A Visit From an Old Friend

I emerged from the Shadow into the forest surrounding the clearing where Yggsdrasil stood. Since I was in my actual physical form as opposed to my Spirit form, the path did not form for me as it normally would have.

I couldn’t remember the last time that I had come to this place in body as well as soul, but I felt a niggling little pull in the back of my consciousness that told me that it was time to come here. Traveling in this manner was the lazy way of accomplishing the task since it didn’t require any meditation.

I picked my way through the dark, gloomy forest, crunching heavily through the thick, dry underbrush. The forest seemed to resent my intrusion. Every low lying branch hung an inch or two lower than I thought, each root cluster standing an inch or two taller than it looked. But despite the obstacles, I pushed through and emerged into the clearing that John Red Bear had first introduced me to in his earliest instruction. Of course, I had since planted the seed that had grown into the massive black tree that now stood sentinel in the middle of the clearing.

Its massive, gnarled trunk would have required the interlocked arms of ten men to cover its entire circumference. Its enormous crown of leaves whispered in the breezes of this place, sometimes forming words that could be understood when the tree wanted to be understood, but the strangest thing about those leaves was their color. The top side of each leaf was black as the darkest, moonless night, while the bottom side of each leaf was milky white. I had found fallen leaves with the faces of people I knew etched on the white sides. The thick, gnarled root clusters spread from the trunk of the tree in every direction rising up high enough in more than one place to become impromptu benches where I, and others, could sit under the canopy. On the far side of the trunk there was a small, dark opening where the roots of tree parted to reveal a stairwell down to a cavern where a reflecting pool had formed. That part was always the same, the cavern was always on the opposite side of the tree from where I entered the clearing, no matter which direction I came from.

Sitting on its haunches amidst the roots near the trunk of the tree was the brown form of an enormous bear, a bear with a splotch of red fur on its front, left shoulder.

“John? Is that you old friend?” I almost ran as I called out towards the creature.

The massive head of the creature turned to face me, its mouth curling into a snarl that become a smile as his form shifted from that of the bear to a near-human form the glowed with an internal radiance. John raised his right hand in greeting as I approached.

“Jason!” He looked around him, pointedly glancing at the tree trunk and the canopy of black and white rustling leaves. “I see that you have seen fit to redecorate our old meeting place. I must say that I’m rather impressed.”

I reached out to take hold of his glowing hand in mine, noting the stark contrast of light and darkness as he pulled me into a fierce hug.

I shrugged as we pulled apart. “I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened.”

He laughed. His smiling face was now free of the lines of premature aging that had once marked it. “That is not unusual in this place. Take care in this place, for all actions taken here are likely to bring about consequences that you didn’t intend.”

“Yeah, so I’ve noticed. Now instead of a quiet place of contemplation, I get a grumpy tree that likes to laugh at me and gives all sorts of cryptic advice.”

The rustling of the leaves grew louder, as if in complaint at my characterization of it, but nothing intelligible was discernible. Probably just as well.

“The Tree is a reflection of its creator, Jason. There is much for you to learn from it, however.” He pointed to a cluster of roots that was tall and long enough for both of us to easily sit. “But I called you here today to speak about other things.”

“So it was you who called to me!”

He nodded. “I have wanted to speak with you for a long time now, but I haven’t been able to get back to this place until now.”

“I would have thought that you travels through the many worlds would have taken you far from this place, John. Frankly, I’m surprised that you’ve come back at all. I’m glad you have though, because I’ve missed our lessons.”

He nodded as he looked directly into my own eyes. I felt as if he could see everything about who and what I had become since we had last spoken. I wanted to tell him about it, but speaking seemed so frivolous, so unnecessary.

“Jason, I can see that you have become far more than I ever could have imagined. I have watched as you have battled first to regain your humanity and then to become…more than human. I cried when I saw you fall to that foul creature of darkness beneath New York.

“I rejoiced to see you return and come to grips with the changes that were brought about by that experience. I wanted so badly to warn you from trying to free the creature that you know as Dracaar, but I was not permitted to interfere.”

“What do you mean that you weren’t permitted? If I had really known what it was that we were trying to do, what it was that was being freed from that damn urn, I would have taken it far, far away from our world and left it to rot.”

A single glistening, radiant tear fell down his right cheek. “I know, Jason. But as I said, I was not allowed to interfere, to help you in any way at that time.” He held up a hand to stay my next question. “I cannot discuss who prevented me, or I why I wasn’t allowed to help. It must suffice for me to say that I was simply not permitted to intervene. What is important is that the deed has been done and that it cannot, now, be undone.

“Dracaar was going to be released, by you or someone else, but it was critical for you know this new foe and for you to have access to information that would allow you and your allies to have a chance to face him and his ilk. It was crucial for you to see the nature of your true enemies.”

“Well, I’ve certainly seen that these damn creatures need to be defeated. But I have no clue how I am to do it. I had trouble facing one of their damn servants!”

He looked down at the mass of roots spread out beneath us. “Yes, the doppelganger in South Beach. You did better with the second one, but you were right in your assessment that the one in Detroit was weaker. You have made yourself known with that killing. The An’girasii will not take the slaying of one of their valuable servants lightly. That is one of the reasons I called you here.”

“Are you going to give me some clues as to how to kill these things?”

He shook his head at that. “No, that touches on other things of which I am not permitted to speak. However, I can tell you that have access to all of the clues that will lead you to find a way to stave off defeat at their hands, if only temporarily.” He reached out and touched me on the chest with his right hand and then waved up at the canopy of leaves and the tree trunk behind us. “Just as you carried within you the seed to plant this magnificent tree, your seed has been used to give birth to the one person who can bring about the final defeat of the An’girasii.”

I sat back. “Alexa?”

He nodded. “Yes. Only she can now bring about their total defeat, though the costs may be higher than even she may be able to bear. But while only Alexa can trigger the keys to final victory over the An’girasii and their minions, she will never be permitted that chance unless you and the ORC’s first find those keys and get them to her, all while protecting her from them.”

I shook my own head. “How can the fate of the world rest in the hands of toddler? How can all that pressure rest on the head and shoulders of any one person period?”

He raised his hand to stop my questions. “It has taken extreme efforts over many millennia by secret allies that I cannot reveal to bring about this one chance.”

“You mean there are ‘secret allies’ out there that have been running this show? Why can’t these assholes, whoever the Hell they are, step in give us some real damn assistance? John, can’t you help me to understand this?”

A second tear rolled down his cheek. “I can only say that there are Laws that prevent these allies from providing any of the direct assistance that you are asking for.”

I threw up my hands. “What the Hell is it with all of these damn ‘laws’? I was a cop and am now and FBI agent. I don’t know of any damn ‘laws’ that would affect this shit! Drake keeps talking about ‘laws’ that the An’girasii have to live by, and that damn elf queen, the Lady of the Lake or whatever the Hell she was, mentioned stuff about ‘laws’ too.”

