Chapter 3 of SOAR

I've had a pretty good year, a pretty productive year. Not only did I publish four issues of my webzine and an accompanying Fan Guide, I wrote my second novel and I've started on a third. The first thing I posted on my blog this year was Act 1 and 2 of "At the Peony Teahouse" which was later incorporated into the novel I wrote this year, The Theft of Heaven. That first post was on January 4th of this year.

I wanted to end the year just as strong. With all this in mind, I decided the last four Fridays of the year for throughout December I would post samples of my fiction as blogs. First up is Chapter Three of Soar, my first completed novel. Next Friday I will be posting Act One from my fantasy wuxia novella "Escape from the Cottonwood Chamber" (Formerly known as "The Children of Gods"). On Friday, December 19th (my birthday!) I will be posting an act from my second novel, The Theft of Heaven. Lastly, on December 26 I will post chapter seven of Silent Nights - the novel I'm currently working on. It should be noted that this final blog post will be the first time in 8 years that any portion of Silent Nights has been made available to the public.

But that's all for later. For now we should discuss Soar.

Soar is the story of Led, a cyborg living in a future world where technology has been outlawed. He is recruited by Aerol Standish, the second most powerful corporate figurehead in the city of New Haven. Aerol has his doctors implanted faux wings into Led, making him a veritable angel. With the hopes of using the universal human dream of flight as a marketing campaign, Aerol hopes to use Led in order to bring science and technology back into the realms of trust and worship it once enjoyed.

Chapter Three shows Led and Aerol discussing matters of their world and the plans they have to renew humanity's love for technology and science.

Enjoy.

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SOAR (c) 2007 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER 3
Led crouched atop a giant stone bust at the corner of the roof. The gargoyle protruded from the building without wings or deformity, but in the likeness of some ancient philosopher he did not know.

His torso naked, back straining with new muscles wrapped around the frame of wings. His black and tan sacho covered his nose and mouth.

He had always wanted to fly. It was a wild and youthful dream. Six months ago the dream had been realized. With sixteen hours of groundbreaking surgery and two months of constant pain the dream was born into reality. First there had been the pain of new hardware invading his flesh, then the pain of new muscles strengthening themselves under the weight of wings.

He had already flown, but only within the confines of labs and odd chambers with a dozen or more men in white coats watching. This would be his first time in the real world, over the streets of New Haven.

Led looked down. The streets were alive with the activity of Meaters, purists that followed the law and refused enhancements. People afraid of technology, a fear born in the War Against Machines. It hadn’t been much of a war. It had been more of a crusade.

If the wings refused to work this day, he faced a fifty-story plummet.
He stretched the wings at the sunset made gold by pollution. He couldn’t see the sun, only its golden glowing effects.

He felt the air currents rippling through the feathers, judged the unseen and knew what to do to leave gravity behind. He felt the importance of the moment. He was about to realize humanity’s greatest, most universal dream.
His leg muscles contracted and he jumped.

He soared.

The wings flapped once, twice, arcing to cup the winds. He was glad for the solitude granted to him on this occasion.

Led soared.

The embers of the sun fizzled to the west over the blackened waters of Lake Wakshasa. The city streets below filled with long, drawn-out chants from unseen chanters. Stars largely unseen hinted at life high above. What few could be seen were somehow closer, though Led knew they weren’t. Not by much. Quickly they faded out, drowned by the city’s gas lamps sparking to life, forming a great galaxy of golden stars dancing below.

Led soared.

He felt like a god spying the outer edges of a galaxy.

He soared.

Streaks of lights grew brighter as the heavens grew darker. The city swirled like illumined lily pads in the night. Each light became an outpost of hope, of life, chasing away primal fears and dancing as candles at the witching hour. Led had never seen the city more beautiful.

He soared.

He twisted, spying on the city below. Each light represented a life to him, a cell within a greater organism. It was wondrous. He smiled.
Led smiled.

*****

A fat Aerol Standish sat in his massive office at an equally massive desk topped with white Italian marble. His chair was leather, cool and plush. He sat like mighty Caesar in a soft, white gown. The room dwarfed even this, the most important of men. Decoration within the office was sparse. Only an imported hand-woven rug lay in the center of the room and atop it another chair matching the one Standish sat in. An odd wooden arm descending from the ceiling near the desk held a large televisor. Potted trees and framed pictures of jungles and wild men filled the spaces of two walls. A third had a hand-painted fresco of Julius Caesar, though many people visiting the office in the past had mistaken the likeness for a younger, leaner Standish. The fourth and final wall, the wall behind him looking over the city, was nothing but a line of windows from corner to corner and from marble floor to vaulted ceiling, stretching out behind him like great wings.

He flipped through some book with disinterest. He knew Led would take his time flying about the city, which he was perfectly happy to allow.

A knock at the door.

“Come,” his voice echoed through the office.

Twin golden oak doors opened and Led walked in.

Standish looked up and noticed first the smile of his winged man. “Now there’s a sight I like to see. How was it?”

“Unbelievable!” Led said.

Standish waved him to the open chair in front of the desk. Led passed on the offer. “It’s difficult to sit in chairs now,” he explained.
Standish nodded with understanding.

Led approached to lean on the desk and stared at the book.

“Don’t worry,” Standish said. “No one will see it lying there.”

Led picked up the book and flipped through it. Standish was amazed by Led’s bold acceptance of the book.

Led was not surprised a man of Standish’s position and wealth knew how to read. He skimmed a few of the pages.

Standish recognized the act. “What’s this? Does our brute have a brain? Can he do more than wield the knife?” Standish smiled emphatically.

Led hesitated with answer.

“Come, come, my boy. We are free to speak here. No Guard will swoop down from the mountain to purge the world of our ilk. Here I am king and master and shall forever be. The arms of the Lord High Mayor cannot reach here unless first I grant permission. Tell me, dear boy, and tell me true: Can you read?”

Led nodded slowly and only once.

Standish stood, laughing. “What a find you are! A brute, a beauty and a thing of intellect! How could I ever hope to be so lucky?” He came to stand near Led and peered at him with something akin to greed. “Now tell me what you have read.”

Led lowered his head and shrugged.

“Don’t make me work for this. Tell me and tell me outright. You cannot be afraid. Here we are in a time of regressive technology and I’ve made you into a man with wings, how could your simple confession of reading be any worse?”

Led looked up, “The last thing I read was The Prince.”

“Machiavelli? By the gods, you do have a brain! It should be no surprise it’s one of my favorite texts. What think you of it?”

“It was an old thing. I got it from-” Led quickly looked at Standish. Books and reading were illegal and Led was afraid he almost inadvertently gave away the source of many of the books he had read. He continued, “Well, its pages were fallin’ out and the edges were torn. It smelled of dust and wet paper that had dried. I kinda liked the smell.”

Standish shared Led’s smile.

“But the text itself I didn’t like,” Led added.

“Why? For what reason?”

“It was good until the end. The last part revealed it all to be a shallow ploy, a pitchman’s call, a scam. It was another sale tailored for a mark. It was just another advertisement.”

Standish leaned back on the desk and considered Led curiously. “Maybe so, but that should not abolish its worth. There are some strikingly good things elsewhere within the text.”

Led shrugged and stretched his wings. “Maybe. It always seemed to me the schemes of today are our own. Only our actions will see tomorrow. That book was nothin’ but schemes. Schemes for position, power and money.”

“Not all the pursuits of money are unholy, my dear boy. And not all the advertisements are pursuits of money. Machiavelli, while unhappy in his new life, had nothing but luxurious time to pursue anything he wanted. All his cares were tended to. He may not have been rich nor in a position of power as he had once been when wrote The Prince, but he was no street urchin either. He was a gentleman of the country.”

Led nodded. “I know.”

“Then why your disapproval?”

Led was slow to answer. Finally he said, “I’m no mark.”

Standish thought on Led’s wounded pride the book must have brought to him. “Making a sale is truly a delicate thing. Do it too forcefully and you risk offending the customer. Do it with a passionate plea to some universal truth and you shall be hailed practically religiously. Again, it’s not always about money. Some pursue pride and immortality. Some strive for better things for themselves or their community. It is what you and I do now with those wings and the coming Expo. What make you of us?”

Led shrugged. “It’s all the same to me.”

“Please enlighten me, dear boy.”

Led thought a moment before he spoke. “It’s about validation. You’re right, money isn’t always the purpose of a sale. Most times ideas are being sold and, I think, the most passionate salesman sells his own ideas, validates his own perception by spreading his ideas. Who am I to argue with you? Who am I to argue with one of the master salesmen of New Haven? You want to sell the idea of technology back to our world. I want these wings, hoping that, maybe, some will be envious of me. Some may even accept me.”

Standish thought on this, began to speak and stopped short. The two sat in silent shared contemplation.

“Now what?” Led asked.

Standish drew nearer Led. His squat frame made Led look down at him. “We take on the world, my dear boy! We make a good pair. I’m all show and your handsome as hell. It will be easy to show you off.”

“I don’t wanna hang out in any more labs.”

Standish shook his head. “You’re through with the labs. I’ve set up more appropriate and, hopefully, more comfortable quarters for you.”

“In this building?”

“We need to keep you close. And in two weeks we’ll unveil you to the world at the New Haven Business Exposition.” Standish’s smile was wide.

Led’s smile ran away. “Am I to be a prancin’ pony?”

“Not exactly, dear boy. Tell me, what am I best known for?”

Led hated Standish’s way occasionally of answering questions with questions, feeling as though he were being baited, much like the purpose of The Prince. What scared him more was he felt he was growing used to it. “You’re the second richest man in New Haven?” Led guessed.

“And quite powerful, but I mean what business am I known for?”

Led shrugged. “It’s well known you dabble in everything. My guess would be most of your money comes from landholdings, but your biggest news-getters are your pursuits of technology. It’s your most controversial work, at least.”

Standish smiled again. “Correct! And who would be my greatest rival in that respect?”
Again Led shrugged, guessing, “Merricksen Consolidated?”
“You pay attention.”

