It
probably wasn’t a smart move, going to Siberia in the middle of the winter. But
I had been paying more attention to the location than the date when I warped
in.
It’s
pretty fucking hard to track down these orbs. I can faintly sense their
presence in time, but it’s so buried underneath all the other stuff going along
the timelines that I can only pinpoint them if I already have an idea of where
I’m supposed to be looking. Which means I spend a stupid long amount of time
just digging through old books to find any mention of magical glowing rocks.
Adventure!
It involves a helluva lot more reading than I thought!
Landed
as close to the orb’s presence as I could. Middle of a snow covered Taiga, with
trees stretching for miles and miles. Had no bearing to exactly where I was,
except for a vague sense of which direction the orb was. Followed that feeling
through the woods. Damn it was cold. I really need to think about getting some
winter clothes. Later.
The
forest was disquietingly empty. No sign of humans. None of animals. Just snow.
The
monotony was finally broken by a small wooden hut, thrown together by anything
on hand to resist the cold. I could feel the orb inside it, calling to me. I
went up to the shoddy door, and knocked.
The
door opened slightly and a pair of eyes peered from inside. A man’s voice came
out, saying… something. Shit, I really should have learned Russian before
coming.
Time
to have fun with the language barrier. “Hello, I’m I-330. I was wondering if
you had seen any magical glowing rocks nearby. I need them to rip apart
spacetime and save my girlfriend.”
I
don’t think he understood a word of that. But that didn’t seem important to
him. As I spoke, he opened the door further. He looked like a wild mountain
man, with a huge beard that covered most of his face and a thick fur coat. He
stared at me with surprise, and a little bit of awe. Slowly, he reached a hand
toward my face, but I slapped it aside. That didn’t dissuade him, and he
grabbed both of my hands. Which would have led to him getting a lot of broken
bones, but I was too distracted by the huge smile on his face and the stream of
Russian coming out of his mouth. Next thing I knew, I was being pulled inside
the shack and sat down on a hard wooden chair before a rickety table. I would
have gotten right out of that chair, but then he put a bottle of vodka in front
of me and, well, it would be a shame to disregard such hospitality….
He
kept talking the entire time, without me understanding a word, as he attempted
to tidy up the place. Not that there was much to tidy; it was an extremely
Spartan home. Only the barest of necessities: a bed, a table, a small fire, and
not much else. The only thing which seemed like a luxury was the surprisingly
ornate silver chest by the bed.
The
man was still talking. At least he was friendly, still had that smile, and even
got his own bottle to drink. Guy was so happy he was practically crying,
constantly offering me any food or drink he had, and slapping me on the back as
if we were ancient friends.
Finished
the bottle. Had a great time listening to him trying to cram several years’
worth of conversation into a short time. But I still had work to do. I could
feel the orb nearby, I just couldn’t pinpoint where. I tried asking about it,
but his English was about as good as my Russian. Didn’t want to tear his tiny
home apart to find it, but I would if I had to. Now where the hell would it be
hidden here….
…
Well. Duh. The chest. Of course. The only place that reasonably could hide
anything in such a tiny place.
The
moment I touched the chest, I could feel I was right. At that same moment, the
man freaked out. Not violently, but he seemed extremely insistent that I put
the chest down. Sorry, but I wouldn’t be leaving without it. Tore the lock off,
and inside was a perfectly spherical glowing stone.
Before
I could leave, the man grabbed a hunting rifle and pointed it at me. His aim
was wavering and there wasn’t much conviction in his eyes. He didn’t want to
shoot. But to be safe, before he could pull the trigger I ripped the gun out of
his hands and snapped it in half.
The
small fire instantly went out, and the house became dark and cold. A little
boy’s voice crept in from outside, singing, “All the world is falling down,
falling down, falling down, all the world is falling
Falling
Falling
Falling
Falling…”
Ice
began to spread across the walls. The man collapsed and curled into a ball, sobbing
and muttering to himself in fear.
The
ice covered the door in a thick layer, thicker than conventional means could
break. Trying to trap me with the same trick as when I first met the Cold Boy.
But
I’m not the weakling I was then. And I can’t afford to be stopped.
I
smashed through the door without breaking stride.
The
Cold Boy was waiting for me outside, standing amongst the trees. Ignored it. Its time will come. But for now, focus on the
task at hand.
I-330
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