Lives of Future-Past (The Chronicles of Max Gunnarsson Book 1) (19 page)

     Noting that they both still had adequate energy reserves, they decided to run back to the castle at a fairly quick gait. Jennie was concerned that Draagh would be worried about them, and she certainly didn’t want to hear that a search and rescue team had been sent out on their behalf. When she verbalized this to Max, he laughed out loud.
     “Jennie, Draagh knows exactly where we are… doesn’t he, Socrates?”
     She almost tripped when she noticed the mask-like apparition, effortlessly whizzing through the air, particles streaming behind it, as it perfectly matched their velocity.
     “Master Max, Lord Draagh is aware of your good fortunes and victory in battle. In fact, he has already shared the good tidings with all in the castle, and it instantly turned into an excuse for nearly half the regiment to break open casks of their finest mead. There is only one concern they have at this time.”

     “…and what would that be, Socrates?”
     “You just succeeded in killing the only son of Vladros, the vampire king. To make it worse, you impaled the youth’s head on a stake. Only the brashest lycan warrior ever does this, as it is meant as a challenge to fight, yet again.”
    
     In the dark, putrid throne room of Vladros’ dank castle far to the north, the news of Max’s victory was not so well received.
     “Dead? My son is dead?” Lord Vladros bellowed, tearing at the dying skin on his face. His rage-filled visage terrified all of the lower-caste soldiers and attendants in his presence, as he stormed about the expansive chamber, ranting on about how he was going to find the criminals and use them as barely-living blood bags, while his hellcats, which were a perverse, magical cross breed of the jaguar and the hyena, would tear at their flesh.
     Ryder Johnson stood off to the side, and cockily stated, “Hey, I told him to watch out for that guy.”
     “You mewling wimp!” roared the vampire king, while staring at the off-world vampire who seemed unaffected by the leader’s rage. “You should have assisted him! Now he is dead! My son is dead!”
     Falling back onto his throne, he put his head in his hands, and if he were anything but a half-dead vampire king one would think that he was crying, but as vampires were unable to cry this was just not the case.
     “He was with the female, you say?” he brusquely asked Johnson, who had cautiously moved closer to the stage upon which the throne sat.
     “Yeah, a real teasing dega-bitch by the name of Jennie Escalante. Apparently she learned a few tricks too, ‘cause she was just an ordinary junior officer on our ship before we got dragged to this shit-hole.”
     Vladros shot Johnson a glare of utter contempt and said, “I know what a dega is, alien troll, but take care with the words with which you use to describe my kingdom. You only continue breathing by my good graces.”
     Johnson backed off; bowing slightly, and putting the manipulations his father had taught him to good use.
     “My Lord, if you desire, I believe there is a way we can exact revenge for the unjust murder of your son.”
     “And what would that be, puddle-slime?”
     “Let’s kidnap him and torture him for a while,” Johnson suggested sneeringly.
     Vladros looked like he was considering it for a moment. “Did you not say that he was performing magic? And did that young minor-mage in the normals’ village not proclaim the same thing?”
     “Well, yeah, he was. So what?”
     “You ignorant fool! As soon as we got him here he could simply escape, using his infernal tricks. If Draagh has been training him, then there is no doubt that he has already acquired a great deal of skill. As much as I hate mages - especially Draagh, who has been a constant thorn in my side - he is possibly the most powerful mage in existence, so all must be taken into consideration.”
     Johnson looked up in the air, thinking for a moment, his now-rotting brain ticking away with ideas meant only to create pain and suffering.
     “Well, then let’s get the girl. She is obviously important to him, so we’ll just grab her, and then he’ll wake up in the morning with her severed head on his windowsill.”
     Vladros looked over to his left, motioning for someone to approach. The figure neared the king, but remained in the shadows while awaiting orders from its liege.
     “Make plans to get the female lycan. Now.”
