Prologue—Burial of a common enemy
The light poured into the dusty desert canyon, bringing oppressive heat with it, driving even the shadows into the tombs to escape it. Leviathan statues hewn from living rock stood or sat in mocking silence of the discomfort of the party gathering below their feet, bearing witness of the slow passage of time. Monuments carved as foot stools for the watchers marked numerous entrances of tombs. A slight breeze moved the heat, and stirred the dust. Nothing seemed in any hurry to leave this place of the dead.
A large, disparate company in gaudy regalia mulled around, without mixing. Each group stood on its own, taking their turn in the funeral and burial of a common enemy.
The High Priest watched as several Druids of assorted races sealed the casket. His heavy robes trapped heat as effectively as most hoped the casket would hold the body within it. An assistant handed him another skin of water, taking the empty one, as he looked across the assembly at his enemy. The Necromancer’s robes and regalia appeared heavier than his own. The old man was not bearing up well, but he looked as determined to see this through as the High Priest felt.
Once the Druids finished, they lifted the casket into the bottom half of the sarcophagus. A set of goblins scurried forward, their robes protecting them from the direct sunlight. They levitated the top half into place then placed their hands on the sides of the sarcophagus, chanting in their guttural, discordant language. The carved sigils on the side’s glowed purple as the seam disappeared, making the sarcophagus a single piece of stone. When finished, they then lifted it onto the base of a larger box.
A group of squat creatures, in thick hooded robes, brought the rest of this outer box forward. The box was as tall as the creatures. Its stone sides were carved more intricately and deeply than the previous boxes. The ten creatures lifted the box above their apparent heads, moved it over the sarcophagus, and settled it onto the base. The writings and images carved on the sides and top of this box were then charged with black magic. The High Priest was unsure of their race. These short creatures withdrew, and disappeared in a shimmer of air and dust. Pallbearers then hoisted the box between them.
The High Priest turned and walked into a narrow side canyon with more tombs. The Necromancer fell into step beside him. The procession formed up behind, the disturbed dust joining the company. As they moved from the main canyon, the air became a choking sea of heat, the dust floating within it. At the appointed portal, the procession entered a fresh tomb. Flickering torches added to the gloom, the heat within only slightly less than the immense heat without. They marched into the deepest chamber, to find the burial crew already here, and in proper costume.
Everyone was tense, not wanting to get anything wrong in this internment. The Chaos Bringer had lived up to her epitaph, and nobody wanted to risk her return by leaving something undone. The High Priest marched to the head of the grave, the Necromancer going to the foot. The pallbearers entered and turned the box to line up with the grave vault. They placed it on the supports that spanned the hole in the floor, and retreated.
The black elf Grave Master then stepped forward and dedicated the grave. A gnome came forward to speak what good could be said, and retreated. Finally, the Grave Master called forward the grave men.
These twelve dwarfs each placed looped rope through rings on the top of the box and over beams spanning the room. They pulled the ropes tight and lifted the box from its supports. A second squad came forward and removed the supports, exposing the hole. The box was carefully lowered into its vault; the ropes then pulled back out. The lid was then moved into place and lowered in, sealing the grave vault.
The Grave Master again came forward. The Black elf prayed a spell, that this grave not ever be disturbed. The High Priest shivered at the language used by the Black elf. The power of the spell felt like a solidifying ice slab on everyone’s shoulders.
The Necromancer prayed and cursed the grave that it should never be opened and that any who tried should die. The torches fluttered and dimmed, this feeling like molten iron.
The High Priest prayed, and blessed that the grave would ever contain and restrain the body within, until the God of Heaven called it forth. A feeling of solid granite locked around the company.
Attendants passed water around, as everybody moved into final array for the last of the ceremony. Shortly, the grave men had the chosen stone blocks lowered into place, and the floor of the chamber closed.
Now came a final casting, started by the High Priest and Necromancer together, to be channeled by a Druid and sealed by the black elf Grave Master. This spell was almost never done, being entirely against the nature of the participants. Gathering the necessary participants alive was near impossible. The High Priest, one who gives life; the Necromancer, one who takes life away; the Druid, one who orders life; the black elf, one who disrupts the order of life. The Necromancer and High Priest stood where they were, The Druid moving to the left of the grave, the black elf opposite and facing him.
The High Priest started singing, the Necromancer joining in counterpoint. As they sang, energy began to build, strands of power coalescing. The Druid joined in as a counter melody; the tune weaving the power as it wove through the singing. The black elf added his own part giving texture to the weave, organizing the spell to its fullness. The High Priest sang about the cessation of life, the Necromancer sang of the giving of energy to live. The Druid sang of the destruction of organization, the Black elf sang of the newness of life. The torches threatened to go out in the gale of power in the room.
They came to a crescendo as the final chorus finished, each finishing in the order he started, with the Black elf’s singing taking the final bright energy form and using it to seal the grave, burning the design into the floor. The afterimage of the burning energy blinded everybody for a few moments.
The High Priest suddenly felt himself speak again. “This Chaos Bringer is laid to rest. But the cycle is begun anew.”
