The Basement Crowd.

My eyes met hers across the basement as the lights started to flicker under the stamping of the merry, dancing crowd. As the music grew louder the stamping and chanting in time with the tempo increased, I picked up a glass of firewater and downed it in one, the liquid burned as it gushed down my throat but the rich kick of the fiery apricot was pleasing. I didn't know her name but my god she was beautiful, my eyes caught her gaze again and I stepped forward towards her but the dancers were too many and too strong so I edged around the dancing partners and into the shadows as I made my way over to her. I held out my hand and she reached for it, her skin was white as snow and as my hand clasped hers I felt the adrenaline surge through my body as my stomach did flips, for that brief moment we were alone and I led her out to the dance floor where we locked together, her fair hair shimmered in the light from the lanterns on the ceiling and her lips were redder than a rose newly into bloom, her dress swayed with a motion of desire and her eyes were like fireworks in a winter night sky. 

She was stunning, she was everything I had ever desired and more. The music reached new heights of volume and the saxophone's song played to us faithful listeners and as the tempo changed, and our feet took a new direction my body pressed against hers and I could feel her heartbeat like a drum. She led me away from the dance-floor and pushed me up against a wall, she kissed me and I kissed her back with my hands on her cheek, brushing her smooth skin as our noses touched and we stared into each other's eyes, I felt a rush as I soared out of the basement and into the sweet Autumn's night. 

You could never have guessed, looking upon the basement's events with lanterns shining on the ceiling and ivy plants crawling up the walls and candles littering the windowsills, shelves and bar that it was our last night, our last night on Earth.

Riders of the Black Thorn

The fires flickered in the shower of rain and the tents that surrounded each were filled with the noise of laughs and shouts and the clinking of cups. Scattered around were hundreds of caskets of wine and most were empty, soldiers lay laughing in the mud and others were wandering towards the treeline, falling every few steps. The celebrations of the battles that day would last long into the night, others were leaning on flag poles and the light from the fires that were dotted around the encampment lit up the clans banners; pieces of a sword through a mountain of clan Nine Blades, the paw print in the snow of clan Frost Fox, and the armoured bear of clan Steel Bear. 

The scout returned to Rark, son of Hidir Locop and leader of the Black Thorn clan to confirm it was indeed a legion of the Trinity Alliance camped down by River Red, Rark mounted his horse and placed his helmet on his head. The rain started to pour as the horses started to canter with Rark slightly ahead, leading the riders forward as he yelled;
  "Riders! Riders of the Black Thorn! We ride now into a sea of Foxes and Blades and Bears!"
Thunder rang out and echoed over the wind and around the trees, the banners billowed in the wind,
  "I have known all of you all my life, I grew up with you and trained with you. These treacherous enemies have taken many lives this war and now they come here, to our land! They burn our villages down and slaughter our sons, our daughters, our sisters and our brothers. It's our time now!
The horses started to gallop, Rark drew his sword and stood high on his horse,
  "And they will know the fear as the skies open and the lightning strikes, we will bear down on them like the ocean in a storm!
Hundreds of other riders drew their swords and picked up their shields from the sides of their mounts, the rumble of the horses grew louder as they approached their targets.
  "We will strangle them like Thorns around a throat! We are the reapers in the night! We are the riders of the Black Thorn!"

A sentry that had been posted at the camp who had not partaken in the evening's festivities was shocked as the line of riders charged into view barely moments from his position, he turned to run but just as he started to shout an axe ripped through his skull and the riders tore through the encampment. Before the Trinity's legionnaires could get out from their beds they were slaughtered, a small few who had also skipped out on the drinking tried to surrender with their arms raised but they too were speared and split to vicious laughter.

As morning dawned upon the camp hundreds of tents were ablaze, and hundreds more soldiers were placed on banner poles of the Black Thorn, some still drawing breath, blood oozing from their mouths, eyes and nose, they were disfigured and many had entire limbs removed.  

Prologue.

The vast and beautiful world of Albarith was once ruled from the mountains that reached the clouds to the beaches that touched the swift seas by just one clan; the clan of The Night's Eye. The leader of this clan took in two unrelated orphans and raised them as his own, they both took different paths in life and eventually when they came of age started their own clans; Clan Storm Claw and Clan Silver Talon. Over time more and more clans surfaced from the sons of leaders among these clans. Albarith was divided up by the elders of The Night's Eye who only now served the land as a council as they were the wisest and oldest.

