The Apprentice Stone (Shadows of Time Book 1)

by Darrell Newton

  “I hate to tell you this, but if you continue to follow your Angelo, you may be—”

  Francisco laughed. “You don’t know Angelo. He’s more than he appears to be.”

  A woman screamed outside, a nerve-stripping scream that brought all labor and conversation to an end.

  Chapter 46

  Angelo

  Fez, North Africa

  Local Date: 4 Rabi‘ ath-Thani 609

  ANGELO, SITTING ON THE LIBRARY FLOOR and reading Ibrahim’s book, saw the pages shift, split into two images, and one faded. A rift! He cast to Miyuki.

  I saw it, she cast. Key’ari. One pod near the slave pen. Maybe more.

  Someone screamed outside, a woman. A man cried out in pain.

  Angelo didn’t have to ask where Miyuki was. His implants switched into combat mode, and he saw from her point of view next to the well: a pod in the distance in front of the slave pen. The Key’ari hadn’t bothered to put it into stealth mode. The shell was off and the plush bench seat with its controls were visible for everyone to see. Key’ari are so careless. He saw the guard shack to the right and the back of the house on the left with the open steps leading down into the cellar. Three men dressed in loose-fitting, white combat robes ran from the pod toward the stairs—the Key’ari. He saw Avar-Tek ratings above them. The screams, where did they come from? He didn’t see anyone screaming from her viewpoint. Angelo noted Miyuki’s vital statistics, which showed on his display. If they killed her or knocked her unconscious, he would have to evacuate Francisco without taking time to recruit him. He cast to Miyuki, Guard the cellar stairs! She was already on her way.

  Yes, sensei.

  He dropped Ibrahim’s book and jumped to his feet.

  Miyuki’s thoughts—formed in images and impressions more than concrete syllables—came faster than spoken words. Another entrance to the cellar from the kitchen.

  Going now, he cast. He thought of the Bureau of Temporal Corrections to establish a link and cast, Key’ari attack. At least two pods. Recruit at risk. Request back-up. Angelo out.

  Angelo switched on his froneesis-enhanced intelligence implant. Time seemed to slow. He could consider dozens of moves before the average person could consider one. Not bothering to explain himself to Ibrahim, Angelo glanced through the east-facing window as he passed it on his right and saw Miyuki heading for the outside cellar stairs. The Key’ari were running past the guard hut when two guards stepped out of the hut to confront them. Angelo didn’t stop to watch but rushed out into the central hall and collided with a boy running into the library.

  The boy, about ten years old and panting, looked past Angelo to Ibrahim and yelled in Berber, “Papa, bandits!” He pushed past Angelo and said in a gush, “Bandits outside. Within the walls!”

  Angelo didn’t wait for Ibrahim’s reaction, but started across the central hall towards the kitchen. Three ways into the kitchen: through the central hall, through the dining room, and up the cellar stairs. He took no more than two steps before the front doors burst open. Two white-robed Key’ari—a man and a woman—strode through and immediately headed for the kitchen. Behind them on the veranda before the fountain, a third Key’ari, an Asian male, fought two of Ibrahim’s front gate guards.

  Just above recruits, by their Avar-Tek signature: internal healing stones, incoms, maybe oc-loks, but no specialist implants. Tek: low. Combat skills: high. Chance of making the rift worse by exposure: one hundred percent. First move: use element of surprise. He reached to his side and pulled the hilt of his stun-stick from his verisuit-jellaba.53 He mentally selected a preprogrammed form, and the stun-stick flicked out into the form of a falcata, a short, sickle-shaped sword, the favorite weapon of his people.

  With a thought of pinching and twisting a spot in the air above the Key'ari, Angelo redirected gravity in a confined region around them. A look of horror flashed on their faces as, for them, the floor became like the ceiling and the ceiling like the floor. They didn’t float up as much as they “dropped up” with feet and arms flailing.

  “Stay inside, Habib,” Ibrahim said over his shoulder as he stepped into the central hall.

  Before the Key’ari hit the second-floor domed ceiling, Angelo released the pull and they fell to the ground. He held out his stun-stick under them and tapped each one before they hit the floor.

  “What is this?” Ibrahim demanded. “What are you doing?”

