Second Chronicles of Illumination

Home > Fantasy > Second Chronicles of Illumination > Page 10
Second Chronicles of Illumination Page 10

by C. A. Pack


  Members of the Inner Circle grew disturbed when they heard about the defeat of their plan, but remained hopeful that a hostage would aid their negotiations with the College of Overseers.

  *

  Troops on other realms reported similar outcomes. Soldiers found themselves suddenly immobilized by force fields. A warrior in the Numericon library switched on his weapon’s Omicron Key and was vaporized when he fired at Pi, curator of the Tenth Realm. The few Terrorian troopers who managed to retreat all had similar tales to tell.

  *

  Jackson quickly recuperated from the second earsplitting blast, and reached the cupola in time to see Johanna recover from the effects of the Terrorian weapons. He helped her off the ground and slipped his arms around her, glad to see she was okay.

  She pushed him away. “I’ve got to save Plato Indelicat,” she screamed, and disappeared back through the portal.

  His mouth hung open—just for a moment. He leaned over the cupola railing and yelled to the crowd below: “Tonight’s demonstration has been canceled due to unforeseen technical difficulties. Please exit in an orderly fashion.” Then he jumped through the portal.

  *

  On Terroria, Johanna’s footsteps pounded down the cupola stairs. Jackson followed as fast as he could, often taking two steps at a time to catch up to her. He saw her run into a utility closet and reemerge with a weapon.

  “You can’t shoot that,” he said. “You’ll end up caught in a force field.”

  Johanna studied the gun. “Did the overseers do anything strange before the Terrorians arrived?”

  “Yeah. They stuck a bunch of shiny white papers on the walls by the portals, but they had nothing on them. You couldn’t even see them.”

  “That high-pitched tone ... did you hear that when Nero 51 grabbed you outside his residence and put you in a force field?”

  Jackson shook his head. “No.”

  “Okay. I’m thinking those shiny white papers had something to do with the way the guns backfired. But I’m also thinking the overseers wouldn’t have bothered sticking them here on Terroria, where they might have been discovered. So this weapon is probably going to work just the way we expect it to.”

  “If you say so. Do you think the overseer is here? I don’t hear anyone.”

  Johanna ran to a window and looked over at Building 7. “No, but I bet I know where they took him. Follow me.”

  The two of them ran into the street, but immediately retreated, coughing and gagging. “What is that smell?” Jackson moaned.

  “I don’t know. I never strayed outside of the library. I only know that every time the Terrorians entered, they’d turn on a blower that makes a real racket. That’s how I knew when Nero 51 was in residence.”

  “Is there some kind of secret passageway to the building you want to go to?”

  “Nope. We’ve got to go out there, but it’s just across the courtyard. We can hold our breath that long.”

  “Right. We deplete our oxygen supply while we run into a building that’s full of armed Terrorians, with a weapon that may backfire.”

  She nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  They both took a deep breath and headed out.

  *

  Selium Sorium made sure everyone who had attended Jackson’s presentation left the building safely. The president of the board of directors babbled about being attacked by some “armed monstrosity,” but the overseer convinced everyone that the man had hit his head when he fell. He encouraged the president’s wife to have her husband checked for a concussion.

  Finally alone, the overseer closed his eyes to commune with his brethren. Ten of his colleagues gave positive reports on the worlds they observed; however, they now knew Plato Indelicat had been taken hostage.

  ΩThat is a setback.

  The overseers possessed supernatural powers that enabled them to communicate, transport themselves, and alter the perception of their appearance. They had also undergone a special longevicus ritual to extend their lives a thousandfold. As the guardians of all knowledge, they relied on those gifts to maintain their existence. However, the overseers were not immortal. The Original Thirteen, save one, had passed on. Overseers could be fatally injured, and Plato Indelicat would have to use his wits wisely to continue his state of being.

  *

  Johanna and Jackson heard the pandemonium erupting inside Building 7 before they even reached the door. They hid in the shadows as someone exited, and saw a cloakroom just inside the vestibule. A diminutive Terrorian, possibly a woman or a child, appeared to be in charge of it. The discussion in the main hall became more and more heated, and the tiny Terrorian got up and joined the crowd to get a better look.

  “Come on.” Johanna pulled Jackson inside the grimy cloakroom.

  “It smells almost as bad in here as it does outside,” he whispered.

  “Yeah. This is what Terrorians smell like. And if we smell like them, they may not notice us.” She grabbed a cloak from the corner and threw it over her shoulders, covering the weapon. She pulled the hood over her hair and tugged it down to conceal her face.

  Jackson did the same. “There are no arm holes.”

  “Look again. There are four on each side—they’re just smaller—for tentacles.”

  The teens moved out of the coatroom but stayed in the shadows near the door. Most of the Terrorians, by contrast, pushed forward to get right into the middle of the discussion.

  “Did you learn any more Terrorian here?” Jackson whispered.

  “No. Plato Indelicat performed a translation enchantment so I would be able to understand the Terrorians when they ordered me around.”

  “So everything was in English?”

  “Everything except the passphrase to get into the residence.”

  “Did you figure it out?”

