A Journey Begun - Chapter 1 - Into A New Skin
#4 of Saga the First - Book One - A Journey Begun
And so begins the first Act, A Journey Begun.
"The young master has begun his journey, master."
"Good. I assume you did your job, old man?"
"He didn't even see me leave. I'll be fine."
"Then we have nothing to worry about. Things will go on as per normal. He will learn, as his ancestors did."
My head is a whirlpool, memories and thoughts spinning into infinity, just like the world around me spins as I regain consciousness. I squint and stare outside. Rays of yellow are spread out across my bed and floor.
Crap, I was out that long?
I try to stand but I'm so weak that I fall on my ass again. I'm soaked to the skin and I'm freezing cold. Why the hell am I in the shower again?
Then it hits me like sledgehammer: last night. The locket.
I find it still stuck to my chest, but it comes off easily, the crust of ice connecting it to my shirt breaking easily under my hands. I stare at the picture within and remember my fond memories of the folks, but my brain takes me back to the here and now. Like the proverbial elephant in the room: what in high heaven happened last night? All I remember is damn near freezing to death then everything going black. Which reminds me that I'm still cold. Very cold.
Throwing my questions to the side for a while, I reach up and turn on both my shower's knobs, realising that I haven't had a bath since yesterday. I peel off my shirt and jeans and socks and chuck them aside, letting the delightfully hot water soak my body, warming me up inside and outside. I stand in the spray for a few minutes before throwing on soap and everything else I need to get clean. Afterward, wrapped in a fluffy towel, I step out of the stall and over to the sink, where I give my teeth a good brushing. Strange feeling, brushing your teeth after a night of extreme cold, it almost feels like my mouth's gone and gained extra teeth. I still feel numb in places, maybe the cold's damaged some of my nerves. I rinse and stare at the mirror, which is covered entirely in fog from my hot shower. I reach up and run a hand over the mirror, wiping away the water and grime, and-
Oh good GOD
Shit shit shit shit shit
Did I just see
I'm on the floor again, on my ass which I swear feels wildly different, staring up at the mirror. My heart's in my throat and I doubt it can beat any faster. I just got the scare of my life from my own reflection, Jesus Christ in a hand basket. But did I really see what I thought I saw? I don't want to find out, but some primal part of my brain wills me to stand back up, to see if my eyes deceive me, or if what I saw is truth.
Slowly, shakily, I rise to my feet, towel wrapped around my waist. Uncertain and fearful, I approach the mirror, and what I see in it scares the shit out of me, cause what stares back isn't me any more, it's a monster. A monster that I've somehow become.
Eyes as blue as the afternoon sky stare out from behind a shock of snow white hair, while my breath forms a cold mist when I breathe out, pale white clouds escaping from a dark black nose, square and wet. I turn my head to the side and suddenly I get a view of a mutt's head, but it's no mutt, it's me. I stare in abject horror and a grim curiosity at my new features. My entire face looks like some sort of wolf thing, with the ears and the fur and the everything, but I'm me, I'm not a wolf. Am I wearing a suit? I quickly determine that to be false after I open my new mouth and stick out my tongue. My teeth look killer, sharp and deadly, but why are they there? And why is there a light blue arrow on my cheek?
As I stare at the mark, I turn the other way and notice another one, in the same position. Both arrows point at my eyes, fat load of good those do then, but their ends trail down my neck, and as my eyes follow them, I get a glimpse of a whole new me. I touch my cheek with a hand, feel the soft, almost downy fur covering my face, realising that my hand and arm are the same, covered in the same type of fur, except thicker. Markings of a similar fashion adorn my arm, ending in a pair of arrows on my palm and on top of my hand.
With curiosity taking over, I pad outside to my room and drop the towel, putting on a pair of boxers to cover my nakedness. Then I stand in front of my full mirror and give myself a once over.
Holy Jesus.
First thing I notice is that I've shot up at least two inches. My head just barely exits the top of my mirror, not counting the tips of my new ears which seem to have a mind of their own, twitching and perking at every other sound. Second of all, I appear to have gained several pounds worth of muscle. Where I once was a lean but quite scrawny cop, what stood reflected in the mirror was a lean, perfectly sculpted body, muscles that stood out with the slightest movement, but lean to a point where each twist and turn was with a grace and finesse of a trained athlete. This was a body I had dreamed of having, but I never had the motivation to actually get myself there. The arrow markings are on both my arms, and they continue down my sides and end as two more arrows that point down at my hips.
