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| >> Static Item >> Fiction >> Fantasy >> ID #1802787 |   |
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~ Author's and Co-Author's statements: About my co-author: Needless to say, this project would never have come to fruition without the fine, intelligent and wise writing of WilliamWriter   . At first, I did nothing more than write the framework of the story, then he came in and began to adjust it, adding graphic details that I might never have thought of. His work 'fleshed out' and polished the story. Then, we both began editing and revising. We agreed with each other, then we bumped heads, we even became so confused that we were irritated with each other, but we kept going somehow. We both worked so hard on this, bleary eyed, late into the night, talking, trading ideas, arguing a little, apologizing...and we kept going. I, for one, learned so many things ~ since neither of us had ever collaborated on a story with someone else before, we discovered all of the nitty gritty pros and cons of this type of endeavor. I learned what this type of work entails, I learned how to write better, and I learned some interesting historical facts. Most importantly, I learned more patience and understanding of other writer's work. I didn't understand the significance of this writing exercise before I began it. I even felt criticism for it. Now I know differently. Thank you, Hammerhelm! William, please know that I would do this with you again, anytime! You're the best writing partner anyone could have. Thank you for teaching me without trying to.  From Co-Author, WilliamWriter  I have deeply enjoyed working with Jen d'Arque - Busy Bee  ! She is one of the few who could have persuaded me to co-author a story. We crossed trails at WDC when I read and gave her an in-depth review of her impressive epic poem, "Jerrilee". Since that time, we have shared some about our experiences on WDC and our writing goals.I was honored when Jen asked me to work with her on this project. My main reservations revolved around who would do what and if my expected part would measure up. However, I felt the best way to do such a venture would be to let Jen take the lead, since it began as her project and she was the member of the Fantasy Society's Monthly Short Story Contest. A co-authored story has all the problems of reviewing, of "being strong and ready to defend" "faulty items" found, and of accepting disagreement over whether some of "faulty items' were actually faulty or refusal to use all of the reviewer's suggestions for improvement. Yet, a co-author must suggest his "improvements" even at the risk of being wrong or having his ideas rejected, because the co-author must write and edit, giving the story and his partner his very best. A lot of give and take is involved. Just as one writer might cringe when some of her writing is challenged, the other might feel "left out" if some of his hard work of suggested edits and additions are challenged. The ruling factor for me was my determination not to let our push and pull over this story affect our friendship, which I treasure. Thanks, Jen, for picking me! I learned a lot from you as well! The writing prompt for this story is: "The year is 2011 and a young man has stumbled upon a wand and an instruction manual." ~ Written for the July - September, 2011 'The Coffee Shop for the Fantasy Society's Monthly Short Story Contest' Story Word Count:4839 Joystick Marius heard the staccato popping of the rebel force's machine gun fire. The drug dealing rebels and their suppliers always raided the villages to the south of Al Kut, a city on the Tigris River, at this time of the year. The leaders used force and cruel acts to remind the people that the Drug Lords were in control of the region. Besides, their followers received the rewards of plunder, pillage, and rape which cemented their loyalty. The drug lords were not Jihad terrorists or Islamic insurgents; but rather, Arabs of various Muslim sects and even included drug dealers from European and American backgrounds. They were disdained by hard core Muslims because they had taken on the mindset and life style of Western Society. Without hesitating, Marius dropped the bundle of sticks he had collected for the night's cooking fire, startling a comical rat with long kangaroo legs dubbed the Euphrates jerboa, and ran toward a sheer granite bluff a few hundred yards away. His long, muscular legs gobbled the distance before him as he took the rocky sand covered ground in stride. He had high school letters in cross country running. Reaching up as he ran, he made sure his floppy, tan archaeology hat was secure on his head. The angry sun blew its fiery heat at the earth with a celestial force, a searing heat that could scorch his head regardless of his long, thick black locks of hair. His tanned skin absorbed Ol' Sol's rays and became only a deeper hue of nutty color rather than burn. His dark brown eyes darted down the trail which led to a wolf cave. Every archaeologist dreamed of being another Indiana Jones, and