Tales Of The Arter Gems: Episode II: The Pinnacles Of Fate

By Mario Walsh

While Zane is taking his dog and young daughter Syra for a walk, he discovers that the old Kelston mental Asylum has been reopened as a University. After a brief investigation, he meets an old man named Modnar, and a mysterious young woman, who lead him to the world of Tharp. What is his fate? Will he find a way back to Earth, or is he destined to be stuck on Tharp forever? Find out in the latest installment of the Tales of the Arter Gems Series...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mario Walsh
• Release date: Jun 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310316432

Mario Walsh

Firstly, thank you for supporting my Seven novels; Episode III, Episode IV, Episode V, Episode II, I, VI and recently The Chiller. A lot of hard work and time has gone into this story. I've been working on this series since September 2007, and have released Episode III first as I feel it was necessary to tell Syra's story first. The order that I will release the series is Episode III, IV, V, and then Episode II, followed by I and VI: Prologue. Now that all five are available, you can read them in chronological order as well. Episode VI: Epilogue will be released afterwards.A bit about meI'm a 39 year old author from West Auckland, New Zealand. I love action and Science Fiction - especially time travel. This series is my attempt of merging both these loves into one.My father introduced me to the 'Back to the Future' trilogy at age 6, so since then I've always been pretty obsessed with Time travel.If you have any questions about my series, like my facebook page and ask anything you like, i'd be happy to answer.One last thing. My book has a lot of violence in it, which does not mean that I condone it in the real world. You see, I dissect a scene in my head and describe it on paper how I see it. It's just how I have always been; I love vivid detail, and want to reader to be able to see what unfolded in my head as I wrote it.Again, a big thank you from the bottom of my heart. Positive or negitive reviews, thank you for reading my creation. It has taken nearly 15 years to tell this story, and it'll take plenty more.Books by Mario WalshTales of The Arter GemsEpisode III - The Chosen One - FREEEpisode IV - A Twist of Fate - FREEEpisode V - Syra's Paradox - FREEEpisode II - The Pinnacles of Fate - FREEEpisode I - The Prophet and her Legacy - FREEEpisode VI - The Syndicate of Time 'Prologue' - FREEAndBeyond the F.O.G SeriesEpisode I - The Chiller - FREEEpisode II - the Dark Messiah - FREEEpisode III - 2023Episode IV - 2025COMING SOONEpisode VI - The Syndicate of Time Full Edition + 'Epilogue' - 2025

Book preview

I'm like most typical twenty seven year old West Auckland males in 1993 - not to mention the addiction to rock music, which is pretty standard. Black jeans, a black shirt with a lime green circular symbol on the front. I have black hair which falls well past my shoulders, a long goatee, and a tattoo of the ace of spades on the inside of my right wrist. I have no idea who my real parents are. My foster parents died when I was very young; I endeavour to one day find out where I came from.

With water dripping from the olive skin on my face, I gaze at my reflection in a mirror, inside the dirty confines of a public toilet in Kelston, and it never once dawns on me that today could be a weird day.

My name is Zane, and this is my story.

I - An 'inZANE' choice to make

Its late afternoon on March 31st, 1993, and I'm busy taking 'Butch' my Rottweiler, and my daughter Syra for a walk through Kelston, West Auckland. She's three, and really quite sharp for her age. She likes to point to the street signs as we pass, saying them aloud to show me that she remembers what I've taught her.

While Syra's pram gets stuck on a rock, Butch begins barking ferociously. Before I get a chance to tell him to stop, I realise what has got him so worked up. There's an older woman crossing the road, not caring at all about her safety. Cars are tooting and grinding to a halt as she briskly strolls across the road, walking out onto the footpath in front of us.

She's wearing a tailored white pastel suit, and her grey hair is flowing free, covering most of her face.

Sorry, she says, causing Butch to whimper.

What's wrong, boy? I ask, bending down and scratching his chin.

He looks towards the older woman and his tongue starts hanging out of his mouth.

Should we follow her, booooooyy? I say, scratching his back.

Follow her, Daddy, Syra exclaims, pointing at her.

