Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Pantheon Ch 10: The capitol of the World: Excerpt

-----a little excerpt form chapter 10: The Capitol of the World. i just finished editing this to its second draft version. it takes place at the royal palace in a city called capriis, located right on the north rim of the grand canyon, in a magical world called gaia. Black is to travel to Camelot, by way of Atlantis, in order to vandalize the round table. Evo is his centaur mentor.-----



He skipped over steps, spinning downward so briskly that he hadn’t heard the soft footfalls of the servant with whom he collided.

“Master Black,” The royal attendant addressed him with perfect composure as they regained their footing at the base of the tower.

“My bad,” Black chirped.

“Good to see you awake already. Empress Xu has requested I wake you and send you to the kitchen for breakfast.”

“Oh, um, which way?”

The servant gave Black clear and precise directions. His informative nature also led him to explain that the royal family, for their children’s sake, liked to cook and eat together, casually in the kitchen as often as their busy schedules allowed.

“Thanks.”

Black followed the prescribed route, however tempted to deviate by a few rooms that he passed. He made his way to the kitchen, the smell of bacon or something similar enough kept him on track.

Rounding the last bend, he found the source. Working at what looked like a gas stove without any knobs, the emperor’s wife stood frying pan in hand. Long dark-red hair bounced like ribbons down her slender figure. Her olive skin had a sort of grainy wood-like appearance. Black clamped his eyelids together trying to force out whatever slumber might still enduring between them. There wasn’t any, especially after his tumble. The Empress had a dreamy ethereal quality to her. Optical sensors in check, Black thought that he was definitely looking at an alien.

“I’m half Oread. That’s a mountain and valley nymph, if that’s what you’re wondering. Don’t worry I know all about where you’re from. You’re not the first person from Terrene to pass through these walls you know.” Her demeanor was playful with a child-like tone, but her body language was grace incarnate. She was calming to listen to.

“Echo,” she sang. Hands precisely gestured her name. “And of course, Black,” emerald eyes angled downward at him, her trunk swaying ever so slightly in a welcoming gesture,

“Yeah, that’s me.” his lips sleepily rolled the word out as the rest of his senses were distracted by the sizzling on the nearest burner. “What smells so good?”

“Breakfast,” the Empress smiled. “Bacon, you have that in Terrene I hope. I can’t imagine a world without bacon?”

“Yeah of course we do but isn’t that like some sort of special magic flying pig bacon or something?”

“No,” she chuckled, “just regular bacon from a normal pig.”

“Well, it smells magical.”

“Thank you. Here, why don’t you help make sure these don’t burn while I check on the cactus rolls.”

Black poked and prodded the crackling meat haphazardly as he puzzled over the peculiar situation. Acclimated to awkward introductions, foster parents who stumbled through tours of their own homes, and non-siblings’ erratic behavior, Black awed over the Empress’ inviting calm.

“We have some visitors this morning,” she announced, “the recently widowed Cailleach and her son Collin.”

Black’s flat expression slowly declined as he realized the implication of this new development.

“I,” he held the note for a brief moment before delivering the rest of his short refrain, “lost my appetite.”

Echo was more reasonable than Black expected. She not only excused him from breakfast, she sent him on his way with a hearty helping.

“I want you to know,” she encouraged, “that if you need anything, just plainly ask, whatever it is.”

“Cailleach and Collin came to tell you that they don’t hold you responsible. Nor do they harbor any ill will toward you. Black,” she focused her attention solely on the teen. Black stood there frowning from behind his hoodie. “They forgive you. In fact they don’t feel like there’s anything to forgive, it wasn’t your fault.”

“If you’re not ready to meet them, just take some bacon. You know what they say about diving and drachmae. Oh,” She paused, allowing a piece of bacon to become unfairly crispier than the rest, “You don’t. The saying is: don’t dip in the Acheron without any oboli.”

Despite not registering a bit of the old Greek adage, he understood, by the tone of her voice and the glow in her green eyes, that she meant for him to do what felt right. Black had no desire for a meeting with the victims of recent events. Glad of her understanding, hunger subdued for the time being and content with the lush gardens, Black strolled across the grounds while the other half of his two man team took a freakishly long time to pack.

Black had virtually no luggage thanks to his magical box, but wanting it to remain beneath the servants’ attention he had to unpack many of his belongings and repack them into normal bags. During the broken conversation they carried between loads of provisions and second sweeps for anything left behind, Black caught wind of something called an ayotl. No one there explained to him what an ayotl was but Black and Evo were evidentially going to Atlantis in one.

