Trying to find my groove again

  I am going to try to write again

Free short stories

I am going to attempt to enlarge on some of the short stories I have started.

I have many stories to extend, in many genres, hopefully these will pass the hours, and limit the time I can think of my late wife which I fear could lead to depression if I don't attempt a release.

I am hoping my Facebook ban has expired, if for no reason other than FB raised the blog readers.

It doesn't matter anymore

Stories to Write

                                              I have a great selection of ideas

This week, I made the decision that what Ideas for stories I have I shall take with me when I go to meet my late wife.

The decision had nothing to do with her death, I've had this in mind for months, if not years. Why should I spend my days writing a story which nobody will read?

I have on this blog, a section I call Free Short Stories, it is a section where I put my ideas for possible longer stories. There are also, many stories on my blog which I began, but drew little interest, with themes such as fantasy, erotica, romance, science fiction, and religion.

The Hard Sell

 Freebie Time

                                           Free short stories

Freebie Time from now on will be when I decide to put a free short story online; I won't be sending out files as I did in the past, hoping for sales. That was another Alan, he was naïve; I am now a hardcase. When I started, I had only bee writing a few months when I was a scam victim by a man in Canada. He had read read Nerja on my blog, and asked for a copy, being new to selling, I sent him a copy.

Nerja went on to be my second bestselling eBook on Amazon until I took it down, it is for sale on other channels, but in over a decade on Amazon it only sold a dozen copies.

What will I do?,

 The Story Teller

                                                           Free short stories

What to do with my talent for writing a short story is the question I ask myself each time I write?

I could put them for sale on Apple, as the site is my main source of sales. Not that making one or two sales a year is going to make a big change in my life.

I could write for the few readers this blog gets. I have many ideas for a story, but with few readers I have difficulty finding the urge to write.

Carlotta's Revenge

Free short stories 

For your pleasure

To men, Carlotta Carmtarez was a siren of exquisite beauty, to women she was the Devil Incarnate. To everyone who knew her, or knew of her, Carlotta was like a phoenix. Always rising from the ashes, and each time more dangerous than her serene beauty would have you believe possible.

Carlotta knew how to play the power game and use her sexuality to her advantage. She could be alluring one moment, and devastating cruel the next. Nobody was safe when Carlotta was in the mood for vengeance, and there were very few times when revenge was not on her mind.

Since her late teens, Carlotta had been building an empire; working her way across Europe making deals here, there, and everywhere. One thing which puzzled people was nobody knew why she was doing it, 

Carlotta was wealthy beyond belief, so money wasn't an issue for her. She had a good lifestyle, and children who adored her, so the family was not the problem. Because people could not see the reason for her actions, people became more worried as time wore on, and this led to more rumours of what she was doing and why she was doing it. 

The enigma that Carlotta had become, worried one group of people the most; the Granorola family of Cadiz. The family had a history with Carlotta's family which was kept a secret that the Granorolas never told people;  even the children were kept in the dark about what happened many years before they were born. The Carmtarez family were the opposite, all the children knew what had happened to grandpa.

One day, the Granorola family received a telegram from the Carmtarez family lawyer, it was politeness on behalf of Carlotta. Requesting an audience with the board of directors of the bank.

Carlotta lay on her bed watching as the clock hands turned, smiling seductively to her lover, Georgio, she said, "It will soon be time for the showdown, they have no idea what is going to happen at the meeting; while I have the whole plan laid out."

Georgio smoothed his lovers’ legs, then replied, "I have known you for years, yet you scare me, my love. I am pleased I never made an enemy of you' you devour men like a boa devours its prey."

She smiled seductively, then commented, "If we weren't going out I'd take you now. You know what to say to arouse my passion to red hot."

He laughed and replied sarcastically with a wink, "Here I was thinking all you wanted me for was my driving skills."

Crossing and uncrossing her legs, Carlotta replied, "Naughty Georgio, I thought we'd got passed that question months ago."

