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CARNIVAL WORLD, CHAPTER 17

The distortion vanished as the giant creature pounced on Big Ted and thrust him through with a gigantic cobbled together trident. It happened so fast. I had never seen that type of Cryptid before. I remember back in my Cryptid Four days being briefed on many types of giants and cryptids.
During one such lesson, back in my days on earth as a Cryptid Ranger, the instructor had displayed a slide of a watercolor drawing of a rare giant encounter from the middle 1800’s. That giant had escaped, after an intense battle, which had decimated almost an entire wild west cavalry troop. Two officers and the camp artist and journalist were all who had survived that fateful encounter.
The watercolor painting that the artist/journalist had composed, following the incident, provides an apt description. It was tall and thick-limbed with red-rimmed bulbous eyes of emerald and blaze orange. The eyes did not have a pupil that I could see. The emerald and green alternated like blades of a child’s pinwheel. Each eye was the size of a dinner plate. The artist rendition of the earth giant lacked one element. It did not have a white evil clown face. Otherwise, the giant we were seeing and the one from the earth artist, attached to the cavalry, was identical.
The face, on a gargantuan head that would easily fill a wheelbarrow, way above the top edge of the cart, was white with orange red hair like a McDonald’s clown, but evil rather than happy. The visage was horrific. Just like that of Snake god worshipers. The assassin’s cult used the same face but reserved the white face for rituals and the black face for when they were ready to complete an assassination mission. They believed that the clown face would connect them with the minds of the snake deities and their ethereal shade offspring, giving them insight and supernatural power.
Whether the giant’s evil clown face, mostly white, was cosmetic or the way that giant’s face really looked, I couldn’t tell. If we can kill it, I’ll let the scientist solve that mystery. From the neck down it looked like a mottled grey and slate blue human body builder, except three times longer and larger. Long orange red hair, more like thick curly beard, covered its head, and hung under its neck and over its forearms, from wrists to elbows.
We didn’t have time to get a shot off. We had watched in numb horror as the giant had skewered our point man. Ted had been taking near point, rather than far point. If he hadn’t, it could have been any one of us – even me – hanging off that long three-tined spear. It was about the same size as the one wielded by the famous Goliath of Gath. Or maybe it would have been Ted, but at a distance, just not right in front of us. Creator knows.
We began firing. I shot, but my arrow never touched it. My copper arrow shot beneath it and busted against the rocks. I don’t miss very often, but it does happen. The cryptid giant leaped over us. High, high, above us, the screaming Ranger held in front of it, like a stuffed teddy bear on a barbecue spit.
We knew that Ted was a goner. Theodore was no longer moving or screaming. The big ranger only moved as the giant bounced away from us towards the cliff face with the big cave opening. Before I could yell, “Shoot it in the head!” everyone with a rifle blasted the thing in back with some standard issue and hollow points. Following the volley, the strange giant screamed like a firetruck siren, but leaped again, up onto the cliff face, with the agility of a mountain goat, then leaped one more time into the cave entrance. Bruce the Moose’s shot gun blasts left gaping holes in its broad back, that leaked a foul green and black ichor, that vanished almost instantaneously. Machine gun blasts left more and smaller holes that closed even faster.
We began running around to the left toward the long ramp that angled up to the cave entrance.
It could sprint like a desert wind and leap over a building in a single bound, like a comic book superhero! Boy, it was fast! Cheetah speed, maybe. Not sure. I know it was running faster than a wolf going all out. Wolves are quite fast and usually have no problem running down an elk or deer.
Big Mike yelled, “Bard! Can you use Ted’s gun? I’ll have to take it back later, but for now, during this emergency, I am authorizing you to use it.”
I knew I could, but I answered, “I think I can.”
I grabbed Big Ted’s rifle from the ground where it had fallen from his grasp. Most of the bullets were on Big Ted’s belt or in his pack, but I am certain I had ten bullets, give or take, in the mag. What good they would do; I was not sure. I don’t think anyone had loaded copper rounds. Unless everyone else was using the full coppers, and I could place my shots close to theirs, the standard bullets in this rifle would be useless.
Big Jim came up alongside me, as we were running around to the left of the cliffside to the steeply angled path that followed up to the cave. He said, “Bard, I know you are good with a bow, but this is a rifle. Don’t point this at anyone, except that …that…whatever the hell that is!” Then, as we were running to catch up with the group, he pointed out the safety and told me to squeeze and not pull the trigger. And not to lose control as the rifle would move way out of alignment if I didn’t hold it in position as I fired it.
We had almost caught up with the others. They were halfway up the ramp, that lead up to the sand-colored cavern, when an explosion rocked us, almost off our feet. Rocks filled the entrance of the cave and jumped up a cloud of dust. The giant was inside, and we were stuck outside. Maybe that was for the best, but we had a job to do. And I was well aware of the old saying that “we don’t leave our men behind.”
“Listen up!” I yelled, “When we see that giant again, don’t aim for the heart! This kind of giant will regenerate almost instantly from any round except full copper. Unless it is a head shot, this kind of giant will slowly regenerate even from copper rounds. Only if the head is separated from the body will the regeneration stop. Make sure you have the full copper rounds. Head shots only! I repeat, head shots only. And everybody who has a long firearm take the shot. Shoot fast! Make the shots count!”
Creator be with us, I am saying too much, but if I don’t tell them this, we are all dead meat when we get the rubble cleared.
We all began throwing the rocks off the cliff. Mike stopped for a moment and said, “Jax, you better call Zales and give him a sitrep. He will want one for this.”
We continued to hurl stones away from the entrance. Paccetti said, “I don’t know if the giant used an explosive device, or our gunfire set off an avalanche as the cryptid ran inside. I’m guessing the latter.”
I shrugged my shoulders and replied tersely , “Probably. Don’t know. Creator knows.
“I don’t know why it would blow its door. Would the cooks back at the mess area fill up their fridges and freezers with good food, then lock them up and throw away the keys? That doesn’t make sense. Unless it does have a backdoor, and just wants a little quiet time, before coming after us when it is good and ready. Possible, but I wouldn’t bet my food and rent money on it.”
Some of Alpha team were just too shocked to answer; the rest nodded in agreement. No class comedian jokes from Kai; he’s riled as everyone else. Ghordo’s eyes – I know I am exaggerating – are almost as big and as popeyed as the giant’s. He doesn’t look panicked. Maybe overwhelmed, though.
Big Mike had to say, “Get back to moving rocks, people! We don’t have all day!”
Jax was finally able to get Zales on the horn.
Zales listened curtly, then said, although we could all hear him loud and clear, “Tell Major Miller to do as Bard says. Switch to full coppers. You all have at least one box, if not two boxes of them, in your packs. Both for the 50’s and 30’s. And lots more of the 30’s. An ammo box each I think, and some spare clips that are full. I don’t know how Orlando knows that, about that type of giant, and about full copper rounds, but I guess he’s a bard here, so he probably has access to this world’s lore.
“Like I said, I don’t know what that kind of giant is called, but I have read reports about them – highly classified reports. Consider yourselves read in. If you don’t take it out, it will probably have a backdoor, and it will hunt you down!
“Go get Theodore if you can, but I doubt you will find him, especially if you have an avalanche of rocks to move. Zales out.”
It took us two hours to clear the stones enough to safely enter the cave. Thanks to Nayana Zazazi’s AI Med Bed I am able to see in the dark. Part of my Half Elf upgrade. The increased strength and endurance perk was nice, too, added to my own years of Ranger physicality. Everyone else, except Ghordo, donned night vision goggles. I have read that some cryptids can shut down night vision goggles as easily as they drain batteries. I am hoping that this one doesn’t have that ability. Ghordo and I can’t fight this giant on our own. Although, with a machine gun and copper rounds, maybe. Alpha team needs to be able to see in the dark or this mission will be ending shortly and not well. If their goggles work, they will be able to see to make the shots. Except, I wouldn’t be seeing things in ghostly green like everyone who was wearing the night vision equipment. I think Ghordo can see in the dark like me, but he can’t see detail like I can. If I were a full Elf, I could see much better and farther in the dark.