First they would have to cross the canyon, bridge by bridge by way of horse drawn carriage toward the ayotl port. Apparantly it was some kind of land-harbor for creatures fit for mass transit to the other side of the continent. He made himself comfortable inside the kingly carriage and blankly examined the velvet cushions and gold leaf trimmings. The windows were covered by unrolled curtains and Black briefly despised them for robbing his view.

Evo who couldn’t fit, had to trot alongside. Emperor Xu had requested Black read the story of how Capriis was saved from drought through an appeal to several gods of various bodies of water.

Black had already read this passage but as he wanted to distance himself from conversation however he employed his nose with smelling the fresh pages.

The book rehearsed the tale of Poseidon and his rewarding of heroic deeds, desperate pleas and sacrifice with the fountain that now stood at the city’s center. ‘It continues to provide,’ the historian relayed, ‘a pure everlasting spring for all the inhabitants of Capriis.’

The trip to the land-port was short and anticlimactically uneventful. Black was nearly finished with the tale as their personal bellhops began unloading the coach. With that page still in his remembrance, Black’s mind wandered to Atlantis. Hadn’t he heard somewhere that Poseidon was connected with that place somehow?

His thoughts of course didn’t ponder the subject long before entreating the prospect of a meeting there. Notions soared instantly, like his brain had a magical map of its own, to Heythabyr and fixated on the girl with the blue eyes. It was even enough to push the impending task and warnings of danger from his mind.

No idea where he had left off reading Black pretended to finish just in time considering how it had been the perfect excuse not to have to help with any luggage, or listen to Evo yammer on about the significance of Echo’s proverb. Evo had even made sure to add current information about price hikes of Charon’s death toll and complain about how the river Styx is all the rage these days instead of the traditional Acheron. Had he been talking this whole time?

 “The point is…” Evo explained to himself at the side of the coach, also trying not to move his fair share of the luggage, even if all of it was his. Black closed the book with a thump and pulled himself from the wagon. He easily tuned Evo out as he set out to discover just what an ayotl was.

It took a few moments for Black to be sure of what he was looking at. Dwarfing the hills around them was the colossal herd of tortoises like a small mountain range giving the landscape form.  There were tortoises departing and arriving in a spacious field. Each had rows of tiny holes on its shell where people were going in or out of the hollow undershell.

Other animals skittered, screeched and scurried between, around and above them carrying out countless tasks. Some flew off carrying passengers and others trotted away alone. Creatures of all sorts bound for exotic destinations began their journeys while others greeted new arrivals. An incredible variety of mobile creatures were domesticated and employed for transportation on both massive and small scales. For further travel Black was informed passengers could connect to similarly colossal sea turtles, in addition to the conventional boat. It was like a living airport and Evo pointed directly to their particular flight.

As they approached the gargantuan reptile by the sign labeled “Brenda,” Black found his legs grow heavier. His pace slowed in a subconscious refusal toward the incredible. It felt like some movie from a distance but the closer he got to boarding a giant turtle the more real the experience felt. The tortoise resembled a major airlines’ largest passenger jet more than it did an animal, in fact, Black thought, it would probably eat jumbo jets given the chance. As he pondered, the possibilities of a terrifying beast this size carrying hundreds of passengers across great distances safely, boggled his mind. Then the question of what it ate popped in his head.

Black’s thought process was jammed. Several comments pushed their way to the surface each wanting to be said. Instead the passengers were all cramming into the doorway wanting to be seated and Black just stood and mumbled a little bit. Questions and exclamations fought a small battle aided by disbelief and wonder. Everything from ‘holy crap’ to ‘no way am I getting in that thing’ crossed his lips but in the end his newly sparked thirst for knowledge pushed out the victorious comment, a single word. “How?”

Teasing, Evo responded also with only one word. “Magic.”

Black’s jaw opened and shut again silently. He decided it might be best not to think and simply enjoy their first class cabin, fully furnished and partitioned off from the rest of the frequent flyer’s section.

Having a few relatively uneventful days did wonders for Black’s nerves. He grew more accustomed to the idea of living in a wonderland with the passing of each hour. The first few days on the journey were long and ordinary apart from magic practice and sword fighting lessons, all of which took place with a centaur, on the top of a giant tortoise’s shell. They tried knocking each other off to the distant ground below. The first successful attempt showed Black that Evo wasn’t joking. Black had lost his footing against an overly aggressive thrust and slipped on some moss that grew in a small surface crack.