“To my enhancements, yes.”

“Merricksen Consolidated is owned by Rollus Merricksen. One of our agents planted deep in his company recently relayed to us that Merricksen will be personally unveiling the VK-111 at the Expo.”

“What’s that?”

“An amazing piece of machinery. An automaton.” Standish grimaced. His forehead furrowed with thought. “It means my worst fears are coming true. The future of any society is its present technology.” Standish paced before Led. “These idiot politicians and religious men, these leaders do more to suppress technology. All because of the War Against Machines. Idiots! Uneducated, unenlightened, backwards idiots! Yet we call them our leaders!”

Standish grew feverish in pace and tone.

Led remained quiet.

Standish looked to his winged man. “This means Merricksen is years ahead of everybody I’m involved with. Only Savini seems to have some foothold on the future.”

“Doc Savini’s good.”

“The best! But he’s only one man. Merricksen has surrounded himself with an army of architects and designers. And now he’s got an automaton. Most companies are afraid to even dabble in robotics for fear of the law and social repercussions. But not Merricksen. He has charged ahead. He’s a devilish plan in the works if I know him.”
“Robots would be a hard sell in New Haven,” Led put forth. “He’s shooting himself in the foot if that’s his great secret for the Expo.”

“One would think, my boy, but Merricksen is a sly bastard. He has a gimmick somewhere an idea, something to make people put aside generations of technological fear and accept a new kind of automaton.” Standish continued his pacing. His bare feet slapped against the marble floors. His breathing became erratic, heavy.

Led let Standish pace for a while.

“It’s bound to be the single most advanced piece of machinery the world has ever seen!” Standish reasoned. “We don’t have much in way of detail, but it’s fully automated. I worry it may be a policing machine. With such an automaton, people would no longer be needed to guard city streets. There’s bound to be some backlash, but the argument in support of the automaton would go something like ‘Better to lose a machine in the line of duty than a life.’ The City Guard! Private security! You name it! And the cold shadow of burning clouds you have made may lend themselves to the argument. Thirty-two! Thirty-two dead by your hands alone atop my Empire Arms!”

At this Led winced.

Standish rubbed his head nervously, ruffling his matted hair.

“But the War Against Machines…” Led reminded.

“Has left us suspicious of automatons. We’ve destroyed them before. We’ve slaughtered them, insomuch as one can slaughter lifeless machines. We’ve thrown ourselves into another age of darkness and terror. I am a student of history, my dear boy. Our fellow man, however, designs against the past in some ideal for the future. Bacchus plots against Clio. What wounds he digs are deep. The mutilated muse suffers his scarring and is piecemealed together as something more Promethean.”
Led leaned on the desk. He had learned the fat man was prone to soliloquy. He eyed Standish. Led found him to be simple, though adorned outwardly in odd elaborate trappings, and self-educated. Though Led often did not understand the ramblings, he listened to the words, the tones and pace. When he felt prompted, he would reply.
“The science of the Shanist Temple is all the people answer to now and turn to for answers. To risk reintroducing robots is bold. Merricksen could be setting forth his own undoing, but influence through litigation can push past social response to achieve any end.”

“It sounds like something you would do,” Led said.

A wry smile was planted, blossoming upon the face of Standish. “Indeed,” he answered. “Rollus is gambling on the need to save, to cut costs. It’s a bet well hedged.”

“He wouldn’t risk losing everything with a line of automatons when I can’t even walk the streets,” Led said. “The backlash would be immense. He’d swing from the gallows.”
“Times change, my dear boy. Attitudes shift. It is the ebb and flow of humanity’s will that dictates technology’s progress, not science itself. Everything within society must first be justified within the popular consciousness. It’s all in the marketing and alteration of common perceptions. It’s in the ideas, just as you said. With the right image you can sell a murder. Everything can be justified if lighted properly and photographed from the best angle. This city is a ship adrift in the great stream of human consciousness. Push and pull at the rudder, steer the ship, change the course of history and attitudes and belief and reality is recorded anew.”
Led thought he could feel the tides flowing, unseen, around him. How fragile the perceptions of society now appeared to him, more fragile than human life. He felt lost, floating, a prisoner at the fingering whims of another.

“Where do I come in?” Led asked.

Standish gave another wry smile. “The VK-111 will be big news, something most everyone will be speaking of.”

Standish slowly, dramatically, approached the towering plane of windows overlooking the gas-lighted city sparkling in the night. The dancing lights were the color of aged papyrus: bright, twinkling and yellowed. Led walked up behind him, unconsciously spreading his wings to match the expanse of glass and sprawl of the city. Wings upon wings upon stars upon heavens.

“How was it… to fly?” Standish asked softly.

The smile returned to Led. He shook his head, opened his mouth to form words but was met by a drought. Led was far from a wordsmith. He was at best a street thug, a goon, the city’s cheapest muscle for hire. At least, he had been before Standish rescued him from atop the Empire Arms.

He didn’t have an answer.

He didn’t need one.

“Imagine, dear boy,” Standish said, “Imagine the Expo. Merricksen shows up with the VK-111 and gets all kinds of attention, both good and bad. Now imagine as we let loose onto the world a man that can fly! And under his own power! The VK-111 would be a giant, indeed, but a giant standing in the shadows of a god. You are the dream of Man, dear boy. Of every man of every age.”

The two men stood in silence together watching the city as two men staring at an aquarium. Standish was reveling in his self-made elation, his pre-conceived victory. Led’s mood melted into brooding. He wasn’t one to do things to please others. He was solely interested in fulfilling his own pleasures. But Standish had made his wings possible, among other things. Perhaps, Led thought, I can put on the song-and-dance routine for Standish. I’ve made my deal with the devil, now it’s time to dance. But a bitter taste remained and Led couldn’t help himself from saying, “A prancing pony.”

Standish turned his attention to Led. “Just for two weeks, my dear boy. After that you’ll be as a folk hero, accepted and loved everywhere.”

“What do we do until then?” Led asked.

“You fly, dear boy! You fly!” With a swoop of the hand Standish indicated the city far below. “Let them see you down there, flying high above their architects! Let them scream and yell and talk about you. Let them call you The Gargoyle, show them Mercury, let their eyes touch Gabriel in flight! Let them talk and wonder and toy with the ticklish fringe of panic! But don’t let them get hold of you or those wings. Simply fly!”

Over the next two weeks Led would fly at night and in broad daylight. He would promote himself freely and wildly. He would drum up business in the form of media frenzy. He would play the billboard, the poster, the advertisement. Led cared little for this, but he wanted to fly. He wanted to fly.

*****

The next morning, without breakfast and very little sleep, Led made his way to the top of the building. The city lay sprawling before him, a giant painting splattered golden with morning sunglow. Van Gogh had been resurrected and put to work landscaping the early horizon. Windows twinkled like gas lamps at night. Stars amongst steel. Tiny shines between streets.

All was quiet.

Led soaked in the silence.

He jumped.

He soared.

He smiled.

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Thanks for reading. Look for Act One of The Theft of Heaven next Friday.

It's Only Make Believe

I was just over on Facebook checking my account while listening to Conway Twitty going on about his love life. I never seem to post status updates over on Facebook anyone cares about. Anyways, I've been adding/joining fan groups of some of my favorite authors, writers that have very definitely had an influence on my style, approach or thinking about writing. I've been wanting to make a list of names for a while. I suppose now's as good a time as any and a blog is as good a format as any.

Here ya go:


Dashiell Hammett (author of Red Harvest and The Maltese Falcon)

Raymond Chandler (pioneer of pulp noir; author of The Big Sleep)

Allen Ginsberg (Beat poet extraorinaire; author of Cosmopolitan Greetings and Howl)

Jack Kerouac (author of Blues and Haikus; Beat poet)

Richard Matheson (author of smart science fiction that delves deep into philosophy and even spirtualism; author of What Dreams May Come, I Am Legend -- the Will Smith movie SUCKED SHIT!!! BOOOOO!!! -- and The Incredible Shrinking Man)

Ernest Hemingway (pioneer of contemporary American literature styles; author of The Old Man and the Sea, For Whom the Bell Tolls and A Farewell to Arms)

Albert Camus (existential philosopher; author of The Stranger and Exile and the Kingdom)

Ray Bradbury (author of Golden Age science fiction and fantasy; author of Zen in the Art of Writing, Dandelion Wine, The Halloween Tree and Fahrenheit 451)

Philip K Dick (where other authors write about science in science fiction, Dick has written about the soul of human expression through science - if that makes sense; author of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? -- which was made into the movie Blade Runner -- A Scanner Darkly and Minority Report)

Henry Charles Bukowski (a guy that lived a rough life and simply wrote about it when he wasn't working or spending time at the tracks like Hollywood Park or Los Alamitos; author of Ham on Rye, Post Office and Tales of Ordinary Madness)

Robert E Howard (creator of Conan and pioneer of the Sword & Sorcery genre)

This is a short list, of course. But it hits all the biggies.

Read them!

Wish me luck

As I write this it's only November 9th and I'm already feeling the Christmas crunch. I need to get a tree soon, though I doubt we'll splurge on anything big or fancy as we did the last 2 years. A nice, small tree will do this year. I've also as yet to determine my Thanksgiving dinner. And I've also barely begun to shop. I've only gotten for one person thus far, my niece.

Christmas is an odd time for me. I respect its ancestor Yule, enjoy Christmas yet am not a Christian. But I've always said people seem just a tad nicer at Christmas. Why not enjoy such a season, then?

I'd love to be writing right now. I simply haven't the time or energy. I'm kind of hoping for that first good snow. Then, I feel, I'll be settled in for the long winter and ready to write. It's odd I seem to be so connected to a natural occurrence. But I am. I'd also just like to get it out of the way. Get the first snow done and over with.

I think some day soon, once the fury of the coming week of looking for a tree and buying a few presents is over, I'll sit down and start typing up what I have written of the Southern novel. I think I have about 150 pages written out. Maybe typing up what I already have will get me thinking it over again and then working on it.