He laid a hand on my leg. “Jason. I know this all seems so foreign and strange to you now. When I was alive, I was not aware of any of this myself. It is only in the traveling that I have done since my death, and the knowledge that I have gained in those travels, that has given me the perspective I now have. Please understand that the people you have just mentioned have already provided you some of the clues that you will need in order to have a chance at helping Alexa succeed in achieving her mission. Drake is with you for a reason. He holds answers that no one else possesses about the An’girasii.” He brought his hand to tap me on the chest. “Drake has answers about who, and what, you have become. Listen for those clues in what he has to say and perhaps you will find the strength to do what must be done.”

He looked away from me as I sat in stunned silence.

“You have time yet, to seek those clues. The An’girasii are just beginning to emerge again and will take some time yet to gather their strength. They have yet to understand your true significance and the significance of Alexa. Luckily, they also have a disdain for human technology and methods of communication or the telling of this story as you have been until now could be disastrous.”

“Oh shit. Should I stop blogging about this stuff?”

John shook his head again and looked me in the eyes. “No. It is part of what keeps you in touch with your humanity. And it is that which will enable you to face the coming challenges with a chance to succeed. If you lose touch with your humanity, then all hope is lost.”

John stood up. The glow within him grew brighter, his body more translucent. “Jason, I must take my leave.”

I stood up as well. “Will I see you again, John?”

His face looked very somber. “Perhaps. If given the opportunity, I will gladly visit with you again, but that may not be for me to decide.”

I reached out to touch him as his body continued to grow brighter and more transparent. He took my hand in a grasp that was warm and strong. I could feel energy flowing from him as it entered into my own Spirit, filling me with joy and peace as he flashed brighter and faded away.

The whispering of the leaves reflected a sadness that I shared as I sat down again to think on all that was said.

Drake's Tale--#3

It appears that my rather unreliable ‘host’ has finally permitted me to tell my story again. Given his track record, I am going to make the most of this opportunity. Please pardon the length of this post, but this information that will be needed if he and his allies are to have even a prayer of success in this endeavor.

Some of this tale has been mentioned previously, although others have spun the tale to suit their needs, instead of mine. You may rest assured that what I have to say is in fact The Truth.

In my youth, I was seen as the defective child. I had no visible manifestation of the power of the An’girasii running through me like Sorud and Nehmad did. In addition to their powers, they also had the physical stature that allowed them to dominate the normal humans around them, while I was seen as small even by the standards of the people of my home city of Ur.

When it was established that I would never grow out of my puny stature, I was ignored by my father. He also ordered my brothers to ignore me as well, stating that I was not worth their time or attention.

So as my brothers were personally tutored by Dracaar in how to harness their abilities and in the arts of war, I was left to my own devices. I spent my time learning how to be come invisible. I was not invisible in any kind of magickal sense, mind you, but invisible in the way that servants and slaves are invisible around their masters. Such folk are taught early on to keep to the sides, remain silent unless spoken to, and to be properly deferential at all times, head bowed, as they move from task to task, always keeping busy with some little task or another. Following those guidelines, slaves can slip in and out of the most private moments of their masters without being consciously noticed.

It was during a number of those private moments between Dracaar and my brothers that I learned of the true nature of the An’girasii. He spoke to them at such times in the harsh, foreign tongue of the An’girasii, a language I had heard previously only in my dreams, but I found that I somehow understood what was being said.

As I listened to him tell the stories of Creation and Destruction from the An’girasii perspective, I began to understand that Dracaar was not alone, but was instead one of at least several dozen other such beings who had come to this world with the goal to rule over it as gods.

Indeed, many of the names of other such entities that Dracaar told my brothers about, were names of myth and legend that the people of Ur worshipped as Gods, or feared as Demons.

Here is a snippet of one particularly interesting lesson:

Sorud: “Father, these people are so weak! Why must we live among them as we do? Why can’t we set ourselves apart as some of the others have done and just be worshipped as is our right?”

Dracaar: “That is a very good question, son. Each of the others, including Tiamat, has lived amongst these weak humans just as we ourselves are doing now. In other worlds, other places, we have come and conquered or ruled without having to live amongst the lesser beings that inhabit those places, however this world, this place is different. This is a world of flesh and bone. In order for our full powers to manifest here in this place, we must be born of flesh to a creature that is native to this place. That is why your mother, as strong as she is, is still human.”

Nehmad: “Is that why Sorud and I have to train so hard to come into our full strength, because we were born of a human mother?”

Dracaar: “Indeed. It is no small or easy thing, even for the Spirit of an An’girasii to access its full array of powers and memories once it is born into the flesh, as you two have so recently been. There is something about this world and the laws that bind it that prevents almost all Spirits, even those of us who are so much stronger than humans, from having access to the full knowledge of who and what they truly are.”

Sorud: “So both Nehmad and I are of the same order as you?”

Dracaar: “Yes. Both of you are strong An’girasii Spirits. Once you have learned how to fully manifest yourselves, you will come to realize your true nature and take your rightful place amongst us.”

Nehmad: “Father, what of our younger brother…”

Dracaar: “Shush Nehmad. His name is not to be spoken of in our language. His Spirit is weak and puny. He is not of our kind. Something went terribly wrong with him. Your mother’s human weakness must have allowed for a lesser Spirit to come during our coupling. He is not your brother. He is a human.” That last word was spit out like it was an insult.

Sorud: “So why was it allowed to live? Why don’t we kill him so that our name is not associated with something so weak?”

Dracaar: He laughed before responding, a deep, chilling laugh. “Ah Sorud, you are coming into your own. It will not be long now before you Awaken to your true self. But let me answer this question. When a child is first born, the connection between the Spirit and the flesh is not as strong as it will become over time. It is not immediately apparent with young babies in this world just what kind of Spirit has attached itself to body of the baby. For that reason, some patience is required. When that child was born, the body was small and puny, but the Spirit was strong and bright. I had great hopes that one of my ancient brethren had come through the Veil that separates our native world from this one. But while his Spirit showed strength and vitality for an infant, it never developed beyond the initial promise that he had showed. Instead, as he grew into childhood, his Spirit seemed to diminish even further, changing in ways that I had never before seen, even for a human. Once it was clear to me that he was not one of us, I resolved to study him for my own purposes. Once I have learned all that I can from him, he shall be sent to his death.”

Nehmad: “Will you give him to us, father? Can we slay him?”

Dracaar: “No. That is something that I cannot risk. As much as I believe that he is not of the An’girasii, there are laws that may not be broken. His death will have to be at the hands of others. Have no fear. There are no laws of any consequence that prevent humans from killing each other. In fact, it is something that humans are very good at. They can be made to kill each other with very little incentive.”

Sorud: “What laws prevent us from killing each other, father?”

Dracaar: “When you come through your Awakening, these things will be known to you. But it is good to discuss them now so that you don’t violate the law unwittingly. You must never slay another An’girasii.”

