From: unixwiz@mcl.mcl.ucsb.edu (Silk)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp
Subject: STORY: net.fiction.story <part 1>
Keywords: story net.fiction.story
Date: 16 Apr 92 18:40:31 GMT

Ok peoples, here it is, the *new* net.fiction story....

I'm starting from scratch, as I've had this one for a while...Pardon the
length, but it's the best spot I could find for a break....


     "Why do you have to learn how to fly?  It's dangerous, Scott!"

     "Listen, Chris, I want to learn how to fly.  It's safer than
driving a car.  Look at this!"  Scott waved a pamphlet, "More
people die from auto accidents than from plane crashes!"

     "But still!  Why?"  The woman was tall, slim, and mad.

     "Chris, I'll be just fine.  You worry too much, you know
that?"  
     "I know, but we're getting married in a couple of months, and
I don't want anything to happen to you."

     Scott, a dark-haired man of medium height, and average looks,
shook his head.  "Chris, nothing will happen to me, except for the
fact that I'll have a pilot's license.  I'll be ok."

     A couple of weeks later, Scott sat at the controls of a
Cessna, listening to the instructor talk him down.

     "Okay, now, lower the landing gear.  Keep a strong hand on the
wheel when you do.  The plane will bump about a bit.  Okay, good."

     Scott held the controls in a white-knuckled grip.  Noticing
his tension, Mark laughed easily and flashed a grin at his nervous
pupil.

     "It's ok.  You're doing just fine.  Just relax a bit.  Now,
pull the nose up a bit.  Good.  Cut the power a bit.  Good."

     Just then, the engine died.  The silence was eerie after the
drone of the engine.  Mark flipped a couple of switches, then said,
"Ok, no problem, we're almost to the runway, just hold the plane
level, carefully.  Tower, this is Cessna 1438, we're coming in
unpowered into runway One-Eight-Zero.  Scott, let go of the
controls, I'm taking over."

     Scott let go of the controls, and watched as Mark tried to
restart the engine, but his efforts were in vain.  Mark then
frowned in concentration as he turned his attention to getting the
plane down safely.

     "Cessna 1438, Tower.  You are cleared for an emergency landing
on runway One-Eight-Zero.  Radar shows you at one mile out, at an
altitude of 6000 feet.  Crash crews are standing by."

     "Roger, tower.  Scott, get your harness tight.  I don't want
you to fly out of the plane."

     Scott looked out the windshield, and watched as the airport
drew steadily closer.  He could see the crash trucks lined up off
to one side of the runway, the crews waiting for the plane to come
in.     Suddenly, the nose dipped straight down.  Mark screamed and
hauled back on the wheel.  The plane started to straighten out. 
Scott blacked out as the ground came rushing up.

     The first thing Scott noticed as he woke up was that he wasn't
in a hospital.  The room was dimly lit, with exotic-looking
hangings decorating three of the walls.  The fourth wall was bare,
showing mortared stone blocks the size of a man's head.

     "What am I doing here?"  Scott mused, as he stared around him
in wonder.  "And, for that matter, where is here?"   

     Just then, in the circle in the center of the room, an old man
appeared.  "Ah, you're awake.  Good.  There's much to do, and not
much time."

     "Hey, wait a second, old man.  First of all, where am I? 
Second, why am I here?  Third, who're you, and what do you have to
do with me being here?"

     "Youngsters, always inquisitive," the old man said, shaking
his head.  "But, that's a good trait in magi.  Come, come, we'll
talk while we go downstairs."

     Magi?  Scott thought.  Where've I heard that word before?  He
saw the old man go to one of the hangings and draw it back.  Behind
it was a stairway.  The old man started to go down it.

     "Hey, old man, wait up!"  Scott ran to catch up with the man. 
Hey, what the heck, he could be my ticket out of here, Scott
speculated.

     The man waited at the head of the stairs for Scott to catch
up.  "First of all, my name is not, 'old man.'  You may call me
Ilra.  Second, 'here' is my tower, in the free territory of Cartha. 
Third, I have nothing at all to do with why you're here.  You just
appeared here last night with no warning.  I've been trying to
figure out who sent you here.  You are a great puzzle to me."

     "Oh.  Okay.  I got another question.  What is a 'Magi'?"

     "I am a magi.  Magi are weavers of a sort, but we weave
reality to suit our desires.  We work with words, gestures and
devices.  You have the potential, which is all the more puzzling to
me."

     Suddenly Scott stopped on the stairs.  "Cartha?  Where on
Earth is that?"

     "Earth?  What do you mean 'Earth'?"

     "Earth, here, this planet."

     "Earth?  What a funny name for a planet.  But that means
you're not from Elish...This must be investigated.  Come, quickly." 
Ilra hurried down the stairs.  Scott ran behind him trying to keep
up.  

     The two reached the room at the bottom of the stairs.  It was
about 100 feet in diameter, with books all around it.  In the
center was a lectern, and a few desks facing it.  Behind the
lectern was a screen, and on the other side of the screen, a
chemistry lab.  At least, it looked like one, with beakers, test
tubes, but it had candles instead of bunsen burners.  Lighting up
the whole room was this big globe floating near the ceiling.  Ilra
ran to one of the bookcases on the other side of the room.  "Sit
down, young man, this may take some time."

     "My name's Scott Marshall."

