In a Latitude of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 5) (2 page)

I can hear my bones creak and my knees give off disquieting adjustments in their ancient resistance to the task I place upon them. My body began voicing its unhappiness with my wandering habits a millennium ago, but I am compelled by some unknowable drive to wander the floors and stairs of the vast keeps I have kept. I always manage to find some decrepit castle with an amazing amount of twisting stone staircases to keep my need for nocturnal exercises fulfilled.

These icy passages are treacherous. I have no desire to put my regenerative capacities to work healing a broken hip, but that is just what I will get if I take one missed step in this circular stair.

I am most pleased with this latest castle. It reminds me of my Finnish invasion of 1127. The charming winter ice castles the clever Finns had built before I devoured them were a perfect delight. I have wanted to enjoy their sparkling beauty again, but had not the means until now.

Now, now I
do
have the means. The miserable human worms have provided their own means to an end of their dangerous advancements.

I have seen Mankind go through many stages, but this last leap is one that must be snuffed out in its infancy: this insidious ‘Age of the Comet’. The ‘Revelatory Comet’ has been a curse to myself and my kind, but I shall now turn the humans’ inventive genius against their own species.

None of our kind has been affected by the visit of the ‘Revelatory Comet’. Seven calendar years ago was when the horrible thing entered this solar system. When the Comet exited this system, the Earth passed through its tail. The planet was horribly plagued by the contact. The entire world sprouted geniuses from every continent and level of humanity. Their inventive genius has been a frightening thing to behold as they fill the lands, sea and air with their infernal contraptions. They disgust me in their surge of power. Worse still, than the humiliation of not being included in the ranks of new genius for our kind, is the knowledge that other mortal beings beyond those of humanity have been favoured in this cosmic barrage. Many animals of this world are now possessed of an uncanny sapience. This is too much to tolerate! Earth’s true royalty shall now ascend to apply our grip on this planet commencing immediately!

It is time for the rightful rulers of this world to assert their control. Since I am the leader of these beings, then it is I who shall rule supremely!

“Ha, … ha, … hacaulpgh!”

My brittle lungs protest fiercely at this incautious use of their frailty. I am determined to have the last laugh, though, as it were.

Those mortal fools! How easily I was able to usurp their capabilities. The amazing inventions that fill this world and the intellects that brought them to fruition are even now being pulled into my inescapable grasp. I already have the theorist in my control. When I have captured the others that I require, there will be no stopping my glorious plan. Once I have these puny, pathetic humans in my possession, no one will be able to oppose me. The ‘Endless Evening’ shall be here. ‘The Never-Ending Twilight’ is upon us. This is the time of the ‘Forever Night’!

---

“You gals are mighty attractive, but I already got me a girlfriend!”

The sweltering jungle heat has me pouring out buckets of sweat, the salt of which burns my eyes. I can almost smell the chlorophyll of the lush vegetation in the air. This air is as thick as molasses and as hard to breathe. A relentless sun cooks my flesh. Strong musky scents of my merciless captors reel my senses. My heart is racing for I am surrounded by a danger such as I have never faced in my life. The pounding in my chest matches the drums that fill the air in heavy, rhythmic reverberations. The relentless, palmed percussions move as waves, pulsating through the moist atmosphere. They are driven in sympathy with the passions and inflamed desires of the ravenous throng.

From my position atop this low pyramid, I am powerless before a hundred hungry females. They further mentally undress my already bare-chested body that is staked out before their forgotten mercies. The deep bass of their drums permeates our bodies. The persuasive demands of the drumbeat irresistibly drive the feminine wolf pack in their macabre dance. The throbbing sensation of the percussive vibration only goes to raise the wanton women’s passion to dangerous heights, while simultaneously releasing an unquenchable lust from decadent depths.

I have never seen such women! Each one must stand close to seven feet tall! They are magnificent specimens! Though possessing fantastically muscular physiques, they are still overwhelmingly feminine. Bright emerald eyes flame with undisguised desire upon their helpless prey. Their queen lets her green fingernails trail across me in tortuous enticements to howls of glee and laughter from the beautiful banshees. Green tongues lick green lips in hopeful anticipation. The sexuality of the wild women is barely tarnished by the deep green tones of their firm skin.

“Y’all seem like some nice girls, but these ropes are kinda tight around my wrists. Could you loosen ’em just a tad?”

“Silence, little man!”

The dancing and drumming stop at this imperious command.

“The offering is not to speak!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The big kahuna, or, uh, the big boss lady, gives me a contemptuous sneer before turning to her gal pals spread out before and around us. She plants her feet in a wide stance and squares her shoulders. This is enough to strain the skin-popping snake skin dress that is already stretched to its tough hide limits. The jungle fashionista’s reptile garment has a hemline that is about a zero one thousandth of an inch below the cleft of her admirable assets.