I'd like to think I'll be working on it by the time this posts on my regular blog, Atomic Swan Serials, in two weeks.

Wish me luck.

Halloween pics

Halloween was last Friday and I thought I'd share some of my photos from the night. Enjoy.


Death Star jack-o-lantern carve during the day.


Death Star at night



My girl's Dia de los Muertos-inspired jack-o-lantern.



The Exorcist jack-o-lantern.



Iffy the Ifreet, my webzine's mascot, makes an appearance on Halloween.


Iffy posing for the camera.



My girl's Jack Skellington jack-o-lantern.


Jack Skellington at night.



Nightmare Before Christmas carve.


Nightmare carve at night.



Crazy Jaw face.

"Dear Cousin, I'm writing..."

I was originally going to post some photos of my jack-o-lanterns from Halloween, but this letter I wrote to my cousin seems to have preempted that post in importance. Jack-o-lanterns will be on their way next week, Friday the 14th of November 2008.

"Dear Cousin, I'm writing..."

I was wondering if I could talk to you openly, honestly about something. About myself.

Recently I was writing in my journal and I was thinking about all the writing I've done this year (2008 has been my most productive year of writing to date with four ezines completed, a nearly-600-page fantasy wuxia novel written, various notes, short stories, a brief script for a friend that may be turned into a short film, and much more) and as I was sitting on the couch in the living room writing in my journal, thinking about all this writing I've done this year and I found myself coming to the conclusion, oddly aloud and matter-of-factly, "I've found my path."

It was such an instant, honest moment I almost missed it. But slowly it sank in and I had a quiet moment in my life I cannot describe as anything but Zen. I finally realized I had become who I was meant to be, doing what I do best and living it with a purpose.

I have a lot of things in my life. I'm almost obnoxiously blessed. For instance, after being diagnosed with Hepatitis C at the age of 18 and told by doctors it was a killer disease (which it truly is... Hep C is projected to kill more people the world over by 2020 than HIV and AIDS combined) and then at the age of 30 I was told I had the one type of Hep C that can currently be treated. By the time I was 32 I was cured.

But if there's any one thing I have (besides an incredible wealth of friends and loved ones) it's my voice. Since 2002 I have realized not everyone has a voice and it never occurs to some they could speak out if they chose to do so. Perhaps they know something I don't. Perhaps they know they are fated as someone without a powerful voice. In 2002 I watched a woman turned away from public assistance because she was not yet "officially poor" despite being homeless. In 2005 I watched another woman collapse in an office, crack her head against a dias and people around her assuming she was having a seizure. When paramedics came we all learned she had passed out because she hadn't eaten in nearly 3 days. When asked why she hadn't eaten in 3 days, she replied simply, "I don't have any money for food."

I don't feel any strong obligation or duty to others that may not have as strong a voice as I. If I have any obligations it's to my sweetheart and my family and friends who have always supported me and all I owe them is to do my best in life. But moreso, I have a duty to myself to use my voice, to follow my path.

I've said elsewhere in other writings I cannot match the drama of life. I decided long ago not to try. Instead I decided to be a sponge (we are all sponge, so I discovered while attending art school, in that we extrapolate experiences to determine ourselves) and filter through my voice the stories of the lives I come across and bear witness to, to write with a passion and a fire and anger and hatred and outrage and a brutal honesty and most of all by the gods most of all to write with love - love for my subjects, for my characters, for Johannah, for myself, for my friends, for all those that love me, for those that hate me and ultimately for myself - and if in the end someone somewhere can step up and say "Yeah, that's kinda like me and my life" then I've done what I've set out to do. I've followed my path.

I'm writing for the hopes of wealth. I'm writing for the hopes of a peaceful home for Johannah and myself and our cats and other various future pets. I'm writing for those that died too young. I'm writing for those that walk at my side. I'm writing for the veterans that allowed me a chance at this voice. I'm writing for those that have quieted voices. I'm writing for myself. I'm writing about life as I see it around me, not just my own. I'm writing because these small voices, these muted stories that go on around me every day, are good stories when well told. I'm writing for my life. I'm writing because we are our stories, each of us. We gain our morals from heroes in stories. We look at our darker selves in the villains.

When I moved from Michigan to California at teh age of 7, I slept on a plastic chaise lounge for some time. When I moved from California to Maui in 2001, I slept on a much too small (my feet hung well over the edge) futon on the floor. When I moved from Maui back to Michigan in 2005, I slept on an air matress on my brother's floor. When I moved from my brother's house to a rental in Flint Township, I slept on another, larger futon on the floor.

I'm writing to overcome.

I'm writing because I see a lot of damage in the world and maybe that's how things are meant to be, but I'm writing because even if pain is the natural order of things I cannot be ashamed of healing wounds both old and new.

I'm writing because I am a writer and I have nothing else but to write.

As I sit writing this, mulling over many matters, I am confused almost to the point of frustration about which story I should tackle next. There's so many inside me. There's the novel about boxing. There's the absurdist cyberpunk novel about classicism and race and duty and revenge. There's old Silas walking home upon being released from prison after serving 17 years and has no other way to get home but to walk the 900 miles seperating himself and his beloved city, his beloved mother. There's the next fantasy wuxia novel that will complete the overall story arch of Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows and Beauty and his martial artist cohorts.

How odd a thing it is that my largest complaint now is that I do not know what next to write. If that's all I can complain about, I suppose I haven't much to complain about.

“Warriors of the Midnight Sun” - Act VIII

This is it! The last act and the story is 100% complete! Enjoy!

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“Warriors of the Midnight Sun”
© 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT VIII

THE BEJEWELED NIGHT: Wherein Gogi the Grasshopper Ascends the Giant Demon-dog Yaska Selith; Xiao-tep Faces Fei Li Mi Once More; Fei Li Mi Steals the Jewel of Zingtai; Loved Ones Are Reunited

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CHAPTER 1

Szu Ri fluttered fiercely against the wicked winds whipping across the Plain of Adoration. The battle roiled far below as she clutched little Gogi close to her chest. Balori followed after them with Momoki on his shoulder.

The screams of men and women filled the air around them, as did their clang of weapons and fighting. Gogi shivered nervously, afraid.

Szu Ri held him closer still, feeling his little body shivering. Tears welled within her eyes. She cried out, “I love you, Gogi!” but he did not hear.

Closer they flew to the giant Yaska Selith. Gogi shivered more fiercely as he clutched onto his hat that was threatening to fly off.

Szu Ri’s heart hardened against the pain she felt, against the fear she felt.

Balori flew into the face of the demon-dog, tossing Momoki at him. Momoki grasped onto fur and began stabbing at the cheek of Yaska Selith as Balori flew in, stabbing the demon in the other cheek with his battle axe and slashing with his kopesh. Both knew they could do little to harm the demon-dog, but that was not their purpose and as they witnessed Szu Ri fly overhead with Gogi, unnoticed by Yaska Selith, they knew their true purpose was a success.

The head of Yaska Selith came under Szu Ri and Gogi. Szu Ri, crying, fearful, hurting with pain far larger than she then did the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

She let go of her love.

Gogi fell onto Yaska Selith’s head.

Szu Ri flew to Twila’s side, pressing herself into the neck of her friend and sobbing greatly, deeply there.

Gogi struggled, crawling his way through the fur. Szu RI had held on too long and he had been dropped far onto the back of the demon-dog’s head instead of near his forehead. He fought against the rushing winds and moving Yaska Selith. As he reached the forehead of the demon-dog, the rushing winds picked up in ferocity, whipping Gogi’s hat from his head and disappearing. He watched after it, making a quick, soft apology to Szu Ri for losing it.

He turned back round and crawled down the forehead of the demon-dog. There he found the small lids of the third eye. He shook with nerves one last time, refused to look out at the battle far below, closed his eyes and reminded himself if only he could do this one small thing for Momoki, they could all return to the Chamber of Despair together where he could quietly go about his gardening.

Gogi’s eyes snapped open, focused with determination. He removed from the small of his back his toothpick where he had tied it. He crawled down to the lids. He pried them open and, when no ruby beam of destructive light came forth, forced his way into the socket.

Yaska Selith raised his hand and swatted Momoki away. Once more Momoki fell to the plain far below.

Balori refused to move, attacking repeatedly the demon-dog all about his head until he saw, at last, Fei Li Mi streaking through the sky, descending towards the rear of Yaska Selith. Balori paused in his attack long enough to watch Fei Li Mi digging at the ground there. His trunk lifted up, trumpeting loudly and growling angrily, “He goes after the Jewel of Zingtai!”

Balori removed his battle axe from the back of Yaska Selith’s head, with both weapons in his hands, flew swiftly down to the plain to challenge the catfish.

Wu Chan Chu, Comet Fox and Roku delved back into the fray of the battle upon the plain.

Xiao-tep flew high into the air, the Spear of Sorrows outstretched, its blades biting at Yaska Selith’s skin, though not deeply. He came up some distance from the demon-dog, level with his head. He peered closely and saw the rear of Gogi wiggling, sticking out of the third eyes, struggling before he finally slipped behind its lids.

Xiao-tep spoke softly, “May the gods be with you, little one.” He then raised his spear and streaked down Yaska Selith, slicing at his skin once more.

Fei Li Mi found the Jewel of Zingtai protruding from the ground behind Yaska Selith. He dug his guandao into the dirt there and free the jewel. He then pondered how he could carry it, freeing his hands, so he could fly with it back to the Eternal Empress.

The strong winds carried to him Renorio’s cloak made of skin that had been loosened by an angry Dian as she severed the head from the vile murderer.

Fei Li Mi picked up the cloak, tied off the ends to form a makeshift satchel, placed the jewel into it and placed this whole thing over his shoulder.

Balori descended on him, trumpeting his approach.

Fei Li Mi lifted his guandao in time to fly sideways out of the way of Balori’s attack and cut his right bicep. The elephant trumpeted in pain, turned and attacked Fei Li Mi.