Sorud: “Why not? Haven’t you been teaching us that we are Immortal spirits, that if this body is slain that we will be able to take over another at our leisure?”

Dracaar: “Yes. All of that is true. But if you have not gone through your Awakening, you will have to be born again into the body of another human child. Once you have been Awakened, you will have the ability to take on the body of any living creature near you and modify that one to suit your needs. However, if one An’girasii slays another, things are different. A struggle between two of us not merely a struggle of flesh of bone, but of Power and Spirit as well. We are a primal race. If one An’girasii were to slay another, terrible things happen, the Spirits of both entities merge and change, becoming something dark and chaotic. The name we have for those creatures that survive such an event the Drashe’en—the Fallen. If you fail to honor the law and become Drashe’en, there is no return. There is only hunger and pain, suffering and loss.”

Nehmad: “Are there Drashe’en here in this world?”

Dracaar: “Yes. There are a few. We must always keep a vigilant eye out for them, for they are among the greatest dangers we face.”

Sorud: “How can the Drashe’en be stopped then, father? Can we slay them without suffering the same fate?”

Dracaar: “There are ways of dealing with the Drashe’en, but you will not be able to understand them until you have gone through your Awakening. Now, let us go train with our weapons, soon it will be time to test you in battle.”

Dracaar's Scrolls

(I discovered that what appeared to be one scroll was actually two. The contents of the top scroll have been translated from the original An’girasii language by me. I have made every attempt to translate this message as accurately as possible. My mastery of this language, however, is incomplete. The second scroll was a more personal message, also written in his original language, although it was far less formal, and thus easier to translate.—RB)


The First Scroll

“Rejoice, O’ Sons and Daughters of Man, Rejoice! For the Son of God walks among you once more! Rejoice!

“Know ye, one and all, that I have returned after lo’ these many years to fulfill the Prophecies of Old!

“Let it be known far and wide that the Lord has returned! I come bearing the Sword of Truth and the Shield of Justice. I have returned to lead my true and faithful Servants to battle against the Forces of Darkness that seek to deprive you of my Majesty, my Mercy!

“Know ye, one and all, that Witches and Sorcerers—Servants of Darkness, one and all—walk amongst you, unseen and unknown except to those who remain True and Faithful to the Lord, your God!

“Rise up! Cast down the Wicked amongst you! Those without Faith in the Lord must be cast down into the Lake of Fire, so that their Sins might be purified, their Souls cleansed of the Darkness that they serve!

“The Daughter of Death has been born! She preaches a False Faith and offers a False Hope. She is the Enemy of Enemies! She will be cast down with all who serve her!

“The End is near! The Enemy is Strong! The Time of Tribulation is upon you!”



The Second Scroll


“Whelp,

Thank you for releasing me from the prison that my traitorous son had devised for me. I have taken some time to get to know this new world, this new era in which I now find myself.

I marvel both at how much humans have changed and how much they have changed their world, yet how weak and gullible they continue to be! I will very much enjoy our time together. It will be so easy to bend the multitudes to my Will. Even in this singular nation, the pinnacle of achievement in human civilization, the multitudes cry out for true leadership. They seek succor of the soul that only I and my siblings can offer. With all of your technology, your science, your vaunted and illusory freedoms, humanity still fears that which goes bump in the night.

The time is not yet ripe for my Call to be heard by your people. When that time arrives, whole nations will tremble and fall before me. At my word, whole populations will bend to my Will, eager to serve as whatever fodder I may need.

Your time grows short whelp. Learn quickly from your father if you wish to engage me or my servants in battle.

--Dracaar”

South Beach Diet...Epilogue

I stood, arms folded across my chest, as I watched the discussion taking place in the room behind the one way mirror.

Special Agent Jennifer Wilson paced behind me, flailing her arms as she spoke. “How can Corrales possibly think that he is the real killer? That man is stark raving mad!”

“Who is, Corrales?” I continued to focus my attention on the face of the man I knocked out.

His face was still stained with the blood from the victim’s kidney that he had nearly finished. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. The dark circles beneath his eyes indicated that he had been running on little sleep for quite some time.

He was speaking in short, quick sentences that were nearly incoherent, especially if, like Corrales, you didn’t understand the babbled references he was throwing out like barbs to me.

“It’s been a great run man. I love the beach. It’s a perfect place for a midnight meal with the Beast. Blood never tasted so good.”

Corrales was overwhelmed, trying to take an intelligible statement form this guy, but he kept pressing anyway. “George, why did you kill these five victims?”

George shook his head. “I didn’t kill them, man. The Beast did. Oh, I suppose that I helped. Especially with that last one. She was a wild one, that one. I don’t know why the Beast wanted them dead, dude, but they sure were tasty.”

“Who is this Beast you keep referring to?”

George smiled; his bloody lips curling back as he did so. “It’s here watching you, so you better treat me right, Detective. It’s always here watching, learning, judging. The Beast is you, me, all of us.”

Corrales nodded, seemingly glad to have received an answer that he could use. “So you are the Beast, right George?”

George just smiled.

I had seen enough. I turned to face the still pacing Jennifer and touched her lightly at her elbow. When she turned to face me, I leaned in close and spoke softly nearly her left ear.

“Don’t worry Jennifer, your profile was impeccable. This man is not the killer of these people, but the creature that led me to him left him to take the fall for those killings. All of the forensic evidence will be made to fit this guy. There is nothing that you or I can do to stop that now. This whole series of killings was meant to solely to draw me here.”

She pulled back at that. “But why would…?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know enough yet to say for sure, other than that I was given a message. I message I haven’t had time to read yet.”

She looked shaken. “I have pictures of the symbols that were left next to each body. Do you want me to give you copies? Maybe they were part of the message too?”

“Yeah, you can send them to me via e-mail. I need to go, now.” I looked back through the one-way glass into the interrogation room to see that Corrales was putting the papers he had been filling out back into a folder. A group of burly officers from the Metro-Dade Police Department had entered the room to escort the soon-to-be-famous serial killer du jour to his cell. I leaned in close to Jennifer again. “Keep an eye out for strange profiles like this one. Let me know ASAP when you encounter another one.”

“There will be more?” Her eyes had grown wide with shock.

I nodded. “It’s just a matter of time. You can count on that. Tell Corrales that I’ve left. He won’t get, or need, any testimony from me for this nutcase.”

I left her to her own thoughts and Corrales’ likely wrath at my failure to stick around. I found a nice, darkened office just off the main hall and slipped into the Shadowland for the brief trip home.

I emerged in my meditation chamber, a particularly dark room that had no actual door into it in the mundane world. It was here that I came when I needed to be alone with my own thoughts.

I touched a small orb that lit up the small room with a bright, clear blue light. I pulled the rolled up scroll from the pocket I had kept it in and began examining it as I sat down at the small roll top desk that served as my only work surface for writing.

