The Chronicles of Ki
Book 1: In The Beginning
© Copyright 2024 Frank Walters Clark ~ All Rights ReSERVED
Outside of Shine’r lies a small, ancient, decay-ridden village of crowded dark and dingy lanes. The rain has forced most of Nugl’s residents to remain indoors; only a few dares go out.
A cowled portal light hangs awkwardly from a roof’s apex. Below it, a squat windowless building, Paxqal’s Public, leans haphazardly against its neighbor.
Dimly lit, the public’s interior stinks of tobaweed. Just enough light though, for its denizens to reach across the bar and grasp their next fill.
Like a black-barked zoltree, Catma of Uruk looms in the doorway. He wears the shiny, horned helmet of the Heroes and a long black mantle. His nose crinkles at the foul odors issuing from within. Surveying the public’s occupants, his senses tell him this is not a good place to be.
In a dark corner, a floatable slants at a slight angle to one side. Behind it, an unkempt, dark-bronze skinned giant sits alone, chair to wall.
He wears a soiled, faded and patched Hero’s uniform, and nods asleep over an empty drog stein.
Catma moves quietly over and drags a chair up, then sits erect and squinting. He sees blonde hair, deep scars. Massively broad- shouldered, muscular build.
Some small detail pecks at him, and Catma leans back to ruminate. Raising slightly off his chair, he leans in and whispers four words in the giant’s ear.
“Autak Aa, Visor Majin,” he says, sitting down and waiting for his reaction.
Visor Majin crashes his chair against wall and stands full on, eleven feet. Swaying he pounds his chest once, and from the depths of his lungs booms out a crushing salute.
“Autak Aa! My commander!”
Autak Aa is an ancient phrase which, when rendered in a vile, twisting fashion, invokes blood fears in Nibs.
Catma smiles and gazes at the huge young man, then says, “Relax, hero, I just want to talk about a visorhood for you. If you can stop drinking long enough to answer the call.”
Visor Majin chokes back a cry. “I am ashamed, sir. I am not the man you once knew.”
“Can you still wield an e-spear?” Catma says. “Or manage a compad?”
Paling suddenly, Catma descends momentarily into flashes of hazed memories of bloodshed. Laser cannons. Shot Down. Fiery wreckage. Giant hands.
Visor Majin sniffs and thumbs tears from his cheeks. “I have not forgotten my training, leader.”
Catma smiles, then gently taps his soldier’s arm. “All I needed to hear, Majin. I want you at my side again, as my ranking visor.”
Catma stands and Visor Majin leaps up. A head taller than his leader, he beams. “Dal! I am at your command, leader!”
Catma turns to door and gestures at the gentle man-giant, saying, “I see you have not forgotten your fealty, either. Follow me Majin, to your new assignment.”
“I am yours, leader!”