adrian sat by himself, folding laundry and enjoying the benefits of what had been a deserted laundry room for a change. Until his doorbell rang.
And someone deposited what looked like, for all intents and purposes, a demon prince on his doorstep.
Adrian stared at the demon–er, man–that stood just outside his door, taking in the dark hair, the dark clothing, even the dark leathery wings seemed to spring from the guy’s shoulders. Someone had obviously done his research, or at least checked out every Monster Manual that Wizards of the Coast ever put out. Damn his parents, and the fact that they considered gaming manuals proper reading material for bedtime stories. And of course the guy had to be kinda hot. Or very hot. Especially for someone who looked like a demon prince. “Look, just because it’s been awhile since… well, y’know…”
The demon prince stared at him blankly. Adrian, noticing that the demon’s eyes seemed bright yellow in the porch light, shook his head and tried again. “They shouldn’t have put you up to this. I mean, the costume’s fantastic, but…”
The blank look was now uncertain. He had to admit that costume was one of the best he’d ever seen, and this was coming from someone whose parents were die-hard Rennies and whose sister had done enough prosthetic work both in and out of Hollywood to outfit an entire army of hobbits and elves. Even though it was a dark and stormy night, none of the demon’s makeup had run and his prosthetics, even the black horns affixed to his forehead, were still immaculately in place.
“Look, d’you wanna at least come in out of the rain? I still have some candy, and I can fix you a cup of cider or something.” Adrian gently took the demon by the arm, all but dragging him into his apartment. There was no resistance, which surprised him. Either the rain had shocked the poor guy more than he thought, or the guy was a damned good actor. If Holly sent him, since she knew half of gay Hollywood anyway, it was probably the acting bit. If not…
Hope you enjoy!
The Stronghold: Kara Larson's Writing Blog 