The first thing we noticed as we stepped inside the tunnel was that the rock surface had changed. The doorway was rough sandstone. There was a small cavern about twenty feet long. After that, it narrowed. Rather than a rough natural surface, we could clearly see that the tunnel was round on top but flat on the bottom and smooth and hard as glass. The tunnel looked as if it had been crafted by an iron mole machine that drills through rock and leaves a smooth glassy slag behind.
Paccetti said, “I think we set off the avalanche. I’m glad the stone is harder, deeper in, or otherwise we’d risk the same result when we find the cryptid and attempt to kill it.”
I agreed and so did Big Mike, but the rest didn’t say “Aye, yes, no or nothing,” as my noos, my father used to say. When you think about it, the saying doesn’t make much sense. But I guess it was a famous witticism in my father’s family. It just means no one responded verbally.
Inspecting the tunnel ahead, I expected to see mounds of old bones and rotting carcasses. We found one elk chewed to the bone and most bones completely gone. The rack and a couple of ribs were all that were left. It looked like the giant had even eaten the bowels and licked up the elk’s blood. The giant must not have been here, in the mouth of this cave, for long. Or there would have been more bone remains and blood spots. The freshest blood, of course, was a trail that led down deep into the descending tunnel, smeared by long and wide, twenty-three-inch, fur-wrapped footsteps. Each step several feet apart.
About twenty minutes later we found Big Ted’s pack. Big Mike rifled through the pack and stowed a few personal items, including the combat bowie and Glock, in his IOVTC. The rest of the bloody shredded pack he tossed to Ghordo and said, “Put his supplies and ammo in with our extra gear in your company pack, Ghordo.”
Fifteen minutes after that we found Ted’s cartridge belts and ripped uniform. We never found his shoes. Theodore died a hero, and he died with his boots on. This could be written as an epitaph on his tombstone back on earth, but no one will ever know. That’s the infamous NDA for you.
An hour later we found the bug-eyed giant. We could hear it roaring, and screaming that strange dolphin chitter frog croak that hurt our ears. We could hear its thunderous footfalls, as it swiftly ambulated towards us, grasping its trident, not running or leaping, but still fast. We watched it charge. The ceiling was high, but not as tall as the giant. It was crouched, but still towered high above us. It was coming at us a little less fast than a horse’s trot.
We all felt disorientation and sickness, from the stench and the pain from the chitter, but we fought through it. Well, Ghordo seemed to have some type of uncanny natural resistance. Not immunity, but…
We were spread out, although Big Mike had, earlier, ordered Jax the Medic, and Dr. Paccetti, to stay behind in a second wave, with Ghordo, who was behind our advancing line of raised rifles and machine guns.
Once we had hit the iron mole tunnel there was not room for all of us to walk abreast.
We shot into its face. Our target was so high over us, that those of us in back, with careful aim, could aim above the heads of the vanguard line. Jim’s and Big John’s 30 caliber machine guns were a fast and loud mechanical roar. Kia’s shotgun blasts were great slow bangs that shook the tunnel, adding to the overwhelming aural echoing of the cavern.
The rest of us were using 50 caliber rifles. Some of them were fully automatic and some, like mine, spit a series of quick, fast as we could work the semi-auto – rat-a-tat-tats – multiplied several times. I emptied my clip. I am sure everyone else did, too. I think Jax was into her second clip. Not sure how many rounds of machine gun bullets, shot gun slugs, or 50 caliber full copper shells were spent. Most of us lost our hearing, and a few of us were bleeding from our ears. Not sure if it was the audible bedlam of shots in the tunnel or the results of the giant’s chitter-croak attack. If memory served me, our deafness should only be temporary.
Before it reached us, its massive giant’s head, under the mass of bright red curly hair was a saggy blotch of mottled blue and gray, dripping black and green ooze. It fell, jerking spasmodically at our feet. I had planned on taking its head off with my axe, but there was no need as the body and what was left of the head were separate. The giant was so big, we had to walk single file around it. It almost filled the tunnel, horizontally anyway. The ceilings were a good fifteen or sixteen feet tall, and we all had to aim quite high to make head shots on the giant. At last, it was still, and spasmed no more. The body seemed to be decomposing quickly and stunk to high heavens, even worse than when it was alive.
Paccetti had quickly shrugged out of his pack. He pulled out several small to medium boxes with black Styrofoam cutout sections inside that held expensive portable lab equipment. He pointed at the giant and fished out a box of surgical gloves and pulled two sets on each hand. “Don’t touch the blood! It may be toxic!” Then, the scientist snapped dozens of photos from various angles, far shots and closeups.
Jax asked anyone if they needed medical attention. Her honey-colored amber eyes, usually full of barely concealed compassion, were now portraying a somber, reflective glint. Everyone dazedly motioned her away.
Paccetti took some skin and the black and green serum samples, then examined the giant with a few instruments. Paccetti then pulled out a transparent aluminum notebook computer with an under screen alphanumeric pad from a special pouch on the exterior of his pack
Hurriedly Paccetti gestured and pointed excitedly at a machine tooled black metallic box fastened to a wide leather belt. Advanced technology, no doubt. I wonder if that technology caused the distortion that hid it while it was still, before it attacked Big Ted? Or is it something else entirely. I know I have seen other cryptids, like the Sabe and Dogmen, whose hair allows them to mimic invisibility tech. Maybe the scientists will figure it out. Maybe they won’t and it will become another of Zales’ misfit toys. I wonder. How did the Dark Lancer miss it? The black box? Or, when the giant was outside of the cave, was the Dark Lancer out of range or on the other side of the planet?
Jax called Zales and handed the com unit to Major Mike Miller. Mike reported that we had been deafened and while we had to talk loudly for some to hear us, some of us could not hear at all. And fighting shock, we started communicating with hand signs.
After straining to get the battle report, Zales forcefully blew air, like a stallion, then cleared his throat, “You did good team. I figured that you might not find Thibeault. Do a quick recon in the tunnel. Then get back to it. Finish your mission. We’ll have a ceremony after you come back. I will notify those who will notify his family back on earth. Died a hero on a classified mission and all of that. Zales out.”
While Paccetti continued his examination of the corpse and stopped from time to time to add more notes to his word processor program, a few of us scouted down the tunnel. Big Mike, Bruce the Moose, Tall Tom, and I walked about two clicks, about thirty minutes. The rest of the team guarded the scientist and Ghordo. The glassy tunnel ended as it entered a cavern. The cavern looked rough walled. There was some kind of glowing lichen on the walls and the rock, while dark, probably black or gray, was composed of tiny quartz or crystal dots that glinted like pools of stars in a night sky. Was this the extent of the iron mole tube, or did it begin once more somewhere in the far reaches of the cavern?
We still had to yell or communicate with hand signs. We had not found another entrance, but I expect, somewhere ahead, there would be one or more shafts that would keep going down, down, down. Or maybe out and back on top? Or both?
For a few minutes longer we peered into the huge empty cavern. Even with our night vision equipment we could not see the end. Alpha team leader Mike whirled his hand and pointed back the way we had come. We walked back to see if our scientist had finished his examination.
Big Mike pointed at my rifle, then pointed to Big Bad John. Big Bad John slung the rifle by its strap on his back. The ranger, flipping up his machine gun, switched his empty copper clip for one with alternating standard and frangible rounds, and continued to cradle his Steel Pig.
