Ebben and co make there way to the mystical mountain of shimmering surreal-ness. No, that's not its name. But it is its game.
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The previous chapters are below:
The Beginning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Until Wicked and Wacky Wednesday,
Daniel
P.S. And by that I don't mean I will be "Daniel" only until Wicked and Wacky Wednesday, and after that I will be "Nina" or something. I just meant to say I'll see you then.
The Glass Mountain and the King of the Snow Monkeys
(27)
Snow Monkey Base Camp, the Glass Mountain. Svartalfeim, the land of the dark elves. Present day.
Lodbrok, Ebben
and Ariella-Maria approached the Glass Mountain on foot. Ariella-Maria guided the horse by the
reins.
They stopped a
few paces away from the camp. The
closer they got to the Glass Mountain, the more solid and visible it
became. Now it was very real.
The camp was made
up of tarpaulin tents – many with weaponry leaning up against them – and wooden
chairs and tables. Above the camp
however, on the mountainside, were the remnants of what was probably – albeit a
long time ago – a great civilisation.
On the
mountainside was a large marble monkey statue, surrounded by half-destroyed
temples made of gold and precious stones, a crumbling hall made of boulders the
size of cars, and an ivory tower so tall it disappeared into the clouds
above. Judging by the amount of
rubble on the mountainside, there must’ve been many more temples, towers and
halls in the past.
Slowly, monkeys
dressed like simple villagers came out of the tents and surrounded Ebben,
Ariella-Maria and Lodbrok. They clutched
at each of the travellers to examine them with their round, silvery eyes.
Lodbrok whispered
to the other two that these must be the snow monkeys who protect the mountain.
Ebben gazed back
at the monkeys.
Their wiry bodies
were covered in bright white fur as white as the snowcaps on the mountain
above. Their faces were a dark peach colour, and they each had a katana sword
tucked into a rope belt around their waist.
The monkeys began
chirping, ululating, banging the ground, jumping up and down, and throwing
their arms into the air.
“They want us to
see their king,” said Ebben to Ariella-Maria and Lodbrok. “It is apparently a matter of urgency
that we see King Mizaru of the Vanara.”
Ariella-Maria
nodded. Lodbrok raised his arms.
“Fair hairy folk
of the invisible rock,” proclaimed Lodbrok, “lend me your ears.” Lodbrok turned to Ebben and said, “you’ll
need to translate my words for these simple monkeys.”
Lodbrok turned
back to the monkeys and repeated, “furry folk of the Glass Mountain, lend me
your ears.
“Do not feel
uneasy about my presence here, I mean you no harm. Yes, it is true, I am the famous warrior and bandit Eirik
Lodbrok, but I come in peace.”
Lodbrok waited for Ebben to finish translating, before adding: “my
friends and I, Ebben and Ariella-Maria, would like to see your leader. But let him know I shall spare him his
life.”
Ebben
stopped. “Do you really want me to
say that last bit?”
Lodbrok nodded,
but as he did, the thunder of drums and trumpets leapt into the air. The snow monkeys drew their katana
swords and raised them to the sky.
The monkeys
parted. Coming through, being
carried by four snow monkeys, was a monkey dressed in regal splendour, lounging
back on a sedan chair adourned with silk curtains. In front of the chair was another snow monkey, this one in
golden robes, beating his chest. Trailing the chair was a long parade of
monkeys with veils over their faces, and monkeys in silver robes playing drums
and trumpets.
The music stopped
when the monkey in the sedan chair flicked his wrist.
“This is King
Mizaru Silverback, King of the Vanara, also known as Emperor of the Oracle Snow
Monkeys,” said Ebben, translating the announcement of the golden robed monkey
leading the parade. “Foreigners,
respectfully kowtow to his royal highness.”
At this request,
the three travellers hesitantly lowered themselves and touched their heads to
the ground three times. After they
had finished, they rose to their feet and dusted themselves off.
King Mizaru gave
the travellers a quick up and down, before diverting his eyes and covering his
face with his fan.
