But Death is Not Forbidden
By
Kip Terrington
The Twenty-Sided Eye Series – Book 2
Copyright
But Death is Not Forbidden by Kip Terrington
Copyright © 2018 Kip Terrington
Cover Art and Illustrations © 2018 Dr. Emma C.
Edited by William R. Lane and Dr. Emma C.
Image within the eye courtesy of NASA
Hubblesite.org/image/3263/gallery
All Rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright laws.
Disclaimer
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - Missing Pieces
Chapter 2 - Don’t Touch my Rabbit
Chapter 3 - Dangerous Resolve
Chapter 4 - Elora’s Voice
Chapter 5 - Differential Defragmentation
Chapter 6 - Tainted Coin
Chapter 7 - Lil and Tig
Chapter 8 - Roll the Dice
Chapter 9 - While the Boss is Away, the Fairy will Play
Chapter 10 - Strobe Lights and Flowers
Chapter 11 - Game Changer
Chapter 12 - Girl Talk
Chapter 13 - Creations
Chapter 14 - Passive Aggressive
Chapter 15 - The Lady of Blood
Chapter 16 - Approaching Doom
Chapter 17 - Poobradork
Chapter 18 - Reconciliation
Chapter 19 - Judgment
Chapter 20 - Not the End
Chapter 21 - The Truthful Spy
Chapter 22 - Dirty Blood
Chapter 23 - Gesture
Chapter 24 - Epilogue: Part 1
Chapter 25 - Epilogue: Part 2
Appendix
Acknowledgements
for our parents. your teachings were not forgotten.
Chapter 1 - Missing Pieces
Earth.
Long-Term Immersion Center.
Fourteen hours after Joe was summoned as a Champion.
An imposing figure stood still against a vast landscape of snowy mountains and icy lakes. His face appeared as if carved from granite. The figurative and the literal found an uneasy balance, as his skin not only looked like stone; it was partially composed of the marbled rock. Dominating the sky behind him, the blood-red gas giant this world orbited stood half-visible. The man, who stood solemnly assessing his environment, looked as if he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. That is, until his face broke out into a grin. His hands raised into a practiced and well-worn position, finger guns.
Amelia watched all of this happen via the holographic screen provided to her. The screen had become the center of a flurry of activity by technicians, lawyers, scientists, and business professionals. When Joe had first disappeared, they had attempted to separate Amelia from her monitor; only this was not something she had allowed. Before half the morning had elapsed, she had signed away her right to sue the company. In return, they granted her assurances that she, or one of her family members, would be allowed to stay with the monitor in perpetuity. Fortunately for everyone’s sake, the company had the capability of preventing the government from discovering the strange events. It was clear that the executives understood what might happen to their profits if either the public became aware or the government took control. With that in mind, they had begun preparations to carefully transfer all the occupied pods to other facilities. Soon, the massive warehouse would only shelter Joe's empty pod and its attached monitor.
For the first time since her grandfather’s disappearance this morning, Amelia smiled. On the monitor before her, Grandpa Joe circled around as he shot imaginary bullets through the sky. Swiftly, she was brought back to her childhood when her grandfather would shoot a finger gun her way and end it with a wink, a grin, and a thumbs-up. This was her beloved grandfather; even with his more youthful, but powerful and robust physique, deep down he was the same kind and jovial old man he ever was. As if he knew she was watching him, he ended his shootout by pointing directly toward her position. His double-handed thumbs-up felt as though it was meant for her. She felt an odd sense of peace, seeing the joy in his expression. Perhaps everything was as it should be. She did not understand what had happened, and she was still determined to investigate the true whereabouts of her grandfather, but she wondered if there was a greater plan or design behind these events. In the meantime, Grandpa Joe looked as if he was going to be okay. She could not say the same for the senior technician, Steven.
Steven sat in the corner of the warehouse, running his hand anxiously through his hair. The CEO of the Immersion Center continued his interrogation of Steven’s supervision of the entire affair. What modifications had he made to the gentleman’s pod? Never had anyone heard of a person disappearing from a sealed capsule. Could Steven explain how the patron could be observed through the holographic screen when no existing transmission could be detected or understood? The center had brought in their state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment and scanners to answer the most pressing question of all. A question their current level of technology was proving incapable of solving. Where was Joe?
On Gravin Moon, in the Wild Mountains.
High mountain cave.
Day two, in the afternoon.
