Category Archives: Stories

Chance Encounter

This entry is part 2 of 2 in the seriesDestiny

The ship is an ancient rustbucket, and it looks as though it has been here since time immemorial. It was probably a fighter once upon a time, but it is difficult to tell. Time has worn its identity away, and the foliage has overgrown it so that it is little more than scraps of sheet metal covered in vegetation. It is also, at this moment, guarded by a small patrol of Fallen — and it is these, in particular, that have caught Traxis’ attention. She watches them through a high-powered scope from her vantage point atop a grassy ridge nearly a kilometer-and-a-half away.

Her count stands at eight of the unholy aliens, six of which stand equidistantly around the lifeless vessel. The remaining two are crawling in and over it, searching…

“For what?” she murmurs. “What are you misbegotten devils looking for?” She watches them, brow furrowed in concentration and puzzlement, only peripherally aware of her finger curling and uncurling repeatedly over her rifle’s trigger. She’d like nothing better than to blow them all to Hell and back, but she knows that she’d barely drop one before the rest would be all over her, even from this distance. They are Fallen, after all, and the filthy creatures are bleedin’ fast. She could take one or two more out as they rushed her position, but she’d never get them all before they reached her.

She hears it, then, a wispy sound of moving grass, of something being where it shouldn’t be — and she is rolling over, bringing her rifle up as she does. Too slow, she thinks, and Traxis sees the Fallen scout crashing down on her even as she gets her bearings.

She has time to think, Where did he even come from? and then everything is noise and pain and survival. The Fallen is holding two of those cursed swords, and Traxis sees the lightning dancing across the blades, smells the distinctive scent of ozone, feels the crackling energy as those blades descend rapidly — much too rapidly — toward her.

She gives up on trying to bring No Quarter to bear — there isn’t enough time — and tosses it aside, catching the Fallen’s wrists in each of her hands, instead. Sparks dance between the blades and her gauntlets, and she can hear the electric hum of the swords. Then, to her horror, the Fallen’s other two arms emerge from beneath its cloak, each bearing a sword of its own. Four arms, four blades, and Traxis knows she is in trouble. The bastard got the drop on her, somehow, and now she is about to pay the price.

Then, everything is blinding, searing pain as every nerve ending in her body lights up in fiery anguish. The Fallen’s weight is off her now, but she hardly notices. She would scream if she could, but her throat is seized up, and she can’t even draw breath. A second or two of this — though it feels like it goes on forever — and the pain is gone. Traxis can do nothing for a moment but gasp, her vision swimming in and out of focus.

Finally, her mind clears, her body settles down to a dull ache, and she thinks, What the hell was that?

And then a shadow looms over her. She grabs for the pistol on her hip as the figure steps between her and the sun — and she realizes that she is looking at another Guardian, a Titan. Only…

“By the Traveler!” she breathes. “You’re enormous, even for a Titan!” His laughter surprises her, and he reaches out a hand to help her up.

“Well, I never get mistaken for Cabal,” he replies. “Name’s Dumais,” he says by way of introduction.

“Traxis,” she replies, still a little shaken.

“You looked like you needed some help. Didn’t figure you’d mind if I intervened.” He gestures, and Traxis turns to see a smoking ruin that vaguely resembles what may have once been a Fallen.

“Thanks for that,” she says. “I thought my number was up that time.”

“A pleasure.” She hears amusement in his voice but is unsure whether it is directed at her or the circumstances. Then a dark note creeps in. “I’ve never seen a Fallen wielding four of those damnable weapons before. He was either incredibly stupid or exceptionally skilled.”

Traxis remembers the way the creature had managed to sneak up on her, surprising her completely, and concludes, “My money’s on the latter. I was careful.” She turns her attention back to Dumais. “What’d you do to him, anyway? And to me?”

“This,” he says (Now he sounds sheepish, she thinks) and pulls out a short little pistol. “It’s called Bringer of Pain, and not just because of what it does to your enemies.” He hands it to her, and Traxis takes it, tentatively, examining it. “It’s not your standard ballistic weapon.”

She looks up at this. “Then…” Dumais nods in acknowledgement.

“Directed energy. It stores up a charge over time, which you can then release for an instant kill — or nearly so. It doesn’t leave much of your target, as you can see, but it also makes life rather uncomfortable for anyone else inside the blast radius — and for the shooter.” She sees him flex his fingers and wonders how much it costs him each time he fires it.

Her own skin is still singing from that encounter, though not as intensely now. She hands the weapon back to the Titan. “Where did you find it?”

Dumais takes the pistol and tucks it into his belt, and Traxis gets a glimpse of at least three other weapons clipped there. “During a little dive on Enceladus. Cost me plenty to get to it, too.”