     Johnson backed away with an evil, insidious grin upon his face. He had no intention of letting them kill Jennie so quickly. He wanted to have his way with her first - but he was two steps behind the vampire king, and didn’t even realize it.

     Approaching the castle, the two young lycans virtually flew through the open gate, the guards having been made aware of their impending arrival via Socrates’ instant notifications. They went directly to the main hall, where the celebration had already begun, and the two tore into plates of food set before them; they had only consumed a scrawny rabbit each. They were quite pleased with the celebration, but Jennie showed a bit of hesitation around her compatriot, due to Max’s attempted kiss after defeating the vampire son of Vladros. Still, even though she wasn’t sitting as close to him as she had been recently, he enjoyed being in her presence, as well as that of all of Krynos’ forces. The young man had shown true mettle in the fight, and had emerged victorious against a young, but powerful enemy, as Ladros was of the highest vampire caste and bloodline, making him much more powerful than most other vampires.
     Revelers slapped Max on the back, and used the young man’s good fortunes to try and cop a feel on Jennie, which she lithely avoided at every attempt. As they opened yet another cask of mead, the crowd again demanded that Max recount the tale of how he called a levitation cantus without uttering a word, and then hit every known lethal point on the vampire, before touching the ground and decapitating the wretched creature in most spectacular fashion. Max tried to brush this all off, instead telling them how Jennie permanently disfigured a vampire goon’s face with her gauntlet, causing the entire hall to roar with laughter. He even goaded Jennie to get up on their table and recreate a scene of the deft use of her new skills. So, there she was, a golden cup full of mead in her hand, swinging it around and splashing the liquid all over the table and various lycans’ heads, while making adorably cute expressions for each and every one of her simulated crushing blows and swings of her sword. Krynos and Draagh sat at the high table, roaring with laughter and delight, as through their antics and animated behavior the two visitors truly made it a night worth remembering.
     Most everyone had gone off to sleep, while Max, Jennie, Draagh and Donus were sitting at a large table in the center of the hall, chatting about past experiences. Donus found the world of Azul to be quite interesting, especially after they had explained the concept of technology and space travel to him. Draagh told them stories about strange societies long extinct, and of a sapient species that wrote the most amazing five-dimensional poetry. Jennie told tales of her youth, but her childhood was not exciting at all, so the stories fell rather flat. The best stories of all came from Max, who told everyone how he had invented the hook drive, and then how he had taken it for his own use, as corrupt politicians had prohibited its further implementation.
     Once he had completely detailed his story, Jennie felt more compassion for the man; she had previously believed him to be a thief and a traitor, but finding now that he was a man trying to save his world, with no ill will towards anyone. As Draagh had told her before, there was certainly more to him than one could see at first glance.
     Max went to leave the great hall, and bid everyone a good night. Jennie stood up with him, preferring to be escorted to her room, as they housed next to each other, and also desired to avoid any lycan soldiers who might be lurking around the dark hallways of the castle.
     Walking up to the stairs to their level, Jennie asked him, “Gunnarsson, when first we met, why didn’t you tell me your version of the whole story – you know, about the hook drive and the Artusians – errr - the Vrol?”
     Max gave her an odd gaze, and then stopped at his door. “Well Jennie, to start off, you unloaded a few hundred rounds into Draagh’s chest and then tried to shoot me in the face. I was in what you could call an extremely hostile situation. Besides that, I left Azul for Earth because I didn’t believe that the Security Council was acting in the best interest of our world, and the military was taking orders from those ass-clowns. Plus, I am more than certain that Draagh had something to do with prompting me along. Besides that, he told you everything you needed to know while you gave me the stink-eye.”
     Max then finished by calmly saying, “Good night, Jennie,” and walked into his room, shut the door without even looking back.
     Jennie stood there, slack-jawed and stunned, with a door shut in her face; that had never happened to her before in her entire adult life.
