BLOGS

this is not yesterday...

and as much as I would like, its not today either.  Its tommorrow, and it will continue to be tommorrow until I am able to enjoy today.  Our lives are not spent enjoying today,they are spent preparing for tommorrow. Tommorrow when the rent will be due, tommorrow when the car payment is due, tommorrw when when the sun has promised to come out. 

Well, I strive to slice a little bit of time to enjoy today.  A little bit of sanity to relish today. A little bit ot time to recognize the life that flows in and out of my lungs.  The happiness that pulses through my bloodstream.    When it is so easy to live in misery and fear tommorrow, we must remind ourselves to look forward to whatever joy is promised in tommorrows. It is afterall, so easy to see clouds, to feel rain and to hear thunder, but when is the last time you stopped to hear, God's Laughter?

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/chasitie-s-goodman

Currently working on getting my writers website hosting up and going, if there is any one that thinks they'd like to have their own website/domain name, let me know. I generally just modify templates but I'm sure there's all kinds of design guru's here that would be more than ready and willing to help you out. If I get enough interested emails I could be convinced to hurry things along. *hinthinthint*

As usual things are a work in progress. Currently my fan fiction site www.fixshun.com is SERIOUSLY a work in progress but feel free to stop by and post a story or two (hundred)!

Two of my fantasy books have recently received positive reviews.

The first is for my latest work Detecting Magic with Dick Hunter: The Mort des Hommes Files. It was reviewed by Book Reviews Weekly on their website and on Amazon.com. You can read the review here.

The other review is for my 2009 novel The Laroarian Conflict. The review was done by Chelsea Perry of Apex Reviews and can be read on Amazon.com.

Thanks for reading.

Click the cover for free online reading -:)! And check out more of PurpleZoes awesome publications at

http://issuu.com/purplemag/docs/lunewing-beta

Hey just wanted to pass the word that Part II of Scriptwriting for Comics and Graphic Novels is up on the Masters of 3 Acts Group page. In this discussion Writers and Sequential Artists will learn how to adapt the terms of cinematic camera framing, angles and screen direction to their work. With more film and television scriptwriters breaking into the Comics biz, they're bringing these tried and true terms and cinematic storyboarding to the mix and you better know them if you want to compete! To find out more and how you can use this info to aid you in your work, check out the 'Masters of 3 Acts' Scriptwriter's Group!

Scriptwriting for Comics and Graphic Novels Pt. II

I just discovered a new and free software for authors and writers

"Okay, what is this stuff called again?"

Justin looked up and found himself in an arboreal forest. Trees of red and copper leaves waved in the wind. Large insects whirred in the air and swirled around each other as they danced in the hot sun.

The sun! He could see the sun. It was big and red and not at all what he expected. Justin had dreamed in the past about the world as he thought it might be. He had lost his vision completely by the time he was three years old. He had learned the nature and names of colors and could remember some of the things like buildings and cars, but he hadn't seen enough to know the nature of the world completely.

His father had made great efforts to expose him to the world using scale figures, texture models in clay showing him the towering scales of buildings in the environment, comparisons between trees and other organic things, but nothing prepared him for the panoply of color, of shapes, sizes. It was more than he could bear. He closed his eyes and fell to his knees. Tears welled up in his eyes and he brushed them away before opening them again.

Looking at the sun, it was so large and so red. No matter that he had never seen the sun, he never remembered his father describing it as a large orb filling a section of the sky. He also did not remember his father describing a purple sky or red trees.

He thought about it for a moment. His father did mention there were times when the leaves did change colors but then they fell to the ground. There were no leaves on the ground. And he remembered grass. Grass was green. This stuff was red with gold trim around each blade. He realized no matter what he was seeing and he was happy to be seeing, this was not home.

And then he heard the voice. He first thought it was Max. Soft and barely audible. He did not understand it. It was talking but it made no sense. But it kept talking and soon he was able to follow only a few words. They walked and talked to each other in nonsense words and soon more language came out. Justin began to teach the voice how to use language and within a few days, the two of them were able to discuss more complex ideas.

On the fifth rising of the fiery orb into the sky, the voice spoke to Justin, but it sounded just like his father's voice. He knew it was not his father, but it had the warm, strong yet gentle sounds he associated with him. "Justin, our time here will be ending soon."

"What do you mean? We have been talking for days. Why can't we just keep talking?"

"We can't because in a few minutes you will be waking up and you will barely remember this conversation. You will think you had a nightmare or at least a very strange dream. But it wasn't a dream."

"Then what was it?"

"I am inside of you. I am a part of you that is new to you."

"I don't understand."

"Do you remember the doctor's office when you were sick?"

"Yes."

"You were first exposed to me there."

"Are you a disease?"

"No. But what I am is less important than what I have to tell you."

"What are you, why haven't I ever been able to see you? I can see everything else here but not you. Are you a monster? Are you going to jump out from behind a rock and eat me? Were you just talking to me to make me think I was safe?"

The voice chuckled and continued. "No Justin. I am not a monster. You cannot see me because I am inside of you. You can hear me because I am inside of your consciousness. I created the landscape you are seeing because I missed my home. Your mind is particularly imaginative so I decided to see if I could make a place in your mind we could communicate. I tried to make someplace you would be comfortable, but I did not see anything to reference, so I made the place where I was first aware and thought you would enjoy seeing it."

"When I wake up, I won't remember you?"

"Probably not. From what I can tell, your conscious and unconscious state particularly in your current condition, seem to have barriers between them. So I am going to tell you something and you will have to trust me."

"Trust you? How can I trust someone I just met? I am not even supposed to talk to strangers." Justin had stopped walking and looked around at the landscape and did his best to remember everything he was seeing. Every leaf, every shape, every tree, every insect, each stored away as best he was able.

"All I can say to you at this point, is we are stuck together. I am bound within your lunon, your DNA, and can never leave. I have begun to reshape your lunon, to allow me to better interact with you. I can only make minor changes because I do not have sufficient mass or control over your body's processes. But I can do one thing for you, if you want."

"I don't understand what you are saying? We are stuck together? For how long? What lunon, what's DNA? What can you do for me? I am sick. Can you make me better? I don't like being sick."

"I will explain lunon in greater detail when we talk again. Your sickness will pass as I learn more about your body. I will put things back the way they belong or better. I will even be able to give you your vision if you want it."

Justin looked at his hands and realized for the first time he was not seeing, he was imagining with some help from his new friend. "You can give me my eyes back?"