"We have, but you know how much I love to tease you about our different lifestyles."

Carlotta winked, and said, "Some would look at us, and think, she likes a bit of rough on the side. We know the truth, I may have wealth now, but I never forget my roots."

"That, my dear, is what makes you so desirable and yet so dangerous. You have played the game of power from both sides, so you know what it takes to win. You get as much pleasure from winning as from seeing your opponent suffer, even if you lose the war, which is a rarity for you."

She replied, "The chase is greater than the victory, my darling Georgio," as she licked her lips like a snake sniffing the air for the scent of its prey.

"Do you think you can win this time?"

Tapping the folder on her lap, Carlotta replied, "With what's in the folder I can't lose. The question is what price are they willing to pay for my silence? They know, I can and will take them down if they fight the takeover. My advantage is I've made no attempt to hide how I got were I am, and they have many secrets."

Georgio smiled, then winked at Carlotta, and said "You can be a wicked lady when you wish to be, Carla baby."

Carlotta licked her lips sensually, and replied, "Georgio, you know how hearing you say that excites me. I want you here, and now."

Always willing to please Carlotta, he rose slowly from the driver's seat, brushed his clothes down; then got out and walked to the rear. Sitting provocatively, crossing and uncrossing her legs, Carlotta awaited her lover.

He slowly opened the rear door, at the same time, she let her dress rise exposing her upper thighs - not that Georgio needed encouragement - he was always passionate in her presence.

She winked at her lover, then said, " I see you're as excited about this session as I am; it's good to know I still arouse you after our years together."

He smiled, and replied, "It would take a lot for me not to be aroused by my Carla baby."

Gorgio sat next to Carlotta, gently running his hand up her thigh; with his gentle touch he could sense where her stockings ended, and her skin began. Slowly, he moved his fingers across her panties, caressing her mound as she opened her legs to accept his tenderness.

They stayed close for about a half and hour, before they climaxed; the as they sat in peace, Georgio said, "You have time to freshen up before the meeting. Shall I drive you home."

Without stopping to consider her actions, she replied, "No, entering like this will give me an extra edge. Seeing me ruffled and having the scent of our loving will drive the men crazy, and get the women jealous; I know some of the ladies, if I can use the term loosely, want you as much as I do, Georgio."

Georgio blinked, rose from his position, and said "Will that be all, ma'am?"

Perplexed by the changes in his manner, she replied, "What is wrong, why have you become so formal?"

He never blinked as he replied, "If you don't know, the meeting will give you the time to think of what has happened."

Shocked, she said, "If we have time before the meeting, why not go to our special place to talk this over, Georgio?"

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same. I saw a nice spot not far from here were we can sit and talk when you return."

"What's wrong with our special spot, Georgio?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders, then commented, "I'll explain on your return, ma'am.”

Perplexed, but undaunted, Carlotta strode into the meeting as if she was a bull on the rampage, she could sense the tensions; men gazed in awe at her ruffled state, wondering how alluring she was when in a state of frenzy. The women tried to avert their eyes from the sight of a ruffled Carlotta not hiding what she’d been upto minutes earlier.

Carlotta gave a slight grin, and commented, “I would imagine, you agreed to my terms; I have nothing to lose, and you have everything to lose. Fight, and you lose without dignity, surrender to my terms, and what goes on here, will stay between us.” 

There was a silence you could cut with a feather, then Janet Sellors rose, and said, “It would appear you have us over a barrel, Carlotta,. We have no choice but to surrender to your terms. Why have you done this?”

Carlotta’s grin turned to a viscous sneer as she said, “When this town was founded, my great-great-grandfather slaved night, and day to make the town thrive, to the point my great-great-grandmother died alone, and penniless. They were buried in an unmarked grave as paupers, despite being the backbone of the town for decades; your families grew rich of the sweat, and blood of my family, and we got no thanks for our part in founding the town. I am doing this, not for me, or my daughter, but for those who are unable to be here. All you have to do is sign the agreement, and I will be on my way.”