Darkness surrounded him, an otherworldly voice coming from his mouth. The company stirred at this, as did all the torches, as if fanned to life. This was not part of the planned service, but a prophecy of the future.
The High Priest continued. “In future time, a new Chaos Bringer will arise. A son and daughter will be born to one who is a fourth generation half-elf. Darkness will seek them, to make the daughter a powerful witch, the son a lord of battle. Light will seek them to keep them from the darkness. Nothing will stand before them that they do not countenance, and they will grind the wicked under their heel. In their time will come a child, who will bring chaos to all that can be found.”
The priest collapsed, his attendants catching him before he hit the ground. Using them for support, he stood again.
“Finish this, and we will depart this cursed place.”
The procession filed out, the Keepers of the Tombs sealing the tomb as they followed at the rear. They closed the successive chambers and inspected each one, insuring that the warnings not to proceed were clear on each surface. Finally, they came to the outer most chamber. All was also set to collapse. The pull of a rope would open cisterns of sand that would empty to lower the roof of this complex to the floor. All were well clear when then the Grave Master pulled the rope.
As the last bit of air escaped the tomb, all felt a sigh of relief. Though short, the reign of the Chaos Bringer had been hard on everyone. With her gone, a balance would again be found. All would resume their rightful places.
Until next time.
Chapter 0
Chapter 0
Caspian entered the elves city. Dispite the depth of snow, they kept the roads clean, if wet. The cobbles shed the water quickly enough.
He went to the appointed inn, and rung the bell on the counter, which sat at his shoulder height. A blue hewed elf of indeterminate age appeared, and shortly Caspian had a small room. Cyrril awoke as Caspian removed his outer cloak and set it over the back of the chair. Caspian undressed and went to bed, feeling vaguely like a child. The scale of the city and its inhabitants being half again the average height of the people Caspian was want to be among.
The elf had shown up just after Caspian had got the last of his harvest in. It popped in, Caspian feeling the magic, and strode across the field to his wagon as Caspian stacked the last wheat bundles on the pile, to be taken and threshed.
“You are the one known as Caspian.”
“Yes.”
“You are summoned by the leaders of the ____ clan. Go to their city____ by the next solstice.”
“To what purpose? I have much of my own business to do here, and owe nothing that I am aware of.”
“They will explain as they will, in person. You know where that city is?”
“It’s in the ___ Mountains. Beyond that, not specifically, but I could find it.”
“I take my leave.” The elf turned and walked off Caspian’s land.
Caspian had purchased a horse to get as far as he could before winter had set in hard. The cost for this easily covered by his inherited wealth. Caspian had traded part of his harvest for the horse, and sold off the rest of his stores.
“Why, Caspian?”
“Jamen, I’ve been summoned by some bloody elves. I have no idea how long this will take, but I expect I will be some time. Watch my farm. I will try to be back for planting. But I won’t hold my breath.”
These mountains were too hard for a horse from the lowlands, so he had sold it off and purchased some local clothes, and snow gear. Now three days prior to the solstice he had arrived, having traversed a significant portion of the continent of the planet in latitude from his home just south of the equator to this range of mountains near the northern tropic line.
The messenger elf showed up just after breakfast. She stood head and shoulders taller than Caspian. He figured she was still a youth among the elves. She took Caspian to a tailor, where he was outfitted with a ‘presentable’ outfit. Caspian found the costume ridiculous. The next morning Caspian dressed in the costume after bathing himself, and Cyrril. He polished his staff, left the rest of his things aside, and was ready to go when his escort arrived.
Chapter 1
“Take whatever you need. Go to Terra. Find our lost daughter… Secure her from evil. Bring her and her husband here to us.”
Elves can be exceedingly annoying. Those elves especially. They had given further instructions, but they were very bitter to contemplate.
Caspian had been following the first part of these instructions since leaving (city-name), at winter solstice. “Go to Terra,” he muttered. “How about something simple like ‘Go to Abaddon’.” He continued his trek to the high reaches of this mountain range, hoping not to find much snow, while arriving early enough to accomplish his task with sufficient time to spare. Being in good health, Caspian had been able to journey through the winter quickly. He could have teleported directly, but that took more effort than he felt was necessary. And walking gave him time to think things through, and learn things.
The spring equinox was the start of the window period, at any rate. The last half moon before the summer solstice marked the end of it. Travel between the worlds was as simple as walking, once you learned to do it. However, having the planetary bodies arranged just right made things easier.
The high mountains had lost their charm. In his 30 plus years, Caspian had seen most of the major mountain ranges of Tywacomb, his home world. That was a lot of walking. Much had been aimless wandering. Now he had a purpose. The caravan he had spotted behind him while climbing a canyon did not improve his mood.
His seven-foot staff usually marked time, thumping the ground in tune with his steps. Sometimes one hand, sometimes the other, sometimes swinging between them. If he was moving, so was it. The dragon carved on the head of it was something to be careful of, though it ended most of a cubit above Caspian’s head. He occasionally thumped himself with either end, but the wings on the carved end hurt worse than the blunt foot. Just now, the blunt end was a brace, as Caspian forded a stream full of spring runoff. The cold seeped through his boots, but did little more; his feet numb from travel.
