by M K Drake
“Impressive Safaya,” says Olof. “Yes, the origins of the Kraken are very much cemented in our lore. However, due to this particular Titan’s power and strength, both the Greek and Norse have fought over his control for quite some time. I suspect Tartarus and Hades were forced to allow the beast to leave. But I doubt they would have agreed to let him join a side.”
General Crawford has remained silent throughout, concentrating on the underwater terrain, but attentively listening to the conversation behind him. He stays this way until something bugs him. “Why were we not allowed to bring Atticus?”
Mage Callan shakes his head. “I do not know. But Hel is cunning, I fear there is a much larger plan at play here. We are just pawns on this chessboard right now.”
“I don’t like it,” General Crawford states. “There is too much going on that we are not in control of. Also, I was with Elric at the Manor. Professor Morgan was with him, and I didn’t think much of it first when Atticus mentioned to me his concerns about those two. But now, it seems to me they were acting very odd. We are supposed to be a team, and teams work together.”
“This from a soldier who knows leaders often withhold facts?” asks Mage Callan.
“Yes, and I said the same to Atticus—‘soldiers follow orders. Even when it doesn’t feel quite right.’ But this… this was strange. There was fear in the air. I’ve fought the bravest and strongest of men, I know when they feel fear. And these two reeked of it.”
“Did you see my brother?” asks Safaya, obviously still concerned from witnessing her sibling’s weakened and aged state.
“I did indeed. Atticus brought back a concoction from Mage Avipaul to help Elric with his aging. Your brother also took some. He looked much better almost immediately.” The General senses another question that Safaya wants to ask, but she holds back. His instincts tell him exactly the query she is pondering. “Khan is fine, too. That was quite a knock he took. Must have been some poison!”
Safaya looks to the floor. She sighs deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m glad. I think I’ve punished him enough now,” she says with a smile. “But before I do that, we need to deal with this Kraken. How do we do this without Atticus, Khan, or Medusa’s head?”
Olof raises an eyebrow. “Maybe Mjolnir can fell this beast? We can try.”
General Crawford shakes his head in disagreement. “If this monster is as strong as you all imply, the best outcome here is that the thing isn’t even there. Let’s hope we arrive at a time the beast has decided to pop out to the Titan equivalent of shops, or maybe tea. Stealth before combat. If we fight, we will give this thing the biggest fight it has ever had. But let’s try to avoid that first eh?”
“Quiet!” Spitfire orders, his voice echoing through into the cabin via the cockpit. “We have arrived.”
The Scrolls of Kazmagus: Catalogue Translation ID 301.75: The Castle and The Tomb
We followed the drawings left by Alfatun. There was only just enough of the Hearthstone left, we had to improvise. The elders agreed, and we concentrated our use of the Hearthstone externally, encasing normal rock and stone to build the rest of the structure.
The biggest difficulty was keeping the castle tethered to the Tomb. The drawings explicitly said not to use the Hearthstone for any of its construction, but it must still be linked somehow to the main building.
We found a way, and have to hope the link holds. I doubt the castle will be moved often. But it will need to be guarded throughout time until it is needed. We do not know when this will be, but we fear that a threat greater than Asmodei is coming—in fact, Razakel may well be that threat.
We have set the beacon so those chosen to find this place will be able to do so.
We have left enough space for all the scrolls of knowledge to be stored in the Tomb of Kazmagus.
We also found some other strange notes from both Kazmagus and Alfatun. Musings about a demon dragon, one who will gain a soul. The elders laughed when I presented these notes to them, but they soon stopped when I mentioned something called ‘Skarvak.’ One of them gave a telling look towards a cloaked Majjai, one who kept himself hidden. I was instructed to never mention this name again and told that the knowledge surrounding this must not be shared. This place is guarded, and revealing it would not serve the purposes of the Majjai.
I pray, that by the time these scrolls are discovered, so will the reasoning as to why Skarvak must be hidden.
