9 Tales From Elsewhere 12 by 9 Tales From Elsewhere

Author:9 Tales From Elsewhere [Elsewhere, 9 Tales From]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-29T22:00:00+00:00

Frederick had long since removed his shirt by the time he arrived back home. Were it not for the occasional neighbor tending their fields, or heading out for the day, he'd have removed his pants as well. Even with his bare torso, the midday heat still beat relentlessly down on him. It'd been a small blessing from an otherwise terrible day that he'd forgotten his basket back in Verdenhelm; if he hadn't, Frederick was sure he'd have dumped it alongside the road miles back. His belly growled loudly as he pushed past the fence into his yard. Gods and spirits preserve him, and leave him to putter around his garden in peace, perhaps even read a bit before bed.

"No, no, no, no! Back -- get back, damn you!"

"Evan, stop! Don't hurt the poor thing!"

"'Poor thing?'"

"Oh -- move, move!"

A string of curses swam through the air, followed by a soft whoosh, and the smell of burning grass. Smoke billowed up from near the chicken coop, and Frederick loped around the side to see what fresh hell would greet him. He was grateful for his careless self leaving the shovel outdoors a week ago; it'd sunk into the ground from rain, but was still sturdy enough in case of trouble. He held it at his waist, ready to thrust like a spear as he peeked around the side: the chickens were raising a fuss from Tobias perching atop their little home. The beastling's wings were spread wide, and with a tiny roar, he loosed another stream of fire at the folk trying to spread out around him. A tall man with a sturdy-looking stick jumped back as the flames licked at his feet; he hastily slapped at his pants, falling to the ground in panic.

"Any time now!" he yelled to his companions as Tobias reared back to spit fire at his hapless foe. A woman with chestnut hair drew her bow.

Her shot went wide as Frederick's shovel cracked against her shoulder. A blow to the head sent her tumbling to the ground, and with a grunt, Frederick splintered the bow. He stepped back cautiously, lest the woman have a surprise up her sleeve.

"What're you doing?" he asked the remaining trespasser. Curls red as Tobias's fire bounced around a strong, square jaw that dimpled with a wary smile.

"Just looking to fill our bellies," the stranger said, his hands raised slightly. "Not for trouble." Tobias's tail lashed back and forth angrily as he spoke, and Frederick could see the warning glow of embers deep within his scaly mouth. They died down when Frederick let the shovel dip, though not fall, in his hands.

"Try Milligan's down the road," he said, never taking his eyes off any of them. "Old fool hasn't replaced the lock on his barn since the world came about. One good blow ought to do it. Well?" he added, when no one seemed to be in any hurry. The one on the ground pushed himself to his feet, glaring warily at Tobias.

"We came from Milligan's," he huffed, brushing the dirt off his sleeves.

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