It started just outside the village, in a small meadow near the edge of the woods. Smoke was rising, a slow drum beating behind a cacophony of buzzing. Two figures arose from the smoke, clad in white, their faces a swirl of yellow straw. The beat grew faster, as the smoke grew thicker. The figures moving forward to the beat. The drum stuttered and abruptly stopped, as a third figure stumbled from the smoke. It clawed at its face, pulling and screaming. With one final grasp its face fell to the floor. “Bastard thing stung me! I thought you said this mask would stop that, you twat.” The other figures just laughed.
Scroll to the bottom to download the full story as a free PDF file, or download on Kindle.
***
Come in, come in. Such a storm today. Let me get some more logs on the fire, get you warmed up and dried. No heroic knights in today’s tale I’m afraid. Today, true horror is born, a horror which may or may not be still with us now, somewhere deep within the Ryngwoode…
***
They say beware of Greeks bearing gifts, but sometimes it’s those receiving the gifts we need to be wary of.
***
Winter had been brutal. The scars from the ice and snow ran deep, even as spring approached. The harvest had been lacking for two summers now. The animals had sired no young, the trees had borne no fruit. Regular raids from outlaws had left the stores almost empty. As mother winter shook off her blanket another raid was inevitable.
Each year, at the start of the sowing season, an effigy was fashioned from the last of the previous harvest, to be buried in the fields and ploughed back into the land. Its spirit returning to whence it came and bringing forth a strong crop for the year to come. Rain would soak the land. The sun would shine bright. And without fail, every year, the crops would be bountiful. Nearby trees would bloom with fruit, ripe for the picking. The animals would fatten, give birth, and provide the village with all the meat and milk it required. The river would teem with fish, swimming as if their only purpose in life was to be caught in the fishermen’s nets. But now the old gods had failed them. Maybe it was time to try the new god, the supposed one true God. Maybe he would heed their call.
If the village had ever had a name it’s been long lost to time. Hidden in a valley, and far from the nearest town, the villagers could maintain the old ways without judgement. But this also meant no patrols to protect them from passing outlaws. How the criminals had found them was simply bad luck. A trait that now appeared to beat through the village’s very heart. The elders had decided to send forth a party to the nearest town, a few days walk away. There they would donate what little they had to the church and request the priest journey back with them to bless their land. Maybe the hands of this god which the rest of the country worshipped could dig deep and make their lands fertile again.
***
For the full story, download the free PDF below (2.4mb):
The stand alone, but interconnected, follow up to The Knight Of Ivy, The Badger Knight, is now available on Kindle (or scroll down for free PDF).
As per my previous Kindle offering, I was hoping to list it for free but am unable to, so it’s on at 77p (in the UK, local equivalent for all other countries) and I’ll keep it available as a free PDF on this site.
I’ve also re-written a few parts that I wasn’t happy with. I’m still not 100% happy with the opening, but I can only re-write it so many times! Both the Kindle version and the free PDF linked from the bottom of this page are the same updated version.
As with all Kindle books, it skips past the introduction straight to the first chapter, so make sure to skip back a few pages for the full story.
The Miller’s Son will stay free on this site and might be added to Kindle packaged up with a few future short stories.
My first short story, The Knight Of Ivy, is now available on Kindle (or scroll down for free PDF).
I was hoping to give it away for free but that’s not possible on Amazon, and adding it to Kindle Unlimited for free would mean not being able to distribute it anywhere else digitally, including on this very site.
As such I’ve decided to price it at the lowest amount possible (77p in the UK, local equivalent for all other countries) and keep it available as a free PDF on this site.
The Kindle version has been re-written slightly in places, as there were parts I was never happy with, and that version is now available here to download as a free PDF. As with all Kindle books, it skips past the introduction straight to the first chapter, so make sure to skip back a few pages for the full story.
I’ll add The Badger Knight to Kindle soon and that will also be priced the same.
Scroll to the bottom to download the full story as a free PDF file.
***
Hello, hello. Apologies, it’s busier than usual today. Find a seat and I’ll be with you soon. Got a quick tale for you today, straight from the horse’s mouth … kind of… well, you’ll see…
***
No fancy intro with this one. This is the tale of the miller’s son…
***
I’s seen them you know, seen them with my own actual eyes. The demons in the woods. The forest spirits. Whatever they’s is. I’s seen them and they ain’t demons and they ain’t spirits, they’s worse than that. They’s men. And there’s nothing worse than men who act like demons.
Well, I say I’s seen them, but I mean my friend, Alan, he saw them, and we’ve known each other since we was five summers of age, and we’re both 12 summers of age now, so we’ve known each other… well, however long that is. We’ve known each other that long that we are pretty much blood, might as well be the same person. So what he sees, I sees, y’know? And out there, past the fields, past the mills, past the streams and becks and through the hamlets, and into the Ryngwoode, he’s seen them. All in black, spikes breaking out their skin. White faces with eyes on fire with black flames, burning down their cheeks.
***
For the full story, download the free PDF below (2.4mb):
Scroll to the bottom to download the full story as a free PDF file.
***
Welcome traveller, welcome! Ah, do I recognise you? Have you been here before? Either way, what a story we have for you today. Grab a seat while I pour you a drink, and prepare for another tale from the Ryngwoode…
***
Mocked as a child for his size and the colours of his house, Sir Robert de Mandeville grew to be bigger and taller than any other knight in the kingdom, and embraced the name once used to ridicule him.