The kopesh first came down on Fei Li Mi. He flew sideways to dodge it but could not retreat from the sideways slashing battle axe. A large gash appeared on Fei Li Mi’s stomach, blood pouring out of it.

Fei Li Mi, panicking and wanting to get away, turned and flew away.

Balori chased after.

Xiao-tep came level with the ground after his attack on Yaska Selith an witnessed the chase. He, too, took up the chase, pulling to the side of Balori.

Unable to catch Fei Li Mi as the flew over the Black Mountains, Xiao-tep arched back and threw his Spear of Sorrows at Fei Li Mi.

The catfish, looking back, saw the oncoming spear and turned, pulling up to knock the spear out of the air with his guandao.

Balori came to Fei Li Mi as Xiao-tep chased his falling spear.

Balori lunged, striking out with his battle axe. Fei Li Mi backed away and brought his guandao up to block Balori’s slashing kopesh. Balori pressed the fight, pulling nearer to Fei Li Mi.

The catfish, busy with parrying the elephant’s weapons, did not see Balori’s trunk lashing out until it was too late.

Balori tightened his grip with his trunk around Fei Li Mi’s throat. Fei Li Mi’s eyes widened. He tried to raised his guandao but Balori knocked it aside with his kopesh.

The elephant lowered his head and brought his trunk up, raising Fei Li Mi to smash him in the face with his head.

Fei Li Mi grunted in pain. He eyed Balori and said, “I know what you want, elephant.” Fei Li Mi swiftly raised a free fin and untied the satchel about his body. Both satchel and jewel feel free from him. Said Fei Li Mi to Balori, “Go get it.”

Balori let go Fei Li Mi and flew after the fallen jewel. He snatched it up in the air.

Xiao-tep came to his side and together they watched Fei Li Mi escape.

“Should we go after him?” asked Balori.

Xiao-tep shook his head. “I doubt he’ll return to trouble us this day. You have the jewel. We should instead return to the plain and help our friends.”

Xiao-tep began flying back towards the Plain of Adoration.

Balori did not.

When Xiao-tep noticed the elephant was not with him, he stopped, turned and called out, “What is the matter, Balori?”

Balori eyed the jewel. He looked to Xiao-tep. “I came only for the jewel.”

Xiao-tep, saddened by the elephant’s response, flew back to his side and said, “But those are our friends upon the plain, many of the m dying, perhaps dying without our help. You have the jewel, it is safe now. It can wait a moment longer as we give aid to our friends.”

Again Balori eyed the jewel before looking at Xiao-tep. “What of my people? They’ve waited long enough. They’ve suffered long enough.”

Xiao-tep could give no answer. He turned and flew back to the Plain of Adoration.

Balori looked northeast to the land of the Bizo. He looked at the jewel and longed to return it to Zingtai so the Eternal Empress would free his people. He thought of Negkendra, wondering how he was faring on the plain, not yet knowing of his death and sacrifice upon Owl Bridge. He then thought of Shabar, a man that became a friend. A man that was so long ago so kind to him an the other elephants. He wondered how he was faring, as well, not knowing of the loss of his leg or his healing within the kingdom of Aniabas.

They had traveled a long way to help him, to right the wrings they and others had committed. They had not abandoned him. He knew then he could not abandon them.

Balori tied the makeshift satchel and slung it over one of his shoulders. He turned to face the Plain of Adoration before flying there, following Xiao-tep.

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CHAPTER 2

Gogi struggled, crawling his way deep into the third eye’s socket. Yaska Selith felt him there, but could do nothing to remove the grasshopper.

Gogi crawled deeper, covered in blood and gore, until he came at last to the socket’s base and there he found the slightly dislodged Ruby Bug. He could not breathe the air here. It was thin and putrid. He knew he had to hurry lest he grow weak with struggling and breathing the rankness hear. He brought forth his toothpick made long ago on Taliesin, the Mountain That Lived in the Sky, and struck deeply in the muscle behind the Ruby bug. He sank it deep and pulled backwards, his legs stuck out to the sides of the eye and forcing him backwards.

The toothpick slipped. Gogi thought he would have fallen out the eye if it were not such a cramped space. He placed the toothpick behind the Ruby Bug once more, now slippery with blood. He applied force once more and pulled.

The toothpick, much to Gogi’s despair, broke in half. He eyed the piece in his hands. He wanted to cry for he knew no other way to pry the Ruby Bug loose. His mind raced with thoughts. He wanted Szu Ri to be at his side, to hold him close and comfort him. He wished he had the strngth of Momoki so he could simply latch onto the Ruby Bug and pull it free.

And it came to him that was what he should do.

Gogi placed the broken half of the toothpick behind the Ruby Bug. He held it fast with his left hand and with his right reached around the bug and grabbed the other half of the toothpick still lodged there. He closed his body around the Ruby Bug and ppuleld with all his might. He pulled and pulled, not wanting to fail Szu Ri or Momoki, Twila or Xiao-tep. And when he was thinking he could not succeed at pulling the Ruby Bug free, it tore loose from the muscles holding it fast. Blood welled within the eye socket, causing pressure. Blood and bits of muscles geysered out from the third eye, pushing Gogi out as he held the Ruby Bug tightly, afraid he would lose it.

Gogi flew through the air, falling, crashing, slamming hard onto the plain until he rolled, getting battered and bruised.

Szu Ri watched it all from the comfort of Twila’s side. She lifted onto the air and flew, searching for her love. She found him at last and lowered herself to his side.

She approached slowly. She called to him, “Gogi?”

Gogi did not answer. He did not move.

She drew near him, listening. She touched him and felt his heart, felt his chest moving with small, labored breaths.

“Oh, Gogi,” said Szu Ri as she lay behind him, holding him close to her.

The demon-dog Yaska Selith shrank in form, growing smaller. The fighting all around him ceased and as he became the battered dog Pup once more, the Bone Warriors found themselves without their master and broke from the plain, running in fear.

Xiao-tep flew to Gogi’s side. Behind him came Balori. They had come over the Black Mountains in time to see Yaska Selith destroyed. Twila came next, crawling. Soon all the surviving fighters of Aniabas, Wu Chan Chu and Balori drew near. They all stared down at Gogi, still desperately clutching the Ruby Bug.

Momoki came to his side.

Gogi’s eyes opened. He coughed fitfully. He looked up at Momoki, looked to Szu Ri crying and kissing his cheek.

As Momoki looked at his small friend, in awe of his courage and will, he thought of the words Gogi had once said. He spoke them softly now, “Some have paths set before them that lead them into greatness, while others are destined to be their friends.”

Momoki knew then that he was the friend.

Gogi coughed again. Weakly, he pushed the Ruby Bug out towards Momoki and said, “I-I did it, Momoki. I did it.”

Momoki smiled. He said, That you did, my friend. Thank you.”

One by one all the warriors, mercenaries, soldiers, men and women, each in turn, thanked the little grasshopper.

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CHAPTER 3

Ebi ran to the side of his Pup. The dog’s body was beaten and had many cuts all over. Pup was badly beaten all over.

Ebi kneeled next to him. He reached out slowly and pet the dead dog. He wept for his Pup.

A bark came to Ebi. He turned and there, at his side, was Pup now black as a shadow with wounds all over him glowing crimson like his eyes, bright as the Midnight Sun.

Ebi smiled an unseen smile. He picked up and played with Pup, his laughter echoing in haunting, warm tones.

The forms of both Pup and Ebi slowly dissipated as smoke, disappearing from sight. The two old friends were finally together. The two old friends were finally at rest.

On another part of the plain, Dian continued to wail. So loud, so haunting, so anguished was her cry no one dared draw near her. Only her husband tried to comfort her, but as he did she pushed him away in anger and fear. Her cried, her sobs, her wails were long and sent chills through all who heard them. She threw herself upon her dead daughter.

Not one of her allies knew what to do. Not one moved to help her, not knowing if she could be helped.

One of her fellow Warriors finally came to her side. Roku the Misfit stepped forward. Joto Ba, kneeling beside the body of his daughter, looked up at him as he approached.

Roku knelt. He reached a hand to Dian. She raised up and slapped him away. Joto Ba grabbed his wife and held her.

Roku bent low.

Dian and Joto Ba watched him.

Roku placed his mouth upon Inno’s. He breathed out and as he did his form dissipated, dispersing and Inno’s lungs filled with life.

Roku was gone.

Inno breathed easily, alive yet unconscious.

“Now that was a hero,” said Angolas the Soldier.

Comet Fox, who was standing nearby, thought a moment. He cocked his head curiously and asked, “Who was a hero?”

But neither could remember whom they spoke of. High in the Heavens, Stork picked up the slates holding Roku’s life and smashed them against the floor.

Roku the Misfit had been erased from the Record of Memory.

King Aniabas approached Joto Ba and Dian. Vitor followed behind him with several of his soldiers. He said, “I can take her. I will give her a home and we will care for her.”

Dian and Joto Ba nodded and thanked the king before dissipating, fading from the world and resting, at last, in peace.

The men of Aniabas picked up Inno and carried her gently back to their kingdom.

Aniabas and Vitor then approached Angolas.

Aniabas eyed him a moment before saying, “Vitor, let it be known, when we return to our kingdom, that Angolas, soldier with my army, died with full honors this day.”

Vitor said, “Yes, my liege.”

Angolas nodded. “Thank you, my liege,” he said and faded into peace.

Aniabas then approached Momoki. “Momoki, it has been an honor.”

Momoki bowed. “The honor was mine. Thank you, your highness.”

Aniabas eyed the body-strewn plain. “I think it will take many days, but my people will make sure they will all be properly buried.”

“Good,” Momoki was thankful.

Aniabas and his men returned south to their kingdom.

Zom Loa came to Momoki. He eyed the Ruby Bug within his hand. He said, “Dear marmoset, I know I’ve not been fully trusted thus far, but my heart is now with you. I know some alchemy and many mystics. I think I could find a place for that jeweled bug.”

Momoki was wary.