he was no exception. He kept his strong, muscular body sculpted, not only for show but to endure the adventurous life the diggers and relic hunters craved. As he ran through the arid scrub forest in the late afternoon, birds, Euphrates jerboas, and a desert monitor lizard scattered before him. His thoughts kept going back to the beautiful Judith, his professor's daughter. Tears briefly watered his eyes as he envisioned the lush figured girl, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that were like refreshing pools of sparkling water. She had so easily stolen his heart. Just last year, they spoke of getting married after the semester ended and they were back in the States, but when their passions could not be contained, their mutual exploration of each other led to a night in her tent together. He felt his face sting with embarrassment as he recalled the shock on Professor Blaine's face when the father pulled apart his daughter's tent flaps and found them entwined around each other. Though Judith sobbed and tried to diffuse the situation, Blaine was livid. He expelled his best student and exiled him from the Yale excavation group. Thus ended his Archeology scholarship which he had worked so hard to fulfill. He was just a semester away from graduation. He had studied the ancient Chaldean language as well as modern Arabic and easily communicated with the locals. He read the Sanskrit and identified the treasures of the past with an uncanny mastery. Now he continued his work alone, searching for a knowledge of the weapons and armor of the Persians who had battled here over a thousand years before. His sense of community had been taken from him, and he was forced to fend for himself in the desolate outskirts of Al Kut, exploring, hunting and gathering what he needed to survive alone. Soon thereafter, the rebels came, fields of grain and fruit were pillaged and one whole village was wiped out with little organized resistance. Fortunately, Coalition forces had shown up to scatter and push the rebels into a full retreat.   This time, he knew the rebels had seen him. He had wandered too close to the city which they used as a base. Soon night would spread its starry diamond studded cloak over the deep blue cloudless sky of the desert community, but it could not deter this crew of marauders who obviously believed that he was a spy for the Coalition forces. The wolf cave was situated about three hundred feet up a steep, rocky cliff. The best access to it was from above the cliff, but there was no time to run up and around to the top. He would have to climb the face of the rock as he had done before. The rebels were not likely to follow him up that way. Legs, heart and lungs pumped with precision until he reached the rocky cliff and he spider-climbed up the face as he heard rebel shouts and gunfire somewhere about two hundred yards behind him. Naked fear and desperation drove him, and he ignored all the scrapes and cuts he earned as he scrambled upward. He heard the piercing whine of bullets striking the face of the cliff near him. Finally, in what seemed a lifetime, he cleared the ledge outside the wolf cave, and glanced down at the rebels who had tracked him to the cliff. Some were firing their AK's at him from their dirt bikes. Several large rocks studded the area around him which he could have thrown down on the murderous bunch, but he suddenly realized that he needed to pee. He squatted down to keep his head clear of the bullets, whipped out Mr. Happy and let fly a steady golden stream over the edge of the cliff. He was soon rewarded by screams and more gunfire. He noticed that one of the rebel riders figured out another way up, and directed all of his crew to follow him around the base of the cliff... They were coming. They seemed determined to capture or kill him. No doubt, they thought he knew too much about their operation, or would report their location to Coalition forces. They didn't seem to enjoy the 'golden shower' he had given them either. Marius saw only one way to escape the rebels - run into the cave, a cave he had stepped into before, but had never taken the time to explore its deep recesses. He had seen signs left by wolves or jackals in quantities which showed they often used this cave, but he just had to run past them if they were residing here now. The opening of the cave was small; he entered on his hands and knees and crawled for several feet before it opened up to the point that he could stand. The dirt floor of the cave sloped downward and he held out his hands to touch the damp, cold walls on either side as his eyes gradually adjusted to the inky darkness ahead. Some daylight still spilled in from behind as the air became musty and rich in animal odor. Downward Marius crept until he sensed an open area ahead. The smell of wet fur grew stronger as he stopped and squatted down to let his eyes adjust even more to an open room before him. He could smell water, wolf or jackal, and...rust. Suddenly, something wet and soft touched one of his knees. Reaching out, he discovered a wolf pup. It prodded him with its nose. 