Timelock

by David Klass

  Next, my mother and I pay a visit to the white-haired crone of a telepath who probed my mind earlier. The old woman appears to be sleeping in a chair, but when my mother says, “Rachel, we need you,” her lips turn up in a smile.

  “Throw your mind to the Fortress of Aighar,” my mother says. “But be very careful—they mustn’t feel you doing it. Seek out the King, in the castle tower.” Mom pauses, and her voice becomes a tense whisper: “How is my husband? Has he been driven mad by their tortures? Will he be able to help us if we can get to him?”

  The old woman’s head rises from her chin, and then she goes into a deep trance. She sits frozen, barely breathing, as minutes crawl by. When she finally snaps out of it with a shudder, she nearly tumbles off her chair. My mother catches her and holds her.

  “They have powerful telepaths guarding him,” the old woman rasps. “They have spun a mind web around him. It would have been risky for me to try to find a way through. Light as my footsteps are, they would have sensed me.”

  “Did you pick up anything useful?” my mother asks in a soft whisper. I get the feeling she had checked on his condition before, and is a little afraid to hear an update.

  “The King still lives,” the telepath answers. “I’m sorry, my Queen, to tell you this, but I sensed great pain, a level of suffering that verges on madness. Even if you find the King, I’m not sure if he’ll be able to help you.”

  “Thank you, Rachel. You’re not responsible for what you see. Go back to sleep.” My mother strokes the old woman’s mane of long white hair, and then leads me off at a fast clip. “We must make plans with the Warrior Circle who will help us on our journey.”

  “Fine, let’s go meet the warriors, but there’s somebody I need to check on first,” I tell her. She protests that there’s no time to waste, but I insist.

  A few minutes later we enter Morgan’s room. He’s been fitted out with two artificial legs that look remarkably lifelike. I notice that his long arms are trembling, even though he’s supposed to be under deep sedation.

  I hurry to his bedside, and touch one of his quivering wrists. “Rest easy, old fellow,” I whisper. “You fought bravely and gave us all a chance.”

  Can he get Morgan some pudding?

  The thought is so weak and unexpected that I almost miss it—it’s the barest puff of thought breeze, a telepathic leaf spinning through murky haze.

  Was that you, Morgan? I ask. How can you think about pudding? You’re supposed to be unconscious and near death.

  Chocolate, please.

  Okay, I’ll see what I can do.

  One closed eye opens a crack. And he owes Morgan a lullaby. Morgan has never heard a lullaby.

  Didn’t your mother ever sing to you?

  Sleep light, learn from your nightmares, wake fast and run! she used to say. Never any singing.

  Okay, chocolate pudding and a lullaby. I’ll do my best for you. Try to rest.

  I head out and confer with my mother and a doctor in the corridor. “Will he be able to walk again?” I ask.

  “He’ll be able to do whatever weird things Gorms do,” the white-robed medic assures me. I sense a slight contemptuousness in his tone, as if he thinks it’s beneath him to be taking such good care of a Gorm.

  “What Gorms really like to do is dance,” I tell him. “So I want you to personally make sure he can get down and boogie with the best of them. Got that, doc?”

  The doctor looks back at me, very surprised. “Yes, my Prince. I’ll do what I can to get him dancing again.”

  “Also, he needs chocolate pudding. It’s a matter of the utmost urgency.”

  His eyes go wide and he hesitates. “I will make sure he gets some. But what he really needs is sleep, and he’s not responding to our strongest sedatives. Gorms are so paranoid that they hypertense—you can’t knock them out chemically without killing them.”

  “I know what will put him to sleep,” I say. Then I turn to my mother and whisper a few words.

  “That’s crazy,” she responds. “To a Gorm? Jair, we don’t have time. Every second counts.”

  “He saved my life,” I tell her. “This is the first favor I ever asked of you, Mom.”

  I don’t think she’s used to being called Mom. She looks back at me and then walks into Morgan’s room.

  I glance through the window and watch the Queen of Dann find a spot near the Gorm’s bed, and begin singing. Her beautiful, sad voice swells and ebbs in a lullaby gentle enough to stir winds at the pinnacle of the Andes.

