| STORY 2 Page 40 |
| Marion ([email protected]) February 24, 2004
Alan Skarzinski grabbed Kit by the collar at the scruff of the neck, yanking him hard off of the horse the two of them had been riding. �We�re here.� He said gruffly, the gun still in his sweaty grasp digging into Kit�s temple. Ahead of them stood the Temple of Seth (Heidi, if this is not what it�s called please change it to the right name and then delete what�s inside the parentheses) bathed in golden sun light standing there mocking them. �You had better watch where you�re pointing that thing.� Kit said smugly. �You need me to retrieve the power of the Scepter.� �If you don�t shut your mouth now kid you won�t have one to shut in a moment!� and with that Skarzinski moved the gun from Kit�s temple to right under his chin. A faint buzz filled Alan Skarzinski�s head right as he was moving the gun under Kit�s chin and he froze as a vision filled his mind. He was vaguely aware that his hands were warm, and a thick scent permeated the air, sweet and heavy. He looked down at his hands only to find they were dripping a red substance, the liquid running in tiny rivulets down his wrists and fingertips. A look of pure evil crossed his face as he rubbed his hands together, the blood coagulating and becoming sticky as the scent of it filled his nostrils. He would have the boy�s blood on his hands yet, before the day came to an end. Kit, noticing the silence and that his mother�s murderer had stopped dead in his tracks, his hands clasped in front of him, pivoted slightly on the mouth of the pistol. �Hey, can�t we speed it up buddy, I�m getting tired of waiting for my death.� �Ah yes, your death�� Skarzinski breathed. �Don�t worry, I will kill you soon enough, and you will die just like your whore mother did.� With that Kit kneed him as hard as he could in the groin, and Skarzinski�s reflexes instinctively brought his hands down to his crotch, and that was all the initiative Kit needed. In a moment of shuffling it was Kit who had the gun pointed at Alan Skarzinski, and Kit needed him for only one thing and then he could dispose of him. Heidi Rittner ([email protected]) July 2, 2004 Their scuffle over the gun had gotten them dangerously close to the steep incline that led to the Temple of Seth in the valley ahead of them. Another couple of inches and they would have rolled the whole way down and most likely broken their necks. Alan, still hunched on the ground, looked up in Kit�s direction with murder in his eyes and a twinge of fear went through him as he came face to face with the barrel of his own gun. His expression turned to murder, but not before Kit saw the flicker of fear. �Now that I have your attention,� began Kit, his voice laced with hate, �let�s you �n me talk about something you have in your possession that is rightfully mine.� �I don�t know what you�re talking about,� Alan spat out. �Oh, I know you know what I�m talkin� about. Maybe a bullet in your ass will refresh your memory.� Kit cocked the gun and put a little pressure on the trigger. Alan felt another tingle of fear run down his spine at the look Kit gave him. Though he knew the little bastard had never killed anyone, he didn�t doubt the kid would hesitate to kill him. �You kill me and you�ll never find the journal. You have something I want as well; the first journal. Lower the gun and we�ll talk about making a trade. I�ll even hand over my end of the bargain first.� Kit thought this over. The intense hate he felt had clouded his brain and he was surprised at how ready he had been to kill a man. True, the bastard did deserve to be filled with lead, but if Kit had pulled the trigger, it would have been a cold blooded killing since Alan had nothing to defend himself with and he�d have been no better than Alan. That would mean he would no longer be able to have control over the scepter since his heart would no longer be pure, but his soul could never be black enough for the other extreme type of man who could control the scepter. He was jarred out of his thoughts as Alan began to get up. Kit aimed the gun straight at Alan�s still sore groin. �Move and you�ll spend the rest of your days as a eunuch.� Alan froze at Kit�s words. �Now, very slowly put your hands above your head and lay flat on your gut facing away from me.� Alan did as he was told and Kit backed up towards Alan�s horse. He held the gun in his right hand trained on Alan and stuck his other hand in the rucksack scrimmaging around. No journal there. He tried the other rucksack. Still nothing. He knew it had to be somewhere near. �You won�t find it,� said the smug bastard. �Slowly stand up and face away from me. Keep your hands where I can see them. Any sudden movements and you�ll earn yourself the nickname Stubby.� Alan followed the orders and was now facing the Temple below. Kit kept the barrel in Alan�s back in perfect alignment with his black heart and quickly checked him for any other weapons or the journal. He found nothing. Kit�s only choice was to agree to the trade. Alan felt the pressure of the gun leave his back and heard the sound of the barrel snapping out of its loaded position. The three remaining bullets that had been in the gun were thrown far to his left rolling down and forever lost in the steep incline; the gun following to his far right. Alan gave a quick smirk of triumph at the boy�s ignorant decision of giving up his weapon, then Alan slowly turned around and lowered his arms. Kit stood with his arms akimbo. �We�ll settle this like men on equal ground. No more boom stick. My journal?� Alan gave a short nod as he made his way to his horse. Kit watched, knowing he�d check the rucksacks carefully and had found no other weapons or the journal. There�s no other place he could have hidden them unless he shoved the damn thing in the� Kit looked at the horse�s rump and blanched at the thought. He let out the breath he was holding when Alan past that particular part of the horse and now stood next to the saddle. Alan gave Kit a smug look before revealing the journal�s secret hiding place, knowing that not even the most brilliant of detectives could have found it. He reached under the back of the saddle and pushed a trigger button that released a compartment that had been perfectly aligned with the saddle�s seams. Slowly pulling out the small drawer, he removed the journal that took up most of the space and held it out to Kit. Kit looked at the journal, recognizing it as one of Evie and Jonathan�s mother�s. He took the rest of the torn pages from the second journal dealing with the scepter out of his pocket and handed it to Alan. Kit opened the second journal. The first page simply read: Adinah Carnahan, Journal two. He turned the page and started to read the left page. It went over the last portion of how the scepter was activated and then into how the damn thing was destroyed. He skimmed quickly and was surprised to find that destroying the damn thing wouldn�t be too difficult, just a matter of reciting an incantation and having the strength to not be lured by the incredible feeling of power. He knew he possessed the strength to ignore the lure of ruling the entire world. Too much damned work, he thought. He reached the bottom part of the page with the headline: Incantation and started to read. Seth God of Chaos and demons, Kit felt jarred as he stared at the first line. Shaking his head at the silly thought and he continued on. Touch not me nor mine, Holy shit, he thought. Thy power I drain into this brine. He didn�t realize he had been holding his breath until he started feeling a little light headed. He quickly read over the three lines again, not believing the connection between this incantation and the story his mother had read him over and over again when he was young. He knew the whole thing by heart, word for word. He�d often times pretended to be the brave young man who saved the world from the evil amulet. He was already residing the next line in his head before he actually started reading it. Pepper sting demon, rouge or thief, He looked to the page on the right and continued reading. believe that there is one man who had been subjected to the Humdai ritual. By deciphering the papyri and hieroglyphs I have found in various locals throughout Egypt, I believe the man�s sarcophagus can be found in a place that has been passed off for centuries as a myth; a place that is said to also hold the wealth of Egypt as well as the book of Amun Ra� Wait a minute, this can�t be right, Kit thought. Where�s the rest of the incantation? He ran a finger down the inside crease, now noticing the ragged leftover edges of a page that had been torn out. �What the hell? There�s a page miss�" He stopped mid sentence, his head shooting up as he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. He must have had the damn |