Swords of Calebra

Map of Calebra

Foreword

By Chris Bannor

What is it about fantasy that calls to us? 

Is it the epic nature of the quest? If so, how do we account for the popularity of cozy fantasies with their low stakes and quaint settings? 

Is it the nature of stories where good overcomes evil? But then, why do we devour dark fantasies about heroes who aren’t so noble and quests that don’t end happily? 

Do we love it for the grandiose landscapes and epic world-building? Then how can you explain urban fantasies and paranormal romances that are set in the modern world so much like our own? 

For me, the quest is only as wondrous as the characters who undertake it. They call us along and pull us down strange paths. It’s the small, stealthy traveler creeping through dark dungeons. It’s the ranger fighting against all odds, the archer defending their friends from their perch high above.

When I began working on this anthology, I reached out to some of my favorite authors. I asked them to join me on this quest, to not only create an amazing cast of characters but to give each a sword that was as unique as the people who inhabited this new world. They did not disappoint and provided a diverse cast of characters. I hope you find them as enchanting, engaging, and entertaining as I have.

My dear friends, I am thrilled to invite you to the land of Calebra. May your adventures always take you down the paths you need to travel.

Prophecy

By Neen Cohen

Nine waters rush and collide with power,

The last leaf will fall, igniting the tower.

The blades will come to bend the knee,

Ten to eight for the heir to see.

One will be born of rock and steel

The struggle within, to fight or feel.

A champion’s sword, a stolen blade

The worthy wielder, a heroine made.

A dark burden for a soul of light,

The greatest cost to vanquish the night.

Two swords made from ancients known,

Tooth and claw, scale and bone.

An orphan of her own fair kin,

Marked with loss upon the wing.

The past is shown through two more blades,

One meets sight, one Earthen made.

A vision sword now broken apart,

In hands that hold the wielder's heart.

One hand, one claw, costing sight and hand,

An unlikely duo, as one they stand.

When one betrays, another will blend,

A bath of blood, they begin from end.

Night of the Usurper

By Neen Cohen

Reverie, run! Queen Renalia’s gasped words fell into Reverie’s awareness with the same staccato drops as their father’s blood. Bright red, it dripped from the wound in his chest onto the tiled floor of the throne room.

He had made them hide behind the throne when he felt a darkness approaching them. They’d been half out of their hiding place when they realized it was just their uncle, but the sword he ran through their father turned their excited exclamations into a horrified scream. They’d run to their mother, confused, and scared, but now they were frozen by some unknown magic.

Reverie, my child. You. Must. Run. It wasn’t their public name, but the name their mother used, in the secret moments of family and not royalty.

Do you think I would let her escape so easily, Renalia? You tainted my brother’s blood and created that creature. How could I let her live?

They’re your blood!

Witch! You bespelled my brother!

You’re a monster, Renalia said through clenched teeth. Love is not a spell and your hate is the only thing staining our lives.

Reverie forced their eyes away from the building mass of blood and turned to their mother. Her face strained, eyebrows pulled together, hands curled into claws as she fought Engres’s forward momentum. Tilting their head, Reverie watched their uncle try to reach them but he was caught in a thick gelatinous wall of their mother’s magic.

Revie, I need you safe. Please. Tears dripped down Queen Renalia’s cheeks and snapped the inaction out of Reverie.

I cannot leave you; I can help. Reverie pulled at the magic inside of them, feeling the burn as it seeped from their limbs and culminated in their chest.

Help by living another day. You are the true heir Reverie, do not let him find you.

Mumma.

Run! Queen Renalia’s word was laced with magic strong enough to break the spell that had held their feet. Reverie had never seen their mother use compulsion magic on anyone. Not in eighteen years had they felt the cold chill of it in their bones as they did now.

Reverie sobbed as their legs turned and they raced away from their parents, their family, their safety. Their uncle yelled and his men who had been guarding the door ran after them. Fear gave them a boost of speed that the compulsion hadn’t. They ran through small stairwells and hidden tunnels that they’d learned in their childhood, hiding from lessons to learn swordplay from one of the elves in their father’s service.

