Kelson Hayes
Bio
Kelson Hayes is a British-American author and philosopher, born on 19 October 1994 in Bedford, England. His books include Can You Hear The Awful Singing, The Art of Not Thinking, and The Aerbon Series.
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Stories (38)
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The Iron War
GREGOV, GORGOVNA Winter, 2E8 Aleksy Zuykov Ilyich was formerly a peasant from the town of Tineşti where he struggled to get by as a farmer with his wife and two sons. The town was divided into communities by the noblemen that owned the serfs and free peasants that lived off the land. The indentured serfs lived in communal estates built on the land owned by the three Boyars that shared ownership of the town; having divvied up the township between themselves, they sold portions of the lands to the local free men and peasants that inhabited the surrounding region. Aleksy was separated from his family in 1E192 at the ripe age of 24 for national service. He served under one of First Marshall Dmitri Porfiry Yaroslavovich’s many underlings during the construction of The Iron Highway primarily as a labourer, though he was armed and outfitted as a soldier of the Voskan Army. He fought alongside his fellow countrymen, repelling a vampiric onslaught as they colonised the newfoundland beyond the inhospitable westernmost reaches of the cruel and unforgiving Iron Teeth Mountains. Sixteen years had passed since the day he’d been separated from his family and still he served under the Voskan Army in those lands, awaiting the day he could retire and return home to his family as a free man. He would receive a payment of Я1,500*(*The Rinska was the common unit of currency in Voska, established originally in 1E78 during the rule of Vladimirovich Vladyslava Ivanovna; son of Vladimir Ivanovna: the founder of Voska) as his retirement along with his freedom upon serving the mandatory minimum of 10 years servitude, with a maximum of 20 years of service in exchange for a retirement payout of Я5,000. Unfortunately, due to disciplinary action, his mandatory duty had been extended to a minimum of 18 years of service, of which he still had two years to go. His time was nearly up and Aleksy had spent the majority of it plotting out what he would do upon receiving his freedom; having set his sights on following through with a solid 20 years of service in exchange for the maximum payout. He often fantasized of buying his own plot of land and spending the short remainder of his life with his wife, Dunia, and his two sons; living off the land and passing it down to the eldest son whilst giving the monetary inheritance to the younger son when the time inevitably came. His sons, Alexei and Petyr Ilyich, were 20 and 17 years old; Alexei had just reached the minimum age of eligibility for selection into national service and his mother was worried for him. She wrote to her husband regularly over the years and they’d maintained consistent communication via post. In the last letter she wrote on Alexei’s twentieth birthday, she told her husband of the growing discontent back home in Tineşti; it was rumoured that the Voskan Army was starting to make moves to muster more troops across the country. Upon completion of the Iron Highway in 1E199, a second draft had been enacted, though their boys had been too young to serve in those days. Now however, there were rumours that yet another draft would soon spread across the nation, sweeping through the cities, town, and villages like a murder of carrion crows. Aleksy worried for his sons; the Voskan Army made national service a mandatory requirement of all men between the age of 20-25 and the minimum requirement was 5 years, though in the event of a mandatory draft all selected draftees were required to do a minimum of 10 years. The required time of service could also be extended as a result of disciplinary action or simply because a commanding officer didn’t like a particular soldier or wanted to hold onto an exceptional one. For those reasons Aleksy feared for his sons’ futures, as well as his wife’s. Petyr was still too young to be selected for duty, though it wasn’t certain when the draft would be enacted if there was any truth to the rumours. Though Aleksy hoped that neither of his sons would be snatched away from their homestead, his mind also drifted to the subconscious fears for his wife’s well-being. They were both beginning to feel their age creep up on them and she couldn’t take care of all the duties of the estate on her own. Until he could retire from the military and buy their freedom from the Boyar that owned them, Aleksy and his family were the property of Nikolai Koval Surikov. The Boyar’s brother, Vasiliy, was a notorious alcoholic and womaniser with countless accusations of rape and sexual assault against him from the peasantry, even amongst the children. Being of nobility, Vasiliy was above the law and quite often found himself taking blatant advantage of the fact. Those he couldn’t intimidate with his social standing he bought off with his money and so he never found himself in much trouble for very long at all, though his brother often berated him and was often found publicly shaming and humiliating him for his lecherous, perverted, and consumptuous ways. Aleksy did not like being so far from his wife and unable to protect her from such situations, though there was little he could do to prevent it even had he been around. Floggings were all too common a punishment for the peasantry and besides; Dunia was fully capable of handling her own against the wretched man. He hadn’t expressed any interest in her for nearly twelve years; she had made her feelings towards the abominable drunk quite clear after rejecting his advances by breaking several of Vasiliy’s