They happened upon a stall with a straw ceiling boasting a five tiered display of gleaming knives and swords of varying lengths. Each had been crafted individually. Every handle had its own uniquely ornate design. She spied a short sword with a jeweled eye at the hilt. Intrigued, Hel drifted closer. She was reaching out to touch it when the dragon’s potential recoiled.
She wobbled, swamped by a wave of dizziness and that old sea-sick feeling. She cast her husband a questioning look. He was staring dead ahead, unblinking. His staff appeared out of the blue, its blunt tip bored down into the earth. Something popped under there and squealed, a horrific animal sound...
Read the rest of this installment in eFiction Magazine Issue No. 004 (Published July 2010)