Suggested title: The Etheterre Chronicles or The Codex Aetherica
Continued from (naturally enough) Part One.
*Round-Robin ‘Riting.
Patience, Please
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RRR*, version 2006.6, Part 2 (The Etheterre Chronicles)
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ATTENTION ‘RITERS:
THIS THREAD IS A CONTINUATION OF A PREVIOUS RRR. I JUST WANT TO MAKE THAT CLEAR. ALSO, IT IS IN THE MIDDLE OF A RIDDLE BEING WRITTEN BY TAIWAN HIPPO FAN. PLEASE DO NOT ‘RITE UNTIL THAT RIDDLE IS FINISHED, AS IT HAS ALREADY BEEN PLANNED OUT. THANK YOU.
Oh my gosh! Yay! The second thread! Now I have to memorize the new page number…. lol.
Sorry I couldn’t post the rest of the riddle…. I will…. soon… I have to go now, but I’ll do it soon! Today! I promise!
GAPAs, please don’t zap this. I’m not posting this just for first post, which I might not get. I’m posting it to tell the other people.
But, it’d be nice to get first post…. so… First Post?????
Flood of newbies incoming! Brace for impact!
Wow. I thought there would be more people before I posted again. Oh well. What’s the answer of the riddle, and is anyone going to get killed off here? Oh, wait. Never mind. Woodle just died so maybe the others should stay alive for awhile. Maybe someone gets wounded…….. and I’m going to post something once THF finishes the riddle part. I hope nobody does anything ruthlessly random. That would screw things up really bad (hinthintnudgenudgewinkwinkslapslap – for anybody getting ideas
)
And Mr. Roglea apparently died, but there’s a possibility that he’s still alive and working for the Usurper (it can’t be a coincidence that his last name is an anagram of the Usurper of Kolombent), so Woodle is the only definite casualty.
THF it is now the next day and you still haven’t posted the remaining riddle………..*gets really impatient*
Could you please do so soon? You’re the only one who knows it, so we can’t really continue until that’s finished. Pretty please?
Tiawan Hippo Fan, WHER ARE YOU?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Nececita terminar the riddle. Ahora, por favor.
i am not a newbie. i am older than all you younguns, just 2 let u know! I am evil!!!!
She flew away from the bedpost shoved the window up and stared. The merchant! No. They were supposed to sell to the merchants, not kill them! She dashed to her cloak and flew, as fast as a night bat, down the hallway of her house, which was so small it took hardly any time to reach the door. She slammed it open and jogged to the scene, hands flailing, the merchant took a slight peek at her, and then returned to gaze into his threatener’s eyes.“You sell it to me, scum, or I sell your soul to death!”
A pang of fear was obivous as the man’s tongue licked his lips.
“I c-couldn’t sir,” he said feebily, lifting his arms. “You see, I have a debt on my–”
“Your house, i suppose. The house that you don’t have. You are a merchant, and I am not stupid. Both of us know very well what you have, I saw him give it to you. Paper bags do not hide to more than stupid eyes.”
“P-please…”
Terenika couldn’t take anymore. Even at the age of 14, she was powerful and easily could take on somebody–well, at least she hoped. But unlike you or I might have done, she acted well like a thief would. Slipping like a beetle through the crowd, she inched up into she could’ve taken him to dagger’s point, and then she gave a quick tug, and in the same second drawing up to full height.
“Wuh, huh?” He cried, jumping around, the dagger only whizzing past the merchant’s throat. The merchant took advantage of the situation to grab a brown papered item from his cart and dash away full speed. Without even giving the girl a proper look. But Terenika had sawn his face. She knew it, she knew it well, she just couldn’t place it…
It was in the caverns she had seen them, yes, in the caverns….
Janu!
But she couldn’t call after him! She had to keep her discovery to herself. If the other thieves learned, they’d knock her aside like a badly earthed rock.
Her only choice was a dire one…she had to run too.
ooh, i leave you with the good part. who’s the thief?You can’t do that. This is a previously written story, you can’t start a new one.
9, 10- I think you’re confused. That’s the other RRR that you’re continuing from.
Wrong thread.
KitKat, don’t worry, I nearly did the same thiing too. Maybe we should make a title for this so people don’t get confused. If not, gapas, could you somehow distinguish it from the other one, please?
Hmmm. The new title is a bit wordy. How about “The Etheterre Chronicles” or “The Codex Aetherica?”
“The Etheterre Chronicles” sounds good. If it doesn’t work out then it can be changed later. Gapas, could you make it that so we don’t get more accidental posts?
((Without THF’s riddle, this thread has ground to a halt. I’ll continue under the assumption that everybody survives, from a point after they answer the riddle and leave the Midepils behind. Inconsistencies can be corrected later. Sorry, THF.))
As the angry gurgles of the riddling Midepils faded into the distance, Elanor noticed that the path was slanting upward into rough-hewn steps. The stairway slowly began to spiral upward. Already hungry, and becoming more so, most of the odd little group took several swigs of Qwestrade on the way up.
Finally, they emerged through an angular doorway into a room that was medium-sized in all respects except for the ceiling. That was at least fifty feet up. In the wall near the ceiling, there was a large, granite gate with the now-familiar seal of Emeralek emblazoned on it.
“Of course,” moaned Lance. “This tunnel was built for Xixins. There’s no way a non-hovering creature could get up there.”
“I could try flying…” Elanor suggested doubtfully.
“Absolutely not,” stated Emburr. “So close to Kaabne’s fortress, the energy discharge would bring down an army on us before you could say knife. We’re pretty well stuck.”
Heyheyhey!!!!!!!! I posted the rest of the riddle!!!!! But it’s GONE!!!!!!!! Gah! I wish there were a safer way to insure that posts actually get to the GAPAs… *tear* That was a lot of stuff! And a lot of “OMG I’M SO SORRY”s.
GONE!!!!!!!
Okay.
Sorry.
Breathe in, breathe out, repost the riddle.
Okay guys. I would give you the millions of sorries, but you just want the riddle to be posted, darn it! So I’ll give you the riddle. But I won’t write the context. That will be my punishment. How does that sound? Great? Great.
Here ’tis:
Just one letter for thee
But it’s one you know well
It’s inside the word knee
If you know how to spell
“That should make it quite easy!”
You say. That it does.
Be sure not to get queasy
Or fill your brain up with fuzz
If you think the trick’s sleazy
You should look at a Was
He was stuck on this riddle
The very same one
His thumbs just went twiddle
And his life was then done
It was your mother’s favorite letter….
[Lance]
This one’s easy, young lad
If you know what do do
You just take out a small
Little letter – it’s true
From a word that has a small meaning – to you
The word is one in the group of “to be”
It is said after “You”
The right letter removed
is the key
Answer to the first riddle (Elanor’s): Sur. My cousin says “sure” instead of yes. It is a fairly famous miswording in her family. You take out the e and it becomes sur.
Answer to 2nd riddle (Intinier’s): Is. She is descended from the Medusa thingymajig people, whose hair hissed. If you take out two letters, or half, of the word hiss, you get is, if you take out the right two letters.
Answer to 3rd riddle (Emburr’s): K. He realizes that the Midepil telling him that it’s really hard is just trying to get him to think more than he has to.
Answer to 4th riddle: Ar. Take out the e in are and you have ar.
11–whoa! no bad intentions, yo!! it was just a little mistake!
i give up. *sniffle sniffle* you don’t appreciate my writing. I resign.
and what? wasn’t this a continuation of where we left off? we left off where the guy had the merchant, and yeah…i’m confused. seriously. i can’t follow this! too messy! aah help! sry. i just need a little info. okay. erm, GAPA, can you cross off my entries on 9 and 10, please!!! Their really emberassing, writer’s red-face!!! Okay.
oh, I see now. wow. it’s a whole different story.
sorry kiki, didn’t know. do you forgive me? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE forgive me!!!
Alright, I forgive you.
Here are some other possible titles given to me by Kiki the Great: Etheterre, Elanor and the Usurpers, Adventures in Etheterre, The Usurpers, and Elanor. I don’t remember the rest. My favorites are Etheterre and Elanor and the Usurpers. I also like The Codex Aetherica. I don’t know about The Etheterre Chronicles… I guess it could be the name of the series if we make more than a two books. But it seems too obvious. I like Etheterre because it’s short, but it still explains the story. We could have the first two just be called “Elanor’s Story” or something. And then one or two others that are more about Emburr’s life, or something. Have Elanor’s be the first, but it’s not the first time/year-wise.
Just ideas.
see you at RRR 1!! never heard of a riddle thread, anyhoo.
For Elanor, it was easy. It was a running joke in her family that her cousin Gary always said “sure” instead of “yes.” Removing an E, though… That just left her with “sur.” Perhaps it was a syllable.
Intinier was puzzled for a while, until she remembered the time her father had told her about the snake-haired Gorgons, and how Intinier’s folk, the Capenlents, were slightly more amiable descendants of that species. She brushed away a luminous tear as she thought about her father, who was still stuck in that hellhole of the slave compound in Usurper Hiskar’s palace.
Come on, peoples, post please.
“I’ve got mine,” Emburr muttered. “It’s “K”.”
“Snaky hair… Hiss,” Intinier murmured. “Ss? Hi? Is?”
“Well, my part was easy,” Elanor said. “It’s Sur.”
“Sur… hiss… K…” Lance pondered. “Mine’s “Ar.” Surriskar!”
“What in the world is Surriskar?” Elanor wanted to know.
“It corresponds to Australia,” Intinier whispered excitedly. “By xum, I think you’ve got it, Lance!” Out loud, she said, “Surriskar!”
“AARRGH!” the first Midepil howled in frustration. “The most tender meal we’ve gotten in centuries, and thou hast let it SLIP AWAY… I’m TIRED of eating Wubbs!” As it said this, it skewered several gelatinous balls that were quietly bouncing past.
“I let them slip away?” the second Midepil said, its claws sliding out with an ominous “shiick.” “Maybe thou shalt serve for a meal in place of these!” It slithered past the travelers and leaped on its companion. Intinier quickly hurried down the passage, the others following the flickering light of her torch.
*****
(post 17 goes here)
(continued from post 17) Lance, Elanor, Initier and Emburr began thouroghly searching the room for any other way to get to the top of the room. They could just barely see the beginnings of another tunnel at the top of the room, and knew that they needed to continue quickly, lest they fell prey to some other dangerous predicament. Throughout the search, Emburr never dimmed his humor and continously told jokes, though the others began to despair of ever finding a way up and out.
Soon, however, Emburr was the one who came upon a small item that seemed rather out of place. He had climbed up the back of a tall chair and was trying to swing from a tapestry on the wall when the cloth came free and revealed a picture that had been hidden behind it. It was one of a small girl, no older than one or two, with her hand on the back of a patient-looking dog with a background of lush, rolling hills and a town in the distance. Elanor was puzzled by this; it was obviously from her native world and had to idea what it was doing in Etheterre. Her companoins were equally confused, and Initier gently took the picture off of the wall to examine it more closely.
Emburr quickly got bored of the painting and turned around to see if there was anything more interesting to do. He gave a short yelp of surprise, which startled the other three to see what had startled him.
While the companions had been scrutinizing the painting, the circular tile pattern that had been at the center of the room had silently risen into a spiral staricase that reached almsot all the way to the ceiling. I now loomed above them, daring to climb it’s narrow, winding stairs and somehow reach the tunnel on the wall from the middle of the room. Slowly and carefully, they began to ascend the treacherous stair.
28- And that was your first continuation? Very good. I like how you stuck to the characters’ personalities.
((off of 28-))
Emburr went first with his usual bravado, striding up the steps as though he was out for a Sunday stroll. Lance followed, more cautiously, with Elanor and Intinier bringing up the rear.
With a sudden crack, a piece of tile fell away beneath Emburr’s feet, and he swung precariously to regain his footing. Intinier gasped in alarm as the Fenkin stumbled upwards and finally reached equilibrium on all fours. He was a little shaken, but he still didn’t lose his sense of humor. “Whoever built this stair ought to be incinerizated,” he grumbled, as he continued to climb.
30- Are you sure it isn’t “incinerated?”
31 – I believe he was thinking of a new word – “incinerization” must be some sort of something similar to incineration.
31, 32- THP is right. (Geez, I’m the only one who ever spelled her initials right, and now she changes them again? Just kidding.) Incinerization is a particularly nasty magical form of death and/or serious injury. When the spell hits, every molecule that it touches turns into an explosion of heat and light, setting off a chain reaction. It’s often used for more innocent purposes, like destroying important documents or unsafe buildings.
Emburr reached the door first. He tried to open it, but found that it was wedged in place. “A little help here?” he said.
Lance came forward and began to push against it. Emburr joined him, and slowly it began to shift.
It stuck for a moment, then swung wildly in. Lance and Emburr fell downward towards the floor of the hall twenty feet below, accompanied by a stack of bottles that contained some sort of foul-smelling liquid. Glass bottles.
Several loud shattering sounds ensued, followed by stifled groans and a horrible stench wafting up from below. “We aren’t hurt badly,” Emburr called. “Lance had the sense to set up a Kurvenk Enswathement, and it cushioned our fall. I think we’re in the main meeting hall. No wonder they never found this door- it was behind several hundred crates of bleakfen wine. Anyway, the gateway’s at the other end. I wonder why nobody’s-”
The Fenkin’s ruminations were interrupted by a slim, strong, red-furred tail that pressed a slender obsidian blade to his throat. The Usurper of Lillixa had arrived.
“-in here,” Emburr finished with a strangled gurgle.
Gee, I leave a spectacular cliffhanger, and nobody continues?
It’s not that I don’t continue because I don’t feel like it, or something… but that I don’t know what to say. I’ve come here often, but I haven’t been writing because I can’t think of someting to write. Not really writer’s block… more… you know… I don’t know.
Gah.
Sorry.
Can’t think of what to write for a continuation.
((I’ll continue, then.))
Elanor rushed up the stairs, her feet leaving the ground and not coming down once she was about two-thirds of the way up. By the time she reached the top, she was flying in earnest. She was just about to shoot through the door when Intiner grabbed her and hurled her back against the wall.
Elanor squirmed in Intinier’s grip. “Emburr and Lance are down there!” she hissed. “What are you doing?”
“Look,” the phagomage whispered fiercely. “Kaabne is probably the least powerful mage among the Usurpers. But he is ruthless. If he catches you without the Codex, he’ll know that he won’t get another chance. He’ll kill you without a-”
A stream of shimmering purple, barely visible, rocketed up and burst against Intinier’s skin. The resulting nebulous cloud hovered around her. Elanor could see that she was swatting at the swaths of magical fog, trying to get out. Kaabne’s laugh resounded up from the hall below.
Suddenly, a burst of silver light shot out from Intinier’s fingers, shearing through the fog and fading away. Kaabne let out an angry shriek. Elanor, peering around the door, saw him clearly for the first time.
He looked nothing like Woodle. For one thing, he was a lot bigger, the size of a soccer ball. His tail rippled with muscle, and an obsidian blade was strapped to its tip. Two iridescent, blue-green feathers hung down from its base, offsetting his bristly red fur.
“One more move, and the Fenkin dies,” he yelled up, using perfect English, but in a squeaky voice that did not fit his intimidating bulk. Elanor suddenly remembered that she had been able to understand every Etheterran who spoke to her, with the exception of Woodle. It made no sense. Why would everyone in this bizarre parallel world speak English? Then she
realized that nobody was speaking English. When she concentrated, she heard a strange tongue behind the familiar overlay. She could understand it perfectly, so her mind assumed it was English. She resolved to ask one of her companions about it when they were in a less dangerous situation.
The ramifications of language could not have been further from Lance’s mind. He had spent the past few minutes edging across the hall while Intinier distracted the Lillixan Usurper. The gateway was just a few yards away. It was a terraced stone platform that looked like a miniature Aztec temple. On top was a single elegant pedestal made from highly polished black stone. A transfer marble sat on top of it in a concave cup. The familiar lazy swirls of violet and red-orange reassured Lance for a moment, giving him the confidence to quietly hurry forward and step up on the platform. His hand closed around the marble, and a thrill of energy ran through him. “7… 6… 5… 4… ” he murmured, as his heartbeat, his breathing, even his thoughts synchronized to the countdown.
((Whoa. THP has writer’s block. I have the opposite. Sorry about the length, I’ll finish the story if I’m not careful.))
THP, would you do us all a big favor and post the story as it was when the first thread ended? Please?
Kaabne whirled around in midair, just in time to see Lance’s blurry silhouette flicker inside out and disappear. “You’ll pay for this!” the Usurper howled, and jerked his tail closer to Emburr’s neck. A trickle of blood ran down the Fenkin’s fur as the blade pierced his skin.
Elanor wasn’t having it. She leaped out the door, not even noticing when she started to fly. Kaabne was an experienced fighter with excellent reflexes, but he was too stunned by the girl’s appearance to do any more than croak “Wing…” before Elanor smashed into him like a torpedo.
*****************
Lance twisted right side out and materialized in Reality. A sudden wave of cold hit him like an electric shock. He was in some sort of Inca ruin, with a couple of American tourists standing twenty yards away. Fortunately, the swirling mist had obscured his sudden appearance.
OK, he thought. I need a book. Fast.
*****************
Kaabne and Elanor tumbled through the air, locked in a wrangling ball. Elanor had just realized the folly of her plan. She had wrapped her fingers around Kaabne’s tail, but he was proving too strong for her, and the deadly blade was inexorably moving closer to her throat. To make matters worse, it was spitting arcs of electric blue light at her. Only through sheer luck and adrenaline-fueled dodging had she managed to fend off the magical attack.
A Guide to Etheterre (Sorry, guys, I have to write something.)
I. Overview
Etheterre, at its most basic level, is the realm of the human imagination. Everything ever dreamed exists there. It was created by a powerful and enigmatic force known as Imaganruis. Some people say that Imaganruis is a god, some say it is the sum total of all magic in Etheterre, and some say it’s the imagination personified.
Ia. Gateways
As a long-term connection between Etheterre and Reality, there are (theoretically) seven gateways. These allow imaginings to reach Etheterre, and their results to reach Reality, as well as serving as passages between the two worlds. Once, Etheterre was more closely connected to Reality, but they split when people stopped believing in the fantastic, leaving only the Seven. There is one gateway on each continent in Reality, each one corresponding to a gateway on an Etheterran continent.
Ib. The Codex Aetherica
The Codex is an artifact of ancient Etheterre, more like a powerful spirit than anything else. Imaganruis is directly linked to its power. It was captured and bound by Etheterre’s first king, and has since then protected and empowered the rulers. It manifests itself in books, usually the one closest to the present ruler, and can pass between the worlds without having to use the gateways. Conversely, it serves as a sort of personal gateway for the Etheterran king or queen. It has enormous power comparable to that of the most potent mage, and can be controlled by the ruler by verbal commands in the ancient language of Etheterre.
Ic. Magic
Magic is a very common notion in the human psyche, and thus it follows that it would be common in Etheterre. Mages are creatures of all species that use magic for their own ends. Some spells can be done with a single thought, though others require a command, long preparation, and/or collaboration between multiple mages.
Id. The Usurpers
Recently, as we would reckon it, Etheterre has been conquered by a faction of mages called the Usurpers. They killed Atherton Wing, the rightful ruler, by attacking Imaganruis and weakening the Codex. Atherton’s wife fled with their young daughter, Elanor, to Reality. Since that time, the Usurpers have ruled almost all of Etheterre. They all have one thing in common; a magical shield made from the life force of mages they have killed, which cannot be breached by any “normal” magic. It has been theorized that the Codex could manage it.
The Usurpers are led by a man called Zefethelyan, whose name is not spoken by the superstitious. His origin remains mysterious. He is the one who invented the magical shield.
(To be continued! Next: The Continents; their inhabitants and Usurpers.)
43- Very nice.
Where would there be a book in a place like this? Ahh, Lance thought. Your never more than 50 feet from a gift shop. Hurrying inside. Lance was relieved to see a row of books on incan ruins sitting on a close shelf. Grabbing on, he hurried out. The angry shop keeper followed. “Hey! You! Come back here!” he yelled. Lance was only a couple feet away from the portal stone. Come on, come on; he thought desperately. A hand grasped the back of his shirt, pulling him backwards just as his hand closed around the rock.
Lance looked up- and gasped. There, standing over him, a cold smile on his face, was the teacher who had been chasing Elanor. Beside him were two of the policemen who had pursued them to the Rose Cafe. Actually, they weren’t real policemen. In fact, Lance had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t even men. Just as confirmation, Lance shot off an small Hermetic Inferno. It hit Mr. Blithe and passed through him harmlessly, but it dissipated the illusion around him. He stood there, his true shape revealed. A skeletal silver face looked down at Lance, metallic fingers now clutching his shirt. More pipes, cogs and pistons, all of pure silver, chugged sluggishly through the substitute teacher’s torso, pushing pale river clay in and out to form a passable humanoid body.
“Houston,” Lance said to himself, using an expression he’d picked up during his time in Reality, “we have a homunculus.”
“You really are dumb, boy,” the thing that had been Mr. Blithe said. “Did you think that Zefethelyan would not have a guard set up near the gateways? You’re never going to leave Reality alive.”
“Too late,” said Lance, as he pulled the portal stone out from behind his back. He was already starting to fade. His insubstantial T-shirt slipped through Blithe/homunculus’s fingers. “Stop him!” the substitute teacher howled. The last thing Lance felt before going into the negative space of the gateway was a bullet smacking into his arm.
A Guide to Etheterre
II. Continents
There is one continent in Etheterre for every one in Reality. They are generally the same shape and in the same location, but their climates often differ wildly from those of their twins.
