Lost Tales and Trunk Stories
By Ty Johnston
()
About this ebook
13 short stories from the fantasy author of The Darkbow Collection and The Ursia Chronicles. Here can be found tales of fantasy, as well as a touch of horror and science fiction, along with a few stories of everyday people facing harsh circumstances, tales early from this author’s writing career, tales that are not perfect, but pose questions and matters of which to think.
Ty Johnston
Originally from Kentucky, Ty Johnston is a former newspaper journalist. He lives in North Carolina with loving memories of his late wife.Blog: tyjohnston.blogspot.com
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Lost Tales and Trunk Stories - Ty Johnston
Lost Tales and Trunk Stories
by Ty Johnston
a Monumental Works Group author
Copyright 2018 by Ty Johnston
visit the author’s website: tyjohnston.blogspot.com
sign up for the author’s newsletter: tinyletter.com/TyJohnston
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
for Charlie
Contents
Introduction
The Thornbane Stories
The Warriors of Thornbane
The Dragon and The Talking Tree
One Night in the Golden Moose
An Adventuring Thief
The Problem with (Stolen) Nobility
The Carnivah Stories
A Tale from The Busted Gut
More than a Musician
Other Stories
Entering Jupiter
Day of the Gun
His Fifth Year
Best Friends
Anna
Ogre
Introduction
To tell it like it is, most of these stories are not very good. However, a few of them are pretty good, at least in my opinion, the creator of these tales. Most of these short stories were written 30 years ago, when I was still in my late teens. They were never meant to be seen by anyone else, let alone make professional publication, but were the early typings of a young writer beginning his craft and studying science fiction, fantasy, horror and the literary genres.
Then why am I publishing them? Because a few readers asked me to. They asked if I had any older material to share, and after digging through suitcases and files, I re-discovered the tales offered here, stories I had not looked at in so long they were forgotten.
The Thornbane Stories were my first attempts at creating a fantasy world of my own, and as might be expected, a few of the names were taken from tabletop role-playing games in which I took part back in the 1980s as a teen.
The pair of Carnivah Stories presented here take place in the world of Carnivah, a land not of my creation, and a few of the characters here were not of my creation but were the products of friends of mine who were also into tabletop RPGs.
Entering Jupiter
was the very first short story I ever wrote. In college, my astronomy professor gave us the options of writing a term paper or a short story, so I opted for the short story.
His Fifth Year
was the first time I tried to write a piece of fiction with a co-writer, my high school friend Danny Hall.
Ogre
is, in my opinion, the best of the lot, which is one reason I saved it for last in this collection. I hope you enjoy it, as I hope you enjoy the rest of these stories.
For those of you wondering what trunk stories
happen to be, they are tales a fiction writer has penned but has had no luck in publishing and has put away. Maybe these stories here didn’t deserve to be published, but a handful of people wanted to see them, at least, so here they are.
The Thornbane Stories
The Warriors of Thornbane
Tempest Thornbane, a young blond-headed man wearing leather hunting apparel, urged his horse to the left towards a brook. The horse lowered its head and drank while Tempest climbed off the animal and bent for a drink himself beneath a slight rain.
Raising its head, the horse sniffed the air and suddenly backed away from the brook.
Tempest grabbed hold of the beast’s reins and said, Whoa, boy. What has got you so upset?
The animal’s eyes darted nervously and it tried to back up more, but Tempest lightly yanked the reins.
Listen here, Lanthal,
he said a little angrily to the horse, we’ve been out here hunting all day and have not seen so much as a squirrel. There is nothing to be frightened of.
The animal acted differently, trying to back away further.
Oh, Hades!’ Tempest yanked on the reins and climbed in the saddle once more.
Stupid horse! We’ll go home and Ian can find his own way back."
He checked to make sure his bow and quiver were still in place on his back, then headed the horse southwards along the center of the shallow brook.
After a few minutes the rain began to come down harder, and Tempest sped up the horse’s pace. The animal still seemed nervous, perhaps more so.
Tempest wondered what had frightened the horse. He had only seen his horse, Lanthal, like this twice before. Once, when a fox had gotten in the stables, Lanthal had gone wild and Tempest had had to soothe the animal to get it to calm down. The other time had been when Ian and Tempest had come upon a small pack of wolves during a hunting expedition. Lanthal had tried to run away, but Tempest had barely kept the horse under control. Ian had slung several rock at the wolves and they had scattered into the woods.
Maybe a wolf is near, Tempest thought as he raised the hood of his leather hunting jacket and hastened the horse down the middle of the stream.
Lanthal was growing more nervous by the moment. Tempest feared he would not be able to stop the animal from bucking him.
Suddenly a piercing roar filled the forest.
The horse came to a dead stop, spilling Tempest over its head into the brook.
Tempest lay in the cold water for several seconds feeling the pain in his back caused by the brook’s rocks he had fallen upon, then he slowly climbed to the left bank.
Lanthal stood in the stream’s center, shaking his head back and forth and snorting.
What in the name of Ashal made that roar? Tempest asked himself as he stood up.
Suddenly something large and roaring crashed through the brush on the right side of the brook.