Okay beautiful, you're the boss.

I continue pushing the pram, keeping my distance from the older woman. Syra's curiosity never seems to sleep and she begins questioning me.

Where's she going, Daddy?

I'm not sure, angel.

Why didn't she look both ways crossing the road?

Because she's a naughty lady.

Why's she in such a hurry?

Daddy doesn't know hunny.

Why are we following her?

Because Daddy wants to know if she's heading to a park.

YAY! I love the park! Syra says, shaking around.

After following her down a few streets, I see her enter the old Asylum. Many people are hanging around outside; the sign at the entrance has a large blank space, and 'University' underneath.

Have they transformed the old Asylum into a University? I mutter.

Is there a playground there, Daddy? Syra asks.

No beautiful, there isn't. Let's head home and tell mum about our walk, I say, turning the pram around.

While we walk home, I wonder why they would do such a thing with that place. It was already creepy enough, now students have to study there. The almighty dollar can make people do some strange things.

Mummy! Syra yells, running into Linda's arms.

Hey baby, be with you in a sec, I say, passing my wife and picking up our phone.

I ring the number for the old asylum. '09-8130863.'

Hello, you've reached the University. How may I help you, the lady on the phone says.

Isn't it odd that you don't even have a name for the University yet? I reply, cheekily.

Sorry about that sir, it's one of our highest priorities. First and foremost we wish to educate people.

Can I please book an appointment with the Vice Chancellor?

Sure. How does 9am tomorrow sound? When you come in just ask for Akiad Zaruth

Sounds great. Thank you very much. I say before hanging up the phone.

Hey hunny, how was your walk? Linda asks, hugging me from behind.

I turn around and hold her close to me. Linda is my wife, and my high school sweetheart, 'Class of 83'. There has never been another, only her; forever and always.

I have an appointment tomorrow, I say.

Huh? You never told me you had an appointment.

Ummm… It's with the Vice Chancellor at the new University.

What new University?

Remember the old mental Asylum?

You mean Kelston institute for the criminally insane?

Yes.

What about it?

That's the new University.

You're kidding.

Not one bit.

Well, at least you won't need a straitjacket looking the way you do. You'll be fine, Linda says, cheekily.

Come here you, I say, kissing her passionately.

I love you baby, Linda says.

Love you too, I reply.

Daddy, can I have a tuddle? Syra says as she runs towards me.

Come here pumpkin, I reply, picking her up and twirling her in the air a few times.

While I hold Syra in my arms, it makes me proud to not just be her father, but a father in general. I don't know what it is about her, but as I peer into her eyes, I feel such a strong energy. I swear that sometimes it feels like she's trying to tell me something. Linda has always said she's an 'old soul,' someone who has lived before; the more time I spend with Syra, the more I agree with her.

Can you draw a picture for daddy, pumpkin? I say, putting her down.

Okay daddy! Syra screams in excitement, dashing for the lounge.

I approach Linda, place my hands around her, then lean in and kiss her on the lips.

I'm so proud of our little girl, she's so sharp! I say.

She is indeed, we've done well, Linda replies.

Well I'm officially bushed. Maybe we shouldn't have stayed up till 3am watching that horror.

Well, it was your idea.

I know, I know. There's just something about flesh eating locusts that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright.

That's true, babe. I'll keep dinner in the fridge for you. I'm making your favourite; leek and potato soup.

Thanks beautiful. See you when you get to bed.

I awaken and look at the time. It's 5am, and Linda is snoring next to me. I hop up and get changed, then head downstairs to the kitchen. My stomach is growling madly.

Mmm, I love this soup warmed up. Hope she didn't use too much cream; I hate having the runs, I mutter to myself, popping some in a dish.

I open the microwave, place the dish inside then set the timer before heading out to the back step and sitting down. Looking out at the back paddock, I hear a noise.

Hello? I say, standing up.

I walk into our back yard, gradually approaching the back fence. Leaning on it, I look out to the endless sea of long grass, trying to see clearly in the dark.

