The Traveling King by Maxwell Blue
AEMILIA
Under a willow tree, Aemilia Hillstone wrote in her journal with Luc at her side. Below her in the valley lay Brimm, a small farming village nettled around the Graydon Woods.
Graydon was also known as the dead woods for nothing larger than a jack rabbit lived in it. Forty years ago, before the time of the Traveling King, all the big game were hunted to extinction. When the king came to power, the very first thing that he created was the League Foresters. Every forest, no matter how small, had one now. That was the only reason there was still a wolf population in Graydon. The stamp and seal of the King’s Foresters protected them by punishing anyone who might kill one. A couple of years Abraham Gutrich, a farmer who claimed to be terrorized wolves, shot three in one week before he could be apprehended. He was hung of course, but not by his head. King Jerimiah Fofander believed in teachable moments. That is why Gutrich was hung by his ankles for half a day. A sizeable fine and being made an example of, this was the king’s way. He was not a cruel man. Some saw this as a weakness, but those on the receiving end never seemed to mind.
Aemilia didn’t understand the good in protecting the life of a wolf. But who was she to question the king? The only king that she has known in her lifetime and who many say is the best king to rule in a thousand years. She stopped writing mid-sentence. Lost in the moment she forgot herself and looked out into the distant as if she would find the answers out there. From where she sat, all she saw was her village and Graydon Woods that grew beyond it. Aemilia knew every inch of her village. It has been home all of her life and the woods have been her backyard, but there is only so much hiking a person can do on the same trails in the same woods before the routine becomes monotonous and Aemilia felt she was pass that point a long time ago. She was going to be turning eighteen in less than month and she wanted something to show for it.
Luc pokes Aemilia’s leg with his snout. “Oink, oink”
Aemilia looked down and laughed. “You are the best pig in the whole world.” She grabbed both sides of Luc’s little head and shook it gentle. “Aren’t you?”
Luc has been her best friend since she was twelve. She pleaded with her father to let her keep him as a pet and not have him sold to me slaughtered. “A pig for a pet?” she could remember her father say. He didn’t understand, but he let her keep him. “That sure is one lucky pig. What are you going to call it?” Aemilia decided then and there that she was going to call him Lucky – Luc for short. She patted Luc on his head and continued writing. She wrote about her aspirations and her troubles and about her father mostly, who had been gravely ill as of late.
The usual remedies and therapy were not helping. Aemilia was worried that he might die. No one was saying so, yet she knew that was what everyone was thinking. Her father was a stubborn man and he could also be kind and pleasant at times too. She would be devastated if he should die, but she knew that her little brother and mother would take it that much harder. Mom was far from independent and Saxon, who was only fourteen, would be lost without his father.
Then the answer came to her. Aemilia knew what she had to do and even though father would not allow it she felt liked she had been backed into a corner and would be force to do it anyway. Locked in a spot of indecisiveness Aemilia was unaware of someone approaching her from behind.
“Whatcha writing?”
Aemilia recognized the voice instantly, but did not bother to turn around until she finished jotting down her final thoughts into a sentence. “Cason, don’t you know it is simply impolite to sneak up on a woman, especially while she is writing? Were you trying to see if I had written anything about you?”
It wasn’t any secret that Cason Marr had romantic feelings for her. He generally followed her around like Luc did. Cason was the son of the local store keep and he was always trying to win her affections by giving her things. Aemilia did her best to humor him without lending him on.
“How do you like the pen that I gave you,” Cason said with a big grin.
Aemilia closed her journal and twiddled the pen with her fingers. “It is much nicer than a quill.” She then got up and brushed herself off. “Thanks”
Five years ago quills and bottles of ink became obsolete and were replaced with a writing implement known as a pen, a device that can continuous write without needing to replenish its ink from a reservoir. There are those that won’t use them. They say that pens are enchanted with dark magic because no one knows how they work.
Some people have gone to great lengths to break them open, but this was quickly discovered to be an impossible feat. Pens were made from a seamlessly unbreakable metal that no known cutting tool has been able to even starch, which has lend to reports of a few cases of individuals getting the bright idea to use them as weapons. This violent practice has coined a new phrase, “The pen is deadlier that the sword.” This had stirred rumors that Lord Ryon, the creator of the pen, would stop making them and order a recall for the ones that are still in use. However, the kingdom’s love for the pen was so vast that it reverberated into a public outcry that forced the reclusive Lord Ryon to issue a statement declaring, “The pens will remain in production for the foreseeable future.”
“What do you know about Blackwater?” Aemilia asked Carson catching him off guard.
“Blackwater?” Carson questioned. “Are you seriously asking about Blackwater?”