Cyrril took the moment to play. The little dragon leapt from Caspian’s shoulders and glided upstream a little. At a point with larger rocks, the little dragon folded his wings and dove through the spray to land on a smooth boulder. The water flowing over this rock swept Cyrril off and down stream for a bit. Where the water calmed, Cyrril crawled on to the bank. Spreading his wings, he shook himself off, drops of water flying for several feet. Even with the road dust rinsed off, his skin was still a light gray. After worrying a few itches, Cyrril spread his wings and leapt into the air, flying after Caspian. He flapped his wings to gain altitude, then glided to land on Caspian’s right shoulder.
Cyrril weighed little more than a house cat, being longer nose to tail, but not as wide through his body, except for his wings. He tended to look all around him, then once content, to sleep. His moving around while seeing everything sometimes annoyed Caspian. Because of Cyrril’s claws, Caspian had long since put padding around the shoulders of his coat.
“To the top of the canyon. Across the valley. Follow the river up the next canyon, then up the tallest mountain. There you will find the ring.” Caspian recited this litany, learned from the old man, mostly to hear something besides the stream. He was three days beyond the village where he had been told this. The caravan had most certainly reached the village by now. Hopefully the village would survive.
Caspian stopped and looked around him at the frosty trees and patches of snow among the ground cover, his dark eyes taking in all the life around him. “The caravan will destroy this area going through it.” The area had not changed in the years since he had last been this way. The villagers were nice, giving a reminder of the path and location of the circle. They were used to strangers, but not an army.
The caravan had looked to be mostly soldiers from Krogg. And they were losing ground as they crossed the same trails he was traveling alone. Caspian had an edge with just Cyrril and himself to pack for, even with the closing of winter. When he had last seen them, they were an advance company of around twenty, with some pack animals and a cart.
He started moving again, his mind going full tilt while barely guiding his body up the game trail. The trail was well used, with most of the scrub clear of it. The caravan would carve the trail into a road, just to get their carts through. Their draft beasts, being lowland animals, would like the thinning air and cold temperatures even less than the men would. Caspian felt the air thinning himself, having to huff a bit more each passing hour.
The sun had left the canyon in twilight before Caspian got to the top. Once there, he broke back into the daylight, and turned to face it for a moment. Putting both gloved hands on his staff, leaning with it against his left shoulder, he caught his breath. The sun was warm, but the air was distinctly chilled, his breath visible.
“Gonna be cold up here.”
Cyrril chirped in agreement then nestled closer, under Caspian’s hood.
Caspian turned his back to the sun and continued into the valley. A small stand of trees found just before dark was his shelter. First, he stretched his senses, finding healthy mana, and thus healthy plants and animals. Above, like a large river in the air, flowed the ley line. It pointed better than a compass, to Caspian’s destination. Next, he drew on the ground with the foot of his staff. The symbol complete, he cast the activating spell. That would keep the predators away, as well as render potentially troublesome bugs docile. His place thus protected Caspian set to and gathered some sticks and a fallen tree.
He pulled his bush knife from behind his left hip and hacked the branches off the dead tree. He piled these aside, the longer to use for shelter, the shorter for his fire. Next, he set the log in a low crotch of a healthy tree. Shortly he had a rude lean-to constructed, and a ready pile of wood. Cyrril then lit the fire.
After dinner and honing his knife, Caspian gathered his coat and cloak about him, and slept under the lean-to. Cyrril went out prowling, but did not go far. This was not dragon country, and a raptor would dive on him as quickly as it would a ground rodent.
The next morning found Caspian chilled and sore. After breakfast by his fire, which was then put out, Caspian arouse, stretched a moment, and kicked the log that Cyrril was resting on.
“Time to go.”
The high valley was covered with a thick bladed grass and other plants hardy enough to thrive in the climate. As Caspian started out, frost highlighted everything to be seen. Lunch found him on top of a foothill, enjoying the scenery, but ruing the lack of trees on the slopes of the surrounding mountains. By dinner, he was crossing a rocky lip with snow on one side and a sharp drop to a stream on the other. He followed this sideways to find another camping spot. The ley line was thickening to his senses, and beginning to be the dominant feature that he observed.
Camp this time was not as warm or convenient as the previous night. But it was just as peaceful.
This last day, he followed the stream on the ground, or the ley line above, as the path entered a draw that would lead to the final ascent. Caspian stopped here, and set up camp in daylight, choosing to rest before starting the final climb. Cyrril helped gather some scrub for a fire, and munched on a rodent he stirred up as he did.
A constant breeze blew down the draw and over them as they rested. Finally, Caspian rolled over to sleep, as the stars began to take over for the fleeing daylight.
Caspian arrived at the base of the tallest mountain in the range. On a small ledge, half way up, was the goal of this leg of his journey. Fortunately, the stream he was following ran right past the plateau he wanted, and he could go right up from the trail that wound across the face.
Caspian guessed he was right, that the convoy had slowed coming up the canyons. He had not seen any sign of them in four days. As he traveled his awareness of the ley lines and mana became more palpable, all leading to the convergence of ley lines on the small plateau.
“You stay alert here. Your eyes are better than mine.” Caspian turned to look at Cyrril as he spoke. “Also, the ley lines are over-running my other senses.”