Is someone there? I yell out

Man, I wish I had a torch... Or ate more carrots. Turning to head back inside, I hear another noise from the paddock. Grass is rustling about fifty metres away.

Hello? It's five in the morning, can you please quit the games?

Moments after that comment, the noises stop but my stomach starts growling again. I head back inside, and get my food out of the microwave. Butch lingers around wanting a feed, so I sit back outside on the step, and place a little in his bowl.

You're a good boy, aren't ya? I say, scratching his head.

I eat the soup with Butch, then head inside and lay on the couch with him. I wonder what all that noise was in the paddock. Maybe it's just the lack of sleep throwing off my senses…

Shit, what time is it, I say, waking from my slumber.

Looking at the clock in the lounge I suddenly realise it's already 7:40am. I rush upstairs, quickly brush my teeth, chuck a pair of black jeans and a black heavy metal shirt on, then hurry down to the kitchen.

Well, I better get going, beautiful. It's 7:45am, and my appointment to meet the Vice Chancellor is at nine, I say, kissing Linda on the cheek.

Okay hunny, love you, Linda replies.

Love you too, I say before I leave the warm confines of my house.

The weather takes a turn for the worse while I'm on the bus; but it gives me some time to think about Syra.

I remember one morning about a year ago - The hail against the window woke me up, and Syra was in our bed, between Linda and me....

Daddy, draw picture? Syra asks.

I look to the side and see that it's 4am.

Were you having a bad dream? I ask.

Come, Syra replies, climbing over Linda, but thankfully not waking her.

I follow her to the lounge, and she sits at the table. I sit next to her, and watch as she draws a picture.

She starts by writing something, leaning close to the paper; I can't see until she pulls away.

Pa.. Dox, Syra says, leaning back in her chair.

I look down and see that she has written 'Padox' on her piece of paper

What does that mean, sweetie? I ask.

She hops onto the ground, then dives her head into a large bucket of crayons, searching for the right colour. Returning with a light blue crayon, she climbs onto her chair, and begins drawing.

She holds the crayon about halfway down, then draws a large circle, spinning counter clockwise. She looks up at me and says Padox with a big smile on her face.

I look back at her and smile.

Good drawing, beautiful, I reply.

I don't know what it was about that, but I know that I've spent a lot of time trying to work that one out.

Should have worn a jacket, I mutter to myself as I hop off the bus.

April 1st, and it's bucketing down with rain. Who's the fool now? As I run from shelter to shelter towards the Vice Chancellors office, something dawns on me. I'm completely drenched, about to meet the head of a University, to discuss my daughter attending here in fifteen years' time. It does seem a little stupid.

I arrive at the office, and his door is closed. Lined up along the wall on either side are wooden chairs; the one opposite the office is occupied by an attractive woman in her fifties, she has mostly grey hair with black streaks running through. She's wearing a long black robe - which appears to have a hood, and yellow dishwashing gloves. No offense to her, but good luck with her interview.

I sit down opposite her, on the seat next to the door.. A puddle forms on the ground beneath me, and while I'm still a little distracted by her appearance, she speaks first.

Let me guess, you're going for the job too?

No, I'm checking the University out for my daughter.

That's nice of you; but aren't you a little old to be doing that?

I'm nearly twenty eight.

No, I meant your daughter. She must be at least sixteen. Teach her some independence.

No... She's..... Three.

Hmm, didn't see that one coming.

I stop in silence as I let the shame of that woman's comment sink in. A change of subject is severally needed.

Isn't it weird that the University has no name? I say.

It's called Leviathan University.

No, that's wrong. It doesn't have a name. The woman on the phone confirmed this.

Well, I'm going to suggest it to be called Leviathan University. It's a strong name.

Is this lady for real? She seems like a loon. Ironic, being that we're in an old asylum.

So, why are you wearing yellow gloves? I ask.

Nosey, aren't you? Must be a Gemini, she quips.

Cheeky comment coming from someone going to a job interview wearing dishwashing gloves, I reply, in a similar manner.

I plan to get this job. It's for the head nurse.

Now I get the gloves, I quip.

