BLOGS

      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

I read the first issue of Damage Control when it first hit the stands back in the early 90's and asked myself, who would have thought about the wreckage of a superhero battle and the logistical nightmare it must be to clean up; someone who had a little bit of experience cleaning up after other people. I related to the comic immediately, and though I had no idea who Dwayne McDuffie was at the time, I was certain I would hear from him again, if for no other reason, he saw the world from a different point of view and was persuasive enough to convince someone to take a risk on him. 

Imagine my surprise when I found out he was black. Thus began my relationship with his work. I made an effort to find anything he was involved in and whenever he was involved, it was something I liked, approved of and respected his efforts to quietly bring change. I guess we will never really know the story of what it was like for him to deal with the challenges of working in the comic industry, but I am certain they were monumental, thus making his successes that much greater. He was versatile, he wrote the entire range of comics, from the magical to the super-scientific, pulp to space opera, his stories were logical, well-considered, and even when he missed the mark, it was never by much. The man was also prolific, he worked on a number of projects simultaneously, yet did not sacrifice quality. He could be counted on to tell solid tales and to make the most of the characters, their histories and always showed respect for the work that had come before.

His great respect for the history of comics allowed him to recreate classic ideas in new ways. Dial H for Hero became the wildly successful Ben 10 series spawning multiple iterations of the character, hundreds of new aliens, new ideas and spurring an entire generation into the ideas of space, science, aliens and the indomitable human spirit. His work with the Justice League managed to maintain the icons comfortably in their roles as the premiere heroes of their generation and still found ways to keep them fresh and evolving. The role of John Stewart, which has been so quietly pushed back in the comics, spoke volumes about the lack of heroes of color and McDuffie's effort to bring some parity in that regard. John Stewart was as heroic as any of the icons in this modern pantheon and the work of JLA will be considered a classic in animation for decades.

Static in both of his iterations (comic and later television adaptations) had all the hallmarks of the quintessential superhero, optimistic, serious, wisecracking and yet serious about wanting to make a change in a world that seemed to have forgotten how to change. Static's onscreen presentation gave young people of color a chance to see themselves represented in the heroic model as the leader, as the initiator, as a member of a family, with obligations to both school, friends and to their duties as a superhero. The animation also allowed McDuffie to address social issues that affected black youth and to show them the possibility of a life different than the one they thought was their only choice. I read an interview with him in the Atlantic last year and enjoyed learning so much about his personal views.

Dwayne McDuffie's passing is the loss of an industry giant. He helped to dispel the myth of there being no place for a black man in an industry dominated by whites. His work was always inventive, creative, but still respectful of the history of the genre. His greatest successes include the work on Milestone and Static Shock, creating black heroes with depth, dimension and character. At a time when no one believed there was even the potential for black heroes, McDuffie went about the business of making it happen. Twice nominated (as part of the team) for an Emmy for Static Shock, McDuffie gained the respect of his industry winning numerous prizes and nominations for awards.

Writer, editor, visionary, leader, dreamer, persistent, focused and undoubtedly a bastard from time to time, it would take all of these qualities for a brother to make a way into the comic and later movie industry, making Dwayne McDuffie a hard act for anyone to follow. And yet we must follow. He paved the way showing us we could not only make a difference, not only create something new, but to bring our stories, our views, our dreams to our children because if we don't, who will. Dwayne McDuffie inspired me greatly and I can say my current efforts to write heroes of color and to portray them in ways worthy of respect, not as caricatures is reflected in my own work.

We are great because we stand upon the shoulders of giants. Dwayne McDuffie was one of those giants. He will be missed. We salute you, sir.

Thaddeus
@ebonstorm

The Third Wave is Rising!

Most in the media want to characterize what is happening in the Middle East as something new but for a fact the upheavel is but the latest phase, the third wave, in a social evolution brought on by the information age. It is a phenomenon that may result in the end of the world order as we  know it. I outline my premis in my latest Podcast entitled "The Third Wave."

The talking heads and politicians want us to believe that higher energy prices is the biggest concern but I predict more far reaching and disruptive consequences resulting from the Middle-Eastern unrest. The old dictum that knowledge is power is true and there is no predicting how the long oppressed masses in Arab nations and around the world will wield that power.

Behold... The Third Wave!

E. Lewis

Other Podcasts can be heard at: www.elbertlewisjr.com/mypodcasts.html

   I would like to let everyone know that my completely rewritten novel "The Dawn of MAN" is now available from iUniverse and Amazon Kindle. I describe it has a hard hitting, fast paced and imaginative story of revenge, redemption, the bond of friendship and the triumph of man against overwhelming odds.

   In the near future, another war in the middle east, skyrocketing energy costs, the crash of the stock market and civil unrest will set America ablaze. At a pivotal point in history, the first black president will be tested beyond human endurance and the American people must overcome long held and deep seated fears to survive modern man's first contact with an alien species.

E. Lewis

      The oppressive heat of the summer sun hammered down upon the lush green landscape of growing crops. A hot breeze rustled the leaves of uncounted soy bean, corn and rice plants. Insects fleeing ravenous field birds flew in intricate patterns to save their lives. All was as it should be. The pulse of life within this unlikely oasis in so vast a desert beat with invigorating energy. Suddenly the breeze changed direction. The dueling birds and insects abruptly ceased their hostilities to lift off over the great fields as if fleeing a great fire. As the last dark speck of a bird disappeared from view the sun holding court in the cloudless sky grew dark. A tremendous shadow passed over the great mountain watching over the valley and reached out until it completely covered the life-bringing waters of the great lake.