“My grandmother use to live there.” Aemilia said looking in the direction of Blackwater, towards the east.
RYON
Lord Ryon was putting the finishing touches on his latest project. He liked to do something whimsical ever so often. “It’s a crime that there is so little magic in the world. If it falls on my shoulders to put some of it back then so be it.” He was a messy person when it came to his tools. A sea of them were scattered on his work table and Ryon was in the eye of the storm. His grandfather use to say, “A place for everything and everything in it place.” But that didn’t rub off onto Ryon, he rarely put anything back and it was a small miracle that he could find his gear afterwards. As always Ganon Knox and Baron Knox were nearby to lend a hand, they rarely left Ryon’s side and the twins never left each other’s side. They had been inseparable since the womb. They were both dressed in dark colors with knee high black boots and large metal arm bands around their wrists. On their tunics they wore a purple emblem depicting a flash of lightning and a puff of blue smoke. Hung from their belts was a two foot baton. Ryon was six feet tall and the Knox twins towered over him and where Ryon had the grace of a cat the twins had the girth of an ox.
“ Baron, come lift my creation over to the demonstration room.” Ryon said as he closed the compartment he had been working with a wrench.
“ What’s this do?” asked Ganon as Baron picked the machine off of the work table and carried it into the next room. The demonstration room was big enough to house a sporting event so Baron picked a spot just inside.
“Rahu.” Ryon said picking up a remote from the table.
“What does Rahu do?” asked Baron after he placed the machine down in the test area.
“It flies around and burns things.” Ryon said with a smile. “Bring that suit of armor from the wall and place it in front of Rahu.”
“Why make such a machine?” asked Ganon, scratching his head. “It doesn’t sound very useful.”
“I always wanted a dragon when I was growing up.” Ryon said activating the machine with the remote. Rahu’s eyes fluttered open and glowed white like two hot pokers.
“Dragon? What’s that?” Baron asked placing the suit of armor in front of Rahu.
“ That is a dragon.” Ryon said pointing at Rahu who was flapping her wings and swinging her tail. “Didn’t your mommy read to you any stories when you were little?”
“Our mother couldn’t read.” Ganon said hanging his head low for moment. “But she did tell stories, just not stories about dragons.
“ I keep forgetting that I am not of this world.” Ryon said “Well soon enough dragons are going to be known to one and all.” Ryon hit another button on the remote that caused Rahu to leap into the air, the quickness of it made Baron recoil, and then the dragon hovered above the stone floor with long smooth strokes from her black and purple wings.
“ How many are you going to make?” Baron asked as he walked over to his brother.
“ Don’t think how many. Ask how big.” Ryon said stretching his arms to illustrate the size. “Rahu is merely a baby.” Then he clicked the remote one more time and a flume of flames launched from Rahu’s mouth and circled around the suit of armor. In a matter of moments the metal began to buckle and constrict and then finally fall off the iron stand that was holding it.
JADON
"
Nicca. Nicca." Jadon called out. Her name passed through a narrow tunnel-like hallway, echoing in a large anteroom and finally fading off into a series of adjoining rooms. Each room was twice the size of the first. From room to room the arched ceiling rose higher and higher with massive bookshelves on either side of the room. Filtered beams of sunlight passed through support pillars and poles leaving a hatching pattern of shadows and light. Bookshelves reached and stretched in all directions. A maze of books crisscrossed the room and climbed the walls. It took Jadon a couple of minutes to pace out the room. Nicca sat on a large cushion with her legs out stretched and crossed at her ankles. An incredibly large book rested on her lap.
" Doing some light reading?" joked Jadon.
" Yeah," replied Nicca with a little yawn, only slightly amused at his remark. "Nothing wrong with a good book," she replied bookmarking the page she was interrupted at with a quick tap of her right hand. Then she rolled off the cushion she had been resting on and hoped to her feet holding the massive book she had been reading between two fingers of her left hand, she tossed the tome with the ease she would give a stone and it fell onto a granite table top with the clatter of a tin plate. When it came to a stop it flickered for a moment like a spent candle and then it vanished. In its place was a paper thin slab of metal.
" Not any good?" asked Jadon
" I couldn't say, many of the pages were blanks" Nicca said puzzled. Then she looked up from the holographic emitter she had been using and looked over to a wall holding a mountain of real books. All but a few of them were antiques and very collectable. The rest were printed in the last ten years, taken off a number of worlds that still used paper to hold the written word. Whenever father traveled to them he would usually take an object of interest back with him and more often than not it would be a book. He rarely read from them. Before any book ended up anywhere it was first scanned, digitized, translated and stored away into the castle’s computers.