Janet commented, “How do we know, w can trust you?”

Carlotta grinned, then replied, “Why should I come back, I have what I want, and I’m leaving the area in the morning.”

Carlotta strode from the room like a lioness with the meal for her cubs, but, in the back of her mind was the thought, “What caused the change in Georgio?”

Still puzzled by his attitude change, she barely acknowledged his presence as he opened the door to the car, and drove from the meeting. 

He’d driven a mile when he turned left up a lane. This didn’t go unnoticed by Carlotta, as she remarked, “Why are we heading this way, our special spot is in the other direction, Georgio?”

Without looking in the rear view mirror, he replied, “I know ma’am, that is why I drove this way, so as not to be close to the area we had nice memories of.”

The tense didn’t get past Carlotta, as she replied, “Why did you say had, and not have; as if things are gone?”

Georgio commented, “Things are gone, ma’am. After today, that spot is a place we shall not go to again.”

Puzzled, she asked, “Why?”

Georgio shrugged as he drove though the leafy avenue of trees to a place he’d seen on their previous journeys, and pulled over, when he turned the engine off, he turned to Carlotta. 

She knew something had gone bad, but she still had no idea what had happened to cause the change in her one-time lover, so she asked, “What is wrong, love?”

Georgio replied without thinking of his answer, “If you want a toyboy, I can put you in touch with several young friends, if you want a driver, my brother Rudolpho is as good as I am.”

Still none the wiser, Carlotta commented, “Where is this coming from?”

He answered, “When you went into the meeting today without getting your clothe tidy, the truth hit me.”

“What truth?”

“You’ve been using me as a plaything, and the meeting was your play area to show off how good you are at playing the tigress.”

“So, according to you, I have been playing you all this time, did it occur to you, that I could have had feelings for you?”

“In the beginning I thought that was so, but as the meeting got closer, I had doubts as to your motives.”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind, Georgio?”

“Yes, but it won’t be easy, ma’am, and it will take time.”

“If it means I can love my Georgio, I am willing to do what it takes, no matter how long. Before we begging the healing, can I ask you a small favour please?”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

“Can you drop the formality, please?”

“Consider it done miss Carla.”

“Thank you Georgio, I am sorry you felt used, that was never my intention. Today’s actions were on the spur of the moment, I can see how it would appear to you; please believe me, I had no plans to use our time to ruffle feathers at the meeting. I can’t aplogise too much for hurting you.”

“I think we have made progress, now you accept I have been hurt, we can begin to repair the damage.”

Georgio got behind the wheel, and drove off, as he did, he smiled to himself,

The action wasn’t missed by Carlotta, who said “Okay, what gives, Georgio, I saw you smile?”

All he did was touch the lip of his cap, give another smile, and drive back to the apartment.

Ghosts of Jazz

   Free Short Stories

The town of Cheltenham is renowned worldwide for many things, from music festivals to the girl’s school and the horse racing, depending on your taste and what you want. Behind this rich Edwardian exterior lies a little story that I hope will tantalize your imagination.

During the International jazz festival which is usually held on the last weekend of April, thousands of fans will flock to the town to see today's names. This story is a taste of real jazz for you, I hope. During the festival, the main centres are the Budweiser stage; the Town Hall stage and the Everyman theatre, yet everybody misses the real home, a small venue and now all but forgotten. Walking past the town hall, and heading to the Montpelier district, you have to cross the road and look for a small walkway to find the club as it is not seen easily, it was here that I first took note of real jazz music. The club is called the Subtone, unless you know where to look and listen, it is so easily missed.

Under all the huge Edwardian buildings used as offices for anything from solicitors to hair dressers, lies a small path to a little club. No more than about fifty feet long by a hundred feet wide and nearly always smoky, this is the real jazz not the big stages for the modern imitation by 20 year olds who think hitting a few notes makes them a jazz icon.