      With the valley from mountain to lake plunged into darkness, stars now shed their pale light upon the land. The breeze once warm now grew bitterly cold and frost quickly took hold upon the earth. Row by row, field by field, the crops succumbed to the killing frost until all were wilted and frozen in death. High above, the stars wheeled over the dark land as the sun neither rose nor set. With each rotation of the great star-field in the black sky, the land below grew colder and the ice deeper....

      The sudden chill of the night breeze awoke the woman from her nap atop the Lake Dam. Night had come and during the long summer only here by the lake cool breezes brought welcomed relief. The woman rubbed away the goose-bumps from her cold skin and looked out over the land she had long claimed as home. All was as it should be. The stars held sway on this moonless night lending their pale radiance upon the vast fields of crops growing in the valley below. However, the woman’s vision let her know things were about to change. Something was coming... and soon.

      The quiet footfalls of a man leaping from boulder to boulder reached the woman’s ears. Few could hear the man’s approach and normally if someone did, those soft sounds would be their last. However, there was no malice bore by the powerful man coming toward her. Instead, he had come looking for her out of a husband’s concern. Once he reached the highpoint atop the natural dam where she sat, the man stood silent with only his breathing slowing from his exertions. After a long moment of silence the man asked, “Are you well my wife? You rest here only when you are troubled.”

      Looking up at the dark-skinned man and his dark colored skirt with only a wide belt and long fighting knife tucked through, the woman patted the stone next to her inviting him to sit down. With powerful grace, the man sat beside her with legs folded and back straight as a house pole. Though married for only a few years, the man was well versed with his wife’s moods and knew when something very important was on her mind. It was also important for him to keep in mind that the beautiful dark-skinned woman far outstripped any power he imagined. Though the Valley Elders ruled the people, it was his wife the Priestess who ruled the land.

       Her dark eyes catching the faint starlight stared at her husband and protector as she said, “My Husband, I need you to do something for me.” The man took in the serious look upon his wife’s face and replied, “You have only but to ask my wife. What great task would you have me undertake?” Taking his large callused hand in hers the Priestess replied, “A traveler will soon arrive. I want you to go meet the person and ascertain their intentions. Once you have done so, bring the person here to me. You must do this before the last rays of sunlight fall away from the earth tomorrow.” The man noticed his wife’s hand was unnaturally cold.

      Seeing the now hard look in his wife’s eyes the man asked, “Who could be of such importance to disturb you so?” Giving his hand a gentle squeeze the Priestess replied, “No matter what my husband, treat the traveler with the utmost respect!” Nodding his head in acknowledgement the man agreed. “Of course my wife, I’ll do as you command. Where must I go to meet this person and how will I know them?” Turning from her husband the Priestess said, “Go up the path following the lakeshore to farthest end where the River feeds into it. You will find the traveler there. As for how you will know the traveler, I cannot tell you. Use your better judgment. In fact, you should take the Chief of the Aesir with you. With his men gone off to bring back their families, I’m sure he’d be happy to have an excuse to leave the Mountain for a while.”

      Giving his wife a tender kiss upon her forehead the man said, “I shall return with your traveler before the appointed time. Your skin is cold my love. You should go home and sit by the fire.” Just as he turned to descend the dam, the man stopped stock still. The Priestess knowing her husband all too well said, “You want to know what should be done if the Traveler shows ill intent?” The man made no move as he waited for an answer. With a sigh, the Priestess said, “Again I leave you to your better judgment. However, take my spear if you wish. I may also take your advice and sit by the fire. Be very careful my love.” Giving no further sign of acknowledgement, the man leaped down the boulders to blend with the dark terrain. No longer able to see him, the Priestess looked up at the night sky and said, “I hope I have not sent them to their deaths.”

© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.

Go to Night Time Traveler Pt II

She was Annabelle’s shadow, trailing the dark woman as she rode in horse drawn carriages, sipped wine on balconies, danced in chandelier lit ballrooms. But she always returned home to her quarter alongside the river.

Now the twin moons shined through twisted branches. The vampire followed their light down the dusty road to the juke joint. Unseen **** walked alongside her.

They stepped inside a wooden shack, the air thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of frying meat… Annabelle felt the glances of the crowd and didn’t have to probe their minds to know their thoughts.

How she dress the way she do, when she don’t never do no work?

Where she been all this time, to come showing up now?

She still looks the same -- not a day older! It ain’t natural!

Envy. Curiosity. Fear.

Annabelle sauntered over to the far left corner to where Fatback, the proprietor, sat beside a tub of beer. A table of liquor and glasses was set up beside the tub.

The big, yellow man smiled up at her. “Hey pretty, whatcho want?”

“Moonshine.”

Fatback poured her shot of clear liquid. “That’s a mighty strong drink, little girl. Sure you can handle it?”

She favored him with a smile, and dug into the pocket of her dress for a crumpled bill. As Annabelle sipped her drink, she let her eyes roam over the couples grinding in one another‘s arms. Her eyes settled on one heavily built, brown man.

Fatback smirked. “That’s Roscoe, a married man. Not that you care.”

She sent her burning thoughts to Roscoe… his eyes found hers and slid down her body like butter.

He wound his way through the dancers, and after the briefest hesitation gave her his hand. “You wanna dance?”

Wordlessly she stepped into his arms and their bodies pressed together, his pungent odor in her nostrils, and slipped her hands down the hard muscles of his back.