Ia. Kolombent
At the beginning of the story, the only free continent. It was ruled by the Regency, a council whose duty would normally be to rule Etheterre until the next ruler became the age that would allow him or her to use the Codex (usually about ten years old.) Its capital was Labarynth City, an entire city built on a labyrinth of crystal roads supported by seven enormous foundation rods. The gateway was a small establishment known as the Rose Cafe in both Etheterre and Reality. When Zefethelyan attacked Labarynth City, it was completely destroyed, along with the gateway. Kolombent is now under the rule of a mysterious man called Gaelor. The only member of the Regency known to still be alive is Olviek, a phagomage who is for some reason in Reality.
(to be continued. Next, Lillixa.)
I just realized something. Elanor’s brother is the person who said sure instead of yes, not her cousin. It’s just that my cousin was the person that gave me the idea. I just switched it on the Keeper’s edition. If you don’t like what I did or something, feel free to change it.
If we plan on actually doing anything with this story, it needs a lot of major editing work. I didn’t do much, but we have to work on it eventually. If you want to edit a bit, go ahead, but other people might fix it more or something… whatever… anyway, I have to shut my computer down now, but soon I’ll post the story. I hate delays like this. Then things never get done.
48- The major problem is where Elanor was born. I think that the regular ‘Riters (you, Julieb, me) all agreed that she was born in Etheterre and then taken to Reality a few weeks later. That’s the only obvious one, but if you find any more, tell us.
((continuing story;))
*********
Kaabne broke free and slashed cruelly with his tail. Bleeding from a deep cut on her cheek, Elanor rolled desperately out of the way. Emburr and Intinier were shouting, firing spells at the Usurper, but none of them touched him. Elanor twisted into a corner, the hard stones slamming into her back. She felt strangely numb, and her head was buzzing. Kaabne raised his tail like a striking snake, orange flames flickering at its tip. I’m going to die, Elanor thought. I’ll never see Mom again, or Gary, and Intinier and Emburr and Lance will all be killed, and Zefethelyan will rule Etheterre until-
Then Kaabne turned. A blurry shape was forming in the gateway, clutching a squarish object that glowed golden, brightening as the shape grew clearer.
Kaabne howled with rage and hurled a bolt of silver lightning at the gateway just as Lance bounded out, exhausted, bleeding from his arm, but triumphantly holding aloft the Codex Aetherica.
Wait wait wait. How can Elanor have a brother? If she’s the eldest child in her family, as suggested by the rest of the story, and her father was killed right after her birth, at most she could have a half brother. I think a cousin might work better.
51- My gosh. How did I not see that? We need to change it to cousin. And cut out “or Gary” from my last post.
51 – You’re right. I have an idea. It’s a nice addition to the story, too:
Elanor’s mother wanted more children, but she didn’t want to get remarried. She adopted a little boy.
OR
Elanor’s mother’s friend died, and her son was left, so she took him in.
OR
Gary is a foster son.
OR
Gary is Elanor’s mother’s brother, and her uncle is just very close. Everyone knows that he used to say “sure.” I can easily change the “brother” in the riddle to “uncle.” Gary Kile was also born in Etheterre.
Here it is, all 17892 words of it:
The rain slashed down in sheets, soaking the small, stocky, black-haired boy below. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated him and the parchment scroll he carried, the scroll that could decide the destiny of thousands. The thunder growled like a wild beast as he ran down the path. He was concentrating on being fast and did not notice the person in front of him until he almost ran him over.
“Sorry sir, didn’t see you there. Are you? Oh.”
“I take it, she’s been born.”
“I dunno sir. I was told to take this to you.”
The man took the scroll from him and observed it rapidly.
“I thought so. Come, my apartment is just around the corner. You can fix yourself something to eat. But don’t disturb me.”
He began to walk the boy following him down the rain soaked city streets.
Chapter One
Bring! Bring! “@#%! Alarm” Elanor exclaimed, still half asleep. She looked at the clock.
“Why is it so early? It’s not supposed to go off for another hour. Oh. Wait. Never mind.” She glanced down at the small square of paper – no, parchment – in her hand. Rose cafe 4 pm DON’T BE LATE. She had been at the local bookstore purchasing a book when, along with the receipt, this message was given to her. She had no clue what it meant or whether it was a good idea but curiosity overcame her.
She had rolled over and was about to fall back asleep when the alarm clock rang again. Dang, she thought, pressed snooze instead of off. Deciding it best to get up, she dressed herself, got ready for school, and started the long trek to her school, the middle school in her area. She had skipped a couple grades, being smarter than the average bear, and had started trumpet the previous year. Carrying her trumpet and backpack, she ran out of the door with a half-warmed-up pop-tart in her mouth, which her mother had handed her, even though she knew Elanor hated them.
“ Wow, I sure hope I won’t be late for school,” she thought, knowing that if she was, she would be stopped by the school bullies–again.
Sure enough, just as she rounded the corner, she heard the school bell ring in the distance. It was too late. Maybe she could hide… But no, before the bell’s obnoxious clang even stopped resonating in her mind, Brogan and his cohorts sauntered into view. Chewing furiously on the last bit of pop tart, she tucked the odd parchment into her coat pocket. She didn’t want to loose this mysterious note, or forget about the odd appointment. Then, there was nothing to do but wait.
“Well, here comes snooty-girl,” sneered Brogan as he approached. “Out for a walk alone, are we?”
His friends sniggered stupidly. Elanor would have felt nothing but contempt if she had not been cornered.
“This is our turf,” Brogan snarled. “You never learn, do ya? I guess I’ll have to teach y- OOMPH!”
Something had just struck Brogan in the chest. Elanor quickly looked toward the roof, but whoever had thrown it had run away. Elanor looked at the still Brogan. The object seemed to be a large math textbook. His cronies, Dumb and Dumber in her mind, had stood there for a second, while getting over their shock, then quickly ran away scared of more textbooks falling from the sky. She blinked, looked around, and saw no one. Continuing on her way, she prepared herself for the yelling she was bound to get from her band teacher, an overzealous young woman who played the saxophone, named Miss Caraly, otherwise known as Miss C. When she reached the band room, she heard music. “Oh no! They’ve already started on the music!” she cried, and ran in with her “unexcused” tardy note.
Elanor was not the sort to be afraid of the unknown. Whoever had thrown the book had thrown it at the bullies, not at her. She would have been hit if that person had wanted her to be. She fearlessly called out,” Who are you?” Nobody answered. “I’m serious! Tell me who you are!” The silence was getting on her nerves. She got the sense that no one was listening. Yet something had thrown the books. Elanor frowned and looked around her. The only person in sight was that homeless woman on the corner, but she was always there. Oh well. She could investigate later. Right now she had to get to school. As she hurried along, she missed the piece of parchment that flew out of her pocket and danced in the autumn breeze.
Elanor sprinted into the auditorium and hastily assembled her trumpet. Surprisingly nobody noticed that she had arrived late or had not been there at all. Suddenly she remembered the parchment and checked her pocket. It wasn’t there. She spent the rest of the period fidgeting and wondering when she could go look for it.
Maybe it’s in the other pocket, she wondered. He coat was rather long and did have a great number of pockets after all. After band she’d check all of them. Her next class was creative writing with her favorite teacher so she’d have time then.
Chapter Two
In creative writing, however, she was destined to be disappointed. [ — I think that this is not a very good beginning of a chapter, but I think that the chapter ought to begin here. Most of the chapter beginnings in the story do not have any good beginnings, but I didn’t want to change anything yet. What do you think? — THF] This day, of all days, was the day her teacher had gotten sick. They had a substitute! Usually, this meant goofing around. But not this time.
“Elanor, please kindly sit down and do the ten math equations I put on the board. Creativity will come more easily to you once you have done some geometry and calculus,” said Mr. Blithe (a name that didn’t fit him in the slightest).
Luckily, she was in calculus, and was the most advanced in her class.
When she finished five minutes later, however, Mr. Blithe did not seem pleased.
“You must have cheated. No ten-year-old can do calculus that quickly. Here, I will give you ten more questions, and THIS time, sit at the front, where I can watch you,” he said disapprovingly.
Elanor sighed. “Why do I have to be so smart?” she mumbled, while the class giggled as she walked to the front of the room to do her arithmetic.
As she did the rest of her problems under the disapproving stare of Mr. Blithe, she suddenly felt something wriggling in her pocket! Disgusted, she reached in and pulled out by the tail one of the school’s many mice, which was chewing on the lost piece of parchment! Elanor quickly pulled the parchment away from it then tossed the mouse away from her. Unfortunately it landed on Mr. Blithe’s head.
Mr. Blithe (who was busy yelling at another kid) didn’t even notice as the mouse crawled into his huge mass of hair. But the students did…
“Why are you laughing?” He growled “is this some childish PRANK of yours, or are you just being IMMATURE, as so many children seem to be?” He paused, glaring at the class. “YOU!” He shouted. Elanor jumped. “I know it’s your fault. Two hours after school today. Running laps.”
“But…”
“I don’t care.”
“But you don’t even know what she’s DONE!”
“It doesn’t matter. She was bad. And now she will pay.” He smiled.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Elanor had never been kept after school before. What would her mother think? And how was she supposed to go to the Rose Cafe at four?
After school let out at three, she made her way down to the track. Mr. Blithe was waiting for her. The mouse, (still in his hair) was too. And, without saying a word, Elanor started running, her backpack slung over one shoulder. However, she was not running in the right direction. “Stop!” Mr. Blithe puffed, chasing after her. But Elanor (of course) did not. She had to get to the cafe. If she made it there, them it would be a sort of sign, she thought. A sign that she was not destined to become a secretary shut in an office all day, or a cashier, or a waitress. It would be a sign that she would become something different. Something exciting. Something worthwhile. But first she had to evade Mr. Blithe. And evade the mouse, she supposed, who was still perched atop this head, clinging madly to his hair.
She ran through the city, taking the most confusing route to The Rose that she could think of. Mr. Blithe fell farther and farther behind, and the last thing she heard him say was:
“Time falling the pools ice” Or, at least that was what it sounded like. Elanor finally reached the swinging wooden sign that hung over The Rose’s entrance, looked around for Mr. Blithe (he was not in sight), and ducked indoors.
Chapter Three
Meanwhile, the dark-haired parchment bearer of a decade ago was reclining in a chair and waiting. He wondered if the girl would come. He wondered what she’d be like. He wondered if she’d have the nerve to choose – if she’d be different from her father.
When she arrived, his hopes fell. She was so… unlikely. Small and diminutive and preoccupied. But at least she had come.
“Elanor!” he called.
She started and came over to him.
“How are you?” he asked politely.
“Well, not that great.” she told him dejectedly. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”
“You can call me Lance.” he sighed. She didn’t seem right…
“So… why are we meeting here?’ Elanor asked.
‘‘Because I need you to help me- help us. You see –” Lance was cut short by a yell. “That’s her!”
“%&*@.” Sighing, he grabbed Elanor’s hand and ran. But he was slow, impeded by surprise and her added weight. He had only made it to the next street when they caught him. He’d thought they were the regular policemen, but it turned he was wrong. He swallowed uncomfortably. The king was taking an interest. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated.
I guess I’ll have to take the short cut, he thought.
“What shortcut?” asked Elanor.
“Sorry, must have been thinking out loud…” he said, “this way!”
Elanor had a bit of trouble catching up to him as, though she enjoyed fencing and acting, running wasn’t her favorite activity. All those laps at fencing paid off though and she managed to follow him as he darted into an archway and tapped something. The wall started to open and Elanor could see an elevator going down.
Lance leapt onto the escalator, dragging Elanor behind him. The wall shut with a deliberate crunch, and the pair were plunged into absolute darkness.
The elevator seemed to speed up, but it was hard to tell whether it was moving or everything else was moving past it. Elanor felt a sudden rush of nausea, but fortunately the elevator stopped promptly. A door slid open, sending a blast of cold air and brilliant light into the alcove.
Elanor looked around and realized that she was in the Rose Cafe. She had been there before, as it was a favorite meeting place of hers and her friends’. The door swung shut behind her with a loud thump. EMPLOYEES ONLY, it said.
Suddenly, a man straightened up from his bent position behind the counter. It was hard to tell how old he was, as his hair was completely white, but his face was smooth and unwrinkled. It didn’t look like the fake, too-perfect smoothness achieved by wrinkle creams, either. Elanor had seen him before- Mr. Roglea, owner of the Rose Cafe.
“What are you doing here?” he said as he swung around. “We’re close- Oh! Lance! Sorry. I see you’ve brought Elanor, too. Excellent work!”
Elanor refused to go any farther without knowing something. “What is going on here?” she demanded.
Lance and Mr. Roglea looked at each other for a moment. “We’ll have to tell her,” Lance said. “After all, her father-”
“What do you know about my father?” Elanor interrupted.
Mr. Roglea replied to Lance as though he had not heard Elanor. “Of course we’ll have to,” he said. “As the last heir, she deserves to know.”
Elanor didn’t enjoy being completely in the dark while everybody acted as though they were infinitely wise. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
Elanor finally managed to tear her arm out of Lance’s grip. She turned around to glare at him.
Oops, he thought. She’s one of those emotional girls.
This girl was staring daggers at him now. She didn’t seem so short and chubby now. “Who are you, what do you want?” she demanded, trying to pull the shake out of her voice. “Lance,” he answered promptly. There’s something he knew. “And, er… It’s a long story. You see, your dad-” “I don’t have a dad,” Elanor said dismissively. “You’re one of those jerks from school, aren’t you? Trying to rub it in. Yeah, it’s not my fault, ok? Go be a jerk at my mom, leave me alone. It was her choice.” “ No,” said Lance hastily. He was supposed to be able to explain something to her. Remember inside Lance? He mentally harried himself. Find him, quickly. His panic wasn’t unfounded, either. Elanor was looking murderous. “Than what do you want?” She growled again, and than paused.
Something was changing about the boy in front of her. His curly mop of onyx hair didn’t look so dorky anymore, and his milked-down coffee skin looked less uptight and more exotic and interesting. The biggest change was his eyes. Though she’d only been able to see them once before she’d been whisked off on his wild goose chase, they weren’t just deep brown like she’d thought. They seemed to have flecks of gold, like some odd overtone… He looked serious. Handsome, almost. [I think this would be a wonderful place for a new chapter — but it’s so close to the other one. I’d like to know what you guys think. I’m not going to say anything along the lines of “What do you guys think?” I’m just going to say it, and I expect feedback.]
Inside Lance, thought, well, Lance. Just in time. “Your father came from a different place. A place very different from here. He met your mother by accident, but he couldn’t stay… he had to go. He left you this.” Lance buried his hand in the deep pockets of the black trench coat he was wearing, and after some rummaging, he pulled something out. A thin gold chain, with a locket hanging off it. He casually tossed it to Elanor.
The locket was made of a silvery substance that felt unnaturally cool against Elanor’s skin. It was unengraved on the outside, but when she pried open the heart she saw a message written in a cursive-y flowing script. The message read:
Elanor,
Remembering your past is the key unlocking your destiny.
“Oh, great” thought Elanor. “Really clears things up.” On the other side, she saw a picture of a man. The picture showed him having golden brown hair, like hers, and the same sort of round chin. She felt she knew him, and then she realized he must be her father. She looked back up at Lance and Mr. Roglea.
“My dad…?” croaked Elanor. Her mouth had gone dry. Lance cleared his throat. “His name was Atherton Wing. He lived where I live.” “ Where’s that?” questioned Elanor, still staring at the serious looking man in the locket. “Do you want to come and find out?” asked Lance quietly, glancing at Mr. Roglea, who nodded. “Ok,” said Elanor. She knew she shouldn’t – she had English in five minutes, and her mom would hate her forever – but something told her that her teacher and the boy in front of her were to be trusted. And insatiable curiosity drew her in. She wanted to know about her father, why he’d left, why he’d never even bothered to see her born. “Nikolas?” Elanor looked up, and found that Mr. Roglea was nodding. Nikolas Roglea, then. Nikolas pulled a marble sphere out of his pocket. It was in oddly shimmering shades of rose like pink, yellow oranges, and hazy, swirled traces of reddish tones. The odd thing was, it seemed to be shifting and spiraling, all contained under a sheet of clear lacquer. “3…2…1,” muttered Lance, and than the entire shabby alcove was engulfed in bright, warmly colored light. Elanor couldn’t see anything except for the dark silhouette of Lance as he shouted, “Sh-” Elanor didn’t hear the rest as the room suddenly disappeared, and she found herself somewhere very, very dark.
Chapter Four
As her eyes adjusted to the gloom…Wait, that was wrong. Her eyes weren’t adjusting. Everything just stayed that utter, impenetrable black. Though Elanor wasn’t at all afraid of the dark, this wasn’t dark in the normal sense of the word. It was void, an infinite hole in her universe that had to be filled. Apparently, she was the filling.
“Lance?” she said, her voice quivering. No matter how smart or brave or talented she was, she was still ten years old. Ten years weren’t enough to prepare her for this. She had a feeling that twenty, fifty, a hundred still wouldn’t fill that other void, the void of experience.
Elanor thought that maybe Lance was putting a hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t tell because it wasn’t like a hand at all, sort of a bunch of air that had somehow thickened and was now trying to smother her. Despite her fear, Elanor was angry: how did anyone think she’d be ready for this sudden lack of a world? Sometimes when the bullies were feeling particularly uninventive, they’d pull her chair out while she was sitting down; this was a little like that. Normal was the chair, Lance and Mr. Roglea were the bullies, and she was herself.
And then, suddenly, everything exploded. Elanor could feel her insides twisting through her gut and becoming her outsides, her arms stretching through her sides, grasping at herself and missing, stretching out into mile-long toothpicks. It didn’t hurt.
Even through the walls of her own flesh, she could see that all the dark had turned to light; she was transparent. It’s like an inverse in math: everything^-1.
And then she was the right way out and her arms were the right length and she could see herself and she could see the details of her surroundings, which were exactly the same. By all appearances, she had been flipped through dark, light, and herself, and everything was exactly the same. The old clock on the wall still said 4:19.
“What was that?” she asked Mr. Roglea.
“Come outside,” he said.
As the door swung open, Elanor felt like her eyes were about to pop out of her head.
“This is Etheterre, where all possibilities are realized,” said Mr. Roglea. “The Rose Cafe is one of the few places that is exactly the same in both Reality and Etheterre- there’s one on every continent. Your father was ruler here.”
Normally, Elanor would have replied with a cynical remark, but she was too busy staring.
“Sadly,” Mr. Roglea continued, “Atherton was killed by someone who wanted power so badly that he would do anything to get it. I brought your mother to Reality to escape this person. You were born shortly after she crossed over. Lance brought the news to me, and since then, he hasn’t let me down once.”
Elanor only half-heard Mr. Roglea’s statement. In Reality, the Rose Cafe was the only classy thing on an otherwise grimy street. In Etheterre, it was one of many strange and wonderful shops with unpronounceable names and unidentifiable merchandise. All of these buildings were lined up on a road made of shimmering crystal, which hung in midair, twisting and turning as it connected two giant silver towers. Each tower had a multitude of crystal roads branching off of it and interweaving. “Welcome to Labarynth City,” Lance said. “The last stronghold against the Usurper.”
Just then, an enormous thump shook the Rose Cafe to its foundations. Mr. Roglea spun around, saying, “Ah, it’s here. I wondered when it would come.”
A book was lying on the counter, golden dust motes swirling around it. The title, to all appearances, was “Teas from around the Globe”, but, as Elanor stared, it shimmered suddenly. For the shortest instant, the words “Codex Aetherica” hung above the cover in letters of silver flame. Then it looked normal again. Mr. Roglea opened it carefully. “Tea!” he said. “Tea – Did you see anything, Elanor?”
“Sort of…what do you mean?”
“This is a strange book. It changes.” he whispered. “Look at it, and you’ll see what you should see. But only when you need to see it.”
“Codex Aetherica?” she asked cautiously. “What? I didn’t see much. And why did I need to see that?”
Lance cut in. “Just wait. You’ll see.”
“The Codex Aetherica,” Mr. Roglea continued, “is an artifact of ancient Etheterre, when the boundaries between it and Reality were easily crossed, and we didn’t need these tiresome gateway nexi and transfer marbles. It is more like a living thing than a book, and manifests itself in different books, both in Etheterre and Reality. When people stopped believing in the fantastic, the two realms split completely, with only thin threads of connecting places left. The Codex was captured under a powerful spell by the mages of Etheterre’s first king a few millennia ago. It now manifests itself in the book closest to the true heir.”
Elanor thought back to the morning- it seemed ages ago- when a math textbook had apparently jumped off the roof of the school and struck Brogan in the chest.
Elanor told this story aloud. “But,” she concluded, “The book hit Brogan, not me…. Are you sure you didn’t get the wrong person?”
Mr. Roglea laughed. “No,” he said, “it hit Brogan to keep you safe. That is one of its other powers. Protecting the true heir.”
Lance said, “Yes, and now it will keep you safe. You are to keep it with you at all times. In this world, and in Reality. It is your way between worlds. With this, you don’t need to travel to the Rose Cafe–but it only works for you.”
“But, if it only works for me, what’s the point?” Elanor began. “I mean, what I do while I’m back and forth if no one is there with me?”
“Well, that doesn’t matter. See, with the book, no one can harm you.” said Mr. Roglea.
“But I still know nothing about this!” she wailed. “How do you expect me to do all of it if I still don’t understand what it is?!?!”
“Um, Elanor…let us explain.” said Mr. Roglea.
“People want you. People that want to control Etheterre.” interrupted Lance.
Mr. Roglea added, “Some are only in Etheterre, some can come to Reality. But you need to keep the land safe, because you are the heir.”
“Nearly all of these people,” Lance added, “are controlled by the Usurper- the man who killed your father.”
Elanor was finding this hard to take in. She had never known her dad, and her mother never really seemed to want to talk about him.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “If Dad had this Codex thing, then how did the Usurper manage to kill him? I don’t think that it’s as all-powerful as you seem to think.”