Sitting silently at the opening of the cave, Chief Bridcha looked down at King Joe's valley below. Out of respect, his tribe had given him space to grieve alone. He had been informed, upon returning from his journey, that his firstborn, a daughter, and his son had been the next to fall victim to the invisible hunters who persisted in kidnapping their youth. When he had faced the guard who had been watching them, it had taken the whole of his strength to resist killing her. They had vanished right before the young guard's eyes, one right after the other. Just as before, there was nothing the tribe could have done. The greedy and shameless acts of the hunters had once again revealed how vulnerable the yeti offspring were. His precious daughter had almost matured to the point of adulthood. Within the next few days, her painful metamorphosis would have begun, leading to rapid growth and a demand for nutrients. Bridcha grieved as he contemplated her fate. For even if a miracle occurred and she was able to escape the hunters, her metamorphosis would necessitate a constant dietary intake for weeks. Without someone to provide her with the ore her body would require, she would starve to death.
He was supposed to be the chief, the leader and servant of the whole tribe, but at present, he was merely a grieving father. He had cherished the limited time he had been able to spend with his children during their hour of alertness every day. Although those times always felt too short, they had been precious. Looking back now, however, Bridcha would have accepted far less to gain another moment of their time and hold tight to the reassuring hopes he had had for their futures. Bridcha was as strong as yetis come, with bones made of pure stone, but at this moment he felt hollow and empty. He wondered if grief could swallow a yeti whole and leave them a shell of a beast. Perhaps eventually there would be nothing left of him.
Bridcha’s wife approached the cave’s entrance. She had been sitting with the loss of their children for a few hours longer than her husband. In that time, she h
ad moved past her feelings of emptiness and into a more proactive, though considerably more destructive, phase. She was fury incarnate, and she was determined to find someone to blame, someone to punish. Drawing close to her husband, she raised her fist and punched him right in the ear. As the second largest yeti in their tribe, second only to her husband, her unexpected punch knocked him straight against the wall. For the briefest moment, his fury matched hers. He spun around to face her, but the expression of anger on her face melted his rage, and he felt only shame. He was the most powerful among them, and he was supposed to have been her champion. They had lost other children from within their tribe before, but never their own offspring.
Chabrid raised her paw and pointed down at the still standing castle in the valley. Since his return, he had given no account of his journey. Their children were effectively gone from this world. What could he say that would matter now? For reasons known only to his wife, however, she was determined to understand what he had been doing while their children were taken away. Therefore, in his slow and measured speech, he told her about King Joe. He spoke of his humiliating defeat and how it had resulted in him swearing a bound oath to the tiny king. The king, Bridcha explained, followed suit by choosing to bind himself and swear an oath to protect the yeti children. With this last bit of information revealed, Chabrid slapped her husband hard with an open palm. This time, the only response Bridcha gave was to allow his head to turn to the side. The cold wind blew a sudden gust between them, and Chabrid began to speak.
“When I become you mate, we take new names. I Chabrid, you Bridcha. I tell you my vision. Our people prosper only when leader has strongest yeti bones ever. I thought this you. Maybe I wrong. One thing I know, little man king, no have strong yeti bones. We no follow him. Only follow strong yeti bones. He no protect our children,” she said.
“I no either,” Bridcha lamented.
“Maybe you stay here? Maybe you protect them? His fault!” Chabrid said, pointing down to Joe's castle.
“I no break oath,” Bridcha said.
“Are children safe? No. Lil, Tig, gone! King break oath first. Take castle! Protect tribe children. Be strong one. We hide no more,” Chabrid said.
Bridcha did not immediately respond. He stood in the quiet, looking down at the castle. After some time, he turned away from her and toward the mouth of the cave. Raising his voice, he yelled, “Gather all! We move, again!”
“We go new cave?” Chabrid asked, but received no answer. “We go castle?” Chabrid tried again but received no answer. “If castle, as slaves or conquerors?”
This time she received a response, if not an answer. Bending down, face close to hers, Bridcha bared his teeth and growled deep and low. Walking away from her, he stepped purposefully into the cave where the sounds of workers skilled at evacuating could be heard.
On Gravin Moon, in the Wild Mountains.
The Champion’s castle, in the vault for young yetis.
Day two, in the late morning.
Spooky Joy flew diligently around the large room, assessing her work. As she did so, faint traces of black diamond dust trailed behind her. She had a striking appearance about her, with her sleek armor and the long slender crystal dagger that lay between her large wings on her back. Having taken on the face and form of Joe’s late wife, her soft glowing beauty seemed set apart from the armor and weaponry she wore. As an Evolving Intelligence, her personality held its own marked contrast. She was clever, resourceful, and efficient, and yet below the surface, there was an empathetic softness about her. She simply chose not to allow most people to observe it.
Spooky had decided that the safest place for the yeti children would be the direct center of the castle. She knew Joe was determined to honor his oath and she too was resolved to both protect the children and act as efficiently as possible. If it were within her power, these children would remain safe. Spooky chose to give the nursery an accurate designation. It was called the Little Yeti Vault. In order to create a secure environment, there was only one point of entry, and before approaching this entrance, one would have to first pass through two separate holding rooms.
