That silence lasted over a month. It only ended when I called out to him, ready to offer an answer to his demands.
Before I sought him out though, I reached out to my those whose advice I trusted, asking them to get together for a chance to discuss a serious matter. The meeting place itself was more than a little unusal in the fact that it took place in the Shadowlands.
This was made possible through a set special magickal keys that had been presented to us by the Merlin. Each of these seven obsidian black skeleton keys allowed their bearers to send their Spirit form to special hexagonal room (the Merlin had kept the eighth such key for himself) within the Shadowland that the Merlin had created and that was not associated with any ‘real wolrd’ place. Whenever one of the key bearers slipped rom their body and entered that room, they could ‘call’ out to one (or more) of the other bearers and ask them to join them for a meeting.
I had taken one of the keys, while Ravyn had divided the others up as follows: One for herself, one each for Cerrydwen and the Frau, one for Naomi, one for Herne. The final key had been forced into the hands of a rather shocked and dubious looking Jim.
“Why would I need one of these things?” He had asked when Ravyn handed the last one to him.
She had patted him on the arm and smiled that mischievious grin of hers. “Because, Dear, we need you. Besides, we may need to get ahold of you in a hurry, or you may have to contact one of us, and this is the best way to do that.”
He had looked less than reassured. “But how do I even use this thing? I don’t know how to get around in the Shadowland. Shouldn’t you give this to someone who can actually use it?”
“Relax, Jim.” She had reached up and planted a peck on his blushing cheek as her hand closed his over the string holding the shimmering key. “I’ll show you everything you need to know in order to use it. If I can use it, you can use it, whether or not you are a Caster. The Merlin knows what he is doing with his Crafting. He told me that it is perfectly safe and easy even for non-Casters to use.”
Since that time, none of us had had any occasion to use the keys yet, other than the lessons that Ravyn had provided Jim with.
I settled down into a chair, pulled the key out, grasped it in my hand, and pictured the portal into the room. I projected placing the key into the wooden door bound by silvered steel and turned the large black handle to the right.
I found myself standing for the first time in a medium-sized stone chamber with eight walls. In the center of each wall was a similar door to the one I had just entered. In the very center of the room was a large wooden table that mirroed the shape of the room. Each spot of the table’s edge was occupied by a massive, throne-like chair. Each place was set with a silver plate and chalice, while the center of the table was occupied by a bowl of fresh fruit and a pair of pitchers.
I glanced down at my form, noticing that I was not in my usual Spirit form that I used in the Shadowland, but was instead in a form that mirrored my normal body in real life, except for the fact that I seemed to be flesh and blood. I could feel the cool, moist air of this place on my face. I could flex my muscles and feel the blood pumping through them.
I moved to my assigned place at the table, pulled the massive chair back easily, and sat down.
I closed my eyes and called out the names of those that I wanted to come join me in this impromptu council. “Ravyn Fyre. Frau. Cerrydwen. Jim.”
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Dealing with the Devil...
His voice was smug as it echoed inside my head. “So you finally want something from me do you? Is the prodigal son returning home?”
I tried to put as much sarcasm in my mental voice as I could manage. “Hardly that, you prick. But I am ready to listen to any proof you have on Drakaar and what his intentions will be.”
His dry chuckle almost tickled as it resonated. “Well, Dracaar’s intentions are what they always are. He and his ilk have always had the same goal.”
“What’s that?”
“I could just tell you, but I’m not sure if you are ready yet. I don’t know if you are truly capable of comprehending the danger you and your friends have placed the rest of humanity in.”
“Well, why don’t you try me, you condescending prick?” As usual, he was finding ways to push my buttons. He knew me too damn well.
“Why should I?”
It was time to turn the tables on him. “Drake, you mean you’d just give up so easily after being beaten? I’m surprised at you. You spend five thousand years tracking down and defeating Drakaar and his compatriots and you are ready to throw it all away after one tiny little defeat? Here I am, offering to take on your old foes to make you out to be the hero again, yet you turn your nose up at it.”
He was silent for a moment. “Don’t think that you can play me as easily as I have played you, Rusty.” He sighed, a strange sound to come from a disembodied voice in your head, I might add. “But I do appreciate the attempt. If you want my help, which at this point can consist solely of the information I can give you, you’ll have to do three things for me.”
“Oh? I can hardly wait. What do you want?”