Then, off we were, minus one, out of the cave, down the ramp, and back on the road again. Only I wasn’t making music with my friends. Definitely going places I’ve never been. And not one of us, by nationality a gypsy. The means of our locomotion, our marching feet, not the comfort of a country western singer’s touring bus. And the road we are traveling is not asphalt. The cobblestones of the Warrior’s Path are behind us, a few hours and the game trail we are on is winding north and west toward the White Dwarf Mountains and we can see them in the distance. While I can’t say we are the best of friends, working together for a common goal, through the trials of our journey, is bringing us together, and cementing a bond worthy of the song, that is meandering through my mind. And since Tall Tom has stopped riding Ghordo, the conflict we are facing, is not us rubbing like sandpaper, but it comes only from our exertion and the battles we encounter.
We left the western game trail and entered a new one that forked north, that led farther up into the mountains. No jokes or stories were shared, as we trotted along, but not too fast. We were all tired, jittery from the sudden loss of adrenalin, and hurting from the loss of our fellow soldier, Theodore Thibeault – Big Ted. By night camp, those of us who had lost it, had gained back our hearing.
For a few days we kept climbing the mountain. Finally, we reached those cobblestone steps that Carnival World is famous for, and I informed everyone that if we followed the steps, we should eventually find the White Dwarf City. First, I reminded them that the village would be more of a staging area, because the great citadel was ensconced below, in the underground. I was hoping to find either a courier or a Dwarf work crew to point us to the actual location, and maybe allow us to announce our presence and request for parley, with the king and Ayneegh the second and third.
We had a few of what we were calling “lions, tigers, and bears, oh my,” incidents, but again things were rather uneventful. Thankfully, no more cryptids. Usually, in the mountains, the cryptids who were allowed to stay, were generally non-aggressive unless you threatened them, whether the beast or humanoid types. They tended to hear and smell us and amble off, off and away.
***
“Last break of the night, everyone!” I said, strumming my lute and stretching, before sipping from my water glass. I walked around my stage chair, getting blood flowing again, as my guests quietly exited the tables beneath my stage, heading towards the bathrooms and the snack bar. “Hurry back folks. I adjusted my extravagant pheasant feathered fancy cap from the 3DO “Mandate of Heaven” game to a rakish angle. “Everyone be back in twenty minutes, I will share with you our journey into the White Dwarf mountains, where Ghordo, me and Alpha team meet Padre!”

CARNIVAL WORLD CHAPTER 18

We heard chopping ringing through the forest. Less than an hour later we found, just off the cobblestone path of bone white and cherry red stones, a lumberjack crew. I took Big Mike with me and advanced to talk with the crew boss, a stocky five-foot dwarf with a stocking cap, trying in vain to hide a messy mop of wild blue-gray curls. His big nose was beet red and dripping profusely. His voice was hoarse from yelling commands at his lumberjacks, who were felling trees, limbing, cutting them to cart length, and hoisting them onto high-wheeled steam powered carts.
Big Mike and I waved at the Dwarf lumberjack boss and asked how it was going.
The Dwarf, Glynglot, scowled at us, then smiled, “Aye, things be goin’ good. Me jacks had to put down a big bear today. Had to have one o’ them boys carried to the healers’ hall, with a clawed rib and a bite in his upper arm, but he’ll live.
Good man, he be, that Clem. Getting too old ferrr this kin o’ worrrk. He could o’ had me job, but he knew how bad I wanted it, so he let me have it. Good workerrr and knows timberrr, harrrvesting and building, too, but he’s getting’ too long in the tooth. Been wanting to do something else. A new vocation as they say. He’s still aurrroch strong, but this kind o’ worrrk is just too much for him nowadays.
“Nae many days go by wi’oot some bear, wolf or panther mistakes my jacks for lunch. Couple months ago, a cursed beast Sabe was a stalkin’ us. Run in and grab one o’ us, then head off o’rrr mountain. We dwarrrves are strrrong but not verrry fast! Except for Clem. He’s snail slow compared to a beast Sabe, but he is faster than other dwarfs. A half dwarf he is. Got his height, his carrot top and his speed from his dear old dad. And his gold eyes from his Dwarf mum. Creator, bless their dearly departed souls.
“Found it was a trrrio of rrrogues. Lost five of me jacks, me did!
“They is a tad nastierrr, ya know, the rrrogues, when the alpha male ain’t rrreingnin’ ‘em in.
“Had to call in the Shirrre Rrreeve gang to take ‘em oot. Those little blue Rrreeve lazerrrs arrre brrraw! Hoora good those elemental lazerrrs! Stuns those wee cryptid beasties. Slows ‘em down so as a man dwarf can chop them with his axe aforrre they gets away!
“Glad the Reeves helped you out, Master Lumberjack,” I said. Then I added, “I know two Shire Reeves named Bo and Rufus.” I pointed at Big Mike, “This is Alpha team leader Mike Miller. I am Orlando Bard, bounty hunter and lore master.”
Glyngot snorted snot that had been gathering in his nose and throat, then hacked a giant wad of spit into the rutted, muddy, leaf and brush strewn ground and replied, “Glad to meet ya’s. Neverrr hearrrd o’ them Rrreeves, tho’. They is prolly livin’ at another shire. Everrry mountain has a passel o’ them, each patrrroling their own shirrre. Good folks they arrre!
“By the way, aye be Master Lumberjack Glynglot of White Dwarf Mountain. Wot brings ye hitherrr, outlanderrrs?”
I answered, “We are up from the Star Portal area, just southeast of here, Master Glynglot. We would like to offer peace to your king and speak with Ayneegh—”
Glynglot readjusted his green, sawdust and splinter covered stocking cap, the fragments dusting it like fresh snow. He then snorted, “Aye, outlanderrrs, ye be a day late and a dollarrr shorrrt. Almost. Old Ayneegh died more than a hunnerrrt years ago. His son passed on a few months’ past. Ayneegh the thirrrd…well, he be not likin’ that monikerrr. He is the clerrric in charrrge of the orrrphans. Everrrybody calls him Surrogatti Glanapadrrre or Orph-Father Ayerrra. Aye been a told it means fatherrr who is nae a fatherrr or rrreplacement fatherrr.”
I nodded, then asked, “Master Glynglot, can you give us directions to get to your city?”
Glynglot stroked his beard, thoughtfully, then yelled a few directions at his lumberjacks and continued, “Aye, Harrrek be a good king, mind you, but he be a bit grrruff with outlanderrrs, until he gets to know ‘em. And if he takes a likin’ to em. That’s rrright key, ya know.”
“I’d best send a young jack on ahead and let the king know why aforrre ye arrre herrre. Why don’t ye just make camp nearrrby? Aye don’t think therrre will be a prrrolly, if ye don’t go barrrgin’ in. Ye might not cause too much o’ a rrruckus, if ya just go to the upperrr village, but if you just go a charrrgin’ into the underrrcity, especially arrrmed to the teeth, like ye arrre…that would not bode well, Human and Half Elf. Ya, Barrrd and Mike Millerrr, aye had betterrr make arrrangements ferrr yerrr visit, firrrst!”
Big Mike and I joined the rest of Alpha team and Ghordo, next to the cobblestone road. As we entered Bruce the Moose was singing, in a very strong and pleasant voice, “I’m a lumberjack, and I’m O.K., I go in the woods, and I work all day!” Before we could walk up to them, we suddenly heard from the woods the sound of gruff Dwarvish, off key voices and gales of thick, guttural laughter, “I’m a lumberrrjack and I’m o.k., aye go in the woods and aye worrrk all day!”
“Fun times over guys and dolls, Bard and I will have a sitrep for you,” quipped Big Mike as we entered our camp. His announcement was followed by several shouts of “Yes, Sir!”
After giving them a sitrep, we made camp, got a fire going and set up for a meal. About ninety minutes later, we were just sitting around. Tall Tom and Maria Orsic Schmitt were on guard. We were all swapping stories and chewing the fat. We did still have some coffee on, but the mess kits were washed and the cooking gear cleaned, dried and stowed.