" Maybe you lack the magical skills needed to conjure up a book and its text." Jadon said pointing at the tablet.
" Maybe there is something to be said about a real book."
" How about old and dusty," said Jadon reaching for the tablet Nicca left on the table. "I prefer something a little lighter."
HALEN
Halen Barrick stood on a hill overlooking the Red Dog Tavern. He was cloaked behind bushes just inside of the tree line. He was waiting and watching. Using a spy glass enhanced with what he thought were magical properties; he kept his eye on the entrance of the tavern. Durkee, his operative, was supposed to make contact with him over an hour ago. This is what I get for trusting a dope with the simplest of instructions. It was possible that Durkee has been inside the tavern all this time. For Durkee’s sake he better not be drunk with ale while I have been standing in the bushes all night. That better not be the case Barrick thought.
Swinging his spy glass toward the nearest dirt road he could see a carriage being pulled by a team of four horses. Magnifying the spy glass he could see two of the occupants. One of the two was a pretty young women with long auburn hair, wearing a elegant blue dress and the other was Durkee in all his insobriety. Barrick was able to read lips, but at this vantage point he could not tell what Durkee was saying. Judging by the lady's reaction Durkee must have put his sizeable foot in his mouth because he got a handbag clobbered over his head and was kicked out of the carriage unceremoniously head first. Durkee was a well-rounded individual, awkward in practically all manner of ways. Once he nearly lost his head over a simple wager. He called the wrong man a crook when he refused to cover his bet, a tall man from the wastelands with a short temper. He was a tribesman named Mizyani. “If you don’t have the coin then you are going to have to part with something else of value. Your sword perhaps or maybe a dagger?” That is what set Mizyani off and that is when Barrick intervened on Durkee’s behalf and he has been his loyal blunt tool ever since, mainly that of messenger and a lookout, but not as autonomous as Barrick would like. Durkee operates strictly on a need to know basis. Barrick reached for a small black bead in his vest pocket and threw it at Durkee. Upon hitting the ground it burst into a wondrous green brilliance that no one could possibly miss, though it was some time before Durkee noticed the green light emulating from the black bead. Durkee suffered injuries from his recent fall and was favoring is right leg as he waddled forward. He picked the bead up and it stopped glowing. In the distance Durkee saw another gleaming green light flash out in the forest, from another bead that Barrick held in the palm of his hand. Limping his way up the hill Durkee finally met Barrick behind the tree line.
" Not very smooth with the ladies," taunted Barrick
" I told a couple of raunchy jokes. That was all. It was very innocent--really," explained a very bewildered Durkee.
" You were supposed to be here over an hour ago."
" I know. I know. I missed the first carriage and then I missed the second. I guess three is the charm."
" And you will also be missing two thirds of your pay," tossing a small leather pouch of coins to Durkee. "That's for making me wait. But I will let you keep that bead. I know how much you like shiny things. Now tell me about Torrin."
" Torrin entered the Farmers Square before sunset as you instructed. And he knows to rendezvous with you just outside of the town."
TORRIN
Farmers Square was an empty place after sunset. Most of the shops closed down for the night. Below ground heavy clicking sounds could be heard echoing across the Square. Large orbs begin to flicker and glow like giant fireflies. Hidden in a checkered pattern they quickly replace the dying light of the sun.
Caught off guard by the orbs of light, Torrin clung to a corner of a small specialty store in the center of the Square. Realizing his sudden reaction might draw unwanted attention he slowly moved away from the wall. Below an unlit orb, underneath a long spiraling tree he found a solid stone pyramid with strange angular writing engraved on it. Under the tree's branches he was engulfed in a cover of shadows. This was the Square's directory, but in the darkness he could not read it. Remembering the micro-torch clipped to his belt, he jumped to break off a low-level branch in an effort to light it. On the first and second leaps he came up empty. It took two hands and all his weight to rip the limb completely off. Stepping away from the tree he held the broken end up with one hand while he released the micro-torch from his belt with the other hand. Removing the safety switch he clicked the small button on the side of the torch. Nothing happened. He shook the torch close to his head. He could hear liquid inside the chamber. There was fuel. Extending the torch he gave the torch an additional click. Yes. An angry red flame hissed a controlled three inches from the torch's nozzle.
Before he could bring both arms together to ignite the branch the pyramid, sensing his presence and began to bristle with light. The writings were alive with light. Torrin emptied his left hand of the branch and placed it upon the side of the pyramid facing him. Bluish-white waves of light rippled around his hand as if he placed it into a steady stream. Running his fingers up and down the face of the pyramid he felt an energy that warmed his chilled hand. These letters were cut deep into the face of the pyramid. He traced the angular letters with the fingertips of his left hand while he examined the etching more closely. The light was penetrating where the stone had been cut—bleeding light.