I was standing at the gate, when I thought I heard someone playing a trumpet, thinking it might be from a fringe event, I ventured down and to my surprise came across a wondrous thing. As I stepped through the gate, the door opened to the club, and a doorman met me. "Good evening sir, I hope you enjoy the show." he said.

 “Thank you,” I replied. “Can you tell me who is playing tonight, please?"

 “That, I cannot say sir.”

 “Cannot or will not.” I enquired both intrigued and a bit annoyed.

             “Come on in, and you will see why I cannot answer the question sir."

            “I will be delighted to see why you cannot say.”  I said getting more than interested as to the meanings behind the statement.

As I stepped in, I could see the stage at the back, covered in the smoky atmosphere I was expecting, what followed was something truly amazing. I could vaguely see figures moving about. Nobody was solid, just a mist and the outlines of bodies, yet the music was so clear as if the people themselves were there. The forms seemed to change shapes, to suit the mood of the music.

Coming from the stage I could hear a trumpet playing, and recognised the style of West coast jazz, familiar to Chet Baker in his prime, alongside the sax of Gerry Mulligan and clarinet of Art Pepper, on the drums it appeared to be Buddy Rich.

“This is wrong!” I thought. Turning to the man next to me I said "Excuse me sir, but don’t you think Chet is on form tonight, and that clarinet of Art is so clear, after all these years."

The man turned and said “Sorry sir, we are watching different sessions, I cannot see who you do, for me it is Coltrane, Miles Davis, Gene Krupa up there.”

  “How can that be? We are in the same room, looking at the same stage at the same time.”

The weirdness of the reply aroused my interest immensely, I started to walk around the club asking various people who they saw and got all combinations possible. I found out that even though there were over a hundreds people in the room, there was little cross over for the session and no two sessions were identical. Musicians were there from Ike Quebec to Coleman Hawkins, Tony Williams to Lonnie Donegan, and the styles went from the early 20s to the skiffle of the late 60s, the more I found out, the less I found I knew, this was a total mystery.

In the midst of my confused state, I finally got to the door, and had a talk with my host. “I can see what you meant by not knowing who is playing, you could not tell me who is playing, as you had no idea.”

 “That is right, sir, the secret of the club is that you decide who appears. You can come every night and never see the same group of performers playing the same melodies as he choice is yours to make.”

“Can you answer a few questions for me please?”

“If I can I will be glad to do help you, sir.”

“Thank you very much,” I replied “I see there is no sign of either Jamie Cullum, Polar bear, Ingrid Laubruch here, or any other modern jazz group. Do you forbid it? As the jazz I heard here is so pure.”

 “Not at all, everyone is welcomed, but without realising it, you answered your question when you said modern jazz, the people you mentioned are still alive.” Seeing my puzzled look, my new friend explained “When you asked around, didn't you notice, everyone saw someone different. Yet they had one thing in common, they have all passed the veil of time to this endless stream of jazz.”

“I see now, the only qualification is being dead then.”

“That is correct sir.”

 “Can you tell please, with all the festival going on in town, why so few people have come here?  Yet standing at the gate, I can hear the music.” 

 “Again you have answered the question sir. You heard the music, because you wanted to and you have been here before, so knew where to look for us.”

  “I have one or two more questions. Is there a nationality bar, or is it any dead jazz musicians?”

“No sir, we have no bar at all, the other day someone left saying they were listening to Joe Zawinul, Karl Heinz Stockhausen and Django Reinhardt, among others.”

“As the festival is over soon, will you be closing down and finishing until next year?”

“No sir, as I said this is an endless stream of jazz, it never finishes and we play all evenings to ever increasing crowds.”

“Finally, as the musicians are ghosts and spirits, are the audience ghosts too?”

“We have a mix of living and deceased, some patrons wish to remain with us. Others wish to hear their favourite piece of jazz and then cross over happily.”