Wu Chan Chu approached. She thought of Zom Loa helping Ebi in battle, of his changed loyalty. She said, “Momoki, he came be trusted.”

Momoki took Wu Chan Chu’s word, nodded, and handed the Ruby Bug over to Zom Loa.

Said Zom Loa, “I know not how as yet, but I will find a way to destroy this thing.” He then left the Plain of Adoration.

Balori turned to Xiao-tep. He adjusted the weight of the jewel slung over his arm. He said, “I should go,” then added hesitantly, thinking back to their confrontation on the Mountain That Lived in the Sky, “I’ll have to return to Taliesin.”

Xiao-tep said, “Balori Shongoyo is always welcome in Taliesin.”

“Thank you,” said Balori. He mounted his mystic cloud once more and flew off the plain.

Momoki mounted Twila, resting upon the back of her shell. He then lifted Gogi and Szu Ri upon his shoulder. Twila crawled in front of Xiao-tep, Wu Chan Chu, Comet Fox and Stavros.

Said Momoki, “Thank you for your part, Xiao-tep.”

Xiao-tep bowed low at the waist. He said, “It has been an honor, Master Momoki.”

Momoki considered the four friends a last time. He said, “Xiao-tep, you and your friends are on a most righteous path. Stay to it.”

“Thank you, Master Momoki,” answered Xiao-tep.

Momoki’s horse appeared beneath him. With his friends he rode off the Plain of Adoration, riding home for the Chamber of Despair.

Xiao-tep touched his wound.

Wu Chan Chu watched him and asked, “How are you, brother?”

“I’m well, thanks to you.”

Wu Chan Chu croaked happily and smiled. “What will you do now?”

Xiao-tep said, “I’ll be returning home.”

Asked Wu Chan Chu, “To father? Or your mother?”

Xiao-tep shook his head. “No, to Taliesin. You should visit me some time, sister. I would like you to visit. I think you would appreciate Taliesin and its rolling, flowing fields. It’s quite beautiful there.”

“It sounds wonderful,” said the frog demi-goddess, “but perhaps some other time. I think I’ll return to the Peony and recover my championship.”

Xiao-tep smiled at his sister’s desire for fighting. He could not share her desire. He looked at Comet Fox and Stavros. “What of you two?”

Comet Fox rubbed the back of his head nervously. His ears twitched. He said hesitantly, “To tell the truth, I could really go for a drink right now.”

Stavros laughed uproariously. Wu Chan Chu and Xiao-tep joined in the laughter.

Stravros slapped Comet Fox on the back, saying, “I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

Laughing, each enjoying the company of the others, the four friends left the Plain of Adoration.

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CHAPTER 4

Over every countryside, through every valley and woods, Shabar hitched rides with many different people including merchants and a moving family. At last he came to the farmlands outside of Bizo. He had ridden as far as he could and did not have to travel through Bizo itself. He wondered if the Eternal Empress would ever release the elephants. He wanted to know, but moved on, limping slowly towards his farm. Aniabas’ people had replaced his leg with a wooden peg lashed to his leg above the knee with thick leather straps and buckles. It made walking difficult. He wondered how it would affect him working his land.

He hobbled on and on, walking, limping towards his home.

As the sun was setting, as Kalavata flew overhead, Shabar came to his farm.

He saw his house from a long ways off. He kept watching for movement, watching for his wife. He saw none around the house. He wondered if she had left, if she was staying with Old Man Arnas, if she had left the country completely.

He watched his home as it grew larger.

As he drew near, he was hesitant to enter, but he did.

There he found the wife of Old Man Arnas. She was cooking at the stove. Nearby, in a crib, lay a baby.

She turned and eyed him. “You’re home.”

Shabar nodded. He looked to the baby.

Old Lady Arnas said, “You’ve another son.”

Shabar smiled. He limped to the crib and picked up the child. “He beautiful.”

Old Lady Arnas looked at Shabar, was happy to see him smiling, then considered the wooden peg where once his leg had been.

Shabar kissed and held his son. He looked to Old Lady Arnas. “Where is Alia?”

“Despite my protests, she’s working the field.”

Shabar sighed. “That’s my stubborn wife. How is she?”

“The birth was difficult, but she’s stronger than she’s been.”

Shabar nodded. he thanked Old Lady Arnas and kissed her on the cheek. He then exited his home and limped into the fields.

There, working diligently, was both his wife and older son. They were harvesting from the field.

His son saw him first. He cried, “Daddy!” and ran to him.

Shabar bent and picked him up, kissing and hugging him. He then set him down and told him to go into the house.

The boy touched the wooden peg. “Daddy? Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, boy. Now mind your father and get inside.”

The boy ran joyfully into the home.

Alia stood motionless, staring at her husband.

They stood a long time looking at one another.

Shabar’s mouth, his chin quivered. The sides of his mouth lowered into a frown. Tears welled within his eyes.

At last, he said, “I-I didn’t know if you’d… have me.”

Alia wept. She dropped the basket she had been placing her harvest into and ran to her husband. They embraced and cried together.

Shabar kissed her gently around her face, on her lips, on her neck.

Aia pulled gently away. She straightened her husband’s clothes. She reached down and touched his wooden peg, but said nothing of it. She would never speak of it. She looked him in the eyes and said, “Come, come inside and meet your new son.”

“I already have,” said Shabar.

Alia appeared momentarily saddened by this. She then smiled. “Then let’s go eat supper. Old Lady Arnas is a wonderful cook.”

They smiled, kissed, embraced a last time and then went into their home together.

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CHAPTER 5

Balori Shongoyo flew high into the clouds and landed gently upon the bright, green field of Taliesin. He carefully climbed the mountain to come to the side of Aglina and Zingtai. He produced from the makeshift satchel the bright emerald.

Zingtain squealed excitedly. She examined the jewel. She found the chips missing from it and wondered if it would still fit.

“You should try,” encouraged Balori.

Zingtai grew to immense size, part of her hanging off the sides of Taliesin. Balori walked slowly to the outer reaches of her wing and found the hole there where the jewel had been removed. He raised it above his head. The jewel fit. It stayed. Zingtai’s wing healed over.

Kalavata’s head peeked over the horizon.

Zingtain flapped her wings with anticipation.

Aglina cooed a loving goodbye.

And as Kalavata flew overhead, Zingtai lifted off Taliesin and joined him, chasing Etain across the world, restoring the stars to the night sky.

All over the world, people came forth from their homes. They craned their necks and looked skyward. And there they found the beautifully sparkling night sky.

Celebrations were held.

Bonfires were lit.

Fireworks were lighted in honor of the stars’ return.

The world below the night smiled together as one.

Balori mounted his mystic cloud and flew beneath Zingtai a long time, chatting, telling her of the grand adventures he and Xiao-tep had, of the Battle Upon the Plain of Adoration. He made friends with Kalavata. And for the first time in a long time, Balori smiled and laughed and was filled with joy.

In the world far below, the Eternal Empress and her children witnessed the return of the stars and she remained faithful to her word. The next morning, before a gathered crowd of her people, she declared the Elephants of Ife free and outlawed slavery in her country for all eternity.
Balori left Taliesin to follow his people. A few stayed in Bizo and other parts of the world, but most made the long trek back to Ife and Balori went with them. He then returned to Bizo and thanked the Empress.

With his task in life, Balori found himself restless and wondering at himself. He returned to Taliesin. Xiao-tep was there and welcomed him. Balori stayed with Xiao-tep, cultivating the mountainside, harvesting the gardens and tending to the fields. Each night they would picnic with Aglina and waved to Zingtai as she flew overhead.

Xiao-tep and Balori become friends and together they took on the role of caretaker of Taliesin.

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EPILOGUE

In a far part of the world, in a sea made lastly by the misty hands of the Cosmos, on an island brought into the world as an afterthought where men and women came long after its birth there lived a family called Toya. The family was headed by a father who worked hard at fishing each day and his wife was a good gardener that loved to grow things and with them make preserves. They had a child named David and they loved him dearly. David would often work the seas with his father, fishing for their family’s food.

Lastly, perhaps firstly, there was Gramps, father to Lady Toya. He did not live with them, but rather made his home on another part of the island. But from time ti time throughout the year he would come to them for a brief visit.

Such was the day Gramps told David of the stars.

“Father,” called Lady Toya. “Can you go to the pantry and bring forth a few jars of plum preserves?”

“Certainly,” said Gramps. He left the hut behind and descended into the makeshift underground pantry where Lady Toya stored preserves.

He gathered up three jars of plum preserves.

As he returned to the hut, he overhead a conversation between David and his mother.

“Mother, can I go to the beach with my friends tonight?”

“No,” said Lady Toya. “You’re grandfather visits. It would be nice if you stayed at home to spend time with him.”

“Spend time with Gramps?” asked David. “But all he ever wants to do is talk, to tell stories about things that happened long ago that no one truly cares for. He is so very boring, mother.”

“Hush your mouth!” Lady Toya was appalled. “That is your grandfather, my father, that you speak of. He has lived a good, long life and without his work neither I nor you would be here now.”

Gramps heard David moan. He sighed, sad and feeling suddenly lonely. He entered the hut, acting as though he hadn’t heard a thing.

“What goes on here?” asked Gramps.

David started, afraid Gramps had heard his unkind words.

Lady Toya worked diligently in her kitchen, eyeing the jars of plum preserves. She said, “Thank you, father. If you can bring them here, please.”

Gramps set the jars on a table near Lady Toya. He asked David, “What are you doing tonight?”

“We were discussing that before you returned with the preserves. David wants to spend time with his grandfather,” said Lady Toya.

David sighed, yet smiled at his grandfather whom he loved dearly.

“Aw, go on,” said Gramps. “There is not a kid in all the world at the age of ten, such as David, that wants to spend time around a dusty, old, crotchety man like me.”

David lowered his head, ashamed of what he had said.

Gramps reached out, placing a hand upon his grandson’s shoulder. He said, “Why don’t you go on and play with your friends tonight?”

David looked up at his grandfather, his eyes alight with hope.