Tumbling toward the deadly crunch of the four massive columns beneath the creature, Black began spinning as Evo toyed with his knowledge and skill in levitation. To Evo’s dismay Black was not afraid of heights, but rather liked the rollercoaster daredevil feel of being levitated above imminent doom and fear of being trampled to death. Evo cancelled the lesson defeatedly as Black seemed to have fallen off on purpose.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Pantheon: Table of Contents

Chapter One: Gaia
Chapter Two: Beyond the Curtains
Chapter Three: Heist
Chapter Four: Reward
Chapter Five: High Tide
Chapter Six: Answers
Chapter Seven: Meetings
Chapter Eight: A New Life
Chapter Nine: Turtle-ing
Chapter Ten: The Capitol of the World
Chapter Eleven: The Relic of Ruta
Chapter Twelve: Seeking Illumination
Chapter Thirteen: Wisdom
Chapter Fourteen: Heads
Chapter Fifteen: The Guardian and the Garden
Chapter Sixteen: The Secrets of Lancelot
Chapter Seventeen: Wings
Chapter Eighteen: Familiar Faces
Chapter Nineteen: The Recycling Plant
Chapter Twenty: Horrors
Chapter Twenty One: The Day of the Dead


Epilogue TBD

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Pantheon Chapter 1: Gaia (second/final draft) for feedback

Pantheon
Chapter One: Gaia

‘Keep alive,’ the orphan came with instructions. At five years old Richard was left on the porch as someone doorbell ditched the Las Vegas City fire department. Everyone who knew him since then, at some point, felt a desire to disobey the explicit command.

In ignorant defiance to the commotion all around him the young teenager stared out the high museum windows. Rainless, the tempest flickered in through and bounced off the marble floors, casting twisted split second shadows on the other delinquents as they were searched for contraband. From behind his black cheek-length hair Richard looked past the prison-like bars into the vacant sky, waiting for the stranger.

He smirked as the shaky hand of part-time justice dealt with the other delinquents. Richard had tricked the other boys into an excursion on the strip for game and glory. He had not met them as promised at the rendezvous point. Instead Richard, with a perfect diversion had made his way to the nearby campus to lift electronics off careless coeds and lazy bachelors.

‘Keep alive.’ All his life he wondered what kind of people would leave a note like that. ‘Weird old idiots,’ he concluded. Despite his unknown parentage the city declared Richard to be Caucasian. He never understood what that meant. No one ever offered a straight answer when he asked where Caucasia was. Adults either scolded his attitude or chuckled and ruffled his pitch hair. By now he had stopped asking questions, but there were always questions. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why was he just abandoned? Most importantly why couldn’t he remember? At fourteen or fifteen he knew he should still have memories of the fire station and before. The answers, like his parents, simply escaped him.

There were only the scattered mental images of constant migration between boy’s ranches and foster homes. Especially unhappy at his current middle-of-nowhere slave labor camp he considered running away. He hated the remoteness of the place. It was easier to cope alone in a crowd than feel like a sore thumb on guy with one hand. Thankful for the short field trip he was currently watching the windows of some smelly moth-ball museum in the heart of Las Vegas. 

It was late and dark outside. The chaperones scurried about in a worried frenzy over a few missing delinquents and the impending storm. Richard couldn’t help but laugh. He, the alleged “Ring Leader” of the nonconformists, had just been praised for his current presence. Richard smirked. If it weren’t for his compelling the other boys to try their luck on the Vegas strip he wouldn’t have the brand new mp3 player in his pocket, and they were the ones to take the heat. What use were some vacationer’s credit cards anyway? A few chips were nothing to him in the middle of a go-nowhere boys ranch compared to eighty gigabytes of free music, courtesy of some unattended backpack at the nearby college lab.

Repressing disgust for the various exhibits and displays around him, Richard had made himself comfortable in a corner with a particularly nice stone wall on which to lean. Concealing perfectly, coupled with his new hooded sweatshirt, his tan face and the surprisingly snug headphones. He made sure his music was loud enough that he didn’t have to hear the adults arguing.

“Have you questioned Rich-“

“A million and a half times. He said they mentioned the strip.”

“There’s no way we can make it back in this weather.”

“Yes we can, it’s not even raining and the news reports-”

“But if it starts, the road will be too muddy for this bus and since when has the news ever been right?”

“What are you saying, that we spend the night here?”

“If it comes to it, with the boys and all I’d rather spend the night here than stuck on some dirt road halfway to the ranch.”

The adults’ argument was masked by screeching guitars, drums, and the latest electronic bleeps.

Richard, that was what they named him. Sometimes, the more annoying tried their luck with Richie, but anyone who knew better called him Black. The children often used made up names. It was his favorite color, his dress code and coincidentally his hair was as dark as a moonless midnight. He liked it so much that he went so far as to dye his already black hair just to make it look deliberate.