  I see a slight, contented smile flicker across Morgan’s face as his arms stop trembling and the old Gorm slowly drops off to sleep.

  18

  You need to choose a weapon. Right this way.”

  I follow a short, muscular man with a bushy mustache into the armory. An assortment of deadly devices hangs floor to ceiling on wall racks, glinting in the low light like Christmas tree ornaments.

  The armorer strokes his mustache and smiles—he’s a man who clearly likes his job. “Those are the guns,” he tells me. “Short-range blasters, electron beam rifles, and Dark Matter cannons. Here are the explosives: neural paralyzers, axon atomizers, and the ‘Big Poppers’—when they go off you’d better lie flat and keep your head down. Take a couple of them,” he suggests, handing the small bombs out like hard candies. “You never know when you’re going to need a big pop. Now come check these out.”

  My mother stands by the door, watching me, and an amused smile flickers across her face. The Queen of Dann is apparently one mother who doesn’t seem to mind if her son plays with guns.

  I follow the armorer to the far wall, where hundreds of handles and shafts are stacked on shelves like different-size baseball bats. “These are all laser hand weapons: swords, scimitars, maces, war hammers, and clubs. Try this one. It’s my personal favorite.”

  He passes me a long blue shaft. I slide my hand up and down it, searching for a switch. “How do I turn it on?”

  The armorer looks a bit embarrassed for me. “Sorry, my Prince. I should have explained. Concentrate on the handle and will the blade to appear.”

  I hold the blue shaft and focus my mind on it. Okay, handle. This is the mighty Prince of Dann, about to go into combat. I need a weapon with a serious blade. What have you got?

  As if in answer, a blue flame shoots out of the handle and hooks sharply. It’s a sapphire scimitar, weightless as the wind, with a ten-foot shimmering laser blade!

  I sweep it through the air and one of the armorer’s assistants leaps out of the way and bangs his head on a low shelf.

  “I know you wouldn’t have hit me, my Prince,” he apologizes, rubbing his head. “It’s just that it’s such a small space and we have had some accidents.”

  “I understand,” I tell him. Then I turn back to the armorer. “I’ll take it. Do you wrap it up or do I carry it out?”

  “Stick it in your belt. It’s yours now. But make sure you retract the blade first,” he says with a smile, and leads me toward the door.

  My mom joins us as we head out of the armory. “This is the first time I’ve seen you look happy, Jair,” she teases. “All it took was a scimitar.”

  “And a couple of Big Poppers,” I tell her. “I always wanted my own arsenal. Now, where are those warriors?”

  “They’re waiting for us . . .” she starts to say and then pivots with incredible speed as a warning shout rings out from a guard at the far end of the passageway. A man has burst by him and is running toward us, dressed all in black. My mother grabs the blue scimitar handle from my belt and hurls it end over end at the dark-robed man, who is still thirty yards away.

  He sees the weapon spinning at him and tries to duck out of the way, but the scimitar flies with tremendous speed and accuracy. The blue blade flickers on, and the scimitar chops him nearly in half.

  As he falls, the black ninja’s hands move across his chest, and he shouts out, “Death to mankind!”

  My mother dives toward me and tackles me hard. I fall
face-first, and the armorer jumps on top of me.

  There’s a tremendous explosion that sends a fireball of energy shooting down the corridor. It would have killed us for sure if we were still standing, or if the assassin had gotten any closer. I feel it pass over me, singeing hair off the back of my head.

  Then the fire and the noise are gone, and we get slowly to our feet.

  The armorer who shielded me with his body looks a little shaky. I’m pretty sure his back was scorched by the fireball, but he’s too proud to complain.

  Guards run up to check on us. “I’m so sorry, my Queen,” the leader of the bodyguards apologizes. “He should never have gotten so close.”

  “There’s no way to prevent it.”

  “Who was he?” I ask my mom. “Has the Dark Army found us?”

  “No, he’s one of ours,” she admits. “A Jasai. The cult is spreading like an infection through our ranks.” She pauses and then adds sadly, “It’s our own fault things have come to such a pass that trusted followers of Dann are willing to believe the world would be better off if humanity were extinguished.”