The young jack came walking down the cobblestone path. Dressed in a new blue stocking cap and a red and black plaid flannel shirt with blue suspenders, he smiled and called out to us. His cheeks were rosy, and his dark brown eyes danced merrily. Hardly had a five o’clock shadow on his face. Certainly not enough beard to sport a beard braid. “Come! Come! The king be rrreceiving you. Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre is with him in the courrrt rrroom. All the king asks, and he prrromises, he does, on his awnnuhh dear guests, his prrrotection, but ye must leave yerrr weapons and firrresticks with the guarrrd in the upperrr village. Aye will take you all, then, to meet w’ the king and the Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre.”
Mike looked at me and I shrugged, “I am sure we’ll be safe. King Harek has a good, if not sterling reputation with everyone but the High Elves of Ayengard.”
Mike then ordered the others to give over their arms to the watch care of the city guard when we entered the village of the White Dwarf Clans and prepared to parley with the king and meet Glanappadrrre of the Clerics.
After we left our weapons with the upper village guard, we watched the Dwarf boy, Klirnahan, pull out a pair of dark round goggles. “Since we arrre comin’ oot of the light and into the darrrk, we won’t need these. But if you need some to prrrotect yerrr eyes, outlanderrrs, if ye be wantin’ some, we will give them to ya as a gift. Some of ourrr underrr halls have little light and otherrrs have no light at all. The Atlanticeans were quite the inventorrrs, aye,” offered the Dwarf lad, “these goggles not only protect us from bein’ blinded by the light, but where there is no light at all, we can still see.”
Big Mike tapped his night vision goggles, which were much more cumbersome than the Dwarves’ goggles, “My soldiers have what we call Night Vision equipment. It won’t keep us from being blinded if we’ve been in the dark too long, and quickly go into the light. Maybe a little, young Dwarf. But such protection would not be by design, just blind, dumb luck. But if we are walking in the dark, we can see just fine. Bard and Ghordo might want some of your free goggles, but me and my soldiers, we will do just fine.”
We walked in the dark halls, lit dimly with lights that looked like old electric arc lamps from the turn of the 20th century earth. Many were the halls and galleries we walked through, with finely crafted ceilings and walls. We passed what looked like a wishing well, but when I peered into it, I saw dim lights in the distance and heard the clack of picks and the gentle hum of machines. We smelled old air, oil and dust drifting up from the well.
The Dwarf lad said, “Barrrd, ye be lookin’ down the ladderrr shaft into one o’ the mines. Minerrr dwarrrves work down therrre everrr’ day and sometime in the night, lookin’ ferrr silverrr, gold and prrrecious gems.”
Finally, we were presented to King Harek. He was a stout old dwarf, and a bit stern at first, but before long he was nodding his crowned head of gray hair affably and began, after learning our names, asking questions. At first, he just asked basic questions.
As was common with all the Dwarf races, King Herek, said nae rather than no, rolled most of his ares and used aye as both yes and I. Although the sound was different, with the word aye. When referring in the affirmative the ending was hard, but when speaking of themselves, there was a lifting to form an emphatical sound. Kind of like when a person from the United States, East Coast, puts an R on the end of a spoken word ending with A – idea becomes idear when they speak it. Dwarves don’t put an R, or Ruh, on the end of aye, as it is considered poor grammar. There is a different sound, almost like ay-uhh, with a lifting of the first syllable, but it is faint, and you might not catch the distinction the first few times you’d hear it.
Not more than twenty minutes had passed and then the king said to his royal guards, “At ease gentlemen.” Then he signaled to one of his courtiers, who moved an accordion wall back beyond the rear of the royal throne. Several couches and recliners came into view, lights slowly began to glow as servants entered from a concealed door and provided jeweled amethyst pitchers of fruited beverages, steaming mugs of hot chocolate, coffee and tea. More servants danced softly into the room bringing silver trays of cheese and meats and small tea cookies. Well, not dancing around as deftly and fluidly as a catling or an elf! I admit, Dwarves are not known for grace, agility or knightly speech. Royal Dwarven servants were carefully selected based on intelligence, politeness, loyalty, grace and agility. Mine workers, craftsmen and warriors were not selected for those same traits.
King Harek thumbed a button on his throne, and it hummed, and turned to face the royal soiree. “Please, dearrr guests, will you join me ferrr tea? Aye have many more questions, and it is time ferrr you to meet ourrr dearrr Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre, head clerrric o’ the orrrphanage. Sit down, please, me new friends, and enjoy a spot o’ tea with me.”
We all sat. Not just our purposes, but he wanted to know what our skills were, where we had been and what we liked to do for entertainment. And from time to time, he would ask Surrogatti Glanappadre if he had any questions.

Surrogatti Glanappadre wanted to know how much of his grandfather’s story that I knew. After I had summed it up, he grinned and said, “There is morrre, much morrre, Laddie, but aye do not have time to sharrre it today. Suffice it to say, good Half Elf, he did lots of walkin’. His angels mayhap they would teleport with him, ta the next place of visitation, but a tad or so walk away. Ya would have thought that his clothes would have worrrn oot, but they were almost like new when he left home and almost like new when he came back. And as soiled or sweaty as he mayhap gets, when he put them on the next morning, it was like they had been washed so well they gave off light. Like aye said, Laddie, if the angels would nae have felt sorrry for him, it would have taken yearrrs for my grrrandfatherrr to walk to each kingdom or village on his list. Took him a month or so on the west side of the Misty Mountains and about a month on the east side of said mountains, Laddie.”
Then Padre leaned over close to Bard and whispered, “But the grrrandest event of all… Laddie… I am being told by Creator’s Spirit, that this is only for you.
“Accorrrding to my Grrrandfatherrr, he met the Atlanticean Scholar Nayana Zazazi. The angels teleported themselves right into The Scholarrr’s secret laboratory! If Jedd would nae rrreached forrrward to catch him, the young man would have drrropped his old leather-bound book and fallen off his stool!
“Afterrr meeting they discussed a word of encourrragment, Ayneegh had for Nayana Zazazi, then they discussed some of the issues facing the people of the Borrrderrrlands. One of the angels, following the end o’ that discussion, between The Scholarrr and Grrrandfatherrr, placed a code into the small Starrr Porrrtal glyph box and they all appearrred on the Ebony Lancerrr, when they stepped through the portable portal. That was his last adventurrre, before Jazz and Jedd took him home.
Sakki, with assistance, rrreprogrammed the Envirrronmental Satellite, to use the Tuaoi Stone to errradicate Giants and Ewil Crrryptids who entered into The Borderrrlands. It also, afterrr that time, executed or rrrelocated animals, like dinosaurrrs, mammoths and drrragons, considered too larrrge and dangerrrous to live in the Borderrrlands.
The Scholar also programmed the Ebony Lancerrr to monitorrr the newly formed Shirrre Rrreeves. My grrrandfatherrr was asked to pray with the Scholar, who was also close to Creator and His Son, for a blessing and assistance to the future Rrreeves and theirrr duties in serrrvice of Creator and the people of the Borderrrlands. Aye am going to stop whispering now, Laddie.”
After that I asked Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre, if he had further thoughts on the wishes of Patrick Conner, to ask the White Dwarves for assistance in spreading the word of Creator and His Son Jesu, around Carnival World, the venerable King chuckled with delight, and rubbed his hands together, “Splendid. Aye, splendid indeed. Old Ayneegh the first must be doin’ jumping jacks from his heavenly, Jesu-crrrafted abode, right now. But you must speak morrre on this with Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre. Tell yourrr commanderrr – Zales is it? Tell him that aye will make an alliance with him and the Connerrr brrrothers. He may come herrre or aye will send documents by courrrierrr.”
King Harek thumbed a jewel on his throne. His royal guards jumped up onto the throne dais, and it whizzed backwards, then disappeared into an opening which closed behind them.
Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre stroked his beard braid. Sipping his tea, Padre grabbed a dessert from his well stacked glass dish, then quickly crunched the white powdery, almond and honey tea cake. Washing it down with another gulp of tea, as he had already quaffed both a coffee, heavy cream, heavy sugar and a hot frothing chocolate, the Dwarf said, “Aye, laddies and lasses, ‘Creator moves in mysterrrious ways, his wonderrrs to perrrform. His Son walks on top of waterrr. They rrride togetherrr, three in one- like Kings of Kings – joined in Spirrrit, they rrride high upon the storrrm.’”
He brushed flecks of white powdery tea cake off his beard and added, “We dwarrrves be fine ones to rrroll our arrres, if ye have nae noticed. The angels told Grrrandfatherrr that it was our culturrre to roll our arrres like that, but we must nae do it when we say Creator. Well not must nae but should nae. If ya ken me meanin’. Not prrroperr, they say. Bad forrrm, they say. So, we all try ta say Creator’s name the rrright way, nae to make too fine a point aboot it.”
I just accepted his lesson on saying Creator, the proper way, but asked, “Is that a song? That sounds like a song I have heard, Padre, but not quite the same.”
“Aye, Orrrlando Barrrd,” exclaimed Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre, excitedly, as his eyebrows fluttered like mad and he grinned from ear to ear, “it is a song! Rrright as rrrain ye arrre, laddie!
“Jedd and Jazz, the two serrrvants of Creator taught it to my grrrandfatherrr, Ayneegh, while they werrre on that mission, to warrrn the peoples of the coming Black Awakening of the Monsterrr Men of the Old Black Naga Queen Motherrr.
“Herrr daughterrr, the current Queen of the Darrrk Naga, who has surrrvived herrr motherr, is much less evil, more worrrldly, seductive, and crrruel with worrrds, not the horrid demon herrr motherrr was! As long as she o’ stays in herrr mountain strrronghold and leaves all o’ us alone, we-uhh leave herrr be!”
Ghordo cocked his green head, offered a lopsided grin, then chimed in, “The big lumberjack dwarf guy said that you are called Ayneegh Three, but you not like it. Why?”
Curious, most of the soldiers chugged meat fancies, pastries and coffee, but talked in whispers to each other. They listened but chose not to join the conversation. Maria Orsic Schmitt, having sipped one hot chocolate, drank a fruit juice, and chewed one meat sandwich triangle with olives, nibbled an iced blueberry crumpet, then sat it down on her coffee saucer, and drifted off to a quiet sleep.
Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre frowned at the insolent Half Orc, but then, after taking a long swill from a strong black, after-dessert coffee, replied, “Aye laddie, trrruth be known, aye be not holdin’ a candle to my grrrandfatherrr.
Aye am a bit oot o’ the box, as the old sayin’ goes. Aye think the scholarrrs say, ‘eccentric.’ Sayin’ that word right ‘cuz it is so rare. And ta avoid confusion. Aye don’t hold to custom. Nae except for scrrripturrre customs. Nae manmade ones. Just scrrripturre ones.
“Morrre than that, young Half Orc, if some wee beastie would be callin’ me that, I’d just ignorrre them and look behind me, thinkin’ me fatherrr or grrrandfatherrr would be uhh sneakin’ up behind me, just to shake the finger at me. And why? Mayhap ‘cuz aye had just passed fetid airrr way too loudly, ate too many cookies, like aye am a doin’ now, or cussed like a lady banshee! Nae, young Half Orc, and everyone else who be listening, just call me Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre or aye will call ya oot!”
Ghordo merely grunted, stacked his tiny saucer with dainty meat cakes, wolfed them down, brushed off the crumbs onto his leather armor, and sipped hot chocolate. Then, to no one in particular, he said, “Ain’t never had no hot chocolate or dainty meats before. They look dumb but they taste real good!”
“Well spoken, Surrrogatti Glanappadrrre! But that is quite a mouthful, even without the rolling ares! Would you mind if we just called you Padre? That is an Earth Word for a leader who serves Jesu as surrogate father for small groups of followers of Creator.”
“Rrreally? How quaint! Padrrre! By all means, fine Half Elf, that would be a wonderrrful name! But the way you say it is… Padre. Short and to the point, and quite fitting, Laddie.”
“Great!” I exclaimed with a grin, “Let me unpack my next question. Conner Patrick’s request.
“Do you know of anyone who would help him talk about Creator and Jesu around this planet? The Conners call it Carnival World; they are going to make an amusement park and sell tickets to ride the rides and see the sights.
“But, under that guise, Patrick wants to build a chapel and train clerics to go around amongst the people and share about Creator and His Son from the Good Book.”
“Aye, Orrrlando, yerrr a lookin’ at him. As ferrr any others. Nae now laddie. Although ye may find some dwarf craftsman and hunter/fisher/gatherers that might be interested in workin’ at yon Carrrnival City. Mayhap not at the moment, Laddie, but if the coin be right, verry soon.
“If things go well…mayhap a year or so from now… I be thinkin’ I can talk several clerics into it. They will want ta know that yerrr people are good ta their worrrd and that Creator is behind this underrrtakin’.
“Me family arrre all gone to be with Jesu. My orrrphans arrre all grrrown up and oot o’ the orrrphanage.” Padre took another tea cake and washed it down with strong black coffee, “As forrr as the Good Book. We don’t have that book. My grrrandfatherrr told stories from the book. The angelic beings told him many stories oot of that book, and somehow grrrandfatherrr neverrr forrrgot any storrry Jedd and Jazz a’ told him.
They told him, too, Good Half Elf, about a man from a farrr planet, with a name like me grandfather’s. Said he only wrrrote some o’ that book, but another penman put many stories together to make a bigger book.
“They only sharrred some storrries and warned that there werrre other books, said to be frrrom Enoch of Earrrth. But they are just fables. And whether from the good porrrtion or the just stories portion, both were mixed with sentences that werrre… What werrre those words the angels used? Literal and allegorical. I will nae roll my ares again, because those are rrrare hard to ken words. Aye think it would nae be a bad idea for me to start limitin’ my rolling ares habit, frrrom…from today forrrwarrd…forward. Might take awhile!
“Anyway, back to what aye was a sayin’. They said it was important because it was a message to those people at the time of their last days. They said some of those people would be coming herrre…here, in the future. And that would intertwine our destinies with theirs!
Are the leaders of that Carnival City, like Commander Zales and Patrick Conner, are they from Enoch’s Earth? Are they the ones of prophecy, Laddie?”

I answered, “Yes, Padre. We. I mean they are. Some of us in that city are from Carnival World and some came through the Star Portals from earth.” Of course, I did not tell him that I, the Bounty Hunter Bard of Carnival World, was really from that planet earth, too.
Suddenly the throne whisked out with the royal guard surrounding the king.
King Harek laughed, “Ahh, don’t be worrried! Just finish yerrr tea! The Atlanticean blimp is floatin’ o’er the village above ground. Me lads would have shot it oot of the sky with me morrrtars, but the Atlanticean Blimp has diplomatic immunity! Didn’t know therrre were any o’ that race left, but…Captain Mike Millerrr orrr Orrrlando Barrrd, ye had best inform them of properrr prrroticol ferrr futurrre visits, since therrre is prrrobably nae an Atlanticean aboarrrd ship. Therrre is a device called a rrraddio on it. Ye need to hail us with the rrradio and ask permission ta dock! That is all therrre is ta that, my new friends. Verrry simple!”
The king whispered to one of his guards. The first prime warrior of the royal guards saluted Big Mike and then walked stiffly up to the captain and handed him a scroll. Red wax with King Harek’s signet embossed into the warm wax dripped a red drop onto the guard’s hand as he saluted and handed the rolled missive to Big Mike, commander of Alpha Team.
“Rise and shine cadets!” I quipped.
Jax, following the warning from Orlando, elbowed the sleeping ranger, Maria. “Looks like we have a ride home, doggies and kitties, boys and girls,” I joked.
