Here you'll find Geno Allen: Author of Fantasy Fiction, Children's Tales, Adventure, Poems, and Things that Speak to the Heart. (In essence the good, the bad, the overly honest) Oh... and his Writings, his Heart, and Updates (subscribe if you want to keep up.) Thank you for stopping by!
"When Someone's been wrong, changed their mind, and is humbled...
Now the Mews always say that that person's berwundled."
Orinian, harsh King of Coriaer, preferred Darlandan slaves, as did his father
before him. “Why should our people mine, or build, or risk their lives in the
Tharsald when Darlandans can be used for those purposes?”
son, Kin Lash Orinian, couldn’t have agreed more. “They are worthless... are
they not, father?”
king replied, “Less than worthless, if that can be.”
Lash was eight years old.
was the manner in which Kin Lash Orinian was trained from birth to manhood.
Cor walked the woods of the Darlandan countryside barefoot on an early summer
day, humming to herself and taking in the scents of the morning. The sun
warmed the hills she so often enjoyed. The wind shifted her sandy hair
across her face. She tucked it back behind one ear.
as her father used to lovingly call her, was seven years old.
heard a twig snap in the brush about a stone’s throw away. She was instantly alert.
It was a good thing too. A rock the size of her palm flew through the air and
swished past her ear. She’d moved aside just in time. Had she not, it would
have drawn blood.
She shouted and touched a small scar on her brow from a similar instance in the
past then narrowed her gaze determinedly on the place she had heard the snap.
Boujh Cor poked his head up from the brush with an equally focused look.
Raising a large stick aloft he quickly crossed the distance between them
and dove, swinging his would-be club at Sarie with what any onlooker would have
taken for lethal intent. He missed by an inch as she leapt up and over
him, dodging the stick and pushing his face down into the loamy soil beneath
the grass in the process. Boujh landed in a heap, and Sarie landed—almost
gracefully—on her feet, laughing.
spun to his feet, wiped his face and took Sarie by the hands. He swung her up
to sit on his shoulders, saying, “That’s my girl!” She kept a hold of one hand
as Boujh started walking.
at the slightest hint of a tear, he said. “Father would be proud.”
really think so, Boujh?” she asked, leaning over his head and meeting his eyes
was fourteen and her only family. “Yeah. I do.” he said with half a smile and
held her hand a little tighter. “Keep that up and no one’ll ever be able to
was the manner in which Sharizeen 'Sarie' Cor was trained from the year of her
father’s death until her brother’s.