Fiction: The God Named Poe (Part 2)

**This story is continued from "Fiction: The God Named Poe (Part 1)" .


    “Where the hell we are going?” Daxton asked, on edge from walking for so long.  It had been nearly six hours since they set off on foot and nearly ten since he arrived on this world.  It was hot.  The two suns threatened to bake him alive.  The second had only peaked above the horizon twenty minutes ago.  The jagged, ankle-wrenching terrain wasn’t helping things either.
    Kavira sighed.  “You are not a patient man, are you, Author Wreaths?”  Although she had nearly healed herself, she still walked slowly and kept one hand resting on her abdomen at all times.  A long branch used as a walking stick helped her to keep balance.
    “Patience is granted to the virtuous.”
    “Yet, you fight to maintain order amongst the Realms.  Surely you consider that a noble task?”
    “There are worse ways to spend my time.”  He stopped at the edge of a cliff that showed promise.  It was steep and deep.  He could barely make out the ground far below, concealed by a blue-grey mist.  One quick jump and everything would be over in an instant. 
    “Look!”  Kavira broke him from his thoughts.  She pointed to an encampment a few miles down range, barely visible through what passed for vegetation on this world.  Dark, electrified clouds circled over head.  “I’m definitely sure of it now.  Poe has obtained the Gnukata pendant.  The weather formation overhead doesn’t form naturally in this region.”
    “Then why is he here?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “If he has the damn pendant, why is he wasting his time out in the middle of nowhere?  Why not destroy another city, flood a continent, or jump to another realm?  There must be something he’s after.”  He pulled out the digital book reader and skimmed the original document for clues. 
    Out of all of the Guild’s power, one of the few things that seemed beyond their capabilities was the ability to detect what was happening in a Realm under contention.  The continual shifting of a Realm’s laws of time and space made it almost impossible to understand what was happening at any given moment, even if there were Authors on sight.  His reader could not show what was occurring on the world in real time.
    Daxton sighed and deactivated the reader.  “Waiting here isn’t going to get us any answers.”  He started off along the ledge.
    “What on Centillus’ Sand are you doing?” Kavira spoke loudly.
    “If that’s the way you people curse on this piece of shit rock, I’m really going to have to have a few words with that writer of yours.”
    Kavira moved towards him, but didn’t dare go near the edge.  “You haven’t answered my question.  We should investigate further before heading off into the unknown!  There’s a satellite terminal station hidden within the mountain a few miles away.  If we can reach it, we may discover what he’s after.”
    Daxton stopped and looked back at her.  “By the time we found out anything by reading that stupid book or marching off to that station, Poe will have succeeded in whatever the hell he’s working on down there.  I’m not going to wait for that to happen.  I’ll just ask him what he’s up to while I cut off a limb or two.  Maybe save the kid while I’m at it.”
    “That ‘stupid book’, as you call it, is my home, Author Wreaths!  And that child is my author.” Kavira spoke in offence.
    Daxton sighed, “Now I didn’t mean…”
    “Yes.  You did.  I can’t imagine why someone as ignorant and prejudiced as you has been granted the honor of being an Author of the Guild, but I won’t stand for your abuse any longer.”  She turned and walked back the way they came.
    Daxton considered calling after her and apologizing, but then he realized his walking pace could be quicker without her.  So, he pressed onward, alone, in a world he didn’t understand.
    It took him thirty minutes to traverse down the cliff, the rocky path crumbling away behind him.  He descended into a thick jungle of sorts that was completely out of place.  Everything suddenly shifted from a cold, dry mountain range to a muggy rainforest that looked as if it were painted by Picasso on an acid trip.  Plants of every shape and color crowded together to compete for any sunlight they could catch.
    The most numerous appeared to be Walter’s concept for alien trees.  At least, he hoped they were trees.  They were thick and bulbous, about ten feet high.  Instead of bark, they seemed to be covered in thick, armor-like scales.  Each ‘tree’ split off into about four to five branches at the top, with each branch being weighed down by a watermelon sized berry.  The trunks varied in color.  Some evened appeared to be dotted with polka dots, but all the berries were bright red.
    The dense jungle would have been a problem under normal circumstances.  Daxton opened the sub-dimensional pockets at his wrists and let out his twin Timbre Swords.  At least he could let out some frustration.

