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Enewald: As for your question: Same as what happened to the Sultan’s body in Muse. The Reader controls it while he’s there and when he's not there, the body goes on a sort of auto-pilot. The longer a Reader inhabits the body the better the body performs to the wishes of the Reader.

As for the Janos ignorance thing. Consider he’s trying to gather information in this strange place he’s only just arrived. He has to find out who he is, what he’s doing there, the situation of the world and doesn’t realize that Khayr ad-Din can read the book. He has to ask these questions while testing Khayr to see what his limits are.


aldriq: The book ought to become more interesting as time goes on. Between a dangerous war and Janos predicted by Khayr to rebel there ought to be much opportunity to expand interest.

To all: In this chapter I introduce a character for which I altered my 1800's outline. :cool: I don't think everyone will like it but I believe it'll add a little color to the story.
 
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As night came János stepped off the dock with an armed escort. Looking behind him, János saw the ships rocking in the harbor, the smell of salt strong in his nose but the shove in his back was even stronger. Whipping his head to face forward, János felt as though he’d slipped into a cross-world of Dumas and Arabia. But he should’ve expected such a big difference between a war zone, a safe home port and culture.

Horses attached to carriages lined the paved-brick streets, foreshadowed by drab buildings of random height. He couldn’t see much due to the night’s darkness except for the lit street lanterns and the moths fluttering around them. And judging from what little he could see, János doubted there was anything worth noting during the day. He just hoped to find somewhere comfortable and warm but it didn’t look like anyone could find those things in this city.

“Go on,” spoke the gun with a man attached to it. János felt the barrel momentarily between his shoulder blades; it was enough incentive to spur János into stepping forward.

People passed him on either side, their dress practically unchanged from when he had first visited the place more than four centuries earlier. They seemed the same. Burkas, kufis and jellabiyas were still the staples of dress. But János had noticed the multitudes of different fabrics; the people benefitting from an exposed planet.

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“Where are we going?” János asked as he was told to turn on a sidewalk.

“Just keep going,” was all he heard. As he continued János noticed that those who passed near him leered at him; was he so recognizable? It must’ve been why Khayr transported János at night. Not only would there be fewer people to see him but he’d be harder to see, too.

“Get in,” he heard next, nearing the door of a black carriage connected to a spotted horse.

János glanced over his shoulder and grabbed the door’s handle himself, swinging it open. Empty inside, János took his first step into the box, setting himself on a seat reminding him of a luxury train car. Behind him one of the soldiers closed the door before climbing on top, next to the driver. János’ comparison of the carriage to a luxury train car shattered like glass once the horse’s hooves found traction, carrying away the box in turbulence.

He tried remaining still inside, placing his hands on either side of him as he looked out the window. People passed by without paying him any attention, without even knowing who was sitting inside. His stomach turned from the involuntary movement of the carriage and from not knowing what exactly was going to happen to him.

He passed vendors on either side of the main streets selling everything from food to weapons. The wide varieties stunned János, sparking the wonder within him that made him want to know exactly how large Algeria, Algiers, had become. Not to be forgotten, street performers acted side by side playing tricks, conducting athletic feats and committing incredible acts. Just on his ride János saw fire being eaten and swords swallowed, things he’d rarely heard of when traveling bands came to his city in his youth.

More than a half hour passed on the road before his ride came to a halt in front of a large, beige two story house. It appeared plain, lacking much decor or appeal. János assumed Khayr ad-Din had something to do with this; wanting to reject European standards and having an inability to come up with original ideas of his own, things looked plain. They lacked an artist’s touch.

He gasped as the thought spun through his head like a sewing needle through cloth. Could this have been the real reason Khayr abducted him from the start? Or was it something that had only just entered his mind? Khayr could always find ways to copy what had once been original but beyond that, what future was there for art in a restrictive society? No matter what János asked, he wasn’t going to get an answer to his questions until Khayr wanted him to know.

János was shaken, startled from his thoughts when his door swung open, the soldier stating, “We’re here, General.”

He didn’t dare guess aloud but he peeled himself from the seat and stepped outside. Once down he looked at the soldier, “Are you going to guide me here, too?”

The man stuck his tongue out to wet his lips before pointing a finger toward the building János had just been scrutinizing, “There.”

János stared at the ground, thankful that it wasn’t a jail cell or a dungeon. Khayr must not have been lying when he proclaimed that the General was too popular to harm without crucial, undeniable evidence that he was conspiring against the Sultan. Perhaps there was some truth hidden within the man after all. But he couldn’t be trusted; the lies his tongue told could never been sorted before they were known.

Slowly János made his move toward the house, staring up at it as he climbed its stairs. Trying the doors’ handle, János found it to be unlocked. He was far from surprised. The thought that someone had somehow broken in hadn’t even entered János’ head. Khayr was too meticulous to allow something like that to happen. Khayr couldn’t let it happen. It’d look terrible to the people should a notable General be killed or harmed by a common thief.

Shoving against the heavy door he released the knob, allowing the weight of the door to swing itself open. Inside János was surprised the room wasn’t plain or boring but was intricately decorated to what appeared to be a very Arabian feel. It was quite different from the North African culture János had lived through all those months.

Plush couches lined the walls near large windows to allow the light in during the day. Their curtains were pulled for now as the place bathed itself in throws and light from chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and small lanterns on tiny tables and desks. There was something about the ancients that never got old. Class and taste could never be pushed over for new fashions and from an artistic point of view János was in love with the beauty. Only the presence of a flesh and blood Venus de Milo could’ve been more welcoming.

“Don’t leave,” came from behind János. As János turned away he noticed the soldier shutting the door behind him. He wondered how many other soldiers were stationed around the home. Surely there were more than just the one. Khayr wouldn’t allow him the chance to run. Even if János could escape the house he wouldn’t be able to hide.

Then János heard the shuffling of feet from another room. Instinctively he picked up a lit lantern, carrying it with him as he crept toward the open door frame separating the rooms. Silent as he could be he felt a lump growing in his throat as he tried reminding himself over and over that Khayr ad-Din wouldn’t allow either a thief nor an assassin to kill him. And as many times as he repeated it he couldn’t force himself to trust the words as the flame tickled the glass encasing the light.

At the edge of the open frame, János plastered his back against the wall, listening for footsteps or the swishing of clothing he had heard before. His heartbeat hastened and his palms were sweating. Switching the lantern to his left hand he wiped his palm on his pants before gripping the lantern again with his right. He wasn’t about to allow his weapon to slip from his grasp when he needed it most.

Then the intruder came through the door and as János went to swing the lantern down on the man’s head the stranger jumped back with his hands in front of him screeching, “My Hassan! What are you doing?”

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János looked at the stranger warily, unsure if he could trust him. Everyone knew János’ new name so the man’s words were worth nothing lest he could offer something more secret. Although János wouldn’t even know those secrets, so private was the life of the General to him. Taking a chance, convincing himself that the stranger wasn’t there to harm him, János set the lantern on a nearby end table and with an unsteady grin, spoke, “I thought I heard something.”

“You were right,” spoke the man with an easy smile. “I heard you were on your way back and I came here to clean up a little. I don’t think the Sultan’s harem girls have been here in weeks. The dust was so thick.”

“He probably took them with him.”

“The Sultan’s a busy man,” the stranger laughed softly. “Its good to see you back but they didn’t say why you returned before your campaign was finished.”

János didn’t know how to respond. The Sultan didn’t need to provide a reason, all he needed was an order but János felt he had to come up with something. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Let’s sit,” the man spoke, as though ignoring what János had just said. After sitting on a couch near a window and a bright lantern he rested his back against the cushion, saying, “You can tell Wasil anything.”

“Wasil?”

“Go on.”

János smirked as he stole the name in his memory for permanent keeping. He kept silent until he pulled himself on the couch, two feet separating them, before speaking, “I don’t really know myself.”

“Maybe he has something planned for you here,” Wasil concluded. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything myself.”

“Why?” János spoke without thought.

Wasil chuckled to himself, “We’re not in front of anyone. You don’t have to play along like you don’t know. I’m in Europe almost as often as you are and we both know what I do up there.”

“You’re an assassin.”

“I might as well be. Traversing in secrets results in just as many deaths as the people I deal with. But let’s not talk about me.”

János didn’t want the opportunity to flee before finding out more about this stranger, “What else is there?”

“Indeed.”

He looked at Wasil strangely before advancing, “What do you think of the Sultan?”

Wasil shrugged, “He thinks he Mohammad. Thinks he’s this all-powerful being that can do no wrong. And it definitely seems that way with all the luck that’s come to our nation since the North African campaigns in the late fifteenth century. Almost the entire line has treated themselves as though they ruled the world.”

“There’s probably a reason for that.”

“Its megalomania. Where one leaves off the other enters. There is reason for confidence but to preach in the way the Sultans have been is dangerous. The people are beginning to believe.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all,” Wasil confessed. “It’s the way things are going and with continued successes in Spain, there is little to contradict his word. If he wins there I have no doubt more people will flock to him.”

“Yet you work for him.”

“There is little choice. I’m good at what I do and it pays more than the poor farmers who try to search for fair land away from the coast. If this war is won and a generation or two creates a new Spanish Algiers perhaps people will open their eyes. Wealth usually brings a want for freedom.”

“So does extreme poverty.”

“Yes,” Wasil answered. “The worrying part is if the arable land and factories in Spain or the profitable materials in her colonies will be enough to make Algiers rich. Or if these acquisitions be just enough to maintain the status quo. Who can know for certain.”

“The messiah.”

“And those closest to him. I once thought you were in that circle.”

“But no more?”

Wasil shook his head. “You were returned in the middle of one of your campaigns. There’s either an emergency here or its something you didn’t do right. So far I haven’t heard of anything on either front. Think back. Is there anything you couldn’t do?”

“I think he’s paranoid.”

“Are people getting to him?”

János shook his head, “I think it’s the Sultan being the Sultan.”

“In that case he’s even more dangerous. If he’s becoming whimsical in how he treats his closest people, that doesn’t bode well for others who are around him or the people of Algiers. Is he desperate as well?”

“He returned me.”

“Right, right,” Wasil beat the words into his head with repetition. “But the war is going well. It doesn’t make any sense why he would have a breakdown now.”

“Does it disappoint you?”

“Its worth everyone’s attention. If he’s lost then the people will lose their faith in the war, and so will those fighting it. Algiers would lose Spain and Portugal.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“No. I want the Sultan to act more like a leader and less like a religious icon. I want Spain to fall but I don’t want to antagonize the other powers.”

János made a mental note that there were at least two capable powers threatening Algiers but he didn’t dare ask their status or names lest he arouse suspicion. He still wasn’t sure he could trust this man.

