Chapter 4
Track 2: Walk alone
After his meeting with Walker, Mac catches a flight back to what passes for home. Around 1940 he had purchased a storage locker compound in the suburbs of what was then St. Paul Minnesota, after redrawing of property lines it is now part of Minneapolis, as small town often called Saint Louis Park. Over his endless lifetime he has collected a great wealth of trinkets. Some valuable, some of value only he can see. But never the less he has enough to construct a healthy museum out of.
The band is on the flight home with him, the girls tend to get loud and sometime bitty, but they are kids, for them the world is still young and they can be afforded the right to enjoy life. Mac on the other-hand has walked around the world more than once, his head drops onto the glass looking down at the ground as they fly cross country, his eyes drift shut and ages past assault his resting mind. Mac wears a chain around his neck with three rings on it. Each in memorial to a family he once had.
The oldest of the rings Mac has worn since the bronze age, but the memories attached thereto far predate that. The ring is a blue silver, carved into the inner band is a feather and a blossoming flower. The time in which this memory belongs is so far into the prehistory of this world that trying to assign a date to it would be both laughable and pointless.
It was a time when the world was still hot, salt and oxygen stain the sky red and green. Life was in its most fluid form, drastic transformations happening every hand full of generations. Sa-la-daynamO visited this world for the first time then. Monsters ruled the world in those days, ones so grate and horrifying they could hardly be described.
The most beautiful monster in Sa-la-daynamO’s eyes was what today would be called the Tarra-bird, her body was lined with feathers of white and pink, a speckle of yellow found only at the tip of her tail, her beck was long and slender with a sharp spearhead at the point of it. She nested in a bush of a proto-rose. The flowers mimicking her eye color. She was far from the largest or strongest of beast but she was sleek and in an era where size was what fetched the highest price in evolution she chose cunning. She didn’t need to out fight her competition if she could out maneuver it.
Sa-la-daynamO found this little bird enchanting. He simply needed to beckon to her. He mimicked her shape, fallowed her as she hunted, learned how to do rudimentary sowing from her. Sa-la-daynamO shared his grace with her. Let her live 20 lifetimes. He happily stayed with her and feathered many eggs with her. In a time when loyalty was not yet a concept this world known he offered it as a gift to the smallest giant ever born.
Sa-la-daynamO’s feathered mate would have lived indefinitely if he had any say in it but of all that which he could do he could not prevent an unforeseeable accent from calming her life. In his memories Mac has given her a name and a voice, he calls her Tarren Delarose. Every lifetime his memories of her change slightly but the feeling of insatiable lust never fades.
The feeling of wings around his body draw Mac into a fantasy, the red sky of his first life intruding on his current. Tarrin whispers to Mac in a langue never spoken by modern man but we he himself understand perfectly well. “how many more lifetimes do you have to live? When will you return with me to the place of forgotten memories?”
“I can’t. not now, not ever. The universe won’t let me return home.”
“so, you are dammed to walk alone?”
“through endless ages and time untold.”
Hot breath runs down Mac’s neck and a lite peck finds his ear. “so only in your sleep do you find peace. In haunted memories where no one can fallow.”
“Tarrin, why do you keep coming back here?”
“why do you keep calling to me? I gave you a lifetime worth of pleasure. you gave me your soul.” Tarrin’s voice, the wispy chirping and gertalling gives way to another voice, one from a world before time. One he has not heard since Yggdrasil, that of his younger brother Fillous-Mammon “was it worth it?”
As Mac twist and thrashes in his set fighting with his dreams the girls have pulled out a bottle of hard liquor and are playing a game. Charisma refills her cup after having taken a drink then proclaims “my turn.” All the girls with the exception of Tail have changed from there stage clothing to much more relaxed T-tops and tights. “who here has slept with more than four guy in a weekend?” Charisma takes a drink, but on one else on this round “Still me then.” She looks around noticing she was the only one to drink “who has dated a man twice their age or half of it?”