They lost their pursuers and knew they were safe from capture for the moment. Fighting against their mother’s magic, Reverie forced their legs to stop in the open courtyard of the Sunlight Castle. It took all their energy, but they turned back toward where they had fled only to hear a sky-wrenching scream from their mother. A burst of magic swept over them, foreign but powerful.

No! Reverie’s throat burned, a fire of pain and anger racing out with the word. Reverie fell to their knees, hot tears leaving their cheeks and splashing down onto the ground.

Sweetling, The soft flapping of wings accompanied the word before light steps drew closer, What happened?

They’re dead. Reverie looked up into the eyes of the human-shifted dragon and in that moment, wanted nothing more than to lay down and never get up again.

I need to take you away from here.

Reverie didn’t resist. Ambriana had been their friend since they’d met at the Keld Tree when they were just five years old. They were safer in the dragon’s arms than anywhere. They allowed the dragon to carry them up into the darkness of the night, away from everything they knew.

Time passed, unknown, in blackness and light while the numbness continued to settle over Reverie’s heart. They stopped many times, sometimes for hours. Sometimes for days and weeks. Sometimes long enough that the danger seeped into Reverie’s numbness and the nightmares followed them into the daylight. The dragon remained at Reverie’s side, soothing them until they passed. In time, she had even managed to distract Reverie with tales of her own life.

I need to get back; I must find out what is happening, Ambriana said as the two finished their morning meal. They sat in front of a small campfire, the dragon a comforting presence beside them. Whatever has become of the Sunlit Castle, we need to know if Engres still follows you. Be safe and do not trust anyone with who you are.

Can’t I come with you? Reverie’s voice was croaked and rough. How long had it been since they’d used it? Weeks? Months?

It’s not safe for you yet. At the last village they said Queen Renalia offered a reward to anyone who can find the missing heir who was abducted the night the King was killed.

My mother died that night.

I know. That’s why I have to go back and see what’s happening in Calebra. Be careful and keep moving. Ambriana lifted Reverie’s chin with a gentle touch. I will find you as soon as I have news worth bringing, little one. Keep safe, the way I’ve taught you.

After a soft brush of lips on cheek, Ambriana stepped away and shifted into her dragon form, then lifted off into the sky. Once the sun was clear of Ambriana’s shadow, Reverie grabbed their pack, then turned and walked. They had no idea where they were going, but they walked, trusting Ambriana’s instruction to keep moving.

They walked through the day and into the night, noticing neither hunger nor thirst. The numbness of their parents’ death consumed them now that the dragon’s warmth and light wasn’t there to distract them from the gnawing darkness. The cliffs rose in front of them and Reverie kept walking. At the edge, they hesitated, a part inside not as numb as the rest of them screamed for them to turn back around, to stop, and to wake up.

That part was small though and Reverie saw— every time they closed their eyes—the sword being pulled ruthlessly from their father's stomach, his blood pooling on the ground. Engres’s laugh filled their ears and with a sob, Reverie stumbled forward and tumbled off the cliff's edge. The sky was scattered with stars and there was a sadness that their own last sight should be so beautiful when their parents had been such a cruel torturous one.

A shadow blotted out the stars, but the shape was wrong. Ambriana was so much bigger. It didn’t matter. The shape was inconsequential.

Reverie closed their eyes, their mother’s voice, memories of the prophecy she had sung to Reverie since they were an infant, filled their ears. They smiled and waited for the last darkness.

Consciousness returned with a pain Reverie could barely categorize. They had never felt such sharp agony in their body. Skin and muscle, aches and sharp stabs combined and made Reverie gasp. It stung as though needles filled their lungs. They tried to move against the pain, but their body ignored their demand.

Stop child. You have much healing left to do. The voice was old and high-pitched that might have been melodic if Reverie weren’t too focused on the pain.

Where am I?

Hush, Majesty. You are in the Forbidden Isles.