“If one man,” Wasil continued, “rules vast reaches of land as this one will, the region will be in trouble. A tyrant who rules a large nation is good for no one, not even the tyrant.”

A knock came from the door, startling János and ending their conversation. He wasn’t sure what to expect, if they were going to take him away or beat him but Wasil stood and began walking toward the door, “I’ll get it.”

János watched him leave the room while remaining seated. János doubted he could stand if he tried. Hearing the door open followed by soft conversation János leaned forward, wanting to hear what was said. All he heard were muffled noises and then the click from the closing of the door.

After Wasil returned János asked, “What did they want?”

Wasil held up a yellow piece of paper in his hand, “Your new orders.” Wasil turned the paper over, finding a blank side before turning it back. “Maybe your official papers will come later.”

“Orders?”

“Looks like they’re not tired of you yet.”

János sighed, “He’s toying with me.” He stood, “What do they say?”

“Show up at the El Mouradia building at 0800 tomorrow morning. It must be some kind of meeting.”

János wasn’t sure what the meeting would entail. Khayr threatened death, house arrest and now János was to receive neither. But there was always one more surprise with that man. “Is that all it says?” János asked.

Wasil’s eyes returned to the note, “No. It also says that when you’re dismissed you’re to return here with an armed escort.”

“And there it is.”

“There what is?”

“The house arrest. So am I here permanently after tomorrow?”

“It doesn’t say,” Wasil spoke, handing the paper to János. “I wouldn’t think so. You’re just being looked after.”

“Is that what you think?”

Wasil smiled, “That’s what I hope. And if I were you, I’d hope that, too.”

“You have nothing for me?” János asked.

“What can I do for you? There’s nothing. The Sultan’s orders are solid unless he decides to change his mind. And changing his mind would mean he’d have to admit he’s wrong.”

“And?”

“The Sultan is never wrong.”

“He wouldn’t have to admit he’s wrong to change his mind,” János reasoned.

“And I thought you knew him.”

“I do,” János answered. “But a man doesn’t have to admit he’s wrong to change his mind.”

“And there is your flaw,” Wasil pointed. “The Sultan is no man.” János couldn’t tell him just how true those words were.

János stood up, pocketing the paper Wasil gave him, “I think you may be the only reasonable person I know.”

Wasil smiled, “And you may be the only person I can trust. Its getting late though and you’d do well with to spend the night sleeping.”

János wanted him to stay, wanted to get more information out of him but he was right. In order to face Khayr ad-Din, János had to be prepared. He had to be rested. “You’re right, you’re right,” János repeated. “You’re leaving then?”

“I’ll see if I can come by tomorrow evening.”

János laughed shortly in spite of his feelings, “Good luck.”

“Until tomorrow,” Wasil bowed his head gently. Then Wasil took a step toward János and before he knew what was happening Wasil’s lips were pressed against János’ mouth. He couldn’t believe that this man, a Muslim man in the nineteenth century was kissing him! The culture couldn’t have changed that much from what little historical reality János knew.

János didn’t know what to do until Wasil stepped back from a breathless János, Wasil repeating, “I’ll try to come back as soon as I hear of your return.”

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I like Wasil, he'll definitely give János some human counter-balance to Khayr. And he already seems a much more useful lover than Nijma :D

How do they know the clock is 0800? :D

They had clocks in those days, you know, even if they may not yet be synchronised to a national central time until later in the century.
 
Enewald: Clocks are to Dante’s Blood what leather jackets are to the Fonz. :p

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aldriq: The more intimate scenes - or lack thereof - in Muse guided me to know that I can stretch the barriers a little further. In my own writings I wouldn’t censor myself so much but this is a public forum where there are rules. I’m sure the rule is there be enforced but it seems the rule of common sense is what to go by.

aldriq said:
They had clocks in those days, you know, even if they may not yet be synchronised to a national central time until later in the century.

The below isn’t geared toward anyone, rather serves as a general reminder and what I was thinking at the time of writing.

As I figured with Khayr, someone like him being as careful and meticulous as he is, he’d likely have some kind of organization with people who needed to know. Also it must be remembered from Muse that Khayr has been around for a number of centuries and has already lived through one reality which WWII turned out differently. The wealth of knowledge he’d be able to absorb during this time would be great, even for subjects and ideas that he never took part in. I don’t mean to write this in as a deus ex machina or anything like it as his long life has been highlighted in Muse. As a final note I wouldn’t expect an easy solution to anything in the story, something I believe I’ve been fairly consistent with*.

* The Soviet escape in Muse is the exception but that was around the time I lost some of the chapters and I was in no mood to rewrite two or three chapters just to get the characters out and on the road. :p The occupation of rewriting is even more painful to me than editing. Even simple edits** often delay my Weimar and this AAR by at least 1 - 4 days after they’re written.

Update in about 20

Edit:

** If I do them at all ;)
 
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When János came out of the book he opened his eyes to a blurry scene, nearly blinded by blue. Once he regained his sight János looked around, finding Sándor where he had left him and Marcello still handcuffed to the statue. It didn’t seem to matter who had the gun as long as it was pointed in the right direction. Any man in his right mind would’ve been understandably terrified.

“How long has it been?” János asked as he closed the book, clasping it shut.

“Only a few minutes,” Sándor replied. “You’ve returned already?”

“Yes,” János confirmed. “It won’t seem like I’m gone long to you. It’s a good thing considering the circumstances but we shouldn’t remain here long.”

“What about him?” Sándor spoke of the guard.

“He can stay here. Someone will come to find him eventually,” János looked at the man, remembering a time he would’ve asked if this were true. But Marcello didn’t offer any objections as he watched the blue sphere shaping against the wall. “He’ll be fine,” János added. “Let’s go.”

Sándor stretched his body, “Lead me.”

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János debated his options as he stole the gun away from Sándor’s loose grip. János wasn’t sure if he wanted to take Sándor with him. If Sándor didn’t know what to expect in this other place, what good could Sándor be while there? He’d become a liability. But he’d be arrested if he remained in the basement of the museum. János wrestled with himself wanting nothing but at that moment to have the answers to everything.

Grabbing Sándor by the arm, János spoke, “This way.” He couldn’t allow Sándor to remain. He doubted the monk would inform on him but János was incapable of leaving him behind. A piece of his conscience remained still.

Nearing the floor to ceiling blue colors, changing shades with every second as though it were a chameleon incapable of controlling it's blend, János felt fear. It was fear for the first time in a long time. Not since he was abducted from the airport did he feel this kind of fear. And just like his escort from the airport, he had to go forward.

János outstretched his hand to touch the anomaly. There was no heat nor sudden drop in temperature; it was as though it were a perfect piece of the wall. As soon as his fingertips grazed the strange construction, his surroundings changed.

The room he was in had disappeared, exchanged for a dark place János could hardly make out. There were few torches lining the wall, sparse they were, and placed far enough from one another so János could only see the few feet each individual torch glowed. And they were so high that they couldn’t be reached. The walls were spaced far apart from one another, so far that the middle of the halls were dark. Corridors were carved in each direction; diagonal, horizontal and vertical caverns of mystery.

“What is it?” asked Sándor.

“A dungeon,” János told him. “Halls in every direction.”

“A labyrinth?” Sándor guessed.

“Yes,” János answered. “I suppose it is. How do we get through? There’s no direction. Its just dark and hard to see.”

“Then there is only one thing to do. We must choose a direction and go that way,” Sándor advised. With that, Sándor started forward with an arm in front of him to protect himself from surprise meetings with walls.

János remained near and behind him, following the blind man in the dark tunnel as he had weeks before. With the book tucked under an arm and the weapon in his right hand, János remained vigilant; there could be anything down here and that anything could come from any direction.

No more than five steps were taken before a shattering sound came from behind them, echoing down the halls. Spinning on his heel, János’ heart jumped.

“What was that?” Sándor asked with worry.

“A portcullis. It slammed shut.”

“We can’t worry about that now,” Sándor advised. “Its something that can’t be helped.”

“And the portal,” János added, “is gone.”

“As it should be. No one needs to follow us. Its dangerous as it is.”

An animal scream bounced against the walls of the hall just as the closing grate had. There was nowhere to run and no way to know which direction the call came from for the open tunnels all delivered the sound to where they stood. It was chilling, keeping the two men from starting again.

“Of course,” Sándor spoke to himself. “If it is a labyrinth then there must also be a beast. Let us hope it isn’t what I think it is.”

“What is this place?” János spoke in hushed tones as they inched their way forward again.

“I told you,” Sándor spoke. “It’s a place of possibility. Alternate realities, strange places, fairy tales you’d never thought would come true. This is why its so dangerous to come here.”

“But if there is such possibility for danger then there must be as much possibility for good.”

Sándor grinned in his shadows, speaking softly as well, “There doesn’t have to be good for there to be evil.” And then, “Sh! I hear something.”

“Stay,” János spoke as he stalked in front of Sándor. János opened his ears and tried to see through the darkness but even with his eyes adjusted to the lacking light he couldn’t see anything but the dancing of the torches. He held his gun out in front of him, aiming it down a hall when he passed but he couldn’t find anything. At last János called to Sándor, still with a soft voice, “Come this way.”

Sándor shuffled his steps, trying to hurry while not stumbling over the uneven ground. And as he stood there waiting for his partner, János couldn’t help but notice the stale air or wonder how the torches were able to remain lit. They were so far apart and so high. Someone would have to be crazed to light each of these torches, suspecting that someone by chance would enter this place.

János heard the screeching again. He altered his aim down the hall opposite the portcullis. There was nothing to be seen. But he heard running, clapping as though hooves were pounding against the ground. János saw the flames trembling and pulled the weapon’s trigger three times. Three bullets fled from the weapon’s barrel. The creature’s calls rang without János’ aim finding its mark.

Then János was hit hard. The gun jumped from his hand, skidding across the uneven ground as he was thrown aside. Pressed against the floor János scurried on his belly toward a wall where he hoped to hide in the shadows. Over his shoulder János peered, searching for the creature that had so violently struck him. But it was gone as though it had never existed.

“János?” Sándor whispered after a series of quiet moments passed. It was a terrible decision.

The vicious growl returned, Sándor yelped and his body hit the ground. He called out János’ name again, begging that the name would bring him the help he needed. But it wouldn’t come and neither would János.

A snarl erupted from the throat of the creature. Sándor yelled again. János didn’t budge. After what seemed like minutes János heard movement; what sounded as though a body were being dragged. It moved at such speed that it could only be inhuman strength as the monk yelled from the top of his lungs. It was a blood-curdling scream, paralyzing János.

