Chapter 7: Boy Meets World: Part One
“Okay, I think I’ve got everything I need. How are you guys doing?”
In my family, it had always been something of a running joke that whenever we packed to go travelling, we always made a mess of it. No matter how much we tried to organize, plan, anticipate and streamline something always went wrong. Something would be forgotten, something wouldn’t fit, something would get lost. It was a seemingly endless comedy of errors that had us all stressed and rushing to try to stay on time. Sure, we’d all have a good laugh about it after the fact, calling it the ‘West holiday curse’, but at the time it was anything but fun.
Interestingly enough it seemed that saints and angels weren’t immune to the West Holiday Curse!
“I . . . ah, I believe I should soon be ready. Just . . . I will just require a little more time.”
Maybe it was a little petty, but there was a certain guilty pleasure in seeing the normally confident and self-possessed Joan of Arc looking flustered.
Our departure had not been the most organized from the start, but that was mostly due to the abruptness of our need to leave. Joan had explained to me about the oracle she’d requested from one of the angels able to use prophecy, and she’d also let me know that it had just arrived. When I heard about it, I was excited and worried. Since the Black Sun, I’d read up on various mythologies, including Greek mythology. I knew just how much getting a glimpse of your future could screw you over, and I really, really, didn’t want to end up getting killed by my own grandson due to my paranoia. On the other hand, there was something . . . empowering about being told I was the subject of a prophecy. It was as though some small and unrealistic part of me was saying that I was taking another step down the path of the protagonist. Soon I would have invincible plot armour, then none could stop me!
Both my worry and my delusions only lasted until I heard the actual prophecy though. I thought it would I’d need to piece it together and work out what some obscure reference or weird imagery meant. I thought it might even rhyme.
I wasn’t expecting my oracle to be an address, a date and a time.
The address was something of a surprise Le Havre was a coastal French city and a major hub for shipping traffic from Britain. In a way, I was oddly happy to be so close to my home country, even though I was still separated from it by the channel, but that was only a background sentiment. The location was no problem, one of the docks should be easy enough to find. The real problem was the time that had been specified. Well, that and the date.
The date was tomorrow. The time was just before three o’clock in the morning.
The irony was that after Emma had risked herself to let me know about the Hallowed Sanctuary, and after I’d given myself a headache trying to think of a way to tell the others, it was no longer a factor. We’d be leaving before it collapsed, even if it did so early. Hell, it could collapse right now and it wouldn’t make any difference.
Still, I was glad that she had told me, it had given her the chance to talk to me about other stuff, like the mess with Athena. If she hadn’t brought it up I might not have realised any of it, just taking everything at face value. I wasn’t planning to completely distrust the Greek goddess, but knowing to be wary was a good thing, especially with our upcoming appointment with Destiny.
Truthfully, we weren’t in all that much of a rush! The time predicted was at half past two in the morning, and it wasn’t even midday yet. It wasn’t as though transport was all that much of an issue. Joan had been able to get me from Britain to the farmhouse in only half an hour or so. Even if Kali and Athena didn’t have fast travel options of their own then Joan could have given them a lift as well. Getting to a coastal city from where the farmhouse was would barely take more than a quarter of an hour. The pressure that Joan was feeling was largely of her own creation.
It had been her idea to leave as soon as we could, though there had been a couple of minor delays. Hadriel had insisted on early morning training as soon as I woke up. The prophecy had been communicated while I’d been sparring with the angel. Getting myself cleaned up took up some time, and while I was at it Joan had been packing up her admittedly small luggage.
The problem was that it was a bit spread out since she had something of a habit of spreading her belongings around the farmhouse. That included things like her small bible, a couple of small relics that had been gifts, some notes she’d written down throughout our training, and a map of the city we were heading towards. Joan was finding her stuff with commendable calm and efficiency, but it was delaying her slightly. It also gave me a bit more time to get my head in order, so I wasn’t complaining.
“Are you guys ready?”
Kali was standing next to her motorcycle, a small rucksack on her back. By the looks of things, she hadn’t had much when she arrived. Athena stood across from her, clad in the same white and blue toga. The contrast between the two goddesses was as jarring as the first time I saw them, something I hoped would wear off with time.
“Yes, we are simply waiting for Lady Joan. It would appear that she still hasn’t found the last of her . . . effects.”
Hadriel sounded completely polite, but there was a tiny hint of dissatisfaction in there. Honestly, I was surprised that I even noticed it, given how calm her face was.
Actually . . . how did I notice it? there weren’t any indicators, but I was sure that it was there so-
“What about the golem?”