"Yes, I hoped you would want such a gift and I have been working to fix the problem. It will be a while before I will be able to complete this. I do not understand much about your world, but from what I can hear around you, there is something to be afraid of. The others to whom I am now bound to, are experiencing fear. There is so much you will need to know, but for right now, all I can say is stay alive."

The sky darkened as if black clouds had rolled over the sky and the beautiful red trees faded in the distance. The grass had turned the color of blood and Justin's vision shrank away until he could only see himself and a few feet all around him.

"I am with you, Justin. Even in the dark."

And then the darkness was complete.

Justin woke sick and empty. His stomach had voided itself several times. He reached out to look at his hands and realized he couldn't see. He was lying down in someone's lap and for a moment got excited.

"Mom," he croaked.

"No, honey. Your mom isn't here. My name is Naomi. You just lay here. The truck had been stopped for a while but now it's moving again. I am sure we will be getting wherever we are going real soon. Just be still."

"Miss Naomi, where are we going?"

"I have no idea, honey. But I bet it isn't anyplace good. Go back to sleep. It will all be over soon. I promise."

Jump to Part 18

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

The Other arrived at the border of New Jersey at midnight and slowed down until it could sense the Conqueror. It sent out fliers, two dozen winged nightmares, razor sharp wings and wicked hooked talons. Each had large shining eyes absorbing light across the spectrum, able to see everything moving in the night. Most were smaller animals, scurrying as they sensed the will of a predator cross their naked backs. Some froze, hoping they would not be seen under the cover of darkness, but if the Other were hunting for prey, they would have been food instantly, their immobility would not have protected them at all.

There were larger animals here, genestructs left over after the Last War. Genetic constructs, created by mad Proctors, designed to hunt down renegades who eluded the Theocracy. Their scientists claimed they would not be able to breed and would die off after a few months. Fifteen years later, many of those constructs are still alive and breeding, creating new niches and fighting for dominance against the humans who were still forced to make their homes in the new forests that sprung up anywhere mankind had stopped building, and had spread seed to recreate forests for their simple woods. In that way, mankind had returned to nature, reseeding the world with plants and animals created in labs and which had made mankind has to struggle to return to his role as the dominant life form on the planet.

As the Other flew over the genestructs, it sampled several of the creatures violently ripping their spines out or allowing them to engage the fliers to sample their speed and power. Many of the animals were indeed quite powerful, for animals born on Earth, but were no match for even the weakest fliers created by the Other. Convinced of the lack of hazards in the surrounding forest countryside, the fliers continued their flight pattern over the state, slowly spreading out toward the city, proper.

Once they reached the city, they were forced to move slower, there was a greater density of prey, both human and other, much of it beneath the city streets or inside of buildings. It would take a day or two to continue to scan the city but the sense of the Conqueror was close. It was only a matter of time until a trace could be found, the Conqueror would be vulnerable and able to be destroyed. Then the Other would be safe. Its fliers sent back visual images and the Other processed them in parallel, breaking each second down, looking for the genetic markers on the wind.

"Kilo Two Alpha, status report." The radio blared out waking the sleeping drivers who were pulled over to the side of the road.

"This is Kilo Two, we are twenty miles from the processing plant. We had to stop and rest, both of us had pulled triple shifts." The driver wiped his eyes and looked out onto the expressway. Traffic was slow, even at this time of night. He hated driving out into Jersey because there was only a few working roads and they were always backed up.

He agreed to take one more shift because the triple shift pay was extraordinary and he was bucking for a promotion, and a desk job someplace warm; perhaps the New York Arcology Dispatch Office, Then he could make annoying calls and harass drivers on the radio while enjoying some Khava and eating some soy jerky.

"I know you two are napping on the side of the road. I pulled your vehicle up on the freeway map. I also know you pulled a triple so I left you there for two hours, but you need to get that load to the plant. Is that going to be a problem?"

The second driver, now also awake, checked his stunner in his lap and picked up the mike while the driver got the truck started and back into traffic. "No dispatch, we won't have a problem getting back into traffic and we will drop the load in sixty minutes. We will report in when we're on our way back. Kilo Two Alpha, out."

"Geez, you think we were late or somethin'. These guys don't have no freshness quota or nothin'." Shotgun laughed and slid his hand into his sleeves to keep warm. The cabin's heater did not work when the engine was off, and it was freezing outside.

The driver looked out over the freeway and thought they were making good time as the road cleared out ahead. They would likely arrive ahead of schedule and anyway you looked at it, it was a good thing. They would be able to get at least three days off the road, maybe even stop at the Church-sanctioned pleasure palace to spend some of their hard earned cash. Transport paid well today, maybe even better than ever since the lack of major aircraft in the UNAA. Flight was reserved to the Elites and the Oligarchs who could afford the astronomical costs associated with new the new AG ships.

They were less than two hours outside of Trenton and were heading toward the river where the processing plants were. The driver always hated this part of the trip because the roads were not always the best kept and often had detours into the surrounding forests which were not ideal if you were carrying cargo. There were rumors of the gene-hacked running amok in the forest looking for good God-fearing folk to turn to their sinister ways. Fortunately, the route looked as if it was going to be clear and he could see the mountains on the right side of the road in the distance.

In the truck space in the back, the passengers were getting sick and many were vomiting. Most tried to reach the back door and vomit into the seams that drained out the back of the truck. Most were successful. Those that were not spread the contagion further. By the time the truck arrived, almost everyone would be infected with the fast spreading viral agent.

The vomit drained from the back of the truck and landed in the snow dotting the road for miles. A flier crossing the road tasted the genetic markers on the wind and dropped out the sky to sample the vomit. As the flier landed, it tasted the Conqueror's lunon and for a moment became confused.

It shook violently and staggered around the road. It tried to take off and inform the Other but another driver of a transport late for deliver struck it and crushed it under his rig's eighteen wheels. He didn't even look back.

Jump to Part 17

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

Just finished re-editing and updating my chapbook"The Rainy Season, The Poems, Prose and Writings of Ivory Simone" for wider distribution.

A resource for writers, publishers, and booksellers I recommend checking out is the American Booksellers Association. Their website is http://bookweb.org/. It's been around for over 100 years and offers some good information for writers, readers, and booksellers.

One resource in particular is the Advance Access Program. Basically, it is information about your book or books sent to independent booksellers. You also list how many review copies, galleys, or finished books you have available for booksellers to request to review.

There's no guarantee the bookseller will purchase the book, but it's good to know that a store is interested in carrying your title. I know I've faced challenges getting my books in stores.

Here is the link to the Advance Access Program page:

http://bookweb.org/indiebound/publishers/advanceaccess.html

I hope this is helpful for you.

