With closed eyes, his index finger and thumb pinched the air just outside the hole of the box and pulled. Finding the lengthy but slender continent in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean he folded and closed his eyes.
It hadn’t occurred to him that it would be shortly after midnight there, but the city was large enough that time was less significant. The great capitol of the world, Atlantis, was energetic around the clock. A disregard for time surmounted as he witnessed the bustle from within closed doors. The map had brought him into a tall ceilinged and vacant apartment. Inside there was nothing to see.
Outside the industrious world teemed with life, businessmen, trades workers, and tourists all with a tight schedule. Black felt at home. Incubating a love for the big city he found a suitable pace, drew up his hood, plugged his ears and set the volume at a near uncomfortable high.
The city was well lit, as if it sat on the surface of a reflecting pool to the heavens. False fires and enchanted metals and stones glistened under the navy canopy. Black gazed, starry-eyed at the Milky Way. He thought of terrene and it’s polluted skies. He wondered what other small normalities of Gaia he would find surprising. Focusing on the view of our galaxy he thought of when he had last eaten and deemed it time for at least a snack.
Within an hour and a half Black had discovered the unmistakable scent of Chimera dung, navigated the outer rings described by Plato, pick pocketed an elven nobleman and tasted phoenix hot wings. Despite its supposed rarity it seemed overpriced, especially since the bird cooked itself.
All in all he gave the city a five star rating, plenty of thieving opportunities, decent food, gorgeous female creatures from a dizzying array of origins, and the architecture was stunning. Having hellenic origins the towers and temples of Poesidon’s city displayed more curves and intricate design than any ancient Greek buildings he had seen pictures of. Gold and silver leaf adorned even the most decrepit of stones and the famous blood red orichalcum gave the ancient capitol a sense of modern design.
Giddy with the world literally at his fingertips Black made a mental note to visit soon and he studied archaic continental outlines for a rivaling destination.
Paris stood out to him, marked by one of the larger sized dots. Black remembered the mock Eiffel tower he had seen in Las Vegas. He had eaten a crepe at that particular casino before. It seemed that if a non-magical Paris could house such an iconic landmark then the magical counterpart ought to be on par with Atlantis. He tried his luck.
Immediately standing in a cemetery on a hill overlooking a sprawling mass of urban development Black scanned the skyline for a tower ten times as high as the Eiffel. Disappointed he realized he was in an independent world, not just some magic mirror image of reality, but a stand alone, autonomous sphere.
He checked his Map again, less particular and saw the strange lettering of the Vikings nearby. North east of Camelot he saw Heiðabýr. Currently assuming he’d sample the world before the night was over he pressed one side of the soft treated hide to the other. The short distance between the two map markers was exaggerated as the new destination appeared before him. Black stepped out onto a balcony and gripped the railing tightly as the whole structure seemed unstable. The air was frigid and overbearingly dense fog embraced him. Black’s sense of adventure heightened.
“What is this?” he mused.
Small orange fires, barely visible, blazed in the distance. Below they appeared faint as if viewed through a veil of water, but that didn’t account for the fires above him, or the sound of waves underneath the patio on which he was perched.
Fumbling with Yuki’s stash, Black retrieved his own flying carpet and tore off into the fog. Narrowly missing the sharp claws of a wooden gargoyle perched atop an adjacent rooftop he steadied his pace. Black realized as he began to descend that Heiðabýr wasn’t a network of houseboats as he was beginning to think, but a collage of super towers and skyscrapers.
Black found the night to be clear as day below the low lying cloud cover. Chilly and damp he followed his nose to a warm smelling nighttime bakery. He stopped in for a warm drink and some bread.
As he warmed himself he sized up the square that rested outside the windows of this cozy shop. Stately looking structures stood on all sides. Several alleyways branched off in various directions, but the balconies were what gripped his gaze. This was a flying town. Valkyries and seraphs leaped and hovered to and from door to door, going to and fro without touching the grassy streets.
The hustle of the city had an eerie sound to it. Fluttering like an aviary during mealtime, the aerie of hundreds of Heiðabýrian wings echoed underneath the tumbling cumulus.
Finishing his drink Black stepped out alone onto the grassy field. Feeling out of place under the air traffic he considered a new destination. The marker for Babylon had caught his eye as he was bringing Heiðabýr closer. He thought it would be a nice warm contrast to the icy Viking capitol. Making his way toward a covered alley under whose seclusion he could inconspicuously travel his path was broken by a shower of shattering glass.
“Hey watch it!” he yelled. “Some people are walking here!”
Realizing how silly that must sound in this town he ducked for the cover of a second story porch.
He heard someone push aside a few window remains and offer apology and go back to whatever sort of ruckus that was pushing the more breakable elements to their limits. Whoever had made the voice sounded young, out of breath, and at pretty. Black wondered if she were in a fight and needed help. Once again retrieving his carpet he took to the skies.
Through the jagged opening he realized this girl was indeed in the middle of a fight. A couple years his senior, she was effectively sparring with what appeared to be a trainer. They both wore heavy coats and carried massive pole arms. Black watched them practice moves and counters over and over again. He understood the heavy coats to be part of the training, having often worn layers of sweats weightlifting and in the various martial arts classes he had taken. Foster parents always seemed to think they could subdue angst and help give an orphan structure and discipline. For Black all they did was open his eyes to the different styles of fighting and instill a mischievous desire to test them all out. This girl was using a style unlike any he had ever seen.
As she was knocked to the floor by her trainer he caught a glimpse of her face. Matching her voice her features were striking but soft. Cropped white hair and eternally blue eyes, thin lips and a resolute determination caught Black like a siren singing to a weary sailor.
“Hey! Vayursh.” It sounded like the girls trainer was chanting some spell at him as he was caught peeping. Black ducked and sped off down the alleyway. Not looking back to see if he was being followed, he grabbed his map, found the next town and saved himself from hitting the hard brick end to the alleyway.
The escapades of the evening had taken their toll as Black fatigued. He decided to return to his new room in Capriis. After all he was scheduled to travel again toward Atlantis in the morning and he needed what little time was left to sleep.
That night his subconscious forced him to run from a gorgeous girl with glass hair and a sharp poleax, never getting any farther from her and always wanting to turn around and meet her.