The sound, that terrible sound continued as he was dragged down the hall. When he was confident that enough space had passed, János moved to his knees, searching for his lost weapon. He couldn’t find it! It had been lost. And still Sándor screamed, its direction becoming more and more obscure as time elapsed. János couldn’t continue looking for it; he’d become as lost as that gun until the creature returned for him.

János jumped to his feet, giving up on the weapon he had hoped would bring him through the territories of the underworld. If he was going to get anywhere he had to find the creature. The discovery may not grant him his exit but he’d become lost doing anything else.

Keeping a careful ear on Sándor’s screams János hastened his pace. No more were Sándor’s calls as loud but János could hear the whimpers and crying from the man. The sounds grew nearer as János continued forward. In both his hands he carried the book, prepared to use it as a weapon if he were surprised again.

János followed the sounds. Sándor was still moving but no more was he being dragged with such fervor as when he had first been stolen. János felt as though he hurried through miles in the dark tunnels before he gained ground. His feet ached, his fingers clenched the book until his knuckles turned white. János just wanted it to end. But he couldn’t rest. He couldn’t or he’d be lost forever.

With much pained feelings János urged his body forward, his eyes trained straight ahead. Then he saw Sándor spread out on a rock slab and the beast hovering above him. János nearly stumbled backward when the creature flipped its head in his direction.

János could see everything. As poorly lit as the tunnels were, this tiny circular room was spectacularly lit from the ceiling. Natural light seemed to magically shine down, capturing Sándor and the creature in the glow. Behind the two was a door and from the room five different halls stretched out in each direction as though they were fingers on the palm of a hand.

He was conscious of every breath he was taking if only he to keep himself breathing as his eyes set on the creature. He was waiting for it to lunge at him but it remained stationary. His eyes grazed over it and he knew what Sándor had told him was true. This underground place was a place filled with dangerous, alternative things. No matter how many times he was told, he could never stomach the thought.

János forced his attention to focus on the animal. Sharp horns, white eyes, a human body; it looked something like a Minotaur. The creature was noticeably female which allotted him some confidence as he entered the room one timid step after the other.

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Her white eyes followed János’ steps as Sándor remained pinned underneath her. “Sándor. Are you okay?” János asked.

Sándor sighed heavily, “A few scratches but-“

“He’s fine,” the Minotaur spoke.

János looked at the female, “You can talk.”

“As can you.”

“What do you want?” János asked.

“Doesn’t that look interesting,” she spoke, looking at the book in his hand. “What is it about?”

János briefly glanced at the book in his hands, “Nothing. History.”

“Mmh,” she groaned. “Which is it?”

“History,” János clarified.

“It looks valuable.”

“Everything old looks valuable.”

“Do these caves look valuable?” she asked.

“You’re trying to trap me,” János warily side-stepped her question.

She laughed, “You’re already trapped. Unless you know the way out.”

“You’re not getting the book,” János warned.

“Oh, you’ll find I always receive exactly what I want,” she spoke as he leaned down over Sándor’s body. Her breath gently struck his face, lips barely separated from his as her hand disappeared behind the other side of the slab. Then with the strength and speed of the beast she possessed she pulled up, gripping an iron bar with her hands. In a swift motion she bent it into a curve, slamming the ends into the rock on either side of Sándor’s neck.

Sándor’s body instinctively jolted but the iron bar around his neck prevented him from moving. Bringing his hands to the bar, Sándor exclaimed, “What have you done?”

She reached out a hand, patting Sándor’s cheek, “Everyone wants something. You want to be free. I want something of value. But,” she smiled then, looking at János, “What does he want?”

A stern look sat on János’ face, “I want to go free.”

“There is a key near the door behind me,” she suggested, still straddling Sándor’s body.

János tucked the book under his arm, pointing toward Sándor, “I want him, too.”

“I’m sure you want a million other things, as well,” she spoke slowly, her fingers running through Sándor’s hair. “But what is the thing you want most?”

“I want to be free,” Sándor interrupted.

“Quiet you,” she looked down on the man, placing a finger over his lips. “The only thing you have of value is your life and you can’t trade that away, its already mine. Now you,” she spoke to János. Bringing one leg over the other she left Sándor and the slab behind, making her way toward János. When she neared him she smiled, “What do you really want?”

“I told you what I wanted,” János remained firm.

“I told you,” she stopped inches from him. “Which do you want most? You can’t have both. Unless,” she raised her hand gently against this cheek, “you’d prefer another arrangement.”

“You mean you?”

“You take me, I take the book. I could think of worse things,” she spoke, her hands on her hips.

“You’re an animal!” János said.

She turned away, feigning a demure demeanor, “Who told you?”

“Get me out of here!”

“You know where the key is,” she returned her full attention on him.

“He’s coming with me.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s too important to me. What is the word? Valuable?”

“Why do you want this book anyway?”

“It has magical power.”

“You know of its power?” János asked.

“You materialize in my home and you’re surprised I know the book is magical? Whatever you must think of me, you must know I’m not a fool.”

“Aren’t you?” dared János.

“Careful,” she teased a smirk. “I’m the only one capable of releasing your friend. What will you do if you anger me? Let’s be clear about something. You’re leaving one thing behind; either your friend, or your book.”

“What do you want with him?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find something,” she spoke, walking away from János and toward the rock. “A man is always useful for something, especially when his dominance is taken from him.”

János was becoming frustrated, “We didn’t do anything to deserve this!”

She turned, her blank eyes bearing down on János, “You break into my home and expect to have the same rights as a Citizen?” She shook her head, returning to the stone slab. Exhaling loud enough for him to hear, she sat on rock near Sándor’s feet. “I’m trying to be hospitable and all you can do is yell and demand. I only want to trade.”

“For a person. A person who was with me when I first came here.”

“You’d think that would make him more valuable to you than some book. Unless it has great power.”

“Just give him to me.”

“That isn’t very persuasive,” she answered. And then, “Why don’t I just demand your magical book?”

“Why don’t you?”

“I wanted to be reasonable with you. Why do you want to fight me? If its what you really want, we can,” she spoke, looking down on Sándor. “But I doubt you'd win. And even if you did, how do you expect to free your friend from his confinement? You’ll doom him to starvation,” she grinned as she turned to János, “Or would you have mercy and put him out of his misery?”

“She must not have the book!” Sándor spoke, able to turn his head just enough to see János from the corner of his eye.

She moved her body, punching Sándor’s exposed throat, “I told you to be quiet.” As Sándor lied on his back coughing from her strike, she resumed the conversation, “So. What will it be? Will you hand me the book? Or will I have a new slave?” she proposed, running her hand up and down Sándor’s leg.

“I’m sorry, Sándor,” János said as he walked toward the door. She kept her eyes trained on János as he neared the exit just as János maintained eye contact with her. He wasn’t going to trust his back to be safe until he was clear of the area. “I’ll come back for you.”

Sándor tried speaking but was again blocked by the creature. Clasping her hand around his throat she watched János as he reached for the key. Pulling her hair behind her shoulders she said, “I doubt I’ll still be interested in a trade by then.”

“I have no intention of trading with you,” he answered, placing the key into the lock. Twisting it he heard the mechanism break free. Content, he set the key back upon the wall, hanging it on an outcrop. As the key dangled his hand reached for the doorknob and he twisted. With the door unlocked he pushed it open.

“If you don’t want to trade then you have no reason to return. What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is yours.”

“That is my friend,” János spoke. “He will not stay in your hands.”

“If you choose to return, my hands are where he’ll die,” she threatened, her grip around Sándor’s throat tightening. “You may go now. Your usefulness has ended and my patience is waning. Do not spend any more of my generosity than you already have.”

János watched her, biting his tongue in thought. This mission was more important than Sándor. The world wouldn’t stop for the disappearance for one man and it surely didn’t stop when his sister drowned. His conscious pulled at him but he resisted it’s effort as he cast his eyes on open the door. Stepping outside he let the door close behind him, looking outwards toward his new contest.

What stood before him was a long suspended staircase, a walkway to a large city. How was he going to find the next portal in this area? He didn’t want to sit down to read Dante’s next line without knowing for sure. Besides, the last thing he needed was to walk off the edge while reading. He’d at least have to find a vacant building to crawl into where he’d be safe during his travels.

A click came from behind. János jumped and spun around, watching the door he had just come through disappear. There was no way to return.

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This is a great story, Brandenburg! I've enjoyed watching your writing style develop from the beginning of Dark Muse until now (though I still have significant catching up to do.) The story with the minotaur flowed nicely and looked like a lot of fun to write.

For all your efforts, please accept this award: You have just won the Weekly AAR Showcase
 
I wonder what Khayr and this Minotaur would have traded had they come across each other - it still can happen I guess if Khayr manages to conquer Italy in the book... :D

Congratulations on the showcase, well deserved!
 
Enewald: I have no idea or even if they’re a part of a game. I don’t even remember what words I used in a search to find them.

CatKnight: Thanks. I’ll be sure to head over there after a while. :)

aldriq: Should he happen to take Ravenna that is a possibility though I think he’d be more interested in finishing the book and defeating Janos first. I’m kind of liking how this is developing because no matter who wins - Khayr or Janos - there’s always the possibility for another story. Unless they both lose. :eek:

To all: Oh, long chapter! Even had to change the outline and cut some major parts out. If there seem to be loose ends, I’ll try to fit them in later. A shame some parts seem like they were rushed but when you try to average 3k a chapter and write about 10k, you’ve gotta make cuts somewhere.

There was only a quick edit this time so hopefully there aren’t any glaring mistakes or overused words.

A final thing, all pics are by Tamara de Lempicka. She was a great artist when she wanted to be. The last pic was cropped for possible inappropriate taste for the forum. ;)
 
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Tiny specks of light peppered tall buildings, apartments and offices. Silently János wondered how he’d ever find his way. Even in his freedom he couldn’t be free.

Each step felt hard and secure, something he hadn’t expected. In spite of these feelings he failed to put any trust that the next step would be there. Over the preceding weeks his views on nearly everything had taken a drastic turn. He was no longer sure of himself, and realized he hadn’t been in a long while.

From where he was walking he couldn’t see any people. Though he didn’t want to given the creature he encountered in the cave. And the more he thought about the staircase he was climbing down, the more he became puzzled by it. Why would there be a staircase that now led to nothing, to a door that no longer existed? Even now he wasn’t all together sure that the stairs wouldn’t disappear entirely. This new realization spurred him on like a racehorse whipped by his jockey.

János had nearly fallen twice in his race to the bottom. But all the while he clutched the book as though it were life itself. He couldn’t let go. Not even when he found himself at the bottom, heaving, gasping for air.

He was in a back alley but unlike the Minotaur’s door, the stairs didn’t disappear. He felt uneasy and thankful at the same time. And stranger still, he felt safer than he had since he began his adventure. Everything here looked familiar. It was a frightening feeling to have.

