Wisp had to work hard to remember how much time he had spent in the cosmos with the Warden, having been created expressly to serve in the administration of the Warden’s many facets.
“Of course sir, as you say.”
The Warden was far, far older than the cosmos. The things that the Warden knew, well, they didn’t bear contemplating. Fenix was most likely special in some way, but he was now also part of the Warden’s schemes.
These Eons the Warden’s focus was a singular one, on the Sparks, and their ultimate purpose was well beyond Wisp.
Fenix was an agent of change, a catalyst for chaos bred by the beings who embodied chaotic influence. That did not mean that Fenix was chaos, it meant that Fenix was Fenix, and Fenix as he defined himself was a survivor.
What the cosmos had defined for Fenix was that he was a catalyst, and the Warden wanted a cosmic catalyst, especially one so capable of surviving the changes he wrought.
“Don’t worry Wisp, there is no danger to our work here. And our next phase will also be sealed from interference of any kind once it is done. It was a good idea to create the Prison for this method of gathering, compared to just waiting about in the cosmos outside.
“This is a lot faster.”
The Warden smiled, a wide grin of expectation and pleasure at the work being done.
“But the next phase requires a different form of dedicated resources and occupants. Experimentation as well as crafting after all, and I do not want to have to deal with the influx of the worst the cosmos has to offer forever.”
“Do you foresee a problem, sir?”
“Yes Wisp, I expect that the kinds of beings we have been getting more often of late will steadily increase, the cosmos is getting old, and within it are those who are also old that will likely be convicted of crimes suitable to be sent here. Also because enough beings now exist to capture and judge others of their kind; evolution, remarkable. Eventually, we will be unable to contain them all.”
“That is a pity, sir.”
“Yes, but we will be done in time. After that, the Prison can be run by someone else who will probably botch it up. Not our problem though, we have other goals.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wonder if we could ever get him back again,” the Warden mused in a bass rumble.
Wisp was startled, it was unlike the Warden to be interested in any individual for very long. “I don’t know sir, considering past experience it may be a positive or negative impact on our work. Is it worth the risk?”
“Run some numbers Wisp; see what you can determine are the odds based on different circumstances.”
More work, Wisp was so pleased, and that would also be quite a challenge, considering Fenix’s past and his interactions with them.
That prompted a thought.
“Sir, what do you think Fenix would do if he knew this was his third time in the Prison and not his second?”
“Hmmmm.” The vibration of the Warden’s hum shivered through the entire floor. “You should perhaps plot the outcome of that as well. It bears a thorough analysis; see if it could help us.”
“Yes, sir.”
The story of Fenix and the God Sparks continues in the next book titled: “Fugitive Fenix.”
“The Boloi” the first book of the God Sparks series starts the epic fantasythat Fenix ties in to.
Set in Science Fiction, The Gravitonics Chronicles starts with the book “Abductees”.
Detailing the Human times before the story of the Gravitonics Chronicles starts with “Conlin Shaw and Orion’s Arrow.”
Excerpts from these books follow on next.
Excerpt from “Fugitive Fenix”.
Zero Hour
“I will pull those canine’s out of your jackal head and use them to poke out your eyes, you filthy ….urgh!”
The being whose tirade broke down into a mewl of pain rolled around inside the cage. It was a construct of white stone pillars crisscrossed with shining platinum bars on all four sides. The wagon bed rolled along on four wheels of white oak inlaid with pure silver rims that in turn had platinum etched runes set into them.
At twenty feet long and ten wide the moving jail cell could accommodate beings with a height up to twelve feet when standing. The prisoner inside this one was not standing, it was flat on the floor with arms and legs akimbo as if it had fallen there only recently.
Ociros felt a certain tension leave her body, not because of the end to the beings ongoing litany of things it would do to her. It was because they had arrived through the last portal and were now in Cirrilum, the great city of justice in this part of the cosmos.
“It is curious to me why you continue to spend your remaining power on shouting pointless threats at me,” Ociros told the prisoner.
For its part, the being took deep gulping breaths instead of replying, the bulging veins that spread around its limbs glowing with pent up energy. Yellow to orange and around to a matte green before beginning the cycle again.
“I… will…” It started up again.
Ociros raised an eyebrow. “You will what? You cannot even move, and if you could, the cell would keep you inside. Do you even know where we are?”
Probably not. She thought to herself, scratching at a batlike ear while she paralleled the wagon down the highway spoke from the portal to the center of Cirrilum. The being was barely worth her attention, it couldn’t even sit up in the cage which meant it could be the least of the greater powers she had been sent to track down in the past millennium.
Ociros could remember the best recaptures of her career, those who could stand in the cell and walk around it while it moved. Creatures and beings of notoriety, terrible infamy, and when her job was done, of note only in history.