Six lines currently intersected roughly half way up the mountain. Four that circle the planet, one that reached to one of the moons, and one that reached to the sun. He would ride the last one. Once at the heart of the solar system he would switch to one that went beyond.
By riding the lines, he would most easily travel to Terra’s system. He could brute force his way across the intervening light-years, but that was like climbing the face of the mountain instead of going up the streambed and game trails. Even so, ley line travel was not very comfortable. Much like climbing the streambed, with the spring runoff up to your knees and running fast.
He started up the trail that wound across the mountain face. It was ancient, with plants growing in it. And it was just wide enough to walk on, his arm against the rock on one side, the other side a long first step with no second. The mountain rose straight up from the canyon floor, as did the others around it. The stream was fed by run off from all of them. As he climbed the face, he would be visible to any that cared to see him. As he went up, so also the valley below came more into view.
Roxanne stirred, then slipped deeper into sleep. She dreamed she was on a ledge on the side of a mountain. Footprints that were not hers led into the center of a formation of rocks. Then she was flying. Faster than she had ever moved before, accelerating up, and across space at the sun, until it consumed her.
Rox awoke, just before her alarm started. Carefully she pulled herself out of bed, doing her best not to disturb Steven. After pulling on some sweats and picking up her gym bag, she slipped out the back door and crossed the yard. One of the dogs noticed her as she crossed the yard, but did not otherwise stir. Behind the backyard, in her garage, she kept the latest car. She put the bag in the front seat of the ‘67 Camero, then opened the swinging garage doors. Climbing in, she started the car up.
The engine growled to life. Rox sat for a few moments letting the custom restored Camero idle, and warm up. She then backed it slowly out of the garage. The pre-dawn light was bright enough to see by, but she still turned on the marker lights, as she stopped, and closed the garage. Roxanne then slipped back into the Camero, and secured the four point harness. That done, she eased out the gravel driveway to the road, and drove to the gym.
She had had several vivid dreams the last several nights, but no real memories of them. Try as she did with her workout, she could not completely put off a sense of foreboding. This wasn’t about the tournament that night. Something else was going to happen.
At the gym, Rox changed into her workout clothes, black pants and a torn up red tee-shirt over a spandex top. She warmed up on the treadmill, then started working through the dumbbells. Quickly finding her usual rhythm for lifting, she lifted mainly for the exercise of it today, rather than to build strength. She preferred to come in the early morning, or late evening, to avoid the posers who came to be seen. As such Rox had most of the rack of weights to herself, for most of an hour. She moved through the various lifts in a steady rhythm and then finished, and moved to the rooms where she trained, and taught second level martial arts.
Steven got up to find his wife had already left. That was fine. She did not like to be disturbed before matches and tournaments. So he had the kids today. He was going to take them with on the errands, then out to play. A warm shower and clean clothes started the day. He roused Diana and Alex and took then into the kitchen for breakfast. They sat on the stools as he cooked a skillet of eggs, bacon, and toast. They each munched on some peaches as the rest cooked.
Diana, ten, and Alex, eight, rarely squabbled over dividing up the food. They preferred to fight over other things. Such as who has to shower first. The winner showered upstairs. The looser had to wait, or go downstairs and use that one. Steven cleaned up breakfast as his children cleaned and dressed themselves.
Steven let the dogs in and gave them the scraps, and their normal breakfast. Tyrell and Dru, retriever-mix breeds, then went back out. They were staying home today. Steven briefly wondered if it was yet time to have Drusella bred or fixed.
He then went into his bedroom, and to the closet. In the side was the safe. He opened it, and pulled out his gun, and its stuff. The holster went into his waistband, magazine holder sitting opposite. Then his belt went on, with all of its other paraphernalia. His Batman-utility belt was a running joke, and a holdover from his combat gear from his years as an active duty Marine. His cell phone, a leatherman, and a few other things were also threaded through his belt as he put it on.
Steven went around the house once, gathering the things he wanted to take, and generating the list of errands to be run. That done, he went to the front garage, which attached to the house, and began to load the truck. The target stands and gongs were put in first, with some 2 x 4’s put over top, and the other stuff put on them and tied down. Diana helped him get the last bit in. Then Alex showed up, and they went downstairs to the locked room.
In here, Steven kept all his gun stuff, among other camping and similar things. He opened the gun safe, as Diana and Alex each set out an open rifle case. Steven put his ‘toy’ rifle in one, and the kids’ .22’s in the other. These were then closed and locked. Alex then took one case and Diana the other, up to the truck. Steven grabbed a brick of .22’s, and two other boxes of ammo. These went into the range bag with all the ear muffs, safety glasses, and field cleaning stuff. Last he grabbed one of the five gallon buckets of reloaded ammo, and closed the room back up.
The bag and bucket ended up in the bed of the truck. The two rifle cases on the floor in the back seat, and the kids on the front bench with Steven. Alex, sitting in the middle, got to push the button to open the garage door. Once it was going up, Steven started the truck, and rolled out. Diana got to close the door once it was stopped, and the truck out. Steven turned onto the road and headed for Carson, waving to Mrs. Winchel weeding her front lawn as they drove by.
