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 44
Stories
Look After Your Brother
by Holliann R. Kim
Broodmother
by Jakob Drud
A Good Mother
by Andrea G. Stewart
The Crow's Word
by Stephen Case
The Last HammerSong
by Edmund R. Schubert
IGMS Audio
At the Picture Show: Extended Cut
Bring Out your dead
by Chris Bellamy
InterGalactic Medicine Show Interviews
Vintage Fiction
A Place for Heroes
by Myke Cole

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   -   -   -   -

A Place for Heroes
    by Myke Cole

The sky is black with feathered shafts. I feel a thousand trembling bowstrings stirring the air long before I hear them.

" 'Ware arrows!"

"Shields up!"

My shield goes up out of instinct, not that it can protect much. There is little left of it after all this time; a few scraps of worm eaten wood, a battered and rusted metal center.

Three or four of the darts pierce my arm, one my shoulder. Only one remains lodged this time. The pain has become second nature by now. It is the same tale told yet again to long-suffering nerves. Hearing nothing new in the bard's voice, they listen only with the least of their attention.

Illugi rushes past me, axe held high. The notches in the axe-head are so deep that I wonder when it will break in two. But there is no shortage of weapons littering the battlefiled. "At them, Einarr!" he cries. Illugi charges into the fray as befits a hero.

I should follow. I am a hero as well. We are all heroes here.

This place is the final reward for heroism.

My father would be ecstatic. I thought I saw him once in the throng, his cracked teeth grinning over a dirty beard, overjoyed at his good fortune. His voice still echoes in my mind: With your sword in hand, boy! With your sword in hand or not at all!

Yes, papa. The arrow has lodged behind my collarbone, making it hard to move.

I stop Ofeigr as he passes. Half his face is gone. What remains peers at me from beneath a leather cap so rotten that it is hard to distinguish from his own moldering scalp. "Pull this out, will you?" I ask, pointing to the arrow. He pauses only to snap off the shaft, and hurries on. There is a battle to be fought.

And fought.

And fought.

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