  Chapter 47

  Miyuki

  Fez, North Africa

  Local Date: 4 Rabi‘ ath-Thani 609

  MIYUKI PULLED BACK HER VERISUIT hood and changed back into her own appearance wearing a black combat robe. She saw the first two Key’ari sidestep the guards and flick out their stun-sticks, but the third, a large man with dark skin who looked like he could have been one of the guards with his height and build, attacked the guards bare-handed. She took a defensive stance with one foot forward and stun-stick ready before the first two Key’ari charged her. Both were males and, although she couldn’t place the heritage of the first one, the second Key’ari had features that reminded her of the Han people from China.

  She reacted without thinking; she felt the moves before fully considering them. Just as Angelo’s froneesis implant seemed to slow time because his mind worked faster, Miyuki’s responses were sped up with enhanced reflexes.

  The first came at her with a wild stun-stick swing. She sidestepped and brought her stun-tachi up under his arms to touch bare flesh. He fell forward, unconscious. The Han checked his stride and took a fighting stance. Miyuki watched his eyes for intent. He showed confidence until she flicked her stun-stick slightly. He flinched and his eyes flashed with uncertainty. He’s only plexus trained. Behind him, she saw the two guards drop. That was quick. Miyuki stepped forward and brought the stick down to bear on the Han. He deflected it, sidestepped, let it slide off, and with hers down, he brought his up. She leaned back and, had it not been for her kinesis,54 he would have hit her head. He was off balance. She brought her stick up and whacked him on the neck. Two down.

  Where was the third? Two guards down. He … She heard a laugh behind her next to the stairs.

  Miyuki turned and faced him. He had dark, almond eyes, thick lips, and a broad nose—a man from this continent. His hair was braided back in rows and his neck … it was as thick as her thighs.

  He had waited for her with feet apart: tense and ready to defend. He could have gone down the stairs and confronted Francisco, but he chose to wait. Was he disobeying orders because of an act of honor or because of something else? Why wait? She was grateful he didn’t attack while she fought the Han; she would have lost. He was fresh and strong; she was winded but agile. I can still take him.

  He hunkered down with arms out and shifted his weight from side to side. His Avar-Tek emissions changed, showing that he turned on a specialist implant. Ah! A level two or three?

  He had the nerve to crack a smile.

  Miyuki prayed.

  Chapter 48

  Angelo

  Fez, North Africa

  Local Date: 4 Rabi‘ ath-Thani 609

  ANGELO TURNED TO IBRAHIM and, in a split second, weighed fourteen possible options that included explaining who he truly was, or feigning ignorance, or tapping Ibrahim with the stun-stick. What would help Francisco? A slight nudge from the Voice made him consider Francisco more. What would Francisco expect a genie-knight to do? A genie. Angelo searched Islamic theology for descriptions of a jinn, creatures made from smokeless fire. It fit the occasion, and lack of onyo resistance confirmed this unlikely choice. He pictured the image of a jinn and changed his verisuit from the jellaba to match it. Although Angelo couldn’t see himself, he could see the flickering glow of flame reflecting around him and the look of terror on Ibrahim’s face. In a wispy, reverberating voice, Angelo said, “Stay back, and tomorrow release the slaves.”

  Ibrahim fell backwards and scrambled into the library.

  Instead of making the rift worse, Angelo sensed through his onyo that this b
izarre performance eased the temporal tension that created the rift.

  Angelo reverted into the slave appearance and looked back through the front door. The two guards were lying on the ground, but no third Key’ari. The Asian was gone. Back around out front?

  A scream came from the kitchen.

  Angelo realized the third Key’ari snuck through the dining room, and charged into the kitchen to cut him off. Using his froneesis implant, Angelo assessed the situation and calculated his optimum attack: Sliced vegetables and lamb shank on a prep table in the center of the room; two kitchen slaves by the table blocking my way; one cook in front of the oven, one Key’ari with a short sword standing at the dining room door. Two more access points besides the one I came through: one to the dining room and one into the pantry with the stairs into the cellar. Priority one: keep Key’ari from Francisco without killing the Key’ari. Priority two: prevent another rift.

  The cook held a kitchen knife to challenge the Key’ari.