 Black was both Richard’s title and surname as he saw it. He was the black sheep of the Lost Vegas boys. No foster family kept him. Valiant couples saw Black as a parenting challenge or as their divine project. Embracing rejection, he never let them tame him. Although he liked the foster homes best, he got sick of them quickly. Sooner or later he always bounced back to the state, and he preferred it that way, not that he liked the state itself, but Nevada nags a lot less than would-be-mothers on a mission. The better they got to know him the more they tried to “help” him. Above all he didn’t like the feeling that he belonged anywhere. He needed to keep moving.

Standing in the corner ignoring the world around him he was simply indifferent like nothing affected him. He thought of himself as a shadow, only frightening if you fear it. Patient and tactful he was only cutthroat if provoked.

The other boys’ return cued Black’s volume finger, as he watched the silent scene, music now blasting louder than before. Black did regret that he had not seen their faces when they fruitlessly searched for him on the strip. The mental movie played out in his mind, the boys found the strip and no Black. They would look for hours before getting caught by angry social workers and dragged back to the museum. Their play time utterly wasted they were now being tried and sentenced. They would later tell Black, who had a superb alibi for not meeting them where he promised, that he was lucky he wasn’t caught, and he’d just shrug. He kept the volume up, the mental movie was good enough, and providentially the mp3 player was absolutely loaded with everything he liked.

After the public reprimand the group was admonished to “go one last time.” Black continued leaning like a lazy sentinel as the rest of the crew filtered in and out of the bathroom, legs crossed and arms folded. Some other boys approached him, curious to know of his exploits. Black was revered for his ability to attain certain forbidden articles. Negotiating his way out of the ranch as often as possible, every trip to the city was a chance to practice his art as the remote desert kept the children in the ranch.

Unfearing retaliation, he shooed them all away. Last field trip proved that none were willing to rat him out when staff caught a boy with a portable video game device. Now, with a trip to the city, Black’s peer was anxious to have the confiscated device replaced with another newer gaming system.

“No deal,” he announced to the expectant fellow rancher. “You got nothing I want anymore.”

“But I-”

“You heard me, take a hike!”

With a particular waving motion of his hand Black ushered the other barterer away. In truth, for the first time, he wasn’t able to obtain the requested goods. Distracted during his collection run, a skinny long haired and scruffy man at the university had caught him rummaging through backpacks. Instead of capture the man had approached Black and offered change which he readily accepted.  Life off the grid, and a chance to learn professional thievery, packaged with the promise of never getting caught, ultimate freedom was all the enticing he needed to agree.

Black turned back towards the window. Tonight was the night he was leaving. He wondered why he hadn’t done it sooner. Free food and scarcity of cash were just excuses. But now he had met someone, someone different from the regular runaway or criminal.  This one was smarter.  Richard felt somehow he wouldn’t get killed or caught with him. He continued to watch the window.

Black stayed in that corner even after everyone was asleep. Outside, the flash and bangs worsening it was still dry in the city. The intensified lightning helped Black keep alert, now sitting against a wall in the designated corner of the museum’s entrance hall.

The museum was quiet, closed under care of security guards. Richard didn’t know how the stranger would come, but if he could it would serve as the proof that the stranger was telling the truth. With reservation, Black envisioned the epic jailbreak it would require, but the man seemed to know exactly how he would do it. It was all the same to him, he wasn’t going to challenge. Questions got people like him into trouble, not authority trouble but trouble with trouble itself.

Black waited for what only seemed like a few minutes, but could have been hours. He was too indifferent for time to get to him.

The moment finally came, quietly, unnoticed. The wall behind him began to grow warmer steadily under the cover of the storm’s humidity. Black shot up to his feet, back sweating. Half expecting to see that he had been sitting against a broken radiator he stepped away annoyed. Looking back, unflinching and stifling disbelief as a section of wall appeared to melt before his eyes. No one seemed to notice as a stranger stood alone in the opening, hair blowing on the edges of a hood. A black coat ran to the strangers’ knees.

“Black, we’re going.” The stranger beckoned with a follow-me motion and turned towards the night.  The air was filled with a cool storm breeze. Though lightning flashed the sky, still no rain fell in the city, there was only wind and shadow. As they strolled away from the outer walls of the museum Black saw the wall close up as if nothing had happened. To the rest of the world, that was the night Black disappeared.

