Chapter One: Broken Entry<\/b><\/p>\n
\n
A warm breeze passed by, howling against the pillars of the impressive building.\u00a0 During the winter months, many of the city\u2019s denizens huddled in their homes.\u00a0 But once the spring thaw arrived, Atalatha was a bustling city.<\/p>\n
A series of footsteps made their way to the exit, polished boots tapping against the shining floor.\u00a0 One pair abruptly stopped and turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you all ever so much for coming,\u201d Maximus said.\u00a0 \u201cI hope you enjoyed yourself, and I look forward to seeing you \u2013 each of you \u2013 again.\u201d<\/p>\n
His guests, wealthy and well dressed, contentedly wished him well, and began down the steps.\u00a0 The man was left alone in the museum, waving farewells to the donors who had visited during the first open day that year.<\/p>\n
When Maximus was certain that the attendees were out of sight, he let go of a deep sigh, as if he had a belly full of tainted air.<\/p>\n
After he filled his lungs back up, eh stood straighter, his eyes pointed at the building across the street.\u00a0 The place was odd, but it belonged to a dear friend.\u00a0 Chortling to himself, he shook his head before turning and heading deeper into the Museum of Wonders.<\/p>\n
He couldn\u2019t have known about the child lurking just aside the building.\u00a0 As the older man\u2019s footsteps withdrew into the museum, the unexpected visitor slowly tiptoed from the shadows.<\/p>\n
The boy was twelve, covered from head to toe in cracked, torn linens.\u00a0 On his feet, he wore rags that were tied into makeshift shoes with heavy twine.\u00a0 He made an almost imperceptibly quiet sound as he walked.<\/p>\n
He, too, disappeared within the museum.<\/p>\n
The dragon in front of him caught his attention, but didn\u2019t startle him.\u00a0 He knew of the statue of Batrura.\u00a0 He understood that its fearsome eyes judged all those who passed into the main hall of the building.<\/p>\n
Clinging to the shadows where he could, the street rat moved along the perimeter of the room.\u00a0 No matter how close or how far he was from that statue, he always felt like those eyes were upon him.<\/p>\n
Finally, he crept beneath it, entering the darkened hall.<\/p>\n
A pungent aroma wafted through the museum, like too many oils mixed together.\u00a0 The waif held his hand to his face, covering his nose, but that scent was overpowering.\u00a0 Before long, he had forgotten all about that odor though, fixated instead on the repeated clangs and thuds that resonated from deeper within the place.<\/p>\n
He soon found his steps keeping the beat, only inching forward whenever he heard the metallic thrum.\u00a0 Almost like a dance, the child pressed forward, until he reached another large room.<\/p>\n
The evening sky pierced through a single tall window.\u00a0 Several stars and the moon lent their light, splashing down upon the tiled floor.\u00a0 Stopping just short of entering the place, the waif looked inside.\u00a0 At least a dozen objects of interest lined the walls.\u00a0 Relics of wars long passed, antiquities of man\u2019s earliest emergence from the earth, and even a weapon or two were on display, kept secure underneath thick glass.<\/p>\n
Two busts sat on squared marble pedestals, just at the entrance to the room.\u00a0 It was that faint starlight that assisted the child, for as he bent low, he could see the nearly invisible wire that passed between the stands.\u00a0 Taking care to lift his feet high, he crossed over.<\/p>\n
The banging stopped, and the street rat wondered if perhaps there was some other way that he had been discovered.\u00a0 He sped ahead, dipping into the far corner of the room, away from the light\u2019s embrace.<\/p>\n
A loud hiss resounded from within the museum, and fantasies of the dragon in the hall coming to life ran rampant throughout the youth\u2019s mind.\u00a0 It was that thought that coerced him deeper into the darkness of the building.<\/p>\n
More items were on display as the waif proceeded on.\u00a0 Odd wands were stored behind heavy glass, an old painting sat high on the wall between two oddly colored torches, and a large axe sat firmly upon the wall, a length of chain affixed to its head.\u00a0 The street rat took some time at each of the displays, fixated on all of the curiosities.\u00a0 Even as the banging resumed, he remained focused on the unique items.<\/p>\n
Several of the antiquities had bronzed plaques situated beneath them.\u00a0 In the shadows it was a struggle to see the engraved words.\u00a0 The youth approached each display and gently ran his fingers against the letters.<\/p>\n
A strong scent emanated from within the museum then, like too much sewer crept up from beneath the streets outside.\u00a0 An uncomfortable burp escaped the child, who forcefully covered his lips with the palm of his hand.<\/p>\n
With a stifled grunt, he continued onward.<\/p>\n
Far at the end of the hall, a light cast out through the shadows.\u00a0 A dark silhouette played through that light, raising its arm high, and striking it against the ground as if in vengeance.\u00a0 Each one of those was followed by the metallic clang.<\/p>\n
The boy understood, then, that the curator struck diligently and forcefully a hammer.<\/p>\n
That determined work ethic would provide just the distraction the street rat needed.<\/p>\n
He continued along the hall, where more highly valued items were placed.\u00a0 So close to the owner\u2019s sanctuary, they had to be worth a great deal.\u00a0 One by one, he placed his hands on display cases, trying to lift them.\u00a0 None of the protective sheaths budged however, defying his craft.<\/p>\n
A silent harrumph shook the boy\u2019s chest.\u00a0 His eyes fell upon a glimmering object to his side, just beyond where the curator\u2019s light poured into the hall.\u00a0 A ceremonial looking dagger sat upon the wall, seemingly floating there.\u00a0 There was no pedestal, no wire, just the plaque beneath it.<\/p>\n
