Monday, May 16, 2011

Today's production--an American prepares to go to Sexton

Chapter Sixty-seven
   It was still dark when Nick parked the car. He got out and crossed the gravel parking lot, smiling at the moonlit glow that made the sandy path through dune grass shine. He liked the crunch of the sand under his boots, and the breeze through his hair from the Saginaw Bay felt nice. It was cool but nowhere near cold. The sky was clear, and so was the beach. He didn’t expect to see anyone, but he wanted to be sure before he got his stuff out of the car and prepared to open Mythaelace.
   Five minutes later he was on the beach staring out at the pre-dawn glow of a sunrise he wouldn’t be around to see. The sword at his side felt good, even if it was strange to wear one strapped over a pair of Levi’s. He smiled when he imagined the local weather forecaster on WNEM trying to explain the freak, powerful and brief storm he was about to create. It wouldn’t show up on their Doppler radar until it was in full swing, and it would vanish almost as fast as it came up. Maybe they wouldn’t cover it, but he was pretty sure they would have to. Even at three o’clock in the morning, he was sure someone in the area would either be awake for, or awakened by, the storm.
   One last look around showed him an empty beach and dark bay with no great lakes traffic yet. He didn’t have to open Mythaelace over water, but trying to find an uninhabited place that wouldn’t be torn apart by its power would have taken more time than he felt he had. At least the bay would close over the power released, and do so in a matter of minutes.
   Words fell from his lips. Ancient words, full of power. They were a mix of languages he had learned on earth. He repeated them in Sextonese, and its precursor language...a language once spoken by Sorceress-Queens.
   The light show began. Thunder ripped the air. Lightning—great forks of it—rose from the water and met partners from the sky. Wind howled in a tight circle around him. His hair danced. He felt the tingle of static electricity increase until it vibrated his body. Waves roiled. Water splashed the beach. Magenta swirls met with ebony blackness a hundred and fifty or more yards out. There was a great crack in the air that was more than thunder as the barrier between worlds cleaved.
   He laughed. It wasn’t the laugh of a mad sorcerer giddy with power. It was a clean laugh of a man in love with life. Rain broke like a waterfall from the dark sky. He was drenched in seconds. Wind swirled from behind, pushing him toward the bay. A channel, like the one he imagined when he read about Moses parting the waters, opened in the black waves. Light flashed and swirled in purple and gold and black and silver and orange and blue. He let the wind push him across the beach and into the torn water.
   He was lifted from his feet and sucked into the vortex of Mythaelace. In dizzying, screaming seconds, he hurtled from his native world into Sexton once again.
   The storm ended abruptly. Within two minutes, the beach was as it was before Nick got out of the car. Water ran in rivulets over the windshield of the abandoned vehicle in the parking lot.

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