NOTICE: This too shall pass

All good things must fall, and such has happened to my beloved Kingdom. Even if it resurrected itself I would no longer have the will to go back to it. Too much has passed; I have seen too many heroes fall to the clutch of darkness, too many warriors foresake their morality. “Once There Was Laughter” is the final release in my miniseries “The Kingdom,” and will be sequeled by a series entitled, “The Sapphire Society.” It will contain some of the Kingdom, and much not. It will not be a tale for those faint of heart, and will be nothing at all to those faint of brain. If you consider yourself smart and Brave enough, then…

Read on.

Once There Was Laughter

Everything is as he remembers, but different. The birds which once called cries of love across the sky now shriek defiance against their foes. The once-proud castles are crumbling. The silvery steel blades are tarnished, yielding only warped reflections in their blades. The man’s eyes are filled with sorrow and mourning for a world that once was and may never be again.

The old theatres that once displayed eccentric performances by the Nutters Acting Troupe are abandoned. Dontgonearthe Castle has only a few visitors, a few poor souls who still cling to their belief that if they keep acting normal, everything will revert back to their memories. The Sontairian Fortress is barren, its moat dry. Even the Imperial Castles are eerily quiet. There is a pall across this once-lush land, a fog that has clouded the hearts of all its inhabitants. It is not some evil monster come to suck out our emotions, some dragon bellowing its rage. It is worse; a terrible apathy lies at the hearts of men.

The land has been ravaged by boredom itself. The silence that falls upon the man’s pointed ears, concealed by a hood with an eagle’s beak at its crest, is deafening.

He has been anything but bored, this strangely old young man whose eyes once twinkled with laughter. For the past three months he has been toiling away on a remote outpost of civilization: Vicc Island. Day after day he has restored its once-glorious University to magnificence, mortaring and painting and gilding and scribing. He has copied a thousand books on to fresh paper, studded a thousand arches with sapphires, cried a thousand tears for the relentless decay of history. He has been planning, this odd man with a red sash as a belt. Through all of his hard work the halls once more gleam. The mirrors all shine and the arches all glitter. He has turned back time and given the University a second chance at life. Its grand opening was on the first day of the Sapphire month, quite appropriately. Soon, he hopes, the corridors will be filled with philosophers engaged in debate and he will truly, with the aid of the Sapphire Society, have restored the jewel of Vicc Island.

He only wishes he could do the same with his homeland.

The streets are saddening. On one, the only inhabitant he finds is a bizarre eight-legged man giggling to himself as he looks through old photos of old friends. On another, a few odd cultists are perched around a pond that they are stirring up with sticks in an attempt to make waves. Over it all looms the once-bright castles, which have rotted and fell to betrayal and boredom. He hears that an invader from the south has gone mad and threatens to rape elves and attack spaghetti until it bleeds. He hears cackling on the wind, but it is only his own imagination. For the city still stands silent. The man in white finds himself doing what he swore he would never do, finds himself walking down an old path no one else has been able to see for centuries. Finds himself entering an old building with arches and courtyards and banisters and dummies. Finds himself staring down at a plaque in which is inscribed the words in a flowing foreign script, “In Memory of Altaïr and Al Mualim, Final Defenders of Our Institution.” Finds tears dripping down his cheeks as he stares at what was once his home. Wonders if he would prefer to be lying in eternal sleep beneath it, next to his old mentor.

He has seen all this happen before. Has seen the years chip away at once-proud buildings. Has seen the finest of men fall to apathy. Has himself fallen to betrayal. He had hoped with all his heart that this time it would be different, that this time it would last. He regrets, now, having taken time away for his Society, regrets thinking that everything would be fine when he returned. He had been a caretaker of these lands once, and now he has lost them to spiders and men who think they are gods. Just like before.

He still hopes. He hopes that men will see their fault and return to the light, that some day the instructor will call out blade positions as the students parry, that one day the Nutters will perform and the Legion will march and the gates of the Imperium will be thrown open wide. He hopes that perhaps his society will be the spark of life that was needed Because once there was life here.

Once there was laughter.

Chapter Five: A Storm Is Ruining My Gadgets

Initiate ReportSequence()
SenderName = Konarru;
RecipientName = *******;
SubjectTitle = Experiment;
++MessageBegin:t
{
Sentience Experiment 0x33E07 continues unabated. Have taken liberty of manifesting within subject’s plane, result: quickening of variable experimentation.
}
{ ++ExpressHumor++ While other islands and planes continue at snailpace this island shall quickly make them all obsolete. Am facing considerable difficulty with another Corporeal, am taking steps to remove from proceedings. Ask for investigation into its problematic be
- – -MessageFailureIntenseElectricalPowerOverl- – -

~ ~ ~

In disaster movies, the day where everything changes always starts out perfectly normal. Birds chirp in an ominously cheerful fashion, trees rustle in the completely non-apocalyptic breeze, sun beams down upon idyllic fields filled with happy smiling people, going content around their work, all the while blissfully unknowing of the giant space spiders who are about to steal their wives, children, and Apple products. Life is painfully perfect, viewers onlooking in grief at the soon-to-be devastated land that is somehow still a peaceful, utopian land where everyone is happy.

