Destiny

by Jason A. Cheek

  Pausing to look at the runes of power running down the length of his great-great-great-grandfather’s tinnearlian-wood mace, Norek sighed heavily. He didn’t carry the Staff of Yatra, nor did he wear the mark of a questor. None the less he was a chosen.

  Focusing his energy, Norek activated the runes carved into the nearly indestructible wood. For a moment, the ancient weapon glowed with blue energy. The chosen were battle leaders that could wield eldritch powers. Every chosen had the ability to energize the rune magic in the weapons of the warriors around them, which made them essential to the tribe. Releasing the power that energized his mace, Norek grimly smiled as he started the long climb back down the mountain. He didn’t need anything more from Luonnotar to complete the Yatra.

  The descent went quickly, and before Norek knew it, he was once again standing at the base of Mountain Airy. Galloping to the nearest rise, he stopped as his eyes searched the holy peak one last time for some sign of approval from Luonnotar. Seeing none, he turned to the east where the Great Forest of the Elves lay.

  He would find this last Paladin as Luonnotar commanded and return to the tribe. In his absence, Uzila would have to lead until his return. With a heavy heart, Norek turned to go. “Luonnotar would have to accept his decision-”

  CRACK

  Pure agony shot through Norek’s hind leg as he slammed into the ground blasting the air out of his lungs. Rolling with the force of the impact, he launched himself back to his hooves reaching for the mace strapped to his back, when a coarse voice called out behind him.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Thunder Chief?”

  Spinning around Norek’s good legs sprayed out as he fought to catch his balance. The remains of his shattered hind quarter flopped uselessly as another rough voice spoke, mockingly holding up his bloody limb.

  “I’ve never tasted a Chief’s flesh before.” In horror, Norek watched the Hulk’s mouth stretch unnaturally wide as it bit off a chunk of flesh from his leg.

  CRUNCH

  “Hmmm tastes like hestur ...” Pausing in thought, the brute looked up at his partner speaking around the bloody mouthful of meat.

  “Hey Tork, he’s not all white like the other ones.” As the creatures paused to look at him questioningly, Norek called out to Luonnotar for help as his berserker rage overtook him. He could feel his senses suddenly accelerate as everything around him slowed down. While his precious blood spurted out of the ragged stump with every heartbeat onto the ground, power surged through his veins as the runes of his mace flared to life. He could see the shocked faces of the two Tuonellian Hulks surrounding him as he lunged forward in a blur of motion.

  The whole scene unfolded like he was standing outside of his body. The last time Norek had fought these beasts he had a Paladin of Ukko healing his injuries and was fully armored. He knew there was only a short amount of time before he bled to death, so he planned to make these last moments count. Lifting his mace high over his head, Norek brought it crashing down on the shoulder of the misshapen claw holding his bloody leg as he cried out his Tribe’s war cry.

  “WwwaaaNnniii!” Norek felt the hulk’s entire shoulder shatter beneath the brutal strike. Without pause, he followed through on his next attack. Spinning around on his good hind leg, Norek clipped the second creature in the jaw as he swung the two-handed mace in a wide arc. As the Hulk spun away from him like a ragdoll with a crushed jaw, he power-drove the mace completely through the first Hulk’s neck, decapitating the beast with the single brutal strike.

  “WwwaaaNnniii!” Spinning around, Norek cried out his war cry once again, lunging after the reeling Hulk as the creature’s face twisted in savage hate. With a wordless roar of rage, the Tuonellian’s clawed fist shot out from its body. Stretching out rapidly, the arm quadrupled in length as it sliced-off Norek’s front leg.

  Ignoring the injury, Norek let his momentum carry him on top of the Hulk as it fell backward. Before he could crush the creature under his mass the Hulk’s other clawed fist struck deep, burying into his lower abdomen. With a cry of pain, Norek’s body spasmodically jerked as he hung suspended in midair. Swinging his weapon down with two hands, he shattered the creature’s shoulder with his mace as it jerked its misshapen head out of the way at the last second.

  Gasping for breath, Norek grasped the Hulk’s thick bicep with his free hand. With a sharp jerk, he forced his body further down the misshapen arm trapping it inside his chest. Again and again, Norek grimly pulled himself forward until he rested on top of the struggling monster’s broad chest.

