Second Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

◍We rarely use our gifts to time travel. I don’t think I ever have, even though I’m aware it’s possible. There is always the fear that we will turn what is into something that should never be.

  ⌘The Terrorians have already done that. We must take the risk. I feel it is our job to mitigate the damages by taking away the Terrorian advantage.

  ◍How will we replicate these weapons?

  ⌘Artemus Rexana, please take some of these firearms to Fridi and help them analyze and reproduce them in very large numbers. I’m sure everyone in the College of Overseers would agree that we should compensate the Fridians handsomely for this work.

  ΩIs this the best solution to the problem? Maybe the Terrorians told the truth when they blamed the incursion on a few rabble-rousers.

  ⌘Then they should be just as happy as the other realms to be warned about the threat in advance—if there are any rabble-rousers other than Nero 51. If the majority of Terrorians are innocent, this plan should help them avert a coup.

  Artemus Rexana picked up an armful of weapons. ∑I will make sure our plan is embarked upon immediately.

  ★If we are done here, I must get back to Fantasia.

  ⌘I believe your work there is done. You were, after all, only sent to escort Johanna Charette and Jackson Roth back to their home world. Now that you have your miter back, I can’t see any further reason for you to return. Until this problem with the Terrorians is settled, your place is here, on Lumina.

  ★

  The Rodo twins nodded in unison when Furst showed them the rock and said they could find it among the stones in the Baerfeng riverbed. “Seen it, I have,” Rilli Rodo said.

  “Find it, I will,” Roxo Rodo added.

  Rilli punched Roxo. “Beat you, I will.” The two rushed out the door as they made their way to the river.

  Berra entered. “Knocked me over, they almost did. To Baerfeng, are they going?

  “Yes,” Furst answered.

  Berra spotted the chunk of zalor on the circulation desk. Furst followed the older Dramatican’s gaze and they both reached for the rock at the same time. The zalor fell on the floor and a small piece—almost like a slice—chipped off. “Perfect,” Berra announced as he grabbed the sliver. “Use this, I will.”

  Furst cradled the remaining rock in his hand. He considered it a precious resource of the library and as curator, it was his job to protect it. He bristled when he thought about Berra taking a piece, but he knew it was for the good of the library and his countrymen, and he struggled to accept its loss.

  ★

  After a thorough search of the main floor, Jackson ran up the cupola stairs, just to make sure Izabella wasn’t up there. He returned ten minutes later and shook his head.

  “Did anyone check the residence?” Mal asked. “That’s where Bel has spent the most time.”

  They all trudged up the curator’s stairs en masse. “I’ll look around out here,” Jackson said, “while you check inside.” They split up and worked their way through the rooms without success. They met up with Jackson in the living room. “Anything?”

  Johanna shook her head. “Could Pru Tellerence have taken her?”

  “Where did Pru Tellerence go, anyway?” Jackson asked.

  “It’s not like her to leave the way she did,” Mal said.

  Jackson’s head jerked up. “You don’t think the temporal rift got them?”

  Mal didn’t say anything for a moment. “She may have been summoned by the College of Overseers.”

  “But she wouldn’t have taken Bel with her.” Johanna sat down on the couch and grabbed a pillow to hug. “That’s the reason why we asked Jackson’s mom to come over in the first place.”

  Jackson’s younger sister spoke for the first time since arriving. “Maybe she went outside.”

  “I don’t know how she could have,” Johanna said.

  “We’d better look anyway. Chris, Ava, come with me. We’re looking for a scared little three-year-old with blond wavy hair and no adult supervision,” Jackson explained as they left the residence. “Did I mention she doesn’t speak English?”

  Johanna, Mal and Mrs. Roth waited in silence for them to return. After several minutes, Johanna stood up. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m going to search downstairs again.”

  Mal looked at Mrs. Roth who nodded. “We’ll go with you,” he said. They headed to the main floor of the library to search again.

  ★

  Nero 51 tensed, as if ready to launch his own attack. How dare General Lethro 814 assume that smug attitude with me? He’s merely a pawn in a game played by masters. I’ll put him in his place, but later, after he has served a purpose.

  The general sent out his minions to locate the troops who had invaded the other realm. Of the original twenty-four deployed, only ten had survived and their tales of ‘jumping fire shooters’ were enough to make anyone think twice before returning to Dramatica.

  The survivors were called to the library to testify before Nero 51 and the general.

  “You told us we would be facing weak little children,” one soldier lamented. “There were no kiddlets there, just ugly red beasties firing flames in all directions. They didn’t need us to destroy their books, for they surely held no reticence about burning them, themselves.”

  “I am familiar with the beings you engaged in battle. They are Dramaticans—much smaller than we are in stature and with only two arms rather than eight tentacles. They are a rudimentary civilization with crude weaponry and slow minds.” The curator drew himself up to his full height and towered over the soldier, who remained seated. “Your lack of effectiveness in performing your duty disgusts me.” He took a step back and looked at each survivor. “You’re lucky I don’t send you before an execution squad. But you may still be of use. Tell me, what weaknesses did you see?”

  “They had no weaknesses. Rather than grow terrified and fear for their lives, they fought with more ferocity every time we killed one of them. They should have quaked in fear. Instead they propelled themselves to great heights in an instant and rained their fiery revenge upon us. The others were not killed by their crude weapons, but by the flames they harnessed. Our comrades burned to death.”