The leather of the scroll had a strange look to it and felt thinner and lighter than new leather should have. The scroll was held closed by a thick wax seal that was embossed with the symbol of a dragon with three heads…Dracaar’s sigil.

I cracked open the seal, letting the pieces of wax crumble onto the desk. I unrolled the scroll carefully.

The language of the letters and symbols of the scroll gave me pause for a moment as I searched the memories of Ma Grendel to come up with meanings. When it clicked into place, I drew an instinctive breath. This was no human language, but the original script of the An’girasii.

The message contained within those words was chilling…(to be revealed in the next post.)

South Beach Diet...Part 4

A figure strolled in the darkness along the beach, off to my left. It was walking that line between earth and ocean, alone, just as I moved between the world of Shadow and Light. Its physical form was that of a lithe young man. Its Spirit form was something Other, something that I had not seen before. It was small and dark, exuding a roiling, seething hatred.

The doppelganger was issuing its challenge to me- ‘Come play!’

It was time to make a proper introduction. I called the Shadow, wrapping myself fully within it. I gave the dark energy the twist that took me from one place to another and stepped out directly in front of the creature.

The fleshy face of the young man melted away as I stood at arms length from the creature. I was standing face to face with a being that now had no face.

“Why have you come, Hunter?” No mouth opened as it spoke, instead a slow, grating whisper just emanated from the creature.

“Why are you killing these people? What have they done to you?” I stood facing the thing in a combat-ready stance. My hands open and ready to trigger my batons to drop into place at the first sign that it was done talking.

“It is time to Hunt again. Have you not heard the Call?” Its form shifted slightly, its arms grew slightly longer than would be normal for a human being of its height, its hands shifted into large, wicked looking claws.

“What Call is that?” I rose up on the balls of my feet and shifted my balance forward ever so slightly.

“The Call of the An’girasii, that which has not been uttered in over six hundred years, ever since the Burning Times. How can you not hear it, Brother?” It reached one razor sharp talon towards me slowly, pointing towards where my heart used to be. “Lord Dracaar walks the land once more. My Spirit sings with his Call. I feast so that I may grow strong enough to serve him once again! Shall we dine together tonight?”

I brushed the talon away with a sweep of my left arm while reaching up to the sheath across my back that was not actually present in the physical world. Somehow I didn’t think my batons would be of much use against this creature.

“Look buddy, I don’t hear any Call from Dracaar or anyone else, but I think you’ve had your last meal on this or any beach.”

It drew back from my brush off and gathered itself for a lunging attack, both clawed hands ready to strike with its leap.

It leapt before I could get my hand on the hilt of Excalibur, knocking me backwards onto my back in the wet sand. We became a tangle of grasping hands and claws, kicking legs and tussling forms in the gently rolling waves.

It wrestled with the strength of several men, moving lightning fast with the ferocity of natural predator as it tried to keep me from reaching the blade that it somehow knew was there.

“You are known to us, young Hunter. You have much to learn before you will inspire fear in any of us the way your Father did.” It was not straining to speak as we continued to wrestle, it continued to gain the upper hand, always anticipating my next attempt to wrest my hand free to reach for the blade.

“Drake was not my father, dammit!”

It gave off what could only be considered a chuckle as it leaned its grey, blank face close to mine. “It was only through him that you were born into this existence. He is your Father in every way that matters.”

I stopped struggling when I realized that this creature, this doppelganger, was sitting astride my chest in the shallow surf, holding me down, but not otherwise trying to harm me. I stared into its blank mask of a face, trying to pierce the veil into its Spirit. “Who or what exactly are you and why did you draw me here?”

Two pinpricks of red light grew into glowing orbs of eyes. “I am a humble Servant, a messenger, if you will. I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

It reached into the dark robes that I now realized it was wearing and drew out a rolled up piece of what looked like leather that was sealed by some sort of wax-like blob and placed it on my chest as it let go of my right arm with its other claw and stood up.

“Read this soon, it is a message for your eyes only. You will find the fifth and final victim a short ways down the beach. You will also find a suitably guilty killer alive next to the carcass. He will serve the needs of your human justice system well enough for now.”

“I can’t scapegoat some poor schmuck for your crimes!”

It stood over me, its eyes fading back into the grey of the mask. “Oh, I’ve chosen well for you. He’s killed far more of his fellow men than I have lately. If he weren’t so fallibly human, he might have been of more use to us. I have enjoyed this meeting young Hunter, until we meet again, fare thee well.”

I sat up, grabbing the thick leather scroll before it fell into the water. As I did, the creature faded into Shadow and was gone.

I got up, knocked some of the wet sand off of me and set off towards the site of the fifth victim a few hundred yards to the south. As promised, I found the fifth victim and a dazed man with the sickly Spirit of an unrepentant killer kneeling next to her. In one blood drenched hand he held the half eaten kidney of the young woman laid out, spread eagle on the bloodied sands of South Beach. His other hand was covered by bloody glove with jagged blades extending from the fingers.

I subdued the bastard with one quick blow to the back of his head with my fist and made the call for Agent Corrales to collect his prize for the dog and pony show that was sure to follow this arrest…

Drake's Tale--#1

(This is the first in a series of posts that will be detailing Drake’s history in his own words. Pursuant to the agreement I have entered with him, there will be no content editing over what he has to say. Each of these posts will have the same title, above, numbered sequentially.—RB)

My story is a long one. But it must be told.

Six thousand years ago, I was born the third of three sons to Dracaar (having looked back on his blog, I see my not so literate host has misspelled my father’s name in more than one way) and Madeena of the ancient city state of Ur.

My parents were not married, although this was not in any way unusual in that time and place. My mother was the daughter of one the three powerful priest-kings of the city at the time. She was a powerful priestess in her own right, although her chosen deity was Tiamat—a faith that was officially banned within the city because of the propensity of Her advocates to inspire Chaos amongst Her followers. Due to my mother’s position in that society however, she was in no danger.

My father, Dracaar, was even more complex. He was the most powerful and easily the most successful general in the army of Ur. He towered over everyone else in the city. He was easily a foot taller than even the largest of his own band of elite warriors, standing nearly seven feet tall. Even among the social elite of Ur, he exuded a sense of power and a charisma that commanded respect and deference from nearly everyone who encountered him.

But my father was even more different than he appeared, physically. As you all know, my father was not entirely human. Dracaar was a member of a small but powerful race of beings who call themselves An’girasii, a word from their original language that means ‘the Chosen.’ These beings, the An’girasii, will be discussed at much greater length in future posts. Suffice it to say that they are extremely powerful Spirit beings who have their own unique physical forms, but who are also capable of taking human forms, as they choose.

When they chose to take human form, the An’girasii are able to interbreed with humans, something they have been doing for as long as they and humans have been sharing this world, which is to say a very, very long time. The benefits the An’girasii of this interbreeding will also be discussed later, but the benefits to the immediate offspring are rather variable and unpredictable. Those that survive long enough to be born may or may not inherit some of the An’girasii magickal talents.

