sword and sorcery

The streets of the village were empty as Meriama and Sabit entered. Even the tight-bellied dogs and ravenous goats kept themselves outside the stockade, despite half a dozen breaches in its wooden expanse. “See here,” Meriama said, pointing to the wooden lintel above the doorway of an empty village hut. Crudely carved into the wood … Read more

When Sabit was strong enough to leave her healing bed, she sought out Meriama in the outer courtyard of the Sisterhood’s compound. The crack of splitting wood resounded in the air. In a far corner, the leader of the Sisterhood of the Lioness held a heavy axe in her one good hand. With a single … Read more

The next day, Dessine came to visit Sabit. The chief hunter of the Pride showed no scars from her defeat at the hands of the sorcerer. Her easy gait was like an unspoken challenge to Sabit’s own slow recovery. The spear woman had barely risen from her bed since waking. The wound at her shoulder … Read more

Sabit struggled under the weight of slumber, reluctant to awaken. She knew that a dull, throbbing ache awaited her in the waking world—her injured shoulder a nagging reminder of her failure before the sorcerer. Sabit hated failure. There was nothing commendable about hiding from her failures in the deep semi-doze of a healing sleep, but … Read more

For Dessine, trapped in the sorcerer’s spell, his wordless singing stretched to all eternity and beyond. Her life, open to the sorcerer’s unflinching gaze, was like a drop of rain before the endless ocean. She was nothing. He was everything. The song rose in pitch and tempo. The future beckoned. The blood she would spill … Read more

Kneeling alongside the fallen Dessine, the sorcerer shifted the tone and volume of his chant back to its previous soft, low rumble. He leaned over the chief huntress until the ends of his long hair—stringy and purest white—touched her face. The sour stink of his breath mingled with the low vibration of his wordless song … Read more

With a single powerful swipe of her sword, Dessine lopped the head from the shoulders of the boy who had felled Sabit. Leaping over Sabit’s crumpled form, the chief huntress of the Pride charged toward the village center. Her high-pitched war-cry overwhelmed the sorcerer’s low, soft chanting. Keeping her eyes low, Dessine ran straight toward … Read more

The eyes of the villagers were wide and bloodshot and devoid of awareness. Their fists and feet struck Dessine and Sabit without the skill and strength of those trained in the ways of battle. But the villagers’ numbers could not be denied as they piled on the two fallen warriors. Sabit parried and blocked the … Read more

Sabit’s arm would not move. Her head would not turn. Her eyes would not blink. The sorcerer’s gaze bored into her skull like a dagger. Sabit’s muscles were locked as tight and unflinching as if she had been bound in steel chains. The mass of enthralled villagers turned and charged toward the spear woman. Sabit’s … Read more