      After a short but perilous climb, the trio reached the top of the dam where the Priestess stood her face ashen, hair rapidly graying and figure gaunt. Out across the land the once green fields and orchards withered and died with the last fading rays of sunset. “Odin’s beard!” exclaimed the Chief. The Knight started towards his wife but a strong hand caught his arm. It was Qatula. Surprised, the Knight tried to pull away from the youth, but could not break his grip. It was then the Knight noticed, the youth’s body paint had neither faded from their many exertions nor washed off in the waters of the lake. With a sudden realization the Knight blurted, “You are the Traveler!”

      The wind grew colder and sharper as Qatula let go of the Knight’s arm and walked towards the Priestess. The Knight’s first instinct was to drive his wife’s spear into this possible demon, but once more his wife’s warning ‘use your better judgment’ came to mind. The Chief bone weary and chilled through yelled to the Knight, “You’re not just going to stand there, are you?” His pounding heart driving away the cold the Knight replied, “I am.” The Chief turned back to see the youth embrace the now emaciated Priestess and then whisper something to her. Immediately, the wind began to die down and then the youth kissed her full on the mouth. Unsure why, but the Chief did not appreciate Qatula taking liberties with the Priestess no matter what her condition. He then noticed the Knight’s hand on his shoulder. The Chief saw the Knight stoically watch this strange person kiss his wife. It was then a sudden cold gray light caused him to look back towards the scene.

      No longer was the Priestess in her mortal guise. As the youth released her, the Priestess stood up in her natural illuminated form taller and clad in armor the color of blued steel with her silver wings tipped in ebon reflected the light coming from Qatula across the dam. “Odd’s blood!” gasped the Chief. Both men watched as the Priestess’ own amber light began to radiate from within her breast and flash out over the land. The wind was now once more the usual warm summer breeze and out in the vast fields the sounds of row after row of crops and fruit trees filling with life once more.

      Now returned to her usual comely mortal form, the Priestess gestured for the two men to come forward. Placing her hands upon the still shivering Chief’s face, the Priestess had him bend down and gave him a kiss upon the forehead. As she let go, he felt the warmth flow through him like he’d just downed a tankard of fine ale. The Priestess then took the Knight in hand and standing by him said to Qatula, “I want you to meet my husband.” Suddenly, Qatula’s near black eyes turned ember red and bored into the Knight’s. The thought of looking into the eyes of a demon brought the Knight no comfort, but he was not afraid. Had the demon wanted to kill him, plenty of opportunities had been present during the course of their adventure. With those unwavering ember-red eyes Qatula replied, “I’m not surprised. You always did favor the strong and silent types.” Smiling brightly in the starlight the Priestess replied, “You of all should know my preferences husband.”

      Again both men looked to the Priestess and she chuckled, “Qatula is my second husband. He has come to visit and wanted to test your mettle. Let me guess. You had to carry a dying old woman from the place you met him only to fail at the last moment?” The looks on the men’s faces spoke volumes. Smiling, Qatula remarked, “It was an old man.... Well the hyenas were new. But you cheated. You called upon the Goddess of the Lake!” Seemingly pleased with herself the Priestess replied, “Well, you know she favors you and wants you to visit her before you leave.” Looking to the Knight Qatula said exasperated, “Is she like this with you too?” Relieved the Knight answered, “Constantly.”

      The Priestess gave the Knight a gentle bump in the ribs and said, “You’re not supposed to agree with him!” The Aesir Chief was stunned. Just when he had come to accept the Priestess as a living goddess, now Qatula whom he thought was a mere youth was a god as well! Seeing the Chief’s obvious discomfort Qatula said in the Chief’s language, “Aesir, you’re a long way from the Northlands. You wouldn’t know where a decent drink could be found around here?” Not surprised for the Priestess had spoken his language to him upon their first meeting the Chief replied, “Uh, yes it happens I do... my lord?” Waving his hand as his eyes turned back to a mortal brown Qatula said, “Don’t start in on all of that worshipping shit. It really pisses me off! Now how about that drink?”

      Giving her young husband a soft kiss on the cheek, the Priestess whispered, “Thank you my love. Your efforts have lifted my spirits. I had hoped you would never see that part of me. Know that you will not see it again. Now please give us a moment and we’ll meet you and the Chief at that ‘long house’ of his. I hope he’s ready for one long night of drinking and war-stories!” Returning her kiss with one on her dark forehead, the Knight said, “The Chief asked me why I married you. I told him many men wanted you, but I wanted you more. Nothing has changed. But if one day you tire of me, please don’t try to marry me off to the Goddess of the Lake.”

      With the two men off to prepare the village for a night of stories and drinking, the Priestess stood in her natural form embraced by Qatula in his own godly form. A head taller than she, Qatula’s now powerful frame was enveloped by a great gray cloak which flowed animate in the slight breeze as if alive. His face now covered by the voluminous gray hood, only those ember red eyes gleamed through the black void beneath it. Giving her a gentle kiss atop her head Qatula asked, “Feel better?” Nodding, the Priestess replied, “Yes. Thank you for coming. I missed you.” Giving a slight grunt Qatula replied, “Well, when my wife grows melancholy after having not seen me for more than three-thousand years I was honor bound. Besides, you’ve created something very nice here and it’s part of you. To let it die because we’ve been apart for so long....”

      A long moment passed without them saying anything and then the Priestess whispered, “He makes me happy.” Giving her a pat Qatula replied, “I could tell when I met him. He’s a good man. Sad though. He truly loves you.” Looking up into those red eyes the Priestess asked, “You don’t mind?” “No. Not at all. He did quite well during my little test. I can see he’s good for you. Besides, he’ll only have you for a lifetime. I’ll have you for all time. Anyway, it’s been a very long time since I’ve killed one of your husbands.” Giving Qatula a punch in the gut with a report which echoed across the lake the Priestess said, “I know! That’s why I haven’t seen you in more than three thousand years.”

      Reluctantly releasing their embrace,  Qatula willed the flowing gray cloak to shrink to nothing and he returned to the painted youth’s form. Cheerfully rubbing his bare painted belly Qatula said, “Well then, let us celebrate our brief reunion and your recent marriage with whatever it is they drink around here! Hopefully, he who tends that which I hold most dear can at least weave an entertaining tale or two.” Now having returned to her mortal form the Priestess retorted with a smile, “That would be interesting to see. I’ve never heard him tell a story. Oh and just so you know, that stuff the Chief drinks tastes awful.” As the pair walked down the road away from the dam into the night Qatula said, “So the Goddess of the Lake truly favors me eh?” Chuckling the Priestess replied, “Yes. Her exact words were, she’d swallow you whole!” 