Mike and I, and then the others bowed to the king, and took our leave.
The Dwarf boy, Klirnahan, our lumberjack trainee, was waiting discreetly just outside of the king’s royal chambers. Ghordo and I took the proffered Dwarven Goggles, and thanked the Dwarf lad, but just slid our bounty into our pockets. Padre reached into a pocket and donned his personal goggles.
We followed our escort to the Carnival City Blimp.
Beta team was aboard. Will Emmens, Captain of the Beta team, greeted us as we came aboard and there were a few salutes. Like most of Zale’s male rangers, he was big and tall with a strapping physique. We told him about the radio protocol and the promise of Dwarven Craftsmen and hunting and timbering crews wanting to help with rebuilding and provisioning if the coin was right.
Will said, “I’ll be sure to log that about proper protocol for entering Dwarf airspace.
“The Conner family and the Colonel’s superiors will, if their work is good, give the Dwarves as much gold as they can hide away in their mountain. As soon as you all get back, Colonel Zales will be happy to hear the news. Then one of the ranger teams will bring the blimp back, in a week or two and load up any dwarves who want a ride to Carnival City.
“Zales will have to contact Colonel Ripple Berkner-Kennedy over in Irish Pub City in east Borderlands!
“They have been having the devil of a time, too, just like we have, getting our city built.
“He and Zales don’t always get along well. Probably because Zales is a soldier’s soldier, having risen, up the ranks, to command. Colonel Berkner-Kennedy, from an upper crust New York family, was a scientist in the service, commanding other scientists, and was given this command post here, on Carnival World, more as a family favor, than because he was a good candidate.
“His scientists like him, and the other support people, military and civilian, too, but the rank-and-file soldiers don’t respect him like they should.
“Like we do Colonel Zales. Yes, he can be cranky and rattle our chops hard, but he is fair and won’t ask us to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.”

We rode back to Carnival World. We found that the force fields automatically opened for the blimp or the skip jacks. It still took us, along with our new cleric, Padre, a few tries to get through the forcefield to the sky ramp stairway, into the Star Portal commons.
When we docked, it wasn’t the scientist Paccetti that was last man out and stuck behind the force shield. It was Ghordo who was the last person who had to wait for the force shield to weaken. And Ghordo was not happy that he had to wait three times longer than the rest of us.
One day the scientist would fix that problem, but that would take a few years. For now, most of us were just happy that the blimp and the skip jacks, although no one was trained in on the skip jacks just yet, were able to bypass the sky dock forcefield when entering or exiting the complex. Or that is what the translated manuals said that were found while we were away on the quest. And of course it worked with the blimp, so we assumed it would also work on the much more complex skip jacks. The blimp not only possessed a type of self-refreshing, non explosive helium, but anti-gravity tech as well. Atlanticean blimps were much safer to operate and faster, when necessary, than earth blimps.
“Well folks,” said Orlando Bard to the assembled listeners, “that concludes tonight’s show. Now you know how Padre joined our bounty hunter team, as the required St. Patrick’s cleric. He’s still with us, though he rarely visits my show. He’s older now, and he is pretty much the same Padre; he just doesn’t do the rolling R sound as much these days.”
Bard strummed a few notes on his lute, “and you also learned about Alpha Team, listened to me sing, ‘I’m a lumberjack and I’m O.K.’ and heard the exciting details of our joint venture on the White Dwarf Mountain quest. And how Beta team learned how to work the controls of The Good Atlanticean Blimp and sailed us, ‘no lions and tigers and bears, oh my’ and no three or more weeks of walking our dogs off. And just like that, folks, we were all back home to Carnival City! Hoorah for the Ranger teams!
“Have a great night folks and thanks for coming!
“Tomorrow night my tale is all about how Bounty Hunter Mystica Knorn, became part of the legendary, Adventurer’s Inn, Bounty Hunters Guild!
“Well, maybe I am jumping the gun here, folks, but Mystica’s story will be coming soon!
“But before that…you know, the cart before the horse thing again. I will need to keep my first promise to share with you the tales of the magical and miraculous first day of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, here in Carnival City.
“We had the help of the best Dwarven lumber jacks, stone masons, metallurgists, hunter gatherers and technologists to help finish building Carnival City, following the White Dwarf Mountains Quest. And part of that story is the famous opening day here of St. Patrick’s Cathedral!
“While the Dwarves were helping to finish the Cathedral, others of their race were finishing the Carnival Game Area. Mystica did not come to Carnival City until opening day for the Carnival! So, in the grand order of things, my next session should be the promised story of the opening day of the cathedral before we get to the lead up to the open day of the carnival.
“I hate to be the one to break the news to you though, kitties and doggies! When St. Patrick had his grand opening in The Irish Pub Theme Park, it wasn’t exactly a fizzle, but it was an almost mundane event, compared to the historic grand opening here!”

CARNIVAL WORLD, CHAPTER 19

Holding hands, soft but bright white light dancing around them, the Fey slowly skipped along in a wending line, like Texas line-dancers, singing a hauntingly beautiful a’ Capella song praising Creator.
I knew that St. Patrick Conner was planning his opening service sharply at ten in the morning. He had wanted to share that service prior to the finishing of the Carnival area, but the Cathedral building project had not been finished until about one month after the opening day of Conner’s Carnival.
Between bounty missions at the time, I exited my log-cabin style inn suite. Padre would be already standing in front of the huge and Cedar of Lebanon tall, ponderous hickory and iron-reinforced double doors of the chapel, with another licensed St. Patrick cleric, Anselm, to greet the incoming chapel goers. Two strong men minimum were required to fully open those vast doors.
Anselm Cruze is a widower. He had been and still was a very handsome Latino of fifty-nine years, with a Gentleman’s Quarterly face and physique, even at his venerable age. Cruze did have as slight belly, but his agility and strength seemed unaffected. Here on Carnival World, if his health remained the same, he could possibly live to be almost twice his present age. Old indeed for a human, but Anselm had that potential here, even without the use of life extension technology.
His neck length, beautiful, wavy white hair and calm, serene demeanor epitomized a man worthy of saint hood. St. Patrick had contacted Anselm, not knowing that his wife had died earlier in the year of cancer.
Neither Anselm, nor his wife had any relatives. Their house of thirty years and his vocation of making audio books had become a dark sorrow of uncomfortable memories.
St. Patrick wanted him to work for Conner Corp because Anselm had narrated the King James Bible and the Revised Standard Version. More than that, Anselm had been a home fellowship elder for many years. That flock had dried up, and then Anselm’s wife had died. The pleasant-voiced and well-mannered Latino from earth had not given up his faith but was strangled by the memories and had been praying for a way out of his despondence.
Anselm was looking for a new start, somewhere far, far away, and Carnival World seemed, or so it is rumored, that he had said, “a genuine gift from God.” His smooth, not too high, not too deep, but musical Latino voice that had made both of his Bible Narrations best sellers on earth, was now becoming well known among the clerics and residents of Carnival World.
Strangely his lilting Latino accent sounded like that of a native Catling, except that he was not uncomfortable with using the words I and me.
Anselm had agreed to work for Conner Corp on the condition that he would not be expected to take military training as most clerics.
Anselm Cruze had always, or so the rumors go, been an avid participant in physical sports, like running, hiking, skiing, tennis, and softball, and was careful with the content and amount of food he consumed. His fervent desire was to mentor individuals and small groups of seekers as well as believers.
Well, where was I now? Oh, yeah. Ghordo and Mystica. Mystica was new to us at this time. Just settling in, so to speak, the hurt of her parent’s death fresh in her mind.