~ ~ ~

“What EXACTLY do you MEAN… by oops,” roared Kopa.
“Well, uh,” stammered Nei in a tremulous voice, “you know, it’s rather odd that that happened, honestly I could have sworn that this didn’t happen when I-”
“Just CTALH well GET it WORKING AGAIN!” bellowed the volatile Ceu.

He was staring angrily at a small greenish-tinted orb which was lighting up like a prehistorical plasma ball. Beams of energy raged from the center and played over the surface in a display of chemical beauty.

Needless to say, this was not what was supposed to happen.

When the Ceu looked down again at the sphere, the glitch was gone. Instead there were floating pluses and minuses, floating like jellyfish inside the globe’s sea. As if to prove the metaphor, they gently pulsed and wriggled. Kopa was not pleased.

“If I wanted it to do Ctalhing addition I would have told you to build an abacus! Math is hardly my forte, but this is honestly not the time! Our god is getting a little too intimate, the mountain has exploded, and to top it all I’ve got omnipotent kids running around and telling everyone about the next catastrophe which will happen!”
“You would prefer the catastrophes with no warning?” asked Nei smoothly, all Lanzek once more.
Kopa stumbled. “Well, no, but, I mean, he doesn’t have to advertise it as if it’s some dating service!”
Nei looked startled. “I thought you had said you weren’t open to the idea of a dating -” He realized he had gotten distracted. “Anyways, that ‘omnipotent kid’ is currently,” he nodded his head to the left, “sitting over there playing with explosives. They should keep him occupied.”

Kopa stared at him. “Has anyone recently told you that you’re insane?” He crossed over to Pakana and, gently but firmly, withdrew the explosives in question. “No playing with bombs,” he said sternly. Pakana nodded mute understanding and picked up what looked like the sharpest blade Kopa had ever seen. This was taken from him as well. He eventually settled on a funny-looking glass plate which reflected everything but people. He grinned, using it to look behind him by holding it parallel to his eyes.

Kopa shook his head at the bizarre childhood the poor thing was getting and turned back to Nei. “Want to explain the addition and subtraction, too?” he demanded.
“Well, actually, those aren’t mathematics. Turns out, those are symbols that are used to initiate communication with the Corporeals.”
Kopa looked blank. “The what?”
“Sorry. That’s what the Articles call the gods.”
Kopa growled. “Ah. They’re too lazy to communicate by sod like they did last time?”
“Well, they don’t want to interfere with the environment, I guess-”
“Don’t want to interfere with what?”
“I’ve got a cake,” interrupted Pakana.

The two adults swiveled. “Ah…” said Kopa Ceu, at a loss for words. “Really? Do you indeed?”

Pakana nodded. “Yes, and if Konarru-” the two gentlemen winced – “wants to use it to burn messages in I don’t really care. Mom made it because Dad was out swimming, and she’s actually not that good.”

Nei Lanzek patted him on the back. “I’m sure that’s true,” he said, “but I think our Patron would prefer us to use this.” So saying, he pointed once more to the sphere.

It was lit up again, and the hairs on the backs of their necks stood up in more than just fear. Outside, the sky was dark and mimicked the globe.