He found himself drawn to that inscription.<\/p>\n
The letters explained that its former owner, Jasmine Byrne, had used it to return Roark, the Mad King, to the underworld.<\/p>\n
After ruminating on that long forgotten event, the boy shrugged, and reached for the blade.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re wasting your time,\u201d he suddenly heard.\u00a0 His legs almost shook out from beneath him.\u00a0 \u201cEverything is firmly bolted down.\u201d<\/p>\n
Swallowing hard, the street rat stepped back and turned around.\u00a0 From that angle, he could see Maximus in that back room, and knew he had been spotted.<\/p>\n
With shoulders hunched and his head bowed just slightly, the waif stepped into the doorway.\u00a0 All of his guilt was cast aside then, replaced immediately by fear.<\/p>\n
A gasp forcibly ripped its way from his lungs.\u00a0 There, on the floor, was the mutilated corpse of a horse.\u00a0 The boy wanted to run, but his legs teetered, and he lost his balance, tipping into the doorway.<\/p>\n
\u201cEasy lad,\u201d Maximus said, finally turning to the young boy.\u00a0 \u201cIt isn\u2019t going to hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n
The museum curator had a nonchalant attitude about the intruder.\u00a0 He hadn\u2019t made eye contact, instead passing by the street rat.\u00a0 As he crossed before him, the child could see the layer of grime upon the apron the man wore.\u00a0 Dark streaks and smudges covered Maximus.\u00a0 He looked nothing like he had when he dismissed the visitors earlier.<\/p>\n
As the older man drifted out of sight, the lad\u2019s vision was once again drawn to the horse carcass on the ground.\u00a0 Its torso had been neatly severed so that only half of the body remained.\u00a0 Its eye was drawn open wide, as if it clearly experienced that horror, even in death.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was dead for quite some time before I did that to it,\u201d Maximus said.\u00a0 \u201cDied on the side of the road on the way from Seramore.\u00a0 The owner had to put him down.\u00a0 His legs gave out.\u201d\u00a0 When the boy said nothing, he clapped his hands together, and walked back toward the carcass.\u00a0 \u201cHe was going to just bury it, but I paid to take it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would you pay to do\u2026 that?\u201d the street rat suddenly said.\u00a0 He tensed up when the words were spoken, as if he expected to be carved in half next.<\/p>\n
Maximus sheepishly grinned and threw his arms out wide.<\/p>\n
As the museum curator fell back into his wooden chair beside the mutilated horse corpse, the boy noticed the sheet behind him for the first time.\u00a0 It was draped over something large, nearly completely covering it.\u00a0 He noticed the small bronze spots just at the floor, however.<\/p>\n
Gulping down a mouthful of air, the street rat stepped forward.\u00a0 \u201cIs that what smells so bad?\u201d<\/p>\n
Maximus looked toward the horse, and scrunched up his face.\u00a0 \u201cUnfortunately, yes.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been keeping it in ever-ice, but it seems like every time I take it out, it thaws faster and faster.\u00a0 To tell you the truth, I\u2019ve begun to get used to the stench.\u201d\u00a0 He looked at the intruder, who stood with wide eyes and a drooping jaw.\u00a0 \u201cWhat is it, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou keep the body in hell?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d the curator wondered.\u00a0 \u201cNo.\u00a0 No.\u00a0 Not Evarice,\u201d he clarified, remarking on the deepest hell, where demons dwelled.\u00a0 \u201cI keep it in ever-ice<\/i>.\u00a0 I just store it in a room in the back that I\u2019m calling a freezer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut\u2026 why?\u00a0 Who needs half of a horse?\u201d<\/p>\n
Maximus flashed an uneasy grin, and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.\u00a0 \u201cIt is pretty grotesque, but I can assure you, it\u2019s necessary research.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cResearch?\u201d the boy asked.\u00a0 An air of incredulity sat upon his tongue as he crossed his arms over his chest.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can see you\u2019re not going to let this one go easily,\u201d the curator said.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll speak quickly, so the stench doesn\u2019t have the chance to overwhelm us.\u00a0 Do not ask me to repeat myself.\u00a0 I\u2019d sooner remove you from the building than waste my time.\u201d<\/p>\n
The street rat locked his jaw, and nodded his consent.<\/p>\n
Standing up, the bones just below Maximus\u2019 knees cracked in protest.\u00a0 He groaned, though a smile began forming on his face.\u00a0 \u201cHave you ever heard of Seramore?\u00a0 It\u2019s a beautiful city, few days southeast of here.\u00a0 It sits on this grand mesa, like it\u2019s reaching toward the heavens.\u00a0 Down below it though, they have what they call \u2018the ring\u2019.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe city is well protected on all sides because it\u2019s difficult to get to,\u201d the curator continued.\u00a0 \u201cOnly one land bridge crosses over a wide ravine that surrounds that mesa.\u00a0 Over the ages, the people of Seramore have put sweat on their brows, toiling away at the ravine until it became the ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cA massive racetrack, can you believe it?\u00a0 And Seramore is no small town, either.\u00a0 Only the best and brightest think to win a day in the ring, and it puts a lot of requirement on a man and his horse.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maximus sighed then, staring at the far wall of the room, as if a door to the past was open, swung ajar so he could see.\u00a0 \u201cA man who doesn\u2019t respect the ring is sure to find his fair share of disappointment.\u00a0 A good horse will press on until its legs give out, and with the purse of gold that the winner of the biggest races gets, that happens far more often than it should.\u00a0 Every man is a dreamer, and those dreams are so frequently the downfall of someone or something else.<\/p>\n