“Gladiatorial competition has been held to determine the rightful owner of the male foundlet. Let our glory-bound victor and the pride of our tribe come forward to claim her prize.”

An UberWoman strides forward, knowing that a path will open through her gathered Brazilian river sisters. An impressive mane of dark green hair surrounds her terrible beauty. A heavy, crocodile corset is pushed to its stress tolerances as it is severely strained to contain her warrior’s body.

“I have earned first dibs on this male cub. I am through with waiting! I will have him now, as is my right through noble combats!”

“Not so fast, Crocodile HuhmVhee.” This is called out in challenge by an equally impressive woman who is also wearing an exotic corset, though instead of whale bone, it is supported and adorned by dagger like teeth. These have been collected from the fish of vicious reputation and voracious appetite that inhabit this river. “You have yet to best me in combat to be the first to feast on the man-child. Truly this is the male that was foretold of long ago, but it is up to you, me, and all of our Amazonian sisters to decide the order on which we slake our sensuous thirsts.”

“How dare you, Lola Piranha, think you are worthy to confront me, Crocodile HuhmVhee? This then shall be the final battle to see who gets the first ride, and who gets the leftovers.”

An open area is cleared before the two determined women. Their sisters encourage them with murderous screetches.

The two formidable cutie-pie combatants square off in the circled square. Traditional weapons of this honor-bound ceremony are brought forth, and held in waiting. The fierce queen of the terrifically attractive tribe steps forward to oversee the ritualized performance.

“You ladies shall conduct yourselves by our ancient rites of conduct. She who survives this ordeal shall possess the male. I, Heather Boa, the ‘Constricter that is off the Richter’, appoint myself as judge. Give the combatutantes their Poonji Sticks.”

The air itself vibrates in the sweltering heat as a hundred lusty green women shriek with deadly delight. The two Amazonian warrior women face each other while surrounded by their scintillating sisters. The deadly weapons Boa the Constrictor called for are brought forward and issued. These implements are terrible to behold. A wide, circular blade is mounted on one end of a four foot shaft. The edge faces in the same direction as the pole. The opposite side is balanced by a blunt sphere. The drums that had gone silent earlier now resume their heavy bass beats, only now there is a different cadence. Not only that, I think some instrument unidentifiable has joined in on occasion.

bump, bump, bump, bump

behm, behm, behm.

Bump,

behm, bump, buhp, behmp!

Bump.

Bumpity-Bumpity,
Behmp!
bump.

bump,bump,bump,bump

bumpity-behmp. Bump.

bumpity-behmp. Bump.

bump, bump, bump, bump

The driving music pushes the assembled Amazonians to shout encouragements to their favourite sister and exhort her to murderous intentions.

Queen Heather Boa herself, sporting her skintight snake-skin ensemble, is caught in the insanity as she screams for the women to start.

“Let us begin, . . . Hormonal Combat!”

Incredible concussive clashes accompany the crazed assaults by the girls gone wild. As fast and as hard as they can swing, the powerful women fight for dominance. The heavy strikes are occasionally accented by sparks leaping from the metal weapons’ impact on one another. An unexpected swing dislodges Crocodile HuhmVhee’s pole arm. She narrowly escapes one mad slash after another. One swing grazes her midsection, severing her reptilian underwear and creating a slight gash in her green skin. A line of femerald hemogoblins oozes forth.

Lola Piranha screams in homicidal delight as she takes this as a sign of encouragement. Though she’s dodging and rolling to the best of her ability, it looks as if the bold young crocodame girl’s time is up.

“Die, Crocodile HuhmVhee! The male belongs to me!”

With the horrific bladed weapon held high, Lola Piranha comes down upon her sister with all her considerable strength. Crocksi, however, nimbly leaps up to catch the poonji stick and simultaneously get her feet up and into the midsection of her sexified sister. Falling backwards, Crocodile Humm kicks out to throw Lola over her head. Maintaining her grip on the staff, she pulls herself up and over to land atop and astride her fetching foe. A good straight punch brings the combat to a death-free conclusion with the roaring approval of her tantalizing tribe-mates.

“The male belongs to me!” roars Crocodile HuhmVhee in triumph. Clad in dirt, sweat, lust and not much else, she leads her sisterhood back to claim her prize.

Her emerald eyes are aflame with unbound passion and desire.

Her pleasantly burdened chest heaves to regain her breath. The deep breaths derive from both her effort exerted while fighting and her excited anticipation of spoil and plunder.

At the bottom of the pyramid, she stops to inspect her hard-earned booty. A chorus of “Ooo, ah, ooo’s” are called with laughter in support of their vivacious, victorious, viridian vixen of the Savannic Valhalla. After a long look, she slowly begins her barefoot panther’s prowl up the pyramid to her captive paramour. The slinky onslaughtress swings her shapely hips from side to side in a mesmerizing, slow motion sway as she sashays her sensual saunter of sultry surety up the steepled steps. Powerful haunches propel the pugilistic princess to the pyramid’s apex. The higher she climbs the louder her sisters’ cries of approval come. The women are completely unbridled with passion’s release as Crocodile HuhmVhee glides up to take me in a strong and encompassing embrace. Yanking my head back by the hair, she looks down at me from between her crocodile clad, form fitting bustier’s primarian purpose.