Chapter Three

Mark cautiously edged one foot on to the first plank of the wooden ladder that led down into a badly-lit subway tunnel. “Wood’s certainly a little more… mature… than the last time we were here, huh?” he yelled out cheerfully to Courtney. Below him, Courtney sipped from a bottle of water and nursed the knee she had hurt when she had plummeted through one of the steps, and muttered something along the lines of “well, at least something around here is…” Mark ignored her, his thoughts flashing back to all the previous times he had gone this route. Those had been the good days. Excitement, adventure, saving the universe… He didn’t recall it seeming as fun at the time, but now he would do anything to go back to those days.
Which was why he was climbing down a rotten wooden latter into an abandoned and spooky subway station that held at some point along its treacherous walls a door into nine other universes…
He landed with a final thump on the ground below, his hands spread out to catch his momentum. He straightened up in the blink of an eye and pulled Courtney to her feet. Unsurprisingly, she was still muttering. “Didn’t I use to be the athletic one?”
“Which of us spent months training with Loor to plan a massive military attack against Saint Dane?”
Courtney grumbled. “If I recall, I was hardly in a position to come and join you, now was I? Besides, it’s dark here. Anyone could have fallen.”
“Speaking of which…” recalled Mark. He lifted up his right hand and blew gently on the fourth finger. Light sprang up in a blaze of cosmic energy, bathing their surroundings in the pearly glow that shimmered from his ring. He grinned, recalling childhood days spent watching Sci-Fi movies. He reached out and touched the tip of his glowing ring finger to Courtney’s, and spoke seriously, “E-T phone home…”
Courtney swatted his hand and rolled her eyes. “Could the oh-so-powerful military warrior genius tone down the dorkiness?” Mark just grinned and looked around. Man, he had really missed this pla-
Suddenly the full force of all his memories came crashing into him as he stared numbly at the same brightly lit tunnel walls that he had seen so many times… He gasped and stumbled as his mind filled with all the things he had done, all the days that had passed… He shut his eyes against the flow of memories. It helped, but only a little.
“Um… Mark?” asked Courtney worriedly. “Now really isn’t a good time for this. Open your eyes, Mark. Open your eyes!”
Mark blinked. “What? We’re in an abandoned subway station… We’re completely alone -” His eyes widened. How had he forgotten that? If Bobby was back that meant Saint Dane was back, and if the flumes were in use again, then that meant… He opened his eyes tentatively, to see six pairs of yellow eyes stared at him.
“Shit,” said Mark.
“Run!” said Courtney.
Mark’s eyes widened as he took in the Quigs, the snarling black dogs with wicked yellow eyes and teeth – Maybe they’re Great Danes or something, he thought whimsically to himself as his feet pounded down the man-made tunnel. He couldn’t remember where the flume was but evidently his legs could… He arrived with a gasp at a side door illuminated by a dingy-looking yellow light bulb. He raised his hand to get some better lighting, and in return layers of dirt that had caked the door suddenly found themselves having to adjust to their new lives as ash, as a star-shaped signal suddenly pierced through the dark.
Oh, and another thing. It also made the light bulb go out.
“Courtney!” yelled Mark in a panicked voice.
“Mark! Where are you? I can’t see… Mark! Help!”
He heard snarling and ran towards it, his fist smashing down into an unseen canine skull. A stab of light lanced out from the ring as he struck the growling beasts, illuminating the scene eerily as if with strokes of lighting. A stick, that was what he needed, a long pole-like one that he could use like Loor taught him. “Mark! What do we do? Maybe we should just run back to the ladder and get out of here!”
Perfect, thought Mark. With two swipes of his flashing ring, he drove the dogs back until they formed a ring around him and Courtney. He flashed a quick grin at her. “Now you’ll see what I learned…” In a single, fluid move, he grabbed the lightbulb off of its chain, grabbed Courtney by the neck, and leapt over the ring of dogs before bringing the bulb smashing down into the skull of a Quig. It smashed and lit the devil dog on fire, the other dogs backing away out of bottle-smashing range and barking, forming an impenetrable wall around the Flume gate. By the time they had noticed he had ran off in the other direction, he had already dissapeared.
He set Courtney back down but didn’t explain anything. Either she got it or she didn’t; there was no time right now for anything but running. He tore down back the way he came, until he reached the ladder. He climbed up the first set of rungs, his feet on the first and his hands gripping the second, which was extremely rotten. He slipped slightly, and by the time he had recovered the dogs had arrived. They encircled him, daring him to try to climb up one more step… He was their prey now, he was defenseless and fleeing and that meant they could -
In a rapid smooth action he flipped himself off of the first rung with his feet, the rotten second rung tearing out of the ladder with a cracking noise. He landed already swinging the wooden cylinder like a baseball bat so that it connected with the windpipe of a Quig, then whirled around and impaled another on the rotten end of the stick.
In about two seconds, the tables had been turned.
He twirled the pole around his waist, letting it build up momentum before sweeping it up into the chin of a quig, then ducked as a claw went overhead and grabbed it by the wrist. A twist, a cracking motion, and with a bellow of pain that monster was put out of the fight. He swept his legs under the paws of another, then threw the pole into the air, swung both his fists down onto the beast’s cranium, and grabbed the stick out of the air as it fell before driving it through the throat of the dog that had leapt at him when it had thought it had sensed a weak spot. But for the final quig, the leader, he needed something different. He needed something… impressive. Something that would send a message to Saint Dane that would tell him that he would pay for all the deeds he had done…
He willed his ring to flame and it did, making him shield his eyes and setting the rung on fire with a pale, luminescent flame. He picked up the bottle Courtney had drank from and poured its contents liberally along the creature’s body, head, and legs. Then he tossed the flaming stick at its tail.
As he grabbed Courtney and ran back to the gate, he heard the howls of pain and anguish turn into a whine of hurt and frustration as a hissing noise indicated that the fire had reached the water. The dog would be fine, but its pride and glory – its tail – would never grow back, not unless it had magic de-cauterization powers. He could care less. He swung open the door to the flume and dragged Courtney in with him. For the first time since they had seen the quigs, she spoke.
“Wow, Mark. That was… incredible. The way you moved… like it was all natural to you – I’m sorry I doubted you. You really are a pretty good fighter.”
Mark brushed her off with a smile. “Plenty of time for compliments later. Right now, though…”
He gestured towards the gleaming walls of the flume, sparkling and gleaming in the light that came from the universe itself. “Quillan,” he called out. That was the best place to start, now that Blok had taken over ring manufacturing. He smiled a genuine smile as that calming music came flowing down out of the tunnel, and a ring of light picked him up and carried him away…
Everything was going to be okay.