“Well, the power is controlled by a certain force called Imaganruis was being attacked by the Usurpers, the enemy when your father was killed. But Imaganruis survived, and became much stronger – because you were born.” Explained Mr. Roglea
“What’s so special about me? I know, I’m the heir, but the heir is just a title. It’s not like the world didn’t explode because there was a certain girl on the Earth, is it?”
“ No, it isn’t…you were born on Etheterre. That’s what made you so important.”
Then my mother…? Elanor trailed her sentence, as though she couldn’t complete the thought.
“Yes.” Lance answered
“But if she lived here, why did she come to Earth? Why didn’t she ever tell me about this?” Elanor was practically screaming. Both men could tell her temporary rage could become full hysteria if they didn’t calm her down.
“Your mother had to go to Earth, to keep you safe.” Mr. Roglea explained softly. “She had no choice, just as your father had no choice but to stay in Etheterre.”
“You see,” Lance said, “Imaganruis was the force that created Etheterre.”
“ What does that have to do with my father?!” Elanor was literally screaming now.
“Well,” Lance continued, looking a little uncomfortable, “Zefeth-”
He didn’t get any farther, because Mr. Roglea had gagged him. “Don’t say that name!” he snarled.
“Ahem- the leader of the Usurpers somehow found a way to attack Imaganruis. With Etheterre crumbling around him, Atherton did something extremely brave. He turned the full protective power of the Codex over to Imaganruis. It saved Etheterre, but the Usurpers didn’t want to destroy Etheterre. They wanted to control it.
“While the Codex was occupied otherwise, the Usurpers killed Atherton.
“They maimed him horribly, and tossed him in a shallow grave that is now covered with asphalt. He died a torturous death. But, with his departure, there was a new life. His life force was added to that book.”
“ His what?” Elanor was regaining her normally cynical ways. The initial shock had worn off, and she was starting to be hungry. Her stomach gave a loud rumble.
“When Atherton died,” Mr. Roglea continued, “the Codex immediately manifested itself in your home, you being the next heir. Your mother realized what had happened and came to me. You were only a few days old then, and Lance was around ten, only a poor messenger boy. He was the one who brought me news of your birth. I was a good friend of your father, and so I took you and your mother to Reality. It was the least I could do. I was simply a second-rate mage back then-”
“Wait,” Elanor interjected. “You are actually saying that you are a wizard?”
“ One of the many terms that the Realities used for people of my profession,” Mr. Roglea replied. “I took Lance on as my apprentice. I could see from the time I first met him that he had talent.”
“ Okay,” Elanor said skeptically. “Why not just magic this Usurper away, then?”
“ I doubt that you understand,” Lance said. “Spells often require hours of preparation, and no spell in either universe could harm a hair on the head of the Usurper.”
“ Why not?” Elanor asked.
“The Usurper is not just a normal person, Elanor.” Explained Mr. Roglea. “By killing your father, he became one of the most powerful leaders the Usurpers ever had. You see, the Usurpers have been around since almost the begging of Etheterre. But before your father’s death, we were always able to keep them at bay.”
“The Usurpers don’t play fair, if you haven’t noticed.” Said Lance, almost mockingly. “They don’t care if they hurt people. They have magic, too, but theirs is filled with evil of their past deeds. Recycled. When a mage dies, usually his magic dies with him. He’s born with it and he dies with it. But the Usurpers have found a way to suck the magic out of someone. This magic is tainted, evil, but magic nonetheless. Every generation they grow stronger and stronger, providing more and more resistance. Their magic is like a shield over them that push on the shield over us. Now, their shield extends much farther than ours. And as long as they have the Usurper, it won’t ever go away. No one has ever penetrated this shield, and only one person will ever be able to.”
“Who?” asked Elanor?
“You,” replied Lance. “Once a ruler of Etheterre learns how to use the Codex to its full potential, there isn’t a power that can stand against him- or her.”
“ Excuse me,” said Elanor, “But I have no idea how to use this thing. I’m only ten, and you expect me to save a world that I didn’t even know about till 15 minutes ago?”
Her statement’s dramatic effect was somewhat spoiled due to the fact that her stomach emanated a rumble that would have done credit to a cave bear.
Mr. Roglea laughed. “It’s about time for lunch, anyhow. We can all plan better on full stomachs.”
Elanor was seized with a sudden misgiving. “Um- what exactly do you eat here?” she asked.
Lance grinned. “You’ll find out.”
[Hm… I’m thinking it’s about time for another chapter… but I really don’t know… the beginning is absolutely awful for the beginning of a chapter…. *fretfret* ;)]
They approached a restaurant. Elanor looked up. The sign read “Lilete’ Pelisarn'” She wondered what it could mean. As they stepped inside, a creature about 5ft 2 was standing with its back turned. It was orange and light seemed to radiate from it, it turned around. “Why hello there!” Elanor screamed, but after taking a look at the creature, she forgot why. It had what seemed a human face of a woman. The creature had green hair that looked to thick to be hair, it fell only to the middle of the neck, and it seemed that each strand was moving. Its eyes where bright purple, and ears that looked like squiggles protruded from the sides of its head. The creature bent down and took Elanor’s hand and gently shook it. “Is this the girl?” She looked up at lance. “Yes.” He said softly. “My goodness!” Her race lighted up. I must prepare a-” “Relax.” Lance said. “We’re just here for lunch.”
“Oh!” she said. “Just lunch? But there’s so much to do, so much, all of the things that we’ll have to catch up on, and I’ll have to teach her all I know! How can you just have lunch at a time like this?”
“ You’ll get to have some time with her, I believe. She’ll need all the help she can get, with her missions. But not now. We’re all tired.”
“ Fine! But at least I get to give you all a spectacular lunch!” she exclaimed. “Hmph!”
“ Intinier, she’s had a rough day. We need to keep a slow pace here. You don’t want to overwhelm her, do you?”
“If you don’t want to overwhelm me, you haven’t done a good job,” said Elanor. “I have never felt so confused in my life.”
Mr. Roglea simply smiled. “Elanor, meet Intinier, best phagomage in Labarynth City.”
“ Um… phagomage? What in the world is that? [I believe that is an unnecessary sentence.]” asked Elanor.
“A magician specializing in food,” Lance said. “Intinier is also one of the few beings who reads the ancient script of Etheterre, which is what the Codex is written in.”
Intinier suddenly yelled over her shoulder. “Woodle, get in here!”
A small, hovering ball of blue fur with a long, whippy tail rocketed out from the back of the restaurant. It came to a sudden halt about six inches from Elanor’s nose, bobbing in midair. “Tayb’l fo’ tree?” it chittered. “Gutengurger! Falla mi.”
“What’s he saying?” Elanor whispered to Lance.
“Woodle, this is Elanor.” Intinier introduced the small creature, who turned to look at Elanor, and then back at Intinier, as if he didn’t believe her.
“Woodle is a Xixin, one of several species of beings that live in Etheterre. He speaks Lillix, one of the most common languages of the region. He’s very suspicious of strangers, sorry if he seemed rude.”
“Woodle, take our guests to a table,” said Intinier. The Xixin complied, leading them through the restaurant. He stopped at an area empty of furniture. Elanor raised her eyebrows as Lance calmly sat down on thin air.
FLOOP.
A section of mahogany bench unfurled itself from nothingness and prevented Lance from landing on the floor. Mr. Roglea sat down as well, with the same result.
Elanor tried to detect something that they had done, but she couldn’t see anything.
“Come on, Elanor! Have a seat!” Lance said casually.
“Um…what? Where would you like me to do that?” she replied cautiously.
“Just sit down! Come on, it’s not hard!”
“Okay…”
Elanor sat on air. It was quite comfortable. But unlike Mr. Roglea’s and Lance’s air benches, it was completely invisible. Or was it just air?
“My gosh, Elanor, you’ve done it! That’s not an easy thing to do, you know. Lance and I have to make something appear. But you can just sit right down on air! And do you know what that means?” Mr. Roglea exclaimed, barely able to contain himself.
“No – ”
“It means that with some practice, you’ll be able to fly, just like your father! Wow. Just imagine what you could do with that.” Mr. Roglea sat back and marveled.
Not for the first time that day, Elanor was stunned. “My father could fly?”
“The royalty of Etheterre are often born with unusual abilities,” said Mr. Roglea. “Your great-grandfather was known for-”
He broke off in mid-sentence, staring into space. For a moment, cold shock was stamped across his features. Then he sagged forward, collapsing on the table.
“Nikolas!” gasped Lance. “What happened?”
“Zefethelyan,” Mr. Roglea muttered. “He sensed the Codex. He’s coming here.”
Chapter Five
Woodle bounced twelve feet into the air at this statement, then shot back towards the counter, making a noise like a terrified kettle. Intinier’s eyes hardened at the sight, and she reached down to pull a lever next to the cash register. There was a crackle, and sheets of blue light dropped across the windows and doors. “The Usurper will find the Lilete Pelisarn a tough loconut to crack,” the phagomage muttered, then snapped, “Nikolas! Pull yourself together!”
Outside the restaurant, a small clot of darkness gathered in the middle of the crystal road. It was absolute black and impenetrable to light. It grew in power and size with every passing shadow. Beasts of burden shied away from it. The various creatures on the street dispersed uneasily, and soon it was completely deserted.
The shadow reared up and stretched into a vague form like a shapeless cloak. Two pale hands, decked with platinum rings, emerged from under it and reached upward. With a sudden, violent motion, the cloak’s hood was thrown back. Elanor, crouching inside the Lilete Pelisarn, saw for the first time the face of the man who had killed her father.
Zefethelyan had the same ageless look as Mr. Roglea, but his skin was the same chalk-white as his hair. Red eyes glittered like garnets beside his sculpted Roman nose, and his thin-lipped mouth curled upward into an amused smile as he raised his left hand.
Nothing seemed to happen at first. Then one of the cookbooks on Intinier’s shelf glowed a livid green. It seemed to be screaming Danger! Elanor felt a wave of nausea pass over her. The Codex- for so the book had become- propelled itself through the air, skidding to a halt in front of the girl. A horrible vibration rattled the protective screens in front of the windows.
“Shoot,” Intinier said. “Are there any mages here?”
Two hands- Mr. Roglea’s and Lance’s- went into the air. And a paw. And a tentacle.
“Good,” the phagomage said. “We have enough for a pentacle. Are all of you familiar with the von Urchen field?”
A chorus of affirmatives came from around the restaurant.
“That was one of the first things Twiggnth taught me! He knew what he was doing.” said the pawed mage. He was a small furry creature, with a square turquoise nose and enormous violet eyes. He had his own table, and he was sitting in a chair that was translucent – clearly he had been trained well.
All of a sudden the room was silent. Not that it hadn’t been before. But even Zefethelyan seemed to pause for a moment.
“Um…” whispered the tentacled mage, “It’ll certainly help to have a mage trained by the father of Atherton in our von Urchen field, and I know that it’s amazing to find that out, but right now, we need to start.”
Elanor watched as the four mages and the phagomage began to circle the Lilete Pelisarn with a blinding silver light.
Just in time. A blast of crimson light impacted the window screens, ripping them to shreds. The Codex pulsed golden, sending five streams of power outward. Each one seeped into a mage’s chest, lighting up the torsos of the struggling spellcasters with a brilliant, lemon yellow radiance. The field grew more and more powerful. Elanor felt the energy crashing exultantly through her being. She was immersed in it, unable to stop it as it drowned out her petty fears and aggravations, even if she’d wanted to.
She didn’t intentionally speak the words that came out of her mouth. She simply concentrated on the Codex, and what she wanted done. The incantation followed naturally.
“Syldurva ethren kierna imblas! Vantres ionia!”
One layer of the von Urchen field uncoiled like a giant whip of silver. It lashed forward at a blinding speed, the very air around it crackling with power. Zefethelyan opened his mouth in shock a millisecond before the impact.
BBZZZZAAAKKKKK!!!!!!!!
The Usurper was tossed twenty feet into the air and fifty feet backward. Only his twisted shield of stolen magic prevented him from being turned into a pile of ash.
Zefethelyan fell into a small bookshop, starling its birdlike owner considerably. The Usurper got to his feet and paused for a second, his eyes blazing. The the entire bookshop burst into flames. Ancient tomes withered and crackled with sparks.
“Faust’s Inferno,”muttered Mr. Roglea. “But why…” His voice trailed off. Streaks of flame rocketed out from the blazing bookshop. targeting houses and stores apparently at random.
“He’s burning the books!” shouted Lance.
The Usurper smiled, his pale face turned an eerie orange by the dancing flames.
“Why is he doing this?” shouted Elanor.
“The Codex,” said Mr. Roglea grimly. “He’s trying to make sure that it has as few books to manifest in as possible.”
The fire spread. Labarynth City was beginning to burn.
“The von Urchen field only deflects magical assault!” yelled Intinier. “We’ll be incinerated!”
A hurtling comet of flame hit the front of the restaurant. The pawed mage dove out of the way to escape the flames. The circle was broken.
Zefethelyan raised a hand triumphantly. A hammerblow of magical force hit the Lilete Pelisarn. Elanor saw a whirlwind of disjointed images- a tendril of shadow reaching into the shattered restaurant, green flames leaping from Lance’s fingers, the Codex weaving a mantle of violet light in front of her, Woodle screaming in panic…
Then darkness rose up around her, and she knew no more.
Chapter Six
Elanor woke to find herself in a dark cave. At least, she thought it was a cave given the darkness and dripping stalactites. Sitting up slowly, she heard some voices. They were talking about something, she could only vaguely remember what had happened. “Are you sure?” asked one of the voices, it sounded female. “Positive. There areren’t any books within ten miles that weren’t horribly charred. You know the only things that survived were in that resturant, and none of them were books.” She recognized this voice. Suddenly it dawned on her that it was Intinier and Lance. She started to get up painfully when they noticed her. “What happened?” she asked woozily as the two helped her up. “The Codex protected you and some of the resturant for a few seconds, just enough for us to get out of there.” Answered Lance. In the dim light Elanor could just barely see the soot and small wounds that covered her and the others. “Wheres Mr. Roglea and everyone else?” Elanor asked. Intiner bit her lip and looked downwards. Lance put his hand on Elanors shoulder. Nobody answered in what seemed like an eternity to Elanor. “Lance and I survived but…” Intiner trailed off. “The only others were a Fenkin and you.” Lance finished for her. Elanor looked around and saw the furry mage from the resturant. He appeared to be unconscious, but breathing.”
The pawed mage- presumably a Fenkin- stirred. “Where are we?” he muttered.
“An old hideout of mine,” said Intinier. “I telelinked it to a trapdoor in the Lilete Pelisarn a few years ago in case things got nasty. Which they have. What’s your name, anyway? I haven’t seen you in my restaurant before.”
“Emburr du Kendomalin,” the Fenkin replied. “I was on the Xemoci Peninsula until recently, fighting Kaabne’s forces with the 12th Mage Platoon. I came to Labarynth City on leave. Speaking of which, is there anything left of Labarynth?”
“Not really. A couple of the foundation rods are still standing, but-”
Elanor tuned out. Her head was spinning. Mr. Roglea had always been amiable and supportive, kind to everyone who came into the Rose Cafe. Elanor had only found out who he really was a few hours ago, and now he was gone.
“WHAT?” Lance gasped, snapping Elanor back to the present.
“I don’t like it, but it’s true,” said Intinier. “The Rose Cafe is gone, and so is the gateway. Kolombent is no longer linked to Reality.”
“Oh, my. Oh, no! I want to get out of here!!!!! What…how…but…” Elanor gasped. “It’s gone. But we’ll just hop on over to South America!”
“Er…South America? You’ve been spending way too much time in Reality, haven’t you?” said Emburr. “Where exactly is South America?”
“Well, you know…right underneath North America, of course! You know. If you look at a map..” she quickly pulled a thin stalactite off the ceiling and drew the Americas of Reality on the cave floor and circled South America, “That’s South America. Don’t tell me you’ve never even heard of it.”
“Um, Elanor, Emburr’s probably never heard of South America. Have you been to Reality, Mr. du Kendomalin?”
“No. I’m a Fenkin, unfortunately. I lived in stinking Evencald for most of my life. It’s not as if [name of Usurper of Evencald here – please make him/her up soon!] would let anyone leave of free will.”
“Here,” said Intinier, “South America corresponds to Lillixa.”
“Oh,” Emburr said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Lance noticed Elanor’s perplexed expression and began to explain. “Every continent in Reality has a corresponding continent in Etheterre. That’s why the gateways work, because of the linked elemental signatures and… Look, it’s complicated. I’ll explain it some other time.”
“How will we get to Sou- I mean, Lillixa?” Elanor asked.
Emburr grinned. “Is there an acrotrain terminal nearby?” he asked.
“Um, I think so,” Intinier replied. “We’re under my hometown, a few miles away from Labarynth, but- Can you drive an acrotrain?”
“Of course,” Emburr said. “I was in the army, remember?”
“All right,” said Intinier doubtfully. “There’s a passage to the surface over here.”
The company proceeded up a narrow gap of damp granite. Luminous lavender crystals poked from the rock at intervals, forming almost the only handholds. When Intinier finally emerged, she was met with a stunning sight.
A smoking wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see. Flares of red and green light flickered on the horizon. A tall steel tower lay bent and crumpled a few yards away.
“He wrecked the terminal,” gasped Lance. “He was here too.”
“There’s still hope,” said Emburr. “The acrotrain’s still up there.”
Elanor looked up and saw what was apparently an old steam locomotive, with seven carriages, hanging in the air a few hundred feet up. Then she began to notice differences. A large balloon, presumably filled with a buoyant gas, was attached to each carriage. The locomotive had propellers instead of wheels.
“How do we get up there?” gasped Lance.
“Mad? We’re a bit mad, yes, but that gets you through many a situation, does it not?” said Emburr pleasantly, trying to get her to fly. Twiggnth had told him that he flew much more easily when he was a) in a good mood and b) the only thing to help – under pressure or when he just had to do something .
All it seemed to do was make her angrier. But desperacy sometimes worked! “Oh, my gosh. You aren’t seriously suggesting…”
Lance leaned forward a bit and whispered, “Well, Elanor…. sometimes that’s the best way to go…”
“Fine! Mr. Roglea said ‘with practice,’ so I’ll be practicing for the next 730 days!” the extremely upset Elanor shouted.
She sat down, planning on sitting on the violet glowing dirt below her. Instead, she looked like a genie, sitting cross-legged in the air.
“Facinating! How do you do that, anyway?” the wide-eyed Fenkin exclaimed. Elanor didn’t know that the little creatures could make their eyes any larger.
“Do what?” she didn’t even know that she was sitting on air.
“Th…th…you know….. sit on air? Twiggnth, in all of his lessons, never showed me that.”
“Oh, dear! Well, I don’t know….”
Intinier spoke up. “Let her concentrate, Emburr.”
Elanor felt like she was gelatin, tumbling down a river of dust, accumulating all of the fine powder. Then she became more of a syrup, pouring slowly up into a vacuum cleaner. Then, she felt light as air, like a feather, drifting around, never falling, with no purpose.
She woke up from her dreamy [thoughts? feelings? what do you call that?] with a start.
“Well, now, are you done yet? That was quite a show, I must admit.”
“What did I- ” Elanor began to ask, then glanced down. She was hovering high in the air, about halfway to the acrotrain.
“That’s good!” Intinier called upward. “Keep going!”
Elanor tried to return to the dreamy mindset she had been in while flying, but it was hard. Unexpected thoughts kept popping into the blankness of her mind, creating the most unsettling sensations. She pinwheeled slowly in the air, shedding faint green sparks and feeling as though her chest cavity was filled with a few gallons of overcarbonated soda. Finally, though, she did it.
This time it was different. She remained sort of semiconscious, watching herself as though through rippled glass from a great height. She swung like an airborne pendulum a few times, then rocketed straight up, coming to a stop outside the locomotive.
“Great!” Emburr called. “Now step inside. There should be a rope ladder on the wall for emergency evacuations.”
As Elanor’s foot touched the floor, a jolt like an electric shock shot through her. She stumbled inside, feeling dizzy and nauseous.
It tottered threateningly, and then when she was really getting worried, it completely stopped moving. If she had been sweating, she would have wiped it from her brow. However, she hadn’t been, so she didn’t. [we can cut that part if you’d rather. I just thought it added at least a bit of missing humor.]
She cautiously stepped through the locomotive, looking for Emburr’s promised ladder. It was disguised well, and she didn’t find it until after she realized that she still had her backpack on.
Elanor fastened the rope ladder to two hooks just inside the doorway and threw it out. As it was several hundred feet long, it took several throws, but she finally managed it.
Emburr was the first to start climbing. “What did you fasten the ladder to?” he asked.
“Um… a couple of hooks on the wall over there,” Elanor replied.
“Sweet Imaganruis!!! Two hooks? TWO HOOKS? Are you quite serious?”
“Ummm… yes…” Elanor was beginning to get nervous.
Emburr grinned. “Good. That’s where they’re supposed to go.”
Lance was almost halfway to the top. “I forgot to tell you, Elanor,” he shouted. “Fenkins are renowned for their sense of humor.”
Really, thought Elanor. Gee, I hadn’t noticed.
Lance reached the locomotive next, then Intinier. “All right, what’s our plan of action?” inquired Emburr once they were all inside.
Intinier spoke. “First part of the plan; we get this acrotrain to Lillixa and then to Kaabne’s fortress- Kaabne is one of Zefethelyan’s subordinates. He rules Lillixa,” she added for Elanor’s benefit. “Then we get past his guards and any defenses, and then into the gateway and into Reality. Lastly, we find a book in Reality so that Elanor has the Codex again. And we need to explain to Elanor’s mother.”
“The beginning and the end are great,” said Emburr. “But the middle will get us all killed. Do you have any idea of the size of Kaabne’s army??”