At the same time, Tempest heard a horse which was not Lanthal. The new beast snorted several yards behind Tempest in the forest.
Lanthal let out a high-pitched horse shriek, then launched himself down the brook away from Tempest.
Blasted horse!
Tempest shouted.
Then whatever the roaring thing was, it was getting closer, and so was the horse Tempest had heard through the trees.
Tempest brought around his bow but found it broken from his fall. Gods curse me!
The rain was pouring down now and the roaring on the right came still closer, possibly only yards away.
Tempest drew a dagger from his belt and stepped into the brook. Whatever is coming sounds surely unfriendly, he thought.
Then through the trees on the left bank came a tall, short-haired man wearing leather armor, brandishing a huge sword and riding a war horse.
Ian?
Tempest asked loudly.
Tempest? Is that you?
a gruff but familiar voice said back.
Thank the gods,
Tempest said.
Before Tempest could sheath the dagger, before he could speak another word, before he could even take another breath, a huge blackish monstrosity sprang from a bush on the right bank. The roaring thing charged into Tempest, hitting him.
Thrown several feet into the air, Tempest then landed in the water. The first thing he felt was the ache in his head where he had hit a rock in the brook. The next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down and saw a small, straight cut running up his right thigh, blood flowing from it.
Yet somehow he had managed to retain the dagger at hand.
Tempest!
he heard Ian yell. I’m coming!
Tempest pushed himself up off the rocks in the brook and turned with his dagger outstretched to face the creature that had struck him.
Tempest!
Ian yelled again, trying to rush his horse through the trees.
Tempest did not move when his eyes locked on the monster that had thrown him. It was the largest, most fierce-looking wild boar he had ever seen. Its back stood at least a good five feet off the ground and it was eight feet long if not longer. The beast’s black coat glinted with some kind of fluid, either dark water or blood. Its tusks reached out eight inches, the left one covered with blood from where it had hit Tempest’s thigh.
The boar stood there, now in the brook, pawing the rocks and snorting.
Ian Fane had finally made it through the last few trees and saw Tempest facing the monster. No, Tempest, get out of the way. I’ll kill it,
he said, waving his sword.
Tempest gritted his teeth. This pig is mine, knight.
Suddenly the boar rushed at the youth, its great tusks slashing from left to right.
Tempest barely dodged the beast, and in the process lost his balance and fell in the water again, this time the dagger flying from his grasp.
Now near the left bank, the boar turned quickly, seemingly too quickly for its excessive size, and charged at the downed Tempest.
Hai!
Ian yelled as his steed charged forward.
The beast was almost upon Tempest, his hands searching frantically in the water for the fallen dagger while his eyes remained locked on the coming disaster.
His hands never found the knife, but they did find a chunk of stone the size of a man’s head.
But then the great brute was upon him. Its hooves striking the rocky bottom of the brook and barely missing Tempest’s legs, the tusks slashing side to side at the youth’s arms, the powerful jaws gnashing but never quite biting.
Tempest kept his arms in front of himself to protect his face, therefore not allowing him to smash the boar with the rock he had found. At least his leather jacket offered some protection, though he still took several shallow gashes to his limbs.
Now the beast tried to smash Tempest with its hooves, but the young man kept pushing backwards with his legs, avoiding the blows.
Over the giant hump on the monster’s back, Tempest caught a glimpse of Ian racing his horse towards the fight. Hurry, Ian, Tempest thought as one of the boar’s tusks grazed his stomach.
Sensing the threat from behind, the boar turned. Tempest then saw his chance and smashed the rock upon the boar’s snout, shattering one of its mighty tusks.
The beast bellowed in pain. It turned on Tempest again, who now had no weapon to defend himself.
The boar bit at a leg but missed as Tempest curled up the leg and kicked out with all his strength. His boot smacked the animal square between the eyes but had no effect except to make the thing angrier.
Quickly grabbing a handful of small rocks and mud from the brook, Tempest flung the debris at the boar’s eyes.
The monster blinded, it still tried to bite again at the youth, but Tempest had rolled away from the beast.
Turning in its blindness, the boar tried to find its prey. It faced towards the left bank.
At that instant, Ian rode by swinging his sword down at the creature. The great blade caught the back of the boar’s neck, slicing it open and spilling blood into the stream.
The boar howled.
Ian spun his horse around to face the monster again, charging and hacking twice at the boar, both slashes connecting with its back. More blood spilled.
The creature still stood, though it swayed on its hooves, trying to fight, its gnashes and slashes finding only empty air.
Ian jumped from his horse and ran at the boar, seeing Tempest bent over a few feet off to the right of the beast and now picking up an even larger rock from the brook.
Somehow the boar sensed Tempest and turned towards him, only to be hit in the face again with the larger rock. The beast’s front legs buckled and its body slid into the water while its back legs still remained standing.
Then Ian reached the boar and thrust his sword into his back several times.
The animal let out a final howl, then whimpered. Then was quiet.
Ian stood staring a moment, then, Chival, here,
he said
The war horse came and stood next to him.
Tempest stood in the center of the