The Prophesy: Book 2 - The Right Hand of Destiny

 

The drilling of the well to the lava layer resumed. Paschal and Thorsten agreed that the dragonlings could be of continued use and they stayed, as well as all the adults. The extraction rate of the sandstone gradually increased to a continuous flow as the princes organized the work into a more efficient system. In all, it took fifty days to drill the well to the lava layer. No more accidents occurred during the excavation of the well to the lava layer. Yet seepage was apparent, as highly radioactive water kept leaking through the rock formation. The use of a magic force field to keep the water out was required, and consumed a vast amount of energy, putting the royals through terrible stress. Finally the last foot of sandstone got removed and the dragons were ordered to take a swim in the lava lakes of the Mediterranean to clean up. The Legionnaires were sent to Eloise for decontamination and rest.

"Boy, am I tired!" exclaimed Thorsten as the last dragonling took off for a lava bath.

"I never thought magical mining could be so tiresome!" added Paschal.

"When I think we still have to drill through the lava flow. You know, I think the issue is the need to keep a powerful force field in order to prevent excessive irradiation. I think we need to vitrify the wet layer."

"It would help but are you aware that vitrifying wet sand creates water vapour, Harp? That water vapour would be highly radioactive."

"Sitar's right. But how powerful is Bata, Harp? Could it drill holes right back to the surface from the lava-sandstone interface, say at forty-five degrees?"

"Yes, without any problem after I have had two days of continuous sleep! Why do you ask, Thorsten?"

"Well, if you drill these holes at regular intervals, the water vapour would take the easy way out and we could vitrify the sand. It would not stop the sand from being radioactive, but the water would stop trying to seep into our hole. Once we move below the lava layer, the radiation should be considerably reduced, as long as no water has managed to find a way below the impermeable layer."

Harp had been exaggerating; as soon as Thorsten's plan was approved, he set to work on drilling the holes. Seventy-two hours were required to drill some one thousand one hundred holes spread evenly from the base of the well to about one hundred feet up, beyond the water table. The next eight days were spent vitrifying the four faces of the well. This time, Mitsuko, whose wide blade acted on a wider surface, focused the energy emitted by Paschal. The vitrified layer was limited to less than six inches, as there was no need for the well to stay available for a long time. As each segment was vitrified, the water escaped, and the lower end sealed.

"Rest, brothers," decided Paschal. "Tomorrow, we get our legionnaires back and we resume the drilling with the help of the dragons. Lava is a lot heavier. We will cut load by at least sixty percent. The dragonlings and dragons are getting impatient to get back to work."

"I wonder if we shouldn't call on dad to help?"

"Why do you say that, Harp? Not that I object, but dad has his hands full with the Centaurs, I would wager."

"With Ian handling them? I wonder who has more of the other. I hear the little bugger is worse than a drill sergeant after a night on the barstool! He has been running them through their paces day in day out, in all sorts of conditions, rain or shine! Yamato told me he has a vocabulary worth a million campaigns! He has even enrolled the young Centaurs, telling them if they could run, they could fight. And he told the Centaurs to say bye-bye to their clan mentality: a warrior of the Kingdom was an all-around warrior and knew how to use any and all weapons available to their masters' proficiency, which he called 'basic'! To drive his point across, he defied all the Centaurs at once, and humiliated them flat out! The Fighters Master ended with a broken shoulder; the Swords Master disarmed; the Knife Master saw all his knives miss their target because he shot them in midflight with his arrows; the Bow Master saw his own arrows split in midflight by Ian's knives; the Axe Master tried to outsmart him by throwing two axes, only to barely escape them coming back at him by flattening on his belly! The stave master saw his stave fly off his hands when Ian's own hit him on the fingers so hard both hands had broken fingers. Then he finished the show by again disarming the Lance Master by simply jumping on it! To add insult to injury, he healed them and asked them when the fun would begin!"

"Harp, I thought you were to teach him magic, not your manners!"

"Me, teach him magic? Are you nuts? All I did was tell him about the Will and the Word, and he materialized a sword fit for his size, right in front of me! 'Is that what you mean, Harp?' and that little terror exploded in laughter! He has the instinct, the power, and the focus! I just wonder what he will come up with tomorrow! His only limit is his baggage of concepts is limited still, but it's expanding at an alarming rate, Sitar. There is one thing we must absolutely warn him about."

"What is that, Harp?" asked Enron.

"It is the nature of the Atom God, and how it was made. He may one day experiment and discover too late that this power is something to keep bottled up. It's too dangerous, even for us to use."

"And you forget the power that wiped the Banned Elohim, my love. I doubt any of us would like to face the consequence of antimatter. It is cleaner than the Atom God, but it far outstrips its power."

"Thorsten's right, you know. We need to sit him down and explain things more formally. Power is not all; it comes with the need to know its consequences and the willingness to use it properly or not to use it," commented Sitar.

«Dad, how about bringing Thor's Hammer to help us get through the layer of lava? You had no chance to put it to use yet!»

«Ah! Some exercise! I'm getting bored at this game of king! Expect me in a couple of hours!»

«Don't drive your dragonling too hard!»

«It's not the dragonling that's flying me, it's a Pegasus. I could use an adult dragon, were they not all with you guys! By the way, the Hammer's appearance has changed since it loaded with magic from my recurring use on the forge.»

«I sure want to have a look at it! Do not forget to bring your shield, we may do some side trips.»

