Remaking of a World: Chapter 1

Magic of course, does not exist. Even when you read the stories, the lore has just... changed over time. Aliens? I suppose I could see some facts hidden amongst the legends. I could believe that Herakles was some sort of half breed or a genetically engineered being produced from a super race that descended on mankind when we were just discovering that, if you planted crops, you could store them and not starve through the winter. I can envision a man loaded with nanos, coming back in time on a ship, and “falling” from the sky riding a “tail of fire”. The savages looked up, saw a man similar to themselves stepping from the golden craft, carrying a sword that appeared in his hands from nowhere. A sword that could slice through anything they brought to bear, and wearing armor that shrugged off their bows. I could justify why they would hail him as a god on the spot. With the life extension technology, he'd live for maybe a hundred generations, gloriously immortal in their eyes. Magic existed for those people. But what yet is magic, except for the unknown? It has only ever been the substitute for things not yet explained, not yet revealed. It is the emotion generated towards a thought prior to a social awakening. Magic is a totally relative word. It does not exist. Though I suppose that if we took someone from the modern day, they might have had a vague idea of what was going on. However, in all fairness, the technology between the nineteenth and the twentieth century would make it appear as if magic existed there too. I see all of this because it's been something I've thought about long and hard. What if this has happened before? What if time is just a huge circle, and we go through endless loops over and over again? And yet, then, what is time? Does it even exist? People find remnants of ancient and futuristic technology, and all of the sudden, you have legendary figures such as Merlin, King Arthur, Osiris, Achilles, and Thor...

I shifted, uncomfortably, attempting to dispel the somber thoughts from my mind. Absentmindedly, I glanced over the cliff side, gazing deeply into the foaming, white waters below me. How raging and reckless, I thought to myself, much like my own life. Much like the new world. Bast, the beautiful woman sitting next to me, was also watching the waterfall high from the cliff. She, was the one who had found me and brought me into this little enclave. She was short and catlike, fitting her namesake. Petite, I suppose, is the proper word for it. However, unlike her name, she could not hold her tongue. It was rare, in fact, that she ever kept her mouth shut. She often knew what she spoke of, the problem was the amount of time it took for her to get to the point. She had said once before that her true name was Sabine Rossi, but she now went exclusively by Bast. Her skin was a chestnut brown, her mane of hair as black as night. Straight and even white teeth smiled back at me, a small smattering of moles covered one cheek, giving character rather than subtracting from her beauty. She was tiny and looked much like a fairy, with delicate hands and feet. Yet her razor sharp claws that glinted in the sunlight were anything but fairy like, and they served her well as weapons. I had never really understood her or why she had saved me from a Hermood, a guardian force, while I was attempting to, ahem, free resources for use by myself and my following, I had learned though, that she always had her reasons. Always. “Why are were here Bast? I've seen waterfalls before. Many, in fact, and from all over the world. I've seen them in Asgard as well, where Odin himself has warped the laws of physics!” Bast laughed, “ Horus, you are new to this, I know, but patience is something you must have learned in the past hundred years. Honestly. I told you, we are here for you to meet Isis, that she may tell us what to do.” I shook my head, “Do you always go around calling each other by these names? We're human, Bast, we really are. And yes, I know, the sheep out there follow us around and hope that we are going to lead them to... paradise or something. But come on now, what are the chances of us ever coming within a hair's breadth of seeing the world tree, or the forever tree, or whatever you call it? We just aren't going to be able to do it. There are too many followers, and with all of them giving in to the madness, we can't break free. The few we've managed to save are barely surviving as it is!” I stood and began to pace. I really was quite dramatic, I must admit. “If we ever even managed to get through the guardians and into -” Bast lifted her hand, her palm facing outwards, “Stop, Horus. I know all this but, with what you know, we may be able to get something else. Something that may even allow us to come into the gates of Hel, and past Garm.”

I am not a timid man, nor do I scare easily. I am not, however, a hero of any sort. I never have been, I never want to be. For years I had lived out my existence fending for myself, never once breaking stride. I had only ever done enough to sustain my own life, and now these people wanted to tackle a program that had literally been alive since the very beginning. The mighty Odin himself had appointed Garm, the first and only program that had never been hacked, to guard the gates of Hel. Hel, a place that followed the myths of modern day lore, serving as a monumental torture chamber and prison. Not only was it physically located in a bunker with all the standard guards, trip wires, and defenses, but it was also located in the holographic, and just as deadly, if not more, Asgard. On one of its so called levels, a lunatic woman had just suggested that I, me, a lowlife hacker tech-wizard, showman, conman, and any other negative word you can think to throw in there, knew how to get passed him. My voice cracked, rising at least three octaves before I finally brought it back under control with a clearing of my throat. “What do you expect me to do?! Throw it a bone and just saunter on by as if nothing was the matter? Bast, we barely managed to defeat the Hermood and one of Garm's hounds, and you want to actually take on the beast himself!?" Bast, maddeningly, just smiled. “ Horus, really, you're such a drama queen. We will see when we receive Isis's orders.” I was, of course, righteously wrathful and completely ready to wring her scrawny little neck, claws of no, when she looked up, her serene face breaking into a grin. I stopped cold and slowly turned, my hand flicking toward the long blade I wore at my side. “The lady comes.”

I suddenly realized where I was, noticing the illusion all around me. I closed my eyes and relaxed quickly, breathing in two deep breaths and one long one, I forced my mind to tap into the machines that flooded it. I opened them, viewing not only the world, but Asgard as well. I cursed myself for not having seen it before, the signs had been there, but the sculptor of this place had true talent and training from the looks of it. The code flowing around me solidified and, as I completed my turn, the waterfall opened up. From it emerged two of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, followed by a man that walked with a sense of power, his muscles bunching under a tight shirt. My mouth dropped and from behind me Bast murmured, “The Lady Isis, her confidant Hathor and, of all people, Anubis...”