Richard left all of his things in his backpack, even a few things he had stolen that looked valuable, he wanted to leave the impression that he simply vanished. He wanted them to wonder why he didn’t take anything with him. He thought about a suicide note but it seemed to him a mystery, the unknown, was more fitting. He just showed up one day and now he was simply gone.

Before returning to that museum that evening, just in case he was searched, he had stashed some of his other newly acquired goods in a hollow tree close by. Wanting to get them he asked the Stranger.

“Shut your mouth you. You can’t take it where we’re going anyway, and as much as I like practicing my English I’d rather you just shut up.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation.

It was all the same to Black. He was now envisioning walls melting all over the world. Glass display cases, vault doors and even prison bars in his mind disappeared effortlessly with each new imagined caper.

Descending into the deep shoulder of a freeway underpass the rushing of sixteen wheelers on a four lane highway fazed him back into reality. They stepped down into the ditch stopping at a metal grating guarding a drainage hole. The stranger touched it and it too melted. Black’s arm was grabbed and he was pulled to the hole.

“Get in!”

“You’re full of-“

“Get in yourself or it will hurt more when I stuff you down.”

Black nearly pulled out his knife but his better judgment took over and he cautiously climbed in. He was no match for a wall melter and whatever else the stranger was, nor did Black think it wise to find out presently. His feet hit a splashy ground that he didn’t know was coming so soon and he fell to one knee.

“Not bad kid. A natural faller. You might add up to something.”

“Thanks uh,” Black paused, “What’s your name anyway?”


“I guess you’re going to hear it sooner or later,” the slender man consented. “The name’s Yuki.” A meager offering he pressed onward.

After a little walk in pure darkness being pushed from behind by Yuki, Black saw a bright flash and instantly felt a sharp pain in his head.  When he came to he was laying in some rancid water next to a set of short wide steps. It took no time at all for his eyes to adjust to the dim light emanating but his surroundings were still unrecognizable. He started to look around trying not to seem awake.

Soon the darkness past the steps became an archway and there appeared a light. As the light drew nearer it grew a pair of arms and then a body, someone was holding the light, ‘Yuki that backstabber!’

“Sorry kid, it was necessary, would have been mounds of trouble. We’re there now so get up.”

As Black got to his feet he opened his mouth but was cut off.

“Just shut up and listen. I need to know everything you have on you, down to every little hairpin and piece of string. Put it on the table or it’ll be your head.”

“What the-“

“Do it now and don’t make me ask again.”

Black started emptying his pockets and Yuki barked “Everything.”  He didn’t have much, a small stiletto and a big hunting knife. There was a little utility piece that consisted of a miniature compass and a lock pick and a few other little pocket knife type tools. There was a little cash and a lighter. Black wasn’t about to hand over the new mp3 player he had just recently adopted.

“If that’s not everything you’ll be dead or in prison in less than an hour, and believe me you won’t like this sort of prison.”

Black subdued a few nerves that started to perk up, having kept his mp3 player from Yuki’s grasp. A few seconds pause, but minutes calmer, he pulled off his left shoe. He took out the insole and then withdrew a thin piece of metal with a nasty spike on the end. There were a few holes in the piece, a skinny pair of steel knuckles. A butterfly knife came from the hollow sole his right shoe.

“Do you have any necklaces or jewelry?”

“No.”

“Really? No piercings?”

A ring and a bar went from his lip and tongue to the table.

“Happy?”

“Don’t get smart, ant.” Yuki smirked as he pulled something out of a coat pocket. It was a small black and brown box with a square hole in one end. He held it so that the hole faced outwards and took few steps over to the table. Light in one hand, box in the other, he lowered them both to the table. Yuki touched the hole-side of the box to the first knife, the stiletto. It melted and disappeared, then the butterfly. Everything black had melted and disappeared until the large hunting knife was the only thing on the table. “This is ugly, besides it won’t be much good to you anymore.”

Black stood there with a protest deep in his throat. Not knowing what to say as Yuki seemed to materialize a white chalky disc from nowhere. Yuki picked up the knife and tapped it to the disc. The blade turned to dust and was sucked into the disc. Black stood in awe, that disk was solid no mistake, yet it sucked the dust into it.

“No more questions squirt?”

Black dared, opening his mouth-

“Good, stay shut up, you’ll live longer.”

“No,” Black complained, “I need some information. You choose what you’re going to tell me, it won’t matter what I ask, but you tell me something before you or I make another move.”

With a wide still hooded grin, Yuki retorted almost sinisterly, “Ok kid, you’ve earned it, but keep your shorts on. I work in a little different line of smuggling than you think. This is a border unlike any you’ve ever seen, and I always have plenty of tricks up my sleeve. This box is a smugglers hole.  It can store huge amounts of just about anything, even someone unconscious. How’s your head by the way?”

