Free Five Stars: Five Outstanding Tales from the early days of Stupefying Stories by Aaron Starr, Guy Stewart, Rebecca Roland, David Landrum, Ryan Jones

budge. The crown was the only thing keeping the plague from affecting me. She’d said she wanted me to be the only survivor, to experience loss as I’d made her experience loss.
    There was nothing to do but start walking. I veered through the woods toward the road, but remained in the shadows of the trees should anyone pass. The air was crisp and smelled of summer with a hint of autumn. My sword tapped rhythmically against my leg. The worm, squirming earlier, had settled in the leather bag.
    The trees thinned as I neared flatter land. The first farm I came to, I slipped close to the house, a small, mud-brick structure with a thatched roof. Wheat grew tall in the fields, nearly ready for harvest. Cows lowed inside a white-washed wooden barn.
    A man’s clothes lay draped over a large rock. They were made of rough material, slightly damp and smelling of cattle and dirt, but they were about the right size. I shed my blood-stained clothes, gooseflesh forming along my arms as the cool night touched my skin, and left them in a heap on the ground, save for the cloak. Enough muck covered it that it would pass as a commoner’s. The farmer’s clothes on, I hurried back into the woods. I draped the cloak across my shoulders and pulled the cowl over my head, covering the thin, golden crown.
    I stopped at a streamlet to drink, but otherwise walked through the night. Fatigue settled in my bones, and my joints ached. This was a young man’s task, and youth was far behind me. Then I thought of my granddaughters and how the witch had robbed them of their youth and the rest of their lives. My pace quickened.
    The first light of dawn tinged the sky when I crested a gentle hill and found the witch’s town of Lowshire spread before me in a lush, green valley. The valley floor had long been cleared of forest in order to build homes. Cattle and sheep dotted the land outside the city-kingdom’s stone walls.
    King Wren was the ruler of Lowshire. He had taken in the witch, bestowed upon her a new worm, and restored her power. Wren had always wanted more in order to make his city-kingdom self-sufficient. He was a fool to think he could control the witch. He had welcomed a snake into his home.
    Witches were supposed to help their kings and their people. They were supposed to protect crops against disease, speed healing for the ill, and ensure that animals fared well. But the witch I’d brought into my kingdom allowed greediness to twist her powers, and made her think it suitable to help my people hurt each other.
    Once Wren restored her power, she had sent the plague to my kingdom. My hands curled into fists until my nails dug into my palms. For a moment, I allowed the pain to pierce sweetly through me. Then I relaxed.
    Farmers with eggs, milk, and cheese shared the road into Lowshire with traders bringing cloth and spices. Any other morning, my people would also be on that road, carrying fresh fruit or jams and wheat. Their lack of presence distressed me as would the loss of a limb.
    I slipped into the deep morning shadows of the woods and loosened the leather bag. “Come, worm, and make your home within my flesh.” The witch would not expect me to take such an action, and so it seemed the right thing to do.
    The worm’s head rose from the bag. The gray shade of dead flesh and eyeless, it opened its mouth, to reveal a row of needle-sharp teeth.
    I drew back the tunic, baring my shoulders.
    The worm crawled onto my leg and torso. Its mouth yawned wide, and it buried its teeth in my flesh.
    A circle of pain burned in my shoulder. I fought the darkness that threatened to take me.
    The worm’s gray flesh shimmered, sparkling like a sunlit river. It burrowed into me until only its hooked tail remained. This hook grabbed my flesh and held, leaving a loop large enough to snake a finger through. Only a king had the power to bestow or remove a worm. It wouldn’t come out until I either pulled it out or died.
    My heart raced. Pounding filled my head,