Chapter 13
Proteus Eternal
“Look Pavel, I’ve told you a million, actually, probably a billion times, this cable connects to the third aux port, and that cable connects to the fifth one!”
Atticus chuckles discretely as Colin berates his technical partner in crime as they attempt to set up the monitoring equipment for General Crawford.
“Colin,” Pavel replies, with his heavy Polish accent. “You do not understand. The power required is more suited to this port. If it blows, I will inform General Crawford of your failures.”
“Idiot! So where does this one go then? We need that port for this connection!” Colin holds a much larger cable, almost triumphantly, as if holding a trophy after winning a hard fought competition.
Pavel looks at the cable, says nothing apart from a grunt, and carries on.
Atticus steps back, he can see at the back of the chamber that Khan is up and walking around, with Madame Healsey aiding him. Atticus moves out of earshot of the others and pulls out a communications crystal. Holding it aloft in front of him, he taps it, thinking of the person he wishes to speak to. It doesn’t take long for the crystal to activate and hover, sending out a purplish light, and within it appears a face that Atticus knows he owes so much to.
“Evening, Atticus my boy!” says Joseph, smiling wildly.
“Hi, Dad. Sorry, it looks like another late one here,” replies Atticus, forlornly. He misses spending time with his adoptive father, more so since the fight against Death and the Horseman. Joseph won that day, he was the hero. If it hadn’t been for his actions, his bravery and his strength, the Horseman would never have turned, and the battle would have been truly lost.
“That’s okay son, but… what’s really wrong?”
Atticus smiles, ever since the passing of Sophia Atticus’s adoptive mother, Joseph has become even more empathetic, reading him so easily. “How do you always know?”
“I’m your father; it’s in the job description.”
“Well, it’s continuing, you know. The secrets. I know they are hiding things from me, and… well, I have a right to know!”
Joseph’s smile wanes as he becomes a little more serious. “You know son, maybe they are just protecting you?”
“I can protect myself!”
“Look, I know you are this powerful, Majjai, and want the answers to everything, but even you need protecting—just like I did when I wore that ghastly device, thinking it was the only way to save you from harm.” Joseph turns for a moment and takes a sip of tea from an ornate mug, then breathes in deeply and sighs. “Sometimes, things are not as they seem. We are often so blinded by our own beliefs, that we miss the true nature of what is happening. This world we live in now, the one where so few of humanity are aware…, it’s dangerous. We are living on the cusp of light and dark, with the world misled by a façade of media-inspired lassitude, and you, you my dearest boy, they expect you to save us all. I can’t even imagine what you are going through.”
Joseph’s image in the crystal grows as he leans forward, speaking earnestly. “But know this, Atticus… I trust you, and I would walk to the deepest, darkest, depths of hell to protect you. If you want me to march up to the Manor and demand answers, I shall. If you want to choose another path, whatever it may be, I will be there to support you, always. You are my son, I’ve raised you to be honourable, to be fair, to be strong. You’re certainly stronger than me. You just need to believe in yourself, and trust that your decisions are the right ones. I already do.”
Atticus is quiet, Joseph
is always forthright with his views. He has learned not to pull punches, especially over the last few years, and these are words Atticus needed to hear. “Thank you. I think I now know what I need to do.”
“Good! I’ll make sure dinner is warm for when you get home. Love you son.”
“Love you too, dad,” Atticus says as he deactivates the communications crystal. He realises he needs to do something that he has been warned against many times, but knows that his Gift of Insight is his only chance of seeing exactly what Professor Morgan is up to. Atticus knows the risk is great, and detection is a plausible threat, but even more concerning is the line he is close to crossing. This particular gift is one that isn’t born from Majjai powers, but more from the darker realms of magic. Atticus remembers some chapters from the tomb’s scrolls that talk of some Mages going mad when trying to use this ability. He closes his eyes, trying to weigh the risks, then remembers the words Joseph just said. Trust in himself, believe in himself. He looks back towards the others to ensure no-one notices him sneaking away, before making haste towards another room he knows will be empty. Closing the door to this chamber, he turns off the lights to disguise his presence within it. Overcrossing the room carefully in the darkness, he moves to a small stone desk and sits on the corner of the desk.
