[Splat]

(Note: Sorry if this whole chapter is written in massive font (it'll probably fix itself now I've written this). The Forums hate me today!)

Fresh off of the production lines:


Chapter 3, Preparing a Body
Every particle in his brain was screaming "No!" But his hand kept moving outwards. Why did he have to do this? Why couldn’t he just turn and run? He froze, his fingertips millimetres from the metallic ball.
How could he live with himself if he ran away now? The freedom of his people depended on him getting out of there with the Orb. Nothing else mattered. But it was so hard. That Orb could kill him like it had killed everyone else. No one in their right mind would take it. "Sometimes you have to be the fool to succeed. Sometimes only the fool sees the right path…" The right path… The path of freedom for his people. Closing his eyes, he reached out and grabbed the object here feared most.
If he’d been expecting to drop down dead right there he was disappointed. The Orb seemed to vibrate beneath his fingers, spreading warmth up his arm and for a few seconds Graham just stood there, feeling the warmth, the curse and his quest driven from his mind.
But it was almost as if a magnetic pull was on the Orb, tugging him to the door. Graham quickly stuffed some food into his bag and set off, picked up the kid’s compass (it had been a long time since he’d last walked through the forest) and stepped through his door.
He knew this part of the forest like he knew his own mind (actually, judging by what just happened, that was a pretty bad example). But the point was he could have made his way through in his sleep. He knew every rock, every tree. Every hole where some animal or another lived; every dark crack where ratz hid. He knew where the stream was, when he would cross it, where to cross it.
And then he was on his own. Hr hadn’t bothered to cross the stream in ages; he’d had no reason to. He regretted it now. When he had the Orb the whole place seemed more menacing. Every slig, glukkon and vykker for miles was out to get him and his cargo. As long as he held the Orb they all wanted him dead. And then there was the curse. Maybe he could take the Orb back and go through the forest without it first… No! He couldn’t; there wasn’t time! And if he put the Orb down he wasn’t sure if he’d ever have the will power to pick it up again. No, he was going now and there was no turning back, maybe not ever. But that wasn’t what mattered now.
In the next couple of days he would cross the border of the continents and enter Mudos, home of his people. He would like to have told himself he would be safer there, but so close to the edge of the forest… In Mudos, the industrialists were less bothered about ancient curses and beliefs and more about profits. That was, of course, why they were shipped further away. The sligs in glucose were the more edgy ones. No matter how tight security may be in Glucose, you always found better employees on the Southern side of the border.
But that was a long way off (20 odd miles): at least 2 days walk for him now. He’d been waiting in the forest 20 (Earth) years (that’s about 10 Odd years.) He’d been so ready to just go then! Now he felt so pathetic, so small. It was impossible to believe that he could make a difference to something this big? It’s always easier to see yourself as part of legend when you’re younger! Yet here he was, carrying it through the forest, drawing ever closer to its point of energy: the first temple built after its creation… Paramonia…
He glanced down at the Orb, the weapon that would end the industrial reign over the mudokon race; the legends never stated how it would do that. What could it do? Just a small, metallic green ball… A metallic green ball with all the might of the 2 great shamen, He reminded himself. That was a lot of power. He thought of his master. The power that guy must contain scared even Graham and he didn’t understand half of it; very few did. What was he messing with? The existence of the glukkons? Would the Orb simply destroy them all? That would sort of defeat the object. All peoples were created equal by Odd, destroying one so another could live was pretty hypocritical. It was all too much; he’d probably (hopefully) find it all out some day.
As evening drew in, Graham stopped and raked together a pile of Bankeddi leaves (a type of tree native to Southern glucose) and settled down on it to sleep. The whole thing was too big for him to ever contemplate. He should just get to sleep; he needed his strength. Glancing at the Orb one last time, he closed his eyes and settled down to rest for the night.



I'm closing up for Christmas now. Hope you like this, have a good Christmas, happy knew year and GET YOUR BLINKIN COMPUTER OUT OF THAT BOX SEARGE OR I WILL GET VERY ANGRY!!!! VERY ANGRY INDEED!!!!