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LastSunrise1981
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Anyone still interested in reading my story and seeing some of the other poems I've written?
Hype! Writers' Thread.
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Angel_Faerie
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Dusting off this thread to see if anyone would like to read/critique the new story I'm wokring on.
wellsy
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To put it simply - absolutely.
I've got a few things I'm working on myself. I might put some excerpts up (I'm currently writing one it and presenting it to a workshop I lead at uni, but I've got a few others I'm looking at really working on).
I've got a few things I'm working on myself. I might put some excerpts up (I'm currently writing one it and presenting it to a workshop I lead at uni, but I've got a few others I'm looking at really working on).
Angel_Faerie
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My Story (The Day I Die) said:
Here it is. Sorry for the wall of text. The Double Spacing didn't transfer over.
PS: No copying of my work, you sneaky bastards!
wellsy
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Actually, that's pretty decent. Starting in medias res seems pretty decent, and she really does come across as quite world weary.
My criticism mainly concentrates on this part:
I would rewrite it as
It's mostly cosmetic yes, but I changed a bit of the language - she's revealing her true self, and if she were from Shakespearean England, she'd speak just a little more formally than most people today. The rest is really just a basic knowledge of English class systems (if you owned land, you were wealthy) and the realities of the day.
Really, I can't make more comments because you've only posted a small excerpt. But apart from above, which is very superficial, I like it. It's interesting, to say the least, and I'd be intrigued to see where you'd go with it (and 20 points if you can pick up the Jane Austen reference).
My criticism mainly concentrates on this part:
I would rewrite it as
It's mostly cosmetic yes, but I changed a bit of the language - she's revealing her true self, and if she were from Shakespearean England, she'd speak just a little more formally than most people today. The rest is really just a basic knowledge of English class systems (if you owned land, you were wealthy) and the realities of the day.
Really, I can't make more comments because you've only posted a small excerpt. But apart from above, which is very superficial, I like it. It's interesting, to say the least, and I'd be intrigued to see where you'd go with it (and 20 points if you can pick up the Jane Austen reference).
Angel_Faerie
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More of The Day I Die said:
Here's more of it I wrote a few days ago.
wellsy
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I can see precisely where this is going to go, and frankly, I don't care - I like it. A lot.
Really, all I can see needing work here will come with editing. Just as a note, when doing dialogue, start a new paragraph for each different character's lines (it might not have translated will if you capy/pasted, but yeah, it's a good habit to follow - makes dialogue easy to read).
Really, all I can see needing work here will come with editing. Just as a note, when doing dialogue, start a new paragraph for each different character's lines (it might not have translated will if you capy/pasted, but yeah, it's a good habit to follow - makes dialogue easy to read).
Angel_Faerie
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I have been doing that, but unfortunately the copying and pasting messed it up.
And you might not guess *exactly* what happens. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.
And you might not guess *exactly* what happens. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.
wellsy
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Well, I can't complain.
Just a quick note though - Tanya is actually a Russian name. I just thought of that this morning, and I would truly doubt 17th Century Irish families gave Russian names to their children. Something based on the Bible (eg Mary) or of Irish origin (eg Molly) would work fine. Just thought I'd point that out.
Just a quick note though - Tanya is actually a Russian name. I just thought of that this morning, and I would truly doubt 17th Century Irish families gave Russian names to their children. Something based on the Bible (eg Mary) or of Irish origin (eg Molly) would work fine. Just thought I'd point that out.
Angel_Faerie
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Thank you. I didn't know what name to use, so I just put something there.
Victarion
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Fellow writers, I've pulled together a short story for a contest. The only requirements are that it: Reinvent elves, and be no longer than 5000 words. With that in mind, I came up with the following: PG-13 rating.
Shepherd of the Earth-Born Ones
I
“Oh God, Herbert! He’s dying!” cried a shrill voice. Its owner was a woman named Rebecca Parker. She stepped back into the dim room and ran a hand through her disheveled red hair.
She was in the bedroom of her first born son, Christopher. It was furnished with the best they could provide for the boy: a bookshelf littered with scraps of parchment and a few books, the bed with pullout drawers of clothes and a nightstand by the bed. At the foot of the nightstand were shards of glass from the lamp that Christopher’s thrashing had knocked to the floor.
There was a rapid clomp-clomp of shoes up the stairs, and then the bedroom door was thrown open. A man in trousers wearing a rumpled vest over a white shirt hurried to join his wife at Christopher’s bedside. The boy’s eyes were shut tight and his pallid skin had taken on a sweaty sheen.
Rebecca looked up at Herbert with eyes red from crying. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I—I don’t know. What happened?”
“I heard him tossing so I came in and Herbert, it looked like he was having a seizure!”
Herbert cupped his hand under Christopher’s chin and with his other forced his mouth open.
“Good, no blood.” His hand moved to his son’s forehead. He recoiled when his palm touched the skin, which was hot as a kettle of boiling water. “Call the doctors.”
“What? What is it—”
“The doctors, Rebecca!” Herbert snapped.
Rebecca rushed from the room, making no effort to hide her sobs.
“That’s some fever you got, son.” Herbert murmured. His mind went back to some of the accounts he’d translated on the shamans and barbarians who’d come down with primordia sickness. Gently, he opened Christopher’s right eye with the ball of his thumb.
Yep, that’s got to be what it is.
The eye was entirely bloodshot to the point that it was wholly red. Christopher’s pupil had turned a shade of blackish purple.
Now then Herbert wondered as he rose and walked over to the window. Where could you have gotten this?
The window gave a decent view of Arkmoore. Herbert’s gaze wondered across the graystone buildings, gargoyles keeping vigil on the snowy streets below, boxy industrial plants with smokestacks spewing the foul black stuff.
“No primordia plants. So just how did he get the sickness?” Herbert turned back to Christopher and happened to notice the thick texts stacked on the bedside table. One of those books was titled Primordia Focusing in Relation to the Human Nervous System, Volume 1. “Of course!”
You should’ve listened to your old man, Christopher, when he told you to pursue the life of an archivist.
“The doctors are on their way, Herbert.”
Herbert glanced toward Rebecca, who was standing there in the doorway. Her face was puffy and the makeup had begun to smear from her tears. He went to her, took her in his arms and whispered to her: “We need to just leave him be, ‘Becca. He’s got primordia poisoning. Its likely he got it from one of his classes—”
“I knew it! I knew it would happen the moment he went against your wishes and took up those heathen arts!”
Then her head fell to Herbert’s shoulder and the tears started to flow. He ran a hand through her curly brown hair, saying “Shhh, ‘Becca, shhh. Come on.” He guided her out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut. “Let’s let him get his rest, now.”
As they made their way down the dark hallway, Herbert stopped outside of Brandon’s door and peeked in through the crack. Their youngest boy was still tucked beneath his covers. They rose and fell with the regular rhythm of deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Thankfully he’s heard none of it, and will hopefully hear none of it. Herbert thought. He quietly backed away from the bedroom door and went on down the stairs to the living room to join Rebecca. She was standing before their little fireplace jabbing at the burning logs. He took a seat in the chair near the window, which let out its usual creak. Rebecca set the poker back in its place and joined her husband to peer out of the window into the empty street.
“We’re being punished, you know.” She said.
Herbert glared at Rebecca, unable to believe how damn conversational she sounded. Then her lip started to quiver and his expression softened.
She’s trying to make sense of things. Can you really blame her for that?
“It’s not a heathen art, or whatever they called it.” Herbert said. “Shamanism and his somamancy are totally separate.”
A strained smile appeared on Rebecca’s face. “You know, that’s what Christopher would have said too.” She shook her head. “Ah damn it, I’m talking like he’s…like he’s—”
I wonder how it’ll take us Herbert thought, not hearing the rest of his wife’s statement. They say we humans are just smart animals. Perhaps we’ll go bald first, before the fever hits. He hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt and tugged at it.
“It must not be so very cold tonight, Herbert.” Rebecca said. “It seems like the fire’s putting out a bit more heat than usual.”
Herbert nodded slowly, an angry smile crossing his features. Of course you wouldn’t know the effects of primordia sickness. You wouldn’t know that soon the skin’ll be falling off like meat from a slow-simmered rib.
“Herbert, what’s wrong?” Rebecca asked worriedly. “I saw that look, what are you thinking abou—”
Thankfully Rebecca’s question was interrupted by a rapid knocking at their door. With a sigh of resignation, Herbert got to his feet and went to let the doctor in. He was surprised when he opened to door to find a young man with blond hair who had to be no older than twenty-five standing on their snowy stoop.
“Good evening, sir. I am Matthew Darius.” He gave Herbert’s hand a vigorous shake. “Did someone here call for a doctor?”
“Yes, come on in.” Herbert said.
Matthew hung his black duster on a rack near the door and followed Herbert into the living room. At the sound of them approaching, Rebecca rose and hurried to them. Her eyes shone with fresh tears and a sad smile creased her face.
“Bless you for coming doctor, bless you.” Rebecca said as she took one of Matthew’s hands with both of hers and gave him a rapid handshake.
“Thank you, Madam.” Matthew said. “You may call me Dr. Matthew. Now what seems to be the problem?”
“Rebecca, honey, go check on Christopher, would you?”
After Rebecca had clomped back up the stairs and they heard the sound of a door being pulled shut, Matthew turned to Herbert. “I take it your child must have some serious ailment, then?”
“You—you could say that.” Herbert said. “He’s studying that newfangled medical science, somamancy, and—”
“Let me guess, it’s a primordia-related condition?”
Herbert nodded. “You got it.”
“It’s a relatively radical idea with more roots in mysticism than we’d like.” Matthew said angrily as he looked into the fire, which had nearly gone out. “It goes without saying that the key idea behind this pseudoscience involves some very dangerous stuff. All we have on it comes from journals stolen from the surely inbred westerners and the—”
“And flyers from carnivals in the south.” Herbert said. “I already know all of that.”
Matthew turned from the fireplace to regard Herbert with his piercing blue eyes. “Please go join your wife, sir,” He said in a voice completely devoid of any emotion.
As Herbert made his way up the stairs, his thoughts turned to his family’s immediate future. The only alternatives he could see were a laboratory at some medical facility or a swift execution. He glanced over his shoulder at the shoddy old case in the hallway with his lone hunting rifle. His hand found its way into his pant pocket and felt the coolness of the shell he’d accidentally left in there.
Funny what we remember when faced with the end, Herbert thought. Then he noticed Dr. Matthew standing with his back to the stairwell, immersed in a phone conversation. Herbert eased a foot back down the stairs and winced at the loud creak. Matthew glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes with Herbert and nodded toward the landing at the stop of the stairs. When Herbert descended another stair, Matthews reached into his shirt and removed a small, easily concealed handgun. Herbert felt the doctor’s eyes following him as he turned and ascended the stairs to join Rebecca and Christopher in what was likely to become the Parker Mausoleum.
II
“What creatures dance and caper in the hills?” Hailey said as she peered around the corner of the old yellow house with its peeling paint. Christopher followed her gaze into his grandmother’s backyard and recalled an old treatise he’d seen in the library.
“The fairies call their faithful to their feast, while the trolls keep a constant vigil in the mists.” Christopher said. He set down the lanterns and double checked to be sure they had enough fuel.
Hailey glanced back at him, a smile on her face. “Hey, you did read the old treatise!”
“Even better.” Christopher said. He dug out a packet of papers folded into a square and handed them to her. “I managed to save these.”
Hailey unfolded them and flipped through the yellowing sheaves. “Markings, the words, wow Christopher! How did you get them?”
“I ripped them out of the journal before the Count’s men could throw it in the blaze.” Christopher said. “I knew you were interested in the gypsy mediums, what with the relations your mother’s side of them family has to them.”
“I know you don’t buy into it Christopher”—inwardly he winced at the sad look on Hailey’s face—“but this means so much to me. It really does. And I think tonight will do you some good.”
Christopher arched his eyebrows. “Really? How?”
“You’ll be able to rewrite the books on the origins of primordia.” Hailey tucked the pages into a pant pocket. “Now let’s—”
A sudden explosion of barking from the neighbor’s pitbull caused them both to jump. Christopher managed to keep from dropping the lanterns but the bottle of leftover kerosene hit the porch and shattered. He glanced toward the lattice-work door, dreading the sight of it swinging open and his grandmother coming out to put an end to their late-night expedition.
“Christopher, look.” Hailey said, pointing at the cobblestone road running alongside the fence. The little man coming from the east end was completely naked, his body burnt black and red. In his hands Christopher saw the long silver barrel of a shotgun and felt a surge of panic.
Suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder. Christopher glanced over his shoulder to see a man in silver and black robes with a cowl pulled low over his face. His eyes widened at the sight of the red-hot branding iron rushing toward his gut. The dog’s incessant barking was silenced by a crack of thunder. The robed man’s fell to the ground with a muffled thump.
Christopher pulled Hailey away from the body shaking from fright. His foot got caught in a tree root and he fell backward into the rosebush. He disentangled himself and noticed several more people with similar burn wounds, and a few missing one or two limbs pulling themselves along behind shorter one with the shotgun. As he ducked behind the rosebush, he reached up to pull Hailey behind the cover and noticed she was looking down at the robed man. She wore a savage grin as she wiped a line of spit from her lips.
She looks happy Christopher thought. My Hailey, the pacifist, happy at the sight of a dead man.
When they had all passed, he rose and walked over to Hailey. “We should go to the old house another day; there’s no telling if there’s more of those people. There might be more waiting to jump us.”
Hailey brushed past Christopher and went on through the gate. “What’s the matter,” she said playfully. “You chicken?” Then she started down the road toward the old house.
Christopher grabbed the branding iron and ran after Hailey. They passed houses that had fallen into varying states of decay before they came to the old green house. There were several burn marks on its exterior, and the yard was littered with mounds of weed-grown bricks and rocks. The windows were broken and where a door should have been was simply an empty frame with darkness beyond.
“In this advanced state, we need to drain as much primordia as possible. I want to know why this boy hasn’t entered the sloughing stage. Up the sedatives and let us consider trepana--”
“Did you say something?” Christopher said.
“No, why?” Hailey said.
“Absolutely not! Such barbarism belongs in the history books, not in my sanitarium!”
“Well now your high and mighty science hasn’t done much good, has it?”
“There’s someone else here.” Christopher scanned the houses to either side of them for motion and listened for the sounds of footsteps.
“Christopher, there’s no one but us. Now come on.” Hailey took his hand and ran through the rickety-looking gate and through the doorway. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they found themselves in a country field under a star-filled sky and—
“Wha—wha—what is that?” Christopher asked, pointing at what he thought was the moon. It looked like the moon, but it was so much fuller than the little sliver that normally hung in the sky.
“The moon, silly.” Hailey laughed. “I knew this’d blow your mind, city boy.”
“Its just that, wow, its so bright.” Christopher put out the lantern and set it down on the grass. He looked around and saw nothing but pasture bordered on all sides by dark woods. “Where are we? How the hell did we get here, where’s the hou—”
“This is the place between life and death.” Hailey said with a wink. She took the branding iron and threw it aside. “We still have a little way to go now.”
“Go where?”
“You’ll see.”
Hailey took Christopher’s hand and they set off through the fields at a run. The cool air felt great as it buffeted Christopher and blew through his curly hair. Little sheds for livestock began to dot the landscape, along with great bales of hay. They soon came to a more hilly section of the range land, and it was as they crested one of the larger ones that Christopher stopped dead in his tracks.
Before them lay a whole mountain range of gears, plowshare and saw blades, and other hulks of farming equipment, all being encroached upon by weedy growth. It looked to be at least two or three miles long. The pair passed through a makeshift archway made from what looked like a half-buried bear trap. All of the various items comprising the city were covered in flaky red-orange rust.
“Let’s have the séance here.” Christopher said as they made their way through the junk-city.
“No time, Christopher.”
I don’t want to go; we obviously messed around with stuff we shouldn’t have, and now we’re in the middle of a trip.
“Come on, I bet the geometry of this place makes it a spirit-magnet!” Christopher said.
“It does.” Hailey said. “But we don’t want to talk to them. Besides, we’re almost out.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. After the voices, the Muses and Aspects only know what’s next.
Hailey led Christopher around a corner and to a narrow path running between the gargantuan farming equipment that brought them out of the old junk heap. Crossing more hilly lands finally brought them to a hill that rose high above all of those they’d previously travelled over. Beyond it, Christopher could hear the crackles and pop of fires, laughter and merrymaking.
Hailey sniffed the air. “Smells like they found it, and I’d say it’s almost done.”
Together he and Hailey descended the hill, toward a large clustering of white tents on the sloping bank of a river overgrown and shadowed with willows.
I
“Oh God, Herbert! He’s dying!” cried a shrill voice. Its owner was a woman named Rebecca Parker. She stepped back into the dim room and ran a hand through her disheveled red hair.
She was in the bedroom of her first born son, Christopher. It was furnished with the best they could provide for the boy: a bookshelf littered with scraps of parchment and a few books, the bed with pullout drawers of clothes and a nightstand by the bed. At the foot of the nightstand were shards of glass from the lamp that Christopher’s thrashing had knocked to the floor.
There was a rapid clomp-clomp of shoes up the stairs, and then the bedroom door was thrown open. A man in trousers wearing a rumpled vest over a white shirt hurried to join his wife at Christopher’s bedside. The boy’s eyes were shut tight and his pallid skin had taken on a sweaty sheen.
Rebecca looked up at Herbert with eyes red from crying. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I—I don’t know. What happened?”
“I heard him tossing so I came in and Herbert, it looked like he was having a seizure!”
Herbert cupped his hand under Christopher’s chin and with his other forced his mouth open.
“Good, no blood.” His hand moved to his son’s forehead. He recoiled when his palm touched the skin, which was hot as a kettle of boiling water. “Call the doctors.”
“What? What is it—”
“The doctors, Rebecca!” Herbert snapped.
Rebecca rushed from the room, making no effort to hide her sobs.
“That’s some fever you got, son.” Herbert murmured. His mind went back to some of the accounts he’d translated on the shamans and barbarians who’d come down with primordia sickness. Gently, he opened Christopher’s right eye with the ball of his thumb.
Yep, that’s got to be what it is.
The eye was entirely bloodshot to the point that it was wholly red. Christopher’s pupil had turned a shade of blackish purple.
Now then Herbert wondered as he rose and walked over to the window. Where could you have gotten this?
The window gave a decent view of Arkmoore. Herbert’s gaze wondered across the graystone buildings, gargoyles keeping vigil on the snowy streets below, boxy industrial plants with smokestacks spewing the foul black stuff.