The End

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

      Looking at the Knight beneath a hairy brow pouring with sweat the Chief sharply asked, “And what in Niffleheim am I supposed to do, keep pushing this rolling anchor while those ugly curs bite off my ass?” Unable to suppress a wicked grin the Knight snapped back, “They’ll be better to go for one of your legs than gnaw on that boney backside of yours!” The Aesir Chief couldn’t help but laugh as he retorted, “I know there’s a drinking song in that!” Looking from the ever weakening Oboae to the two obviously insane men Qatula snapped, “How can you two laugh at a time like this?”

      No answer was given as time seemed to drag slower than the two men laboring under the weight of the cart as they pushed it up the path towards an embankment. Meanwhile time after time, the hyenas tried the strange creature exuding with the delicious scents of dead tree, warthog and impending death. The dominant female and her large troop dogged the heels of this very odd creature for among the scents was the one she detected on her dead rival. Over and over, she cackled for her subordinates to try the creature. When one got too close, a long limb with a shining claw lashed out to stab any hyena too careless not get out of the way. She had seen enough.

      His legs and lungs burning from hours of pushing this accursed cart, the Aesir Chief saw they had reached the top of the embankment. “We’ve done it!” Before them lay the steep slope leading out of the forest and down a grassy knoll into the calm waters of the lake. There was one major concern with their planned descent. At the lakeshore edge was a narrow gap between the rocks and on either side were both rounded and razor sharp rocks of a size to rend the pushcart to flinders. Looking at the Knight the Chief gasped, “Well, what will it be? A man’s death fighting a horde of ravenous curs or a short ride to a man’s death torn to shreds upon yonder rocks?” Raising his head high enough to see over his shield, the Knight saw the hyena horde charge en masse towards them. Throwing his shoulder against the heavily laden cart the Knight replied, “There better be a third choice on that list!” Following suit, the Chief shoved the cart forward with all his remaining might.

      With a small burst of soft dark sod, the cart broke over the embankment’s lip. No sooner done, the pushcart plunged over the edge amidst the wails of its surprised occupants. Both men stumbled as the cart took off and with hyenas now snapping at their heels, a fall meant certain death. Flailing their arms to keep their balance, the men bolted downhill to catch the cart before it picked up speed. Leaping forward, the Knight landed hard upon the cart next to Oboe in an ungainly belly flop. The Chief knew right away he couldn’t perform the same feat as the younger man. Just then the youth Qatula screamed, “Here!” Suddenly, the Chief’s spear flew from the youth’s hands sideways to land in his outstretched hand. In a flash he knew what the boy intended and the Chief quickly turned the shaft end to ground. Jamming the shaft into the soft soil, he followed the action with a mighty bound and the Chief was launched high into the air. Too high to be exact!

      The Chief landed wide-eyed and feet-first on the bouncing forward lip of the cart. Feeling himself falling forward with no way to stop himself, the Chief grit his teeth in a fearful grin. His forward pitch was abruptly halted by two pairs of hands snagging his tunic belt. As the wind whooshed out of him, the cart hit a bump that tossed them all backward in an ungraceful pile. Looking behind them, the Knight saw hyenas pour over the embankment after them in numbers resembling a rat plague. There was no time to worry about them for ahead were the treacherous rocks lining the shoreline. Right away the Knight could see their descent would not take them through the gap. Rolling over the now screaming Oboe the Knight yelled, “LEAN!”

      The Dominant Female had overtaken the pack in the chase and prepared to leap upon the strange creature’s unprotected back. Just as she made her move, the creature leaped into the air towards the water. That wouldn’t save the creature for she was in perfect position to.... Suddenly, the waters of the lake exploded beneath the creature and mid-air the Dominant Female stared into the maw of death itself!

      With all aboard the cart leaning to the same side at once, the makeshift craft lumbered to one side of the rocks just enough to pass through the gap. As they were about to hit the water, all aboard suddenly realized those weren’t rocks lining the shore. The cart wheels struck something hard just below the surface and was again launched into the air. Right behind them, the lead hyena was in a mid-air pounce which would land it squarely in the cart. Before that happened, the calm lake water exploded as the jaws of a monstrous crocodile burst from beneath the mud to engulf the hyena!

      The cart crashed squarely upon the water ejecting all but the stricken Oboe. Fortunately, the crocodile was much too busy snacking on the scrambling hyenas to be concerned with them. With everyone back aboard the cart, the Knight looked to the sun getting dangerously low in the sky. Still holding his wife’s spear, he probed for the lake bottom and found it. “All right Chief, we can still make the dam in time but we’ll have to put our backs into it!” Still shocked from their sudden rescue from the hyenas the Chief stammered, “W-was that a dragon?” Chuckling, the Knight replied, “No. I believe that was the Lake Goddess.” The Chief immediately started to pole the cart towards the dam in the hope of getting there before the Lake Goddess decided she was still hungry.

      By the time they struck the rocks upon the backside of the dam, the sun was plunging below the horizon. No longer could the feeble wails of old Oboe be heard over the howl of the freezing wind. Too cold and tired to bail water any longer, Qatula watched as the lake poured into the cart and over the dying old man. The Knight too was haggard from his exertions and recognized the Old Father's weight was dragging the cart down. At this point, old Oboae was far too heavy for them to lift out of the cart let alone carry him up the treacherous boulders comprising the natural dam. As the cart sank the Knight said wearily, “You two get onto the dam. We have to get onto the other side before the wind picks up any more.” Placing his chilled hand upon Oboe’s dark weatherworn face the Knight said, “Old Father, you have come home. Rest.” The old man’s eyes opened and a slight smile creased his face as he slipped below the water.

      The Chief stood upon a great boulder and hauled the youth up and then hugged his chest against the unwelcome cold. “Damn! I didn’t think the North Wind could reach this inferno!” Moving past the Knight remarked, “It can’t. We must find my wife. Having failed in retrieving the traveler, some ill force is moving upon the Valley.”  Shaking his head the Chief spat, “Shit! I can’t believe we dragged that graybeard’s heavy carcass all this way for him to die when we reach the dam!”

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Night Time Traveler Pt.VI

      Throwing both hands up the painted youth replied, “No mischief at all sir Knight! I only know it took all my strength just to get him to lay upon the cart! Each day as night fell, he grew heavier. When we came here last evening, the wheel of the pushcart came off. I couldn’t try to move him until morning and just before dawn, the hyenas attacked us. Long as he is on the cart during the day, Oboe can be pulled along. He is so weak, I think he will soon die.” Just after the youth mentioned death, an unnaturally cold wind rolled in from the desert. It was the Chief who said after a hard shiver, “Hoooo! I never expected to again feel the chill of a winter wind living here.”