My two older brothers, Nehmad and Sorud, were lucky enough to inherit both our father’s impressive stature and very visible vestiges of his magickal talents. I, however, was cursed with the stature of my mother and no recognizable magickal talent to make up for my smallish nature.

Growing up, I was left to my own devices. My two brothers were Father’s favorites and spent much of their time honing their warrior skills and developing their magickal talents over the weather. Sorud had the power to summon and control wind, while Nehmad reveled in his mastery over earth. Once I was old enough to feed and change myself, Mother left me in than tender care of the household slaves. The slaves were far more interested in making sure that they avoided the beatings that came with failing to keep the household running well than they were taking care of the runt of the mistress’s litter.

Mother was more concerned with developing her own considerable magickal talents and with the strategic forming and breaking of political alliances as needed than she was with raising any of her children. She was not a paragon of maternal virtue.

So my early years were spent staying out of the way of those were more important, more loved, more powerful, and more fearful than I was. Besides wishing that I was more like my older brothers, I spent most of my time observing and learning from those who were too busy to notice or care about me.

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...

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...

Wrapping Up...Part 3

The Frau leaned forward, patted Ravyn on the shoulder and spoke up. “Ravyn, my dear, we all know how you feel aabout such things. Don’t you worry none, Jim will return your sample to you. Meanwhile, some of the rest of us are more curious.

“But, beyond that, we’ve got some other things to discuss at the moment.” She looked around at everyone, gaining their attnetion as she did so. “I was there when this Dracaar fellow took over Drake’s body and transformed it in no time flat into the spitting image of a powerful, dynamic man who could easily gain influence over any number of people through his looks and magnetism. This Dracaar was a pwerful warrior and leader in his native time, someone who Drake considered dangerous enough to risk own life to stop from being released. We can’t dismiss the threat this being may pose. He also took the still sealed urn of his consort away with him.”

Cerrydwen stepped forward from the shadows and spoke up as well. “Yes, this Dracaar could be an even tougher foe than Drake, if he, or we, choose to become foes. But first, I think we need to learn more about him and what his intentions are before we declare him a foe. We also have to be careful, we don’t know if this man has acquired any of Drake’s memories, or will have access to any of Drake’s secret network of servants, allies and resources.”

Herne sat forward and pitched in his offer of assistance. “I think I can do a little grunt work here and see about locating this guy. Moira and I don’t mind the opportunity to do a little travelling, now that we won’t be babysitting, and I think I’ve got an idea of how to track this guy. It sounds like he’s not the most subtle of operators, he’ll leave some bright, glowing magickal fingerprints wherever he goes, at least until he realizes that others can track him by those markers. We’ll make regular reports back to Jim here once we find something.”

“That sounds good.” I offerred. “I can also use the resources of the Bureau, put out some feelers within the government to be on watch for this guy. If I get any leads, I’ll let you guys know.”

Naomi, looking a little frustrated and desperate almost whispered. “This is all well and good, everyone. But what about me and Alexa here? I got no one in New Orleans now with Mama gone.”

Ravyn stopped her pacing and knelt down next to Naomi, gave her a gentle hug. “I’ve got a place you can come to, darling. It’ll be perfect for you for as long as you want to stay. There’s plenty of room, lots of help is available for raising Alexa, and you’ll be able to learn to harness your own natural abilities. I can see the potential in you to be great even now!”

Naomi’s spirit seemed to be lifted with the immediate offer of a place to stay. “Thank you.”

“Speaking of that,” I said. “I don’t want Daniel Bernstein to be around Naomi or the baby. Ravyn, he’s still with the students there, isn’t he?”

Ravyn nodded.

“I’ve got some unfinished business with him anyway. I’ll be taking him away and dealing with him.”

Jim looked thoughtful. “What are you going to do with him, Rusty?”

Cerrydwen emerged from her comfortable shadows again. “Rusty and I will be seeing what we can do about having him face the karmic consequences of his own actions in all of this. He has much to account for.”

Jim asked, “Can he be truly be held accountable for actions he has no memory of committing?”

Cerrydwen’s face grew dark. “Oh, I think he’ll have enough memories of the incidents before we finish with him.”

The Gift

I watched as the Frau and Cerrydwen walked away together, each whispering to the other about what had just happened. That was just fine with me, as I sat there trying to take it all in myself.

I had so many questions and almost no answers.

Was Drake well and truly dead? What the Hell was Dracaar going to do now with Drake’s body? Was the cure perhaps worse than the disease?

Fingering the sealed pocket of my leather jacket, I knew the ring was in there. What the Hell happened with Drake and this ring? Was it dangerous to have? Was there some part of Drake’s essence that escaped by going into the ring?

Knowing that it would be some time before the ladies were anywhere close to ready to depart, I took the opportunity to ground myself as John Red Bear had taught me to and slipped from my body. In my Spirit form, this place, this island looked completely different. It was brimming with colors and vibrantly alive. Instead of the dull, almost lonely place that it was to my normal senses, in this view, the place was brimming with creatures of Spirit that were dancing and playing in an almost gleeful way.

The large stone table was the center of a large gathering of sprites, brownies and other faery like beings who were dancing and singing in high pitched voices. Standing in the center, near the table, was a tall woman with long, elegant limbs, flowing hair, and a thin, angular face that called to mind the word ‘elf’.

I noticed that even with all of the activity going on around her, she was standing quietly, watching me. I felt a nervous tingle as I felt compelled to move closer to her ethereal beauty.

I was so entranced by her face, particularly her eyes, that I almost didn’t notice that she was naked except for a single loin cloth, like Cerrydwen had worn at the ceremony.

As I approached the ring of dancing fey, they scattered before me with gleeful cries and chaotic laughter, going off in pairs and threes into the nearby woods. Those woods, by the way, were much more colorful and cheery looking here than they were to my normal vision.

I continued to move forward, until I found myself standing directly in front of the angelic looking elfin woman. Like an awkward, geeky boy asking the prom queen for a dance, I managed to stammer out a few halting words in greeting. “H-H-Hello, my Lady. A-A-Are you the Hostess of this place that my friend Cerrydwen spoke of?”

She nodded. She was taller than I was, causing me to look up in order to speak to her properly. Her oval shaped face was perfectly proportioned, from her high cheeks and large, tear shaped eyes to her full lips framed by a small, dainty chin and a shapely nose.

“I’m sorry that I tried to break the Peace of this place.” For some reason, I felt like I had to apologize for just about everything. Her presence was a powerful, intoxicating spell, one I could not seem to resist. I so desperately wanted to please her.

I didn’t so much ‘hear’ her response as I ‘felt’ it pass through my Spirit, each word a swirl of emotion, color, and vibrant, living energy.