At the front of the juke, on a crude wooden stage, a buxom young woman sang, accompanied by men playing the piano and harmonica:

             And just can’t get enough…”

Annabelle whispered in his ear: “I’m going home. Wanna come?”

He gave her a lazy smile. “We ain’t got to go that far… Let’s go outside.”

“You want me? Then meet me at the water pump behind my cabin.”

“Where --”

She put her fingers to his lips. “You’ll find it,”

She left him standing in the middle of the floor, staring after her. After the briefest hesitation, Roscoe walked outside. She was gone.

But her voice called to him.

It should’ve frightened him, but instead his desire swelled until he thought he’d lose his mind. Roscoe ran the length of the road, following her honeyed murmur… to the quarter. To her cabin...

Copyright 2008, 2009, 2010 Valjeanne Jeffers-Thompson all rights reserved

From the Carl Brandon Society site:

The Carl Brandon Parallax Award is given to works of speculative fiction created by a self-identified person of color. This Award includes a $1000 cash prize.

"The Carl Brandon Kindred Award is given to any work of speculative fiction dealing with issues of race and ethnicity; nominees may be of any racial or ethnic group. This Award includes a $1000 cash prize.

"Nominate works published in 2010 by filling out the nominations form (opens a new window). The nominations period runs through February 28, 2011.

"Please spread the word!

"When considering works to nominate, keep in mind that by speculative fiction, we mean science fiction, fantasy, horror, magical realism, or any works that incorporate elements of these and related genres. Works do not have to be marketed as science fiction to be eligible for these awards. We welcome graphic novels for consideration."

For more information, visit: http://carlbrandon.org/awards.html

Lightning flashed.

The Archangel Michael waited. He heard the warning claxons, not activated since the Great Pogram, six centuries earlier and extended his senses to the Guardians at the Four Gates. Each had turned its attention skyward. They all locked onto a streaking meteor blazing brilliantly over the horizon heading toward the Celestial City. He moved toward the center of the city and rose skyward, his two wings slowly carrying him into the storm of Heaven. Rain covered him once he was beyond the radiance and he welcomed its cooling embrace. He felt too little these days, filled with the administrivia of managing Heaven. The unknowns of battle were his meat and drink, figuratively speaking, since he rarely ate or drank. This new threat was what he was made for.

The fireball moved fast, fast enough to be nothing but a threat. The outer defenses did nothing, as he had asked. He sensed they would not be enough as it approached them. He saw them cringing as it flew overhead, with a heat terrible enough to burn an angel. Heaven made ready below him and Gabriel stood by beneath him should he not be enough. There had never been a threat that ever took more than two Seraphim to deal with except for Him. And this, this clumsy thing was not his way.

Michael summoned his power and his two wings became four and his two eyes became four. Flame began to rise from him and his four wings became six and his four eyes became six and flame began to come from them. He increased in stature and his glow cast a light onto the Celestial City. He opened his mouth and began to sing in the tongue of Enoch, the language of Angels and could hear the Litanies of Heaven being sung below him, and the city harmonized with him.

He moved away from the city and flew out over the wall, gaining speed, preparing to stop the fireball before it even reached the city. The Four Guardians activated their Enochian patterns and the City's radiance hardened, a great shield protecting the walls of Heaven and its attendant suburbs. Michael streaked away from the Celestial City, a brilliant star, as tiny as the fireball was huge. He could feel the heat. He could smell the smoke as it passed through the air, miles away, he could feel life. It was alive... He could hear it screaming. Seconds away, he prepared himself for the impact.

Jehoel watched awestruck as Michael streaked away.

The skies above Heaven were momentarily lit with the light of a thousand suns. Multiple streaks of lightning covered the dark sky. These flashes were arrhythmic but constant, and the rumble of thunder cascaded ceaselessly. There were clouds but their movement would be strange to an onlooker. If one were to watch one would see this was a never-ending storm, moving constantly. It always rained here. Sometimes less, often more, but it never stopped, and had not for at least six and half centuries. Moving through the cloud cover and dodging the lightning were tiny flying figures, some human in appearance, others not so much, heading to and from a magnificent city of immense size in the distance. Its magnificent spires and minarets, towers and cathedrals, skyscrapers and monoliths all glowed with a pure radiance that soothed the weary flyers, or walkers who approached the city and came within its glow.

This city provided the only other light visible in this place. A steady source of golden light similar in tone and warmth to a gently rising sun. The only difference was the light did not illuminate the darkness past a few hundred miles from the city proper. Beyond that region was darkness, only punctuated with the never ending flashing of lightning in this permanent darkness. There had not been a sunrise in Heaven for almost seven hundred years.

A flying cloud of winged eyes dipped down from the sky and approached the Easter Gate. The breathtaking speed of its approach was noted by the sentries and by the city itself. The cloud of eyes began to slow as it came down to the Eastern Highway and merged with the oncoming traffic. The Celestial City proper is a huge structure, a perfect cube, but there were the Celestial suburbs as well and these stretched on for hundreds of miles outside of the City walls. To imagine the City properly one would have to image a cube on one of its points, half above the ground, half below. There are dwellings in both halves of the city and all types of entities lived there. 