      The chill wind also affected the Knight as well for goose-pimples stood high upon his skin. The Chief’s words sparked within the Knight’s memory. His wife’s skin had been cold as well and then there was her other warning about ‘bringing the traveler to her at the dam before the last rays fell today.’ Looking to the sky, morning was in its full glory and soon the sun would blaze upon the land. However, the Knight noticed an insignificant gathering of clouds in the sky which should not be. The rainy season was long over and there would be none for months to come. His decision was made. Hastily, he and the Chief set to the task of repairing the cart with the Old Father still upon it. Based on Qatula’s account, if they took him off the small cart they’d never get him back on. Difficult as the task was, they were able to make passable repairs to the wheel and get underway.

      Shortly before the sun reached the midday mark in the sky, a much larger pack of hyenas had found the bodies of several of their kind. Two were the dominant female and male of a rival pack. As the much larger dominant female of the master pack’s nose took in the scent of her dead rival, she picked up the scent of a strange male creature that had made the kill. For certain it was not a lion. There were similar scents too and one of the strange creatures was near death. Whatever these creatures were, they posed a threat to this territory. The dominant female would not have it. Cackling for her packmates, the female loped off into the cypress forest after these strange interlopers. With the largest and most fearsome of all the desert hyena packs behind her, the interlopers would soon find themselves as a fine feast!

      It was as the youth said, as time went on the old man grew weaker and what should have been a simple matter for one man to handle, saw them all putting forth maximum effort. Both men put an arm around the two pushcart handles opposite the other and drove the cart further with the youth between them pushing with both hands. The Knight kept his shield on right arm while the Chief’s hung from his left. Both held their spears in their shield hand. Should anything come along they would be at a disadvantage to attack but not to defend. While pushing the cart over a path never intended for carts while huffing and blowing to keep his wind the Chief asked, “Is this damn thing getting heavier?” Looking down to see the ever deepening cartwheel tracks the Knight grunted, “Absolutely.”

      Looking up through the spindly but heavy cypress leaf canopy, the Knight’s dark brown eyes could see the sun had reached its apogee but they were not near the halfway mark to the dam. Another thing which had not escaped his notice was the summer breezes were now cold wind and thick white clouds were gathering. At the speed they now traveled, they would barely reach the dam by sunset. In addition to the mysterious dying old man growing heavier with each passing hour, doubling their efforts would see them all too tired to go on in less than an hour.

      Going faster was not possible and going slower meant not meeting the deadline. His wife said for him to use his better judgment. But what to do? Suddenly, from far back down the path towards the river mouth the Knight heard the last sound he wanted to hear ... hyenas. From the sound of their cackling, they were busy exploring this new area. Soon, the novelty of the forest ferns would wear off and they would be upon them. “Chief, our hyena friends will return shortly.” Looking up from his toil to see the seriousness in the Knight’s eyes the Chief grunted, “Odin’s teeth! How many?” Trying his best to be cheerful the Knight replied, “a few more than before!”

      Casting about for an easier way to get the cart to the dam the Chief then quipped, “To bad this damned cart can’t float! All we’d have to do is use our spears to pole it along.” The thought struck the Knight for a moment. Strangely enough, the pushcart was remarkably similar to a flat-bottomed barge in design just smaller. However, with the old man getting heavier as time went on it was likely the impromptu craft would sink. Combined with the occasional crocodile taking up residence in the lake, the idea of floating the cart wasn’t too attractive an idea. Once more his wife’s words, “use your better judgment” rang out in his mind. “That’s not a bad idea. We may have to go with that if things get bad.”

      For some reason, the Chief was not encouraged by the Knight’s words. Just under the sound of the growing wind, the Chief could now hear the cackling of multiple hyenas getting closer. Looking to the youth who now had his back against the rear of the cart and pushing with all his might the Chief said, “Boy, get yourself up on the cart and take my spear!” All too eager to stop pushing the youth replied, “You sure you two old timers will be able to push this thing without me?” The Chief’s eyes grew wide with indignation but it was the Knight who replied, “We’ll manage. The question is; can someone like you barely out of soiled swaddling and smelling of teats handle a spear?”

      Infuriated, the youth nearly fell backwards as he suddenly stopped pushing. The sudden difference in the cart’s weight without his assistance was markedly noticeable by the two men. “Hooooof!” bellowed the Chief as he had to bear down considerably. To the Knight’s surprise the added weight caused him to put far more effort to the task as well. Quickly, the youth climbed aboard the cart and took the Chief’s spear and announced, “Oh and my name is not ‘Boy’! It’s Qatula! Hey, this is a nice spear....” Movement through the fern covered forest floor caught Qatula’s attention. “Um, something’s coming. A lot of somethings!”

      Both men looked over their shoulders and saw the green forest floor come alive like small ocean waves as dozens of hyenas charged towards them! “Odin’s Mother!” Though the Knight never called upon the Gods for aid, he did appreciate the Chief’s sentiment. With his usual calm the Knight said, “That’s a lot of hyenas.” Turning back to pushing the cart the Knight said to Qatula, “Looks like we’re going to have to make for the lake after all. We’ll have to go up the path a bit further for higher ground and a better run at the lake down the slope. The last thing we’ll want is to get stuck in the mud or rocks. Qatula, the hyenas will take some time to feel us out first before they attack. We must use that time to get further along. It will be up to you to keep them at bay until we do!”

      Seeing the sudden respect and expectation from both men bolstered young Qatula’s spirits. Taking the borrowed spear firmly in hand, the youth nodded his head once sharply in acknowledgement. Not long after, the dozens of dark forms broke through the ferns surrounding the path yipping and cackling loudly amongst each other. Without looking up the Knight said, “As long as your eyes are the only ones they see, they’ll think we are some strange creature and will be cautious. Wait until one gets very close and stab it with the spear! Kill it if you can, but make sure it gets hurt. That will cause the others to be more cautious. Once they get brave enough, they’ll all come at once.”

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Night Time Traveler Pt. V

      Looking to the Chief, the Knight signaled for him to make ready. Now crouched and stalking forward as to not alert the pack, the Knight looked for the dominant female. The youth swatted and swung his branch hitting the beasts repeatedly but to no real effect. Suddenly, largest of the grinning devils snapped its jaws upon his makeshift weapon and wrenched it from his hands. With no weapon, its fellows dashed towards him! Leaping backwards, the youth somersaulted away from their slavering jaws landing on the cart next to the now screaming old man. As the hyenas yipped angrily at their prey’s evasion, an abrupt death-yelp burst from the dominant female. The hyenas turned to see another two-legged beast land atop the completely surprised female only to witness its head severed just above the jaw line!