Dear god I look like a model.
I turn around to check my back and see the same thing, with surprise number three just above my ass. I stare in wonder at the long furry thing dangling from above my ass crack and I finally wonder if I've lost it.
I have a tail. A god damn tail. What am I, Smokey the bear's friend from further up the Yellowstone trail? Jesus I look like some graffiti artist went loco on mushrooms and drew a whole bunch of arrows on his poor dog Spot. I'm a mutt, a mutt on two legs, and it takes me a whole lot of willpower to bite my tongue and not scream like a little girl. One question comes to the front of my mind: how did that locket turn me into this?
Then I remember a detail: last night when I opened the locket, a letter fell out. It's on the bed, my memory tells me. I pad over to the bed and find it easily enough. It's small, but I handle it with care in my bigger paws, opening it slowly to read its contents.
"Daniel,
If you're reading this, it means you've already opened mum's locket and no doubt been turned into... Something I can't see cause I'm gone. These new changes are part of your new life, because without them, what you're destined for will be a whole lot more difficult.
See, I've kept something from you all my life. Up till this point you've known me as your father, Andrew, a decorated police officer with a lovely wife and an awesome kid. But what I didn't tell you was that I once served something greater.
I was a Protector.
What is that, you're probably wondering, well I'll explain.
Throughout history, you've heard mention of several great and powerful heroes. Ones that changed history with great ease. The biggest one, obviously, is the great Christ, of the Bible and so on. What you read is that he was simply God's son, came to earth, died and came back after 3 days, did all these miracles and whatnot. What you didn't know is that Jesus was also a warrior. What isn't documented are the fights and crusades he went on during his time in the bible and after his resurrection. He went on to not only be the world's first hero, his bloodline has carried this hero gene throughout the generations. Some of the bloodiest wars had a Protector amongst the carnage. You are the latest in line, the holder of power, the man in the hot seat.
And don't go thinking ' oh well I'm descended from God I'm a holy warrior now ', it's not like that. See, another thing about God is that he was also created by someone higher than him, an almighty Creator. No one knows who this Creator is, but he's crafted all of the religions and gods and deities of the world. He and his wife, the Destroyer, assembled our universe. You are the Creator's new right hand of justice, since you are of him.
But be warned, with your power comes new responsibilities and new enemies. By accepting this life you embark on a treacherous new journey, filled with danger, deceit and death. You will forever be marked by your bloodline as a champion of the Light, and those who fight with the Dark will seek to destroy you and all you stand for.
Don't worry though, for as a Protector you are also blessed with companionship. All the Protectors before you have served with a group of champions, a Guild of Guardians. Each and every one of these legendary warriors is just like you, but instead of the Creator himself, they are descended from some of history's greatest and most famous warriors and gods. Their bloodlines run throughout all the world, and it is up to you to find and assemble your own Guild to help you in your travels.
To help you, I've provided you with some basic equipment. On the table is my old gear, my machete and guns, which you have no doubt seen already. These are now yours to wield in your fight against the Darkness. However, their form is still based on my memory and will. When you pick them up, you'll have to mold them into your form for you and only you to use. Just focus on what you want it to become and lay your hands on it and pick it up. It will shift its form to the one you've picked in your mind and then seal itself in that form, so pick wisely, each Protector only gets two of those things. I was the only one who coaxed the ranged implement into two."
At this I put down the letter. All this new information is swirling around in my head like bubbles in a draining bathtub. Gods? Darkness? I'm a hero? Jesus, what have I gotten myself into? I'm just a cop, for Pete's sake, not some high almighty asskicker of justice and all his friends. I don't even know why this is happening to me. But it's my dad that's writing this to me, so for now I trust him.
I look over to the lockbox and machete, still on my table. I stand and pad over to them, first laying eyes on the pistols. They're old and grimy, but the chrome still has a shine from careful, loving hands that polished it. I close my eyes and try to think of what would be good to replace them. The first thing that comes up are the pair of hand cannons I found on Church yesterday. Desert Eagles. I picture them in my mind and pick up the pistols. The guns glow hot in my hand and I almost let go, but the glowing and intense light fades after a few seconds. I open my eyes and find the guns, now hand cannons, just as I pictured them, ornate in chrome and silver, heavy and deadly in my hands. Now for the machete. It still lies on my table, rusty and chipped. I pick it up by the hilt with an idea already in my head and it changes right into what I wanted: a simple katana. With small, gilded decorations on the end of the hilt and a sharp, black blade, it's the perfect weapon, well, in my head anyway. It's pretty and it's a good addition to my room, but I don't know how to use it.