Tail looks over “Mac count?”, Tail has the appearances of a human fox hybrid with a cluster of nine tails, she has orange red hair and tanned fur with a sandy scrip running down her neck and chest with matching rips, her eyes are a chrome green. She has on a blue tie shirt with the phrase ‘I leave marks’ across the front with a wolf face on the back and a blue jean.
Charisma looks over with a smirk “no way. Not human, doesn’t count.” Charisma takes a drink then looks around “what, how many drinks have you had Alice?”
Alice looks at her cup “none, this is the same cup from when we started.”
“you can’t be that much of a good girl.” Charisma complains
Alice takes away the bottle “try asking about something other than sex and drinking. My turn.” Alice drinks a glass to get warmed up then pours herself another cup “Who here has dismantled their elder sister with an ax?” Alice takes a drink and pours another, “how many of you don’t know the name of your biological father”
Tail takes a drink “I have like twenty for fathers, I’m counting it.”
Alice takes a third drink “who here ran away from home at thirteen?”
Tail whispers as she pours herself another “I was younger then that.”
Alice takes a forth drink “who had lived in a nonunary?”
Tail specks up “arrested at seven, counting it.”
Alice throw the bottle across the room noticing it is empty. Alice leans forth onto all fours as she gets noise to noise with Charisma “Some of us had to pay our way in life with blood, rich girl.” Alice stands up walking away from the game.
Tail stands up “Gotta pee.” Tail walks off.
Charisma looks between Lucca and where Alice was. “So, is she just in heat or what?”
Lucca shrugs “ask Tail.”
Mac Jars awake, he digs around in the pockets of his black silk coat and feel up and down the pockets of his slacks looking for a notebook. Failing to find one he calls over “Tail!?”
Lucca calls back “she is in the loo.”
Mac waves Lucca and Charisma over “Come over here guy, I want to snowball with you.”
Charisma Jokes around “I don’t know what that phrase meant when you were a kid, but today it’s sort-of dirty.” The two girls walk over to Mac.
Mac turns in his seat to face them as they gather about “do you have your tablet on you?”
Lucca pulls a computer from a storage compartment above the set behind Mac “I do now.”
“Grate, can you give me a drumline that sounds like a clock ticking?”
Lucca plays around on the computer for a moment pulling open a program that writes and imitates music “Tic tic, or tic toc?”
Mac thinks about it “play both.”
Charisma cuts in “if it is tic toc I would play that as symbol then snare 2/2 time I think.”
Lucca nods recording it on her device. Mac drops his head back thinking “how about a music box like line for rhythm? Something like; G,D,F, half not rest, C,B,A half not rest, repeat.”
Lucca keeps typing, Charism looks to Mac “What about base?”
“Don’t know yet.” Mac replies
Lucca tries to read back the mesures so far “are we in 4/4 or ¾ time?”
“3/4” Mac nods
“that is unsettling.” Lucca explains “and not very power metal.”
Mac holds out his hands to take the device “May I?” Lucca passes it over to him
Mac starts typing up a first draft for a song to go along with the melody he is dreaming up.
“Salt the ashes atop the bed.
Lay out flowers, a gift for the dead.
Ghastly whispers in your head.
They tell the world there still around.
Even asleep inside the ground.
They never let go.
Through endless ages
Forever more.
I walk alone.
Beckoned back
I can never go.
Untold time,
And sleepless nights.
I dream of now.
Forever alone.
I must walk alone.
The world may never know,
I am still around.
In restless dreams,
This drifter found,
He walks with me,
He too walks with me alone alone.
With broken wings,
She speaks to me.
Burning ash
And shattered wings
From times long ago
With me we walked alone.
But to this day
Hopelessly
I walk alone. ”
Tail slides into the set behind Mac’s leaning over him to read as he writes. “it not my favorite, but it’s a place to start. Is this disturbingly autobiographical?”