Trash lined the back alley, confining the already thin space between the condensed buildings. A fat woman peered out one of the back doors of the sickly looking buildings, her eye catching János before she tossed out a bucket full of dirty water. It splashed across the grimy cobblestones, seeping in between the gaps. She gave him one last look before disappearing inside. János thought she didn’t seem to be the most friendly person but at least she didn’t have wings, fangs or some other strange malady.

Tucking the book under his arm, János walked until he reached the woman’s door. Bringing up his hand he knocked on the hard wood, waiting for it to open.

It took a few moments but eventually the woman appeared again, her smile hidden for the day. She looked sour and unpleasant. “No scraps today!” she declared in German.

No scraps? Did she think he was a beggar? He was sure he could use the assumption to blend in if the thought was universal. He smiled softly to himself.

“Go!” she barked, bringing back her hand as she threatened him to leave.

János cowered, scurrying away like a rat in the other direction. Ducking down another alley he soon found himself on a sidewalk, near poorly paved streets and other sad buildings. Few people were out today as old looking cars passed them at a speed barely faster than walking. He seemed to be at a transition in the city, somewhere between poverty and wealth.

As János walked deeper into the slums he noticed the buildings were looking worse and worse, and the traffic had exchanged cars for bicycles, or what was more common, nothing at all. Kids ran back and forth, all needing nutrition and a bath. János couldn’t help but watch the spectacle while he wandered aimlessly along the street, wanting to find any signs of a place where he could read.

The sun still hung high in the air as the day continued and he walked on. He reasoned he must be at a time in the world when it was on the cusp of modernization.

Five buildings down on his side of the street János saw a door swinging open. One by one men stepped out of it, cuffed to one another as though part of a modern chain gang. Six men were tied to as three guards followed them out. When János neared he found the line wasn’t entirely unfamiliar.

János ran toward them, “Sándor! Sándor! What are you doing here?”

The blindfold he wore was gone, replaced by nothing. When he faced János’ direction, he spoke, “Get out of here.”

“Don’t talk to the prisoners, boy,” one of the guards spoke as they walked toward a truck on the other side of the street.

“Where can I go next?” János braved through the danger, asking his question. He knew Sándor didn’t know but if he could just give him a mystical place, a probable place where the book would work.

But he was stifled at the end when a girl came from behind him, wrapping her arms around him, attempting to pull him away. “Don’t, don’t,” she repeated over and over.

“The Ext-“ a club hit the side of Sándor’s head before he could finish, knocking him down and preventing him from telling János where he thought the place might be.

“Wait you,” spoke the man who had knocked down Sándor. “Who are you?”

“I- Nobody,” János spoke, backpedaling. He didn’t even notice the girls’ hands had left him. She must’ve run off, fearful of being tied in with János’ problems.

“Get over here!” spoke one of the other guards. János looked at the man who gave the orders, finding a gun was staring János down. It was something that seemed to rarely speak. Then again, it didn’t have to.

“I can’t. I can’t go with you,” János repeated, his eyes falling to Sándor’s crippled body.

“Grab him!” yelled the man with the gun.

János wanted to run but his feet were frozen where he stood. If he ran, he’d be shot. It didn’t matter where the bullet hit him; it would significantly impair his ability to perform in the book, not to mention it’d further hamper his abilities to find the next way point.

The other guard reached down, releasing another set of manacles which were bound to the last man, Sándor. The guard came up to János, slapping the book from his hands. It was then he realized his grip had grown loose in his terror, the book splashing in a puddle near the curb.

When the binds were clasped around his wrists, the man with the gun put it away, “Pick up that book. We’ll need to find out what kind of secret’s he’s carrying out of here.” And then to János, “Carry your conspirator. If there’s any drag we’ll shoot him and keep going. We only need so many of you anyway.”

The man near János bent down to pick up the book. As he stood he called, “Its dry!”

“Don’t be a fool, Werner.”

“Its dry!” he called again.

“So tuck it under your arm!” Then to the lead captive, “Start marching.”

They didn’t have far to go. Just across the street was parked a large truck with a covered bed. It didn’t look army issue but it did look out of place. Entirely different from what the civilians drove either here or in the city. The lead guard pulled against the elastic, plastic ties, loosening the canvas. Unlocking the tailgate he dropped the gate down so it swung, crashing against the metal bumper. “Inside,” he spoke.

There was no woman to save him now. His book was in the hands of someone else, he was being carted off to somewhere in Germany, or a place that predominantly spoke German. And he had no idea what day or time he was trying to escape.

János heard the pistons pumping in the engine, felt the frame of the vehicle tremble under the power, smelt the fumes of exhaust as the truck’s wheels began rolling away. He could only see the other poor shackled souls when sunlight found the chance to peek through. Everyone wore dour faces except for Sándor who lay on the floor, his mouth open and head bouncing off the truck’s bed. He felt sorry for Sándor, and responsible.

The drive from start to stop was no more than twenty minutes; they traveled slow, taking cautious turns and at times, stopping completely. Thoughts of escape consumed him but tied to six other men with metal links didn’t bode well for his thought of blending in. He couldn’t know if the people there would celebrate him or return him.

After the truck came to a halt and he heard the engine die, János waited. Then he heard the locks clicking and the tailgate swung away. The prisoners filed out one behind the other; János was somewhat relieved that he didn’t have to drag Sándor for he at last found his feet, if nothing else.

The sun stared down at the small group before János was blinded. A black hood blanketed his head, preventing him from seeing anything they didn’t want him to see. There must’ve been something going on inside. The next thing János knew, his hands were being raised and pressured forward by the chains around his wrists. His stepped in time.

Walking blindly János tried to remain wary of his next step but the quickness at which they moved prevented him from gathering moss. Not until he felt the wind stop blowing and the floor grow hard and even did they stop. He heard the clanking of keys and chains hitting the floor. The manacles themselves clashed against the hard floor loudly, the guards unflinching at how close the heavy metal came to their prisoner’s feet. He heard soft talking and feet stepping on the floor but ultimately, János remained still.

He eventually saw light again when the hood, and a few hairs, were pulled harshly from his head. Soon János’ binds fell too, and with his free hand he began rubbing at his head. “Start walking,” he was told. The other prisoners had disappeared.

János complied, listening to the direction he received from the man. As he walked János noted he was inside a building, lights illuminating the halls from hanging fixtures. Walls without windows or glass were stationed on either side of him, passing only the occasional reinforced steel door. With every step his stomach jumped hurdles. Sándor had to have a plan because he sure didn’t.

He was led behind one of those doors where he found what lied behind them, a discovery he could’ve done without. Shoved in, János stumbled toward the table sitting in the center of the room.

“Sit in the chair,” his escort spoke. “That one.”

János walked toward it, sitting down. The chair was hard, wooden and without cushion. He watched the man come closer and briefly thought about fighting him. But János refused, knowing there was nowhere to go.

“Put your hands on the table,” the man spoke, reaching at his belt for a smaller pair of handcuffs.

János looked to the table where a heavy metal block with a sizeable hole though its center was fastened. They weren’t going to trust him, a belief that solidified within him as he felt the handcuffs snapping over his aching wrists, the chain links fitted through the metal block’s hole. He couldn’t even rest his tired arms on the table since the handcuff’s chain wasn’t gifted in excess. Somehow János knew this flaw was planned.

After János was safely stuck, the guard left the room, shutting the door behind him. A second later he heard a vacuum, the door closing itself air tight. Immediately he looked around, trying to see if there were any vents or if there were another air supply these people could pump gas through. Silently he cursed at himself for watching too many Western spy movies when he was a kid. Of course they weren’t going to kill him if they thought he was a spy. They’d extract information first.

Over time János had lost track of it, his arms growing tired and the cuffs biting into his skin like a rabid dog. Pressing his teeth against his lip, doing what he could to distract the harm being down to his wrists.

When he heard the seal around the door break, János looked up hopefully. They were breaking him down. And then the door gasped, opening.

“Good evening,” spoke a well dressed man as he came through the door. “I’m Mr. Fuchs. And you are?”

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“Get me out of these handcuffs,” János said, holding his hands upwards to show off his restraints.

Another man came behind Fuchs who shut the door, saying, “That’s a long one. Do you have anything shorter?”

“Now Henry,” Fuchs turned to his muscle. “Settle down. There’s no need to get excited.” Then he returned to the table, softly setting a yellow notepad on the far end. From what János could see it was littered with writing.

“Now,” Fuchs began again. “What is your name and why are you here?”

János said nothing.

“We have all the information we need but you’d be shown some gratitude in the courts if you showed compliance,” Fuchs offered.

János continued playing the part of a monolith.

“Won’t you oblige an old man? I’m only trying to do my job. You can make that easier for everyone.” He paused, waiting for János to answer. “No? Excuse me,” he added. “I’m going to get a glass of water and then to the desk to see if I can’t retrieve the key to your lock.”

When the interrogator left and the door sealed itself, Henry moved toward János. His steely eyes were trained on the Hungarian until the stranger stood behind him. It was so quiet. János could hear him breathing.

János’ chair was pulled from underneath him, causing him to fall backwards. The chain to his handcuffs preventing him from hitting the floor as he winced, the weight of his body becoming his harbinger of pain. János’ fingers wrapped around what little chain he could as he gathered his feet under him. But he crashed to the floor when the guard kicked behind his knees.

“Stay there,” Henry spoke. “Its where you belong. Maybe in this position you’ll be more compliant.”

“What do you want?” János asked.

Henry slapped the back of János’ head so hard his forehead banged against the cover of the metallic table. As János briefly slumped, the pain returned to his wrists, he heard Henry say, “You’re not asking the questions.” János placed his knees firmly on the hard floor again, relieving the pressure on his wrists.

“When you’re asked a question, you’ll answer,” Henry spoke, stepping just inside of János’ peripheral vision. “This is what you will do. When you’re asked, you will confess to spying activities and you will tell us who you work for. Do you understand?”

“But I don’t -“

Henry’s fist smashed against János’ jaw, “Apparently you don’t!” he yelled. János tasted blood. He ran his tongue along his teeth making sure they were all there when Henry began speaking again, “Do you understand?”

János gasped, preparing to move his head with the next punch, “But I’m not guilty.”

The handcuffs around János’ wrists bit him again when Henry connected the side of his heavy boot against János’ kidney. So mcuh pain. He was getting the hint, reminded of it when Henry punched him again. Distracted by the pain in his side, János felt the full brunt of the collision.

“Get up,” he heard the guard behind him.

With his head hanging, János was slow to stand. Establishing one foot on the floor at a time, he was able to stand. He lost his balance again when the edge of the chair’s seat smashed behind his knee. He fell onto the hard, wooden seat. His teeth chomped together. János couldn’t tell what hurt most. His body ached. It was another thing he couldn’t get used to.