Ariella-Maria
arched her eyebrows at the group of giggling, veiled monkeys behind the sedan
chair.
“The king would
like to know our names,” whispered Ebben to his three companions. Ebben bowed to the king, “Ebben
Alexandrov.”
The king’s head
turned around to the front. He
began chirping and cawing.
“What is he
saying?” Ariella-Maria asked.
“He says they
have been waiting for me for nine thousands years. And that they are excited finally to see me.” Ebben paused. “He is calling me the ‘prophecised one’. He’s clearly been talking to your Mani
friend.”
“Ariella-Maria,”
Ebben introduced, awkwardly gesturing at her.
The king clapped
his hands and chirped once more.
“He says he is
pleased to see you again. He said
he could never forget your shining beauty and playful spirit,” said Ebben to
Ariella-Maria, “except that you went by another name when he knew you, and were
much younger.”
“I do not
remember him visiting the wood or ever being known by a different name,” she
said. “His chair looks familiar
though.”
“Did he really
say shining beauty?” Lodbrok asked.
“More or less,”
replied Ebben, before leaning into Ariella-Maria and whispering: “I think he has you mixed up with
somebody else. He says he was
friends with your father, and that he hasn’t seen you since you were a little
girl. Your father’s little
princess. He is calling you a
little princess.”
“I know no life
before Mani,” she replied softly.
Her eyes drifted
to Ebben’s and she stepped back. “A
little too close, Ariella-Maria,” she whispered to herself.
“And now, a man
who needs no introductions, trumpets or drums – hold the applause – Eirik
Lodbrok,” announced Lodbrok, resting a hand on his chest and stepping
forward. “And I must say; what a
pleasant, serene, quaint and humble abode you have your majesty.”
“He says he does
not know you,” translated Ebben, as the king spoke slowly.
“Lodbrok,”
Lodbrok pronounced for the king in a loud voice. “Eirik Lodbrok, the beserker.”
“He’s asking
whether you are our manservant,” Ebben said.
Ariella-Maria put
her hand over her mouth to suppress a string of giggles.
“Manservant? Surely he recognises this face. It’s on all the wanted posters strewn across
the land. A face burnt into the
back of every bounty hunters’ eyelids, not to mention every loyal subject of
the Red Knight, so that they never forget the prize. A head worth more than the trouble and danger of getting it.
“And what about
my name? Surely he recognises my
name? Surely it strikes fear into
his heart and soul? Surely he
wakes in a sweat from nightmares quivering, mumbling my name and the words ‘don’t
kill me’? Do not tell me he wakes
each morning with clean sheets after a restful slumber.
“Has he not heard
the stories of my swashbuckling adventures from passing travellers? Has he not turned white in the face on
hearing them, forced to steady himself on his throne?
“Are you sure
this king is not a madman? No, the
king must be lying or teasing or taunting, but either way he is making a grave
mistake to not honour a guest as fine, famous and fabulous as me,” Lodbrok
yelled, waving his hands about.
Ebben spoke with
King Mizaru. The king was shaking
his head slowly, and after some discourse burst out in laughter. And so did his subjects. Laughter and chirping rippled through
the crowd.
Ebben chuckled
too.
“He says he does
recognise you now,” said Ebben to Lodbrok, putting a hand on the big warrior’s
arm. “He recognises you as the
great swordsman and bandit, Eirik Lodbrok. He says your reputation has spread far and wide, and he asks
you for your mercy at his grave mistake.
He is nervous in your presence.”
The monkey king
lounged back in his sedan chair and scratched his chin.
Lodbrok
straightened his back. “Yes, you
can put him out of his misery and tell him I forgive him for his foolish
mistake. I’m not one to let such
slipups bother me.”
King Mizaru
pointed a finger at Lodbrok and said something between bouts of giggles.
“What did he say
just then?” growled Lodbrok.
“He suggested
that before we leave, you and he have a swordfight. With blunt blades of course, so not to injure anything
except one’s ego. He says he’d
have a lot to learn from such a great swordsman.” Ebben looked at the king. “But first he wants me to go into his royal mead hall to
drink and to talk. It seems Mani
is not the only one mistaking me for someone important.”