Chapter Four: Shake That Landmass

Pakana stared up in worry at his Ceu. “What – what happened?” he asked in a tremulous voice.

Kopa Ceu was gazing out into the sky, his mind obviously not taking part in the proceedings. In a preoccupied voice he said, “Fetch  Nei Lanzek.” When Pakana didn’t move, he snapped back to Earth and then snapped back at the young Sen, “Now!”

Pakana immediately bowed as low as his five-year-old body would take him and ran off to fetch Nei. He navigated his way through the various clusterings of huts that made up his village, his arms weaving intricate dances that gave him constant tactile feedback on his surroundings, and at last arrived at one that glowed with a faint sheen (not that he could see it) that gave no hint of the various nasty things that would happen to anyone who entered uninvited. Careful to limit his knock to the door, he found himself panting – for Kopa Ceu’s hut was at the western end of Takasha, and Nei’s hut was all the way across at the eastern end.

Nei Lanzek did not like Kopa Ceu.

However, before Pakana could so much as tap on the door, a voice from inside that made him think of ancient men draped in elaborate fabrics and with long, flowing beards spoke deeply and magnificently, “ENTER.” The door swung open to reveal, in a fountain of glittering lights, a magnificent chair – almost throne like. And perched on top of it magestically was -

A rather young man, holding a large cone weaved out of leaves to his mouth, a pair of silvery and not in the slightest horn-rimmed glasses perched delicately on his nose. He was toying with the cone, making small lights flow out of its large end in pretty patterns that fluxed with his breaths. He was grinning like a monkey on drugs.

“Isn’t this genius?” he asked delightedly. “Here, look. I came across it while I was trying to make it respond to my speech patterns. Here, check this out -” So saying, he put the cone to his mouth and said, once more majestically and regally, as if speaking a rune of power, “ECHO!” Rather unimpressed, Pakana listened as the magician’s voice ‘echo’ed throughout the hut. Then, the important matters apparently taken care of, the Lanzek got down to business.

“Well, then. You must be the young Sen I’ve heard so much about,” said the Lanzek warmly. Pakana decided, in typical five-year-old fashion, that he liked Nei. “That’s right!” he exclaimed happily. “Well then…” noted Nei, “you must have come here for a reason. What is it?”

Pakana immediately sobered up. “Kopa Ceu wants you in his hut immediately. He says it’s important.” (This is not, of course, in any way what the chief said, but then, you must make allowances for small children.)

Nei grumbled. “Well, he would, wouldn’t he.” He laughed with a sudden remembrance. “Do you know, he once got stung by a bee, and never having been before, thought he was going to die and summoned me immediately. After reconciling himself with the prospect of death, he discovered that all it would do was sting and itch, and that he’d be fine. He was in a bit of a bad mood from then on,” retold Nei, chuckling as he told it. Pakana giggled too, only to stop immediately as he remembered his… experience… on the beach.

“Only, see, I think it really is important. Cuz I had this weird thing on the beach where I suddenly started seeing, but everything was all red and people were dying and there was this weird orange-reddish-yellow glowy thing around people and making them black and crumbly and they were screaming and -”

His memory which had quickly turned into a gabble of fear and unwanted remembrance was interruped by the kind young Lanzek. “You poor thing!” he exclaimed, rising to his feet. “No child your age should have to go through those things.” He picked up Pakana and cuddled him to his chest.

“Well,” said the child, smiling up through tears, “it’s all part of becoming a Sen, after all.”

“Oh, and I think you will do that indeed,” said Nei immediately. “Such obvious visions at an age so young… truly you are worthy of the title, even now. Imagine what you’ll be like in your prime… But on to business. That sounds to me like what the Articles call ‘fire’, a thing created by TeiCuo the Burning, Ktalua’s enemy. The Articles call it an ‘ever-hungry thoughtless entity that spreads itself by destroying its surroundings’. Some say the Day Light itself is made of fire. If you see it on land… that means the Fire’s next prey is us. But… how would it get to us?”

“Well… I think Mount Tekawo is going to… break.”

“Break? That’s ridiculous! How do you break a mountain?”

“I don’t think it is a mountain, at least not one like the others. It’s sort of… a shell, for Firr.”

“Fire, you mean. A shell, you say? Like it’s some sort of egg, and the fire will hatch out of it?”

“Exactly. But… what can we do about it?”

“First? First, I think we should bring this matter to the Ceu.

~——~          ~——-~         ~——-~

Needless to say, Kopa was not pleased. Fortunately, however, his displeasure at this came in the form of worry for his people rather than screaming, “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!”

“What can we do about it?”

“Well,” answered Nei worriedly, “the answer is not one I think you’ll enjoy.”

