War of the Blood Gods #6 Written by Grim, Edited
by Marvelite |
WAR OF THE BLOOD GODS
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Chapter 7: Returning of Warriors
“Mom… I did something kinda wrong…”
“Kevin? What’d momma’s little boy do?”
“Mom! I’m not a little boy! I’m seventeen, now. I’m not little,
anymore.”
“You’ll always be my little boy… What did you do that you think is so
wrong?”
“Well, Jennifer Skavin and I went out on a date…”
“DID you use a condom?”
“NO, mom! We didn’t even…”
“If you ever do, you promise your mother that you’ll use a condom, OK?
“Sure, mom…”
“If you didn’t need a condom, then you couldn’t have done anything
wrong then, could you?”
“I guess not, mom…”
“Now, run upstairs and go to bed. Remember, you can’t do anything wrong
where you mother is concerned.”
“Nite, mom…” Kevin ran up the stairs and got ready for bed, thinking
about the ‘date’ he had had with Jennifer. “Maybe”, he thought, “I
shouldn’t have stole her clothes and pushed her out of the car. Oh, well. She
was close to home. I’m sure she just ran across Johnson’s field, right to
her back door. I thought for sure her parents would call the police. Must be she
still hasn’t told them. Tomorrow, I’ll ask her if she wants to go on another
‘date.’ This time I’ll invite Ben and Jimmy and we’ll have a real
party.” Kevin drifted off to sleep, wondering how that ‘date’ would turn
out.
“Huh, wazzat?” Kevin rolled over and looked at the clock… 12:14.
“Man, I have to get up early for football practice before school! What’s
that noise? Sounds like something outside.” Kevin got out of bed, walked over
to the window and threw it open. “Jimmy, is that you?” he half-yelled.
“Knock it off! We have practice in the morning!” Searching the area out in
front of the barn, Kevin didn’t see Jimmy’s car. “That’s weird… He
musta parked up the road and is hiding on me. To hell with him, I’m going back
to bed. It’s already getting foggy out.” Kevin reached up to close the
window, when he noticed that a tendril of fog had drifted into his room. “What
the hell…? Damn fog! Get the hell out of here!” Trying to shoo the fog back
out the window, Kevin glanced back outside and saw Jennifer standing there,
floating in the air outside the window. “GODDAMN IT! You scared the hell out
of me, Jennifer… What are you doing here? Is this about your clothes? Look,
I’m sorry ‘bout that, but… Tell you what; I’ll make it up to you…
I’ll take you out tomorrow night… And I promise that ‘I’ won’t take
your clothes this time… You don’t look right… Are you floating…? Is this
some sort of trick? Did Jimmy put you up to this?”
A ghostly wind carried Jennifer’s disembodied voice into the room.
“Kevin. You shall be the first… I have someone I want you to meet…”
“You sound like you’re sick, girl. Go home and leave me alone. I got
practice in the morning.” Kevin slammed the window shut and turned his back on
Jennifer. He stood still for a second, not daring to turn around. Then, his
curiosity got the better of him and he slowly turned his head to face the
window. Expecting Jennifer to still be there, he got a puzzled look and turned
all the way around. “Jennifer…?” he said as he took a step towards the
window. The Elder God, standing just outside the house, but looking into the
second story window, pressed closer to the house. Kevin let out a yell and
stumbled away from the window. Tentacles ripped through the wood frame of the
window, grabbed hold of the now terrified young man, and pulled him outside,
shattering the glass. As Kevin screamed in pain, the Elder God held him before
its ‘face’… Two eyestalks extended and looked Kevin in the eye, waving
hypnotically, like twin cobras… A wave of ‘power’ seemed to come out of
the stalks, directly into Kevin’s brain. Kevin experienced the terror, pain
and shame that Jennifer suffered the night of their ‘date’. Throwing his
head back in another scream, Kevin went insane, both from the physical pain and
now the mental torture. The Elder God squeezed Kevin’s body until it split in
two and began to eat on the mangled corpse.
The ghost of Jennifer slowly
smiled and thought… “Uncle Larry lives over this way…
“
The Dalai Lama raised his head from his meditations and cocked it to one
side. “Something”, he thought, “isn’t right… with the…
universe…” Looking out at the devotees, he noticed that three of his longest
followers also had their heads up, puzzled, looking to him for answers. And the
newcomer, from Korea, he is searching, too. “He’s only been here for 12
years, how can he be aware…? Ahhh, his extensive martial arts training… He
is more ‘in tune’ than some who have been here for 50 years.” Raising his
right hand, palm up, The Dalai Lama flipped his hand palm down and made a fist.
