by Andrew Gubb
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ROMA-NOVA
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A novel in instalments by Andrew Gubb
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0.4 03/04/08 [written] 16/07/08 [uploaded] Rocio landed on the floor, twisted his wrist in the impact and fell awkwardly. He made a gutteral angry sound and picked himself up slowly, his eyes on his enemy. The stranger rose to his feet in synchrony. He was alive. Just now he wouldn't question the miracle. Rocio roared and shoved forth his palm. The stranger screwed up his eyes in focus. Rocio fell upwards again. Then down. He landed nimbly on his feet and shot at the stranger. Gravity wrenched him sideways. Upwards again. He centred himself and aimed a shot in mid-fall - which missed, barely. Frowing intensely, the stranger took a step forward with his palm held out as of the warning gesture and accelerated his manipulation of gravity, spinning Rocio around wildly, in random directions, anything to keep the man too occupied to fire. Rocio tried to get off another shot, but soon all he could focus on was to maintain his balance, skipping and dancing off of the rapidly gyrating surfaces. He couldn't keep this up for very long. The stranger took another step forward and narrowed his eyes. Rocio touched down on the cieling and took a risk --- he centred his energy in a half-second of absolute focus and made an attempt to neutralise that of his enemy. There was a moment of jarring uncertainty and then the stranger flung Rocio at one of the walls again. Rocio cried out in pain. He fell downwards and broke his fall almost by luck. He fell diagonally upwards and regained his balance again with almost supernatural nimbleness. There was something odd about this, thought the stranger. But there wasn't time to think. He could feel Rocio drawing out energy again; where from, he couldn't tell. The stranger resorted to wrenching Rocio about in a dizzying spiral. Still, Rocio righted himself again and touched the cieling lightly. Something was very wrong. There was a flash and the stranger ducked wildly. A bullet of light flashed overhead. And he saw what was wrong. He was crouching on the red-hot patch of concrete where the first missile had struck. The air floating up to his eyes was shimmering with heat. His hands weren't burnt. The crystal was gone. The stranger looked up at Rocio, who grinned wickedly and pointed. A bullet of light struck the stranger in the chest. His body exploded in blood and gore. But he didn't die. Rocio vanished. Behind him, the stranger heard the sound of running footsteps. "ILLUSIONIST!" he roared, spinning around and pulling out a six-gun. He stared ahead furiously as his roar echoed away from him. There was nothing to see except a starry black square at the end of the passage. He shoved his hand into a box that he kept on his belt and felt the incredible power of a mana crystal. He concentrated. Rocio sprinted on, his eyes fixated on the end of the passage. 0.5 04/04/08 [written] 16/07/08 [uploaded] "Evaporated milk," said Ronaldo with a certain theatric, pouring out a yellowish-white liquid into the glasses. The smell was strange, sort of sharp and warming. "Milk...?" said Kale, trying out the word. "Is that a fruit?" "Nope," said Ronaldo, stirring with a long spoon in each hand. The vitalwater had turned opaque white. "It's a sort of food which a creature called a cow gives to its children." "So do the cows really like people?" "Uh... not really. I don't think the cows think very much about things either way. But people look after them, and the cows give them milk in return." As he said this, he unscrewed the top of a bottle that was long and narrow and contained a substance that was utterly black. "And what's that?" The liquid spread into the drink and turned it a dark brown. The smell of it was intoxicating and reminded of dust or body odour, filling their heads with dreams of warmth and moisture, sleep, soft fabrics and blood and touch and shadow. As they drew the air into their lungs, a luxuriant ache spread into their hearts and chests, and moved downwards through their bellies into their deepest parts. It had an almost forbidden quality to it, and made Kale wonder about sex for one of the first times. "Spirit of Cocoa," said Ronaldo as they stared mesmerised. "Wait a moment, will you?" "So where does cocoa come from??" asked Rowan eagerly. "South America," he said, spooning some viscous golden liquid out of a jar. The firey perfume this last thing brought to the air made Kale close his eyes in sunkenness. "It's one of the costliest and most sought-after ingredients around. The tribes of that continent often saw it as a gift from the gods. Finally," he said, stirring, "spiced honey from Greece." Kale opened his eyes and stared, lamenting already that he would ever finish drinking. "Drink slowly now," chided Ronaldo as he pushed the glasses gently forward, "I don't want you fainting or vomiting or anything." * Rocio was almost at the end of the passage. The charge of the mana crystal surged into the stranger's body like a living thunderbolt. He held it within him for a moment, then let it flow outwards in the form of a powerful burst of counter-magic. A patch of air flickered and betrayed Rocio's presence. The stranger shot. 0.6 07/05/08 [written] 16/07/08 [uploaded] A bullet grazed the wall to Rocio's side. He dodged aside and tried to become invisible again, then gave up, let go of the tecnique entirely and threw all of his energy into the sprint. Two strides and the cityscape opened up before him -- he reached the balcony -- and vaulted -- The sound of gunshots blossomed behind him. Rocio counted them off dreamily as he fell. One, to his far left, flashed off into the night. Two, missed his hip by a few inches. He was nearly over. Three. Four was an explosion of pain in the side of his face, and he was over, and Five passed high overhead. Rocio lifted his hand to his cheek. Incredibly... the wound was superficial. He gave a chuckle of relief and stashed away his prize. Then he looked down. Somewhere, hidden far below by mist and dust and the red flashes of the mana storm that wracked the building, was the ground. To his sides, the building's wall stretched away till almost the horizon, it seemed. Before him and around him was the Core of the city, eight massive needle-like buildings that pierced the heavens, each of which housed as many people in their lower levels as any of the greatest cities of the Old World ever did. Long fingers of mana ran their lengths, writhing, beating against their structures, wreathing them for a second like some choking ivy then vanishing again. As Rocio looked down a bolt of mana flashed across the building's surface with a thunderous crack and a flash that left him half-blind with a bright green after-image dominating his vision. And balconies and windows flashed past, accelerating, accelerating. His ears were popping. Rocio lay flat against the rushing air and focused hard. Next >>
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