The Greenmen

Aereon has found the Creators.

He’s crossed seas and mountain ranges to reach them, tangled with dwarves and ogres along the way, escaped the clutches of an icicle wielding irate yeti to rescue them and now they tell him that they weren’t in any great need of help.
A revolution has sparked in the realm of Hudikvar, because of something things Aereon might have said to a troop of homeless youths. Now, King Victarian is after Aereon and anyone associated with him.
Local woodsman, Lars, has agreed to help them flee and be their guide through Oak’s Wood, but even he cannot guess what lies in wait for them within. Not now the Lord of the Primes is about to wake.
‘He’s got a touch of destiny about him, that one,’ said the Dealer.
‘Aye. He’s got a date with her, I’d say,’ said the Trickster.
‘And she’s ordered the lobster,’ said the Teller.
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Captain Morj of the Greased Elbows (named by the King of Hudikvar who liked to send them to the grimy and seedy areas of town to investigate various misgivings) is a decent man. He just wants everyone to get alone. He just wants his life to be simple and easy. But his new case seems to be getting more and more sinister with everyday that passes and he is beginning to get an ill feeling in his stomach that will not be numbed by alcohol.

P.S. knullruffs is a Swedish word to describe the look of hair after sex.


Amber woke him gently. They’d been friends for years and something else before that. She’d had never been quite sure what, but it hadn’t ended in a fight, which was a first for her. Being in her line of work, she came across a lot of drunks. She’d dated the bruisers and the jokers, even one or two of the abusive types, but she’d never met another who could have a whole crowd gathered in merriment thirty seconds after a comment on the weight of someone’s mother.
     He was funny, and well liked, and totally against violence, even before he’d taken his first job in law enforcement. Back when she first knew him, he had not operated in conjunction with the law. Some upmarket criminals like to think they operate above the law, but Morj never deluded himself. His deeds had fallen well below that line.
     She pushed his hair away from his face and spoke to him softly.
     Morj’s grey eyes blinked open from his cupped head and he looked up to the green ones staring down at him. ‘That takes me back.’
     She smiled, ‘You’re the one with knullruffs this time.’
     ‘I beg your pardon?’
     With some assistance, Morj sat himself up.
     The House of Amber was much the same as the other taverns in Hudikvar: sticky, with a poorly enforced no singing policy. With the exception of Bruts, who still had a curfew, and Olle, the Greased Elbows were all there, though none stood at attention. Morj looked around over his shoulders at the officers scattered across the floor and chairs.
     He dragged himself atop a stool and Amber sat herself next to him. Morj rubbed his temples and things started to come back to him.
     He’d been sitting in that exact spot the night before when Grunson sat down where Amber was now.
     ‘Captain?’ he’d began. Morj scarcely looked up from his sad beer. ‘Did you have any thoughts on what Bruts said? You know, about the guys with weapons wandering around Rjkovorg?’
     ‘Well, Constable, I thought I might try to forget all about it.’
     Grunson smashed his tankard against Morj’s sending beer everywhere, ‘I’ll drink to that.’
     There had obviously been several more drinks since then, but the fact remained: ‘It didn’t work.’
     The trouble with trying to drown your sorrows is the bastards usually have a life vest with a whistle to blast in your ear and a torch to shine in your eyes.
     ‘Pardon?’ asked Amber.
     Morj’s head rose. ‘I’ve got work to do,’ he negotiated himself off the stool. ‘Do you mind looking after them for a while?’
     ‘Oh sure, it’s no trouble. Don’t you want to take them with you?’
     Morj looked about at his sprawled squad, ‘Maybe just a couple.’ He turned back to Amber, ‘They can stay here as long as they like, but as soon as Olle returns one of them needs to come for me. If they’re any trouble you can toss them out. I’ll be in Rjkovorg.’
     ‘I shall let them know.’
     ‘Thanks, you’re the best.’ He gave Amber a peck on the cheek before turning to wake up Marius and Noak.

Author Bio –
Linden Forster began writing at the age of seventeen. Divine Invention was his debut novel and it took seven years from the idea conjuring at the back of an English class to reaching the page.
Since then, writing has become his dream and passion. The Greenmen is the second in his fantasy series, The Hero’s Arc.
He is a lover of nature and enjoys walks in the country and often ventures out armed with a notepad and pen.

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