Celestial Intervention, Book 1: Ania

How To Get Inspired

Kimba waited in the dark alley for his prey to walk by unaware.  The handle from the rusty knife he had risked his life to steal from the market earlier that evening was damp with sweat.  Not even a day had passed since Kimbas destruction of a third of the Cygnus.  He had woken up that morning feeling very odd, but had learned to like this new feeling.  It was powerful.  His mind was thinking quick, and his movements quicker.  He felt more like an animal than a human.

It was time for him to set phase two in effect.  The remaining members of Cygnus would hold a funeral for their fallen, and it was the only time Kimba would be able to get his quilt back.  But first he needed some information.

Footsteps sounded on the dry earth outside of the alleyway.  Kimba had followed a member that the Cygnus had sent to confirm the death of the boys who had been in the building, following only the sounds of his footsteps so that he wouldn’t be caught.  This is the last spot that he heard the steps coming from so the gang member had to be around here somewhere.

Kimba had checked all the doors and passages the alleyway held, but the member was nowhere to be seen.  Kimba had been there for the longer half of an hour before he heard a sound come from the thick darkness deeper in the alley.  It sounded metallic, but it was very subtle and seemed to be coming from the end of the alleyway.  

Kimba held still until something broke the moment of silence.  He heard quiet footsteps emerging from the darkness, getting closer.  Kimba felt excitement and impatience come over him.  He wanted this.  The footsteps were almost to him, nearing the large indent in the wall Kimba was hiding in.

His victim came into view.  It was a boy much older than Kimba, probably sixteen.  This wasn’t who he had followed from the burned building, and Kimba knew that he had found their hiding place.  The boy walked toward the street, unaware of Kimba.

Kimba darted out behind the boy with his rusty knife and swung low.  The boy screamed and instantly fell as he felt one of the hamstrings supporting him get sliced.  He hit the ground hard.  Kimba rolled him over onto his back, a wide grin on his pale face.  He put one hand over the boys screaming mouth, and the other put the knife to his neck.

“Shh shh,” Kimba whispered with a hint of playfulness, “I need some information and you’re going to give it to me.”  Tears were pouring from the members wide eyes,  frantically nodding into Kimbas hand.  Kimba was disappointed there was no resistance.

“I only need to know one thing.”  He said, inching closer to the older boys face so that he would recognize him, “That quilt you and your friends burned in front of me, where is it?”  He sliced a small layer of the boys neck as he said this, a small warning if he was thinking of calling for help.  The boy breathed heavily into his hand.  Kimba was disgusted by how much saliva the young man was producing, and eased his hand off slowly to let him speak.  The boy hesitated before talking.

“Alamak keeps it in his chambers.”  He said, his voice weak and broken.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Our leader, the eldest of us.”  

“Where are his chambers?”  Kimba asked.  The boy took too long to reply, and made no move to do so.  Kimba rolled him over, put the knife to his elbows hamstring, and used his other hand to push the boys face into the dried mud.  He brought his mouth to the boys ear.

“Listen to me,” Kimba whispered, his voice ominous, “There are things in this world that could be considered worth the pain you are about to go through if you don’t answer me.  Loyalty is not one of those things.”  Kimba moved his hand back onto his captives mouth.