“First, I want you to promise to take up the fight that I can no longer continue with.”
That seemed obvious, for some reason. “Well, I have pretty much offered that, haven’t I?”
If a disembodied voice can sneer, Drake sneered. “Yes, but I want an oath from you will take on these foes, an oath as strong as the one you swore to see me destroyed.”
I laughed. “I hate you so intensely that I don’t think that it is possible to hate someone else as badly. That might be a hard oath to take.”
“Nevertheless, I will have that oath before I give you what you want.”
“Alright, so what else do you want? You did say three things, right?”
“Yes. Second, I want you to tell my story through your blog, exactly as I show it to you, without editorial comments, and without omissions.”
This was a little surprising. I knew that he had read my blog once he discovered that I was keeping one, as he used it against me on a number of occasions. That was one reason that I delayed certain posts and altered some ‘facts’, in an attempt to keep him off the trail for a just a little while longer.
“You want your story to take over my blog?”
He laughed. “Hardly. But I do want a series of dedicated posts where you tell the story of my life, of my existence throughout the milennia, without any of your snide comments and asides. Feel free to tell your own versions of events as you see them, but have a section dedicated to my tale.”
I hesitated briefly before prompting him to continue. “And third?”
“Third, once y story is told and you have committed yourslef to the struggle I can no longer fight, I want to meet your daughter, Alexa.”
“Whoah. What makes you think that I am going let you anywhere near Alexa?”
“It is something that you will have to agree to, or I will not help you.”
“Well, that’s a damn dealbreaker. I’m not letting you near Alexa. Period.”
Again, if a disembodied voice in your head can smirk, Drake smirked. His voice was smug as he responded. “Very well. But know this, Jason. Without the knowledge and the experience that I carry, your daughter will not live to see her third birthday.”
“I don’t have to listen to your threats anymore, you bastard.”
“I am not the one who threatens you or your family, Rusty. Alexa is more special than you can possibly know. Drakaar may not know she exists yet, but when he does learn of her, she is doomed. He and his kind will not let her live. If she were to come fully into her powers, to become fully aware of who she really is, she will change this world and all of humanity forever. That is a threat that Drakaar will not tolerate to exist under any circumstances.”
“We protected her from you, we can protect her from them too!”
His laugh was hauntingly hollow. “Rusty, whatever you may have thought about me, know this. The forces that will gather around your daughter as she grows will be far beyond anything I, or any associate I ever employed, could hope to command. If you don’t know how to face these creatures, if you don’t even know the nature of the threat they pose to her, you and your friends will have no chance against them.”
He sighed. A damn voice inside my head sighed! “Think on this for as long as you like Rusty. I shall not speak to you again until you have decided. Accept my conditions, and I will try my best to give you the tools you will need to face these foes. Refuse them if you like, but you will likely be giving up your only chance to see your daughter grow into the being that she was born to be. You may well be consigning all of humanity, such as it is, into an eternity of slavish servitude. The choice is yours.”
With that, the bastard shut up.
I didn’t decide at that time.
True to his word, he didn’t speak to me until I told him I was ready to make a decision...
I tried to put as much sarcasm in my mental voice as I could manage. “Hardly that, you prick. But I am ready to listen to any proof you have on Drakaar and what his intentions will be.”
His dry chuckle almost tickled as it resonated. “Well, Dracaar’s intentions are what they always are. He and his ilk have always had the same goal.”
“What’s that?”
“I could just tell you, but I’m not sure if you are ready yet. I don’t know if you are truly capable of comprehending the danger you and your friends have placed the rest of humanity in.”
“Well, why don’t you try me, you condescending prick?” As usual, he was finding ways to push my buttons. He knew me too damn well.
“Why should I?”
It was time to turn the tables on him. “Drake, you mean you’d just give up so easily after being beaten? I’m surprised at you. You spend five thousand years tracking down and defeating Drakaar and his compatriots and you are ready to throw it all away after one tiny little defeat? Here I am, offering to take on your old foes to make you out to be the hero again, yet you turn your nose up at it.”
He was silent for a moment. “Don’t think that you can play me as easily as I have played you, Rusty.” He sighed, a strange sound to come from a disembodied voice in your head, I might add. “But I do appreciate the attempt. If you want my help, which at this point can consist solely of the information I can give you, you’ll have to do three things for me.”
“Oh? I can hardly wait. What do you want?”
