Persistence Of Memory

Chapter 1

Rubbing the dust from his eyes, Bartholomew Borax III glanced up at the crumbling arch. The curved monument teetered and several of its carved bats took to flight. A few bricks overhead wavered and loosened. “Alex, watch out!” he cried, shoving his best friend out of the way.

Alexander Devinci bounced off a wrought iron post bordering the wide promenade to land safely on all fours a few feet away. The mass plummeted downward a split second later and crashed with a tremendous boom. Choking dust swirled, darkening the painted sky.

Bartholomew knelt at Alex’s side. The fifteen-year-old’s face was streaked with dirt and his brown curls had a coat of dust “You okay?”

Coughing, Alex gave him a thumbs-up.

The ground rumbled again, and long, jagged cracks appeared in the crushed granite pathway. They widened and dark heads emerged from the splintered soil. Yellow eyes glared from hairless brows as porcine noses sniffed the air.

Alex groaned. “No freaking way.”

Bartholomew pulled Alex to his feet and surveyed the triumphal arch. The red monument was roughly ninety feet high and half as wide. It looked Moorish and both sides were framed with pairs of brick columns capped with decorative crowns. The front frieze above the arch was carved with multiple people, who were now whimpering and cowering in fear. Above them two sculpted lions held up a large shield and crown.

“Help us!” Bartholomew cried.

The stone felines bowed noble heads and roared. They hurdled off their perch and landed with a thud. Their etched muscles rippled before turning to face the emerging army.

“It won’t be enough,” Alex said.

“I know.” Bartholomew turned in a circle. True art? True art? What can I create?

True art? True art? What can I create?He had only been in this unfamiliar place for scant minutes so didn’t know the lay of the land. But after multiple journeys into the mystical Artania, the blond teen had learned that if he could work paint, clay, or wood, the Creation Magic would do the rest. He and his fellow Deliverer, Alex, had made amazing things these past five years. From swords to skateboards and dragons to great snakes they had wrought weapons and comrades in this long war against the Shadow Swine.

But still Sickhert’s army returned. Ever stronger. With new tricks and powers.

Like today.

An axe-wielding Shadow Swine swung at the first lion. His blade skirted the beautiful sculpture’s mane and a furry clump fell to the ground. With a snarl, the lion jumped back.

Bartholomew grabbed Alex’s arm. “We have to do something.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Alex kicked at the pile of dry leaves crunching underfoot, and they fluttered through the air.

Bartholomew glanced at the drifting leaves. Might it work? He closed his eyes and focused on the image. Scooping up a handful, he turned to Alex. “Remember Subterranea? They battled well.”

Might it work?“Of course. I should have thought of that.” Bending down, Alex brushed away debris, exposing the moist soil below. He plunged his hands into the clay and formed them into a mound.

Bartholomew plopped some leaves onto Alex’s s pile. Then more and more.

The two boys molded the materials into an animal shape. Without a word, they both knew where to place their hands. They scooped, pulled, and smoothed as if their minds were one. Fingers tugged and pressed, sculpting faster and faster. A leg appeared. Then another. Paws. A larger-than-life head. Soon, they were moving at the speed of light.

One final pinch, and the sculpture shimmered. Fur sprouted all over its body. Two silvery eyes looked up at them. Bartholomew sat back on his haunches and smiled. “Glorious.”

He had but a microsecond to admire the work before the hunchbacked Swiney was upon them. His yellow eyes narrowed as he bared jagged teeth. With a long swipe of his battle-axe, the pig-nosed creature chucked a stone lion aside. He raised an arm to attack the second when the newly sculpted wolf lowered its head and butt him in the gut.

The slimy creature toppled over.

“More!” Alex scooped up a fresh handful of mud and the boys repeated their sculpting performance, this time faster than the speed of light. Within seconds half a dozen wolves were growling and snapping at the jackbooted army.

For a moment all was silence. Then, as if a great unmute button had just been pressed, a cacophonous roar filled the air. Wolves ripped into the burly Swineys. The largest leaped at a tall Shadow Swine, knocking the monster on its back.

Others hurdled toward a dog, Mudlark, with red glowing eyes, one ear completely gone and the other in jagged shreds. The black lab’s contorted face was scarred and twisted as if raking claws had hollowed out great swaths of skin. Still, it dodged two swipes before falling.

Three snarling wolves closed in on a spike-wielding Swiney. The monster swung once. Twice. Three times. The newly formed canines snapped at his heels. Then one wolf clamped down on the Shadow Swine’s trench coat. The monster stumbled.

Bartholomew had just dug up a handful of soil to form a sword when he felt the vibration. His hand began to shimmer. Shaking his head, he glanced over at Alex who appeared to be filled with sparkling glitter. He shrugged at his friend.

And Artania faded from view.