Land of Nod, The Prophet (Land of Nod Trilogy Book 2)

by Gary Hoover

  Land of Nod

  The Prophet

  Gary Hoover

  COPYRIGHT© 2012 Gary Hoover

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this manuscript may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or review.

  HUGE thanks to my beta reading Dream Team.

  Jacqueline Hopkins

  Annarita Guarnieri

  Christy Rabe

  Cathy Speight

  Cover Art by:

  David Ellis

  http://dbellis.daportfolio.com/

  Title and Lay-Out by:

  Ceri Clark

  Find out more about future books at:

  http://www.landofnodtrilogy.com/

  And

  http://www.facebook.com/landofnodtrilogy

  Despite the contradiction and confusion

  Felt tragic without reason

  There's malice and there's magic in every season

  -Elvis Costello

  You grew sunblind you thought me unkind

  To remind you how winter kills

  -Alison Moyer

  Chapter 1:

  War was coming.

  Artimus felt certain of that. He wished he could feel as certain regarding the identity of whom he would be fighting, but he was sure he would be fighting someone.

  “So good to see you again, old friend.” Wylie Duanan beamed as he extended a hand.

  Artimus extended his own hand and shook the pudgy, sweating one that had been offered to him. As he did so, he examined the face of his... friend?

  It was the same face he had known and trusted for over twenty years. It was also the same face that had openly betrayed him and thrown Jeff Browning in jail.

  Did he actually try to kill Jeff? Artimus wondered.

  It was a fat, red face. Not nearly as handsome as it had been twenty-five years ago, but the enthusiastic smile did seem sincere to Artimus.

  “Drink?” Duanan didn’t wait for an answer and had nearly reached his impressive collection of bottles before Artimus had a chance to answer.

  “No, no thank you,” Artimus said as he lowered himself into the uncomfortable chair opposite Duanan’s massive and ornately carved desk.

  Duanan’s head snapped toward Artimus and, for the briefest of moments, Artimus thought he glimpsed an angry glare. Duanan’s face quickly softened and then broke into a large smile. “Well, you don’t mind if I do?” He gestured at the bottles and pursed his lips in an exaggerated pout.

  Artimus smiled. “No, of course not. Drink up.”

  “Let’s, uh...” Duanan spoke with his back to Artimus. “Let’s put that brief... unpleasantness, behind us, shall we? Just an unfortunate misunderstanding... bygones.” He turned toward Artimus and smiled, but his smile was a bit more forced than his previous ones.

  Artimus nodded. “Bygones”.

  There was a lull as Duanan made his way back to his over-sized desk chair and sat down heavily. “The boy... ” He paused. Artimus suspected he wanted him to jump in.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, Artimus was silent and stone-faced.

  Duanan continued, “I don’t know what all that was about, and I don’t need to know what all that was about.” He waved his hand dismissively and then took a long drink. “I have no interest in that, and I’m just glad to have my old friend back.”

  Duanan paused. He was giving Artimus every opportunity to join in the conversation and comment one way or the other.

  Artimus didn’t take him up on it.

  He sat silently and looked Duanan directly in the eye.

  “Do you know where he is now?” Duanan asked.

  Artimus shook his head. It was a half truth, but Artimus didn’t feel obliged to be completely honest.

  The two of them sat silently for several moments before Artimus finally decided to speak. “Where is the locket you took from Jeff?”

  “Locket?” Duanan raised his eyebrows, swirled his drink, and spent a few moments making a display seemingly designed to create the illusion of deep thought. “I don’t know what might have happened to that. I’ll have to ask around.” He lifted his glass, tilted his head back, and tossed down what was left of his drink.

  War was coming.

  Chapter 2:

  Jeff was dreaming.

  He knew he was dreaming. Ever since he had arrived in the strange dimension in which he was now stranded, his dreams had become something... more. They offered pieces to the puzzle he was trying to solve, and he had been training himself to receive the lessons they offered.

  “The Enigma, The Enigma, THE ENIGMA!” the old woman shouted. She had wild hair, wilder eyes and was shabbily clothed. The stains on her shapeless, draped - dress? - formed a mottled pattern almost giving it the appearance of military camouflage that had been through many battles. She looked as though she would have been right at home pushing a shopping cart and swinging a broken broomstick at anyone foolish enough to try to touch her National Geographic, featuring a cover story on the mystery of the Incas.

  Jeff was a little relieved when she flickered and faded from view. She had been featured in most of his recent dreams, and he was getting sick of seeing her.

  As she faded, the wooded setting also faded and changed into a grand, formal hall of some sort. There were long, curved benches arranged in concentric circles around a central ‘stage’ area with several aisles leading to the center – like spokes of a wheel. Jeff felt uncomfortably out of place. The other guests were formally dressed and he felt like a slob.

  Behind him and to his left, Jeff could see two young men standing in the aisle.

  Artimus!