“First, I want you to promise to take up the fight that I can no longer continue with.”
That seemed obvious, for some reason. “Well, I have pretty much offered that, haven’t I?”
If a disembodied voice can sneer, Drake sneered. “Yes, but I want an oath from you will take on these foes, an oath as strong as the one you swore to see me destroyed.”
I laughed. “I hate you so intensely that I don’t think that it is possible to hate someone else as badly. That might be a hard oath to take.”
“Nevertheless, I will have that oath before I give you what you want.”
“Alright, so what else do you want? You did say three things, right?”
“Yes. Second, I want you to tell my story through your blog, exactly as I show it to you, without editorial comments, and without omissions.”
This was a little surprising. I knew that he had read my blog once he discovered that I was keeping one, as he used it against me on a number of occasions. That was one reason that I delayed certain posts and altered some ‘facts’, in an attempt to keep him off the trail for a just a little while longer.
“You want your story to take over my blog?”
He laughed. “Hardly. But I do want a series of dedicated posts where you tell the story of my life, of my existence throughout the milennia, without any of your snide comments and asides. Feel free to tell your own versions of events as you see them, but have a section dedicated to my tale.”
I hesitated briefly before prompting him to continue. “And third?”
“Third, once y story is told and you have committed yourslef to the struggle I can no longer fight, I want to meet your daughter, Alexa.”
“Whoah. What makes you think that I am going let you anywhere near Alexa?”
“It is something that you will have to agree to, or I will not help you.”
“Well, that’s a damn dealbreaker. I’m not letting you near Alexa. Period.”
Again, if a disembodied voice in your head can smirk, Drake smirked. His voice was smug as he responded. “Very well. But know this, Jason. Without the knowledge and the experience that I carry, your daughter will not live to see her third birthday.”
“I don’t have to listen to your threats anymore, you bastard.”
“I am not the one who threatens you or your family, Rusty. Alexa is more special than you can possibly know. Drakaar may not know she exists yet, but when he does learn of her, she is doomed. He and his kind will not let her live. If she were to come fully into her powers, to become fully aware of who she really is, she will change this world and all of humanity forever. That is a threat that Drakaar will not tolerate to exist under any circumstances.”
“We protected her from you, we can protect her from them too!”
His laugh was hauntingly hollow. “Rusty, whatever you may have thought about me, know this. The forces that will gather around your daughter as she grows will be far beyond anything I, or any associate I ever employed, could hope to command. If you don’t know how to face these creatures, if you don’t even know the nature of the threat they pose to her, you and your friends will have no chance against them.”
He sighed. A damn voice inside my head sighed! “Think on this for as long as you like Rusty. I shall not speak to you again until you have decided. Accept my conditions, and I will try my best to give you the tools you will need to face these foes. Refuse them if you like, but you will likely be giving up your only chance to see your daughter grow into the being that she was born to be. You may well be consigning all of humanity, such as it is, into an eternity of slavish servitude. The choice is yours.”
With that, the bastard shut up.
I didn’t decide at that time.
True to his word, he didn’t speak to me until I told him I was ready to make a decision...
Monday, September 04, 2006
It was the worst of times...
As you may recall, Drake Kampmann was defeated by his own father as told earlier in the blog. His Spirit form was pushed from his body, which was taken over by the entity known as Dracaar, and pushed forced into a ring that he had carried.
That ring rolled over to me, so I became the lucky owner of a ring bearing the less-than-pleased Spirit form of my so-called creator. I cannot fully express the irony of that situation in a few simple sentences, but suffice it to say that I found more than a little joy in carrying around a Chakra-like device containing Drake’s soul.
However, the down side of becoming Drake’s keeper, so-to-speak, was that I had to carry him with me. I couldn’t destroy the thing, much as I might have wanted to, because of the possibility that his Spirit form would then be free to seek a new host body. I couldn’t lock the thing away, because I didn’t want to take the chance that Drake might be able to communicate with El Diablito, or the Little Devil would find a way to locate the ring himself, and then I would be back to square one with him again.
So, that left me carrying Drake around with me.
And that gave Drake a chance to talk to me.
For any of you who already know me, you’ll appreciate the next statement:
About the last damn thing in the world I needed was another damn nut job voice speaking in my head.
I already have to contend with the constant cacade of dark whispers that are left over remnants of my time with Ma Grendel and all of the poor bastards she consumed over time.
