The Adventure Begins - Prologue

PROLOGUE

Excerpt from the personal log of Addington Nightingale, sole survivor of the expedition craft Blue Sky:

         "Upon wakening, I found that my ship had come to rest on the shores of a dark and mysterious land. As my mind struggled with the fact that I had survived the crash, my other senses began bombarding it with unspoken information.
         The surface upon which I rested at first felt solid and soft. Yet, with my slightest movement shifted and rearranged itself to my body. The softness of the soil was quickly dispelled as I realized it was made of tiny coarse granules that lightly abraded my exposed skin. Granules, which adhered to the moisture of my body and had somehow, seeped beneath my clothes to irritate there as well. The top of the surface was cool to the touch, yet as I shifted my weight to sit up my hands sank and I felt a strange warmth.
         Closing my eyes against the spinning of my head, my sense of hearing sent me three distinct images. One expected...the crackling of fire. One unfamiliar...the soothing sound of liquid brushing against the coarseness of the soil. Yet, the third was the most disturbing and caused my heart to beat wildly...complete silence. If others of my crew had survived, then I should have been able to pick up either their movements or cries. I heard neither.
         Taking a calming breath, I slowly opened my eyes and took in the shadowy scene stretched out before me.
         The blackness of this world was broken only by the glare of small-scattered fires fueled by pieces of wreckage. The light from these fires allowed me to see the long wide gouge in the ground left by the ship as it had slid across its surface. My eyes automatically followed the carved out path until they came to rest on the barely discernible outline of the vessel.
         Getting slowly to my feet and taking a few awkward steps to test the shifting soil, I undertook the task of finding the remainder of my crew.
         Following the scarred pathway left by the ship and using what light I could from the fires, I saw that it was littered with pieces of broken hull, equipment and supplies. The flame of hope that had burned brightly at the onslaught of my journey started to flicker as the amount of debris increased the closer I got to the ship. Even so, hope remained as I had yet to find any signs of my companions.
         Although I was focused on reaching the vessel and any crewmembers there, I could not help but notice that the blackness, which surrounded me and hid the full extent of my situation, was fading. The sky had lightened to a deep charcoal gray by the time I reached what remained of the Blue Sky. The entire right side had been torn away giving me an unrestricted view of the burnt mangled interior.
         The dawning of a new day was not required to show me the reality of my situation. The storm, which had thrown us off course and rendered our equipment unusable, was not only responsible for the untimely demise of my entire crew and the total destruction of my vessel, but had left me stranded with no hope of returning home."

         A knocking at his chamber door interrupted his reading and thoughts. Looking up from the ancient book he held delicately in his hands, he told his visitor to enter.
         In reply to his summons, the door opened revealing a tall man dressed in khaki pants and a brown bomber jacket. The visitor gave the room a quick once over before stepping across the threshold and closing the door. "I understand you have a little problem that needs solving."
         Carefully setting aside the book, he motioned to the chair opposite his desk. "Please have a seat Mr. Blackthorn. My sources tell me that you are a man who thrives on challenges...I hope I was not lied to."
         Ah...my reputation precedes me, Blackthorn thought settling into the chair and casually crossing his legs. A crooked self-confident smile lit his face as he replied, "Can't say you were. I do love a challenge, the harder the better. Might say it keeps me on my toes, specially when a large reward is involved."
         Catching the faint twitch beneath the man's left eye at his mention of the reward, Blackthorn had to wonder if there was going to be a problem. He may only be a mercenary, but he did have some standards as to who he worked for. Unfortunately, his funds were a little low right now, mainly because of the lifestyle he insisted on living or he would've turned down this job. He had heard stories on how his new employer dealt with those that displeased him and had sloughed them off as angry rumors. Watching as the man reached for something in his desk, Blackthorn wasn't so sure they were just rumors. Physically, the man reminded him of a weasel. He was a feeble looking man. The pallor of his bronze toned skin showed he was not a man accustomed to the outdoors. Thin translucent lips, a long slender pointed nose and short black hair plastered like cardboard to his head lent credence to Blackthorn's comparison. Yet it was the set of small beady black eyes devoid of emotion as they gazed at you that said something was just not right with this man.
         He could feel Blackthorn's scrutiny as he opened a drawer and pulled out a large manila envelope. Lying it on top of the desk, he slid the envelope across to Blackthorn with a quick flick of the wrist. "This is the most current information available to me at this time. Inside you will find the first half of your payment, a description of the object, as well as instructions on how and when I can be reached. I shall expect to remain up-to-date on your progress or lack thereof and informed of any problems that might arise."
         Picking up the envelope and quickly checking over its contents, Blackthorn stood and gave the weasel another smile, one that did not reach his deadly steel-gray eyes. "I don't foresee any problems, at least none that I can't handle."
         Let us hope that you are correct. He thought watching as his visitor moved toward the door. Waiting until Blackthorn had reached out for the door handle he added, "One final thing before you leave. I do not take kindly to failure or to those who fail to follow orders. The consequences if either situation should occur would be, shall we say...unbearable."
         He knew the meaning of his words were understood when the man stiffened before opening the door and leaving.
         Once the door closed, a small clicking sounded in the room as he pushed the button to engage the lock. Satisfied that he would not be disturbed, he carefully picked up the book and settled back in his chair.
         He had been working on this plan for the last several years, ever since recovering this book. Now, if all goes well he would see his plan come to fruition and exact payment for the wrongs committed against him.
         Opening the book he carefully flipped through the pages detailing Nightingale's life among the native inhabitants until he came to the passage which continued to plague him.

         "All precautions have been taken. The Orb has accepted the conditions I have imposed and can only be activated by the one who possesses the correct key. Only they will be able to unlock and use the power it protects."