Then, extending his ring finger, he indicated an adjoining room. Rising to his
feet without a sound, and with a grace that belied his 115 years, the Dalai Lama
exited the room. Within seconds, the other four joined him. Without a word, he
turned and headed toward his private chambers, deep in the heart of the
mountain. No one even looked at them as they traveled the long, candle-lit
hallways. At the door of his private chambers, the Dalai Lama gestured for
everyone to enter. Once all were inside, he locked the door and went to a scroll
rack. Picking the second scroll from the bottom, He walked over to an intricate
etching on the wall. There, the Dalai Lama inserted the end of the scroll into a
hole camouflaged by the design in the etchings. Giving the scroll a twist
triggered a hidden catch and a section of the wall slowly fell back and steps
down even deeper into the mountain were revealed. Still without a word, the
Dalai Lama headed into the new passage, followed by the others. Down, down the
1,024 steps, the Dalai Lama and his followers went. Deep into the heart of the
mountain itself. Even though no light was lit, the travelers proceeded, guided
by their own senses and trusting in Buddha to place their feet correctly. None
of the innumerable booby-traps and pitfalls along the path were triggered. After
an eternity of walking, the devotees reach an alcove in front of a massive,
solid bronze door. The Dalai Lama steps up to the door, the others fanned out
behind him, eyes watchful. Reaching out, the Dalai Lama placed his left hand on
an intricate design carved into the door. Then he made a semi-magical gesture
with the right hand and pushed the massive door inward, effortlessly.
Inside the door, the quintet moved to stand in front of a raised dais that
holds one item on solid gold, jewel encrusted supports: a sword. The Dalai Lama
walked over to the dais and picked the sword up off the supports. As the leather
covering is removed; brilliance leapt into the room. The sword is made of a
clear substance that gives off it’s own, almost blinding, light. Placing the
sword back on the dais, uncovered, the Dalai Lama stepped back and dropped into
the Lotus Position, followed immediately by the others. Buddha will reveal what
he wants them to do next.
Faziz Amari had driven the tour bus to the pyramids many, many times. Almost
too many times to count. Soon he will retire and live off his savings. His
eldest son has offered to let him move in with him and daughter-in-law and their
two children. Maybe it was these thoughts that distracted him as he gave the
monologue over the loudspeaker… “And on the right is the pyramid of Ramses,
the greatest Pharaoh in the long history of Egypt…”, he droned in accented
English. The buzz from the left
side of the bus finally caught his ear and he turned to look at the Sphinx.
“Ahhh, foreigners…”, he thought. “On your right, you will notice the
rays of the sun illuminating the mighty Sphinx…” “Wait a second”, he
thought, the sun is in the Western sky…” They were driving on the Eastern
side where the shadow sometimes caused Faziz to turn on the lights of the tour
bus. Tonight, they would not need them, for the foreigners were right! The
Sphinx was starting to glow.
Slamming on the brakes of the tour bus, Faziz cranked open the door and
dashed out to stare at the limestone monument. Not only was the Sphinx glowing,
but also there was a humming in the air. A dust storm! That was the cause of the
unnatural glow. The rays of the setting sun are hitting the sand in the air.
Faziz turned and dashed back onto the bus, ignoring the many questions of the
worthless American tourists. Jumping back into his seat, Faziz ground the gears
and got the bus moving again. “If I stay here, the sand will scrub the paint
off the bus in no time.” Pulling into the exit lane leading away from
Egypt’s number one tourist attraction, Faziz tried to get the lurching bus up
to speed. Sand pelted the windshield and soon, even bigger stones started
hitting the bus. As the windshield shattered, Faziz pulled the bus into a
windbreak caused by the Pyramid of Ramses. Wondering how he was going to pay for
a new windshield, Faziz heard the tourists start up again. “Damn Americans! I
will have Farouk at the hotel double charge every one of them!”
One of the tourists shook his shoulder, asking, “What’s going on? I
didn’t think the Sphinx had wings?”
“What? Wings?” he thought. “This American must be as stupid as he is
ugly. Everyone knows that the Sphinx doesn’t have wings.” Turning in his
seat, Faziz saw that, yes indeed, the Sphinx now had wings. The sand storm
wasn’t really a storm; all the sand was flying in toward the Sphinx. The
blowing sand and small rocks were adding themselves to the body of the Sphinx,
revealing the true shape that erosion had hidden for thousands of years. The
Sphinx flexed enormous wings and threw its lion’s head back and let out a
deafening roar. As it levered its massive body up, the nearby ground cracked and
the tour bus was almost flipped onto its side. Standing taller than the
Pyramids, the Sphinx looked around, searching.
