Here it is, here it is at last! This week’s fantasy graphic short story with more artwork by my wonderful husband. A bit of a different feel as I decided to be bold and try for a different mood than I usually write. I hope you like it!

Slate went to the spot at the river where they always used to meet. It did not feel quite as comfortable now. A single leaf floated down from the sky, causing the slightest of ripples as it hit the water’s surface. Hope would have gone into the water to swoop up that leaf, just because.

He remembered the way she would hold up her bow and aim an arrow, one eye closed and the other eye glittering like a green emerald in her concentration. How many times had she aimed at him and mischievously threatened to shoot if he did not behave?

He could picture Hope there in the river, with her touchable tan skin and mousy brown hair, standing knee-high in the water.

So full of life, grace, and beauty.

He could not believe that he had lost her.

“Just come to the tavern and sing for us tonight, Slate!” they kept saying to him. But every time he opened his mouth, nothing would come out.

He could not bring himself to play his instrument now, even alone in his favorite place to be. He moved his fingers to pluck at his lute. They trembled and fumbled over the strings.

How was he ever supposed to make music again without Hope?

A month had passed, and still every day he came to this spot. Healing potions and the ministrations of priests did not ease his pain. His friends told him that time would heal all, but as the days came and went his pain seemed to deepen as his loss became more and more real. The void in his life grew larger. Every day it grew more difficult to rise from bed.

It was hopeless to try to live without her. To try to pretend that he would really be okay.

If only Slate had trained to be a fighter instead of a musician. He should have been there to protect her. He would have gladly traded his life to guard hers. Hope had been on post, fighting to protect their elven village from hostile human invaders. While he was on stage plucking songs from his strings trying to ease the worries of the elf citizens, Hope had been out in battle plucking arrows from her bow string, trying to defend the benign elf citizens.

Hope was stabbed in the heart by a callous human. Slate’s heart may as well have been pierced, too.

What was he going to do without her?

What a terrible night that had been. The moment Hope’s heart had ceased to beat, so did Slate’s. He cut his song short and dropped his instrument before dashing out into the night. His heart stilled and his breath held as he raced to the guard tower atop which she had been posted. And to his horror, he found her lying there, just a few feet away from the body of the human filth who had inflicted a mortal wound upon her just before she was able to return the favor. Slate cradled her lifeless body in his arms and rocked as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Hope was gone.

Now Slate backed up against a tree and slid down to the ground. He leaned against the trunk and closed his eyes. Tears ran down his face as his body shook silently with his loss.

Music was hopeless now. Life was hopeless now. He felt so empty inside. As if half of his soul, half of his breath, half of his life was missing. After centuries of peace, now that the humans were continuously infringing up elf territory, he doubted that his people would ever be at peace again.

And without Hope, Slate doubted that he would ever be at peace again.

“Hope, I miss you!” His powerful voice cried out into the forest, his agony drowning in the sounds of the open wilderness.

The wind actually seemed to answer. A large gust whipped around him, picked up his hair and tossed it playfully. It seemed to surround him, caress him, kiss away his tears. “I am here,” the wind whispered.

“Where are you?”

“With you. I will always be with you.”

Warmth rushed over Slate, making his heart swell and his pulse race with joy. He could do nothing but close his eyes and smile as tranquility swept through him.

He was not certain if he had actually heard her voice, or if he had just imagined it. Either way, a great weight was lifted from him.

Slate grabbed the neck of his lute and slowly stood up. He took two long, drawn-out deep breaths as he faced the village. Taking great effort at first, he put one foot in front of other, until at last he was moving forward with a sure stride.

Now he knew. At least, he knew. He could do this. He could carry on. Regardless of whether he could see her or not, he knew.

He still had Hope.

** The End **

Here is this week’s fantasy graphic short story with more artwork by my talented husband. Enjoy!