«OK, Harp.»

Harold had grossly underestimated his flight time. It took him five hours instead of the two anticipated to reach the base camp.

"What kept you up, dad? I thought you had gotten lost!"

"Tease me again, Harp, and you end up Regent!"

"Dad, you know this can't happen. The regency would fall on mom, then my older brothers by order of decreasing age! I am further removed from the Crown than anyone else of our family is, and I'm quite glad of it! It would take a disaster of unfathomable proportions for me to wear it."

"Well, I came here for a reason. Show me the place!"

"Dad, it's still two hours before dawn. Eat and take a nap. We close the site at night because it's too dangerous."

"You have a point. Flying Pegasus Airlines²⁹²⁹ ("This has nothing to do with the Pegasus Airlines of the Ancients.") may be warm, fun, but it's still flying!"

***

The next day was spent explaining what had been done so far at the Sphinx. Thorsten and Paschal took turn showing things to Harold, and, by vespers, the King had a good idea of what lay ahead for them. What surprised him was the heat at the bottom of the well.

"Is it due to your previous work, boys?"

"In part, dad, but it was already exceedingly hot before we began. I think the entire area has been heating up slowly over time. It more than adds to any justification we have in rushing the recovery of the Crystal."

"Paschal's worries are justified, but there is more. As we progress, we notice the magic field is very unstable. It may be that, shortly, it might stop being usable. We need to speed things up. The fluctuations affect the shield against radiation, and the moment this collapses, we can't work here anymore. You saw the bluish glow of the field. The radiation level is so high outside it's deadly."

"OK, We start tomorrow at prime. What's your plan, Thorsten?"

"We could continue the way we are doing, but it's too slow. Thor, we need the power of the Forges of Thunder!"

"I hear you; are you aware of the power of what you are asking, Prince Thorsten?"

"Yes. We will join forces to direct the result properly, Oh God of the Forges."

"Dad, you said the Hammer has changed since it has returned to your possession?"

"Yes, Harp. Please have a look."

Figure 21: Thor's Hammer loaded with Magic

The Hammer had effectively changed. Along its handle was a continuous band of mithril, and, inserted within the handle was a pair of thunderbolts made of orichalque. The leather strap had been replaced by the care of Harold. The Hammer's head, which had seemed dull, now shone like polished rock.

"What changed the appearance?" asked Thorsten.

"I noticed each time I hammered on something, I collected more magic than with my old hammer. The more I used it, the lighter it became, but the more powerful the blows. I can forge a blade layer in a lot less blows than I used to need."

Paschal, Thorsten and Harold descended to the bottom of the vertiginous pit the next morning. Sitar and Harp occupied the old storeroom floor.

"Since you asked me to be here, Thorsten, what do you expect of me?"

"Do you think the Hammer could speed breaking the hundred-foot layer of lava?"

"I think so. Boys, seal up in a magic shield. I am going to give it a try."

A few minutes later, Harold gave the most powerful hammer hit he could muster. The resounding hit created a powerful vibration that cracked the hard lava like it was glass. Harold repeated the hits at an ever-increasing rate, until he reached the perfect tempo to create a resonance in the rock. The lava began to oscillate and vibrate like a giant string. Shortly, the lava fractured into small shards, and then into glassy sand. As Paschal guided Harold and Thorsten used his own hammer to remove the ragged edges, Harp and Sitar began getting a mini-tornado on the move within the well. Enron extended the wind funnel to the outside and shortly, a wind conveyor was set up that sucked the glassy sand as soon as Harold made it. The tornado's power, even if it was unsteady, was more then sufficient to suck the heavy sand. From outside, it gave the impression the Sphinx was smoking like an oil well on fire. The dark sand, blown away by the prevailing easterly wind, fell off on the ground in a large, black and thick deposit that marred the golden sands of the Sahara carpeting the Nile valley. The well's progress was considerable, reaching an astounding thirty feet in a single eight-hour shift. This represented eight thousand tons of rock reduced to dust and spread in a twenty-five mile cone off the side of the Sphinx.

"That's pretty good, dad! We have covered slightly less than a third of the lava layer. I wonder if we shouldn't hire you as a drill bit?"

"Paschal, I've never felt so hot in my life. Even the forge was cool compared to this hellhole! I think I lost twenty pounds."

"Well, we could go take a swim somewhere? I think the equatorial area is relatively safe and pretty wet."

"Don't you expect orcs?"

"We never know, but I doubt they would be a problem for us. I would worry more about the crocodiles. Mind you, I'm sure mom would love to get a pair of crocodile skin boots for horse riding! They would look nice on her!"

"Paschal, we have only a few crocodiles in our Ark project, and they are all from the American continent. If we see any African crocodiles, I want them put in hibernation, not skinned for mom," intervened Harp. "Anyway, their skin looks better on them than on mom's legs. I like how soft her legs feel when I sit on her lap!"

***

The princes and King Harold decided to go dragon riding for the evening. They extended their exploration of the immediate camp's area, looking for more plants and animals to port to the Elvin kingdom. Their first stop was at a beach forty-five miles due east of their base camp. The sea was beautiful, calm and in appearance, serene. The boys collected seashells, much to the amusement of Harold. Various types of crabs and sand inhabitants were collected for the Ark project. Remembering what he had witnessed, Sitar reminded the dragons to stay well above the sea.

"What are you talking about, Sitar?" wondered Harold.

