Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback

To the end of their lives he and she loved each other, and Evira and her sisters went on dancing in the other country below the sun, even with Yannis sometimes. But he never betrayed them. Never.

It took storytellers, alas, to do that.

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? 88 ?

? Tanith Lee ?

Tanith Lee was born in the UK in 1947. After school she worked at a number of jobs, and at age twenty-five had one year at art college.

Then DAW Books of America published her novel The Birthgrave.

Since then she has been a professional full-time writer.

Publications so far total approximately ninety novels and collections and well over three hundred short stories. She has also written for television and radio. Lee has won several awards and in 2009 was made a Grand Master of Horror. She is married to the writer/artist John Kaiine.

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? 89 ?



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When I was a child, fairy tales were not for the faint of heart.

My mother used to read to us from this massive book with a horned demon dude on the cover. Readers and writers are partners in story, and my fertile imagination contributed horrifyingly vivid details. Thus twisted (thanks, Mom!) I grew up to write two best-selling teen fantasy series: The Heir Chronicles ( The Warrior Heir, The Wizard Heir, The Dragon Heir, The Enchanter Heir); and the Seven Realms series ( The Demon King, The Exiled Queen, The Gray Wolf Throne, The Crimson Crown.) “Warrior Dreams” is set in the gritty industrial landscape of the Cleveland Flats, where the crooked Cuyahoga River meets Lake Erie.

The Lake Erie region boasts a rich folkloric tradition, rife with water monsters such as nixies and grindylows; zombie-like Wendigos; storm hags, ominous black dogs and the feared Nain Rouge—the Red Dwarf of Detroit. Some elements have been transplanted from the Old World, some are home-grown.

I love to marry contemporary issues (e.g., our [lack of] treatment of wounded warriors) with fantasy elements and unexpected settings.

I’ve discovered I can get away with a lot in a fairy tale.

Cinda Williams Chima

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? 93 ?





Warrior Dreams


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Cinda Williams Chima


Russell’s new home under the abandoned railroad bridge was defensible, which was always the first priority. Secluded, yet convenient to the soup kitchens downtown. It offered a dry, flat place for his sleeping bag, and some previous occupant had even built a fire ring out of the larger rocks.

The bridge deck kept the snow and sleet off, and because the bridge wasn’t in use, he didn’t have to deal with the rattle-bang of trains. Any kind of noise still awakened the Warrior—the dude born in Kunar Province, in Korengal, in the Swat Valley—even in places like Waziristan, where he never officially was. Any sudden noise left him sweating, heart pounding, fueled by an adrenaline rush that wouldn’t dissipate for hours.

Best of all, the bridge was made of iron—a virtual fortress of iron, in fact, which should’ve been enough to win him a little peace. That and the bottle of Four Roses Yellow Label he’d bought with the last of this month’s check.

But Russell was finding that, for an out-of-the-way place, his new crib on Canal Street was in a high-traffic area for magical creatures.

The river was swarming with shellycoats—he heard the soft chiming of their bells all day long. Kappas lurked around the pillars of the bridge, poking their greenish noses out of the water, watching for unwary children. The carcasses of ashrays washed up on shore, disintegrating as soon as the sunlight hit them.

? 95 ?

? Warrior Dreams ?

Where were they all coming from? Was there some kind of paranormal convention going on and nobody told him?

The first night, he’d awakened to the adrenaline rush and a pair of red fur boots, inches from his nose.

“Hey!” Russell said, rolling out of danger and grabbing up the iron bar he always kept close. The creature screeched and scrambled backwards, out of range. It was the size of a small child, with a long beard, burning coal eyes, and a ratty red and black fur coat. Like a garden gnome out of a nightmare.