'Where was its mother? It would have attacked me by now if she were here.' The entry tunnel had opened up into a cavern, roughly twenty feet wide, with a small pool of water in its center. He joyously breathed in fresh crisp air as he entered the room. 'Must be coming from up there', he thought as he spied a few small holes in the tall, vaulted ceiling. Just enough light spilled through to reveal another tunnel on the opposite side of the cavern. The young pup before him seemed to be alone and simply curious. Marius patted the puppy then leaped over it to make for the other tunnel on the far side of the cavern. His feet hit something that felt like logs. He lost his balance and tried to grab the air as he flew, face first, onto a small iron clad wooden shield. As he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he saw that the 'logs' were armored skeletal legs. A man had perished here, sitting upright against an obviously hand-hewn tunnel wall. The left skeletal hand held nothing, but the right held what looked like a torch. Marius grabbed the torch and searched the body for means to ignite it. Inside a large old leather belt pouch, he found a small stone, a few coins, a metal ring and a tightly rolled parchment or scroll. He knew the stone had to be flint, since the armor on the body probably dated back to the Middle Ages. Matches and Zippo lighters hadn't exactly been common in those days. Marius had felt some sort of cloth undergarment on the body, and tore several strips of this to wrap around the head of the torch. He struck the small piece of flint against a large rock and was relieved to see sparks fly off and quickly fade out. With the head of the torch near the rock, he continued to strike sparks while he wondered why he had left his box of matches back at his camp. A couple of minutes later, he noticed the cloth on the torch smoldered and he could smell the antiquated fabric burning. He began to blow on the torch head softly which caused it to glow more and more until finally it burst into flame. After his eyes adjusted to the light, he could now see that there were two wolf pups in the cave, but no parents. The pups retreated from his torch, no longer curious. Clearly, the body before him was a Saracen from somewhere between the 10th and 13th centuries. A rusted, iron, conical helm sat atop the skull, while the body was encased in a scalemail hauberk. A rusty scimitar rested on the ground behind the warrior. He jammed the flint, coins, ring and scroll back into the large belt pouch and then tied it to his own waist. The leather of the pouch was cracked and dry, but it would probably hold the contents for awhile more. From the depths of the tunnel that he initially ran through, Marius heard the growls of a large wolf and surprised howls from the rebels. 'Momma wolf had come home and met the bad guys. Time to run again!' With the scimitar and torch, Marius ran down the new tunnel, which, although only about seven feet in height, was wide and well carved. Soon, he came to another small cave which was filled with water all the way around, but he spied an iron ladder fastened to the opposite cave wall leading to an opening about a hundred feet up. He caught a small glimpse of twinkling stars through the aperture. The night sky above never looked so welcome. He left the torch on the ground in the tunnel, tucked the scimitar into his jeans behind his back and splashed into the pool to swim across the cave. He couldn't feel the bottom of the chilly pool with his feet.  He climbed the iron ladder with the rusty, dull scimitar uncomfortably rubbing his backside. The ladder had once been crudely bolted to the stone of the cavern walls, but as he climbed, he could feel it give with his every step. The force of his body began to pull the securing bolts from their grip. He was afraid the metal contraption would pop loose from the wall before he reached the top. Just when it seemed about to pull free from the rough stone, he grasped the jagged edge of a stone which he used to pull himself up the rest of the way. Then he was out of the narrow opening and leaned forward onto the ground at the top. He breathed in the fresh air and gazed at the welcome canopy of stars. He stood atop a small boulder strewn peak, perhaps a hundred feet above the plateau that the rebels used to drop down to the cave ledge into the wolf cave. Marius could hear rebels' cries and yelps from somewhere, but couldn't tell how far away they were. He was sure they would kill the mother wolf and come after him. There was only one other thing he could do now. He reached back down through the opening from which he had emerged and tugged at the antique, rusted iron ladder. He gave the effort everything he had. Back and forth he tugged and finally it came free near the top. He could vaguely see it hanging out away from the wall. Looking around at the top of his perch, he saw a large boulder nearby that he could use. It was way too heavy to pick up, so he rolled it over to the hole and dropped it in. The falling rock had the desired effect, crashing down onto the upper rungs of the ladder and snapping the whole thing away from its moorings into the deep pool below. 