“No primordia plants. So just how did he get the sickness?” Herbert turned back to Christopher and happened to notice the thick texts stacked on the bedside table. One of those books was titled Primordia Focusing in Relation to the Human Nervous System, Volume 1. “Of course!”
You should’ve listened to your old man, Christopher, when he told you to pursue the life of an archivist.
“The doctors are on their way, Herbert.”
Herbert glanced toward Rebecca, who was standing there in the doorway. Her face was puffy and the makeup had begun to smear from her tears. He went to her, took her in his arms and whispered to her: “We need to just leave him be, ‘Becca. He’s got primordia poisoning. Its likely he got it from one of his classes—”
“I knew it! I knew it would happen the moment he went against your wishes and took up those heathen arts!”
Then her head fell to Herbert’s shoulder and the tears started to flow. He ran a hand through her curly brown hair, saying “Shhh, ‘Becca, shhh. Come on.” He guided her out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut. “Let’s let him get his rest, now.”
As they made their way down the dark hallway, Herbert stopped outside of Brandon’s door and peeked in through the crack. Their youngest boy was still tucked beneath his covers. They rose and fell with the regular rhythm of deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Thankfully he’s heard none of it, and will hopefully hear none of it. Herbert thought. He quietly backed away from the bedroom door and went on down the stairs to the living room to join Rebecca. She was standing before their little fireplace jabbing at the burning logs. He took a seat in the chair near the window, which let out its usual creak. Rebecca set the poker back in its place and joined her husband to peer out of the window into the empty street.
“We’re being punished, you know.” She said.
Herbert glared at Rebecca, unable to believe how damn conversational she sounded. Then her lip started to quiver and his expression softened.
She’s trying to make sense of things. Can you really blame her for that?
“It’s not a heathen art, or whatever they called it.” Herbert said. “Shamanism and his somamancy are totally separate.”
A strained smile appeared on Rebecca’s face. “You know, that’s what Christopher would have said too.” She shook her head. “Ah damn it, I’m talking like he’s…like he’s—”
I wonder how it’ll take us Herbert thought, not hearing the rest of his wife’s statement. They say we humans are just smart animals. Perhaps we’ll go bald first, before the fever hits. He hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt and tugged at it.
“It must not be so very cold tonight, Herbert.” Rebecca said. “It seems like the fire’s putting out a bit more heat than usual.”
Herbert nodded slowly, an angry smile crossing his features. Of course you wouldn’t know the effects of primordia sickness. You wouldn’t know that soon the skin’ll be falling off like meat from a slow-simmered rib.
“Herbert, what’s wrong?” Rebecca asked worriedly. “I saw that look, what are you thinking abou—”
Thankfully Rebecca’s question was interrupted by a rapid knocking at their door. With a sigh of resignation, Herbert got to his feet and went to let the doctor in. He was surprised when he opened to door to find a young man with blond hair who had to be no older than twenty-five standing on their snowy stoop.
“Good evening, sir. I am Matthew Darius.” He gave Herbert’s hand a vigorous shake. “Did someone here call for a doctor?”
“Yes, come on in.” Herbert said.
Matthew hung his black duster on a rack near the door and followed Herbert into the living room. At the sound of them approaching, Rebecca rose and hurried to them. Her eyes shone with fresh tears and a sad smile creased her face.
“Bless you for coming doctor, bless you.” Rebecca said as she took one of Matthew’s hands with both of hers and gave him a rapid handshake.
“Thank you, Madam.” Matthew said. “You may call me Dr. Matthew. Now what seems to be the problem?”
“Rebecca, honey, go check on Christopher, would you?”
After Rebecca had clomped back up the stairs and they heard the sound of a door being pulled shut, Matthew turned to Herbert. “I take it your child must have some serious ailment, then?”
“You—you could say that.” Herbert said. “He’s studying that newfangled medical science, somamancy, and—”
“Let me guess, it’s a primordia-related condition?”
Herbert nodded. “You got it.”
“It’s a relatively radical idea with more roots in mysticism than we’d like.” Matthew said angrily as he looked into the fire, which had nearly gone out. “It goes without saying that the key idea behind this pseudoscience involves some very dangerous stuff. All we have on it comes from journals stolen from the surely inbred westerners and the—”
“And flyers from carnivals in the south.” Herbert said. “I already know all of that.”
Matthew turned from the fireplace to regard Herbert with his piercing blue eyes. “Please go join your wife, sir,” He said in a voice completely devoid of any emotion.
As Herbert made his way up the stairs, his thoughts turned to his family’s immediate future. The only alternatives he could see were a laboratory at some medical facility or a swift execution. He glanced over his shoulder at the shoddy old case in the hallway with his lone hunting rifle. His hand found its way into his pant pocket and felt the coolness of the shell he’d accidentally left in there.
Funny what we remember when faced with the end, Herbert thought. Then he noticed Dr. Matthew standing with his back to the stairwell, immersed in a phone conversation. Herbert eased a foot back down the stairs and winced at the loud creak. Matthew glanced over his shoulder and locked eyes with Herbert and nodded toward the landing at the stop of the stairs. When Herbert descended another stair, Matthews reached into his shirt and removed a small, easily concealed handgun. Herbert felt the doctor’s eyes following him as he turned and ascended the stairs to join Rebecca and Christopher in what was likely to become the Parker Mausoleum.
II
“What creatures dance and caper in the hills?” Hailey said as she peered around the corner of the old yellow house with its peeling paint. Christopher followed her gaze into his grandmother’s backyard and recalled an old treatise he’d seen in the library.
“The fairies call their faithful to their feast, while the trolls keep a constant vigil in the mists.” Christopher said. He set down the lanterns and double checked to be sure they had enough fuel.
Hailey glanced back at him, a smile on her face. “Hey, you did read the old treatise!”
“Even better.” Christopher said. He dug out a packet of papers folded into a square and handed them to her. “I managed to save these.”
Hailey unfolded them and flipped through the yellowing sheaves. “Markings, the words, wow Christopher! How did you get them?”
“I ripped them out of the journal before the Count’s men could throw it in the blaze.” Christopher said. “I knew you were interested in the gypsy mediums, what with the relations your mother’s side of them family has to them.”
“I know you don’t buy into it Christopher”—inwardly he winced at the sad look on Hailey’s face—“but this means so much to me. It really does. And I think tonight will do you some good.”
Christopher arched his eyebrows. “Really? How?”
“You’ll be able to rewrite the books on the origins of primordia.” Hailey tucked the pages into a pant pocket. “Now let’s—”
A sudden explosion of barking from the neighbor’s pitbull caused them both to jump. Christopher managed to keep from dropping the lanterns but the bottle of leftover kerosene hit the porch and shattered. He glanced toward the lattice-work door, dreading the sight of it swinging open and his grandmother coming out to put an end to their late-night expedition.
“Christopher, look.” Hailey said, pointing at the cobblestone road running alongside the fence. The little man coming from the east end was completely naked, his body burnt black and red. In his hands Christopher saw the long silver barrel of a shotgun and felt a surge of panic.
Suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder. Christopher glanced over his shoulder to see a man in silver and black robes with a cowl pulled low over his face. His eyes widened at the sight of the red-hot branding iron rushing toward his gut. The dog’s incessant barking was silenced by a crack of thunder. The robed man’s fell to the ground with a muffled thump.
Christopher pulled Hailey away from the body shaking from fright. His foot got caught in a tree root and he fell backward into the rosebush. He disentangled himself and noticed several more people with similar burn wounds, and a few missing one or two limbs pulling themselves along behind shorter one with the shotgun. As he ducked behind the rosebush, he reached up to pull Hailey behind the cover and noticed she was looking down at the robed man. She wore a savage grin as she wiped a line of spit from her lips.
She looks happy Christopher thought. My Hailey, the pacifist, happy at the sight of a dead man.
When they had all passed, he rose and walked over to Hailey. “We should go to the old house another day; there’s no telling if there’s more of those people. There might be more waiting to jump us.”
Hailey brushed past Christopher and went on through the gate. “What’s the matter,” she said playfully. “You chicken?” Then she started down the road toward the old house.
Christopher grabbed the branding iron and ran after Hailey. They passed houses that had fallen into varying states of decay before they came to the old green house. There were several burn marks on its exterior, and the yard was littered with mounds of weed-grown bricks and rocks. The windows were broken and where a door should have been was simply an empty frame with darkness beyond.
“In this advanced state, we need to drain as much primordia as possible. I want to know why this boy hasn’t entered the sloughing stage. Up the sedatives and let us consider trepana--”
“Did you say something?” Christopher said.
“No, why?” Hailey said.
“Absolutely not! Such barbarism belongs in the history books, not in my sanitarium!”
“Well now your high and mighty science hasn’t done much good, has it?”
“There’s someone else here.” Christopher scanned the houses to either side of them for motion and listened for the sounds of footsteps.
“Christopher, there’s no one but us. Now come on.” Hailey took his hand and ran through the rickety-looking gate and through the doorway. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they found themselves in a country field under a star-filled sky and—
“Wha—wha—what is that?” Christopher asked, pointing at what he thought was the moon. It looked like the moon, but it was so much fuller than the little sliver that normally hung in the sky.
“The moon, silly.” Hailey laughed. “I knew this’d blow your mind, city boy.”
“Its just that, wow, its so bright.” Christopher put out the lantern and set it down on the grass. He looked around and saw nothing but pasture bordered on all sides by dark woods. “Where are we? How the hell did we get here, where’s the hou—”
“This is the place between life and death.” Hailey said with a wink. She took the branding iron and threw it aside. “We still have a little way to go now.”
“Go where?”
“You’ll see.”
Hailey took Christopher’s hand and they set off through the fields at a run. The cool air felt great as it buffeted Christopher and blew through his curly hair. Little sheds for livestock began to dot the landscape, along with great bales of hay. They soon came to a more hilly section of the range land, and it was as they crested one of the larger ones that Christopher stopped dead in his tracks.
Before them lay a whole mountain range of gears, plowshare and saw blades, and other hulks of farming equipment, all being encroached upon by weedy growth. It looked to be at least two or three miles long. The pair passed through a makeshift archway made from what looked like a half-buried bear trap. All of the various items comprising the city were covered in flaky red-orange rust.
“Let’s have the séance here.” Christopher said as they made their way through the junk-city.
“No time, Christopher.”
I don’t want to go; we obviously messed around with stuff we shouldn’t have, and now we’re in the middle of a trip.
“Come on, I bet the geometry of this place makes it a spirit-magnet!” Christopher said.
“It does.” Hailey said. “But we don’t want to talk to them. Besides, we’re almost out.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. After the voices, the Muses and Aspects only know what’s next.
Hailey led Christopher around a corner and to a narrow path running between the gargantuan farming equipment that brought them out of the old junk heap. Crossing more hilly lands finally brought them to a hill that rose high above all of those they’d previously travelled over. Beyond it, Christopher could hear the crackles and pop of fires, laughter and merrymaking.
Hailey sniffed the air. “Smells like they found it, and I’d say it’s almost done.”
Together he and Hailey descended the hill, toward a large clustering of white tents on the sloping bank of a river overgrown and shadowed with willows.
Victarion
Iron Captain
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Part 2 of the Post
I'm wondering how effective Christopher's section is. Do his ideas toward explaining whats happening to him seem to flow, or does it seem too garbled and hectic? Thoughts on how to improve, as well as what you like, are very welcome!
III
As they passed some of the tents, Christopher could see the silhouettes of the occupants thanks to the lanterns that burned within. Some were sitting and laughing like old acquaintances in midst of a long overdue catch-up, while others made Christopher blush. The sensual sounds that drifted from those tents caused him to speed up his walk. The tents themselves were spaced out so that a small fire burned between each of them. Hailey stopped outside one of them and held aside the flap for him. The inside held two cots, an unlit lantern, and two basins of water.
“None of this makes any sense.” Christopher said. Hailey was sitting on the cot, stretching. “A priest tries to gut me; we go into an old house and bam! Here we are in the middle of nowhere. What sort of brew did you sneak, Hailey?”
“I didn’t—”
“I’ve never read of any kind of trips, dreams, or trances lasting this long. Never in any of the arch—”
Hailey pulled Christopher to a spot on the cot beside her, then threw her arms around him and pulled him into a kiss.
“This isn’t some hallucination, Christopher.” Hailey said. “I think we still have some time before the pig is ready.” She added with a mischievous grin.
After the love-making they lay there in the dark listening to the sounds of the night and the crackle of the fires. Christopher held Hailey close, burying his face in her hair while she nuzzled his neck.
Between life and death Christopher thought. She does have the gypsy blood.
Blood shmud said another voice. The fact is that there is no “between life and death.” There’s life, then there’s the long nap. Nothing between, nothing after.
A sudden rustling interrupted Christopher’s thoughts.
“The boar must be done.” Hailey said.
Christopher got up and started pulling his clothes on, only to be pulled out into the night by Hailey, still naked. The first thing he noticed was that all the others leaving their tents looked as if they had been pulled from a blazing wildfire. A tangy smell of the roasting pork filled the air. Christopher’s belly growled and howled at the scent of it.
“Full moon?” Hailey asked when she heard his stomach’s wolfish howl.
He returned with playful smirk and rubbed his gut. “Nope, just smell some really good cooking.”
Hopefully there'll be knives and forks. One good stab should bring me back to my senses.
They came to a stop at the edge of the crowd around the cook-fire. Hailey nudged their way through the back of the gathering. People began to turn and see who was coming through. At the sight of the two, they smiled and stood aside with little bows of their heads. The flames of the fire on the river bank reached nearly five feet at least, and suspended above it on a huge spit was—
What the **** man? What the ****?!
---the robed figure that had came at him with the branding iron, only to be blown away by the carny-folk with the shotgun. Amazingly the robe hadn’t burned away. Looking around at the others with a horrified look on his face, Christopher saw that they simply watched as the flames barely licked the belly of the person tied to the spit.
“Is something wrong, Christopher?”
He chuckled. “Is something wrong?” he muttered to himself.
Hailey noticed him looking at the robed man and scowled. “It’s no more than he deserved.” She said venomously.
There was a sudden roar and the flames leapt to engulf the spit and the man bound to it. When they fell again there on the spit was a cleric, red in the face from shouting.
“The Numenaldre and its Aspects damn you all to the demoniac Tekelos, friend of the heathens and malformed who dared to tamper with the Maker’s Clay! The Numenaldre—” With a wet crunch that caused Christopher to wince, the man’s rant was cut short by a fire-poker speared through his head by one of the people from the gathering.
They’re enjoying it! Christopher thought as he saw the gleeful expressions among the others in the light of the fire. He turned to Hailey and asked again, “Why?”
She looked at him with pity in her eyes and a sad smile on her face. “Imagine seeing loved ones burned alive, and your home burned to the ground. Your money taken, your body scarred by whips, chains, and you exiled to a foreign land.”
“I understand, but roasting the man alive is how you repay that?”
“Hush now. It’s nearly time.”
“Time?” Christopher asked. “Time for what?”
She nodded toward the fire. There a ten-foot tall human-shaped thing that stood. Its skin was bruise purple with lean arms and legs. Its head was wreathed in a gray, mane-like beard. A crown of black horns adorned its head, and a pair of dragonfly-like wings that pulsed with veins grew from its back.
“Children,” the thing said in a growling, distorted voice, “This feast at the shaman’s hour of three marks the joining of the Earth-Born Shepherd and the Witch.” It extended a hand over the roasting holy man to Christopher and Hailey. In its palm were a serrated knife and a fork with fishhook-like prongs.
Hailey took the knife and nodded at the fork. With a trembling hand, Christopher lifted the fork from the winged creature. He glanced at Hailey, who smiled reassuringly and took his free hand in hers. A sharp snap drew Christopher’s attention back to the cooking-fire. There was a bony nub poking from where the holy man’s head had once been. The winged-creature opened his mouth wide, its hinged jaw revealing a double row of sharp teeth. Christopher looked away as the winged-creature crunched into the head.
“What is this? What the hell is that thing and what is it talking about with elves?” Christopher whispered. He glanced back at the winged-creature and saw its beady eyes staring right at him. It too was smiling at him, and he couldn’t help but notice the cooked flesh hanging from its teeth.
“It’s a fairy, and they’re waiting Christopher.” Hailey took the hand holding the fork and guided to a point over the cooked man’s chest. Then she drove it down into the bare flesh. With her knife she started to cut. Juices oozed from the holy man as she cut through the top layer of skin and meat. After going through the bone, she reached into the incision and wrenched out the heart. She then held it out for Christopher.
“As the female gathers the spawn of the humans, so your bride has gathered the heart of this blasphemer.” The fairy said.
Muses and Aspects help me Christopher thought as he took the still-bloody heart. Hailey held her blood-soaked hand to her mouth and made goofy chomping motions. Christopher raised the heart to his mouth, closed his eyes, and bit into it. He felt a squirt of liquid hit his cheek, as if he had bitten into a ripe tomato.
With a trembling hand, Christopher held the half-eaten heart out to Hailey. She ate it in two quick bites.
“And so the Shepherd of the Earth-Born Ones and the Witch demonstrate the judgment that will come upon the false prophets of the world.” The fairy said. “All that remains is the wine.” It dropped a goblet into Christopher’s hands. Hailey took the knife and made a quick slice over her breast above where her heart was. When the blood had dribbled into the goblet, Hailey took it from Christopher.
Christopher shut his eyes tight in anticipation of the cool, jagged steel of the knife. Then it ripped and bit into his flesh, causing him to jump and nearly bite through his lip. He felt Hailey’s fingers squeezing blood from the wound. Then the pressure was gone.
He opened his eyes to see her holding half of the goblet out to him.
That should have done it. That should have done it, and I shouldn't even be here anymore! Christopher thought as he placed his shaky fingers on his side of the goblet. As they raised it to drink from it together, she gazed into his hazel eyes and he into her brown ones. After they had drunk the blood, the fairy took the cup and beckoned Christopher and Hailey forward.
They followed the fairy across the river and into a misty stretch of pasture. The fairy then stopped abruptly and disappeared with a flap of its veiny wings.
“Don’t be scared, Christopher.” Hailey said with a smile. “We’re in this together.” Her bloodied hand gave his a firm squeeze of reassurance.
I’m sick Christopher thought. That's got to be it! It’s nothing but a delirium-dream, nothing but—
A sharp howl cut through the silence.
“It’s here. Come on!” Hailey said. She took over, pulling him at a run through the misty field toward the source of that noise. The wolf lying in the mists had atrophied-looking legs and a scrawny torso leading to a broad upper body with a pair of forearms, thick with muscle from pulling its bulk. Snarls of blackish-brown fur poked through what appeared to be roots and clods of dirt coating the beast. At the sound of the two humans, it lifted its head and looked in their direction.