“Father,” said Lady Toya, “he should spend time with his grandfather.”

“Nah,” argued Gramps playfully. He winked at David. “Go on, boy. Go out and be with your friends.”

David cried, “Thanks, Gramps!” and ran from the hut.

“He should be home with his family,” scolded Lady Toya.

“No, he should be off having grand adventures with his friends,” said Gramps.

Night came to the tiny island. Father Toya, Lady Toya and Gramps ate a fine meal together. Father Toya apologized for himself, but said he had to sleep early if he wanted to get an early start on fishing the next day.

Gramps was fine with Father Toya turning in early.

As Lady Toya cleaned the plates after their meal, Gramps asked, “Would you mind if I go for a small walk after that large supper?”

Lady Toya smiled. She said, “Go on, father. I know how you like to walk after supper and smoke.”

Gramps smiled, kissed his daughter on her forehead and left the hut.

As he walked the beach he came to a small hill covered with wild grass and two trees. one of the trees had fallen long ago and its trunk used for fires so all that was left was its stump. Gramps sat upon the stump on the grassy hill overlooking the sea. He watched the moon and the stars. He watched Kalavata flying high overhead.

He produced a pipe that had been carved from briar and shaped with a skilled knife into the image of a marmoset sitting atop a rock. He placed some fine tobacco into its bowl and lit it, drawing the thick smoke down the pipe and into his mouth, tasting the strong burleys. He sat, watching the night.

The sound of children playing, hollering, laughing came to Gramps. He sat, looking for his grandson. He saw him as his group of six friends crested the hill and drew near.

Said David, “Oh! Gramps. I didn’t know you were here.”

Some of the children asked David if he knew the old man.

“Yes,” said David. “He’s my grandfather.”

A few of the children kindly introduced themselves. Gramps gladly met them, thick smoke rolling from his pipe.

“I didn’t think anyone would come here,” said Gramps. “I’ll be out of your way.”

“No,” said David. “It’s okay, Gramps. You can stay. We came only for a moment to look at the stars. This hill has the best view of all the nighttime sky on the island.”

Gramps looked to the stars, nodding in agreement. He said, “Well, as long as you don’t mind an old man smoking his pipe and sitting on a stump sharing the stars with you, then I’ll stay.”

A few of the children said he could stay.

One child, a boy a year or so younger than David, approached Gramps. He asked, “That pipe, it’s awfully grand. What is that carved on its side?”

“That?” said Gramps, happy to be talking to the children. “Why that’s Momoki the Marmoset. In fact, he helped to restore the stars to the nighttime sky long ago. Have you heard his story?”

The children all shook their heads. Gramps looked to David, thought of his words earlier. He said, “It’s a good story, but I won’t bother you with my old, boring stories.”

David frowned.

“Besides,” said Gramps, “Who would want to hear about elephants and grasshoppers and warriors and battles and such. That’s all old stuff, long ago dead.”

Gramps turned on the stump, looking out over the sea, his back to the children.

The children looked at one another curiously.

David blushed, ashamed he had been found out, overheard.

“Wait a minute,” said a girl. “Who wouldn’t want to hear about such things?”

“Yeah!” said a boy. “I’ve heard of elephants. They’re supposed to be huge!”

“Gigantic!” said another boy.

“I want to hear about warriors,” said another boy. “Some day I want to leave the island and become a soldier in some king’s grand army. Please, tell us!”

Gramps, his back to the children, smiled. he then straightened his face, even furrowing it in confusion and turned round to look at the children. “Are you certain? I mean, they’re simply the old ramblings of an old man.”

It was David who spoke. “Of course, Gramps. Who wouldn’t want to hear about elephants and battles?”

Gramps smiled internally. He shrugged, puffed his pipe. He said, “If it’s truly what you children wish.”

The children agreed that they wanted to hear the tale. They all sat round Gramps upon the stump. David sat right in front of his grandfather, attentive and listening.

When the children were settled and staring at him, Gramps said, “It all began long ago in a land called Taliesin. On this Mountain That Lived in the Sky lived its caretaker, Momoki the Marmoset. And with him lived his friend, the mighty warrior known as Gogi the Grasshopper…”

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By the gods, this was along tale! This is the first full-length novel set within The Choldren of Gods Universe. I do hope you enjoyed it. And thanks for reading!

“Warriors of the Midnight Sun” - Act VII

This is the second to last act! I hope you're all enjoying!

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“Warriors of the Midnight Sun”
© 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

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ACT VII

MANY ROOTS HOLDING TOGETHER A GREAT TREE: Wherein Comet Fox is Reunited with Roku to Fight Against the Forces of Yaska Selith; Friends Fight Together as One; Xiao-tep Faces Fei Li Mi; Momoki Tastes the Bitter Vinegar of Failure; A New Hero Arises

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CHAPTER 1

Comet Fox cartwheeled towards Raiju Yu who stood, his three weasels Kama, Gala and Jian at his feet, holding a Moon-Toothed Spade. The fox-god then jumped, spinning as if in a cartwheel yet without his hands being placed on the ground and instead reaching to his waist to retrieve from his sash his two ulus. As his feet came down they cracked against Raiju Yu’s head, knocking him backwards.

The three weasels attacked, running to and biting at Comet Fox’s legs.

On came Roku the Misfit, passing by his former master. He, too, produced his two ulus from thin air and they glowed like a crescent moons on a cloudless night. Roku lunged, one of his ulus streaking out at the gut of the Weasel King.

Raiju Yu brought up his Moon-Toothed Spade, knocking away Roku’s hand with its shaft. Roku lunged again and again. Each time Raiju Yu blocked and parried.

Comet Fox kicked at the three weasels. He swept one off his leg and kicked at the other two. He then lifted onto the air and flew at Raiju Yu. The Weasel King lifted his weapon and spun it as a windmill, knocking away both Roku’s and Comet Fox’s attacks.

The three weasels turned and attacked Roku. They bit at him, climbing his form and where they bit new holes in his form appeared letting out small bits of crimson glowing light and droplets rising off him as if bleeding into the sky.

Roku ceased his attacks on Raiju Yu and swept his ulus down his form, knocking away the rabid, hungry weasels. As quickly as they dropped to the ground they were once more on Roku, eating away at his darkness.

Comet Fox thrust and lunged. He switched from Capoeira to Drunken Style, staggering and falling. This confused the Weasel King and he backed away to consider his foe, but Comet Fox was soon on him, stumbling as if not in control of his body and falling into Raiju Yu. The fox-god quickly, quietly slipped his ulus into the chest of Raiju Yu.

The Weasel King gasped, crying out more in horror at the successful ruse than at the pain, and backed away, using his Moon-Toothed Spade to push Comet Fox away so harshly the fox-god fell to the ground.

The weasels looked to their master, saw him hurt and abandoned their assault on Roku to attack instead the fallen Comet Fox. They were on him instantly, biting and chewing through his fur and flesh. Comet Fox yelped in pain and lifted into the air to hover over the plain before knocking the weasels free.

The weasels fell to the plain and ran to the side of their master to assure his safety.

Comet Fox descended back to the side of Roku, saying, “Mayhaps we should first kill the weasels so we may then attack their master in full concentrated effort.”

Roku nodded in agreement. They attacked.

Roku ran towards the Weasel King. The three weasels leapt into action, countering Roku’s attacks with their own.

Comet Fox came around from behind Roku and with his foot stomped on the head of Kama as the other two climbed onto Roku. He ground his pawed foot down, stomping on the neck of the weasel. Kama squealed in pain, but he did not die. Seeing this, Comet Fox then placed his ulus within his sash and reached down, grabbing up the weasel and held it fast. He looked to Raiju Yu as he slowly twisted the Kama’s neck, breaking it, the sound of cracking bone echoing between them.

As Comet Fox let Kama’s dead body fall, Raiju Yu smiled at him. The Weasel King gave a small cry, a chittering, chattering form of talk and from the mountains, down the foothills and onto the plain came a new weasel to replace Kama. It first drew to the side of Raiju Yu before turning to attack Comet Fox.

Roku used his ulus and stabbed at the weasels on him. They fell and where they landed he bent and stabbed them, slicing them each in two.

With more chitterings and chatterings from Raiju Yu, two more weasels came from the mountains and joined the fight.

Comet Fox and Roku bit, sliced, stomped and strangled weasel after weasel. With every dead weasel came a new one from the mountains.

Raiju Yu cackled wildly. He said, “You cannot kill all the weasels in the world!”

Comet Fox sighed. As he brushed off a new weasel he said to Roku, “I fear he may be right. Perhaps my plan of action was not fully correct. This Gifted One obviously commands the weasels and can call as many as he needs to his side, fortunately always in threes. If we do the same, yet this time concentrate all our efforts on the Gifted One instead of the weasel, mayhaps his demise will end the oncoming weasel horde.”

Roku once more nodded in agreement.

Comet Fox flew at Raiju Yu while.

Roku ran at their foe, ignoring the weasels biting at his chest, arms, legs and face. More and more, with every bite, new crimson holes appeared on Roku’s body. While it pained him greatly and he desired to free himself of them, he instead attacked the Weasel King.

Raiju Yu brought up his Moon-Toothed Spade and knocked away Comet Fox’s ulus.

Roku rounded the Weasel King and together with his old master, attacked the Weasel King from both sides.

Comet Fox speared out his ulus.

Roku ducked the Moon-Toothed Spade and extended out his arm, the ulu in his hand biting the air and hungering for Raiju Yu’s flesh.

Raiju Yu defended, his spade reaching out first left, then right. The crescent-shaped blade bit into Comet Fox, his blood spilling onto his fur as he yelped. The spade then bit into Roku’s form, a new gash opening on his darkness in a streak of flying crimson.

At last Comet Fox put away on of his ulus and grabbed the spade by the shaft. Raiju Yu smiled, working the spade so as to flip Comet Fox around and send him falling to the ground.

Comet Fox landed hard onto the plain, yet he did not let go of the spade. Instead, he held it fast, looked up at the Weasel King and smiled.

