David McLeod
-
Posts
1,560 -
Joined
-
Last visited
Content Type
Forums
Stories
- Stories
- Story Series
- Story Worlds
- Story Collections
- Story Chapters
- Chapter Comments
- Story Reviews
- Story Comments
- Stories Edited
- Stories Beta'd
Blogs
Store
Help Center
Writing
Gallery
Events
Everything posted by David McLeod
-
The letter Sandar carried from his father to the Temple at Elvenhold secured them lodging and food. The letter he carried from the duke secured an audience with the king—as soon as he returned. It seemed that King Oberon was making a Progress to Barbicana and Rome to show the people the prince, who had only recently become a boy and been designated heir. “How long until he returns?” Phillip had asked. “Perhaps two months,” the seneschal had replied, “perhaps six.” Phillip sighed in frust
-
The reflections of the clouds and of the trees that lined its banks painted the river’s face. Phillip sat in the bow of the third boat to carry the name, Xander. Argon’s voice, soft at his side, jerked him from his thoughts. “Do you remember how I was overwhelmed by all the boys in Javari and Maranon’s village? We found out it was because of my talent?” Argon asked. Phillip watched the water slide under the prow. He nodded, and Argon continued. “I think you feel the same way, now.” Argon
-
A flock of seagulls signaled that land was near. Argon marked his log. “We’ve sailed for two months, and a tenday,” he said. “And likely have covered 4,000 stadia. Xander was much faster than I thought she’d be.” About 3,200 miles, Phillip thought. About the distance across the Atlantic. Now, the prevailing wind blew Xander due west. The white swallowtail pennon seemed to pull the boat through the sea, straight toward the harbor. The only canvas they carried was the mainsail, and
- 1 comment
-
- 15
-
-
Javari and Maranon’s family were at the stone quay. The acolytes with whom the boys had trained, and the senior cleric stood with them. The new Xander, filled with supplies, rode low in the water. The boys had taken her on several short voyages, to test her and to familiarize themselves with her, and Javari had pronounced her seaworthy. “Shipshape and Bristol fashion,” was Phillip’s assessment. The boys had laughed, and asked him to translate it into their language. “Um, it’s an idiom,” he said.
-
Phillip Windrider, a human boy from the Athabascan Nation of Earth, and Maranon, an elven boy from the island of Solimoes on a world far distant from Phillip’s, sat side by side on a seawall. The seawall protected the fishing village that was Maranon’s home. Maranon took off his shoes as soon as he sat, and flexed his toes with relish. “Why do you not like to wear shoes?” Phillip asked. “Bare feet provide a better grip on a boat,” Maranon said. “And I’ve spent many more hours on a boat t
- 1 comment
-
- 14
-
-
Phillip Windrider, a boy of the Athabascan nation of Earth, finds himself on a world in which magic, elves, and perhaps dragons, are real.
-
The trade caravan with which Phillip and his companions traveled had encamped in a large meadow at a bend in the river. A company of Rom were already there, but welcomed the caravaneers. “They are the Dan of Willow,” the Caravan Master told the boys. “We meet them often on this road. Fought beside them more than once, too. Still, don’t flash wealth, and don’t let them get you into a game of cards or dice.” ***** “There is a story,” the old woman said. If it’s like the oth
- 1 comment
-
- 13
-
-
The four scruffy boys attracted no attention at the gates of Kassel than any of the other poorly dressed peasants who streamed into town. Openly concealed in the crowd, the boys passed into the city. Had the guards looked closer, they might have wondered why the boys’ eyes were so wide, and why their mouths hung open. Had the boys lingered, they might occasionally have seen the guards inspect a wagon or two. Had they looked closely, they’d have seen the small bribes that passed from wagoner to
-
The boys had not been challenged when they entered Whitten. Ian had taken the truffles. “It’s best if I go alone,” he said. “Wait for me…” “I’ll give you a penny for each, boy,” the Masterbrewer said. “Looks to be thirty of them. Let’s say two silver shillings tupence.” “You’ll use them in your ale, and make a hundred times that on the flavor, alone,” Ian said. “Ten shillings is more like it.” “What do you know about brewing, boy?” the man asked, his eyes narrowing. “I lived on a far
-
“Do it again, Ulee, and this time, don’t make so much noise. Concentrate the magic, and don’t let it get away from you,” Ian said. The boys were walking down a game trail through the verdant woods. Ian, who was in the lead, swung a quarterstaff, occasionally batting back a vine that encroached upon the trail. Ulee’s brow furrowed as the boy thought an illusion; a giant spider appeared a few feet in front of Ian. The older boy, accustomed by now to Ulee’s illusions, and able to see the magic w
-
“We’ll leave the river, here,” Ian said. He pointed to a valley that led toward the north. In cross-section, the valley was about 30 feet deep. It was about 80 feet wide at the top, and flat on the bottom. Had either boy been able to read, he might have recognized the shape as a broad letter U. “Uncle Tarr says that the river once ran along this channel, until there was a great flood. He also says that there used to be farms along where the river used to run. They were abandoned when the river
-