\u201cAs I said, this horse was run into the ground,\u201d the curator said, his voice resonating with a tinge of regret.\u00a0 \u201cIts owner ran him hard in the race.\u00a0 To its credit, the horse made it to the end.\u00a0 But it didn\u2019t place, and the owner wasn\u2019t paid a single coin.\u00a0 He could have stopped at any time, but that dream was poison in his mind.\u00a0 All he saw was the money \u2013 not the pains his horse was going through to see his rider to his wishes.\u00a0 A good horse would take its rider to Evarice and back, if it could.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found this horse on the side of the road, already having taking its last breath.\u00a0 It was easy to recognize it as a racehorse.\u00a0 It still had blood in its nostrils from the rapid, hasty breaths it had to take.\u00a0 Even though it was weary, its owner wasn\u2019t going to let it wait long.\u00a0 Someone who only cares for money won\u2019t think long enough of others.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure this horse was going to be sold to someone with a carriage or a wagon, and he would have worked until the end of his days.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt didn\u2019t take much to convince the man to sell it to me,\u201d Maximus said.\u00a0 \u201cAfter all, it was already dead.\u00a0 He was already digging the shallow grave, growling all the way.\u00a0 Likely a patrol from Seramore had seen the horse drop, and warned him not to let the body just lie on the road.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo I offered the fool what he wanted.\u00a0 A little bit of coin for a dead horse,\u201d he said, a quiet grown in his voice.\u00a0 \u201cThis steed will be more appreciated by me in death than it ever was by him when it was alive.<\/p>\n
\u201cI put the poor thing in my wagon, and drove it back to Atalatha.\u00a0 I had to call in a few favors of course.\u00a0 The wizard that lives in that great black tower in the center of town had to make the ever-ice for me, and that was no easy task.\u00a0 He had to apprehend some Frost Giant blood and magical water from the Raster Springs, far to the south.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat wait is where the smell came from,\u201d the curator insisted.\u00a0 \u201cWe kept the horse in stillweed for as long as possible, but that ride from Seramore was a long one.\u00a0 Had to bat away my share of flies that day.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head, and then his hand.\u00a0 \u201cEventually, the wizard created the ever-ice for me, and I began storing the steed in with it.\u00a0 Once it was rock solid, I took a week to saw through it.\u201d<\/p>\n
As silence entered the room, the boy stared at the curator.\u00a0 Maximus threw his hand out wide, indicating the completion of his tale.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut why?\u201d the street rat asked.\u00a0 \u201cWho needs half of a horse?\u201d<\/p>\n
Standing up, his knees cracking, Maximus stepped to the side.\u00a0 He placed his hand on the sheet, grinning from ear to ear.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll make you a deal,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cThat story is a mite longer, so I\u2019ll need something from you in return.\u201d\u00a0 When he was sure he had the boy\u2019s attention, he grasped the cover more fiercely.\u00a0 \u201cI want you to promise me that you\u2019ll never steal again.\u201d<\/p>\n
Swallowing hard, the waif slowly began to nod.<\/p>\n
Maximus couldn\u2019t keep his grin from stretching into a smile.\u00a0 In one hasty motion, he tugged the sheet away.<\/p>\n
The boy couldn\u2019t hide his intrigue.\u00a0 His eyes widened and he took a step forward.<\/p>\n
There before him was a spectacle of awe.\u00a0 A beast of bronze, tin and silver stared at him as if it was aware of his presence.\u00a0 Fully formed, yet lacking some features, the clockwork steed was impressive to behold.\u00a0 Maximus ran his hand through the horse\u2019s artificially attached mane.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis,\u201d the curator said, \u201cis Equinicus.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chapter One: Broken Entry A warm breeze passed by, howling against the pillars of the impressive building.\u00a0 During the winter months, many of the city\u2019s denizens huddled in their homes.\u00a0 But once the spring thaw arrived, Atalatha was a bustling city. A series of footsteps made their way to the exit, polished boots tapping against […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[126,222,61],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1UVey-9D","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/597"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=597"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/597\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":598,"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/597\/revisions\/598"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=597"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=597"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tellest.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=597"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}