Kali’s question broke my train of thought and I saw her walk across the gravel we were all waiting on, towards where the huge figure of stone and metal still stood by the farmhouse entrance.
“Uh . . . what about it?”
I was just happy that the thing wasn’t trying to kill any of us anymore and was just waiting where I’d told it to stay.
“Aren’t you going to take it with us? That thing hit me hard enough that I’m still feeling it, that kind of power is always good to have in your corner, right?”
That . . . that was a good point. Yesterday I’d not really considered the full implications of the golem’s actions. I’d still been coming down from a serious adrenaline high, and since then it had just been one thing after another.
“Hey, golem, come over here!”
I turned and called out to the massive hulk. It responded immediately striding over towards me, every step sending small tremors through the ground. Seeing it walking over was like being faced with a slow-motion avalanche. Still, unlike a real natural disaster, it came to a stop a safe distance in front of me, but I still had to crane my neck a bit to look up at it.
Its presence felt protective, solid as stone and heavy as a mountain but not intimidating. Instead, it felt like a big outcrop of stone that gave you shade on a hot and sunny day. And I could tell that the feeling was coming from the golem itself.
“You . . . you just want to . . . look out for me?”
I said it slowly, but even as I did I knew I wasn’t quite putting it into words properly. What he felt . . . it was a drive to defend, but it was also . . . obedient? Subservient? No, that didn’t cover it and felt wrong. It wasn’t slavish, or at least it wasn’t now. I supposed it could easily become slave-like, but right now it felt . . . cleaner.
Loyal, that was it! I could feel loyalty practically radiating from the mountain of stone and metal.
“Okay, please point at the sky with your right arm.”
Immediately the golem obeyed, one finger almost as thick as my wrist stabbing up towards the blue sky.
“Please stand on one foot.”
Again it obeyed.
“So, it would seem that our suppositions were correct,” Athena commented as she joined me and Kali. “It is bound to obey you. A powerful servant to possess.”
I didn’t like that. The ways she phrased it . . . maybe it wasn’t deliberate, but it made me feel as though someone had just given me a slave as a gift, and I didn’t like it. ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’ and all that.
Maybe . . . well, maybe I was overthinking this. Was this thing even a sentient being?
“You . . . are you alive? I mean, can you think? Are you doing more than just whatever I say?”
Well, when in doubt, ask.
There was a brief pause, then the golem slowly nodded its head. Really? How was I meant to test that?
“Okay, do you have a name?”
This time it shook its head.
“Do you want one?”
I asked the question on impulse, but then the golem sort of froze up and I started to worry if I’d done something wrong. Maybe the question that didn’t compute?
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
After a few seconds the burning pits that served as eyes behind the visor of its helmet-like face stayed locked on me. Then it slowly nodded.
Okay, that cleared it up as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t sure how smart this thing was, but it was definitely alive in some way, or at least very close to it. I could feel something from it, not like I did for others, but there was something there. Also, it wanted a name, that wasn’t something a simple automaton would want. That nod of its head had some sort of sincerity behind it, weak and dull, but there it was all the same.
So . . . a name.
My first impulse was to go with something mythological, someone powerful that would match the image of a huge figure cast in stone and metal. Heracles, Atlas, or Goliath, something like that. But with many Legends already in the world, that probably wasn’t the best idea.
My second thought was that I should go for something grand, like Alexander or Salvatore, the kind of name the protagonist of some epic novel series should have. But that struck me as way too pretentious.
My third impulse was to go for comedy. Something like Terry, Tim or Spot. It’d make the huge metal goliath a bit less intimidating if nothing else.
All of that went through my mind in a flash, before I settled on a name, not a majestic name, not a silly name, just an average name.
“How do you like Bruce?”
Yeah, it was a bit of a weird name choice, but it was this or Clark, and I felt Mr Wayne suited a bit better than Mr Kent. Actually . . . wasn’t a golem sort of like a man made of steel? Had I missed an opportunity there? Oh well, it was too late now.
In response to my suggestion, the golem went still again, but after a moment I thought I detected just a slight tilt to its. . . well, ‘his’ head, as though considering. Then the helmet-like head nodded, and his eyes burnt just a bit brighter.
“Bruce?! You’re going to call a multi-ton juggernaut ‘Bruce’?”
Kali was looking at me as though she couldn’t decide between being shocked, outraged or highly amused.
“Well, I’m not going to call him something like ‘Rex Megagornius Prime’, that’d just be stupid.”
That took her out of her uncertainty and firmly into being amused.
