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The Wedding of the Princess-King and Other Stories
The Wedding of the Princess-King and Other Stories
The Wedding of the Princess-King and Other Stories
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The Wedding of the Princess-King and Other Stories

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A fairy tale for people in a fairy tale world. A moon mission with a sinister secret. A tax collector comes face to face with powers he doesn't understand while investigating a celestial incident. The three stories in this collection will take you to imagined lands where people trying to get on with their lives grapple with unexpected forces. This collection contains the first appearances of these stories: "The Wedding of the Princess-King," "Take the Moon at Full, Now She's Changed," and "Earthfall." Cover by Simon Brom. (12,000 words.)

LanguageEnglish
PublisherPhil Strobe
Release dateMar 18, 2015
ISBN9781310490293
The Wedding of the Princess-King and Other Stories
Author

Phil Strobe

Shannon McMaster is the person behind the Phil Strobe story collections. Under his own name, he as released a handful of small table top role playing game items.

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    Book preview

    The Wedding of the Princess-King and Other Stories - Phil Strobe

    The Wedding of the Princess-King

    Phil Strobe

    Take the Moon at Full, Now She’s Changed

    Phil Strobe

    Earthfall

    Phil Strobe

    Published by Shannon McMaster at Smashwords

    Copyright 2015 Phil Strobe

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

    Table of Contents

    The Wedding of the Princess-King

    Take the Moon at Full, Now She’s Changed

    Earthfall

    About Phil Strobe

    Connect with Phil Strobe

    The Wedding of the Princess-King

    And the day began with mist on the hills, rolling into the dells, and hung like tulle amid the trees and the tender foliage of late spring. The bride and her grandma-grandma had slept the night in the chapel. Little more than a girl, the bride had pestered her grandma-grandmother far into the darkest hours for familiar tales. The old woman did gayfully tell them by the dozens, and so distracted them, each from her silent fears. And now, and all the hours since they rose at dawn, the old woman, four generations her elder, plaited the bride’s hair with bitter vetch. Tell me, Grandma-grandmother, the bride’s voice a whisper of anticipation, tell me now a tale I do not know. So the old woman began her tale.

    Then in the lands beyond the hills behind those hills, the princess with snow-white skin and coal-black hair was waiting to meet for the very first time her bridegroom, a great and terrible king, waiting and trembling, and utterly alone in the wealthy city he built, in the glittering city a month’s ride on wide smooth roads from her home and friends.

    A thousand trumpets sounded royal fanfares as the king’s haughty warhorse proudly bore his royal highness to the waiting bride in the cathedral at the center of the city. Seeing such ostentation turned the princess’s heart to stone, and she resolved never to marry such as he. She ran from the cathedral and deep into the avenues of the great king’s city.

    The king, heart of rage, spurred his mount, and gave chase. Turning, turning down ever narrower streets, winding, crooked ways, then alleys barely passable, pressed by soot begrimed buildings and overhung with jettied garrets, the princess ran. The king and his mount followed, tearing down laundry, shattering carts, and trampling the slow of foot. The princess remained beyond his reach.

    She burst from an alley, panting in an empty courtyard, facing a gate of the walled city, a gate sized for a wagon, she leaned upon it, forced it open, and saw a vision of sanctuary, a field with forest beyond. She ran. Running now on open ground, the king’s charger came fast on the princess who, falling, became an oak, mighty, now towering above the pastureland.

    The king and his steed leapt upon the oak, and as an eight-legged bear, made for the crown. Licking his chops, the bear-king bellowed, and bit at acorns, ready to make a meal of the princess-oak, who shook in the winds and, changing again, blew into the forest on swarming locust wings, and leaving the bear unsupported, tumbling to the ground. The bear, unstoppable, ran through the ancient forest, eight paws tearing at the trail of leafless limbs and fern stems scoured to stubbled ground by the cloud of princess-locust.

    When it met a mighty river, swollen from spring floods, the swarm dove in, becoming a salmon of the run, mingling with fish beyond number. But the bear knew its own. It raced ahead of the bind of salmon, stood on

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