Now that the ground rumbling and the pseudo-sand-storm had abated, Faziz
peeked around the front bumper of the bus. Seeing the Sphinx restored to it’s
former glory brought tears to the lifelong resident of Egypt. The rapture in
Faziz’s eyes changed to a frown. Then the frown changed to a questioning look.
The questioning look changed to fear as, Faziz thought “Atum-Re, your need
must be very strong if you’re bringing back Egypt’s greatest warrior!”
“General, We have a report of an unusual weather pattern in North, Central
Pennsylvania.”
“What? Weather pattern? I don’t have time for that now. I’m still
reading the reports coming in from Mars. That situation sounds like a hellhole
being stirred by an ugly stick. What is the latest sit-rep at New Fort Dix,
Major?”
“General, the pattern hasn’t responded to the weather suggestion
satellites. That is why I brought it to your attention.”
“Call NASA and tell them to beef up the power to the satellites. Now, I
need the latest report from New Fort Dix. Major? Where is it?”
Weathercaster Jonas Whitehull had been in meteorology for twenty years. He
had never seen a storm develop like this one before. “Give me the latest
before I go live”, he told his assistant. Standing in front of the blue
screen, waiting for his cue, he thought about how easy forecasting had become.
The weather suggestion satellites had changed everything. If a storm was brewing
where they already had too much water, the lasers on the satellites would heat
the air above the storm and allow it to lift and then the lasers would heat the
best path for the storm to take. 90%
of the time it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. “And that’s why I still have a
job. Someone has to prepare the residents when the satellites don’t work.
“5… 4… 3… (2)… (1) …” The producer pointed at Jonas, indicating
they were ‘live’.
“Folks”, Jonas started out, giving his best country smile. “I know a
lot of you aren’t awake at 1:00 in the morning, but we have a… development
to inform you of. A low-pressure area has… spontaneously… developed… over
Northern Pennsylvania and southern New York. All forecasts for the next 24 to 48
hours are to be considered invalid. Repeating, ALL preview forecasts for the
next 24 to 48 hours…”
In Norway, Andrius Koslov was out before the dawn. “If you want to paint
the sunrise, it’s best to get up before the sun”, he thought. After
strapping on a backpack full of supplies and picking up the easel, Andrius
started up the path through the woods to the top of a small hill. His father
used to rouse him before dawn and carry him up here to greet the sun.
“If’n ya listen closely, ya can hear Heimdall’s trumpet blowing,
announcing the dawn for all the land,” his father used to say.
“I hope you’re happy in Valhalla,” he wished to his father as he walked
along the path. After traveling along the path for a half hour, he noticed that
a large raven was following him. Keeping a wary eye on Lord Odin’s servant, he
didn’t notice the hare until it darted out and startled him. Picking up the
easel he dropped, he also picked up a stone and threw it after the hare. That
caused him to drop the easel again. He picked up another stone and stepped off
the path and threw again. The hare seemed to dare him to throw one more time.
Andrius smiled and drew the sling from his back pocket. Picking a ‘good’
stone from his coat pocket, he thought, “I’ll just have hare-stew for lunch
today. Spinning the sling and releasing the stone, it flew on target and knocked
the hare in the head. The hare fell off behind the boulder it was sitting on.
“Odin’s teeth”, he thought, “ not only have I had to kill my dinner, now
I have to hunt for it, too.” Walking around the side of the boulder, he found
his ‘good’ stone and with a smile put it back in his pocket. As he got
around the back of the boulder, he saw the hare lying on the ground. Squeezing
in between the cramped stones, Andrius picked up the hare and threw the body
over his shoulder.
Then something caught his eye further in the boulders. “I grew up playing
on these rocks… I don’t remember any cave here… I wonder…” Squeezing
even more, Andrius ducked and made his way into the cave. Inside he got some
sketch paper out of his bag and lit it with campfire matches. Holding the small
torch aloft, he made his way further into the cave. He stopped in front of a
rock platform that was covered with dust. Taking out more sketch paper and
holding in the shape of a fan, he dusted off the platform. All the lay on it was
a simple hammer, stone head, wooden handle and leather straps. “That can’t
really be Mjollnir”, he thought. “Loki must be playing tricks on me. Making
me see things.” Slowly he reached out his hand and touched the stone head. The
feel of cold stone greeted his fingers. No shock. No tingling. No feelings of
any kind. Sliding his hand down to the handle he thought, “If’n this is
Thor’s hammer, I shouldn’t be able to lift it.” Wrapping his fingers
around the handle Andrius counted to three. “One… Two… Three!” On three
he picked the hammer up and felt like every nerve in his body had been set on
fire. He threw back his head and let out a scream. The tendons and sinews could
be seen moving under his skin as he dropped to one knee, fingers wrapped tightly
around the shaft of the hammer. His head bowed, Andrius brought the hammer in
front of him and tapped it on the ground twice, almost gently. Lightning sizzled
out of the ground, up the hammer and all over Andrius. His body jerked and
convulsed as the electricity flowed over and into him. His muscles grew larger,
his body grew taller as he absorbed the energy from the lightning. Reaching out
a now massive arm, Andrius pushed over one of the boulders that he had had to
walk around to enter the cave. Then he stood and looked around. Andrius Koslov
was no more and Mighty Thor walked the Earth again.
