Second Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  Jackson returned a moment later and said, “Let’s take it outside.”

  “What good will that do?”

  “Apparently, that’s the only way to get reception.”

  She followed him downstairs and out to a paved courtyard behind the inn where some tables and chairs were set up.

  He pulled out a chair for her. “Look now.”

  She checked her phone and watched the little wheel turn as it searched for a signal. P-i-n-g. Emails began appearing in her inbox. “Humph.” It was more of a hum than a word.

  “Is a ‘yay’ in order?”

  She saw an email from the Wildlife Trust and smiled. “Maybe.” She opened it up. “They gave me a phone number to call. I hope it’s not too late. We need to go out there tomorrow.”

  She called the number and heard it connect. “Hi, this is Johanna Charette with the Library of—”

  “…leave your message after the tone. Beeeeeeeeeeeep.”

  “No!”

  Jackson stopped studying the rocks in the stone wall surrounding the courtyard. “What’s the matter?”

  “Answering machine.”

  “Did you leave a message?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you expect anyone to get back to you?”

  “Stop acting mature. I’m the adult here.”

  “What makes you the adult?”

  “I’m over eighteen.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in six months.”

  “Longevicus ritual. You’ll be eighteen in ten years and six months.”

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  She called the number again and left a message claiming they urgently needed permission to travel out to Skokholm Island the following day. She just managed to finish saying her phone number before she got cut off.

  “Feel better now?”

  “No. Maybe I’d better use Mal’s diary to ask him if there’s anything he can do from his end.”

  ★

  Mal, Ryden Simmdry, and Selium Sorium all stopped concentrating on defensive invasion tactics after Mal learned of Johanna’s problem.

  ⌘I believe I can help out. Please excuse me. Ryden Simmdry disappeared.

  Mere minutes later, the master of the overseers reappeared. ⌘It’s been taken care of. Tell Johanna a boat from the Island will pick her up tomorrow morning at ten at Martin’s Haven.

  Mal wrote the instructions in his diary. “I guess they’ll be on their way soon enough.”

  ⌘We can only hope.

  ◍Do you believe this is tied into a Terrorian scheme?

  ⌘We have no way of knowing, but we cannot take chances. Anything is possible.

  ★

  Johanna shared the news with Jackson when they sat down to dinner.

  “Really? Ryden Simmdry set it up himself? That’s pretty cool.”

  “We have to make sure we don’t miss that boat.”

  “The place where we’re supposed to meet it isn’t that far from here. I biked it today. It’s only a couple miles away. We can walk it in a half-hour.”

  “Okay. We’ll leave here tomorrow at 9:00 just in case. That should give us plenty of time.”

  “Do you think we should pack some food to take with us?”

  The corners of Johanna’s mouth lifted slightly. “You’re already worrying about lunch tomorrow?”

  “From what people say about the place, it doesn’t sound like there are any restaurants there.”

  “Fine, maybe the inn can rustle up some sandwiches and a couple of soft drinks to tide us over.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  ★

  The following morning they headed out to Martin’s Haven with a hearty lunch stashed safely in Jackson’s backpack. Johanna slowed as they walked past a field of wildflowers. “These are beautiful.” The purple and fuchsia blooms swayed in the breeze, and Johanna approached the field to get a closer look. A flutter of wings diverted her attention. At first, the curator drew back, startled, but then she stooped down. “Look. It’s an injured bird.”

  Jackson shrugged. “There’s not much we can do for it. We’ve got a boat to catch.”

  “Maybe they can care for it back at the inn. It’s only a couple of minutes away.” She carefully scooped up the bird and carried it back to the lodging with Jackson in her wake.

  The innkeeper agreed to take a look at the bird and do what he could to help it. Satisfied, Johanna and Jackson set out for Martin’s Haven again.

  Jackson took the lead. “I’m surprised you managed to do that without being bitten.”

  “I think it was too scared, or too hurt, to bite me.”