Below the writing was a small window of light. Whatever listing he touched the directory showed the corresponding destination in this window. He tapped the listing of "Ryon Island" and the window revealed a bridge northeast of the Square. Clipping the micro-torch to his belt he traversed the distance through the Square. There were markers, enhanced with the same bluish-white sorcery lending up to where the bridge was supposed to be. When he reached the ravine there was nothing between him and the island.
Standing near the edge was a pillar of glowing stone with a transparent sphere on top. The sphere at first glance was at eye-level when he had approached, but what Torrin had not noticed was the black sand that had rested inside at the bottom of the sphere had begun to swirl around and glow into different colors. Within a moment's time an unfriendly face was formed from the sand.
"Why you be here?" echoed the disembodied head.
"I’ve a package for Lord Ryon." Torrin stood ill at ease at the sight of the sphere and was unable to stand still.
"Who’s sent you?" questioned the head.
"Foster Barrick"
“I see. You may pass. Don't venture off of the path and walk quickly." The sphere dimmed and the sands inside instantly came to a rest.
Beneath his feet the ground began to quake. A grinding sound of rock upon rock could be heard from either side of the ravine. Two glowing arms of rock winged up and joined at the center of the ravine. There was no railing and the bridge was narrow enough to give one pause. Once across the bridge he heard a powerful bark and he instinctually started to backpedal. But the bridge had already started to folded down, descending into the ravine. Unable to escape the way he came he tried to determine the exact direction the barking came from. Without an exit he moved forward with a little more haste in his steps. And the distant barking became louder and more numerous. Breaking into a run he could now distinguish the direction of the approaching danger. It came from behind him, that much he was certain. The size and number of the beasts worried him considerably. Why did the Barrick not warn him of the perils of this island? How am I going to deliver the Emerald Cube if I get himself eaten first?
The path curved and ended, but there was no castle. Just a stone dome supported by incredibly thick columns sheltered a large fish pond. In a defeated and tired fashion he walked up the short flight of steps that circled the structure. A vast field surrounded the pond and beyond that continued the forest. At least the fish were comforting to watch he thought, something to take his mind off the large creatures that definitely been following him.
Leaning over the edge of the pond he caught a glimpse of a bluish-green fish with yellow spots. The fishes were about half an arm's length long. One of fish swam towards him and seemed to be aware of him. What a pretty fish he thought. When he bended down further over the pond the fish sunk slightly as well. Looking closely below the surface he could see its vague outline and then it hopped to the surface spitting a glob of sticky goo into his right eye. What is this stuff?
He tried to remove the spittle, but in ran down his face and he accidentally spread the goo into both his eyes. Blinded he tried getting something out of his travel pack to wipe his face, but ending up used the bottom of his undershirt and then the goo ran over his lips and he could taste the bitterness of it in his mouth. It would not come off. His hand began to tremor and his face began to swell. He began to loss feeling in his entire body, like he was weightless. Taking a half step back, he wobbled. He was overcome with glee as a smile popped onto his face, when he heard a low growl directly behind him. He turned with a chuckle.
Black fur bristled with anger. Jagged blood strained teeth dripped with death. The beast shifted its weight in one fluid motion and charged forward in one heavy leap. Upon seeing the beast he laughed like a madman, pointing his fingers, as if he was mocking the face of death itself, but this time death missed when Torrin stumbled and fell to the ground on his drunken feet. Under the heavy splash the beast pushed deep into the pond missing its prey. Unfortunately for the beast this was a fatal mistake. On first glance these fish appeared harmless but they are just as hungry and carnivorous. The waters of the pond turned and foamed red. The beast cried out just before it lost the capacity to do so. The struggle was over in seconds. The slowest and weakest of their numbers had only the bones to chew on.
Standing he turned to examine the pond. His eyes could be playing tricks on him. He tried blinking his eyes trying to clear his vision and mind. The passions of a warm bed and a tall glass of port clouded his mind. How am I going to leave this island? He ached all over and when he took his first step he stumbled over his own feet backwards towards the fish pond. Empty air was all that he could reach to break is fall, so when that proved useless he tried it again and again, waving his arms wildly as he fell. Inches above the lively surface of the pond he had stopped falling. Then he started to hover several feet over the stone floor and went flying for a time, until he smacked into a pair of large beefy hands.
"Nice throw," boomed a voice.
"Thanks," echoed another voice.