Raiju Yu wondered at him, at the fox-god’s smile. He then realized his weapon was held fast and he was therefore unable to defend with it. His head turned, his eyes wide, in time to see and feel Roku rush at him with both ulus. Roku slid one of his weapons up into the Weasel King’s armpit, the other sinking into his chest.

Roku placed all his ghostly weight onto his left arm with the hand holding the ulu in Raiju Yu’s chest. The ulu slid sideways and down, slicing open the chest and gut of the Weasel King.

Raiju Yu gasped. He gurgled. Blood filled his mouth and spilled down his chin as it spilled also down his gut and waist. His head turned as his eyes went from Roku to Comet Fox. He tried to call, command his weasels. They stood instead, still latched onto Roku and no longer biting, staring at their dying master.

Roku pulled free his ulus.

Comet Fox let got the Moon-Toothed Spade.

Raiju Yu fell.

The weasels jumped from Roku and ran for the hills, up and over the mountains, leaving the Plain of Adoration far behind.

Roku’s ulus disappeared. He bent low and offered his old master a hand. Comet Fox accepted and, with Roku’s help, stood. Together they sighed. Together they breathed deep and accounted for their wounds. When they each saw the other would survive, they each produced their ulus and, together, returned to battle.

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CHAPTER 2

Angolas had broken from the side of his fellow Warriors and instead fought at the side of his former liege and commander, King Aniabas and General Vitor. They fought, the three of them, side-by-side as one until they came before the commander of the Bone Warrior army: Sinverguenza.

“Give up your forces now,” called King Aniabas to Yaska Selith’s second. “We will let you live.”

Sinverguenza cowered. He was not much of a fighter, he knew, but was surrounded by the best of the Bone Warriors, many former mercenaries and soldiers from other parts of the world. He looked skyward and found the giant Yaska Selith there. He felt comforted standing within the demon-dog’s shadow and looked to Aniabas, calling out, “Bring all you can! Your best will not be good enough!”

King Aniabas the Ugly, Vitor the Loyal and Angolas the Soldier charged at Sinverguenza and the Bone Warriors. Weapons flashed, dancing off one another. Angolas whipped out his arms and from them extended his massive boulder weapons chained to his wrists. He swiveled his shoulders, lifting the boulders into the air and bringing them down, heavily crashing into the heads of two Bone Warriors, crushing them completely beneath the incredible weight. He swung the boulders about, knocking his enemies aside and killing others.

Aniabas charged through the Bone Warriors to the side of Sinverguenza. He lifted his sword high and attacked. Sinverguenza backed away nervously and two Bone Warriors stepped between their commander and the king. Aniabas lunged at the Bone Warriors, thrusting and parrying their attacks.

Vitor’s blade sank into the chest of a Bone Warrior just below his leather chest plate adorned with bits and pieces of bone. The blade drank deeply from the enemy as Vitor worked the sword, turning it sideways to wreak severe damage inside the Bone Warrior. He pulled free the sword and the Bone Warrior fell. He turned and attacked another.

Angolas crushed three Bone Warriors at once and was suddenly at the side of Sinverguenza who, looking to Angolas, thought he recognized the black and crimson ghost.

King Aniabas slashed widely, the tip of his sword biting deeply into both the Bone Warriors before him. The two foes fell and Aniabas was once more standing before Sinverguenza.

Vitor stabbed the last three Bone Warriors at their commander’s side, each after the other. He then drew to the side of his liege Aniabas.

Sinverguenza shook nervously. Once more he looked to Yaska Selith, wishing the demon-dog’s interference. At last he felt his death, though he did not want to die, may not be well placed in the service of such a creature. He eyed Aniabas.

The king ran forward, his general at his side. Together their swords sank into the gut of Sinverguenza below the ribs. Together they twisted their blades. Together they pulled free their swords and stepped backwards, looking to their ghostly fellow soldier.

Angolas twisted his shoulders. One of the boulders lifted into the air, crashing down on Sinverguenza who stood watching his gut bleed.

The boulder broke every bone in Sinverguenza’s body. The body disappeared beneath the weight and girth of the boulder. Only the trickling, spattering, squirting blood that came from under it gave any sign that once a man had stood there.

Word spread of Sinverguenza’s death spread quickly through the battle. Many Bone Warriors broke and ran from the plain.

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CHAPTER 3

Xiao-tep broke through the cloud layer, pulling level with the catfish Fei Li Mi. The two fish hovered in the air, amidst a mass of cloud cover, staring at one another.

Fei Li Mi worked his guandao in his fin.

Xiao-tep repositioned his hand on the Spear of Sorrow.

“Come to our side,” lured Fei Li Mi. “The power of Yaska Selith is comforting. It fills one with purpose, with place.”

At this Xiao-tep thought of Taliesin, of the rolling fields and garden, of Oti and Aglina and Zingtai. He answered Fei Li Mi, “I have such a place, such a purpose in my life. I need no demon-dog to fill me with purpose.”

“Mayhaps,” said Fei Li Mi, “but the strength of the demon-dog is felt worldwide. We do something here that affects lives everywhere, if at least indirectly. You cannot argue the importance of Yaska Selith.”

Xiao-tep nodded, mockingly agreeing by saying, “You are correct. I cannot argue with the importance of ridding the world of his presence.”

“Bah!” spat Fei Li Mi.

“Demons belong in the Many Hells,” said Xiao-tep.

Fei Li Mi felt the argument moot. He shifted to another matter plaguing his thoughts, “Are there many like us?”

Xiao-tep shook his head. “Not that I know of. I must confess I did not know of you until we met over the plain a day ago.”

“You said you were a god?”

Xiao-tep nodded. “I am son to Hapi the River God and Lei-zu the Thunder Goddess.”

Fei Li Mi’s jealousy welled. He said, “I am no son of gods. I was made by a mad alchemist bent on making Gifted Ones. The very alchemist that made me made Balori Shongoyo. As I was once a mere catfish, so too was Balori once an elephant. We did not choose this life, it was brought onto us.”

“I could say that very thing,” said Xiao-tep, thinking of the father that hated him.

“You know nothing, fish-god!”

Xiao-tep gave no answer. Instead, he asked, “Why are you here, Fei Li Mi?”

“I came seeking the Jewel of Zingtai, much as Balori does. I may yet grab it for my own, yet,” Fei Li Mi’s eyes gazed down through the clouds and thought of Yaska Selith sitting upon the plain, “I have found a home here.”

“Leave it,” said Xiao-tep. “Leave the demon-dog’s side. He will lose this battle and be destroyed. Help Balori instead return the jewel to Zingtai.”

Fei Li Mi considered the matter once more. He then wondered at the response of the Eternal Empress to such a union. He refused to share the glory with Balori and told Xiao-tep as much.

“Then you will fall with the demon-dog,” said Xiao-tep. He brought the Spear of Sorrows level, pointing its blades at Fei Li Mi.

Fei Li Mi’s eyes narrowed in anger. He said, “Come, fish-god. Let my guandao taste the blood of a god.”

The two fish flew at one another. Spear and guandao locked, slapping against one another. Each blade slid across the other and from it fell great sparks that fell to the ground far below. The clouds filled with the thunderous roar of their fight, shaking the very grounds far below. To this day it is said when one hears the thunder of a coming storm and witnesses lightning flashing across the skies, it is Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish and Fei Li Mi the Protector perpetually locked in battle.

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CHAPTER 4

Akadia Dorn swung his large stone war hammer with such force it knocked the head off the shoulder of a Bone Warrior. At his side fought Macia Thrace and Shabar. The three dug deeper into the plain, fighting constantly, never given ground.

A sudden surge of Bone Warriors stalled their progress. Their back to one another, they defended themselves from every side. They had been cut off from the main part of their fellow force.

Akadia said, “Let’s send them to the Many Hells!” and charged, working his hammer left and right, taking wound after wound to his body.

Macia dove into the fray and was cut repeatedly by a Bone Warrior and his masterful skill with a short sword.

Shabar, having been trained long ago to protect the Eternal Empress but never having been proven in battle, took his first life, blooding himself.

Macia backed away from the Bone Warrior with the short sword. This opened the side of Shabar, leaving him exposed to a flank attack. Macia did not read this and was much too late to block the swift sword of the Bone Warrior as his sword flicked out sideways and down. The short blade cut into and through Shabar’s leg below the knee.

Shabar lost his balance as his left leg fell away from him. He fell backwards to the ground.

Macia lunged out, the short swordsman now open to attack, and killed him.

The Bone Warriors, smelling the blood of Shabar, hearing him scream in pain at the horror of his lost leg, crushed in on them.

Macia looked down to Shabar. He commanded his friend, “Get off this plain! They’ll kill you!”

Shabar, hearing the words of his friend, rolled onto his belly and crawled between legs, blocking and dodging weapon attacks the best he could.

Akadia and Macia together screamed in a loud, awful battle cry. Their screams distracted the Bone Warriors and gave Shabar time to crawl away, off the plain and into the awaiting arms of those few loyal servants to Aniabas who could not fight and chose instead to remain behind near the kingdom to heal the wounded.

As the servants picked him up, Shabar eyed his friends. He watched, as he was being swiftly carried away, as a Bone Warrior closed on Macia and slipped his sword up into Macia’s gut. The blade ascended inside Macia, cutting through heart and lungs until the tip of the sword came out at last to protrude through the back of Macia’s neck.

Shabar watched as Akadia hammered one Bone Warrior after another, yet found himself suddenly alone and vastly outnumbered. The Bone Warriors, lusting for the blood of their enemies, descended upon him. They beat and battered and stabbed at him, but Akadia did not fall. He hammered two more Bone Warriors, crushing their skulls, before he was beaten and battered and stabbed again. The Bone Warriors fought with one another to get closer to him, to hit and slice at Akadia, but Akadia stood his ground for a time longer than most men could not. At last, minutes later, after Shabar had been taken far from the sight of the battlefield, Akadia took his last breath and fell.