     The following morning, after having eaten breakfast alone, Max went to train in the great hall, but noticed that Jennie wasn’t there. Draagh entered, looking rather fit, with a broad smile on his face, greeting Max in his typical fashion.
     “Good morning, my son! Are we ready to conquer more of the mysteries of magic and the space/time continuum today?”
     Max’s face lit up as he asked, “You mean slips? Yeah gramps, let's do it. I'm more than ready to take on this stuff.”
     There were basically two types of slips - a slip being a type of teleportation via what resembled a fractional wormhole. The first type, the three-dimensional, or 3D slip involved moving about on the same world, utilizing precise X, Y and Z coordinates – latitude, longitude and elevation. One could certainly not slip into the inside of a mountain, so the elevation portion was critical. A complex
movericantus was used for these types of slips locally, but greater distances required some advanced calculations.
     The other type, the 4D slip, was required for more advanced travel, such as through space/time. It mattered not if it was on the same world, or to a different planet, or even to a parallel world (of which existed an infinite number) – the fourth-dimensional coordinate was required. Socrates was usually necessary to compile the data for these slips the first time around, as these calculations (based on what was called the Kamiliak Equation) were beyond the understanding of most mages save for the most powerful ones such as Draagh, and especially not within the realm of knowledge nor capabilities of minor-mages. Even then, Draagh utilized Socrates’ vast knowledge base and amazing computational power to hasten the process. The aged wizard had become a bit lazy throughout his eons of existence, and his beloved herb only helped to exacerbate his distaste for complex math.
     High-level mages (the Prīmulī, as well as archangels and, in limited cases, their offspring) carried a physical object that was genetically encoded to their systems, via the living, non-sentient
ghanlo
contained within. These
ghanlos
had massive amounts of memory, and could save 3D and 4D slip data, enabling the mage to return to points in space/time where he had previously been without having to go through the process of recalculating coordinates. Lower-level mages had no such devices, and merely recited cantuses.
     As Max was Draagh’s grandson, he was informed that he would be able to use the ancient one’s staff, albeit with some minor limitations. The two went about slipping to various parts of the castle, and when Draagh felt that Max had a decent enough grasp of the concepts, allowed his young charge to select a location with which he was familiar, so Max slipped with his grandfather to the location of the battle with Ladros.
     Looking out over the grassy area in which they fought, Draagh kneeled down and touched the earth, which caused an eerie glow to set out from his outstretched palm.
     “They returned. Yes, they did indeed,” stated the aged wizard, but Max already knew this, as the pole in which he had impaled the separated skull of his opponent was gone, of course, along with the head. “We shall not return here, my son,” exclaimed Draagh. There is an aura of evil that emanates from this ground – it is spoiled.”
     Max got the message, and slammed the staff into the ground and slipping them back to the main hall, where they were to continue lesson for the remainder of the day.
     Jennie passed her day practicing furiously in the open pitch of the training grounds, still miffed by Max’s treatment of her the previous night. As she gingerly flipped over obstacles and shot fireballs at forward targets with her wand, she simultaneously performing double scissor kicks on lateral targets, effectively destroying them with her powerful legs. She was sweating like a pig, and had done nearly all of her practice in battle form, necessitating a break for nourishment, as her levels were nearly depleted.
     Walking into the dining hall, she saw Max and Draagh sitting at a table to the side of the room, but instead of greeting them, as was her fashion, she simply ignored the two and took a seat further on in the expansive chamber, laying her katana on the table top, off to the side. Having three giant plates of steaming hot meat set before her, she dug in, eating voraciously, and not even noticing when Draagh had taken a seat next to her.
     “My dear girl!” he said in a rather loud and almost obnoxious voice, “why not come sit with us? I believe your young colleague has a great deal to tell you regarding today’s lessons.”
     “Naw, that’s OK, pops. Gotta get back out and train some more,” she matter-of-factly replied.
     Draagh paused momentarily, but continued to look at her kindly.
     “Very well, then. I am sure you have much to accomplish - but may I ask something of you?”
