Friday, March 16, 2012

"Daughter of Hauk" FanFic

A writing friend of mine, Kate Collins, recently had the well-deserved fortune of having her first novel published. I couldn't resist putting together a little scene together based on a scene from the book. I present it to you here.

If you like my little fanfic and want to know more about her setting, check out her book Daughter of Hauk, found on Amazon here. (Check out the dedication - I'm in there! That tickles me.)

If you prefer a pdf version of the book you can get it at the publisher's site, Solstice Publishing.

I haven't finished the book in its entirely yet, but it reminds me a great deal of D&D adventures I've been on. If you like sword and sorcery adventure tales, you should check out Daughter of Hauk.

* * * * *

I pulled one of the straps on my leather greaves a little tighter. It was a nervous gesture, I knew, one that betrayed my anxiety at the coming battle. I berated myself for my lack of courage, glancing back, up the hill to where the Daughter stood. No, I should not refer to her that way. She was more than a chosen cleric of a foreign god now. She was my Clanswoman.

I studied her for a moment.

She was no warrior. Stories abounded of the horrors she had suffered at the hands of the enemy we now faced, but her face was a beacon of strength and confidence. If such an one displayed no fear in the face of the host we opposed, how could I, an experienced Bladewoman of Clan Weasel do less?

The sound of a trump brought my attention back to the field. The enemy was advancing. The might of Clan Weasel roared its defiance. I added my own voice to the cry, fear replaced by rage and the all-consuming lust of battle.

I charged, twin blades falling as I crashed into the enemy. Time slowed as my reflexes took over. Foes fell before my blades, one, two, a third. I soon lost count.

I know not how long I fought. So caught up was I in the joy of combat that time lost all meaning, events blurring in my mind.

A cry of pain brought me to myself. What was happening? My eyes widened in surprise to see the spear protruding from my chest. I cried out again as my foe jerked the weapon from my body. My hands went numb. I watched in shock as my blades tumbled from my grasp. I fell forward, unable to catch myself before I hit the ground.

I was tired. So tired. I closed my eyes.


I watched the battle play out, unable to interfere, unwilling to leave.

"This is not your place, K'Morna of Clan Weasel."

The voice startled me. No one had noticed me to this point, despite my efforts. The man who stood beside me surveyed the destruction on the battlefield. The firm set of his jaw beneath his short gray beard spoke of strong emotion.

"I fight with my Clan."

"Your fight is over now," he said, his voice gentle. "Can you not feel the pull of eternity? Your rest awaits."

I looked to the hilltop where her tent stood strong.

"I pledged my service to her cause. How can I go when that cause is not yet realized?"

"Her cause is my cause, K'Morna. You have served honorably. You have given all. I release you from your pledge."

"How can this be?"

He looked at me then, and the depths of his eyes revealed the truth.

"She is your Daughter."

"She is."

"But I am not one of yours. Why concern yourself with me?"

"Because she would want me to. And she is special to me."

I looked once more at the battlefield, torn by indecision.

"Go, K'Morna. You have stories to tell."

Again I felt the pull, and this time I did not resist.


The hall was warm and bright. As I stepped inside, a mug was thrust into my hand.

"Welcome, K'Morna of Clan Weasel. Pull up a chair. There are stories to be told."

I smiled and found a seat.