With the deaths of these two mortal men, though the Bone Warriors had lost many of their numbers and some key figures, the battle shifted once more in their favor.

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CHAPTER 5

Fei Li Mi flew at Xiao-tep, his guandao extended and circling the Spear of Sorrows.

Xiao-tep knocked Fei Li Mi’s weapon aside, spinning to bring his spear high into the air before bringing it down to slice through the cloud beneath him, then up once more to knock away the guandao.

Fei Li Mi’s barbs wavered on the air as he lunged at Xiao-tep.

Xiao-tep’s long fins flowed noiselessly as he flew at Fei Li Mi.

Thei weapons clashed and sent sparks to the plain below. Together the two fish spun, attacked, defended, working the clouds into roiling fervor about them.

Fei Li Mi threw out his guandao, catching it at its very base.

Xiao-tep swam through the air sideways, bending his body to dodge around the oncoming guandao and, with his spear, slapped at the offending weapon.

Fei Li Mi swung the guandao down and around, bringing its blade screaming down atop Xiao-tep.

Xiao-tep lifted the Spear of Sorrows up, placing it over his head and blocked the attack. He then flipped backwards, knocking the guandao away by the shaft with his tail.

Fei Li Mi backed away.

Xiao-tep pressed the fight.

The Spear of Sorrows lunged at Fei Li Mi, Xiao-tep extending out his arm and shifting his weight forward.

Fei Li Mi backed away.

Xiao-tep attacked in the same manner.

Fei Li Mi studied the attack, feigning a gasp of surprise as he back away.

Xiao-tep, having believed the feint, lunged a third time.

Fei Li Mi smiled. he shifted his body to curve around the blades of Xiao-tep’s spear then, with his body rubbing harmlessly against the shaft of the spear, spun twirling his guandao and bringing its blade down at Xiao-tep.

Xiao-tep gasped a real gasp as the guandao’s blade slid past his spear, through his defenses and sliced open a part of his chest and gut, taking with it many scales that fell away, slowly floating on the wind and into the foothills and mountains bordering the plain.

Blood spattered from Xiao-tep. His eyes widened in horror. He arched backwards and as the skies overhead grew silent, as those fighting on the plain noticed the end of Xiao-tep’s and Fei Li Mi’s fight with the following silence, they witnessed the long, beautiful butterfly koi known as Xiao-tep the Ankh-fish of 100,000 Sorrows and beauty fell from the sky.

Xiao-tep landed hard on the ground near the foothills. Nearby, his friends Gogi, Szu Ri and Twila watched him.

Gogi eyed the fallen Xiao-tep,saw his chest heave with labored breath, and said, “He’s alive! Though badly wounded. We must help him!”

And without thought Gogi leapt from the grass in which he was hiding and went to Xiao-tep’s side with Szu Ri and Twila following.

Amongst the many that had witnessed Xiao-tep’s fall was his half-sister, the demi-goddess Wu Chan Chu. With a leap, then another, she left the depths of the battlefield and land at the side of her brother. She lowered herself to him and said, “Brother, are you alive?”

Xiao-tep moaned.

Wu Chan Chu eyed the cut.

Gogi crawled up on Xiao-tep’s side and examined the wound, as well. He said, “It’s not too deep, but long. Szu RI and I can heal it, but not quickly.” He looked to Wu Chan Chu. “We must find turmeric. It grows wildly. There must be some on this plain.”

“There’s some over there!” said Szu Ri as she spied some of the plant growing at he base of a nearby hill.

Gogi looked then looked at Wu Chan Chu. “We have to quickly grab some and polace it on the wound, but it is much to large for Szu Ri and I to do alone.”

Wu Chan Chu understood and said, “I will help.”

With a single jump Wu Chan Chu was at the hill and picking the turmeric. With another jump she was back at Xiao-tep’s side and following Gogi’s instructions. Szu Ri followed along behind the fast working frog demi-goddess’ hands, patting the turmeric down into the wound where Wu Chan Chu’s large fingers could not go.

Twila moved to Xiao-tep’s head, speaking softly to him with loving words. “We miss you Xiao-tep. How brave you and your friends are. Please stay with us. Your sister is here and she’s helping Gogi and Szu Ri heal you. Please, oh please do not die.”

Gogi then thought alound, “Can a god truly die?”

Wu Chan Chu, without pausing in her work at placing the turmeric upon the wound, answered, “Yes, at the hands of a Gifted One or another god.”

Gogi worked quickly, following Szu RI’s example and patting down the healing herb where Wu Chan Chu could not.

“Please,” said Twila, her small head rubbing against Xiao-tep’s temple, “Please do not die, Xiao-tep.”

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CHAPTER 6

Momoki crawled and climbed his way to the very top of the demon-dog without notice. He came up the back of Yaska Selith’s head until he was clutching the thin hair above the third eye. He examined the eye, now tightly closed. He thought his finger wide enough to slip into the socket, so he forced in a finger and felt around.

Yaska Selith felt this and tried to look atop his head. He could not, so he raised a clawed hand up and felt.

Momoki saw the hand coming and ran to hang off the back of the demon-dog’s head and avoid being swatted at or found out by him.

When the hand retreated, Momoki once more crawled to a spot above the third eye. His finger plunged into it once more and before Yaska Selith could take action to bring up his hand once more, found his finger simply was not long enough to reach deep into the socket and fetch the Ruby Bug.

Momoki scurried back once more as the demon-dog’s hand came near. Yaska Selith, Momoki could tell, was growing impatient and most likely was now convinced Momoki was there. He took only a brief moment to watch the hand retreat one last time and think out how he could reach into the depths of the third eye.

He then thought of his long, thin pipe and it appeared once more in his hand. Momoki, determined to get the Ruby Bug, crawled back to the front of the demon-dog’s head a last time. He raised the pipe and plunged it deep between the eyelids. He felt immediately, as the pipe sunk halfway into the demon-dog’s head, its mouthpiece strike something hard.

Yaska Selith cried out in pain.

Panicking, Momoki dug around with his pipe, found a side of the jewel, and worked the pipe furiously to dislodge the Ruby Bug.

This time Yaska Selith did not raise a clawed hand to his head, but instead opened his third eye. A great ruby beam of light flowed out from it and as Momoki’s pipe, arm, shoulder and half of his head was disintegrated, he thrust hard with the pipe and the Ruby Bug pulled free from some of the muscle that held it fast deep within Yaska Selith’s head.

The pipe burned up into ash. Momoki’s hand, arm, shoulder and face fizzled and burned away. Yet slowly, slowly, almost immediately, his missing body parts began to grow back.

Yaska Selith forced his third eye open, but the destructive beam did not pour forth. The Ruby Bug had not been removed to destroy Yaska Selith, but it had been dislodged enough to disable his third eye.

Momoki thought this over. Thought he that he could continue to dig into the socket and pull free the Ruby Bug.

Yet Yaska Selith’s leg, not his arm, raised up. Momoki, fearing it another searching hand, scurried to the back of the demon-dog’s head. The pawed foot came up and scratched at the back of Yaska Selith’s head.

Momoki was grabbed by the paw and pushed, thrown out from Yaska Selith fur.

Momoki the Marmoset fell, landing hard on the plain near his friends that now tended to the wounded Xiao-tep.

Balori, having spied Momoki falling from Yaska Selith’s head, flew to his side. Comet Fox and Roku soon joined them, as well, soon followed by Ebi and Zom Loa.

The turmeric took, its healing properties seeping into Xiao-tep until his eyes snapped open and he raised himself slowly off the ground.

Gogi and Szu Ri jumped from his rising body and, with Twila, went to Momoki’s side.

Wu Chan Chu eyed her brother Xiao-tep. “How fare you, brother?”

Xiao-tep eyed the turmeric along his wound. He looked up, “Better now, thanks to your aid.”

“It was not so much I,” said Wu Chan Chu, “as our little friends Gogi and Szu Ri and Twila.”

Xiao-tep flew to their side and thanked them.

Gogi nodded, accepting the thanks.

“It pleases us you are well once more,” said Twila.

“What has happened?” asked Balori of Momoki, unconcerned with Xiao-tep’s wound for he suspected more fighting was to come.

“That third eye of his, the one with the destructive beam, I think it might be the place the Ruby Bug has settled within Pup to make him into Yaska Selith,” explained Momoki.

Ebi nodded at this, understanding the thread of Momoki’s next thoughts. He said, “If he pluck it out?”

Momoki nodded back at Ebi, “We may be able to end the curse of your Pup, the curse of the world and it would destroy his form as Yaska Selith.”

“Then we will pry out that ruby eye!” Balori growled.

Momoki shook his head. “I do not know that you could, Balori. I am far smaller than you and my fingers could not fit into its depths. I had to use my pipe simply to dislodge it. I think it may be enough to rid us of that light, but not to rid us of Yaska Selith.”

Balori raised his axe, saying, “I will chop my way through his skull to retrieve the Ruby Bug.”

“His skull would be thicker than your arm,” said Comet Fox. “It would take us an eternity to cut through that demon-dog’s head.”

Balori growled again, this time in frustration.

Momoki thought of the moment Radiant Gui had charged him with the task of ridding the world of Yaska Selith. He thought that his purpose. He said, “No, if we are to destroy Yaska Selith, it is I who must do it. I have the smallest fingers and my pipe has proven effective in digging out the Ruby Bug.”

“But all the effort you have put forth at this moment,” contested Balori, “you have disabled his destructive light, that I cannot argue, yet here you are swiped from his head as a flea. How many more times must you climb him and be swatted off? How long must we wait for you?”

Balori shook his head. “No, there must be another way.”

“There is no other way,” argued Momoki.

“The only other way is to find someone smaller,” Wu Chan Chu chimed in.

And then the smallest, tiniest voice amongst them spoke up.

“I-I think, perhaps, I-I could fit.”

They all turned to look at little Gogi the Grasshopper as he nervously worked the brim of his hat within his hands.

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The tale wraps up next week with Act VIII! See you then!