  Jeff recognized one of the men as a young and strikingly handsome Artimus. He seemed to have a glow about him. His companion was similarly good-looking, and Jeff felt he knew him also - though he couldn’t place him as quickly. Though they were twenty feet or more away and speaking quietly, Jeff could hear them as clearly as if they were standing beside him.

  “You hanging in there, Captain?” Artimus’ companion asked.

  Artimus seemed not to have heard him, and his friend elbowed him to get his attention.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah... right... maybe... what was that?”

  His friend broke into a broad grin. “You’re in bad shape, friend.” He slapped Artimus on the back. “Just always remember,” he said as he looked across the hall. “She’s too good for you. If you’re not careful, someone’s going to take her away from you.”

  Jeff turned his head to see if he could spot the person they were talking about. He could see two very pretty young women standing in an aisle on the opposite side of the hall. The one on the right looked familiar.

  Artimus’ wife.

  Jeff had never met her – she had died a good while before Jeff had climbed through the unusual ‘portal’ that he had entered to look for his missing father. The portal had transported him to this strange dimension where he had found clues indicating his father (who had been presumed dead) was there. The strongest clue was his father’s locket which had a photo of a younger Jeff. The locket was on a chain around Jeff’s neck.

  Even in his dream, he wouldn’t let it go.

  A pleasant tune began playing. It filled the room – seemingly coming from everywh
ere at once – and the two men and two women began walking down their respective aisles toward the center.

  Jeff realized he had a program in his lap. It confirmed, as he suspected, that it was Artimus’ wedding.

  Then he realized why the other man seemed so familiar. The program listed: ‘Second Man – Wylie Duanan’

  Governor Duanan?

  The guy who threw me in jail?

  Chapter 3:

  Artimus wasn’t much for entertaining.

  He noticed, with some discomfort, that he wasn’t even able to find four matching glasses for his three guests and himself. “Well I know what Codi and Goldwin drink, but I’m afraid I’m at a loss with you, Andrew,” Artimus said as he busied himself distributing drinks. While he wasn’t one for formalities or social activities, he welcomed the distraction that the drinks gave him from the weighty topics that still needed to be discussed.

  “Any beer you have will be fine. I’d love some Fledger’s, but I doubt you have that,” Andrew said with a smile.

  Artimus laughed. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have any Fledger’s”

  Fledger’s was brewed in Andrew’s home country of Doclotnury and was illegal in Caesurmia where Artimus lived. It was prized by some wealthy connoisseurs.

  Artimus wasn’t a connoisseur.

  “How about a Smithfield,” Artimus asked offering a bottle.

  “Sure,” Andrew Blackbuck said with a bit of a forced smile. Artimus knew that it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the beer, but General Blackbuck was the kind of person who needed to force all his smiles. He wasn’t comfortable in social circumstances and was always more comfortable with action – violent, aggressive action – than sitting around, talking.

  Artimus sat down with his own bottle of Smithfield Ale and looked around at the three faces of those who were now silent – expectantly awaiting his next words. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to think how he should say it. He had practiced many times in his mind, but it had always seemed much smoother and less uncomfortable when he couldn’t actually see the expectant faces.

  “I think all of you already know,” he began, “but I want to state it absolutely clearly and with no ambiguity.” He paused and looked around at the faces again. The next sentence would be difficult, but it would get easier from there: at least he tried to convince himself so. “By sitting here today and discussing the things we’re going to discuss, you could be labeled an ‘enemy of state’. You could face jail – or even death.” His voice wavered a little when he spoke that last word, and when he continued, his mouth was dry and his voice hoarse. “Just for sitting here today.”

  He again paused and tried to read his colleague’s expressions. They were serious and seemed resolute. “If you’re not comfortable with that, there’s the door.” He gestured toward the escape route. “Just get up, leave, and we’ll never talk about it again.”

  He knew it wasn’t that easy. If someone actually did get up and leave, it would open a whole new complexity. Will I be able to trust them to keep secret what they already know? Can we continue, or will we have to abort? As long as everyone stays, I can trust them to keep quiet. To do otherwise would be suicide. But if they leave...

  The four sat silently. They glanced around the room to see if there were any signs of unrest, but there were none.

  “Okay then.” Artimus exhaled loudly and the whole mood seemed to lighten a bit. While somewhat relieved, he was still a little unsure and nervous about the next step. As he began speaking, he focused his attention on Goldwin Bellows and Codi Benedict. “As you know, Andrew and I,” he said, nodding toward Blackbuck, “along with many others, engaged in battle with the pheerions a few weeks ago as they tried to attack Doclotnury. While things looked bleak and the pheerions had powerful weapons, we were, with the help of some heroic actions, able to prevail.”

  “What happened to Jeff Browning?” Codi asked. She seemed a little nervous but couldn’t hold back her curiosity.

  “He is... ” Artimus chose his next words carefully. He knew there would be a lot of interest in Jeff but, while he trusted the three friends he had invited as much as he could trust any three people, he was very protective of Jeff. He wanted Jeff to be able to skate beneath the radar of public scrutiny as much as possible.

