“Last Stand at the Waystone”


Jamis stumbled into the clearing, bleeding from a hundred scratches, with his last battle song on his lips. A cloud of sentinel spirits poured from the waystone, silent and deadly, like the scouring wind of his desert home. His voice was low, nearly gone, spent on the magic that kept him alive. He would die, but not alone. Oh, no.

An explosion knocked him down, stole his breath and toppled the waystone. Another battle song, glorious and keen, pierced the chaos and shredded the sentinels. Through the dust he saw his beloved Annaline, knew he was safe. He smiled. Collapsed.


I’m sorry this took me so long, but today’s story took a little while to unearth. There were a couple different ways the story could have gone, and at least one of my fellow authors today took one of the paths I considered,  but none of them seemed right to me. This one works for me and I very much hope it works for you, too.

Darleen, who always leads the #FridayFiction parade, wrote a story of tradition and determination.

Smitty married the old and the new this week.

BigGator5 told a story about an adventurer whose name should be quite familiar.

April’s story would not be a good time for certain delvers into the unknown.

Paula’s story is sad, yet…not.