     Jennie looked up from the meat-loaded plates with innocent, but slightly uninterested eyes, her lower face covered in the meat’s succulent juices, which dripped down her chin and onto her tunic. With a large chunk of flank steak hanging from the corner of her mouth, she looked at her teacher and nodded in the affirmative.
     “Would you loan me your sword – your katana, for the rest of the day? I would like to study it a bit. You see, I find that particular weapon to be quite fascinating and—”
     Before he could finish his request, she slid the blade in its
saya
, or sheath, over to him on the table, and then dug her face back into her plate of food, slurping and chewing with less table manners than even the least-educated of lycan soldiers.
     Draagh stood up, and after thanking her most graciously, walked back over to Max, with the girl’s sword in his hand.
     “Hey Draagh, why do you have her sword? Did you put her on battle-girl time-out?” Max asked, sarcastically.
     Draagh took a moment to decipher Max’s use of archaic English, and chuckled lightly, saying, “Oh no, not at all. She is being a good girl, though she is a bit upset – yes, that much is certain. Did the two of you have an argument, perhaps last night after you left the main hall?”
     Max looked at him and shook his head while saying, “Nope. I just said goodnight and went to bed.”
     Draagh knew this to be only partially true, as he had witnessed through Socrates - who was hidden in the trees during their battle with the vampires - the aftermath of the fight, including Max’s attempt to kiss her. Draagh gave his grandson a warm gaze, and sat down next to him.
     “My boy, one must be patient with the fairer sex, and especially so with lycan females. There is a spark between the two of you, but it will not set any embers ablaze if forced, much like when one blows too hard on kindling for the fire – the potential flame simply extinguishes.”
     Max gave him a deadpan look, and after a brief pause said, “Ok, whatever. Sounds about right to me.”
     Leaving Jennie in peace, the two returned to the main hall, where Max was allowed to use the staff on his own, but only to slip within the castle itself – outside locations were not allowed. As Max used Draagh’s staff he would not be depleting his own magical skills readout line, and thus not suffer a timeout. Draagh did this to allow Max a bit of controlled freedom and ample practice, and also so he could examine Jennie’s impressive katana, which was made many years prior by Ohiro’s grandfather, on what remained of the Japanese main island. As he set about studying the sword, he got a twinkle in his eye and started to manipulate the fearsome weapon with detailed, unspoken cantuses.
     Meanwhile, Max was using his grandfather’s staff in a most devious fashion, popping in and out of various rooms throughout the castle, and even unwittingly slipped into the small quarters of a post pubescent lycan male who was, at that very moment, discovering the mechanics of his manhood.
     “Oops, sorry, bro! Been there, done that!” Max exclaimed, as the frightened youth jumped behind a wardrobe partition and awkwardly tried to cover his exposed parts.
     Feeling a bit awkward after having been painfully reminded of his own journey of self-discovery, Max decided to stop invading the privacy of others, and to bring it out into the open. He slipped into the training grounds, tamping the staff on the earthen pitch and making small concussion waves and popping sounds as he slipped around Jennie’s manic efforts at self-improvement; this time without her katana, and only her wand and gauntlet.
     The field trainers watched with great amusement as Max appeared and disappeared, while Jennie not only scrambled over obstacles, but also shot balls of fire at the annoying young lycan/mage. She nearly hit him on more than one occasion, so he upped the ante by interfering with her path, using conjured laser blasts, and although they were harmless, they certainly did cause her some level of distraction.
     As they went on, however, it seemed like she was enjoying the enhanced level of difficulty more and more. Finally, they were both worn out, and as the training hours had come to an end, Max went over to where she was sitting and dropped down next to her.
     “Excellent!” shouted Max, having some imagery of a late-20
th
century movie he had frequently watched as a child pop into his head – the story about two teenaged friends who were provided with a time machine, and assigned with the simple task of researching history so that they could pass their final exam and not be separated into different schools.