  “He’s far away from here.” Artimus hoped he could get away with that simple statement but realized it probably wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his friends’ curiosity. He didn’t want to project the idea that he didn’t trust them. “He’s on something of a ‘quest’ to see if he can find any information about his missing father.” Artimus realized that probably still wasn’t enough to satisfy them, but it would have to do.

  “Is he The Raja?” Codi asked with an uncontainable enthusiasm.

  Artimus shifted uncomfortably and looked at Blackbuck who was rolling his eyes.

  “I don’t... I don’t really want to speculate on that. I don’t think it’s important one way or the other,” he said.

  He hoped they wouldn’t sense that he didn’t believe what he had just said.

  “How were you able to stop the pheerions?” Goldwin said, jumping onto the question bandwagon. There had been many rumors and much speculation since the battle, but those who had actually been there had remained tight-lipped, fueling curiosity.

  Artimus hadn’t been completely honest with anybody regarding the details he was about to dance around. “There was a... key... that Jeff, Baldwin and Dave were able to remove. When they removed it, the pheerion’s weapon and shield were disabled.”

  “Where is the key now?” Codi asked.

  Artimus looked at Blackbuck who jumped in. “It was dropped in the ocean. My troops have been searching for it, but no luck yet. We have the area heavily guarded so that the pheerions shouldn’t be able to retrieve it themselves. Based on things we have heard from various sources, we believe it was a very unique item that will be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to duplicate.”

  Artimus felt guilty about deceiving his good friend regarding the location and nature of ‘the key’, but he felt it was important to guard that information very tightly.

  Chapter 4:

  Jeff fiddled absent-mindedly with the locket hanging from the chain around his neck. He was ready to go.

  He had been ready to go for a while, but Dave had explained that they couldn’t take a trip, like the one they were planning, lightly. ‘Proper preparation and supply are critical,’ Dave had said.

  That didn’t sit well with Jeff. Dave took everything lightly. Jeff could imagine Dave hanging by one hand off a three-hundred-foot cliff and still making jokes about the size of his penis.

  Dave was big, rough, loud and rude, but when you scratched beneath the surface… you found he was pretty much that way all the way through.

  And there was something about Dave’s nature that Jeff liked and respected.

  While Dave often embarrassed Jeff and made him feel uncomfortable, Jeff was getting used to him. Jeff didn’t like it when Dave said something like, ‘Get out of my way you dumb little turd.’ But he also didn’t like when someone said, ‘Oh, excuse me,’ when they were really thinking, ‘Get out of my way you dumb little turd.’

  Dave never let politeness get in the way of expressing what he really thought. At that moment he was mumbling and grumbling that he never should have agreed to the whole stupid quest as he loaded supplies into his armored vehicle, Princess Trina.

  But Dave had agreed – though he never pretended to be happy about it – to take Jeff and the others to see if they could find ‘The Prophet’.

  Jeff was looking for his father who had been missing. He had found a strange ‘portal’ in his father’s office which transported him to the alien planet on which he had become stranded. Since arriving, Jeff had found clues that his father was there, including a sketch of his father that had been drawn by The Prophet.

  Jeff had hoped they could have just taken a flying car rather than the ground vehicle, b
ut Dave had explained that the cars didn’t have long enough range to get there and back. He had asked with his trademark mischievous grin, ‘You don’t want to get caught out in the middle of the wilderness without the armor and weaponry of Princess Trina, do you?’

  Jeff had to admit that he didn’t.

  He wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The sampling of forest creatures Jeff had encountered made creepy, evil, flying monkeys seem amusingly non-threatening by comparison.

  “Hey, Raja!” Jeff shouted to Baldwin.

  Baldwin was about the same age as Jeff who was fourteen. He was talking to his older sister, Nahima, when Jeff interrupted him with his shout. He shot Jeff an annoyed glare. “Don’t call me that,” he said through clenched teeth as he walked toward Jeff.

  “You can deny it all you want, but I think the prophecy clearly says you’re The Raja.” Jeff didn’t put any real faith in the prophecy – which he saw as a bunch of vague gibberish – but it annoyed Baldwin, so he called him ‘Raja’ whenever he thought of it.

  Baldwin reached the wooden porch where Jeff was sitting, turned and sat. “Did you actually want something or are you just bored?”

  “A little of both.” Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out a sketch he had drawn shortly after he had woken. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

  Baldwin looked at the sketch. “Something drawn by a not-too-bright six-year-old?”

  Jeff rolled his eyes as Baldwin grinned. “This is the inside of a large room, some sort of theater or something. The seats are arranged in circles surrounding a central area and there are walkways leading from the entrances to the center.” Jeff indicated the spoke-like aisles on his drawing.

  “Sort of like a church.”

  “A church?” Jeff wanted to avoid leading Baldwin.