Jehoel Softspeaker was returning to the city and hated the traffic that had been growing worse in the recent decades. She was an Angel of Mediation and returned from a negotiation with nearby Paradise Realms discussing terms of merger with the Celestial Host. She had been unsuccessful in convincing these other paradises to join with the Host in the coming War. Elysium wanted nothing to do with the war. They would not commit any of their divine resources, energy or heavenly servants to the cause. The Celestial Host was not trying to coerce anyone into serving, at least not yet. There were many angels negotiating on the behalf of Heaven, each going to realms they were familiar with and welcomed.

Jehoel was told to return to the city and report the results of her trip. Waiting in traffic would take several days before she would be able to enter the city, and while she waited, she Sang. This close to the Celestial City, everyone sang while they waited to be admitted. The walls of the city comprised of precious stones, resonated, reflected and refracted the songs of the approaching visitors or residents. Each stone of diamond and with flecks chalcedony returned the exalted songs of Heaven to its visitors in a way that soothed their souls, warmed their bodies, calmed their spirits and ensured everyone, no matter how long they waited, no matter how cold or tired they might be, were in a perfect state of bliss when they entered the shelter of the city.

The songs, each different, each unique to the singer created a greater harmony as they were woven together in a magnificent chorus lead by the wall's sentry angels. Clockwork mechanisms were seen patrolling the walls of the city. Great machines that resembled a variety of natural creatures, great lions with greater roars to match, capable of melting steel, bears with huge paws with stone rending claws, and clockwork eagles flapped their mechanical wings in the rain, circling the city in every rising spirals, each wing the length of a football field and capable of shaving the edge of a diamond. Heaven was known for its automatons of clockwork, each a veritable work of art from an Angel of craftsmanship and their attendant servants. Each piece was completely unique, and possessed of a singular nature that allowed each to come to life and fulfill a task assigned by the Angel upon their completion.

This song was heard throughout the realm as an echo in the soul of every person who came to Heaven. It was the Celestial Beacon and often when humans were in the act of dying, they could hear and see the Beacon as a tunnel of light they were drawn inexplicably toward. When you arrived here, you had to walk, down one of the cardinal roads which approached the city on one of its four points where each gate directed you into the Celestial City where you began your new life as a servant of Heaven. The Celestial Beacon was nearly irresistible to anyone who arrived in Heaven but if you chose to resist it, you were able to reach the only other destination here, Sheol, the City of the Archangel Lucifer Light-bringer. This other city has a variety of names, Dis, the City of Brass but it was most commonly known by its residents as Hell.

There are other Paradise Realms for the non-believers and with those the Celestial Host were in good relations with, had portals to those Heavens were accessible from here. As the primary religion remaining after the Compact on Earth, nearly all souls passed this way before they went to their personal Reward. Unaffiliated souls were able to be directed to whatever Afterlife they believed in but they were processed at the halfway point between Heaven and Sheol. Nothing is known of those souls that are processed there and the Angels there do not speak of it. Traffic between Heaven and Hell was always a constant as souls that had been released from hell were slowly migrated toward Heaven and newly arrived souls that needed the cleansing fires of Hell were directed there. All in all, an efficient arrangement.

In the central processing center of Heaven, where the spirit energy of prayer was processed and stored for later conversion into illiaster, cocoastrum and aether, there was a problem. This problem had presented itself in fits and starts for the last decade, but recently, it had grown to new proportions. Enough of a problem, that it needed someone to look into it, preferably by someone who would not make the problem worse, be seen by Humans and thus cause a religious event. Once upon a time, such a schism might not be such a bad idea, but now schisms divided resources that should be spent best on the Celestial Host, not on any rival gods or god-lings, trying to make a comeback against the Holy Church.

She fell. A shooting star in a place that has not seen stars for the dark clouds that perpetually cover it. Unconscious and unaware of her peril. As she fell, she burned. She burned, not from the fall but from that which made her fall. A machine unlike anything she had ever seen. She had been around since the making of the Celestial City and had never seen anything like this thing. It was more fearsome than the Malakim, warrior angels to heaven, whose wrath and ferocity have few equals, more horrific than the great Iron Golems, with their hidden hearts, that protected the Gates to Heaven and whose gaze, when released, destroyed all things, mundane or celestial.

She arrived in The Happy Hunting Grounds expecting what she always experienced there. Blue skies, except when it was needed to rain, warm days, and the sun shining overhead. It was a place so beautiful that if she did not know this was Heaven, a particular heaven, she would think she was back on Earth. The great plain below her was always covered with buffalo migrating from west to east covering the ground from horizon to horizon. This was her memory of the place, beautiful, grass-covered plains with verdant wildlife, and spiritual beings enjoying their ease in this paradise.

It was not what she saw when she crossed The Veil Between Worlds.

There was a pyramid, immense and coal black, standing in the Great Plain where all visitors to the Realm first appeared. Jagged bolts of black lightning leaped from it and struck the ground around it. Where it struck, creatures made of stone and glass, six legged, vaguely horse-like rose from the Earth. Ferocious, these creatures immediately joined the fray. Their screams chilled her blood, and their speed, grace and lethality became immediately apparent as the creatures engaged anything living within range. The black pyramid had doorways open upon it sides and creatures streamed forth like black locusts or black ants, and anything touched by these clouds was stripped to the bone in seconds.

The ground rumbled constantly as if it were experiencing an earthquake. Distant mountains already aflame with fire and smoke erupting. This was a paradise realm, volcanoes were simply impossible here. The air was choked with sulfurous smoke. The fields of grass were blackened with burns and the buffalo lay as charred skeletons across the plains from horizon to horizon. There were no spirits in repose, they were in battle against a variety of foes, whose eyes burned with a bright light akin to searchlights. And the things those lights touched, burned. She hovered in the sky above a battle, her hundred eyes taking in everything, the wind, the smoke, the flames, the battles both on the land and in the air.