When Henry returned to his position he glared at János. He felt relief when he finally heard the seal of the door breaking. As it opened János looked toward the sound but Henry’s attention refused to be thwarted. János refused to look into the man’s eyes as his drew a painful tear.

Fuchs entered, closing the door behind him. In his hand was János’ book. Setting it on the table he asked, “What is this?”

“I want a new guard,” János answered.

Fuchs shook his head, “There’s no reason to do that.”

“He beat me!”

“You don’t look like it,” Fuchs said. “Now stop trying to change the subject.

János moved his tongue in his mouth, spitting his collected blood on the table.

Fuchs frowned. “Henry, make a note that the prisoner is harming himself. About this book. Where are your contacts?”

“I don’t have any. I told you the truth!”

Fuchs raised his eyebrows. “You’re not a spy? I’ll make a phone call and find you a lawyer.”

“No, don’t leave me in here with him,” János spoke. Henry grinned.

Sighing, Fuchs moved toward the table and laid his palms on it, saying, “For me to help you, you have to help me.”

János didn’t want to believe it but it was obvious now; both Fuchs and Henry were playing the same game. “I am not a spy,” János spoke firmly.

“Then I must make the call. You have rights.”

Before Fuchs left the table, János’ attention was wrapped around the door as it was pushed open. He saw the light from the hallway sneak in as another man entered, leaving the door ajar.

Fuchs left the table, facing the newcomer, “Can I help you? I’m in the middle of a confession.”

“This isn’t your interrogation anymore,” the new man spoke, passing a piece of white paper to Fuchs.

Fuchs took the order as János flipped his attention between the two men; he still didn’t want to see Henry’s expression. He couldn’t look at him even if he wanted.

Fuchs’ face became dark as he looked to the man, “What are you trying to do?”

“Enforce the order,” the man said.

“What is this?” Henry suddenly became animated., moving toward the door. “What’s going on?”

“We have business elsewhere,” Fuchs spoke, folding the paper into a pants pocket. Returning to the table, Fuchs picked up his pad and tucked it under his arm.

When Fuchs passed, the man spoke, “Keys.”

Fuchs took out a small set of keys from his pocket, dropping them on the floor. They clanked when they hit bottom. Henry stepped on the keys, skidding them behind him as he followed Fuchs out. The stranger shut the door behind them.

“Are you going to beat me, too?” János asked.

“No,” the man kept it short, tracking down the keys that had come to a stop near the wall.

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Help you,” he spoke, walking the keys to János.

“Why?”

“Its what I do.”

“How are you going to help me?”

“I’m going to free you.”

“And they’re going to let you?” János smiled at the assumption.

“Yes,” he spoke as he reached for János’ metal binds.

“Why?”

“Because,” he freed one and began working on the other. “Orders are expensive but they’re followed. And because we only need so many of you.”

“Because you bribed them” János asked, rubbing his hands over his free wrists.

“Not me,” he spoke, tossing the handcuffs on the table.

“Then who?”

“I can’t give you a name.”

“Does he want me to meet him?”

“Yes,” the man spoke. “And it’s a her.”

“What makes her think I’ll help? I have my own problems.”

The man shrugged, “It isn’t my job to know. Do you want to come? Or are you more interested in remaining here?”

“No,” János stood slowly. The pain in his sides was great, making it hard to stand. Hobbling, János moved around the table and grabbed his book when he was close enough. “This seems too easy.”

“There is nothing about this that is easy, especially in this government,” the man advised before continuing. “The doing always looks easier when you’re not the doer.” János’ aid turned toward the door, opening it. “You’re not free until you’re off the premises so behave yourself and I’ll walk you out.”

“Fine,” János agreed. No longer did he care about the liquid, bitter taste in his mouth. What consumed him was the idea that Sándor needed to be saved; János needed an idea of where to go.

He was able to walk out of the building and outside without a mask covering his eyes. There was nothing to see. Everything looked as normal as a random office building. He didn’t understand the secret.

“She’ll want to meet you.”

“And she’ll be able to release Sándor?” János asked, showcasing his naivete.

“That will be doubtful,” János’ escort replied. “Its been trouble just to get you out.”

“How does she know me?”

“It isn’t my job to know,” the man reminded him. “You’ll find more information from her.”

“Where is she?”

“Here,” he pulled a piece of unlined paper from his pocket. On it was a German street address. When János went to reach for it his escort pulled it from János’ reach, “No. Memorize it. You’re not taking this.”

János grinned, “You’re a reactionary.”

“I’m a mercenary who can’t be paid enough in this inflation-filled land.” He sighed then. “Hail a taxi yourself. And take this money to get you just outside the poor district. Don’t inform the driver where you’re going. The more safe houses she has, the safer she is. And if she remains safe, I continue to be paid. People won’t be happy if she’s found out.”

“I see,” was all János could say.

“Be sure you keep those eyes open.”

“People are going to be following me?

“You’ll be watched. You brought too much attention to yourself.”

“But I -“

“It doesn’t matter to me. Just be sure you make your way there today and sneak to the address tonight. Don’t ask too many questions and everyone will be happy. Now go.”

János took the man’s money and advice, leaving through the open gates of the lot. He was careful after leaving, noting the sentry’s eyes following him. He knew they’d be watching him, studying the person and the taxi he’d be riding. They’d be able to track him and answers would be easy to find.

He eventually hailed a taxi, sure as the sun that he was being followed. János did as his guide instructed, leaving the vehicle when he began noticing the decreasing quality of the buildings. János handed the driver all the money that was given to him and left the vehicle.

As he left he still fel teyes on him but he was no longer confident if he were being watched or if he were excessively paranoid. Either way, he clutched the book closer to his chest and watched the taxi make a U-turn, heading toward a place where pockets were never empty. After the car left his sights, János slipped into a nearby alley, connecting to a few more before becoming stationary. He didn’t want to be too lost in this strange looking place.

When the sun set János crept from his hiding place, stepping deeper into the poorest sector of the city. Even if he didn’t know the roads, looking at the buildings was the best way to get where he needed to go. He noticed the smaller children had disappeared, replaced by teens walking in packs. János could only guess at the prostitute and gangs that would spring up after the days’ light fell. He hoped that woman had keen eyes.

János walked until he saw the sun peeking over the tops of the buildings. The pace was still unrecognizable. Since he didn’t have it, he felt secure enough to begin asking for the street. He wouldn’t speak the numbers. He could at least keep that a secret.

After asking, János learned he wasn’t far from where he needed to be. A street and two alleys later János found himself on the right path.

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The street grew dark as night reigned; only a few street lamps ignited. It was enough for János to get by while the people hovered around the light as though it’d be the last gasp of goodness they’d have. Considering what he’d seen during the day, he was bemused that people would risk being seen in the light at all.

The familiarity still hadn’t found him, he blamed it on the night. Shadows changed everything. Running the address through in his head again he looked at the buildings as he passed, hoping to see the numbers. But most of the buildings didn’t have them At last he pulled himself underneath one of the lit lampposts. He said the numbers aloud for the first time.

A woman smiled at him.

“Do you know where that is?” János asked.

“Are you lonely tonight?”

János frowned, praying that the strange man hadn’t sent him out only to be caught again, “Where is it?”

She held onto her girlish smile as she pointed farther down the street, “It’s a few blocks that way. Its the only building with numbers and the only two story building on that block.”

The news was positive. He was thankful for being so close; he’d be able to sit and rest his beaten body again. It needed it. As he turned to leave, the woman coughed with her hand out.

“What?” asked János.

“Money,” she answered.

“I don’t have anything.” Nothing was free in their town he thought to himself when he turned to leave. The woman, insulted, spat at János as he watched him walk away with her arms across her chest.

János ignored the mark he felt on his back, trusting in the vile girls’ word. He proved she wasn’t lying. He saw the two story building rising above the one story block like a mountain shooting from the earth.

When near he looked up at the open windows, curtains billowing through the frames, carelessly waving to the pedestrians on the street. Lights spilled, through the open windows and the open blue door. Laughter spilled onto the walk, lacking the infection it’d have anywhere else. With a sigh and a shove forward, he went inside.

“What are you lookin for?” spoke a wide woman from behind the counter.

János turned, hesitating for a moment, “A girl.”

She put a hand on her hip, “That narrows it down.” She then pointed across the room where six women sat in frilly dresses, bathed in limelight. Other women in the area were already talking to strange men.

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János shook his head, “No. She told me to meet her here. Is there somewhere I can wait?”

“Ah,” she spoke, lacking any humor or amusement anyone else would’ve had after finding something they sought. Her hand rummaged under the counter, retrieving a key. Setting it on the counter top, she continued, “This room. Second floor number 204. Don’t knock.”

He took a step toward the desk, sliding the key into his hand, “Don’t knock?”

She forced a smile. It looked painful. “Trust me, honey. One of the last things you’ll be doing tonight is intruding.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t drop your book.”

János left the desk behind him, heading toward the wind-around stairs he noticed just around the corner. Passing by women mingling with men who tried dressing up in poor, dirty suits for their night out on the town he made his way up. Others brought gifts, flowers for their girls. It was a pathetic display. The desperate here either wanted love or money, neither pair wanting the same thing.

Climbing to the top fo the stairs he set his eyes down the hall. Few doors were open but uninteresting. Small signs hung from doorknobs on the closed doors but János didn’t bother to read them as he read the door’s numbers. Two doors away he found his goal and raised his hand ready to knock until he remember the woman’s word.

Gripping the handle, János twisted and pushed. The door glided open. János followed behind. Inside he swung the doors back to a close as his eyes scanned the dirty room. It looked like a small one bedroom apartment with two doors on the left side of the room. Closet and a bathroom? Going by what he’d seen so far he even doubted the room would have its own bath. It was probably shared whether by one other person or the whole second floor.

The girl was nowhere to be seen so he decided to wait. He began toward the bed but thought better of it. Given that it was unmade, a set of ruffled woman’s clothes were strewn about it and that the place was a whorehouse, he sat in a small wooden chair in front of a vanity mirror.

Setting the book on the surface of the vanity, he was tempted to try reading here. All signs pointed to it except the place was as normal as could be. It was the first moment he had alone, it was so tempting. But that’s all he was allowed. A single moment.

The door closest to the far wall creaked open. As if his head were on a swivel, János looked toward the sound, seeing a woman standing there. “You knew Sándor,” she said.

“And you know me?” János asked, sitting with both feet on one side of the chair and one hand draped over the book.

“I saw you in the street.”

“You were that girl,” János remembered the female who tried pulling him away from Sándor.