Not Maj … But the pain became a wash of heaviness and the darkness overtook them once more.

Each time Reverie awoke there was less pain in their limbs, but with the ease of physical pain, their heart screamed louder as it failed to mend.

Stop. Reverie pushed away hands administering to their wounds. Just let me go.

No. The old voice, more melodic this time but with a harder edge, forced Reverie’s eyes to open.

Why are you doing this? Reverie asked the fae.

Because death is not the answer.

And who are you to have a say over my life? Reverie felt a fire burn inside their belly as the old man smiled at them.

Feels good, doesn’t it? The fae chuckled.

What? they snapped.

That anger.

What do you want?

I want to help you.

Then you should have let me drown.

Enough of that. He waved his hands dismissively and got to his feet. Reverie watched as he hobbled over to a table laden with food. You have fire in you, and your mother, she told you of the prophecy, yes?

What prophecy?

He repeated the words of the song Reverie’s mother had lulled them to sleep with every night. For the first time since Ambriana’s departure, something more than numbness pulled at them.

That’s my mother’s song. Reverie blinked and shuffled up in the bed as the fae brought them a bowl of stew. It smelled of winter nights curled up in bed while their father told stories of his adventures fighting against their enemies.

It is a prophecy, child. And you are the one it speaks of.

I am not strong enough. Reverie took the bowl and dug in eagerly. Within moments the contents were gone, and they looked forlornly at the bottom of the wooden bowl.

Perhaps not yet. The fae chuckled, taking the bowl from them. But you will be. And then you can have your revenge.

Until that moment, Reverie’s interest in the conversation had been minimal at best. But revenge was a seed that quickly grew in the fire in their belly.

You can help me get revenge, she realized.

The fae nodded. I will help you grow strong enough, in magic and muscle, to fulfill your role, Your Highness.

I am not the heir. The heir is dead and buried as far as I am concerned. My mother called me Reverie and that is how I shall be known. Nothing else.

Of course. The fae said, a twinkle in his eye as he gave a small bow.

From Small Beginnings

By Chris Bannor

The crowd erupted into noise and motion as the storyteller strummed the strings of his lute. The gaggle of families that had turned out for the town's small faire called others over to see him, children giggled and squealed to get his attention, and food hagglers around the music yowled to get people's attention. The entertainment was about to start.

Ambriana smiled at the way the people danced around, forgetting for a moment the harsh realities of their lives. Calebra had once been a great kingdom, but it had fallen into lesser days. The people felt the pangs of hunger and lash of tax collectors more often than the joys of a loving monarch. Once-safe roadways had become home to rogues and ruffians, and merchants raised prices to cover the cost of security. Rot crept into the roots of the world, crops turned diseased, and lands lay fallow.

It had been twelve years since Egress the Usurper killed the king of Calebra and the heir had disappeared. The nation had not recovered well. The king had been the heart of the kingdom and it died with him.

Some said the heart of the queen had died as well. Queen Renalia still held her throne, but people whispered that she had changed since that day. They spoke softly and carefully though. The Royal Guard silenced any unkind words against their once-beloved queen.

Calebra, the beacon of light and hope in the world, had faded into a shadow of itself. They had once called it the Sunlight Castle for its beautiful stained-glass windows and the rainbow reflections that fell around it. Those that dared, now called it Shattered Light.

Years had passed since Ambriana last went to the castle to touch the Keld tree and feel the power that still flowed through the nation's most powerful ground. She had known the land when it was still called Sanmara.

Only the sea remained in memory, but Ambriana was no human, with short memories and shorter lives. She remembered the ancient days, when Gar Hakka still gleamed, when the Ouriad shared their mountain riches, and the Blackwoods had been known as the Fairwood Forest, home to a beautiful community full of life.

She had bowed long before the Keld tree stood, with her kind, to swear fealty to men long dead. Her allegiance now belonged to a child, alone and hidden in a world that did not know their importance, a world where the child was hunted. Ambriana had protected the child as best she could, but it had been years since their last meeting. Now, the rot grew too strong, and it was time to act.