She heard the howl of Coyote and saw the flash of lightning from the Thunderbird. They were surrounded, standing guard over the bodies of the Great Bear and the Rattlesnake. Each in their iconic forms, they were twenty to thirty feet tall. Each of them glowing the power of the Great Spirit of this place, each a guardian of their people's spirits. Those spirits were fighting for their very existence against enemies whose skin was like stone, dark and heavy and deflected the lightning from the Thunderbird's flapping wings. Coyote howled again and the creatures stopped their advance, shook and exploded into shrapnel fragments destroying their brethren who were proof against his howl. The Thunderbird's flapping wings created a great wind driving the shrapnel away from the gods' defensive position.

The Great Bear rose to his feet, having taken one of the black pyramids strikes directly to his chest. Towering over his enemies, bleeding profusely, he released a mighty roar and waded into his enemies again. The spirits of Men were here along with these godlike icons of this realm. They wielded magic and weaponry, ancient and modern with great effect but the enemy was numerous and powerful.

Medicine men summoned lightning from the burning sky, striking the ground with great explosions, casting defensive spells from their tribal staves against the burning light of the hexapeds. Tribal women wielded clouds of feathers from their headdresses as flying razors slicing into the armored hides of the enemy. The women conjured and the Earth opened and swallowed their giant enemies.
Horse thundered into the fray, his shining and sharp hooves flashed and dispatched enemies in a single strike. And yet with Coyote, Snake, Bear, Boar, Horse, Crow, Eagle and Thunderbird, all iconic gods of this realm, they were unable to stem the tide of the battle. The best they could do was to hold their own and refuse to give ground.

This battle raged for days. Nonstop. More Men appeared, more weapons appeared. No quarter was asked for and no was given. The horrors were supplemented by the hunched forms of man-like creatures each with huge hands, misshapen heads, each with the strength of ten men. There were monsters that flew and breathed a liquid fire all over the battlefield. Others bled acid, some had flaming vision. One by one the gods fell.

Bear fell first, surrounded by Men he led into the fray, they held their ground protecting him. Bear had engaged several of the enemy's larger ogre constructs and slew them all. He began to move toward the center of the enemy line, confident he would be able to disrupt it. His bear men, wearing an armor of bearskin, channeled his ferocity and his power, each of them filled with the strength of a great bear. He lent them courage and ferocity and they took the vanguard toward the structure the invaders arrived in. The men fought with great axes headed with razor sharp obsidian. They were once legendary warriors in life and in spirit they were even greater.

The tower targeted Bear again and black bolts flew like arrows toward him. His men leapt to his defense and time and time again blocked the blast, each giving his life for a few more yards. Bear drew closer to the center of the battle. The tower redoubled its efforts, and soon Bear was forced to take those strikes himself. He never stopped moving and mere feet from the largest of the ogre-like giants leading the battle, he was struck with six black spears of lightning. So fierce was the strike, for a moment, the entire area was hidden in darkness. When vision returned. Bear was dead. His men fought on but without the ferocity of Bear they were soon overrun and trod into the mud.

Snake crushed creatures and spit venom across the battlefield but he was the next to fall. Large winged dragons dropped down from the sky and savaged him and all were unable to reach him so embattled they were, all they could do was watch. Snake wrapped his coils around the aggressors and bite one of them who died as the venom burned through it. The remaining dragons released their liquid fire and Snake burned and died. In his death throes, he squeezed the life from the remaining three dragons. The dragons and Snake thrashed about and when the smoke cleared the dragons and Snake were still.

She watched, her hundred eyes remembering every detail, every creature, every structure, every shadow, every movement, spell, construct, machine and every sound that took place on the battlefield. But she took no other action. It was not her way, nor her duty. She had already predicted the outcome of this battle. Her actions would not change that outcome, only delay it. This information had to be returned to the Celestial City, so she watched and waited.

Raven and Coyote fought side by side, while the Thunderbird and Horse had been split apart from them. Boar lead a group of humans and buffalo against the enemy and they managed to reach the foot of the pyramid. A cloud of darkness exploded from one of the open doors and the darkness covered them. When the cloud disappeared, only bones remained. Boar was unaffected and proceeded to climb the pyramid. Lightning struck him as soon as he touched the pyramid, but his rage was all consuming, so he kept climbing, even as the lightning carved holes in his flesh, he kept climbing. His screams were heard all across the battlefield and were so horrifying everyone stopped and turned to watch. As he reached the main door on the pyramid, a man stepped out. A tiny man compared to the giant form of Boar. He had two flying snakes over his shoulder, each with scales of iridescent black and huge feathered wings. The snakes open their mouths and a terrible light surrounds Boar. His movement slows and his tusk stops mere inches from the strange man in the red cloak. The two snakes scream again and Boar is blasted into chunks of stone that land at the foot of the pyramid.

There was nothing she could do but return to the Host armed with this information. She could feel the Raven and Coyote sealing the realm and any passages to other nearby heavens. She knew that if she planned to leave, she would need to leave now. The Thunderbird bought them time by intercepting the lightning strikes directed at them and reflecting them back into the enemies legions. Instinctively she knew this was nothing more than a test. These creatures could have won this battle days ago, they were simply testing their capabilities against this relatively weak Paradise. They would be seeking stronger test subject soon.

