Opera Seria: ENTRELACÉ, #1

By Eric Taylor Hurdle

FROM THE DARK EXPANSE, A MAN

 

It is a time of great uncertainty.  Sixteen years have passed since a mysterious and mournful champion disappeared into arctic desolation.  In his absence, buried effectors consolidate powers of technology, messaging, and wealth while an explosion of criminal occupation, misinformation, and social rot is launched across the globe.  International black market activities escalate and expand as bilateral trade disputes and sanctions cause government tensions to peak.  Nearing critical mass, the swell of gang war and global war threatens every metropolitan area as the impending feeding frenzy for dominion emanates from shocking sources, all the while societal foundations, rightful norms, languages, and natural order are persistently violated at the hands of a hidden, illusive, perverse, and disturbingly probable illuminati.  And to what end?  Who is able to oppose them?

 

It has been three hundred years since the early opera serias were introduced, wherein tales of the courts saw characters purposed with noble mores, knitted, and interlaced with uncompromised fibers suitable of legend.  Tragedy is no less real today.  Justice and mercy are no less vital, no less urgently required.  So, it is in our modern setting that this lion of mythical strength, skill, and understanding returns.  And he will be far from alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Taylor Hurdle
• Release date: Jan 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215776254

Book preview

1

ALUU, TAPEESA

2020. February nineteenth. Three o’clock ante meridiem. It was thirteen degrees Fahrenheit at Nuuk International Airport, Greenland, and the temperature would continue to drop for several hours. The wind moved at twenty feet per second, a detail unacknowledged by the barren rocks, but somewhat unsettling to the feathery veil of descendent snow that stirred in its currents. To the advancing shadow that progressed from the black expanse some two miles east of the tarmac this scene was a very deliberate display of nature’s restraint. He would know. The brutal subfreezing condition here was one hundred degrees warmer than the record low he’d experienced near Summit Camp just forty-eight days earlier.

It had been a seven hundred mile trek through a frozen wilderness void of trees and entirely hostile to the survival of a lone soul. There had been no sight of anyone during that time withstanding the occasional frightened or curious four-legged native, and a single, distant though cautious and mutual acknowledgement from a meat eating hunter, thirteen hundred pounds heavier than himself. All of these creatures he had successfully avoided and they him. His ears would soon relish the faint sounds of civilization, even one at rest, as he drew near to the small airfield. The runway itself was silent, but no matter. A smile emerged underneath the ventilator of his mask as a particular red twin turboprop parked inside of an open hanger came into view. He knew that plane, and it would soon be bound for Maniitsoq.

Beyond the airport was perched a small lounge known to the locals simply as Tapeesa’s, and though it was open very late and no closing time was posted at the door, Tapeesa’s was never accessible for business at this juncture (that indeterminate position after rabble-rousers had lost all sentience and before the prudent had risen). But on severe instance, though the thick red curtains in the front window were drawn closed, Tapeesa could be found anxiously peeking through them from the other side.

A two-way radio transceiver scratched to life on the table beside her. She initially sprang to retrieve it but then she stopped as an indiscernible, distorted garble followed. She closed her eyes, drew a breath for poise, and slowly took up the unit.

Kumoorn, she said. Good morning. She released the push to talk button.

Nothing.

She drew another controlled breath. She pressed the button and asked the caller, Uteqqissinnaaviuk?

Her question was met with five seconds of silence. It seemed an hour. Her heart raced uncontrollably, then –

A churlish singe of air and abrasion replied. The caller had pressed to speak but said nothing. Tapeesa’s every compulsion was to inoculate the channel with a barrage of repeated requests to go ahead, say again, or radio check, but she resisted. Finally, another scrape, and a voice came over the wave. It was slow. Calm. Soothing.

Quangali takugakki. Long time no see. Aluu, Tapeesa.

2

SANTÉ, BINA

2004. January thirtieth. Sixteen years earlier. It was two o’clock, post meridiem at La Table Bénie, Nice, France, and Maxence Boucher could not keep his eyes upon the slice of gateau au citron and ristretto that he’d been looking forward to all morning but had been forced to push off due to unending program reviews. A moment ago, he was ready to pounce upon the dessert, but the treat’s allure vanished, and his appetite was lost to the appeal of a greater demand. Distracted from his untouched plate and concentrated shot of caffeine, his glance settled upon the figure just outside.

Her name was Inaya Paquet, and her eyes took no notice of him, but her gaze was fixed warmly into an open locket that she held in her left hand. The médaillon was attached to a gold thread that reached up and disappeared into the écharpe and upturned collars that mostly hid her long, delicate neck. Within her right hand was her third glass of Chateau La Mission Haut-Brion, which, combined with the nearby lampe chauffante, kept her warm enough on the brisk patio.

Santé, Bina, she said quietly, almost whispered in loving reverence. Cheers, Binie. She offered a quiet toast to her grandmother, Bina, who had survived the atrocities and horrors of Hitler’s threats, sixty-five years to the day, that the Jews be exterminated. This day each year, Inaya would separate from distraction, she would return to her thoughtful place and embrace her grandmother and her grandmother’s courage. She would revere this après midi, alone. Here. The exact spot where she and grandmother would frequent when her beloved Bina was alive.

Maxence watched as Inaya finished her glass and in a single motion reached again for