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    Gods, Created: A Sage Chronicles Novella: The Sage Chronicles
    Gods, Created: A Sage Chronicles Novella: The Sage Chronicles
    Gods, Created: A Sage Chronicles Novella: The Sage Chronicles
    Ebook129 pages1 hour

    Gods, Created: A Sage Chronicles Novella: The Sage Chronicles

    By Michael Jerome Johnson

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    About this ebook

    Mama is in her last hours of life. Before she dies, Mama calls together four of her oldest friends and former enemies: King Loren of the Pure Elves and his niece, Princess Zara, Marianna who is the best Warrior Mage Mama has ever known, and Marianna's estranged husband, Panther - the man who would one day become Lord Sage, to grant her one last favor. If they agree to her plan, the world will be changed, forever. I they don't, an entire Nation will die at the hands of the gods. As they deliberate, an old friendship will be rekindled while another friendship will be strained. Two families will be tested like never before, and those who oppose Mama's plan threaten to destroy everything. Meanwhile, Panther harbors a secret that may just save the world, if he succeeds.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMJJ
    Release dateOct 30, 2016
    ISBN9781540129253
    Gods, Created: A Sage Chronicles Novella: The Sage Chronicles
    Author

    Michael Jerome Johnson

    Michael Jerome Johnson is the author of The Sage Chronicles: Family Matters, Books 1 and 2. He also contributed three pieces to the anthology - Campfire Tales From Hell: Musings on Martial Arts, Survival, Bouncing, and General Thug Stuff." Gods, Created is the first of three novellas featuring characters from The Sage Chronicles. The next two will be released in 2017.

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      Book preview

      Gods, Created - Michael Jerome Johnson

      Chapter 1

      My smartphone buzzed inside my pocket, signaling a call coming in. I ignored it for the umpteenth time, having no desire to talk to anyone today unless it was an emergency. My phone would make a different kind of buzz, and emit a specific ring, if it were. This call wasn’t.

      The phone stopped buzzing. A bell chimed a few seconds later indicating that the caller left a message. I ignored that, too, and got back to taking my mind off my troubles.

      The roast smelled wonderful as I basted it before putting it back in the oven one last time. The whiff of carrots, red potatoes, onions, green peppers, green beans and spices both surrounding and covering the roast added to the delicious fragrance. I left the cover off the dish in which the roast sat, place the roast back in the oven, and closed the oven door.

      Oven, I said. Ten more minutes.

      Acknowledged, said the oven in Marianna’s voice.

      I froze.

      I’d forgotten Marianna had rejiggered the vocal responses from the house, and every appliance, as a prank on my birthday. I loved it at the time, and to prank Marianna back, I started commanding the house and appliances to do my bidding. After five minutes of that, I looked and Marianna and said, See? You do know how to follow orders.

      She hit me with a pillow—several times. We shared a hardy laugh. Then we made love for half the day. That was one of my favorite birthdays.

      I smiled at the pleasant memory as I turned to the other oven that held the macaroni and cheese. I took it out of the other oven and placed the dish on a wooden block on the kitchen island. I lifted a corner of the aluminum foil off the baking dish, and sniffed. Paprika. Salt. Black peppers. The aroma of perfect blend of cheeses that held the dish together brought back pleasant memories. Once again, I’d recreated Mom’s recipe to make the best mac and cheese I’d ever tasted. The only thing missing, was the special love Mom put into everything she cooked, rest her soul.

      Just like that, the pleasant memories dissolved and the bad memories returned, and with it, my troubles.

      Three weeks. Five days. Thirteen hours and five minutes. That’s how long it’s been since Marianna and I had a horrible fight and she stormed out of the house. She moved to the cottage we call the Loft and we’ve barely spoken to each other since.

      How could I have gotten things wrong with her again? It’s not like I didn’t know what would happen. I’d lived through this time period several times. I knew who and what she was long before she told me—long before she knew, herself. That’s why the Other Me begged me to return to this point in the timeline – To help him make sure our marriage to Mari survived, lest time unravels so badly that nothing survived. That meant taking over the Other Me’s life without joining with him, and in the process, breaking every rule of the Sage Paradox once again. He won’t like how I did it when he wakes up, but it was necessary. I had a very small window to get it right or the world dies— and this was the only time I could take over my past this way. I can never do this again. So I did the same stupid things and said the same hurtful words, to get the exact same reactions from Mari. Although our fight was insignificant in the great scheme of things, it was one the most important moments in the timeline.

