Note to readers: “2200 Blues” is a novel in progress, and each chapter is an early draft in its unfolding journey. Your thoughts and reactions are invaluable, guiding its evolution and refinement. 2200 Blues © 2024 by G.R. Nanda. All rights reserved.
Nickel shuddered violently as Rishi approached him. Nickel had stopped moving, stopped walking toward Rishi, letting the apparition of the man move toward him. He was suddenly distrustful. He didn’t know if he wanted to meet with this new stranger anymore. He was done with strangers. They’d brought him to this place, to being kidnapped and dragged by the Death Riders. In that moment, Nickel decided that he was finished with Atalantia. He would leave for Hedonim as soon as he could, whether or not this man could help him.
“Stay still,” Rishi said, now even closer to Nickel, close enough that he could see his features in greater definition. As the dust settled and he neared Nickel, the man looked more worn and wearied, slowly losing the vigor of the visage of the strong warrior he had maintained when he was summoning his powers.
Nickel began breathing heavily, faster than before. His heartbeat had been accelerating and slowing with every new turn he’d been taken on. He was tired of the constant metronome shifting that he had to deal with.
“Can you hear me?” Rishi asked.
Nickel’s breathing became even more frantic, and he began making loud wheezing noises involuntarily. His vision doubled into blurriness, and his chest flared with a painful constriction like none he’d ever felt before. His whole body went slack in the span of an eye-blink, the sting of the earth falling into him emanating over his face. But it was soon eclipsed by the feeling of fire lacing his whole body.
“Nickel!” Rishi called, though his voice felt like an echo, and his running footsteps that followed like the ticking of a clock that was fading away, about to die like an electronic battery. Nickel’s mind was the battery. It went blank. He couldn’t perceive anything else except for the flaring pain all over him. His own hyperventilating became too loud for him to hear clearly before all gave way to darkness.
“Come for me, Father Hawk,” Nickel thought, the thought clearer than anything else that he could hear around him. It was so clear that it sounded like a voice speaking in his head. “Give me your strength. Bless me with the aid of the Huntsman as he aided you on your journey.”
Everything blacked out.
“Show me the wisdom of the stars.”
In the darkness, Nickel saw the pinpricks of many stars upon stars glow to life and coalesce into a ghostly blue man with a flowing white beard, rippling muscles, and a bow and arrow. He grabbed at a star, and it dragged down, turning into a shooting star, clasping it to his bow and arrow. He strung it back and let loose, letting the universe explode into light, all the stars following the shooting star from his bow and arrow, into a blinding flash of light.
G.R. Nanda 