Heat radiated from the wolf-thing in great waves, and sickly green smoke-stuff rose from its eyes and nostrils.
“Primordia sickness.” Christopher whispered.
“No sickness, Christopher. It’s a troll, a freak of nature saturated with primordia.” Hailey replied.
Sure it is. Maybe the anesthesiologist accidentally gave me a few too many doses of the sleepy serum.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as the green smoke-stuff engulfed the troll. It let out a final howl as the roots burned to cinders and the dirt clods fell to the ground. In the aftermath of the death, all that remained was a skeleton. Hailey walked past Christopher and knelt beside the troll’s bones.
“It’s terrible.” Hailey murmured, her head hanging with red hair hiding her face.
Christopher went over to Hailey, wondering how to console her. She looked upset at the death of the creature. And why shouldn’t she be. The sickness is the worst way to go.
Christopher fell to his knees beside Hailey and laid a hand over her shoulders, pulling her into am embrace. In an explosion of dirt, roots shot from the ground, ensnaring Christopher. As they pulled him into the soil, rich with primordia, the last thing he saw was Hailey. Her head was cocked to the side with a blood-smeared grin on her face.
IV
The roots burrowed into his flesh, burning residual primordia from the troll. The bristles began sprouting all over, and at the same time the roots burst through his skin. His scream was silenced by a mouthful of dirt. Then pain seized his head, accompanied by wet crunches and pops. And then the heat of the primordia was replaced by the cool mist.
Christopher blinked and looked down. His body was covered in an armor of dirt and roots, with rough flesh beneath. He held up an arm and saw that it ended in a wide hand with thick fingers perfect for climbing. Then he felt Hailey brushing him off.
Christopher ran rough palm over his face. The bumps from the roots intertwining with flesh scabbed over like rocky dirt hinted at lupine facial features. Suddenly the mist that surrounded them was blown away as a demonic fairies landed nearby. In a lighting-swift motion it grabbed Christopher with one hand, Hailey with the other, and shot into the sky toward the moon. He bit at it and raked at it with his claws.
“Don’t fight it, Christopher,” he heard Hailey say.
So instead of fighting, Christopher dug his fingers into his elvish hide and started tearing away the roots in great chunks. Despite the pain, and despite the fact that he had torn a gash straight through the skin, the nightmare-land remained. Instead of bone and muscle, he saw nothing but thin, rootlike things and more of the sickly green primordia.
"Careful, Shepherd." the fairy said. "The other elves will need a prince and a guardian. To deprive them of either will bring the wrath of Tekelos upon you."
"Don't be frightened, Christopher." Hailey added. "We're going to make history. That's all you wanted as a somamancer, wasn't it?" She laughed. "After this, they'll have to burn all the history books, so full of their lies and propaganda. We will reveal the truth of this world's history."
Before Christopher could reply, there was a flash of bright bluish-white light from the vast full moon that struck him blind. Then there was nothing.
As they passed some of the tents, Christopher could see the silhouettes of the occupants thanks to the lanterns that burned within. Some were sitting and laughing like old acquaintances in midst of a long overdue catch-up, while others made Christopher blush. The sensual sounds that drifted from those tents caused him to speed up his walk. The tents themselves were spaced out so that a small fire burned between each of them. Hailey stopped outside one of them and held aside the flap for him. The inside held two cots, an unlit lantern, and two basins of water.
“None of this makes any sense.” Christopher said. Hailey was sitting on the cot, stretching. “A priest tries to gut me; we go into an old house and bam! Here we are in the middle of nowhere. What sort of brew did you sneak, Hailey?”
“I didn’t—”
“I’ve never read of any kind of trips, dreams, or trances lasting this long. Never in any of the arch—”
Hailey pulled Christopher to a spot on the cot beside her, then threw her arms around him and pulled him into a kiss.
“This isn’t some hallucination, Christopher.” Hailey said. “I think we still have some time before the pig is ready.” She added with a mischievous grin.
After the love-making they lay there in the dark listening to the sounds of the night and the crackle of the fires. Christopher held Hailey close, burying his face in her hair while she nuzzled his neck.
Between life and death Christopher thought. She does have the gypsy blood.
Blood shmud said another voice. The fact is that there is no “between life and death.” There’s life, then there’s the long nap. Nothing between, nothing after.
A sudden rustling interrupted Christopher’s thoughts.
“The boar must be done.” Hailey said.
Christopher got up and started pulling his clothes on, only to be pulled out into the night by Hailey, still naked. The first thing he noticed was that all the others leaving their tents looked as if they had been pulled from a blazing wildfire. A tangy smell of the roasting pork filled the air. Christopher’s belly growled and howled at the scent of it.
“Full moon?” Hailey asked when she heard his stomach’s wolfish howl.
He returned with playful smirk and rubbed his gut. “Nope, just smell some really good cooking.”
Hopefully there'll be knives and forks. One good stab should bring me back to my senses.
They came to a stop at the edge of the crowd around the cook-fire. Hailey nudged their way through the back of the gathering. People began to turn and see who was coming through. At the sight of the two, they smiled and stood aside with little bows of their heads. The flames of the fire on the river bank reached nearly five feet at least, and suspended above it on a huge spit was—
What the **** man? What the ****?!
---the robed figure that had came at him with the branding iron, only to be blown away by the carny-folk with the shotgun. Amazingly the robe hadn’t burned away. Looking around at the others with a horrified look on his face, Christopher saw that they simply watched as the flames barely licked the belly of the person tied to the spit.
“Is something wrong, Christopher?”
He chuckled. “Is something wrong?” he muttered to himself.
Hailey noticed him looking at the robed man and scowled. “It’s no more than he deserved.” She said venomously.
There was a sudden roar and the flames leapt to engulf the spit and the man bound to it. When they fell again there on the spit was a cleric, red in the face from shouting.
“The Numenaldre and its Aspects damn you all to the demoniac Tekelos, friend of the heathens and malformed who dared to tamper with the Maker’s Clay! The Numenaldre—” With a wet crunch that caused Christopher to wince, the man’s rant was cut short by a fire-poker speared through his head by one of the people from the gathering.
They’re enjoying it! Christopher thought as he saw the gleeful expressions among the others in the light of the fire. He turned to Hailey and asked again, “Why?”
She looked at him with pity in her eyes and a sad smile on her face. “Imagine seeing loved ones burned alive, and your home burned to the ground. Your money taken, your body scarred by whips, chains, and you exiled to a foreign land.”
“I understand, but roasting the man alive is how you repay that?”
“Hush now. It’s nearly time.”
“Time?” Christopher asked. “Time for what?”
She nodded toward the fire. There a ten-foot tall human-shaped thing that stood. Its skin was bruise purple with lean arms and legs. Its head was wreathed in a gray, mane-like beard. A crown of black horns adorned its head, and a pair of dragonfly-like wings that pulsed with veins grew from its back.
“Children,” the thing said in a growling, distorted voice, “This feast at the shaman’s hour of three marks the joining of the Earth-Born Shepherd and the Witch.” It extended a hand over the roasting holy man to Christopher and Hailey. In its palm were a serrated knife and a fork with fishhook-like prongs.
Hailey took the knife and nodded at the fork. With a trembling hand, Christopher lifted the fork from the winged creature. He glanced at Hailey, who smiled reassuringly and took his free hand in hers. A sharp snap drew Christopher’s attention back to the cooking-fire. There was a bony nub poking from where the holy man’s head had once been. The winged-creature opened his mouth wide, its hinged jaw revealing a double row of sharp teeth. Christopher looked away as the winged-creature crunched into the head.
“What is this? What the hell is that thing and what is it talking about with elves?” Christopher whispered. He glanced back at the winged-creature and saw its beady eyes staring right at him. It too was smiling at him, and he couldn’t help but notice the cooked flesh hanging from its teeth.
“It’s a fairy, and they’re waiting Christopher.” Hailey took the hand holding the fork and guided to a point over the cooked man’s chest. Then she drove it down into the bare flesh. With her knife she started to cut. Juices oozed from the holy man as she cut through the top layer of skin and meat. After going through the bone, she reached into the incision and wrenched out the heart. She then held it out for Christopher.
“As the female gathers the spawn of the humans, so your bride has gathered the heart of this blasphemer.” The fairy said.
Muses and Aspects help me Christopher thought as he took the still-bloody heart. Hailey held her blood-soaked hand to her mouth and made goofy chomping motions. Christopher raised the heart to his mouth, closed his eyes, and bit into it. He felt a squirt of liquid hit his cheek, as if he had bitten into a ripe tomato.
With a trembling hand, Christopher held the half-eaten heart out to Hailey. She ate it in two quick bites.
“And so the Shepherd of the Earth-Born Ones and the Witch demonstrate the judgment that will come upon the false prophets of the world.” The fairy said. “All that remains is the wine.” It dropped a goblet into Christopher’s hands. Hailey took the knife and made a quick slice over her breast above where her heart was. When the blood had dribbled into the goblet, Hailey took it from Christopher.
Christopher shut his eyes tight in anticipation of the cool, jagged steel of the knife. Then it ripped and bit into his flesh, causing him to jump and nearly bite through his lip. He felt Hailey’s fingers squeezing blood from the wound. Then the pressure was gone.
He opened his eyes to see her holding half of the goblet out to him.
That should have done it. That should have done it, and I shouldn't even be here anymore! Christopher thought as he placed his shaky fingers on his side of the goblet. As they raised it to drink from it together, she gazed into his hazel eyes and he into her brown ones. After they had drunk the blood, the fairy took the cup and beckoned Christopher and Hailey forward.
They followed the fairy across the river and into a misty stretch of pasture. The fairy then stopped abruptly and disappeared with a flap of its veiny wings.
“Don’t be scared, Christopher.” Hailey said with a smile. “We’re in this together.” Her bloodied hand gave his a firm squeeze of reassurance.
I’m sick Christopher thought. That's got to be it! It’s nothing but a delirium-dream, nothing but—
A sharp howl cut through the silence.
“It’s here. Come on!” Hailey said. She took over, pulling him at a run through the misty field toward the source of that noise. The wolf lying in the mists had atrophied-looking legs and a scrawny torso leading to a broad upper body with a pair of forearms, thick with muscle from pulling its bulk. Snarls of blackish-brown fur poked through what appeared to be roots and clods of dirt coating the beast. At the sound of the two humans, it lifted its head and looked in their direction.
Heat radiated from the wolf-thing in great waves, and sickly green smoke-stuff rose from its eyes and nostrils.
“Primordia sickness.” Christopher whispered.
“No sickness, Christopher. It’s a troll, a freak of nature saturated with primordia.” Hailey replied.
Sure it is. Maybe the anesthesiologist accidentally gave me a few too many doses of the sleepy serum.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as the green smoke-stuff engulfed the troll. It let out a final howl as the roots burned to cinders and the dirt clods fell to the ground. In the aftermath of the death, all that remained was a skeleton. Hailey walked past Christopher and knelt beside the troll’s bones.
“It’s terrible.” Hailey murmured, her head hanging with red hair hiding her face.
Christopher went over to Hailey, wondering how to console her. She looked upset at the death of the creature. And why shouldn’t she be. The sickness is the worst way to go.
Christopher fell to his knees beside Hailey and laid a hand over her shoulders, pulling her into am embrace. In an explosion of dirt, roots shot from the ground, ensnaring Christopher. As they pulled him into the soil, rich with primordia, the last thing he saw was Hailey. Her head was cocked to the side with a blood-smeared grin on her face.
IV
The roots burrowed into his flesh, burning residual primordia from the troll. The bristles began sprouting all over, and at the same time the roots burst through his skin. His scream was silenced by a mouthful of dirt. Then pain seized his head, accompanied by wet crunches and pops. And then the heat of the primordia was replaced by the cool mist.
Christopher blinked and looked down. His body was covered in an armor of dirt and roots, with rough flesh beneath. He held up an arm and saw that it ended in a wide hand with thick fingers perfect for climbing. Then he felt Hailey brushing him off.
Christopher ran rough palm over his face. The bumps from the roots intertwining with flesh scabbed over like rocky dirt hinted at lupine facial features. Suddenly the mist that surrounded them was blown away as a demonic fairies landed nearby. In a lighting-swift motion it grabbed Christopher with one hand, Hailey with the other, and shot into the sky toward the moon. He bit at it and raked at it with his claws.
“Don’t fight it, Christopher,” he heard Hailey say.
So instead of fighting, Christopher dug his fingers into his elvish hide and started tearing away the roots in great chunks. Despite the pain, and despite the fact that he had torn a gash straight through the skin, the nightmare-land remained. Instead of bone and muscle, he saw nothing but thin, rootlike things and more of the sickly green primordia.
"Careful, Shepherd." the fairy said. "The other elves will need a prince and a guardian. To deprive them of either will bring the wrath of Tekelos upon you."
"Don't be frightened, Christopher." Hailey added. "We're going to make history. That's all you wanted as a somamancer, wasn't it?" She laughed. "After this, they'll have to burn all the history books, so full of their lies and propaganda. We will reveal the truth of this world's history."
Before Christopher could reply, there was a flash of bright bluish-white light from the vast full moon that struck him blind. Then there was nothing.
I'm wondering how effective Christopher's section is. Do his ideas toward explaining whats happening to him seem to flow, or does it seem too garbled and hectic? Thoughts on how to improve, as well as what you like, are very welcome!
Angel_Faerie
Sul Sul!
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Here's a re-edit I've done of the beginning of my story.
I clutched my sisters cold, clammy hand tightly. Please, Isabel. Please get well. The slow up-and-down movement of her chest was the only indicator she still lived. I brushed some hair away from her eyes as she let out a soft groan. Isabel had become ill so fast. It seemed like only an hour had passed since she and I had been kicking a worn leather ball around when we were supposed to be doing chores around the house.
"Come on, Anna! Let me kick it this time!"
I chuckled. "And let you have all the fun? Not likely."
She playfully glared at me. "That is not fair and you know it."
I rolled my eyes as I kicked the ball to her. "Fine. You win, as always."
At that moment, our mother walked up to us, her arms crossed with a look of anger upon her face.
"Annabeth, how can you expect to find a suitable husband while acting so barbaric? Fully-grown women should not behave in this manner."
I sighed. "Mother, we have discussed this already. I am not ready to be married yet."
My mother crossed her arms tighter. "You should still behave more like a lady."
"Fine." I picked the ball up.
Now it seemed we would never play together again. I felt tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I tried to fight them, but they just would not stop. I couldnt bear this. I had seen other families lose children to disease, but I had never thought my family would ever be among them. It was now evening and the only light in the room was a lone candle. Her eyes fluttered slightly. My eyes widened. Was she improving?
"Anna " she moaned.
My voice broke. "Yes, Isabel?"
Her eyes closed again and she did not reply. My breath caught in my chest and tears blurred the room around me. Suddenly, goosebumps began to grow on my arms. I felt chills all over my body. How odd, I thought as I wiped my eyes. It is the middle of June why is it so cold? I disregarded the cold and looked at Isabel, who seemed to have grown even paler. I wrapped her blanket tighter around her. My head shot up and I glanced around, feeling as if someone had entered. That was when I saw it: a shadow approaching the bed. It was shapeless and featureless, appearing like any other shadow. But nothing was creating it. I stared at it in wonder, shivering more as it approached. Was it the source of the cold? It was nearly to the bed when I finally snapped out of my daze. I held Isabel to me, staring at the shadow in horror.
"C-come no further!" My voice came out as no more than a terrified squeak.
The shadow stopped for a moment, seeming shocked. It spoke in a voice that sounded like the wind blowing. "You can see me?"
"Y yes I can." I shivered both from the cold and fear.
"Interesting "
"What do you want?"
"I have come to take this young lady to the land of the dead."
"No!" I squeezed Isabel tighter.
"I am sorry, Annabeth, but I must."
"You know me?"
"Of course I do. I am Death. I know the identity of every mortal."
"Please do not take Isabel. Please. She is only six years old. She has scarcely begun to live. She deserves to live a full life." I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
"I suppose I could "
"What?" I felt a surge of hope for the first time since Isabel fell ill.
"Would you be willing to take your sisters place?"
I could not speak for a long moment. I could exchange my life for Isabels? I had to hear more. "Please tell me more."
"What I am about to offer is something I have never done, but have been anxious to try. But if you agree, you will die many times but will never truly die. You will be able to see history unfold before you."
The idea sounded intriguing, but I was much too focused on saving Isabel to even comprehend or care what it meant. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for whatever came next.
"I agree."
"Very well."
And with that, I was engulfed by the shadow. Everything seemed to fall away and I felt as if everywhere on my body was becoming ice and breaking apart. I saw a very bright light, then nothing but darkness surrounded me. For quite some time after that I only caught flashes of things, but they were blurry and indistinct. I felt myself being held gently by a woman. It was so warm and comfortable in her arms. Molly, I heard her call me. Something felt wrong about that. What was it? I tried to figure out why it felt wrong, but it was so difficult to think. Later I felt myself walking shakily and speaking in babbles. Something wasnt right about this, either. For what seemed like eternity I lived in this confusing state of seeing nothing but blurry flashes. Until one day the blurriness lifted away and I could think clearly. I looked around. Everything was so tall and big! There were toys scattered around the room near a bed that seemed the correct size and a tower-sized crib was on the opposite end. There was a babe inside it, I discovered when I stood on a stool and peeked inside. Somehow I knew the babes name was Maggie and that she was my sister. She was beautiful. This felt familiar I had been a sister before. A face then appeared in my mind. Who was that girl? I thought for a moment and then all of my memories came rushing back. Isabel! Where was she? Had she lived?
"Come on, Anna! Let me kick it this time!"
I chuckled. "And let you have all the fun? Not likely."
She playfully glared at me. "That is not fair and you know it."
I rolled my eyes as I kicked the ball to her. "Fine. You win, as always."
At that moment, our mother walked up to us, her arms crossed with a look of anger upon her face.
"Annabeth, how can you expect to find a suitable husband while acting so barbaric? Fully-grown women should not behave in this manner."
I sighed. "Mother, we have discussed this already. I am not ready to be married yet."
My mother crossed her arms tighter. "You should still behave more like a lady."
"Fine." I picked the ball up.
Now it seemed we would never play together again. I felt tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I tried to fight them, but they just would not stop. I couldnt bear this. I had seen other families lose children to disease, but I had never thought my family would ever be among them. It was now evening and the only light in the room was a lone candle. Her eyes fluttered slightly. My eyes widened. Was she improving?
"Anna " she moaned.
My voice broke. "Yes, Isabel?"