  “Lucky for me, someone taught it to me before I started my sentence.”

  “Who did that?” he asked, amazed.

  “You.”

  The roar of the crowd increased, and a pair of Terrorian soldiers marched Plato Indelicat to the front of the room.

  Jackson leaned toward Johanna. “It sounds like a freakin’ cricket convention.”

  “I wish we knew what they were saying.” She stared at Plato Indelicat, trying to read his face. A moment later, an English translation enchantment took effect.

  “What did you do?” Jackson whispered.

  “He knows we’re here. He must have read our thoughts.”

  *

  Many of the younger Terrorians called for Plato Indelicat’s execution. Older residents claimed they needed him as a hostage to use as a bargaining chip. With Plato Indelicat incarcerated on Terroria, the possibility that they could exchange the overseer for the troops who remained immobilized in force fields on distant worlds still existed. But more importantly, the portals might remain open, keeping the hope of a future victory alive.

  A Terrorian soldier interrogated the overseer about why their weapons had backfired. Plato Indelicat did not answer his questions. A nearby soldier picked up a weapon and swung it at the overseer. He swung high, and the weapon knocked Plato Indelicat’s hat off his head.

  The overseer suddenly grew agitated, and struggled to pull away from the soldiers who held him in place, but they kept a firm grip on him. Another soldier stuck his weapon inside the hat and raised it above his head—a symbol of their small victory in capturing the overseer. The crowd cheered, barely noticing that Plato Indelicat had started to wither.

  Johanna turned to Jackson. “We’ve got to do something before the Terrorians tear him to pieces.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know, but we’d better act soon.”

  Someone shouted a command from the center of the crowd. “We must take him to Nero 51. He’ll know what do.”

  “Where is Nero 51?” a soldier asked.

  “Planning our future path to victory in the Library of Illumination. We mu
st take the prisoner to the library.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Johanna said. “We’ve got a better chance of saving Plato Indelicat in the library than we do here.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “We know the lay of the land. They’ll be afraid to shoot their guns in there. And the portals are nearby.”

  “So all we’ve got to do is run up five noisy flights of ancient stairs with an old man in tow? Piece of cake.”

  They slipped out of Building 7 with the crowd and made their way to the library. Inside, Johanna grabbed Jackson and dragged him into the corner of the stone stairwell.

  “We’ll be safer in here,” she whispered.

  On the other side of the wall, the mob got restless when Nero 51 did not answer the bell they used to summon him.

  “The box,” a member of the Inner Circle said. “Where is the box he gave us?”

  Another member held it up. “I have it right here.”

  “Good. Press the button.”

  “Which one?”

  “Well, we weren’t completely victorious, so don’t press the white one.”

  “Do you think I should press the purple one for partial victory?”

  “Uhhh ... We haven’t really taken control of any of the libraries. The few troops who have returned—retreated.”

  “So you think I should press the red button?”

  “That would be the most accurate assessment of what has happened. He deserves to know that.”

  The Inner Circle member pressed the red button, and almost immediately Building 7 exploded, blowing out the windows on one side of the library and shaking the structure to its core. Stunned Terrorians squealed as they dove for cover.

  “Now!” Johanna said, and ran into the fray, grabbing Plato Indelicat and dragging him to the cupola steps.

  Jackson followed close behind her. They began running up the stairs, but the overseer’s robe, his advanced years, and his delicate condition slowed them down.

  “Can you carry him?” she asked. Jackson threw the overseer over his shoulder like a bag of laundry, and Johanna pushed him ahead of her. “Run,” she cried.

  *

  A red light blinked on sub-level 333. Nero 51 rose in a rage. What could his troops have done to lead to total defeat? He felt the subterranean cavity he had built shudder. Building 7 has been destroyed. It serves them right for ruining my plan.

  *

  The explosion stunned the Terrorians. Some were knocked unconscious by the percussion, but a few raised their heads in time to see aliens grab the overseer and drag him away. Many Terrorians felt defeated and did not rush to pursue the interlopers, but a few seized the moment, believing the aliens had bombed Building 7 and were now escaping with Terroria’s hostage. They clambered up the stairs, their fat, flat feet slapping the metal treads.

  *

  Jackson was strong, but rushing up five flights of narrow, spiral stairs carrying a man over his shoulder took its toll. He could feel the Terrorian pursuers. Their added weight on the staircase made it shudder. He hoped that whatever held the stairway in place had been designed to withstand the weight load.

  “They’re gaining on us,” Johanna shouted. “Can you go any faster?”

  “No.” He knew it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but he had to tell her the truth.

  “Here goes nothing,” she said, as she turned and raised the Terrorian weapon to her shoulder. She barely had time to aim before she pulled the trigger. A force field encased the closest Terrorian, blocking the ones who followed. She turned and ran, catching up to Jackson and Plato Indelicat at the portals.

  “Illuminate,” Jackson yelled.

  Nothing happened.

  Johanna echoed his command. “Illuminate!”

  The portals remained closed.

  “Plato,” she cried. The overseer was unconscious. She gently tapped his cheek. “Please, Plato, you’ve got to help us. How do we open the portals?”