As I entered the main room of the inn, I saw Ghordo the Orc and Mystica the Elf, sitting at the firepit with beverages in their hands. Ghordo wiped frothy beer from his grass green and purple lips with the back of his beefy olive-green hand and burped loudly. Blunt and sarcastic, Ghordo was wont to irritate his friends and people who did not or barely knew him. Thankfully, he was more careful with Mystica. Everyone knew she might not talk to you, unless she had to, for months, if you offended her. I can be firm but tend to be diplomatic. Both Padre and Ghordo can be rather blunt and had irritated the lass more than once.
Mystica was also a total abstinence junky. No fermented beverages for her. Once she had discovered the imported sodas from America, Cherry Pepsi, and Dr. Pepper, she bought gallons of the imported stock from the concession stands, and my inn, on a daily basis. Well, I am exaggerating…slightly.
“Bard!” exclaimed Ghordo, lifting his mug of beer in a sloshy salute, and then asked, “I’m gettin’ bored. When are we goin’ on another bounty hunt?”
Mystica offered, “Uhh…I like working at the carnival, but I wouldn’t mind switching to Bounty Hunter duty for a week or so,” as she sipped her soda daintily.
I said, “Come, both of you, walk with me.” Neither served Creator, and I had been hoping they might follow me, and a few seeds might be planted, that their hearts might open.
Mystica replied, “Uhhm. As long as we don’t go through the park in the northwest quadrant.”
I replied, “No Mystica, we won’t be going anywhere near the park in the northwest quadrant.”
Ghordo drained his beer in one gulp and placed the empty mug on a nearby table. Mystica and Ghordo followed me out of the door into the commons of Carnival City.
We stepped off the inn porch and followed the well beaten path around the hospital side of St. Patrick’s. I waved as I noticed Cullen and several of his paladins exiting the constabulary on their way to service. We followed the path to the sidewalk square of the commons and turned north toward the great doors of the cathedral.
We all stopped in our tracks, and we weren’t the only ones. Both in the commons and the wider carnival area to the west, visiting earth carnival goers, groups of Carnival World natives, Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Catlings, and even a Ratkin trading merchant, stopped pulling his cart to watch the strange tableau.
The Carnival Game Board area, with its games and rides, all enclosed in a tall mesh fence, with a separate area of bleachers that overlooked the game square, had been finished a few months passed. The only advanced technology items for the Carnival were the gaming computer that monitored the Carnival Game Board during games and the Milky Granite Harmonic Resonance Paving Stone boardwalk that circled the four game booths and the four main rides in the center of the Carnival Grounds. Milky Granite had frequencies that enhanced and was sensitive to holographic sequencing and improved, healed, and cleansed Fey and supercharged their psionic abilities. Milky Granite could be found in plentiful deposits in the White Dwarf Mountains.
There was also a line of children’s rides in the center of the game board. The Tiny Tots Train Ride, The Long Green Alligator Machine Ride, the Silver Flying Saucer Hover and Bounce Ride, and the Unicorn Carousel.
Every time a child rode a children’s ride they received a small colored token, the same color as the Carnival tokens, but much smaller, that was good, depending on the color, for a free small ice cream cone, small blue raspberry icy, a small cotton candy, and an A & W baby-sized root beer with a small bag of buttered popcorn. The children’s food booth was in the center of the children’s ride area.
The Carny Guild Hall was a long wooden building constructed by the dwarves, with a row of porta-potties that inserted into the back walls of the private residential areas. The western third of the building contained an office, community room and classrooms designed for training. The building formed a natural barrier between the southwestern Carnival area and the northwestern economy hotel and park.
The crews of White, Red, and Black Dwarves who had been carried by blimp from their mountain strongholds, working in two shifts, switched projects and had finished the new Cathedral in record time. Well, you couldn’t convince Patrick Conner of that fact, as he had wanted the Cathedral up and running before the Carnival.
While the Carnival area had been designed with mostly conventional materials, and filled with amusement rides from Earth, both the cathedral and Zales command center, that covered the underground base, had been made from the Rose Granite, but with small blocks, and covered with the harmonic sandstone that cultivated earth resonant frequencies and canceled out stray voltage and energized people who lived near or under the influence of the special materials.
The Cathedral had been designed according to a special geometric pattern that converted GADDAD frequency music into healing waves and many people received healing or visions from Creator when they visited, unless their hearts were not right.
Not long after arriving, the Dwarves had sent teams of stone cutters, on their huge anti-grav barges, to the Rose Granite Mountain, north of the Irish Pub Theme Park, and the harmonic sandstone crags of the Red Dwarf Sea cliffs. For several weeks, every day or so, a filled anti-gravity sky barge had docked, and the empty sky barge was ridden back for more materials. Each Dwarven Citadel owned two sky barges, but no more than three were ever parked on the sky port during the Carnival City construction project. Ultra sonic cutting tools, levitation tech, stone softening and resonant frequency calibrators were used by the Dwarves. The great craftsmen, along with standard mining and building tools, utilized advanced technology with great proficiency during the final Carnival World Building Phase.
The Dwarves also helped Zale’s Engineer Corp position Inns and Suite walls that had been prefabricated. Utilization of the military’s three-dimensional architectural printer, and the legendary skill of the Dwarves, had streamlined and quickened the process. The Cathedral and the Hospital were amazing, advanced technology architectural wonders of beauty and resonance amplification. The Cleric’s Guild Hall, connected to the Hospital, was comprised of three wings. One wing was a men’s dorm, the second was a women’s dorm and the third wing, that connected to the hospital, and the third area contained a social room and a combat and exercise training chamber.
When finished, the building was larger than Colonel Zales’ top side fortress. The Dwarves, having access to the ancient Atlanticean’s laser measuring equipment and anti-gravitational sound machines, made working with large amounts of metal, stone or wood relatively easy. No large cranes or earth moving equipment, except for some small diesel dozers, had been used on any project. And of course, by that time, the scientists had discovered that the Star Portal was mobile. They had shifted it from the center of the complex to the northwest, into a corrugated building inside Colonel Zale’s fortress.
Two clans of Fey had entered on opposite sides of the wall, into the Star Portal Edifice, floating, their anti-gravity belts quietly humming, through the forcefield archways as if the door shields had not even been activated.
The Fey, en masse as the French would say, had never visited until the first day St. Patrick Conner opened his cathedral for visitors.
The dark blue and white-haired Sparky Fey, and the scarlet and orange-haired Fire Fey, to everyone’s astonishment, especially that of St. Patrick who was standing up in the tower overlook, ringing his first call to services, hovered serenely, glowing like fairy candles as they floated into the vast park-like vista inside the great walled edifice of the open-air Star Portal chamber. The light blue haired Frosty Fey, the Green Fey, with their toxic rods, and the Yellow Fey with their acidic energy rods, had not come that day, but in small groups of no more than three, visited briefly during the coming year.
Everyone, me included, stopped, mouths agape and stared at the two groups of radiantly glowing Fey as they majestically floated, in two now adjoined columns, singing the same song to Creator, as they speedily approached St. Patrick’s cathedral.
It was as if time slowed down for us, and they were suddenly in front of my group, and Cullen’s constables. The Fey had entered the enormous, almost as tall as the building itself, open doors of the chapel. We watched as the Fey heralds floated between a stunned Padre and his fellow cleric, Anselm.
The original small chapel, built with the secret advanced 3-D printer, jointly owned by the Conner family and Zale’s Command Center, had been built prior to Padre coming to live at Carnival City. The basement had been designed as a social center and training and exercise area for Patrick’s clerics. The old chapel was in the center of the open-air park. tucked in the middle of the two eighth wonder of the world edifices of The Conner Hospital and the Conner Cathedral. While the upper chapel did not have direct tunnel access to both the hospital and the new sanctuary, the underground portion of the chapel had been remodeled to allow tunnel entries into both new buildings.
I could see on the opposite wall, elevated even above the balcony podium, in the new and larger sanctuary, the life-sized statue of Christ on the Cross, with his crown of thorns. High above the frontal altar, and the pews that sat in neat rows, from the entrance forward to the alter area, the room had been designed to focus on the alter zone, rather than the speaker’s podium.