  “Maybe it thinks you’re its mother.”

  She made a face at him, but didn’t say anything more.

  They arrived at the car park. Jackson led her to the steep cliff leading down to the boat landing. Johanna struggled to keep her balance while carefully making her way down the rocky surface.

  “Johanna!” Jackson pointed to a group of people boarding a small boat.

  Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. We shouldn’t have walked the bird back to the inn.

  Jackson ran for the boat shouting back, “I’ll tell them to wait for you.”

  Johanna hurried after him, but in her haste, slipped. A sharp stab of pain shot through her ankle as she lost her footing and tumbled to the bottom of the craggy path.

  LOI

  CHAPTER 26

  “Johanna.”

  Her eyes slowly opened. Jackson hovered above her and she felt a jolt of deja vu. “I just dreamt we missed the boat to Skokholm.”

  “You didn’t dream it,” he answered, “but that boat’s on its way to Skomer, so no problem. Are you okay?”

  “I think so.”

  He helped her sit up. “What happened? One minute we’re running for the boat. The next minute I returned to find you out cold on the ground.”

  “I slipped.” She winced when she tried to stand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She grimaced as she tried to put weight on her ankle. “It hurts … bad. I hope I didn’t break it.” She tried to balance as she brushed the dust from her clothing.

  “Maybe it’s just a sprain. Lean on me.” He supported her as she limped to the boat landing.

  “I wish I’d brought a scarf with me or something.”

  “You’re cold?”

  “No. I could have wrapped a scarf around my ankle to give it support.”

  “Wait.” Jackson dug through the pockets of his backpack until he found what he wanted. “Could you use this?” He handed her a roll of brightly colored tape.

  “Neon tape?”

  “Athletic tape. I injured my ankle in gym last year and I had to wear it whenever we played basketball. I stuck it in my backpack at the end of the year and forgot all about it.”

  “How convenient.”

  “It’s fate. Some oracle somewhere directed me to leave it in my bag until we needed it at this very moment.”

  “An oracle…”

  “They’re pretty smart at predicting things.”

  “And what does this oracle look like?”

  “I’ve never actually seen her, but I’m hoping she looks like Sansa Stark from Game of Thrones.”

  “Right.”

  He took the tape and bandaged her ankle. A small boat arrived as he pulled the hem of her jeans back in place. “Wait here.” He checked to make sure it was their boat before going back for Johanna.

  She winced as she walked.

  “Are you all right?” the boat captain asked.

  “Yeah. I just sprained it. It’s nothing.”

  “You’d better hope it’s nothing. Skokholm isn’t an easy place to get around if you’re injured.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Jackson got into the boat first and lifted her in.

  “Hold on,” the captain said as he throttled up, made a U-turn, and headed out to sea.

  Jackson put his arm around Johanna’s
shoulders.

  She nestled into him and tried to relax, but all she could think about was getting around the island on an injured ankle.

  ★

  Back on Dramatica, Furst and his infantry, armed with flaming arrows and one decimator, burst through the front door of the library. A band of Terrorians stood in a semi-circle with their weapons trained on the door. Some Dramaticans proved to have faster reflexes, but not all of them, and two were vaporized on sight. Furst, however, did not falter and managed to decimate two Terrorians. Others dropped their weapons as the flaming arrows ignited their skin. Furst continued on through the library, shooting everything that moved, and the Terrorians squealed when they saw one of their own weapons turned against them.

  Furst took a deep breath when he realized he stood alone in the library. He didn’t know if he had successfully eliminated all the invaders or if they now hid among the few stacks they’d failed to destroy. He carefully backed out of the library, his corkscrew curls tightening as each new bit of devastation came to light.

  He knocked into an antique globe of Dramatica. He believed it to be the most detailed and beautifully illustrated rendering of the entire realm—and his most cherished prize in the library. It clattered to the ground and in less than a moment, a flash of light removed it from existence. Furst quickly returned fire, and the only remnant of the offending Terrorian was the smell of his oily residue.