Her eyes closed again and she did not reply. My breath caught in my chest and tears blurred the room around me. Suddenly, goosebumps began to grow on my arms. I felt chills all over my body. How odd, I thought as I wiped my eyes. It is the middle of June why is it so cold? I disregarded the cold and looked at Isabel, who seemed to have grown even paler. I wrapped her blanket tighter around her. My head shot up and I glanced around, feeling as if someone had entered. That was when I saw it: a shadow approaching the bed. It was shapeless and featureless, appearing like any other shadow. But nothing was creating it. I stared at it in wonder, shivering more as it approached. Was it the source of the cold? It was nearly to the bed when I finally snapped out of my daze. I held Isabel to me, staring at the shadow in horror.
"C-come no further!" My voice came out as no more than a terrified squeak.
The shadow stopped for a moment, seeming shocked. It spoke in a voice that sounded like the wind blowing. "You can see me?"
"Y yes I can." I shivered both from the cold and fear.
"Interesting "
"What do you want?"
"I have come to take this young lady to the land of the dead."
"No!" I squeezed Isabel tighter.
"I am sorry, Annabeth, but I must."
"You know me?"
"Of course I do. I am Death. I know the identity of every mortal."
"Please do not take Isabel. Please. She is only six years old. She has scarcely begun to live. She deserves to live a full life." I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
"I suppose I could "
"What?" I felt a surge of hope for the first time since Isabel fell ill.
"Would you be willing to take your sisters place?"
I could not speak for a long moment. I could exchange my life for Isabels? I had to hear more. "Please tell me more."
"What I am about to offer is something I have never done, but have been anxious to try. But if you agree, you will die many times but will never truly die. You will be able to see history unfold before you."
The idea sounded intriguing, but I was much too focused on saving Isabel to even comprehend or care what it meant. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for whatever came next.
"I agree."
"Very well."
And with that, I was engulfed by the shadow. Everything seemed to fall away and I felt as if everywhere on my body was becoming ice and breaking apart. I saw a very bright light, then nothing but darkness surrounded me. For quite some time after that I only caught flashes of things, but they were blurry and indistinct. I felt myself being held gently by a woman. It was so warm and comfortable in her arms. Molly, I heard her call me. Something felt wrong about that. What was it? I tried to figure out why it felt wrong, but it was so difficult to think. Later I felt myself walking shakily and speaking in babbles. Something wasnt right about this, either. For what seemed like eternity I lived in this confusing state of seeing nothing but blurry flashes. Until one day the blurriness lifted away and I could think clearly. I looked around. Everything was so tall and big! There were toys scattered around the room near a bed that seemed the correct size and a tower-sized crib was on the opposite end. There was a babe inside it, I discovered when I stood on a stool and peeked inside. Somehow I knew the babes name was Maggie and that she was my sister. She was beautiful. This felt familiar I had been a sister before. A face then appeared in my mind. Who was that girl? I thought for a moment and then all of my memories came rushing back. Isabel! Where was she? Had she lived?
wellsy
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Angel - It's pretty good. However, I do have a few issues. First is with tense - it gets pretty confusing since the whole first person story is narrated as a flashback (story within a story within a story can be really confusing). By way of example,
might be better as
Like I said though, this is pretty awkward (and I'm no expert in this). But perhaps being a bit briefer and less descriptive might serve the story better overall (and thus avoid the problem for the most part).
Second - kicking a leather ball is something no 17th Century woman would be caught doing. I'd say have Annabeth reading to Isabell would be more appropriate (and you can have some pretty famous line on death - Milton or Dante would be good, or maybe the Bible or some medieval theologians such as St Thomas Aquinas - that sticks with Anna over the centuries).
Really, those are my biggest criticisms of it.
Well, it's certainly quite full on. So, just to get things straight, primordia sickness leads to a mutation which creates elves, who are more like Warhammer Dryads (that's tree-folk) than the Tolkein-esque view which we're all quite familiar with? And it is accompanied by a hallucination?
As for Christopher - his characterisation feels quite consistent, for the most part. To be honest though, I'm not quite clear on the other characters, Hailey in particular. She's really quite an enigma, and I'm not sure if you plan on explaining more later, but certainly, her motivations and relationship with Christopher need to be established (and in my opinion, the earlier, the better).
Also, I'm not quite sure you need to be so exacting in describing the wolf. Fiction writing (in English, at least) is the art of brevity - say the most with the least number of words (and to be honest, a lot of writers seem to have forgotten it, looking at the paperweights that currently populate the new release section of the local bookstore).
might be better as
Like I said though, this is pretty awkward (and I'm no expert in this). But perhaps being a bit briefer and less descriptive might serve the story better overall (and thus avoid the problem for the most part).
Second - kicking a leather ball is something no 17th Century woman would be caught doing. I'd say have Annabeth reading to Isabell would be more appropriate (and you can have some pretty famous line on death - Milton or Dante would be good, or maybe the Bible or some medieval theologians such as St Thomas Aquinas - that sticks with Anna over the centuries).
Really, those are my biggest criticisms of it.
Part 2 of the Post
III
As they passed some of the tents, Christopher could see the silhouettes of the occupants thanks to the lanterns that burned within. Some were sitting and laughing like old acquaintances in midst of a long overdue catch-up, while others made Christopher blush. The sensual sounds that drifted from those tents caused him to speed up his walk. The tents themselves were spaced out so that a small fire burned between each of them. Hailey stopped outside one of them and held aside the flap for him. The inside held two cots, an unlit lantern, and two basins of water.
None of this makes any sense. Christopher said. Hailey was sitting on the cot, stretching. A priest tries to gut me; we go into an old house and bam! Here we are in the middle of nowhere. What sort of brew did you sneak, Hailey?
I didnt
Ive never read of any kind of trips, dreams, or trances lasting this long. Never in any of the arch
Hailey pulled Christopher to a spot on the cot beside her, then threw her arms around him and pulled him into a kiss.
This isnt some hallucination, Christopher. Hailey said. I think we still have some time before the pig is ready. She added with a mischievous grin.
After the love-making they lay there in the dark listening to the sounds of the night and the crackle of the fires. Christopher held Hailey close, burying his face in her hair while she nuzzled his neck.
Between life and death Christopher thought. She does have the gypsy blood.
Blood shmud said another voice. The fact is that there is no between life and death. Theres life, then theres the long nap. Nothing between, nothing after.
A sudden rustling interrupted Christophers thoughts.
The boar must be done. Hailey said.
Christopher got up and started pulling his clothes on, only to be pulled out into the night by Hailey, still naked. The first thing he noticed was that all the others leaving their tents looked as if they had been pulled from a blazing wildfire. A tangy smell of the roasting pork filled the air. Christophers belly growled and howled at the scent of it.
Full moon? Hailey asked when she heard his stomachs wolfish howl.
He returned with playful smirk and rubbed his gut. Nope, just smell some really good cooking.
Hopefully there'll be knives and forks. One good stab should bring me back to my senses.
They came to a stop at the edge of the crowd around the cook-fire. Hailey nudged their way through the back of the gathering. People began to turn and see who was coming through. At the sight of the two, they smiled and stood aside with little bows of their heads. The flames of the fire on the river bank reached nearly five feet at least, and suspended above it on a huge spit was
What the **** man? What the ****?!
---the robed figure that had came at him with the branding iron, only to be blown away by the carny-folk with the shotgun. Amazingly the robe hadnt burned away. Looking around at the others with a horrified look on his face, Christopher saw that they simply watched as the flames barely licked the belly of the person tied to the spit.
Is something wrong, Christopher?
He chuckled. Is something wrong? he muttered to himself.
Hailey noticed him looking at the robed man and scowled. Its no more than he deserved. She said venomously.
There was a sudden roar and the flames leapt to engulf the spit and the man bound to it. When they fell again there on the spit was a cleric, red in the face from shouting.
The Numenaldre and its Aspects damn you all to the demoniac Tekelos, friend of the heathens and malformed who dared to tamper with the Makers Clay! The Numenaldre With a wet crunch that caused Christopher to wince, the mans rant was cut short by a fire-poker speared through his head by one of the people from the gathering.
Theyre enjoying it! Christopher thought as he saw the gleeful expressions among the others in the light of the fire. He turned to Hailey and asked again, Why?
She looked at him with pity in her eyes and a sad smile on her face. Imagine seeing loved ones burned alive, and your home burned to the ground. Your money taken, your body scarred by whips, chains, and you exiled to a foreign land.
I understand, but roasting the man alive is how you repay that?
Hush now. Its nearly time.
Time? Christopher asked. Time for what?
She nodded toward the fire. There a ten-foot tall human-shaped thing that stood. Its skin was bruise purple with lean arms and legs. Its head was wreathed in a gray, mane-like beard. A crown of black horns adorned its head, and a pair of dragonfly-like wings that pulsed with veins grew from its back.
Children, the thing said in a growling, distorted voice, This feast at the shamans hour of three marks the joining of the Earth-Born Shepherd and the Witch. It extended a hand over the roasting holy man to Christopher and Hailey. In its palm were a serrated knife and a fork with fishhook-like prongs.
Hailey took the knife and nodded at the fork. With a trembling hand, Christopher lifted the fork from the winged creature. He glanced at Hailey, who smiled reassuringly and took his free hand in hers. A sharp snap drew Christophers attention back to the cooking-fire. There was a bony nub poking from where the holy mans head had once been. The winged-creature opened his mouth wide, its hinged jaw revealing a double row of sharp teeth. Christopher looked away as the winged-creature crunched into the head.
What is this? What the hell is that thing and what is it talking about with elves? Christopher whispered. He glanced back at the winged-creature and saw its beady eyes staring right at him. It too was smiling at him, and he couldnt help but notice the cooked flesh hanging from its teeth.
Its a fairy, and theyre waiting Christopher. Hailey took the hand holding the fork and guided to a point over the cooked mans chest. Then she drove it down into the bare flesh. With her knife she started to cut. Juices oozed from the holy man as she cut through the top layer of skin and meat. After going through the bone, she reached into the incision and wrenched out the heart. She then held it out for Christopher.
As the female gathers the spawn of the humans, so your bride has gathered the heart of this blasphemer. The fairy said.
Muses and Aspects help me Christopher thought as he took the still-bloody heart. Hailey held her blood-soaked hand to her mouth and made goofy chomping motions. Christopher raised the heart to his mouth, closed his eyes, and bit into it. He felt a squirt of liquid hit his cheek, as if he had bitten into a ripe tomato.
With a trembling hand, Christopher held the half-eaten heart out to Hailey. She ate it in two quick bites.
And so the Shepherd of the Earth-Born Ones and the Witch demonstrate the judgment that will come upon the false prophets of the world. The fairy said. All that remains is the wine. It dropped a goblet into Christophers hands. Hailey took the knife and made a quick slice over her breast above where her heart was. When the blood had dribbled into the goblet, Hailey took it from Christopher.
Christopher shut his eyes tight in anticipation of the cool, jagged steel of the knife. Then it ripped and bit into his flesh, causing him to jump and nearly bite through his lip. He felt Haileys fingers squeezing blood from the wound. Then the pressure was gone.
He opened his eyes to see her holding half of the goblet out to him.
That should have done it. That should have done it, and I shouldn't even be here anymore! Christopher thought as he placed his shaky fingers on his side of the goblet. As they raised it to drink from it together, she gazed into his hazel eyes and he into her brown ones. After they had drunk the blood, the fairy took the cup and beckoned Christopher and Hailey forward.
They followed the fairy across the river and into a misty stretch of pasture. The fairy then stopped abruptly and disappeared with a flap of its veiny wings.
Dont be scared, Christopher. Hailey said with a smile. Were in this together. Her bloodied hand gave his a firm squeeze of reassurance.
Im sick Christopher thought. That's got to be it! Its nothing but a delirium-dream, nothing but
A sharp howl cut through the silence.
Its here. Come on! Hailey said. She took over, pulling him at a run through the misty field toward the source of that noise. The wolf lying in the mists had atrophied-looking legs and a scrawny torso leading to a broad upper body with a pair of forearms, thick with muscle from pulling its bulk. Snarls of blackish-brown fur poked through what appeared to be roots and clods of dirt coating the beast. At the sound of the two humans, it lifted its head and looked in their direction.
Heat radiated from the wolf-thing in great waves, and sickly green smoke-stuff rose from its eyes and nostrils.
Primordia sickness. Christopher whispered.
No sickness, Christopher. Its a troll, a freak of nature saturated with primordia. Hailey replied.
Sure it is. Maybe the anesthesiologist accidentally gave me a few too many doses of the sleepy serum.
Suddenly there was a whoosh as the green smoke-stuff engulfed the troll. It let out a final howl as the roots burned to cinders and the dirt clods fell to the ground. In the aftermath of the death, all that remained was a skeleton. Hailey walked past Christopher and knelt beside the trolls bones.
Its terrible. Hailey murmured, her head hanging with red hair hiding her face.
Christopher went over to Hailey, wondering how to console her. She looked upset at the death of the creature. And why shouldnt she be. The sickness is the worst way to go.
Christopher fell to his knees beside Hailey and laid a hand over her shoulders, pulling her into am embrace. In an explosion of dirt, roots shot from the ground, ensnaring Christopher. As they pulled him into the soil, rich with primordia, the last thing he saw was Hailey. Her head was cocked to the side with a blood-smeared grin on her face.
IV
The roots burrowed into his flesh, burning residual primordia from the troll. The bristles began sprouting all over, and at the same time the roots burst through his skin. His scream was silenced by a mouthful of dirt. Then pain seized his head, accompanied by wet crunches and pops. And then the heat of the primordia was replaced by the cool mist.
Christopher blinked and looked down. His body was covered in an armor of dirt and roots, with rough flesh beneath. He held up an arm and saw that it ended in a wide hand with thick fingers perfect for climbing. Then he felt Hailey brushing him off.
Christopher ran rough palm over his face. The bumps from the roots intertwining with flesh scabbed over like rocky dirt hinted at lupine facial features. Suddenly the mist that surrounded them was blown away as a demonic fairies landed nearby. In a lighting-swift motion it grabbed Christopher with one hand, Hailey with the other, and shot into the sky toward the moon. He bit at it and raked at it with his claws.
Dont fight it, Christopher, he heard Hailey say.
So instead of fighting, Christopher dug his fingers into his elvish hide and started tearing away the roots in great chunks. Despite the pain, and despite the fact that he had torn a gash straight through the skin, the nightmare-land remained. Instead of bone and muscle, he saw nothing but thin, rootlike things and more of the sickly green primordia.
"Careful, Shepherd." the fairy said. "The other elves will need a prince and a guardian. To deprive them of either will bring the wrath of Tekelos upon you."
"Don't be frightened, Christopher." Hailey added. "We're going to make history. That's all you wanted as a somamancer, wasn't it?" She laughed. "After this, they'll have to burn all the history books, so full of their lies and propaganda. We will reveal the truth of this world's history."
Before Christopher could reply, there was a flash of bright bluish-white light from the vast full moon that struck him blind. Then there was nothing.
I'm wondering how effective Christopher's section is. Do his ideas toward explaining whats happening to him seem to flow, or does it seem too garbled and hectic? Thoughts on how to improve, as well as what you like, are very welcome!
Well, it's certainly quite full on. So, just to get things straight, primordia sickness leads to a mutation which creates elves, who are more like Warhammer Dryads (that's tree-folk) than the Tolkein-esque view which we're all quite familiar with? And it is accompanied by a hallucination?
As for Christopher - his characterisation feels quite consistent, for the most part. To be honest though, I'm not quite clear on the other characters, Hailey in particular. She's really quite an enigma, and I'm not sure if you plan on explaining more later, but certainly, her motivations and relationship with Christopher need to be established (and in my opinion, the earlier, the better).
Also, I'm not quite sure you need to be so exacting in describing the wolf. Fiction writing (in English, at least) is the art of brevity - say the most with the least number of words (and to be honest, a lot of writers seem to have forgotten it, looking at the paperweights that currently populate the new release section of the local bookstore).
wellsy
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Oh, and I might as well put this in now - this is my current draft of a story I'm writing. Think The Avengers (John Steed and Emma Peel), in Space.
The letter arrived, non-descript and unannounced. Brisk and business-like, its cold formality was, to Diana Francis, not unlike a meeting with the school Headmaster.
Dear Miss Francis,
In order to assess your application to The Ministrys Bachelor of Espionage, I ask that you meet Mr Maximillian Drake at Cape Canaveral Space Port at 9 am on Thursday, July 15.
Yours sincerely,
Mother
Mother, Head of The Ministry
And thus, Diana waited at the passenger terminal in Florida. Being early, she had hoped she might be able to spot one Maximillian Drake from the upper level of the cavernous terminals promenade, but to no avail had she searched. Her dark eyes had scanned the crowed, but failed to find her man.
Hed better be here, she thought rather testily. If there was one thing Diana hated, it was being stood up. Her patience could wear quite thin when others were late.
As the clock ticked ever closer to 9 oclock, she prepared herself for disappointment, and a minor explosion of rage.
I dont suppose telling you to cool off would have much effect in sunny Florida, now would it Miss Francis? said a young mans voice behind her.
Turning around gracefully, Diana Francis raised an eyebrow as she laid eyes on Maximillian Drake. His long navy blue coat contrasted spectacularly with his white pants and silver cravat, which was neatly tucked into his brilliantly white vest. His hair neatly combed back, and he appeared the very model of an 18th Century gentleman.
In subtropical heats, it might be a bit tough, agreed Diana. So Drake, do you always run things to the wire?
Yes, he answered, walking up to the safety rail next to Diana. Except when I dont.
So tardiness is one of your talents?
On the contrary Miss Francis, Im a firm believer in punctuality.
Im sure, said Diana somewhat sceptically.
And now that the pleasantries are out of the way, shall we exchange some more? asked Maximillian.
I hope we wont be doing so here, answered Diana.
Maximillian looked around the shops that lined the promenades upper level, before his gaze settled. I know a little cafe that serves some heavenly tea cakes. My treat.
If you insist, said Diana, and the two fell into step beside each other.
So, I presume your letter just told you to meet me here, said Diana.
You presume correct, answered Maximillian.
And this cafe?
Recommended by my father, said Maximillian. He used to fly out of here when he went on assignment.
So espionage runs in the family.
Something like that. But coming from a long line of spies means the family tree is a bit, err...
Smudged? offered Diana.
Quite, agreed Maximillian. So what of you?
Me? I come from a family of Western practitioners of Eastern martial arts. Were some of the best in the world.
I see, said Maximillian. So, is there much vigilante work for a family such as yours?
Yes. But were none too keen on capes and cowls.
