War of the Blood Gods #6

Written by Grim, Edited by Marvelite
Published by the Beyond Reality Fiction Group in

Characters are the properties of Grim


Visit the Beyond Reality Archive Page for past issues.

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? 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!”


“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

We hope you enjoyed this brand new original fiction series by Grim, writer of Cosmic Powers Unlimited's Drunk Thanos fan fiction stories.  Please send Grim your feedback at cpufeedback@yahoo.com and if you have an original story, e-mail cpufeedback@yahoo.com about having it published in our new Beyond Reality imprint at Cosmic Powers Unlimited.





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