Orb hovered in front of the portal for several seconds, pulses of red coming faster and faster. Eventually, he rose up and drifted over the back side of the portal. There was no trace of his former Disciples, or the Cube receptacle. Lightning surged from Orb and the supports of the portal cracked and smoked before they were blown into thousands of pieces of blue/black debris. The shimmering curtain of the portal disappeared, and the only thing left was Orb, glowing a murderous shade of red as he hovered over the wreckage.
The End.
Dear Reader,
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Keep reading for a preview of the next chapter in Peter’s adventure in the Ascendancy Series, The Orb Book III!
Until next time,
Marshall
The Orb Book III
Ascendency Series
By Marshall Cobb
The first sensation that registered with the form previously known as Peter was one of floating. It was not the violent, fleeting sense of temporarily defeating gravity provided by a trampoline but was more like the sensation of being cradled on all sides, with no sense of contact with the ground.
A swirling sea of lights coursed over, and through, the loosely bound bits of Peter matter. The lights, a mix of yellows, oranges and shades of white, arced and raced over a backdrop of pure black.
Where am I?
The question hung in space as if written there, then slowly faded under the arcs of color.
There is no I here, replied a voice that joined the colors in enveloping and embracing, here there is only we.
The fabric of what had once been Peter, reacted to the voice by twisting and tugging against the lights. A vision of light on a distant surface in an otherwise dark, watery scene appeared among the palette of color. Bubbles of clear air rose slowly towards that surface but were swallowed whole in the gaping maw of a giant shark which thrust itself across the expanse.
The shark disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and was replaced by a vision of a small, old man with a giant mustache and an equally large grin beneath it.
You continue to surprise, Peter, said the man without any movement of his lips. Do not struggle. You are safe. We are all safe here.
A warm wave of calm passed through the particles of Peter, which had begun to reach out and form bonds between them. The sense of weightlessness slowly faded, and Peter felt something substantial below him.
Bartholomew? Or Malcomb?
Those forms are simply trappings. There is no difference between the two here, or anywhere.
Peter sensed that he was standing but lacked the ability to see what supported him.
Where is here? Where is Eli and the others?
We should probably take this in steps so that you can better understand. You are comfortable retaining the form you know as Peter for now, yes? Rest assured that this can be as temporary as you wish.
Peter again fought to see below him. The lights each took on darker tones as they engulfed him. Yes, I’m Peter! I want to be Peter!
Very well.
The colors vanished and the black background slowly faded into a lighter set of shadows as the sun poured dimly through large, stained glass windows. Several moments passed before Peter realized that he could feel his heart beating in his chest, and could feel the smooth, dry touch of the pew he sat on.
“I’m back in Real de Catorce?” he asked aloud.
“No,” said the form which looked like both Bartholomew and Malcolm, “but I thought it would be easier to have this discussion in a familiar place.”
“Bartholomew?” Peter asked as he stared at the figure seated across the aisle.
“If it pleases you, then, yes, please call me Bartholomew,” for effect he pulled at the end of his handlebar mustache.
“Where are the others, Bartholomew?”
“They are all around us, Peter. Do you wish for them to join you?”
Peter looked quickly around the church and saw no one. “Yes, I do.”
Bartholomew rose and walked into the aisle. “And what version of these forms do you wish to see?”
Peter’s expression made it clear that he had no idea, so Bartholomew continued, “By which I mean do you wish to see Matt and Irene in their enhanced forms which Orb created, or as they were previously?”
Peter thought back to Matt’s rippling muscles and Irene’s physical perfection.
“Before. I mean, please make them like they were before Orb.” A moment passed and he hurriedly added, “You can do that? Bring them back? Weren’t Matt and Irene…?”
“Deceased, at least in that form. Yes. But remember that nothing is ever truly gone. It just continues on in another form.” Bartholomew winked and there was a great clamor as Matt and Eli appeared on the pew behind Peter while Irene and Jenny now sat in the pew in front. The noise came from the fact that Eli and all their friends were looking at Peter as they asked—loudly—variations of the same questions he had already posed. Eli clambered over the back of Peter’s pew and delivered a hug so strong that Peter could not draw a breath. Jenny and Irene jumped up and ran the few steps around the end of their pew to throw their arms around Peter, and each other, Matt leapt over the top of the pew to land awkwardly on all of them in an impromptu dog-pile.
“Get off!” Peter gasped as he fought for air. “Can’t breathe!”