The night was still and quiet. Few souls were out within the vicinity. Jewel strode easily towards her destination, enjoying the wind blowing through her hair and the freedom of running with the open ground below her feet. Sunset was rapidly approaching, but she would beat it. She had been staking out this target and his extravagant, secluded home for weeks. She knew within the next few minutes, he would be leaving his house and his guard would be arriving to watch the manor in his absence.

She smiled with pride at her own cunning, and her long ears twitched with giddy anticipation as she thought of all of the riches she would gain with this loot. Once she finished this task, she would have no need to work for quite some time. Jewel certainly would welcome a vacation.

But she was almost disappointed that this job would soon be over. She had thoroughly enjoyed following this particular mark around, as he was quite the optical treat from head to feet. She had even lingered outside of his window to watch him bathe on more than one occasion, with extreme interest at the way he seemed to have jewelry everywhere on his chiseled body.

As she neared her destination, she saw her victim exit the house and venture off, waving at the warrior who was arriving to stand guard at the door. Jewel withdrew her shortsword. She loved the weight of it in her hand. It made her feel formidable and invincible. Although she was very skilled in handling it, she was stealthy enough that she rarely had to actually resort to violence.

She moved silently and efficiently, as light on her toes as a lioness hunting her prey. Feeling mischievous, she sneaked up behind the guard who was standing tensely outside the manor, and just waited for him to slowly become alerted to her presence. When at last he swung around, he met her sword at his throat and a devious smile upon her face.

Eyes wide, he did not bother to reach for his own weapon. Instead, he shook with alarm and fury.

Her smile grew wider. “Relax, big boy. You will not die this night. At least not by my hands.”

“This is a crime. You will pay for this,” he said between gritted teeth.

She laughed. “I would have to get caught, first. Now sleep.” She waved her hand across his face as she cast her spell. Instantly the guard fell to the ground in a deep, enchanted snooze.

Unnecessary bloodshed was not Jewel’s style, and there was no need to take this elf’s life. There was only one thing she had come for, and she knew exactly where it was. She would be in and out of the house and long gone hours before he would wake up and the master of the house would return. Jewel was not worried about the guard seeing her again. She was a solitary rogue, and often remained reclusive and unseen, the way she preferred it. Even if this guard were to find her, she was more than confident in her capability to take him down.

Jewel slipped on her leather gloves and picked the lock to the door with ease, having disarmed countless ones just like it before. Adrenaline flowed through her as she slipped into the lavishly decorated house in silence. She listened for any telltale sound that someone may unexpectedly be home, but as she had anticipated, she heard nothing but the excited pounding of her own heart.

With grace, she glided through the impressive house until she found the heavy door which guarded the treasure she was seeking. This lock was stronger and more complicated than the one on the manor’s front door. But Jewel was a Master Rogue. She had yet to encounter a lock which she could not undo. A wide smile spread across her face when a few tries and one broken lock pick later, she heard the click.

She swung the door open. The sight took Jewel’s breath away.

All of the wondrous prizes the master of this manor had collected were kept in this treasure room. Crates and chests full of gold and silver, necklaces of diamonds and gold, the teeth, tusks and fur of exotic creatures, exquisite robes and gowns made of the most luxurious silk and vials of the rarest magical potions all filled the room.

She found the thing she was looking for. The giant, flawless ruby that he had brought home the second night after she had begun stalking him. The gorgeous stone was slightly larger than her head. Her fingers trembled and her breathing slowed as she tenderly wrapped her hands around the precious gem. With care, she lifted it and brought it close to her and wrapped it in her cloak.

With her objective obtained, all she had left now was to make her escape. As she turned back towards the door her heart slammed into her chest and she gasped as she stumbled, nearly dropping her loot.

The home owner stood there in the chamber, casually leaning against one of his crates as he looked at her.

The shock of being discovered froze her in place. How had this happened? She had carefully watched him for weeks and recorded his schedule to memory. He was not supposed to be home. And by the way he was dressed – or rather undressed – it was clear that he had not simply left and returned. He was practically naked, save for the leather sleeves which decorated his massive arms and a cloth lazily wrapped around his waist that failed to cover much of anything.

