Introduction

Botl, the Bringer of the Light

 

   (Wil Kramer day- circa 3022 A.D. - New York City)

 

“Oates.  It always starts with Oates.”

-Botl-

 

   Botl woke up on a gurney in a completely white room.  Her eyes opened and she was blinded by the recessed lights above.  Tears formed and ran down her face as she blinked.  She didn’t move, not yet.   She had no idea who or where she was.  She wasn’t frightened but curious about the situation at hand.  She sat up and realized she was naked.

   “Finally, awake,” someone said.

   She wiped her eyes and saw a man sitting in a folding metal chair a few feet away.  He was smoking a cigarette and flicked his ashes on the floor.  The room was bright and she could see him well.  He was young and wore jeans with tennis shoes.  A black tee-shirt cascaded over his waistband and scrawled across the breast was the word, Blitz.

   “Who are you,” she asked softly but aggressive?  It was real-life confused anger that was driving her and she wasn’t sure if it was misplaced or not.

   He stood up and she noticed he had a burlap sack hanging from his left hand.  He held it out to her and she cautiously took it and looked inside.  There was clothing covering a long sheath and sword.  She grabbed the hilt of the sword and let the sack fall to the floor, spilling out the clothes.

   Real tears filled her eyes.  Touching the blade made her feel something.  It was a mixture of emotions, both good and bad.  The bad was overwhelming and a thick stream formed below her eyes and dripped to her exposed belly.

   “What is this,” she asked trembling?

   The man pitched what was left of his cigarette on the bare floor and took the sword from her. He pulled it from the sheath halfway.  He admired the sheen of the metal before giving her a curious glance.  He slammed the blade into the sheath and gave it to her.

   “You know what this is,” he told her.  “You know who I am too.  Do you remember anything?  Your name?”

   She took the blade back and swung her legs over the gurney.  She put the sword down and picked up the garments.  It was a white battle-tunic with matching pants.  Underneath that was a worn pair of boots that looked to be her size.  She held them over her bosom and gave him a stern look.

   “No,” she replied, irritated that he was dragging this out a bit.  “You obviously do.  So, why don’t we speed this up and you start talking.”  The tears were drying up and her face was lined with the smudged trails they left behind.  

   He scratched his head for a second.  “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.  But, I guess that doesn’t really matter, now.”

   She dressed quickly and as she did, he pulled his chair closer.  She sat back on the gurney and pulled her boots on.  She had no reason to trust this man and all the reasons in the world not to.  Unfortunately, she had no choice but to listen and decipher what was the truth as best she could.

   He lit a cigarette and offered her one.  She took it and inhaled deeply and savored the flavor.  She lifted her chin and looked at him over her nose, exhaling the remains of the smoke.  She twirled her finger.

   “Your name is Novalla of Aran, Bringer of the Light and Queen of the Shents.  We call you Botl for short.”

   “My name is Botl,” she asked sarcastically?

   He nodded.  “Yeah.  And, I’m Wil Kramer.  Your grandson.”

   “Grandson?  I look to be twenty,” she argued.

   He studied her for a second, obviously thinking of what to say.  “Talking isn’t gonna work,” he said lifting his cigarette to his mouth.  He took a drag and went on.  “We’re gonna do this another way.  You’re gonna have to trust me though.”  He put out his hand for her to take and let it hover there, waiting for her to accept it.

   Trust him, she would not.  That was completely out of the question.  But...

   She looked at the hand and knew she would take it against her own will.  It seemed like he may have some answers and she needed to get out of this place.

   She took the hand and Wil smiled at her.  “Good.  We need to take a little trip but don’t worry, we’ll be back in a flash.”

   A moment later, before Botl could react to him, they disappeared.  The room stood in silence with no windows and only one solid door.  No wind stirred and everything stayed as it was.  A minute passed and a small flash introduced them back to the room.

   They were dirty and worn.  Botl brushed herself off.  “Thank you, Wil.  I remember a significant portion of my past now.  Enough to take action.  What’s our plan?”

   “It’s pretty straight forward,” he told her.  “The last of many tribes needs to be saved.  They’re here, in this, whatever you call it, weird hospital or something.  You’ve gotta save them and bring them to where the final battle was lost, south of here.”

   “What then,” she asked?  “Oates will corner us and kill us.  You must know this?”

   Wil shook his head.  “Not this time.  There’s a prophecy in this universe that unfolds here on Earth.  We’re living it out as we speak.”

   “So, what happens then,” she asked?

   “Go to where you left Reancore’s blades.  Then, you need to tell the tribes a story.  I can plant it into your mind so you can speak it true. ...Continue Reading