I thanked the doorman as I turned to leave and walked up the steps to the main road. All the time, I was thinking. How many variations of styles of jazz there had been from 20s through be-bop to modern jazz. And the non-answerable question. “Who is the best jazz band?”

                    There are as many answers as people asked, as we all like our jazz differently

Free short stories

 Joe's Resignation

Joe West was sitting in his garden admiring the bees at work when his wife called him, "Joe, it's Roger from the club. He wants to have a word with you."

Joe eased his tired body out of the deckchair and ambled across the garden to the door to his kitchen, as he passed his wife, Mabel, he gave her a hug and a kiss and said, "I have an idea what this is about love."

He went into the kitchen and picked the receiver off the table, where Mabel had left it, "Hello, Roger, what's on your mind today?"

Roger Shipman, the treasurer of Hambling Cricket Club, replied, "We'd like you to come to a specially organised meeting tonight, Joe. The members have come to a decision and want to put a motion forward."

Joe smiled, and replied, "You put the beers on, and tell "em" Joe'll be there."

"Thanks, Joe, it has been an awful day for me thinking how I'd ask you."

"I can imagine, but don't worry about a thing."

Joe put the receiver on the hook and walked out to the garden to sit with his wife.

"What was that about, Joe?"

"The members will be asking me to stand down tonight," Joe said with a grin.

"How can you be sure of that?"

"They think I haven't seen what's going on in the league. I disapprove of the way the league is being run, to them I am a dinosaur, an anachronism, a throwback to the good old days when honour meant something. These days, winning is all that matters."

"What is happening that upsets you?"

"For a starter, teams are bringing in "ringers," people from out of the village, to play during the season."

"I thought the rules stipulated to play you had to live in the village for three months?"

"They do, but most of the teams have found ways to bend the meaning. They bring in people for the planting and reaping, and when the season's gone, these "ringers" go back to the city until next year. To me, it is against the letter of the Law, but I'm not running the league anymore, so it won't matter what I say or think. On the bright side, it'll give us more time together, love."

"Won't you miss the club, you've been captain for the last ten years and a player for much longer?"

"Perhaps, for this year, but after that, I won't. To tell you the truth, I was going to hand my resignation in this year."

"That's new to me, does anyone else have an idea of your plans?"

"Not that I know of, I was going to wait until the right time to tell the members. Now, would be as good as any."

Joe gave a smile, as Mabel said, "You old fox, you want to take the wind out of their sails tonight!"

He gave her a hug and a kiss, then said, "It will be a grand farewell gesture." Then he winked.

Joe and Mabel pottered around the garden and took their tea on the patio. Looking at his watch, Joe commented, "The time is here, love." Then he kissed her goodbye and walked into the house.

Mabel watched smiling as her husband walked down to the clubhouse, in her mind she had the image of the men who ran the club fidgetting as they thought how to break the news to Joe.

Joe strode with dignity into the clubhouse, he ordered his pint of beer at the bar and walked over to the trestle table that was put out for the meeting. "I know what you are going to say, so you can stop fidgeting, Roger."

Roger put his pint mug on the table, and said, "It's with sadness, Joe, we'd like you to step down this year as captain."

Joe took a swig of beer after he swallowed and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his old sweater, he replied, "Is that all, I was expecting more. Well, here's some news for you. I am not only standing down, but I am also resigning from playing for the team."

The table went silent, then Timmy Carver, club keeper, asked, "Why?"

"My grandfather was a founding member of this once noble club, back in the days when playing for your local team meant you lived here all year, not just for the harvest season. Don't think I hadn't noticed, and I am not the only one to see how the league is bending the rules. I am just the only person who is brave enough to voice the opinions of the members." Joe stopped to let the news sink in, and then he finished his drink, took the glass to the bar and walked to the door.

It was taking a while for the news to take effect, so he paused at the door and turned to say, "By the way, I was going to resign the captaincy this year anyway!"

