"Wife" he said, "I cannot draw water, the ground here is too high, the rocks are impenetrable and it has been over a week's trying - I fear I fail."
A scorpion scuttled out from a crack in the ground towards Tyber. The little boy screamed. Darius picked up a stone and quickly crushed it.
"He asks for too much" he continued.
His sweetheart nodded. She genuinely loved her big husband and prayed daily to the Gods for his protection.
Quite suddenly his jaw pained, his chest ached, his left hand dropped the little sack of olives, and the bright light all around turned to dark.
With his wife and child holding him - in only just a handful of moments - his heart had stopped, and his body slumped back into their hold, unto death.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Darius poked the sand with a stick, the sun was at its hottest and his crew had retired into the shade to lie down and close their eyes for a time...
The morning had offered no progress, with two more wells dug - both ungiving. Fifteen in all were now failures.
The engineer in him had known from the outset just how fruitless this lot would be, but what was there to be done?
He kicked the ground unwittingly, and closed his eyes listening to the songs of prayer calling out from the town below.
As his mind gave way to the heat and the gentle chanting in the distance, he began to doze with bowed head. Moments later he was woken quickly from the sensation of a hand lightly falling upon his neck.
It was his little son Tyber, who had been running alongside his mother, and had out sped her walking up the hill. They had come to bring him a small cloth bag of olives and a pitcher of water that was revived with a little juice.
He took his snack gratefully and smiled at the two.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Puck glanced down at his sparkling water where Forsythe had spat and was disturbed to find that it had turned a luminous green - his saliva had reacted oddly with the drink apparently. He was glad that he had not drunk any of it.
Beings of Fey do not let anything go of themselves such as hair or saliva as Forsythe had just done. It can be used against them as the connections live on. Their mystical signature lives within those vital emissions, and even the breath carries ones character upon its vapours.
He tipped his drink onto the potted plant, which although only plastic still curled, drooped and keeled. A fine blue smoke came spiralling up from the pot.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
"Robin, my old friend, I want to be on the same page transcribing history together. I think you have something in the perfumery that could rock this world again. Can I show you?"
Puck was doing his level best not to react - or even to think - he would have to save this for later.
"Very well" he said slowly.
"Very good" smiled Forsythe. "Come this way."
* * *
"The science is not my own - I had help of course...”
Puck looked across the room they had walked into, genuinely surprised to find that hotel suites could be this large and adapted to industrial means. There were thirty or so white coats enlisted there - all with heads down tapping data onto flat glass keyboards. One of the technicians caught his eye as they approached, and his heart sank all at once.
"Our Chief Technical Adaptor - I believe you know him?"
Puck did know him alright, or at least thought he had done ... it was Nervina.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Forsythe looked steadily at him without drawing a breath and then continued - "we are much the same my friend", and, he paused dramatically to add -"obviously superior beings".
"We both know it - any fool could see it - our capabilities are next to no human: these impotent whingeing parasites with their candy floss philosophies - always trying to conceal countless inadequacies by positive impractical thinking. Mortals are unbearably, incredibly, tediously stupid - ranked just one above the Trolls and even so, the Trolls exceed most of their talents. What is there to be done to guide or coax them?"
Puck's mind scanned back to the era of early Atlantis - to a period of the Earth's evolution that was still very fresh within his recollection. That was a time when men's thoughts had been keener than they were today; their sciences were sharper and their clairvoyance was strong. The Kingdoms were aligned and worked cooperatively as one harmonious society until the dark Lords from the West had come. It was they who disrupted the finer societies with their impure ways and negligence. Without regard or conscience, the Golden Era was soon to tarnish and selfishness invade the lands.
With that had begun the first epidemic of true stupidity, where the skills of quick thinking and cognitive imagination pared back and the earth quaked under the very tension of it for centuries after.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
"Better get this over with" he said to Goober who was absorbed in a game of online scrabble, perplexed with a palette of just vowels.
"See ya then" he answered without looking up from his screen.
"Cheerio" said Puck, choosing a scarf from the stand - London was so cold at this time of the year.
Within the hour he was face to face with the formidable fellow. The scar had gone from his forehead and his face, though younger, bore an uncanny resemblance to the Sheriff Marc.
Although fine featured his countenance was brutal - with a smile that lacked happiness. He wore an enormous diamond stud in each earlobe.
The two sat in the room alone. A tray with mineral water was between them. Mark picked up a glass to hand to Puck and casually spat in it. He held it out to him with a smile, as though nothing had happened.
"It was going to be one of those days” Puck thought to himself wearily.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Etheric Essences was a collection of energetic perfumes, whose vitality superseded other potencies captured in the aromatic fluids.
Their oils were incredibly pure and strong, as the plants they had come from were grown in the original garden from the world's beginnings. Their properties were life reviving as well as delightfully scented.
Puck had worked to maintain Marley's business after the sales had dropped off; and he had decided to go with the best that he had. Once again he supplied the manufacturers, exchanging their synthetics with the distillations from the enchanted forest. He had sourced the principal oils through some very old contacts, and with the collection revived, the sales jumped high.
Some women who had been wearing Marley's creations and had found miraculous healings taking place: cancers had remissed; cataracts cleared; moles disappeared; hair replenished; arthritis melted from the joints; the infertile fell with child.
These twelve perfumes were now becoming independently tested for their properties and questions were being asked, as testimonies filled the blogs - suppliers had all but sold out.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