The hugging, and a fair amount of kissing, continued above and around him but Eli eventually released his grip and the group slowly disentangled itself. Eli ended up sitting on Peter’s right, holding hands with Jenny, who stood in the aisle close to Bartholomew. Irene, no longer a goddess but still quite cute in a gangly way, sat on Matt’s lap and grabbed Peter’s hand. Matt, no longer the strong man, shifted uncomfortably under Irene’s weight.
“I’m not dead?” Matt asked incredulously.
Irene punched him playfully with her free hand. “You mean we’re not dead, right?”
Peter looked over to Bartholomew, who sighed as if to say that he did not care to go through the entire explanation again.
“Yes. We’re all here. No one is dead, I think,” Peter looked over to Bartholomew, who nodded, then continued, “and Bartholomew was just about to tell us what is going on.”
“You’re not a supermodel anymore,” whispered Matt indelicately into Irene’s ear.
“Neither are you, big ears,” Irene whispered back, which made Matt reach up and grab his ears. He put his hand back down when he saw Bartholomew staring at him.
“Is that the Malcolm guy?” Matt whispered to Peter, who ignored him.
“Peter chose to return you in your original forms, Master Matt and Mistress Irene, so if you have complaints you should direct them to him.”
Irene opened her mouth as if to lodge a complaint, then caught herself and said, “Thank you, Peter.”
Matt followed suit by roughly tugging on Peter’s shoulder and adding, “Yeah, thank you. I’m sorry about… Well, I know I was a bit of a…”
“It’s ok,” Peter assured him. “the important thing is that you’re here.”
“And here is Real de Catorce? Again?” Jenny asked.
Peter shook his head and Bartholomew waded in. “Please let me explain. Due to Peter’s creative thinking, all of you managed to escape Orb and leave Earth.”
Matt leaned over and hissed at Peter, “You’ll have to tell me how exactly we did that since my last memory is of Orb ‘ending me in that form’ or whatever.”
Peter nodded and Bartholomew continued. “You are not in Real de Catorce. You are not on Earth. You are in what could best be described as a way station.”
A gentle murmuring went through the small crowd as they each tried to process what that meant.
“A way
station to what, Bartholomew?” Jenny asked. “Where do we go from here?” She slid into the pew next to Eli as she waited for an answer.
“An excellent question, Jenny. Your destination, and the forms you wish to utilize, are ultimately up to the former Orb Disciple who managed to swallow a Cube receptacle and deliver all of you here via a portal.”
Confused looks ran like water across the faces of Matt and Irene. “You ate a piece of Cube?” Irene asked.
“And you took us, our bodies, through one of the portals?” added Matt.
“Yes,” Peter responded, “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Did it taste like chicken?” Matt asked with a smile on his face, for which he received a poke in his side from Irene. He pushed her hand away and his face took on a more serious look.
“I thought time was fungible, or whatever, in here. Why don’t you just start at the beginning and catch everyone up?” asked Matt.
Bartholomew took a step closer. “Yes, time does not behave in a linear fashion a way station. There is, however, a limit to the elasticity of your components.”
A version of a confused expression crossed the faces of all the former disciples of Orb.
“What’s that now?” Eli asked.
Bartholomew shook his head. “I skipped too far ahead. Do not worry, I will attempt to answer all of your questions but, to Matt’s point, it is probably best to start at the beginning.”
Bartholomew held up his hand as if it supported a serving tray. Just above his hand hovered the small receptacle of Cube that Peter had swallowed. Peter grabbed at his stomach as he watched the receptacle, remembering all too well the strange feeling of having it inside him.
“So, it’s…out?” Peter finally asked.
“Yes, recall that the purpose of a portal is to break the bonds which bind a form together and allow the components to assemble in a new way. You were all similarly deconstructed.”
Peter shook his head, not understanding. “But the Cube receptacle was inside my body.”
“Peter, as Jenny suspected, the receptacles cannot be destroyed. Had you simply thrown this receptacle of Cube into the portal it would have automatically been placed in a new location on Earth under a new guardian of Orb. Because you ingested it and entered the portal with this receptacle inside you, the materials which comprise you, which were already endowed with significant powers by Orb, also now share gifts provided by Cube.
Peter looked back to Eli, who shook his head. He looked to Jenny, who stared thoughtfully at the figure they called Bartholomew but did not appear interested in speaking.
“I think the credit should go to Jenny,” Peter said softly, still staring at her.
Bartholomew smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “I could say that no one is keeping score but, of course, The Game is all about tracking winners and losers. Your humble nature is an attribute you should strive to keep, Peter. It suits you, and it serves you.”