Introduction: Remaking of Worlds

The world of course didn't end as everyone expected it. When do things every happen just as they are foretold. No, the world didn't end 2012, when they Mayans had predicted, Armageddon has not yet happened, nor has Ragnarok happened. We have not starved ourselves for natural resources, set the world ablaze with nuclear fire or released a super bug that destroyed mankind. Life is just not as simple as that. Prophets have proclaimed the end was near.... and I suppose that it always was, tomorrow, or next year, for it will always be tomorrow, and it will always be next year. The future after all is just one second away. No, the information age ushered in instant communication, being on one side of the world with a friend on the other talking face to face. Radical advances in technology had begun to cease, the United States slowly began to withdraw their presence in the space as the almighty dollar gave way to the euro, and soon, that to the yuan. China began its slow, and purposeful in gathering of its people, and though they had the capability to make war, it was much more profitable to control the worlds economy. India and China, the super powers of the world not through might, but through cold hard cash. Soon, they had begun to bail everyone out, making low interest loans, with no real expectation to be payed back, why would they? Still, they lacked one thing, the life blood of a world, no, not magma, oil. They did not have the easy access to oil, and that, that above all things was what caused the end, or maybe the beginning of the end. I don't know, I wasn't around. However from what I've read, this is what it looks like happened. The accounts are vague, and the few old timers left... they don't remember much. However, what is clear is when the world began to bleed.

Again, I am unclear as to the science, or even if the information I have is what even took place. I say again, I don't know, I was not there. From the accounts I read, several oil wells and pipes simply exploded, and began to pump oil into the ocean. Hundreds of millions of gallons, maybe even billions, the automatic shutoff valves failed, all in spectacular fashion, and no one could get a plug that could even slow the flow. It was as if someone had taken a bottle of soda, shaken it up, and took the top off letting it spew everywhere, and oil was difficult to clean, hundreds of thousands of species of fish died, gasoline became completely impossible to purchase, the nations reserves began to dwindle and still the oil pumped, the oceans and water supplies becoming black as blood. It was as if the very angel of God had come to earth, and poured the second vial of His wrath upon mankind, of course, this may have been what happened, no one knows. Every black cloud has its lining, every raincloud its rainbow, and the world as a whole began to pump billions into alternative fuel research, too late though, much too late. The oil magnates began to fund ways to not only clean, but somehow stop the oil from flooding the world, scientists everywhere claimed it would stop soon, it had to stop soon... didn't it? Then, a brilliant young Chinese scientist, named Yang Gu a small time engineer working in concert with a young woman January Bjorn invented not only the programming, but the actual nanomachine that would solve the worlds problem. Through a miracle in engineering, they would actually “eat” the oil, turning it into hydrogen, and using the carbon to build more of themselves, they would eventually gather themselves into floating balls, and die allowing for easy clean up. So ingenious was the design, and the programming, they even were able to seal the ever spewing arteries of the world. Of all the facts I have managed to put together and research I will call that the beginning of the end. This would lead to the nanomachines being used in every sort of chemical clean up, and even, radiation disposal. Soon, mankind had a new dependance, not upon themselves, but upon the machines, for they became indispensable with medicine, construction, engineering and research. This isn't a research paper though, this is the story of how the world ended, and how one day, maybe it would begin again.

The machines didn't mean any harm, they couldn't harm us. They were tools, things to be designed and then discarded as they served their purpose. Not alive, not thinking, a new invention that would lead humanity back into it's golden years. Into a new age, an age of enlightenment. With Nanotechnology, the universe itself was at our fingertips! We lived once again in a pristine world, where pollution was a thing of the past, man was living for hundreds of years. Our world experienced a true revolution, no longer did people starve, no longer did we have epidemics. We had reached near perfection, we, were striving to attain godhood, and that goal was just around the corner. Our fingertips brushed it, we could feel it there, we, once again, as a world, were united. It sounds lovely does it now? Even now as I write this, I can feel the pinpricks of zeal on the back of my neck and feel the hair rise as I know what my people could accomplish. The sheer fascination to see what could be done, for we truly could have accomplished anything. The coalition of the world drew together, choosing to build its building in the exact center of the every country. The skyscraper was huge, seemingly to reach high into the sky, for it was indeed a tower to mankind greatness. There was nothing we could not conquer. Using the tools we had created we had stopped disease, the elements, we controlled everything our hearts desired, and soon our eyes turned to the stars, for that, above all else was our last unexplored and unconquered territory, for, it was after all, ours.

There is a quote, an important one. I believe it goes something like this, “Absolute power, corrupts absolutely.” I don't know who wrote it, I don't really care, I don't even recall where I heard it. A group of radicals did something.... horrible. To this day no one knows how the actually went about it, or even why, but they managed to infect a core nanofactory with a bit of code they called the Global Override Derivative, or... simply GOD for short. They had claimed that it was all part of a global conspiracy, a conspiracy to control man kind. I guess... that's what happened, and they just wanted to be the people that controlled everything. You see, they had found a... loophole in the code. Something that shouldn't have gone overlooked, but it... made the machines... mad. Insane, they began to feed on themselves. You would think, oh, no big deal. We can make more right? Maybe, thats what they bureaucrats thought, even the Techno-Wizards. But... something happened. Something... strange. They didn't.... turn on humans, they didn't even turn on the planet, but... they became, different. They... controlled. Your father wasn't your father anymore, even your family pet... they became something else. Something.. inhuman. Of course, just as with everything, nothing is perfect. It never is, and there were some people the machines couldn't... infect. A genetic flaw that would not allow the true coupling of machine and man, and not all of the nano's were susceptible to the coding, different languages, don't you see, about... 1 in every million or so remained... unique.