  The overseer’s eyes fluttered. He mumbled something difficult to understand.

  “What is he saying?”

  Johanna looked confused. “I think he said, ‘The key is in the might.’”

  “What does that mean?” Jackson asked.

  “I don’t know, but I hear them coming up the stairs, so they must have gotten around the soldier I shot.

  “Please, Plato,” she begged. “There must be a word that will open the portals.”

  He looked at her through clouded, gray eyes.

  ΩTotalis illuminatio.

  Instantly, they transported to their own world, where Selium Sorium met them.

  ◍Totalis tenebris.

  The portals slammed shut.

  “We saved him,” she cried triumphantly.

  ◍He will be laid to rest with those who have come before.

  “What are you talking about?” Jackson gently placed Plato Indelicat on the floor.

  ◍He is no more.

  “You mean, he’s dead? He can’t be dead. We saved him,” Jackson stated.

  Johanna’s face clouded over. “How could he die?”

  ◍We are grateful that his body has been returned to us. You have provided a great service, Johanna Charette. And you, Jackson Roth.

  “How can you say that? Why don’t you help him?” She suddenly felt empty inside.

  ◍You have provided us with information about Terrorian arms and confirmed violations against the Library of Illumination through the illegal trade of precious artifacts.

  Jackson looked around at the Terrorians still suspended behind force fields. “What about them?”

  ◍They will be taken to Lumina for trial.

  “So the portals are still open?”

  ◍We have effectively sealed them for now.

  Johanna’s brow furrowed. “How will you get to Lumina?”

  ◍Like this.

  Selium Sorium, the body of Plato Indelicat, and more than a half dozen Terrorian soldiers disappeared.

  Johanna and Jackson looked around in astonishment, and then at each other.

  “It’s over,” Jackson said, as he wrapped her in his arms and gave her a bear hug. “It’s over,” he repeated, “and you’re home.”

  Tears streamed from her eyes, and she began to sob.

  “Don’t cry.” Jackson rubbed her back. “You helped avert a war. You did everything in your power to rescue an overseer. You survived! You should be overjoyed by your accomplishments. And then there’s your crowning achievement.”

  “What’s that?” She looked up at him.

  “I will never, ever again say, ‘I bet there’s something hidden behind this wall.’”

  She smiled, but she could not shake the sensation of doom she felt. The Terrorians had been planning an all-out war, and she didn’t think they would easily abandon their plan.

  *

  To the contrary, whatever Johanna and Jackson had unwittingly become embroiled in had just begun.

  LOI

  CHAPTER 11

  THE OVERSEERS

  “That’s the last of them,” Jackson said with finality, as he pushed a stack of books toward Johanna. “Once you’ve read these, you’ll know everything there is to know about the realm of Terroria. Although, why you want to become an expert on planet evil is beyond me.”

  Johanna shook her head. “That’s why I’m the curator of the Library of Illumination and you’re just my assistant.”

  “Hey, hey, hey, didn’t you hear what they said when we stood trial for breaching the portals? I’m a ‘curator-in-training.’ I’m the one waiting in the wings to pick up the pieces.”

  “Well then, you’d better read some of these, too,” she said as she pushed the pile of Terrorian history books she’d already read in his direction. “Then we’ll both be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  “I’m not sure.” She felt her nerve endings jitter. “But it never hurts to be prepared. You never know what can happen.”

  As if on c
ue, the middle of the venerable library began to wobble and shimmer, like the air that hovers above a hot roadway on a steamy summer day. Suddenly, a twenty-second-century time machine appeared. Johanna’s predecessor, Mal, had used the same vehicle to transport Casanova back to eighteenth-century Venice after the legendary lover suddenly popped out of a book in the library and stayed. Mal smiled as he stepped out. His appearance had changed dramatically in the short weeks since Johanna and Jackson had last seen him.

  “Are you growing a beard?” Johanna walked to her mentor and gave him a hug. Mal had been in charge of the library for nearly four hundred years, and had only relinquished his stewardship after he personally trained Johanna to deal with the intrusions, oddities, and aftermaths of living literature.

  Mal stroked his face and smiled. “It itched a little at first, but I’m getting used to it now.”

  “It makes you look older,” she observed.

  “Yeah,” Jackson said. “You used to look four hundred and thirty years old, and now you look four hundred and thirty-one.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Johanna placed her arm protectively around Mal’s shoulder. “You don’t look a day over eighty.”

  Mal smiled. “I come with sad news and happy news.”

  “I think the actual saying is, ‘I have some good news and some bad news,’” Jackson quipped.

  Mal drew in a long breath. “Sadly, we will say our final goodbyes to Plato Indelicat tomorrow. He’ll be enshrined following a celebration of his life and a memorial to his death. On a more positive note, his replacement will be inducted into the College of Overseers on the following afternoon.”

  “Will anyone ever be able to take his place?” Johanna wondered out loud.

  “Where do overseers come from anyway?” Jackson asked. “Is there a special place filled with them, like Overseers-R-Us? Do they have to supply their own hats? I know Plato Indelicat really lost his cool after the Terrorians knocked his pope hat off his head.”

 

‹ Prev