About half way up Caspian stopped to catch his breath. The air was considerably thinner up here. He leaned against the wall where the trail switched back on itself. The view was breath taking. He could see most of the valley stretching away to either side, and across to the mountains two days behind him. And there in the alpine grasslands some movement caught Cyrril’s attention.
He showed Caspian what he could see. Two men, one larger and walking behind, one smaller and walking in front. The larger one glinted metal. The smaller one reflected nothing. They were a good day’s travel away yet, so Caspian did not worry. He had enough air now, and started up the trail again. Caspian was using his staff to vault the stream for a fifth time, when the ley lines flexed and surged. Stopping, he sent Cyrril to fly out and get a closer look. The men were visible to him, but were too far away to see what they were doing. However, they were identifiable as from the following caravan.
They looked like a warrior and a thief, as best Cyrril could tell. The larger had some metal armor on. The smaller one was all black. Caspian recognized what they were almost immediately, and laughed for a good while. While the thief would adapt and blend into the other world eventually, the warrior would have a harder time. Until then, they would stand out worse than Caspian did now against the rocks.
He then continued up the trail. Shortly before mid-day the ley lines surged again. Caspian was just below the lip of the ridge he wanted to be on, when he looked out across the valley vainly trying to see what was happening. He then turned up the final ascent of the trail. A stream ran down it, and covered his feet in freezing water as he walked up to the plateau. He went around the last bend, glad to be walking on level ground.
The surge that hit the ley lines as he turned onto the plateau almost staggered Caspian. The source of the disturbance wasn’t hard to spot. The thief had set up the locus for a gate, to bring the rest of the caravan up. That changed things considerably. Cyrril alerted that the gate had closed with the whole caravan now in the valley below was the caravan, most of a day’s travel away.. Cyrril then flew up to join Caspian. Here the ley lines were about all either could sense, vision seeming to be shades of gray in comparison.
The view from the plateau was spectacular. Caspian puffed hard in the thin air. He was in good shape, but rarely climbed to such high altitudes. The cold of the season did not help. He looked back at the land he had covered, again leaning on his staff for support. Cyrril circled and landed on the carved dragon at the top, above Caspian’s head. The carving was half as big as Cyrril but gave enough purchase to hold to.
Rox thumped the bag, going round and round, sweat starting to show on her light haired brow. Her eyes focused on the bag, but the tournament this evening occupied her thoughts. Her mood was still set by the unease she felt about the future. With a final set of thumps she stopped, leaving the bag. She didn’t want to wear herself out before getting to the contest.
She went into the dressing room, stripped, and showered. At six foot two, Roxanne was the tallest woman in the gym, most of the time, and had to duck to get under the shower head. Easily one of the stronger women to workout here, she was considered overly skinny for her height, measuring little more around than a woman a foot shorter. Having those measurements she always looked a bit ungainly. But thanks to daily time at the gym she was too muscled to be called delicate, while not showing excessive overall definition. Just a smooth, hard figure.
After drying off she dressed in her street clothes, left the gym, and drove the hour long drive to the school where the Martial Arts Tournament was being set up. Roxanne’s agitation distracted her from her habitual driving pattern to only moving through the traffic instead of leaving it behind.
Steven’s first errand was to get some hiking boots for Diana and Alex. They would be camping over summer vacation, and neither had adequate footwear. Diana had outgrown hers. Alex had worn his out. Steven considered getting a new pair for himself, but there were none in stock to fit his size 14 feet that he liked. And his were not worn out yet.
With new shoes on, they went shopping for a new pair of binoculars. Alex kept quiet about this, and seemed extra careful about what he touched in that store. Steven had said very little about ‘the binocular incident.’ Alex had learned that lesson very well. On the bright side, Steven ordered a new top-end set with an integral digital camera. And purchased for each child a quality mini set.
Steven was pleased to see how much care Alex took with his; Diana dropped hers twice, to no effect.
Next, they traveled to Reno for lunch.
Caspian looked around the plateau, and at the concentric rings of stones. The mountain had too little soil, otherwise Ash trees and mushrooms would have added to the rings. The rings were evenly spaced and arrayed. Caspian had learned their meanings long ago, and had seen enough places like this one that they ceased to amaze him. Smaller stones on the outer and innermost rings, the middle ring having the largest stones being almost as tall as a man. Seven concentric rings in all. Caspian could almost see the stones glowing with power. As it was there was so much potential here, it was hard for Caspian to keep focused.
The sun was approaching its peak, one ley line arcing toward it across the void. Caspian had enough breath to go again, and walked into the center of the circles. First, he cast a spell to soak up as much ambient energy as would fill him, and his equipment. Where he was going there was very little mana, and he had a few spells he would need to cast. These would over tax the area he would be in unless he had reserves to draw from. As the sun paused at zenith, he switched spells. Cyrril crawled down to his shoulders. Caspian then began to draw on the dirt with the end of the staff, singing in several different languages as he made his pattern.
