Ennara and the Fallen Druid

A butcher’s stand was a clear shot across the bazaar. Legs of pig, lamb, cow, and whole chickens hung, curing on a sturdy awning.

Ennara shuffled to the rear of the cheese vendor’s stall, crouched low, and aimed. “Mag gwihuwo!”

Fallen_Druid_coverA fine finger of black smoke curled toward the meat shop. As the ashy spell landed on the animal parts, they twitched. A woman walking by the stand shrieked. The butcher looked up, his eyes bigger than eggs and his mouth in an “O.” Several shoppers shouted in astonishment. Others yelled and ran.

A passing monk cried, “The devil is among us!” as six headless hens wriggled their way off the hooks and scrambled on the ground, flapping their featherless wings.

Then the lamb legs got free, and there they were, bouncing round the empty area in front of the butcher’s stall. The crowd parted. Some ran home. Others ran inside stores and shut the doors, but many stayed to see what would happen. The center of the plaza was clear except for the butcher, who hid in his stall clutching a cleaver, the city sentinel, still holding Kithe, Mr. Dulfsnark, a dozen reanimated chickens, five dancing legs of lamb, and a menacing zombie hog.

The watchman spun around as the gathering dispersed and saw the reanimated meat. “What the…?”

A chicken bolted for the man’s leg. He released his grip on Kithe and punted the creature away. The chicken flapped its wings as it whizzed through the air and smashed into a vegetable cart.

Mr. Dulfsnark made a mad grasp at a bouncing leg of lamb and struggled to hang on to it.

“Hey!” the butcher called, “You’ll be paying for the lamb, Dulfsnark!”

“I’ll give you three copper for it, Hormmork!” the man shouted back.

“I won’t take less than two silver!” was Hormmork’s reply. “That was my best lamb!”

“Six copper!” The plump man fought with the leg. “Not a copper more!”

“One silver, six copper!” Hormmork called.

The hog sniffed at the air, focused its white eyes on the plump man, and charged. He screamed and was knocked to the ground.

“One,” Hormmork yelled, “one silver.”

Mr. Dulfsnark held up the leg and received a well-aimed shot to the jaw. “Ow!” he cried. “One silver, but you’ll throw in a chicken, too!”

Fallen_Druid_authorAngela Myron was born in Vancouver, Canada and lives in Los Angeles, California with her husband and twins. She grew up in the piney forests of southern British Columbia, studying tiny blue bells, dodging cacti, and creating fantasy worlds in her back yard.

Angela studied biology and professional writing at the University of Victoria in Canada and at San Francisco State University. She wrote grant proposals for nonprofits, computer software manuals, and freelance journalism before writing fiction.

Author Website: www.angelamyron.com/contact.html

Author’s Amazon Page: http://www.amazon.com/Angela-Myron/e/B00DDSIAFS/

Author’s Goodreads Page: https://www.goodreads.com/angelamyron

Buy the book: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00DD89L24/


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