“You’re right.” Lance said bluntly. “We need help.”
“And I know just where to find it” Interner said slyly, grinning.
“Where?” Emburr and Elanor said, simultaneously.
“All right.” Intinier began, suddenly very serious. She reached into a hatch in the wall and pulled out a map of what appeared to be South America. The names of the rivers were different, though, and the cities were in the wrong places.
Intinier tapped the map near the mouth of a squiggly blue line labled “Nozama River.”
“When Woodle lived in Lillixa, he had a group of friends. It was, well, it was a book group.”
Elanor and even Emburr sniggered.
“I didn’t know Xixins liked to read.” Emburr commented politely, suddenly losing his laughter.
Intinier glared at him. “It wasn’t just any book group. It was the group of researchers for the Xixin Resistance.”
“They’ve been helpful to the Regency of Kolombent in the past,” said Emburr quizzically, “but there are only a few hundred of them. There are half a million in Kaabne’s army.”
“True,” said Intinier. “However, Woodle was a member of the Resistance in the past.” A shadow passed over Intinier’s face when she mentioned Woodle- it was literally a shadow, as the light radiating from her head dimmed. “He told me that they had discovered an ancient passage that may have led into Kaabne’s fortress. It was once the palace of a kind Xixin lord, you see, and he set up an escape route in case of attack. The exit to that route has been lost to time, since this was even before Etheterre was united under one king. But it may have been found again. Of course, if Woodle was right, the passage was long and tortuous, and may have been taken over by all manner of strange beasts since it was abandoned.”
“It’s better than fighting half a million Xixins,” Emburr said. “If you handle the maps, I can get you there.”
Intinier and Emburr bent over the map for nearly ten minutes, discussing things like zoal quantity and degrees of precessitude. The sky, already getting darker in a sort of bluish sunset, speedily faded to ebony black, sprinkled with multicolored stars in unfamiliar patterns.
Intinier straightened up suddenly. “Oh, Imaganruis! None of you have had anything to eat!”
“Relax, Intinier,” said Emburr. “Anyone could have forgotten- being attacked by a bloodthirsty egomaniac tends to make things slip one’s mind.”
“Unforgivable,” Intinier muttered. “I’m a phagomage , for Imaganruis’ sake.” She rummaged around in the multitude of pockets on her long, green, apronlike robe. “Does anyone have any sort of food at all?”
Emburr reached into the hatch again. “Um… a bottle of aquariol, eight Coldstane biscuits and a nobanana. Not much for dinner.”
“You’re talking to Intinier Carushaluk,” the phagomage replied. “I can make a meal out of anything.”
She pulled a complicated weave of metal from her largest pocket and flipped several clasps. The object expanded smoothly into a segmented pot. Intinier unfolded a tripod from beneath it and set it down on the floor. She snapped her fingers, and a long blue flame rose from the air below it with a hiss. Feeding the ingredients into it, she began to add spices and herbs from her various pockets, chanting a strange poem. “I’m going to get the acrotrain started,” said Emburr, shutting the door and climbing into a padded leather seat.
Elanor approached Intinier. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked.
The phagomage looked up, surprised at the offer of aid from such a cynical-seeming girl. “Thanks, but no,” she said. “You and Lance should go back in the carriage. I’ll be down there as soon as I finish this.”
Following Intinier’s advice, Elanor stepped out of the door in the back of the locomotive. She stood on the small platform outside it for a few seconds, clinging to the rail and staring at the ruined countryside below. She hadn’t realized how much devastation the Usurper had caused. No lights showed but the faint glow of still-burning flames. She was beginning to feel queasy.
“Why am I afraid of heights?” Elanor muttered. “I can fly , for heaven’s sakes.” Without further ado, she stepped across and entered the carriage.
It was, well, it was an interesting place. Not exactly what she would call home, but she could live with it. “How long will it take us to get there, anyway?” she asked
“Oh, sometimes it takes a week, sometimes it takes an hour. shouted Emburr from his seat. “It depends on the train’s mood.”
“A week?!?! Planes are so much more reliable… although I can’t say I like those much, either.” Elanor sighed, remembering her only trip when she was five. People kept on shouting, and it sounded like nonsense in her ears.It was creepy. And of course, it didn’t help that she had carsickness. It was miserable.
Emburr laughed. “Planes? You expect us to give you a plane? We’re better than planes. I can give you magic.” He stepped out of the seat for a moment and opened what appeared to be a tiny cupboard, no bigger than, well, Elanor didn’t have anything to compare it to. It was about the size of the Codex, inside Teas from Around the Globe. “There you are! Now, I’ll say that’s better than any plane. And if you don’t like planes, you’ll learn to like acrotrains. I promise.”
“What’s so great about it, then?” she asked, still feeling queasy.
“It’s the greatest magic Twiggnth can teach you, that’s what! Open it up, now, this is getting silly.”
“Open what?”
“The little Tiggtle in there! See, the little Fenkin-looking thing?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s cute.” Elanor said, trying not to smile. It was hard not to love the green-eyed furry creature.
“He’s just a statue. Pull his head off.”
“Pull his head off? Never! He’s too cute!”
“Trust me, it’s okay.” Emburr said blandly. “The only way the magic tries to not be used is by making it seem too good or too dangerous to open. It’s silly, really. Just pull it off. If you like it that much, we can Lik-u ((the equivelant to glue/tape – some sort of magical adhesive)) it back together.”
“Okay… “ Elanor looked at the box dubiously. “What’s inside?”
“How should I know?” replied Emburr.
“Wha… wha… you don’t know?”
“Of course not!” Emburr became serious. “Let me explain. I used to live in Evencald, that would be Africa in your world. It still makes me nostalgic… lovely pine trees, majestic glaciers…” His enormous eyes became dreamy.
“GLACIERS??? In Africa?”
“The climate here is different. Anyway, the Usurper of Evencald- Athrana’s her name- has a great aptitude for inventing new spells. She captured Twiggnth and brought him to Evencald after Zefethelyan seized power. She then stripped him of his magic while he was still alive- we still don’t know how she did that, but she’s always been the best at magical theory among the Usurpers.”
Emburr broke off and pulled a large lever next to his seat. With a rumble, the acrotrain started to vibrate. A blue-green light lit up, pulsing with tints of gold.
“She imprisoned Twiggnth in an ice cave,” he continued over the roar of the engine. “I found it while I was exploring near my hometown. He could no longer do magic, so he poured out all of his knowledge into me.
“Athrana learned of this after a few years and sent a troop of mages to deal with Twiggnth and me. I escaped, but he was killed. Before he died, though, he gave me this box, saying it should- and could- only be opened by his grandchild.”
Elanor slowly opened the box. The lid fell open, exposing the contents.
Elanor was unimpressed. Judging from the gasp of awe that Emburr let out, though, the glass bottle filled with swirling golden liquid was pretty powerful.
“His life force,” Emburr whispered. “Now I see. He gave it up, knowing he was doomed. If we can get that into the Codex, we’ll be unstoppable.”
“If we can find it, that is. Should I try calling it, or something?” Elanor said dully. “Yoohoo! Codex! Come ‘ere!” She paused. “As if that would work.”
“Er, well, actually, Elanor, something similar to that should be sufficient.” Lance cut in.
“How do you know? If something could work, I would know!” shouted Emburr, a bit louder than Elanor thought an animal of his size, or most any size, could.
Swiftly and unexpectedly, Intinier emerged, carrying a pot of wonderful-smelling something. “My goodness. What’s all the fuss about?”
“Er, nothing…” Lance and Emburr whispered simultaneously.
“Well, no matter what, you three need to eat. It’s hot Pingle soup. You should like it, Lance,” she said to the overly-unappetized-looking teenager. “You’ve never had it. Besides, you liked Pingley soup. It was invented by the same phagomage! Me! Now eat. We’ve got a long, er, amount of time ahead of us.”
“Well, actually, Intinier…” interrupted the wide-eyed Fenkin.
“What? We don’t have a long time ahead of us?” Intinier asked, purely inquisitive.
“Look,” Emburr said. As one, the companions looked out the round windscreen of the locomotive.
Silhouetted against one of the rising moons, three small, round shapes darted out of sight.
“Xixin patrol, ” Lance said. “Kaabne is moving his forces out.”
“Great,” Elanor said, ducking. “We get to be right next to the cute floaty things. How fun.”
“It’s not a big deal, really. I mean, we have Twiggnth’s life force!” exclaimed Lance.
“You have what? ” Intinier gasped.
“The life force of Twiggnth Wing,” Lance repeated.
“Oh my gosh, if we can get that into the Codex…” Intinier whispered.
“But we have to get to the Codex first,” Emburr said. “And that means getting to Reality, as the Usurpers have destroyed all books in Etheterre. And that means getting into the fortress of Kaabne. And that means getting to the passage. And that means getting into Lillixa unhindered. And that means,” he concluded, “getting rid of that patrol.”
The Fenkin suddenly grabbed a lever and pulled it all the way to the left. Propellers shrieking, the acrotrain spun around. Its carriages whipped towards the Xixins like the tail of an irritated cat, only faster and harder. The three floating creatures dove into the canopy of scorched treetops below. Emburr pulled the lever back to its original position. The vehicle shot forward, sending all but Emburr flying.
“She’s in a good mood,” the Fenkin said calmly. “We’ll get there by tomorrow. In the meantime, let’s all finish our soup and then get some sleep.”
By some miracle, the Pingle soup had not spilled a drop. Elanor picked her portion up and tasted a spoonful. It tasted like salsa and pickle relish, only with a lingering, citrusy-sweet aftertaste.
She took another bite. This time, it tasted just the same, but with more of a tropical taste. She had never had any tropical foods, and the taste didn’t seem any different, but somehow it seemed entirely different.
“Are you all right, Elanor? You look as if you’re not having the most heartwarming fevercooling dish ever created.” Intinier whispered between bites of leftover nobanana.
“Oh, not really. What exactly is in this, anyway? Is there any Reality food taht could relate to the tastes? It seems… different.”
“Oh, goodness, she’s getting a phagomessage.” Intinier gasped.
“What did the first bite taste like?” Intinier demanded. “As specific as you can.”
“Um, it was a bit like salsa…”
“That’s the Regency. Go on.”
“…and a bit like pickle relish…”
“So it’s not good news. Uh, oh.”
“…with a citrus aftertaste.”
“Hmm. That’s Olviek’s signature. Figures- he’s the only phagomage in the Regency.”
“Um… what exactly is the Regency?”
“They’re a council set up to hold power after a king’s death until the next heir is of age. They only governed Kolombent this time, though. The Usurper controls the rest of Etheterre. Go on- what was the second bite like?”
“Tropical.”
The light radiating from Intinier’s skin pulsed once, then dimmed to a faint glow. She collapsed on the seat, and only the motion of her chest indicated that she was still alive.
“That can’t be good,” Emburr said.
“Do you know what it means, Emburr?” Lance asked.
“I only know that it must have come from someone in Reality. There are no tropics here. And judging by the state of our friend the phagomage, it must be one of His phagomage’s signs. And that isn’t very good, and it’s even worse that one of them is in Reality. But I’m no expert on phagomessages…”
“It means,” Intinier said, “That Elanor will soon become an OverBoard unless we can stop them.”
“Sweet Imaganrius.” Lance whispered.
“Lance! You never say that! Well, I suppose it’s all right…” Intinier said.
“What can we do?” Emburr shouted, unable to contain anything.
“I take it, it’s pretty bad.” Elanor said.
“Why yes! Of course it is! what do you mean? An OverBoard…. how will we survive with an OverBoard along for the ride?” Emburr exclaimed. “Oh, um, er, oh…. Oh! Hey, Intinier! Care to, er, explain?”
“OverBoarding is a rare condition that happens once in a while in the royal family of Etheterre,” said Intinier. “You see, the gateways are like seesaws. You start out on one end, and walk to the other until suddenly it tips and you are on the other end. The “ends” of the “seesaw” are Reality and Etheterre. An OverBoard goes across the gateways too many times, and he or she falls off the seesaw. Then he or she is stuck in one world, with no hope of crossing to the other. The Codex usually protects against this condition, but with it gone…”
Emburr said something. Elanor didn’t know what it meant, nor could she pronounce it if somebody asked her to repeat it, but judging from Lance’s scandalized look, it was pretty rude.
“That means we have to get to Reality in the next seven days,” Intinier continued, “or Elanor will be stuck here with no way of getting back. And no way of getting the Codex.”
“But what is Regent Olviek doing in Reality?” Emburr inquired.
“I don’t know,” Intinier sighed. “We’ll find out when we get there, I g-” She broke off in a huge yawn.
Lance smiled. “We should all get some sleep now. I’ll come down and relieve Emburr at midnight- I’ve had some experience with acrotrains.”
The sleeping carriage was three cars back. Lance, Intinier and Elanor stepped carefully over the rickety platforms that separated the cars until they reached it.
It wasn’t what Elanor had expected. Along with the standard beds, which were themselves many different sizes, there was a perch-like affair and several raised baskets with nests of soft fabric inside them. She walked over to a medium-sized bed with an odd sort of silvery blanket that shifted colors depending on the angle of light hitting it. When she laid down, she found that it seemed to adjust in temperature and texture till it felt almost exactly the same as the old quilt on her bed at home. Almost. A strange, cold tingle passed through it at times, a sensation that reminded her of the locket that Mr. Roglea had given her.
It comforted her, and all she wanted to do was curl up under the blanket, and go to sleep – something she hadn’t done in what seemed like days. She drifted into a sleep with a dream that would be heaven to anyone but her.
It almost seemed more like a memory than a dream. She was looking almost directly across from two faces. One she recognized. It was her mother, but younger, and without the careworn lines that crisscrossed her forehead. The other was not really familiar, but she knew who it was just as well. The face from the locket. Atherton Wing. Her father.
They were standing on a balcony, looking outward over a landscape of strange, crystal towers, with a blue-green ocean in the distance. It was a warm summer night. Atherton raised his hand, pointing out a constellation to Elanor’s mother. “And that one’s the Triwing,” he said. “Legend has it that it was once a four-winged bird who carried messages for Etheterre’s first king. One day, a careless hunter shot at it, and it lost a wing, but it still flew onward and brought the message to the king. When it arrived, it perished from exhaustion, but its spirit was placed in the stars as a reward for its dedication.”
“Three wings. That will be us!” her mother said. Atherton laughed…
And Elanor woke up. The dream had reminded her of what she was expected to do. Everyone had relaxed somehow when they saw her, thinking, Ah, the future queen is here. Everything’s going to be all right. How could anyone think that she was ready to defeat the Usurpers and take control of a realm that she would never have believed in? She was just a kid! In that moment, all she wanted to do was to go home and forget that any of this existed.
Then she looked up at the porthole of the gently rocking acrotrain. The Triwing, flying through the stars, was as clear as ever outside. Though it had seemed like a meaningless pattern of stars when she fell asleep, she recognized it like an old friend now. The curving streams of green stars that formed its wings, the violet twinkle that was its beak, opened forever in a song of celebration and gratitude…
A dark pall of smoke curled across the sky and hid it from view. The ground was still smoldering from Zefethelyan’s attack, and a new flame had risen from the shattered buildings, seeming to dance with wicked glee.
Elanor snapped open the locket, looking at her father’s face and the inscription next to it.
Remembering your past is the key to unlocking your destiny.
Etheterre was her home, and she would not allow it to be crushed and conquered.
“Elanor? Are you all right?”
Emburr was standing across from her, holding a glowing, golden sphere of fine-grained wood in his paw.
She smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a dream. Is it midnight already?”
“Elanor, it’s 5:30 in the morning. We’re almost at the Nozama River.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s much point in trying to get back to sleep,” Elanor said. “How far are we from the Nozawhatzit?”
“Elanor?” said Emburr quizzically. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, of course! What do you mean?”
“You just seem so… interested … all of a sudden.”
He’s right, she thought. I’ve really been acting cynical.
Any further introspection on Elanor’s part was halted as the gentle rumble of the acrotrain’
A sheath of violet flame ignited around the Codex, and it flew from Lance’s hand to Elanor’s on wings of rustling parchment. Kaabne’s spell impacted the young magician as he landed awkwardly on the stone floor. He was hurled back by the force of it, smashing into the opposite wall, where he became entangled with a tapestry and hit the ground in a welter of smoldering cloth. He didn’t get up.
Hm. The whole thing didn’t seem to show up. Oh well. I’ll post the rest later.
I have a question to you guys. How do you pronounce these words:
Etheterre
Fenkin
Aetherica
Intinier
Emburr
Kaabne
Twiggnth
I have been playing around with “Etheterre.” I’ve said Eh-Theh (hard th)-TARE, I’ve said Eh-Theh (soft th)-TARE-ah, I’ve said millions of different things, but I’m not sure which is right. I was wondering what you thought.
For Fenkin, I’m not sure if it follows the English rules, and goes Feng-kin, or if it follows some other rule, like Fen-kin. I’ve been saying Fen-kin, but I’m not really sure which is technically correct. (I know I invented the word, but that doesn’t mean I know how to pronounce it.)
The same with the rest. If you could say what you think, that would be so helpful in my pronunciation THING. :D:D:D
57- ETH-uh-tare
FENK-in
ay-THERE(soft th)-i-ka
in-TIN-ee-ur
EM-bur
kah-AHB-nay
TWIG-enth
That’s how I pronounce them, in any case.
“Lance!” Intinier screamed from the high doorway, and jumped down without hesitation, weaving a hemisphere of warm orange light beneath her feet as she did so. Emburr spun around and dashed to Lance’s side, keeping a wary eye on Kaabne. However, attacking Emburr could not have been further from the Usurper’s mind. He raced to the wall and pulled a short, flexible tube from between two stones. Elanor hung back, unsure what to do. Kaabne was gabbling very quickly into the tube. Elanor couldn’t understand what he was saying, but Intinier, who understood Lillix, stopped halfway across the floor. “We have to get out!” she yelled.
The heavy doors at the far end of the hall flew open, and innumerable Xixins, armed to the teeth, plunged into the room. And just when things seemed like they couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Blithe and his escorts stepped out of the gateway, drawing weapons from their belts and converging on Elanor.
((How’s that for a cliffhanger?))
Lillixa
A rainforest continent, one of the few that has a similar climate to its twin on Earth, South America. It is under the dominion of Kaabne, an old, warlike Xixin who is not a very good mage, but excels in physical combat. Its gateway is in Kaabne’s fortress, and in an Inca ruin in Reality. It is home to the only major group to defy the Usurpers aside from the Regency, the Xixin Resistance. The main inhabitants are Xixins, small hovering balls of fur with prehensile tails.
Zundor
The climate is unknown, but it corresponds to Europe. Its ruler is Lwdyn, a cruel Kikithn who cannot fly, unlike most of his race. Kikithns look like large birds, and are the principal inhabitants of Zundor. A peculiarity of Kikithns is that they have sort of a built-in GPS. They always know where they are. Zundor’s gateway is Stonehenge.
Elanor gaped at the horrific form in front of her, and still more so when it spoke with the familiar voice of her substitute teacher. “Drop the book, Elanor,” Mr. Blithe said. His escorts raised their weapons. “We can’t kill you, but we can make you wish you’d never been born.” The homunculi swiveled in perfect unison to aim for the group huddled around Lance. Not that it was necessary. The cluster of armed Xixins around them made it a redundant gesture. Intinier’s shoulders slumped in defeat. But Emburr wasn’t finished. He reached under his shirt and pulled out the bottle containing Twiggnth’s life force. Then, with the easy grace of a practiced thrower, he hurled it over the crowd surrounding them. Blithe fired two shots just as the bottle hit the Codex and shattered, the golden liquid seeping into its front cover.
Not even THP is here anymore. Grrrrr. The story was really going somewhere…
If nobody has continued by tomorrow, I will take matters into my own hands, and not limit my continuations.
I’m so sorry, PraCan. Here is a continuation, but I have no idea how good it will be, seeing as I have no ideas:
The book flew open, pages rippling with their own force. Words disappeared from the blinding white paper, replaced with ancient symbols. A voice sped through the cave [wait – are they in a cave? I don’t remember…], speaking a language of hissing. Only Intinier and Elanor understood.
((I don’t know what it will say, so that’s up to someone else.))
Oh, I forgot to say: That will be Twiggnth’s voice speaking.
They’re in a hall.
Strike down this traitor! the book soundlessly roared. A loop of purple radiance fizzled out of the ceiling, slashing through Kaabne’s petrified form before vanishing into the floor. A few flakes of ash drifted through the air. There was no sign of Kaabne.
“Oh, yeah,” Intinier said. “I forgot to mention- it’ll take a while for Twiggnth’s consciousness to merge with the Codex completely. The book will have a mind of its own for a while.”
The Xixin troops milled around in confusion. Some bolted for the door. Blithe and his escorts, however, served a higher master. A hail of bullets flew through the chamber as the homunculi fired grimly again and again.
The sibilant voice roared once again. Obviously, Twiggnth was a little miffed about this attack on his descendent. Blithe stood under his magical shield, doggedly trying to get closer to the four without success. The bullets put deep dents in his protection, one more attack would rip through.
((68- Actually, Blithe is the one firing. But if we remove the last sentence of your post, it makes perfect sense.))
WHOOMPH. Unlike most of the pyrotechnic magic that Elanor had seen in Etheterre, Twiggnth’s attack was invisible. Obviously, he had more subtle means at his disposal. However, the effect was no less dramatic. Blithe hurtled across the hall, smashing into the wall with a shower of muddy silver cogwheels.
Sorry. I was confused.
The invisible force swiftly put Blithe “to sleep,” putting him in a magical coma. Elanor thought it would do the same with the rest of the homunculi, but there was no need. As their leader temporarily lost control of its power, so did they.