The flight cross country is one the group has made many times in the last few year, it is a trip they have grown accustomed to. After getting back to Minnesota it is short ride to the car rental lot, and only a few minutes from down town to the outskirts under ideal driving conditions. Saint Louis Park is a idealistic place; tall trees in every yard, swamps, lakes and ponds, and parks within walking distances of anywhere and one of the best funded nature centers in the state. Minnesota is now and always has been at the cutting edge of science and education, a contemporary Alexandria.
Lucca looks into the storage locker as they approach it “you live here?”
Mac steps out of the van they rented and approaches one of the buildings in the lot. “I live wherever I happen to be. This is just where I buried all my treasure.” The door opens to review a museum hidden in the storage locker. Paintings from every era, sculptures hundreds of years old, toy and stuffed dalls of all sorts sitting on shelves around the locker, an orchestra worth of interments, and a wall dedicated to the most elegant of military artillery from the bronze age though to today.
Tail looks between her traveling companions “I know an archeologist that would trade his ears for a catalog of this stuff.”
After the group of them walk in Mac shuts the door revealing a mess of magic words drawn on the door. Lucca looks over the writing “sigil’s of non-detection
Charisma looks back to Lucca, “you really are a witch aren’t you?”
Lucca pivots to face Charisma “I never did anything to try to hide that fact.”
As Alice is walking around she stops in front of a glass wardrobe with a what looks to be a 1940’s era German officer’s uniform “is this a Schutzstaffel outfit?” she leans in examining I “fully outfitted with gunshot wounds.”
Mac walks around finding a small living space he had dug out in the center of the room “Yeah, I had been drafted.”
Tail looks over “you were a Nazi?”
Mac throughs his hands up in a shrug “everyone has a bad day here or there. Personally I spent the war as a glorified accountant.”
Alice snidely jokes “I suppose if you had agreed with the Nazi philosophy history would have played out differently.”
Mac nods “when a Tamreal take interest in a war they tend to change the world.”
Alice stands before Mac looking down at him as he has taken a set in an old dated looking chair “How strong are you Tamreal?”
“Do you want to see?”
Alice clinches her fingers on one hand cracking her knuckles “yeah, I would love to see just what you are.”
Tail yells out “thou shall not tempt the lord.”
Mac nods as he gets up and walks around the room looking over his weapons “you ever fire a Kalashnikov?” he picks up a rifle and throws it at Alice. She catches it with stunning efficiency, racking and tapping the wepoin as she lifts it to aim down range.
Alice nods “K-47 assault modal, nice. Where did you find this?”
“USSR” Mac is quick to reply. Mac rubs his hands together standing in front of the rifle “should be loaded, fire when ready.”
Lucca looks over “please try not to kill our Base player, I sort of like him.”
“If he is what he reports to be this gun doesn’t have anywhere near enough fire power to harm him. If not, I guess he is a liar.” Charisma and Lucca flinch at the sound of machinegun fire, Tail lowers her ears but watches interested.
Mac stands through the volley of fire, a splash of sand erupting from his body with each shot but otherwise no detectible damage. Once Alice stops shooting there is a serval second long pause as everyone stands staring at the spectacle. Mac claps his hands and takes a step back to center his balance before taking a bow and announcing “was that or was that not the coolest thing in the world?” Tail is the first to applaud
Lucca looks at Alice once the shock of the gunfire has worn off “where did you learn how to shoot?”
Alice replies “Sunday school, I can also juggle knives.”
Lucca nods “I want to go to your Sunday school.”
***
Joe Dove approaches the front door of the main complex; a multilevel foyer with potted plants lining the doors, two stairwells visible from the door and several balconies looking down at the commons. Two priest wait to be greeted, they are dressed in the same outfit as Lances Jacob; gray coats, black hats and boots, and leather gloves to being it all together both with some accessories that are key to their own ends, the older of the two has a book bag with him the younger a long hunting knife tied to his arm.
The lot of them shack hands and share names as a curtesy, the younger priest refures to himself as Brother Headsmen, the older as Brother Nightingale. Headsmen clearly is short tempered and a man that like to get to the heart of any given matter “y’all have a friend of mine tied up in your basement. It’s ‘bout time you let him go.”
