Was at MPH after work yesterday, and I'm still shopping for a good book to splurge my salary on! Here lies the eternal dilemma: those blasted paperbacks all cost almost the same, be they thick or thin. When I want to buy a thin one, it doesn't seem worth the price...but when I want to buy a thick one, I know I'll end up not reading it. Arghh!
But anyway, I started on The Alchemist there, which seems pretty excellent so far. Looking forward to continue if lunchtime and after-work schedules allow. Methinks I'll end up finishing the book entirely in MPH. Which leaves me still searching for a book to buy. =p
The sun lay lower now. We had been walking for three hours straight, pausing only for an occassional five-minute breather. Strangely though, my throat didn't feel the least bit dry.
Every once a while, Archiver would talk about the supposedly fabled past of Blogspot - the great masters he had served, the wonders he had seen them do, and the like. Curiously enough, I observed, he would never talk about himself. Everything he said revolved only around Blogspot and the Hims.
"Archiver," I asked him once as we sat to watch more abandoned Blogs. "Where did you come from? How did you end up here in Blogspot?"
He lifted his eyes to the seamless sky and pondered. "That is a long story, I suppose."
A long silence ensued.
"Come, come," at last he got up. "Keep moving. We have taken long enough already."
Shrugging to myself, I got to my feet and trudged faithfully behind.
Finally, as the sky was about to throw on a coat of orange, we arrived at a sullen iron gate. There was nothing at all noteworthy about this, except for the two piercing words emblazoned across it: CLIMAX CITY.
"Attttt last," Archiver took in the air like it smelled of cherries. "I am back home."
Homely was have been the last word I would choose to describe the place. The sun's rays seemed to shy away from the winding brick paths beyond the gate. Following it, my eyes spied upon a cacophony of buildings with a solitary tower standing tall.
"Ah. Here He comes."
Out of nowhere, a red flash shot out of the ground. It streaked across the gate, leaving a trail as it went. The trail formed words which read:
You have taken long enough.
"Forgive me, my Lord." Archiver bowed his head. "I still am recovering from the battle and cannot travel fast enough."
The words appeared again. Pathetic.
This is the Garrick? The flash circled my head.
"Indeed he is."
What about Phocadis?
"Defeated by him."
The iron gates creaked noisily, making me half-expect them to burst out of their hinges, before being opened by unseen hands. A rush of unusually cold air greeted me.
Enter. Your friends are inside.