Miles zipped away from most of the assault, endured the rest, and counterattacked with a storm of his own. The resultant explosion made the ground tremble even from this distance, and a thin tornado swirled into existence around Miles, ripping up more of the city.
Dunstan could not keep watching, however. He had to keep an eye on the rest of the battlefield. If the clash with Miles was somehow a diversionary tactic, then Dunstan would not allow it to work. But his caution proved needless, as he didn’t see any other disturbances.
Then the analogue bell inside the Keep went off.
Dunstan held his position, knowing it was not his job to deal with whatever the problem was. He did, however, ask Reza for an update. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Shut up, I’m looking into it.’
And again, he found himself waiting.
Cpt. General Miles got back to Dunstan before Reza did, arriving inside another rumbling gale. The man’s shredded clothes barely clung to his body now, and his airman’s overcoat was still smoldering with blackened stains. “Yep,” he said in the dual voice of pan-rozum. “That was definitely a trap.”
Dunstan’s brow receded. “A-are you alright, sir?”
“Oh, sure, don’t worry about us. We could really go for an ice cream sandwich, though. Think we’ll go get one from the kitchen. You want anything?”
“Er, n-no thank you.”
“You sure? Not even a drink? A bag of chips? One of those giant pretzels, maybe? Do we have those things?”
“Sir, the emergency alarm is going off.”
“Ah. So it is. Guess we’ll look into that, afterward.” He allowed a beat to pass. “So did you want a snack or...?”
“No, sir, I’m fine.”
Miles stared at him. “...We’ll get you something, anyway.” And he was gone again, leaving his residual gust of wind behind as usual.
Dunstan wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried. When he looked back at the enemy’s location, he saw a street riddled with blood and body parts.
‘Well,’ came Rezamaar’s voice, ‘I found out what all the commotion is about.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Someone managed to break into the freezer and destroy one of the captive Rainlords’ heads.’
Dunstan’s eyes widened. ‘Which one?’
‘I’m listening for that answer now. Sounds like... oh shit. It was Zeff. They fucking freed Zeff Elroy.’
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Monday, November 3, 2014
Page 872
“Ah, so you’ve actually met your grandfather in person?” asked Miles.
“Yes, sir.”
“Must be a different guy, then. The man I’m thinking of died about forty years ago.”
‘Unless he somehow survived,’ amended Overra.
Miles laughed lowly. “That would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”
Dunstan was curious now. “Who was the man you were thinking of?”
The Cpt. General took a second to respond. “He was a lunatic. The kind of person that the world is better off without.”
The abrupt severity in the other man’s voice did not escape Dunstan’s notice. “What was his name?” Dunstan asked.
“It’s not important. Best to just forget about people like that.”
Dunstan sensed something contradictory in that statement, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. Miles acted like the most laid back boss in the world, but the fact remained that Dunstan didn’t know the man very well. He’d rather not get on his superior’s bad side by asking too many questions.
Finally, something new caught his eye. Another figure darted across the street in the same location as earlier. Dunstan raised his binoculars in time to see it happen a third time.
“You see that?”
“Yes, sir.”
They waited, but there was no other movement.
Such was the thrill of being a watchman.
Personally, Dunstan didn’t mind the long periods of nothingness. Coping with tense downtime was a skill, like anything else. The trick was to think without getting lost in thought, to wonder without daydreaming.
And in spite of the man’s earlier claim, Dunstan could not imagine Cpt. General Miles doing this job. And this notion was soon reaffirmed for him.
“They could be luring us into a trap.” Miles allowed a beat to pass. “I’ll go check.”
Overra melted back into his body, and then Parson leapt away in a gust of wind that made the armored walls shudder.
Dunstan could see the man going to work, tearing through the air like a missile and falling upon the enemy’s location with just as much force. An explosion of air crushed four buildings at once and flung their remains up from the ground. Broken trees and vehicles and slabs of concrete tumbled down the road together, and Miles just hovered there in the middle of it all, waiting.
After a weighty pause, the storm hit him. Crowds of metal spikes, audible gunfire, visible distortions in space even from this distance, and all manner of flaming chaos came for the man at the same time.
“Yes, sir.”
“Must be a different guy, then. The man I’m thinking of died about forty years ago.”
‘Unless he somehow survived,’ amended Overra.
Miles laughed lowly. “That would be awkward, wouldn’t it?”
Dunstan was curious now. “Who was the man you were thinking of?”
The Cpt. General took a second to respond. “He was a lunatic. The kind of person that the world is better off without.”
The abrupt severity in the other man’s voice did not escape Dunstan’s notice. “What was his name?” Dunstan asked.
“It’s not important. Best to just forget about people like that.”
Dunstan sensed something contradictory in that statement, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. Miles acted like the most laid back boss in the world, but the fact remained that Dunstan didn’t know the man very well. He’d rather not get on his superior’s bad side by asking too many questions.
Finally, something new caught his eye. Another figure darted across the street in the same location as earlier. Dunstan raised his binoculars in time to see it happen a third time.