She felt the call, heard it in her bones, as she walked through the faire looking for the person the child had grown into. The child had a passion for magic and an aptitude to match it. There was no telling what form they would take.

Ambriana walked the greenways, content as the laughter washed over her. She ached to be at home with those who loved her best, but the summons had come, and she could never turn away from that. The bond between herself and the child was too strong. The need of the kingdom she and her kind had once sworn to protect was too great.

As the sun began to fade, Ambriana climbed the nearest hilltop and turned her eyes towards the castle of Calebra. It was too far, even for her eyes, but she felt the power that emanated there, like a compass pointing the way.

The view is almost as beautiful as the woman looking that way, a man spoke as he came to stand beside her on the hillside.

Ambriana smiled as she turned to look at the storyteller she had passed earlier. This is a good look on you.

Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight.

It's a good plan. Even if Ambriana couldn’t sense the magic around the child, she knew the mischief in their eyes.

"It was a good plan. I have another."

Ambriana rolled her eyes. Of course you do.

It's time, Ambriana. It's time for me to go home.

Ambriana’s smile faded. You can still turn aside from this. You can live your life as anything you want. You don't have to return to the castle. As much as the words hurt to say, Ambriana cared too much about the person before her to not remind them of this choice. You can have a life, away from Queen Renalia and the courts. You don't have to take up this fight.

"And you didn't have to come to my aid after I escaped the castle, but you did. Because we both do what is right. Calebra is dying. I have to stop this Renalia," they said, spitting the name to the ground.

What will you have of me then? Ambriana asked.

Speak the magic. Spread my legend for me. Use your tongue. The storyteller beside her shimmered in the dying light and when the shadows shifted, an old man stood in his place. Reverie the Mage is back in Calebra. Share his greatness and his power. Use your dragon’s tongue to make people remember a history for Reverie that never existed.

Ambriana nodded. A dragon’s whispered tale was truth in the ear that heard it. What she said would become fact and people would share memories from ages past about a mage that had just been created. And what will Reverie be doing?

The old man looked at her, eyes twinkling blue with the amusement Ambriana knew so well. Ten Swords once graced the kingdom of Sanmara, protecting its borders and kin. Over time, they were given to lesser men, and their power diminished. The power is there though, waiting to be reunited. Waiting to rise, to be used, to forge a new force to protect their sworn lands once more. I will find them and bring them to the castle.

What else can I do to aid you?

Reverie the Mage smiled. You have a quest of your own. He handed her a cloth-wrapped package. It is something only you can accomplish. If you can sneak away from your guard dogs again.

Ambriana laughed at that. It had been hard enough to sneak away from her bed to come here. After this excursion, her 'guard dogs' would be on even higher alert. It would be a fine challenge. You can count on me.

The amusement left Reverie's eyes and his face became somber. I know I can. When the swords have all appeared, we'll meet at the castle. Look to be there at the festival of the Last Leaf.

And then?

"Then, we'll see if this Queen Renalia can stand against the Swords of Calebra."

The Master Of Light And Shadow

By David Green

The Night of the Usurper's Banishment

"You know, husband, maybe if you tried your magic, this roaring fire you promised me an hour ago would actually exist."

The scrape of rock against stone ground to a halt as Sendal threw his husband the most withering stare he could muster.

Just a suggestion, Turin laughed, throwing up his hands. Need some help?

If I needed help, Sendal grumbled, striking the rocks together with viscous intent, I'd have asked for it an hour ago.

Suit yourself. Turin let out an all too loud sigh and leaned back against the travel-bags propping up his head, a mock-content look on his face. You know, despite the cold, the Eyrie Mountains are quite pleasant this time of year. Beats the Blackwoods hands down. Pity I'm about to freeze my cock off before I can use it again.

Sendal snorted with laughter despite himself, the frustration coiling inside of him loosening in an instant. Turin's gentle way, his serene smile, quick wit, and sarcastic outlook on life worked as a