Above, and to the right, St. Patrick had been standing, by his top floor podium, next to the bell tower overlook, smiling, but just as stunned as the rest of us. Even though he was no longer pulling the bell rope, the bell was still resounding, as the loud peals echoed across the expanse of Conner’s Carnival Theme Park, inviting all residents and visitors to the service.
What had really been astonishing was that everyone had heard the song in their own language! I don’t know how everyone knew, but we all knew, we were hearing that song in our own dialect!
I had heard it in American English. Ghordo had heard it in Orcish. Mystica had heard it in High Elf.
To everyone’s further amazement, the Fey had bowed before the great life-size savior on the cross, inside the church, bowed again, then each had dropped their gold coins, and slowly exited the cathedral and swiftly disappeared in firefly flashes back to their villages.
The Fey of both camps, when asked later, both had insisted that they had not planned to enter the Star Portal Edifice together. They said they felt they had been told, by Creator early that morning, to make a holy pilgrimage to the newly erected building with the cross and bell tower. While one clan had entered from a north great wall door, the other clan had simultaneously entered from a southern great wall archway.
From time-to-time, after that, small groups of three or four Fey would enter at Conner Carnival Theme Park, to visit the chapel. Not just the nearby Fey, the yellow Fey, and the green Fey, from farther into the borderlands, also visited, after that, but infrequently.
Fey quads and trios never went to the services, but only on off times. Fey visitors would bow at the altar, and offer a short prayer to Jesu, Son of the God Most High, more powerful than all small gee gods, then drop their gold coin, and, after that, disappear in a color burst of rainbow light.
As the Fey all vanished in a flash of colored lights, like bursts of Fourth of July fireworks, the people began filing forward into the service.
Well, not all of us. Mystica turned up her nose and said, like a typical royal blood Knorn, with an air of pride, “Uhh…No thanks! No Divine Thieves’ celebration for me!” as she returned to the inn.
Ghordo seemed to vacillate awkwardly, then exclaimed in his loud, though momentarily subdued, rough, and gravelly voice, “No, you raw milk drinkers, go have a good time. I’m going back to the inn and have an early lunch.”
When the rest of us entered and took our seats in the soft cushioned pews, St. Patrick, long white ponytail flipping from side to side, as he panned the audience and beamed down from his balcony podium.
Excitedly he prayed a gushing thank you to Creator and his son Jesu. “Cool man!
“This is just like the book of Acts chapter two, when everyone gathered from all the foreign lands, and understood Peter’s gospel message, in their own tongues! This is so cool man! It’s a miracle!” Patrick Conner continued, “There are Bibles available in the gift shop. I encourage you all, if you do not already own one, that you go get one and read it, every day if you are able.”
Patrick tapped the green emblem of St. Patrick spearing a dragon, on his white priestly cassock. “There are several clerics of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Carnival City. I encourage you to find one if you have questions.
“They would be delighted to answer any queries, either in your residence or theirs, or out and about, to talk with you about Creator and his Son. You will find Padre and Anselm, in the cleric’s quarters behind the cathedral, under the old chapel sanctuary, in the wing opposite the hospital.
“I encourage you, if you are able, find a small group, eldered by pairs of my clerics, and join them for weekly Bible studies and prayer.”
St. Patrick opened his bible and proclaimed, “Welcome brothers and sisters. I invite you to open your own Bibles, to the first chapter of the first Letter of John. After I read it for you, I will bless you and dismiss you to your day.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God…”
Bard cleared his throat, drank from his water glass, smiled and said to his audience, “That was quite a grand opening for St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Miraculous really. Strangely, the sister chapel opened about a month or so later in Irish Pub City, and the event had been very low key, bereft of any supernatural blessing from Creator and His Son.
Now where was, I? Oh yes, the nearest bandit clan to Carnival City.”
West and South, from the Star Portal edifice, more than a day’s walk by foot is the nearest Bandit Clan. They live in the ruins of an old circular temple. Long and wide were the steps that ran up into the old shrine. To the right of those steps is a crumbling castle with a small open barred gate. Most of the upper stories are fallen in, but it seems as if there might be some usable space on the first level.
Mostly they live, or so I had learned years later, from a sleepy-in-his-cups bandit visiting Carnival City, that the bandits live in the bi-level underground quadrated chambers below the broken castle. The first level of the castle ruins is just a backdoor exit from a rubble-filled room that leads to a small trap door.
The old sacrifice room, up above, in the small, open arched, double walled sanctuary, atop the long steps, had been emptied long ago. Remnants of an old oak tree, its trunk long gone, snaked out, broom-handle thick, rough brown tendrils, along the chipped and broken fieldstone floor. Like great spiderwebs, the root system, chocked with colorful mixed clumps of wildflowers volunteered their services to spring up from the cracks along the floor.
This particular ruin, called Old Mooneye Camp, at the top of the stairs, contained a smelter, grind wheel and an armorer’s work bench which is considered clan property, and outsiders were not welcome.
You can clearly see inside the room by looking through the long and wide openings of the arched circle. Behind that arched circle is an enclosed half circle of stone, like half of an arctic igloo, as found in Canada and Greenland in my former world, but made with stone instead of snow, remiss of doors, but the roof is open to the sky.
At the foot of the stairs, to the left, if ascending, are a couple of fire-pits, several hewn log tables, and smoking racks that contained rows of in-process rabbits, pheasants, ducks, and salmon.
Wild onions, long green beans, potatoes, and carrots, as well as the wild game that had been recently taken from the nearby fields, were stacked on the table, or displayed on the racks. They had been taken, I would guess, from the nearby fields or the deep, neighboring watercourse. That wonderful stream, which played for my ears like a riparian woodland symphony, splashed and gurgled several minutes’ walk away, is just out of sight behind the old temple area.
On the day of my first clandestine visit, although I must add, that I had just been curious, and my intent had not been evil, I spotted a skinned wild ox and two furless cougars that were being rotated on special spits by four women. The wind wafted the smoke of that wondrous roasting feast to my appreciative nose and my stomach began to gurgle.
Feathers and flowers had been weaved into their dark brown tresses, and they had been dressed in white and brown furs. Colorful belled streamers interweaved with pine branches, were liberally hung around from Maypoles and vibrated in the soft breeze. Must have been a festival day.
Talking about the room above the stairs, I would have cleared the room to make it easier to run the smith shop. I guess they considered the still lingering remnants of the nature shrine holy ground and had decided they would willingly share the area with the gnarly tree roots and wildflowers.
Mostly the bandits there are Caucasian humans. However, I noticed a scattering of Wood Elves, Catlings, and Orcs, at various times when I circled the camp, on consecutive visits. After I checked them out with my binoculars, following my look-see, I went my way.
Catlings, although rare, were sentient feline humanoids of grace and strength, a bit aloof and often sneaky, that never said, “I” when referring to themselves. Most are very silver-tongued and charismatic.
Their utterances, mixed with little kittenish purrs and yowls, were quaint with dramatically parsed phrases like, “This one … would prefer …a nice mouse stew …for lunch,” or “The one here …who is speaking with you …has … contrary to your benefit, …alas, run out of patience!”
Most Catlings, technical name, Felix Domesticus Catlingus, were cosmetically appealing humanoids. They were thin, shapely, short haired beings of white, tabby orange or smoky black and gray striped colorings. Catlings grew to four or five feet in height.
Another type of Catling was called a Felix Arielus Catlingus. Ariel Catlings had thick course fur, of darkest black, or lion yellow, or orange and black tiger stripes.
Ariel Catlings had long flowing manes, weighed two hundred pounds or more, and stood seven to nine feet in height. Legend has it that these beings were not the product of genetic experimentation, but taken by the first Atlanticeans, from an off-world source, and trained as servants and bodyguards. Where was I? Yeah, Mystica’s arrival at Carnival World!