To compound things even further, I have the entire adult memory set of Dr. Daniel Bernstein, otherwise known as Dr. Geek, locked away in my head. That batch of oh-so-joyful experiences includes such fond memories as seeing my own eviscerated body in lab and the brutal rape and kidnapping of Zenny Al Farhan.
And now, I had the joy of nearly constant communication with the sarcastic, know-it-all, son of a bitch who created my zombie ass.
I’m sorry. I see that I am beginning to slip into old habits again. You see, having Drake around all of the time does stuff like that. Sigh. I’ll try to watch my language a little bit better. I’m certainly not a language prude, but I have been trying to cut down on the profan ity a little bit.
So, let me get back to where I was before I resorted back to Angry Rusty.
Now having Drake as a perpetual prisoner under my control, where I could yank his chain (literally--since I put the ring on a chain and wear it around my neck) whenever I chose to certainly has its advantages. But things are a little more complicated in that the bastard (oops-sorry), er rather, Drake keeps telling me things about what he did in the past that I don’t how much I can trust the truth of.
If even half of what he has been telling me is true, Dracaar is far too dangerous to leave to his own devices, not only because he possesses the powers of a virtual demi-god, but because Drake claims to have trapped over a dozen others such entities over the milennia of his existence. AND, Drake keeps pointing out, Dracaar is likely going to set about freeing the rest of his kindred souls from their various prisons.
Of course, Drake never offers up information for free. Even as he does his level best to convince me that Drakaar is a first class threat to all of humanity, he refuses to give me the solid information that would allow me to verify even a single one of his claims of gloom and doom unless I do certain things for him.
So, what does Drake want me to do?
Stay tuned...
That ring rolled over to me, so I became the lucky owner of a ring bearing the less-than-pleased Spirit form of my so-called creator. I cannot fully express the irony of that situation in a few simple sentences, but suffice it to say that I found more than a little joy in carrying around a Chakra-like device containing Drake’s soul.
However, the down side of becoming Drake’s keeper, so-to-speak, was that I had to carry him with me. I couldn’t destroy the thing, much as I might have wanted to, because of the possibility that his Spirit form would then be free to seek a new host body. I couldn’t lock the thing away, because I didn’t want to take the chance that Drake might be able to communicate with El Diablito, or the Little Devil would find a way to locate the ring himself, and then I would be back to square one with him again.
So, that left me carrying Drake around with me.
And that gave Drake a chance to talk to me.
For any of you who already know me, you’ll appreciate the next statement:
About the last damn thing in the world I needed was another damn nut job voice speaking in my head.
I already have to contend with the constant cacade of dark whispers that are left over remnants of my time with Ma Grendel and all of the poor bastards she consumed over time.
To compound things even further, I have the entire adult memory set of Dr. Daniel Bernstein, otherwise known as Dr. Geek, locked away in my head. That batch of oh-so-joyful experiences includes such fond memories as seeing my own eviscerated body in lab and the brutal rape and kidnapping of Zenny Al Farhan.
And now, I had the joy of nearly constant communication with the sarcastic, know-it-all, son of a bitch who created my zombie ass.
I’m sorry. I see that I am beginning to slip into old habits again. You see, having Drake around all of the time does stuff like that. Sigh. I’ll try to watch my language a little bit better. I’m certainly not a language prude, but I have been trying to cut down on the profan ity a little bit.
So, let me get back to where I was before I resorted back to Angry Rusty.
Now having Drake as a perpetual prisoner under my control, where I could yank his chain (literally--since I put the ring on a chain and wear it around my neck) whenever I chose to certainly has its advantages. But things are a little more complicated in that the bastard (oops-sorry), er rather, Drake keeps telling me things about what he did in the past that I don’t how much I can trust the truth of.
If even half of what he has been telling me is true, Dracaar is far too dangerous to leave to his own devices, not only because he possesses the powers of a virtual demi-god, but because Drake claims to have trapped over a dozen others such entities over the milennia of his existence. AND, Drake keeps pointing out, Dracaar is likely going to set about freeing the rest of his kindred souls from their various prisons.
Of course, Drake never offers up information for free. Even as he does his level best to convince me that Drakaar is a first class threat to all of humanity, he refuses to give me the solid information that would allow me to verify even a single one of his claims of gloom and doom unless I do certain things for him.
So, what does Drake want me to do?
Stay tuned...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