I can imagine, said Maximillian as they arrived at the cafe. The two picked a table towards the back of the cafe, sitting near a large window overlooking the maglev accelerator. The two ordered a pot of tea and two slices of tea cake from the waiter, before returning to their conversation.
Drake, why do you think they paired us up? asked Diana.
To be honest, I havent a clue, said Maximillian. I imagine though that theyll try and get some more instructions to us.
Less paper waste?
Less running around.
Ah, said Diana as their tea and cake arrived. The two prepared their tea cups and plates, but when Maximillian picked up the pot to pour the tea, Diana noticed a small note placed underneath it. She picked it up and scanned it.
What is it? asked Maximillian as he poured the tea.
A Fibonacci sequence.
So we have our clue.
What do you think it means?
Well, numbers in a spaceport would probably mean either a departure gate, or a locker, said Maximillian.
Id say its a locker, said Diana.
Maximillian nodded. So hows your cake?
Drake, there are more important things to think about than this tea cake.
Your loss then, said Maximillian, as he spooned a small piece of his into his mouth. Diana just shook her head and sighed.
Whatevers in the locker wont be going anywhere Miss Francis, said Maximillian, attempting to reassure her. Now do come, enjoy your cake. Diana relented, impatient though she was. She aggressively spooned a portion of her cake into her mouth, only to find it to be surprisingly good, much to Maximillians amusement.
Francis and Drake strode into the locker room, assessing the situation. It was apparent that of the two-hundred or so lockers, only a fraction were in use, their blue lights greatly outnumbered by the unused green-lit lockers.
Looking again at the card, Diana pondered their clue. How do we find the right locker? she mumbled.
Maximillian read the card over her shoulder. The best starting point would be to look at the lockers which belong to the sequence.
Do you think the last number is the combination code?
Maximillian nodded. Its the only four digit number there.
Right, said Diana. Lets get too it then.
Maximillian nodded, before the two moved to opposite ends of the locker area. The search was quick, and only lockers 1, 2, 3, 13 and 89 were in use. None of them accepted the code. The two met back up, puzzled by this turn of events.
Youre sure its a locker? asked Maximillian.
What else could it be? We havent got tickets for a flight, said Diana.
True, said Maximillian. But why give us the wrong code? Its the only four digit number there, and these lockers dont accept 0 as the first number of a sequence.
They stopped it there for a reason, said Diana.
Of course they did, said Maximillian, slightly annoyed about the obvious statement. But why stop at the sixteenth term of the sequence if it isnt the locker... Maximillian stopped, looking at Diana as the penny dropped for both of them.
Locker 16! they said simultaneously. Hurrying to the locker, they entered the code, and were rewarded by a beep and a click. The door swung open easily.
See, Drake? Theres always a reason, said Diana.
Well I didnt hear you sound it out, shot back Maximillian, as he reached in and grabbed the lockers only content an envelope. Opening the flap, Maximillian found not just the two tickets hed been expecting, but a short letter too.
Our flights at 10.30. Wed best get to the departure gate, said Diana. We can read the letter on the shuttle.
Very well, said Maximillian. After you. I insist.
As their shuttle rocketed away from Cape Canaveral, the two spies-to-be read the letter from the locker.
Dear Miss Francis and Mr Drake,
Congratulations on making it this far. By the time you are reading this, you should be en route to the New Britannia colonies at the Fourth Earth-Moon Lagrange Point. Here, there is a Ministry Field Office that conducts the Bachelor of Espionage degree in conjunction with the University of New Britannia. You must report to this Field Office for an interview before it closes tomorrow evening at the traditional time.
Good Luck,
Mother
Mother, Head of The Ministry
The two looked at each other sceptically.
Rather vague, said Maximillian.
Well, it should all be there, said Diana. Closing at the traditional time... 5pm?
Well, that is the traditional office closing time, said Drake. But that only gives us 27 hours considering that New Britannia goes off Greenwich Mean Time.
23 when we take out the transit time, corrected Diana.
Either way, its a tall order.
Dont tell me my knight in spotless morning coat is afraid of a little challenge, said Diana.
Not in the slightest, said Maximillian, slightly offended. I just dont rate our chances of success too highly.
If you think well fail, why are you even here?
I hardly said that was what I thought, said Maximillian. Besides, Id have to pay my own way home.
Then what are you saying? asked Diana.
That this is Mission Difficult, answered Drake. But, Mission Difficult should be a walk in the park for a proper spy.
Im glad you think so highly of me, said Diana.
Such modesty, replied Maximillian, before settling into his seat for a nap.
A minor talent, or hadnt you noticed? she said quietly before settling down herself.
As Diana and Maximillian disembarked their flight at the New Britannia terminal, another figure was also leaving his shuttle. A young man exuded an appearance of dangerous authority, with his slicked back hair and cold blue eyes, and succeeded in spite of his tender mid-teen age.
As he came through the arrival gantry, he spied Maximillian at a glance. He averted his eyes in shock and surprise, and he almost considered heading away from the arrival lounge. He decided, however, to press on the volume of passengers between them served well enough as a buffer, and Maximillian seemed busy enough as it was.
What the devil is Maximillian Drake doing here in New Britannia?! He asked of his mind. Prodigious as he was, he realised swiftly that he had no idea. He had long since learnt the importance of good information, and he realised he had none for this turn of events. And if there was one thing he hated, it was being out of the loop.
He almost didnt notice when one of his lieutenants came alongside. Something the matter sir? he asked.
The young man looked up, at first slightly annoyed by the interruption to his reverie. Sighing, he decided to spit it out. Apart from the fact that the son of my fathers nemesis has just turned up here, no, everythings fine Mr Krate, he said, sarcasm thick in his voice.
Krate regarded his superior for a moment, seeming to wonder whether it was worth pursuing this line of conversation with this bratty child. Finally, he asked Could he simply be here for study?
Studying what? said Veldt coldly.
They say the New Britannia University has somewhat... eclectic courses sir, replied Krate.
The young man immediately caught on. And why was I not informed of this sooner, Mr Krate?
It didnt seem important enough to warrant it.
The young man rolled his eyes. Information is ones most valuable weapon Mr Krate. Remember that well, if you expect this organisation to get anywhere. Inform headquarters to keep an eye on Mr Drake. Well make our move tomorrow. Krate nodded, before moving away to carry out his orders.
Ill thwart Drakes ambitions as his father as thwarted fathers. And finally, our status among the Organisation will be restored, and our honour finally avenged!
Diana and Maximillian settled themselves in for a late afternoon tea at their hotel.
So, apart from traditional closing time, what else have we got to go on? asked Diana.
Well, its obviously being done with the local University, said Maximillian as he poured their cups of tea. Id say that would be a good place to start.
Diana nodded, gazing at the letter. That would seem a bit obvious though.
Maximillian looked up at the wall. Come to think of it, do the facilities there obey traditional office times?
They dont, answered Diana. So Id say we can rule that out. Besides, its not like the Field Office would be like any other university faculty.
True, said Maximillian, as he brought over the tea. It was black with one lump, yes?
Oh, yes, thank you, said Diana, accepted the offered tea. So were looking for offices with traditional closing times then.
Banks, suggested Maximillian.
Libraries? offered Diana.
I dont think libraries qualify as offices.
Ah.
Retail? ventured Maximillian.
Closes later.
I see.
Government offices?
Possibly. Anything else?
Apart from general offices, nothing much comes to mind, said Diana.
Well there wouldnt be many of those anyway these days, said Maximillian. So, its banks, government offices and traditional corporate offices.
Shall we get some addresses then? asked Diana.
After tea.
Of course, said Diana.
Dear Miss Francis,
In order to assess your application to The Ministrys Bachelor of Espionage, I ask that you meet Mr Maximillian Drake at Cape Canaveral Space Port at 9 am on Thursday, July 15.
Yours sincerely,
Mother
Mother, Head of The Ministry
And thus, Diana waited at the passenger terminal in Florida. Being early, she had hoped she might be able to spot one Maximillian Drake from the upper level of the cavernous terminals promenade, but to no avail had she searched. Her dark eyes had scanned the crowed, but failed to find her man.
Hed better be here, she thought rather testily. If there was one thing Diana hated, it was being stood up. Her patience could wear quite thin when others were late.
As the clock ticked ever closer to 9 oclock, she prepared herself for disappointment, and a minor explosion of rage.
I dont suppose telling you to cool off would have much effect in sunny Florida, now would it Miss Francis? said a young mans voice behind her.
Turning around gracefully, Diana Francis raised an eyebrow as she laid eyes on Maximillian Drake. His long navy blue coat contrasted spectacularly with his white pants and silver cravat, which was neatly tucked into his brilliantly white vest. His hair neatly combed back, and he appeared the very model of an 18th Century gentleman.
In subtropical heats, it might be a bit tough, agreed Diana. So Drake, do you always run things to the wire?
Yes, he answered, walking up to the safety rail next to Diana. Except when I dont.
So tardiness is one of your talents?
On the contrary Miss Francis, Im a firm believer in punctuality.
Im sure, said Diana somewhat sceptically.
And now that the pleasantries are out of the way, shall we exchange some more? asked Maximillian.
I hope we wont be doing so here, answered Diana.
Maximillian looked around the shops that lined the promenades upper level, before his gaze settled. I know a little cafe that serves some heavenly tea cakes. My treat.
If you insist, said Diana, and the two fell into step beside each other.
So, I presume your letter just told you to meet me here, said Diana.
You presume correct, answered Maximillian.
And this cafe?
Recommended by my father, said Maximillian. He used to fly out of here when he went on assignment.
So espionage runs in the family.
Something like that. But coming from a long line of spies means the family tree is a bit, err...
Smudged? offered Diana.
Quite, agreed Maximillian. So what of you?
Me? I come from a family of Western practitioners of Eastern martial arts. Were some of the best in the world.
I see, said Maximillian. So, is there much vigilante work for a family such as yours?
Yes. But were none too keen on capes and cowls.
I can imagine, said Maximillian as they arrived at the cafe. The two picked a table towards the back of the cafe, sitting near a large window overlooking the maglev accelerator. The two ordered a pot of tea and two slices of tea cake from the waiter, before returning to their conversation.
Drake, why do you think they paired us up? asked Diana.
To be honest, I havent a clue, said Maximillian. I imagine though that theyll try and get some more instructions to us.
Less paper waste?
Less running around.
Ah, said Diana as their tea and cake arrived. The two prepared their tea cups and plates, but when Maximillian picked up the pot to pour the tea, Diana noticed a small note placed underneath it. She picked it up and scanned it.
1 1 2 3 5 8 13 21 34 55 89 144 233 377 610 987 1597
What is it? asked Maximillian as he poured the tea.
A Fibonacci sequence.
So we have our clue.
What do you think it means?
Well, numbers in a spaceport would probably mean either a departure gate, or a locker, said Maximillian.
Id say its a locker, said Diana.
Maximillian nodded. So hows your cake?
Drake, there are more important things to think about than this tea cake.
Your loss then, said Maximillian, as he spooned a small piece of his into his mouth. Diana just shook her head and sighed.
Whatevers in the locker wont be going anywhere Miss Francis, said Maximillian, attempting to reassure her. Now do come, enjoy your cake. Diana relented, impatient though she was. She aggressively spooned a portion of her cake into her mouth, only to find it to be surprisingly good, much to Maximillians amusement.
* * * * *
Francis and Drake strode into the locker room, assessing the situation. It was apparent that of the two-hundred or so lockers, only a fraction were in use, their blue lights greatly outnumbered by the unused green-lit lockers.
Looking again at the card, Diana pondered their clue. How do we find the right locker? she mumbled.
Maximillian read the card over her shoulder. The best starting point would be to look at the lockers which belong to the sequence.
Do you think the last number is the combination code?
Maximillian nodded. Its the only four digit number there.
Right, said Diana. Lets get too it then.
Maximillian nodded, before the two moved to opposite ends of the locker area. The search was quick, and only lockers 1, 2, 3, 13 and 89 were in use. None of them accepted the code. The two met back up, puzzled by this turn of events.
Youre sure its a locker? asked Maximillian.
What else could it be? We havent got tickets for a flight, said Diana.
True, said Maximillian. But why give us the wrong code? Its the only four digit number there, and these lockers dont accept 0 as the first number of a sequence.
They stopped it there for a reason, said Diana.
Of course they did, said Maximillian, slightly annoyed about the obvious statement. But why stop at the sixteenth term of the sequence if it isnt the locker... Maximillian stopped, looking at Diana as the penny dropped for both of them.
Locker 16! they said simultaneously. Hurrying to the locker, they entered the code, and were rewarded by a beep and a click. The door swung open easily.
See, Drake? Theres always a reason, said Diana.
Well I didnt hear you sound it out, shot back Maximillian, as he reached in and grabbed the lockers only content an envelope. Opening the flap, Maximillian found not just the two tickets hed been expecting, but a short letter too.
Our flights at 10.30. Wed best get to the departure gate, said Diana. We can read the letter on the shuttle.
Very well, said Maximillian. After you. I insist.
* * * * *
As their shuttle rocketed away from Cape Canaveral, the two spies-to-be read the letter from the locker.
Dear Miss Francis and Mr Drake,
Congratulations on making it this far. By the time you are reading this, you should be en route to the New Britannia colonies at the Fourth Earth-Moon Lagrange Point. Here, there is a Ministry Field Office that conducts the Bachelor of Espionage degree in conjunction with the University of New Britannia. You must report to this Field Office for an interview before it closes tomorrow evening at the traditional time.
Good Luck,
Mother
Mother, Head of The Ministry
The two looked at each other sceptically.
Rather vague, said Maximillian.
Well, it should all be there, said Diana. Closing at the traditional time... 5pm?
Well, that is the traditional office closing time, said Drake. But that only gives us 27 hours considering that New Britannia goes off Greenwich Mean Time.
23 when we take out the transit time, corrected Diana.
Either way, its a tall order.
Dont tell me my knight in spotless morning coat is afraid of a little challenge, said Diana.
Not in the slightest, said Maximillian, slightly offended. I just dont rate our chances of success too highly.
If you think well fail, why are you even here?
I hardly said that was what I thought, said Maximillian. Besides, Id have to pay my own way home.
Then what are you saying? asked Diana.
That this is Mission Difficult, answered Drake. But, Mission Difficult should be a walk in the park for a proper spy.
Im glad you think so highly of me, said Diana.
Such modesty, replied Maximillian, before settling into his seat for a nap.
A minor talent, or hadnt you noticed? she said quietly before settling down herself.
* * * * *
As Diana and Maximillian disembarked their flight at the New Britannia terminal, another figure was also leaving his shuttle. A young man exuded an appearance of dangerous authority, with his slicked back hair and cold blue eyes, and succeeded in spite of his tender mid-teen age.
As he came through the arrival gantry, he spied Maximillian at a glance. He averted his eyes in shock and surprise, and he almost considered heading away from the arrival lounge. He decided, however, to press on the volume of passengers between them served well enough as a buffer, and Maximillian seemed busy enough as it was.
What the devil is Maximillian Drake doing here in New Britannia?! He asked of his mind. Prodigious as he was, he realised swiftly that he had no idea. He had long since learnt the importance of good information, and he realised he had none for this turn of events. And if there was one thing he hated, it was being out of the loop.
He almost didnt notice when one of his lieutenants came alongside. Something the matter sir? he asked.
The young man looked up, at first slightly annoyed by the interruption to his reverie. Sighing, he decided to spit it out. Apart from the fact that the son of my fathers nemesis has just turned up here, no, everythings fine Mr Krate, he said, sarcasm thick in his voice.
Krate regarded his superior for a moment, seeming to wonder whether it was worth pursuing this line of conversation with this bratty child. Finally, he asked Could he simply be here for study?
Studying what? said Veldt coldly.
They say the New Britannia University has somewhat... eclectic courses sir, replied Krate.
The young man immediately caught on. And why was I not informed of this sooner, Mr Krate?
It didnt seem important enough to warrant it.
The young man rolled his eyes. Information is ones most valuable weapon Mr Krate. Remember that well, if you expect this organisation to get anywhere. Inform headquarters to keep an eye on Mr Drake. Well make our move tomorrow. Krate nodded, before moving away to carry out his orders.
Ill thwart Drakes ambitions as his father as thwarted fathers. And finally, our status among the Organisation will be restored, and our honour finally avenged!
* * * * *
Diana and Maximillian settled themselves in for a late afternoon tea at their hotel.
So, apart from traditional closing time, what else have we got to go on? asked Diana.
Well, its obviously being done with the local University, said Maximillian as he poured their cups of tea. Id say that would be a good place to start.
Diana nodded, gazing at the letter. That would seem a bit obvious though.
Maximillian looked up at the wall. Come to think of it, do the facilities there obey traditional office times?
They dont, answered Diana. So Id say we can rule that out. Besides, its not like the Field Office would be like any other university faculty.
True, said Maximillian, as he brought over the tea. It was black with one lump, yes?
Oh, yes, thank you, said Diana, accepted the offered tea. So were looking for offices with traditional closing times then.
Banks, suggested Maximillian.
Libraries? offered Diana.
I dont think libraries qualify as offices.
Ah.
Retail? ventured Maximillian.
Closes later.
I see.
Government offices?
Possibly. Anything else?
Apart from general offices, nothing much comes to mind, said Diana.
Well there wouldnt be many of those anyway these days, said Maximillian. So, its banks, government offices and traditional corporate offices.
Shall we get some addresses then? asked Diana.
After tea.
Of course, said Diana.
wellsy
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Part 2
The two prospective spies headed out the next day after breakfast. The morning was quite pleasant (as it usually was in the colonys artificial environment). Around them were the sights and sounds of a colony on the move, its skyline of cranes engaged in their gentle mimes, broken only by the sound of power tools forging the materials to be lifted by the cranes.
The two visited dozens of offices, always asking to see Mother. Whenever they were asked for their names, theyd recall that they had gotten the address wrong and leave. After four hours of looking, the two faced an unfortunate situation failure. It was hard for them to grasp the possibility of it, that they werent real spies. But Mission Difficult seemed to have left them flummoxed.
Having checked most of the banks and offices (government-run or otherwise), neither could deny a certain feeling of disappointment.
This is getting tiresome, said Diana, her frustration apparent.
I concur, said Maximillian. So, do you still think all the information is in that letter?
I am starting to wonder, she admitted.
Well, why dont we get some lunch, and then well have a look at the University.
But Drake, we went over this yesterday. University offices dont obey traditional opening times.
Perhaps. But not everything on campus is so disobedient.
What are you saying?