  19

  The bodyguards lead us quickly from the scene of the blast, into a nearby chamber. The Warrior Circle of Dann is waiting for us, twenty ninja priests, dressed in colored robes and wearing birdlike masks. I wonder if Eko belonged to this secret society—something tells me she might have even been its leader.

  They bow to us and my mother returns their bow. I follow her example. These are the guys and gals who are going to keep us alive during the next few days, so I’d better stay on their good side.

  When I straighten up, I see that a ninja in a scarlet mask has stepped forward holding a small metal sphere. He hurls it at a wall, and the sphere shatters. A purple gas seeps out of its cracked shell and filters up the chamber’s wall. In seconds it transforms the rock face to a vivid, topographic map that illustrates the priest’s words as he describes what lies ahead.

  “It is two thousand miles to the Fortress of Aighar,” he says. “To have any chance, we must leave tonight. Advance parties have already been dispatched to prepare the way for each of the three stages of the journey.”

  A red line begins to trace our route across the map on the cavern wall. “The first leg will take us across flat desert. We must travel day and night, and risk discovery and instant annihilation by Dark Army drones and orbiting scanners. The other principal dangers will be gravel storms, giant scorpions, and a swarm of locusts that has filled the sky from the dry oasis to the hills.”

  The red line extends to the end of the flat plain and slowly begins to climb. “When we reach the hills, things will of course become much more difficult. The flying snakes have just hatched and clouds of glagour are descending to feed on the venomous spawn. Glagour, my Prince, is a type of predatory living pollution—”

  “I’m familiar with it,” I tell him, recalling how I lay cringing and shouting hysterically as hungry sludge rolled back and forth over my body.

  “If we successfully surmount the hills, we will reach the mountains of Aighar. Constant seismic activity coupled with seasonal ice storms will make this last segment of the trip by far the most perilous. As we draw closer to the Dark Army, the number and lethality of their drones, scouts, traps, land mines, and other security devices will increase exponentially. Our only chance is to travel the final two hundred miles deep underground.”

  The red line on the map dips beneath the surface of the mountains. “There is a cave system threading far beneath the mountains. We can follow it to within twenty miles of the fortress, and emerge right here, with enough time still remaining to save the King . . .”

  The red line stops moving, and I see the familiar, hulking Fortress of Aighar looming over the mountains.

  “Thank you, Donnerell,” my mother says. “You have given us a chance. There’s not a second to lose. We must leave at once—”

  “Wait a minute,” I say. “Excuse me but didn’t Donnerell leave out the most important part of the whole mission?”

  No one responds. They’re all looking at me.

  “Let’s say we somehow survive the locusts and the flying snakes, not to mention the ice storms. How are we going to cross the last twenty miles and rescue the King?”

  They’re all staring at me like I just asked the stupidest question in the history of Danndom.

  “Let’s take this one step at a time,” I suggest. “We follow the cave system and emerge near the fortress in darkness. Who’s going in to try to save the King?”

  “The fewer the better,” my mother tells me. “The two of us will go in alone.”

  “Fine,” I agree. “Let’s keep it in the family. But what’s the plan of extraction? They’re not going to just invite us in and let us have him, right? We’re going to have to do something pretty smart to get him out.”

  I stop and look around. They’re still staring at me as if I’m missing the most obvious thing in the world. “There’s an acid moat,” I remind them, “and the metal walls of the castle appear impossible to climb. I assume there are guards, scanning devices, booby traps, and some kind of hell-troll on the roof. My dad may be insane and incapacitated. How are we going to get into the castle, find him, and carry him out, without being spotted?”

  My mother looks a little embarrassed. “Jair, of course you know the answer to that.”

  “My name is Jack, and no, I don’t.”

  She smiles. “But you must. You are the answer to that.”

  20

  I look back at my mother, and at the circle of silent bird-masked warriors. “What do you mean I am the answer? How do you figure that?”

  “The only way in and out of the dreaded Fortress of Aighar is with the Blue Star of Dann,” my mom says. “It will cloak us for a few hours with invisibility, and shield us from Dark Army scanners. Now, where is the Star?”

