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David Kimball

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2025

Stories (11)
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11 Stories

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The Secret of the Chehirainan

When Kenotai clan troops rode into Teyoru Dohupraisé, to garrison the fort again for the first time in almost two hundred years, they had quite a job ahead of them. But even as they set to work, Harasan, their captain, rode west, and came back early. Lauras, the finest spy and ranger of the garrison, was not surprised to be called to the captain's suite the next morning.Lauras was always happy to see princely delicacies laid out for him. He joined Captain Harasan in drinking plum wine, the drink of kings, and enjoying delicate apple pastries...

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The Seed and the Boar

Submitted to Contest #293

Winter was pruning time, when the life of the trees retreated deep into their trunks. The whole village would turn out for pruning soon; but if you let the whole village do the work, you got whole-village-quality results. That was good enough for the chestnuts and apples, but Cheito always went out a week early to tend to the apricot grove, which gave her family their prominence in the village.She sat and mused, sharpening her billhook in a shallow cave, as she waited for the kettle to sing. They were prominent in the village. The village of...

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The Circling Hawk

Content warning: credible threats of torture and of other intense violence. Late in the afternoon, on their third day's ride up into the hills, Haneati of Baruteiis and his men -- twelve Chehirainan, all with muskets, their two best shots carrying revolver rifles -- sighted the yurts of the Dappled Stream Clan. They unfurled the flag of the Shining Foxes, their piper played his fanfare, and they rode into the camp. Chief Thuramai rode out alone to greet them. "Haneati!" he called out playfully, as soon as they were close enough. "How long be...

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The Road North

Submitted to Contest #293

She was aboard. Paladins of the Blue Lotus Society had examined everyone who boarded in first and second class, and she had wondered if she'd be able to board undetected. But they had waved third class through. Their southern minds couldn't comprehend an aristocrat who would hide among commoners; or perhaps one of them was a sympathizer.There was plenty to sympathize with. A hundred years ago, just as the industrial revolution was beginning, the kingdom of Palanelé had been overrun by its old enemies, the Iraden nomads. Her great-grandparent...

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Above the Desert

Flight was one of the miracles of the new age, a gift of the goddess Auschantaiyo, who had been a lowly Rekerisé girl from the Porotis. Princess Auschakôro was ashamed that she didn't remember the goddess' mortal name.But a god's mortal name didn't matter. Her great-grandfather had been a fire spirit all along, Kôrekito-tayi, He Who Necessarily Awakens Others. It was quite rude to use the name he'd borne in the human world.She brushed back a strand of her red-golden hair, settled in on this comfortable bench seat, and gazed out the window. A...

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The Carriage

Submitted to Contest #293

Life was looking up for Sirodati of Deitalas Taiké. He had lost his livelihood and his right leg in the wars that were still raging on, and there were rumors over the winter that war was coming to Teyoru Tusoreané. But an ancient painting, done from a photograph, had given him a lead on some un-scavenged ruins. And his new best friend, Dohaitas the Karanaiyi, had helped him plot the ruins on the map."Ridachiti and Sirodati" used to mean the common Chehiraini on the street. But now there was only one Ridachiti, Ridachiti of the Mountains of H...

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The Graying Chief

Content warning: brief mention of torture.Raunakaishi the scout galloped back to the Sparrowhawks' position, and Kasiri of Isheirataké smiled to watch him come, like a mother watching a rambunctious child. All Chehirainan were like this, too passionate, too careless with their own lives. But if Raunakaishi was risking his neck for no more reason than to feel the wind in his hair, the news was probably good.Raunakaishi thundered past the command post, set up in an overgrown quince grove by the ruins of a farmhouse, and leapt off his horse as ...

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The Color of the Chehirainan

"So I'm sure you understand, Professor." Prince Taisiori of the West Enbalaku wasn't used to situations like this. It was true he was his father's son; not yet the king of the West Enbalaku, only the crown prince. It was also true that his kingdom was a member state of the empire of Echasailé. But here he sat with a commoner, a lowly hireling who worked for wages, and he was unquestionably the supplicant. The professor leaned back into his overstuffed chair. He sipped his tea, the drink of paupers. (Prince Taisiori had brought a bottle of ex...

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Out of the Gray

Palanelé was a garrison state, born in the fires of the Federation's fall. By law, the queen and her council had absolute power; but by custom, the price of failure was a coup. Kasiri of Isheirataké, convalescing in the royal hospital in Teyoru Aripehusé, after the disastrous defense of the Black Herons, had warned Marshal Arules that trouble was coming. The marshal had agreed. Queen Karasaita, and her son-in-law Prince Lairan, had ignored the warning and died. Princess Teoraia had listened, and lived. Kasiri had gone to the capital, Teyoru ...

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The Coronation Portrait

Submitted to Contest #292

Sirodati of Deitalas Taiké sat in a wooden wheelchair that was too big for him, in a rest home in Teyoru Tusoreané, mulling over a life that had gone wrong. Three years ago, he would have said that life was good enough. He was a bootmaker, taking contracts for the Ikoskasé clan. He wasn't the heroic lineage founder that he'd thought he'd grow up to be. He hadn't even saved the money to pay bride price. But he had a roof over his head, meat on his table, and a regular flow of work. He even had a couple of hired hands. And when the next war wi...

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The Fragrant Glasswork

Submitted to Contest #292

Aitapati of Orashuris was a thief. He had long since made peace with the fact. His parents wouldn't have liked it, had they known. But if they wouldn't, they shouldn't have named him Aitapati, Wielder of Movement. And they shouldn't have kicked him out before he knew what he wanted to do with his life. His most recent target was the easiest he'd hit in a long time: an exhibition of art glass here in Amucheiru, the greatest city of the Indoru. He hadn't touched any of the glasswork for sale; the exhibition floor was patrolled by seihipadan, m...

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