But Twiggnth wasn’t finished. He sent Kaabne crashing across the floor, and it was impossible to tell if he was simply knocked out or if Twiggnth had put the Usurper in the same coma as Blithe.
Suddenly, the entire castle was rent with horrific howling. It wasn’t as terrifying as it should have been, as it was strangely muted for the occupants of the hall.
Twiggnth spoke again. “Kaabne’s forces are fleeing from the fortress, pursued by images of their darkest nightmares. Xorotlaltec Citadel is ours.”
“Zoro-whatza?” Elanor asked.
“Kaabne’s capital city. The Xixins living in it are not all loyal to him. In a pinch, we can hold it against attack. Especially if we can bring the Xixin Resistance over to our cause.” The voice paused. “You seem familiar.”
“Erm…” Elanor wasn’t very sure of the genealogy, but from what Emburr had told her… “I’m your granddaughter.”
“Atherton’s child…” A touch of wistfulness entered the imposing voice. “And who are your companions?”
“Intinier Carushaluk,” Intinier said from across the hall. “And Emburr du Kendomalin, who I believe you know. And the one lying on the floor is Lance. Any chance you could help him? I’ve tried a simple Anacrux Restoration, and some specialized Skalpyl incantations, but nothing seems to work…”
“Hmm…” A golden aura surrounded the Codex, and it floated over to Lance’s supine figure. “Kaabne isn’t very powerful, but he chose the spell well. An Argent Destructor in tandem with a bullet fired from the gun of a homunculus…”
Elanor didn’t understand the magical jargon, but she was as worried about Lance as any of the others. She crossed the hall, following the Codex.
“Very well.” Twiggnth spoke again. “I can heal him, but it may be my last act as a conscious being. My essence is slowly diffusing into the Codex. Do not grieve- it is not a bad fate.”
The book sank onto Lance’s chest and began sending out pulsing aquamarine waves. Slowly, the unconscious teenager became liquid, but retained his form as though his skin had become a clear lacquer.
His body was outlined in green light for a few seconds, and then he regained his usual solid form. The [insert either man, boy, teenager, or something here]’s eyes opened for a moment, but quickly closed again.
The Codex spoke in a coarse whisper. “I – remem – ber… Gael… or…”
((Is that too much of a classic story’s phrase? If it is, sorry, go ahead and tell me what to change in the Keeper’s edition))
The room was silent for a few minutes that seemed like hours to the prophesied Four. Lance opened his eyes and stared.
As he stared into space, his eyes seemed to change. Emburr and Intinier were puzzled as to what had changed, but Elanor could clearly tell that his eyelashes were much shorter and his eyes had grown larger. However, she was equally puzzled at why and how this had happened.
((I couldn’t get to the bottom of the page of this, so I couldn’t say anything until someone put another post. As crazy as this sounds, it’s true, and I’m sorry that I didn’t post sooner.))
You obviously have a plan for this mention of Gaelor, so I’ll let you continue.
Wait, it’s been so long since I read the earier par to fht estory that I’ve forgotten where they’re supposed to be going and thier goal. I know it sounds pretty dumb, but it’s true. A quick recap, please?
They need the Codex in order to defeat Zefethelyan and the Usurpers because it is the only thing that’s powerful enough to pierce their magical shields. They now have the Codex, and it’s more powerful than ever because Twiggnth’s life force was injected into it. Kaabne is defeated, so they now rule Lillixa (South America.) Their next move would probably be to find Regent Olviek (the last of the Regency, a phagomage somewhere in Reality) and/or to hook up with the Xixin Resistance, so that they really become a force to be reckoned with. I have a great idea for the former one.
Lance sat up, shaking his head. The room they were standing in was torn apart from the many spells that had missed their targets. Deep rifts covered the walls in some places, while the rock had melted together or frozen in other parts. Every so often, a chunk of rock fell off of the ceilig or walls, breaking the still with a sharp crack. After some sparse discussion, the companoins happily agreed that it was a good time to rest. Lance cast a faintly glowing sheild spell over the group, and one by one, they were enfolded by the darkness of sleep, until only Lance lay awake, staring at nothingness with a puzzled expression on his newly changed face.
Elanor woke up suddenly, feeling the hard stone floor beneath her instead of the familiar bed. Then she remembered, as she sat up and felt the Codex slide down her chest. She quickly took stock of her surroundings.
Lance had finally drifted off, and was sleeping peacefully. The shield had remained, thrumming in time to his slow breathing. Intinier’s skin had dulled to faint coral, as it always did when she was sleeping. Emburr was beginning to stir.
Beyond the glowing hemisphere, Blithe’s grotesque form sprawled upon the ground, his escorts piled haphazardly around him. Kaabne was still lying stunned on the ground.
Emburr sat up and yawned. “G’mornin’.”
“I don’t think it’s morning,” Elanor replied. “It’s probably about time to have dinner. We had lunch just before we came in here, remember?”
Emburr peered into his empty Qwestrade bottle. “That ‘lunch’ finished off all of our rations.”
“Never mind that. We need a plan of action. We’ve seized Xorotlaltec Citadel, so we pretty much control Lillixa.”
“That’s true,” Emburr said. “To have a plan, though, we need to know what’s going on out there. We need a telesphere.”
“Speaking of which, what’s that orb embedded in the wall over there?” Elanor asked.
Emburr ran over, passing through the shield with hardly a glimmer. “Close. It could be adapted to act as a telesphere, but mainly this is a magical repository for information…” He trailed off, then punched the air triumphantly. “That’s it! Just wait there.”
((Sorry about the multiple posts in a row. Parents had to use the computer.))
Emburr’s dexterous claws flickered over the surface of the sphere. Curious, Elanor joined him just in time to see the whirling colors inside it resolve into a map of North Amer- no, Kolombent, she reminded herself- with several large arrows pointing to different places on it.
“See, here,” said Emburr, talking animatedly, “are the forces of Dinkic- Din- Din- oh, what the heck, I could never pronounce it- the usurper of Woalt, that would be Asia, crossing the Gnireb Strait in the north-west. Apparently the Usurpers were trying to crush the last resistance in the heartland of Kolombent, which is apparently led by Regent Tirica.” He broke off. “So she survived, too. Anyway, Gaelor’s forces are coming down from the north-east, where the Usurper staged the takeover in Labarynth. And Kaabne’s army was supposed to come up from the south in a three way pincer movement. But if we come up from the north with the Xixin Resistance instead of Kaabne’s army, it’ll help Tirica and catch Gaelor and Din-whatever off guard. We could reclaim Kolombent.”
((I can’t think of what to do next.))
Woalt
Woalt is a hot continent that corresponds to Asia. It is ruled by a Fenkin, Dinkikiniscius, who is an excellent mage. Surprisingly, its principal inhabitants are Palpos, who look like walking octopi. The gateway is unknown.
81 – Emburr has never been to Reality and knows nothing about it, right? He didn’t know what South America was until Intinier finally explained it. So he couldn’t know that Woalt corresponds to Asia. Here’s my fix:
“See, here,” said Emburr, talking animatedly, “are the forces of Dinkic- Din- Din- oh, what the heck, I could never pronounce it- the usurper of Woalt,”
Intinier interrupted. “Which is Asia to you, Elanor,”
Emburr continued,”Oh yeah. Okay, anyway, the Usurper of Woalt crossing the Gnireb Strait in the north-west. Apparently the Usurpers were trying to crush the last resistance in the heartland of Kolombent, which is apparently led by Regent Tirica.” He broke off. “So she survived, too. Anyway, Gaelor’s forces are coming down from the north-east, where the Usurper staged the takeover in Labarynth. And Kaabne’s army was supposed to come up from the south in a three way pincer movement. But if we come up from the north with the Xixin Resistance instead of Kaabne’s army, it’ll help Tirica and catch Gaelor and Din-whatever off guard. We could reclaim Kolombent.”
Sorry. But, earlier on, doesn’t Emburr explain that Evencald corresponds to Africa? We should fix that, too.
Okay then, which continent corresponds in Etheterre to reality? Becuase we seem to have this all mixed up and I can’t really put much about traveling until I am sure where exactly they are supposed to be going.
N. America=Kolombent
S. America=Lillixa
Africa=Evencald
Europe=Zundor
Asia=Woalt
Australia=Surriscar
Antarctica=Tsinglonk
“Well, it sounds like a good plan,” Lance, who had also awakened, said, “but we don’t have any authority, so why would the Resistance-”
Emburr didn’t say anything, but uttered a quiet cough and pointed towards Elanor and the Codex lying on the floor near her.
“Oh. Right.”
Intinier interrupted. “Well, if we go out to find the XR tonight, we’ll need some dinner. Let’s find the kitchens.”
She disappeared through the door. Emburr left the infosphere and picked up a miraculously whole bottle of bleakfen wine. Lance held out his hand, and a vertical surface of swirling silver liquid appeared in front of his face. He began to study his reflection, examining the mysterious change to his features.
After some deliberation, Elanor left to follow Intinier.
It turned out that the kitchens were much harder to find than they expected. After nearly two hours of wandering through tunnels in search of food, everyone was exhausted, hungry, and sure that they were lost. Suddnely, they came around a sudden bend. There, with intoxicating aromas drifting out, were the kitchens. The group gratefully walked into the room nearest them, searching for the food. But, as the looked for something to eat, a young Xixin whooshed around the corner, saw them, and then backtracked, making a high-pitched whistling sound.
They were startled at first, and then relaxed when the Xixin smiled. Intinier spoke to it.
“Alla’ fi. [Obviously a greeting – Something along the lines of “Good day.”]” she said politely.
“Alla’ fi!” it yelled.
“Te mimi e’wi. [Literally translating to “In peace we are.”] Ha fi e’tin [just for the information, the n is pronounced kind of like in Chinese – sort of nasal-ish.] Elaor Win. A kias e Etheterre. [That means word-for-word “This day we bring Elanor Wing. Is heir of Etheterre.” There is no need to explain what she’s trying to say.]
Another Xixin, green with a sort of blue sheen, entered, and the other Xixin explained excitedly what Intinier had said.
((Okay, I know that that Xixin should have been a bad guy, but I’m really sort of tired of all of these blocks and challenges, and I think that we should get moving with the whole finding stuff out. And also, try really hard to get a little comic relief in here with our handy Emburr while we’re all at it.
))
Well, the Xixin could have just been hired in Kaabne’s kitchens because he was trying to get food for his hungry family. Not all Xixins are bad.
91 – Yeah, this guy’s just a straggler trying to find some things of value. It’s a pretty oppurtune moment, seeing as nearly everybody has fled. He isn’t evil, and he doesn’t mean any harm.
While the first Xixin was rapidly relaying the news to the newcomer, the group began looking around the kitchens again. Eventually, they found a sack of small buns, and everyone greedily tore into the bag, stuffing buns two at a time into their mouths. After everyone was reasonably stuffed, they noticed that Emburr ahd gone missing. They began walking around the kitchen, searching for their troublemaking companion. Suddenly, Initier heard a sound over head. She craned her head backwards, just in time to see Emburr, up on the rafters, curiously opening one of the many sacks tied to the beams, and then carelssly dropping it. The large bag swung down, showering everyone in a fine white powder, adakfen, which was commonly used in baking. Initier, Elanor and Lance soon looked like they had just come in from a non-melting blizzard. Emburr hastily climbed down from the rafters on one of the many rope-ladders to see if everyone was alright. He then, however, saw the sorry state in which his companoins were in, and wa soon doubled over with laughter, rolling on the floor. The other three, smiling, silently watched as Emburr slowly coated himself with the adakfen. He then noticed that he was just as stark white as they were, and soon the entire group was roaring with laughter, not only because of their absurd appearence, but because they just needed something to laugh about. Their fight with Kaabne had left them all in a slight shock, and it was good to have some reason to smile again.
Eventually, the laughter died down, but everyone still had a small smile on their face and a thick coating of powder everywhere else.
Lance, who had come down to the kitchen with Emburr, finally spoke. “Intinier, will you tell this Xixin that we need volunteers from the city to find the Resistance?”
Intinier relayed the message, and the first Xixin zipped out of the kitchen. The second one continued speaking, and after a long discourse, Intinier turned to her companions. “They’ll set off in the morning. In the meantime, he respectfully-” a note of irony entered her voice- “tells us that we need to clean up, and he’ll show us to the baths when we’re ready. There are a few reserved for humanoid guests. After all, the Usurper probably turned up to inspect Kaabne’s domain once in a while.”
The mental image of Zefethelyan covered in suds with a scrubbing brush and a rubber duck was so funny that Elanor burst out laughing again.
So far, they’ve been in Etheterre about 1 and a half days.
**************************
As the violet sun sank, its rays shone through one of the crystal windows in Kaabne’s fortress. It cast soft mauve shadows behind Elanor and her companions, who were walking down the corridor to the sleeping quarters. Relaxed after the hot baths they had taken, they didn’t speak much, although Emburr cracked a few jokes about being in the lap of luxury. The Xixin from the kitchens, whose name, they had learned, was Dimmde, hovered ahead, a candle clutched in his tail. Stopping in front of two ornately carved doors, he went into a long, squeaking oration.
“Elanor and I will share one room, and Lance and Emburr will take the other,” Intinier translated.
“All that just to tell us about the sleeping arrangements?” Emburr asked. “What was the rest of that speech? Advertising?”
“You see, Lillix is equivalent to the Romantic languages of Reality, which means that the linguistic…” Intinier found herself lecturing a wall. Everyone had gone into their rooms. Despite the long sleep they had had in the afternoon, the effects of the long hike and the strenuous battle with Kaabne hadn’t fully worn off, and each of the adventurers was bone-tired.
Initier sighed, rolled her eyes, and then retreated into her own assigned rooming. Everyone enjoyed the first truly substantial rest they had had in what seemed like years.
(wow, super long post!
)
You know, it’s weird, but I’m sort of getting into the language of Xixins. What was that language, again? I think it was Lilix, or something…
How do you all pronounce those things? I only got an answer from PraCan! Well, here they are again:
Etheterre
Fenkin
Aetherica
Intinier
Emburr
Kaabne
Twiggnth
And we might as well throw in Roglea, seeing as I have about a million different pronunciations for that too.
ROHG-lee. Sort of a “row” sound, with a hard “g” at the end, and then “lee.”
Elanor, however, lay awake for a while. She had so many questions about Etheterre that she hadn’t been able to get answered on account of being chased halfway around the globe by a bunch of magical murderers. She thought there might be some way to ask the Codex, but she didn’t know how.
Just then, whether it was a wisp of Twiggnth’s consciousness remaining, or something from Elanor’s own subconscious, words sprang into the young girl’s head. She spoke them without thinking.
The Codex, which had been lying on a hovering slab of wood that seemed to be the equivalent of a nightstand, sprang open. Its letters changed from the Etheterran symbols to ordinary English. Within moments, a full encyclopedia of Etheterre lay open on the slab.
Elanor picked it up and started to read…
((A note- The next continuation should be the next day, probably. This is just an indication of what’s happening, if that makes any sense. I was getting tired of the plotline complications engendered when Elanor had to have things explained to her by her companions.))
why is there a link to this thread from the HTML thread? dracasting, please don’t post links where they don’t belong.
100- Oh. I’m sorry, I was just practicing links and I chose some at random from threads I often visit. I’ll stop.
97- I pronounce them:
Etha-tear (as in rip, not crying)
Fain-kin
Ath-err-ic-a
In-tin-ee-er
Em-bur
Cob-nay
Twig-inth
Row-lee-ah
“Elanor?”
Elanor looked up from the Codex to see a massive slit in the dark ceiling. It creaked open, filling the room with blinding light. A vague orange shape became clear as the crack widened. The whole ceiling split open and blasted the room to wispy vapors in the realm of memory.
Then Elanor realized that the slit had been her eyes opening, the shape was Intinier, and all of her reading had been a dream.
Or had it…?
She glanced over to the hovering nightstand and saw that the Codex lay open to the very page she had been studying.
“Elanor,” Intinier said, “you’d best get up. We’ll be leaving to recruit the Xixin resistance very soon, and they won’t follow us unless you’re there with the Codex.”
I grovel, I beg, I plead,
Of Juli’b and T. Hippo Fan,
(For this thread is in desperate need)
To post as soon as you can.
My skills as a ‘riter are fine,
But my poetry’s here being stretched,
As there is a very fine line,
Twixt true rhyme and cheating… etched.
Etheterre’s far too young to die
A death like most RRRs,
When even the die-hards lie,
And say, “I’ll post there tomorr-”
“-Ow.” I can’t write this all alone,
I’ve exhausted all of my plots,
Please help Wing claim the Etheterre throne,
Before this RRR rots.
104- So sorry. I applaud your poetry skills. Very nice.
Groaning, Elanor arose from her bed. Her clothes were stiff and her hair dirty. Intinier was halfway out of the door when Elanor called to her.
“Intinier?” She yelled weakly.
“Yes?” replied the phagomage, turning to look at Elanor.
“Is there anyway I can find a shower and some fresh clothes? And breakfast?”
Cut to dining hall.
Elanor, feeling revived after being able to clean herself an put on some clean garments while her’s were being washed, was happily poking the green, jello-like substance on the plate in front of her. It squirmed, and ran across the plate. Startled, Elanor fell off the three legged stool she had been sitting on.
“Um, Elanor,” Emburr said from his seat across the table, “you aren’t supposed to eat the servegelle.”
“Oh. Then what is it doing on my plate?”
Emburr looked at her like she was nuts. “Putting food on it. Don’t tell me you don’t have servegelles in Reality?”
Elanor looked down, and saw that the green goo did seem to be exuding different substances, which appeared vaguely edible. Once it was done, it scurried into the large, ornate silver urn in the middle of the table.
“No. We don’t.”
Emburr shrugged, then began to devour his breakfast.
Sorry, PraCan. I haven’t been on the MB much, but that’s certainly not any excuse.
Elanor said, between bites of the oddly delicious purple, poultry-like food, “Intinier, I want to learn to read the Codex.”
“What?” Intinier said with her mouth full. “Oh, of course. We had intended that you would learn the ancient script of Etheterre, but when the Usurper attacked, our priorities got switched around. I must warn you, though, it’s an experience very different from reading a normal book.”
“I know. I read it last night.”
“What? Then why…”
“Because I can’t control it. There was that time in the Lilete Pelisarn, and last night, but I have no idea when it’s going to happen next.”
A short interlude, just because I have writer’s block. When are we going to end the story? I mean, soon they’ll be on a campaign to reclaim Kolombent, and sooner or later Zefethelyan will have to be defeated. But when? Maybe after they team up with the Xixin Resistance and Regent Tirica’s forces. Then they’ll have enough power to fight the Atlantean Guards (Zefethelyan’s elite forces which I just made up, who all look vaguely fishy.) After that, they will control the Western Hemisphere, the lead Usurper will be dead, and the ones remaining will be squabbling among themselves. (Sequels, anyone?)
109 – I really want to add onto that, but I don’t quite understand it. Hehe. *is not quite as sophisticatedly intelligent nor intelligently sophisticated as her name may lead those to believe cough* Would you mind explaining it?
110 – 1. What does Atlantean stand for? Because if it’s Atlantic, there is no Atlantic. I think…. didn’t we come up with new names for the oceans along with the continents? *decides to check after posting* 2. Ah, I’ve been wanting to discuss this. Er…
Okay. *Types as fast as possible ands ends up using the delete key more than any other key so decides to type regularly* Here’s what I’ve been thinking. They don’t reclaim Kolombent this book. They get into a really good position to reclaim it, and while sitting together at dinner or something, figure out the Gaelor/Roglea thing, and the book ends. I haven’t thought much about the next one(s), though.
I think they should at least beat Zefethelyan in this book. Suppose they attack Kolombent with the Xixin Resistance, beat Gaelor and find out who he really is. Then Dinkikiniscius shows up and they have to retreat, but they have Tirica’s army with them now, so they’re powerful enough to launch a surprise attack on Itlianpokis (the double of Atlantis. Change Atlantean Guards to Itlianpokean, too.) Elanor defeats Zefethelyan, Lance finds out about his shape-shifting ability, and the book ends. Dinkikiniscius will be the main antagonist in the next book, because he now controls Woalt and Kolombent. Sound good?
111- Elanor really can’t control her powers beyond little things, the codex has been doing things for her up till now but it’s too unpredictable. And I think she meant atlantean as in the lost city of atlantis (though I could be wrong), but that doesn’t really matter now that she’s changed it.
Since we’re not really writing a book, I don’t think the story necessarily has to end at a certain point; though we may need continuations, and a new book would give other ‘riters a chance to add to the story.
SHE??????????????????!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I thought Prarilius Canix was a masculine enough name so that there was no confusion, but I guess I was wrong.
112 – I feel like that’s a bit too much of the story, and didn’t we sort of decide that the defeat of Zefethelyan would take more than one book? Sort of a connected series, not just with the foursome but with the bad guys as well? Well, I just think that’s a lot to put into one “book,” and we should spread it out a bit. Also – When did you come up with all of that stuff about all the bad guys we’ll ever meet and all of that? For one thing, Dinkikiniscius isn’t the perfect Usurper to try to stop them, even though he’s close to Zefethelyan.
Sorry about that, that was kinda mean. I just wanted to sort of get things straight and such.
115- I was only making suggestions. I just don’t think we’ve got enough material for one “book” yet. But maybe the defeat of Zefethelyan could take more than one. Let’s just write and see where it goes.
114- Sorry, sorry, sorry. It’s not your name, I am just lazy and accidently typed “she” instinctively. Sorry.
116 – I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t know if you’ve noticed, *coughcough* but often I like things my way, although your way sounds great too. We certainly don’t have enough for an entire novel, but that’s just not yet. We could have small dilemmas places, or just make a mix of different things, or whatever. I agree, let’s just write it out.