She looked ahead in satisfaction at the central tower of the citadel at the center of Cirrilum. There this prisoner, like all of those before it, would be brought back to the verdict given by justice. She enjoyed her role in capturing fugitives, whether they escaped from lesser courts and judges or the more exceptional.
If they sought to escape justice, she was one of the only significant powers who spent their time tracking, finding, and bringing these beings back.
There was a crack as one of the slate stone of the road broke under her four toe foot. Shaking herself from her reverie Ociros modified her internal makeup to restore the extra weight she had carried back into the ephemeral energy of her immaterial self.
She had been holding power enough to match the prisoner and forgotten to limit her effect on the world. If they had not had to come back by the fastest way possible, she would not be on this highway which was meant to accommodate only lesser powers.
Hence the broken slate, not designed to be exposed to a being of her caliber. Ah well, the repair could be offset against the urgent summons that had her drop everything and return immediately.
If the prisoner had not been so close to capture she would have left him behind to obey the summons.
She put her foot down carefully beside the cracked slate and when it did not break started walking again. The cell wagon starting up again next to her.
At the moment, she kept her height to seven feet, and in her standard humanoid form. Covered in a dense black fur, she resembled the namesake of jackal which the prisoner had used to describe her. On two backward bent legs, she had a smooth-furred tail two and a half feet long, stubby fingers and toes tipped with claws.
Her head was that of a jackal, long nose above a mouth of sharp teeth sweeping back to a stern brow beneath two batlike ears that swiveled their pink insides around. Her eyes, though were nothing like the beast, pure leaf green surrounded an iris of shifting gold within which sat a double pupil.
A skirt of royal purple silk from another realm entirely covered her from waist to backward knees cinched with a platinum belt. Her ten nipples were all visible and pierced with barbell-shaped platinum inset with black diamonds.
As breasts went, she was flat chested, not being a part of
her makeup to be breeding. Not since she had ascended dozens of millennia ago. A long history of time spent among various worlds as a God or Goddess since then and eventually finding her place in the halls of justice.
Ociros was as she had always been, a being that sought balance to the scales and derived her primary talents from the same capacity for balance.
Without a sound, the wagon came to a stop at the door to the central tower, two miles in from the archway they had entered by the portal. The highway was one of seventeen, each set equidistantly along the circle that was the wall of Cirrilum.
Seventeen entrances, all linked directly to the citadel, and between them on the lower ground beneath the highways was the city itself. Buildings to house the administrators, agents, families, and other beings that supported the purpose of Cirrilum.
That purpose was to monitor and affect the justice of this region of the cosmos.
The etched palladium doors of pure platinum swung open at Ociros’s approach, swinging wide inside the fifty-foot frame. With the wagon back in motion behind her Ociros slowly traversed the inner circle of the tower.
She could vaguely sense the other sixteen parallel spaces inside the tower, where an audience was held for each of the highways simultaneously. The city of Cirrilum never stopped, the constructed worldlet it was built on had no sun for there was no night to stop the work of justice.
Ociros stopped outside of the inner circle set into the stone floor with complex sigils and designs inlaid into it. This time the wagon did not stop when she did, with a mind of its own, it rolled over the outer edge of the circle.
Flares of light across the spectrum came off the circle and enfolded the wagon, the translucent barrier passing over the being within who whimpered as the power folded shut behind the back end. It came to a halt in the exact center of the circle which was in the exact center of the tower which itself was in the exact center of the city.
The cell became an absolute prison, once inside that circle, there was no escape. As fas as Ociros knew there was no being or significant power in the entire cosmos which could leave that cell now.
Only a Prime force could do it, and since they were the ones who had constructed it, she did not think she would ever be bringing one here in chains.
Sadly.
Eight translucent figures stepped into the material world from the right-hand wall, then another group of eight from the left. They were evenly spaced along the sides of the circle so that the only place missing was the one which would have stood before the door Ociros had come in.
These were the sixteen Witnesses of Cirrilum, those who ensured the system of justice.
Each figure was at least eighteen feet tall while the tallest was around twenty-five feet. They had no particular form or set of limbs, nor did they all appear humanoid. What was the same was that each was haloed in argent light with their features indiscernible.
They could not be recognized by sight or magic while in this room.
A neutral voice spoke from around the ceiling, there was no indication of who was speaking, their gender, form being, or anything else identifiable.
“You have been recaptured and returned to your sentencing. In your absence, the trial was concluded, and you were found guilty. We are here and Witness that you are the same being and that the sentencing applies to you.”
“So say we all.”
It might have tried to say something, the being in the cage whose name Ociros had already set aside. But it would have taken a gargantuan effort and been an utter waste of time.
The room glowed, the cage glowed brighter, and then a shaft of light spun up from the floor to exit the spire of the tower above. The cage lay empty, and another fugitive was sent to their proper place.
“Congratulations Ociros” The voice intoned.
