INCUNABULI

In the mild autumn of 3.444, aliens landed on the balmy shore of peninsular Alagór. Aliens in boxy arks with sails battened like webbed fingers. Furry, wet-eyed, long-tongued creatures, reminiscent of otters or long-bodied bears.

Hawthorn had just tucked into an egg. He had rapped it twice with a butterknife, peeled back the top, and ladled out a goey teaspoonful. Slowly, he daubed the yolk on some toast, peppered it, brought it to his mouth. "Duane!' Hawthorn reluctantly lifted his eyes from the toast. Across the cafe, a beaming, curly-topped […]

Mist caressed the moors. It stroked the bruise-black heather, set gentle dewdrops on countless twisted stems. It kissed the still faces of stagnant pools, concealed shallow, submerged skulls. It stroked every dip and dell, spilled wet fingers into the shadowed crevasses of glacial monoliths. It groped, invasive, into fast trenches dug by human hands. "Shite's cold," […]

Sheamus kicked and wriggled through the water, squinted his red eyes against stinging brine. A pouch trailed from his neck on long straps, floated beside his scaly tail. The mouse pushed through curtains of slick, rubbery stalks. Tiny, fluttering creatures flew beside him, propelled by writhing flagella. A reddish fish of considerable size emerged from […]

"The Madame Countess Fiora Matilde Phillipa Geneve, Suzerain of Leah," declared the Court Marshal. The bead-eyed Countess strolled past him, followed by tittering retainers. Across the ballroom, Erin stared at the Marshal, frowning. "Auntie, does he know everyone's name?" she said. "He doesn't have notes, or anything?" "No notes, dear. It's his job," replied Auntie. […]

A clockwork gun; the current evolution of torsion-based ballistic technology. It is a handheld weapon that utilizes a weighty pair of compression springs to project metal flechettes at sharply lethal velocity.