Completed Works
By Christopher Mitchell Wire Pick kept his ears open and his eyes in the stars as Booker plodded toward the lights on the side of the mountain. Mattock walked beside Cripple, giving the horse an opportunity to rest its back from carrying his heavy Irish ass. He whistled softly, arm draped over the nape of…
By Christopher Mitchell Part Two Her name had been Bright Moon, and Broken Spear had loved her all his life. Her father had protested the loss of his only daughter to the hunter’s persistent determination, but he was hers and she was his, and Broken Spear could not…would not…be assuaged of this fact. Twin-River eventually…
By Christopher Mitchell The sky was on fire. From above, as the planet erupted in a ball of bright blue flame, war raged in the aether. Fleet Destroyers painted the black void with yellow-orange tongues of light, exploding silently as the vacuum consumed them. The expanding ball of flame flashed vividly against the backdrop of…
New to the Site? Catch Up Below By Christopher Mitchell Twelve Marcus cinched the last of their belongings to the back of Sceppio. Falbreth was already mounted, though it had taken Argos some coercion to allow the boy on his back. The horse was displeased that his long-time rider had not returned to claim him….
New to the Site? Catch Up Below By Christopher Mitchell Eleven The Blue King raged. The whelp had proven to be more cunning than he thought possible; his queen would not be pleased. He paced in front of the mouth of the cavern, the large one laying still on the other side of those…
By Christoper Mitchell Ten Marcus’ breathing was deep, though unlabored. He looked as if he were resting peacefully, the images of Adrianople no longer clawing at his dreams. Peck placed his hand on Marcus’ forehead, not knowing what else to do. He had memories of his mother, so long ago, doing something similar to his…
By Christopher Mitchell Nine Peck awoke with a start, realizing he’d drifted to sleep at some point during his watch. The sun had risen over the ruins of the village, the huts they’d set ablaze in the night now skeletal kindling and ash, sending streaks of smoke to drift lazily into the grey-cloaked sky. His…
By Christopher Mitchell Eight Tiberius heard the Maraughin scream in pain in his mind. The boy crumpled atop him, the remaining lamias scattering as Marcus’ blade swung out above him in those wide arcs. Tiberius screamed below the writhing body of the boy, who screamed as well. Peck had missed the heart, the pilum still…
By Christopher Mitchell Six “He’s Mine.” Marcus meant the words. This demon would not take Peck; he felt a kinship with the boy. He knelt, fighting a sword from the rigid fingers of a dead Roman. He rose…and sensed the boy’s fear. “Courage, young Peck. You will survive this…” Peck felt him grip the sword…
By Christopher Mitchell Five Tiberius dropped his sword, falling to Marcus’ side and shaking him. “Marcus! MARCUS!” He slumbers, dear Tiberius. Tiberius withdrew his dagger, holding it out to stave off the voice that cut into his mind like whispering knives. “Who are you?” He heard cackling in the air around him, of many voices…