Very vague outline- Elanor learns the rudiments of controlling the Codex, then they recapture Kolombent (finding out who Gaelor is along the way), and when we get there, we’ll decide what they do next- continuing Elanor’s training, attacking Zefethelyan, or going after another minor Usurper are all possibilities.
I think that right before they do something really big, like recapturing Kolebent, would be a good point to stop a book, but not this one. If the main theme from the beginning was on recapturing Kolembent, then it would be good to stop it right afterwards, but since it’s overthrowing the Usurpers, that means that the story will either have
a) the good guys defeated, setting up for a sequel when they conquer.
b) have the good guys win, and then have there be some complications, and then they’re overthrown.
c) have the good guys win with complications which they overcome and learn from lessons and such.
d) Have the good guys plain win, and “happily ever after”
Okay, loose ends
a) The Codex Aetheriaca needs to be explained a bit more.
b) Magic seems to be slightly oblique here and there.
c) Most of the Usurpers are not going to be known very well in this book unless Elanor etc… travel all over the world or if all the Usurpers gather.
d) we need to clearly define if there’s going to be a sequel or not, because if there is a sequel, very few loose ends are going to be needed to be tied.
e) Names. I’ve read this entire story through and there are so many different characters, or just mentionings, of people whose names I cannot remember because they’re so unusual. I’m going to have to go through the entire story again and make notes of every name I come across, that’s how confused I am.
f) Map with Usurpers/ names. My usurper is:
Usurper: Selvana – Formerly the leader of the Usurping in Surriskar, she recieved the continent in thanks. Selvana is a reasonably good mage, but enjoys engaging in hand-to-hand combat more than fighting with magic. She was once trained by the great fighter Aparanox and, aside from being the Usurper of Surriscar, she also heads a fighting group for possible wars. Selvana is an Acropon (sclaed kangarooish creature) with a mix of green, purple and blue scales. Such a color combination was very rare, and she was often teased for it as a child . This could have been one of the factors in becoming part of the Usuping. She resides near the Ayer’s Rock portal to keep a more vigilant eye on who comes and goes. Unwanted guests are often quickly disposed of, not by the guards, but by Selvana herself.
Now, we need more detailed escriptions of all the other Usurpers.
If you don’t like my tips, you don’t need to listen to any of them, and I’m sorry if I was rambling (which I probably was)
120 – 1. It’s Kolumbent, not Kolembent. Like Columbus.
2. I am not at all confused about names, but if you are, we should make a list, and see if we can dwell on the names more in the story or if we can make them a little less odd.
There is definitely going to be at least one sequel. I would die if I had to stop writing this.
I like the mystery of the Codex Aetherica, and how all we know really is that it protects the heir, is powered by Imiganrius (did I spell that right?) and now Twiggnth Wing, and that it can only work if there is a book around.
I don’t think we should decide how the story is going to end just yet, but if everyone agrees on a way to end it, that will be the way to go.
Yay! It’s open to posts!
“You have a point,” Intinier said. “We’ll get started as soon as possible. In the meantime, though, you’d better finish eating. We need to go and enlist the Resistance to our cause.”
Elanor gulped down her last few mouthfuls and tried not to stare as the servegelle scuttled out of its urn and absorbed the bones and gristle.
ATTENTION, THF AND JULIEB! PLEASE POST HERE!
Half an hour later, the group was trekking back through Nozama Forest. The midmorning sun shone bright and hot through the leaves of the majestic trees. Fortunately, Intinier had packed a fluorescent purple drink that was extremely refreshing.
Sorry, completely neglecting this.
Sweat trickling down her forhead, Elanor watched her surroundings. Maybe it was paranoia, but she felt uneasy. When the group sat down to rest, drinking the strange, almost oily, liquid; Elanor took the codex out of her rucksack, her schoolbooks long forgotten. Hugging it to her chest, she gathered her strength to ask about the coming challenge. The others had been so secretive, and she knew so little about Etheterre.
Suddenly, there was a noise best described as zlit! A net of woven fibers dropped over the entire group. It must have been enchanted, because when Emburr tried to cast a spell, all that happened was faint purple sparks drifting from his paws. Several heavily armed Xixins dropped from the trees.
“Don’t worry,” Intinier whispered. “I recognize that armor- these are part of the Resistance. Let me talk to them. Alla’ fi!”
“Alla’ fi,” one of them said brusquely, then launched into a long, complex dialogue.
Elanor couldn’t understand a word, and the tone could mean anything. Intinier seemed to be explaining something, or trying to reason with the Xixins. One of them pointed it’s tail at Elanor; or possibly The Codex. The rest went silent.
POST HERE PLEASE, PEOPLE, I BEG OF YOU! RRR, V.2006.6! COME!
The tension in the air was palpable. Then the lead Xixin snapped out three syllables, and Intinier visibly relaxed. “They’ll go with us,” she said.
The Xixin whistled sharply, and countless more seemed to materialize from the jungle canopy. They were in all colors of the rainbow, with mismatched equipment that was nonetheless in good condition. Another whistle, and they had formed into ranks, one platoon hovering above another, to create a huge cube of flesh and steel.
“One thousand,” Intinier said. “They’ve been recruiting. With the few thousand of Kaabne’s army that were still secretly loyal to the Wings, we’ll have a formidable force.”
I have designed a general language that could be Lillix. “Alla’ fi” is “We are here” or “I am here,” both of which are friendly and only for the Resistance, and “Walla’ fi?” is “Who is here?”
Fi, obviously, is here. Lillix is a simple language, but it is still complex in that it has almost all of the words in English + more. We don’t have to use the Lillix I have created, (I’ll give you about 1/4 of the dictionary at some point) but if you like what I show you, it’d be great if we could.
Unfortunately, I have no idea what to write after what PraCan has written, so I’ll send this post as it is.
Please, please,
prettyrather stunning and ravishingly beautiful please, can I join? I am reading the whole story right now, and this isn’t a whim at all. I promise you, I am very dedicated to these. So please?I find it a most wonderful, wonderful story.
131- THANK GOD. Somebody’s here. Please, please, I implore you, JOIN!
Yay! Thank you! I would have asked earlier, but I didn’t like to intrude and I didn’t want to bother reading the whole thing . . . which is an idiotic way of looking at it, since it’s the best RRR I’ve ever read. (No offense towards FoS and Terraformed, naturally. Or Terenika.)
It’s really long, too. I’m still not at the end of the first thread, and I’ve been reading for ages.
And again, thank you!
*yawn* *rubs eyes* I’ll read the rest of this tomorrow . . . or maybe after I get ready for bed.
Ah, well. I have been on other threads from the beginning.
I wish I’d been here from the beginning. I feel like such a newbie.
And pretty soon PC will have someone to help him bug everyone else about posting! At least, if he’s still doing that . . .
97- (I’m not sure if you care any more, but I want to say anyways. :P)
Etha-TEER (with a very slightly rolled r)
FENG-kin
AY-ther-ic-a (with the “th” as in “the”. That is, hard th.)
In-TIN-yeer
EM-ber
KAB-na
Twiggnth
Isn’t it odd that this RRR has the fewest misunderstandings and confusion, and yet it is the RRR that had the least planning beforehand?
Drat! I’ll try to write something now. I want there to be a sequel, because I missed lots of this one.
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
I have writer’s block. I’ll be back later. In the meantime, someone write something!
Intinier spoke a few words, and the massed Xixins chattered their teeth.
“Are they going to eat us?” Elanor whispered nervously. “They don’t look very friendly…”
“No,” Emburr laughed. “That’s Xixin applause. They have to use their teeth. They don’t have hands.”
“I kinda noticed that.”
Wow, I haven’t been here for ages. I’ll try to continue the story (I am so procrastinating right now, but whatever)
(Continued from 129)
Elanor was visibly dazed by the sudden appearence of the hundreds if not thousands of Xixins in front of her, but inside she relaxed considerably. Her whole journey had been surreal, and finding herself thrust into an epic battle between good and evil had been overwhelming, to say the least. Knowing she had an army behind her, albeit a small one composed of less than intimidating balls of fur, was extremely reassuring. Coming out of her reverie with a new sense of confidence, Elanor got down to business.
“Intinier?” Elanor asked while turning her gaze to her comrade, “What now? I mean, we can’t just storm the place, can we?”
Uh-oh. The thread is brought back to life, but there are conflicting posts. Whose are we going to use?
Maybe we can use Julieb’s first, and then PC’s. What do you think, guys?
I’ll write later, I promise. I have to think about it.
Elanor repeated the question.
“Well,” Intinier said, “Emburr has the most military experience. He’ll probably command our attack.”
Several Xixins slashed through the net with their tail-knives, and the Fenkin sat up. “I suppose. Kaabne had a massive store of armored battle acrotrains back at Xorotlaltec Citadel. We have about five thousand, counting those who defected from Kaabne’s army, and twenty can man an acrotrain. So we’ll have an attacking force of-”
“250 acrotrains,” put in Lance.
“How did you figure that out so fast?”
“I’ve always been good at math.”
“Anyway, the assault planned by Dinkikiniscius and Gaelor takes place in about a week, which will probably be enough time for Intinier to discribe ((not misspelled- ask THF what it means)) the ancient language of Etheterre to Elanor. I warn you, though,” Emburr said seriously, turning to the young girl, “once you have conscious control of the Codex, its automatic protection will lessen a little. So it’s a choice between safety and taking part in the action.” He grinned. “I’d always choose the latter.”
“That’s because you’re stupid,” Intinier said dryly.
Ignoring the indignant, gasping Fenkin, Elanor turned to the phagomage. “My dad died trying to protect Etheterre. The least I can do is finish what he started.”
She took a deep breath. “Teach me how to control the Codex.”
140- I know it’s not misspelled. I know what it means, too. I was just going to read the story that THF posted, but I thought I should know the details that you wrote in your posts, so I read the whole thing. And hard work it was, too. I was fairly sure my eyes would never be the same again.
Drat drat drat! I can’t think of a good reply to that. I will write sometime, I promise. I really want to . . .
“Alright,” replied Intinier, but she looked slightly disapproving.
~~~~
I’ll post more when I feel less over my head. And less like a newbie.
AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Don’t abandon this! Someone come and write!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh woe is me! I am alone on a RRR that I hardly know anything about! Come back!
“I can’t teach you much.” Intinier warned. “Most of the secrets to controlling the Codex are kept withing the Wing family. I’m afraid that I won’t be the best person to teach you this”
Elanor nodded. “I know.” she said. “Just do your best and I’ll hope the rest comes naturally.” Elanor set the heavy book down, and Intinier opened the cover.
I’m not yet qualified to do something like that. Also, if I try, I’ll probably end up with a description remarkably like that in The Dark is Rising, so I’d better not.
145- I read The Dark is Rising, and I can see how this is similar.
The phagomage bit her lip, thinking, then muttered a few words. An orb of golden light rose out of the pages. The Xixins subsided into a reverent hush.
“Put out your hand,” Intinier whispered. Elanor obeyed, and Intinier did the same, so that their fingertips were almost touching the golden light.
The orb flattened out into a disc, then began to spin. Trails of glowing white symbols appeared where Intinier’s fingers touched it, and vanished into Elanor’s. A soft, deep hum shook the girl’s bones. The disc glowed brighter and brighter until its light blotted out everything else.
Then the real magic began.
Soft, echoing whispers sang through her mind, and words appeared in her memory. Words of command, of protection, of healing, of revelation. The faces of a thousand kings and queens spun gently past before melting into the swirling gold and white.
It might have taken a million years, or only a second. Time was irrelevant. But it, like all things, did end.
Elanor stared at her surroundings. She was in a sparely furnished room with walls and floor of pale stone. There was no ceiling, and the weird birdsong of an Etheterran morning filtered in through the translucent cap of a bending, treelike parasol mushroom growing just outside the wall.
“The Xixin Resistance brought us back to Xorotlaltec Citadel,” Intinier explained from her seat across the room. “I came out of the trance about a day ago, but the Codex took over from there. You woke up just as we were really getting worried.”
“What? How long has it been?”
“Six days.”
Elanor leaped out of her chair, crying “Maravne!” Then she stopped, surprised at the word that had come unbidden out of her mouth. “What just happened?”
“I think you called to the Codex,” Intinier said.
Sure enough, like a bird with papery wings, the Codex Aetherica flapped in through the doorway and landed in Elanor’s outstretched hand. She welcomed the sight like that of an old friend.
“Hello,” she said to it, smiling. Then she turned to Intinier. “When is breakfast?”
“Right now.”
Meh. More than that is going to be hard. *skips off to Terenika*
Gah. I’m sorry about this, guys. Every time, I say that, I know, but I just keep forgetting and doing other things on which I should be procrastinating. Oh well. Anyway, I am very glad that Alice has come to join us on this dying thread. (I know that that’s my fault, but it’s still true)
Oh yeah, and I really like to bridge posts, so I’ll do that for posts 136 and 137:
Intinier began to speak in Lillix, but Elanor didn’t hear her. She was dazed by the sudden appearance of the hundreds if not thousands of Xixins in front of her, but inside she relaxed considerably. Her whole journey had been surreal, and finding herself thrust into an epic battle between good and evil had been overwhelming, to say the least. Knowing she had an army behind her, albeit a small one composed of less than intimidating balls of fur, was extremely reassuring.
The chattering teeth of massed Xixins put her out of her reverie.
“Are they going to eat us?” Elanor whispered nervously. “They don’t look very friendly…”
“No,” Emburr laughed. “That’s Xixin applause. They have to use their teeth. They don’t have hands.”
“I kinda noticed that.”
“Intinier?” Elanor asked while turning her gaze to her comrade, “What now? I mean, we can’t just storm the place, can we?”
Like I said, if you don’t like that bridge, that’s fine. I can change it or you can, or whatever works, I guess.
That looks good. It helps.
Did you like my “discription” of the discription process?
151- Quite.
I put this on Don’t Forget These Threads. Maybe Julieb and Kiara will come back.
Good because I have wb as usual.
I’m here! I just have writers block.
(continued from 148)
Intinier handed Elanor a flask. Elanor took a swig, and found it to be a slightly sweet viscous liquid. She was handed a torn piece of something that vaguely resembled bread, and trusting Intinier completely, she devoured it with unnecessary voracity. During her short breakfast, the codex sat in her lap while Intinier briefed her on the events of the last few days.
“The resistance has a plan.” Intinier informed Elanor, displaying some slight hesitation.
Sometimes I think that when a plan is mentioned, I go deeper into block. Weird. My attempts to follow something like that up come to a bad end.
“What is it?” asked Elanor. Intinier looked awkward.
~~~~~~~
What a long story!
[/sarcasm]
Argh! WHERE IS EVERYONE? I know that it is the wee hours of the night (okay, midnight blog time) and no one will see this post from the sidebar, but please! I implore you to come back!
Emburr suddenly burst into the room. “We’ve got it. The plan will work.” He waved a hand, and a translucent blue board appeared in midair. A small cluster of green dots in the center was marked Tirica. A large blue delta shape at the top left was marked Dinkikkinisius, and another delta at the top right, in silver, was labeled Gaelor.
“You misspelled Dinkikiniscius,” Intinier interjected, but it did nothing to curb the Fenkin’s exuberance.
A red delta shape suddenly began moving up from the bottom. “This is us,” Emburr explained. “We’ll all be concealed in acrotrains flying the flag of Kaabne. Gaelor and Dinkikiniscius will think that we’re on their side, so they’ll hang back. We’ll swoop in as though to attack Tirica, then at the last second, pull up and split.” The delta split into two, one marked I-E, the other E-L. “Intinier and I will be attacking Dinkikiniscius’s forces. Elanor and Lance will be in the group going after Gaelor. With this sort of surprise on our side, the Usurpers won’t have time to react, and our forces are evenly matched. I predict that we can get a fairly easy victory.”
Yesh, GAPAs, I did switch email addresses. This is a new one, and much cooler, if you ask me. I wanted Robert to see because I’m pretty sure his Birthday spark for me inspired it.
This thing looks awesome, and I know I’ve done this far to often to get any forgiveness, but I’m really sorry I haven’t been on in a while.
Okay. Time for some, er, being unable to continue anything and being extremely impressed with PraCan’s skill in writing.
161- I’ve been talented all my *is pied by shameless braggart police* Just kidding.
Thanks for the compliment.
“So when does this plan take place?” Intinier asked.
Emburr pulled a sphere of glowing golden wood out of his boot and tapped it. Six hollow knocks came from inside it.
“Oh, Imaganruis! We have to get going!” He looked frantically around. “I need a omnilinguic.”
Intinier pressed a stone in the wall and whispered a few words into it. In seconds, a Xixin appeared at the door with a headset, presumably the omnilinguic, that had wire loops where the microphone and earpiece would normally be. Emburr put it on and shoved the end of a wire attached to it into the wooden ball.
“ATTENTION,” he said, and orange flames flickered around the wire loops. “ALL REGULARS AND RESISTANCE TO REPORT TO THE ACROTRAIN TERMINALS IN MARCHING ORDER AS DISCUSSED DURING THE CONFERENCE SESSION OF THE SIXTEENTH INSTANT.”
From what Elanor remembered from reading the Codex, an omnilinguic was a pre-prepared spell that allowed the speaker to be understood by speakers of any language. That, she reasoned, would be useful when commanding an army that only spoke Lillix. But she had no further time to reflect, as Lance rushed into the room, carrying a tangle of sparkling silver wire. He handed one end to Elanor. “Grip that in your left hand,” he instructed. Emburr and Intinier also took ends of the wire. Lance muttered a small incantation, and a tingling sensation started at the back of Elanor’s neck.
Suddenly, bolts of silver light shot out from the base of her skull, whipping around into a helix that rotated around her entire body. Her flesh and bone dissolved into a cluster of white sparks, which blasted up into the end of the wire that she had been holding. The wire itself spun around like a striking snake, stabbing into a crack in the stones.
Elanor was conscious, somehow, of the fact that she had been transformed into some equivalent of electricity and was being transported along hidden wires in the walls. However, before she could figure out exactly how she knew this, the transit was over, and she had rematerialized on a burnished brass plate in the corner of a cavernous room.
The Codex appeared in her hand with a sizzle and a smell of ozone. Some of the pages looked slightly charred, but they became smooth and white as she watched. While waiting for her companions to reappear, Elanor looked around the room.
A huge steel tower jutted up from its center, and hundreds of acrotrains were parked on various racks that covered the structure. These particular vehicles were very different than the civilian acrotrain that Elanor had ridden over in. Each one was covered in black armor plating, and something like a glowing, humming swivel catapult was perched on every locomotive. Obviously, these acrotrains were outfitted for war.
A few seconds later, Lance appeared, followed by Intinier and Emburr almost simultaneously.
~~~~~~~~~~~
And I ran out of inspiration after one sentence. What is it with this RRR?
Anyway, you are talented, PC. And Taiwan Hippo Fan, are you back for long? Because this RRR needs you. Badly.
I’ve made like six story posts on this thread, all of them with no more than three short sentences.
“Where are we?” Elanor asked, with a note of awe in her voice.
Emburr answered. “An old acrotrain storage facility. The Xixins have been working for years to refurbish old acrotrains and prepare them for battle.” As soon as the group stepped off the dais, several Xixins appeared on it. The one Elanor took to be their leader chirped an order. The others zoomed up to the nearest acrotrain and pulled open the door with their tails. After fiddling with something inside the train, they dropped down a rope ladder.
Elanor glanced at her comrades, but they said nothing, so she began to ascend the ladder. When she had reached the top, she watched Intinier, Emburr, and Lance climb up, and realized that she could have flown. She hadn’t tried flying since learning how to use the Codex, and it occurred to her that it might be easier now. On a whim, she gripped the book a little tighter, and stepped off the platform.
~~~~~~
Sorry if that’s totally random, but I felt like I could write, so it seemed fairly essential that I did.
She dropped like a stone for a few seconds, then stopped six feet above the ground as though she had struck an invisible wall. The impact, though it didn’t hurt, knocked the breath out of her. For a moment, she was dazed. Feeling odd and dreamy, she pinwheeled in the air for a few moments, then rocketed up to the platform. When she landed, reality- or at least the sort of reality that existed in Etheterre- came back with a jolt.
Intinier and Emburr walked out the other door of the acrotrain and onto a narrow, spiraling walkway. They clambered into another train and vanished from sight. There were two Xixins in the cockpit and eighteen others, armed to the teeth, hovering in the single carriage.
Moments later, a voice- Emburr’s- crackled through the train. “Takeoff now. Enter formation when clear.”
A shuddering jolt ran through the acrotrain, and it lifted off. A queasy feeling rose in Elanor’s stomach, partly from nerves, partly from acceleration.
The entire ceiling of the warehouse split open and folded up, acrotrains shooting out of it like armored bees.
Elanor gasped in awe and clutched the Codex Aetherica closer to her. It was a formidable army.
Prarilius Canix, we need you to come back. This RRR is seriously dying. Taiwan Hippo Fan, please come back! Sobriquet, where are you? Kiara? Help, people!
Prarilus Canix has not been very active on MuseBlog lately.
(170, 171) And most of the others are away right now.
I’ve been gone most of the past week.
~~~
Lance stood up, opened a hatch in the ceiling, and pulled down a short, iron ladder. “I’ll man the magipult,” he said, then climbed up the ladder, leaving Elanor to flip through the Codex and try to find out what a magipult was.
I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you guys – I spent the past two weeks in Mexico, but I’m back now, and I even have a continuation!
It turned out that a magipult was a short but large tube that
mom’s killing me to set the table, you don’t have to extend that if you come before I do.
Okay, wunderbar, no one has posted anything else. Oh, and also, I hope you don’t mind if I use the Greek base for the ending pult, even though Etheterre shouldn’t have any Greek bases of any sort. If you do, ignore this continuation.