She awoke Moes, their resident master mage of Mind and Spirit Magic, from his well-deserved rest to see if he could help her strategize a way to stop the Spirit Walkers from sneaking in. Fortunately, it took little time for him to formulate a number of workable solutions. His ideas required both time and power. Power would not be an issue, as she knew that none of them could ever come close to fully utilizing the Grand Place of Power. Time, however, was not a limitless commodity. It required proper measurement and consideration of resources.
As a stopgap measure, Moes cast Spirit’s Sight on both Grork and Bork. The spell only lasted an hour, so until they were able to set up a more effective defensive strategy, Moes would have to continue to re-cast the spell before it ran out each time. To make matters more difficult, the spell was incredibly delicate. If either Bork or Grork chose to move further then a meter from where the spell was cast, it would immediately fail. When he was not casting the spell, Moes occupied his time by carving runes on the floor, walls, and ceiling of the chamber that the yeti children were sleeping in. Once a rune was carved, Moes empowered the magical symbol with its corresponding spell. Then, in an effort to be as efficient as possible, Spooky assigned one of the stone angels to carry Moes and run him up to the Grand Place of Power where he was allowed to recharge.
Typically, this type of magic was performed by a journeyman, not a master like Moes. He preferred to spend his efforts on grander spells only he could execute. This was exhausting and time-consuming work. The finished product, however, would ensure that no one with either Mind or Spirit Magic could sneak into the vault.
Standing on the raised platform provided for him by Spooky, Moes examined the next section of the wall and calculated the precise location where his next rune should be indented. Finding the place, he slowly began to carve, methodically whispering his incantation throughout each stroke. Once finished, Moes empowered the rune. He sat down on the platform, and he took a breath while Spooky flew up next to him. He looked over at her and decided to complain one more time.
“Why did you choose the option that would take the longest to complete? This is going to take close to a week for me to make fully functional. Asking a master to spend that amount of time and energy, and to do so for a set of yetis… It just seems wrong. Couldn’t we switch over to one of my other ideas? One that was quite a bit faster?” Moes pleaded. Spooky flew close to the most recently carved symbol, being careful not to touch it, but getting close enough to examine how the rune was created.
New fact:
165- Within each rune line there is an intricate cylinder-like web of mana detectable upon the non-visible light spectrum.
“Moes, right now Joe is out hunting snow rats. He doesn't even know if there are snow rats out there, but he’s performing the tedious and repetitive tasks necessary to build his strength and advance his level. In the world we came from, they called this grinding. These are not enjoyable tasks, but they are necessary,” Spooky explained.
“Grinding, huh? Well, I guess I can understand the need to advance, but is what we’re doing really necessary?” Moes asked.
Studying the rune, Spooky spoke, “Necessity is the mother of indentation.” She waited for a laugh. None came.
“Indentation. Because you're carving it into the wall?” Spooky said. Moes looked at her with a blank look on his face.
“The fact that you are unfamiliar with the common proverbs and sayings from our world really ruins my ability to make a joke. The other solutions you offered were all temporary. The oath you gave Joe did not turn you into a permanent subject. You might not be around to renew your temporary solutions, and then where would we be left?” Spooky asked.
“I cannot simply give my allegiance blindly, especially without at least discussing it with my people. Nor would I risk the fallout from my wife, if I chose not to deliberate with he
r,” Moes said.
“That is why, while you are here, I am going to get as many permanent solutions out of you as I can,” Spooky explained.
“It will not be completely permanent. These rooms will have to be recharged every month or so,” Moes said.
“Perhaps. Though I think I will eventually be able to bind them to the power node,” Spooky said.
“Really? How do you know that?” Moes asked.
“I don't know, but the more I learn about binding, the more I see it's about connections. Just like neurons firing, the more complicated the path the more versatile it becomes,” Spooky mused.
“What's a neuron?” Moes asked. Spooky's eyebrows went up. His question had caused her to reflect upon the statement she had just made. The comment had not been composed from her designated protocols. They were not the linear logic circuits she was accustom to. Thinking about magical connections and comparing them to a web of neurons was a version of abstract thinking she had not been designed for. She filed this data away for further analysis and addressed Moes’ question.
“A neuron is one of the smaller constituent parts of your brain. Not nearly the smallest, but maybe one of the most important. If you continue to work diligently on this task, I’ll reward you with a video on brain science,” Spooky said, remembering the carrot was just as important as the stick.
Moes smiled. For him, this was indeed a compelling incentive. He had always had a hunger for knowledge, but since meeting Joe, he had become particularly interested in understanding both this man and the world he came from. Joe spoke highly of research and had implied it was more powerful than magic. How could he have possibly come to this conclusion when, from Moes’ perspective, nothing could surpass the power of well-trained welder of magic? If Spooky was offering more information about their world and the research Joe admired, he would watch it.
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