"I saw a giant fish swallow a giant bird or so Timor and I thought, which, from Harp and Thorsten's description, was a black dragon, whole. It jumped off the sea a good hundred feet up, and still had part of its caudal fins furiously whipping the sea. I do not know if it is customary of these waters, but I do not want to take any risks. With all the events that occurred since, it completely was lost to my memory until I saw the sea again."

After a quick supper on the beach, around a nice fire of dead wood, the boys and the king returned to their base camp for the night. The next day's rising sun found them back at work in the pit. Another eight hour of hard work added thirty feet to its depth.

"Are you sure this lava layer is only a hundred feet, Paschal?" asked Thorsten.

"It was when we did our surveys. Sitar, did you verify the depth below us when you did the storage cave?"

"No, but it was a hundred feet under the pyramid, I doubt it has changed that much within less than a third of a mile. Come to think of it, we did not cross the entire lava layer when we built the cave for the crystal. The crystal is sixty feet high, and the cave barely had enough space for it. We figured we needed to minimize the size, given the conditions under which it was being built."

"I don't get it?"

"What is it you don't understand, Thorsten?"

"How far down did you go before starting to build the cave?"

"A hundred feet."

"Did you build the cave downward or upward?"

Sitar looked at Paschal. "I don't remember. Do you?" he asked.

"I would think I designed the plans so the cave roof was a hundred feet below the onset of the lava layer, Sitar."

"This implies that the floor of the cave would be a hundred and sixty or so feet below the lava-sandstone interface, Sitar. Did the nature of the rock change while you did the cave?"

"No, it was lava right to the floor."

"Paschal, your geologists were nuts! That lava layer is at least one hundred and sixty feet thick! Maybe closer to two hundred or more!"

"That changes our plans, Thorsten. We need to gradually dig our way to the storage cave on a slant," said Paschal. "Furthermore, we will have to drill through the lava for the whole length."

"OK. Let's do some maths. We have a third of a mile to drop one hundred and thirty feet or so. That gives a grade of seven point three percent. The length of the tunnel will be slightly above one thousand seven hundred and sixty-four feet of rock to cross. Here, I'm doing some assumptions, Sitar. I assume you have the floor of the cave at exactly one hundred feet below its ceiling. I also assume that the layer of lava is flat. A third assumption is that the distance is correct from our position to the cave's wall. I am quite aware that this is a lot of assumptions. Let's consider the first assumption is wrong; we can either end above or below the cave's floor. Personally, I would prefer ending above. That way the crystal won't fall on us. The assumption that the lava layer is flat seems reasonable, but who knows. Now, the thing is, how wide and how long is the cave? If it is very wide we will exit early, probably above the floor. Here, I assume the cave is square. We have no plans of this, do we, Paschal?"

"The original plans are in storage in one of the storage bins Harp made. But finding that specific one would take weeks, I think."

"And there is no guarantee I followed Paschal's plan to the letter. We were strapped for time, Thorsten. All I can say is the crystal had barely enough space to allow a man the possibility of walking around it. We kept it to a minimum, so we could shorten our work and start hiding it as soon as possible."

"That puts things in a new light, boys. We start drilling the tunnel tomorrow. In a way, I am glad we start now rather than earlier, otherwise the slope would have been a lot steeper."

"Given the measured distance, what's the expected finishing time?" Harp asked.

"I think it is fifty-eight days. Let's give us some time, a margin, for bad surprises, and say sixty. It's another two months."

"That will put the end of the work at somewhere near the winter solstice. Almost another year gone by, dad, and I feel the timetable is tight!"

"We all do Harp, but what can we do about it?"

"I feel like an employee whose boss is setting the date for a finished product of three weeks ago! I want that done like yesterday!"

***

The next morning, Harp used Bata to mark the tunnel's width, height and slope for a thousand five hundred feet.

"Why stop there?"

"Sitar, we must not, under any condition, touch the crystal with the beam of light emitted by Bata. We would have an explosion that would split the earth straight to the mantle. So I made sure to be short rather than long."

The next step was cutting the basaltic rock. Again Bata was put to contribution as Harp cut the rock into ten feet by ten feet squares, starting from the roof of the tunnel to the floor. Once the process was completed, Thorsten and Harold began hacking on the squares, quickly reducing the rock face to rubble. Paschal and Harp took the duty of removing the rubble to the bottom of the well, while Enron and Sitar siphoned the debris out using the now familiar mini-tornado. Due to a lack in magic power, the process was slightly adjusted. The residues were summarily dumped on the floor of the storage room, and legionnaires shovelled them into bags before carrying them out to load the dragons' nets. Once the dragon's nets were loaded, they took off with their riders and dumped the bags over the delta in a regular dispersing pattern. After three days of hard, backbreaking work, Paschal called the royals to a meeting.

"We are progressing on schedule, we have covered ninety feet. But I doubt we can continue asking the legionnaires to supply that kind of effort for sixty days. I think we need Williams and Dunbar. They could use magic to extend the conveyor belt to the outside and let the tornado do the dispersing for us. The legionnaires are better suited to insure our protection than to play the role of moles or earth movers."

"I agree, son. It's not that the legionnaires aren't willing, they would do anything to please, but it's not a reason to abuse of their good will. Contact them and get them here on the next dragon flight!"