Atticus begins to breathe in and out slowly, regulating his heartbeat, keeping it steady, closing his eyes as he concentrates on his target, the Professor he trusted so much barely two years ago, this same person whose trust he is about to betray.
‘It’s necessary, I have no choice!’ Atticus tells himself, trying to justify this invasion in his own mind. Then, with another deep exhale of air, he relaxes. He feels his consciousness float upwards. He sees his body, now laying on the table, before spinning away and darting through the door, hunting the mind he seeks. He steers towards the Tomb of Kazmagus, certain that Professor Morgan will be heading there after the conversation with Elric.
And then he sees him, just as he expected.
The Professor walks briskly, checking behind him every so often as he heads towards the Tomb entrance, a large key grasped firmly in his hand.
Atticus knows he must tread carefully, and hovers, waiting for the right moment. When the Professor is busy concentrating on opening the entrance to Kazmagus’s tomb, he gently, softly, he floats into his mind. ‘Success!’ Atticus thinks to himself, as he settles and watches through another’s eyes once more.
Professor Morgan closes the tomb’s entrance behind him and walks to the location that Elric had instructed him to earlier, shuddering as he passes the cell that Kazmagus was sealed in when he returned from the Void.
Atticus can feel the mistrust that the Professor still has for the first of the Majjai–some of which he shares. But that cannot be the focus now, attention must be given to the task at hand. All the while he thinks, is this right, should I be here, but all the doubts go away when he hears Professor Morgan speak.
“Need to help the boy if I can, but we must be prepared for the worst. Elric can do it, if need be.”
It takes a moment or two for Atticus to realise that the Professor isn’t actually speaking, but thinking. Atticus can almost visualise the words in Professor Morgan’s mind, he watches as the letters dance around and form the very prose that is being thought.
“So close to an answer, on how to defeat Razakel, but that very answer could be our greatest threat… it’s almost as if… it was planned from the beginning.”
Atticus feels the Professor stop walking, pondering on these thoughts before inserting the heavy key into a door hidden behind an extremely heavy curtain, Atticus can even feel the muscle strain of his host after moving it. Concerned he has bonded too deeply he considers leaving, but he has come too far now, he needs to stay, he needs to see this through. He waits patiently as Professor Morgan tries to find a way to light the room he now finds himself in. Atticus can feel his host’s free hand scrabbling in the dark, searching for something. After a moment he pulls a torch from his robe and switches it on. The beam of light reveals this chamber to be similar to the tomb’s library behind them, many shelves, stacked with scrolls and ornaments. Atticus follows the Professor’s gaze to the right, towards an oil trough which he lights with a tiny fireball.
The reaction is instant, as the flame quickly feeds off the air, sending a soft vacuum rushing outwards, then back into the room. Surrounding them are rows upon rows of more shelves, this room is very large, with a staircase heading downwards. Professor Morgan walks down carefully, his steps echoing on the stonework, reverberating against the walls. Peering round, searching for any form of clue as to what he should be looking for, but sees nothing until he reaches the bottom. A large stone table, covered in cobwebs from millennia of neglect lies in the middle of the round room. In the centre is a scroll, and above that an iron ring, shaped exactly like the Mark of the Majjai on Atticus’s arm.
Professor Morgan brushes away the cobwebs and the dust, before pulling out a stone chair which he sits upon. Taking a deep breath, he blows out as hard as he can, clearing the surface muck around the scroll, cleaning the rest with his hands, which he then wipes on his robe, not thinking of anything else but eagerness to read what is inside.
“This text, it is even older than in the other scrolls, a dialect of ancient Sumerian. Let’s see what we can see, shall we.”
