“Ever feel cursed?” Pathe asked. “Like your luck was so bad, it couldn’t be
natural?”
“Only there ain’t no curses,” Roce sniffed, tapping a tooth-bitten coin against
the table. They had traded bets well into the night. The three at the
pockmarked table - along with the innkeeper scrubbing ferociously - might well
have been the only ones still awake in Monroi Pass.
“Nope. Ain’t no curses.”
“What’s that leave then?”
“Cheating.”
Jul’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. At long last the pair had made their
move on him, a modest traveler celebrating a sale in the frontier town. It was
clear the thugs had relieved such travelers of hard-earned coin many times.
And though their blades were not of high quality, they moved like men
accustomed to using them. Scars proved they had been in more than one fight
and survived.
He wondered though. When he first accepted this contract, he had believed
that these two were, like he was, something quite apart from a common
criminal. Yet as the night wore on, he was convinced that they really were the
small-time thugs that they seemed. He was disappointed.
“Cheating,” Pathe repeated, rolling the word around as if he could taste it. “You
been cheating?” The huge man leaned forward, both lazy and threatening as he
made his sword’s worn hilt more obvious.
Jul’s lean cheeks reddened with a practiced flush. He looked to the innkeeper,
still polishing stains. Likely he was tossed a coin or two for his silence, but just
as likely he would be happy if the two never sat by his hearth again. Either way,
the innkeeper would say nothing to the guard. “Nah. Nah, I ain’t been cheating.
I ain’t a cheater,” Jul blustered, his voice slurred with beer.
Roce sucked his teeth. “We think y’are.”
Jul put his cards down on the table. “Look, ain’t no reason for this. If you don’t
want to play anymore, I’ll be on my way.” He reached out for his winnings - an
assortment of coin, a dull hunting knife, and a bottle of sour liquid that Roce
had insisted was wine.
Pathe’s hand slammed down on his wrist. “You ain’t got winnings,” he hissed.
He pressed Jul’s forearm into the table.
“You think I don’t know what’s going on here?” Jul squirmed....
natural?”
“Only there ain’t no curses,” Roce sniffed, tapping a tooth-bitten coin against
the table. They had traded bets well into the night. The three at the
pockmarked table - along with the innkeeper scrubbing ferociously - might well
have been the only ones still awake in Monroi Pass.
“Nope. Ain’t no curses.”
“What’s that leave then?”
“Cheating.”
Jul’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. At long last the pair had made their
move on him, a modest traveler celebrating a sale in the frontier town. It was
clear the thugs had relieved such travelers of hard-earned coin many times.
And though their blades were not of high quality, they moved like men
accustomed to using them. Scars proved they had been in more than one fight
and survived.
He wondered though. When he first accepted this contract, he had believed
that these two were, like he was, something quite apart from a common
criminal. Yet as the night wore on, he was convinced that they really were the
small-time thugs that they seemed. He was disappointed.
“Cheating,” Pathe repeated, rolling the word around as if he could taste it. “You
been cheating?” The huge man leaned forward, both lazy and threatening as he
made his sword’s worn hilt more obvious.
Jul’s lean cheeks reddened with a practiced flush. He looked to the innkeeper,
still polishing stains. Likely he was tossed a coin or two for his silence, but just
as likely he would be happy if the two never sat by his hearth again. Either way,
the innkeeper would say nothing to the guard. “Nah. Nah, I ain’t been cheating.
I ain’t a cheater,” Jul blustered, his voice slurred with beer.
Roce sucked his teeth. “We think y’are.”
Jul put his cards down on the table. “Look, ain’t no reason for this. If you don’t
want to play anymore, I’ll be on my way.” He reached out for his winnings - an
assortment of coin, a dull hunting knife, and a bottle of sour liquid that Roce
had insisted was wine.
Pathe’s hand slammed down on his wrist. “You ain’t got winnings,” he hissed.
He pressed Jul’s forearm into the table.
“You think I don’t know what’s going on here?” Jul squirmed....
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| The Thorn Key By SC Bryce |
Publication History |
Reviews |
| "Next up was SC Bryce's 'The Thorn Key, a tale that maintains a great mysterious edge throughout its telling. This tale holds two characters I'd like to interact with more, and the intriguing possible root of the loss of magic in Freehold with the beginnings of a quest to correct that loss. Most interesting of all, though... is the hint that magic could soon return to Freehold..." Jason Waltz, von Darkmoor's Thoughts, on The Thorn Key. |
First Printing:
Freehold: The Protector (Monroi Pass
Book 2), Armand Rosamilia, ed
(Carnifex Press, 2007).
Freehold: The Protector (Monroi Pass
Book 2), Armand Rosamilia, ed
(Carnifex Press, 2007).
Readers' Comments |
| "A well told tale packed with the classic elements of great fantasy..." "I always like your scene-setting and world development, and your fight scenes are always thrilling..." "Very enjoyable..." "Well crafted... "Smooth..." "Dialogue is strong and flows well..." "Nice story... It makes me rather eager for the sequel..." |
| "This is one of the stories that compelled me to do this review despite all other concerns. I got a real feel for the poorer side of Monroi Pass. The characterization was well done. The banter between the two main characters flowed naturally; the tempo was perfect and kept my interest throughout. Despite being a tale about grim events, it remained somewhat lighthearted and humorous. I found myself wanting to follow the continuing tales of Jul." Blogtide Rising on The Thorn Key. |
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