'There's no going back now,' he thought.'They can't come up, and I can't go back down that way unless I jump.' He walked around the edge of his hilltop to find that it was only about forty feet wide, round, like the top of a castle tower. He didn't see any way down without rope. As he pondered his luck, he rejoiced to hear the sound of dirt bikes racing away. The cool early evening air was a great relief as he stood, panting, on his granite hill top. The space was small, cluttered with huge boulders, and he noticed that there was a small cave or gap between a couple of the boulders that he could crawl into and perhaps find some peace and sleep. Without any other choice to be contemplated at the moment, Marius crawled into the small cave and fell asleep.  ********** Harsh sunlight awakened Marius, and as he wiped the sleep and grit from around his eyes, he became aware of several details: he wasn't in a cave, but a small gap between two large boulders, he was very hungry and thirsty, there was nothing that he could hear aside from the intermittent wind which tormented this place, and ~ there was something wet trickling down his cheek. He wiped the liquid from his face and smelled it. Urine. He scampered out of his little cave and managed to dislodge a large lizard from his scalp which no doubt was very comfortable and warm atop his cranium all night long. Brushing himself off, he took stock of his situation - no food, water, or even rope, stuck on a rocky tower several hundred feet above the desert floor, proud owner of an antique scimitar and an old cracked leather pouch... He untied the pouch from his waist, opened it and carefully removed its contents onto the ground. The coins were very old, tarnished silver and gold, and probably worth another scholarship. The ring was plain, but solid gold and clean. Too clean. The scroll was sealed by an ugly old drop of wax with an unfamiliar symbol stamped upon it. He broke the seal and carefully began to unroll what he now discerned to be thin animal hide, not papyrus, which explained why it had survived so well for so long. Before long, he realized the faded writing on the scroll to be crisp, clear, proper Arabic. The language that was spoken so commonly in Baghdad and Arabia, and all of their provinces a thousand years ago. The first sentence caused him to drop the scroll, look up into the heavens and laugh, like he had never laughed before. "Whomever finds this relic is an unfortunate fool." "Oh that's just great! You're a little late for such a curse, whoever you are!" Marius shouted, not caring who heard him. Still chuckling, he picked the scroll up and continued reading: "You now possess the last branch of the cursed tree of Demonic Mischief." Marius thought of the fate of the warrior, on whom he had found this scroll, and he glanced around the horizon for any trees, but of course there were none. Even around Al Kut, about ten miles away, he knew no 'proper' trees existed. This land was cursed, and only on either side of the Tigris or Euphrates would anything grow. Lots of palm trees towered near the rivers, but palm trees didn't have branches....'perhaps an old fig tree'? He felt delirious, but he knew that was due to the fact that he had not eaten since noon the day before. He unrolled the scroll a bit more: "Should you touch the branch, it will never leave you, but use your soul to channel its evil and mischief. You must find and wear the sacred ring of the Magi Aleph to control the will of the branch; otherwise your ending will be legendary." 'The ring of...' Marius thought as he instinctively reached for the plain gold ring, so clean after all this time. He tried to place it on his fingers but it would fit none until he found that it slid onto his thumb, and seemed to tighten so that he couldn't pull it off. 'Enough of that, where's this accursed branch?' he wondered. Marius searched the ground all over as well as the leather pouch. Nothing. He even gazed down through the hole into the cavern, from which he had emerged the night before, but saw only twinkles of sunlight reflected off the pool below. But now he heard something from below, so he knelt down and lowered his head into the pit. Recalling the night before, he realized the noise was likely the wolf pups - whimpering. He jumped up and lucid thought took over again. He could see no apparent way down from this watchtower; the exterior walls were too sheer, he had no rope and he was too weak from hunger. Besides, one bad step, and he would fall hundreds of feet to his death. The only exit was back the way he had come. He tucked the scimitar back into his jeans against his butt, put the coins back into the pouch and was about to do the same with the scroll when he decided to open it all the way - just in case there were any other messages. There was one, near the very end of the scroll: "Good Luck!" Just below those words he found a stick, about ten inches