    “It may well be doubted, child, whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve,” Poe stated.
    “What in the world is that supposed to mean?” Gerald wondered.  He was sitting on the stump of one of the berry trees, his arms and legs bound together.
    Poe smiled at the child’s spirit.  Never once had he seemed afraid.  Of course, the thought was never far from his mind that Walters understood his own power within a Realm of his creation.  “It means, my dear boy, that all my years of dedication to my craft will finally allow me to reap the rewards.”
    Gerald pondered his statement for a bit before replying, “You’re insane.  You know that, right?”
    “I do believe I’m quoted as saying a very long time ago that I don’t suffer from insanity, but rather enjoy every minute of it.”  Poe turned his gaze to overlook his Kri minions as they mined into the rock. 
    The Kri were a frightening race.  They stood about seven feet tall on three powerful legs that allowed them to leap or run large distances without much effort.  Their third leg extruded out of their backs at the base of their spine, with the double knee joints mirroring the two forward facing legs. 
    Their muscular upper bodies seemed almost human, except for their dark lavender or purple skin.  Every Kri had slight variations of bluish eyes that were set deep in their sockets.  The bones in their faces, especially their cheekbones, were very pronounced, giving them an almost Neanderthal-like appearance.  They had long, blackish-purple hair that was usually drawn back into a ponytail.
    To display their tribal status, the Kri were heavily tattooed.  Many even had piercings running up the lengths of their arms and down their backs, almost becoming a part of the surprisingly elegant tattooed patterns.  The Kri standing behind Poe held one of the most revered markings of all.  Running vertically down his left cheek was a tattoo of an ornately designed staff, with his eye taking the place of the illuminated crystal at its head.  Jagged lines around the circumference of his eye socket accentuated the crystals power.  The Gnukata hung around his neck.  This was Cilodah the Barbarian, Conqueror of the Eight Tribes of Vintack.
    “Dig harder, bloodgrubs!” Cilodah roared.  The Kri responded immediately.  Their pace hastened.
    “Not so loud, my purple friend,” Poe warned.  “You’re bound to render the boy and me deaf.”
    Cilodah nodded, “My apologies, Author Poe.”
    “You know, for a guy who’s been pushing daisies since before my Gramps was born, you’re remarkably active…and decay free.  What’d they do, bury you in formaldehyde?” Gerald teased.  Though he was only fifteen, he was smart enough to notice Poe’s arrogance.  Still, he knew what Poe was after and what would happen if he found it.
    “Silence, boy!  We may be inside your novel, but this is no mere work of fiction.  Unless, you’d like to be reminded of the power of this little bauble you created?”  Poe held up the pendant for emphasis.  A bolt of lightning struck a Kri taking a rest on a boulder.  An instant later, he crumpled over in a smoking heap.
    Gerald stared at the charcoaled corpse.  He’d never seen anyone die before.  What was worse, he realized, as the writer of this book, he was responsible for the deaths of thousands.  He’d written the words, never considering the impact a single death could have.  Poe watched the horror in his eyes with a note of pleasure.
    “It’s all about perspective, my young friend.  All we see or seem is but a dream within a dream,” Poe remarked.  “But to them, this is very real.”
    “Please, stop this.”  Gerald pleaded quietly, still mostly in shock.  Though he tried, he couldn’t move his eyes from the still smoldering Kri.
    “I’d be happy to oblige, Mr. Walters.”  Poe kneeled over next to him.  “But first, I shall need a bit of assistance from you.  Tell me, where is the staff?”