My mind wanders to the question of my appearance again. No one knows of what happened in here, but how am I supposed to go back to work looking like this? Staring at myself in the mirror, I rack my brain and come up with nothing, not until my eyes come to rest on the letter.
I set down the blade and pick it up again. The letter contains a spell, a disguise spell that casts a magical image over oneself that masks their true appearance to humans and those not familiar with the magical world. My dad writes that the spell will be the first in my repertoire, with many more to come in my travels.
A spell? Magic? This is getting even more unbelievable by the second. But hey, I've already been turned into Lassie on legs so why not give it a go, I've got nothing else to lose anyway. I read the instructions on the letter and stare at myself in the mirror. I recite the incantation in my head, like I'm supposed to, and wave my hand over my body. Like a cloak, my wolf features are masked by a perfect image of who I used to be. My breath's taken away.
Suddenly I realise that everything I've known to this point has been a lie. My whole life has only been a buildup to this point. I sit down on my bed, head in my hands. The weight of the day's events rests on my back like a ton of bricks, destroying all my previous thoughts and memories of my family and who they were. Especially my father. All this time he kept this big secret from me and for what? I can't cope with this, not right now. Not when I have other irons in the fire.
Just then my phone rings. It's Evelyn. One of the proverbial irons has decided to call me at 10 in the morning.
I pick up my phone and answer and I instantly hear surprise number four: my voice has changed. It's low and gritty, like I have a permanent sore throat, but it sounds good instead of bad.
"H-hello?"
"Hey there sweet cheeks. You okay? You didn't come to work today, and you didn't call in sick. You even sound sick too."
"Y-yeah, Evey, I'm fine. I just got down with a head cold, but I'll be alright."
"Well you don't sound alright young man, so I'm coming over after work with some hot soup and dinner. Don't cook or do anything until then, okay? You rest, otherwise I'll be very mad at you."
Her words make me smile. She's still so sweet and motherly, I love her so much.
"Um, alright Evey. Just, uh, don't take too long, okay? I think I'll rummage around for my old cold meds, see if I can't make myself better before you get here."
"You can try, Danny boy, but I'll be there sooner than you think. See you soon, lover boy."
She hangs up and I think I'm blushing my cheeks off. God I love her. Glad to see some things don't change even though everything else about me has.
Well, this gives me a lot of time to get used to the new me. Cause I have a feeling I need to.
Meanwhile, across the ocean, a beacon rose in the desert. A figure cloaked in white stood beneath the stone obelisk, gently painting new inscriptions on its sides, softly chanting a spell as the obelisk rose from the sands. The ground trembled as it locked into place, the runes and carvings on it glowing a pale blue. The figure finished his work and stood, backing away from the tower as it shone brighter and pulsed, the power contained within growing and strengthening with his chants and spells. Finally the figure cast one last spell and the obelisk released a brilliant beam of light into the sky that split off into many, many segments, shooting across all corners of the sky, seeking and empowering the men and women that the spell sought.
After the spell was finished and the obelisk grew dull again, the figure reached forward and depressed a stone, and with a dull rumble, it sank back into the sands, slowly being consumed by the yellow sea until it vanished from sight, the winds scattering any sign that it existed. The figure drew the hood of its cloak back over its head and nodded to itself, then it leaped into the air and left on the wind, its cloak catching on the wind and bringing it away like a kite.
Meanwhile, a young man in Japan expresses his love to his high school sweetheart. In Nigeria, a scarred warrior is taken away by a group of armed men. In Ireland, an athlete is disavowed of his rightful place. A Frenchman takes up his father's cape and work. A Briton decides to start his own business. An old Russian takes his first steps to the dark side. More start their journeys to their new lives, making decisions that shape their existence anew, preparing them for the trials ahead.
Thus a new cycle begins, taking these men and women towards their new destinies.