"That's going to put mom's reserves of dragons to a critical low, dad. I'll give them waypoints and send a wing of dragons to collect them. They can teleport from waypoint to waypoint a lot faster than they can fly. They can hop through the North Pole route, which is a lot safer than the Grand Arc one you used to get to us."

"OK, Paschal. Contact them and give them the relevant information. Remind them to wear warm clothes. It may be steamy hot here, but I am sure the Arctic is cold, especially given the ever more present ice age."

Paschal came back to the world after a few minutes and gave his orders to a wing of dragons. A wing left for the island of Cyprus to meet with the two incoming royals.

"Why not directly here?"

"Dad, the magic field is too corrupted over the area for them to safely travel and teleport Just look at how unstable the weight of your hammer is."

"So, that is the reason. I was putting it on fatigue!"

"I am worried about the crystal's magic charge, Harp. If the field is so unstable, won't it be fluctuating?"

"No, Thorsten. It's a capacitor; it is, by definition, a regulator of magic output, whatever the immediate environment's flux. The only issue is that displacing it through space is like moving a giant electrical potential through a magnetic field: it disturbs the field and the faster you move it, the worse it gets."

By compline, the two dukes had joined the royals at base camp, and were updated as to the nature of the work they would have to do. A quick practice with a F0 tornado got them ready and as a side benefit vacuumed the dusty base camp. The next morning, the work resumed in earnest. Day after day, the process was repeated, and the evenings were spent in trips around the area of the base camp. One trip involved a visit to the ruins of Ancient Egypt, including Thebes, Luxor, and the Valley of the Kings, to name a few. Most areas were so radioactive the sand had fused into glass, and buildings were lumps of molten material. Jerusalem was a huge glassy cavity, and other places, such Damascus, could have been used as roller-skating rinks, had they not been glowing with radiation.

***

While we leave the royals at their tunnel-boring and boring task, let's have a look at what happened to ex-king Edward and the Minotaur. Last time we saw them, Edward was moving off eastward in the redwood forest accompanied by a soldier, and the Minotaur was moving south along the base of the Rockies, trying to track the path used years earlier by Nestor's son, Marlin, to reach the East coast. Then all hell broke loose.

Remember, as the magic containment field broke and collapsed, the volcano on which was built the College of Magic and its black counterpart erupted with a violence that created a series of huge tsunami, accompanied by earthquakes the like of which the Earth had not seen since the fall of the Baby Moon. The magic field itself, already severely disrupted by the mishandling done under the Minotaur's guidance, exploded to shreds and effectively caused part of what was California and Washington to fall below sea-level. Anything standing, be it building, bridge, or tree, fell over; huge trees snapped like matchsticks, and the explosion of the volcano flattened everything for as far as the eyes could see as its magma chamber became suddenly exposed and decompressed explosively. Lahars descended at the speed of sound toward the sea, burning and burrowing anything in their path. Successive pyroclastic clouds, travelling at three to five times the speed of sound, exploded in all directions, burning to ash all life forms, before covering them in a shroud of hot glowing ash. Huge landslides were triggered, adding to the mayhem.

***

As Edward and the soldier walked through the redwood forest, the first sign of trouble was the sudden departure of all birds in the trees. Then a deep rumble followed by an ear-shattering explosion brought them to their knees in pain, as their ears began to bleed. Rendered deaf by the sudden tear in their eardrums, they could not hear the trees falling behind them and were taken by surprise when the forest they were travelling suddenly uprooted itself and began dancing the gigue. The earth itself erupted everywhere in beautiful but deadly geysers, throwing rocks and trees like marbles and darts. The soldier was crushed to pulp by a huge redwood tree, while Edward, thrown off his feet once again by the heaving earth, fell in a rooting hole abandoned by its previous owner gone out on a walk. Knocked unconscious, Edward was out cold for a number of hours.

Further north and east, the Minotaur was resting and feeding when things blew up. Luckily for him, he was not using magic, and he did not get torn to shreds by its rupture. Nonetheless, he had to suffer consequences, the least of which was the great-grandmother of all headaches. He too heard the exploding volcano, and lost his hearing. As he stood up to look around and try to understand what had happened, the ground began to shake violently. He saw things he never thought possible: whole mountains dropped out of view, while others rose out of valleys. The Earth was like a sea in a hurricane. Suddenly, the piece of granite he was standing on began to move downhill at an ever-increasing speed, like a toboggan or bobsleigh on an icy mountain face. His ride caught up with the soldiers that had been tracking him as by order of the king, and crushed them under its mass. Water sprouted from fissures and lubricated the ride, adding speed to it.

"Oh, no! Not again!" moaned the Minotaur as he saw his predicament. "Must I always ride a piece of rock downhill?" He thought he heard a faint «Yes, bastard!» before his ride came to a sudden halt and he got thrown off like a badly saddled cowboy by a vindictive bronco. He landed in a pound with a resounding splash and barely managed to crawl out of it before fainting of exhaustion and pain.

***

Edward woke up dizzy, disoriented and lost. Where was he? As the rising sun tried to pierce the ash cloud above him, he began to look around and figured he needed to get out of the hole he was in. Edward had managed to keep fit, and it came in handy, as he used the broken roots to pull himself out of the hole. As he emerged, he couldn't help but be appalled by the extent of damage he saw. Trees blocked progress in all directions, and there was not even the sound of an insect or a bird. His memory was still too shocked to remember the pain in his ears. Death could be seen everywhere. The western horizon was barred by a thick black cloud, which told him it was not the direction to take. As he crawled under a giant piece of lumber, he found the crushed body of the soldier, still holding the sword. Try as he might, he could not bend the fingers to get the sword free. He resorted to breaking the fingers using a stone. After half an hour of this disgusting work, he had a weapon, and felt better for it. He used the blade to dig the corpse out from under the tree trunk, and recovered a knife, some dried meat, and a water pouch.