    Daxton was starting to get angry.  Actually, he’d been angry for quite some time, now it was starting to get out of control.  The jungle, if that’s what you could call it, was getting denser by the minute.  All his hacking and slashing with the swords only slightly quickened his pace.  Worse, however, he now had to avoid piercing the massive berries as they were filled with some sort of viscous, sticky fluid.  It seemed like bright red maple syrup, but was so bitter he’d almost vomited when a drop landed in his mouth.  He withdrew the swords and decided to try another tactic.
    “Author Wreaths to any supervising Archivist,” he called out on the communicator built into his watch.  The Guild had taken the idea from the old Dick Tracy serials.  Daxton had always thought it was rather cheesy.
    “This is attending Archivist Jules Verne responding.  How can I help you, Author?”  The message was slightly distorted, probably from all of the electric interference in the atmosphere.
    “I’ve located Poe but am having trouble reaching him.  He’s surrounded by a thick forest or something.  I’m having a hard time getting through it.”
    “Where are Authors Viskau and Kavira?”
    Daxton decided that revealing the truth at this moment in time would be counter-productive.  He’d be disciplined for it later, but he really didn’t care.  “Author Viskau never made it to the rendezvous.  He’s presumed dead.  Kavira barely made it alive, but she was too injured to continue through the jungle.  She headed off for a hidden monitoring station to give me an aerial view.” 
    “That is unfortunate.  I will update Editor Wells on your situation.”
    “Thanks and all, but I really need to get through this damn foliage!  Is there a character in this piece of shit novel that can fly or anything?”
    There was a pause.  Daxton hoped it was because Verne was shifting through the available data.  He really didn’t feel like dealing with a pissed off Frenchman.  “I’m sorry, Author, but there is not.  Other than some heightened senses and reflexes, the Da’kri are no more advanced than we are.”
    Daxton sighed.  “What about this guy called…what was it?  Cilodah?  Kavira seemed to think he was a bit on the threateningly powerful side.”
    Another pause.  “The character of Cilodah doesn’t appear in the plot for another three months, approximately, from the current date on Da’kri.  Even then, he draws his power from a pendant of some kind”
    “Yes, yes, Kavira already filled me in on all of that.  We think Poe has the pendant.  What I need to know is what the hell is he looking for in Vintack?”  Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark places of the jungle for moments at a time.
    Verne researched the name for a moment.  “Vintack is a northern continent on the planet.  The mountainous region on the continent’s northwestern edge is considered by many on Da’kri to be the hiding place for the Kri’s Staff of the Fathers.  Author Wreaths, if he obtains the staff and the pendant simultaneously, he will have complete control over all the laws and powers on nature.”
    “Yeah, I know, he can control the weather.  He’s already putting on a light show.”
    “It’s more than that.  He will also be able to control the laws of space and time.  He will virtually become a god.  If he takes them out of that realm, we may not be able to stop him ever again.”
    “Well…that figures.”  The vegetation shook a little.  It wasn’t the wind.  There was something eyeing him from beyond the black.  “You’ve been a peach, Jules, but I gotta go.”  He severed the connection and let out his swords.
    A thorn covered vine erupted from the shadows.  He dodged quickly, allowing it to blaze past.  The spear tip pierced the berry tree behind him easily.  A strange squawk, like a bird being strangled, nearly blew out his eardrums.  Lightning flashed, revealing the bizarre creature as it retracted its whip-like tail.
    It was bipedal, but like no animal he’d ever seen, even in science fiction.  It was more like a bundle of vines bound tightly together to make a stocky humanoid shape.  The creature/plant was as multicolored as the abundant plant life surrounding it, but several shades darker, which is why Daxton had missed it in the first place.  There were thorns on almost every inch of its body, with the longest ones jutting haphazardly out of its back. 
    The creature didn’t have a neck or a head, but instead a large flower bud served as its torso.  It opened and closed the same as a lion opening its mouth to roar.  There were a few blood red flower petals, but the center was more like a Venus fly trap that extended in and out of the flower like that creature from the Alien movies.  Daxton sighed.  Now the kid decided to get creative.
    Daxton dodged the next two attacks, slashing back to counterattack.  Only thorn fragments fell to the ground with no real damage to the creature.  It was well protected.  The monster lumbered forward, awkward on its short legs.  The vines constricted as it walked, using the coils to support its weight.
    It was time for a different tactic.  Daxton crossed his blades, holding them together like a pair of scissors.  If he could get a hold of that tail, he could shear it right off.  The critter squawked and lunged with its tail, but he was ready for it.  The spear zipped past his head, the tiny thorns on the side scraping his neck.  The tip pierced the berry tree behind him.  The vine went taut.  He cut.
    The creature staggered back and screeched.  Daxton cringed at the sound.  The severed vine withdrew back to the plant, with the spear's tip still in the tree.  It seemed to be unsure of what to do next and just stood there staring at him without any eyes to stare with.  He tried to move away from it, hoping to continue on towards Poe, but it followed blocking his path.  He clutched the hilts tighter in his hands.  He had to kill it.  It was the only way through.
    A speared tail exploded out of his right shoulder.  In shock, he dropped his sword.  There was a second creature that had sneaked up from behind.  He cursed himself for not paying attention.  These things weren’t even all that graceful.  Backward facing thorns popped out of the spear and gripped him like a grappling hook.  It pulled with greater strength than he’d expected from a vegetable.
    Daxton was pulled off his feet, his remaining sword slipping from his grasp on impact.  He cried in pain as the thorn covered vine pulled him closer to the eager jaw of the monster.  A tingling sensation was moving through him now.  He realized there was some sort of toxin in the thorns.  If he made it out of this, he was going to have a talk with this Walters kid. 
    The first critter approached from the other end and grabbed his leg with a vine-like hand.  The thorns tore through the fabric in his pants and pierced him to the bone.  They were pulling him now, fighting over which one got the bigger piece.
    As his right arm hung limp and the spear in his shoulder threatened to rip it away entirely, he realized something.  After all he’s been through, after all the dangerous missions, after all of his grief, he was finally going to die.  Surprisingly, he realized he didn’t want to.  Not yet...

                                          To Be Continued in...

                                 

ID: 1479203   (Rated: 13+) Title: Fiction: The God Named Poe (Part 3)  Description: For once, Daxton is in need of a little rescuing after an encounter with a savage beast. By: JDMac