Also by Christopher D. Carter available at ebook retailers:
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 1
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 2
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 3
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 4
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 5
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 6
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 7
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 8
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 9
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound Annual 1
Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound Annual 2
Discover other titles by Christopher D. Carter at
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Next Issue
About the Author
Chapter 1
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The Beginning of the Queenmother’s Reign
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Pound returned an empty stare as he stood to his feet upon the red clay soil of the Queenmother’s courtyard. The elder monarch of the mountain licked her lips, and she chortled a horrible laugh as the field agent of the DAM stood paralyzed in her grasp. She curled her index finger, and she beckoned him to follow her into her enticing abode. With a swish of her hips, she strutted away toward the two pillars on either side of the entrance, and Pound mechanically obeyed her spell and walked away from the protection of the arbor sentinel that had accompanied him there at his command. Shad huffed and puffed his frustration deep within the boughs of the tree’s protection, but he could do nothing to prevent what was happening to the human. The dwarf, however, made certain that his own safety was secure from the Queenmother and her giant crow though. The ebony bird cawed twice into the air, and several other black birds gathered at the rim of the mountain walls that surrounded the courtyard. Pound and Shad were now ensnared in the clutches of the evil monarch and her giant birds, despite their cleverness all along the dangerous road to the Queenmother’s abode. They were at her dreaded mercy.
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Entranced by her spell, Pound followed the Queenmother between the two columns that stood on either side of the entrance. She strolled down the center of the enormous cavern, and Pound took notice of the many banners of old moldy fabric that hung from the ceiling. There were many intricate and ornate designs that covered the surfaces of the thick, heavy material, and it was obvious that this had been a most magnificent entrance hall many ages ago. The years had been harsh though as the fabric was frayed at the edges, and the evidence of age and decay had settled in upon the layers. There were ragged holes that had been gnawed into the fabric, perhaps by moths or other flying insects, and the bright colors that had once reflected from their surfaces were now faded and dark. There was a magical quality to the moldy banners, and his hand lifted compellingly before him. Unable to resist the compulsion, Pound reached out and touched the hem of the material, and the edges crumbled between his fingertips.
Through the contact of his hand, his mind was instantly transported to some distant time in the past, and he watched a reversal of entropy, as all things went from disorder to order, and he found himself captured within a flashback of the hall in its prime . . .