toes with a swift stomp of her foot. She was entirely capable of defending herself, but still; Aleksy loved his wife and so he worried for her as well as his sons. Shaking himself out of his thoughtful reverie, the Voskan peasant-soldier brought himself back to the present; it was his turn at watch duties and everything was dead silent and still in that late hour of the night. “Privet, my friend; lost in thought?” Josef chuckled, pouring himself a glass of vodka and pouring a second for his friend. Aleksy laughed and shook it off, telling his fellow soldier of the watch that he’d just been starting to nod off, accepting the vodka that would help to renew his vigour. They drank a couple rounds and took long drags on their pipes, chatting between themselves of the Voskan current events and politics and exchanging tales of their hometowns. The pair were both from the more mountainous southwestern farming region; Josef’s hometown of Lyšça was very similar to Aleksy own hometown in many ways and the two bonded over it. They had both been farmers in their former lives as peasants, primarily growing tuber plants such as potatoes, turnips, and beets and growing barely enough to get by after the local Boyar had deducted his taxable share of the crops. So it was that they laughed and made jokes about the system they lived under, relating to one another and enjoying the semi-pessimistic camaraderie that they shared. They saw the flaws of the world in which they lived and accepted them as the immutable facts of life that they were, choosing instead to laugh about them together rather than dwell on it in a constant state of hopelessness. Josef poured a third round and Aleksy declared it to be his last, feeling the first two starting to creep up on him. Even as Josef teased him jokingly, the pair continued in their mirth and downed the drinks, taking a break to smoke their pipes as they attempted to regain their senses momentarily. A shot cracked off and startled the pair out of their routine night of watch duty, whizzing just inches from where Josef’s head had been moments ago prior to leaning back to exhale the drag he’d just taken from his pipe…
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
Into The Fire
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Our town of Tal-Ulir rested in its heart. Although we weren’t rich or prosperous, we built our farmsteads on fertile lands and we had plenty of crops and livestock to get by. Everyone had a place to call their own and we had plenty of food to share with our neighbours. Money was scarce, but we didn’t have a need for it in the days before the dragons attacked. It all started when Val Ulmer set off on his fated adventure one summer night. That was the day everything changed… At first, we heralded him a hero, and rightfully so— he had brought unimaginable prosperity beyond all of our wildest dreams combined to the valley and its inhabitants. Everyone praised his name as he spread the wealth amongst everyone, regardless of age, background, or profession. Even the babies were given their own cut of the wealth. Although he had been celebrated at first, that was quick to change when we realised the curse he’d brought upon us with his return. The riches beyond measure greeted us alongside the bards who sang songs praising his glory and might leading up to the final moments of our celebration. “Val Ulmer the Dragon Slayer has brought us riches, fame, and glory beyond measure— he’s killed the Dragon Lord!” they chanted for all to hear, though their songs quickly turned to screams, curses, and cries as the dragons followed in their wake. “You fool!” the village elder shrieked as dragons descended upon our tranquil valley, razing the farmlands as the livestock fled before their wrath, “Look what you’ve done; you brought the wrath of their entire horde upon us!” “I only meant to help!” Val Ulmer cried out in response as the townsfolk fled for cover between shrieking curses at him and crying out for their loved ones to follow them to safety— if there was anywhere in the valley that could be considered safe on that unholiest of days. “You’ve damned us all! You’ve cursed our town with your greed! Damn you, you bastard!” Those were my father’s last words. I still remember that day. That was the day I’d decided to join the Couriers— Tal-Ulir’s only hope of survival in the apocalyptic wastes our homeland had become… My name is Kira Aliera, one of the few Couriers to survive more than three trips. There were only a dozen who’d managed to make a single trip in their life, though my burning hatred was what enabled me to survive thrice in these inhospitable lands. A Courier’s job was to deliver the stolen gold of the dragons to the neighbouring towns in exchange for the food and goods that were imperative to our survival. My mother and father would have told me it was no job for a woman, though thanks to Val Ulmer, I’ll never truly know their thoughts on the matter. They died the day of his return— the day the dragons attacked. Today marks a year since the fateful day of Val Ulmer’s return; ironically enough, it also marks my eighteenth birthday. The minimum age for Couriers is sixteen, and today the town chief decided to wed me to his son— the town’s greatest warrior. It had been decided that wedding the town’s most powerful warrior with the most successful Courier would be in the best interests of all, though I don’t think anyone was thinking of my interests when they made the decision. “Kira, are you alright?” Suda spoke up, snapping me out of my reverie. “Are you?” I rebutted irritably before continuing, “How do you feel about it all— have you heard the news? They’re going to marry me to Nial Shay today once I return.” “What about us!?!” Suda replied, totally appalled as a look of