This time Kopa came close to screaming. Disregarding the fact that the Lanzek could explode him with a pinky, he picked him up by the neck and shook him. “Tell me!”

“Nothing.”

Kopa sagged to the ground. “Fine.” His voice betrayed that though he may say it is, it evidently isn’t. “Prepare emergency evacuation. We’ll find another island and start over.” He wondered what he would do without the island he had lived on all his life.

“Hang on, hang on,” reassured Nei. “There is someone else who can help us.”

And this time Kopa did. “THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” he snarled viciously.

“Well… because the person is Konarru.”

Kopa stopped, stared for a moment. Then he started laughing. “You’ve gone crazy, little Lanzek. All the stress has gone to your head and think you can ask a god for help.”

“Well, I can,” affirmed Lanzek. “I can make an opening into the Higher Dwellings, an opportunity for our Patron God to help us. Then he’d go back and we’d be back to normal.”

“No,” interrupted Pakana, eyes wide. “I don’t think you should do that. I really don’t think you should do that.”

“Why?” asked Nei gently. “What do you see, little seer?”

A block from its namesake, and he was there, laughing and pointing his flickering fingers until the smoke was everywhere and it wouldn’t close and it was a rip with no knocker and they were all falling into it, falling in and out the other side back to where they had started and hadn’t even moved, but he had…

“I…” stammered Pakana. “The… the door is stuck and it’s all his fault, it’s all because of the Eater and he’ll rip it and tear it until nothing’s left… Don’t you get it? He’s given us a nameplate and we haven’t even noticed!”

Evidently, this was far too cryptic to be understandable, so Kopa and Nei ignored it and continued with their plans. But their careful predicting of all the possible things that could go wrong and figuring out solutions if needed was interrupted by a strange vibration that slammed through the room, making the glass ornaments dangling from the leafy ceiling tinkle. “Earthquake!” screamed Nei. “Everyone outside!” Without time to think, all three dashed outside and watched in horror as the waters around them churned and the ground seemed to move…

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” screamed Kopa above the low-pitched humming.

“The ground is moving along a crack! It’s rubbing it and  -”

“Stop muttering about things you’ve misread in the Articles and tell me the practical implications!”

“Well, if it moves the wrong way it might make a space, a sort of hole -”

“Leading to what, exactly?”

“I’m not sure, some sort of orange Light that’s… liquidy? The Articles aren’t very clear on that matter-”

Both men’s eyes met for an instant as they realized what it meant. They both turned to stare at the mountain. As they watched in horror, the top of it started to crack and vibrate… And suddenly there was a boom! and the top split right in two, black smoke streaming out of it and turning the skies dark. “Do it NOW!” screamed Kopa.

“But I haven’t prepared, made wards, so many things could go wrong -”

“Worse than us all firing to death? NOW!”

“It’s ‘burning’, thank you very much,” muttered the Lanzek. He closed his eyes and let his mind reach out, out and up…

Pakana stared in awe as his young friend was suddenly transformed into a figure of power, glowing with the light of a thousand stars that hurt his eyes and felt like ancient beings, cold and ruthless and filled to the brim with sheer, raw, power – Lanzek brought his fist down and shouted a word in a language that made Pakana’s ears bleed, and there was a sound like a boulder cracking neatly in half -

And the waves were churning around them, and the clouds were churning above them and suddenly the clouds were growing closer but the waters were falling away, clinging in desperation to the island as it rose up into the sky and left a gaping hole in the sea, and with a single blur of wet white they were above the grey-turning clouds, watching in awe as the Volcano lashed out in red fury, Mt. Tekawo now fully revealed as TeiCuo’s gate into their world -

But now their Patron had a gate, too.

Fire rained down in anger, foiled from its target by sheer gravity and aerodynamics – the village just out of its reach. At last it calmed down, and this time when the Island was lowered it was amidst black, choking clouds… But at last it filled up the hole that had been left, and the villagers were left staring up at a mass of black above them – at least, those that hadn’t fainted.

“There,” said Lanzek, pointing a gleaming finger towards a reddish glow on the horizon. “That’s his entry into the world, now I’ll just -” he made a clenching motion with his hand.

Nothing happened.

Pakana stumbled backwards, fell to the ground. “It’s stuck,” he told Lanzek calmly. “You did it wrong because TeiCuo distracted you – and now it won’t close.” He gave a laugh, then, a cold, chilling laugh. “Well, now your wishes are granted. Your god truly walks among you. Beware, sons and daughters of beasts – for he will be the end of you all!”

But Nei Lanzek, once more unlit and once more merely mortal, was hardly even listening, was staring at a patch of dirt in which were inscribed glowing red characters.

“I can’t read Ancient,” grumbled Kopa. “What does it say?”

Before Nei could respond the clouds above them were suddenly swept aside as if from a great wind, and light burst in from the sky and the mountain itself reformed, rock leaping from the ocean back to its tip. Nei’s throat felt dry.