He started with a circle. Then he inscribed this with an octagon, oriented to the ley lines, and compass. Next, he drew another circle inscribed within the octagon. Within the inner circle, he traced more lines, in a complicated pattern. The pattern had a part for each leg of his journey. First to take him to this system primary, Kakou. From there to the hub of the local star cluster. Next to the galactic arm anchor, and into the galactic center. Out to the anchor of the arm he was going to. Out to the cluster. To the Sol system primary. Then finally to Sol 3, Terra.
After completing the pattern and chant the third time, he activated the matrix he had set up. For a brief moment the rock circles gave off light enough to rival the sun, strobbed in pattern, and then ceased. The sun continued into the afternoon. Casting the shadows of the stones across each other. The evening breeze obliterated Caspian’s footprints leading in.
The staccato of gunfire had echoed in the small box canyon all day. Vehicles of various kinds cycled through the parking area of the narrow valley in counterpoint to the shooting. They parked in a rough line at the base of the shorter hill, facing the larger one. The intervening valley was about the size of a small athletic field, and strewn with mostly biodegradable debris. Several metal targets, and other larger objects, stood in rough order across the valley. Sometimes the gunfire ceased and figures would walk out and add, adjust, or remove things.
As it was, the sun was now behind the high hills to the left, and the shadows were disappearing. There were only three trucks left scattered across the informal line. It had been a good day of shooting, but there were other things to do. Steven had put the guns away, while his two kids picked up the loose brass. The targets were still set up, for one last drill.
Diana and Alex stood aside, Diana holding the stopwatch. Steven waited, standing as relaxed as he could. He stood in about the middle of the firing line. The other men were sitting on the tailgate of one of the trucks several yards away, watching while talking to each other. Everybody had earmuffs and safety glasses on. When Diana was ready, she pushed the start button. The beep from the watch was Steven’s cue.
In one movement Steven bent his knees slightly, shoulders dropping, head going forward, right hand going under his jacket to draw his gun. He pushed the gun forward at the targets, left hand wrapping around the right. Starting on the left, Steven pulled the trigger before he was at full extension. Each steel circle, mounted to its post, rang as the bullet hit. Steven swept to the right as each gong rang once. The cardboard targets were in the middle with the steel silhouette plates, and more gongs to finish.
The last gong rang as the slide locked back. The magazine dropped from the pistol as Steven’s left hand went for the next one on his belt. His focus did not leave the front sight of the gun as it he brought it back to reload. Slamming the magazine home, he thumbed the slide return as his left hand resumed position and the pistol went back forward. Steven swept back across the targets. After reloading a second time, he swept across a third time. When his slide locked back again, he ejected the last magazine.
As soon as the third magazine dropped, Diana stopped the watch. 45 rounds, 2 magazine switches, all swept across ten gongs, three steel plates, and two cardboard targets. All fifteen targets had been hit three times. All in under 25 seconds.
Not his best, but Steven was satisfied. He did not compete, but he practiced regularly. He checked and then holstered his pistol, and picked up his magazines. While Diana and Alex gathered his spent brass, Steven knocked the little bit of grit and dust from the magazines and turned back to the truck.
Looking at the other two guys at the far end of the line, Steven saw that they had removed their earmuffs. He took his own off and put them into his range bag that sat on the tailgate. Pulling out a fresh box of shells, he reloaded the magazines with fresh carry ammo. When full, two magazines went back into his belt. The third reloaded the gun, which was then safed and reholstered. By this point, the kids had put all the brass they could find in a stuff sack, and dragged in a gong each.
Alex climbed into the bed of the truck, as Diana handed up first the gong, and then the stand. Steven took the bag, and put it in the back seat of the cab as they got the second gong into the truck.
“Climb in.” Steven got in as Diana climbed into the bed. He then backed the truck up to the arrayed gongs. Alex and Diana began loading these as Steven walked to the steel plates, and pulled them over to the truck. While Alex stood on the tailgate and held the plate, Steven disassembled the bolt and spring that held it to its post. These were stored away, and then the other plate was likewise disassembled. Diana had the close gongs loaded. They quickly retrieved and loaded the last four gongs and the target stands.
Once everything was loaded and secured, they did one last police of the area picking up the smaller trash, and some of the larger junk and putting it in the truck to be tossed in a convenient dumpster. It was getting dark now. They all climbed into the cab, and left the practice range. Steven drove quickly back to town, and to the school where Roxanne’s tournament was being held.
They got there and parked next to Roxanne’s custom ’67 Camero. After securing the guns inside the cab of the truck, they entered the school building. Their reek of gunpowder put a few people off, but Steven’s six-and-a-half-foot height, close cut brown hair, and martial build discouraged anymore than slightly annoyed looks. His slightly amused and benign expression discouraging any further curiosity. Diana and Alex quickly wended their way out front to watch, while Steven scanned the room, then moved to sit on one of the upper bleachers.
All attention was on the martial arts tournament. It had been going for some time, but there were a lot of contestants. Three rings filled the gym, with matches going on in each one. As Steven scanned the room, he spotted many familiar people. And there was his wife over by the left ring. Steven first spotted the outfit, and knew it was her. Roxanne wore a white gi and black belt, with most likely her usual black spandex top and trunks underneath. The school logo was printed on the left side of her sports-bra, and on the back of her gi. She also wore slippers, until she stepped onto the mat to fight. Her mid-length hair was pulled into a tight, short tail. She kept the front long enough to be even with the back when tied together. And like all the competitors, she had removed all her jewelry, what little she wore.