I suppose I have... foreshadowed enough... Or... is it postshadowed? I don't know. I, like my friends, were one of these.... lucky or unlucky, whichever. I, am one of the ones that wants to put things back to how they were. So I can look my father and mother in the eye and know, that it's them I am talking to, not a machine. Where once again, mankind was, man again.

Part 5 )NOT EDITED(

Caliorian Island, Desert
Joshua turned away from the oncoming storm the huge rolls of sand looking like gigantic moving walls, a bright flash from a southern dune stopped him in his tracks. The flickering pattern was a warning signal from the scouts placed in the sand drifts surrounding the tribe, and Joshua wasn’t familiar enough with the motions to decipher the patterns quick enough, something about…Incoming strangers. His heart leapt into his throat, and the images of Davien and Joel killing or being killed by the Obatah warriors had him running for the place where the mirror flashes had come from, he had to get there before the tribes hunters. Running in the middle of day with his wounded side was foolish and he knew it, but lives were more important than pain and run he did. He estimated the drift was atleast three miles away and one of the stallions locked in the pin would get him there far faster than he could run. The chocolate brown horse was small compact and powerful, muscles rolled along its shoulders and back and sweat glistened in the bright sun. His black eyes stared with an intelligence that was unnerving, but the Drakken leapt the corral and a dagger whipped out to cut the tether as he landed upon the mustangs back, and he wheeled the horse around with his knees and “tsked” it into a gallop. He took the four foot high wall at a canter and sped toward the sand dune. He knew from the trainer that this horse had no name and wouldn’t as he was due to be released back into the herd as a breeder. He was unridable, the beast still bucked Joshua and attempted to bite and kick as much as any horse Joshua had ever ridden, he was an accomplished rider having been in a saddle and bareback since he could walk. Still, this particular horse was almost more than he could handle, and he’d found that if he road the creature into the ground, he only had to leap off and roll away rather than run flat out to keep his head on his shoulders. He would be at the flashing point in minutes, and he prayed that he would make it on time.

The sand kicked up by gleaming black hooves flew through the air like glimmers shards of snow in a place that the people didn’t even have a word for snow, and he leaned over his canteen being shared between man and beast. The mustand drank greedily at the water, and Joshua rolled off his back and into a crouch, the signs of a cold camp site, he was listening intently for any sound indicating where the men were. He grabbed the reigns of the horse and left him under a shade of a small dune as he stagger stepped up the incline of the drift. He was calling out in both the tongue of his people and the and the smooth flowing dialect of the Obatah. He heard the clang of steel and a cat call and he rushed to the sound, desperate to stop the violence he knew was happening, his side ached and slowed him, he finally reached the top of the dune and stopped, nearly falling as he struggled to catch his balance. Davien had his kite shield up and spear laying in the notch on his shield and Joel stood behind him, the small buckler and large bastard sword held in a high guard, the Obatah swords men was circling his blade whirling laughing at them.

“Come out, come out from behind your shields little ones.”

The taunts washed over the two brothers, Devian the hot headed one would have leapt at the man, but the cooling hand of Joel kept him from getting killed. Neither brother understood the words, but the tone of voice made what was being said obvious. The sand warrior leapt at the two men, Devian’s spear extended out and was batted aside. The two veterans had never fought men that cared more about the fight than death and he had to stop it…

“ Joku! Stop! They are under my protection! “

Joku stopped and slid away from the two men, they had bother stopped and stared up where the Drakken Prince stood. He made for an imposing figure, white robes flicking in the growing wind, the sun that would soon be setting blood red behind him. He had forgotten to don the head gear and his long hair blew covering his face in shadow and still the brother knew their lord. Joku however was under no such qualms and he flipped a rude gesture to the prince. Both men behind the shield held their peace until their lord was done, neither understood what was happening, but the man in front of them had stopped threatening them for the moment and neither had a desire to kill.

“These men stepped off a pirate boat, they’re here as spies” Joku held his sword out again and advanced pausing only when the low threatening voice drifted down,

“ You will deal with me Joku, and your corpse will lay in the dust. You know this is well as I, you can not match me on the dueling grounds.”

Joku stopped again, and shook his head,

“If you will vouch for these men wanderer, then upon you their actions will be. “ Joku turned and strode toward the sand, the scimitar sliding into the sheath on his back “The storm will be upon us soon, you’d best head back to shelter.” The man moved with on top of the sand like a serpant barely disturbing the sand as he strode atop it. Devian and Joel both looked in envy at the man as he vanished over a dune, then both turned and stared with a growing fury at their prince.

“My Lord!” The men cried out as one, and both pulled their feet from where the shifting sands had grasped them. “You did not wait at Sherin like you swore you were going to! You ordered us to make sure Sheva made it to the Camp site and then you vanished!” Devain the louder and more aggressive of the two stomped, as best he could, toward the man who was causing so much frustration, “You swore it on your father’s return that you would wait for us!”