“You are for
me
, little man! Hahahahahahaha!”

“Gulp!
Please don’t hurt me.
”

“Ah-hahahahahaha! Resistance is futile! You are mine! But go ahead and resist if you want, I might like it. Ah-hahahaha!”

“Guh-ulp!”

whup-buhp-biggle-buhp-whirr-buhp-buhp

“Did I just hear something?”

whup-buhp-biggle-buhp-whirr-buhp-buhp

“What’s that noise, sisters?”

“We don’t know, but it sounds like it’s getting closer.”

whup-buhp-biggle-buhp-whirr-buhp-buhp

“Warrior women of Amazonia! Prepare yourselves, my sisters. Something wicked is coming this way!”

whup-buhp-biggle-buhp-whirr-buhp-buhp

whup-buhp-biggle-buhp-whirr-buhp-buhp

whup-buhp-biggle-buhp-whirr-buhp-buhp

“It sounds like a mechanical cacophony of many moving parts working together in a busy manner.” The Constrictor Lady searches about to try to ascertain from which direction the sound originates. I think that she may not be thinking straight because her blood is up from all the girlie action. I know that is a condition that I am suffering from as well.

“Look there!” calls Crocodile HuhmVhee. “What is that?”

“Why, I’m not quite sure,” Lola Piranha says, coming back into her senses and getting to her feet. Rubbing her jaw, she squints into the sun, for like the Apache, the monstrosity attacks from a position of advantage, approaching with Sol’s blinding glare behind it. “It’s hard to tell what it is that comes to us in such a dread form. I see an incredibly advanced piece of engineering. It is a heavier than air, craft of the skies! Dozens of circular cut cloths are mounted on collapsible mechanical frameworks with a downward concave attribute. These are busily being worked up and down. This has the effect of catching a billow of atmosphere that momentarily fills the upside down cloth basket. This provides a second of resistance before the framework of the circular cloth collapses as the basket closes for its return trip upwards,
sans
the downward thrust. The effect of these many cloth air-capturing baskets that furiously work up and down in a clockwork fashion is to hold the craft aloft. There is a sequential order in their spacing and vertical maneuvers so that there is always upward lift being applied to the craft. It is further helped in this undertaking by dozens of perpendicular pinwheels. Though most of these to my amazed eyes are helping to hold the craft in the air, several are also spaced about the vessel in a vertical manner, granting the awful machine guidance in to and fro maneuvers.”

“I agree with your assessment,” calls down the coconut-cracking thigh lady in the skimpy serpent skinned skirt. “Two figures are riding upon seats slung beneath the wildly whirring mechanics. One appears to be a metal skinned man. His hands grip a pair of control levers that steer the monstrosity, while his legs are furiously at work in a stationary position. They move in repeated circular motions. His feet rest upon small foot platforms. These are mounted to a central hub. This has a sprocket, lined with many teeth. The motion of the foot platforms turns the multiple tooth sprocket that in turn rotates a chain that is engaged with the teeth of another sprocket. This sprocket is connected to still more and more chains and sprockets to spin the many horizontalized pinwheels, and pump the umbrasols in an up and down movement. By ‘umbrasol’, I mean the concave air catchers that so resemble rain dispersement tools or portable sun screens.”

The curvaceous crocodile Delilah grimaces as she bares her perfect green teeth and squints into the glare. “I think the other one is a western female. She is small of frame, light in skin, and auburned of hair. Seated upon her platform with her legs to one side in the ‘side-saddle’ position, she wears a petticoated and multiple slipped blue dress despite the oppressive tropical swelter. Careful, girls: she must be mad with the heat.”

“Oh, yoo, hoo! I say! Good afternoon, ladies! Do you mind if I have a word with that chap you have staked out as if in preparation of some debauched picnic trip? I say, that is you, is it not Mr. Temperance?”

I am just able to get my head around enough to get a look at the woman who beckons me.

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”

“I say, Mr. Temperance, you appear to be in a dire predicament. Might I offer my assistance, to help you from this grave danger, eh hem?”

“Um, uh,
oh!
Danger, yeah, that’s it! This is a very dangerous situation and these are some very dangerous women! You should flee immediately and come back to rescue me in the morning.”

“Oh, no. I would not hear of such a thing. You have come to my rescue on more than one occasion. Nay, I shall not abandon you to these femmes of wild abandon.”

“No! You don’t understand! They are really, really dangerous! You and Mr. Cogito should fly away and come back after awhile when things have settled down a bit. Like at least an hour or two.”