  With the flat side of his stun-falcata,55 Angelo tapped the two kitchen slaves closest to him, and they dropped out of his way. Reduce the chance of a rift by reducing exposure to Avar-Tek use.

  At the same time, the Key’ari lunged at the cook, and in a flash grabbed the cook’s wrist with one hand and locked his elbow with the other. The knife flipped around. The Key’ari slammed into the cook and the knife plunged into the cook’s chest.

  The kitchen split in two images, and one faded. Another rift, a strong one. The cook must have influential descendants.

  Chapter 49

  Francisco

  Fez, North Africa

  Summer, Year of our Lord 1212

  IN RESPONSE TO THE SCREAM OUTSIDE, Francisco instinctively grabbed for the stone in his pouch, but before his hand touched his waist, he realized it was gone. “Blessed Mother, of course.” He turned to run back outside.

  Sébastien grabbed his arm. He had a wickedly tight grip. “Not this time, my friend. Have you not been beaten enough?”

  A man yelled and cried out in pain.

  Francisco pointed sharply outside. “They need us.”

  “They need the guards, and they have them.” He released Francisco’s arm. “They are bandits, I think. We get them during harvest.”

  “You’ve only been here a few weeks. How would you know?”

  Sébastien shrugged. “I’ve been told. It is best to stay here. Let us finish talking about your Angelo. You say he is more than he appears. How?”

  Francisco wasn’t about to explain the Sittiri to Sébastien. Footsteps pounded on the floor above them. Francisco felt like he was in a drum. Looking up at the ceiling, he said, “Let’s just say he’s not a knight but more than a knight.” Something about Sébastien hadn’t seemed right, but Francisco didn’t know what it was until then. Sébastien’s accent had all but disappeared.

  “More than a knight?”

  Francisco nodded. “A genie-knight.” He held his hands up. “Don’t—don’t ask me to—”

  A woman screamed in the kitchen above.

  Francisco gasped. “They’re in the kitchen!” He ran for the stairs on the side of the cellar that led up through earthen walls to a landing and then turned a flight up to the pantry. He poked his head up. Other than a window right behind him, the pantry walls were covered with shelves stacked with jars and sacks. Opposite the window, a door led to the kitchen where two kitchen slaves lay on the floor in front of Angelo. Angelo stood in the door to the central hall with a stick in his hand.

  “What’s going on?” Francisco asked.

  “Key’ari,” Angelo yelled.

  “But I can—”

  “Stay down! Down!”

  “Oh, Lord Jesus!” Francisco ran back down the stairs two at a time. He felt like a coward, but Angelo’s tone left no room for argument.

  “What is it?” Sébastien asked.

  “You’re right,” Francisco said, his heart pounding. “We must stay down here.”

  They heard a scuffle on the floorboards above them.

  “Who is it?” Sébastien asked.

  “Angelo.”

  Sébastien’s eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around a pillar. “Grab a hold of something,” he said.

  Francisco’s blood rushed to his head.

  Chapter 50

  Angelo

  Fez, North Africa

  Local Date: 4 Rabi‘ ath-Thani 609

  AFTER FRANCISCO DUCKED down the stairs, Angelo saw in the corner of his eye the Asian Key'ari step toward him and raise high a tachi with two hands. Kendo style. It glowed with a telltale Avar-tech aura: a stun-stick. Full of vigorous spirit, the Key’ari yelled “Chikusho” as he brought his stun-tachi down with a flick of his wrists. Angelo stepped back, and the Key’ari struck only air.

  With flexible handwork and quick forward footwork, Angelo brought his own stun-falcata down with full force toward the Key’ari’s head, but the Key’ari sidestepped and Angelo missed. They locked weapons near the tips with both sticks pointing towards the floor. Realizing the Key’ari had an advantage with the longer sword, Angelo issued a thought, and his blade snapped into the longer tachi form. The Key’ari pressed up on his blade as Angelo pulled up on his. They walked slowly around the center of the room. Only their eyes engaged each other. The Key’ari was a young man, not much older than Francisco but with dark eyes, hatred-filled. Not likely from Southeast Asia, but from the north, from Miyuki’s region, having a more refined nose, almond shaped eyes, and longer face.