"Sorry, soldier, I doubt you will need those where you are, and I do need them to survive. May you rest in peace, soldier. I never knew your name, but you were brave."

This simple eulogy stated, Edward resumed his trek eastward, more intent than ever to exact vengeance from the Wolf King, the one responsible for his demise.

The Minotaur woke up the next day, and, after drinking his fill of fresh water, replenishing his water pouch, and eating some berries and ferns to sustain himself, resumed his trek southward. The valley he was following was oriented south but with a slight incline westward. Had the magic field been intact, he might have noticed this, but however hard he tried to read the field, he got disoriented. The Minotaur resorted to more standard methods of getting a bearing: the sun's position, as best as he could gauge from the darkened, dusty skies. Every time h tried to move east, he met with sheer cliffs that forced him to turn south. The entire landscape had been radically modified. What were once simple faults in the Earth's crust were now vertical cliff faces and unfathomable pits that extended for miles. Breathing itself was difficult, because of the ash that permeated the atmosphere. The Minotaur resorted to creating a magic field to protect his lungs from the abrasive glassy substance that each puff of wind blew up in the air.

***

Edward was not much better off; he too was faced with the problem of the ash. He resorted to a more mechanical method to deal with it: he used a piece of wet cloth packed on the inside face with wide leaves from bushes he had washed in a stream to cover his mouth and nose. Several layers of those leaves constituted an efficient dust filter. His problem was the eyes. How can you protect them from dust without going blind? After some trial and error, he resorted to using yet another layer of wet clothe, tied behind his head. It was thin, of dubious effectiveness, but better than nothing.

The Minotaur made slow progress southward, and gradually, after many tries, managed to move a bit eastward; his path had him climb a narrow pass imprisoned between two vertiginous cliffs that blocked the sun. As he emerged on top of a ridge, he saw the sun sparkle on a wide body of water, where once there was a wasteland valley. Not too far from him, Edward had followed a parallel climbing path and was contemplating the same extent of water. The two began descending, each encased in his own narrow passage, and unaware of each other's presence.

***

Both reached the shore at the same time, in pretty much the same pitiful condition. The Minotaur had lacked water, while Edward had only managed to eat berries, as he unable to build a fire and was unwilling to eat raw meat. Not that he had a selection of prime cuts: the only thing he had managed to kill was a water rat, and the idea of eating it, even cooked or burned, made him sick. The issue for both was crossing the water that lay ahead of them. Both now wore next to nothing, as the plants and other events had reduced any semblance of clothing to strings that dangled on their shoulders or from their emaciated hips. The fur that covered the Minotaur was striated with marks of burns; the paler skin of Edward showed stripes of reddish abrasion due to rubs over rocks, tree trunks, or a thorn. If the Minotaur was still recognizable, if only from his horns, one of which had fallen off during the previous months' ordeal. Both took the time to wash up in the sea to remove ticks and other parasites before trying to explore the seashore for a solution to their common problem.

As dusk came upon them, both noticed the same thing: The sea was retiring with tremendous force, pulling with it huge redwood trees, that could well be used to cross the sea arm. Unfortunately, neither had a paddle and darkness was setting in fast. The search for a convenient means of guiding the giant trunks and propelling them was put off until morning.

The next morning found both looking at their little domain for any floated debris that might be of use. The inlets had accumulated a lot of garbage since the sea arm had opened, and it was not long before the Minotaur found an upturned canoe, whose bottom was reduced to wood shards, but whose paddles were still available and intact. Edward managed to find two narrow wood planks, which he cut into manageable shape using his sword. A few shards later taught him to wrap the handle with bark. Then came the need to collect water and food for the crossing. Both found a profusion of berries, and used wide leaves to wrap them up. The last thing to do was collecting water and springs that sprouted in cracks found at the base of the cliff face the enclosed the back of the inlets supplied the requisite water.

As Edward was finishing his preparations he saw a huge tree float by, about a hundred yards from the shore. Unknown to him, hiding within the branches and facing the other way, was the Minotaur. He had finished earlier than Edward and had managed to climb aboard a tree ride just before the tide reversed and pulled the tree away. Edward resumed his preparations after seeing the tree move by and searched for a convenient almost free-floating tree. After hopping from trunk to trunk and almost falling in the water from the slippery cylinders, he reached a tree held in place by a mesh of branches. He tied up his meagre reserves using the last string of cloth still dangling from his hips, and then proceeded to cut the tree loose by using his sword as an axe. It was well past matins when, extenuated, he decided to put off cutting the rest of the branches. He settled down between branches, drank some of his water, and fell asleep.

Sometime before the first glows of dawn, Edward was awoken by a sudden move of his tree trunk. Another tsunami had rocked the sea, and as the wave lifted the redwood, it broke loose from its last obstacles to free movement. Splinters of wood and branches flew in all directions, but at long last, the tree was again able to roam the sea. As dawn broke over the eastern mountain range, the tide pulled the tree out with tremendous force, and the strong southern surface current gripped the boat of fortune and dragged it along. Edward took a quick meal of berries, drank some water, and then sat at the root of the tree, began using his paddle as a scull to guide the lumbering giant eastward.