I stood in my living room, staring at the wall that I just covered with a layer of frost. From the letter, I guessed that this magic business was all a mind thing, you just had to think about what you wanted, concentrate and focus and gather the energy within, and blam, magic. I thought that most magic was powered by spells and chants and whatnot, and the letter was right, for the most part, but the stuff I was doing was pure power by itself. I still didn't quite understand how I was doing this, but I was getting used to doing it as I practiced. I cleared the frost off my wall and sighed. What the hell was I going into? I was just a cop, a detective working for the boys in blue, carrying on my dad's legacy since his unfortunate end all those years ago. If my life had just stayed this simple, I thought to myself, I would've gotten better, I would've lived a normal life and everything would've been fine. But now I had a weight on my shoulders that I know I couldn't deny, it was a message from my dad that I knew was true in every word, yet I had a hard time believing any of it. I was too normal, too mundane, to even think about stuff that only people like Rowling or Feist wrote about in their books was actually a real thing.
I got up and made myself a sandwich, a meagre lunch to compensate for my missed breakfast. I stared at the clock on my wall. Noon. Only two hours had passed since. Time was crawling like a snail during winter and I had no idea of what to do. Then a knock on the door solved that problem for me.
Well crap.
I got up and threw on the disguise spell in a hurry. I opened my door and got greeted by a huge black shirt in front of me instead of a face, and I realised that I had to look up. There stood Riggs, his usual grin on his face as he held up two paper bags.
"Lunch."
A few minutes later and we were seated at my coffee table, the television on but muted. Fries and bread sticks were scattered out on the greasy paper that covered the table, and equally greasy burgers sat in our hands. Lunch was mute, though we were mostly enhanced by the baseball game that was being played. Riggs set down his meal and took a handful of fries, staring at me some. Finally he broke the silence.
"So why didn't you tell me you weren't coming in to work today?"
I stared back at him and coughed. My stupid lie would have to hold for a while longer.
"I, uh, forgot. I spent most of the morning wrapped up in bed cause I felt like shit."
"Good enough, dude, now keep eating, you sound like you need it."
I merely nodded and bit into the greasy thing again. To me, it tasted truly awful, but it filled my stomach at least. I'd be paying for this soon enough, I guessed, but for now I counted my blessings that I had something to eat instead of the nothing that had been my sandwich. We talked shop and Riggs brought me up to speed on the dregs of our bust: the book I picked up off church led to a particularly big Italian family in Manhattan that was, conveniently enough, also a very traditional mob family. The diMaggios, they were called. I vaguely remembered crossing paths with them once when I was a rookie on Traffic, but that was for a mere violation. They were the ones that were bringing in product from across the Southern border and into the country to sell, though their empire was mostly around the New York area. The bust that we orchestrated just so happened to be a major blow to their industry, and now the cops were cleaning up loose ends so Crimes could get to work bringing them down. Frankly I was happy that Evelyn was on the Crimes team, wouldn't have seen her at her best in any other place.
I finished the last of the fries and downed a Coke. Riggs was standing by my window, staring out into the street. I joined him there, my cup still in my hand. The sun was high in the sky, casting huge shadows of the clouds across the streets and rooftops. People and cars milled about below, daily life going on as normal. He glanced at me and smiled.
"Pretty thing, huh, this fine city of ours."
I glanced back at him, then returned my gaze to the street below.
"Yeah, I guess. Can't say much, growing up here all my life. City's grown...stale. Maybe I've just been around too long, never been out of state."
"I hear you. Say, you wanna know something?"
"Sure."
He smiled and turned to me.
"We've got Central Park sitting pretty in the middle of our city, yet I've never really set foot in there. Too busy working or doing other stuff to bother. Its always been just another park to me."
"Well it is just another park, but you should some time. Go for a run, maybe bring some friends and have a picnic. Relax."
I smiled back and patted him on the shoulder. He returned the gesture and grinned his signature grin.
"You ain't bad, Daniel, ain't bad at all."
"Thanks Riggs."
He gave me a good clap on the back and bid me farewell. Heading back to the station, he said. Work to do. I gave him a nod and watched him disappear down the staircase. Moments later I heard the growl of his chopper as it peeled out of the street and into the afternoon crowd. I sighed and sat down, crumpling the greasy burger up with the rest of the paper and dumping it into the trash. First ever human interaction ever since the... Incident, and I guess it went well enough. Thank god Evey didn't show up early, otherwise I think I would've melted. I gathered my thoughts and set to cleaning up the apartment while it was still early, no point in mulling over my predicament too much.
Later in the day Evey dropped by with her promised soup, the rest of dinner being two healthy, hearty salads and tuna sandwiches. The time I spent with her was everything I thought it would be. She bid me farewell at around 9 that night with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. I slept with butterflies in my stomach and a burning in my heart.
God I love her.