It seemed to come from the vicinity of a young man, smartly attired in blue tux and matching bowtie, standing alone watching the band belt out the final song of the year. The youthful watcher had been smiling and singing along with the band, especially the eponymous chorus “tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999” – then scowled as the music neared its end. As Azor looked on, the now visibly unhappy young man had summoned a glowing ball of eldritch purple flame within one hand, and then dashed the flame to the floor. A split-second later, time had shifted and Azor was back with Molon.
Azor took out his aernote and composed a message to Jesse, snatching swift glances at the countdown clock as he did so. Dot dot dash dot, dash dash dash ... “Found source of time shift, we will stop it.” There – sent, and still a minute to go.
Azor beckoned for Molon to follow him. Molon was naturally reluctant to move out into the brightly-lit arena. Before Azor could do much more than start to explain, the aernote bell rang. A short message from Jesse: “Wait”.
Time shifted again.
TEN
Outside The Millennium Dome, London, 11:54 pm
The security guards patrolling the carpark for the Millennium Dome were carefully watching for anyone trying to sneak into the parking facility, crammed as it was with fabulously expensive automobiles. They may have cast covetous glances at the stunning Lamborghini Diablo belonging to an unnamed Saudi royal, but they certainly weren’t paying any attention to the black 1974 Wolseley that was parked near the poorly-lit rear of the carpark. Just as well. The Wolseley’s boot handle turned, the boot quietly opened and a little head popped out. Weebles had decided to invite herself to the party.
No one in sight. Weebles slipped out, adjusted her faux mink coat (two arms through the armholes, two hidden from sight), checked her makeup in a compact retrieved from her purse. Put on enough goop and no-one can tell I’m green! Next came the challenge of getting inside the Dome without a ticket.
Weebles tiptoed carefully from the carpark to the Dome’s front entrance, wobbling just a little on the unaccustomed high heels that represented her best effort to appear all grown up. She arrived at the security cordon just in time to see the guards rushing away from their posts and towards some sort of commotion inside.
Awesome! No need to trot out any of her carefully-rehearsed lines about popping out for a cigarette. Weebles slipped quietly inside the Dome.
ELEVEN
The Millennium Dome, London, 11:56 pm
Jesse headed across once more to Natasha, beckoned to Cathair and Sophie. When they were all gathered around Natasha’s wheelchair, Jesse explained urgently. “Our mission has changed yet again. Now we need to disable Zhukov’s bodyguards and let the Sheriff do her job. I’ll explain why later. Let’s move.”
Confused, but trusting Jesse’s judgment, the three trainees made their way towards the bodyguards, who were once again fanning out to stop Karyn.
Meanwhile, Jesse sent two quick messages by aernote. The first, to Azor, simply said: “Get yourself in position to stop the timeshifter, but do nothing until I send the Okay signal.”
Half a room away, Azor received the message, wondered at its instructions but did as he was told. This time, he managed to convince Molon to leave the safety of his shadowy perch and move closer to the band. From where they stood, they could see their quarry singing along happily.
Weaving frantically amongst the crowds, Karyn wondered yet again when this nightmare would ever end. How many times did she have to kill or be killed on this endless night? She ducked out of sight of the bodyguard she’d taken to calling Eenie – this time, he hadn’t seen her. Then she quickly looked back at Eenie, watched in disbelief as a woman in a wheelchair jabbed at the burly guard with what appeared to be a hypodermic needle. Eenie collapsed to the floor. Seizing her chance, Karyn ran past the fallen bodyguard, heading straight towards Zhukov. No sign of Meenie or Miney, but Moe, the solitary bodyguard still close to Zhukov, chose this moment to decide to be a hero.
Nice thought, but really? Karyn grabbed the bodyguard’s outstretched arm, twisted it at an impossible angle and sent the bodyguard spinning out of the way. In an instant she was back with Zhukov. “Miss me?” she mouthed, before firing a cyanide dart at point-blank range.