Here’s the rest of the continuation:
It turned out that a magipult was a weapon invented by the Xixin Resistance for their acrotrains. It was a simple tube that could be angled in any direction. It also had a spell on it that enabled it to quickly shoot anything inserted into it (which was always a microscopic stone marble) forward. (((I’m not the greatest at avoiding run-on sentences, sorry)))
Apparently it was incredibly difficult to use a magipult, which made Elanor all the more impressed with Lance’s array of skills.
I’ll let someone else continue from there. I hate making too many decisions for the story in one post.
Full of curiosity ((too cheesy? If so, sorry)), Elanor climbed up the ladder after Lance, in the hopes that she would get to see him work the magipult, and also because the Codex had neglected to show a picture.
Lance stood on the top of the acrotrain, ((unless, of course, he can’t possibly, but I am ignorant, so bear with me)) sorting through a jar of assorted small pebbles in a variety of colors. These Elanor took to be the ammunition for the magipult. It appeared that Lance wanted only one color, because when he had a fistful of turquoise pebbles, he screwed the lid of the jar on tightly, and turned to the weapon itself.
~~~~~~~~~~
My longest post on this RRR so far! Yay!
176- Since it’s going so fast, he’d be blown off by the wind. Minor correction:
“Lance stood on top of the acrotrain, sheltered from the driving wind by a barely visible, shimmering field, sorting through…”
Don’t worry: you’ll get the hang of this. I did, and I was a lot more n00bish than you were when you first came here.
177- But you started this RRR. I’m not new to RRRs, just to coming into RRRs in the middle of them.
But yes, I have seen some of your newbie RRR posts. It was strange.
This is incredible. Three posts after mine over night! (for me) It’s so nice to have people in different time zones, so that everyone will probably have something new to continue.
Oh and I’m really sorry, but I don’t have most of this thread Kept, because I’m using a different computer now than the one that had the entire document. But never fear, I am about to email it to myself and put it onto this computer!
Nice continuation, Alice. PraCan’s correction makes more sense, but everything else seems fine.
A meal always seems to get in the way of my continuations – breakfast this time. I’ll be back to continue afterwards.
As the Nozama Forest sped by below them, the acrotrains only gained speed. “Are these things supposed to be going this fast?” Elanor yelled.
“I think military acrotrains are built to go faster than civilian ones, and the Resistance have been souping these up,” Lance shouted back. “But I’m surprised too. Still, it’ll be about an hour before we get to the battlefield, so you’d better go back down.”
“How will I know when the battle starts?”
Lance’s eyes were deadly serious. “Trust me. You’ll know.”
Lance and Elanor continued to run from the acrotrains.
181- How could they be running from the acrotrains if they’re in an acrotrain, and the other acrotrains bear their allies?
181- If you’re going to join, read the story, please.
180-
Elanor obeyed, suddenly frightened. At the foot of the ladder she hesitated. She had meant to try to find Intinier or Emburr, but the acrotrain was unexpectedly full of Xixins. Elanor was at a loss as to what they were doing, but it looked important, so she stepped off the last rung and sat cross-legged below the opening in the ceiling to watch the Xixins.
~~~~~~
Okay, okay, it wasn’t very good. But I felt like I ought to write something.
184 – It was fine, what do you mean?
Several determined-looking green ((is that possible?)) xixins rushed toward her face, and she just managed to back away before they sped out of the passage. “Sorry, princess,” said the first xixin in passing, and those following him muttered quick apologies as well. Elanor could only smile in response before they flew past her towards a collection of midnight blue-robed xixins.
It wasn’t for about fifteen minutes of trying to understand what they were doing that Elanor realized that the polite green xixin had spoken to her in what seemed to be her own language.
I’m sorry if that is totally messed up, fix it or tell me what’s wrong with it so that I can – I have the feeling that I misunderstood what someone wrote and continued incorrectly.
185 – Woodle was blue and Kaabne was red, so I think it’s safe to assume that green Xixins are also possible.
Just so you know, I’m still here, just lurking. I’ve had severe writers block for most of the summer.
185- She’s a princess? Did I miss something, or has she always been a princess? I thought she was just bearer or the Codex, or something…
188- The ruler of Etheterre is the bearer of the Codex. Technically, she’s a queen, her predecessor being dead.
189- Oh, I see. She’s kinda young to be a Queen, though, so we can call her a Princess . . . Unless it would be better to call her a Queen, in which case it can be fixed in the edit. I think Taiwan Hippo Fan is editing as she goes, am I right?
You know, Canix, I really liked your complicated idea earlier about Lance being Elanor’s brother. I know it’s very complicated, but it was cool nonetheless.
All in all I’m a bit confused. Which of the following is true?
A-1. Elanor was born in Reality.
A-2. Elanor was born in Etheterre and came to Reality at a young age.
B-1. Atherton died before Elanor was born.
B-2. Atherton received word from Lance that Elanor was born, then went back to Etheterre, where he was killed.
B-3. Atherton died after Elanor was born in Etheterre.
B-4. Atherton never came to Reality.
B-5. Atherton died in Reality.
C-1. Lance is Roglea’s son.
C-2. Lance is not Roglea’s son.
D-1. Elanor has an adopted brother.
D-2. The person who says “Sure” is her uncle.
D-3. The person who says “Sure” is her cousin.
And while I’m at it, where was Lance born?
A-2. I know there are conflicting accounts, but we hope to fix that in the edit.
B-3. The Codex manifested by Elanor when Atherton died, so she must have been only a few days old. Then her mother fled with her to Reality. Roglea was the one who got the news from Lance. Again, conflicting accounts we will fix in the edit.
C-2. I suggested that plot twist but was overruled.
D-3. I wish THF hadn’t done this in the riddle, because it caused so much confusion, but the cousin makes more sense.
Sorry, but any RRR of this length has certain inconsistencies.
190- Princess is fine. Don’t worry. She should be the queen, but she isn’t due to the Usurpers.
And thanks for supporting my idea. It would be a good way to explain Roglea becoming a traitor. Maybe we’ll use it.
She had no time to reflect on this, however, because Emburr’s voice resounded through the carriage. “APPROACHING SNIALP TAERG SAVANNAS. TIRICA’S ARMY APPROXIMATELY 5O ETHERICS AWAY. MOVE INTO FORMATION ONE.”
Elanor clutched the Codex to her chest, running through the words of command. “Imblas- shield root,” she muttered. “Imblas verdek- protection from magic. Imblas turi- protection from impact. Imblas threkar- protection from pervasive harm. Imblas rieklen- transparent. Imblas krieklen- opaque. Reniusa- healing root. Reniusa barc- heal self. Reniusa strekkner- heal other…”
“40 ETHERICS.”
The entire carriage fell deathly silent. Elanor kept running through the words in her mind.
“30 ETHERICS.”
Lance loaded the magipult and aimed at a point just behind the army they were approaching. It was pitifully small compared to the two great forces- Gaelor and Din-whatshisface, he guessed- approaching from northeast and northwest. At the head of the Gaelor army was a huge, adult pink slime beast from the forests of Zundor. An elaborate, magically shielded howdah sat on its back, with enormous, enhanced magipults surrounding it. At the head of the other army was an enchanted, hovering carpet, glittering with red and purple light. A Fenkin stood on it, directing the troops below with a chlorospike staff. Lance knew that that rod could deliver a devastating bolt of green electricity that utterly destroyed everything it touched.
“20 ETHERICS.”
Intinier reached into the back of her mind. She disliked doing harm, like all phagomages, but she had to now. And so she began preparing herself for the most deadly food-related spells ever discovered- how to invert a digestive system, how to conjure sentient verdure-pasta from midair and strangle enemies with it, how to create illusions of enticing dishes that exploded into flame as they were touched.
“10 ETHERICS.”
Emburr sucked in his breath. He could make out individual figures in the army below. Everyone was counting on him, and he would not repeat what had happened in the Xemoci War.
Five etherics away, within magipult range.
“I must not fail,” he said to himself, then spoke aloud. “Decoy movement.”
Multicolored pebbles flew, faster than the speed of sound, down to the rear ranks of Regent Tirica’s army. They were panicking. Like great beasts sensing an easy kill, the other Usurpers’ armies were moving in.
Sweat beaded on Emburr’s brow, trickling through his fur. “Wait for it…”
“Now,” he said to the entire fleet of acrotrains.
The flags of Kaabne dropped off the locomotives, to be replaced by the book-and-scepter emblem of Etheterre. Tirica’s army erupted into wild cheering. And Emburr yelled, “ATTACK!”
Alice, Kiara and T. Hippo F!
(Julieb also) please listen to this!
My pleas for posts fall on ears medically deaf!
The end of this story is too good to miss!
Please, please, PLEASE come back and help me conclude!
For heaven’s sake, NOW! This thread’s dying fast!
(Please pardon me if the foregoing seems rude)
But working alone, it’s sure I won’t last!
195- You have nothing better to do than sit here and compose poems. I would pity you, except that’s exactly my situation.
I’m not very good at climaxes. You have no idea how much time during the conclusion of Terraformed I sat there gaping at the screen and wondering if I could ever produce a climax half as good as yours. Honest.
Right. Here goes, wish me luck, bon voyage, etc.
~~~~~~~~
But first I really need to figure out who Gaelor is. Be right back.
196-Actually, I have lots of things better to do. Just none that I want to.
Wow. Thank you for the compliment.
And Gaelor is the Usurper of Kolombent, who took over after the Regency lost it and Labarynth City was destroyed. He’s also Nikolas Roglea, the mage who trained Lance and brought Elanor to Etheterre, but was secretly on Zefethelyan’s side.
Got it. Gaelor is the ruler of Kolombent. And some sort of reincarnation of Roglea? Roglea’s evil twin? ???
You see why I didn’t write?
Oh, whatever. I’ll write, and if I’m wrong you can correct me.
~~~~~~~
They attacked, but so did the Gaelor and Dinkikiniscius (did I spell that right?). Colored pebbles whizzed through the air, along with larger, more dangerous-looking, weapons. Elanor poked her head out the top of the train and ducked back in only just in time to avoid getting her eye poked out by something that looked like an arrow, only four or five times the usual size and painted emerald green and scarlet.
She screamed, “Imblas turi!” several times before realizing that she was no longer in danger. ((Or wait- Is that the right one? If not, replace it.))
Scratch the first “the” in the story part of my post.
~~~~~~
She crouched at the foot of the ladder, trembling from her encounter and clutching the Codex to her chest. She really didn’t want to go back out there and was almost on the verge of hiding until the battle was over, when she glanced up and saw Lance doggedly firing the magipult, again and again and again.
She looked around and saw that the hall was empty. Everyone was elsewhere doing something, and it was unlikely that anyone was hiding in a linen closet – although it was possible that they didn’t even have linen closets in Etheterre.
But she wasn’t about to go and be cowardly when everyone else was being brave, so she climbed the ladder again and this time didn’t wait to see if anything was going to hit her when she emerged.
Nothing did, and Elanor felt marginally better as she stood beside Lance on the top of the train, despite that the only thing protecting them from several horrible fates was a thin magical shield that didn’t even stop arrows/spears.
Although as soon as she thought this, she no longer felt even remotely secure, and in a desperate attempt to help both herself and the cause, she screwed her eyes tight shut and muttered tow words. When she opened them, th shield was visibly thicker, and she felt safe enough to pull on Lance’s sleeve and ask what she could do to help.
~~~~~~~
Ergh. That was not flowing particularly well. But I suppose it’s alright.
198- He IS Roglea. Roglea survived the attack because he was working for the Usurper, who spared him.
Imblas turi is indeed the shield from impact.
~
The shield rose around her, a sphere of crimson light, and she sighed with relief.
It was fortunate, however, that she’d set up the shield, because just then a copper cannonball, ringed with spiraling blue lightning, smashed through the train like a juggernaut. Lance was up near the front, so he was spared, and the locomotive pulled its wrecked cars back behind the front line to be repaired. The other half of the train fell to earth, wailing Xixins hurtling out of its portholes before it struck with a bone-shattering smash.
Elanor, in the middle, was borne aloft by the cannonball. Greedy bolts of electricity speared through the shield, and Elanor hastily gabbled out “Imblas verdek!” A silver sphere sprung out to reinforce the red, and she soared another two hundred feet before crashing to the ground, right in the middle of the Usurpers’ armies.
Elanor stood there, shocked, as enemy warriors attacked her bubble. The majority of Gaelor’s army were homunculi, those mechanical monstrosities of silver and clay, one of which had impersonated her substitute teacher. They carried more modern-looking weapons than the others, but all with a touch of magic: grenades that exploded in purple flame, Gatling guns that sprayed live sky-piranhas. Dinkikiniscius’s army looked less intimidating, mostly the same octopus-like species as the tentacled mage in the Lilete Pelisarn, whom she now recognized as Palpos. They were lightly armed with short scimitars and looked less than enthusiastic about the battle. However, Elanor caught sight of a Fenkin in blue armor, lashing out with an acid-spraying mace, and knew that the usurper of Woalt had brought his elite guards.
Elanor suddenly realized that she was shaking, partly from fear, partly from exhaustion. Control of the Codex had come with a price: its ability was still nearly infinite, but the force behind it was limited, and it had to draw on hers.
With every impact on the shield, she grew more tired. The crimson-and-silver bubble began to flicker. For the first time, she knew deep, cold fear.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, waiting for the end. Colored dots danced against the blackness, forming different patterns- a Midepil, her locket, a three-winged bird-
The Triwing.
She drew resolve from somewhere deep inside herself and opened her eyes. I will not die like my father did, she swore. I will avenge him.
She dropped the shields and rocketed into the air.
200- I saw that afterwards, but when I wrote I hadn’t refreshed the page and didn’t know that.
I really don’t know what to say that I haven’t said at some point already. I guess I’ll try to write some more, something long this time…
~~~~~~
For a moment she let herself absorb as much of the Codex as possible, its knowledge, its magic, and then, sparing only a second or two to tie the Codex around her waist with a strand of some unearthly purple substance that the book itself seemed to spin as though it were a spider, she cast out spells she had never known she had before.
A shimmering green thing like a rocket exploded from her hand and dissolved into tiny particles smaller than grains of sand, that rained down on the armies below with no immediate effect. She hovered there in the air for a moment and the fear came rushing back, until suddenly ten soldiers collapsed to the ground. The sandlike grains had done their work, whatever their work was. She breathed a sigh of relief.
And then she gave herself over almost completely to the Codex, and let it do as it willed with her.
~~~~~~~
So-so. I could write worse.
Oops. Mine or yours?
202- I imagine that’s referring to 199 and 200. Yours.
201- I’d delete that last sentence, because it no longer is automatic. That’s the price she paid for being able to control it.
But it’s your post. What do you think?
204- Fine by me. I wasn’t sure anyhow.
Alice, would you do me the kindness of responding? Sorry to be impatient, but I can’t continue until you do.
206- I responded, but there wasn’t any moderation. Sorry.
I didn’t see 205 until I posted 206. My mistake. Thanks.
Wow. That’s really great, guys. I feel horrible, but I really can’t think of anything to contribute. Keep going, I promise I’ll help sometime!
Don’t forget about the locket!
Wait – has the locket already been used? With the message and everything? Or would the locket be able to help her somehow in the end? I have a really good idea, but I don’t know if it would work. I’ll just continue, and when someone else responds, great.
Colors whizzed past her face, and Elanor was reciting incantations faster than she had known her mouth could move. The many languages simply slipped off her tongue, and she pushed her power and that of the Codex into the highest mode.
She felt the cool locket on her skin, and remembered again the power her father had left her. Her memories were strong, and the Codex would help her.
So cheesy, guys, I’m so sorry, scratch that, it was just to put some ideas out there.
It’s fine.
~
She had to destroy an Usurper.
Twisting in midair, she hurtled upward in a dazzling spray of golden light, flying straight towards the howdah on the back of the six-legged, pink, tapir-like monstrosity at the head of the army.
Magipult pebbles shot toward her, but she yelled “Imblas turi!” and they ricocheted off. One of them sliced through the six-foot-wide blue leather strap holding the howdah in place, and the elaborate construction slowly slid to the side. Just as it toppled off, a figure leaped out of it and stood, balanced perfectly, hands spread wide and ready for battle.
The howdah hit the ground with a crash so loud that it temporarily halted the fighting, but Elanor’s attention was all on the man before her.
A silver mask, featureless, with slits for the mouth, nose and eyes, covered his face. He was wearing a hooded, purple robe with gold edging. The hood was down at the moment, and disheveled white hair spilled out of the back of his mask. He wore black leather gloves, around which a nimbus of unhealthy green light swirled and darted.
“Klari verdek!” Elanor said, and suddenly she could see a huge sphere of interwoven spells surrounding him, impenetrable and adamant. It might have been a trick of the light, but she seemed to discern countless faces distorting, twisting, and screaming in pain on its shimmering surface, and knew for the first time the true cruelty of the Usurpers.
I can’t write right now, ’cause I have to move my computer. I have not abandoned you.
Honestly, though, I don’t really understand what just happened. Could someone please clarify?
Elanor flew up to the howdah, which was unfastened by a stray magipult pebble and slid off. However, Gaelor leaped out and is now confronting Elanor on the pink slime beast’s back.
214- I got that part, I’m just wondering what the screaming faces are about.
Oh well. I’ll just ignore them.
~~~~~
Elanor shook off the horrible image, forcing her eyes to see only Gaelor, and she concentrated on dispelling the shields, drawing power from her memories and knowledge from the book tied around her waist with a string stronger than steel.
Gaelor battled with her, struggling to keep his shields up against the power of a fiercely determined child. Though neither looked each other in the face, or lifted an arm, they were fighting harder than those on the battlefield below.
Elanor’s lip was bleeding from where she bit it in her concentration, and her head was spinning from the exertion. Gaelor was older and more used to battle than her. Even with the locket and the Codex to help her, how much longer could she keep it up?
~~~~~
If this post is just too awful, ignore it.
By the way, I’m going on the assumption that “klari verdek” means something along the lines of “see magic” (awful translation–sorry), and what Elanor just did was cast a spell that enabled her to see Gaelor’s shields.
215- Remember, they use the magic and life force of mages they’ve killed to create their impenetrable (almost) shield.
216- It’s good, and “klari verdek” does indeed mean what you think.
217- Oh yeah! So her dad is in Zefethelyan’s (sp?) shield . . . That makes for an interesting turn of events in a later book, does it not?
218- Actually, since he was the king of Etheterre, his life force was added to the Codex. Which is, perhaps, fortunate, because the life force of a ruler of Etheterre would make the shield utterly impenetrable. However, if she dies, there is no heir apparent, and so the Codex would be unbound and the Usurpers would become invincible.
Emburr: No pressure, of course.
With one last effort of willpower, she yelled three words and collapsed. But the spell had done its work. The shield shattered, and Elanor saw, just for a moment, hundreds of golden apparitions streaming skyward, smiles on their faces. Then they were gone, and she staggered to her feet. Gaelor was lying on the back of the beast, pink slime making his robes soggy. Growing in confidence, she walked over to him.
A loud noise and a smell of ozone. She spun around, yelling “Imblas verdek!” but the shield was only half formed when a chlorospike blast hit her in the chest. Fortunately, the Codex had blocked most of it, but she slid back into the slime, fighting to stay conscious.
Dinkikiniscius descended from the hovering rug that levitated a few feet above the pink slime beast’s back. “Finish her off, Gaelor,” the Fenkin said.
The other Usurper got to his feet, but looked back uncertainly when he heard the drone of an acrotrain engine approaching.
The train bore down along the beast’s dorsal ridge, with Lance perched on top firing the magipult. Dinkikiniscius casually fired off a chlorospike blast. The locomotive disintegrated, and Lance leaped off, grabbing desperately at a dorsal spike with one hand and clutching the snapped-off magipult with the other.
“I’ll deal with her, you deal with him,” the Usurper of Woalt snapped, and raised his staff, already charging it for the next blow.
Lance, dazed from the impact, raised himself up on one elbow, supporting the magipult with his arm as Gaelor came toward him.
“Say hello to my little friend,” he gasped, and fired off the last pebble.
But he didn’t hit Gaelor. Instead, the pebble shot into the center of the chlorospike staff. It snapped the wood and delivered the weapon’s full destructive charge straight at Dinkikiniscius, blowing him twenty feet off the pink slime beast’s back. He and the staff hit the ground with the force of a small bomb.
Ulp.
I suppose I ought to write now.
If I can.
Uh…
So Dinkikiniscius is done for? Or not?
I suppose that’s up to me, isn’t it.
Or whoever else writes next.
Me.
Good luck, Alice!
I’ll need it.
~~~~~~~~~
Gaelor whirled at the sound, and in the brief instant when his back was turned, Lance had stood up and thrown the least effective, but the only, weapon he had left.
The magipult.
Perhaps it wasn’t the most prudent choice, but it was all that was left. There were no more pebbles, and neither Lance nor Elanor were in a state to cast a spell, not if they still wanted to get to comparative safety. As it was, it did the trick. It knocked Gaelor to the slimy surface on which they were standing, and before he could get up, Lance seized Elanor by the arm and pulled her, and himself, down the other side of the beast.
It was slippery and shaped like a slide, and had it not been for two things, Elanor would have enjoyed it. The first of these two things was that she had just had the wind knocked out of her and was still recovering. The second, and much more important, was that it was a very long drop to the ground. Had she had more breath and more time, she may have screamed.
But she had neither breath nor time, and before she could scream she was lying in a tangled mess of wood, fabric, and cushions. Mostly cushions.
“What did you just do?” she asked Lance, as she stared wide-eyed at the sky and tried to recover from the shock while still retaining some degree of dignity.
Lance smiled tiredly, but this was really no time to have a conversation. “The howdah,” he said. “It’s a very good thing that Gaelor likes lots of cushions.”
~~~~~~~
Sorry to be a little anticlimactic, I really couldn’t think of anything else.