  “Good question,” I agree, looking around at the rookery of ninjas. “Why don’t you start by telling me what the Star is, and then we’ll get into what happened to it.”

  She looks impatient, but then she nods and launches into a quick explanation. She tells me how the Blue Star was found by Dann himself, during his years of wandering in the northern polar regions. The last of the ice cap was melting, the world’s climate was on a fast path to ruin, and Dann was trying to figure out some way of reversing the damage. Then he found the Star.

  “Where was it hidden?” I ask, drawn in by the story.

  “Rumor has it that the Star was encased in the very last melting glacier,” she says softly, “and it lit up as he drew near. Some say it was the shining heart of the polar regions of the earth, crying out for redress.”

  “Okay, I can wrap my mind around that,” I say, remembering when I held Firestorm in my hands and felt the power of the oceans. I also recall the hidden valley in the Amazon, and how the tallest stone monolith there seemed to be the very incarnation of the spirit of the forest. “Now I know what the Blue Star of Dann is, or was. What happened to it?”

  “It was passed down from generation to generation among the leaders of Dann,” my mother explains. “It’s very small and easy to conceal. It can remain quiescent upon command, and is nearly impossible to detect. It was hidden in necklaces and boot heels, amulets and weapon handles. For many years your father kept it in a tiny silver box around his neck. Several times the Dark Army almost captured it, but we were always able to keep it from them.”

  “Did they finally get it? What did my father end up doing with it?”

  She gives me a sharp look. “Why, he sent it to you, of course. Actually, he had already been taken captive. But we had the Star and he was able to smuggle a message out that we should send it back to you. We know your guardians received it, and hid it in a piece of everyday apparel.”

  As I listen to her, the horrible truth begins to dawn on me, and I feel sick.

  “They put it in a watch,” she continues, “and made sure that when you were ready to search for Firestorm
you would find it.”

  I swallow and nod. “Okay. Listen, Mom. I’ve got some bad news . . .”

  “We know you did find it,” she finishes, “and that you used it several times to save your life. Now, where is it, Jair? I don’t see a watch on your wrist, so I assume you removed it from that casing and concealed it in a new hiding place. I commend you for your caution. The Blue Star is not only priceless and irreplaceable, but it’s also our last hope of rescuing your father and saving the earth.” She smiles at me. “Tell me, son. Where is it?”

  I look back at her. “I don’t have it.”

  “You concealed it by hiding it on the Gorm for safekeeping? Brilliant! Is that why you wanted to check on him?”

  “No,” I mumble, “it’s not on the Gorm.”

  She looks at me. “Then it must be in his hutch. We can send a warrior to fetch it. Or did you hide it during your journey?” She steps forward and grabs my shoulders. “Tell me where it is. Every minute is crucial.”

  I take a deep breath and look right back into her eyes. “I threw it away.”

  Her eyes widen. “What?”

  “I took the watch off my wrist and threw it away.”

  “No. That’s impossible. I don’t believe you.”

  “In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t my smartest move.”

  Her face tightens. Then her fingers begin to dig into my shoulders, and I see panic in her eyes. I also notice that the ninja warriors are standing up. If it’s possible for men and women in birdlike masks to look shocked, they do. “Where did you throw it?” she demands in a tense whisper.

  “I’m not really sure,” I admit. “I flung it into a bend of a river somewhere in the Amazon Basin a thousand years ago. It lit up brightly when it hit the water, and then it sank out of sight. I’m sorry, but it’s gone. Now it’s just a fancy night-light for piranhas. Maybe we can rescue Dad without it . . .”

  It’s not fun when the Queen of Dann loses her temper. Her voice rises as her fingers dig into my arms. “We can’t possibly rescue him without it!” she announces. And then she completely loses it and erupts: “HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A STUPID THING! THROW OUT THE BLUE STAR OF DANN! TOSS AWAY ALL OUR HOPES! GIVE UP YOUR LEGACY! NOT TO MENTION CONDEMNING YOUR FATHER TO A PUBLIC NEURAL FLAY!”