Unsure of what was happening he greeted his rescuers with a series of questions. "Who are you two? Do you know the master of this Island? Shelter! I need Shelter! Where is the castle? I'm being followed by wild beasts."
"Wild beasts you say. What do you think about that, Gannon"
"I believe he is talking about our pets," replied the other.
LEO
A silver and white top quickly descends from the heavens, nearly invisible to the human eye. If it is seen at all it is a blinding flash of light, just a mirror reflection of the sun. Upon the top's final approach it slowed to a crawl, nestling into its support deck, without the aid of audio or visible clues, for those inside the castle compound this landing would go unnoticed. Heavy metal doors shield the heat and sound from the living quarters. The only thing that could be heard was the displacement of these metal doors when they opened. The vangs laid and wait for that sound.
"Dax you Vang you." The King stamps around pushing open the door continuously encouraging the barking by using a booming voice. "Dax you vang you. These are not intelligent vangs. These are dumb vangs." Looking about the King can see Stanis, but not Peke. Where is Peke? There has always been three vangs to greet him. "These are dumb vangs."
Entering a Circular chamber the King found Jadon watching dozens of images dance across the curved wall. Most were views of the Market Square. The rest were watching the outskirts, the ways lending into and leaving town. One screen image slowly circled around Ryon's Island, live surveillance footage from an unmanned drone. The King studied the image for a moment and then turned to speak with Jadon.
"Where is Ryon?"
"I don't know. Did you page him? He is most likely on his island." Gesturing to the collapsed bridge of the island on one of the screens. "I haven't seen him in days," confessed Jadon.
"I hear someone is causing trouble in the highland and the lowlands."
"Well it hasn't been me. I haven't left the Square or the town."
"Where is Peke?"
"Dax and Stanis ate Peke."
Mixture of anger and frustration flashed to the King's face. "Didn't you feed them when I was gone?"
"I fed them a few times. I didn't know it was my job, besides when I did Ryon told me I was feeding them too much."
"And I guess not at all is too much," the King said sardonically while he paced the five feet in front of him. "Well feed them something every day for now on. I'm going to retire to my study."
Stomping down the hallway in his heavy metal boots the king make his way to his office. Natural light from a massive skylight filled his path with bright illumination at first, but as he got deeper into the castle torches lit the passageway. At first glance the torches appear to be real, yet this was an illusion. They were really elaborate electric lighting effects that mimicked the red and yellow flow of real flames and like everything else in the castle they were powered from a great pulse reactor buried beneath the foundation. When the King got to the office door he placed his right hand on it and the thick oak and iron door unlocked and opened; standing a few feet away from him like always was his servant Geoffrey. Geoffrey was dressed in a polished silver suit of armor with a board sword clasped to his side. As servants would go Geoffrey was most dutiful. He never left his post because he didn’t need to sleep or eat and when it came time for a charging of his batteries which came only once in twenty years he was back in matter of hours. Geoffrey’s face was passable as human though it lacked the capability of expressing emotion so most of the time his visor was placed in the downward position. Upon entrance to his office Geoffrey came to life, set into motion from his proximity sensors.
“M’lord, how may I serve you?” Geoffrey took one step forward and bowed his head. “I have been revising your letter to Lord Davkas Pike while you have been gone. Currently I am on draft One thousand four hundred and thirty-nine.”
King Fofander almost forgot that he entrusted the task to Geoffrey. The King did not much care to leave those that served him with nothing to do and this was especially the case with non-humans—he wanted to feel like he was getting his money worth. “Remind me why we are sending this letter to Davkas,” he said while taking a seat in his posh leather chair.
“Lord Pike was concerned about your plans to start another settlement in the wastelands. He feels that those are his lands and he want compensation for them if you plan to develop there. He is also worried that your plans pose some possible threat.”
“A military base?” the King asked.
“He believes the lands hold no other value.” Geoffrey walked over to the King’s desk and fetched Lord Pike’s letter and handed it to the King.
“Leo, you have gone too far this time. You must not know one damn thing about me if you think I am going to stand by while you violate my lands. ” the King read that with a laugh. “That doesn’t seem cordial. At least we are on a first name basis.” He put the letter down.
“Yes m’lord. He does sound tense, but I do think I have summarized Lord Pike’s intentions” Geoffrey gestured over to a painting that spanned over the entire wall. It was a landscape of a friendly farmhouse, below the farmhouse was a meadow with some ducks swimming nearby in pond. Using a remote control transmitter built into his head Geoffrey made the image disappear and the landscape was replaced with a digital copy of Lord Pike’s letter. A passage of the letter was then highlighted and enlarged in size. “I want gold and crops for the lands that you seek.” he read off of the screen.