She looks at me in a filthy way, then begins crying. Shit, I always get caught in situations like this.

I'm sorry, I say, sounding empathetic.

It's okay. I just haven't seen my father in a long time, she replies, wiping tears from her eyes.

I'm really sorry to hear that.

It's fine. You just remind me a lot of him.

He must have been handsome, I joke, causing us to both laugh.

Our laughter eventually wears off, prompting her to speak.

What's your daughter's name?

Why do you have yellow gloves on?

Why check out this university when your daughter is three?

We all have our secrets, don't we?

She smiles at me, and in this small lapse of time, I introduce myself.

My name's Zane.

Terra, please come in, a voice says from beyond the door.

Bye Zane, Terra replies, entering the room.

I smile to myself, thinking about how weird that whole conversation was. She is bizarre, no doubt in my mind.

A few minutes pass and she exits the office, smiling and nodding as she walks past. I wonder if she got the job.

The Vice Chancellor is standing beyond the door. He's wearing a brown leather jacket, denim jeans and looks very old. His hair is white, quite bushy and thick for an old fella. But it's the white pupils which catch me a little off-guard.

Did she get the job? I ask.

Yeah, she surprised me too. She even suggested Leviathan University for the name of our great establishment. I like it. Anyway, my name is Akiad Zaruth, nice to meet you, Akiad says, reaching out to shake my hand.

Zane, nice to meet you too, I reply, eventually shaking his hand.

Suddenly, a flash blinds my vision; I look down at my hand and see that it's invisible - from my right finger tips, to just past my wrist.

I swiftly end the handshake in shock, then flick my right hand; it appears visible again. Am I seeing things?

Come in, please take a seat, Akiad says, closing the door behind me.

I sit down, still confused by what just happened and have a look around the room; it seems fairly normal. The wooden desk in front of me has papers stacked in the corners and the windows are open to the left of us. Two suspicious items catch my eye, the two metre high object in the back right corner of the room - which is covered by a white sheet; and the wooden closet.

Oh that's just an old mirror, which was a present from a friend. I keep it covered to stop dust getting on it, Akiad says, smiling. As he sits down, I start my questions.

So, what are your long term goals for this university? I ask, sitting back in my chair, left leg crossed over my right.

Basically, I want to inject every student in attendance with a formula that will hypnotise them into becoming my slave, eventually helping me take over the world, Akiad says, keeping a straight face.

I stay silent for about twenty seconds; is this guy for real?

April fools, right? Akiad says, before laughing loudly, making me laugh.

Okay, you got me, good one, I reply, chuckling.

Moments after our laughter wears thin, Akiad speaks.

Now that the rain has died down, would you like me to show you around the campus? We'll head over to the White lecture theatre; I'm sure you'll appreciate the displays, as this week is cultural week, Akiad explains.

All right sounds good. After you, I reply as we both hop up, and exit the room.

Akiad takes me for a circuit around the campus, and before taking me to the White lecture theatre, he shows me the infirmary - which I swear wasn't there on my first walk through this morning.

The infirmary is extremely run down, the brown paint is flaking off, and is in dire need of a refurbishment, especially when compared to the rest of the campus. Akiad mentioned earlier on, in our tour that the university has been getting a facelift over the last three years, however the infirmary looks like it hasn't been touched at all. Strange.

Once we arrive at the White lecture theatre, I become excited; I'm quite keen to see these displays. I peek through one of the windows on the double doors. The layout of the theatre is quite common of a university. It's on a forty five degree angle from top to the blackboard at the bottom, and the entrance is in the back left corner; the highest point of the room.

Akiad opens the doors, and no surprise to me, the displays are amazing. The biggest section is for New Zealand, but it's hardly stealing the show; the most amazing display present in my opinion, is for the Japanese. It's at the back of the room, with a huge Japanese flag pinned on the wall, and in an 'X' formation - positioned in the middle of the red dot - are two samurai swords, in their respective sheathes. I approach them with haste, and don't hesitate in removing one from the wall, and pulling it out if its sheath.