Think about it Miss Francis. Weve not gone near the University today. Weve checked everywhere else. There are facilities on campus that would traditionally close at 5 pm. Banks in particular come to mind. Besides, if youre running a course with the University, wouldnt you want to be close to it in order to more easily liaise with it?
Oh, said Diana. Not to mention the whole thing is Government-run.
Quite true. They intend to make New Britannia a college colony.
It would be lonely in summer.
What summer, Miss Francis?
Diana smiled. Touché.
So, what would you like?
Hm?
For lunch.
Diana shook her head. Im buying today Drake.
Nonsense, said Maximillian.
I insist.
But no gentleman-
Would deny a lady to show some gratitude, Diana finished.
Drake raised an eyebrow in surprise, before relenting. Very well Miss Francis. Your pick. I insist.
After Diana had finished her eye fillet, garden salad with red wine sauce, and Maximillian had polished off his beef casserole and bread roll, the two set out for the New Britannia University campus. Their route took them through an area the almost literally buzzed with construction activity.
Its a pity were in an artificial environment, said Drake. Theres no weather to speak of.
Except, of course, for Fine with an afternoon shower, answered Diana.
Without fail.
Which does, unfortunately give us little to discuss at present.
Only beyond the task at hand, Miss Francis, said Drake.
It was as he said this that he noticed a small bulldozer driving towards them. It drove with speed and on an unswerving line straight for them. Both teens leapt out of the way, only to find themselves surrounded by several rather mean looking construction workers.
Drake smiled, as he moved to rejoin Diana. They moved to go back the way they came, but found themselves blocked by the workers. Their path forwards was also blocked. Maximillian spotted an opening and pulled Diana through it, taking them onto a construction site.
I dont think they got their lunch break, said Diana looking back at the workers who strolled menacingly after them as she backed up against Drake.
Well neither have these chaps, by the looks of things, said Drake, motioning to the group ahead of them. The two had no choice, and they ran into the building on the site and up a flight of stairs, barring the door for a moments reprieve.
You should get out of here. Ill draw them off and meet you on campus, said Maximillian.
This is no time-
For discussions. I must insist Miss Francis. I can handle this.
Diana looked at Maximillian. Theyd only met the previous day, and certainly, she had come to care for him. A gentleman to the last, she muttered somewhat mutely.
I should hope not, shot back Maximillian, a slight grin on his face. Now go.
Diana obeyed, sprinting to cranes rope and sliding down to safety. Maximillian heard the door crash open, and as two construction workers burst through the portal, he twisted his umbrella, producing a rapier with which he easily dispatched his assailants, before turning and heading up a plank to the second, and highest completed level.
On the roof, even more assailants confronted Drake. By this time, he had sheathed his blade, instead preferring to simply knock those who got in his way aside with his umbrella, or a hard hat he picked up off an unconscious mook.
He reached the edge of the building, and found a thick power cable linked up to a shorter, more complete building. Using his umbrella as a flying fox, he leapt down the cable, sliding onto the roof of the shorter building.
Gracefully gliding down the steps and onto the footpath, Maximillian straightened his cravat, and walked briskly, intending to beat Diana to the campus.
A hard blow to the base of his skull dashed his chances. The young man from the spaceport simply shrugged his shoulders as he stood over Maximillians unconscious body.
Diana watched from the bushes as Maximillian was hauled away by two of the workers. He saw the one who had knocked Drake out argue with the workers foreman.
You promised us good pay, said the foreman rather loudly.
I promised on condition that you catch Drake. You failed, answered the young man.
What?
I had to deal with him personally. I dont pay you money because Im profligate. I pay people to do the tasks assigned to them. You failed in your task, and so you dont get paid. Said the man rather forcefully. Or is that too complicated for a Pakistani labourer to understand?
Oh **** you, said the man.
Personally sir, Id rather **** your wife. Now off with you, Ive no time for incompetents.
With that, two men knocked the foreman back. The man stepped back, his face indignant. Diana could only smile at the foremans comeuppance, but there was still the issue of Maximillian to be resolved.
She decided it was necessary for her to rescue him. As far as she was concerned, they both had to be at that interview, and it simply wouldnt do expect Drake to be able to handle this on his own. Pulling out her snuff box, she squeezed a button, and watched it change into a map. As the van drove away, a small dot began to move as well. Diana walked quickly and cautiously down the street. She would have to wait until they arrived at their destination before she could make her move.
Maximillian came too, alone in a small room. A sharp pain at the back if his head reminded him of what had happened.
Looking around, he saw nothing but faceless grey walls around him, with a door to his right. His hands were cuffed to the chair he was seated upon.
He stretched and rolled his head and shoulders, trying hard to ease the aches throughout his body.
A moment later, the door burst open. Well Mr Drake, how does it feel to be so confined?
Maximillian looked hard. He then recognised the young man, and smiled. Holden Veldt. Why am I not surprised?
Your lack of surprise is hardly surprising Mr Drake, considering our mutual histories.
Indeed, said Maximillian. In answer to your question, its dreadfully uncomfortable. If youd be so kind as to undo the cuffs, then-
Youd take the opportunity to escape, finished Holden. Maximillian grinned.
So whats it all about this time? I cant exactly see how you plan to take over the world from here.
Well thats just it, isnt it? asked Holden rhetorically. Youve got to walk before you can run Mr Drake.
Says you. You tried to take over the world in a giant booby, only to be caged by the Bra Boys!
You know about that?
Who doesnt? I mean, seriously, I can understand your first attempt at world domination failing. But to be stopped by the Bra Boys. The Bra Boys! Im speechless!
Then when dont you shut up, suggested Holden. Maximillian blinked in surprise. You dont even factor into my plans to take over this colony. Simply put, youre the icing on the cake. A dash of vengeance, if you will.
Well personally, I prefer my revenge served cold.
And so it shall be, said Holden, snapping his fingers. Two large men came through the door. Undoing the cuffs that bound him to the chair, they hauled him out of the room and to an adjacent one.
The room looked more like a laboratory, with a large, deep vat dominating the room. Chaining Maximillian to a small hook on a solid cable, connected to the ceiling by a series of pulleys, they raised him off the ground and over the steaming vat.
What you see here, Mr Drake, is liquid helium. This stuff is two degrees above absolute zero and cools the superconductors all around the station. I daresay, you should be able to cool off when it comes to our little feud.
With that, Holden attached the other end of the cable (which hung down to the floor) to a large box, over which he placed a dripping tap.
My body weight in dry ice, I presume, said Maximillian.
How astute, said Holden. Ive probably got a little more than that.
How very nice of you, said Maximillian. So youre going to go back to your plan for colonial domination then?
Yes.
Well look, Im none too keen on bullets, but if you want me dead, why dont you just shoot me?
A little to warm for my taste in revenge, said Holden. Besides, its not the killing Im after, but rather, just watching you squirm.
Maximillian mouthed an Oh. This was hardly what hed expected.
Oh, one more thing Mr Drake. The construction jobs around here are a bit shoddy to say the least. It can only be expected really, but just dont push the pulleys.
You sound like you want me to live.
Well, well see if you do, said Holden casually, before walking out with his mooks. Maximillian looked around, trying to find something to work with. Nothing fit the bill.
This could be awkward, he said to himself softly.
The two visited dozens of offices, always asking to see Mother. Whenever they were asked for their names, theyd recall that they had gotten the address wrong and leave. After four hours of looking, the two faced an unfortunate situation failure. It was hard for them to grasp the possibility of it, that they werent real spies. But Mission Difficult seemed to have left them flummoxed.
Having checked most of the banks and offices (government-run or otherwise), neither could deny a certain feeling of disappointment.
This is getting tiresome, said Diana, her frustration apparent.
I concur, said Maximillian. So, do you still think all the information is in that letter?
I am starting to wonder, she admitted.
Well, why dont we get some lunch, and then well have a look at the University.
But Drake, we went over this yesterday. University offices dont obey traditional opening times.
Perhaps. But not everything on campus is so disobedient.
What are you saying?
Think about it Miss Francis. Weve not gone near the University today. Weve checked everywhere else. There are facilities on campus that would traditionally close at 5 pm. Banks in particular come to mind. Besides, if youre running a course with the University, wouldnt you want to be close to it in order to more easily liaise with it?
Oh, said Diana. Not to mention the whole thing is Government-run.
Quite true. They intend to make New Britannia a college colony.
It would be lonely in summer.
What summer, Miss Francis?
Diana smiled. Touché.
So, what would you like?
Hm?
For lunch.
Diana shook her head. Im buying today Drake.
Nonsense, said Maximillian.
I insist.
But no gentleman-
Would deny a lady to show some gratitude, Diana finished.
Drake raised an eyebrow in surprise, before relenting. Very well Miss Francis. Your pick. I insist.
* * * * *
After Diana had finished her eye fillet, garden salad with red wine sauce, and Maximillian had polished off his beef casserole and bread roll, the two set out for the New Britannia University campus. Their route took them through an area the almost literally buzzed with construction activity.
Its a pity were in an artificial environment, said Drake. Theres no weather to speak of.
Except, of course, for Fine with an afternoon shower, answered Diana.
Without fail.
Which does, unfortunately give us little to discuss at present.
Only beyond the task at hand, Miss Francis, said Drake.
It was as he said this that he noticed a small bulldozer driving towards them. It drove with speed and on an unswerving line straight for them. Both teens leapt out of the way, only to find themselves surrounded by several rather mean looking construction workers.
Drake smiled, as he moved to rejoin Diana. They moved to go back the way they came, but found themselves blocked by the workers. Their path forwards was also blocked. Maximillian spotted an opening and pulled Diana through it, taking them onto a construction site.
I dont think they got their lunch break, said Diana looking back at the workers who strolled menacingly after them as she backed up against Drake.
Well neither have these chaps, by the looks of things, said Drake, motioning to the group ahead of them. The two had no choice, and they ran into the building on the site and up a flight of stairs, barring the door for a moments reprieve.
You should get out of here. Ill draw them off and meet you on campus, said Maximillian.
This is no time-
For discussions. I must insist Miss Francis. I can handle this.
Diana looked at Maximillian. Theyd only met the previous day, and certainly, she had come to care for him. A gentleman to the last, she muttered somewhat mutely.
I should hope not, shot back Maximillian, a slight grin on his face. Now go.
Diana obeyed, sprinting to cranes rope and sliding down to safety. Maximillian heard the door crash open, and as two construction workers burst through the portal, he twisted his umbrella, producing a rapier with which he easily dispatched his assailants, before turning and heading up a plank to the second, and highest completed level.
On the roof, even more assailants confronted Drake. By this time, he had sheathed his blade, instead preferring to simply knock those who got in his way aside with his umbrella, or a hard hat he picked up off an unconscious mook.
He reached the edge of the building, and found a thick power cable linked up to a shorter, more complete building. Using his umbrella as a flying fox, he leapt down the cable, sliding onto the roof of the shorter building.
Gracefully gliding down the steps and onto the footpath, Maximillian straightened his cravat, and walked briskly, intending to beat Diana to the campus.
A hard blow to the base of his skull dashed his chances. The young man from the spaceport simply shrugged his shoulders as he stood over Maximillians unconscious body.
* * * * *
Diana watched from the bushes as Maximillian was hauled away by two of the workers. He saw the one who had knocked Drake out argue with the workers foreman.
You promised us good pay, said the foreman rather loudly.
I promised on condition that you catch Drake. You failed, answered the young man.
What?
I had to deal with him personally. I dont pay you money because Im profligate. I pay people to do the tasks assigned to them. You failed in your task, and so you dont get paid. Said the man rather forcefully. Or is that too complicated for a Pakistani labourer to understand?
Oh **** you, said the man.
Personally sir, Id rather **** your wife. Now off with you, Ive no time for incompetents.
With that, two men knocked the foreman back. The man stepped back, his face indignant. Diana could only smile at the foremans comeuppance, but there was still the issue of Maximillian to be resolved.
She decided it was necessary for her to rescue him. As far as she was concerned, they both had to be at that interview, and it simply wouldnt do expect Drake to be able to handle this on his own. Pulling out her snuff box, she squeezed a button, and watched it change into a map. As the van drove away, a small dot began to move as well. Diana walked quickly and cautiously down the street. She would have to wait until they arrived at their destination before she could make her move.
* * * * *
Maximillian came too, alone in a small room. A sharp pain at the back if his head reminded him of what had happened.
Looking around, he saw nothing but faceless grey walls around him, with a door to his right. His hands were cuffed to the chair he was seated upon.
He stretched and rolled his head and shoulders, trying hard to ease the aches throughout his body.
A moment later, the door burst open. Well Mr Drake, how does it feel to be so confined?
Maximillian looked hard. He then recognised the young man, and smiled. Holden Veldt. Why am I not surprised?
Your lack of surprise is hardly surprising Mr Drake, considering our mutual histories.
Indeed, said Maximillian. In answer to your question, its dreadfully uncomfortable. If youd be so kind as to undo the cuffs, then-
Youd take the opportunity to escape, finished Holden. Maximillian grinned.
So whats it all about this time? I cant exactly see how you plan to take over the world from here.
Well thats just it, isnt it? asked Holden rhetorically. Youve got to walk before you can run Mr Drake.
Says you. You tried to take over the world in a giant booby, only to be caged by the Bra Boys!
You know about that?
Who doesnt? I mean, seriously, I can understand your first attempt at world domination failing. But to be stopped by the Bra Boys. The Bra Boys! Im speechless!
Then when dont you shut up, suggested Holden. Maximillian blinked in surprise. You dont even factor into my plans to take over this colony. Simply put, youre the icing on the cake. A dash of vengeance, if you will.
Well personally, I prefer my revenge served cold.
And so it shall be, said Holden, snapping his fingers. Two large men came through the door. Undoing the cuffs that bound him to the chair, they hauled him out of the room and to an adjacent one.
The room looked more like a laboratory, with a large, deep vat dominating the room. Chaining Maximillian to a small hook on a solid cable, connected to the ceiling by a series of pulleys, they raised him off the ground and over the steaming vat.
What you see here, Mr Drake, is liquid helium. This stuff is two degrees above absolute zero and cools the superconductors all around the station. I daresay, you should be able to cool off when it comes to our little feud.
With that, Holden attached the other end of the cable (which hung down to the floor) to a large box, over which he placed a dripping tap.
My body weight in dry ice, I presume, said Maximillian.
How astute, said Holden. Ive probably got a little more than that.
How very nice of you, said Maximillian. So youre going to go back to your plan for colonial domination then?
Yes.
Well look, Im none too keen on bullets, but if you want me dead, why dont you just shoot me?
A little to warm for my taste in revenge, said Holden. Besides, its not the killing Im after, but rather, just watching you squirm.
Maximillian mouthed an Oh. This was hardly what hed expected.
Oh, one more thing Mr Drake. The construction jobs around here are a bit shoddy to say the least. It can only be expected really, but just dont push the pulleys.
You sound like you want me to live.
Well, well see if you do, said Holden casually, before walking out with his mooks. Maximillian looked around, trying to find something to work with. Nothing fit the bill.
This could be awkward, he said to himself softly.
wellsy
All crews reporting.
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And part 3
Diana strode confidently up to the guard at the nitrogen cooling facility.
Can I help you maam, asked the guard.
Oh yes, Im a classmate of Mr Veldts, said Diana. Id like to see what hes working on.
Im sorry, but Mr Veldt gave quite strict orders.
Well, you see, I was sent by one of his teachers to make sure hes making progress, and frankly, hell pay for it if you dont let me through, said Diana.
The guard hesitated for a moment. Im sorry; I didnt catch your name.
Miss Emma Rigg, said Diana.
Miss Rigg, this way please, said the guard, motioning to an elevator door.
Thank you, said Diana, walking into the elevator. Then she stopped, holding the door. Just one thing Mr Veldt is not to know I was here. Is that clear?
Yes maam, said the guard. With that, Diana disappeared into the elevator.
Diana stood in the elevator, waiting for it to descend to the outer edge of the colonys hull. She checked her snuff box radar, and found that Drake had been moved to another room. She then put away the snuff box as the elevator announced its arrival at the cooling station.
Striding out of the elevator, middle-aged man met her.
My name is Mr Krate, Miss Rigg. Ill be escorting you.
Diana nodded. Please, lead on.
Mr Krate took the lead down the hall. Now, Im not sure how much you know about cooling stations, Miss Rigg, but-
I thank you for your concern, Mr Krate, but I know enough about cooling stations to know I dont want to know any more about them.
I see, said Krate. Regardless, this facility provides us with a large revenue stream as we sell the cooled nitrogen back to the government for cooling purposes. We own about five of them across the colony, and our aim is to develop a monopoly on them, and therefore, on the power supply.
An interesting view of powers corruption, said Diana.
Mr Krate chuckled. Yes, indeed.
Mr Krate! called a burly voice. What are you doing?
Miss Rigg here is from the Academy Diabolus. Shes making sure he can get the most marks from his teachers. Diana curtseyed slightly.
I dont recognise you, said the man. How do I know youre not a spy?
Ah yes, said Diana, her voice taking a mocking tone. Youve got me sir. I am in fact a prospective student of The Ministry, and your employer, Mr Veldt, has kidnapped my partner, with whom I am romantically involved and intend to give up my virginity to. It is well known that I can kill with my stare and am prone to eating the brains of my victims. I am also the reincarnation of Morgan La Faye and shall be marrying God on the weekend, and I would imagine Him to be most thoroughly put out should I be absent for any reason. Does that satisfy you sir?
The burly man was taken completely aback, and Mr Krate was trying very hard to suppress his laughter. When finally he succeeded enough to speak, Mr Krate scolded the guard: You dont have to recognise someone for them to be legitimate.
Or as is our case, illegitimate, said Diana. Now Mr Krate, if you would be so kind as to continue.
Mr Krate smiled and resumed the tour, though the burly man continued to follow them. For the most part, it was rather boring electronics, pipes and many scientists sprinting from one frozen crisis to the next.
Not exactly a model of efficiency, noted Diana.
Well Miss Rigg, were not exactly experts on super cool materials in deep space environments like whats outside the colony. Virtually all the plants in space colonies are like this.
Diana nodded, before pulling out her snuff box again. Would you excuse me a moment?
Of course.
Diana proceeded to tap a little powder onto her face, just to maintain appearances as she checked for Drakes location. She was close.
So whats in that room? she asked once she was done, indicating a door at the end of a hall that branched off the main corridor.
Oh, thats where we test the purity of the nitrogen. Would you like to see it?
Please, said Diana.
Krate lead both Diana and the burly man to the door, and swiped his card. The light above the door blinked green, and they entered as soon as the portal was clear.
