If you would like your own creative work to be featured in our Creative Writing section, send poems, short stories, excerpts (of 1,500 words or less), and original artwork to assistant.otherpress@gmail.com or editor.otherpress@gmail.com. We publish weekly, and chosen writers/artists will receive $50 for every three pieces they have published. An excerpt from The Adventures of Lauravere, Royal Queen and Goddess of the Realm The king died not of a sword in his back, nor by some clever poisoner in the dark of night — he had simply weathered too many years, finally crushed by the weight he had for so long appeared to bear effortlessly upon his shoulders. That weight of kingship transferred to his first-born son, Arbor, who may have only been 20 years on this earth when his father passed, but had been raised for command ever since he breathed his first breath. King Arbor continued his father’s legacy of righteous leadership and just decrees, but the realm was changing, and, eventually, the king along with it. Small disputes were more common, as the memory of a divided kingdom and its horrors had begun to fade. The common folk who had fought alongside Aurtur had grown old and weak, their warnings unheard by headstrong grandchildren, and soon all memory of the cause that first united the kingdom was lost. A royal army, formed and led by Arbor himself, was created to put down any signifi- cant force that attempted to lay claim to their own small portion of the kingdom, but more and more pretenders were born from each one that was put to the sword. Soon, entire regions were in open rebellion against the crown, the Royal Army con- stantly in transport from one front to the other, the Square Table seating pretenders and fools alike. King Arbor, now getting into his 40s year, had nowhere left to turn. He left the king- dom cloaked all in black, and road north to the Greatfrost Mountains, where proph- ecy said Aurtur’s wife had been laid to rest, alongside his fabled sword, ‘Tempest. The Kingdom fell into chaos once more, the Royal Army left leaderless, and the Square Table abandoned. Those who held true under the flag of Comalot made one last stand, manning the castle as five allied armies crashed against its walls, each determined to take the throne for themselves, brought together momentarily to stamp out the last of Aurtur’s original line. Most thought that King Arbor had hidden himself deep within the castle, too afraid to show himself upon the crum- bling battlements. On the fifth day of battle, a storm covered the skies the likes of which no soldier had ever seen. Hundreds of lightning bolts rained down from the sky, chunks of hail the size of boulders crashed into the men at arms, crushing steel armor into the soft flesh it was meant to protect. Still the armies advanced, and still the defenders held. As midnight struck alongside deafening thunder, a break in the clouds appeared, the sun seeming to rise in the dead of night. Cresting a hill in the distance, King Arbor appeared riding a great elk. A blazing light shone from his upraised hand, emitting from the molten steel of Tempest. Beside him strode a woman with silver hair, clad all in black. With a single slash, King Arbor brought the sun down to the earth, and the ground moved beneath the gathered armies’ feet. A gorge appeared quick as lightening, swallowing men, horses, and siege towers alike, and all who were spared the fatal fall soon fled from the killing grounds. The leaders of the rebellion laid their swords down at Arbor’s feet as he rode alongside the bottomless pit, striding into the castle as the battered gate was thrown open. From that day forward, the realm remained at peace, though it was whispered in castle halls and tavern tables that King Arbor had won his throne back through witch craft and sorcery. The woman in black had remained at Comalot for a fortnight before vanishing into thin air, and the shining sword was never seen in Arbor’s hands again... That is, until 20 years to the day after the Battle of the Storm. It was then that Arbor had walked out of the castle’s gate, all clad in his gilded armor, and climbed atop a boulder at the opening of the gorge’s mouth. He un- sheathed Tempest, which shone as bright as it had on that storied night, and with one swift stoke plunged it deep into the stone. A bright light blinded all those who looked upon him, and by the time their vision returned mere moments later, the King was gone. Etched into the stone, clear as day, was a single message: “One shall come to control the Tempest, and with that power, bring the salvation of all.” tang xilaa gid Gagaan (saltwater lullaby) dii ts'uujuu k_uyaas Dang dii k_uyaadaa g_usdlang Dang gudaagw gin hl isdaasaang dang gyuug hl k’ajuugang dang naan guujaawee sgidanggang dang gu di kil gyaadang dii ts'uujuu k_uyaas Dang dii k_uyaadaa g_usdlang dang dla kuuneehls dluu, dang kaajuusaang asgaaysd dang daguyeehlsaang dang naan guujaawee sgidanggang dang gu di kil gyaadang dii ts'uujuu k_uyaas Dang dit k_uyaadaa g_usdlang Ha7lhsnumut chexw ikw xwutlaxw Ha7lhsnumut chexw ikw itutaxw Ha7lhsnumut chexw ikw Umsemaxw i chk Iymeshsnumut haw kw’axw xwutl tymeshsnumut ikw itutaxw tymeshsnumut ikw Umsemaxw i chk