Dinkikiniscius may still be alive. Remember, the chlorospike blast would have been deflected by his shield. It all depends on whether he set up a cushioning spell before hitting the ground.
If anybody is interested in googlewhacking, try “zefethelyan chlorospike.”
224- nothing happened.
In fact, chlorospike brings up no hits at all. Weird. Zefethelyan, on the other hand, brings up two hits, both for Etheterre. Unsurprisingly.
226- I wonder. Maybe it has to be mentioned a certain number of times to show up.
227- How many times have you googled Zefethelyan, exactly?
228- Never. I mean mentioned on the webpage- in this case, here.
229- Oh, I see.
Lance was about to continue speaking, but he was halted as Elanor vanished in a flare of coral light, her scream swallowed up by the explosion.
There was no way she could have reacted in time to deflect it with the Codex. Lance felt sick. He looked up.
Gaelor was descending from the back of the pink slime beast on Dinkikiniscius’s carpet, gloves still smoking from the destructive spell he had dealt.
The carpet touched down lightly, and Lance inhaled, trying to remember the words of a defensive spell.
But Gaelor didn’t attack at once. Instead, he reached behind his head and began unfastening his mask.
Lance gasped involuntarily. What horrible deformity would cause even an Usurper to hide his face?
But as the mask fell away, not even the most disfigured, revolting features could have shocked Lance as much as the face he saw.
((Master against apprentice. Flair for the dramatic, anyone?))
I’ll try, but I always manage to butcher these scenes.
~~~~~~~~
“M-Mr. Roglea? What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?” replied Gaelor/Roglea, dropping the mask onto the embroidered cushions.
“But–” Lance stammered.
~~~~~~~~
I’m not going to write anymore right now, but I will tomorrow if no one has posted.
Lance could no longer think of his mentor as Nikolas Roglea. He would always be Gaelor, the evil Usurper who cunningly hid himself under a shield of kindness. Mr. Roglea was his teacher, the man who showed him all the magic he knew. Wait a moment. Not all the magic he knew… Suddenly, a plan began to form inside his head. Gaelor began to speak, which gave Lance time to perfect it.
“Lance,” Gaelor began, in the sickeningly familiar voice of Nikolas Roglea. “Such a talented boy you are. Intelligent, powerful. If only I had known what a good boy you were, I would never have taken you up as apprentice. Unfortunately, once a mage recites the powerful incantation of apprenticeship, the bond between student and teacher cannot be broken until the mentor has taught all he intended.” He sighed. “I tried everything to break that enchantment. I was even the fool enough to ask my master for a reverse spell. There will never be a time where I don’t regret that…
Inside Lance, inside Lance, he thought desperately, concentrating all of his energy on pulling every scrap of magic he had into the little trick he had been able to perform since childhood. It would be difficult to bring such a powerful Usurper a different way.
But he had no need to, because the ability he was calling up had far more potential than he knew.
Gaelor looked up and took a breath, and when he did, he saw a new Lance. He seemed stronger, meaner. Maybe he had a bit of promise to help The Usurper after all. No, no, no, no! This was his Arkael enchantment, the one thing that had always puzzled him. Arkael mages were rare. Only one other had been recorded in history.
Darn, darn, darn darn darn darn.
Gaelor steeled himself. He would have to keep the boy off balance. Arkaels were masters of change- mental and physical. Even immutable laws of being could be altered by Arkael enchantment. Fortunately, Lance had never tapped into his powers more than a fraction.
He raised his hands, and Lance flinched. But the Usurper didn’t attack. He began to speak.
“Do you know why I joined Zefethelyan?” he said, smiling. “I suppose you’re wondering.”
Lance couldn’t have agreed more. Seeing his old mentor beneath Gaelor’s mask had caught him utterly off guard.
((OK, before I go any further: why did he join Zefethelyan? I had a suggestion on the last thread, but that was voted down.))
Arkael enchantment seems sort of random and out-of-the-blue. However, that’s easily fixed in the edit. We could just put a fleeting mention of Arkael mages near the beginning.
((I don’t want to continue unless somebody gives input on why Gaelor joined Zefethelyan.
We could use the plot twist that I suggested on the last thread, only take out the part about Lance being Elanor’s half-brother. Or we could keep that: Alice seemed to like it.
Tell you what. I’ll go with the plot twist, but leave Lance’s heredity open-ended, so that we can go the whole hog or leave it undetermined, whichever we decide.))
“Picture the scene. Itlianpokis, the capital of Etheterre. The year 1947 CB. Atherton Wing has just taken the throne. His father Twiggnth has abdicated to devote his final years to studying in Evencald. A man named Nikolas Roglea- husband, father, and aspiring mage- lives on a quiet back-street.
Unfortunately, he works for Atherton, on the Bureau of Investigation. A spate of deception and bribery has broken out in the government, and he’s determined to find out why. He finally gets a lead, and- despite anonymous threats- tries to follow it.”
Lance was mesmerized by the story. Normally, he would have snapped out of it and tried to get the upper hand, but there was a small part of him that still believed that the man who stood in front of him was his kind tutor Nikolas, not the Usurper Gaelor, who had just murdered the heir of Etheterre.
A tone of bitterness entered the older man’s voice. “When he reaches home after a long day of work- Well, he doesn’t even reach home. There is no home left to reach- just a tumbled pile of cinders. His wife and newborn son are gone. The very next day, he is discharged from his job- penniless and alone.”
Lance began to speak, but was interrupted by Gaelor. “And do you know who was responsible? Atherton. ATHERTON WING!! Blue and purple light danced over the Usurper’s hands like the Aurora Tsinglonkalis, and his face became grim.
“Listen, Nikolas,” Lance began desperately. “I know my history. Zefethelyan was a rising star in the Itlianpokic Guards back then. He was probably the one who recommended that you be fired, and also the one who killed your family. You can’t believe this.”
Lance’s power surged around the Usurper’s mind, willing him to accept the truth, and for a moment, Gaelor looked convinced. Then he broke the spell, panting as though exhausted. “I believed that at first,” he said. “But not after what happened next.”
((Note: CB means Codex Bound, the years after the Codex Aetherica was bound to the first king’s will.))
238 – You’re absolutely right, I wasn’t thinking. I really like the idea though, so if it’s okay I’ll be thinking of a way to add it in to other parts.
Meh. Bedtime.
I’m sorry I didn’t write earlier, and I’m sorry I’m not writing now, but I’ve been fishing for three days (fishing, not catching, for the most part), and right now I’m trying to catch up on all the other threads even though it’s eleven and therefore far too late. Question: does Lance know that he’s Gaelor’s son?
Okay, he doesn’t. The reference to “knowing his history” had me confused for a moment, before I realized what it actually meant.
Let me think…
Not sure what Canix meant by leaving Lance’s heredity open-ended, but I have an idea. If he could explain, I might be able to continue.
Actually, I sort of know what he meant, but I’m not sure how one goes about the whole I-am-your-father thing without really saying it right out. Scratch this if it doesn’t work.
Okay, I just reread the original plan. I see how it works now.
~~~~~~~
Lance desperately wanted to know what happened next, but at the same time he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the truth, or what Gaelor believed was the truth. With Nikolas Roglea revealed to be a traitor, everything Lance believed in was crumbling around him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He wasn’t sure of anything at the moment. So he said nothing at all, and Gaelor continued.
“A few years later, Atherton returned from a trip to Reality, and brought with him a wife. Not just any wife. She was my wife, whom I had believed to be dead. And she was married to Atherton Wing!”
Lance shook his head. “That doesn’t mean Atherton ordered you fired! He could have just met her in Reality and fallen in love with her!”
“Oh, I’m sure, very likely,” said Gaelor, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. “And what of my infant son? Where was he?”
Lance had no answer to that.
“That is why I joined Zefethelyan. You know the rest.”
~~~~~~~~
It’s not terrible, though it could be better.
243- That’s entirely how my plan went. Great job, Alice.
244- Thank you.
“Listen to me, Nikolas,” Lance said. “You can’t believe this.”
“DON’T TRY TO TRICK ME, BOY!” Gaelor bellowed, and struck him across the face. A flash of green light at the point of impact, and Lance reeled back, stumbling.
Streamers of coral flame sprouted from Gaelor’s body, wrapping around Lance and hurling him into the air. He came down on the wreckage of the howdah with a smash.
Through a haze of pain- he thought his ribs must be broken- Lance stared up at the crazed face of his mentor.
“Do you know why I took you on as an apprentice?” Gaelor hissed. “On the day you told me that Elanor had been born, I saw your potential. I gave you shelter and food.”
“That trip you went on,” Lance whispered. “Just after you took me in. It wasn’t business. You had gone with the other Usurpers to kill Atherton Wing.”
“Of course. And I thought you would be a good successor if I failed. Can you guess why?”
“Do… tell…” the young man gasped, every word an effort now.
“You’re an Arkael,” Gaelor smiled, and a thin blade slid out of his glove and into Lance’s heart.
~~~
Elanor stood in a storm of swirling paper. Nothing could be seen outside it. Nothing could be heard but thousands of whispering voices.
Then a golden light began to shine from one direction, making the paper go translucent. Ancient runes inscribed on them began to glow with an unearthly white light as they spun faster and faster, forming a tunnel.
Elanor drifted down the tunnel, not consciously moving, but coming closer and closer to what was at its end.
And she was there: a fantastic landscape of wild green hills and white marble towers, a flawless lavender sky shining above. She was surrounded by a crowd of figures in hooded golden robes. They might have been scary, but such a feeling of benediction emanated from them that Elanor wasn’t at all afraid.
One of them lifted his hood off, and Elanor recognized him at once, because his face was the same as the one in her locket.
“Dad!” she gasped, and embraced him.
Another man, like Atherton but much older, removed his hood as well. He spoke, and Elanor recognized him as Twiggnth. “Elanor. How goes it?”
“Great! I mean, you’re here… ”
Atherton smiled. “No. I mean back in Etheterre.”
“Well… I don’t remember much, past the part where I got killed…”
“Naturally,” Twiggnth said. “Your people need you. You should return.”
“But… ” Elanor couldn’t come up with an excuse, but she knew how she felt. She’d met her father for the first time, and now he was being taken away.
“Elanor,” Atherton said firmly, “you must not abandon your friends.”
Her friends. Intinier, solid, comforting, always with a kind word to say. Emburr, happy-go-lucky, cheerful, with that wicked grin he got before pulverizing someone unpleasant. And Lance, who had probably saved her life when Mr. Blithe was chasing her.
Of course, all of them had saved her life at one point or another. It was time for her to return the favor.
She grinned. “See you.”
Atherton smiled back. “Tell your mother I love her.”
And with that, Elanor dove back into the storm of paper.
~~~
Reality- figuratively speaking- came back in a rush. Elanor had once burned her hand on a hot stove. That was how she felt, except all over.
“Renusia barc,” she whispered, and the feeling vanished. She sat up and picked up the Codex, pulling herself out from under an ornate crossbeam.
Then she saw something that nearly made her heart stop again.
Gaelor stood above Lance’s prone form, raising his hands to deal a final blow.
Before Elanor could utter the first word of a command, green spaghetti appeared from midair and wrapped around Gaelor’s neck. Intinier was running across the battlefield, chartreuse light flickering in her hands, followed closely by Emburr.
The Usurper struggled, but without his magical shield, he didn’t stand a chance. Gaelor dropped to the ground, strangled by sentient verdure-pasta.
Then Intinier reached his side, and screamed.
“Nikolas! No!”
Emburr’s face turned grim. “Qaadrekth! The blinking traitorous Imaganruis-skrelching heap of qaadrekth!”
The phagomage was too distraught over what she had done to notice the Fenkin’s obscenities, while Elanor couldn’t understand them anyway. She dashed past the pair, heading for Lance.
It didn’t look good. His shirt was soaked in blood, and he wasn’t breathing. Elanor dropped to the ground and laid the Codex on his chest.
“Reniusa strekner,” she commanded, and the world faded. Lance’s memories flickered before her eyes like a slideshow. His face, twisted in pain, grew calm, and his wounds began to heal.
~~~
The world around them rushed back suddenly, and it looked very different. The remaining homunculi had been reduced to heaps of steaming metal, many of the Palpos, tentacled inhabitants of Woalt, were swearing allegiance to the Regency, and Dinkikiniscius, his whiskers smoldering, was being led off the battlefield in glowing, humming chains. The blood on Lance’s shirt had dried, but his chest beneath was whole, and though he was unconscious, he was breathing steadily.
Intinier and Emburr were looking at Elanor with concerned eyes. “You were sitting there for six hours,” Emburr said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Elanor said. “Let’s get out of this place.”
As a pair of helpful yellow Xixins put Lance on a hovering stretcher, Elanor plucked up the courage to ask Emburr something.
“What’s an Arkael?”
Emburr sucked in his breath. “Why do you want to know that?”
“Er… the Codex mentioned it when I was reading it.” She had a feeling she shouldn’t tell him that she’d plucked it from Lance’s memories.
“Arkael mages… there’s only been one proven to exist, but the old legends are full of them. They can change your mind… or they can change their shape. They can be any species, but they’re utterly evil. If I met one… I’d kill it on sight if I could.”
Elanor thought of Lance, of his last memory. Gaelor whispering “You’re an Arkael,” then unimaginable pain.
“What about the one who’s around today?”
“Well… ” Emburr snorted. “He sure lives up to his reputation, I’ll tell you that… ”
“Who is he?”
“Zefethelyan.”
Elanor looked away, the echo of Lance’s torment still spinning through her brain.
`~~~
“Pass the bleakfen!” Emburr muttered, his mouth full. Intinier did so, holding her nose so as not to inhale the fruit’s pungent odor.
Elanor, sitting at the head of the table in the banquet hall of Xorotlaltec Citadel, watched her friends stuff themselves. It was three days since the victory at Snialp Taerg. On the first day, Dinkikiniscius had been imprisoned and the capital of the Regency had been moved to Xorotlaltec. Labarynth City was too badly damaged to serve as the center of government now. New Regents had been nominated, Intinier and Emburr among them. The next day, Elanor’s mother had been contacted via the Lillix/ South American Gateway. She was too relieved that Elanor was safe to be angry, and promised she would come back to Etheterre soon. Today, the entire Xixin Resistance, Tirica’s army, and other Regency supporters had gathered for an enormous celebratory feast.
Intinier, Emburr and Lance were in the places of honor just below Elanor. Beyond them was a long line of Xixins and humans, stretching down to the foot of the forty-foot table, where Tirica sat.
Regent Tirica was a plump, motherly woman, whose features suggested an indulgent grandmother, but Elanor knew that her rosy and wrinkled face concealed a shrewd political and strategic mind. It was no wonder that she had survived the attack on Labarynth City.
Tirica rose, which only made her about a foot taller. She tapped her fork- cutlery in Etheterre seemed to be much the same as that in Reality- against the edge of her plate. A clear ringing tone silenced the chatter, and she began to speak.
“Friends, today we gather here in the new capital of the Regency to celebrate our victory- and to honor those who brought it about. I propose a toast to our future queen and her companions!”
The humanoid guests raised their glasses. The Xixins lifted their drinking bowls with their tails, and wild clapping erupted around the hall. Elanor rose to acknowledge the applause, looking at the smiling faces around her, and knew that all the hardships of her quest had been worth it.
Then she caught a glimpse of Lance, staring at his untouched food with a haunted look in his eyes, and knew that her work was far from over.
I think that’s a good finish. Shall we write an epilogue, leave it at that, or does anyone have more ideas?
Sorry about post 246- got a little carried away. :grin::oops:
The last post by someone other than me was 9 days ago. HELP!
Actually, I have a good idea for an epilogue, so if nobody responds, I will finish this myself.
Oh! You finished it while I was gone. It’s a very good end. Can I write the epilogue? Please?
Oh, it’s wonderful. I’m really sorry. I’ve been reading the posts, I just never have anything to say.
I don’t know about an epilogue… this can’t be over.
We have to write more stuff! An epilogue kind of suggests the end of the end!!!!
Meh. Sequels can never be nearly as good as the “prequel”, unless the first one isn’t finished (LOTR and stuff). But this is the only thread that I actually love, and know the frequent posters of, and the thread I know the story of. It doesn’t seem like it’s over, but… gah!
I might as well send this off to be moderated.
I can’t write an epilogue. Sorry to mislead you, Canix, but I thought I could last night, and now I know I can’t. You write it, or don’t. I don’t think we need one, but whatever.
251- This isn’t really finished, if you know what I mean. There are still tons of Usurpers to usurp, and Zefethelyan to defeat, and Lance needs to come to terms with the fact that he’s an Arkael, and all that. I think there’s plenty more to write.
And about the sequel thing, look what happened to th sequels of Terraformed! The last one was the best ever! Granted, they’re all compiled into a single book.
251- I was thinking of an epilogue that kind of sets up a cliffhanger, introduces the remaining Usurpers, implies that Zefethelyan has a plan… something that could just as well be a prologue of the second book as an epilogue of the first one. Something that makes readers want to read more.
253- That’s what I thought you meant. All I could come up with when I thought about it was a fizzy drink. You write it.
The room was one of the most imposing ever constructed in either world. Built entirely of ice, it had been removed in a rough chunk from the very heart of one of the great Evencald glaciers, then smoothly sculpted via various heat-magics by the great artist-mage Parthena herself. The ceiling was a high dome. Accounts of various great events were carved into it in the ancient and noble script of Etheterre. A rough lump of ice at the epicenter housed the permanent thermostat spell that kept the temperature at 0 degrees Celsius.
It had been either the meeting room of the Regency or the throne room of the King or Queen since its making, but when the Usurpers took control of Etheterre’s capital city Itlianpokis, they had taken it for their own dark uses. Bearing witness to this were the various stains on the floor that marred its beauty. Most were red, a few green or purple, but they all looked suspiciously like blood that had frozen before it had time to dry.
In the center of the room was a hovering, octagonal table of black aeroak. Its history was just as famous as the room’s, but not nearly as pristine. It had been the sacrificial altar for a notorious and bloodthirsty cult of Xixins, standing in the Nozama Rainforest for thousands of years until it was stolen by the Fenkin master thief Crikk Cundimalin I. Its convoluted trail from Cundimalin to the Usurpers is well known to every Etheterran, but is too long to go into here. Suffice to say that the mere sight of it, with the full, grim council of Usurpers standing around it, was enough to make the most courageous, hardened and loyal prisoner fall to his or her knees (or tentacles or haunches) and beg for mercy.
However, on this particular day, only four Usurpers stood around it. Athrana, the short, efficient female Fenkin in charge of Evencald, was impatiently drumming her claws on the table (something very few would have dared to do.) The human next to her was shivering uncontrollably. But, having been raised in sub-zero temperatures, Athrana was unsympathetic.
“Stop that ridiculous shaking, Hiskar,” she said. “I know you’re used to Tsinglonk’s climate, but that’s no excuse not to wear warm clothes.” The fact that he had not conjured up a warming spell only proved Athrana’s long-held opinion that he was an incompetent mage.
Hiskar turned around. “Y-y-you know I can’t even look at warm clothes without breaking out in a sweat,” he said, teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Ten years commanding that blasted desert does that to a person, you know.”
“Will you two shut up?” hissed Lwdyn. He was a large Kikithn. Like all of his species, native to Zundor, he looked partly like an eagle and partly like an ostrich with golden and purple plumage. Unlike most of his species, however, he was unable to fly (the result of a birth defect) or sing (the result of insulting a stronger Kikithn who subsequently slashed his throat and mangled his larynx.) These being the two chief pleasures of Kikithns, he had become bitter and broken, now taking pleasure only in the pain of others. But Athrana, as cold-hearted as the glaciers of her realm, had absolutely no sympathy for him either.
“I didn’t recall that you had any authority over us,” she said icily.
“W-where’s S-selvana?” inquired Hiskar suddenly.
A large, scaly kangaroo-like creature loped into the room. “I was taking care of some unfinished business with one of the guards,” she said. “He implied that he was better with a spear than I, but he soon found out he was wrong.” She smiled thinly. “And it was the last thing he ever found out.”
Athrana rose angrily. “There’s more at stake here than your silly warrior’s pride, Selvana. If you’d come in a few minutes later, you might have been late for the meeting. And that can’t happen. You know how important this is.”
“Oh, really? What’s happened recently that’s so important?”
“Well, let me see- Gaelor’s dead, Kaabne’s comatose, Dinkikiniscius is imprisoned-”
“Well, if this meeting is so important to Zefethelyan, where is he?”
“Here,” said a voice that chilled even Athrana to the bone.
On the floor at one side of the table, a small blot of shadow gathered. It grew larger and wispier, spreading out and up into a rough cylinder six feet tall. The Usurpers held their breath.
Then the cloud of darkness congealed into a cloak. Two pale hands, decked with platinum rings, emerged from beneath it and lifted the hood, revealing the pale face of one of the two Arkael mages alive.
“You all know the situation,” he said. “The Regency controls the entire Western Hemisphere. The Wing brat is already proficient with the Codex, and grows more so. The best mage, the best warrior and the most deceptive subordinate I have are all dead.”
He paced around the table once, followed by a cold wind that brushed the back of each and every Usurper. Then he came to a stop and faced them again.
“I’m taking direct control of Woalt and all of Dinkikiniscius’s domains. The rest of you- begin gathering armies, training mages, stocking supplies. Prepare for war. I will do the same. There are a few unexpected developments that I think are worth looking into.
I will make sure that the Regency is weakened enough that it no longer is a threat. Then we will march on Kolombent and Lillix. We will crush the Wing line- and with it, all resistance- forever.”
FUN! Will we start writing the sequel right away, or wait a while? I vote for the latter, and edit in the meanwhile. Edit…
Edit. But first, THF must post the entire thing. She’s the Keeper.
the gapas should rustle up a new therd.
That’s amazing. I’m sorry I haven’t been contributing much, but I appreciate what you’ve done all the same!