A light mist encircled the bottom of the room, and above the large central vat was a young man hanging by a cable. He seemed to be getting closer and closer to the surface of the vat. Looking around at the group below him, he cried out I think Im on some rather thin ice. Care to help me?
Mr Krate, we shouldnt be here, said the burly man.
On the contrary, this is precisely where we want to be, said Diana, who promptly punched out Krate. The burly man fended off her initial assault, tossing her aside as he ran for the door. Unfortunately he didnt have the clearance required to unlock it. He turned, and met a roundhouse kick from Diana with his face. Reeling from the attack, he was easily dispatched as Diana battered his head against the thick steel wall.
Diana brushed her hands clean, before turning to face the young man.
So Drake, coming down from your high?
You could say that, Miss Francis, but personally, Id rather you not leave me hanging, he replied.
Diana moved up to the crane and swung him to safety. She then lowered him to the ground and unchained him.
How did you get in? asked Maximillian.
I told this fellow I was romantically involved with you and came here to get you, she replied.
Are we romantically involved?
Dont get your hopes up Drake, she answered curtly.
Maximillian exhaled sharply, his mouth shaped in an o. So what now?
Now, we get to the Office.
And you had a plan to get us there?
Does going out through the front door count?
Youd better lead on then, said Maximillian.
Except when we reach the top, said Diana. I dont want my cover blown that badly.
Maximillian nodded, before taking Krates pass card and opening the door of their escape.
Maximillian and Diana finally arrived on the New Britannia Universitys main campus. Diana had managed to pick up another umbrella for Maximillian, and the two ran through the campus, searching for something that would close at 5 pm.
As they reached an artificial stream, the clock ticked closer to 5 pm. In a small group of buildings were the shops and offices they had been looking for, and among them, a branch of the Bank of England.
In they burst, virtually sprinting to the front counter. Were here to see Mother, said Maximillian to the receptionist.
One moment please, replied the receptionist, as she contacted someone on the phone. Neither had the chance, however, to listen to what the receptionist was saying, for a large group of thugs burst through the front door of the bank branch.
Fifty-fifty? asked Maximillian.
Youre on, said Diana, and the two went to work.
Diana punched and kicked her way through the grunts she faced, easily sending thug after thug to the floor. Maximillian was a little more restrained, though no less effective, wielding his umbrella to great effect in confusing and then thumping the thugs he faced.
As Diana finished off the last of the thugs on her side, she noticed Maximillian was stalemated with one last mook.
Need a hand? she asked.
The thug charged at Drake, only for Drakes umbrella handle to find its way around his neck and redirect him into a wall.
I think Ive got a handle on things, he answered.
How true, said a voice from the door.
Oh Holden, how nice of you to join us, said Maximillian. Ready to be thwarted again?
After I deal with the both of you, answered Holden. But first, I dont believe weve ever met.
Quite right, Im Diana Francis. And youre Holden Veldt, son of Jaden Veldt, slightly insane, though you look rather bored,
Im surprised you know of him, said Maximillian.
The caged booby has garnered quite some fame, said Diana.
Oh will people shut up about that already!
If you insist, said Diana, strolling cautiously round to one side of Holden as Maximillian walked around the other.
But still, said Maximillian, the Bra Boys, of all the people, how could you let yourself be thwarted by them?
Thats IT! shouted Holden, charging at Maximillian. Maximillian merely dodged and added an extra push, before Holden fell through a door. An unpleasant scent wafted through, as a panicked cry called out, only to grow fainter and fainter.
Maximillian wrinkled his nose. The sewers, he said.
Diana shook her head. How original.
The receptionist then stood up. Miss Francis, Mr Drake, take the second elevator on the right down to X. Mother will be waiting.
The two moved to the indicated elevator, both sighing in relief.
They had made it.
As for Holden, he found himself in a pestilent, filth-stained sewer, filled with the contents of many a students breakfast. The only word that came to mind was ****! as he swam through it.
Diana and Maximillian walked into the office rather cautiously. Standing at a window looking out into the stream they had found the bank near, was a silver-haired lady.
I would have expected you two to be here sooner, she said.
I presume you to be Mother then, said Diana.
You presume correct, said Mother. And your excuse is?
We ran into an old friend. A rather avid bird enthusiast by the name of Veldt, said Maximillian.
Oh yes, I remember him. He should have been no trouble for the two of you though.
Quite true Mother, said Diana.
Mother smiled gently. Good. Please, do sit down. Tea?
Maximillian sighed gladly. Please. Diana nodded her acceptance.
As the tea was poured, the three sat down on plush sofas in the spacious office. Both of the teens were still rather nervous about the meeting though.
If I may ask, what will become of our applications? asked Maximillian.
By sole virtue of finding this office, your application is successful, answered Mother. Lyra will provide you with the keys to your accommodation when you leave. So, Mr Drake, how is your father?
Hes doing well, at least when I see him.
Which is?
Whenever he chooses to be seen, said Maximillian, grinning wryly.
He always was like that, said Mother. And Miss Francis how have you found Mr Drake? Not too much of a drag, I hope.
Theres something to be said of a pessimistic optimist, she answered. Drake smiled as Mother chuckled quietly.
Well, thats good to hear. Youll be pairing up for your assignments in the course. When you get your accommodation from Lyra, youll also get your cover courses. I believe that weve tailored them appropriately to your interests. Youll come here to get your assignments, and these assignments get marked.
I wouldnt have it any other way, said Maximillian.
The team up or the marking? asked Diana.
The marking, said Maximillian dryly. Diana smiled knowingly.
Did I miss something? asked Mother.
Just a little joke, said Diana, though the look on Maximillians face showed that he thought it was more than just a little joke.
Mother nodded, handing around the tea. Welcome to The Ministry.
Can I help you maam, asked the guard.
Oh yes, Im a classmate of Mr Veldts, said Diana. Id like to see what hes working on.
Im sorry, but Mr Veldt gave quite strict orders.
Well, you see, I was sent by one of his teachers to make sure hes making progress, and frankly, hell pay for it if you dont let me through, said Diana.
The guard hesitated for a moment. Im sorry; I didnt catch your name.
Miss Emma Rigg, said Diana.
Miss Rigg, this way please, said the guard, motioning to an elevator door.
Thank you, said Diana, walking into the elevator. Then she stopped, holding the door. Just one thing Mr Veldt is not to know I was here. Is that clear?
Yes maam, said the guard. With that, Diana disappeared into the elevator.
Diana stood in the elevator, waiting for it to descend to the outer edge of the colonys hull. She checked her snuff box radar, and found that Drake had been moved to another room. She then put away the snuff box as the elevator announced its arrival at the cooling station.
Striding out of the elevator, middle-aged man met her.
My name is Mr Krate, Miss Rigg. Ill be escorting you.
Diana nodded. Please, lead on.
Mr Krate took the lead down the hall. Now, Im not sure how much you know about cooling stations, Miss Rigg, but-
I thank you for your concern, Mr Krate, but I know enough about cooling stations to know I dont want to know any more about them.
I see, said Krate. Regardless, this facility provides us with a large revenue stream as we sell the cooled nitrogen back to the government for cooling purposes. We own about five of them across the colony, and our aim is to develop a monopoly on them, and therefore, on the power supply.
An interesting view of powers corruption, said Diana.
Mr Krate chuckled. Yes, indeed.
Mr Krate! called a burly voice. What are you doing?
Miss Rigg here is from the Academy Diabolus. Shes making sure he can get the most marks from his teachers. Diana curtseyed slightly.
I dont recognise you, said the man. How do I know youre not a spy?
Ah yes, said Diana, her voice taking a mocking tone. Youve got me sir. I am in fact a prospective student of The Ministry, and your employer, Mr Veldt, has kidnapped my partner, with whom I am romantically involved and intend to give up my virginity to. It is well known that I can kill with my stare and am prone to eating the brains of my victims. I am also the reincarnation of Morgan La Faye and shall be marrying God on the weekend, and I would imagine Him to be most thoroughly put out should I be absent for any reason. Does that satisfy you sir?
The burly man was taken completely aback, and Mr Krate was trying very hard to suppress his laughter. When finally he succeeded enough to speak, Mr Krate scolded the guard: You dont have to recognise someone for them to be legitimate.
Or as is our case, illegitimate, said Diana. Now Mr Krate, if you would be so kind as to continue.
Mr Krate smiled and resumed the tour, though the burly man continued to follow them. For the most part, it was rather boring electronics, pipes and many scientists sprinting from one frozen crisis to the next.
Not exactly a model of efficiency, noted Diana.
Well Miss Rigg, were not exactly experts on super cool materials in deep space environments like whats outside the colony. Virtually all the plants in space colonies are like this.
Diana nodded, before pulling out her snuff box again. Would you excuse me a moment?
Of course.
Diana proceeded to tap a little powder onto her face, just to maintain appearances as she checked for Drakes location. She was close.
So whats in that room? she asked once she was done, indicating a door at the end of a hall that branched off the main corridor.
Oh, thats where we test the purity of the nitrogen. Would you like to see it?
Please, said Diana.
Krate lead both Diana and the burly man to the door, and swiped his card. The light above the door blinked green, and they entered as soon as the portal was clear.
A light mist encircled the bottom of the room, and above the large central vat was a young man hanging by a cable. He seemed to be getting closer and closer to the surface of the vat. Looking around at the group below him, he cried out I think Im on some rather thin ice. Care to help me?
Mr Krate, we shouldnt be here, said the burly man.
On the contrary, this is precisely where we want to be, said Diana, who promptly punched out Krate. The burly man fended off her initial assault, tossing her aside as he ran for the door. Unfortunately he didnt have the clearance required to unlock it. He turned, and met a roundhouse kick from Diana with his face. Reeling from the attack, he was easily dispatched as Diana battered his head against the thick steel wall.
Diana brushed her hands clean, before turning to face the young man.
So Drake, coming down from your high?
You could say that, Miss Francis, but personally, Id rather you not leave me hanging, he replied.
Diana moved up to the crane and swung him to safety. She then lowered him to the ground and unchained him.
How did you get in? asked Maximillian.
I told this fellow I was romantically involved with you and came here to get you, she replied.
Are we romantically involved?
Dont get your hopes up Drake, she answered curtly.
Maximillian exhaled sharply, his mouth shaped in an o. So what now?
Now, we get to the Office.
And you had a plan to get us there?
Does going out through the front door count?
Youd better lead on then, said Maximillian.
Except when we reach the top, said Diana. I dont want my cover blown that badly.
Maximillian nodded, before taking Krates pass card and opening the door of their escape.
* * * * *
Maximillian and Diana finally arrived on the New Britannia Universitys main campus. Diana had managed to pick up another umbrella for Maximillian, and the two ran through the campus, searching for something that would close at 5 pm.
As they reached an artificial stream, the clock ticked closer to 5 pm. In a small group of buildings were the shops and offices they had been looking for, and among them, a branch of the Bank of England.
In they burst, virtually sprinting to the front counter. Were here to see Mother, said Maximillian to the receptionist.
One moment please, replied the receptionist, as she contacted someone on the phone. Neither had the chance, however, to listen to what the receptionist was saying, for a large group of thugs burst through the front door of the bank branch.
Fifty-fifty? asked Maximillian.
Youre on, said Diana, and the two went to work.
Diana punched and kicked her way through the grunts she faced, easily sending thug after thug to the floor. Maximillian was a little more restrained, though no less effective, wielding his umbrella to great effect in confusing and then thumping the thugs he faced.
As Diana finished off the last of the thugs on her side, she noticed Maximillian was stalemated with one last mook.
Need a hand? she asked.
The thug charged at Drake, only for Drakes umbrella handle to find its way around his neck and redirect him into a wall.
I think Ive got a handle on things, he answered.
How true, said a voice from the door.
Oh Holden, how nice of you to join us, said Maximillian. Ready to be thwarted again?
After I deal with the both of you, answered Holden. But first, I dont believe weve ever met.
Quite right, Im Diana Francis. And youre Holden Veldt, son of Jaden Veldt, slightly insane, though you look rather bored,
Im surprised you know of him, said Maximillian.
The caged booby has garnered quite some fame, said Diana.
Oh will people shut up about that already!
If you insist, said Diana, strolling cautiously round to one side of Holden as Maximillian walked around the other.
But still, said Maximillian, the Bra Boys, of all the people, how could you let yourself be thwarted by them?
Thats IT! shouted Holden, charging at Maximillian. Maximillian merely dodged and added an extra push, before Holden fell through a door. An unpleasant scent wafted through, as a panicked cry called out, only to grow fainter and fainter.
Maximillian wrinkled his nose. The sewers, he said.
Diana shook her head. How original.
The receptionist then stood up. Miss Francis, Mr Drake, take the second elevator on the right down to X. Mother will be waiting.
The two moved to the indicated elevator, both sighing in relief.
They had made it.
* * * * *
As for Holden, he found himself in a pestilent, filth-stained sewer, filled with the contents of many a students breakfast. The only word that came to mind was ****! as he swam through it.
* * * * *
Diana and Maximillian walked into the office rather cautiously. Standing at a window looking out into the stream they had found the bank near, was a silver-haired lady.
I would have expected you two to be here sooner, she said.
I presume you to be Mother then, said Diana.
You presume correct, said Mother. And your excuse is?
We ran into an old friend. A rather avid bird enthusiast by the name of Veldt, said Maximillian.
Oh yes, I remember him. He should have been no trouble for the two of you though.
Quite true Mother, said Diana.
Mother smiled gently. Good. Please, do sit down. Tea?
Maximillian sighed gladly. Please. Diana nodded her acceptance.
As the tea was poured, the three sat down on plush sofas in the spacious office. Both of the teens were still rather nervous about the meeting though.
If I may ask, what will become of our applications? asked Maximillian.
By sole virtue of finding this office, your application is successful, answered Mother. Lyra will provide you with the keys to your accommodation when you leave. So, Mr Drake, how is your father?
Hes doing well, at least when I see him.
Which is?
Whenever he chooses to be seen, said Maximillian, grinning wryly.
He always was like that, said Mother. And Miss Francis how have you found Mr Drake? Not too much of a drag, I hope.
Theres something to be said of a pessimistic optimist, she answered. Drake smiled as Mother chuckled quietly.
Well, thats good to hear. Youll be pairing up for your assignments in the course. When you get your accommodation from Lyra, youll also get your cover courses. I believe that weve tailored them appropriately to your interests. Youll come here to get your assignments, and these assignments get marked.
I wouldnt have it any other way, said Maximillian.
The team up or the marking? asked Diana.
The marking, said Maximillian dryly. Diana smiled knowingly.
Did I miss something? asked Mother.
Just a little joke, said Diana, though the look on Maximillians face showed that he thought it was more than just a little joke.
Mother nodded, handing around the tea. Welcome to The Ministry.
Angel_Faerie
Sul Sul!
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Well, I'm actually writing it as if it's happening in that moment. This is the new opening to the story. So it's technically present tense.
As for the ball, I'm not sure what else to have them do. I wanted them playing a game together or something, and kicking a ball seemed to fit. As for "no lady would be caught dead doing that", I know. That's why her mother reacts that way. The reading sounds like an excellent idea, however.
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Angel_Faerie
Sul Sul!
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Here's the latest version of the opening, sans flashback.
And here's the rest of what I have written so far.
I stopped dead in my tracks in the crosswalk as a black BMW barreled toward me with no sign of slowing. I had heard the honks, sure, but I thought they were directed at someone else. I mean, I was the one in the crosswalk for Gods sake! I closed my eyes as the sound of screeching tires and the scent of burnt rubber filled the air. So this time I was going to die by some punk kid in his dad's car. At least that was new, I'd never died that way before.When the screeching stopped and I was still standing, I opened my eyes tentatively. The kid behind the windshield gripped the wheel so tightly his hands looked albino-white and his eyes were like giant orbs, bursting from their sockets in an almost-amusing way. I checked for injuries as I brushed the black dust from my Lululemon hoodie and pulled my bag back onto my shoulder. Thankfully nothing was broken or injured. The kid gave himself a shake before leaning out the window and barking,
"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"Kill myself?!"
Anger swelled inside me and I swung my bag at the car, hammering it into the hood.
"Im in a crosswalk you idiot! You just about killed me!"
His eyes looked like they were going to burst again as his gaze darted between me and the bag-sized dent that now decorated his hood. I flinched to swing again and he quickly tore off, shouting something that I couldnt make out and probably didnt want to.
Kill myself, yeah, like I really want to go through childhood all over again. Eight times is enough thank you very much! I thought, glaring.
I turned back towards the red brick building that was my personal hell: Jameson High School. God I hate high school. Stupid kids worrying about even stupider problems. Try growing up in Ireland in the 1700s as I had as Mollyif I never see another stupid potato it will be too soon. Looking at me, no one would think oh, that girl is four-hundred-and-nineteen years old. Theyd just see an average eighteen-year-old girl with extremely curly brown hair and grey eyes. I wish I was a normal teenager, but sadly fate has been cruel to me. I have lived seven lives from beginning to end. The moment I die, Im just born again to another set of parents.After being pushed and shoved but what seemed like a thousand people, I found my locker. Teenagers were so disrespectful. Even when I was actually eighteen I never acted the way these children did. But despite my annoyance, I did not hate them. In truth, I envied them. They didnt have to worry about curses and never knowing if theyd ever see their families in the hereafter (if there even is a hereafter). Sometimes I wished I had been selfish and let the shadow take Isabel. Id always berate myself for even thinking that afterwards. I had done the right thing for her hadnt I? Other times I wished I had simply died when the shadow engulfed me and not been reborn as Molly. If I could talk to that shadow, Id tell it a thing or two, I thought. The bell jolted me back to reality and I felt like someone was watching me. I looked around, but saw no one looking in my direction. I shook it off, grabbing what I needed out of my locker and shutting the door. I ran into Mr Eksons classroom as quickly as I could, but I was still late. After being lectured on the importance of punctuality, I took my seat. I then tuned out Mr. Ekson as he spoke to the class about World War I. Lectures on history were just a trip through my life, in my eyes. Why pay attention when Ive lived history? After class was over I left the room and turned to the right, finding my friend Alexis ("Alex" for short) waiting for me.
"Hey, Heather." she smiled. Heather was my name in this life. Alex usually called me H.
"Hey Alex."
Alex had been my friend since First Grade. She seemed to truly understand me, as so few people did. Though it drove me insane to have to go through High School for what felt like the hundredth time, I wanted to be there for Alex. She was a good friend who I didnt want to abandon by dropping out, as I had in previous lives.
"Mr. Ek give you a hard time again?" Alex asked.
I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
Alex grinned devilishly. "Youve got that I-was-chewed-out-by-Mr. Ek look."
