Author: Hob Goodfellowe

Sorry for the delayed post this week. It is the first week of the second semester at uni, so things have been quite hectic… -oOo- Caewen shook her head. “Calm down. Nothing. Clearly, the tent can’t harm things that are enduringly magical. Probably, it can only snuff out fleeting spells.” “How do you know that?”…

As one, the crowd moved forward, blank of expression, their movements marked by the jerkiness of puppetry. Their eyes had a slight grey sheen, and an odd flickering of light and shadow too, as if they were all staring into the sun through a cloud of passing starlings. “Dapple…” said Caewen. “Dapplegrim.” She moved the…

“Do you know the purpose of the killings then? Why kill so many folks who have connections to serpent, worm and dragonet? That’s the only pattern we’ve been able to discern. And really,” said Caewen, “it seems such a strange thing. What was he hoping to achieve? I can’t unravel the motive at all.” “Who…

Standing outside, in the weak late-morning light, Dapplegrim and Caewen considered the object in hand. Caewen had half-wrapped it inside a rag, so that the face of the old man showed as if he were a beggar bundled against a cold night. Although nothing like the merchant’s charmed protection, the greasy old cloth would at…

They did not need to go far. Their secretive beckoner had his tent pitched nearby. It was large and made of a dark oilcloth that gave off a pungent smell. Out front, trestle tables and crates stood empty and packed up for the evening. Two fat ponies grazed beside a pleasant wooden caravan. Presumably his…

“Hurm,” said Dapplegrim. “If this is some extraordinarily stupid mugging, I should point out that I haven’t eaten breakfast.” He finished this with a jagged, smiling, “yet.” The man started, taken aback for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Here, now,” he said, “his voice round and gravelly. None of that now. Aren’t you two the…

Hi everyone. I’m feeling much better now. Just a cold, but it hit me at a time that wasn’t great. My sister was visiting with one of her daughters from New Zealand, and the university semester had just finished, which meant there was a lot of general catch-up work to get done. So of course,…

Another magician, a man in a red and black robe, and sporting a purple turban, answered her. “The rumours are too many, young princess of the muddy horses. And too much in agreement. The north is massing armies. We are certain of it.” He drew up an angry scowl upon his face. “No doubt your…

For a terrible stretch of a second she stood, and tried to take in the view of the people staring back at her. Someone cleared their throat. Another person coughed. Finally, someone said, a bit petulantly, “Well?” Still, Caewen couldn’t find it in herself to start. She should have planned this out. She should have…