The Minotaur had been using a comparable method to guide his own tree in a similar direction, some twelve hours ahead of Edward. Repeated snags had hampered the Minotaur's progress: first, he had hit an underwater obstacle that had halted his progress. It took the tidal wave to release him from the jaws of the underwater rocks. Then the returning tide had countered the surface current, and had pushed him northward toward the interior rather than toward the south, as he had hoped. Finally, after a period of idle waters, the current recovered its force and began again to push the debris southward; its combined speed and the retiring tide made for quick progress in the desired direction.

Had the Minotaur stood up from behind the root he had been leaning on, and looked behind, he would have seen the tree on which Edward was, slowly navigating a parallel path, but not Edward himself, as the protruding branches of the giant redwood fir hid his body.

***

The second day of navigation passed quietly and the night, darker than the back throat of a dragon, also slowly passed by, the two having nightmares and restless sleep. The sudden roar of a battle broke the early morning peace. Five miles ahead of their respective position, a party of orcs caught on a raft of redwood was fighting hunters and crocodile priests with a violence that created waves that reached the two lonely trees as mere ripples. The still and hot air carried the fury of the battle to the now healed hearing of the Minotaur and Edward. Apparently, the orcs and hunters had each built a raft to cross the sea arm; due to unfortunate circumstances the two rafts had collided at sea during the early hours, and the battle had begun. Blood and guts flew everywhere and dripped into the sea, attracting predators.

Down below, a predator of insatiable appetite felt the vibrations of the rafts as the battle raged on, then smelled the blood and guts dripping from its side and in-between the trees that composed it. At first, the shark surfaced and eyed the tree amalgam, trying to judge what it was. The erratic movements of the rafts told the megalodon this was a dying prey, and it moved in for the kill. It circled the rafts twice to judge its size then disappeared below. It dove deep, so it could gain speed as it climbed upward. From a depth of three thousand feet, it whipped the sea and began its rapid climb.

The Minotaur has seen the monstrous caudal fin as it sliced the water around the far away raft. It had come to inspect his tree, and the Minotaur, no fool, had stayed perfectly still, so as to be undetected by the giant fish. He knew instinctively this was the king of these waters. As it disappeared below the sea, he wondered why it had not attacked the raft.

The caudal fin too fascinated Edward. He had seen it coming from the northern end of the sea arm, dive below his tree and reappear shortly thereafter about two miles off, closing in on the rafts. The tree in front of him, on which resided the Minotaur, hid the view of the rafts except when he was on the crest of a wave. Edward figured he needed to have a better understanding of things so he moved to the tree branches and climbed up a tall one, His movement attracted the megalodon's attention, which came back to inspect the tree on which the Minotaur was frozen in fright. Edward saw the megalodon's inspection of the other tree and understood he had taken a huge risk. He stayed totally immobile in the branch, hoping the fish would not come have a look at his perch. He almost did a dance of relief when he saw the megalodon turn back toward the rafts. Edward saw the shark do another loop around the rafts and then the caudal fin disappeared below the agitated sea surface.

A minute, two minutes passed, then, suddenly, a geyser erupted where the two battling enemies were fighting. The two rafts broke apart as the megalodon broke the surface from right under it, sending trees, branches, orcs, Hunters and crocodile priests flying in all directions. The shark jumped clear out of the water and its one hundred and fifty feet long body crashed back in the sea, reducing the rafts' components to tooth picks, drowning orcs and Hunters alike, and stunning the crocodile priests. Shortly, the megalodon could be seen swallowing anything within the maelstrom it had created, from tree to crocodile priest, not forgetting the fast sinking orcs and hunters.

The waves created by the megalodon's hunt pushed on the trees, making them move further east, closer to the sought-after shore. The oscillations of the tree trunks under the impetus of the waves made both Edward and the Minotaur seasick, but they had the good sense not to puke.

Although the sea seemed to have recovered its tranquillity neither Edward nor the Minotaur took it at face value. The occasional emergence of a smaller predator reminded them of their more than precarious situation, and neither dared move on their respective trunk. The eastern shores loomed ever closer as the surface current drove the trees into a bay. Tired and nervous, the two individuals slept fitfully; Edward was worried because his water reserves were getting critical; the Minotaur had not put enough fruits and grass in reserve and was seeing their level drop dangerously.

In the early morning the tide turned again and began pushing them toward the shores at an increasing speed. A rather wide river mouth occupied the back of the bay. The tide's entrance created a rather impressive tidal bore. It pushed the two trees upriver hard, and suddenly unseen obstacles snagged the lower, underwater branches. The sudden stop almost threw the two off their respective carriers. As the tidal bore continued upriver, the river flow settled, while still rising slightly, but not enough to free the two trees. The two men were stuck in the middle of the river, unaware of each other's presence.

Six hours later, the tide turned and the river level began to drop considerably. The trees settled in the bottom, and stopped any movement. The first to decide it was time to get off the tree was the Minotaur. He slid down the side of his tree, on the south side, and found himself in shallow, very muddy water. The noise he made as he splashed his way through the river worried Edward, who decided to delay his own disembarkment. It took about an hour for the Minotaur to reach the river's shore and climb out into the underbrush.

