*** This title was re-released recently and reformatted with Linux LibreOffice. ***
About this series: Verum Et Inventa is a free e-zine focusing on dark fantasy, horror and science fiction. We’re open to contributions from writers and readers who like substance and style over the blander mainstream norm. The editor will also provide controversy with articles and media reviews meant to incite the intellect of those open-minded enough to question traditional paradigms, social constructs and religious dogma. If you consider yourself Awake and enjoy a good story, why not download a copy today?
In issue No. 3, for January 2019: Part 2 of the exciting military sci-fi novella Non-Retrieval. The main feature is followed by four entries, in prose and short stories, from the medieval fantasy collection, Tales From The Savage Lands 1. This month’s in-depth article is titled Honduran Hordes: Human Rights Or Human Trafficking? Happy New Year, everyone! Rating: HIGH controversy.
*** The article Honduran Hordes will be posted soon on the sister blog Verum Et Inventa. Link to the blog here. ***
A paragraph or two from each of this issue’s stories:
Non-Retrieval Part 3
My next thought was of Senior Spaceman Tennard opening the hatch and stepping out to rescue us. The strange thing was that too soon after the shuttle’s arrival, the hatch was already swinging open. Without warning, I saw Rubalcava drop down on one knee and rapidly swing his weapon toward the small vessel.
That’s when I heard the clicking. The horrible clicking sounds that Roaches make, noises that I’d heard in recordings but never before in person. The air was filled with the clicking sounds. They were like frantic snaps that grated into my ears, with the same sharp resonance as the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
A Furry Little Man
According to the ancient legends, the Savage Lands had once been good country for men to live in, for agriculture to grow and livestock to graze on. To the detriment of that entire region, it was told that an army of mages had invaded that country to corrupt it with the blackest forms of magic, a magic that could not be duplicated or reversed by the less powerful mages of the present time. That vile sorcery had robbed the land of its well being, draining it of its former life and vibrancy. It was said that no sane man would travel willingly across that dead country.
Timehre, a former Knight of the Red Fold, smirked at the recollection. Many times, it had been said about him that he was not a sane man. On this night, he was not alone in that insanity, however. A merchant of modest means had hired Tim, along with three other young fighting men. Their task was simple; to escort the merchant and his small family across a corner of the Savage Lands. Tim hadn’t been told why the merchant was fleeing through the most inhospitable stretch of territory imaginable, but he was less concerned with that and more worried over getting paid. From all that he’d seen of the merchant, that man carried no great amount of coin on his person, unless he had it hidden away in some magic hole Tim could not readily discern.
“Alson, I have brought you a message.” The runner strode up to the worried man.
“Can you not see that I am engaged in training my soldiers?” Alson barked at the courier. “All morning, I’ve had one interruption after another! How will these men ever be brought up to standard if I have one interruption after another?”
Apparently, the lean runner had figured out that Alson wanted to start a bickering match with him. Instead of falling for that bait, the runner simply revealed his message. “Captain Fletcher wishes to speak to you.”
Wilmer The Wretch
The old man known as Wilmer the Wretch ambled across a bitter stretch of road. Sure enough that road was bitter, as it was angry enough to shift below one’s feet to tire an old man such as he, and to turn this way and that so that a traveler might not see what lay beyond the next bend. Long before Wilmer’s time, it was rumored that this very road was proud and straight as an arrow, up until the ancient mages had corrupted that land into its present state of crookedness. Bandits and cutthroats abounded on that road, here and there along its unhealthy route. He should have stayed home, Wilmer frowned as he walked, but his few shelves were bare and he’d grown hungry.
Download the e-zine right now at Smashwords!