Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
And then… fighting.
I just sit there in the sand—breathing so hard my chest and throat are burning with the effort—and watch the battle as the muscles in my legs tremble.
What the hell is happening?
“Come on!” I yell. “You fucking gods! You’re a bunch of assholes!” Again, I’m shaking my fist like an old man. “One break! One stupid break!”
“I’ll give you a break!”
I turn at the voice over my shoulder, look up, and just barely manage to fall backwards as the curved and gleaming blade on the end misses my face by less than a finger’s width.
I cover my face with my forearm and duck my head, getting ready for the next blow.
But… it never comes. Instead, I get laughter and a strong hand gripping my shoulder to pull me to my feet.
When I look up and meet the gaze of the warrior, I smile and laugh—because it’s Tarq! He looks a little different. Younger, for sure. Like… way younger. And his horns are very dusty. Almost discolored. But pretty much everything else is the same. He’s cut, and muscular, and big. And wearing pants and boots, which is not a look I remember about him, but… who cares. It’s Tarq!
I’m still smiling like a fool when I exclaim, “My friend! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass in war games. Again.”
I look behind me. “War games?” Then I notice that no one is really being hurt. There are guys on the ground, but they’re playing dead, not really dead.
“Come on.” Tarq is still gripping my shoulder and he spins me around in the direction of the pyramids. “We won this one. Thanks to you.”
“Yeah?” I’m still breathing hard, still trying to make sense of things. But it’s the fuckin’ hallways. So why bother? Though it does kinda bug me that I’m here as a participant in the memory instead of an observer.
That’s not usually how the hallways work.
“That was a great idea—lost in the desert by yourself. They’ll never fall for it again, but who cares. Worked like a charm this time. The coming-of-age boy gets his win. Your father’s gonna be thrilled when he gets back from the House of Fire.”
My father?
Well, this is new. I’m a product of genetic engineering. And while I’m sure that there is some sort of genetic ‘father’—everyone needs a genetic father—I’m also pretty damn sure that there was never a man in my life who I called Father.
Also, this is not a memory. I’ve never been to Egypt. Never. The only other places I’ve been in real life outside Saint Mark’s are Rome and Western Pennsylvania.
Of course, this is not unusual for the hallways. They take you anywhere they want. But not as a participant. Because that’s the point, right? You’re not really there. You’re just passing through the past. You get to enjoy it, and drink, and eat, and dance. But you’re not there.
And right now, I most definitely feel like I am here.
The memory of how I got here comes rushing back to me and I stop in my tracks. “Pie!”
“What?”
“Fuck.” I look over my shoulder, trying to see the first dune that I came over, like maybe she will be there. But of course she’s not. She was shot by the eros with an arrow and she disappeared. Then I was in that forest, and did that spell.
“The spell!” I turn to Tarq, who is looking at me with worry. “The fucking spell. ‘A Pie, a Pell, a forest tomb. Our family home where magic blooms. Under the trees with lights above. Take us back and give us love.’ What part of that says ancient fucking Egypt and war games?”
Tarq just kinda blinks at me. “Are… you OK?”
“No! No, I’m not OK. I’m fucking sick of this shit!”
“Sick of what shit?”
I exhale. Loudly. Then throw up my hands. “This is just great. Just. Great. What am I doing here?” I yell this at the sky. “You fucking bastards! I said ‘take me home!’” Then I just kinda blink. Because… “No. No, no, no. This is not home.”
“Pell?” Tarq is really starting to look worried. “Who are you talking to and what the hell is going on?”
What do I say? I mean, there is no way to explain this story.
“Ohhhhhhh,” Tarq says. “I get it.”
“Mmmmm… Nnnnooooo. I really don’t think you do.”
“You had another episode, right?”
“Episode?”
“Time skip? Isn’t that what you call them? It’s been a while. Unless you’ve been keeping them secret from me. And seriously, that’s not cool. Don’t keep secrets from me, Pell. If you’re hallucinating a life with a wood nymph in a fantasy realm called Pennsylvania, that’s… well, not fine, per se. But we can deal with it. As long as you don’t keep it secret.”
“You know about Pie?”
“That’s her name, right? She sounds great and all, but my friend, you’re getting married tomorrow. You don’t want Pressia to find out about this fantasy girl. You’re gonna be hitched to her for the rest of your life. Don’t start day one like this. So hush it up, man.”