  He had learned the move many years ago when the Alliance had stood against the Tuonellian Hordes at the Battle of Tothnell. Only this time, there were no Paladins to save his life afterward. Norek’s head swam as he struggled to lift the heavy mace with both hands. With a grunt of agony, he hefted the mace above the Hulk’s hate filled eyes.

  The creature screeched in rage struggling to free its trapped arms, as its rasping voice spat in rage. “I will rip the flesh from your bones! I will-”.

  Falling forward, Norek slammed the mace home with the last of his waning strength just as the blue glowing runes began fading away. With a satisfying crunch, the Hulk’s head exploded like an overripe melon as Norek collapsed atop the dead beast. Closing his eyes, he breathed in ragged gasps of air.

  He was already dead; only his body didn’t know it yet. As his heart began beating slower, Norek heard heavy footsteps approaching through the long glass. When they came to a stop behind him, the harsh voice that spoke sent shivers down his spine.

  “That was unexpected Thunder Chief, but ultimately useless.” Rough hands rolled Norek onto his back, before lifting him off the ground by his neck. Looking up, Norek saw another nine foot tall muscle-bound Hulk crouched over him hungrily as its eyes glowed red with malice.

  “You’re wearing my face Thunder Chief!” Fear shot through Norek for the first time as the Tuonellian Hulk held up a long clawed hand before his face smiling wickedly.

  CRACK … CRACK

  Suddenly, two arrows shattered in the creature’s face as the Hulk reared upright in surprise, dropping Norek to the ground completely forgotten.

  CRACK … CRACK … CRACK …

  Immediately arrows began slamming into the monster’s face and chest in a steadily stream, each one smashing on impact against its stone-like skin. Throwing its head back, the Hulk screamed out a challenge. “Rrraaahhh!”

  Norek knew he didn’t have much time. Tribal tactics were straight forward. He knew the attacking warrior would be charging into melee range within a matter of seconds. Once that happened, the fight would be over. There was no way he couldn’t let this creature steal his face. He had to do something!

  Norek had been extraordinarily lucky to have taken out two Hulks by himself. Normally, it would have taken several experienced warriors and a lot of luck to take down one of the terrible beasts. If they hadn’t been overconfident and he hadn’t been willing to sacrifice his life, they would have slaughtered him in a matter of seconds.

  Still, maybe there was a chance. Ever since the war against Loviatar, the Tribe’s Elders had commanded that all weapons were to be crafted with Klavikian runes, even arrows. Praying to Luonnotar for strength, Norek reached deep down into his soul calling forth the eldritch power of his birthright one last time. As the runes on his mace lying next to him flared to life, he heard the warrior’s galloping hooves nearing. Focusing his energy, Norek reached out for the incoming arrows.

  THUNK … THUNK … THUNK

  Norek heard the Hulk’s surprised grunts of pain as it staggered backward with three arrows protruding out of its chest. The rain of arrows suddenly stopped as, a second later, the warrior slammed into the beast with a loud crash mace first. Wide-eyed, Norek cried out in fear as he immediately recognized the Centaur’s markings.

  “Nessa, no!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Location Earth / Sean MacRory:

  The ride over was uneventful enough. The Islanders h
ad kept to themselves near the stern of the small boat while the crew of the Triumph had clumped together in the bow. The engineers had spent most of the trip across the lagoon talking about some strip club hidden in the old port of Ormos, far away from the tourist areas that made Santorini the gem of the Aegean Sea, while Doctor Evans stood deep in thought at his side.

  The ride up to the top of the volcanic cliff, where Fira hung overlooking the lagoon, was silent except for the mechanical sounds of the heavy machinery of the pulley system. The small quarters of the cable car had been packed to overflowing as the two very different groups faced off watching each other warily.

  When they had reached Fira, it was surprisingly quiet. All of the tourists had gone back to their cruise ships when the electricity had first gone out, and now the normally bright and crowded streets were dark and silent. As they walked down the narrow winding avenue, their footfalls echoed eerily on the uneven cobblestones. From behind the drawn curtains of the second-floor windows, Sean saw the locals fearfully watching them as they made their way to the town’s center. As they reached the main square, surprisingly enough the Mayor’s office was the only building lit up. Hurriedly, the officers ushered them inside.