It’s a ridiculous name, and I’m not surprised people still find it funny behind his back, but I kind of like the guy from what I’ve heard of him, so you’ll get less sass from me this time around. Plus he’s a big bastard who you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.
This is a tale of the Badger Knight…
***
Blood. Bone.
Set free from the stranger’s skull, smashed against the broken wall with little effort by the giant knight.
Over. And over. And over.
His hands dripped red with rage, wrapped tight around a neck with no head. Blood gushed forth as bone and flesh littered the floor by his feet.
The bloodlust had taken ahold of him, and God help anyone who got in his way now.
Behind the wall, a younger man was shouting, pointing across the clearing. He seemed familiar, but his words were just noise.
The knight turned around to see what the man had been alerting him to. Another stranger. Running straight at him. Sword aloft and ready to attack.
As the knight closed his eyes, time appeared to slow. He thought back to his training. Not the training at home with the castle’s swordmaster, but the training he undertook by the hidden crossroads at midnight as a young boy. He took a deep breath, stepped back, lifted his sword to his side and swung it with all his might.
Opening his eyes at the last second, he watched as the stranger’s body crumpled to the floor, its head soaring across the clearing, leaving a red mist in its wake.
More blood rained down on him. A cleansing shower from God above.
His tunic was no longer the colours of his house, white and black, but red and brown. Coloured by blood and dirt.
A noise.
He turned to his right. Two more strangers charged at him, side-by-side.
Idiots.
***
For the full story, download the free PDF below (2.2mb):
Scroll to the bottom to download the full story as a free PDF file.
***
Welcome traveller, welcome! Let me fill you a tankard with ale. Take the weight off your feet and grab a seat by the fire, then settle in for a tale from the Ryngwoode…
***
The Ivy Knight.
Or Knight Of Ivy.
Whatever he’s chuffing called. I can never remember. There’s hundreds of these twats going around with stupid names, hoping for their latest heroic adventure to make it into a minstrel’s song.
Okay, I’m being a little unfair here. As far as these pricks go, this one isn’t so bad. Not once you get past the arrogance.
A young knight, tournament champion, and favourite with the ladies, this is the story of Sir Denys, The Knight Of Ivy.
Or is it The Ivy Knight…?
***
Autumn was in full flow, and while the trees on the edge of the Ryngwoode were a mix of browns and reds, The Knight Of Ivy looked flourishing in green. His armour intricately etched with a pattern of green ivy, and one large metal ivy leaf emblazoned in the centre of his helmet. Along with a green cloak (patterned with gold ivy of course), it was hard not to know who he was, even from a distance.
Returning home after winning another tournament, this one in Helmsley, Sir Denys was about half a day’s horse ride from home in Knaresburgh, to the west of the Ryngwoode. His bag of winnings hung from his saddle, full of gold and a few new lady’s favours to add to his collection. The money was nice, though he didn’t need it, and so was the attention of the ladies. But the thrill of the fight along with the cheers of the crowd is what drove him.
The crowd knew he was good. He knew he was good. He didn’t need to win every event, just more than anyone else.
The Ryngwoode itself was avoided by even the bravest of knights. A huge expanse of woodland and long abandoned towns and villages, only criminals or the foolish ventured within. And those that dared and survived told stories of sights and sounds not of this earth. Like any sensible person, knight or otherwise, Sir Denys was skirting around the outskirts of the Ryngwoode, following the aptly titled Ryngwoode Road.
It was early afternoon, but he was in no rush and the weather was pleasant, and after the tournament it was nice to have some peace and calm. His squire was recovering from an illness back in Knaresburgh, so hadn’t joined him for this tournament (it’s a wonder he won anything at all with the local squire they assigned him, he thought). The road was quiet, the only noise being the wind in the trees and the soft beat of his horse’s hooves beneath him.
As the road rounded a corner he could see what appeared to be a broken cart with no horse, and he could just about make out the legs of someone propped up against the front of the cart.
Now, as much as I may mock these guys and their names, they are knights and they aren’t daft (well, not most of them). Sir Denys knew a trap when he saw one. As soon as he had his back to the woodland, tending to the ‘injured’ cart owner, he’d be rushed by bandits.
Cautiously, he dismounted from his horse and slowly entered the treeline.
The Ryngwoode stretches from the ruins of the town of Malton in the east, across to Knaresburgh in the west and up north to Helmsley. Every child in the area is told the tales of the monsters and demons that dwell within. This made it the perfect place for criminals to plot and hide. How many bandit hideaways existed within the forest was anyone’s guess.
Although he didn’t believe in the stories of monsters and demons, he knew of knights much stronger and braver than himself (not that he himself would ever admit to there being such knights) who claimed to have heard and seen things they could not explain within the Ryngewoode, who said no amount of gold would get them to venture back in. Tricks of the mind caused by shadows probably, he thought, or traps set by the bandits and reavers who called this place home to ward off anyone snooping about.
He tied his horse, Lady Baucent, carefully to an old fence post just within the treeline, out of sight, and carefully made his way towards the trees opposite the cart.
As he got closer to the damaged cart, he slowly drew his sword, preparing to surprise his would-be attackers. However, the surprise was on him.
***
For the full story, download the free PDF below (2.7mb):