“What can I say? I have a problem keeping my hands to myself,” she spoke, crossing the room to sit on her bed. János could just see her, a partition stood between them blocking a quarter of her body. He wondered why a girl like her would need it.

“Why did you save me?”

She shrugged, reaching behind the partition. When she returned to view had a lit cigarette between her lips. ”I need you to do something for me.”

“What makes you think I’d help you?”

“For the same reason Sándor had,” she grinned.

“He couldn’t have. He wasn’t even taken captive here.”

“Before.”

“Before?”

“Yes, he was here a few years before with another man with another book like that one,” she pointed toward János, taking a drag of slow cancer. “When I saw him again he said he destroyed a book. That’s nothing new here, they’re burning books all the time. But he did something for me. I thought you could do something for me, too.”

“Why did they take him? How did he escape that creature?”

“That creature?” she laughed. “You’re going to have to be a little more descriptive than that. But let’s think on this. When I saw him here, when you saw him, he was in shackles. He didn’t escape. He was turned in.”

“Turned in? For what?”

“Money probably. Property. It depends on how badly they wanted him.”

“No,” János corrected. “Why would they take him?”

“The last time he was here he was captured. They found out he wasn’t a Citizen and he was expelled from the city. He was told if he ever returned he’d be killed.”

“And he came back?”

“It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it.”

“You’re not going to try to hep him?”

“Why should I? What use could he be to me? He’s blind.”

“There’s still some use in him.”

“Not for me. He isn’t worth the resources.”

“For me!” János stood, taking the book into his arms as he stormed toward her.

She braced her hands on either side of her, an eerie smirk playing upon her lips as the smoke from the cigarette drifted to the ceiling, “Big, strong man like you?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“But I need you,” she toyed with him, leaning toward him. The loose fabric around her shoulders spilled forward, barely covering her. She wore nothing but a white slip. It was her distraction.

“You got me out of that building, and I’m thankful, but I have another mission I have to do.”

“But you don’t know where you’re going,” she smiled.

“And you do?”

“How do you think I came to know Sándor?” She smiled, “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

“So he did this thing for you?”

“He did a different thing but the ultimate end is the same.”

“Which is?”

“Toppling the German government.”

“That’s what you’re doing here?” János asked, taking a seat on the bed next to her. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“German officers like their French girls. Maybe they ran out of beautiful German women,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling.

“So they tell you what you want to know and you give them...?”

“What they want.”

“What do you need me to do?” János wanted to change the subject.

“I need you to blow something up and I’ll tell you where you need to go.”

“Blow something up? Tell me where to go? How do you know where I need to go?”

“You’re not the only one who knows about secret portals and alternate realities.”

“Does everyone down here know about this?”

She chuckled, “You’re fun. If they knew, would they still live here?”

“You do.”

“I have a mission to save people.”

“But they’re not real. It isn’t a real reality.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “What’s real?” Then she leaned back, her palms against the mattress, preventing her from lying on the bed. “Do I look real?”

Real enough. János’ mind was flustered as he looked over her lithe body. He never wanted to be a German officer so bad in his life. First he had to get his mind right.

He dropped the book to the floor and turned on her. Grabbing her throat he slammed her to the bed. Her cigarette flew to the floor. János moved quick, pinning her body under his. With a knee on either side of her waist he stared down at her. She was breathing heavily when János pinned her wrists to the bed with his hands.

“Ooh!" she yelped in surprise. “I never get used to that.”

“This is serious. Where is this place?”

“You’re not going to do my mission, are you.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Then you’ll really be at a loss, won’t you. Not a friend in this reality and when they throw you out they’re going to confiscate your book. Sounds like a plan.”

“Where’s your money?”

“Its safe in a government bank.”

“I’ll find it and you’re not going to be able to pay that man. How will he react when you promise him something you don’t have? Will he be rash? Kill you? Beat you? Or will he give away every hideaway that he knows?”

“Let me up! He doesn’t know anything.”

“But he knows enough, doesn’t he. What took you months, years to establish could be destroyed.”

“It won’t be as hard as you think.”

“Not everyone is corrupt,” János glared down at her. “They’ll know who you are. What effect will you have then? None. Now tell me where I need to go.”

“I’ll scream.”

“A prostitute screaming? In her bedroom of all places?” János asked. “How odd. Tell me where I need to go.”

She gritted her teeth, throwing her hips into the air trying to toss him off. But he held strong. “Let me go!”

“Serious all of a sudden? Tell me what I need to know.”

She sighed, thinking. “The Externsteine.”

“The rocks?”

“Yes, the rocks. Himmler has taken an interest there so be careful when you get there.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“No. You can’t trust me.”

“And that’s why you’re coming with me.”

“I’ll run.”

“They’ll find you,” János spoke. After a silent moment passed János continued, “You said you wanted to save this reality. But you won’t know if our tries will be successful or if these people will be saved. You said you wanted to help people. That it was your mission. Then help prevent another horrible reality from becoming real.”

“And what about you? And these people here?”

“I only care about my reality. Getting home and resuming my life. I’m given up so much already.”

“Have you,” she commented, still under János.

“When you’re dressed in something more than the slip you’re wearing, we’re leaving.” As János spoke he removed hand from her wrist, running it along her leg, her thigh. She gasped in spite of her assumed profession. Before long he found what he suspected was there. A small pistol strapped to her thigh.

“How did you know?”

He grinned. “Spy movies.” As he released her other hand he spoke, “Don’t run, don’t scream, don’t move. I’m not afraid to kill anymore.”

“Anymore?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched him move toward one of the two doors.

Opening the one closest to the hall he guessed right and found the closet. Stealing a dress from a hanger he tossed it toward her but it landed halfway between them. “Put that on.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to search me some more? You never know where something might be hiding. And I may be gone for a while. I might miss it.”

“Just put it on.”

“You’re going to watch me?” she asked.

“Pull it over what you’re already wearing. You’re not shy.”

She pushed herself from the bed and walked toward the fallen dress. Picking it up she looked at it before slipping it over her head. It was quite green but she wasn’t going to say anything.

“And the money? Unless you’d want me to go through everything.”

“Over here,” she spoke as she moved behind the partition. He kept her in view, hearing and seeing the opening of a drawer next to her bed. She pulled out a small metal box, placing it on her lap as she sat on the bed. Twisting two dials it popped open. Reaching in, she retrieved a stack of bills for him to see. “This ought to get us to where we need to go. But its going to be a long ride.”

“We’ll live.”

“Are you always so confident after threatening a woman?” then she tossed the stack of bills at him.

Catching them with his free hand he asked, “How much is here? Just enough to get us to the Externsteine?”

“Just about.”

“How were you going to pay that man?”

She shrugged with a smile, “It depends on what mood they’re in. Since you’re robbing me and I won’t have any money, I’m not willing to risk their greed.”

“You want to come, don’t you.”

“If I can help. Why not? If we live through it this place will be waiting for me. If I can find my way back.” She saw the expression on his face, “There’s always a risk of not being able to return where you came from. Its like Russian Roulette. You play the game, sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.”

“Sounds like life.”

“Except for some people there’s more bullets in the chamber,” she spoke sadly before waiving it away. “I think we should go if we want to get there by morning.”

“You go first.”

“You still don’t trust me.”

“I don’t even know your name,” János spoke.

“How about that,” she said as she walked by him, pushing against the door. He left behind her after picking up his book and pocketing the small gun.

148m9f6.jpg

She was true though. She didn’t try to run. They walked together down the street toward the city when cars were becoming a common thing again. When the taxi cabs began showing, she had no trouble in getting one to stop. They both climbed into the backseat and she spoke the name Externsteine to the driver who at first seemed reluctant until she stole the stack of bills from János’ hand, tossing it onto the passenger’s seat.

When the driver pushed the gas pedal the woman spoke, “When you start reading you have to be in view. We don’t have to be close to the mountain. Just be able to see it.”

“You know I’m a Reader?”

She brought up her smile again, “I know Sándor wasn’t and there’s only one way to get down here.”

The drive, mostly silent, lasted hours while áJnos slept in the back of the taxi. The girl watched him sleep while she rested her head against the car’s cushion, wanting to find any kind of comfort on the bumpy road. It only got worse the deeper into the country they went. When they arrived it was still dark and early in the morning. She tugged on János’ sleeve, waking him and telling him they had to leave.

The two left the car and watched it drive away. It looked lonely all by itself.

“We can’t stay here. Let’s go around these small hills. We should be able to see it from around here after the sun rises and the fog clears.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” János agreed, following the girl in the green dress who was now hiking through tall grass and over rocks. She seemed completely out of place.

Reaching her spot after a little walking she stopped. “This will be fine.” And then added, “I could get used to laying in this dewy grass.”

“Don’t start,” János tried discouraging her as he tossed the book on the ground. He sat on it, the only dry and warm spot he could find. She threw herself down on a comfortable slope, closed her eyes, daring herself to fall asleep. Her late nights would mean she’d wake late morning.

From his position he sat and watched the sun rise over the rock formation after staring at nothing for hours. All he could see were shadows now. She was wrong about the fog. Another half hour passed and he was able to see hints of what pagans had first come to worship. Pulling the book out from under him he pried it open, staring down at the next line as he spoke aloud, “Sacred justice moved my architect. I was raised here by divine omnipotence, primordial love and ultimate intelligence.”
 
Quite intriguing, yet as confusing as always.:cool::p
Germans in the 20s?
Another 'historical' alternative relativity?

externsteine?
Meeting Himmler?
 
A lot to take in, even for János... so there are other links between realities apart from the books.... what happened to the first reader Sandor took to this reality?

Tamara de Lempicka had her moments, but was shallow and plasticky for the most part. Her work definitely suits this time line.
 
First, this should be back. There are no guarantees but I don’t want this hanging over my head anymore. :cool: And I’m not going to respond/read comments until the end of the story so if you want to hold onto them until then or write them after every update, feel free. But I’ll definitely get to them at the end of the book. I just want to put my head down and finish this thing. One last thing, many of my pictures for this - and the CK AAR I was doing - are gone, having been missing since my brief hiatus those months ago. Just a forewarning that the pics may not fit as well in future chapters as they have in the past since I’m essentially looking for some while writing... and it’ll probably take me a chapter or two before I rediscover the feeling of the characters and the story again. I'm not ecstatic about the chapter I've written below but at least its done, its one more step to finishing and I still have my outline.
 
Chapter 7

The transition was always disorienting. János never knew where, when or in what condition and his first reaction, every time, was to look around. Trying to adapt to the sudden change was always tough, and doubly so while standing across from Khayr ad-Din.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Khayr spoke, seated behind his desk.

Before he had a chance to think of a reply, words were pouring from János’ mouth, “What are you talking about? I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I’m talking to you, you Hungarian WOP. Sit down.” Snakes had less venom.