“Gold I can spare. Crops I cannot,” the King declared “I hope you made that clear in the revision you have been composing.” The King is able to make gold and other precious metal with little effort. It takes quite a bit of energy to construct gold on a molecular level. The process had been perfected ages ago. There were already dozens of heavy wooden trunks stuffed with gold coins freshly stamped with the King’s likeness and there were three times that number minted in copper.
“I have proposed to send two wagons of produce and one wagon of gold.” Geoffrey said as he transmitted the letter he composed on to the screen.
“Too generous.” The King perused the letter. “I like what you have done here, but two wagons are two too many. Just tell Davkas that we are sending the gold and be sure not to fill a whole wagon. Four trucks should be sufficient. Write the letter and have it sent within the hour. Your longhand is better. Sign my name and send it out.”
TORRIN
Gannon and Baron were the biggest henchmen Torrin has ever seen. It was odd that they would appear out of thin air, being so massive.
Gannon placed his left hand on a nearby pillar activating a biometric lock, a secret switch embedded in the pillar. Once the palm of Gannon hand was read the pillar glowed bluish-white. This activated a motor that pulled away the pond revealing a stairway entrance. Torrin thought the action was some kind of powerful magic. He had seen this kind of magic before. Barrick had commanded it. But not even Barrick knew the real source of the power was technology and not mysticism. Only a few knew the highly advance technology was being passed off as magic.
The steps looped downward many levels and with each level the lighting improved and at the very bottom of the staircase stood Lord Ryon. He was dressed in all black except for a floral shirt and the gold tip on his leather belt. His face was angular with a thin beard that was perfectly manicured. "I see you have brought what I have asked for--the Emerald Cube. May I see it?"
"How do you know I have it," asked Torrin forgetting his place.
"I have my ways. Most don't know how it all works. Most think it must be magic." With that said Ryon extended his left hand and the Emerald Cube popped out of Torrin's backpack, flew across the room and landed on a nearby workbench. "Magic. What else could it be? Now every good deed desired some kind of reward. How about I give you sometime to get you off this island alive. A magical wand would do you quite nicely. Just like the one you find in a children's story, only this one is real. Then you can return to Barrick in one piece."
Ryon gave Gannon a nob signaling Gannon to give Torrin the ward. The wand was a rod twice as long as a quill. It was snow white and tipped with blue on each end. Torrin waved it about, but nothing happened.
"I am afraid it will not work in here. You will have to try it outside," remarked Ryon. Looking up at Baron, "Give him the medallion, Baron. This prize could square things with Barrick. Don't try using it yourself. Anyone else who tries to use it will find it very lethal."
FIONA
Gia danced around the room as Fiona watched in delight, clapping her hands as her doll tumbled and pranced to the music. Gia wore a floral dress of yellows, reds and greens that fit her three foot frame and Fiona worn a red satin dress, that was sleeveless and embroidered with white thread. Gia had been a gift from her uncle Ryon when Fiona was five and she has never left her side since. Fiona wakes up with her, sleeps with her and even goes to school with her. The other kids in her class love having Gia around and they keep asking how they can get a doll like her. “I’ll ask my uncle, but he does live on another planet.” Fiona told her mother about seeing Ryon and asking him for more toys. Her mother promised that we would visit him some day soon. That’s what she keeps saying. Wait. Wait. Wait. How much longer do I have to wait? The disagreeable thought put a pout on Fiona’s lips. Blissfully unaware Gia stopped with the music and took a little bow. When no applause was heard Gia looked up towards Fiona to see what was the matter.
“Is something wrong, Fiona?” Gia asked with a little grin that said, “I bet I can cheer you up.” Gia was always upbeat, it was in her programming.
“I want to see my Uncle Ryon, but my mom won’t let me.”
“I overheard your mom say that you would visit someday” Gia said as she cartwheeled over to Fiona’s side and rubbed a hand up and down her back.
“Gia, can you flash Grandfather’s planet?” Fiona asked bending down to look her in her eyes. “I don’t know the address. I remember it is called Darhkar, but the dialing screen needs a code of letters and numbers to make a call.”
“My creator programmed me with that information. Just in case of emergencies.” Gia said walking over to the screen console. “If I do this there is a chance you will get in trouble.” Taking a running start Gia grabbed onto one of the console’s stools and climbed like she was scaling a wall.