“You put me…that’s-“


“That’s what, impossible? Or magic? Ha, kid, keep your eyes open.” With that Yuki touched the side of the box, stroked the corner, closed his eyes, and pulled a three foot long sword out of the box. “This, my friend, once belonged to a man named Gilgamesh,” his proud announcement was met with a blank stare. “Don’t know your history eh?” He traced the box, and closing his eyes Yuki then pulled out “something you might have heard of, the staff of Merlin. And this,” he boasted as he pulled a third time, “is the helm of Hades, worn and lost by Perseus.”

Something about the last item rang a bell but the name to which the staff belonged he knew. “So what?”

“So what?” Yuki repeated in disbelief. “These artifacts are hundreds of years old and worth a fortune, but the point is this box can hold just about anything you want. I put you in there. On our way down here in the tunnels I heard voices. There’s never any way to know who a voice in the dark belongs to so I stuffed you in here. It’s easier to defend myself alone, and smuggling extremely rare and expensive artifacts requires serious skill, especially where we’re going, so I don’t need you screwing it up!”

“So where are we going?”

“Nowhere that you would believe. Now, it’s easy to hide anything in the box. It’s the box itself that takes some effort in hiding. There’s a few ways to do it, you can make it appear to be something it’s not.” He illustrated, somehow turning the box into a scarf.  “It doesn’t always last long and there are rarely any options since you can’t take anything with you to this place.” The scarf turned back to a box. “Clothing is a number one suspect for hiding things by the way, so it won’t work here. Or you can try to dilute it into the air,” he did not demonstrate, “an easy thing to do but very unreliable. The chances of finding it are slim, the chances of being able to get it back are slim, and the chances of it being detected are not so slim, but the feat is the easiest to perform.

A third option, my personal preference; reversing the magic of the box on itself, much the same as melting it into air but a little more specific. With a little magical skill and tolerance for pain you can melt it into yourself.” He stared at the box for a minute or two then jammed two of his fingers in the hole. While saying something under his breath the box began to melt. Yuki pulled his fingers apart and turned the box inside out. Then he clapped his hands together around the box. There was an absorbing silence that followed and he opened his hands to show nothing but air like a magic card trick when the card ended up in your sleeve.

“It’s painful, but they’ll never find it.” That moment Black saw a deep red smear on the palm of Yuki’s hand. Curious, he looked at the other and saw blood seeping out of a cut so deep he expected to see through to the back of the hand. Yuki dressed the wound like it was an involuntary response. Jaw gaping, Black agreed with Yuki’s previous assumption about his disbelief. ‘Ok this guy gets some credit. That was way cool,’ he applauded mentally, which only made him more curious about his destination.

 “Great marring,” Yuki continued, “will stand out under the Aegis Oculi.  And just so you know kid very few people know this method even exists and fewer can achieve it,” he paused, “we’ve wasted enough time already, we need to move. I’ll even tell you why. We are in one of many antechambers. This room is where you may purchase a locker,” he directed, pointing at some heavy metal doors on the sides of the walls. Black had not noticed those before. “Almost anything of this sphere cannot be taken to the other, vice versa. I take what I want where I want. With that Yuki went over to a chest next to some lockers opened it and started rummaging.

“You didn’t tell me why.”

“Eh, so I didn’t. Here put these on.” In Yuki’s arms was a bundle of interesting looking cloth.

“No way!”

“You’re going to wish you did.”

“Yeah I’m sure I will big guy.”

“Alright kid,” Yuki chuckled. “You know best. Come on, time to go.”

Sunday, December 11, 2011

the "diagon alley" scene in my novel Pantheon.


