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Monthly Archives: September 2013
- by Tara Maya
9. The Casting of Stones
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| “Hunk” by Carnivora88 |
… secret societies. From the squeeze of costumed bodies, it looked as though every dancer in the Labyrinth was in attendance. All were masked. Many of the masks sprouted huge fans of woven cane, feather tufts, or carved wooden animal faces. Others sported horns, manes, or false beards. Still others displayed abstract shapes, ovals or diamonds, or a cascade of beaded fringes. It wasn’t easy for so many masked dancers to fit in the tiers. Feathered and beaded shoulder blankets, necklaces coiled as thick as snakes, and full corn- husk skirts took up space.
Only his mother, indifferent as ever to convention, wore no mask, just a simple white beaded dress. She sat stiffly on the lowest tier, face-to-face with Kavio. Even at her age, she was the most beautiful woman in the room. She was also the only one in the tiers who had no closely-pressed neighbors. No one quite dared sit next to her.
Opposite her, behind Kavio, rose an adobe platform taller than any of the tiered seats. He had to twist his head to look up the seven steps to the top of the platform to see the man who stood there in full regalia, holding a rain stick. Paint divided the man’s already severe features into an interlocked pattern of sharp edges and boxes. Colorful matching mazes were woven into his shoulder blanket and outlined in beads of obsidian and pearl. His massive headdress con- sisted of numerous coiled cords, horned and feathered and shelled. Beaded hoops rested around his neck, as did a gold coiled torque. The pin that held his shoulder blanket in place had also been beaten from gold, into the shape of a stylized wild horse.
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| “Chief” by Chris Rosewarne |
The man pounded his rain stick on the platform. He had a voice of gravel and stone.
“Let it be remembered on the Memory Stick, that in This Year, yet to be named, I, the War Chief of the Rainbow Labyrinth and head of the Society of Societies in the absence of a Vaedi, have called all of the secret dancing societies together to sit in judgment at the trial of Kavio . . .”
He paused to make the ponderous trip down the seven steps to the floor of the assembly room. Even so, because Kavio had been forced to his knees, the other man had to look down to glower at him.
“. . . Kavio, my own son.” Even though he’d expected it, his father’s contempt stung. “Who will cast the first stone?” asked Father.
The men and women in the tiers shuffled, whispered. Most of them removed their masks from their sweat-drenched heads, and a few went so far as to fan themselves.
A woman in amber necklaces removed an orange eagle-feathered mask before she rose to her feet. She was an elder from Father’s gen- eration, his brother’s wife and Father’s bitterest political rival. As a child, Kavio had nicknamed her “Auntie Ugly.”
“I will cast the first stone…
TO BE CONTINUED
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- by Tara Maya
7. “You never have to go back”
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| “My Secret Garden” by AlleyCatz |
Dindi
…see her play with the fae.
The swarm of whirling faery dancers moved up the mountain, without ever missing a step. Dindi moved with them, keeping up easily with their improvised patterns of skips, turns, kicks and leaps. Soon they emerged onto a patch of flat heath with a view of the whole valley below. The sky seemed to pull back to give them more room.
She spread her arms and drew in a drought of the fresh air. Then she closed her eyes and envisioned again the shinning swirls of light patterns created by the Taevaedis on Barter Day. In her mind, she recreated the role of every single dancer. What steps had each player in the pattern made? One by one, she danced each person’s role as best she could remember it. First, she played the ‘human’ parts. Then, saving and savoring them for the end, she played the Aelfae parts.But when she came to the finale, when the last Aelfae in the dance was to fall and die, she decided to change the ending. Instead, she leaped up again, spread her imaginary wings behind her and vaulted across the field in a full twisting double back leap.
The fae laughed in glee. They much preferred her new dance to the dance of the Tavaedies. Satisfied now that she had run through all the steps of all the dancers in yesterday’s dance, Dindi finally abandoned herself to free-form dancing. That delighted the fae even more.
The low hum of faerie voices, the sparkle of pixie wings and her own pounding blood wrapped Dindi in a trance of pure feeling. Movement inside her itched to spill out.
A pixie curled a small hand around Dindi’s ear, whispering, “You never have to go back, Dindi. You could dance with us forever and ever…”
Their voices hummed hypnotically, enticing her forward step by step. The lullaby lure of the faery ring shimmered all around her, a mixture of light and song. The fae clasped hands together, closing the circle about her. A chain of pixies undulated in the air, the sprites linked up, and then, in the last gap in the circle, a heron-winged kinnara soared toward the dancers to close the circle.
“Come dance with us, Dindi. Come dance with us forever…”
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“Without you” by brandrificus
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“Nice try, but I’m not yours yet!” Regret tinged her amusement, but her resolve was firm, as it always was when the fae played this game with her. Dindi somersaulted through the air with an aerobic leap that catapulted her right out of the gap. She rolled away on the moss, laughing.
“You can’t catch me in a faery ring that easily,” she teased them. The fae responded in delight.
“Again, again!” they urged her.
“My family needs me. Oh, mercy!” She clapped her hands over her face. “Soaproot and blueberries! I haven’t had time…”
A pixie waved his little scarlet arms in an expansive gesture. “Fear not, friend Dindi! We have taken care of all that…
- by Tara Maya
6. Faery Ring
The Unfinished Song: Initiate
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| “Fine tunes of magic” by Maria van Bruggen |
Dindi
… giggled. “She just can can’t express herself because she’s so overwhelmed with joy that with her chores out of the way she is now free to dance with us.”