“It says, ‘Evidently there’s some spring cleaning needed around here.” He turned to look at the chieftain and the seer, his expression grave.

“I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of our Patron God from now on.”

Notice

Due to circumstances I could not have foreseen, there will be no updates today. My muse needs to recover as much as I do.

Chapter Three: You Always Hurt The One You Lava

Pakana drew a little circle in the sand absent-mindedly, wondering about his future. He had met the previous day with Kopa Ceu, a majestic young man with eyes that filled all those who saw him with courage. He had sat on his lap while Kopa had told him what would become of him some day. He had been told that his blindness was not a curse, but a blessing. That some day he would grow up to become a Sen, able to see into the very future itself. He was told that he was a rare gift, almost as important as a Lanzen, a guide to the village and a helper of its’ people.

But right now, all he could see with his eyes was as blank as as a sheet of new snow.

He wished with all his heart that he could see, that he could reach out through history and learn what would become of himself. He wanted proof of his destiny, wanted more than anything to be able to use his eyes for something, anything. He wondered idly for a moment what vision was like. He had been told of colors, like pitches of sound only vivid to the eyes. He wondered if they would give him a headache. But all of these were passing thoughts to his desperation to be able to see his future. If he was to be a Sen, he rationalized, and be responsible for foretelling the future of the entirety of Takasha’s people, couldn’t he be granted at least one look into his life? Just one tiny glimpse into the future, that’s all he wanted. He reasoned with unnamed gods, with the Takasha patron god Konarru, with anyone who heard him in his mind. Show me my future! he pleaded. Show me that it’ll be all right.

But nothing came, and he was left sitting on a beach, a five-year old drawing idle circles in the sand. This, he knew in his heart, was not what childhood was meant to be. He was supposed to be playing with other kids, not trying to see the future. He had tried, Konarru knows he had tried, but they laughed at him, laughed at his milky eyes and stumbling behavior, at his helplessness. Was that playing? Making fun of other people? Perhaps he had gotten the better end of the deal.

For a second, he felt something behind his eyelids. A flash of something that tasted to his mind like caramel. Brown, he thought, from the stories others had told him of colors. So that was color. He suddenly felt an ache in his heart for these vivid sights that had been lost to him forever. He tried to hold on to the memory of that color, but already it was slipping away, slipping away… And then for a moment his eyes opened, truly opened -

Circles in the sand, white against brown – black against blue, smoke in the sky – Red passion lashing out from the water – the stick in his hand was burning, he fell to the ground screaming, a puff of dust and the circle was broken – as the sky turned black as night, the sun covered in blazes of red, and they were running around him, his house was flaming with a red light that hurt his eyes and made him close them, screaming, screaming, trying to block out their cries of pain and the red that was everywhere, consuming, drawing circles in the air and on the sand, rising from the water, it was

He fell to the sand, gasping, panting.  Dust rose around him as he struggled to rise up from his nightmare, and he saw that where he had fallen the sand had been cleared so that there were two neat half-circles that were not in the slightest connected -

Red, black, brown, blue, death, destruction, the circle was broken, the circle was forged, they were screaming

He struggled to rise, flashes of destruction lighting behind his eyes and then -

Stopping.

He lifted his eyes slowly to the skies, seeing a haze of black against the bright blue sky. His eyes settled on the distant mountain named after the octopus god -

Two halfs of a circle, broken neatly

He staggered back, knowing suddenly what his vision meant, what the mountain was – for it was no mountain, he knew now, it was a pot filled with fire and he had broken it, drawing circles in the sand without knowing what they meant, he had opened the circle and now the mountain would follow -

But the knowledge was slipping his grasp; he knew it but he could not put words to it. Suddenly he ran to  the chieftain and told him with wide eyes that saw things no five-year-old should have to suffer, in a voice that spoke without his consent

“The circle has broken, the mountain is free. Fire from the earth is among the heavens, and all shall be as it was before. Creation is destruction and this land is at an end. Beware, chieftain of smoke, herald of death. You will soon see your patron.”

And he had control of his voice again, and life returned to its usual pace rather than its shattered rapid turning, and his eyes -

Were blank.

Review of ‘The Soldiers of Halla’