With a grin, he stood at the door watching as the members looked back with stunned faces.

Then, he turned, walked out, and closing the door behind left a century of history in his dust

Free Fantasy to read

A Fantasy WIP

 Here are the opening pages of my fantasy short story.

The battle had raged for many days, and the fight had been hard, but at the end of the day, the warriors of the Geven tribe stood proudly as their new chief Shandra Connaught viewed them.

Shandra surveyed the men who stood before her with pride, "Warriors of the Geven, today we struck a blow for freedom. No longer will be the victims of the Ghoron. Last night, we stood firm and showed them we are not going to wait for them to attack again. They felt our wrath to avenge the brothers and sisters who fell in  battles, over the years, it is a rage filled with the desire to bathe in the blood of defeated."

The Geven and Ghoron tribes remained enemies for so long that nobody knew or cared what started the feuds. The lands of the Kaladrian Forest have been fought over for centuries. There are tales of men who can blend into the trees and remain unseen for months, but few believe such stories.

Holding the sword of Altanus high, she called out, "We, who are here, salute you. Altanus, Lord of the unknown and bringer of peace!" 

The warriors roared in reply, "Shandra, Shandra, Shandra," and the woods rang to the noise of joyous celebrations all night. There was much drinking, singing, and telling stories, but Shandra knew this was only the beginning of the war. She left the fires of her people, and walked slowly to her tent, Shandra enjoyed the thrill of the battle as much as any warrior and enjoyed celebrating even more, but on this night, she had something more to think about - the future of her people.

A war that was destined to change Kaladria, for she had seen the future on a vision quest. Shandra had no doubt the tribe would be victorious, what she doubted was the cost; would the loss of lives be worth the victory? This war needed to be fought on many levels while the Geven were more than a match in the woods, could their forces overcome a fortress? Shandra was worried, as her men and women cheered this victory she couldn't help but consider the future of her tribe, Let them have their moment, she thought, we might not see many such times in the future.

The men drank of the Mead as the women of the Geven danced around the fires. The stars lit the sky with everlasting beauty, and peace reigned in the forest - at least for now - despite the victory, the guards remained vigilant. Life on the run enforced the Geven folk to be ever watchful; even in times of joy, their weapons were close at hand.

Her tent stood on the top of the rise overlooking the plain of Cardocan, below her lay the vast barren lands populated by mystical beasts and their Lord Flamendor, the great dragon. Flamendor was once the greatest of all the firebrands, but now his realm had passed to the lesser beings. The brave dragon had grown old beyond his years and was unable to fight by the side of his friends, but spirit dwelled in their souls, and this made the warriors as fearsome as ever,

Two things were sure to the warrior queen; the first is that to cross the plain, she needed the trust of Flamendor, and the second was to attack the fortress at Elfenmere, she would need all the troops and dragons the brave dragon could spare. 

Elfenmere's strength as a fort is that an enemy can only take it with force with a frontal assault - high cliffs protected the rear of the fort - but this was also its weakness. A small force can hide on the cliffs and mask their attack.

Shandra strolled around their camp, looking at the men and women enjoying their well-earned victory celebration, she couldn't help thinking How many will celebrate our final triumph - if we have one? 

Her mind was brought back to the present when a voice called "Shandra, are you not celebrating with us?"

Shandra glanced in the direction of the caller, and then replied, "I will be with the people in a while, Samilia. I have a few things to gather before I come down." Shandra stood silently, thinking about the events of the recent battle and what was in their near future, as she closed her eyes to absorb the spirits of the forest and ask their guidance, she spotted a young bird land on a high ridge not far away. She took this as a sign from the spirits and went to seek out the hill. The rim was at the top of a small mountain, as Shandra began her ascent. On her arrival, she found herself on a ridge no more extensive than a person's body and covered in small rocks. She watched as the bird walked along the ledge, gently tapping the stones with its beak, then for a moment, the bird stopped by a pile of rocks and appeared to nod in her direction.