“Stop. Thief.” He spoke without alarm.

Jewel snarled at his teasing. “Try and stop me. And I prefer the title rogue.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you really think that you were going to just sashay out of here with my property?”

“It is not yours. You stole this jewel.”

“Not from you.”

“No, but still you stole it just the same.”

“And so you intend to steal it again, from me?”

“There is no honor amongst thieves.” Jewel smirked.

He snickered at her. “Do you know how much effort it took me to get that gem?”

“I would imagine the effort was monumental for an amateur.”

He laughed aloud at that. “I can assure you, I am no amateur. Now you on the other hand, appear as though you could use a few tips.”

Jewel huffed at him and shook her head. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“I live here.”

“I have studied you for some time, Sage,” she deliberately emphasized his name to prove just how much preparation she had indeed taken. “This is the time you normally leave to meet with your band. I even saw you leave.”

He grinned at her. His eyes full of amusement. “I did not leave this time. And I have no band, Jewel. Only a ruse with which to study you as you persistently went snooping about my business.”

Jewel’s eyes grew round as discs and her jaw dropped. How did he know her name? “You tricked me?!”

“I am a rogue,” he shrugged. “That is what I do.”

“Why let me get this far? Just what do you intend to do with me?”

His eyes roamed over her, the fire in them burning as they traced over her every curve. “Keep you.”

Without haste she tossed the gem aside and reached for the hilt of her sword. But Sage moved just as swift. He shackled her wrist with his hand, and though he was not hurting her, his grip was firm and unrelenting.

She moved her other hand to cast sleep upon him, but he captured her wrist before she could even flex her fingers. He locked her arms behind her back with his hands, the gesture forcing the front of their bodies together in an aggressive embrace.

Jewel’s heart raced. Not so much in fear as in stimulation by his closeness. He was a strong, hulk of a man, dark and handsome, his muscles rippled with strength as he moved. His masculine scent filled her nose, and she could feel his sex pressed against her abdomen. Heat and moisture gathered between her legs, but she scowled to try to hide it.

“Keep me for what purpose?” Her query came out much huskier and sexier than she had intended.

“Have you not noticed that I collect treasures? I am particularly fond of pretty jewels.” He eyed her lips hungrily as he spoke.

She glared at him. “I am flesh and blood, not some object to be possessed. Surely, you would not hold a living being captive!”

His smile was a dangerous, seductive one. He lowered his head and leaned towards her, crushing his hard wall of chest against her breasts. The bass of his voice as he whispered into her ear sent shivers down her spine. “There is no honor amongst thieves … remember?”

Jewel tried to pull away from him, but she was no match for his strength. Her pulse raced frantically as he traced the length of her ear with his hot mouth.

“You can … not … you can not keep me here against my will, Sage!” She could barely get her protest out.

“Then I will just have to find a way to make you a willing prize.” He moved his mouth down the side of her neck as he headed towards the exposed tops of her bosom, his hands spanning her small waist and curvy hips. He used his teeth to pull away the fabric of her blouse from her nipple and took it hungrily into his mouth. She gasped and grabbed his head, pulling him closer to her, all thoughts of escaping fleeing her mind.

She could not believe what was happening, or more so that she had no desire to fight it. She pushed away the cloth from his hips as he tore at her clothing. He took her to the floor, his large body blanketing hers, and she welcomed him into her arms. Electricity arced between them when their mouths met, kissing with a ferocity like none Jewel had ever experienced before. His hands were all over her, kneading her full breasts, then holding her hips. His fingers stroked her thighs, and she parted them to allow him access.

Sage smiled down at her. “See. You are willing already. You are mine now,” he said, his fingers exploring her, making her hot and slick.

She opened her mouth, wanting to protest again or to at least utter an insult, but her very breath was being stolen from her by his touch. Instead, she spread her legs wider and wrapped them around his waist, eagerly offering him her every treasure.