Joe smiles like a wolf showing sabers “No.”
Headsmen doesn’t take this well puling his knife to threaten Joe, Nightingale produces a navy pistol from his coat fallowing his associates lead. From the balconies on the upper floors twelve men with rifles click on flashlights to announce their presents. Joe laughs explaining “did you know this county has open carry? What do you think? Should we have a good old fashion shoot out? But I fear I might have brought more guns then you ”
Nightingale tries to defuse the situation “Mr. Dove, Ark Cardinal St. Frances would like to request your aid at the Church of the Hammer. If you are prepared we would be happy to escort you there.”
Joe waves for his guards to lower their arms “I would be happy to fallow you. Also, could you call ahead and let the Cardinal know that my birthday is coming up. I have a shopping list of things I need to pick up, if she has time maybe she can help me pick up one or two things off my list.”
***
Wright von Richton hands out a stack of folders for her team to look over, they have gathered in the study of the Watcher complex. David Jazzmen is sitting leaned back, his chair propped up on two lags, he opens the first folder, glances at it, then throws it over his shoulder disinterested, he does the same for the second and third folder handed to him keeping only the forth on the table.
Von Richton slaps her cane on the table to get Jazzmen’s attention “is there a particular explanation for this insufferable display.”
“Frankly ms. Von Richton. This job, it isn’t my style. You keep throwing ‘small fish’ at me. File number one for example; target, Charlie Belmond, human, no real threat there. Possible with a Methuselah body guard? Still not getting me that hot and bothered. The only thing Belmond has worth looking at is a rusty flail that may have been forged in hell. File number 2, Senator Walker, a Lunarion wizard, a ‘hard target’, yes, but for the wrong resin. He is on the public eye, this is a job for a sniper, not a kill squad. Number 3, the Avatar Sword, in the hands of a rock star, give me a break, a sword that kills anything it cuts and it somehow was dropped by Sa-La-daynamO and ended up in the collection of some hotshot art collector. The only thing here that sounds remotely fun to me is number 4.” Jazzmen offers a sidewise glance to Wright von Richton, he knows he annoys her, he finds it fun.
Von Richton places her hands on the table leaning over Jazzmen. Her eyes flash with holy fire beyond her glasses. Wright von Richton is a woman of noble heritage and the insubordination of her underlings is something she as trouble stomaching. Wrights jaw tightens, her brow curls downwards as she tries to lock eyes with David Jazzman. “Devil, you are nothing more than a rich kid. You were born into a place of privilege and I have no doubt that you had little to fear in your past life but this is not the land of Dis, and you are not in the compony of your father any longer, your bastered nobility will offer you little favor here.”
Jazzmen has closed his eyes resting his hands on his head as he leans back “I’m a demon that kills other demons for fun, you and your wizard friends have nothing on me. You want me to stick around and make these mongrels into a winning team? Entertain me.”
Blake leans into Marin with a whisper “Wright is going to kill him.”
Marin flips back the tails of her violet overcoat placing a hand on her pistol waiting to see what happens next.
Wright stars down David for some time, David excepts the challenge, David folds his hands on the table and meats Wrights death-gaze. The two clearly start to speak to each-other but by some no physical means. Wright smiles and stands up straight bracking off their link “You can have things your way Mr. Jazzmen. Bring me the Souleaster and we will talk about this more intimately.”
Blake looks between Charlet and Marin “what the hell was all that?”
Marin takes her hand from her gun hiding it once more “Jazzmen is strong, between old warriors more can be said in silence then battle.” Marin disappears into her reading.
Blake looks to Charlet to see if she has anything to add, Charlet throw her hands up in bewilderment. Von Richton closes her eyes taking off her glasses to clean them, she turns to face away from the party as she does so, “Seeing how you already know the gist of the mission, I will give you a few hours to talk over the mission. One of our men got a lock on Charlie Belmond in the city of Chinchilla. I expect that you will be able to pick up the trail from him. I want a list of all the provisions you will need and I want you on the road before sunrise tomorrow.”