  Sean didn’t get a chance to see much of the plush office as the officers rushed them up the narrow stairway that lead to the second floor, but what he did see peripherally was expensive hardwood furniture and highly ornate, rich fabrics. They were symbols of great wealth on an island like Santorini. As they reached the back office, Sean heard a deep voice call out behind the closed door in what must be Greek, but in a dialect, he’d never heard before.

  “Οι εν λόγω αιρετικοί κλειδωμένο?” (Are those heretics locked up?)

  The Lieutenant responded immediately in the same language. “Μεγαλειότατε, υπήρξαν επιπλοκές. Πρέπει να μιλήσουμε.” (Sire, there were complications. We need to talk.)

  An explosion of air shook the small room as the door was suddenly whipped open by a dark haired man yelling at the top of his lungs. Like most of the islanders Sean had seen, the man was short and broad, but still his body filled the entire doorway. Unlike Regional Governor Machairidis, Mayor Aixi was not fat.

  “Τι επιπλοκές?” (What complications?)

  For a long moment, everyone froze as they eyed each other in the sudden silence. Sean knew enough restaurant Greek to order a beer or get his face slapped, but that was it. Whatever strange dialect these islanders were speaking, he’d never heard it before tonight. The Mayor ignored them completely as his eyes locked onto the Lieutenant angrily.

  “Γιατί έφερες τους αιρετικούς εδώ?” (Why have you brought the heretics here?)

  Standing to his full height, Sean squared his shoulder. Looking down at the smaller man, he spoke in a clipped British accent that he’d acquired for just such occasions.

  “I take it you are the Mayor of this tiny spec of rock?”

  Seeing the burning rage in the man’s eyes, Sean hid his smile. There were few things more insulting than an overbearing, pompous British accent delivered in a perfect nasal pitch. Being and islander himself, he knew he’d just hit every one of the man’s buttons with that one short sentence.

  Before the man could explode, he felt Doctor Evans brush past him. Holding out a hand, she introduced herself.

  “Professor Larissa Evans at your service.” The Major slowly took her hand as his eyes immediately focused on her impressive chest. “I hope you will excuse the interruption, Magistrate Aixi, but we are only here because your Lieutenant Aenixal asked us to come along. I believe he thought we could better explain the circumstances as to our presence on Nea Kameni.”

  For a long moment, the Mayor gave his subordinate a withering glare. Sean knew that look well, Lieutenant Aenixal was in for the ass-chewing of his life. Once again, the man focused on Doctor Evans’ cleavage as he reconsidered his words. With an exasperated sigh, the Major turned around. Heading back into the brightly lit office, he called out over his shoulder.

  “You might as well come in.”

  Following close behind Doctor Evans, Sean entered the elegant office. The space was filled with antique hand-carved cherry furniture and decorated with heavy rich fabrics that gave the room an old-world feel. Tastefully set around the room were the priceless artwork of painted frescos and archaic vases depicting simple scenes of daily Minoan life.

  Although, the most impressive piece of the collection was a half-snake, half-human woman marble statue that stood life-size in the far corner of the room at what had to be at least a hundred and eighty-three centimeters tall. That is if you measured the thick snake coils holding up the statue’s human torso the same as you would measure a standing human’s height.

  There was something emotionally powerful about the statue’s life-like humanoid face that looked towards the heavens that grabbed your soul. Even though the statue’s humanesque face was surrounded by hair-like tiny serpents, she was breathtakingly beautiful with her arms reaching out in supplication. It was as if the sculptor had perfectly captured the snake-woman’s beseeching request to the heavens.

  Sean’s attention was suddenly pulled back to the owner of the office as the Mayor sat down heavily in the cushioned chair behind his oversized desk. As the man irritably inspected the group before him, Sean noticed the man’s crisp white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows and that his fancy tie was cockeyed to one side as if he’d hurriedly dressed. Ignoring Sean completely, the man focused his ire on Doctor Evans.