Edward waited another hour before deciding to move out. By then the river's level was again rising and he had to swim to reach the tree trunk that had been the home of the Minotaur for the past four days. Unable to climb on the slippery trunk, he moved to the tree's branches and used them to pull himself out of the water and on the tree. The sword was cumbersome, an obstacle to effective swimming, and almost pulled him below the surface, but he tenaciously refused to let it go. The tree trunk began floating again and swing back and forth under the water pressure that was pressing on it as the next tidal bore was coming upriver. As the tidal bore reached the tree, the underwater branches snapped partially and the tree swung across the current in effect affording a bridge to the southern shore of the river for Edward. He did not hesitate and took a run for it. As he jumped off the root system, he saw the tree get washed over by a powerful wave. Had he stayed on it a minute longer he would have been drowned. After taking time to rest, Edward began progressing south as well. It became apparent to Edward that the best way to progress was to take the path the animal had made in the wilderness.

***

Days became weeks, weeks became months, and still the Minotaur progressed south, followed by Edward. The Minotaur met orcs and disposed of them with magic, unwittingly easing the progress of Edward. Most animals instinctively stayed away from the Minotaur, whose odour spelled death. As Edward kept on the same trail, he was left alone as well.

As the two passed below a series of volcanic cones, one of which was letting out a continuous flow of lava, the Minotaur saw activity above his position. A group of men and children were occupying a lava platform under an inactive one. Below him, Edward watched the Minotaur, whose identity still escaped him, but which seemed to focalize his hatred.

The Minotaur had only given a cursory glance at the humans above him, and figuring they did not represent a threat, resumed his progress further south. Edward had not even bothered to look up at what had interested the Minotaur. His obsession was well below that point! As the Minotaur resumed hiss progress south, so did Edward.

Edward had changed considerably over the past months: whatever fat he might have harboured had melted away under duress. His once soft skin was now cracked, red from sunburns and rashes. Mosquitoes, leeches, or ticks had spared not a single square inch of his flesh. His hair was oily, filled with knots and lice, as was the rest of his body hair. Having kept close to the Minotaur, he now smelled as bad as he did, and couldn't care less. His fingernails, cracked, broken, were black with dirt. His fragile feet, that had been covered by blisters from the long walks, now were hardened by callosities developed from walking barefoot on a wide variety of surfaces, from pointed rocks to wood shards, glass, and biting insects. He had even managed to walk over an ants' nest without even flinching as the squashed insects tried to bite him away. His hands had also grown impressive callosities from gripping things such as lianas, vines and other means of speeding his movement through the forest. Albeit he remained definitely human, all the finish and polish of civilisation had been scrubbed off him. The only residue of his past was the now very rusty sword. Clothes were only a memory of a long-forgotten past.

The Minotaur itself was not really in much better shape. His numerous encounters with predators, from orcs to an occasional big cat, had left indelible marks on his body. Hair patches were missing where fire had burned his skin; his body was a seesaw of fine lines testifying to the numerous battle scars. Lice and other pests also infested his fur, and leeches had taken hold of his broken horn, refusing to let go of the blood supply.

The progress southward lasted another month before the Minotaur finally sensed an old trail, which he had despaired of ever finding again: a very old, very tenuous trace of a specific magic signature: the trace of Marlin! It had been years since Marlin had passed along that river and it was difficult for the Minotaur to decide whether he had gone up in the mountains or down river toward the coast. As he thought this out, the Minotaur figured since Marlin was trying to go east, he had moved upriver. The Minotaur crossed the river to check if his prey had travelled on the other side, and immediately noticed it had not been the case. Rather than risk losing track of Marlin, he crossed the river again and fell in it. As he tried to pull himself out of the water, he felt a thick, slimy animal try to grip him. A thirty-foot long boa was considering him as a meal, but as it tried to strangle the Minotaur, its head was roasted by a long blast of fire from the Minotaur's nostrils. The boa, taken aback, released its prey and took an emergency dive to put out the burning of its flesh.

Edward had seen the attack by the boa and the Minotaur's response. It confirmed his opinion that this animal was evil and that it was his divine mission to dispose of it in the name of God. His faltering resolve rekindled, he resumed the tracking of the Minotaur, which had begun moving east in earnest.

***

Although the isthmus is narrow it is also extremely mountainous. The Minotaur followed crisscrossing paths as he tried to track Marlin's search for a passage east. The straight-line fifty-mile trip from one ocean to the other grew and grew as the Minotaur tried to find his way across a very hostile jungle. It took him a month just to cover the distance, at about ten miles a day. As he kept moving around in the narrow space offered by the land bridge, he could not but help to notice the continued presence of the human. As previously, he couldn't care less. Humans were so not a danger in his book. He even considered feeding off him, but decided to see how far it would follow him.

Edward wondered what was making the monster change trajectory all the time. Was it trying to evade him? Was it afraid? As the Minotaur continued his erratic and continuous changes of paths and directions, Edward became ever more convinced the beast was afraid of him and trying to lose him in the forest. He resolved to stay even closer, for fear of losing track of the animal.

Finally, after climbing yet another rise, the Minotaur saw the Ocean glitter in the distance, as the sun rose above it. Finally! He had made it across the continent! The rest of the day was a simple feat compared to what he had endured so far. He travelled down a river to the sea. As he reached the ocean shore, the Minotaur could not help but jump into the surf, and swim in the waves. All his fatigues melted under the caress of the refreshing water. He immediately began doing a quick toilet of his very messy fur; a long dive removed the lice, the ticks, and the leeches. He used a thorny bush to comb his wet hair of leaves, brushwood, and other undesirable elements. A long stay under a cascade of fresh water to remove the salt, which burned his wounds as it disinfected them, followed the trip to the sea.