*There is no need to apologize for what you are.*

I was absolutely transfixed by her words as they passed through me. I had so many questions I wanted to ask this being about what had just happened, but I was transfixed by her gaze, her energy, her presence. I had never before encountered anyone or anything as beautiful as she seemed at that moment.

*He who broke my Peace has been punished for that crime, at least.*

I finally managed to form a coherent question and utter it. “Is he, Drake, dead?”

Her head tilted back in the slightest of movements and a small, tinkling laughter escaped from her mouth, a sound that that sent shockwaves of chaotic, thrilling energy through my very being.

*In the sense that you mortals would deem it, the one you call Drake is indeed dead. His essence, his Spirit as you might say, has been imprisoned in a vessel of his own choosing, a fitting punishment for what he has done to so many others, mortal and immortal alike.*

“The ring? Is his Spirit trapped inside the ring that he gave to me?”

She nodded.

“Is there any way for him to escape? Is it dangerous to hold onto that thing?”

*His essence is bound to that ring until such time as he accepts his guilt and is truly remorseful for the crimes he has committed. Yes, there will always be danger in holding that ring, but there is perhaps even more danger in not keeping it. There is much for you to learn from this one you call Drake. You will need to learn the lessons he has to teach if you are to become that which you must become, if you are to fulfill the destiny of which you are capable.*

“What destiny is that?”

She merely smiled and laughed again, sending even more spasms of energy through me.

“If you can’t tell me that, then can you at least tell me about this Dracaar and what his intentions are?”

*You will learn more of Dracaar from within and by learning from that ring that is now yours than you will from me. I am not of that Order and have no authority to interfere in their affairs.*

“I don’t understand.”

*I cannot offer you understanding, it is not in my nature to do so. But I can offer you something else.*

“What is that?”

*Life. I can restore your body to the world of the Living, make you whole once more.*

“Y-y-you can actually do that? Make me alive again?”

*Yes.*

Everything screamed to a stop in that moment. The one thing that I had wished for more than anything else was being offered to me. To be alive again! To be able to breathe, eat, sleep, touch, smell, taste again! To be able to feel the warmth of my daughter Alexa’s breath on my cheek, to feel the touch of another human being again!

I thought long and hard about her offer. At first I couldn’t believe it could even be possible. Then I thought of everything that happened since I had died, all that I had gone through and become. Would that be lost? Would I be able to do the things that I could now? Would I be able to be there for Alexa and the others who needed me if I were mortal again?

We stood there for what seemed an eternity. She never waivered or became bored as I fought my way through the debate of whether or not I should accept this gift of Life that I had just been offered. Finally, I looked back into her eyes and asked a question.

“Can I ask for this gift to be given to someone else?”

*You can always ask. But once you ask, the request is final*

“Then I will ask if you will give life back to Naomi Jackson, Alexa’s mother. She died too soon.”

The elfin woman’s eyes filled with a sparkling energy that grew so bright as to make it impossible to look directly at her. Her words were like a tidal wave of emotional energy as they washed through and over me.

*So mote it be.*

The power of her words blasted my Spirit back into my body, hurtled my physical form onto its back. As my eyes began to adjust and I felt the connection of Spirit and body click into place, I heard, or rather felt, her voice once more, much more softly this time.

*You have taken another step forward on your journey, you have chosen well, Friend.*

I slowly sat up, tried to shake the cobwebs free and heard some surprised gasps coming from the direction in which the Frau and Cerrydwen had gone.

The Frau called out breathlessly, “Rusty, who is that next to you?”

I looked over to see the sleeping form of Naomi laying beside where I had fallen. Her face a mask of calm repose. If I could have fainted, I would have.

Daddy Dearest...

The thunder rolled forth from the urn, pushing Drake further back from the table. His face was a frozen mask of fear and uncertainty. His hands were down at his sides. The right fist had slipped into a pocket, like he was fumbling for something inside his pants.

Seeing Cerrydwen laying on the ground, her face scrunched up in obvious agony as she clutched her shattered wrist with her good hand, the bear finally saw fit to get up off of my chest and waddle over to her.

Despite the still shuddering earth, I took this opportunity to sit up, but I was more busy going back and forth between watching Drake and glancing at the now glowing urn as a vaporous cloud of dark energy spilled forth from the mouth, slowly growing in a man-shaped form.

Drake had finally found what he had been searching for, pulling out a large silver ring set with a small dark stone. He took one brief moment to look at the ring before returning his attention the growing man-cloud. He clenched the ring in the palm of his now sweaty hand. Beads of sweat were now dripping from his head. His dress shirt was showing several sweat stains as well.

The man-cloud solidified. Two fire-red eyes formed in its head, a mouth appeared. It took a step towards Drake, one translucent arm reaching forward. The mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged, yet. As the creature moved away from the urn, it crashed to the ground, now a hollow bronze shell.

As the creature stepped forward, Drake stepped back, coming closer to where I now sat up. He glanced back to where I was, stammered out a barely heard sentence. “Rusty, this ring, it is absolutely critical that you take it.”

“What are you taking about?”

The man-cloud leaped forward, forming into an arrow that pierced into Drake’s chest. Drake’s back arched in agony as he was blown backwards and spun around, landing face first in the dirt at my outstretched feet. His body began spasming in violent bursts as he flopped about on the ground like a fish gasping for breath. His voice cried out in tortured wails, his eyes had rolled backwards in his head. The hand clenched around the ring remained sealed shut, as if it was the one part of his body he could still control.

The thrashing, wailing and agony continued for several moments, then all went silent and still. The hand holding the ring unclenched and twitched just enough to propel the ring btween my legs. It rolled to a stop and fell onto a side, little bits of smoldered flesh still attached to it. Looking up from it, I could see the palm bearing the scars of the ring, a large black circle evidence of where the ring was.

Unsure of what else to do at the moment, I reached down and grabbed the ring with my left hand and quickly stuck it in my inside jacket pocket. I then got up, looking over to where the naked form of the Frau was fretting over Cerrydwen and her broken arm.

I was just about to head over to see if I could do anything, when Drake’s body stirred again. I stepped back, not sure what was happening.

The body twitched again. A new round of convulsions began, though this time, they started out violent, but calmed quickly as he gathered himself and pushed up into a kneeling position. I got the distinct impression that someone new was trying out the body.

That feeling was confirmed as the former face of my enemy looked up at me with eyes more human than I could ever remember, and he smiled. Not the thin, smirk that I knew so well, but a genuine smile. His voice cracking, the being spoke, haltingly at first, then more sure. “I am Dracaar, is it you I have to thank for my release?”

Shaking my head, I pointed over to Cerrydwen and the Frau. “No, it was those ladies who released you. Thank them for your freedom.”

Dracaar shifted his look to the two ladies and clucked his tongue as he strode over to them. “I see that you have suffered at the hands of my wayward son. Please, let me help you.”

Frau moved enough for the figure of Dracaar to kneel down and touch Cerrydwen’s limp and swollen wrist. A warm yellow energy leaped from his fingers and entered her arm. Cerrydwen yelped in shock, but was soon able to move her fingers and hand without any pain.