shock and horror spread across his face. “As if they care— the only thing they care about is what’s best for the town.” I replied scathingly as he piped back up, still not having given up hope. “Surely you have a choice in the matter! You’re their best Courier! Perhaps if you tell them you already have a lover—” he started, though I interrupted him before he could continue to get my hopes up any further. “They don’t care. It’s not as if I have a choice anyways… Either way I have no choice but to make these deliveries or we’ll starve the same as everyone else. They only care about themselves.” I softened my tones before continuing as I saw the look of despair spread across his face, “It’ll be alright— there’s plenty of fish in the sea anyways.” “Not since the dragons evaporated the waters… Besides, you were my fish.” Suda replied bleakly with tears in his eyes, “Sometimes I wish the dragons would just put us out of our missry and burn this whole place to the ground…” “And every time I make the trip I wish to myself that I’d be going back to my parents on the other side, but fate has a way of giving us the opposite of what we want. Val Ulmer is the perfect example of that.” I answered equally dismal in my tone as I grabbed my gear to depart, “They say this is going to be my last trip— a lady’s place isn’t in harm’s way after all.” “So they just expect you to breed Couriers for the rest of your days?!? What about what you want? Don’t they even care about your feeling or desires at all?” Suda snapped back helplessly. “If they cared about anyone but themselves, perhaps the dragons never would have descended upon our valley in the first place. Their greed is the source of all our misery after all— never forget that.” I answered with finality as I prepared to depart for the convoy. “I can’t believe we spent our whole lives fantasising our own marriage, just for it to be stolen from us by those who were supposed to have our best interests at heart.” Suda griped as he watched me go. “I still can’t believe one man’s greed damned our whole people.” I concluded, hopping on the back of my horse to depart from that place in rank with the other horses. Part of me didn’t even want to return, though I knew if anyone had a chance of coming back in that group, it would be me. It always was— all thanks to the violent hatred that consumed me. Three times I’d ridden off with my fellow Couriers and each time I was one of the few to return with success. The dragons patrolled the skies night and day waiting for us to reveal to them their stolen gold, and each time, I was one of the few tasked with delivering it to our neighbours who succeeded in the endeavour. For better or for worse, this would be my last time making the trip, however, though I still couldn’t figure out whether death or survival would be the better outcome. Is it better to live a miserable life in comfort, or to die happily knowing that the suffering is finally at an end? Before I could come to an answer, my fellow Couriers greeted me as I came upon the convoy even as the familiar blood-curdling shriek of our enemies roared from the skies up above us. “Dragons!” one of the Couriers cried out as the caravan’s drivers whipped the horses to charge forth, “Fly as quickly as you can!” Even as my fellow Couriers cried out, I heard the Dragon overhead as the all-too-familiar hiss that preceded its deadly jets of flame pierced each of the Couriers’ hearts in the caravan with fear before engulfing their bodies in the horrendous flames that melted their flesh before turning the bones to ash. The caravan itself had barely managed to evade the hellfire that scorched the earth its horses tred upon, however, the dragon hadn’t lost sight of its greater prize and objective either. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and get out of here!” I shrieked at the drivers even as they turned in their seats to take aim with their longbows before turning back around to follow my command. Nocking an arrow to my own bow even as my trusty steed bounded across the valley we inhabited, I selected my mark before releasing the arrow even as the dragon reared its head back to usher forth a sea of flames to greet me. The arrow sang through the sky, whistling as it soared straight and true towards the dragon’s eye as flames rolled down to greet me like hellish rain in the night. “This one's for you, Mom and Dad—” I said aloud to myself as I shut my eyes, feeling the fire’s embrace even as my trusty steed lunged forth through the fiery wall that enveloped us in a final desperate attempt to dodge the dragon’s fury and pass through to the other side unscathed…
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Gorgon Desolation
SUMATRAN OCEAN Summer, 1E 194 Surrounded by the darkness of the night, clouds swathed the sky, blotting out all light from the stars and the moon in the depths of the heavens above. Eight great Nardic ships sailed the rough waters of the Sumatran Ocean that separated the Nardic Isles from the Gorgon Desolation in the mainland of Aerbon to the North. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked, shattering the silence of the night whilst the sea rumbled and roared as foamy waves crashed upon the warships. The Nardic fleet sailed from the port of Baiern on the northern coast of Dusseldorf; the largest of island of their Isles in the South and closest to the orc-lands they sought out. The ships had been sailing for nearly a week and each of the men aboard fought their hardest to make it as far as they had in those rough waters. Two ships had already been lost to the sea-god, Urasmus, and the weather threatened to take even more sailor’s lives with the ships they manned.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
Fresh Off The Boat. V+ Fiction Award Winner.