Joshua raised his hand and smiled, he had been born with a golden tongue and just as he was prepared to launch into an explanation that would not only sooth their feelings, but also logically preempt any further argument Joel slapped back nearly hard enough to reopen the stitches along his ribs. The hit also knocked the breath clean out of him, and Joel shot a glance at his brother and then back at his prince, “You’re hurt!” The realization came out more as question than a statement and when both men concluded that he in fact was hurt, they had him walking the way they had come, “We are getting back on that ship, and we are taking you home. Now. “

Finally catching his breath, Joshua dragged his heels, “We can’t!” he gasped, “The storm is coming!” The strain in his voice cause the body guards to stop. “ What storm” Joshua coughed, “We need to get back to the tribe, soon. Can’t you feel the air? “ The men nodded, “The air pressure has changed, my ears popped and you can feel the air, like needles being poked into your skin.” The stopped and Joel dropped Joshua from his broad shoulder and looked around, “How far is shelter?” Pointing back the way he had come Joshua grinned evily, “The clouds will provide shade, hopefully it will be enough, a few miles back that way… I’ve a horse but you two will have to run.” Joshua looked at the two men, they were brothers, fostered from a Rover caravan that had been found on a patrol sent into the wastes. They were nearly five years older than Joshua, and had been raised beside him, he looked upon them like older brother but they took their job of guarding their charge seriously. Devian Rook, the elder brother, smaller than his younger brother with jet black hair and charcoal colored eyes. He was thick with shoulders and arms that bulged with muscles and caused many a girl to blush prettily. Corded bunched under his chain mail and he was built like an ox, and according to his brother about as smart as one too. Luckily the lankier Joel was fast on his feet. Not quite as dashing as his older brother, Joel still turned a few heads, taller than Joshua and with arms if not as wide around as his brothers, certainly well enough proportioned, his roguish grin and perfect teeth topped with a boyish face a soulful puppy dog eyes slightly covered by brown curls did the job just fine. Plus, the swinging sword at his hip also made for a fine conversation starter in any tavern. Now, both had exactly the same incredulous expression on their faces.

“You expect us to… run? “

Prince of Sand Part 1 (Rewritten)

The tall man staggered into the tent town of the Obatah people. This was not his home, far from it, and neither was it a place he would ever desire to call home. The Obotah were a nomadic tribe, dark of eye and skin, they wore flowing robes and head gear designed to keep them cool despite the sun, the way the clothes were layered it made the natives always seem walk in the shade. All wore three javelins slid into a quiver on their back and the long curved blade of the scimitar. From what the young man had seen, they were all incredibly deadly with both weapons, able to take the preverbal wing off the fly at a fifty paces with the javelins and remove a humans head from his shoulders in a single sweep. Finding good wood in the wastes of the desert was difficult preventing the use of more conventional weapons like a bow, and the glint of Drake tooth and claw at the tip of the spears glinted in the sunlight marred only by the poison lathered liberally on it. The training for such weapon mastery began the day of man and womanhood, for every person in the tribe could fight with a lethalness that would shock the more civilized world. The desert was unforgiving, those that didn’t know how to fight and survive, didn’t. As such, all of the Obatah walked with the calm assurance of a warrior, even the children, more trained in the arts of war and fighting than any many veteran warriors exhausted man had ever met. The tribe was four hundred strong with nearly a third being women and children, the tribe moved throughout the desert, following and herding their flocks only returning the legendary lost city once a year to pay tithes to the Sheik. The tribes constantly warred on each other except at watering holes and their precious holy city. He still had yet to even learn the name of the city, much less have been invited to view its wonder.

It was a hard life, harder than the teeth of a full grown Drake, teeth that had been known to sever bones and slice clean through the hardest of steel. He grimaced as he glanced down to his side, he had ripped a long strip from his garments and lashed it to his side in an effort to quench the flow of blood, it hadn’t worked. He’d been bleeding since his first meeting with the She-Drake. Her claws were sharp, and had ripped through his leather armor slicing the skin open to the bone, he’d applied bandages to keep the tears of the wound together but, the trek through the dunes bearing his prize had caused the wound to reopen again. He had a mission to do, and the faster he was done, the faster he would be able to return home… His eyes took on a glazed look as he stumbled again and nearly fell, the sun and the loss of blood had sucked more energy from him than he had first realized, he’d have to find the village shaman. He paused at the crest of the sand dune and stared through the starlight at the camp that sprawled before him. Even hurt he had managed to avoid the sentries the camp had placed around the encampment until the whisper of sand from behind him and the chirping call of a sand bird made him shake his head. He raised his hands high above his head holding the She-Drakes tooth high,

“I am a friend of the tribe.”

He was pushing himself to hard, admittedly he had adapted to the way of life here quickly, far more quickly than then anyone had thought, even himself, but he was from a moist environment where water was plentiful, the dryness was beginning to sap his energy reserves. His skin had taken on the natural dark cast of the Obatah so perfectly, that he could have been mistaken for a native. He was wrapped from head to toe in the flowing white garments the desert people wore, and save for his eyes he looked and walked exactly like them. Even wounded he walked with the flowing staggered steps of one who had to run and walk on the shifting sand and unstable surfaces. He was tall, much taller than the short nomads, standing to the height of six foot, the boots he wore were flat soled and as such added nothing. The second obvious difference was the twin short swords that were strapped in an “X” pattern across his back. Obatah fought with javelin and scimitar, not liking the close combat that short swords forced upon their user, and after fighting the vicious creatures of the desert, and the warrior wished he had learned the ways of such weapons himself. He’d considered learning how to throw the short spears, but after being mocked by the youngest of the children he’d given it up and wished desperately for a bow, arrows simply could not be found in the wastes, and as such he had left the weapon at home.

He winced again as he strode into the camp and stumbled, he caught himself on a tent pole, allowing himself a few seconds of rest. A glanced toward the dark sky revealed the sun’s arms just beginning to enfold the sky and he smiled to himself, he’d timed his return just right, everyone would be preparing for sleep, it would allow him time to clean himself of the grime of the sand, and wake the Shaman for stitches and the proper salves. The wound must be cleaned, for the Drakes secrete a poison that unless countered, would slowly begin to eat the flesh away. The poison was harvested from the sand Drakes by the Obatah, and coated every spear point and blade they owned. Every person in the camp from the youngest to the eldest, carried the antidote with them at all times, one never knew when he might scratch him or herself. The wounded man had used the entire container of dry powder of the antidote on the gash, but he had to be sure he had enough. The smell of the latrines dug wafted through the camp, and the smell of dried dung used to the create the fire that kept the chill of the night away from them. Desert air was thing and retained little heat, though in a few hours it would soon reach the point of unbearable again.