“The king mistook
me for your manservant, Ariella-Maria for a princess, and you for the prophecised
saviour… perhaps his judgement isn’t the best,” Lodbrok whispered in Ebben’s
ear with a growing smile, “or perhaps to Snow Monkeys, we all look the same.”
Ebben grinned.
******************************************************
“Would you like a
drink?” asked Ariella-Maria, gesturing to a jug of ale and a glass.
“No, thanks. I’m not thirsty.”
“You’re a hard
man to read.” Ariella-Maria
paused. “If you want to go home,
you know you don’t need Tsinto,” she said putting the glass she had got for him
down. “But Lodbrok and I have just
been talking to Iwazaru, the king’s translator, and I think you will be
surprised with what the king has to say to you. I wasn’t surprised, but I was expecting it. You are special - that much I
know.
“Well, not
special. But, well, for a lot of
people you are the last hope of preventing Ragnarok. Mani thinks you’re the one, we’ve spoken at length about you
and your destiny.”
“Home is the last
place I want to go.” Hunched over,
Ebben looked down at his left hand, unconsciously squeezing it with his right
hand. “If you truly knew me, you’d
know I am not the saviour everyone is looking for. I’m definitely no angel from above, or Master Sage, or
whatever.
“I haven’t done
one nice thing for anyone since my mum left me. I’ve given my aunt and teachers more trouble than they
deserve, and been cold to everyone I meet at school.”
Ariella’s gaze
drifted to Ebben’s hands and she grabbed one, twisting it around to reveal a
tattoo on his wrist. “Have you
ever wondered what this symbol means?”
The tattoo was of
a skull with a key in its mouth.
“On my eighteenth
birthday I went to the tattoo parlour and chose a tattoo at random,” Ebben
muttered with a shrug. “It means
jack. Nothing to me. And only annoyance to my aunt.”
Ebben tried to
pull away from Ariella’s grip, but she held strong.
“This is no
random symbol, Ebben. This is the
Master Sages’ symbol. It
symbolises the Master Sage’s creed: ‘Keeper of the key until death’. And that is your duty, or burden, or
whatever you want to call it.” She
let go of his arm. “It was no
random act that you got this ink symbol on your forearm.”
She cocked her
head to the side and straightened his collar hesitantly. “First Mani said it, then there were
all those crows, then you saved Lodbrok and myself from the Red Knight’s magic,
then you find the Glass Mountain and the Monkey King wants to talk to you, and
now I see you have this tattoo… does this string of events not sound a little
strange to you? Perhaps, you’re
not the nobody you think you are?
Maybe this is your chance to
do something good.”
“I can’t believe
you’re buying into all of this. Surely,
you’re more sensible than that. Do
you seriously think I’m this prophecised saviour? Then again, I guess you must have a few screws loose to pull
off the whole channelling performance.”
“I have been in an
empty wood for many years living as a hermit, Ebben. I didn’t even realise the world needed saving until I heard
the stories from Iwazaru about the outside world and the Snow Monkey
kingdom. I have had my head deeper
in the sand, and for more years, than you.
“But you know
what? If I thought it might all
end tomorrow, and I thought there was a chance I was the only one who could
save it, I’d be a bit more open-minded.
That seems sensible to
me. And I know that in your heart,
you want to do something. You have
a good heart.” She sat down next
to Ebben and leaned towards him so she could whisper. “I know it all seems very strange and confronting. Just wait for Tsinto and listen to
him. And listen to the king. Perhaps there’s good reason to hear
their words, and good reason for you to stay here a while longer.”
“I’ll stay
because I’ve got nowhere else to go.
But at the end of the day, the way I see it, life is futile. It is full of pain and suffering. Perhaps ending it – ending the pain for
everyone – isn’t so bad after all,” Ebben groaned, rubbing his reddened
eyes. “You know what, I will have
that drink. Let’s drink to the end
of life.”
“What’s gotten
into you?” hissed Ariella-Maria. “You
sound like Mimir with the way you talk?”