  This will take too long. We may be evenly matched. He may not be a master of Avar-Tek, but he has mastered the tachi. I can’t use gravity. Francisco is below me. He and everything with him will be pulled if I do, but I must end this quickly or Miyuki—

  The Key’ari slipped his stun-stick off Angelo’s and in the split-second it took Angelo to recover, the enemy’s stick slipped behind Angelo’s hilt. Angelo had to either release his stun-tachi or allow the enemy’s blade to slide down and touch his hand. If he did, Angelo would wake up minutes later to find Miyuki unconscious and Francisco dead or gone.

  Angelo let go.

  The Key’ari must have expected more resistance because it knocked him off balance, and Angelo—in the same move the Key’ari applied to the cook—grabbed the Key’ari’s wrist with one hand and locked his elbow with the other. The Key’ari dropped his stun-tachi before it could twist and touch him, swung his right leg forward and came down and around Angelo’s legs.

  Angelo fell on his back. The impact winded him. He stared up at the Key’ari who sat on him and pressed his forearm against his throat. Angelo couldn’t breathe. He won't kill me, but my consciousness is fading. Even though it might throw Francisco and his friend around down in the cellar, Angelo tried pinching and twisting space-time to focus gravity. With his mind slipping, he couldn’t calculate the right location to focus. Even his froneesis implant couldn’t help.

  Suddenly, gravity pulled them both up to the ceiling at an oblique angle. They hit the plaster-covered wood with a crackling thud and slid into a corner. The Key’ari, who was now on the bottom with Angelo on top, shifted his hands so that they wrapped around Angelo’s throat. He squeezed fiercely. “Changing direction won’t work on me,” he said.

  Angelo felt his face redden, his lips swell, and his vision darken around the edges, but he managed to say, “Not pulling you.” He heard the rough grating sound of the table sliding along the ceiling toward their corner. With it, kitchen debris, unconscious kitchen slaves, and the still-bleeding cook slid toward them.

  The Key'ari looked over in time to see his own stun-tachi slide and hit his face. His hands released, and Angelo gasped. His mind cleared, and he mentally pinched and balanced gravity so it pulled with the slightest nudge down. The table, the unconscious Key’ari, and everything else in the kitchen drifted toward the floor as if they were made of feathers. Angelo rubbed his sore neck with one hand and plucked the Key’ari’s stun-tachi from the air with the other.

 
He closed his eyes and referenced Miyuki’s vitals with his oc-lok. Her heart rate and respiration were elevated but not critical, and she was conscious.

  He could spare only seconds to heal the cook. He had to ensure Francisco’s safety.

  Chapter 51

  Francisco

  Fez, North Africa

  Summer, Year of our Lord 1212

  FRANCISCO LANDED ON A BUNCH OF DATES, crushing his morning’s work. Whatever caused the house to turn end on end threw him, the dates, olives, poles, and trays up to the ceiling and then they floated down again. Francisco almost vomited. Sébastien let go of the pillar just as Angelo came rushing down the pantry stairs.

  Angelo helped Francisco to his feet. “Are you safe?”

  “Safe? No! The whole house just tumbled down a cliff!”

  Angelo shrugged and said, “I had no choice, but are you injured?”

  “You mean other than beaten and bruised?”

  “Here.” Angelo held out Francisco’s healing stone.

  Francisco gasped. “You had it the whole time?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Angelo said. He turned back to the stairs, held his hands out at arm’s length and clapped. The stairwell collapsed, the earthen walls fell onto it with a rumbling and a gust of dust. He turned and pointed to Francisco. “Stay here.”

  “But—”

  A glaring look from Angelo shut Francisco’s mouth. Angelo ran up the steps that led outside.

  Francisco looked at the healing stone. It didn’t seem like there were any hungry marks on it. He rubbed it with his fingers. No indentations. Trying to avoid slipping on dates and olives, he stepped closer to the outside stairs to get better light and heard fighting outside. I should be out there helping. I know how to handle myself in war and now I have my healing stone back. He felt the familiar tingling sensation on his back and cheek. He looked down at the stone. No hungry marks. Angelo had it. This whole time he had it. He stretched his back and felt his cheek. Healed already.