However, with the lure of allies like these people, he had neglected to think about what exactly would be required when he had finally found and joined the tribe. The request of the Elders had not been to slay just one of the giant Drakes, but the entire brood. The nomad had been hunting for nearly three months, and while he had excelled in the desert climate, he was beginning to tire. He had slain nearly eight of the huge sand Drakes. From the local lore though, the smallest were always sent out to hunt first, followed by the larger. If they continued to get much larger, he would have to call in help, he doubted his body guards were that far behind anyways, and they would be more than enough… he hoped. His pride was immense and he was more stubborn than a donkey, he had one more to kill, and he would be free of this cursed place and on his way to the City. He yearned for the oasis of his home, and while he loved the shifting complex patterns of the sands, there was nothing green here. The only water was supplied through a complex system of artisan’s wells. He’d been here for months, and had yet to see anything green in the golden sands save for the few springs that were so rare they almost seemed imaginary unless you were looking directly at one. They last he’d seen, was a week ago, they’d paused long enough for a rest, refill their water barrels and then they continued, staying near such a water hole only invited the Drakes a free meal. The wells were almost always found in rock formations that turned into valleys.

He stepped into the Elder’s tent and through down the eye tooth of the giant sand Drake, he grinned ferociously, “ That one was the female. I believe she will lead me to the patriarch of the brood. I’ve one more to slay and then the price will be paid..“

The wizened old man looked up from where he sat, smoking on a long pipe carved from the eye tooth of a patriarch Drake. Green smoke curled up from its end and escaped from his nostrils. His eyes held the same greenish cast that all his people had, those eyes seemed to stare through him, then shifted to where the tooth lay on the ground. The eight inch long fang was midnight black and seemed to absorb light, only the female Drakes carried the black eye tooth, and they were extraordinarily valuable, through a special process they could be turned into a deadly knife or spear point. He spun on his heels and made his way toward the tent that had been lent to him. He had meant it, the Drakes released a special scent from the sacs beneath their eyes, he had harvested nearly a pound of the foul smelling stuff. All he should have to do, is pour the stuff into the sand and wait. The smell would permeate the ground and bring the last of them out of hiding… He hoped.

The Shaman’s tent was located in the northern part of the village, far away from everyone else, the people respected the old man almost to the point of fear. It was a difficult thing to become a Shaman, the knowledge of herb lore, medicine and alchemy was taxing, and required years of study. The knowledge of ages was recorded in scrolls, and passed down, twice a year a Shaman had to return to the Abbey to record their findings, it was a guild in it’s own right, and from what he had seen of their work and medical abilities, the warrior respected them. The man stepped into the large tent and found himself awash with the cloying scent of incense, it made his nose flare and his toes curl. The smell was intense, and made the room feel stuffy, he had been breathing the cool and crisp air of the desert for so long, he wasn’t used to the… pollution. The old wizened man sat hunched over the fire, staring into it his hand running across the back of a large brown dog. It was huge, large blue eyes stared from under bushy eyebrows and it’s jowls curled back to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. The rumble that was emitted from it’s throat was low and deep, the normally fearless man took a small step back and dropped his hand toward the daggers tied on to his belt.

The man looked up, his white eyes betraying his blindness, “ Hush Cerberus, he is a friend. “ The dog obeyed, it azure eyes never leaving the young man’s own golden eyes. Hesitant at first, the warrior bowed, and after a gesture from the man, sat across from him. “ You smell of blood, and of the desert, I expect you are the man hired to slay the Drales?“

The wanderer nodded before he caught himself and answered, “ Aye that I am, I was wounded and require stitches… “ He hesitated, “ I was told to come to you. “

The Shaman smiled and pointed at a low cot, “ Lay on that, allow me to get my tools. “ He stood, the dog using his grizzled head to help him, and he made his way over to a small chest, the wounded man sat on the cot and unwound his clothing wincing at the pain, the blood began to flow again as he pulled away the cloth the blood had dried to, he hissed as he pulled away the last bit of cloth and lay down. The old doctor made his way over to where he lay and stood over him. The dog stood beside the man and stared at the wound, whining, “ The wound is infected, poison was injected into it, it smells of Drae saliva..” The Shaman reach beside him and took a rag dripping a black liquid, “ This will hurt bite down on this. “ A piece of wood was jammed between his teeth, and he bit down hard when the rag touched the revealed injury. He nearly screamed when the liquid came into contact with his raw flesh, “ Bite.” was all the pity the shaman had for him, when it was finally done, he lay panting his eyes rolled back in his head, stars were shooting off in his head, “ It’s done. “

Groaning, he pulled himself to a sitting position, “ You’re lucky, it missed the muscles.“ Spitting the man looked at the would be doctor,
“ Lucky would have been missing me entirely. “ Smiling the Shaman handed him a small packet of leaves, “Chew on these, they will help with the pain.”