In the reflection of the bird's eye, Shandra thought she saw a cavern hidden far out over the lava plains, but she wasn't sure. The bird picked a small stone up in its talons and flew to Shandra; as she held her hand out to catch the pebble, she thought she heard a voice whisper, "Throw this rock, and I shall receive you in my kingdom."

Shandra didn't understand what was happening. She believed in the world of the spirits and thought they were talking to her now, so. She threw the small stone as far as her aching arm was able and watched as it appeared to fall from the sky, then to her surprise, the rock took on a life of its own and flew out of sight.

The rock dipped and swirled in the steaming eddies of the lava plains before coming to rest on a patch of land at the edge of Shandra's sight. "That isn't right; I couldn't have thrown the rock that far after such a gruelling battle," she muttered, "And what about the way it travelled?" 

In the back of her mind, a thought emerged; "No, you didn't throw the stone. My powers drew the rock to me, Shandra. Only those of true faith can see me. 

The cave you see at the edge of the plain is my home. I rarely leave my dwellings these days; there are not many believers and too many out to kill my kind for a safe flight. Once in a while, I do try to stretch my wings and feel the wind on my face, I need to fly during the dark hours, and I miss the countryside colors. I hear your thoughts, Shandra, you need not worry about the heat, as my mind will be your safeguard as you come to me. All you need to do is to believe in me, and you'll be safe."

Shandra stood on the ledge looking at her destination; she had accepted the spirit into her life from childhood, but now it wasn't just about believing - she was putting her life and the future of her clan in the words she thought she'd heard from a cave she could barely see. With reluctance, she unbuckled her sheath and laid her sword on the ground at her feet, and then she cautiously edged forward to the brink of the flow - still not satisfied if this was the right choice.

Shandra stood on the ledge overlooking the lava, in her mind, she had one thought, "What if my judgment is wrong? I believe in the legend of Flamendor - the greatest of dragons - but is that belief enough to risk my life?"

The rising heat was so hot that she felt her remaining strength sap away, and she almost fell into the lava. She was about to give in to her fear when a voice echoed in her mind, "I can't give you what you don't wish to have. If your belief is strong, you will survive the walk to the cave, and if it isn't, you won't get more than a few feet from where you stand. The answer to the question lies not with me, but within yourself, Shandra."

Reluctantly, she stepped forward; stones rose from the lava to guide her footsteps. Now she'd started Shandra had no alternative but to go on in the hope that she had the strength of faith to walk across what seemed an endless fire plain. She was a brave warrior and had the courage and skill to lead her men in battle, but this was not about combat skills, this fight was about an inner belief, and that is something Shandra had never challenged before, she had taken so many things for granted. One of those was that as a woman, Shandra would never get the opportunity to lead her men into battle. Still, a battlefield command is hard to dismiss, especially when the person wins a great victory against a numerically superior force. As she had been told, she never took her eyes of the cave at the end of her journey, Flamendor told her this would be a sign of her questioning his decision and would lead to instant death.

Shandra had been walking for so long her legs began to tire, and she wondered if she'd made the correct choice in coming, or would she die here on the lava, and her bones never be found. She was at the point of stumbling off the path chosen for her when the cave came into sight and sitting on a large boulder at its mouth. Flamendor snorted a stream of steam. "I'm glad you made the crossing, Shandra. I saw that you're a brave warrior, but I needed to know how strong the faith is in you."

She pulled herself up the small incline, the sweat dripping from her long hair down her back. As she looked up at the cave, she said, "It wasn't as if you gave me a choice. The decision was easy, either go on or die, never to be seen alive again. I've heard stories about other warriors who came and died on the lava. Their bones are thought to be in the lava flow, but nobody is sure."