  Another blast of light just missed the curator, taking out a bookshelf. Furst propelled himself into the air, firing down on the alien invader before landing near the front door. He returned to the courtyard and moved everyone back behind a fountain that sat in the center of the square.

  Torran descended on Furst like a tanker. “Gone, are they?”

  “Of knowing, I have no way.”

  “Are there, how many?”

  “Know, I do not.”

  Torran raised his voice. “Kill any of them, did you?”

  Torran stood a foot taller than Furst, but the curator hopped up on the edge of the fountain and looked down on the statesman. “Go in and see for yourself, why don’t you.”

  “I will.” Torran gestured toward some of the men still holding crossbows. “With me, come.”

  The men looked to Furst for guidance, but the curator only stared at Torran.

  “Now!” Torran demanded, and the men grudgingly followed.

  Furst closed his eyes for a moment of calm, before hopping off the wall and following them inside.

  ★

  Pru Tellerence tucked Izabella into Johanna’s bed for a nap and sang her to sleep. Afterward, the dean decided not to return to the main reading room where Ryden Simmdry, Selium Sorium and Mal discussed anti-invasion tactics. Instead, she sat on an overstuffed chair in Johanna’s living room and put her feet up. Overseers rarely needed to sleep, but the previous day had been exhausting and her mental faculties needed recharging. ★Let the others handle the Terrorians. She’d plan how to proceed with the child, now that she was stranded on Fantasia. Only the curator could open the vault in his or her library, and not even overseers could override that protection, which had been in place for thousands of years. Without her miter, Pru Tellerence could not leave Fantasia. Of course, Ryden Simmdry or Selium Sorium could escort her back, but then she would be stranded wherever they escorted her to. She needed her miter, and if she had to wait for Johanna to return, that’s what she would do. Besides, it gave her time to think.

  ★

  Skokholm Island grew larger as the boat neared, and Johanna wondered how she’d ever survive the climb from the landing to the top of the bluff. The closer she got, the more difficult it looked.

  Finally, the boat pulled in and the captain jumped out. He offered to give them a hand. Jackson stood first and got off. Johanna tried to stand, but by then, her ankle had swollen and she couldn’t put any pressure on it at all. She grimaced.

  “Could you grab her under the arm,” Jackson asked the captain as he reached under her other arm. Together, they pulled her up and out of the boat.

  Once again, she tried to put pressure on her ankle and winced.

  “How far is it to the lighthouse?” Jackson asked.

  “About a mile. It’s a long way for her to go just to get a few pictures of the lighthouse.”

  “We’re here for more than pictures,” Jackson said. “We’re here to find magicians.”

  The captain stared at them for several seconds. His face lost all traces of friendliness. “Whatever gave you the idea you’d find magicians at a bird observatory?”

  Johanna could see the change in his demeanor. She smiled. “I’m a writer and I’m writing a story about a wizard who gets marooned on the island and has to re-build his life—kind of like Harry Potter meets Robinson Crusoe. Are you familiar with them?”

  The captain shook his head and turned his attention to a small vehicle slowly approaching the dock. He jumped back in the boat and pulled back a canvas tarp. Beneath it lay several crates of supplies.

  The driver pulled as close to the boat as possible and then walked down to the landing to receive the goods. “Good morning, Alwyn.”

  “Dylan,” the captain acknowledged as he handed over the first carton.

  Jackson stuck his arms out. “I’ll take one of those for him.”

  Johanna eyed her co-curator warily. “What about me?”

  “I’ll be back for you. You can stand there for a minute. Just balance on one leg. Like a flamingo.” He carried the second crate of supplies and got a good look at the vehicle. “It’s got two seats.”

  “The dumper truck? We use it for hauling supplies.”

  “I’m glad to see it has two seats. My friend sprained her ankle and I thought you could take her to the lighthouse. She’s, uh, researching a book. And I don’t think she could walk there on her own.”