“How do you survive here Elder? The people caste away those that are too weak to fight or survive on their own, and you are blind…” His voice drifted into the night as he ended his question hesitantly. The shaman settled back and made his way back to the warmth of the fire, his voice was clear and strong
“Ive been alive for nearly a hundred passing of the moons, Ive seen thousands of young warriors come and go, Ive healed many, and performed rites over many more. None has ever asked me such a question, and I’ve never asked them any questions. The people here know that I am a healer, and you are correct, they do leave the weak in the desert to, it is a dream of all to die in such a way, the honor of letting the desert take you back.” The shaman shook his head violently, “It’s a waste. A waste of knowledge, of wisdom, but still they continue!” He shook his head, “Me… I have not chosen to step into the wastes, and they will not ask me to even though every one of them believes I should. I will not, and they will not make me, I will continue to heal and to teach until I can no longer move, and then…Then I will die either here, or in the City.” The old man’s milky eyes turned to his patient’s, “ So, who are you that has exterminated so many of the Drakes. A wandering warrior that no one has bested in a duel, that speaks so little but has learned our language and our ways with an alacrity that would be considered alarming. The Elders fear you are a spy sent by our enemies across the sea to learn of our weaknesses, yet the warriors respect you. You come asking to be welcome into our city, and set about to prove your worthiness by slaying not a single Drake, but an entire brood, something that every warrior dreams of doing but never accomplishes, yet here you are attempting the unlikely… Tell me, who are you?”

The man’s golden eyes had dilated to a point where he could no longer see the Shaman sitting in front of him, he was beginning to feel the effect of the leaves the man had given him, “My name is Joshua Drakken.”

Prince of Sand 4 (Rewritten)

The underground caves of the city of Sherin were fantastic; the founders of the city had found them when digging the sewer system and took advantage of their natural canals to take the waste into a seep far beneath the city. The find also saved the city millions in gold and labor allowing instead heavier defenses to be built. However, it also provided an unlikely and dangerous tunnel system throughout the city, and allowed access from deep into the mountains. no one truly knew how far the caverns went into the Katanga ranges, but there had been explorers and none had ever returned. Miners ventured out to stake claims, and from that wealth had exploded into Sherin, now it was not only a city of trees, but it had its own backdoor mine. Still, the caverns were dangerous, rats and spiders the size of large wolves lurked in its depths. Rumors of huge lizards had even been circulating, and some reports of the patrols sent down to keep the pests down had confirmed this, though the local magistrate had put it all down to wild tales, every tall tale had at least a nugget of truth and Sheva was not about to let anything catch her unawares. What made maters worse were the brigands that lurked in the darkness, stealing from the miners and charging fees for “protection” they provided.

She had to get back to the Band to inform them of Achan’s words, and that they could not trust any more shipments of weapons from him. She used the key her contact had “retrieved” and opened the gates into the caverns enough to allow Keba and herself to slip silently into the murky, smelly depths. Pulling free her torch ad striking her flint against a stone the warm light lit the path in front of her, reaching down she unbounded the sword and cleared it in the sheath, if she needed it she wanted it at hand. As she followed the mental map shed forced herself to memorize her thoughts drifted back to better times, when Joshua and his cousin Deimos were friends, when the clans were united and worked together for the benefit of the Clan.

Deimos, flowed through stances with his bastard sword, the hand a half blade was forged from tempered steel, made in the city of Timur and the water marks along the blade were magnificent. The blade had a blood red ruby set in its hilt, and the dragon mouth held it was of a polished ivory beautiful to behold. Joshua sat in a window his booted foot hanging and swinging slightly; as he stared out at the ocean scene lying before him. Deimos’s brothers and sisters had lived here since the day they were born, training, day and night by order of the Patriarchs of their clans, they had been sent to the Isha to become the best. Pheobe was outside, ever practicing with her long bow, the trainees had lived in the five acre castle comfortable forced to learn the ways of a warrior. “ You should be training Joshua, not sitting in the window mooning after Sheva. She will be fine, and you have your own tests to think about.” Deimos grinned as he returned back to a high guard, “You should know, you talked the master into accepting her even though she was not of the clans. Joshua’s golden stare turned to regard the intense predatory red eyes of Deimos Ashoka. The man was tall, six foot five of solid muscle, his long black hair was curly and swept back from his face with an onyx ring, and muscles rippled under the plate mail he wore, the ease of his movements belied its heavy weight. He had the classic good looks of a statue, flawless skin, and the smile he gave the Drakken scion revealed perfect ivory teeth, he winked. “Come little cousin…” Joshua nodded and leapt from the window that was nearly twenty feet from the floor, a split second before he hit the ground, he shoved off from the wall and bled the momentum into a roll that brought him to his feet.

Deimos laughed and flowed into a high guard position, and suddenly ducked as the knife Joshua had thrown thudded into the wood of pillar where Deimos’s head had been an instant before. The shocked look of his face faded into concentration as Joshua leapt through the air the short swords whirling into complicated patterns, soon both were panting from the exertion of combat, neither could gain an edge and the fight was wearing them out. Fighting as they were in the training hall, neither could force the advantage, the protection supplied by the plate was countered by the maneuverability from the leather Joshua wore. The huge sword Ashoka swung forced Joshua to dodge and weave constantly wearing him out, and he couldn’t stop the sword with a parry, these were the times when he wished he’d learned how to properly use a shield. Ashoka’s sword swung in a vicious arc, and unable to sidestep, Joshua was forced to throw both blades up in a defensive maneuver that left him completely open to the kick he knew was coming. The grunt that escaped from his mouth as the mailed foot slammed into his solar plexus, and threw him across the room, and as his head slammed into the stone wall stars shot across his vision, he attempted to roll away desperately trying to by himself precious seconds for recovery when the shiny point of Deimos sword pricked his throat, “ Yield. “


Joshua looked up into the flaming eyes, and knew, beyond a shadow of any doubt at all, that if he did not yield, the man would thrust the blade through his neck. “I yield cousin, I yield. “ The fire sputtered, and then went from Deimos’s eyes and he stepped back hesitantly, he looked disbelieving for a split second, unsure of himself, then the walls closed and the molten red eyes, “ I…. Jos…I…“ He turned and strode toward the door, nearly breaking into a run toward the end, he stopped at the door and began to turn back when he shook his head and threw them open, the cold morning sun beginning its journey up the sky. The ocean mist gave the black figure leaving an ominous appearance and Joshua shuddered, half from the pain coming from the back of his head, and half from the chills he suddenly had running up his spine.