“Okay, that was a good one,” She allowed. “Anyway, back to what I was saying. Are we taking . . . Bruce with us?”
Well . . . It looked like he was doing what I told him, and yes, his power was definitely something I wanted backing me up. Hell, if he’d been there to help me with Etienne then the fight would have gone pretty different. Having Bruce as a bodyguard wasn’t a bad idea.
But, could I be completely sure of his loyalties? Yes, he was obeying me now. Yes, I could feel some sort of sincerity from him. But what if the ones that sent him after me were able to contact him somehow? Would they be able to reestablish control? Could they turn him against me?
“I am ready!”
Joan stepped out of the farmhouse’s front door, fully dressed in her armour, and waving a folded map as though it was some prize stolen from a dragon’s den. She paused when she saw both me and Kali so close to the golem, but only for a moment, then she drew closer.
“What brings the golem here?” She asked.”
“I thought we might want to take Bruce here with us,” Kali explained. “He’s got a mean hook, I can personally guarantee it, so I figure he might be useful.”
“‘Bruce’?” The French saint looked confused.
“I figured the golem needed a name.”
“And you called it ‘Bruce’?” Her confusion persisted, and I came to a troublesome conclusion.
“I’m going to have to explain this a lot, aren’t I?”
“Hey, props to you for bucking the trend I say!” Kali declared, her grin resembling a particularly amused Jack o’lantern. “Going humble’s a nice choice.”
“Well, his name aside, what do you wish to do with . . . Bruce, Adam?”
“Like Kali said, take him with us”
Yeah, there might be some risks to it, but if we just left him here then it was just as likely that his former masters would try to scoop him up again. If so, then wasn’t it smarter to have him with us? At least that way we could see it if he switched sides.
“Well . . . he could be a formidable ally,” Joan agreed but then shook her head. “Unfortunately, I see no way to transport him alongside us. Neither I nor Honoured Hadriel are strong enough to carry him with our wings, and my magic over light is insufficiently strong to carry him as I did with you. Do you think that you can?”
That . . . was a good point. The golem was ten feet tall and built to resemble an inhumanly muscular figure cast from metal and stone, he had to weigh tonnes, literally!
“Hey, Bruce, I’m just going to try something, okay?”
Since the huge figure remained still I took it as consent and reached out with my Arcana TK. The golem wasn’t as hard to get a grip on as one the likes of Hadriel or Joan. Lifting him was another matter. Carrying him along as I flew? Not a chance!
“We shall have to leave him,” Joan explained, seeing how my efforts didn’t look like they were up to the challenge. “We can return for his aid afterwards, perhaps with some preparations a method to transport him can be arranged. For now, I see no way he can be brought with us.”
“Actually, is there any chance I can get a ride?” Kali asked, her face almost apologetic. “I’ve been getting around on my bike since I came back to the mortal plane, but I don’t think it can keep up with all of you if you’re flying. I forgot to pick up a vimana before I left my home plane, so I’m stuck with my bike or hoofing it.”
For a moment I was confused, then I remembered that vimana were divine vehicles that the gods in Hindu mythology used to get around. It was an interesting bit of information, Kali didn’t think she could keep up if we all went full speed with our flight. I knew she was strong, but did she have no flight powers of her own?
“Certainement, goddess Kali,” Joan agreed. “It would be my honour.”
“Are the preparations complete?”
Athena asked as she strode over, her every movement radiating a confident grace any business woman would have happily murdered for. Hadriel floated beside her, her face impassive and her arms folded. She was floating slightly higher than normal. Generally, she was only two inches or so off the ground, but today it was about a foot. Just enough to put her on eye-level with Athena!
“I believe so, does anyone else have any reason we cannot leave?” Joan asked, only to get nothing but shaken heads.
I gave Bruce instructions to keep an eye on the farmhouse while we were gone, not to attack anyone who arrived, but to make it clear the place was being guarded. Maybe not the clearest of instructions possible, but the best I could come up with at short notice. The huge golem nodded in reply and ponderously strode back to his previous position.
“Very well, let us depart.”
Hadriel ascended further, Athena shimmered and was replaced by a giant owl already flying. Joan transformed into her angelic form and the next moment a bubble of light formed around Kali and her bike, lifting both into the air. I flexed my power and rose into the air with them. As we got higher I took a moment to stare down at the scene beneath us.