Even as I watched this, I could see Drake’s former body continue to shift and fill out. He seemed to be gaining in height, weight and muscle mass, filling out from the rail thin frame that Drake had carried into a fuller, stronger, taller form that resembled more a linebacker than a bureacrat.

When the figure turned back to me, I could hardly recognize the face of my former foe, as his cheeks had filled out, his chin took on a much stronger cast, his eyes had a warm, charismatic feel to them. His voice, when he spoke again had a deep, sonorous quality that was also new, yet quite pleasing to the ear, even if the words themselves gave pause.

“FREE AT LONG LAST!” His arms were outstretched as he called out. He looked around at each of us, dropped his arms and lowered his voice. “I have much to do. I must take my leave now. I will have need of capable servants in the near future, serve me again, and you will be rewarded byond your wildest mortal dreams.”

With that he turned on his heal, strode to the table and grabbed the other urn. Energy gathered about him and the urn, culminating in a bright flash that faded to reveal an empty table and Dracaar missing.

We looked over at each other in awe, and more than a little fear. Frau was the first to speak. “What have we just released?”

Confrontational Guest...Part 2

Imagine my surprise then, when instead of heading straight for Drake, the bear dodged to the side, quicker than I would have thought possible and crashed into my chest. Her great strength and large mass were easily enough to knock me to the ground. Before I could unscramble my senses and get back up, she settled her furry behind onto my chest, effectively pinning me as she sat facing Drake.

I was sprawled out on my back, but I was in a position that allowed me to see the shit eating grin on Drake’s face as he relaxed from his fighting stance and looked down at me in an even more condescending manner than normal.

Seeing his wicked grin, I struggled to free myself, but the Frau just settled down even more until I stopped struggling.

Drake threw his back in laughter at this pathetic scene. “Rusty, you have a strange choice of allies, I must say. Someday, if you survive long enough, you will learn the value of imposing your Will upon those who should serve.”

“Drake, you bastard! I know who you are now, what you’ve done to survive this long!”

He knelt down on one knee near my head, but just beyond my reach. “Yes, I know, son. But I also know what and who you’ve become. We share so much in common, you and I. Perhaps I will take you in as a student and teach you some of what I know. Then, you could be truly reach your full potential.”

If I could have spat in his face, I would have, but alas zombies don’t generate much saliva. “Fuck off, Drake. Once I get loose, I’m going to find you and kill you once and for all!”

“Oh yes, I tremble at the mere thought of it.” He laughed as he stood up, dusted off his pant leg and looked into the bear’s face disdainfully. “I know you from somewhere, bear.”

The bear licked her lips with her long tongue and brought her own face closer to Drake’s. Soon the two of them were within inches of each other as each stared into the eyes of the other.

The wrenching sneeze of the bear blasted bits of green and brown mucus onto Drake’s face and shirt, sending him staggering back a couple of steps as he wiped the disgusting spray from his face, cursing all of the while.

“Enough of these games.” He dropped the now dirty handkerchief into the grass and took one step towards the table, only to come face to face once again with the nearly naked form of Cerrydwen. The left side of her face was already purpling with a nasty bruise.

She looked calm and resolute as she stood straight and spoke to the man who had struck her down. “You have broken the Peace of this place, dear sir, but for that transgression, you are forgiven. Now, you have one last opportunity to start your journey down the long and difficult road to redemption.”

“I want nothing of your forgiveness, or your redemption, woman. I want what is mine!”

“If you continue down the path you seem so determined to take, you needn’t worry about that, dear sir, you will most assuredly get what is yours!”

“Woman, are you threatening me? You have no power over me! Stand aside, or I will be forced to hurt you again.”

I couldn’t get up, but it didn’t mean I was going to remain silent. “Drake, you better not touch her again! Come here and fight someone your own damn size!”

All three of them ignored me.

“Sir,” Cerrydwen countered, “it is not within your power to truly harm me. So strike me if you feel you must, but I will not stand aside while those beings remained trapped within those vessels.”

He stood silent for a moment, as he was unsure of what to do. I could see his right hand clench and unclench several times before he replied. “I will not allow you to free those monsters. You don’t know what it cost me to imprison them inside those urns.”

“Whatever their crimes, you have no right to keep them imprisoned in this way. I am afraid that if you will not release them on your own, I will have to do so. You may have the vessels when they are empty.”

As he stood there mute, Cerrydwen turned her back on him and walked up to the table. She picked up a gleaming silver athame that I had not seen before and reach toward the first urn, calling out in a sing song voice in a language that even I did not recognize.

All eyes were on Cerrydwen as she drew the urn containing the spirit of Drake’s mother to her and wave the athame over it in a mesmerizing manner, chanting all of the way. The glowing blade left a trace pattern of light behind as it moved, much like the sparklers I used to wave around in my youth.

Drake had stood rock still, as if he too were caught under a spell of some sort. But his shout and quick, lunging movement forward shattered the magickal calm. He caught her wrist in his left hand, twisting it in a cruel manner that created a loud popping sound from the bones in her wrist and a soft grunt of pain from her lips. The blade slipped from her spasming fingers and fell to the ground, the glowing blade seeming to drift in slow motion to stab into the moist earth of the island.

The moment the blade plunged into the earth was also the moment that the earth gave forth a great shudder of pain. Drake staggered with the sudden shift in the ground beneath him, still holding the obviously broken wrist of Cerrydwen, as they both stumbled back from the stone table where the urns began gyrating wildly.

With a great heave the earth buckled one more time, causing the larger urn of Dracaar to tumble from the table.

Too late, Drake saw the vessel begin its fall. He cast Cerrydwen aside like a broken doll and dove in vain in an attempt to catch the urn.

The urn fell inexorably to land with it’s lead-lined but clay stoppered mouth landing on the glowing silver hit of the upright dagger. With a thunderous crack, the seal shattered...

Anticipation...

I finished brushing off the debris from the massive stone table and cast aside the worn out pine branch that I used to finish it. Maybe ten minutes had passed since Cerrydwen disappeared back into the woods, but I couldn’t be sure.

It seemed more like an eternity.

I knelt down beside the duffle bag, unzipped it, and pulled out the smaller of the two urns.

This was the urn that was inscribed with the ancient image of Tiamat, a seven-headed sea serpent. It was about the size of a bowling ball, but more oblong in shape. It was cast out of bronze, now weathered badly. The cuneiform inscriptions along the bottom of the image of Tiamat were worn almost to the point of being indecipherable, but as I looked at the words formed by the strange markings, their meaning crystallized in my mind-- “This vessel contains the remains and the immortal soul of Madeena, servant of Tiamat, consort of Dracaar. Cursed is he who disturbs the sentence of this criminal.”