János bit his tongue, refraining from saying something that would’ve put shackles around his wrists. Sitting, János saw the two men were alone in what seemed to be Khayr ad-Din’s work place. Even if it were little more than a place for Khayr to work, it undoubtably held an incredible amount of prestige. Paintings, statues, North African rugs; dadoes perfectly spaced pillars. It was evidently clear an artisan’s hammer and chisel had tapped against much of the naked wall and once barren furniture.

Even János had been exquisitely dressed for the room. In a flawless uniform he was reminded of the parade soldiers he saw in his youth; the kind who’d rather look good than fight well. Despite his personal view of the Hungarian Communists or the Soviet’s role as a whole, he despite the former while respecting the latter. Some things never changed. And some things too often.

“As a favor to you,” Khayr spoke as he stood, jostling János from his daze. “I’ll let you know why I’ve brought you here. I wanted to tell you that you’re under house arrest. I didn’t think it’d hurt to remind you. But more than that, I can assure you that you’re alive for only one reason. The fame and the life of the man you stole. He’s completely worthless to me now and you made him that way. Now I have to destroy his name, his credibility so I can be assured of your death. I would prefer to do it myself, now, in this room but loyalty can be a hard thing to break. Rest assured you will be humiliated and ridiculed time and time again until the people will beg me for your death. Your execution will become a national holiday. You will bear the face of the fallen. I -“

“I don’t care,” János interrupted. “I don’t care because this is your history, it isn’t mine. It won’t be anyone else’s except for yours. And this face you want to plaster all over the country, it’s the face of a North African, of an Algerian. And all that matters to the people out there is that this face looks more like you than it does me. Give me a gun, give me a sword and we can end this right here.”

“The words of a man with nothing to lose,” Khayr smoothly replied.

“You’re a coward!” János spat.

Khayr shook his head so slowly and slightly that János thought something was wrong with him until he heard Khayr speak again, “There’s no glory in being a hero behind closed doors. It doesn’t benefit me to kill you now so there’s no point for me to try. I’ll tell you this only once. If you try making a direct challenge against me and I have my advisors around me, I won’t kill you. But I will rip your tongue out of your head and hammer it to a wall. Afterwards you’ll still be made an example of. You won’t escape your fate.”

“I hope not.”

“Don’t think you have more going for you than you do,” Khayr warned as he moved from behind his desk and toward János. “You’re only alive because I want you alive.”

“I’m alive because you can’t kill me.”

Khayr whipped a pistol from the inside of his coat, pointing the long barrel of the weapon at János’ forehead, “I could kill you now if I wanted to. It’d be a mess and it’d set me back but I’ll live through it. You won’t.”

János found his tongue again and bit it.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Khayr added.

The only thing János could think of was how Khayr seemed to be losing the cool he showed in the desert. The stress of trying to run a country completely on his own was getting to him.

“Mind getting that gun out of my face?”

“Is it making you nervous?”

“A weapon is only as violent as the person holding it.”

“You don’t believe that,” Khayr spoke with disinterest. “If you did you’d be staring into my eyes and not down the barrel of the gun.”

János’ eyes darted around the room until they settled on Khayr. A change washed over the Hungarian. The feeling of being trapped, pigeon-holed was insurmountable. János knew how important every action was but he couldn’t sit around, permitting Khayr to plot while János waited for his death.

Doing his best to ignore the weapon in his face, János dared, “How does someone whose so obsessive about control and power allow someone like this General so much clout with the people?”

“Every nation needs a hero during war.”

“Sounds like an excuse for incompetence.”

János discovered just how much quicker the hand was than the eye. Khayr turned the weapon in his hand, clutching the barrel. In one fluid motion János felt the brunt of the carved ivory handle. All he could think was that something like that belonged in a museum, and that Khayr had broken his captive’s face for the second time.

“You can’t get away from this, can you,” Khayr spoke rhetorically. As he pulled his weapon away János could see his burgundy blood on the butt of the weapon. It was too familiar for his liking; the gash on his face, the weapon, the constant reminder of pain when his face throbbed. There was no point in trying to stop the blood streaking down his cheek or show anger, it would only encourage the demon. He had to be a demon; he wasn’t human and he was nothing but evil.

“Stop behaving like a child,” Khayr spoke, pulling a small handkerchief from his pocket to clean the blood from his weapon.

“Me?” János was incapable of holding back anymore. “You’re the one who hits people when he doesn’t get his way.”

Holstering his weapon Khayr left János bleeding in the chair while he returned to the chair behind his desk. “Your death will come, in what form, in how much pain, depends on you.”

He shook his head in disbelief, feeling drops of blood dripping from his chin, no doubt staining the stupid uniform he was wearing. “You don’t expect me to believe you.”

“We’ve been over this, János,” it was only the third time he used that name. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. It only matters what I tell you. Because you don’t have a choice.”

“We always have choices,” János countered, trying to ignore the pain. “They may not be obvious or desirable but they’re always there.”

“Stay away from philosophical talk. You’re just a painter. Stick to your century old feuds about things that have never mattered like your Michelangelo’s and Leonardo’s.”

“You could’ve used a few of those discussions in the last few hundred years. Look around, everything looks fake and sterile. This world is nothing but a replica of what you’ve probably seen in the lifetimes you’ve lived. It’s a testament to your megalomania.”

“Time is evaporating for you to rectify your attitude. Or maybe you’d like to be standing over a frozen bridge, pushed in after someone yells, ‘Dolphin.’ And why not? You’ll be squealing like one after you hit the water.”

János felt his adrenalin fueling him, “Is that an original idea? Or is that stolen from history, too?”

Ignoring János, unwilling to further the pointless discussion, Khayr continued as though János hadn’t said a word, “Because you better come to a decision soon. The papers are already forgetting about you and they’re not publishing nearly as many stories about you as they used to.”

“And you control the newspapers.”

“Which makes it that much easier for them to forget,” Khayr sighed, opening a drawer in his desk. Reaching inside the drawer he took at a red handkerchief, and crumbling it into a little ball with one hand, threw it at János. “Wipe yourself clean before I call in my doctor. If anyone asks, you tripped over your clumsy feet and planted your face into the corner of my desk. If you want to tell them a different story, then you’ll have another fall tomorrow.”

János didn’t want to see Khayr’s doctor, not after the last one. He worried about poison and additional, needless pain. János watched the red cloth fall on his polished boots before responding, “I’m going to take care of myself.”

Khayr laughed at János, finding pleasure in his captive’s paranoia, “Then do it yourself but have someone put a bandage over that cut before you leave the building. And have someone buy you a new jacket.” He grinned from behind his desk, “I can’t have my star general looking as though he’d just come back from war.”

eagmee.jpg

János did as he was told. Without weapons, without knowing if anyone outside of Wasil was loyal to him, János had to obey. János wasn’t sure wether to believe if Khayr was incompetent or if everything had gone to his plan. One lifetime would be enough to drive someone insane let alone the unknown numbers Khayr ad-Din had already lived.

And as he was led through the streets on the back of a horse, János couldn’t help but reflect on what he said. Replicas. The more he looked at the passing buildings the more the thought had solidified in his mind. He didn’t just have to save people from a warring history, a bleak future and rule under Khayr ad-Din’s wide thumb, János also had to protect this book from becoming a reality lest humans lose their sense of culture, along with their passion for it.

János’ escorts only spoke when there seemed a need. János wasn’t in good company but oddly he felt safe in the hostile environment. And even knowing that home was a sterile, inactive place, János couldn’t wait to get there. It was the only place he was able to rest.

Stepping foot in his home János felt as though he’d trekked a hundred miles. Once inside János saw Wasil there. It was amazing to him how paranoid and careful Khayr could be yet at other times he seemed so relaxed about security.

When the heavy door closed, announcing János’ arrival Wasil immediately asked, “What happened to your face?”

A bandage covered the small cut on János’ face, “The official story is that I fell. The unofficial story is an ivory handle decided to slap my face.”

Wasil shook his head, “What can you expect under a Sultanate?” Then he reached up, letting loose the small wrap that held János’ bandage in place, letting it fall to the floor. With a sigh he added, “They didn’t stitch you up? Sit down. I’ll be back.”

His rebellious mind had been calmed by the only person who seemed to care for him. Shifting into a pacified mind, János didn’t feel like fighting anymore and acquiesced to Wasil’s suggestion, sitting at the set table. Wasil returned with his tools in one hand and a bottle of clear fluid in the other.

János asked, “What’s that?”

“Its alcohol,” Wasil spoke, setting everything on the table. Pulling out a chair he sat next to János with a slight grin, “It sterilizes the needle and the mind.”

János thought aloud, “Sterilizes?” He wasn’t a doctor but he knew all the precautions weren’t taken. Were they that far behind medically? Or had Khayr ad-Din kept the knowledge for himself and his closet allies? But János didn’t care enough to correct Wasil.

“Don’t worry about it. Before I get started you should take a few drinks. I don’t care who you are, a needle going into your skin never feels good.”

“Drink alcohol?” stuck between a religion he was supposed to believe in and a desire to negate more pain, he’d become lost in questions.

“Did he knock all the sense out of you in that meeting?” Wasil asked before he began opening the bottle. “We’re homosexuals and we’re both going to Hell anyway. I’m sure a few drinks won’t make the place any worse.”

He laughed. János couldn’t help it. It had been a long time since he felt his face contort in that way and with a hand on the bottle, he took a drink. Coughing through the burn he set the bottle back on the table.

Threading the needle, Wasil spoke, “Things aren’t going to change if they keep going as they are. There aren’t many of us who’ve been allowed beyond the front lines and the reasons for that are obvious. Most of the people around Western Europe have felt what violent change can bring. They’ve found incredible freedoms while ours and those in Central and Eastern Europe cling to their traditions as though they were proud to have them in the first place.”

“How are things out there?” János asked.

“Better,” Wasil replied. “Stop moving.” He took a minute before he continued, “There is such a thing as too much freedom but no one is there yet.” János groaned as Wasil pulled the thread tight, ending the bloody occupation.

“You should leave,” János spoke, his eye wincing as Wasil cut the thread.

“You want me to go home?”

“I want you to leave the country. If you have the chance to leave, then why do you stay?”

Wasil looked toward bottle, wrapping his hand around it as he stood, “What would be the point?”

“So you could leave and live your life.”

“People need me here.”

“Their time will come.”

“Don’t agitate your eye by touching it,” Wasil tried to discourage János from checking out his work. “People are fools. As a group if they have a chance to exploit an opportunity, they won’t.”

“Like you not escaping when you have the chance?”

“It isn’t the same thing,” Wasil spoke, leaving the table for the attached room. The bottle and needle were gone from his hands when he returned, “When given the chance to save one man or an entire population, the man, if he is a man, would answer with the latter without hesitation.”