I felt a slight pressure as I passed through the Hallowed Sanctuary, then I felt it . . . pop. When I’d left it before it had been like passing through mist, I’d come out and that had been it. When I looked back I hadn’t been able to see the farmhouse since it had still been concealed, the mist I’d passed through still keeping it hidden. This time I felt as though I was passing through something, something that gave after I left. Turning I could finally see the farm from high above, further than I’d been able to fly before.
It was all laid out, the path I’d taken for my runs and decorated with trees, sculptures and bushes. The blasted area where my Awakening ritual had been interrupted, the great stretch of white where my completed Awakening had bleached the land of colour, the farmhouse itself, the golem beside it, the distant woods I’d never been able to enter. It was all laid out beneath me in a slowly widening panorama as I gained height.
I was going to miss that white field. And my run, I’d put so much effort into it, I was going to miss seeing it too. Still, new sights, new places! I couldn’t wait!
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Marcello’s trip across the English Channel in a small boat had been wet and miserable, even if it was a summer night, but he’d been used to worse. He’d had to camp out in marshes swarming with bloodsucking insects more than once, by contrast, a damp and cold crossing hadn’t been to bad. No, the worst of it had been his company.
Marcello wasn’t a particularly social person. He was a professional military man. After going . . . freelance he’d grown more used to self-chosen isolation. He was used to the groups of hired agents, like the mercenaries that he’d worked with in the past, forming a certain level of detached comradery, as paradoxical as it might sound. With guns-for-hire, there was always a distance, the knowledge that the other party would value their wallet and their own life enough to leave you to swing in the breeze if that was what it took. On the other hand, for such people to work together at all there had to be a certain amount of professional courtesy, an understanding that there were certain unspoken rules that would be honoured.
The two he was travelling with lacked anything like that. He had kept quiet and had not offered to speak, but it had felt as though his two companions were every bit as inhuman as the homunculus copy of Arthur that had been destroyed.
In the past the scarred mage had worked with twisted individuals, those that took the job of a professional killer because they revelled in it. In a regular society, they would have ended up as serial killers, psychos, or maybe successful CEOs. Out in the dark pockets of the world rocked by civil wars or collapsing governments they could let loose. He’d worked with the sorts of rigid professionals that divided their work persona and their home persona so absolutely that it was almost a case of split personality. He’d worked with people who were almost frighteningly normal, despite their trade as killers.
These two . . . he had no idea where Morgan la Fey had found them, but it had to be somewhere exceptional.
The worst thing was that he couldn’t get a good read on them. They might be crazed psychopaths with a bloodlust held back only by fear of the immortal enchantress or even geass-enforced commands. Or they might be completely sane and stable individuals who had secrets they dearly wished to keep and were doing so by giving nothing away.
In the end, Marcello had been forced to endure the uncomfortable atmosphere for not only the entire trip but also the time afterwards when they had to hide.
That part hadn’t been so bad. When they’d arrived at the docks one of Morgan’s spells had directed them to a small warehouse at the side of the docks. From the outside it had appeared largely unused, not abandoned, just not in current use. On the inside, it had been clean and tidy. Little more than a large and empty space with a couple of offices off to the side. What had been worth noting was that there had been three tents set up, complete with camping beds, sleeping bags, camping stoves, and a few small crates of food and drink. There had even been a few books and a Monopoly board game.
There had also been a note from Morgan la Fey, explaining the situation. Apparently, the warehouse was warded to prevent any locator spells from finding it or anything it contained. That meant that Marcello could let go of the wrapped scabbard he was carrying, though he was warned not to get too far from it. They had been instructed to remain here for the next few days to give the search for the scabbard time to cool down. Once that time had passed, she would send them further instructions.
It was hard to keep his face passive as he read the note. So very hard!
He was going to have to spend days with these assholes?! It had barely been one day so far and they were already making his skin itch!
With a sigh, the scarred mage made his way to a quiet corner, sat in a cross-legged position with his back to a wall and closed his eyes. His focus turned inwards as he tried to find the source of his unease, of his shameful lack of control! He was better than this! He had worked with the very trash of humanity before, and he had never let it get to him like this.
What did it matter to him if he was being forced to share this place with these two assholes? He was a practitioner of the mystic arts, and what were they? Killers? Thieves? Failed humans trying to hide how broken they were? Did it even matter?
Trying to let go of his tension Marcello tried to turn his focus inwards, ignoring the world around him. there were tasks he could accomplish without having to deal with these two. He could spend the next few days performing some delayed maintenance upon his internal systems, perhaps even taking the time to see if he could cultivate some improvements.
Yes . . . these next few days didn’t need to be a trial. They could just as easily be a boon. It was all in the way he looked at it.
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