Flamendor snorted steam, and then commented, "That is true, the lava fields move, and the shadows lie as the sun sets on the blocks. You think you're walking on a stable platform, only to find that there is nothing to walk on. The lava doesn't return what it takes, ever."

Wiping her back with some reeds, Shandra inquired, "If you saw the battle, you knew we were close to losing. Why didn't you come to our aid?"

The big dragon flapped his mighty wings and took off for a small flight, leaving her with her thoughts for a short time. On his return, he laid a sheep at her feet, and said, "I could not come to your aid, Shandra, for many reasons. The main reason is I am the last of my breed in this area. There is a legend of another of my kind living across the mountains to the North. But, that's only a legend - I've heard on my travels flying over the city."

She smiled, and then said, "What other reasons do you have for staying here when we needed you?"

Flamendor replied, "I needed you to prove yourself in battle, so I would know you are the person I need to go on a quest. You did not only in combat but when you accepted my invitation for this talk."

"Our people needed a leader, and I happened to be the person on hand, I lead the battle because if we hadn't rallied at the time, our land would have been overrun by the Geven; I was forced to take charge, by choice I prefer others to take command."

"I think not, Shandra, it is more the case that you wish the command of your troops but think yourself unworthy of their support despite the battles you have been in and won. The task ahead is going to test your mental strength as much as your physical ability as a warrior. I need you to find the other dragon; I can sense he's in pain and is concerned he won't be able to hold back the force of destruction building in him. If the force got  unleashed, no force in this world would be able to contain him."

"If that's the case, how do you expect me to best him, and bring him down?"

"The secret is to enter his castle unseen, and crossing the Great Divide, a forest where evils dwell."

"How can I do that?"

"I shall teach you how to use the Sword of Altanus to disguise your presence. You have only seen the side of the sword's abilities that any mortal can understand; you have proved yourself worthy of understanding the true depth of magic at your fingertips."

Flamendor gave a yawn and rolled over; he said, "I'm sorry for my impoliteness, it's been a long, hard winter and I am running out of food, this makes me tire quicker than I'd wish, Shandra."

Shandra replied, "I can imagine how tiring and worrying it could be for you; I get the same feeling when I'm with the men out hunting, I wonder if we'll catch food enough to last the next meal, even though the numbers of the group are small."

"I suggest we take a rest while I get my energy back, after that, I can teach you the rudimentary use of the sword; mastering its use will only come with time and experience."

"I think the rest will be good; I feel what you are going to teach me will drain my energy and my mind, and I see you as a hard taskmaster. Can you answer a question for me, please?"

"I can, if I'm able, Shandra, what do you wish to know?"

"What is the difference between you and the other dragon, the one you want me to destroy?"

"We were once in the same flight; the difference is he chose to fight humans to the end of his days, while I came up to my cave to end my days in peace. And to make my peace for the harm I had done. Even dragons, if only a few of us, have a conscience; we are not the demons you make us out to be. Most of us fought to stop the humans from killing us; I admit some did fight for the thrill of the kill, but they are the rarity among us."

Shandra glanced at her surroundings and said, "I can see you don't deserve the horrific reputation you have got, and I vow to do all I can to change this view, I came to realize that you dragons were wonderful creatures many years ago."

Flamendor grinned, then commented, "Thank you, Shandra, I knew I had chosen you wisely when I saw how you managed your men in the forest, but I never appreciated how wise you are until now."

Shandra took a second or two to reply while she recalled an instant from her childhood, then she continued, "I remember a day when my father took me to the mating flights in the caverns above our village. The walk up the mountain path was treacherous, and we almost got knocked off the path, but as close as the dragons came, they never attacked us."

"You are blessed; not many humans are allowed to witness such a loving moment for our kind."

"Seeing your friends in flight, so close to the water's edge and then flying to the roof of the cavern as they span together was beautiful if that were all I would have felt honoured. But to hear your voices in the wind was majestic. It is a shame, not all of you can find a way to live with us, especially as there are so few dragons remaining."