Peter Walkingsparrow knocked on Standing Wolf’s door. When Standing Wolf
answered the door. Peter began without preamble, “I know I’ve been a jerk to
you… But… I’ve had…”
“…Had a dream.” Standing Wolf finished for him.
“How did you know?” Peter asked, bewildered.
“Come in, Peter Walkingsparrow, and I will tell you that I had the same
dream. The same dream as you.” Peter went inside Standing Wolf’s dirty four
room home. Standing Wolf motioned Peter to sit at the table and got a Pepsi out
of the battered fridge for him. Sitting at the table himself, Standing Wolf
reopened a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Finest and took a long drink out of it.
Coughing, he rose to spit something into the sink then he asked Peter, “Are
you ready for our trip?”
“Are we really going on a trip together?”
“The Great Spirit visited me in the dreaming lands and told me to take the
Chosen One to the Caves of Enlightenment. I was… Unsure… Who the ‘Chosen
One’ was before you knocked on my door.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes, Peter Walkingsparrow. I believe with all my heart. A great danger has
returned to the many lands and you will be the one to stop it.”
“I can’t even stop the white kids from scoring when I’m playing goalie.
How am I supposed to stop… Do this… Whatever?”
“I… Am unsure. Go home and pack your bags. Tell your mother that you’re
going camping with your Uncle for the weekend. Then we will leave for the Cave
of Enlightenment.”
“OK. I guess. Can I drive?”
“No. Just gather your stuff.” Peter got up and left, taking the Pepsi
with him. “And prepare your soul”, Standing Wolf added to the closed door.
“We’ve been driving for hours, now. Do you have any idea where these damn
caves even are?”
“No.”
“No? NO? What do you mean, no? You old, drunken bastard! Turn the damn car
around and take me home. You didn’t have any damn dream, you just wanted to
get me out here so you could feel me up; you perverted bastard.” Standing Wolf
slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. Shutting off the car,
Standing Wolf put his hands in his lap and lowered his head.
“Now what the hell are you doing? Don’t have a heart attack on me, Dammit!”
“Peter.”
“What? What the hell do you want?”
“Peter Walkingsparrow.”
“That’s my god-damn name! Now, start the damn car and take me home!”
“You are the Chosen One. The demon has returned and the Great Spirit has
picked you to defend the many lands against it. The Great Spirit visited you in
the dreaming lands and also told you this. Why do you reject it?”
“I’m… I’m not the Chosen One!”
“Yes, Peter Walkingsparrow, The Great Spirit has selected you.”
“I’m… I’m scared… I saw… The demon… In my dream. He was ugly.
And Scary. And Bloody. Then…”
“Then what, Peter Walkingsparrow?”
“Then… Then he looked directly at me and… He told me he was waiting for
me to come… Not to fight him, no… He wants me to come to him so he can… So
he can eat my… SOUL! I’m so scared. I don’t want to fight him. He’ll eat
my soul and I’ll die in my sleep! Please take me home! I’m not the Chosen
One. Please, oh please, take me home!”
“Peter. You must find it in your heart to be brave. The demon will devour
the world unless he is stopped. The Great Spirit also told you this. Close your
eyes and visit with him again in the dreaming lands.” Standing Wolf reached
into his pack on the back seat and pulled out something with made with beads and
feathers. “Here, put this necklace on.”
“It’s old-looking. And it smells funny.”
“It belonged to the grandfather of my grandfather’s grandfather. It will
protect you in the dreaming lands so the only the Great Spirit can visit you.”
Peter ducked his head, placed the necklace around his neck and closed his eyes.
Standing Wolf started up the car and pulled back onto the road, hoping for a
sign as to where the ‘Caves of Enlightenment’ were. Glancing at Peter as the
boy fell asleep, Standing Wolf reached over and gently pried the Wal-Mart price
tag off the side of necklace. “It wouldn’t smell, ‘cept I spilt whiskey on
it”, he thought.
Continued in War of the Blood Gods #7
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