The Castle Comes Alive

'The palace' was a place of mystery. Even the woods surrounding it had a spooky sentience, a quiet that told you hidden things were watching. Odjinn (the mark who'd turned the tables on me yesterday) and I were making our way along a narrow, forgotten path. He was turning out to be pretty spry for an old man--which is to say he was leaving me in the dust. Generally, I'm not so bad off, but I seemed to be perpetually running after him, just to keep him in sight. While he, for all appearances, was merely walking. If I'd had more pride, this might have bothered me, but it merely struck me as perplexing and comical.

The forest was a spot off most people's radar--tucked behind a network of parking lots and loading docks, and walled off by the Giants. But it lived a full life in rumor, and was a questionable refuge for many desperate people willing to scale the walls. What this meant was that the watching eyes could easily mean many kinds of danger: people with nothing to lose, or those tracking them, either could be a problem. I was listening for any sign of trouble, but my running and ragged breathing hardly made me a subtle presence, much less a reliably watchful one.

Nonetheless, our path seemed buffered from outside observation. Most paths here had seen their share of bull runs, and were rutted muddy with traffic, as well as refuse of all kinds. But here, there was nothing but the soft carpet of fir needles and tiny cones, crunching lightly beneath my feet. In the past few minutes, Odjinn seemed to have fused with the forest--he walked on tiptoe, crouched slightly. His fingers were splayed at his sides, as though he was scanning the ground with seeing hands.

We rounded the hill and came to a clearing with a frozen pond, and the collection of granite rock formations that people called 'the palace.' Its resemblance to a castle was uncanny, and many people swore that it was man-made, thousands upon thousands of years ago. Teams of scholars had come here many times, excavating, taking rock samples. The rocky soil yielded nothing, and the samples were consistent with local rock.

There were other stories, though. No one ever pursued their research here for very long, and there were rumors that it was because the area was cursed. Small accidents and setbacks often plagued research teams. One person I talked to experienced an ominous feeling that gnawed at him more insistently the longer he was here, until he could no longer concentrate at all. He shuddered nervously even to speak of it.

For my part, I'd always been drawn to the place--even the legends of curses probably played their role in my interest, not to mention the excitement of scaling walls and dodging patrols just to get here. It was the feeling of the stones that was really the draw, though. I'd sit next to them, and a buzz would fill my mind, at once soothing and electrifying. Many times, I woke up, unsure of when I'd even fallen asleep.

Today, for all the damage the world had seen recently, 'the palace' remained undisturbed. The hum I'd often noticed when nearby was stronger than ever--I could feel it from twenty feet away, though I'd had to stand next to it to sense it before.

Planning to observe it from all angles like I usually did, I began to circle the formation, and a strange arm of energy--magnetic and forceful--pulled me toward a rock face. I found myself in the same spot where I always sat, pulled to sit down once again. A marigold flower was peeking its way up from under the rock beside me, which was a little weird, since they were never flowers to grow here naturally--especially not now, when nothing much wanted to grow or live. But I wasn't too much surprised by the anomaly, temperature variances were common here. The pond shouldn't have been frozen, either, but it often was, even when we actually had summer, and a sun in the sky.

Even the magnetism didn't surprise me too much. Nothing was normal anymore--the earth was being swallowed in big and small bites, by the Giants, and things even more incomprehensible. The sun hadn't been seen for a long time; it seemed we were wandering the skies of new and unknown places, that left our world cold and barren. Having the earth grow invisible arms and yank me around seemed the next logical step, and had a somewhat hopeful ring to it.

I was pulling the little book from my bag before I even realized what I was doing. It was warm in my hands, and the image of a tree came to life on the cover--tracing itself in lights of green and gold, as it had before. I could feel the magnetic pull continuing to draw my insides toward the rock wall. I felt almost part of the rocks, their force began to flow down my arms and hands, directing my movements naturally. I opened the book, and found a large symbol taking up the entirety of the previously blank page. I didn't know what it meant, but my body told me to dig. I began pawing at the rocky soil with my bare hands--doubtless hundreds of people had dug here before me, with far better equipment. Yet it wasn't long until I found something--a key, and my looter's instinct told me it was gold.

This story is the third installment of a series, taking place during Ragnarokk--the end of days. Like it? Check out these others:

Rent-Seeking at Ragnarokk, which was a runner-up in the Little Black Book Challenge

Crossing the Abyss

There are a few others on my page, usually with "Ragnarokk" somewhere in the title. I'm still exploring and experimenting with the world--you can see it from wholly different angles in Skyscraping and In the Caverns of the Sky.

Thanks to Vocal for the fantastic contests!