(Copied from my post on http://z15.invisionfree.com/hallastarforums/index.php?showtopic=552&st=45#entry4282783 , which is a forum for Pendragon.)
I hated the final book, and several things in particular. First, the first few explanation chapters. It honestly felt as if D.J. had written the first nine books with an absolutely clear idea of how they were all going to go, and they had worked brilliantly. Andy being Saint Dane, small secrets being revealed… all of it was WIN. And then he had no idea what to do for his last book, so he just browsed this forum and came up with the wackiest ideas (for instance, mine that the thing was the Empire State Building, which doesn’t make sense, and even the sarcastic one about ‘Bobby can channel the power of the flumes through his hands!’) to get what was by far the most cliched, ridiculous explanation I have ever heard. A friend of mine and I were reading it out loud to each other cause it’s this weird thing we do (don’t laugh, it’s fun, and I don’t care if it’s immature!) and my father, who happened to be in the room next to us, asked us, in tones of dripping sarcasm, ‘What quality fiction is [i]this[/i]?’ I mean, really? Bobby gets his powers from a mystical place called Solara that is the founding of Halla and has everything in it… Press is a ghost, not a traveler… That doesn’t even make sense! If Press is an eternal ghost then what’s with the journals that his Acolyte had? If he wasn’t a traveler, he wouldn’t have journals. Duh. And now Bobby can do all this mystical magic stuff, but ‘it’s a severe drain on Solara’? That’s the cheesiest plot device I’ve ever read of.
Second thing that annoyed me: the discontinuity. Everything that made Pendragon Pendragon… was gone. Biggest thing: the flumes. From the beginning of the series, the flumes have been the insignia of Pendragon. They’re what powers the series, keeps it going. The flumes symbolize not only the travelers, but Halla and even the readers themselves! Now, destroying them I could take. It’s good and builds up tension. Besides, then their mission would be, like, restoring Halla and recreating the flumes or some such. But instead – DJ makes them a device of Saint Dane! This is NOT GOOD! If the flumes are all made by Saint Dane then you might as well make Pendragon the devil. It’s stupid, nonsensical, and besides makes what was previously considered a good thing VERY BAD. Why do I say it doesn’t make sense? Because every time the travelers do something that Saint Dane [i]doesn’t[/i] want them to do (i.e. bringing the anti-poison from Cloral to Eelong, or bringing a non-traveler through the flumes) the flumes get HURT! Now, if they had been created by Saint Dane, A) Press would be a lot more reluctant to use them, and B) They wouldn’t break down every time the Travelers did something Saint Dane wanted! The flumes were from the start something pure, something good. Well, *pfft* out the window goes that idea.
And another thing that made it discontinous. [i]Press is an eternal ghost.[/i] Not only is it cheesy, it makes no sense. Alexander Naymeer being the man who was supposed to teach Bobby makes sense and was good, but Press not being a traveler at all is not. As mentioned before, it makes the whole ‘Press’s acolyte’ thing nonsensical (shouldn’t it have been Naymeer’s acolyte, anyways?) and besides, it also makes the whole concept of the Travelers kaput. The previous concept was that there are generations of Travelers stretching back into the mists of time, with only one traveler being allowed to exist per territory at a time; these Travelers would travel throughout Halla and make sure things went ‘The Way They Are Meant To Be’. This new theory posits that there have only been two generations of Travelers, the first meant only to train the next generation, not even to combat threats to their territories, just train. This TOO makes the whole ‘Press’s journals’ thing obsolete, because even if you say that he assumed Naymeer’s place and became a psuedo-traveler, he still wouldn’t have any journals to write, just like the other Pre-Travelers, because he wouldn’t have gone on any adventures on his own. This too makes no sense, because the Pre-travelers have suggested many times that they too were once travelers. Well, apparently they weren’t. And how ’bout this Solara thingy? That one came pretty out of the blue. Cliched, ridiculous (Bobby can channel the power of the flumes through his hands!) and unmentioned before. In ALL the previous books, the few reveals there were had been hinted at before the reveal itself. So, basically, this last book seems to be in its own series, disregarding all preconceived notions of Halla.
Finally, the writing in general. One word.
Terrible.
The entire thing felt written by a five-year-old! ALL the chapter endings were ridiculously cheesy, and in particular some of the first few chapters were just downright weird! The mysterious hazy territory turns out to be just Third Earth under bombing and there is, of all things, a PENGUIN? I mean, really? The explanation chapters in particular, but really all of the book, was written in a terribly cheesy fashion. Like I said, the chapter endings were all cheesy and felt like they should be followed by old-TV-style DUNDUNDUN music with lots of deep instruments and crashes. The explanation itself was terrifyingly cheesy. And so, in the end, I am forced to say that the flumes themselves are probably holes through swiss-cheese and the whole of Halla is one big dairy product. Thank you, D.J. MacHale.

GODS: Progress for Progress’ Sake

Up in the skies above the Kingdom, (Altair is a traditionalist elf) Tulkas shook His head sadly. “Aulë, Aulë, Aulë. It’s just not enough any more! My warriors grow tired of their weapons. Mithril this, Mithril that -”

“Quite simply,” interrupted His wife Nessa, “it’s simply not enough any more. Mithril is shiny and whatever, but we need something new. Something shiny. Something impressive, you know? Something that really looks good and inspires the courage of all who follow.”