As she turned to go, She could feel the will of the Enemy directed upon her. She made ready her magic and could feel Heaven on her mind as she tried to Transit. Her computations indicated she would not make it. In those seconds, she compacted all of her observations, conjectures, calculations, her dreams, her love and her life and sent them before her, a sigil streaked away into Transition; being without mass, it could transition instantly. The black pyramid extended a great cannon from the point and swiveled it in her direction.

She flew faster turned her eyes toward the sky. It was only then did she realize hundreds of other pyramids were descending on the Happy Hunting Grounds. Only one had devastated nearly every major deity in residence. They would not know this. She had to make it home. The Great Cannon fired and she was enveloped in flame.

 
She transitioned into Heaven, taking the flames with her.

Michael became aware of a waveform approaching him and stopped. He was far enough from the suburbs of the Celestial City for the confrontation. As the waveform reached him, he realized what it was. The Resonance of an Angel. The last will and testament as it were; all they knew, all they dreamed, all of their life was encoded in the Resonance. It was hers.

He braced himself and flew directly at the fireball, he would have to time this just right. At the moment of impact he separated becoming Guardian Michael and Warrior Michael. Guardian grabbed her from within the fireball and slowly descended to the ground, she was covered with burns, and all of her eyes were closed. Her wings were burned off. Her flesh crackled and sizzle with the energy of her life-force oozing out of the cracks. He covered her in his Light and she was soothed. But Michael was not very good with Light so he could do little for her but ease her pain, and protect her from his Warrior.

Warrior extended its four wings and blocked the path of the fireball and the sky lit up with its pallid sickly green color. Warrior thought he could control the explosion, his powers were strained to their limit. Moving through time, he summoned other versions of his temporal self and they combined their powers increasing his ability tenfold, but even that was not enough.

The sphere seemed to only grow stronger the longer he delayed it. Warrior extended his awareness into the flame and saw this weapon only grew stronger the longer it was delayed in reaching its target. The weapon only grew more powerful the more energy he put into trying to stop it. Whoever this was, they knew the defenses of Heaven too well. The Guardians at the Gates would have tried to annihilate this only increasing its power. They counted on someone trying to delay or attack it with energy weaponry. He knew he had only seconds to decide how to deal with it. Since he had already summoned his temporal selves he knew instinctively that time was the element needed. He directed his power and his temporal selves into moving the object through time but not space and his temporal selves surrounded the object until it would have reached the Celestial City. In those seconds, the Guardian erected a shield over himself and her. Nothing would penetrate it. He only hoped the Warrior would not need it more.

The bomb detonated lighting the skies of heaven in every direction, and a fierce shockwave swept from Warrior Michael's position. Gabriel ran from the gates of the city and moved as if time had no meaning. He streaked through the bomb blast debris as if it was not moving. The Gate Guardians directed their vision toward any debris that moved through the clouds and destroyed it before it could reach the outskirts of the suburbs. Gabriel took five seconds to reach the Warrior as he fell from the sky. Warrior Michael had lost an arm during the explosion and was blackened and burned. His wings were shriveled and mere wisps of their former greatness.

Guardian Michael was also unconscious. His left arm was also gone and he was covered with burns, but he protected his charge from any further harm. Gabriel angry that Michael had insisted on doing this alone was incredulous as his Light began to heal the catastrophic injuries Michael had suffered. Michael was an Archangel, what could do this to him?

Jehoel Softspeaker, along with everyone else standing outside of the Celestial city cowered as the super-hot winds blew through the streets, miles from the bomb blast seen in the distance. She had not been the only agent to return unsuccessfully. It would appear our enemy has decided to let the Host know of their intentions. Heaven was at war.

Read my lasted short story, The Go-Slow here on Tor.com.

A little about the story:

A Nollywood actor's life changes on the Nigerian roads. Homicidal animals and a traffic jam - it's just not Nkem's day.

Writer’s Notes

    Greetings, I am Jerry Darnell McLeaurin. The Author of The Mystery’s of Rozika.  It is here where I pose the question of what could be considered real beyond my own skepticism. I know that it is somewhat impossible to initially become one’s own skeptic, though it is my experience, as a person living in America, to doubt things that appear to be alien, foreign or paranormal. So I will understand if you are in doubt of the possibility that exists before you.

    I have found myself asking; is this reality in which I find myself living in real? Are my memories of this foreign place real or nothing more than my imagination running amuck? I have argued with myself on the aspect of my missing time experience and have found that my mind was split between the two regions of a distorted reality. One of the two regions was the aspect of Alien abduction because for a minute, I had thoughts that I was abducted by Aliens and taken to some weird planet and there were Nubians there.

    For a while I imagine being abducted by some alien being but a voice within my being would say otherwise. My dreams played a role as well in this interesting chain of events. I have had this reoccurring dream about a short white woman with blond hair that was tied to the back; like a ponytail. This little woman would follow me wherever I went, from dream to dream. I would see her riding in some of the most interesting crafts I have ever seen during my quest to evade her.

    This was not normal for me to have these multiple dreams about some short white lady with a ponytail, chasing me. In my final dream of seeing her, she had captured me and took me to her mother ship, it was bound to happen for my curiosity was getting the best of me and I would wonder about this mysterious woman and why she was after me. From what I can remember, she had taken me to a triangle shaped ship with three round light fixtures at each angle of the ship. The ship had a glossy black look to itself, almost like it radiated the color black. She and I said nothing to each other, which was odd for I have been evading this creature for months.