“I can imagine,” Traxis replied, absently. Her mind is already returning to the business that brought her here in the first place. She glances back up at Dumais. “I know why I’m here, but what brings you out to the middle of Only-The-Traveler-Knows-Where — not that I’m not grateful,” she quickly adds.

That note of amusement is there in his voice again when he says, “Same reason you are, I would imagine — to investigate that wreck over yonder. Need any help with that?”

‘Over yonder,’ she thinks. How quaint. She mulls his proposal over for only a moment — two Guardians versus at least eight Fallen; it won’t even be a fair fight — then replies, nodding at his belt.

“How long does it take Bringer of Pain to recharge?”

This story was submitted to the Destiny Guardian Short Story Contest, where it won first prize!

Forward Unto Destiny

This entry is part 1 of 2 in the seriesDestiny

Traxis packs the last of her gear into her satchel and snaps the buckle closed. She hoists it over her head and settles the strap over her right shoulder, reaching behind her to adjust the satchel until it rests comfortably in the small of her back. Her Hunter’s cloak is draped across the back of a chair, and she deftly snags it in one hand as she strides across the room, snapping it to her shoulders with practiced grace. The mirrorweave shimmers briefly as it adapts to the colors of her room, ultimately settling on a pattern that best blends into her current environment.

She paces to a blank wall, which dissolves at her approach to reveal a hidden weapons cache. Inside are a dozen firearms — mostly rifles but also a couple of smaller pistols — and a handful of short knives. The guns represent her favored discoveries from her forays throughout the solar system. They have all saved her life on one occasion or another, several more than once. They are all dear to her, and she guards them fiercely.

Traxis selects a long-barreled rifle now, lifting it reverently from its cradle in the wall. It is a sniper rifle named No Quarter, and of all her weapons, it is the one most precious to her. At a meter-and-a-half, it is nearly as long as she is tall, but it is so light and perfectly balanced that its ungainly length is never a disadvantage. In Traxis’ hands, No Quarter is exceedingly lethal, and more than a few enemies have felt its merciless bite.

She snaps a mid-range scope — she has wall duty today — onto the rifle’s barrel and slams home two modular attachments into the stock. One is a super-efficient heat sink, allowing her the option of rapid fire without overheating — and subsequently jamming — the rifle. The other magnetically accelerates every round she fires. Against organics, it is merely adding insult to injury. Against Vex, it can mean the difference between winging one of the damnable robots and hitting it with a kill shot.

She reaches up and fits her mask to her face. She doesn’t need it here, of course. The air in the city is perfectly breathable, but Traxis is a Hunter. She prefers solitude and isolation, and the teeming masses of the city are neither of those things. Her mask gives her a barrier, an excuse to avoid eye contact and empty platitudes.

Traxis steps from her room, sealing the door behind her. No Quarter is slung across her back, ready to draw blood in defense of the city and, by extension, The Traveler. She inhales deeply, taking in the smells of the city around her. These are the people she has sworn to protect. She exhales, repeating her personal mantra before setting out for her post on the wall.

“No Quarter,” she breathes. “Forward unto Destiny.”


The story above is a work of fan fiction. Destiny is a registered trademark of Bungie, LLC.

Arrival

This entry is part 1 of 1 in the seriesThe Ruin of Shorelocke

Eifan Craille stands quietly in the ruins of the old town, leaning heavily on his staff. He is tired, weary from his long journey, but he has come too far to rest now. He permits himself several deep breaths. The salty sea air refreshes him, but only a little. He pulls his cloak closer, shivering lightly in the damp, chilly air and surveys the scene before him.

Shorelocke. Hardly an original name, the town had once been a sea port, providing one of the only routes for merchants to deliver their goods in-land by way of a clever lock and dam system.

Now, though, Shorelocke is a ghost town. The stone block buildings haven fallen into disrepair, and the cloying scent of rot and decay hangs over everything.

Now that he is here, Eifan is uncertain where to begin his search. Off to his left, a low stone shelter with a dark, yawning opening seems to whisper to him. To his right, a broken tower flickers with torchlight, despite no visible source. And immediately before him, an open plaza etched in mystic runes.

[Originally posted at Ficly.]

I want to experiment with an idea for this series. Does anyone remember those old Choose Your Own Adventure series? I’d like to do something similar here. The difference is that I want you, my readers, to decide which direction the story goes by “voting” in the comments. Each section of this story, Eifan will be faced with a choice. It will be your job to comment on which choice he should make. The one that gets the most votes will determine which way the story goes. Clear enough? Good.

So, what should Eifan explore: the shelter, the tower, or the plaza?

Also, feel free to suggest anything else you’d like Eifan to explore. I can’t guarantee he’ll have time (he is, after all, likely to find his hands full), but I’m definitely open to suggestions.