“Who did you just
say?” Ebben asked.
“The
scarecrow. The evil one.”
“You’re too young
to drink, aren’t you son?” Lodbrok roared from across the room. “I’m sure the monkey maids have milk or
some-fing for you.”
“Thanks for your
concern, Lodbrok, Ariella-Maria.”
Ebben nodded at each of them.
“I am nineteen in four months.
I’m old enough to drink, and old enough to make my own decisions. Including whether or not to take on
this Ragnarok thing.”
“You cannot ‘take
on’ this Ragnarok thing. That is a
responsibility that has been thrust on you, not a choice you can make. The choices you do have will decide the universe’s fate.” Ariella-Maria poured him a glass, put it in front of him,
and stood up. “I just don’t want
you to make a choice we’ll all regret.”
“There’s no ‘we’
in any decision of mine,” snapped Ebben.
Ariella-Maria
shook her head in silence, before letting her eyes drift to where Lodbrok was
sitting.
“I don’t take
responsibility. It doesn’t become
me,” Ebben added.
“You know what,
Ebben Alexandrov? You’re a stubborn, selfish pig to not want to at least try to
do something,” Ariella-Maria snapped, avoiding eye contact. “Perhaps I was completely and utterly wrong
about you.”
She returned to
the table across the hall to where Lodbrok was sitting. Despite Ebben’s lingering stare, she
did not look back.
Ebben’s eyes
darted to the seat opposite him. The
scarecrow was now sitting there.
It tapped the
round wooden table with bony black fingers.
“So you’re Mimir.”
“I am you,
Ebben. I am who you truly are
inside. All you need do is release
me and we will be the most powerful force in the universe.”
“What do you want
from me, straw man?” said Ebben. “I
might have a brain for you, but if your lion friend needs a heart, I’m
sorry. Apparently I don’t have
one.”
“You’re losing
control,” the scarecrow hummed. “Each
moment you stay with these fools you lose more of your control – your power.”
“I’ve never had
control – or power – in the first
place.”
“Haven’t
you? Was it just coincidence you
found this world when trouble was brewing at home and you wanted to escape it
all?”
“So this is all
my fantasy, is it? I’m escaping
into my imagination?”
“It is not your
fantasy. It is your destiny. And it is very real. But you are losing control. Soon you will meet the warlock
Tsinto. He will try to steal your
power away completely, to have it and your life force for himself. He will try to kill you for his own
gain.”
“And why would
you tell me this?” hissed Ebben.
“Because I also
have plans for you,” said the apparition.
“You said it yourself, life is horrid. Full of pain and suffering, not to mention injustice. I know you have felt each of these
emotions, so do not turn away from your destiny now.
“Together we can
end all pain, end all suffering.
We can ensure Mother Nature completes the natural Ragnarok of this
universe, and save every soul from the torment it endures.”
Ebben shifted about
in his seat.
“You need to get
away from these things before they destroy us,” spoke the scarecrow in a low
voice. “You are not strong enough
to destroy Tsinto now because you are yet to understand your true power. You must wait until your power grows
before hunting him down.”
“You want me to
go back to Earth?” asked Ebben.
“No. I want you to find a powerful witch by
the name of Sváfa. She is the
sister of Tsinto, and she was your wife in a previous incarnation. She will amplify your powers without any
second agenda, and she will keep you hidden from Tsinto.”
“If I were to
look for this Sváfa , where would I find her?” said Ebben looking down at his
ale.
“Follow your
instincts. She is not of this
world, and only you know how you can move from one world to the next.” The apparition lowered its voice. “But remember, you must not tell anyone
where you are going. They won’t
let you go. Trust no one,” said
the scarecrow. When Ebben looked up from his ale, it was gone.
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Well, you'll just have to find out by tuning in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday (or by being a total VIP and skipping the line by buying the book).
I am enjoying your stories, Daniel. Keep them up. (Just posted the other book you have on here up on Google+, so hope that helps).
ReplyDeleteThanks Lucy. That's great. And keep up being such a great reader and subscriber! :-)
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