long, and as dark as charcoal. It looked like just an old, charred, brittle tip of a small tree branch. Without thinking, he grabbed it and noted that despite its dry appearance, it was oily, yet quite sticky. He also noted that it weighed more than the scroll, perhaps more than the scimitar. He tried to drop it, but it seemed to be stuck to his palm. Shaking it, rubbing it against a rock, and pulling at it with his free hand had no effect. "Dammit, let go of me!" he yelled. Just like that, the stick fell to the ground. Marius stood there for a minute staring at the very unusual twig, not sure what to make of it and wondering if he was delirious. Time was wasting, so he grabbed the stick again and snapped: "Stay on the back of my hand!" Sure enough, the branch rolled around to rest on the back of his right hand, the hand with the strange thumb ring. He shook his hand to dislodge the twig, but it didn't budge. 'That's it - let's go!' he thought. After he tied the pouch to his waist again, he went to the cavern hole. "Man, I wish I could just float my way down", he said just before he jumped in. Oddly enough, he didn't fall, but very gradually, like a feather, floated down to slide into the pool. He treaded water as he wondered about his descent, but also drank his fill before swimming back over to the torch he had left behind the night before. Marius knew he had to be dreaming - there was no such thing as magic, although he had studied the legends of magic practiced by the ancient Chaldeans and Babylonians. All the old literature from the earliest times indicated that, at least at one time, a very long time ago, magic was very much real and actively practiced. If this was a dream, then there would be no harm playing around with it. He said aloud: "Light the torch", and as expected, the torch blazed with hot flame, illuminating the seven foot tall passage back toward the cave of the wolf pups. "I wish I were dry"; instantly his clothes were dry. He ran back toward the cave where he found the relics and soon saw the two pups huddled together near the body of a full grown male wolf whose jaws were locked around the throat of a rebel. Both had died fighting each other, and the two pups had witnessed it. "Alright, I promise to take care of you. We'll be friends from now on and look after each other, okay?" Marius said to the pups. They only whimpered in reply. "I said - let's be friends! I mean you no harm, do you understand?" Both pups stood on their hind legs, raised their right forepaws and replied: "Rawr! Arooo, arooooo!" "Sounds good to me," Marius said. "Gosh, I wish you guys were bigger than your dad." Through the flickering torchlight, Marius was vaguely able to see that the pups seemed to be growing very fast. They whimpered, then growled, then snarled and snapped as they grew to become larger than any man. Since it was all a dream, Marius felt safe as he approached and scratched around their ears and neck. Each massive wolf head could easily tear his throat out or snap his arm off in less than a second. He noted that one was male, the other female. They licked his hands and face. To the male he said, "Thou art Justice." To his sister he said, "Thou art Vendetta". They seemed to nod and smile. "Now you see here what the bad men have done to your father, where's your mother?" The two wolves whined and moved off into the entry tunnel and Marius followed. **********The two sibling wolves ran toward the entrance of their home and Marius followed close behind, kneeling down to crawl out of the cave. As he stood to his feet, he beheld a gruesome scene. A large female wolf lay dead from gunshot wounds alongside two rebel corpses. One had his throat torn out, the other bled to death from slashing and gouges along his inner thighs. Marius searched the bodies but could not find any guns, however, he did discover one bottle of water, and a small pack of food: dates, raisins and bread. Marius shared the bread with his new friends and they licked the face of their mother, who had died valiantly in combat protecting her children. "Justice, Vendetta. Tell your mother 'goodbye' before we go to avenge her death."  The siblings howled for at least five minutes before coming over to lick Marius' hands. He pointed off towards Al Kut in the distance and said: "The bad men came from that place. We won't have to enter that city, and we shouldn't. There are some good people there as well. We'll go down and approach them, but you two will hide. When the bad men come out to attack me, then you jump out and attack them. I will fight them with whatever I can think of. If there are too many of them, then I guess we'll die having some fun, eh?" The giant wolf pups seemed to grin, and together, the three ran down, around to the base of the granite hill. Exhausted, Marius pointed his hand with the sticky stick at the sand and said, "A pool of water is here." A hole developed in the sand, then quickly back filled with water. While the wolves drank, he pointed his wand hand to the side of the pool again and stated, "Two hundred pounds of