D.D. Ward is Writing

Chapter Three: The Body Now Amy and Fiona joined me beside the body of the late Duke Siggis Leifson. The duke had been an unremarkable man. Average height and stocky, he had been neither ugly nor handsome. The blood continued to leak from his open mouth. I noticed that he was bleeding from his eyes as well. The blood pooled in the dirt of the longhouse floor. As I watched Vincent slid through the crowd to stand beside us. His dark skin stood out against the sea of pale Hyperboreans. “This looks like poison.” Fiona said. “Giant scorpion poison I think. It prevents the blood from clotting, which explains the bleeding.” “We’re all drinking from shared bottles.” I looked at the tables and the bottles on the tables, “How does one poison one person in all of this?” Amy hummed for a moment, and then tapped her teeth, “The drinking horn itself could have been poisoned, couldn’t it?” Fiona and I looked at each other, and nodded.  Leon looked around, at the crowd. “Duke Xander. Do you have a...

Chapter Two: Red Eye One Month Earlier One egg yolk. A pinch of salt. A pinch of pepper. A splash of Worcestershire sauce. A splash of hot sauce. One ounce of gin. I closed my eyes and downed the drink in a single gulp. The egg yolk slid down my throat in a wet spicy lump. I remained sitting, eyes closed, head bowed.  I sat at a small table in the bedroom I shared with the two women in my life. Coal heated air warmed the room, and the coal smoke rolled across me smelling like a dirtier cigar smoke.  “Last night was a mistake.” I announced in a voice like cracked pavement. My dachshund Quincy pawed at my leg as I slumped in my chair. I scratched his ears, and his tail fluttered with excitement.  “I did warn you about Scythian snake vodka.” Fiona said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You also reminded me that Scythians look at mild drinkers as weak in spirit.” “Indeed. But I was not encouraging you to get in a drinking contest with my uncle. He is more bear than man....

Chapter One: Drinking Contests "I don't know whether to congratulate the bride or slip her a straight razor. " “Hush Ren,” Lynn put a hand on my shoulder. “This could have been me.” “I know. I nearly died stopping that, remember?” “But now Monique is on the chopping block, and we have to have her back.” “I’ve got her back. I promise,” I said. I stared at the interior of the stave church rather than watch the ceremony. The smell of incense hung in the air. And cloth banners to the Twice Dead Gods hung from the ceiling. The floor was hard packed dirt rather than wood or stone. I stared in dismay at my floor length forest green evening gown. Timber surrounded us on all sides. Ore-pine posts rose up around us. Hyperborean construction, we were on enemy soil.  I didn’t know the bride prior to our diplomatic mission to Hyperborea. But I didn’t like the idea of marrying an Yssian woman to a Hyperborean man. Hyperboreans had archaic ideas about a woman’s place in society. Ys had ...

Act 3: Not the Hero Miriam looked at Dinah. Light from Eve’s flaming wings flashed and flickered across Dinah’s face. The girl stared into the distance. Hollow eyes looking at nothing. Miriam placed a hand on Dinah’s shoulder. Dinah shrugged Miriam’s hand from her shoulder. And then her shoulders slumped. And she crumpled a little.  “I don’t know what to do.” Dinah said. “I don’t know what to do, if I’m not the hero.” “What does being the hero have to do with it?” Miriam asked. Miriam replaced her hand on the girl’s shoulder. And this time Dinah let the hand stay in place.  “You don’t understand.” Dinah said. “That’s all I’ve ever been. I’m the next hero. I’m to make up for my family’s shame. I’m the family’s redemption. And I’m not the hero. So then what?” Miriam turned to look at Eve and Balathasar. She thought about her own fear. She was afraid that she was out of her depth. Dinah was afraid that she was unworthy. Miriam didn’t know how to help with that. “I don’t know what...

Act 2: The Shrine They reached an archway and stopped. Miriam didn’t know how long they had been living shadows. The time was hard to gauge. As she waited, something changed. She began to reacquire weight and form. Color bled back into her vision. And then she was standing in front of the stone archway, beside Eve and Balthasar.  “Here we are. Safe and sound.” “How did you do that?” Miriam asked. “You did the same thing when you freed us. That’s not a paladin power.” “I’m not a paladin anymore. Remember? Now quick. Through the gate.” He grew blackened claws again and sliced a tear in the air once more. A murky image of a church interior swam into view in the open archway. “You’re deflecting.” “And you’re wasting time. The Darkways aren’t safe. Remember?” Miriam glared at him. Eve stepped through the portal. Miriam shook her head and followed. Balthasar came through last, the portal closing behind him. Miriam was about to continue pressing Balthasar for answers, when Eve put a hand ...

Act 1: Pandaemonium City Miriam stared out at the crimson waters of the river Lethe at the skyline of Pandaemonium City. The city scared Miriam, it felt ready to devour her whole. Across the water the skeleton of a massive dragon lay, the city council hall nestled in the dragon’s ribcage. An enormous sword lodged, impaled through the dragon’s skull. The sword bore the sunburst design of the archangels on its crossguard and pommel. No building in the city came close to being as tall as the sword. The air swam with conversation. A dozen languages babbled away around Miriam. Animals called from the market. Wagons creaked. Money jangled. And a thousand other sounds mashed together as Miriam listened.  The city also stank. Miriam could smell a thousand spices, rotten eggs, drake manure, and wet pennies. She noticed familiar smells as well, the smells of hay and grain and livestock. But these smells disappeared in the mass of other swirling odors. It was a heady mixture. And Miriam felt ...