A Story Into Time: Chapter 11 The Gate (In Progress)


Madea arrives at the doors that stands over two hundred feet high and about 80 foot wide. A crease in the center divides the doors. She approaches the gate this causes the hair on the back of her neck to rise and she shivers run down her spine. With each step she feels as if gravity itself doubles. This eventually forces her down on one knee and she struggles to stand once again. Finally her hands touch the doors carvings causing her flesh to peel off of her hand. She pulls her hand back and hisses as her wound begins to heal.

“This…is fucking incredible….how did mortals create such an impressive enchanted prison.” Madea grins in excitement and fear.

The door is fashioned from various stones and metals. It looks as though stones had been carved to represent skulls and bones in various patterns and warnings in every language. They run from the top of the door on down. The crease has three small locks on it. Madea only has one key in her possession and this brings her some curiosity as to how one key could possibility open this door. Also above each lock is a finger sized hole. Taking her key she shoves it into the first slot and attempts to turn it. It was at this point the door hisses and the various patterns change on the doors to form words.

“ONLY THOSE WHO CLOSED THIS DOOR MAY OPEN IT.”

Madea reads the statement and growls slightly, placing her finger into the hole above the lock the key rests in, trying to figure out if there as a trigger or release only to find her finger is stabbed then crushed. Shocked by the sudden pain she attempts to pull her finger out but it will not budge. She takes her wand and waves it at her hand causing her skin muscle and bone to peel and break off at the base of its extension.

Blood gushes from her wound only for a moment before a new finger beings to grow. She shakes her hand a few times and glares in frustration. She goes to remove the key but it will not budge. She screams in rage and raises her wand to the door. Knowing her abilities are specialized in organic matter not the magics and barriers that make up this lock nor door.  Mustering up her energies she attempts to cast a spell on the door  to tear apart and crumble. Failure as the door reflects the spell onto her increasing it ten fold. Her body twists and distorts before all her joints dislocate and bones crumble. She screams in agony during the process..then waits to heal.

Hours pass before Madea can stand again, grunting she attempts to pull the key out one last time as the sun fades in the sky and gives way to nightfall. She grunts and begins to hobble away still injured each step causes horrific pain but her face shows little sign beside tears that roll down her face uncontrollably. Frustrated by her leaking eyes she waves her wand until her tear ducts are damaged ceasing the flow.  She glares up at the mountain ranges deciding not to take that rout and begins to head away from them and heads out into a vast desert.

Gilgamesh holds up his diary considering the value mortals place on memories, and the fact that they often forget the details, or causes that formed them in the first place. Placing it aside he looks up at a scholar who is quietly placing books on shelves in a vast library. The scholar was the keeper of the books and plainly the Rolodex of the information hidden within each one. Gilgamesh has spent the last few hours testing this individuals knowledge by grabbing out random books and asking the man questions about its contents. He found it interesting that a normal mortal could remember so much in details pertaining to books they had not written verse the diary he held which was filled with lost knowledge that had been so clearly written about years prior.

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrow on the scholar and he bellows out in the silence of the library,”Book Keeper, I apologize for interrupting  your work yet again but I was wondering are you actually a human? I on–” He is cut short as the Scholar shushes him before responding in a rather cold manor.

“Yes, for the thousandth time yes…I am a human, I have read all of these books, yes I know the contents of each one, and how many times must I ask you to keep your voice down?”

The Scholar  is wearing a red boarded white cloak with yellow lace and a small hat. He has a large piece of glass dangling down from his neck and without noticeable  reason has flower peddles of several kinds stuffed and slightly protruding out of cuffs and his neckline. His nose is a bit red from sneezing most likely either from the dust on the shelves or the peddles themselves.

“Surely there is more to you than other mortals…for you have the ability to retain the scriptures you have dedicated your life to preserving.” Gilgamesh stands and begins to make his way over to the Scholar before asking,” Whats your name?”

“My name is Soba and yours sir?”

“Gilgamesh” The immortal responds.

“Ah yes, Gilgamesh is a strong name of the first true king and halfbreed…First one to unite the realms; though cruel was his ambition, he ended up saving the realms from the Darkling hoards. He believed the world owed him a debt for his protection and claimed everything he desired as his regardless of who it belonged to. His greed is what drove the alliances apart and eventually returned the power to the darklings which caused the mortals from all realms to reunite again and  create the gate. Granted this is roughly about 200 years after Gilgamesh’s dynasty collapsed. You see never wed instead had a collection of mistresses that would raise his children. Most royalty these days are decedents from  Gilgamesh this is true of most human and Elf races. The dwarfs however purged all mix-breeds in their society and thus ended any chance of a mix blooded heir. I find it comical now days that the races with decedents hate mix breeds of today most houses dont even acknowledging the fact that they are not pure. Granted its such a mass percentage it would never be noticeable.” Soba informs the curious onlooker without even looking in his direction nor being asked too.

“Fascinating, and what of the Gods of those times?” Gilgamesh inquires.

“Gods? Oh those days were full of the Creator, and  the First Gods he created placed in charge of the planet more so then the people on it. Though still worshiped and admired they are not of sound body like ours in this age. The ground, the Earth was a god as well as wind, the sun, and night. Gods of various means, from water to weather. Some stronger than others but they all had to work together for the planet it survive. Granted disagreements would happen resulting in wounds we can see still to this day. ”

Gilgamesh very curious as to what he meant by the scars of their battle questioned what he was referring.

“Well its hard to tell all the marks made, but the Earth God shows the most ruminates, both offensive and defensive. The mountains for instance were clearly an attack against the Wind disrupting their movements and forcing them to slowly tear them apart…over hundreds of thousands of years. Vast dried lakes and rivers a battle between the Sun and Water. Rivers cutting through the Earths skin. Some say these Gods never left and instead became silent letting Zeus and the others run things.” Soba is slightly getting excited about using his knowledge to inform what he deems is an ignorant warrior.

Gilgamesh begins to scour the books on the shelves it was only at this point he realized that most had not been touched in many years as dust had piled high on them. He also noticed he and Soba were the only ones there and had been the duration of his visit.

“I see not many venture into your hallways of knowledge here. Seems like such a waste that only you know the extent of knowledge locked away in here, perhaps you should consider educating the masses on what all can be gained here.” Gilgamesh suggested.

Trying to contain his laughter Soba turns to face Gilgamesh for the first time. “I perhaps would waste my time with such an endeavor if people cared for more for truth verse satire, most of the locals would rather watch a play that has a vague stretched truth verse actually learning the details of history. Its my personal opinion that history has far more to teach us than the present.

 

 

 

 

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About shoelessboywonder

Poet and cook, I'm just starting out in the web world trying to grow a fan base for my poetry, it seems like its off to a good start and the site is also made for me to improve upon my writing skills so please rate and comment on the poems you like best, feedback is the greatest way to success thanks for checking me out and my site. View all posts by shoelessboywonder

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