cooked chuck and porterhouse steaks!" The meat seemed to drop from the heavens, and all three ate their fill, then took a short nap. Upon awakening, Marius instructed the wolf siblings: "Now, you two stay here. I'm going to jump over to the city and make a lot of noise. When the bad men follow me back here, you will have your revenge, and who knows what will happen after that." The two wolves nodded then went back to picking at the steaks and bones. Marius said, "Place me just outside the city along with the Marine Corps Marching band." Instantly, Marius stood on the outskirts of Al Kut and he heard a thunderous noise behind him - the Marine Corps Marching Band was playing Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries". "Harmless but grand fireworks!" yelled Marius. From the sand all around Al Kut, mortar shells launched amid tall sparkling fountains of multi-colored sparks. The mortar shells exploded over the city, but there was no immediate response. Meanwhile, drums boomed, cymbals crashed, and a woman in the Marine Band, with a fine contralto, blasted her voice for everyone to hear for miles around. After only a few minutes,the rebels, seeing that the Coalition forces were not actually present, could stand no more of this provocation. Dirt bike riders poured out of Al Kut from many roads and who knows where. Marius grinned and 'dismissed' the band, turned and ran, making sure that he ran just a little faster than the rebels on their bikes. As expected, the rebels kept coming, and he ran across the sand without touching the ground. As he neared the wolves, Marius yelled, "Split apart and take them from the sides!" The two wolves ran away in opposite directions out into the desert as Marius arrived back at the pile of steaks. Finding one nice steak untouched, he gnawed at it while pointing his 'joystick' to a section of desert immediately before the oncoming dirt bikes. "Open one hundred yards long, ten feet deep, twenty feet in width!" Just as the two oversized wolves began to attack the outlying riders, the ground opened up before the middle bunch, and down they went into the pit. What a mess. There was no gunfire, just screaming. Sincere, blatant and raw terror was broadcast from the vocal chords of murdering bastards right before their throats were torn out. Justice and Vendetta were very busy. 'Now to the Professor who exiled me!' Marius thought. Instantly, Marius stood just outside the encampment of Professor Blaine's sanctioned dig group near Al Hayy. He saw the Professor and most of the other students standing around, staring toward the north, no doubt because of the fireworks that had erupted up there. Marius walked toward the Professor who noticed him and shook his head. "Where's Judith?" Marius demanded. "My daughter left us soon after you were expelled. I thought she was with you," the Professor answered. Marius threw the antique scimitar at the feet of the professor, untied the old, cracked leather pouch from his waist and handed it over to his mentor. "There are very old silver and gold coins in there. That, combined with this scimitar and other things I've found, should grant me another scholarship. I didn't see Judith; where else could she have gone?" Professor Blaine accepted the leather pouch as he replied: "She said that she would either find you, or join the rebels of Al Kut." In a dizzying flash, the message of the scroll ran across Marius' mind: "Whomever finds this relic is an unfortunate fool."..."...Demonic Mischief."..."Should you touch the branch, it will never leave you, but use your soul to channel its evil and mischief." "My God!" shouted Marius as he turned away. "Back to the wolves!" he yelled. In an instant, he stood over the great pit that he had created, the pit that had swallowed up most of the rebels with their dirt bikes. His two wolf friends were nowhere to be seen, but he clearly saw a woman's bloody corpse where she had fallen and had been ravaged by the wolves. He jumped down into the pit, stripped off the rider's helmet and looked into the eyes of his beloved, Judith the archaeologist. There was life left in her still, but her slashed pelvic arteries were slowly leaking out her life's blood. "Judith!" Marius shouted. With a gasping whisper, she replied: "We looked all over for you. They wanted to help you." Marius watched the sparkle of life fade from her deep blue eyes, and he closed her eyelids. The ebon stick, his 'Joystick', still clung to the back of his right hand. He knew it wouldn't help Judith, and he sensed the evil twig was content with the way things had turned out. Nearby, a rebel's handgun lay in the dirt and seemed to call to him. He knew there was only one way out of this mess. Just then, Justice and Vendetta appeared next to him, licking his face, and gave him hope...for what, he wasn't sure anymore. 
© Copyright 2011 Jen d'Arque - Busy Bee (UN: wakko71 at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Jen d'Arque - Busy Bee has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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