Flitterfics will be posted daily there from this point forward. (I'm cutting back on cross-posting to save my sanity.)
See you on the flip side. (i.e. one which can be directly linked rather than being in a sub-layer of a forum, lovely though that forum may be. )
Mit eased into the room, keeping one hand on the insulated wall. Moving was dangerous at night.
The storage room was dark. Kep and Surcey were already in their bags, wedged between the boxes so they wouldn’t make noise shifting in their sleep.
The chem-light slipped in his sweaty grip. Mit slammed a shin against a metal edge. He fell, slamming against the wall. The muffled thump brought the others instantly awake.
“What-?” Surcey clamped her mouth shut.
Mit gestured sharply. They all stared at the ceiling, waiting for the telltale rumble of an enormous form pushing through the dirt…
The car whispered against the road. This far out, the only part of the road that was visible was the small segment the headlights touched.
In the distance, another car’s headlights shone briefly, and then were gone.
“It’s kind of spooky,” Shannon said, lifting her feet and tucking them under her.
“What is?” Dan was concentrating on driving.
“It’s like there’s nothing but the headlights, and everything else is just inky and dark. Like we’re on a little island over a void.”
“You’re being dramatic,” said Dan. “Look.” He flicked off the lights.
The car lurched and began to fall…
The phone rang. Crashbang answered it. Stiletto noodled idly on his deadly electric lute.
“Who was it?” he asked when Crashbang hung up.
“The dragon,” Crashbang answered. “He wants to know if we can push the slaying to January.”
The room thrummed with the sound of a half-finished Thunderwave Chord. “No can do. We’re booked. The royal marriage.”
“Does the king outrank the dragon?”
“He does when he’s hired us,” Big Gunderson put in, setting aside his sharpening stone and checking the edge of his axe.
“Old Firebreath is just gonna have to take his lumps,” Stiletto said, tuning up.
“And this one?”
“Ah, the Book of Yrt.” He blew the dust away. “The pages are not paper, but rather some sort of flexible metallic alloy. Their exact composition is unknown, but they have yet to show any tarnish or wear.”
He flipped the first few pages. “These prophecies predict all history, from the dawn of mankind until the terrible end. He who holds this book holds the very key of the universe in his hands.”
“Well, it’s a bit dry, and by the tenth chapter it really starts to drag. Yrt really hit his stride with the sequel.”
Separate names with a comma.