"I didnt know that had a look."
"Well, it does. You pout a certain way and look down a lot."
"Thank you, Psychic Friend Network. Want to read my Tarot cards next?"
Alex chuckled. "Heard theres a new guy coming here soon."
So? Hell probably just be a typical annoying teenage boy. I thought.
"Thats nice, Alex. Im sure youll give him an extremely warm welcome." I winked.
Alex was completely boy-crazy. Shed had more boyfriends than most girls her age. She wasnt some harlot or anything. She had never gone "all the way", as I never had. I was waiting until marriage and I had never been married in any of my lives (pathetic, I know). I hadnt really been in many relationships in my lives. I had been in love once before. I had been afraid of letting it go anywhere because I didnt know how to tell him about my curse. How could I be in a relationship without telling him about my curse? Relationships are about honesty, after all. In the end I ended up revealing my secret to him. His reaction? He laughed at me, called me crazy, and I never saw him again. The searing heartbreak of that moment caused me to vow to myself never to tell anyone ever again.
Alex nudged me in the ribs. "H, come on. Youre like a frickin nun. You need to go out and explore the dating scene."
"Dating just seems kind of pointless to me."
Alex shrugged. "Suit yourself, I guess."
The two-minute bell rang, and Alex and I went our separate ways. I kept to myself the rest of the school day. The final bell rang and I trudged out the back door to the bus. I arrived home a few hours before my parents in this life, as usual. In my heart, Mr. and Mrs. Kutz were not my parents. My parents were Jonathan and Caitlin Jerbins, who died so long ago. I liked Mr. and Mrs. Kutz, however. They usually returned home nearly an hour after I finished my homework, as they did that night.
"Evenin, Heather!" Mr. Kutz said with a smile.
"Hi, sweetie!" Mrs. Kutz grinned.
I nodded in response as I turned a page n my book. "Hey."
"How was school?" Mr. Kutz asked as he put his jacket in the coat closet.
"Fine."
"Good. Would you mind helping your mother with dinner?"
"Sure."
After a quiet meal, time sped up until I found myself in my bed, slowly falling asleep. I sat up for a moment t in the night, feeling like someone else was in the room. I swore I saw someone sitting in the chair next to my bed no, just a dream. My dreams all involved seeing a boy around my physical age with blonde hair and eyes a strange shade of brown .almost like flames.
　　
　　
The next morning I woke feeling strange. Drained somehow, like I hadnt slept at all. I sluggishly moved through the school day, yawning very five minutes. I was listening to Ms. Anders teach our English class about transient verbs when I found myself in a beautiful forest with a handsome boy. His hair was black and his eyes were light blue. He was very tall, towering over me. Suddenly I felt a sharp poke in my back.
"H! Hey! Wake up!"
"Huh?" I groggily looked around the room. What had happened to the forest?
"You fell asleep!"
"I what?" I had never fallen asleep in class.
"You okay? Youve seemed out of it all day long."
"I just feel so tired "
I trudged through the door after a seemingly eternal bus ride and collapsed onto my bed. I tried to resist the urge to sleep, but I was so tired and the sheets were so warm the next thing I knew I was in the same forest as I had been in before, but the boy was the same one I had dreamt about the night before.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Im surprised you havent figured it out yet."
"Well uh I havent." I began to tremble nervously without knowing why.
He frowned. "Thats unfortunate. I guess recognizing me would be somewhat difficult. I didnt look like this the first time we met, after all."
I looked at the boy closely. Something was very familiar about him.
"Why are you haunting my dreams?"
"How else am I supposed to get your attention? Showing up at your home and your school didnt work."
So Im being stalked? I shuddered at the concept.
"I wouldnt call what Im doing stalking per se, Im just observing my handiwork. Making sure alls well."
"H-handiwork?" Damn my voice for coming out so squeaky
He smirked, seeming amused. "Come now, Annabeth, youve got to know who this is."
I felt my skin grow pale was that even possible in a dream?
I clutched my sisters cold, clammy hand tightly. Please, Isabel. Please get well. The slow rise and fall of her chest was the only indicator she still lived. I brushed some hair away from her eyes as she let out a soft groan. It had only been three days since she and I had been kicking a worn leather ball around when we were supposed to be doing chores around the house. Now, as she lay pale, drenched in a layer of sweat, it seemed my sister and I would never play together again. She had become ill so quickly. She had been running and playing as usual when a sudden strong pain in her head struck. The following day she fell into the deep slumber she had still not woken from. The doctor suspected Meningitis. I tried to fight the tears that welled in my eyes, but they just would not stop. I couldnt bear this. I had seen other families lose children to disease, but I had never thought my family would ever be among them. Evening descended on our homestead, the scent of oil lanterns and wax candles wafting through the house. Isabels eyes fluttered slightly. My eyes widened. Was she improving?
"Anna " she moaned.
My voice broke. "Yes, Isabel?"
Her eyes closed again and she did not reply. My breath caught in my chest and tears blurred the room around me. Suddenly, goosebumps began to grow on my arms. I felt chills all over my body. How odd, I thought as I wiped my eyes. It is the middle of June why is it so cold? I disregarded the cold and looked at Isabel, who seemed to have grown even paler. I wrapped her blanket tighter around her. My head shot up and I glanced around, feeling as if someone had entered. That was when I saw it: a shadow approaching the bed. It appeared almost man-shaped, having the vague outline of a head, arms, and legs. Its coloring was the same as any other shadow, only it was standing upright rather than on the ground. I spun, looking for the source and finding nothing. I stared at it in wonder, shivering more as it approached. Was it the source of the cold? It was nearly to the bed when I finally snapped out of my daze. I held Isabel to me, staring at the shadow in horror.
"C-come no further!" My voice came out as no more than a terrified squeak.
The shadow stopped for a moment, seeming shocked. It spoke in a voice that sounded like the wind blowing. "You can see me?"
"Y yes I can." I shivered both from the cold and fear.
"Interesting "
"What do you want?"
"I have come to take this young lady to the land of the dead."
"No!" I squeezed Isabel tighter.
"I am sorry, Annabeth, but I must."
"You know me?"
"Of course I do. I am Death. I know the identity of every mortal." Its tone made me feel foolish for not thinking of this sooner.
Please do not take Isabel. Please. She is only six years old. She has scarcely begun to live. She deserves to live a full life." I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
"I suppose I could "
"What?" I felt a surge of hope for the first time since Isabel fell ill.
"Would you be willing to take your sisters place?"
I could not speak for a long moment. I could exchange my life for Isabels?
"Yes." My voice came out surprisingly strong despite my trembling.
"You do realize I could just end your life in her stead."
Yes, I do.
However, there is something I have not yet tried that I have been quite anxious to. This seems as good a time as any to try it.
Tell me more.
If you agree to this, you will die many times but will never truly die. You will be able to see history unfold before you.
The idea sounded intriguing, but I was much too focused on saving Isabel to even comprehend or care what it meant. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for whatever came next.
"I agree."
"Very well."
And with that, I was engulfed by the shadow. Everything seemed to fall away and I felt as if everywhere on my body was becoming ice and breaking apart. I saw a very bright light, then nothing but darkness surrounded me. For quite some time after that I only caught flashes of things, but they were blurry and indistinct. I felt myself being held gently by a woman. It was so warm and comfortable in her arms. Molly, I heard her call me. Something felt wrong about that. What was it? I tried to figure out why it felt wrong, but it was so difficult to think. Later I felt myself walking shakily and speaking in babbles. Something wasnt right about this, either. For what seemed like eternity I lived in this confusing state of seeing nothing but blurry flashes. Until one day the blurriness lifted away and I could think clearly. I looked around. Everything was so tall and big! There were toys scattered around the room near a bed that seemed the correct size and a tower-sized crib was on the opposite end. There was a babe inside it, I discovered when I stood on a stool and peeked inside. Somehow I knew the babes name was Maggie and that she was my sister. She was beautiful. This felt familiar I had been a sister before. A face then appeared in my mind. Who was that girl? I thought for a moment and then all of my memories came rushing back. Isabel! Where was she? Had she lived?
"Anna " she moaned.
My voice broke. "Yes, Isabel?"
Her eyes closed again and she did not reply. My breath caught in my chest and tears blurred the room around me. Suddenly, goosebumps began to grow on my arms. I felt chills all over my body. How odd, I thought as I wiped my eyes. It is the middle of June why is it so cold? I disregarded the cold and looked at Isabel, who seemed to have grown even paler. I wrapped her blanket tighter around her. My head shot up and I glanced around, feeling as if someone had entered. That was when I saw it: a shadow approaching the bed. It appeared almost man-shaped, having the vague outline of a head, arms, and legs. Its coloring was the same as any other shadow, only it was standing upright rather than on the ground. I spun, looking for the source and finding nothing. I stared at it in wonder, shivering more as it approached. Was it the source of the cold? It was nearly to the bed when I finally snapped out of my daze. I held Isabel to me, staring at the shadow in horror.
"C-come no further!" My voice came out as no more than a terrified squeak.
The shadow stopped for a moment, seeming shocked. It spoke in a voice that sounded like the wind blowing. "You can see me?"
"Y yes I can." I shivered both from the cold and fear.
"Interesting "
"What do you want?"
"I have come to take this young lady to the land of the dead."
"No!" I squeezed Isabel tighter.
"I am sorry, Annabeth, but I must."
"You know me?"
"Of course I do. I am Death. I know the identity of every mortal." Its tone made me feel foolish for not thinking of this sooner.
Please do not take Isabel. Please. She is only six years old. She has scarcely begun to live. She deserves to live a full life." I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
"I suppose I could "
"What?" I felt a surge of hope for the first time since Isabel fell ill.
"Would you be willing to take your sisters place?"
I could not speak for a long moment. I could exchange my life for Isabels?
"Yes." My voice came out surprisingly strong despite my trembling.
"You do realize I could just end your life in her stead."
Yes, I do.
However, there is something I have not yet tried that I have been quite anxious to. This seems as good a time as any to try it.
Tell me more.
If you agree to this, you will die many times but will never truly die. You will be able to see history unfold before you.
The idea sounded intriguing, but I was much too focused on saving Isabel to even comprehend or care what it meant. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for whatever came next.
"I agree."
"Very well."
And with that, I was engulfed by the shadow. Everything seemed to fall away and I felt as if everywhere on my body was becoming ice and breaking apart. I saw a very bright light, then nothing but darkness surrounded me. For quite some time after that I only caught flashes of things, but they were blurry and indistinct. I felt myself being held gently by a woman. It was so warm and comfortable in her arms. Molly, I heard her call me. Something felt wrong about that. What was it? I tried to figure out why it felt wrong, but it was so difficult to think. Later I felt myself walking shakily and speaking in babbles. Something wasnt right about this, either. For what seemed like eternity I lived in this confusing state of seeing nothing but blurry flashes. Until one day the blurriness lifted away and I could think clearly. I looked around. Everything was so tall and big! There were toys scattered around the room near a bed that seemed the correct size and a tower-sized crib was on the opposite end. There was a babe inside it, I discovered when I stood on a stool and peeked inside. Somehow I knew the babes name was Maggie and that she was my sister. She was beautiful. This felt familiar I had been a sister before. A face then appeared in my mind. Who was that girl? I thought for a moment and then all of my memories came rushing back. Isabel! Where was she? Had she lived?
And here's the rest of what I have written so far.
FOUR HUNDRED AND ONE YEARS LATER
.
I stopped dead in my tracks in the crosswalk as a black BMW barreled toward me with no sign of slowing. I had heard the honks, sure, but I thought they were directed at someone else. I mean, I was the one in the crosswalk for Gods sake! I closed my eyes as the sound of screeching tires and the scent of burnt rubber filled the air. So this time I was going to die by some punk kid in his dad's car. At least that was new, I'd never died that way before.When the screeching stopped and I was still standing, I opened my eyes tentatively. The kid behind the windshield gripped the wheel so tightly his hands looked albino-white and his eyes were like giant orbs, bursting from their sockets in an almost-amusing way. I checked for injuries as I brushed the black dust from my Lululemon hoodie and pulled my bag back onto my shoulder. Thankfully nothing was broken or injured. The kid gave himself a shake before leaning out the window and barking,
"Are you trying to kill yourself?"
"Kill myself?!"
Anger swelled inside me and I swung my bag at the car, hammering it into the hood.
"Im in a crosswalk you idiot! You just about killed me!"
His eyes looked like they were going to burst again as his gaze darted between me and the bag-sized dent that now decorated his hood. I flinched to swing again and he quickly tore off, shouting something that I couldnt make out and probably didnt want to.
Kill myself, yeah, like I really want to go through childhood all over again. Eight times is enough thank you very much! I thought, glaring.
I turned back towards the red brick building that was my personal hell: Jameson High School. God I hate high school. Stupid kids worrying about even stupider problems. Try growing up in Ireland in the 1700s as I had as Mollyif I never see another stupid potato it will be too soon. Looking at me, no one would think oh, that girl is four-hundred-and-nineteen years old. Theyd just see an average eighteen-year-old girl with extremely curly brown hair and grey eyes. I wish I was a normal teenager, but sadly fate has been cruel to me. I have lived seven lives from beginning to end. The moment I die, Im just born again to another set of parents.After being pushed and shoved but what seemed like a thousand people, I found my locker. Teenagers were so disrespectful. Even when I was actually eighteen I never acted the way these children did. But despite my annoyance, I did not hate them. In truth, I envied them. They didnt have to worry about curses and never knowing if theyd ever see their families in the hereafter (if there even is a hereafter). Sometimes I wished I had been selfish and let the shadow take Isabel. Id always berate myself for even thinking that afterwards. I had done the right thing for her hadnt I? Other times I wished I had simply died when the shadow engulfed me and not been reborn as Molly. If I could talk to that shadow, Id tell it a thing or two, I thought. The bell jolted me back to reality and I felt like someone was watching me. I looked around, but saw no one looking in my direction. I shook it off, grabbing what I needed out of my locker and shutting the door. I ran into Mr Eksons classroom as quickly as I could, but I was still late. After being lectured on the importance of punctuality, I took my seat. I then tuned out Mr. Ekson as he spoke to the class about World War I. Lectures on history were just a trip through my life, in my eyes. Why pay attention when Ive lived history? After class was over I left the room and turned to the right, finding my friend Alexis ("Alex" for short) waiting for me.
"Hey, Heather." she smiled. Heather was my name in this life. Alex usually called me H.
"Hey Alex."
Alex had been my friend since First Grade. She seemed to truly understand me, as so few people did. Though it drove me insane to have to go through High School for what felt like the hundredth time, I wanted to be there for Alex. She was a good friend who I didnt want to abandon by dropping out, as I had in previous lives.
"Mr. Ek give you a hard time again?" Alex asked.
I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
Alex grinned devilishly. "Youve got that I-was-chewed-out-by-Mr. Ek look."
"I didnt know that had a look."
"Well, it does. You pout a certain way and look down a lot."
"Thank you, Psychic Friend Network. Want to read my Tarot cards next?"
Alex chuckled. "Heard theres a new guy coming here soon."
So? Hell probably just be a typical annoying teenage boy. I thought.
"Thats nice, Alex. Im sure youll give him an extremely warm welcome." I winked.
Alex was completely boy-crazy. Shed had more boyfriends than most girls her age. She wasnt some harlot or anything. She had never gone "all the way", as I never had. I was waiting until marriage and I had never been married in any of my lives (pathetic, I know). I hadnt really been in many relationships in my lives. I had been in love once before. I had been afraid of letting it go anywhere because I didnt know how to tell him about my curse. How could I be in a relationship without telling him about my curse? Relationships are about honesty, after all. In the end I ended up revealing my secret to him. His reaction? He laughed at me, called me crazy, and I never saw him again. The searing heartbreak of that moment caused me to vow to myself never to tell anyone ever again.
Alex nudged me in the ribs. "H, come on. Youre like a frickin nun. You need to go out and explore the dating scene."
"Dating just seems kind of pointless to me."
Alex shrugged. "Suit yourself, I guess."
The two-minute bell rang, and Alex and I went our separate ways. I kept to myself the rest of the school day. The final bell rang and I trudged out the back door to the bus. I arrived home a few hours before my parents in this life, as usual. In my heart, Mr. and Mrs. Kutz were not my parents. My parents were Jonathan and Caitlin Jerbins, who died so long ago. I liked Mr. and Mrs. Kutz, however. They usually returned home nearly an hour after I finished my homework, as they did that night.
"Evenin, Heather!" Mr. Kutz said with a smile.
"Hi, sweetie!" Mrs. Kutz grinned.
I nodded in response as I turned a page n my book. "Hey."
"How was school?" Mr. Kutz asked as he put his jacket in the coat closet.
"Fine."
"Good. Would you mind helping your mother with dinner?"
"Sure."
After a quiet meal, time sped up until I found myself in my bed, slowly falling asleep. I sat up for a moment t in the night, feeling like someone else was in the room. I swore I saw someone sitting in the chair next to my bed no, just a dream. My dreams all involved seeing a boy around my physical age with blonde hair and eyes a strange shade of brown .almost like flames.
　　
　　
The next morning I woke feeling strange. Drained somehow, like I hadnt slept at all. I sluggishly moved through the school day, yawning very five minutes. I was listening to Ms. Anders teach our English class about transient verbs when I found myself in a beautiful forest with a handsome boy. His hair was black and his eyes were light blue. He was very tall, towering over me. Suddenly I felt a sharp poke in my back.
"H! Hey! Wake up!"
"Huh?" I groggily looked around the room. What had happened to the forest?
"You fell asleep!"
"I what?" I had never fallen asleep in class.
"You okay? Youve seemed out of it all day long."
"I just feel so tired "
I trudged through the door after a seemingly eternal bus ride and collapsed onto my bed. I tried to resist the urge to sleep, but I was so tired and the sheets were so warm the next thing I knew I was in the same forest as I had been in before, but the boy was the same one I had dreamt about the night before.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Im surprised you havent figured it out yet."
"Well uh I havent." I began to tremble nervously without knowing why.
He frowned. "Thats unfortunate. I guess recognizing me would be somewhat difficult. I didnt look like this the first time we met, after all."
I looked at the boy closely. Something was very familiar about him.
"Why are you haunting my dreams?"
"How else am I supposed to get your attention? Showing up at your home and your school didnt work."
So Im being stalked? I shuddered at the concept.
"I wouldnt call what Im doing stalking per se, Im just observing my handiwork. Making sure alls well."
"H-handiwork?" Damn my voice for coming out so squeaky
He smirked, seeming amused. "Come now, Annabeth, youve got to know who this is."
I felt my skin grow pale was that even possible in a dream?
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