Two teenagers born 800 years apart are brought together to lead the battle against the children of the ancient gods. The Anakim!
Holborn Circus
London, England
September 2008.
A red object smashed into him. High as his knee its impact almost knocking him from his feet. All around were hollow rocks, hills, and mountains full of bright lights... and tasty worms.
They scurried from him. Fast, but not fast enough. How he would feast. He delighted in their taste.
The red rock began to spurt a warm, fluid over his foot. He rolled his head down his leg, to where his limb had been struck by the thing and licked, tasting. It was created from rocks, many different categories of rock, but rocks all the same. Rocks and silicates that had been melted in fire and their shapes altered.
That interested him, but he hadn’t time for study. Providing for the troop was of greater importance. One of the worms was hanging halfway through a broken slice of silicate at the front of the rolling rock. He pulled it free; it had been trapped amongst the crumpled and broken pieces. Wriggling, it made a screeching sound through a hole in its exposed end. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. It smelt good. Kokablel bit off the exposed portion crunching the crispy morsel, relishing the exquisite taste of the juices as they flowed across his tongue and around his mouth, ravishing his senses. He felt his blood race, his senses sparking. He swallowed the delicious crunchy piece, sucked the remainder dry, and then threw the remnants away. It was too much trouble to peel off the inedible outer coverings.
About him were rocks of various shapes and sizes. Hundreds of worms moved in them, issuing their high-pitched noises. The rolling rocks had come to a halt when the red one smashed into him; they too had worms inside. Some held just one or two, but others, the larger red ones, were full.
A white rock, with a flashing blue light, emitting a howling noise, wove its way through the stationary rocks towards him. Its wailing annoyed him. Wrenching his foot free he made his way towards it, kicking any stationery rocks out of his path. Upon reaching it, Kokablel stamped on the wailing rock three times. Defenceless, it crumpled and flattened. Instantly, the annoying howls ceased, his irritation subsided.
The rock that had crashed into him was packed with worms, most of them waving miniature arms and opening their holes to squeal as they attempted to escape from the two levels. Easily, Kokablel lifted it, swinging it smoothly onto his shoulder.
With his free hand he began picking up scattered worms which lay unmoving on the ground. There were some he noticed, massing; frantically attempting to return to a hole in the ground from where they had previously spewed in their hundreds. He snatched up handfuls of them, stuffing them into his cavernous pouch. Inside it many were still moving. Others that had fallen from the red rock were still.
As soon as his pouch was full, he waved his free arm, feeling once again for the tear.
Finding it where he’d left it; Kokablel stepped through, allowing it to close behind him.
Excerpt
The Northern Plains
As quickly as it fell, so the mist dispersed, she found herself in the open, the forest had disappeared, looking all around her, she could see no sign of it.
The sun was sinking fast, the sky a riot of colour; the unnaturally violent display didn’t register through her confusion. Mira began to panic, she was lost and she knew she could be anywhere. Without another option she decided to follow the sun as it set.
With startling rapidity the sun disappeared, leaving a pink stain running along the black horizon, painting a bright edge to the darkening sky. Mira noticed a green haze shimmering in the sky, away to her left. In fear she prayed for protection from the impromptu light show, unable to tear her eyes from it.
The horses kept moving. Mira was content to let them amble at their own pace, all the time hoping against hope that wolves were not trailing her. A thick mist rose around her yet again she could see no more than a couple of paces, and allowed her horse to go where it would. She mumbled a swift a prayer to the saints; that her mount would not tumble into a crevasse, or trip into a hole. She held tight to Daniel’s charger, feeling as she did some tenuous connection.
The horses began climbing, each step more demanding than the one before it. The air was damp, cold and thin, catching in her throat, causing her to gasp rasping gulps as she tried to pull her next breath. Surely she could not have climbed so high. The mist thinned and she began to see more of her surroundings.
The temperature was plummeting; her breath and that of the horses’ billowed in great clouds, which she could clearly see in the dim starlight.
Before long the moon began to rise. Huge clouds raced towards a mysterious green flickering in the distance. In the now bright moonlight, Mira deduced that somehow she had followed a route that had brought her onto a plateau, far above the tree line.
Moving across a wide field of long grasses she approached a cluster of tall rocks.
Reaching the circle of standing stones, she slipped from horseback. Pulling the well trained horses down; she lay with them out of the wind, behind the tallest stone. Still she shivered as her body heat dispersed. Thankfully she had been wearing a thick woollen riding cloak over her winter clothing. Without it, and the warmth from the horses, she could have frozen to death before the morning. Mira could do nothing but pull the cloak tightly around her and hunker down out of the wind.
Snow began to fall as totally exhausted, she fell asleep.
The sun rose and swiftly warmed the air, melting the light snow-covering. Mira woke, facing the rising sun. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she stamped in an attempt to bring back circulation, and then stood for a while slapping her arms about her body. Feeling warmer she began to investigate her surroundings, and found a small stream bubbling up from beneath one of the tall rocks.
Lying on her stomach on the damp, cold ground she drank deeply to quench her thirst, and then encouraged the horses to drink. Mounted, she moved out from the rocks, her aim being once more to follow the rising sun. In her mind, heading east should give a route down the mountain, and ultimately to the Lizard’s encampment.
Ahead was a low mound. Spurring her horse to the top, she gazed for a while at the vista before her, astounded at the vast open expanse. The plain was covered with unfamiliar purple headed grasses which grew as high as her knees. She guessed they would easily reach her chest were she not on horseback.
A chill wind blew from the snow capped mountains in the far distance. The grass rippling like waves reminded her of the warm waters of the sea where as a child, she had swum with her older brother. That same sea which had so swiftly turned violent, and had taken her brother’s life swamping his little boat with huge waves.
In wonder, she watched a large herd of large oxen make their way past her vantage point. They were close enough that she could hear clicking as their horns touched. It was a magnificent sight. She attempted to tally their numbers, but promptly gave up for there were far too many. She could make out other herds in the distance; they too, were travelling in the same direction.
“Now which way?” she shouted, her voice loud and outlandish in this place of almost silence. Her mount flicked an ear at the sound, and then took another mouthful of the strange purple grass.
In the distance stood a tall mountain, towering over the others clustered about its feet; a volcano if the tendril of smoke that climbed from its peak told the truth. She decided to make her way towards the new landmark.
Her horse had taken but a single step when Mira was struck a heavy blow from behind. Unbalanced she fell forward, tumbling from the horse. She rolled down the incline, striking her head on a rock. A dark curtain fell over her. As she blacked out, she was vaguely aware of a harsh screeching and jabbering.
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