Authentic, I assure you. I only want the best for my students, Akiad says, standing behind me while I marvel at the blade.

Sixteenth century? I ask, while carefully twisting the samurai sword around, studying it further.

Of course. Anything made from any other era wouldn't match the quality of this authentic, ancient samurai sword, Akiad replies.

While sliding the sword into the sheath, and placing it back on the display, I ponder something. If I ever had to take arms for any ridiculous reason, then a samurai sword would be my weapon of choice.

Sorry Zane, I'm just wondering if you have decided to enrol your child here at Leviathan University? If so, when would they be starting? Akiad asks.

Oh I feel this place is right for her. She'll probably start sometime in 2007? I reply, looking around the room at the other displays.

Wow, that's a little ahead of time, Akiad replies, sounding confused, following closely behind me.

Well, she's a special girl, and I want the best for her. Anyway, I'm very impressed with this University, and it was great to meet you. Thank you for your time, I say, shaking Akiad's hand.

I quickly glance down at my hand, as I'm shaking his, but it doesn't disappear. Maybe I was just seeing things. Oh well, time to depart and let Linda know about the university.

As I walk home, the rain starts bucketing down again, eventually turning into hail; while passing through Kelston, I notice a second hand store which is open. Right out in front of the shop is a clothing rack with a black leather trench coat, in immaculate condition; for a mere twenty dollars. I take the coat off, and immediately enter the store to purchase it.

I'm second in queue, and while time ticks by, I look to my left, and see another rack with a black denim vest for sale, cheap too. It reminds me a little bit of a vest that most action stars wore in the eighties. It's old, but is so me.

I'll take this too, I say, grabbing the vest, and passing my items to the salesperson.

I step out of the shop, it's still pouring down. I put my newly acquired vest and trench coat on, and walk home.

To be honest, I don't mind the rain pelting down on me. It gives me time to think about things. I was fairly impressed with the university, but something was obscure about it; was it the compulsory blood test Akiad mentioned as we wandered around the campus, or the fact that it used to be an Asylum? Maybe, it's just me. But in saying all of this, the choice to send my little girl to Leviathan University is certain. I definitely want her to attend one day, but maybe I should have started with a primary school first.

II - A 'Random' Encounter…

A few days pass, and life is going on as usual. I'm on leave from work for two weeks, so my body has definitely transitioned into holiday mode. I really can't complain; life is good. I'm in sales, working for an outsourced sales company; it's such a stressful job. I've been a salesman since about fifteen, so two weeks off feels well deserved.

I finally get out of bed, and change into some blue denim jeans and a white singlet; I tie my hair into a ponytail, then walk towards Syra's room. She is already up, keeping to herself like my good little girl. She never gets up to mischief to be honest. She usually just entertains herself, until Linda or I attend to her.

Syra hunny, what are you drawing? I ask, kneeling down next to her.

She never answers me, as she's so enthralled in her cute little squiggle.

Is it one of your friends? I ask.

Syra nods her head at me, and continues drawing.

She's holding her green crayon in the middle, and moving it quite delicately for her age.

Knee-doll, Syra says, pointing at her green squiggle.

Good girl, I reply, trying to process what she's saying.

'Knee-doll' makes no sense to me.

Stool, Syra says, continuing to point to her green squiggle.

What a great drawing, hunny, I reply, leaning over and cuddling her.

Breakfast! Syra says, darting out of the room.

I lean over and pick up her picture. 'Knee-doll' and 'Stool'? What on Earth does she mean?

Knee doll, I mutter to myself, pacing in her room.

I glance out the window, and see some rather loud kids at the bus stop. They're waiting for their bus to go to school. Then it hits me; did she mean 'needle' and 'school'? Even if she didn't, it's got me thinking about the university again. One of the more strange points; the compulsory blood test at the run down infirmary.

I walk into the lounge, and my precious angels are eating their breakfast in front of the television.

Good morning beautiful, I say, leaning in and kissing Linda on the cheek.

How are you this morning, baby? Linda replies.

"Feeling much better. But to be honest, Syra has got me thinking. I want to return to