photo by Paolo Brandao
The following is an excerpt from a new project I have been working on titled “The Perfect Fane”. It is a high fantasy novel based in a world in a post-Ragnarok world of Norse Mythology . More information will be available soon!
The cry was followed immediately by a massive white snow owl that swooped overhead. The sound and sight of it terrified both of them, for they had heard no sounds, and seen nothing living beyond their own selves for nearly seven days. Aska yelped loudly, for he had smelled nothing either, even as this creature passed overhead. Clotilda, however, reacted with her keen instinct, raising her musket called God-Speaker with a quick snap, and fired, seemingly without aiming.
It cracked like the great lightning hammer Mjolnir, echoing across the landscape again and again, as if the force of it hewed the very Leaf apart. It seemed as if the earth and the heavens shook, to such a point that even Aska could feel waves of it reach him upon the spirit realm.
The musket had shattered completely, a cloud of black smoke curled up from the place where it had been fired. Yet even before the echoes had begun to fade, Clotilda emerged from the pillar, huge shards of metal and ash-wood embedded in her bare forearms. Blood coated her face, neck and hands. She charged forward, her longspear held forward.
Even over the ringing in Clotilda’s ears, over the booming echo, she heard the distant sound of the beast’s latent thump as it sunk to the dry earth. But Aska’s ears heard many more things in that moment: like the scrambling of a dozen hooves chipping up bark and stone alike, the cracking of several ancient oak trees at once, the desperate bleating of a solitary goat.
The setting sun struck the steel tip of Clotilda’s spear, refracted runic sentences flickered, ghostlike, in the air. The brightness of the sunlight washed out the filth and grime and blood about her, making her appear a pale and shimmering maiden, flying forward with astonishing speed and grace. The image brought to mind the tales of glorious Valkyrjas riding across the sky, their flashing shields and spears creating the shimmering Aurora in the night sky.
Aska shook the image off and jaunted after her.
As always, all original fiction is copyright Keith Potempa. It represents a work-in-progress. If you enjoyed this passage, check out more fantasy excerpts here.
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