Dindi frowned. “Are you sick, Dindi?” asked the orange. “We won’t do your chores for you anymore if you stop dancing with us,” blustered the yellow sprite.
“Soon, I might not be dancing with you anymore at all. If I fail the test to become a Tavaedi, I must stop dancing.”
The fae were stunned silent for a moment. Then they all began to shout at Dindi at once.
“Enough!” cried Dindi, making the Dispel hand-sign in earnest this time. The clouds of willawisps scattered, the pixies were flung away as if by gusts of heavy wind, and the sprites all went rolling like tumbling stones. Corn stalks were flattened around Dindi in a perfect circle three yards out.
From the perimeter of the circle of dispellation, the fae peered at her with hurt expressions.
“I’m sorry,” Dindi said. “You know I don’t want to abandon you.”
The fae crept back towards her until at last they huddled as close as before, murmuring her name.
“Uhm.” She was abashed. “Could you help me fix the corn?”
“Hurrah! She will dance with us!” squealed the purple pixie.
What harm would it do to share one more teensy weensy dance with her friends? After all, who knew when Initiation might come? She might never have another chance. She would sip one last taste of wild faerie magic. She shrugged away the basket and let Puddlepaws down in the grass. Dindi let the fae lead her into their circle.
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| “Dancing in the circle” by Maria van Bruggen |
The pixies began to fly in circles over the ruined crops. The cob- sized corn sprites whose stalks she’d knocked over joined in next. Willawisps were drawn to all the activity. They all began to twirl and shuffle and skip and jump in a ring around and around, Dindi dancing right along with them. As the corn stalks began to right themselves, the dancers changed the pattern and started to weave in and out of the stalks. Wild swirls of color trailed in the wake of all the fae dancers, strange and marvelous.
Dindi laughed with exhilaration despite herself, abandoning herself to whatever moves her body wanted to make. The corn was upright again. If anything, it was greener and more fragrant than before. Dindi slowed down, signaling the fae to stop too. They refused to take the hint. They kept whirling.
She danced alongside them, but she knew it was their magic at work. If she didn’t stop them from getting carried away, they would continue dancing and possibly start to do more damage than good. She had seen them summon storms, uproot trees, start geysers from bare rocks. It was one reason she normally only danced with them out on the heath, far past the cultivated fields. Mama had warned her never to let other humans…
TO BE CONTINUED
Author’s Notes
The artwork — isn’t it adorable? — was kindly provided by Maria van Bruggen. Do visit her deviant-Art site and say hello!
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| “Autumn cat-tackle” by Maria van Bruggen |
- by Tara Maya
Cover Reveal for Space Jockey
In the future, we will need to travel. We will need to fight. We will need to deliver food to the famished. We will need to go to other planets in tacky tourist shirts and take pictures with our embedded borg eyes. We will need to do all these important things in spaceships. And those spaceships will need pilots. Not just any pilots, either, but the best of the best.
Space jockeys!
Or maybe not. In which case, the alternative might be just as interesting.
These tales aren’t really about spaceships, but about people: The starship pilots, space navy aces, and explorers of the future. Where they go, how they get there, and what price they pay.
As you can see, we have some AWESOME contributors. About half the stories have been printed before (including two classics that I bet you haven’t read, but totally should). Half the stories are brand new.
I’m thrilled, to say the least, to have been honored by some top-selling authors with their stories. I’m equally proud to say this will be the first publication for a couple of these authors… but I doubt it will be the last.
I wanted to feature a mix of established and up-and-coming authors, because I think the short story format is still hugely important in the field of science fiction.
In the upcoming weeks, look for some interviews with the contributing authors, excerpts from their other published works, and teasers from the anthology.
Also, if you want to review this anthology (free copy!) or buy it for just $0.99 as soon as it comes out (that price will go up the next day!) drop me a note … tara @ taramayastales (dot) com … or sign up Tara’s Tribe to receive the monthly newsletter, where it will be announced first.
- by Tara Maya
The Carnelian Legacy by Cheryl Koevoet
Marisa MacCallum always believed that the man of her dreams was out there somewhere. The problem is—he’s in another dimension.
After the death of her father, eighteen-year-old Marisa’s life is on the verge of imploding. She seeks comfort on her daily ride through the woods of Gold Hill, but when a mysterious lightning storm strikes, she is hurled into the ancient, alternate dimension of Carnelia where she is discovered by the arrogant but attractive nobleman, Ambassador Darian Fiore.
Stranded in a world teeming with monsters, maniacs and medieval knights, Marisa is forced to join Darian on a dangerous mission to negotiate peace with his archenemy, Savino da Roca. Along the way, she sees his softer side and quickly falls in love. But when she learns that Darian is locked into an arranged marriage, her heart shatters.
When Darian’s cousin Savino falls for her charms and demands her hand in exchange for peace, Marisa is faced with an impossible choice: marry the enemy of the man she loves or betray them both and become the catalyst for a bloody war.
For more from Cheryl Koevoet, visit her website, Twitter and Facebook.