Now if only she didn’t have to do this all over again.
11:59 pm. Jesse watched Zhukov crumble to the ground and then pushed the ‘OK’ button. The signal sped its way to Azov, who nodded to Molon. Short-sighted the half-wolfman might be, but he was lethal up close.
Molon bounded over to Indal, just as the final countdown was beginning again on the giant screen.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .”
Molon pulled out a knife, held it to the neck of the unfortunate Indal, hissed a warning: “You do anything, anything at all, and you’re dead meat.”
“Six . . . five . . . four . . .”
Indal wisely froze. No sign of any purple flames this time. Azov sent a quick “OK” back to Jesse.
“Three . . . two . . . one . . . zero. Happy New Year!”
Karyn couldn’t believe that the spell had finally been broken – that her assignment had been completed and she could now escape. She turned to make her way towards the exit, joined the relieved crowds streaming out of the Millennium Dome as they headed to the Thames to watch the fireworks.
Home safe, she thought. Then her exit was blocked – by Pablo, a mercenary for whom she had little time and less respect. Pablo stood a few feet away, waving his usual Glock in her direction.
“Zhat vas a mess,” he said. “Everyone vill know who you are now, Sheriff. Your usefulness to the cause haz come to an end.”
The battle-weary Karyn could barely muster a protest. “Do what you must,” she said, “I’m going home. It’s been a looong night.”
At just that moment, more partygoers surged from the Dome, spilling through the gap between Karyn and Pablo. The fireworks, promoted as the most spectacular ever, were already beginning to light up the London skyline and everyone wanted to find a good viewing spot. The attendees had regained their composure and now they were ready to party like it was finally not 1999.
Karyn stood her ground – let’s get this sorted now, her exhausted body proclaimed – but when the crowd thinned again, there was no sign of Pablo. Where had he gone?
There was a tug on Karyn’s sleeve. She turned, confronted a young girl in a clearly fake mink coat that was far too big for her, perched on improbably high heels.
“Hi!” said the girl brightly. “My name’s Weebles. We need to talk.”
TWELVE
Wapping, London, England, 2 am January 1, 2000
Jesse was debriefing the trainees. “When I examined Zhukov’s probable futures if he survived, the most likely result was war across most of Eastern Europe. Zhukov was a secret believer in the old Soviet empire – within five years, the forces under his control would have been marching back into many of the former Soviet satellite states, ‘invited’ back in response to local emergencies engineered by Zhukov’s followers. It was within our power to save the millions who would have been killed if Zhukov came to power – so I did what had to be done.”
Weebles raised her hand. “Why did your message ask me to talk to Karyn? And how did you even know I was at the Dome party?”
Jesse smiled. “Even if I hadn’t had plenty of years to study human nature, especially that of the very young, I am a prophet. It wasn’t too difficult to predict that you would disobey my instruction to stay on the Orion . . .” Weebles blushed, an interesting effect on her green face. “ . . . or that Karyn would find you non-threatening enough that she would listen to what you had to say. Now she’s with our people. From what Cathair saw in her soul, Karyn is deeply troubled. Hopefully, we can help.
“That’s why we scooped up the backup killer Pablo and left him explaining his Glock to the metropolitan police. Without our intervention, Pablo would have killed Karyn last night and she would have gone straigh
t to Hades. Now, she has a chance to choose a different path.”
“And what about the timeshifter?” asked Weebles.
“We’re trying to convince him to join us. I don’t think he realized the chaos that his timeshifting was creating. He has a great talent, it just needs to be harnessed for more worthy purposes than listening to his favorite song over and over again.”
And on that note, Jesse excused himself. A mindcall had just come in from Ravid.
“You wouldn’t believe what just happened to us,” said Ravid. “The flight to Moscow seemed to go on forever. At one point, it felt like I was living the same few minutes over and over and over again.”