Aulë, crafter of the Gods and fashioner of weapons, gazed down worriedly at His Brother and Sister. “Look,” he said in a wearied, gravelly voice, “there just isn’t anything I can do about it! As you are no doubt aware, Mithril is the single most powerful metal upon the Earth! And each and every liquid drop of that expensive stuff costs me time I could have spent,” here he paused to glare at Tulkas and His wife Nessa, “doing things I actually enjoy. Coming up with a new way of stringing a bow, or a new addition to Mandos’ halls, which he tells me are getting a bit crowded, rather than breathing dust in a mine shaft at the center of the Earth itself! It’s simply not worth it! And now you tell me that it’s ‘not good enough’ that it’s ‘not new enough’. Well, deal with it, My Immortal Beloved Siblings,” his voice dripped with sarcasm and anger, “because it’s the best you’re going to get.”

While Nessa was taken aback by this display of emotion, Tulkas was not. “It is not the best. I know this for a fact.”

Aulë exploded. “OH, so YOU know more about my work than I do, DO YOU? Do you KNOW how hard it is to even create the silvery stuff itself? Do you know the work I put in just so that You can get Your shiny little swords and give them to Your shiny little warriors? I don’t… CARE… how ‘old it is. And so help Me, Eru or not, if You dare to tell Me that I’m wrong one more time I shall break… Your… neck.”

“Peace, Brother,” said Tulkas patiently. “I’m sure it is the strongest metal -”

“Thank you,” said Aulë.

“- but it isn’t the strongest substance. Hold on, hold on, don’t blow up at me, just listen. These powerful new shields You’ve shown Me how to make? Which I in turn have passed on to My smiths?”

“YOUR smiths? Excuse me, I thought that I-”

“They are made,” interrupted Tulkas, “from what you call, “Dragon Armor.”

Aulë stopped utterly. “Ah,” he said quietly. “That. The Dragon armor was a mistake, one which I won’t make again. I violated my pact with the Serpentine and stole the secrets of their body from literally under their snouts and used it to fashion armor so strong it could withstand their own claws. For that act of betrayal they have forsworn their pact with Me. But you never noticed that, did you?”

“Well, the damage is already done. Use that knowledge to make weapons, as well! Use their very magic and control over time and space against them. Think of it…” Tulkas’ war-loving eyes gazed out into space. “Draconic Axes… Serpentine Bows… Even swords that could shatter time and space and create chaos! Oh, yes. I’ve heard of their so-called ‘entropy’, and if you can harness the strength of their hides you can harness the powers of their magic, no?”

“Pact or no Pact, I won’t betray them more. Do You know what those weapons would be able to do? Take this idea of your ‘Serpentine Bow’. Arrows shot from it would pierce their hide itself! The Serpentine would no longer have control of their sky. You’ve fought the dragons back from Your lands and Mine as well – at least give them their skies!”

“They’ve coped before, they’ll cope again. My warriors need more strength, more incentive to grow,” commanded Tulkas with eyes of steel.

“Incentive?” laughed Aulë. “Oh, I’ll give you incentive. Tell you what. I’ll create and fashion for You the prototypes of it, but…”

“But what.”

“I am the only man who knows how to enchant normal material with Draconic strength, but I’ll make it a weak spell, one that only lasts an hour. And at the end of that hour each and every of Your precious warriors will have to pay me again to keep it strong.”

“Upkeep, yes. All the weapons have that – wear and tear, whatever. That’s an acceptable term.”

“Oh,” said Aulë with eyes colder than Tulkas, “You’ll accept, all right. You have to. But Your warriors won’t find the repair prices… cheap.”

“Money, what is it? Just shiny material, more of it. I don’t care.”

“Trust me…” spat Aulë. “I’ll make it expensive enough for even you, Dear Brother, to care.”

The Sword is Mightier than the Pen

To all who are reading this:

My name is Altaïr. I’m a citizen of The Kingdom, a vast land that extends past all vision, degenerating into minor fiefdoms and the like as it falls farther and farther away from its Imperial center. It’s a strange land we live in. There are constantly wars of honor, wars of pride, wars over things as foolish as ‘he took my punch’. The only adjective which can ever apply to peace is ‘uneasy’ and that’s an adjective that gets used rarely. Two men will make a truce and a day later each will be waging furious war on the other with the claim that the other attacked them first. If I didn’t know that it’s a legend I’d say we live in Koom Valley. So, you might be wondering, how on Earth do I have a job?

Well, you’ll only be wondering if you know what my occupation is. The reason for that is that what I do is, quite simply, make peace. From small fights like the Yulia vs. Cazs skirmish of ’30, to the earthshaking Duellum Conflict, I nose my way in and try to get everyone to calm down and please stop throwing their punch cups at each other. I’ve only had one or two jobs which didn’t turn out right, but I’ve had the same number of jobs that didn’t break out into another skirmish by the next week. I am fairly certain that the Creators, in their infinite and blessed wisdom, must have infused all the water supplies with pure testosterone; there simply is no explanation.

Well, enough of my bitter ponderings on the idiocy of Man (and Orc) (and Elf) (and punch). I haven’t just started writing down my thoughts in order to talk on and on. From here on in, I shall tell of my travels in the Kingdom in the form of stories of  exactly what has happened to me…

And perhaps some day I’ll find a happy ending.