A pale hand reached from the black haze still hovering around the edges of his vision, and he glanced up, Sheva, her beautiful face concerned he reached out and took the proffered hand, feeling the rough calloused fingers spoke of a sword user, and as he swayed he caught the scent of jasmine and smiled, “ You passed the tests then? “ he was surprised he could still speak, though he could hear the slur in his own voice. Her voice carried the “Of course, they are what we have been trai…” She stopped, concern filling her voice, “Your bleeding!” Her hands reached behind his head and came away coated in red, when Joshua stumbled, and fell she caught him, “We need to get you to the infirmary!”

The sudden echoing shout of something off in the gloom brought Sheva back to reality, Keba had stopped and was staring into the murk with slitted pupils, pulling her sword free and rolling her shield to the arm holding the torch Sheva squinted, wishing she had the eyes of her fiancée, who could see the same at night as in the day, “What is it Keba?” The tiger’s tail twitched and its hackles rose, the voices grew louder and the sound of boots could now be heard. Whoever was coming there was more than one, and when Keba suddenly leapt into the darkness Sheva suddenly felt very, very alone. Sheva saw the torch light coming from around a corner ahead and prayed that it was a patrol, or even miners and not the bandits that felt they owned the place. Apparantly, Sheva was to deep underground, or she hadn’t prayed long enough for the four men that walked around and stopped suddenly when they saw here were either rogues, or very well armed and mean looking miners. “Well, well… lookit’ what we have here! A pretty young lass all by herself, down in the mines were there are big bad monsters!” The men with him laughed and they continued walking, unconcerned about the three feet of steel in her hand. “ Whatcha doin’ down here girlie? Get lost shoppin’ fer some shoes?!” Sheva’s eyes tightened and she widened her stance, “ You’d best get out of my way boys, I don’t want any trouble but I won’t run from what little fight you four could give me, maybe I better give you some time to go round up more of your friends?” The leaders face flush, “You better watch your mouth girlie, down here I’m the boss, and you do what I say you do.” The younger man behind the other three carrying a crossbow paused, “ Rafe… she looks like that lady in the wanted posters…”

Prince of Sand #3

Sheva slammed her fist into the table her delicate pearly white hand contrasting vividly against the rough hewn oak. “ The weapons were not delivered according to scheduled, and those that were, were of inferior quality!” She hissed in rage as the man leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “ Payment was delivered prior to receipt of the weapons as required, and were of the high quality of gem, and still, for the third time you failed. “ Burning violet eyes stared at her from the shadows the hood of the cloak cast. The mans voice was a clear tenor, educated and believable the pitch of his voice carried well throughout the room, “ The weapons were of the quality paid for, and they were delivered late due to inadequate protection along the roads, roads that you and I both know are under the protection of the Drakken high family.” Sheva started to wince but caught herself, “ The caravan is your responsibility until delivered, you charge exhorbant amounts for the clients to have to pay as well as provide protection, the Ahelmites have infiltrators as far as the Katanga Mountain ranges, that caravan should have had better protection!” The torches that lit the room flickered and Keba’s tail twitched. The black pupils from the lavender eyes flicked to the menacing creature drinking in the deep carroty fur and black strips that ran along the animals back. Keba was thirteen feet long from the point of his nose to the tip of his tail and was nearly a nine hundred pounds of lean ferocity. Sheva’s hand dropped to his neck, and the fur lowered slightly, the guards standing behind the chair tensed and their hands dropped to their swords but a flick from the cloaked figure stopped them. “ The weapons were of the quality paid for, and handed over in a timely manne..” “They were not! They were nearly two weeks late!” Once again the man raised him hand in a “stop” gesture, “Timely manner, the roads were unsafe and we were waiting for protection so the weapons would not be… mishandled…”

Sheva fumed, she couldn’t help but keep the emotion off her face and the flush on her fair skin was obvious. “ Lord Achan, the weapons were ordered to equip new recruits, their training fell behind nearly a month due to… “ Achan stood his robes whispering around him, “ This conference is over Lady Sheva, the material was delivered within the accepted time frame. If you wish to take your business elsewhere so be it. “ Turning he flowed out of the room followed by the trio of guards he had brought with him. Sheva stared as he strode into the rain, the guards pulling up hoods to keep the droplets from falling into their eyes. It had been raining for nearly five days and the rivers were rising, if it kept up like this the bridges were going to be washed away, and with Joshua gone… She strode through the back door, her green eyes staring hard into the gloom, the Kings soldiers were everywhere, and getting Achan to agree to meet her in person had been difficult. She had to be out of the city before sunset, or the gates would close and she would not make the rendezvous, she glanced at Keba and shook her head. She had not wanted to bring him along, it made her far to conspicuous, not terrible as large pets were common amongst the jungles, but a tiger still was enough out of the ordinary to be noticed, which is why, much to hers and Keba’s nose chagrined, she had come through the sewers. She still smelled of the waste that was flowed through the drainpipes was foul, but smelling wasn’t as bad as dying so she made do, the grate was a few blocks down and then down again. It would take her most of the night to navigate until she was outside of the walls and able to meet with her contacts that would arrange for her journey home, but for now, she just needed to focus.

