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For the first time since the tale of Merit two years ago, we’re presenting a multi-part vignette. Click here for Part One of the story of Wind’s Bride, written by FAR WEST afficianado Marco Mueller, and click here for Part Two: The Bride’s Tale Being tied up by a lady was not something Adebar Jade disagreed with on principle. However, he preferred silk ribbons and a pleasant environment. Rough ropes that tied his wrists to one of the wheels of
For the first time since the tale of Merit two years ago, we’re presenting a multi-part vignette. Click here for Part One of the story of Wind’s Bride, written by FAR WEST afficianado Marco Mueller, and join us tomorrow for the conclusion: On The Trail Her work was neat as ever. You had to give her that. She hadn’t used a gun this time. Instead she had killed the three bandits with their own swords: clean cut across the throat,
For the first time since the tale of Merit two years ago, we’re presenting a multi-part vignette. Join us over the next three days for the story of Wind’s Bride, written by FAR WEST afficianado Marco Mueller: Prodigy Everything about him had seen better days. Once upon a time, his bowtop showman’s caravan had been garishly painted in all the colors of the rainbow. Now the colors had faded, bleached out by the desert sun, rubbed off by the hot
The short story anthology Tales of the Far West is now available, in print and digital format from the official FAR WEST webstore, as well as Amazon.com (paperback and Kindle), Barnes & Noble (Nook), and other sites. Featuring a dozen tales from critically-acclaimed and award-winning authors from the fantasy, science-fiction, horror and adventure genres, Tales of the Far West kicks off Adamant Entertainment’s line of Far West fiction, which will include novels, further anthologies and more. Far West Kickstarter backers
by Chad Stevens Red breathed deep as he poured a fresh cup of tea. He loved the way the aroma filled him, but this blend didn’t smell right. “Hello, Tsai,” Red said, without turning to his unannounced visitor. “Shall I pour you a cup, too?” “They should call you Red Cat’s-Ears,” quipped Tsai. Red gave a short laugh. “Ears nothing. It’s those cigars you smoke. You couldn’t throw a worse scent if you wore a skunk around your neck. I
by Andy Goldman Ringarde staggered down the face of the dune, a barely controlled slide to the bottom. It was not yet noon, but the sky already seemed filled with sun, its heat beating down on him, chastising him for his folly. Though weak from thirst, he held tight to an edge of the map that he had followed this far into the deep desert. He cursed the map silently with every step, feeling a mix of hatred and lust
by Majdi Badri The twenty-four or so townsfolk lay flat on the ground with their hands on the backs of their heads in the middle of what passed for a town square in these parts. The Black Sand Sinners stepped among them, making sure none of them made any sudden movements. In the shop across the way lay two cooling bodies of young men who had decided that bandits raiding their town didn’t sit too well with them. Denvol and
by T.S. Luikart Poet, engineer, scholar, sculptor, warrior, painter, architect, smith: Toln Surenchar had many talents, a mind unsurpassed in his generation, and a case of legendarily incurable wanderlust. He was born in the Periphery territory Desilvair though he didn’t stay there long. Surenchar’s family were players in a travelling actor’s troupe and before he came of age, he had journeyed further than most folks will in their entire lives. His skills were evident early on, he was painting the
by T.S. Luikart There is no family more intimately familiar with the tragedy and the glory of the Dust Road than the family Vol. They spawned a legion of stories in their day, tales which are still told throughout the Far West. The bulk of the family died on the fields of Iaius Fell, struggling virtually alone to hold back the terrible strength of the bandit army known as the Blameless Devils, so called because when their exorbitant ransoms were
by T.S. Luikart Cleave Merit reflected that insofar as cages went, he had certainly been in far less comfortable ones in his time than his present iron-barred confines. His chains sure chafed though. His imperial jailors had seen fit to use some sort of new electrical gadget to weld his cuffs shut before bolting his restraints to a plate that had been formed from the undercarriage of the railroad car he was riding in. At least they had given him