Ember

This entry is part 6 of 6 in the seriesThe Clockwork Desolation

It is the faintest glimmering of a spark. It floats in suspension in a bottle, the field it generates holding it equidistant from the surfaces that enclose it. It is an Ember, and it pulses gently, hungrily.

It has memories, of a sort, quantum states that hold the last use to which it was put. It no longer has any knowledge of the coal it consumed as an engine-seed, or of the alcohol it burned in the distillery. It remembers nothing of the forge, the furnace, or the oven. Those Ember-lives are long past, overwritten, forgotten.

It remembers now only the glass that contains it – and the taste of one, peculiar molecule. That memory remains strong, and the Ember still resonates with that catalyzing reaction. The surrounding terrain has been glassed with the fury of that meeting.

There is one, final consequence of that moment of carelessness. Above the Ember, a jagged rift splits the sky, folding it. Electric tendrils reach from that Fold, groping, grasping, but not taking. There is nothing for it to take.

[Originally posted at Ficly]

The Coil

This entry is part 5 of 6 in the seriesThe Clockwork Desolation

The encampment is little more than a desiccated husk. What remains of the few tents still standing are tatters of canvas flapping from poles bent and twisted by some cataclysmic event. Much of the ground here has been blasted into red glass and slag, but there are pockets that remain sandy, that still shift in the gale that howls through this canyon.

It is one of these pockets that hides the original purpose of this encampment. The wind blasts, the sand shifts, and the edges of a device emerge. It is a delicate thing, fragile, and yet somehow it remains intact. It looks not so much like a coil — though there are sections of glass tubing that do, indeed, coil — as a series of tubes, bottles, and decanters connected in series. It looks like the chemistry set of a mad scientist.

Dark residue clings tenaciously to the insides of several bottles.

And in one bottle, a minute Ember still burns, consuming nothing and yet, still, it pulses gently.

The wind and sands shift, and the device disappears once more.

[Originally posted at Ficly]

The Logbook

This entry is part 4 of 6 in the seriesThe Clockwork Desolation

The book lies on a table. Its pages are torn, tattered. The ink is faded, in places almost nonexistent. What ink remains, however, tells a chilling story.

On the left-hand page is a diagram, the chemical structure of a molecule labeled, simply, Nightmare. Then, a mathematical equation, all letters and numbers and symbols, the solution circled once, twice, three times. Below that, another molecular diagram, similar to the one above, but subtly different in ways that only an experienced biologist — or master alchemist — would recognize and understand.

The rest of the page is faded, but there are notes on the next.

“Use of the Coil has yielded… weaponized form of Nightmare…” Then, further down the page: “…highly unpredictable and volatile, lingering in the air hours after dispersal. I am suspending study of the compound until a stabilizing agent…”

There is little else on the page but one, last scribbled notation:

“…assistant has made off with my Coil… no idea what he has done!”

[Originally posted at Ficly]

Little Broken Gods

Germaine Ashencloake surveyed the wreckage of the room before him. Dozens of tiny figurines lay in shattered ruins across the floor. From what he could observe, each was unique.

Germaine shook his head. A woodcarver carving in bone and ivory. Such things were simply not done. It bordered on blasphemy.

One of the Voices in his head spoke. “No wonder the destruction here is so complete. Such things cannot be allowed to continue unchecked.” And yet, until recently, this one had.

Another Voice added, “Such petty gods.” It tittered. “The real gods are the carvers who carve them.” Germaine ignored both Voices.

He could feel the figurines, could taste the little tatters of god-soul that still clung to each one. These were no petty gods, he knew. Not just. These were all the gods of all the world’s religions, made by an unknown woodcarver.

He spoke — and was surprised to hear that the Voice he used was his own.

“Our gods have not forsaken us,” he said. “They were simply never with us in the first place.”

[Originally posted on Ficly]

Titan

This entry is part 3 of 3 in the seriesGolem

Air _whooshed_ in and out of the titan’s lungs like enormous bellows. The sound flowed through the mountainous cavern with a sonorous resonance that would have entranced any mere mortal. Each breath built on and amplified the last, cascading into a hypnotic mellifluence that was both beautiful and terrible.

The titan lay upon an enormous slab of granite. Metallic bands, etched with the runes of an ancient, forgotten language, stretched across its sleeping form — one at the shoulders, one at the hips, and one at the knees. Four smaller bands restrained its wrists and ankles.

After aeons of lethargy, the titan had become overgrown with moss. Lichen grew from its ears and the corners of its eyes. Its skin had become calloused and rough, its nails cracked and blackened. Yellowed mucous seeped from its nostrils, and rivers of saliva dripped from its open mouth.

Of course it knew nothing for this, nor would it have cared. This once great titan, this sleeping behemoth, this Tzubletz’th slumbered on.

[Originally posted at Ficly]