Fiona, who was over a foot taller, followed Gia to the console and took a seat at the keyboard with greater ease. She watched Gia type in the commands, peaking at the keys with two balled up hands. The screen on the wall came alive, dissolving from a contemporary oil painting to a rich graphical interface with three dimensional rotating icons and various window displays. After carefully searching dozens of icons Gia selected one icon labeled “Hyperspace Dialing Protocols” and then the screen went completely dark except for a narrow window that listed planet addresses. Hundreds of planets were listened and for each planet thousands of planetary locations were given, but all that information was password protected.
“This is how far I got,” Fiona said frustrated. Temperature, precipitation and geography were all listed for each planet. The computer automatically flipped from one planet to the next. When it did so one window displayed a live view from an orbiting satellite and three other windows showcased stock photos of known cities, landscapes, continents, nature wonders, native plants and wildlife; and where present cultural, political and social economical distinctions were made available in both written articles and video documentation. “You can see all the planets, only you cannot call any of the numbers.”
“That is because people are particular. They don’t want other people they don’t know calling on them.” Gia explained “But if you know the code like I do and I know it by heart you can always click on the help icon and flash the planet directly.” Another window opened up and Gia typed in the code. The screen faded to black with the message “Please Standby” displayed in bold red letters. Twenty seconds afterwards “Password Accepted” scrolled from right to left and a moment after that “Connection Completed” scrolled by and when it was no longer visible the screen winked to life showing a large room with stone walls and thick wooden beams. It looked like it was daytime from the type of lighting that flowed into the room. The image showed no one sitting at the console. To the right and left sides of the screen were two monitors. One showed an old fashion town of one and two story buildings and the other was an image of an island.
“Hello. Uncle Ryon?” Called Fiona.
“Lord Ryon is not here.”
“Who are you?” asked Fiona. I don’t see anyone there.
“I am Cas, the castle computer. I can take your message.”
“I am Fiona”
“Fiona.” Cas said processing the name and instantaneously came up with a number of results. “I know your mother, Lola, and your father, Colin. It is strange that I am not speaking with them for your location. Is there something wrong?”
“No.” Fiona shouted out a little too abruptly.
“You seem agitated. I suspect that there is a reason you have called.”
Fiona held her breath and then she looked over to Gia. “My doll needs to be repaired. That is why I must speak with my uncle.”
“I know of your doll, Fiona.” Cas said with utter calmness. “She was called Gia. I have several detailed schematics of her design in my database. I can see her standing next to you. Greeting Gia.”
“Hi,” Gia squeaked, taking a step onto the counter and sitting down cross-legged. “You have caught me at a disadvantage. For I do not know you like you know me.”
BELDAK
The Siwa Valley was the largest valley in the Damulkin wastelands and Beldak Cogwell was always thirsty when he traveled along its neck. Absolutely nothing for generations has ever gown in the wastelands besides thieves and cutthroats; its mountains ranges were precipitous, rocky and nearly impassible and its valleys were hopelessly vast and waterless. Those that were forced to walk them without provisions are going to have a face to face conversation with Death. Cogwell always made certain that he and his men were well supplied. Dropping the reins of his horse he reached for a water skin out of his saddlebag as Janerris Silentall approached.
“What do you have to report?” Cogwell said taking drink from his water skin. Silentall has been under his command for the last three years. He was a fine officer, all spit and polish, who enjoyed following orders to the letter. Cogwell could only fault him on having too little imagination. Silentall seemed to have the inability to think more than two moves ahead of any obstacle.
“Scouts have returned, sir” Silentall said riding his horse abreast to Cogwell’s horse.
“I can see that, Silentall.” Cogwell said somewhat annoyed. The scenery had dampened his mood. “What did they say?”
“Well it is all really unbelievable really…” Stilentall said. He had difficulty looking Cogwell in the face. “Witchcraft,” he said in hush voice. “It must have been witchcraft. There is no other reason to explain it.”
What is he talking about now? “Explain what?” Cogwell asked. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and stuffed his water skin back into his saddlebag.
“A town. You can see it from here, sir.” Stilentall said pointing directly into the valley. “The tallest structure is a four sided tower that stands fifty feet tall. Each side has a golden circle with numbers marked on it.”
“That is absurd.” Cogwell said squinting his eyes to get a better look. “There was a squad patrolling here about a month ago…”
“Twenty-eight days, sir.”
“No one can build a town in twenty-eight days.”
When Cogwell reached the outskirts of this new town he ordered it seized. All but a handful charged in and the rest stayed behind to guard their rear position. One column of soldiers took the north side and another column took the south. Sure enough Cogwell could see the tower when he rode up the center; it couldn’t be missed with its numbers on its sides. What did they mean? They must have some purpose. There were twelve numbers, starting with “one” they followed in sequential order with “three” on the right side, “six” on the bottom, “nine” on the left side and “twelve” on the top of the yellow disk. As he got closer to the tower the other building became more impressive as well. Shops, homes and even a tavern lined the street with the tower in the middle of the town. Dozens of workers toiled away as he walked his horse up to them. They all wore green tunics with brown slacks. On their tunics was an emblem of a hammer and saw crisscrossed on a white background.
