Letter From The Editor - Issue 56 - April 2017

Bookmark and Share

My Account
Submissions
About IGMS / Staff
E-mail this page
Write to Us

 


Issue 10
Stories
Sweetly the Dragon Dreams
by David Farland
The Fort in Vermont
by David A. Simons
The Tile Setters
by Ami Chopine
A Heretic by Degrees
by Marie Brennan
The Absence of Stars
by Greg Siewert
Pi
by Mette Ivie Harrison
The Robot Sorcerer
by Eric James Stone
Tales for the Young and Unafraid
InterGalactic Medicine Show Interviews

Writing Fantasy

For complete access to IGMS...

Existing Users - Please Log In

Register
Log in   Password
Register
keep me logged in         Login Help

Register Register
New Users

Create an Account

-   -   -   -   P   r   e   v   i   e   w   -   -   -   -

Sweetly the Dragon Dreams
    by David Farland
Sweetly the Dragon Dreams
Artwork by Julie Dillon

Life finds a way. We dropped planet-killers on Mursadoni, scorching all three continents, and when I returned forty-two years later, the land was covered with green ferns that provided food for clouds of lightning moths.

So I have searched the heavens further. On Remiseas, nine hundred years after its immolation, I found forests and birds and lizards -- all which should have been decimated -- and I discovered new life forms rising from the ashes of the old.

On Danai, the infestation was much worse. A few of the higher life forms were gone, but after six thousand years I found wide variations in the flora and fauna. Included among the survivors is a thriving population of humans led by a hive of skraals. My supply of planet-killers and sunbusters has been exhausted. I will drop flash-heads into the hive with the hope that the resultant nuclear contamination will wipe out the skraals' queen. Further steps will be required to eradicate the biological contaminations. . . .

-- final transmission from the cycor drone ship Death's Head

In the dry days on Danai, the moon lures the damselfly nymphs from the slow-flowing waters. Soft of flesh they come, minute hunters from the marsh, climbing ashen stalks of cattails or perchance some slender green reed.

At the rising of the sun they settle at the base of a frond, letting the light take them and transform them, until their old bones crack and their new form breaks free.

For a moment they will hesitate, poised, their new wings still wet, waxen and thrumming, as they examine their own glory.

Soft new carapaces shine in the sunlight -- glimmering like cinnabar or rubies, or the green of dappled leaves.

That is how young Tallori found them that summer morning as she waded along the shores of the marsh. The rising sun hung like a golden shield upon the shoulders of the world, and the young damselflies just seemed to be waiting for her to pluck them from their perches.

She had caught nearly a hundred in a dozen different hues, and placed them in a reed basket. She was happy to be catching them. One silver penny for every five damselflies Tallori was to be paid. She could make a small fortune in a few weeks.

Tallori was a bright child, but not bright enough. She had not been found worthy of schooling. She was a mere human, and thus far inferior to skraals that ruled Danai.

The damselflies were to be food for the Holy Maiden Seramasia, and Tallori was grateful to be of service, for not only would she make more than she had ever dreamed, she would also be assisting a goddess.

Tallori was large of bone for an eight-year-old girl. Her hair was as bright yellow as the sunlight, and her eyes, set deep beneath her brow, were greener than the sea. She sang a rhyme as she picked the damselflies from the stalks:

"A blue one to ease my lady's cares,
"A red one to make her grow.
"A white one to match her skin so fair,
"A gold one to make her glow!"

That is when she found the monster. Tallori tiptoed over a break in the cattails, a space less than ten yards across, when she noticed how rough the ground felt beneath her feet. The dark water was as brown as her father's beer, and one could not see through it. But sometimes she could feel clams in the mud with her toes, or find small freshwater crabs to eat. But the rough surface made her wonder.

She stopped for a moment to pick a scab from her knee and eat it. That's when she looked down, saw a vast eye, and let out a scream.

For Complete Access to IGMS Subscribe Now!     or     Log in


Home | My Account / Log Out | Submissions | Index | Contact | About IGMS | Linking to Us | IGMS Store | Forum
        Copyright © 2017 Hatrack River Enterprises   Web Site Hosted and Designed by WebBoulevard.com