  “Sorry. I don’t know if that’s possible. I’ve got a lot of work to do here.”

  “Wait. Maybe we could rent it? Just for a couple of hours …”

  Dylan shook his head. “This isn’t a great place for someone with a sprained ankle. The ground isn’t completely level and there are some wicked slopes where you can roll right off the bluff and crash into the sea below.

  Jackson smiled. “We’ll be very careful.” He picked up another crate from the boat and carried it up the incline.

  “Why’d she even come here if she’s injured?” Dylan asked.

  “She just sprained it rushing down the path at Martin’s Haven. We thought we were going to miss the boat.”

  “I’ll ask about renting you the dumper truck. It’s not like you could steal it. You’d never get it off the island.”

  “Umm…dee-ulch?”

  “Diolch—it’s pronounced dee-oalk.”

  “Diolch, then,” Jackson said with a curt nod, before returning to Johanna.

  “What was that all about?” she asked when he returned. The boat had left and she was all by herself, pulling back from the spray of the waves as they broke against the landing.”

  “They’ve got a kind of golf cart-dump truck. I asked if we could rent it.”

  “We don’t have a lot of money on us.”

  “Didn’t you bring the credit card?”

  “Who knows if they’d take credit cards here.”

  “I’ve got a couple hundred dollars, just in case.”

  “That’s if they even let us use it.”

  “Have a little faith.” He grabbed her waist. “Put you arm around my shoulder and make like a bunny.”

  Johanna used Jackson like a crutch as she slowly hopped up the incline. Once she reached the flat section at the top, she stopped to look around. “It’s beautiful, but there’s not much here.” They followed the path and Johanna kept hopping until they reached an old stone structure. It was built into a slope and Johanna leaned against it to rest.

  Jackson inspected the rocks. He bent down and peered into the opening. “Aye!” he screamed and jumped back. A snake slithered out.


  Johanna didn’t care for snakes, but couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It’s not funny.”

  The sound of an engine stopped her from replying. It was Dylan on the dumper truck.

  “The consensus is we let you use it in return for a donation to the tick jar.”

  “You want us to donate ticks?”

  “It’s a jar we make donations to every time we see a bird we haven’t seen before. A monetary donation would cover the cost of the petrol in the dumper truck and help us with repairs around the island.”

  Johanna took out two fifty-pound bank notes. “Will this do as a donation?”

  “That will do quite nicely,” Dylan replied. He pocketed the money before giving them a crash course in the operation of the dumper truck and a warning to stay on the road to the lighthouse.

  “Diolch,” Jackson said with a smile and helped Johanna take a seat. “I’ll drive.”

  They slowly made their way past fields awash with flowers and shrubbery. When they got to the lighthouse, they found a warden waiting for them.

  “Which one of you is the writer?”

  “I am,” Johanna answered as she took in the lighthouse and the view beyond. “It’s really quite breathtaking.”

  The warden grinned. “We like it. So what do you need to know exactly?”

  “Uhhh …” Johanna didn’t know exactly how to proceed.

  “She’s writing a book about a wizard who’s like Robinson Crusoe …”

  Johanna shook her head. “No. It’s not like that at all.”

  Jackson stared at her, not sure where she would take the conversation.

  Johanna reached into her backpack and removed the wrapping Myrddin’s memoir had been delivered in. She handed it to the warden. “We received a very special book from this address, and we’re looking for the sender.”

  “Well it certainly says Skokholm Lighthouse, but I can assure you no one here sent it.”

  “Let me see that.” Before Johanna had a chance to say no, a hand reached out and snatched the wrapper.

  ★

  Torran howled as he became encased in a force field.

  A few of the Dramaticans who had followed him fled, but others trained their crossbows on the Terrorian soldiers that remained. One was vaporized while another was locked in a separate force field. Torran’s bellowing could probably be heard outside, and it took all of Furst’s restraint not to obliterate his countryman forever with a pull of the trigger.