      Having used the forward momentum from his leap, the Knight drove the edge of his shield through the largest hyena's head only to stop deep in the moist soil. Before the nearest hyena could react, a flick of his arm saw the long fighting knife buried deep within its body. Off to his side, the Knight heard the Chief’s spear claim another of the pack as he leaped forward with a blood-curdling growl. With a strong pull, the Knight freed the shield which pinned the dominant female to the ground in death accompanied by an ill sucking sound. By now, the remaining hyena’s were in full route except for one.

      The Knight turned to see the fierce glowing eyes of the Dominant Male as they caught the rays of twilight. The Knight knew exactly why the beast stood with raised hackles, bared fangs and murderous intent. Putting down his shield and sticking the Great War Spear’s haft into the ground, the Knight slowly stepped forward and said, “I too would want blood for my mate. Come see if you can take it.” All eyes locked upon the two adversaries as they stood stock still. The hyena no longer cackled for only a long growl escaped its jaws. The Dominant Male took in the two-legged creature as its eyes would not turn away in submission. Infuriated by the two-leg’s defiance, the hyena charged and then leaped ready to tear out the two-legged male’s throat!

      The Chief ready to throw his own spear, watched in amazement as the Knight side-stepped the beast. In doing so, the dark-skinned warrior threw his brawny arm around the hyena’s neck and outstretched forelegs which was followed by the loud report of breaking bones. The hyena stared out with eyes wide in death for it had been so quick as to not allow a final rattle. The Aesir Chief stood with eyes agog after so skillful a kill. “Damn this will make a fine drinking tale!” Before the Knight could reply, out came the high and low pitched cracking voice of the youth. “Eh, that wasn’t so much! I had them all ready for the kill until you two showed up!” Looking away from the rude adolescent to the frightened old man the Knight inquired, “Are you well Old Father?” It was the youth who answered. “Ah, he’s all right.” Not one to suffer children disrespecting their elders the Chief interjected, “No one was talking to you boy. You should show your thanks for having your young hide saved.” Now with dawn in full bloom, the painted youth looked at the Chief and said, “Wow! Where did you find this one? His skin is white as old bones! And look at his hair! How much did this slave cost you?”

      Just as the Chief’s lips drew back baring his teeth at the youth’s suggestion, the Knight cut in saying, “You are being rude boy.” The youth turned to see the cold expression on the warrior’s face and he jumped back behind the cart and said, “Whoooo! You are scary!” The Chief drew near the Knight and said, “The Priestess won’t mind if I stab him will she?” Flashing a rare grin the Knight replied, “I’m not sure. But accidents do happen.” With a toothsome grin shining through a red-brown beard the Chief said as he drew his sword, “I think I can manage an accident just fine.” The youth looked from the Knight to the Chief and back to the Knight then hastily said, “Great sirs, you have shown me my behavior has been poor and I beg both your pardon! I humbly thank you for saving our lives!" Satisfied, the Chief looked to the Knight and asked, “Does that work for you Sir Knight?” Giving a single nod while looking directly at the painted youth the Knight replied, “Apology accepted.”

      After the Knight’s inquiries were made of the Old Father called Oboae and the Youth named Qatula it was revealed they were both traveling with a caravan on its way through the deep desert to a great city by the sea. It was one night midway through the journey that Qatula noticed the Old Father had walked out into the desert while the caravan slept. Thinking to bring the old man back, the youth borrowed a small pushcart to make it faster to return since the oldster was so feeble. Searching the better part of the night for Old Oboae, Qatula found him among the dunes crying about wanting to return to his home ‘in the valley’ before his death.

      Despite the Old Father’s protests, Qatula put him on the pullcart and rushed back. Unfortunately just before the dawn, the caravan had packed up and left without them! Unable to catch up with the caravan, the pair were lost and eventually were caught in a sandstorm. The next morning they found themselves by the riverside and Old Oboae pointed down river only to utter, “My Valley.” Since then, the Old Father had not uttered another word and had been growing weaker with each passing day. Looking to the Knight Qatula pleaded, “I beg you sir, help me fix the cart and lead me to the valley he spoke of!”

      The Knight pondered their tale carefully. It was not implausible considering he too had wandered into the Valley from the desert after being separated from his own caravan. The Aesir Chief and his men also found the Valley after being lost at sea and crossing the desert. In fact, all of the people living in the Valley could trace their ancestry back to someone who had been lost and made their way here through the wilderness. Then there was his wife’s warning to ‘use his best judgment’ when it came to dealing with the traveler. However, there were two traveler’s instead of one. One an old man wanting to return to his homeland before death and the other a simple youth trapped by his good intentions. The Knight’s first thought was to help the old man as it was unlikely anyone else would come this way soon. A moment passed and the Knight replied, “Fine. But we’ll leave the cart behind. It will be simpler to carry the Old Father.” Qatula was about to say something and then remembered his manners as the pale-skinned hairy giant moved to lift the frail old one from the cart.

      “All right old-timer, here we gooooof!” exclaimed the surprised Chief. By all looks the near jet-black graybeard could be easily carried with one of the Chief’s strong arms. Yet, no matter how he tried the former seafarer couldn’t so much as budge Old Oboae from the cart! “Odd’s blood! What sort of trickery is this? I’ve pulled ship’s anchors that weren't as heavy!” The Knight’s eyes narrowed at the prospect. He’d come to know the Chief well enough to be sure the man would play no pranks at so serious a time. The Knight had also come to know that when dealing with his wife’s world, nothing was as it seemed. Just to be certain, the Knight stepped forth and tried to cradle the old with no success. Looking to the youth, the Knight saw him barely holding back his laughter. Doing his best to hold his anger in front of the Old Father the Knight asked sharply, “What mischief is this boy?”

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Night Time Traveler Pt. IV

The natives were restless.

They were always that way whenever they came to the outpost. When it first appeared, it came in the night heralded by the loudest sound the natives have ever heard. It was so great, it became a legend amongst The People. It was the sound that shattered Heaven. The speaker said a piece of heaven must have broken away and fell to the world of The People because they had never seen anything before that could do what this piece of Heaven did. On the first day of Heaven-fall, the people surrounded it and touched it, tasted it, smelled it and thought to it. It was massive, the First Female indicated its size had to be a sign of its heavenly origins because it was longer than a handful of the giant grasses of the forests. Only the mountains were larger. So in language of the people, they called it "Heaven's Mountain."

