The Pen is Mightier

De: Andy Crawford

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

College student Sedrick Weir is the biggest fan of the brutal fantasy epic, 'Those Accursed Chronicles'. Its author, Paul Breston, has created a unique series of novels rife with debauchery and betrayal, in which no character is safe. Through a miraculous fluke, Sed is transported into the mythic world he loves so much. When he returns to his own world, he must convince Paul that his imagined realm actually exists. And if that world is real, can Paul keep killing people who are no longer merely fictional? Must Sed's favorite characters really have to die? Both satire and homage, 'The Pen is Mightier' is a love-letter to one of the most popular series and television programs in the fantasy genre. EXCERPT: “Da nasha ven boh-bas, NaVek.” Someone was speaking in a strange language. Sed awoke abruptly. “What the ****!?!” he cried at the strange scene around him, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. 'Holy crap,' he thought. 'Must still be dreaming.' He sat up, closed his eyes, and slapped himself on the face. But the jabbering around him continued, and when he opened his eyes, the strangers were still there. He was on the floor of the most opulent room he had ever been inside – it made him recall a junior high school field trip to the New Orleans Museum of Art. Tapestries adorned every wall, depicting scenes of vast armies and sailing ships at sea. What looked like an antique sofa was right behind him, and in front of him stood several anxious looking men and women, talking amongst themselves and pointing at Sed. They were dressed like no one he had ever seen, except perhaps at a Mardi Gras parade. One silent man wore what looked like medieval chain mail and stood apart from the rest. Another man, who appeared to be completely hairless, sported loose grey trousers and a colorful, checkered tunic open to the belly, with complicated designs drawn or tattooed on his chest. The other three men wore what he could only describe as green togas, which were draped and folded in some cunning manner such that they almost appeared as fitted garments. The two women were dressed in colorful, flowing dresses that flashed translucent, filmy fabric as they moved, but nothing that appeared revealing when they stood still. Sed started to get to his feet before realizing he was only wearing his boxers, and shifted into a more modest crouch. “Where am I?” he said softly. All eyes turned to him. “Kel leet tona sti-un!” snapped a balding, toga-wearing man, the oldest, at another. Someone scampered away and returned moments later with the nicest bathrobe – pale blue silk fringed with gold – that Sedrick had ever seen. The balding men bowed slightly and held it out to him, softly repeating a few strange words. “Thank you.” Sed accepted the ornate robe, stood up, and donned it, finding a nifty clasp that held it shut at the waist. “Now, where am I?” The balding man said something to one of the women before turning back to Sed. “You speak the eastern tongue, Lord Interpreter?” “Interpreter? No, I speak English.” The man mumbled something else to the woman beside him. “I do not know this ‘anglish’, but I can see that we can converse in this tongue.” The man gestured with open arms. “Please sit, my Lord. Forgive me, but you are the Lord Interpreter, are you not?” 'Interpreter?' he thought to himself. 'This has got to be the weirdest damn dream I’ve ever had.' He sat on the sofa. “Where am I?” he asked the balding man. “The Green Palace in Tapaniul, my Lord. We offer our humblest apologies at your abrupt awakening. Can we offer you any refreshment, or anything to make you more comfortable?” Sed’s eyes bulged. Holy crap…the Green Palace? The seat of her majesty, the Just Queen Illana Olajj? “You can’t be serious!” The bald man jerked back as if he was struck. “All apologies, my Lord Interpreter.” 'Interpreter?' he thought. 'What on earth...? Or m