She bowed gracefully, showing the Witnesses due respect was natural for her, she felt at home with them.
“As to the earnest summons we issued, we apologize for the abruptness.” The speaker continued when Ociros made no comment, the apology was not necessary, she held to her duty.
“We have recently acquired knowledge of a convict, in this case, a very special convict, who has gone on the run.”
A Convict? Now she had a better idea s to the urgency of the summons, a convict was one who had escaped a prison. Past sentencing and already convicted and sent to a prison, it was rare that any who were convicted could escape a prison at this level of the many realms in the cosmos.
“The fugitive has escaped from the Echelon Prison, as such, we need to take this under the highest consideration possible.”
Ociros blinked slowly, the implications of what she had just been told were severe. For any being to escape that prison, it was unheard of. Or it had been kept quiet by all of the Prime powers, something that would not be possible if it was something that happened more than once an eon.
Other prisons could have escapees, a few here and there managed it, and the weaknesses were found and corrected. Depending on what was required for the given convict, there was a prison suitable for them.
The Echelon Prison was the most notorious, if you escaped there, then you would immediately become a target. Which made another thought come to mind.
“How long has the fugitive been out of the Prison?” Ociros asked.
“Sixteen standard years.” Came the reply.
Damn. That meant that this fugitive was smart, able to escape, and then lay low.
The voice rumbled through the tower. “Now you understand why we need you Ociros, only an Arch can track and capture another Arch unless a Prime is involved. We cannot tip off any potential allies or enemies of the fugitive by sending out a cosmos-wide manhunt.”
“You have to do this on your own with only resources of a lesser degree of power than yourself. We will provide whatever you may need. We trust you will find this fugitive and deal with him as efficiently and with as much discretion as you have always shown.”
“Yes, Witnesses, I am at your service.”
“Ociros.”
“Yes, Witnesses?”
The voice took on a tone this time, for the first time she could remember.
“The fugitive received sentencing to the Echelon Prison. Therefore you have permission to use all force necessary. Capture and return are secondary.”
Excerpt from “The Boloi”.
On the magic-filled world of Phareum, the gentle Naru people have lived for generations under the protection of the Boloi. Carefully selected from the Naru themselves and trained to wield powerful magic, the Boloi defend their weaker brethren from the Asagi, invaders from beyond the physical realm.
In return, the Naru allow the Boloi to rule over them and to guide them in all ways.
One Naru, however, is different – Odon, son of traveling performers, with a burning intensity that is rare for one of his people. For most of his young life, Odon has used his raw magical power in his performances, dedicating himself to the perfection of his talent. That all changes when a series of misfortunes strip him of his parents and livelihood.
All he has left is his sister, Ayana, and he will do anything to protect her.
From the fighting pits of Omuzi Anga to the employ of the powerful Boloi Mosa, Odon will fight to keep his sister safe. But he will not be defenseless against the forces threatening them. Fate will provide him with a weapon – a sword blacker than night, with powers his world has never seen.
Fate will also lead Odon to the revelation that all is not as it seems with his people and the Boloi. And the Boloi, in turn, will come to fear Odon and what he represents to them when his sister comes to be at risk.
He is a final, justified, death.
**
Sunlight shone on the waving grass, which spread like a blanket in every direction away from the ruts of the road they followed. Far off on the horizon to their right, the heat shimmer of the arid lands colored the sky.
To their left, the blanket of luscious plant lif
e grew greener the further it went inland, most of Naru being a water-generous land.
It was only the north of Naru that was a barren and inhospitable place. No Naru had seen any need to try and set out and start a village or place to live within the desert conditions, not with so much calm prosperous land to live on everywhere else on the continent.
It was always considered an ill-omened landscape because the difference from grass to bare sand was almost a straight line all the way across northern Naru, from one end to the other.
It was uncertain quite why this was, and neither the Quo nor the Boloi spoke about it. All they knew was that it had happened in the great cataclysm which had ended the time of the Ancient’s millennia ago.
The Boloi studied it as part of their research into how the Asagi came into the world of Phareaum from the beyond, or wherever it was that they came from.
The caravan did not give it any thought; it was just another feature for all Naru and helped for navigating this far north. Traveling by following the sun from rising to fall, they kept the north to their right and headed for Omuzi Pume.
It was a long journey, one that the caravan was used to.
Traveling around Naru always took some time.
The northeast of the continent had always had various villages settled around the two lakes of the area. Travel from these villages to the coast brought Naru to the old ruins among the mountains, what looked like half of a city torn away into the sea.
The Boloi had found the other half of the city on the continent to the north of Naru, they explained that the great cataclysm had ripped larger continents apart into what Phareaum looked like today.
Down along the eastern coast all the way to Omuzi Mosa were plains, grasses, and wetlands for the growing of rice, maize and wheat. The west coast produced fish farms, fruit trees, orchards, and other soft ground plants.
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