“You see that?”
“Yes, sir.”
They waited, but there was no other movement.
Such was the thrill of being a watchman.
Personally, Dunstan didn’t mind the long periods of nothingness. Coping with tense downtime was a skill, like anything else. The trick was to think without getting lost in thought, to wonder without daydreaming.
And in spite of the man’s earlier claim, Dunstan could not imagine Cpt. General Miles doing this job. And this notion was soon reaffirmed for him.
“They could be luring us into a trap.” Miles allowed a beat to pass. “I’ll go check.”
Overra melted back into his body, and then Parson leapt away in a gust of wind that made the armored walls shudder.
Dunstan could see the man going to work, tearing through the air like a missile and falling upon the enemy’s location with just as much force. An explosion of air crushed four buildings at once and flung their remains up from the ground. Broken trees and vehicles and slabs of concrete tumbled down the road together, and Miles just hovered there in the middle of it all, waiting.
After a weighty pause, the storm hit him. Crowds of metal spikes, audible gunfire, visible distortions in space even from this distance, and all manner of flaming chaos came for the man at the same time.
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Page 871
Dunstan shifted in his seat. He wasn’t sure how they’d ended up on this topic all of a sudden. He never liked talking about his family, even with Reza. “The truth is, sir... I ran away from home when I was fifteen.”
“I see. And why did you run away?”
He hesitated again, impulsively pulling his eyes away from the battlefield in order to glance at Miles. A mistake, Dunstan immediately knew. Miles didn’t seem to notice or care, but Dunstan was kicking himself for his unprofessionalism as he refocused on observing.
It was odd, though. Like a faint pressure in his chest. And around his head. His whole body, even. And as much as he would have preferred not to answer that question, remaining silent seemed somehow untenable, nor could he come up with an appropriate lie in time. “My family is full of criminals. If I didn’t leave, I probably would’ve ended up like them.”
“And your reaper didn’t have a problem with that?”
“I didn’t meet her until I was seventeen. She doesn’t have any ties to my family. I doubt they even know reapers exist.”
“I wouldn’t be too certain of that.”
Dunstan’s gaze flickered again, and he had to concentrate in order to keep his eyes where they needed to be. “What do you mean, sir?”
But instead of answering, Cpt. General Miles chose to ask a different question. “Where was your family living when you left?”
And there it was again--that unexplained pressure, pushing him onward, compelling him to speak. “Dante. I think we had some cousins in Atreya, too. Why?”
“What is your grandfather’s name?”
“Damian. Why, sir?”
“Ha. No reason.”
“Sir, please stop being so mysterious. Do you know my grandfather?”
“I don’t know anyone named Damian Rofal, no.”
“Then...?”
“But you do remind me of someone I once knew. You have the same eyebrows he had.”
‘Same eyes, chin, and hair color, too,’ added Overra.
“It’s really the eyebrows, though,” said Miles. “Very distinctive, those things. You could probably pull them off your face and use them as weapons.”
‘They’re like angry boomerangs,’ said Overra.
Dunstan tried to take that as a compliment. “Apart from his name, I don’t remember much else about my grandfather. He only visited a few times when I was a child. I don’t think he got along well with my parents.”
“I see. And why did you run away?”
He hesitated again, impulsively pulling his eyes away from the battlefield in order to glance at Miles. A mistake, Dunstan immediately knew. Miles didn’t seem to notice or care, but Dunstan was kicking himself for his unprofessionalism as he refocused on observing.
It was odd, though. Like a faint pressure in his chest. And around his head. His whole body, even. And as much as he would have preferred not to answer that question, remaining silent seemed somehow untenable, nor could he come up with an appropriate lie in time. “My family is full of criminals. If I didn’t leave, I probably would’ve ended up like them.”
“And your reaper didn’t have a problem with that?”
“I didn’t meet her until I was seventeen. She doesn’t have any ties to my family. I doubt they even know reapers exist.”
“I wouldn’t be too certain of that.”
Dunstan’s gaze flickered again, and he had to concentrate in order to keep his eyes where they needed to be. “What do you mean, sir?”
But instead of answering, Cpt. General Miles chose to ask a different question. “Where was your family living when you left?”
And there it was again--that unexplained pressure, pushing him onward, compelling him to speak. “Dante. I think we had some cousins in Atreya, too. Why?”
“What is your grandfather’s name?”
“Damian. Why, sir?”
“Ha. No reason.”
“Sir, please stop being so mysterious. Do you know my grandfather?”
“I don’t know anyone named Damian Rofal, no.”
“Then...?”
“But you do remind me of someone I once knew. You have the same eyebrows he had.”
‘Same eyes, chin, and hair color, too,’ added Overra.
“It’s really the eyebrows, though,” said Miles. “Very distinctive, those things. You could probably pull them off your face and use them as weapons.”
‘They’re like angry boomerangs,’ said Overra.
Dunstan tried to take that as a compliment. “Apart from his name, I don’t remember much else about my grandfather. He only visited a few times when I was a child. I don’t think he got along well with my parents.”
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