      Starting a fight with the love of my life is an insignificant moment? I asked myself, out loud. Chasing her away with harsh words saves the world?

      Yes. And, yes. I answered out loud.

      And the pain I caused for both of us—was that insignificant, too?

      You know it wasn’t. I answered.

      Yes. I know. I replied to myself.

      I also knew that if I continue talking to myself, out loud, somebody would want to put me in a loony bin. A small part of me didn’t care. The larger part told me to shut the fuck up and focus on the mission. So I did.

      The timer on the first oven dinged.

      Your roast is ready, the oven said in Marianna’s voice.

      Thank you, I said. Turn yourself off, but keep the oven light on until I remove the roast.

      As you wish. The oven said. But there was a distinct echo from someone at the kitchen doorway.

      I turned to the person and saw Marianna standing at the kitchen entrance, leaning on the doorframe.

      Hi, she said.

      Hi, I said.

      We stood staring at each other.

      Marianna looked radiant as ever. Her effortless beauty and gorgeous eyes took my breath away, as usual. Her enormous capacity to love instantly captured my heart. Despite everything, she still has my heart. She always will.

      You came, I said.

      Not yet. But the night’s young.

      Marianna’s wicked sense of humor that made me laugh, except at the most inappropriate times. This was one of them.

      Seeing my frown, Marianna stood up, straight.

      Maybe this was a mistake. She said, as she turned to leave.

      No. No. I said, rushing to her. I grabbed her hand, gently. She looked at me. I want you to stay. I do. It’s just...you actually came.

      You didn’t expect me to come?

      Half expected. I said. But I’m glad you came.

      Me, too. She said.

      She looked down at our hands. So did I. We had entwined our fingers as we usually did when holding hands. It felt so natural and so strange. We looked at each other once again, and then, on some subtle signal released each other’s hands at the same time. It wasn’t a harsh release, but it also wasn’t a reluctant release. It was...a necessary release. Still, I felt a longing afterward.

      Should you take the roast out of the oven? Marianna said.

      Damn. I said, rushing to the oven, grabbing two hotpot mitts. I completely forgot about it.

      You were distracted. She said.

      I turned to her and smiled. 

      Yes, I was. I said.

      I took the roast out of the oven and set it on another wooden block on the kitchen island.

      Mm. Smells delicious, Marianna said.

      Thanks, I said. I hope it tastes as good.

      I’m sure it will.

      I smiled. So did she.

      I thought we’d eat in the dining nook, I said, nodding to that area in the kitchen.

      Mari looked over and saw that I’d set the table with one of the nicest tablecloths, our best china and silverware, our finest glassware and a rose in her favorite vase that sat in the middle of the table. She looked back at me and smiled.

      I smiled back.

      We don’t have time for this, Mari. Loren’s voice came over the house intercom system.

      Loren, please, came Zara’s voice over the same system. Have a heart.

      When we resolve this crisis, they can have all the time they want. Loren said.

      Thank you, both, for fucking things up. Again, Mari said.

      Loren and Zara started to protest.

      SHUT. UP. Mari yelled. And stay the fuck off this frequency. We’ll be out when we’re out!

      Mari didn’t care that she had just cussed out the King of the Pure Elves and his niece, Princess Zara. She shook with rage from the interruption. I sensed that Loren and Zara felt Mari’s rage and promptly closed the connection to the intercom system. Mari looked at me and saw the quiet rage in my eyes. She started to speak.

      Get out. I said, and turned my back on her.

      Please let me explain? Mari begged.

      Explain what? I snapped, whirling around to face her. That you and the Royals have fucked up something else and I'm the only person who can get your asses out of trouble? Been there. Done that. Got fucked up the butt the last time. Not interested in a repeat performance.

      It’s not like that, Sweetie.

      "Don’t you DARE try to

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