  “I don’t know why Lieutenant Aenixal thought it necessary to bring you to me instead of taking you directly to prison.” Seeing Doctor Evans sharp intake of breath he continued speaking, cutting her off before she could begin speaking. “I really don’t care who you are Doctor Evans.” Straightening a stack of papers on his desk, the Major glanced at Sean before continuing. “Nor do I care about why you are here. As your Captains so succinctly pointed out, we are a small island with simple rules. Trespassing on Nea Kameni is one of them." Signaling at the officers in the room with a wave of his hand, the Mayor smiled unconcerned. “Now if you will excuse me, I have work to-.”

  Cutting off the Mayor, Doctor Evans dropped her friendly façade abruptly. “We are not done here Aixi, at least not yet.” Ignoring the Mayor’s shocked face at the casual use of his name, Larissa laid into him.

  “Actually, I’m only here to give you a message from Regional Governor Machairidis.” Pulling out a thick envelope, Doctor Evans tossed it onto the desk in front of the Mayor. “He said that if you had any questions in regards to his orders about my presence on Nea Kameni, that you could contact him personally.”

  Not saying a word, the Mayor ripped open the envelope. Shuffling through the papers inside, Sean saw the man’s face turn beat red as Doctor Evans whispered over her shoulder in Welsh. “Gwnewch yn siŵr bod eich Bechgyn yn barod Capten. Os bydd unrhyw beth yn mynd i ddigwydd, bydd yn nawr.” (Make sure your Lads are ready Captain. If anything is going to happen, it will be now.)

  Standing up abruptly, the Mayor slammed his fist onto the desk before him as Sean gave the signal to his men to get into position. “Haven’t you done enough to my people, Doctor Evans?”

  For a second, the Mayor looked around the room at his audience, before locking once more onto Doctor Evans’ as he spoke in a barely controlled voice. “I am well aware of who you. What I don’t understand is why you are here? Why even bother with our tiny island after destroying our economy with your lies?”

  Understanding suddenly who Doctor Evans was, the islanders around the room angrily pressed closer as Sean unobtrusively slipped his hands into his pockets. Sliding his fingers into the brass knuckles inside, Sean and his men let the police officers crowd to the front as the Mayor continued with his tirade. “From the beginning of time, the people of Thera have been called the children of Atlantis. Over the centuries, we have endured devastating volcanic eruptions and terrible
earthquakes that have killed thousands of our peoples in service to our ancestors. Through all of this, our civilization has survived for almost four thousand years by our dedicated service, and yet …” The Mayor’s eyes bore into Doctor Evans as his voice rose in volume. “In one stroke, you have corrupted that simple truth with your lies!”

  Shoving the angry officers crowding around her back with a savage twist of her shoulders, Doctor Evans screamed back at the Mayor. “I never once said that I’d found Atlantis!” Forcing herself to calm down, Doctor Evans spoke evenly. “The armchair archeologists that run the Royal Society of London came up with that bloody dumb thesis. As a matter of fact, I never once agreed with them.”

  Stepping forward, Doctor Evans leaned in until she was face-to-face with the Mayor. “The only reason I came here is because the island of Scheria was not a Phaeacian city, but an outpost of Atlantis. When I leave your island, the world will not question the facts that the people of Santorini are the children of Atlantis.”

  Flecks of spittle hit Doctor Evans in the face as the Mayor screamed, flailing his arms angrily. “It doesn’t matter what you do or say! You will never leave this island alive!”

  Sean didn’t exactly know what he had been expecting, but having the Santorini Mayor dive for his boss was not one of them. "Battalia-abu!" Bellowing his family’s ancestral war-cry, Sean MacRory lunged forward. The action was quick and brutal. One second everyone was listening to the Mayor and Doctor Evans argue, and the next everyone was swinging and yelling.

  Sean’s first haymaker slammed into the back of the islander’s head standing on his right. As the man dropped like a sack of fish, his next swing was already heading for the man’s mate. As the man whipped around, his eyes had a split second to widen in fear before Sean’s meaty fist caught him solidly on the jaw.

  Sean did bother watching the man hit the ground. He was already heading for his Boss. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sean was peripherally aware of the battle unfolding around him as the Major lunged across the massive desk. The man’s face twisted in hate as he grabbed Doctor Evans by the shoulders. To his left, Kane McDougal had already laid out one man and was in the process of leaping head first into another for a Limerick Kiss, while on his other side the blonde German lads were going to town.