     Ilra dropped the book he was looking through.  "Did you say
Marshall?"

     "Yes, I did.  It's my name."

     "Is that your true name?"

     "True name?  If you mean the name I was given, then yes it
is."

     "It can't be.  It's not time yet."  Ilra muttered.  He dashed
over to a table containing a pile of scrolls.  He searched through,
carelessly spilling scrolls onto the floor.  With a cry of triumph,
he held one up.  He carried it over to the lectern and began
unrolling it, scanning it quickly, as if looking for something
remembered from a long time ago.  "Here it is.  'The Marshal from
from dirt will drop in uninvited.  In his wake, the chaos will be
removed.'"

     "Huh?  What's that supposed to mean?"

     "If I'm reading this right, there's supposed to be some sort
of chaos that you're supposed to remove.  Of course, I don't know
of any chaos on Elish.  Prophecies aren't always correct, and it
doesn't necessarily mean that it's you, anyway.  Of course, this
one's rather specific, while most are pretty vague.  That's
deliberate, as I'm sure you know."

     "Hey, hold on a second.  Take this slowly, I'm new to E..e..
oh, here.  What's this prophecy thing supposed to mean.  I know
about Nostradamus, and it doesn't sound like something he said, and
he's supposedly one of the more accurate ones.  Anyway, I'm not
doing anything until I phone my fiance and tell her I'm alive."

     "Fone?  What's that?"

     "You don't know what a telephone is?  Well, I'm no rocket
scientist, but I'll do my best to explain.  It's a device, that
uses electricity to communicate over long distances via wires."

     "Fascinating.  What's electricity?"

     "Electricity is..is..It's energy, that..that..  It's hard to
explain.  I'm an English teacher, not an engineer.  So, you have no
idea what a phone is.  That means I'm not going to be able to get
in touch with her.  How about the American Consulate?  There's one
in almost every country.  Can you take me there?"

     "Ameruhkuhn Con-Sue-Late?  What is that?  You are a strange
one indeed."

     Scott sat down heavily as the import of the situation dawned
on him.  "I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore.  Do you have a map of
E..e...  here?"

     "Yes, I do.  I don't know if it'll be much help, as it's
designed to help Magi learn force lines, but I'll show you it." 
With that, Ilra made some gestures, and on the screen behind him,
colors and shapes started fading in, distinguishing themselves from
the white background.  "Now, right now, you're right here, where
all these lines connect."  Ilra said, pointing to a small tower
icon near the center of the map.  And, indeed, a large number of
lines did converge on it.  "Let's see, I should be able to make the
state boundaries appear...."  He frowned in concentration, and
different areas started to change color.  As the colors stopped
shifting, Scott could see that Elish was as fragmented as a broken
bottle.

     "If that's not chaos, I don't know what is.  How can the
countries stay sovereign if they're so small?  I'd think that
they'd be gobbled up by some ambitious general?  But of course,
political science and military history are not my specialities."

     "Alliances shift constantly.  Each nation has it's friends and
enemies, but the alliances are weak, and the leaders never trust
someone who may be their enemy the next day.  Also, large armies
are quickly brought down by the Overlords."

     "Overlords?  Who're they?"

     "Well, it's a long story.  How about you get cleaned up, out
of those strange garments, and we'll talk over supper."  With that,
Ilra clapped his hands, and a small figure, dressed in hooded robes
came out of the statues and gestured for Scott to follow it.  Ilra
then disappeared with a rush of air.  The figure motioned again.

     Scott stood up and walked over the the figure.  His mind was
whirling with all the information that had just been imparted to
him.  If I'm going to be here a while, he thought, I might as well
learn what's going on.  At least I'll have a chance of getting back
home.  

     At the thought of home, Scott thought of the plane, and Chris. 
"Did I die?  If I did, what about Chris?"  Scott didn't realize
that he'd said that out loud until the figure stopped in startle-
ment.  "Oh, sorry, I was just thinking out loud."  As if reassured,
the figure continued on down the hall.  It stopped at a large
wooden door, and opened it.  The figure gestured that Scott should
enter.  "I don't know if I should tip you, but, here, have this." 
Scott held out a quarter he dug out of his pocket.  The small
figure held out a gloved hand and took the coin gingerly.  It then
held the coin up to its hood as if to examine it closely.

     Scott laughed.  "It's genuine.  Of course, I don't know what
it's worth here, but keep it.  It might be worth something to
someone."  He then stepped into the room.  It looked like a
changing room, with clothes hooks along one wall, and a doorway
that appeared to open onto a large bath on the other wall.  Folded
neatly on a bench under the hooks was a set of garments.  Scott
went over and looked them over.  There was a pair of soft leather
pants, and a white linen shirt.  Also there were undergarments that
looked to be silk.  On the ground in front of the bench was a pair
of boots.  Hanging from one hook was a belt with knife in a sheath.

     "Looks like I've got some pretty nice clothes."  Scott shut
the door behind him.  A short time later, he stepped out, dressed
in the new clothes, his hair wet from the bath.  He adjusted the
knife to the back of the belt. "If I'm going to have to carry this
thing, I don't want to be obvious with it until I know how to use
it."


-----

Part One was written by k.mencher (unixwiz@mcl.mcl.ucsb.edu) No rights
reserved, (only lefts)

----
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