For many days, they watched Heaven's Mountain from a discrete distance. It was assumed the spirits would disapprove of their watching a piece of Heaven and so the People tried to not appear to be watching it, while they studied it intently. Rocks were hurled in the direction of Heaven's Mountain to see if they could harm it. They couldn't. Even the greatest hunter, Far-slayer with his leathern rock thrower, capable of killing the largest of bouncers at nine hands worth of strides, did not leave a mark, as he hunted near Heaven's Mountain and "missed" a bouncer that strayed too close to it. Far-slayer claimed that a wind spirit took his aim but the old ones bared their fangs and woofed in a conspiratorial tone, indicating their approval of his hunting skill and their acceptance of his reasoning for his inaccuracy. He flexed his muscles in agreement, and sought out a new stones from which he would "hunt" near Heaven's Mountain the entire day, catching dinner only late in the day.

By the third day, the People were brave enough to approach the Mountain of cool, blue, stone-not stone and after much physical experimentation decided Heaven's Mountain was a relative disappointment after its spectacular arrival and gathered up to leave when there was series of daylights appearing all over the shape. It could only the day coming far earlier than normal because suddenly day was everywhere. The People ran back into the thick cover of the tree-grass and vanished from sight and sound. The daylight moved around the outside of Heaven's mountain coming from the very cold flesh of the mountain itself. There were sounds, a booming, something like the speech of The People, but it was harsh to the ear, a bitter coughing noise as if the speaker was near the end of its life and could only curse the spirits in its final death-voice. The People could not understand what they were hearing but were sure it was a sign the spirits were displeased. The People moved as only the People could, swiftly, lightly, shadows in the brush. Younglings were gripped, oldsters were assisted, though they were only a little less surefooted than the primes who composed the tribe.

The People began their retreat not a moment too soon as the ship flashed its warning lights. "Stand by for flash sterilization of a five hundred foot region outside of the ship. All hands are reminded to remain in the ship during this time." Lights on the outside of the hull and the inside of the ship, repeated the warning before the ships external coldbeams began to range and mark the distance before the hotter and more powerful lasers, destroyed the nearby foliage, rock, sand and unfortunately for The People who had not been swift enough, the animals who were too near the ship. This was a standard operating procedure to ensure the build area around the ship was rendered safe enough for the crew to disembark and begun building the outpost around the body of the landing craft. This landing pod was one of sixteen dropped to the planet across the world allowing the Oligarchs an array of choices as well as increasing their ability to subdue the planet with the proper applications of technology.

# # #

Oligarch Esteves Sandobar was the leader of this landing pod and was awakened first two days before the pod was ready to drop from orbit. He had been warned of the effects of cryosleep and had experienced it first hand for two months before the ships five year journey to Proxima Betalis, a yellow orange star one hundred and twenty light years from Earth. He woke after five years of having nearly no blood -- it was replaced with a nutrient fluid that resisted expanding once cold and yet could be supersaturated to allow cellular energy absorption, albeit at a very low level, essentially slowing cellular activity ninety percent, ravenous yet the very idea of food, made him slightly nauseous. He could not stand or move for a week upon reactivation because his body simply had not had the strength, nor energy to rise.

As his blood was restored to his body, he was also pumped with regenerative serums designed to re-energize his cells, causing them to replenish themselves and return to their previous vigor. All of the Oligarchs on this journey had been treated with experimental genetic materials designed to allow them to fast-grow bone and muscle tissue once exposed to the regenerative serums. Within a week, he was strong enough to stand and after another week of physical therapy regained his superhuman stature. Once he was active and capable, he began waking his core staff and providing them with the understanding of his value of them based on who was awakened first. It was important to impress upon one subordinates, early in this expedition, what was expected of them. Esteves did not have any doubt of his teams loyalty, but it was good to let them know what was expected.

After the core team of seven members were awakened they scanned the star system and prepared to drop the other landing pods on to the planets nine major continental masses. Proxima Betalis was a dual star with seven rocky planets and four gas giants, very similar to the Sol system. Early probes indicated that this planet, called Betalis Three for now, was very Earth-like and subsequent scan clarified the first scans of the planet as being able to support human life.

The crew prepared the drop ships and they fell away from the primary body of the drive mechanism and fell to Betalis Three and landed in the best visible areas chosen by the ships computer and checked by the Oligarch Sandobar's hand picked agents. The rest of the crew would be awakened on the planet's surface, allowed to grow accustomed to the gravitational difference. The air would also be circulated on the ship further allowing the genofixing done on Earth to complete itself once on the planet. For the Oligarch and his chosen few, they would be forced to spend a week in agony as their genofixing was applied after they arrived and were awake but it could not be help. Someone would have to suffer to ensure the rest of the crew had the best chance of survival on this planet, their new home.

"Genofixing complete. Commence crew debarkation. Preparation of ground for deployment completed." The crew of the landing pod were terribly sick and did not have any burning urge to go outside, so for the first week, they allowed robotic devices to build the defensive perimeter. There were several physical threats in their new home, dozens of animals only seen from space and categorized by the computer. So to be safe, the system designed a protocol to ensure a safe space around the landing pod, while the area was prepared with habitats until the crew could live off the land. No one but the setup robots and a few crew would be allowed to leave the ship until the Oligarch Sandobar had completed his genofixing.

Days later, Far-slayer, who was out hunting when Heaven's Mountain belched its deadly fire, returned to find a few primes left and the forest-grass around Heaven's Mountain destroyed. His entire people decimated by the light of Heaven's Mountain. His agonized warble echoed through the remaining forest as he stared at the continuing sweep of energy flattening the terrain. He could see the skeletons of primes who were caught at the edge of the swath of destruction.

Such carnage had never been seen by anyone of the People, except in the most terrible of conflicts or when confronting the thundergiants of the Plains. Far-Slayer, was now the leader of this remaining band of the People and soothed them with gentle whisperings and tended wounds as they moved away from the Mountain. It would seem the Mountain was not filled with gentle spirits after all. Far-slayer vowed as he took The People away toward a nearby valley, he would destroy whatever spirits inhabited this monstrosity. Thinking of his family, destroyed he would never call this thing Heaven's Mountain again. For him, it would be called Hell's Rock, and he would vanquish and banish every spirit dwelling within it. As he watched the spirit beings boil out of Hell's Rock and begin their transformation of the land, he hoped a spirit could suffer.

He intended to find out.