Jesse didn’t feel like explaining, not at two o’clock in the morning. He asked Ravid for an update on the situation in Moscow – and then immediately wished he hadn’t.
“We don't think it’s just New Phoenicia. Looks like our old enemies at the Academy of Secrets might also be involved. And that means ...”
“The Alchemae.” Jesse grimaced as he finished the sentence. “Just what we need, another murderous bunch of genetically modified super-humans trying to kill us.”
THE OUTCAST ANGELS RETURN IN:
ACADEMY OF SECRETS
It’s the year 1610. The world is in grave danger if a long-missing artefact falls into the hands of the Academy of Secrets, a group whose members have gained unnatural powers through alchemy. And Chrymos, a young woman with a mysterious past, may hold the key.
For Chrymos, scrabbling out a wretched living on the streets of Renaissance Naples, the Academy represents a chance to create an exciting new future in a world where she has none. But can she succeed when the Academy's leaders have other plans?
And what about the OUTCAST ANGELS, a ragtag group of former angels exiled from Heaven at the time of the Great Rebellion, who are desperately trying to stop the Academy? They face an uphill battle against alchemy-enhanced humans who can become invisible, cast illusions and create storms and tornadoes.
Will the Academy recover the missing artefact? What part will Chrymos play? And will the prophecies of the demon Nekhbet – that the artefact's recovery will trigger the Lost War – come true? Find out in this fast-paced historical fantasy set in Late Renaissance Italy.
ACADEMY OF SECRETS is the first novel in the LOST WAR cycle, part of the OUTCAST ANGELS series by MICHAEL CARNEY.
ACADEMY OF SECRETS
http://academyofsecrets.com
Afterword
by David G. Johnson
One autumn day, among the digital halls of a Facebook authors group called “Iron Sharpening Iron”, an idea was born. The middle-aged, mind-weary moderator thought, “What about a collective anthology?” The nagging, whispery voice of the devil’s advocate had taken up residence in the dark recesses of the author’s mind, quickly providing his usual negative counterpoints. An anthology? No one likes anthologies. Besides, this has all been done before. You have way too much on your plate to start something like this.
Undaunted, the scrivener released the hand-brake holding the idea to a slow crawl and let it have its run in his mind. Not another “common setting, contributing authors” anthology made famous in the speculative fiction genre by such great works as Robert Asprin’s Thieves’ World or George R. R. Martin’s Wild Cards, but something new. What if, instead of a constant setting with varying characters, the characters were the anchoring constant while the settings were allowed to flow freely, bound only by the borders of the realm of speculative fiction? Even that little antagonist paused at the thought. You know, that might be interesting!
This was pretty much the genesis of the idea. From there, we needed to collect ten to twelve contributing authors from the group interested in participating, have each pitch a unique character with no set restrictions, then have each of the contributing authors write their own unique speculative fiction story involving all ten characters in some way. The result would be like a picture of alternate realities or parallel universes where these same characters had very different lives, experiences, and adventures. The normally unpopular format of an anthology would take on a life of its own as a doorway, which would transport the readers from world to world, from reality to reality, giving them a tour of the multiverse while also providing a tasty showcase for a collection of authors or would-be authors of speculative fiction.
The project took on a life of its own as excitement built among the contributors. Polls were posted in the Facebook group soliciting ideas for cover design, layout, story order, and even titles and sub-titles for what had the potential to grow into an ongoing series. An editor heard about the project and agreed to help. A cover artist was secured to provide the attractive wrapping for this newly devised dish. Soon, all the elements were in place and coming together.
The road to publishing this anthology was not without its challenges. Writers with very different backgrounds, and very different levels of experience, had signed up to be a part of this unique project. This meant getting everything remotely close to some level of consistency, in everything from formatting style to writing skill, took a lot of patience and a lot of love. The final ingredient was an overall teachable spirit from everyone on the team as we sought to learn from each other’s strengths and combat our own weaknesses. Many peer reviews, editorial reviews, and deadlines later, we were ready to go to press.