All the rest of the competitors, students and instructors alike, were similarly dressed. White gi with the school logo on back for those from Rox’s school. Black gi with logo on the left breast for a second school. A tan gi with a logo on back for a third school. And a few were in generic gi’s with no logo’s. Everybody had his or her various colored belts.
Roxanne stood out from the rest on the floor just by her unique build. Her skin was as pale as her tailored gi, but always looked a bit blue under stadium lights. At the moment, she stood by as one of her students fought with one from another dojo. Her bright amber eyes did not miss a move. A hesitation, a stutter in movement, an opening. Her open smile showed approval as her student scored a point.
As the tournament had progressed, Roxanne encouraged her students. She also kept notes on what to drill them on. Occasionally she yelled instructions and compliments. Only half of her class entered the tournament, though most were in attendance. Being second level students, she had to be careful not to push them too hard. But more were winning than not. She was pleased with that, compared to the last tournament.
Then her class level was done. One of her girls had fought one of her boys point for point for the final. He was better, but made a mistake, and she won the group. Roxanne’s notebook was full of things to review over the summer when she put it away in her gear bag, next to her towel and water bottle. The instructor of the other school came over and congratulated her. They would meet again in less than half an hour, when they took to the center mat for the top level adult competition.
Everybody took a few moments to mull about as the outer ring mats were folded and the adult contestants introduced. These had drawn for a best-of-three round robin course. As he sat and watched, Steven could see that something was bothering his wife. But he kept his place, as she had previously asked him never to come to her during a tournament. The kids respected this as well, waving from among their friends, but staying put. Roxanne waved back, and then spotted Steven and blew him a kiss. Steven caught it, and blew one back. Then the matches began.
Roxanne’s first match was the third on the mat. The adults went faster than the children, and were more aggressive, fighting without pads. There were also fewer of them. Roxanne lost this match, but won her second and third matches. Steven could see that she was off her concentration. She had won only by reflex.
Roxanne next faced the instructor from the other school. She was taller than her opposite number, but he was stronger, and got inside her guard. And she was distracted, not concentrating from the start, so she lost. After her round was done, she sat down off to the side. But she was not overly upset. She had won this tournament twice before.
Steven got up, went down the bleachers, and gathered the kids. Together they went and sat by Roxanne. The tension in her was almost palpable to Steven. He began massaging her hand and arm, working on the bruises, to keep them from getting too black and blue. She sat quietly as he did this, watching the contest. But her mind was obviously somewhere else.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just have a strange feeling that some thing is going to happen, soon.”
“What, when?” He moved her hair over her left shoulder, to massage her neck.
“Something both good and bad, and soon. I haven’t been able to shake it for a while. I’ve had a hard time focusing lately.” She shook her head.
“When it happens, you will know it. Until then, don’t worry.”
“Easy for you to say.”
They quietly watched the rest of the matches. Steven pulled her gi top off her, and massaged her shoulders and back. He could feel the tension in her, and even after he finished with a muscle, it remained tense.
Once the contest was done, Roxanne went to stand with her class as they received their awards. Most of her kids had already changed clothes. They started to leave once the match was officially closed. Roxanne then took her bag and went into the women’s locker room. Twenty minutes later she came out having showered and dressed in street clothes, smelling lightly of pain-rub. Roxanne was starting to limp a bit from a thigh-shot she had taken. She was embraced by her family, and they all went out to the car and truck. Alex and Diana squabbled about who would get to ride where.
“I get to ride in mom’s front seat.”
“But you got to last time.”
Back and forth it went, then Steven joined.
“Who’s going to ride with me?”
And around it went again.
“Tell you what.” Steven said. “You two drive the truck, and mom and I will take the car.”
“No. That’s silly.” Diana said. “We can’t drive.”
Roxanne joined the game. “I don’t know. I like it. That way, I get to ride with dad.” She moved to the passenger side of her Camero as she said this, yawning. While the kids carried on a bit with Steven, she opened the door, and tossed her gym bags in the back seat. The kids were still arguing. But it seemed mostly they were just going on for the fun of it.
Steven ended the squabble. “Fine. Diana rides with me to go get dinner. Alex rides with me home from there.” Steven had the truck unlocked and open.
Roxanne turned and looked at Steven when he said this, about to say something then decided not to. She had not eaten either, and really did not want to cook. It was the middle of the evening, they still needed dinner, and home was most of an hour’s drive away. The kids agreed to this as Roxanne waved to one of her students driving away, waving his ribbon at her. Roxanne then climbed into her car, with Alex climbing into the passenger seat and tugging the door closed.
They put their seat belts on, with Alex adjusting the straps on the high back bucket seat to hold him. The four point harness held him a bit awkward, until the chest strap was in place. Roxanne checked his belts, then put the key in the ignition. The truck next to her rumbled to life right then. She smiled at the sound, then pushed in the clutch and turned her own engine over.