Facing the web of busy streets and still lively stores he felt a strong thirst come over him as he entered the trade district of the city. He easily found the same sweet drink he had been ordered by Yuki only a few nights ago. It felt so long since he was on that boat, crossing Lake Mead. It of course had a different name in Gaia, one that was hard to pronounce even if he had been granted a magical fluency for the language. He got a second beverage to go. As he sipped on the blend of cactus pear and pomegranate he meandered through Capris’ busy nighttime shopping scene. The pub hadn’t been arranged for effective thievery but he managed to get in plenty of practice on the adjacent street.
Black was put into a state of wonderment by all the things he saw. There was Dead Sea Alchemy, an apothecary that smelled different each time he turned his head to look at something new. It was something like a cross between a garden, a kitchen and a garage. As Mortimer, the curator went to retrieve a silver pestle he was going on about, Black nicked what looked like an assortment of precious stones.
After declining the sale price and losing interest Black found Lod’s Carpentry: Specialty Wand and Staff Sellers, est. 1065. Black failed to recollect being told that Gaiean counting began in what he knew as five-forty-two A.D. He criticized just how old the store really could have been as he considered magical building maintenance. Whatever the truth was judged the freshly carved wood shavings that were tucked into the corners of the floor and sticking out from the edges of dusty floor rugs. There were glass cases with fancy oversized locks, filled with the most intricate looking batons and staves he had ever seen.
He wondered if the clerk would be in more trouble for the mess all over the store or for the missing padlocks. Black hadn’t taken anything inside the cases. The mental image he got of himself waving a wand at people was ridiculous, and his curiosity proved that the locks could indeed just be melted whole, into his box. He justified that they would look pretty sweet on the outside of his bedroom door at the castle.
Black didn’t take anything from the armories and weaponries he saw but he made a mental note of their inventory all the same. He was feeling so good by now that he even gave a freshly pick pocketed beggar one of his own coins back.
Feeling like he had just won the world labyrinth championship, for which he saw poster advertise, he wandered into a sporting goods emporium. It was shaped like a coliseum, after which it was named, with the center of the main floor being open to the pit below. The walls were lined with banners and the official jerseys of select teams from around the world. Clubs, spiked and otherwise, along with an array of sticks, poles, pokers and non-lethal weapons comprised about half of the store. The second story of the building housed cages full of balls with feet, flags with a handful of legs and dozens of eyes and all sorts of flying objects. Black didn’t find the stairs to the third story so he went down instead, to take a look at the fighting pit.
As he descended the ramp to the lower level it occurred to him why the store had seemed so strange to him. None of the odd magical items or vicious looking equipment were to Black the strangest thing about the store. The hardest thing to wrap his head around was the fact that all throughout the place the dominant sport still seemed to be plain old regular soccer. From the levitating displays or league sized balls to the cleats that scurried about from department to department keeping what looked like a reluctant but professional distance from the customers. Among the larger displays that read football were shin guards but not wrist guards or body armor. There were apparently smaller less popular variations of soccer, some involving magic or brutality but the basic stripped down sport seemed to have the bulk of the attention.
He noticed that even in the fighting pit were small magical pets playing the sport. In fact there was an entire pet section surrounding the arena, which he didn’t understand since there was a whole pet store, also three stories tall, next door.
The animals in Pandora’s Pet Shop however didn’t meet regulation standards he found out from one of the smelly sales clerks. He thought about buying a monkey but exercised a bit of better judgment before the salesman got too far into his pitch.
Browsing New Dynasty: Fine Clothier’s, Black stole the closest thing he could find to a pair of jeans and a hoodie. He thought they looked decent enough to actually buy but he felt the store didn’t deserve it as he didn’t know how on earth he would get the smell of caked-on cologne out of them. Maybe he would end up burning the clothes instead. He hoped they wouldn’t make the other items in his box stink. He carried on inattentively past a theater, a bank, and a music store, fuming that with two entirely separate worlds he still wasn’t able to find decent looking clothes without getting a headache.
His appetite quickly returned when he walked past the familiar looking Scrollery and Bounds that smelled oddly unlike papyrus, parchment and paper but like fresh watermelons. No watermelon cart in sight however, he shrugged and decided to try a few odd delicacies from the street vendor that had taken the now available space.
Enjoying the skewers of tempura hydra eyes immensely he grew bolder and tried some pickled Scythian Vegetable Lamb that went very well with it. Black then discovered his new least favorite food, the very enticing looking but vomit-worthy fish sucker. He forgot what it was called but that’s what it amounted to and he hurriedly finished off the cactus drink he had been carrying around. Directing his gaze anywhere but the eyes of the cackling lady under the umbrella he realized he was missing about half of the view.
Shoppers stealthily zoomed above him around the upper levels of the street on flying carpets. Like a light bulb suddenly appeared above his head, he changed his direction and found his way back to the carpet shop he had seen the day before.