LA RIOUX, LEGIOLE LA RIOUX, LEGIOLE 21 June 4E93 Andrzej Mlynár could hear the Legiolien border agents from where he hid alongside the cargo in the back of the lorry as they inspected the truck driver’s papers. Everyone remained totally still and silent where they were as the border agents conducted their routine inspection; they were stowed away with a band of gypsies travelling from Alvaria, finally nearing the end of their long journey. Taking refuge within the back of a lorry, the group had initially been travelling from the city of Český-Trenčianske, though they’d switched lorries several times across their journey. They’d spent the greater part of the last week hidden with the cargo-holds of whatever unsupervised lorries they could find between the rest stops on their route to Bree. The back of their current transport was filled up mostly with boxes of various sizes of what they assumed to be furniture, though there was no way of truly knowing as they were labelled in Svanean writing.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Northern Wars
NORTHERN TUNDRA, THE EAST Spring, 1E78 The days turned to weeks following the initial onset of Aenor's eastern expedition, but still the elves who survived their harsh welcome continued to plod along aimlessly through the tundra where they found themselves. Spring was already upon them, though the members of the exploration party were unaware of it; the season had made its transition without any noticeable change to the weather or climate. What they had managed to keep of their supplies following their arrival upon the barren shores had dwindled despite their best efforts to make them last, though after some time they spotted a distant town on the barren horizon.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Northern Wars
CALAIS, LEGION Winter, 1E78 That's the signal… but so soon? Mathias stopped in his tracks as he spotted Edwin rolling himself a cigarette up ahead. Robin stood beside the Ahglorian shopkeeper as the pair stood idly by in the street. I'll be damned, that’s the signal! Mathias watched in shock and disbelief as his cohort lit the freshly rolled cigarette, turning in his own tracks and heading towards the town centre as per his own directions. No deterrence. He'd made eye contact with Edwin even as the Ahglorian lit his smoke, seeing the look of frustration and desperation on the trader's face as Mathias deviated from his course in light of the blatant, albeit premature, signal.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Northern Wars
DUNKIRK, LEGION Spring, 1E79 “Remember; everything must go according to plan if you want your son back unharmed- we've already had enough mishaps.” Mathias said to Robin quietly, under his breath, as they made their way through the grandiose streets of the Legion capitol. Several weeks had passed since the Calais riots and they hadn’t allowed those weeks to pass by idly. Ever since the trio had managed to sneak and bribe their way into the capitol they’d used that time to plot the next stage of the plan that was culminating as it continued to come to fruition. Meeting at the house of Frederick, a friend of Edwin’s in the capitol, the trio held up and plotted the days away, making the necessary arrangements with their fellow contacts throughout the capitol leading up to the present.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Northern Wars
DUNKIRK, LEGION Spring, 1E79 Nearly a year had passed by since Pierre had been ordered to maintain law and order in Avon town. Jean was now 19 years old, as well as a Captain of the city watch. His brother wrote to him occasionally, sent by the Imperial Postmen from Avon town on the Northern frontline. The letters grew darker as the months passed by and were mostly updates to the growing list of obituaries of the Legionary host in the North. Pierre had spent the majority of his time in the Northern town fighting off the wild tribesmen and insurrectionists that sometimes assaulted the town- in addition to the rebel townsfolk who protested regularly in the streets for their liberation and independence. He'd been promoted several times over the course of his deployment, having been granted his own squad as a result of his display of the ability to survive and work together with his kinsmen in the midst of the depraved savagery of the uncivilised northlands that they sought to bring under the king's reign.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
The Northern Wars
CALAIS, LEGION Winter, 1E78 “To arms! To arms!” a soldier called out as their captain crumpled to the ground before them. The rioters had begun arming themselves with bricks, staves, swords, hammers, axes, knives, bows, and stones as they assailed the king's men who sought to contain the fire and insurrection that continued to grow and spread despite their best efforts.
By Kelson Hayes4 years ago in Fiction