The throaty growl of the Camero’s custom built supercharged engine easily drowned out the truck. Roxanne let the car sit in neutral a moment to warm the big engine up. While she did she watched the gauges, snugged her own four-point harness, and turned on the radar detector, and scanner. Alex all but shivered in tune with the car. Both of Roxanne’s children enjoyed riding with her.
Steven pulled out of the parking spot, and drove to the road, Roxanne following. She had to be careful, as she could break her wheels loose if she pushed her car at all. Once on Baring Blvd. they drove through the streets sedately, Steven leading until they got to McCarran. They turned left/south onto the road, and started toward the freeway. Here Roxanne took over.
Six traffic lights were between them and the on-ramp. Roxanne drove sedately to the fourth one, which crossed a local thoroughfare. Turn left at this one and go two miles and you find a police station. She had no desire to risk meeting them, and having a donation solicited by them, in reward for her driving as fast as she liked. Once clear of that light, the traffic dissipated, and Roxanne moved quickly through it, the lights in her favor. Steven plowed the truck through the holes she made, keeping back, but keeping pace. She right-turned onto the on-ramp, at the posted speed.
They were significantly above the posted speed the rest of the drive, Alex howling in delight the whole way. The freeway traffic was mostly long-haul trucks and she passed these easily. She coasted through the interchange switching from west bound I-80 to southbound 395. The southbound traffic was light enough that she only had to slow down to keep control, and not to evade other cars. She went south four exits and hit the fifth ramp just over the posted limit, having had her detector go off hard as she passed the Reno airport radar tower.
The Camero only got to fifth gear this time. Sixth would have to wait for the trip home. They had lost Steven just before the interchange, and did not see him again until he pulled into the lot to park. Roxanne and Alex were already walking into the Chinese restaurant.
Once dinner was done, they trooped back to the car and truck. Diana got into the Camero with Roxanne this time. Once back on the south bound freeway, they left Steven and Alex in the truck behind. They saw them briefly where the freeway ended and switched to a highway, bottlenecking traffic some.
Once the traffic spread out to wander through the next valley south, Roxanne commenced to test the speed traps. Nobody was watching them tonight. Over a long hill, into a larger valley Roxanne continued to pass the traffic. She wanted to find sixth gear, but was not yet able to without being reckless, or move to a flatter part of her power band. The road wandered a bit with the terrain, then headed south again in a long straight on the shore of a small lake. Diana grinned where Alex had laughed. The Camero launched down the road, and Roxanne found sixth gear.
They slowed to the speed limit as she drove over and down the hill into Carson. Driving through took a quarter of an hour. Once over the last hill and out of town, the highway shot straight south across a rural valley. Again Roxanne found sixth. And a few large bugs to wash off later. Again they slowed down at Gardnerville, and left the highway. Roxanne idled along the rural streets, to the house. Once she had roared down these roads, and nearly hit a kid riding a horse.
Roxanne pulled onto the gravel driveway for her garage and let the car idle. Diana was almost asleep. Roxanne pulled the parking break and got out to open the garage doors. It was built more like a barn than a garage. Rox swung the doors wide, then pulled the car in and parked it, checking the gauges. Satisfied that it had cooled down enough, she shut it off.
Diana roused as the car moved again, then parked. She unbuckled and got out, taking the gym bag for her mother. Rox took the gear bag and they closed the swinging doors. Roxanne latched and locked them. They went around the side of the garage, and through the gate into the backyard. The automatic lights turned on as the motion sensors were tripped. The dogs both bounced around the yard having been alerted by the sound of the car.
Diana and Roxanne were about halfway across the yard when Roxanne stopped. She looked up at the stars. The nagging feeling that had bugged her all day seemed to direct her to look at one particular star. That star had always been special since her grandmother had pointed it out, before Rox was Diana’s age. The neighborhood lights washed most of the sky out, but that star was barely visible.
Shaking her head to clear it, Roxanne got her house key out and unlocked the French Doors and let Diana and herself in. The dogs crowded each other through the door after Rox and Diana had gone in. One stopped and nosed the door closed. They then continued to jumble around the living room. Roxanne pulled a trophy from her bag, and set it on a shelf next to others in the living room. Later she would take it to her the Dojo and put it with the others for her class. Rox then followed Diana into the hall to the bedrooms. Here she unlocked her own bedroom door, and entered.
Diana dropped the gym bag by the laundry, and then went to her own bedroom. Roxanne had the bags emptied and the dirty clothes down the chute to the laundry room by the time she heard the truck pull into the garage attached to the house. Shortly Steven and Alex were in the house.
Rox closed the bedroom door, gathered her bathrobe, and went into the bathroom. She stood under the shower until Steven came in to use the bathroom prior to going to bed.
Steven sat on his side of the bed, reading, when she came out. A few of the bruises on her were visible, and obviously sore as she dropped the towel, hung up the bathrobe, and put on her underwear and nightgown. He watched her slip under the covers. She was always sore for a few days after a tournament. He finished what he was reading, leaned over and kissed her lightly, then turned his light out and settled down to his own pillow, watching her.
A warm glow effused Roxanne briefly as her husband kissed her. She wanted to return it, but was too far asleep by then.
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