Jump to Part 13 - Missing Pieces

'Metal Organism Designed only for Cuddling' © Thaddeus Howze 2010. All Rights Reserved

It is a funny thing, but my life is one of isolation in many ways. Religious folks are not suppose to wonder and wander. I am that but I was a recog before. To train one's eyes like a laser on one so called reality is cautioned. Look intently but not closely. We are taught that the things we worship are irrefutable but we have to believe it all by faith. The truth is that most religions are myths as far as fact goes, the principles are fact hid behind symbols and the mistake we make is that we personify the symbols. Once we personify, we are subject to mental manipulation by ones who know better and ones who only know to personify. They will damn you if you don't believe as they do. It is a weave of culture and doctrine and time. No one seeks the origin of it, it is all unique, original and timeless. I have been a fool as many others. The original teaching once pulled from the center begins to diverge into cultural streams fading into the quirks of other cultures, languages, motives and mentalities.

I am strapped in my seat, the images whirl by seamlessly, endlessly and I can't tell if the schemes are lies or truth disguised as mis-understandings. The point of view of the victim, the view of the victor, the view of the passerby. When they converge only principle remains. The pain of one, gloating of the second and the report of the last is all taken with a grain of salt. Too much salt is bad in any case. With age one gets seasoned, you must speak, be frank if the disillusions have faded. They thought they knew you but your mind has changed. They are shocked, never knew you felt that way. They never thought to ask, always assumed you were like them, accepting it all as if that is the way it should be. You get older, your origins begin to speak. You haven't conversed with them since before you got engaged, engulfed and submerged in the openly acceptable but sorely misguided.

Damn, I am a recog, I should have recognized that! I have to open the ancient books, look at ancient pictures, refresh my memory of stuff I haven't seen in my present lifetime. Today I look to Africa and Kemet, etc. I look at fresh faces for clues of the old and worn. The sands don't hid everything.

      Being awakened in the dead of night to go running in pitch darkness without torch or lamp would normally have the Aesir Chief ready to cut off someone’s head! But on this night, being roused by the Valley Knight to accompany him on an errand for the Priestess put out all fires raging within him. The Chief had to admit, with all his men off on the perilous journey back to their homeland while he stayed behind left his spirits at an all-time low. However, he had given his word to the Priestess to train the young interlopers who awoke the mountain for their duties as its guardians. Except for the odd wanderer in from the desert, no one who lived in the valley was foolish enough to ascend the mountain to look for the glowing yellow stones.

      To be once more flying into a potential battle shook the long growing cobwebs from the Chief’s body and spirit. He thanked Odin for giving him the wisdom to run with the youth’s in training these past months or he would be dead by now! As always, the Knight had little to say. The Chief could respect that. There was nothing worse than a man with a loud mouth with only empty words spewing out. The Knight was not completely aloof. Many times when invited to drink and gamble he attended and then matched cups with any who dared challenge him. However, the black-skinned warrior never lost his composure whether drinking or throwing dice. His uncanny cool as his winnings grew was unnerving.

      The Knight did answer one personal question the Chief asked of him. It concerned how he had been chosen by the Priestess as her husband. With his usual cool, the Knight merely said, “Many men wanted her. I wanted her more.” When the Chief asked others about the selection they said many men fought to become the Priestess’ protector and the Knight had beaten them all. The Chief did not doubt the account for he had looked into the eyes of the Knight that fateful day upon the Mountain and saw the eyes of a killer stare back at him.

      At last the gravel covered roads gave way to the wooden walkway leading up the dam. After reaching the top of the winding ramps, the Chief looked out over the vast lake. Though his home had similar expanses of water such as lakes and fjords, the view of sparkling stars upon the calm waters always took his breath. It was hard to believe in an age long past this was once a mighty river in constant war with the Mountain. According to the Priestess, just like the Mountain, there was a Goddess living within the mighty Lake. After seeing a bare glimpse of what the Mountain was capable, the Chief wanted no part in angering the Lake!

      Both men swiftly and quietly followed the hidden path through the cypress forest yards away from the lake shoreline. In the near total darkness of the forest, it was all the Chief could do to keep up with the Knight. Thankfully, the light toned patch of fabric at the back of the warrior’s dark skirt made it possible. When it seemed both his lungs and heart were ready to give out, the Knight slowed and then stopped. Crouching down among the high and broad leafed ferns covering the forest floor, the Knight gestured for the Chief to come beside him. Doing his level best to control his ragged breathing after so long an interval of running, the Chief came alongside the Knight. Whispering the also winded Knight said, “There is still a short distance remaining until we reach the forest’s end at the mouth of the river. We will move slowly from here to give us time to catch our breath. By the time we reach the river mouth, it will be nearly dawn.”

      More than pleased to hear they would get a respite from running the Chief asked, “Did the Priestess tell you who this traveler is or what they look like?” Slowly shaking his head the Knight replied, “No, she did not. But, she gave warning to treat the traveler with the utmost respect.” That made the Chief’s thick eyebrows frown heavily. After seeing the Priestess’ true form when she confronted the awakened Mountain, the Chief wondered who could have such influence as to cause her concern? It was a question that would have to wait for the Knight quietly padded off through the ferns and the Chief moved to keep up.

      Just as the Knight predicted, upon reaching the forest’s end and the river mouth the first faint red glow of dawn could be seen through the tree line up ahead. Now the pair moved as did hunters stalking prey ever-watchful for the slightest movement or disturbance in the forest. Except for the singing of awakening birds and the occasional gnat buzzing nearby, all seemed as it should. That was until they heard shouting coming from beyond the trees! In single-file, only the tops of the two men’s heads rose above the ferns as they drew closer to the disturbance. Just short of the tree line’s end they split off two spear lengths distance and stopped still. The Knight listened carefully for the direction of the shouting until his sharp ears pinpointed its position. Giving the barest of head nods to the Aesir Chief, the Knight moved from the cover of the ferns and out to the edge of the trees.

      The Knight knew this area well. Years ago after having lost the caravan he’d wandered the desert until by the grace of the Gods the mouth of the river lay before him. Once clear of the trees, the Knight placed the hammered bronze shield upon his back and the Great War Spear along side him as he belly crawled through the knee-high grass. Off to his side, the Knight saw the Chief do as he did and together they moved closer to the nearby road. Peering through a gap in the grass, both the Knight and Chief saw the cause of the disturbance. In the growing rays of dawn, a youth covered in black ash with strange gray ash markings was trying to fend off a circling pack of cackling hyenas with nothing more than a long tree branch. Behind the youth lay a small cart with a broken wheel. Upon the cart cowered an old man covered in a plainspun blanket. The Knight noted that brave as the youth’s effort was, the hyenas were gaining their courage. Once they did....

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Night Time Traveler Pt. III