Swords with Souls
A Medieval Fantasy Fiction Story
(Adult Content)
By Dan Watt
A Motely Sisterhood of Pirates!
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Cover of Swords with Souls by Darren Joy
(Author of the Plagueborn series)
Where Is Endellion?
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She looks around at the depth of the room. It went quite deep into the hill. There were tarps with slits in the centre hanging from one side of the room suggesting bedrooms hidden behind. There long oak beams supporting the roof. Thin boards of strapping ran kitty corner to the beams, likely with slate overtop to keep the dirt from the sod from falling through. Long pine tables with benches covered the centre of the room. She recognized Sir Oliver’s mother and some of his other uncles and aunts.
“Hello,” she heard a teenage sounding voice call from outside. “Oliver and two others approach.”
“Excuse me,” Sir Oliver’s father said brushing past her.
A short moment later, Sir Oliver followed by Endellion and Sir Oisin enter the house. Endellion glances at her than Crimthann. “Congrats Uncle Crimthann and Aunt Swan on your marriage,” Endellion says mischievously
She stares at Endellion’s face. The quarter-eared woman no longer has a furious hate in her eyes.
“We were planning to,” fumbles out of Crimthann’s mouth.
“Endellion and I are married,” Sir Oliver says dryly, “But strictly platonically since she believes we’re siblings.”
“He’s also married to Lara, her sister, and also her mother,” Endellion adds.
“And you, Sir Oisin?” she asks.
With a sly grin she hears him say, “Not yet.”
She embraces Endellion tightly. The girl has been through so much. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“We can’t stay,” she hears Sir Oliver say in a solemn tone. “I need to ask the giants and dwarves to help the kingdom fight off Sir Ganbold and likely now Sir Afamefuna’s army.”
“What?” Sir Oliver mother’s ask. She has thick grey hair tied up in a bun with a few strands of auburn. The sides of her eyes have laughing wrinkles as does the skin at the side of her lips. She is a robust woman with a round bosom and hips but a narrow waist. Her eyes though, are a dark penetrating blue. “Why are friends and comrades fighting against each other?”
“I’ll explain tonight but first thing tomorrow we must be on our way,” Sir Oliver says, sitting on a bench while one of his cousins passes him a pewter mug of mead. “I’ll have to leave the farm in your hands while I’m gone. Every man is to train with bow and sword daily now,” she hears him say towards his father. “Uncle,” he says towards Crimthann, “I could truly use your help in negotiating with the giants and dwarves. Sir Olaf also wants them to help change the direction of the river.”
“I will,” she hears Crimthann reply. “But I’m not sure they should be encouraged to be on Sir Olaf’s side.”
“You mean the kingdom’s?” Sir Oliver says.
“No, I mean Sir Olaf’s. I know I’m putting my neck out here but there’s nothing good about the current regent. And we already know what happens when rivers are diverted from their natural flow. Buttigieg Gardenery has been haunted ever since and the surrounding land foul.”
“Whose side should they be on?” Sir Oliver asks with annoyance in his voice.
“Yours,” she says before Crimthann can. “Stop the coming war and absolutely stop the river from being diverted.”
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