“I am Captain Beldak Cogwell. Who is in command here?” Cogwell asked.
One of the workers looked up at Cogwell as if seeing him for the first time. “I am Bade. I work here with my brothers.” Bade had been working on what looked like a large barrel that had several black snakes coming out of it and running into the ground. On the side of the barrel was a fountain that streamed a continuous flow of water three feet into the air.
“On whose orders?” Cogwell said looking at the fountain in disbelief.
“The King.”
“Which King do you serve? Fofander?”
“Yes. I serve King Jerimiah Fofander.”
You serve a king of gold who appeared out of no where. One day twenty years ago King Fofander buys some swamps and ruins that no one wants and builds an empire with a small band of followers. Is he some explorer from some uncharted land, an island perhaps over the Pelagic Sea? Everyone has wondered, but no one can fathom guess. Much effort has gone into discovering the mysteries of King Fofander and the source of this wealth and power. Most are convinced it has something to do with the supernatural.
“What is your King doing on my lord’s lands?”
“King Fofander paid for these lands.”
“My superior General Marus Serpenthelm would disagree.”
“I am willing to explain our project to your General and tell him whatever he needs to hear.” Bade took a bow. “But before we go please help yourself to some water,” motioning to the fountain.
“Is it safe to drink?” Cogwell asked.
“Valin just tested it.” Bade said. “Valin, tell the captain it is safe to drink.” Valin stopped working and walked over to Bade’s side.
“Purity is at one hundred percent. The water is free of physical, chemical and biological contaminates. Plus minerals have been added for taste.” Valin said.
“Not only is it safe to drink, it tastes good too?” Cogwell said incredulously.
“That is correct captain.” Valin said. “You and your men are welcome to as much water as you want.”
RACHEL
It was a bright sunny afternoon and Rachel sat daydreaming by the window with her cat in her lap. She was taking a break from the job her father had given her. She had been entrusted with the completion of the Middlebrook project along with Kaya, her younger sister. They were to plan the surrounded buildings and roads beyond the newly minted Middlebrook Castle. The castle was constructed near the Hyman River, just below the northern edge of the Smoky Mountains. Teams of robotic men labored day and night and it was a real task to stay one step ahead of them. Rachel and Kaya were collectively known as “Sisters” to the sea of laborers in their greens and browns. Sometimes Rachel and Kaya would visit the them to give moral support, that is what they jokily called it because the laborers did not need it. Rain or shine their work was always flawless.
While Rachel sat Kaya practiced her swordplay on a stationary dummy. Mindful of her footing she would lunge at the breastplate of the dummy and the sound of metal on metal would ring and ring again until Rachel couldn’t take it anymore.
“I don’t see why you have to do that in here.” Rachel said
“I’m sorry.” Kaya said brandishing mischievous smile. “Am I bothering you?”
“Of course you are.” Rachel said raising her voice. “That clatter is unbearable.”
“You should get off your butt…” Kaya said swinging her sword in between the dummy’s armor. “…and pick up a sword yourself and get some exercise before you get fat.”
“Did you call me fat?” asked Rachel placing her cat onto the floor with one hand.
“I said get fat, but you could stand to lose a few pounds.” Kaya said patting her belly.
I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. “I don’t like swords and I don’t think you like them that much either. You are only trying to catch the eye of Lajos.” Rachel said.
“Lajos?” Kaya said slicing into the dummy’s neck. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, you hang on every word he utters”
“You’re just jealous and what else am I to do. You know that we are not allowed to hike in the woods and the town is mostly populated with workers and they are not programmed with much in the way of conversation. I tried talking to one the other day and the only words he would have with me were about his job. If you talked with one you talked with them all.”
“You can always talk to Merryweather.”
“I don’t want to talk to Merryweather.”
For some reason Kaya never warmed up with the castle’s administrator. “You could dial one of your friends back home.”
“I know I could, but I want to do something. Maybe I will take Achilles and Razzmatazz on a walk.”
“That’s fine. Just keep your monsters out of the castle. I don’t want them to eat Simon.”
“Vangs are noble creatures. They are twice as smart as a dog and just as loyal.”
“And eat three times as much. Did you hear that Dax and Stanis ate Peke."
“That is natural instinct. Starve a vang long enough and they are likely to do that.”
“I don’t see how you can love something so reptilian.”
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