    Her craft looked nothing like the massive ship hovering above us, I could not move because I guess I was overwhelmed by the experience. As we entered the ship I could not help but notice how advanced its controls were. It would seem like every single aspect of the ship was a dimension in on itself with technology that I found tempting to take with me and study. The little blonde lady then led me to the ships control room. I knew that it was a control room because I was able to see the earth through the viewing monitors. Beneath the monitors were panels that extended towards the center of the area. There were no light fixtures, although everything could clearly be seen. Then it hit me, the ship had changed positions, since I arrived. I guess during my brief laps into the dimensions of the ship I was a bit distracted. Weirdly, I did not feel the ship move as I thought it would. I expected some atmospheric resistance but to my knowledge there was none.

    As I walked around the control room I noticed a guy standing reading a book, uninterested in me or the control room around him, my first thought was he is a member of her crew, so I walked over to the forward monitor to admire the vision of the earth. I noticed the surface of the earth was one large land mass surrounded by water, from what I could see. I turned to the guy reading the book and asked “what are you reading?” He said the Inner Space Spectrum and the closer I got to him and this book I noticed that the book he was holding was a copy of my own I than asked him; “what are you doing with my book and he said “this is not your book it is mine” we went back and forth over this book because the book had the same face and title as mine and I had no memory of ever publishing it. The next thing I noticed I was waking up in my bed.

    This I understood as a dream therefore it carried no real weight within my own conventional world so I excluded this reality from my paranormal experience for there were still questions I had that was not answered. For one thing I felt older, not in the physical sense but in a mental sense. My mind was conceiving time as a duality; a binary matrix between two worlds. One being the earth and the other a place called Rozika on the planet Pigojia.

    I have often given thought of this external world; however, in my dream vision it was the moon. On the surface of the moon lived a brown skin people. These people believed I was one of them and to some extent, I felt at home there. I will say that I had a lucid experience with this place for I believed I was from somewhere else. I saw these amazing buildings with complex geometrical configurations that seemed to defy conventional standards and there were brown people everywhere.

    What was strange about these people were their celebratory nature, it was like they was just naturally overwhelmed with life. Interestingly I do not remember seeing any cars or transportation vehicles. As I looked around I noticed surface supported an orange environment and in its sky was the earth. I tried to tell the people of the moon that “earth was a planet and there are people who live there that look like you and I am from that planet” no one would believe me; they thought I was sick or something.

    For years I would have these experiences of being in another dimension and earth was my second home. It was not until I began to see these dreams as pieces of a puzzle that only I had the key to solve. The one thing I knew for certain was my mind felt like it was older then I originally thought, almost ancient even. Soon after I began to have an overwhelming interest in Ancient Egypt, as it is called, a place where brown people where the masters of science and engineering but in my vision there was something menacing about this place, It was like I’ve been there before. I remember it as though it was a mystery buried deep within my subconscious. These visions became what I later called the Mysteries of Rozika.                                                                                                                                           

    The Mysteries of Rozika is an epic saga of a people who lived on the planet earth some 34,571 years in the past, who suffered an unfortunate catastrophe at the hands of an unknown invader. The catastrophe was a result of their quest for knowledge and technological exploration which had led to an unfortunate end. These people had to learn the hard way that this planet is a jewel of the stars and that there were beings from other world that had an interest in their home world.  Therefore it was important for them to take into consideration the need to protect their world; however, there were some who paid no attention to the warnings and thus proceeded recklessly to interact with beings without prior knowledge of their agenda.

    As with all great civilizations of our past, a great lesson has been passed down from generation to generation; however, it is our generation that has been handed the responsibility of addressing this situation. As Americans by choice, chance or force, we have been blinded by the victors of history, to believe in this constitution of hate, hopelessness and despair. Our generation walks blindfolded to the reflections of ourselves, living in doubt of our inner strengths, our aesthetic concepts of beauty and our mathematical resolve.

    This generation is not just the generation of the so called black nation or Nubians, as some would call, but a generation of free thinkers bounded by institutionalized rhetoric and a secretive propaganda that hides the truth and enslaves the young. This ancient entity wants to infect our world with chaos in order to resurrect its agenda. We have seen wars, famine and the attempt annihilation of a sacred people oblivious to their once great and prosperous heritage.

    Today these people live in constant fear for their well being and the well being of their children, who have been led down a destructive road by the mass media Empire. These people have endured poverty at the hands of a ruthless government with a secret agenda, but what is this secret agenda anyway? Why are there, layers of blind hatred of peoples who exist as a different kind and why is there this covert notion that America has to constantly lie about the things we are not supposed to have any knowledge of?

    These are the questions that have a few vague answers that come in the form of conspiracy theories, that of which the media does its best to discredit. There is a belief that one day this entity will meet its match, and it will no longer be able to hide deep within the bowels of these secret societies, that of which it created. For it is known that this entity wants to reestablish its ability to travel to other worlds, while maintaining its grip on the world we live in today. The funny thing is, one the surface, its science is a bit backwards and full of holes and that which it knows as the truth, beneath its surface, it’s secretly hiding from the Scholarly public.

    As a matter of fact this entity wears a cloak and pretends it is a God as a means of controlling its puppet species for the prospect of serving its will. The truth of the matter is, we are not just dealing with one entity but a species of entities who have managed to survive here on this planet for many thousands of years, and it could be assumed that this species is incapable of reproducing on a grand scale.