Legend has it that the Storm Claws became more jealous and greedy, they tried to take more land for themselves and in the process started a war that lasted for nearly eighteen years, and became known as the War of Storms, during this war many thousands of lives were lost and some clans themselves were completely erased from the world, Mhiock, the leader of the Storm Claws had turned mad over the years after dabbling in the practices of dark magic, after his three sons died in battle he burned their sisters alive while chanting "the balance must be met" and he murdered his wife by sealing her in a cast of iron and slowly lowered into a pit of molten rock. During the siege of Tolpnarth, the Storm Claw's final stronghold and capital Mhiock was killed and the rest of the clan surrendered, to set an example of what was to happen, Mhiock's brothers were all executed and hung up around the walls for nearly a year. The wounds of war took time to heal but eventually the elders and other clans forgave and relationships grew strong again and the dark magical artefacts that led Mhiock to insanity were locked away deep underground and the practice or very mention of these artefacts was outlawed.

For nearly one hundred and sixty years the world was peaceful, but it would not stay that way...

One Last Flight

A man sheltered from the sun one summer's evening, sitting on a bench beneath a tower of branches and leaves, the book by his side was a work of fiction and an old dog rested his head by the man's slippers.

A cool breeze sailed through the blades of grass and the birdsong followed.

The man looked to the sky as a bomber flew overhead displaying its colours, and still, long after it had passed.

                        

He imagined it as it dived and danced through the air, the jet engines roaring proudly as it pushed through the clouds and the beautifully painted metal shimmered in the light. The bomber dipped and dived and rolled, it climbed the skies and dodged the currents like a path of light in a hurricane, the air passed over the metal work like the tide of a beach over a stone, lost among itself.

The bomber knew no time, it had no destination and no meaning, it could go anywhere and everywhere, the man knew not where the plane was going except that it was on its own journey for one last flight, the bird of prey in a peaceful flight. The Vulcan sailed like birdsong one last, summer's night.

Tribute for my father, David Canning.

The Sword of the Crow

The icy wind was sharp on Talyar's cheeks, snow billowed around his head and a hand reached down towards his face who was on one knee leaning on his sword and with his other hand on the arrow in his thigh, he reached for the hand and it pulled him to his feet, Black Foot stood looking at him with a look of disbelief,
 "Talon, it's you! I was sure you were dead!"
Grey Claw spoke from behind Talon,
 "Ain't nothing that can kill our Talyar. I once saw him kill a pack of wolves with nothing but a rock. We are glad you were here our thanks to the Silver Talons, brother."
Talon pulled the arrow from his thigh, slid the sword into the sheath on his back and spoke out as he looked around, it was hard to tell the difference between the ice, mud and armour of the countless fallen. Flags littering the battlefield, sticking out of the ground at obscure angles, there were thousands of bodies; horses and men all lying still,
 "Walk with me, Grey Claw, Ny'aa."
They walked across the field, the grass beneath their boots shattered like needles of glass under a hammer. Banners lay in the mud, trails of blood frozen in the ice.
 "How many? How many did they send?"
 "Nearly three thousand, would have slaughtered us if the Silver Talons hadn't shown up. I'm sorry about your men, Talyar"
Talon nodded, while removing another arrow from his chest,
 "They will be remembered. They knew what they were riding in to and who they were riding for."

The winds picked up and the icy shards sailed through the air, rattling the armour and piercing the flags that billowed in the wind,  
 "Grey Claw!"
Black Foot was running towards them from behind,
 "It's coming!
Black Foot was shrouded in mist and they heard the sound of a man's scream as a blade was drawn. Talon and Grey Claw stood together, facing the mist in stance, ready to fight. A long haired man walked out of the snow storm in front of them, his cloak was long and ripped and his head hung down he carried a staff in one hand and a sword in another. Grey Claw shouted into the howling wind,
 "Who are you?!"
The man kept walking forward, dragging his staff across the floor, Grey Claw drew his sword and stepped forward, the blade outstretched. The man stopped walking and raised his staff, but stood motionless. Grey Claw and Wildclaw both charged forwards and then man slammed his staff into the ice, Wildclaw was launched back with a huge burst of force, as he looked up and back towards the sorcerer he noticed Grey Claw frozen in mid air, stems of snow white ice branching off him in all directions holding him up in the air. The sorcerer raised his sword and hundreds of wolves walked forwards out of the snow storm from all sides, Talon knelt, leaning on his sword again, a piece of ice in his waist, he drew his other sword from his hip and slid his helmet visor down, as he stepped forward slowly, gaining speed he spoke muttered under his breath,
 "A talon in the ice, a feather in the snow, a roll of the dice, the sword of the crow."