Jenny allowed herself the smallest of grins. “I didn’t have any idea what would happen when we entered the portal. It was only a guess, and if Peter hadn’t swallowed the Cube receptacle as opposed to just holding it, none of us would be here.”
“True, your time in those particular forms would have ceased forever,” Bartholomew agreed.
Peter felt a lump in his throat that reminded him of the receptacle he had swallowed. “It was just dumb luck then?”
“Luck is real but is often most associated with those who are the best prepared.”
“Now he’s just quoting motivational posters,” Matt grumbled.
“I had one other idea that I didn’t try,” volunteered Peter. “Bartholomew, what would have happened if I had tried to teleport all of us back in time?”
“To your farm before Orb’s arrival, for example? The idea being that you never went to the riverbed and never retrieved the Orb receptacle?”
Peter nodded.
“That solution has been attempted in various rounds of The Game by Disciples of both sides. It’s good that you did not act upon that impulse as the teleportation powers Orb conveyed for your travels on Earth work solely for a change in where, not when.”
Peter blinked, opened his mouth to say something and, finding nothing useful to say, closed it.
“So, what would have happened to us?” asked Irene.
“Had you attempted to go backwards in time, you would have erased the reality that you had collectively experienced and been lost within the void. After a period adrift you would have entered a portal within the void.”
Peter swallowed loudly. He had not spoken to the others about that potential solution and was now very glad that he had resisted the temptation to try it.
“So, time is linear?” Jenny asked.
“No. To paraphrase your scientist, Albert Einstein, the separation between past, present, and future is only an illusion—but it’s a convincing one. That aside, the rules of The Game expressly forbid time travel for an obvious reason—The Game requires winners and losers, and time travel is too large of a loophole. Participants cannot be allowed to simply erase the past.”
A thoughtful look crossed Jenny’s face, while Peter and the others just looked confused.
“I’ve always liked that Einstein quote,” Jenny confessed, then added, “so you’re saying that, at least within The Game, time is linear, not relative, but in reality, outside the rules of The Game, time is relative?”
Bartholomew nodded. Matt groaned and said, “What? I don’t get it.”
All the others, minus Jenny, mumbled a variation of that thought.
Bartholomew smiled. “Some knowledge is better gained through personal experience, not a lecture. I have no doubt that these answers will come to each of you in due time. For now, however, all of you need to think about your next steps.”
Eli, uncharacteristically quiet throughout this discussion, eyed the floating receptacle of Cube and said, “You mean we have to decide whether or not to take this receptacle back to Earth?”
“Yes. You may stay here indefinitely. Time on Earth will move while you are here, though what you perceive as a day in this way station is perhaps a few seconds there. The competition between Orb and Cube for control of your planet however, is over as long as Cube’s receptacle is here in the way station.”
“Because Cube can’t defeat Orb without all of his receptacles.”
“That’s right, Eli.”
Matt ran his fingers through his long hair. “But if we go back, Orb will just destroy us again.”
“Perhaps, Master Matthew, but you have more options than you are probably aware of.”
Matt frowned and shook his head. “I don’t mean to be rude Bartholomew, and please call me Matt, but can you please stop speaking like a fortune cookie and just tell us what we can do.”
The smile on Bartholomew’s face dissolved. “Yes, Matt. You can stay here and concede Earth to Orb. You can also return to Earth and attempt to overthrow Orb if you feel that a world governed by Cube is preferable.”
“That would be a short attempt,” Eli muttered.
“In your prior forms, yes, but you escaped Earth and now have the opportunity to reshape yourselves into any form you wish. As a bonus of sorts, you carry the powers already given by Orb as well as those provided by the Cube receptacle.”
“And how does that help us?” Matt asked.
Bartholomew walked slowly toward the altar. Rays of light passing through the stained-glass window shimmered and danced on his bald head. Bartholomew used a small stick to transfer the flame from a lit candle sitting atop the altar, to another unlit candle at its side. He blew out the flame lingering on the stick and placed it next to the candle, before again tugging gently on the end of his mustache.
“It helps because you can, if successful, pursue a third option: reshape your planet and its inhabitants after your own design, your own vision. You have the potential of winning The Game and freeing your planet.”
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About the Author
Marshall Cobb is the author of the Orb/Ascendency series. He has also penned the Will of The Hill series for middle-grade readers, and the Census series for adults looking for something in the thriller category. He continues to add irreverent stories to his blog. Most of these blog posts poke fun at his failings. There is ample material. You can subscribe to his newsletter here or go straight to his website for information and links to all of his novels and the blog archive. You can also follow him via the links below:
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