The scroll makes no sense to Atticus, all he can see are symbols; frustrated, he tries to delve even deeper into the Professor’s mind, the bonding is so tight now that, unbeknown to him, the Professor’s eyes are glowing a bright white. Atticus can view directly into his mind now, he can see every word the Professor sees, the symbols float out from the page and morph into letters Atticus can understand. The translation becomes free, but the words do not make sense, until they are re-ordered.
‘The Hybrid, the first! The Proteus Eternal! The Chosen! The Life Giver! The Life Taker! The Paradox! The Remnant’s Spawn! The one before Time! He Lives!’
Before Atticus can decipher any more, he feels his mind being dragged back to his body, a voice shouting through his ears.
“Atticus! What on Earth are you doing?!”
He wakes with start to see the door ajar, and Khan standing angrily above him.
The God Chronicles:
Interesting times. Meeting the Proteus was somewhat enlightening, but also underwhelming. He does not realise his power, he is born from before time, and from within time. I sense the abomination’s parts, a makeshift project from mad minds who think they control the fates of everything that exists. No being has that much power.
And Razakel, he is another abomination. If the Majjai truly knew everything, they would not be as trusting of some of their allies.
My father seeks the Staff of Mages, but for what gains I do not know. Not even he has the power to control its visions. Only the strongest of the Eternals can. It would drive him even more mad than he is now. He was there when it was made, but that does not give him the right…
The Angels are already angry about the Orb of Time, we should be glad in some ways; if they joined this war, it might not be good for many of us old gods. They’ve left us alone, mostly, to collect our souls as we see fit, balance must be the reason.
Regardless of everything that is going on right now, I am just glad my own plans are progressing nicely. If my father taught me anything, he taught me to be sneaky.
But, alas, even though he is my father, he is becoming troublesome. He risks my own ambitions. I think I may have a way that this can be mitigated. It will be a sad day, but necessary.
Kukulkan has requested an audience, I shall grant it. He has proven to be a loyal ally in my quest. His continuing assistance will be welcome. But I still need to keep an eye on him—there is just something about him that has changed.
Perhaps he has grown, what do the humans call it... ah yes... morality.
Hel
Chapter 14
Titan’s Rise
“Are you sure Spit
fire?” General Crawford asks as he tries to peer through the dark water, his voice resonates against the engine hum vibrating through the cabin, its other inhabitants deathly silent.
“I am,” replies Spitfire confidently. “My reasoning relates to the rather large carcasses up ahead. I’m assuming only something larger could do that.” He points a beam of light ahead, reflecting off the half-eaten body of a giant sunfish, next to the dismembered body of a very large whale shark.
Olof and Mage Callan jostle forward to try and grab a glimpse of these felled sea giants, when both are startled by another body floating in front of them of a sperm whale.
Spitfire deftly dodges the carcass, swerving hard to his right, sending both Mage Callan and Olof flying into the side of the cabin. He quickly regains control as the two fallen Majjai sheepishly return to their seats to the chuckles of Safaya and Joyce.
General Crawford continues to observe the water. “For such a rich, warm, Mediterranean location, there doesn’t seem to be much swimming around.” The views of only rocky protrusions and the lack of anything resembling life sends shivers down his spine, that something could be so feared that nothing lives even remotely close to its home troubles him. “You Majjai certainly know how to pick an opponent.”
“Well,” replies Joyce. “If it were easy, we could just send Colin and Pavel.”
General Crawford laughs. “Ha! Those two would have trouble putting grated cheese on a pizza without arguing about the type of cheese. If we ever needed to annoy a demon to death, then yes… they would be…”
“Silence!” Spitfire demands again. “We are close, see, the entrance!”
The beam of light that Spitfire throws forward is swallowed easily by the giant space ahead of them. He fires off some underwater flares that come to rest against the rocky walls and they finally see the vastness of the cavern. General Crawford observes that it is so enormous that it would easily swallow the height of the Empire State Building with space to spare; the silence is even more eerie within it. All that can be heard is the whine of Spitfire’s engine and the sonar’s echo, which registers nothing but emptiness.