As those words turned in my mind, I set that urn up on the stone table, reaching down to pull the other, larger one out of the bag. The second urn was not decorated in any fashion, no stylized images of serpents, gods, or creatures graced this thing, yet as I held it, it felt heavier, more...important.

Despite the lack of ornamentation, this urn was also inscribed with cunieform markings that spelled out a dire warning-- “Cursed is the bloodline of he who breaks the seal on this vessel. Doom, Death and Destruction to any who violate4 this sacred seal.”

I set the second urn up on the stone table as well and stood facing them, contemplating what actually would happen when they were opened. I felt a small chill deep inside. The anticipation was horrible...

(Dear readers--my apologies for the small post, but circumstances this week have prevented me from writing further. Look for a burst of posts to take place starting Thursday, May 11.--DSP)

Conclave...Part 8

Staring down at the two archaic, cuneiform-inscribed, sealed bronze urns, I rubbed my hands together in a nervous fashion and started speaking again.

“It was only when Mrs. Al Farhan presented herself and claimed a connection with Drake and his past that Daniel began to piece together the fact that the two great mysteries he had been struggling with were intimately connected. Mrs. Al Farhan had hoped to earn her freedom by revealing her connection with Drake. Instead, she descended into a Hell that rivaled anything done at Abu Ghraib either by Saddam and his twisted sons, or by the misguided American soldiers who made that name famous again.

“It’s painful for me to recall all of the details of how he got her talk about all she had learned, so I will just summarize it without adding in any of those gruesome details.

“These two bronze urns contain the dessicated remains of Drake’s parents. The one on the left, the one inscribed with great dragon Tiamat on it contains his mother’s remains, while the one on the right contains the body of the human avatar Dracaar, that his father used at the time of Drake’s birth.”

“Wait a minute!” That was Ravyn. “Didn’t you just say that his father was some sort of same type of being as Ma Grendel was? What is this avatar crap? Was the man human or not?”

“I’m not real sure I understand the concept yet myself, but from my understanding through Daniel and Mrs. Al Farhan is that the body in this urn, is or at least was, mostly human. It seems that this type of beings can take human form when they choose to, but for the time that they do so, they take on the mantle of mortal existence and may be killed. From my memories of Ma Grendel, this death is not in any way permanent, she has been slain or died a number of times over the eons.

“But the importance of these urns is that each of them contains not only the physical remains of his parents, but also the Spirit of each.”

The Professor leaned forward, pointing to the urns. “So, you’re saying that at least one of these urns contains the Spirit of a god-like critter...and you brought them to my house?”

All eyes were on the two ancient urns. The room suddenly seemed slightly darker, by the shivers of the others, it also appeared to be colder.

“Well, uh, yes. That is why Drake is so desperate to have them back. The last thing he wants is for either of these Spirits to get loose. That is what he had been looking for when he first met Mrs. Al Farhan, and why he wanted them back from Daniel. You see, Daniel didn’t put much stock in ‘spirits’ being trapped in bronze urns. He was after the genetic material in the physical remains themselves.

“Knowing from his questioning of Mrs. Al Farhan that Drake fathered hundreds of children over the milennia, and having recovered a sample of Drake’s hair from Mrs. Al Farhan that she had received as a keepsake, Daniel was desperate to prove his new theory that the common ancestor of most Casters alive today was Drake himself--but even with the hair sample, his sample set was incomplete--he needed to test the remains of Drake’s parents to be sure.”

Conclave...Part 6

“It was only when Daniel was sent to Iraq that the answers he was seeking about both Drake and that mysterious common ancestor of most Casters literally fell into his hands.”

“That Iraqi woman, Mrs. Al Farhan?” That was the Frau.

I nodded. “He had no idea that two great mysteries he was trying to puzzle out were actually related, literally. But once Mrs. Al Farhan came under his control, and once she offered up her knowledge of Drake in an attempt to gain her freedom, Daniel couldn’t resist...taking it from her in some very unpleasnat ways.”

Cerrydwen’s eyes narrowed as she broke into the narrative. “You mean he raped that poor woman in just about every way that can be done.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, he raped her...brutally raped her...in a number of ways, all of which are now resting in my memories. Once he learned that she had the Talent that she did, and that she had the chance to use the Talent on Drake, his greed to know more and more became unquenchable.”

Ravyn piped in now. “That’s still no excuse for what he did to her!”

I held up my hands. “True. Trust me, I am offering up no excuses for that wretched excuse of a man. But, because of what he did, I have a much fuller understanding of Drake’s history and just how great this challenge is going to be. I have pieced together a good portion of his history now between Mrs. Al Farhan, Daniel’s memories, Ma Grendel’s memories and Drake’s own statements to me over time. It makes for a Hell of story, one I’m not sure I entirely believe, but one that I need to tell you all so that you can see what exactly it is that we are facing. I will also then tie it in to what Daniel then learned of the genetic question he had been pursuing.

“Drake was born between 5,000 and 6,000 years ago in the ancient city-state of Ur, one of the first great cities to rise in Mesopotamia, the place we now know of as Iraq. His mother was a powerful society woman who was also a secret priestess of Tiamat, the great She-Dragon of middle eastern mythology. Her Order was actually forbidden by the ruling powers in the city, since Tiamat was seen as a powerful evil force and as representing primal chaos.

“His mother, however, was in no real danger due to her membership in that Order because she was the mistress of one of the most powerful men in the city, the King’s most trusted general and advisor- a man who went by the name of Dracaar. This would have made Drake a very powerful man in his own right, except that things are even stranger than that. It turns out that his father was no mere human. His father was a being of the same ilk as Ma Grendel...one of a number of such beings who have taken on human guises over the years and even mated with humans.”

The Frau furrowed her brow, parsed her lips and spoke up. “A creature of Ma Grendel’s strength would have been seen pretty much as a god at that time.”

“Indeed. From those memories of hers that I still have, Ma Grendel herself has been worshipped in many societies as a powerful goddess and feared in even more as a demoness. Those memories also show that her exploits have become the basis for a number of myths and legends. We even continue to refer to her even now by a name that one of her children acquired through the legend of Beowulf.”

It was the Professor’s turn to scratch his head and chime in. “So, you’re saying that Drake’s father was a god-like creature similar in power to that of this Ma Grendel you fought in New York. Wouldn’t that make Drake a demi-god of sorts? That might explain why he appears to be almost unkillable.”

“Yes and no. When Mrs. Al Farhan touched Drake, she absorbed much of this early history from him, but she also learned that his apparent immortality is something that he acquired only when he learned how to utilize the Talent that he actually had. You see, his father actually considered Drake a failure because he didn’t seem to have any of the magickal talents that most children of such unions had. He sent the young Drake away from Ur to serve in the army as a foot soldier since he didn’t have the apparent talent to become anything more useful.

“But it was in the course of that life as a soldier that Drake discovered his Talent. He had a unique ability to control his body, even down to a cellular level. Utilizing that Talent to its fullest extent however, came with a terrible price...”