The guard patrolling along the walks paused and nodded to her, she was a compelling figure, long crimson red hair flowed down her back partially covered by a forest green cloak. She was tall for a woman, five foot nine in her riding chestnut brown riding boots her silver spurs clinking as she walked. Her chainmail was a bluish tint, and light as a feather when compared to normal armor, and due to the fine supple leather beneath also bore the trait of being fairly quiet, sea green eyes and lightly pink lips with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her slightly upturned nose. The ease in which she walked allowing the intricately carved long sword sheathed at her hip kept the interested guards away, of course the tiger stalking next to her made sure of it. There were many shops along the roads, all with their awning spread over the wooden walk, enticing aromas of bread, freshly grilled fish wafted from their open doors, Keba paused at a butcher shop and the butcher looked worried as he eyed the deer carcass that was hanging from the roof but a sharp whistle brought him to heel. Sheva shook her head, reaching back to tie the mane into what resembled a ponytail. “Come Keba… we’re almost there… “

Prince of Sand Part 2

The move would begin at sundown, the harsh heat of the desert being foolish to move about in when one didn’t have to. He slowly made his way back to the Shamans tent, each step sending a lancing pain along his ribs and deep into his chest. The claw had done damage, nothing internal he believed, as he doubted he would be on his feet today, but enough to put him out of commission. I need to learn to dodge faster, he thought, the memory of what had happened not a day ago flashing through his mind.

The She-Worm had exploded out of the sand dune next to him with a ferocity that rivaled that of the legendary leviathan, a literal whirlwind of teeth, claw and horn, he had leapt aside nearly too late, the sinking sand slowing him down and nearly causing him to lose his balance. The split second lasted an eternity as the talons on the scaly hand swept out to gut him, the leather armor woefully inadequate to stop something with the strength of this beast. She was huge, nearly as large as an elephant, weighing in at nearly two thousand pounds she was all muscle, scales and bones, incredibly hard to kill and able to burrow into the sand at a moment’s notice, which to Josh’s chagrin after missing her ambushing strike she immediately did so. The sand rippled as she vanished amongst the golden grains, the ripples she created with her passing disappeared in seconds. Joshua’s blades were out and stabbing, the blades sliding through empty air. He cursed under his breath and ran. There was a rock outcropping not a hundred paces away, and he ran for all he was worth, the skip step of desert running nearly second nature to him now, but not quite. A true native could run without sinking, Joshua had not quite mastered the art and it slowed him. The sound of silk sliding over a rough hand was all the notice that was given to him and he threw himself down again, the monster flew over his head a bare hands breath away, her teeth closing on his head dressing nearly wrenching his neck as it was pulled off him. He turned the force of the pull into a roll, and finished the tumble on his feet and sprinting again, almost there… He would never win if he didn’t have solid ground beneath his feet, fighting a wyrm in the desert in their element was deadly at best.

The young warriors booted sole finally hit solid rock and he scrambled up the small embankment until he was one something of level ground. The loose sand from the wind storms and the gravel made for unsteady footing but anything was better than the shifting tides of the dunes. He was unsure if the She-Wyrm would follow him up here without enticement , but with the sack of Wyrm spawn stench, he was positive he would be able to force her to come. Still… Something told him to duck, wether it was a sixth sense, a warning from God, he had no idea but duck he did and when the venom tipped stinger on the end of the tail slammed into rocks, Josh brought his sword up in a vicious arc, and was foiled when the blade glanced off the natural armor the creature possessed. The Drakken blood lust rose in his veins and he fought to keep it down, slipping into a bezerk rage now would only end in death, the Wyrm was too big, too fast and too smart to be beaten by a man locked in battle frenzy. Instead, he fought it down and pulled a vial from a pouch, the liquid inside was a blue that seemed to glow from an internal light, harvest from a flower in his home land, the noxious fluid was worth a small fortune, and he winced as he launched the vial through the air and directly onto her hide.

The glass bottle tinkled as it shattered, the blue runny liquid exploded onto its scales, the fluid seeping in seeming to find the chinks, the small cracks impenetrable with arrow or blade. The liquid was a real work of art, extracted from the roots, and then placed within a chemical concoction known only to the Alchemists of the Zwhula, and then cured for a year in constant heat, the poison it created was so voilatle, a drop would put a full grown man into a coma for a week, and the bottle had carried an ounce. The beast screamed and its claw shot out once more, this time caught completely flat footed, Joshua could only spin and throw a belated parry, the sword and the roll spared his stomach, but the talons opened a gash and pumped the reptiles venom into his body, he could literally feel the toxin making its way into him and he fell, the lack of pain shocking him. He barely managed to keep the presence of mind to pull the powder of the antitoxin and pour it his hands shaking onto the gash, the powder burned and nearly caused him to black out when he finally gave in and slipped into the Battle Lust.

His golden eyes began to glow, and the world seemed to slow, the huge reptile began to move pitifully slow, his pupils dilated, the world took on a bright appearance and he exploded into action. His legs coiled and he sprung into the air, both sword whipping down to slide seemingly effortlessly into the soft skin beneath the Wyrm’s neck, the Frenzy pushing his muscles to an extreme that would stagger the worlds best doctors, of course, he couldn’t remain in this state long, the toll on his body would kill him. He completed the maneuver and spun in place his swords in a guard stance ready to fight but, the Wyrm had stumbled and fell. He rushed once again, and danced aside as the reptile swiped at him, his blades snaked out and slid into the armpit, a twist and he danced away again. The She-Wyrm groaned and he stepped further back, the blood loss making him weak as he slowly slipped from the Rage and he staggered, his swords appeared almost magically back into their sheaths, he finally fell….

Joshua winced his hand on his newly stitched side and stared at the rising sun. Today was going to be hot, and from the black mar on the horizon, a storm was on its way. Patriarch Wyrms hunted in the sand storms. Tonight would be interesting, the pain lanced through his side once again and he began to stride to where the shaman resided, he was going to need help….