    These beings are the puppet masters of the so called chosen people; however, these entities are not of a superior intellect although their wits make them cunning and predator like as a species. Their superiority is at best an illusion to the masses still asleep from the initial blast which caused a generational state of amnesia that of which is slowly withering away.

 As we observe our conscious selves of today, we are reckless in our dealings with this illusive entity, those of which; are the same invaders of our past. It is my hope that the lessons taught within this saga are inner-stood by the lay reader. Unfortunately, it is my inner standing that this message will go unchallenged. For we are still the same humble peoples of Rozika and as separated folk, we are both Afon and Serido of the 21^st century, the difference between us lays in our compliance to the laws which, in on itself, has an alien presence and therefore an intrinsic agenda all its own.

As earlier stated, Earth is in fact a jewel of the Stars as well as our sacred mother and we are allowing these beings to do with her whichever way they feel, and as reckless as they are, we may again be faced with a more fiendish and unstoppable foe from another world. Their use of technology will draw the attention of creatures that are much bigger and crueler then they themselves are. Funny thing is they may already know about these beings or even perhaps been at war with them at some time but are hiding this information from us. You could say that this is just speculation and if we took a closer look at the developments of this reality we may see it from a different perspective. We must ask ourselves, why are we here and why are we in this state of servitude?

We must ask ourselves; where did this race of beings come from and what is their agenda. Most of us claim we understand the truth through the history books we studied while in college doing research but how reliable is that information. Some philosophical groups believe that these beings are a creation brought forth by our ancient scientist. It has gotten to a point where most of what we believed is true about this reality could easily be challenged, even the concept of European dominance has its weak points with respect to the actuarial truth.

We know that we have been lied to about the history of this world because for time and time again they have denied our people the right to the self education necessary to see beyond their truths. They would have us believe that those who had the knowledge to refute them are all dead and gone therefore we must rely on their truths to set us free but there is a hole that passes through the very fabric of this truth that they present to us and our children.       

 Just think about what our “captors” say is true, with respect to the Moon landings, photos of the Earth and the composition of space; can we actually say that what is projected at us is completely fact? Or do these concepts like Pangaea, Darwinism and Christianity all have a sinister reality hidden in front of our eyes? And what if there really is an alien species governing this world and orchestrating wars between the native peoples of this world and in their plans is the total annihilation of all folks who are originally from this planet? Maybe it is absolutely true that they created the European for the prospect of ruling this planet and their ultimate weapon is religion. That is why I never advocated the blind hatred of Europeans because they always seem like puppets to me. In my opinion hating them is like; hating a particular car because I was hit by one when in fact it was not the car that hit me it was its driver.      

I will leave this theory up to you to interpret but understand that we live within a secretive government that intentionally hides the truth from the people and most of us accept it blindly.

There are those like myself who wish to explore these realities of space independently; however, it would seem impossible to investigate these interests without the external permissions of this “government” and if asked, they will say, no, in the name of “national security”, and the most challenging of all questions will be; to whom do we ask and why must we have to ask in the first place and why is it considered a threat to national security? It’s like living within a dream world unaware of our conscious dictators controlling our every move while orchestrating our initial doubt.   

Could it be true that space is a restricted domain like area fifty one and only NASA has access to it? If it is not so, than there should not be any restrictions on who gets to leave and or explore the outer arenas of our planet but there is. There is a movie about a back yard astronaut who builds his own space ship and the folks at NASA do everything in their power to stop him from achieving his goal. This Either-verse is a domain of immense potential that is available for us all to see and witness for ourselves. Each individual has a divine right to leave this planet if he or she has the desire and the capability to do so. Maybe these Entities by whatever name they call themselves have an inner-standing that if they loss control over the inhabitance of this world they may be faced with a galactic war that of which would wreck havoc on their cosmic agendas.     

Without our divine right to free access of space, our world becomes our prison with illusions that keep us at bay. We all have the potential to create crafts capable of leaving earth giving us a somewhat unlimited access to the universe, the moon and all other planets in our solar system, so why should we be restricted to earth.

Is it right that only the wealthy corporate elites and NASA have access to the solar system, the Sun and the Universe at large? In addition, is it true that only the elites of the United States of America owns the rights to the planet Earth and the moon, if so then who gave them these rights? How is it possible for the United States of America to sell land on the moon unless they owned it?

This epic journey you are about to embark on, could be perceived as incomprehensible to the lay reader, who wishes to remain asleep but I implore you to activate your creative mind to inner-stand that mathematical work that has been brought before you.        

 This is summarized version is from a single family’s point of view, meant to convey the last 88 days of planetary defense between the Afon and Serido peoples of Rozika and the unknown invaders of Pigojia.  But who were these invaders who wished to possess our planet, there lays the mystery that continues till this very day. They say that history is written by the victors and the mystery lays in the truth behind its savagery. Therefore it is our quest to inner-stand the mathematics of our captor for the prospect of examining the origin and nature of this cosmic evil.  

    There are some areas of this story that has not yet been explored because of the time frame in which the information had to be presented. However, the advanced version is still under construction. So what I ask of you is to eternalize what is written and give it some thought, you never know; it may trigger a lost memory of your own, for it is said that the Rozikans have the mental power to read beyond the Leaf. 

Can't Do It…

This is the science fiction action-adventure extravaganza you have all been waiting for!

My latest novel, Warriors of the Free Worlds, published by Mocha-Memoirs Press will be released in April!

The countdown to that universe-shaking event begins now!