Edward watched the Minotaur clean itself up and waited for him to leave the sea to take a shower to head to the beach himself and begin to clean up his own body. The burn of salt on his wounds almost made him cry out but he resolved himself not to show weakness to his enemy, so he endured silently, clinching his teeth hard even as his eyes watered in pain. He too washed his hair and his body in the surf, and let the salty brine dislodge his parasites.

By the time Edward had finished cleaning up, the Minotaur had begun walking along the road that used to follow the seashore northward. Edward took his turn under the fall and cleansed his body of the salt, while rubbing the sword blade with wet sand to remove the rust that had tarnished the blade over the months. An hour later he too took to the road and quickly walked forward to catch up with the Minotaur, mindful of not getting distanced too much. He should not have worried; the Minotaur had to be mindful of tracking the faint magic trace of Marlin and was afraid of missing a sudden change of direction. His progression northward was as painfully slow as his southward one had been. The Minotaur knew he had months if not years of travel still ahead of him, depending on the conditions he met, the number of false leads Marlin had followed, and the number of walks around of the Atom God's land he had to undertake. Just as he began this long trek wrought with danger, the royals began drilling their way to the crystal under the pyramid.

***

The princes' efforts at speeding up the drilling of the access tunnel was for naught. Whatever trick they tried, the unstable magic field rendered the trial risky at best. Even the use of Bata was limited to marking the path to follow. Even the use of the magic hammers was becoming difficult, as collecting magic became more erratic.

Day in, day out, seven days a week, they trudged through the process of reducing the lava wall to chunks that could be air-lifted by the miniature but powerful tornado they maintained in the passages leading to the surface. As they progressed further down and away from the well, the maintenance of a stable funnel became ever more difficult, until, one day, the end refused to move any further down, however hard they tried.

"What do we do now?" asked Thorsten at Harp.

"Let's divide the funnel in parts. We do not need for it to be continuous from the rock face to the surface. Paschal, where would you put the divisions?"

"The issue is the sudden change of trajectories imposed by the path the tornado needs to follow. I suggest we divide it into a funnel to dump what we extract from the rock front straight up to the bottom of the well; then another picks the stuff as it comes out and sucks it up to the floor of the storage cave. Finally, a third one carries the stuff from the floor, and follows the tunnel leading outside with the appropriate bends. Since it would be the shortest of all three, it would also require a lot less control, even if it did have to bend more. We may eventually have to cut the funnel along the descending tunnel from we are building to segments as well. After all a third of a mile very narrow tornado is a lot harder to control than a more powerful but wider siphon. The issue is in the precision required for the whole length. So far, when we did tornadoes, we were more interested in controlling the tip, now it's the entire length from start to finish we must control."

"Will it impact on our production?" Sitar asked. "I do not like to stay too long at the same place. Mobility is our force, and for now we are pinned here."

"I do not think so," replied Thorsten, as he looked at Harold. "Our issue is supplying enough for the tornado to carry along given the effort you guys put into maintaining it efficiency. As we progress, the output is becoming ever more difficult to sustain, and we have to put proportionally more effort into it. The production will have to slow down, whether we like it or not, if only because we cannot maintain our current rate for much longer. In fact we might consider asking you boys to join us at the rock front to speed things. After all it might be more advantageous to be four working to produce the gravel and then to combine together to blow it out of our way. Yes, the expulsion of debris would no longer be continuous but at least the energy expanded in transport would not run empty most of the time."

"I think Thorsten's suggestion is valid, boys. Let's implement it tomorrow. Thorsten, Harp, Paschal and I will handle the rock front's destruction. Sitar, Enron, Williams and Dunbar, you handle the maintenance of the funnel to the storage cave found under the Sphinx. Once it's filled to near capacity, we stop the mining process and work together to bring the stuff out of the cavern and disperse it."

Thorsten's suggestion resulted had the expected results. The rock front progressed further, faster than before. The last two hours of a day were dedicated to cleaning the passage, the bottom of the well and clearing the old vault of the day's production. The change of task also helped make the workday less boring.

Exactly fifty-five days after beginning the drilling of the descending hall, the sound of the rock face changed, indicating they had reached a new type of rock.

"Finally! Glass! We have reached the outer vitrified rocks we had placed to line the inner wall of the crystal's storage vault!" exclaimed Sitar, informed of the change.

The process of opening the vault progressed slowly, painstakingly slowly. No one wanted a rock to fall and damage the crystal. Thorsten chiselled the joint of a block, starting at the top and then separating the side from similar blocks. Then he carefully pried the block's base to insert wood supports as he removed more and more of the vitrified mortar that had been used to bind the sandstone. Finally, the last bit of glassy mortar was delicately extracted. Thorsten then materialized four grip hooks resembling simple fishhooks that were thin enough to slide between the block and the rest of the structure and he turned each ninety degrees so their teeth would bite in the now removable block.

With the help of Harold, he began pulling the block out toward them very slowly, mindful of creating any shattering or loose piece of rock. Finally, after twenty minutes of painstaking care the block was out of the way and the Crystal and its supporting infrastructure became visible to Atlantean and human eyes after seventeen thousand years.