“They’ve started the harvest,” Ian said as they neared the fields. “The wheat and corn stalks have been gathered into stooks. If they’re like most farmers, they will be glad of help. We can probably stay here for a few days, working the fields in exchange for bed and board, and some food to take with us on the road. I think we should do that.” Ian looked at Ulee, who seemed unsettled. Ian knelt, took Ulee’s hands, and looked the boy in the eyes. “Hedgehog, we can’t get all the way to Witten eat
-
Nana’s eldest son answered her summons. Although this man, Ian’s father, had inherited the farm when Nana’s husband died, Nana was still the head of the family. “Listen, son,” Nana said as she gestured before the man’s eyes. “Ian has the wanderlust. He will leave tomorrow. You will be sorry to see him leave. You know he will face uncertainty and danger, but you have been a good father. You have prepared him to meet whatever he may encounter. You will comfort your wife and daughter, and still an
-
Ulee woke to see an old woman’s face. Her eyes looked intently into his. “Who are you?” the boy asked. “Are you the Sorter? Please, don’t send me back yet. I don’t want to be a mage!” “Hush, boy,” a soft and sibilant voice said. “I’m not the Sorter…you didn’t die. I’m Ian’s grandmother.” Seeing that Ulee was still puzzled, she added, “Ian was the boy who found you in the barn. He saw that you were a mage and told me. You were about to die from hunger and cold. We brought you into the house. Yo
- 1 comment
-
- 10
-
-
Ulee crouched in a ditch. The water that filled the ditch reached his chin. Mud squished between his bare toes. More mud plastered his lank hair to his face. The thud of leather-shod feet on the stone road and an occasional clatter of weapons heralded the approach of soldiers. Dense fog and a constant drizzle of rain dampened their voices except for the curses. I hope they don’t have a Finder, Ulee thought. He closed his eyes and imagined. I’m a hedgehog, a small, prickly hedgehog. I’m just a h
- 4 comments
-
- 13
-
-
Four boys—an Empath, an Illusionist, a Druid, and a Thief—encounter a dragon and find much more than treasure.
-
“Why,” Ulee asked, “does your cartouche” the boy struggled with this new word. “Why does your cartouche contain a crow and a donjon? How do they and the grapes make Marion?” Marion chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. Ulee was sitting in Marion’s lap. A low fire burned in the grate. Even in summer, night in Kassel was cold, and autumn was approaching. “Grapes? Oh, they’re not grapes, but I’m not surprised you don’t recognize them. Many of those who have lived on the mountain all their lives thi
- 3 comments
-
- 10
-
-
Kim was a thief to begin with. He was a very good thief. He was, to put it plainly, an honorable thief who followed the tenets of the Thieves Guild. He did not follow them blindly, or from fear of punishment by the Guildmaster. He did not follow them because he was a conformist. Indeed, he understood well what few of his fellows understood at all: that to be a proper thief was to be a nonconformist. He understood that the tenets defined the extreme limits of his behavior. Kim also understood tha
-
In the tradition of Rudyard Kipling, a boy who is a thief becomes a spy.
-
Stories on World The dates below are approximate and are usually based on the interpretation of data in the original manuscripts from which the translators worked. Few stories contain a reference to a date. Arcadian dates commonly are determined from the first spring equinox after the coronation of an Arcadian prince. The Elvish calendar is largely non-existent. Few stories contain information allowing them to be dated precisely. “BP” means “Before Present”; “AP” means “After Present.” Because
-
When did what happen? Many people have asked for a timeline for these stories. Here's the best that's available, right now.
-
King Croesus of Lydia, then the richest man in the world, asked the Greek sage, Solon, who was the happiest man Solon knew. Solon told of a man of modest but adequate means, who lived in a good city, who saw his children grow to adulthood and have children of their own, who died in battle defending his city, and who was buried at public expense. This was not the answer Croesus expected, nor the one he wanted. Hoping that Solon would name Croesus, himself as a happy man, the king asked Solo
- 1 comment
-
- 10
-
-
Turbulence buffeted the DHC-2 Beaver. The radio direction finder showed an emergency beacon nearby. Paul held firmly to the wheel. Beside him, Larry split his attention between a map and the instruments. “I’ve got our location,” Larry called over the engine. “The beacon’s somewhere on the south slope of that peak. No name on the map.” “Call it in,” Paul said. “I’ll move in a little closer—see if we can spot wreckage.” Larry nodded, and keyed the radio. “J’ville Sheriff, J’ville Sheriff
-
The Unitarian Church of Jacksonville had the largest social hall, and its fellowship group had the best cooks. When the Unitarians hosted the monthly meeting of the Ecumenical Council, attendance was high. Dr. Malcolm, the senior Presbyterian minister, and current chairman, welcomed the group. “About twenty years, ago, when I was preaching at a little church in Georgia, I hosted an ecumenical meeting. There were only four of us there: a Catholic, a Baptist, a Methodist, and myself. I like a
- 2 comments
-
- 15
-
-
-
-
-
-
Paul’s Journal The local Evangelicals and Pentecostals hadn’t given up on the LGBT Alliance, but it did take them some time to get their act together. It seemed that there were as many sects as there were members, and getting them to get together in a united front was harder than I would have imagined. Finally, they petitioned to be allowed to address the school board. Mrs. Goodman told me, and said I should be there to respond. ***** “You won’t let our children pray in the classr