The seller was a skinny man, bald, and wearing brightly colored robes. He wore a wide smile and tiny spectacles over his pickle shaped nose. He looked Indian and he clapped his hands together and bowed once at Black as he entered and once at a statue of what looked like a girlish and cross legged version of himself. He definitely had an accent that couldn’t have been from Capris, based on Black’s developing knowledge of the language and the variety of the other dialects he had now been exposed to.
“De card reada told me you would be bahk again,” exclaimed the excited merchant.
“You sell flying carpets here?” Black inquired.
“Yes Yes I am selling de best capets in alla da cidy. Come come look!”
Black was led into the back room of the shop where there were no shelves, racks or hangers draping carpets from the ceilings. This room was instead full of carpets perfectly and evenly spaced hovering one over another, large ones near the bottom with smaller rugs at the top. Looking at the pyramid shaped displays Black saw himself flying over sand dunes in the desert, the air whirring in his ears as he soared past the pyramids and dived down to the waters of the Nile.
“Which is de one you are wanting?” asked the almost bouncing seller.
“Nothing too big, but not the smallest one either. Something fast,” was Blacks response. “I’ve never been on one before.”
“OOHHHH,” said the merchant in awe as he dropped the rugs he was carrying. He clapped his hands and they all flew back to their places. “I know just de one. De card reada told to me dhat you must not hava children’s rug, no you mustn’t.” He disappeared into a dark doorway almost before he had finished speaking. He popped out another doorway that Black was sure he hadn’t seen a minute ago.
“I ‘ave been working on dis rug just for you, it is fate.” As he untied the rolled carpet in his arms it unrolled itself and flew around the room. “Many men come in here for my wild rugs. I cannot keep dem on de shelves, actually de don’t on shelves. I cannot keep dem in de store, but dis one iz not a wild rug. Dis is my most diziplined, my fastest and my most agile creation. It is not a beginna’s rug, but it will deach you to fly like an Indian carpet racer.”
The rug was the most extraordinary thing Black had ever seen. It was red and gold, intricately woven and embroidered, adorned with black tassels in the corners. The pattern didn’t look like a typical Indian design or like anything from that part of the world as far as Black could tell. It had harsh edges and long points that reminded Black of some gothic cathedral. It was like no flying carpet he had ever imagined, not that he had spent much time imagining flying. There was one kid in one of his temp-homes, as he called them, also a foster child, who was obsessed with fantasy and mythology. Whenever the nerdy boy was asked what he wanted for Christmas he said it was a sword, or a magic wand, or a flying broomstick. Feigning interest Black had tauntingly told him that a flying broomstick would be a dumb idea and that a flying carpet was the way to go. Now here he was in a room full of them.
“How much?”
“Id iz da best one I have in de store but de card reada said I must be fair, or de godz will go crazy on me.”
Black didn’t negotiate very hard before he hovered out of the store. Exhilarated he blew upwards past the many stories of the city weaving around the bridges and walkways. He rocketed upwards like he was being chased again. He actually passed more people in the air than he thought he would have. He determined the way to see this city was not from above or below but by sailing in between the buildings, circling the towers, seeing all sides and every angle.
The flying wasn’t too difficult for Black. Just as the merchant had said the carpet seemed to be trying to teach Black maneuvers and technique. It seemed anticipate his every move. Black wondered to just what degree the carpet was programmed. Then he remembered there were no fiber optic cables woven in with the threads. There was no on board nav-computer with satellite gps. ‘This is as magical as it gets,’ he told himself when the carpet guided him into a sharp dive toward a waterfall. He wouldn’t have minded a sound system though.
The October air changed drastically as Black spiraled over, under and around the innumerable viaducts from the north rim’s downtown area to the suburbs of the south rim. It was much warmer down here looking up at the city past all the massive stone arches. Impossible temples, built on skinny sandstone peaks linked together the raised highways. He gripped the tassels of his carpet tighter as he imagined having to try and traverse all the connections on foot. He soared up high again, about even with the north rim and looked down at the man-made web.
All across the whole canyon, branching out from diverse pinnacles the clusters of paths looked like the roots of great trees.  Little clusters of denser city surrounded the monuments dotting the expanse where traffic intersected. Of course there was a main highway and an aqueduct that snaked out from the fountain of Poseidon, carrying with it water to the rest of the city.
Black wondered how much of the everlasting spring was underground in the city in order to supply this many of its residents. After some time of uncharacteristic star gazing, lying on his back gliding back toward the city center where it was cooler he decided he ought to head back to the castle.
All in all he felt like it had been an excellent first run. He only felt like he might fall off a few times and he only once nearly decapitated himself flying too close to the claws of a dragon. He wondered how keen people in this city were to swear at other flyers as he came within sight of the palace.
Black appreciated his new perspective as he saw the castle complex in more detail than one could at ground level. He thought he found his tower room in the complex and steering with the soft black tassels he pointed the carpet towards it.
Something flashed in his eyes as his body crumpled into an invisible wall. Black felt the stomach tossing feeling of a free fall for only a few seconds before he blacked out.