Unfortunately a myriad of other challenges arose and the original dream of a bound anthology of all ten stories was not going to be a feasible possibility. Limitations on how credit would be applied, royalty distribution, and differing levels of time commitment cropped up. Eventually it looked like the fruit of this fascinating idea was destined to die on the vine. Then, it occurred to me. What if, much like the multiverse setting which framed the stories, we published a distributed anthology? All would share the name “Realms Of Our Own”, but each individual story would have its own subtitle and would be published individually as short stories by each contributing author. That way, each author would set his/her own timeline, publication schedule, etc. and be in charge of their own marketing. Thus the matter was settled and Realms Of Our Own is finally ready to be birthed in its own, distributed anthology, multiverse-incarnation form.
So what do we hope to accomplish with this anthology?
I mean why should anyone pay any attention to another self-published experiment by largely unknown authors? We believe in the value of getting our Iron Sharpening Iron (ISI) works into the hands of as many people as possible. The hope is that each of the contributing authors has his/her own circle of readers, friends, family, church members, distant relatives, and openly receptive complete strangers who can be reached with this work. By giving ten authors, or would-be authors, such a unique venue in which to showcase their abilities, readers formerly unfamiliar with these authors might be led to investigate their other works. Additionally, by presenting a truly unique speculative fiction reading experience, as interesting and loved characters morph their way through different lives and adventures throughout the Realms Of Our Own (ROOO) multiverse, readers will share this anthology with their circles of friends, relatives and receptive strangers to further expand the reach of all the contributing authors.
“So it’s a giant marketing pyramid scam or something then, right?”
No, not at all. I believe I can speak for all the contributing authors when I say if readers of this anthology enjoy our stories and are transported to a world of adventure, then we will have succeeded, even if that reader never buys another story from us. Knowing they enjoyed the experience is reward enough. Of course, if along the way we each pick up a few fans who want to read more of our work, then that is just an added bonus and further encouragement that we are on the path God has called us each to.
From all of us at Iron Sharpening Iron, we wish to thank you for reading this anthology, and it is our sincere hope that at the end of the day you find it time well spent.
Should this anthology be as well received as we are all ho
ping for, we fully intend that there will be future volumes with all new characters, all new worlds, and all new adventures for our readers to experience. For now, buckle up and enjoy your trip through the multiverse.
DISCLAIMER
This work is a collaboration between multiple authors. Each author contributed one character to the collaboration, which each of the respective multiverse authors re-imagined into a new and unique story set in a unique multiverse. All rights to their created characters remain with the contributing author. Some characters may appear in other works by the contributing authors, but stories featuring characters in the Realms Of Our Own Multiverse are not to be considered canon for the author's other works. Differences in Realms Of Our Own stories and details of these characters as they appear in mainstream works by the contributing author are the result of differences in the multiverse.
Contributing authors and their respective characters:
Molon Hawkins - David G. Johnson
Indalrion "Indal" Tay - K.M. Carroll
Karyn Littleton - Zerubbabel Emunah
Grayson Floyd - Jeremy Bullard
Cathair - Othniel Emunah
Weebles - Lemuel
Natasha Genesis - Parker J. Cole
Azor - Mark Malcolm
Jesse - Michael Carney
Sophia "Sophie" Sanchez - Stanley Dixon
Realms of our Own – Author Bios
Michael Carney: Michael Carney began his writing career at 17, straight from high school, writing radio advertisements for a bright and shiny new radio station in the glorious South Island of New Zealand (only a few hours’ drive from that wonderful scenery made famous by Sir Peter Jackson in ‘Lord of the Rings’ and, latterly, ‘The Hobbit’).
In the decades since, Michael has carved out a career in advertising and marketing. These days he writes and administers online training courses covering a range of Social Media Marketing and eCommerce topics at http://NetmarketingCourses.com.
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