** The End **

This is a fantasy short story that also showcases the grahic art of my talented husband, Sin Caldwell. We hope to have new stories and original artwork often.

Sincere sat on the floor at the altar of the temple, his legs folded and his hands outstretched. His eyes were closed, but he could sense all four of the spheres carved out of stone nearby, could feel their stationary and heavy mass. He was aware that the sun was rising, and that within the hour this temple of their dark city in the mountains would be flooded with natural light.

Above all though, he could sense that she was there. She was being silent, but her presence could not be mistaken. And it was impossible for him to ignore her. He could smell the familiar fragrance she chose to wear, hear the soft rustle of her silk garments.

“Ebony, I know you are here.”

“I know that you know,” she responded. “I can wait until you are done.”

He concentrated first on levitating one sphere, and then the other, with his mind. Two of the spheres floated high and easy. A third one however barely lifted off the floor, and he could not get the fourth to budge at all.

Sincere opened his eyes and tried his magic again. The result this time was that only one sphere rose. He dropped his hands to his sides and closed his eyes again, then exhaled long and hard.

“You seem distracted, Sincere.”

“And you seem to enjoy distracting me.”

He could almost hear her smile as she spoke. “Maybe I do.”

“What do you want?” His voice was harsh.

“Just to talk.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her.

She was the image of beauty.

Hair as dark as the night’s sky, eyes as light as the day’s. Her lips were full and thick while her body was slender and petite. His heart pounded against his chest. Why did this female torment him so?

“I can not concentrate with you here. We can discuss your issues some other time.”

“My issue is your issue,” she said. “You would not be so distracted if you would simply confront the truth about us.”

“The truth is that there is nothing between us.”

She closed the gap between them, moving to kneel before him. “That is not true.” She tenderly played in his white hair with her fingers, then she cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze upon her. “Can you not feel it? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing for me.”

Sincere stared at her, his pulse quickening at her touch. He concentrated on remaining still and stoic.

“I tend not to feel anything,” he said.

“You are not being sincere,” she said. Her hands now trailed down his chest as she touched him, examined him.

But he was being sincere. He did not usually feel anything. That was just who he was. He allowed himself to feel nothing but the drive to excel in his magic, to lead and mentor the wizards who were below him in level, and to serve the lord of his moon elf guild to his upmost capability. Desires of the flesh and heart would only distract him and wear him down, and so he had long ago forsaken such trivial pursuits. Yet, after over a century of discipline, this young apprentice shaman was making him grow weak.

Now she moved her hand to rest upon the bulge in his pants that was eagerly betraying him. “I have the evidence in my hand that you feel something.” She smirked at him.

“Ebony –” he protested, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I do not believe you. Show me then, that you feel nothing at all.”

She sat upon his lap facing him, her bosom full and soft and warm against his chest. Her dark curls fell upon his shoulders, caressing him. She cradled her crotch against his as she put her arms around his neck to hold him close to her.

The pain of his want of her shot into his belly as his erection grew even harder.

Her lips brushed against his, but she did not initiate a kiss. She simply remained there for the longest moment, feeling him, letting him feel her, assaulting his senses.

Sincere closed his eyes and shook his head. “Since you insist, I will show you.” He grabbed her head and attacked her mouth with his. Her tongue was sweet to taste, her lips fit perfectly against his. He let all of his inhibitions go as he kissed her with abandon. She had no idea how much she affected him, no idea how often he thought of her, no idea how much his world was changing because of her. Even he could not fully comprehend it enough to make it go away as he wished.

Gently, he pushed her off of him and stood up. He turned his back to her and began walking away, with the intent to hurry out of the temple before he displayed any more weakness. When he realized that she was not going to stop him, he paused.

He turned around and looked at the four stone spheres on the floor. With just the flick of his wrist, all four spheres levitated seven feet off the ground with ease.

Ebony looked up at him, silent, her expression one of complete confusion.

He sighed heavily as he slowly walked back towards her, thinking that this time when he kissed her, he was going to prove to himself that he felt nothing …

** The End **