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The Legend of Anlahn
The Legend of Anlahn
The Legend of Anlahn
Ebook24 pages18 minutes

The Legend of Anlahn

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When a dog-like race fights to hold a vital mountain pass, one low-rank craskin seeks a more direct way to end the siege. But doing so goes against the pack's mentality of honor before victory.

This stunning fantasy tale combines Edstrom's fantastic world-building with humor and a surprising dose of very human pathos.

This short story was first published in the acclaimed Fiction River: No Humans Allowed anthology.

"Edstrom packs his story with magnificent world building while never losing sight of the purpose of his narrative. Although the culture is foreign, the motivations and choices are clear and understandable." --Tangent Online

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 3, 2018
ISBN9781386017028
The Legend of Anlahn
Author

Eric Kent Edstrom

Eric is the author of over a dozen novels and numerous short stories.

Read more from Eric Kent Edstrom

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    The Legend of Anlahn - Eric Kent Edstrom

    1

    On the tenth day, we were permitted to drink the blood of our wounded.

    They were abundant due to the narrow mountain pass we so valiantly defended. Our enemy sometimes overtopped the roughly built wall and drove spears down at the line, most of whom were on all fours and packed shoulder to shoulder, haunch to haunch.

    As darkness approached and the enemy retreated to the valley, we survivors of the Force of One Thousand cleared the dead and burned them. Commander TyTy forbade any hunting packs to leave the pass for fear of a night attack, and so we turned to our only remaining source of food. The mortally wounded. Which were given over to Anlahn, to whom the Butcher’s Shame fell.

    Anlahn was shorter and weaker than every other craskin in the Force. Even fully upright his eartops barely grazed my snout, and he had famously overlong ears. He made up for this deficiencies—somewhat—by being good with his spear.

    Hunger-wracked, we dragged our incurably wounded to Anlahn. He placed them over the trench he’d scraped in the hard-packed dirt. One by one, he knifed throats and kneaded bodies until all the blood had drained.

    From sixty wounded, he gleaned only seven copper pots of blood. The larger share was apportioned to the strongest warriors. The rest of us had to suck marrow, which we did furtively, ears pinned. The shame we bore!

    Commander TyTy said that since our shame was in defense of the Favored-Sister, it was not irredeemable. So we

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