János paused. “Are you planning something?”

“Don’t worry about it, it doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re the only person I can trust, it does involve me. If you get caught, I’ll be implicated, too and then everyone will be doomed!”

“So I won’t get caught. Besides, they don’t know anything about us.”

“Just because you haven’t been caught yet doesn’t mean you won’t get caught. That’s like saying I won’t die because I haven’t been killed.” János turned in his chair so he could stand and face Wasil, “And what do you mean they don’t know? They have to know something. How are you getting in here all the time without them knowing?”

“Look. Don’t worry about it. Everything is under control.” Wasil moved beyond János, tugging on an overcoat as he ended, “I’ll come back tomorrow. And don’t drink that whole bottle. You don’t want to piss off Allah.”

Wasil laughed as he left; János headed for the room that housed the bottle.
 
I like that János is becoming more aware of the power a reader has over the time line, it will no doubt help him against Khayr. And Wasil hides something... Could he be a third reader unknown to both János and Khayr, I wonder...
 
A few things. I am going to hold off on comments and anything else until all chapters have been released. With luck, this shouldn't take until the end of the month.

I’m sure you’ve noticed but I’ve abandoned the 3000 word per chapter limit just so I could come back to this. The remaining chapters were shrunk a little and combined when it made sense. So we still have some chapters to go but there won’t be as many as before.

I am going to try to update this every two or three days - more if I can - but you know how much I hate retyping this stuff.

Everything from here on out is raw, straight from the paper. As with most of Muse and I believe the bulk of DB, it is unedited. And for time I’m skipping on the pictures, placing three asterisks where they likely would have gone, if I place them at all.
 
Chapter 8

The girl hadn’t budged from her spot lying against the hill. János was lying in the grass, staring into the sky, wishing the whole thing would end. Exhaustion sapped his strength, his will and desire to carry on. To give up would be easy.

Closing the book and setting it off to the side, János stood up and walked toward the girl. She was asleep.

“Wake up,” János shoved her with his foot. He was beyond trying to hide either his grogginess or agitation.

“Morning already?” she stirred. “Usually you boys are gone by now. Did it work for you?”

“It did what it was supposed to do,” János answered, looking around. “Do you know where we go next?”

“Yes, but its going to be tougher than anything you’ve been through yet.”

“Try me.”

“Below the Externsteine.”

János spoke to himself, “What is it with Dante and these underground doors?”

“You’re not going to be able to get down there yourself. You’re going to need my help.”

He stared at her. It was peculiar that she’d know so much. There was the Sándor connection but there had to be more. “You have a shovel?”

The woman pulled out the pistol János ripped from her thigh at the safehouse. With a smile she pointed it at János, “This will do.”

“H-“ János’ mind was reeling. “What are you doing with that?”

“Some passports aren’t made out of paper, darlin,” she spoke.

“You’re not expecting to kill those Nazi’s with one handgun, are you?” a hopeful János asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she waived him off. “We’ll walk right through their patrol. With you as my prisoner.”

“We’ll find a different way,” János spoke, clutching the book.

Her face became taut as he cocked the weapon, “I don’t think so. Make sure you have a grip on that book and start walking.”

He didn’t plan ahead. But it was impossible to remain vigilant while under the influence of the book. It was becoming hard to trust anyone anymore. János turned around, walking as ordered. As his footsteps fell he heard hers behind him. The world was becoming a hassle.

Within fifty yards the duo were approached by three armed men in an armored car. János, carrying only a book, was pushed to the ground from behind. Unable to look behind him, all he could hear was German. He could’ve been in Minsk and not have known the difference.

Only a few minutes had passed when the foreign talk ended and the fumes from the car kicked up again, leaving János on the ground. Then he heard the girl’s voice again, “We’re getting through.”

Picking up the book and placing it back under his arm. After starting to walk again and clear from foreign ears, János spoke, “You’re going to drop this act once we get inside.”

There wasn’t an answer on her end. There was only the silence aside from the swishing of boots on gravel ground. How much more could he put himself through? Why did he have to be the savior of the world? Why couldn’t it fall onto someone else’s shoulders? He’d gone through so much already, uncovered more than he ever wanted to learn. Ignorance was bliss and in this case, it kept one from being shot in the back over a book he didn’t want. There were so many people he could blame.

His mother’s family for not following the Romanian standard. His father’s love for the Romanian coast where his sister drowned. The Soviets for warping his mind at that young age and turning him into a secret research project. Khayr ad-Din for having him abducted, Tividar for the lack of protection, Sándor for delivering half-truths and not preparing him for what was to come. Then there was the one with the pistol at his back.

One blame bled into the other and he found himself constantly stuck. There weren’t any clear-cut escapes. There were only minuscule opportunities and these could only be taken out of risk of losing his reality. It was odd in that he didn’t care for it outside of Western films and his paintings but it was his. In the lock-down world of communist Hungary, he’d had so many things taken away, so many liberties stomped upon. His reality was the one thing he thought they couldn’t take away. It wasn’t paradise but it was his. And who knows what would replace the world he knew? An Alice in Wonderland-esque mesh? That thought leapt into his hands, and he held the book tighter.

***

The girl didn’t offer a word as they walked. János was led underground through caverns he never knew existed. Whether they were created by the Nazis, pagans or whatever thrived in the region before made the situation he was in no more comfortable. It only made him feel cold, isolated.

It felt like hours had passed. And János was sure his feet were cracking after all the walking through the streets, the open world and the harsh floor. He’d been doing nothing but running since his flight from the Sahara.

“Stop!” he heard her commanding voice erupt behind him.

János halted when he heard the shriek-like yell. He almost tumbled head first over the edge so lost was he in thought. Was he not paying attention? Dreaming? Had exhaustion taken over so he was asleep while walking? All he knew was that he was now staring over a precipice with nothing at the bottom to catch him.

“I don’t need both of you going over the edge. You can leave the book where you stand. Do me the favor of saving a bullet and jump off yourself.”

János turned around, “I’m not going to do that.”

“If you’re worried about dying, don’t. You won’t be killed. It’s a void, not a pit.”

He was disgusted. Another dead end. “Maybe I’ll toss the book into your void and be done with it.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she commented, shaking her head. “If you do, then I will have to kill you.”

János glanced behind him into the void before looking back to the girl. “Why are you doing this? Are you working for the Nazis? Something else?”

She frowned. “Those were men outside. They either want money, women or proof. Out here, proof was needed. Have you forgotten what I do?”

“And they just let you through without an escort?”

“I have identification. Besides darlin, what could they think we’re doing? In their minds at worst we’d desecrate the place with your murder. For the grunts out there, this place isn’t strategically important to their cause. What do they care if they get what they asked for?”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m taking the book and I’m going to destroy it to keep another reality from being born. And you can jump off that ledge.”

“And I’ll be okay?” János asked.

She smirked. “You’ll be in limbo for a while, honey. You can’t go back to your reality.”

János shifted the book, holding it in both hands. He stared at the hard cover, noticing its age for the first time since he first set eyes on it. János lifted his gaze from the book’s cover and onto the girl. She looked so tiny yet so confident with that weapon. There was nothing more to do.

He turned a little, his eyes returning to the book. Death or survival. He’d been here before but the roads had never been so direct or pressing. A choice was made.

János gripped the book tight. He swung it for leverage behind him, permitting inertia to carry it forward with the swing of his arms. It was tossed toward the spy. Reaction, instinct had her open her arms to catch the heavy thing but János was charging right behind it. She caught the book but was tackled by János a second later.

The gun fired. The book fell next to them. János’ ears rang. They both froze in time. But János was no longer stuck in a daze. The brief respite fueled his fury. Bearing his teeth he smashed his fist into her face. He would’ve slammed her head into the ground if he hadn’t seen her hand rise, still clutching the weapon.

He altered his attention. Both hands reaching for her potent arm. Before the weapon could be pointed, he slammed it against the floor. The girl recoiled and tried rolling János off of her but before she could do anything János slapped her face with the back of his hand. He returned to her arm, slamming it against the floor again, busting her knuckles on the pebbles and small rocks. The weapon came loose; she’d been disarmed.

When he saw her face he saw blood. It was evident near her nose and on her bottom lip. It was the same blood on his knuckles. A woman be damned, he punched her again.

Breathing heavily, János grabbed a handful of her hair and stood. Her body followed his until her legs found their place underneath her while her lungs reached for air that wasn’t there.

“What’s in that void?” János yelled. The halls echoed his voice as he yelled again. “What’s in the void?”

She gasped, spitting a gob of blood on the ground. János held her hair so she was bent over, unable to raise her head above his waist. Between being beaten up and stuck in her tough position, offense had fled her mind.

“It’s a Hell,” she managed to breath between words. “It’s a limbo linking realities. Where one, where one can watch but never take part. Where - Where one lives without belonging.”

“And you wanted me to throw myself into that place?”

Reaffirming his hold on her hair, he held it at the root. János spun, bringing the girl with him. He forced speed on her when she tried slowing him down. János accidentally pulled out a tuft of her hair when she commanded her legs to go limp, a casualty of his effort.

Without a grip, János fell upon her. His hand hammered her, punishing her face for the actions of her legs. No more was he giving up. No more was he giving in. Those who had crossed him would pay for their crimes.

Another blow landed against her head. He stood, grabbing her hair again by the nape of her neck. His other hand took hold the back of her dress, hoisting her body up in her weakness. A running start with the dazed woman culminated into János throwing her over the ledge. Her screams and the blood on his hands remained as the only evidence of her contact with János.

Now it was time for János to feel anxious.

The aftershocks of the event pinned him so he was looking into the abyss. Nietzsche had never been more prevalent in his life. The oxygen felt as though it’d been sucked out of the cavern. János found it difficult to understand his war. The war between realities would never end yet battles would be fought for its end. It was impossible to win. It was virtually impossible to survive.

Even so, he knew what he had to do. He had to stop Khayr ad-Din, destroy the book and end this madness. Or at the very least, hide it.

Mustering his inner strength, János stood turning his back on the void. That woman couldn’t have brought him to this place without reason. If all she needed was him out of the way, she could’ve had him killed. Instead she led him underground to this place. This imagined thing. This void.

He couldn’t go out the way he came for János was positive all roads led to Berlin. But leaving would be pointless. This had to be the next stop.

János walked the few feet where the book rested. Sitting down next to the book he brought it into his lap after crossing his legs. He could only hope he wouldn’t accidentally throw himself over the edge while under the influence of the book. Crossing his legs would give him the best chance.

Turning the book open he sighed as he read aloud, “Only those elements time cannot wear were made before me, and beyond time I stand. Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”