Fantasy Scroll Magazine Issue #10 by Iulian Ionescu

Author:Iulian Ionescu [Ionescu, Iulian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC028000, FIC009000, FIC015000, FIC003000, dark fantasy, fantasy, fantasy magazine, magazine, novelette, science fiction, science fiction magazine, short stories, short story
ISBN: 978-0-9968891-1-7
Publisher: Fantasy Scroll Press, LLC
Published: 2015-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

© 2015 by Clint Spivey

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Clint Spivey teaches English as a Foreign Language in Tokyo. His research focus is on fluency development in an EFL setting. His work has appeared in The Lorelei Signal, Bastion, Electric Spec, Perihelion, and the Pop Seagull Anthology: Love, Time, Space, Magic.

Protecting Nessie

Hank Quense

Agatha opened the door to the Grubby Shoat. She paused, and, while her eyes adjusted to the gloom, a gust of wind blew a squall of rain through the door. Despite the fog of candle and fire smoke, she saw the elderly barkeeper turn pale. "Be at ease, old man. We seek more virile prey."

She waddled to the bar, a rough-hewn plank set on empty barrels. The water dripping from her hooded cloak left a wet trail on the moldy rushes covering the dirt floor. The mildew stench from the rushes mingled with the odor of fetid ale to produce a miasmic bouquet.

Agatha spotted five village men sitting on a bench. Exactly what she hoped to find—a flock of potential bed partners. The men sucked in their breath when they saw her, but she refused to let their reaction dampen her excitement.

When her sisters, Bertha and Carla, entered the tavern, a collective groan came from the table. One of the men jerked his knee, kicking the rickety table in front of the bench and scattering their leather ale cups.

Agatha opened her cloak. Underneath, she wore a dark kirtle a few sizes too small for her ample thighs and stomach.

The men sobbed.

Bertha smiled at the table. "Some of you lads will have an unforgettable experience tonight." She and Carla opened their cloaks. Both were dressed similarly to their sister.

Agatha ignored the panicky response to Bertha's announcement. Men always looked like doomed cattle when the sisters were on the hunt. She didn't understand the reaction, but assumed it was quite natural.

"Good eve, Sisters Wyrd." Having regained his composure, the elderly man behind the plank nodded to them. "What can I serve you?"

"A round of mead with raw eggs on top," Agatha replied.

"'Tis a celebration." Carla, a svelte two hundred pounds and the thinnest of the three, grinned at the old man.

"Aye, a great day." Bertha leaned on the plank, bending it into a deep arc.

The barkeeper watched the plank with a look of alarm.

"We avenged an insult to our Granny," Bertha added.

"You witches talk in riddles. I do not ken your meaning."

"When Granny learned that Malcolm had killed MacBeth and was now king," Agatha said, "her coronation gift was an offer to become his Royal Sorceress."

"And the fool rebuffed her," Carla said. In the fashion of the younger witches, she had let her nasal hairs grow long enough to braid. "An insult to all witches and even Hecate, our goddess."

"Men are simple in the brain, methinks." Agatha shook her head at the unfathomable ways of men. "Granny is not as pert as we three, but she's no beldam and would have graced the royal court. The king now regrets his refusal."

"Aye, you should have seen the look on Malcolm's face.

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