D.D. Ward is Writing

Act 3: The Last Paladin The priests and the knights cried out and Miriam shielded her eyes. Ahead of them on the mud track stood a tall man in plate armor and a white tabard with a sunburst design. He looked older, in his fifties or so. The man carried a glowing long sword in his right hand. In his left hand he held a white kite shield with a golden sunburst design emblazoned across it.  “In the name of Michael, and Gabriel, Raphael and Uriel, I command you to surrender.” The man said in a booming voice.  Miriam stared. Where had this man come from? Where had the shadow thing gone? Who was this man? Questions whirled through her head.  “We are not afraid of you, angel spawn.” One of the priests answered.  “That’s your mistake then.” The man pushed into a run and thrust his sword through the neck of the nearest priest.  The lead priest began speaking in the dark speech again. The man pulled his sword free and stepped forward. He slammed his shield into the face o...

Act 2: The Last March The knights made Miriam carry the unconscious Eve. And Miriam struggled, the other girl’s body draped over her shoulders. Miriam was a farm girl and was strong for her size. And Eve wasn’t large, but she was a whole other human. Miriam carried the other girl for over an hour before Eve regained consciousness. Eve was a little out of sorts when she woke. But their captors didn’t care and marched the girls onwards towards the Sundered Tower.  Their captors marched the girls all day. Stopping only once night fell and navigation became impossible. This close to the Sundered Tower, the clouds hid the moon and all stars. And the Shadow Across the Sun did not disappear at sundown. And the unnatural veil it lay over everything made torches and lanterns feeble in the dead of night. The night was nobody’s friend; not commoner or Imperial soldier.  They stopped to rest in a burnt out building that Miriam realized had been a slaughterhouse. Hooks hung from the ceilin...

Act 1: Under the Gallows Miriam was fifteen years old the last time she let the pigs into the kill yard. She opened the gate from outside the fence. The hungry pigs scrambled towards the pile of bodies below the gallows for their meal. The pigs were fed only once a day. And the amount they received varied based on how many people the secret police had executed. So the pigs were often ravenous. Opening the gate from inside the kill yard would been dangerous. It would have put Miriam at risk of being mistaken for part of the main course.  She watched as the pigs tore at the bodies and stripped flesh from bone. She didn’t like her job. But she had little choice in the matter. The pigs scared her. Not pigs in general, she liked most livestock animals. But these pigs, raised on human flesh and made to fight each other for that food; these pigs terrified her.  Miriam looked up into the distance. Storm clouds coiled around the Sundered Tower. Chunks of the tower floated about the sky...

"Do you ever stop to think about how rarely we have to deal directly with money?" Lynn asked. "We paid for these drinks," I said, raising a teacup to make my point. "Yes. And you pay cash for your fashion magazines. But you don't pay cash for your clothes, for any food delivered to the castle, for furniture, for livestock. Everything is done on accounts, in ledgers. And payments are sent by mail or by courier later." "It is kind of crazy compared to our modern world," I said. "I'm not sure it's that different. It's like credit cards really, just low tech." Lynn sipped her coffee and stared out the window. "I wonder if that was the intention of the designers?" I said. Lynn set her coffee cup down. She put her head on her knuckles and stared off into nowhere. "Maybe. Maybe this is how it actually was in the Victorian era for nobility." "Maybe," I said. "It seems like a lot of trust is bak...