  Nero 51 tapped his tentacles together as he thought. Before they ventured into battle against Dramatica again, they would need to develop a flame retardant covering or skin coat to protect them from burning to death before they could get the job done. “That was helpful. You will not be executed. He turned to the other soldiers. “What insights do you have to give about the battle? And in case it’s not perfectly clear, allow me to state, your right to live depends on the effectiveness of the information you give. So speak up, because stating something that’s already been said will not work in your favor. I will reward you with your lives—but only if you give me useful original information in return.”

  LOI

  CHAPTER 33

  Naimh Roth turned a corner expecting to find more books, but instead found a sumptuous apartment that looked much bigger inside than the space seemed to allow. She opened a door to a huge bedroom and walked around in awe, swiping her fingertips across the rich fabrics that adorned the bed and windows. Another door led to a marble bathroom half the size of her house. She looked around. No child here. She walked back into the living area and pulled back the curtains covering French doors. This is impossible. She walked out onto a balcony high above the street. Off in the distance stood the Eiffel Tower. I must be hallucinating.

  ★

  Johanna looked for Izabella in the bathrooms, coatroom and bindery while Mal systematically searched the main reading room and surrounding stacks.

  Johanna’s private office was tucked into the corner of the bindery. She left her office for last, but when she pushed on the door, she found it locked. “Bel, are you in there?” She placed her ear to the door and listened for sounds of the child playing. She heard something move and knocked again. “Bel?” Why is this door even locked? She rushed to retrieve her keys
from her backpack.

  “I think I may have found her,” she called out. “My office is locked, which it never is, and I think I heard someone inside.”

  ★

  Inside the locked office, Johanna’s counterpart froze. Someone was trying to get in. Who the heck is Bel? She hated not knowing why she had been locked inside in the first place. She removed the tiny diary from the chain around her neck and spoke as softly as she could. “Mal. Ryden Simmdry locked me in my office. Now, someone is trying to break in. What should I do?”

  ★

  Berra approached Furst in the square in front of the library. He carried a rough-looking replica of a decimator with him. “Ready for a test, it is,” the inventor said matter-of-factly.

  Furst cleared the area behind a barrel of refuse. He retreated twenty-five paces, took aim and fired.

  The Dramatican decimator was not as finely tuned as the Terrorian version. Instead of turning the barrel into dust, it sent chunks of it flying in all different directions. People nearby ducked for cover, then applauded after the flying splinters settled. For them, this weapon far exceeded the tactical advantage of a flaming arrow. The only one who didn’t look excited was Furst. “Messy, it is. Why?”

  “The ability to finely hone the zalor, we do not have,” Berra said. “Make a difference, it would. But a device to grind down the pieces, take time to build, it would. Take too long, it might. Make do for now, we must.”

  Furst nodded. He preferred a more precise instrument, like the Terrorian version. He didn’t care about the mess Berra’s weapon would create, as much as he cared about the pain that might be inflicted if a Terrorian seized it and used it on a Dramatican. Furst did not want to see his kinsmen splattered all over the street. The Terrorian-made weapon worked so quickly, there wasn’t time for pain or suffering. The Dramatican version would result in a lot of both. Still, the Terrorians were the ones who started the war, and the Dramaticans had to fight back with every weapon they could get their hands on.

  Berra studied Furst’s eyes. He laid his hand on the curator’s arm. “Worry, do not. The Rodo twins to help, I will ask. A planing device, they must create. Be done, it will.”

  “Good.” Furst nodded. The idea reassured him, if only slightly. “Very good.”

  ★

  A voice niggled at Mal’s memory. He couldn’t quite place it but it sounded like Johanna. It was hard to understand what she said. Suddenly, her voice sounded clear as a bell. He turned the corner to see her rummaging through her backpack behind the circulation desk.

  “What did you just say?” he asked.

  “I think Bel may be locked in my office.”

  The words ‘locked in my office’ resounded clearly in his head. That’s what I’m hearing.

  Johanna grabbed her keys and headed back. Mal followed her.

  Mrs. Roth had heard the tail end of their conversation and followed as well.

  ★

  Pru Tellerence stiffened, but only for a moment. The idea of being told not to return to Fantasia irritated her, but she kept her thoughts shielded. ★I promised to return the child Izabella to her mother. It will not take me long.

  ⌘The child is safe on Fantasia. It is best to leave her there for now, lest something unforeseen happens to her because of the temporal rift.

  She couldn’t fault Ryden Simmdry’s logic. It was the same reason why she had prepared to leave Bel on Fantasia in the first place. But now that the master overseer had unexpectedly intervened, she felt like she had abandoned the youngster. ★I’ll just go back and explain that I need to leave her there for a while.

  ⌘You need to go to Dramatica and assess their needs. That realm is your responsibility, and an entire realm is more important than a single child.

  Pru Tellerence’s shoulders sagged, but she drew them back to a position of confidence. ★Yes. Of course. I’ll leave for Dramatica immediately.

  ⌘Wait. He closed his eyes a second and murmured a few odd words before touching her shoulder. ⌘A small precaution—a protective charm. The Dramaticans are shooting foreigners on first sight. We wouldn’t want you turned to dust.

  ★Thank you. She saw him relax but couldn’t do the same. ★I’d better attend to them immediately.

  She stopped by her chamber first and retrieved an ancient book from a locked cabinet. She paged through it for several moments until she found what she wanted and committed it to memory.

  ★

  Jackson, Chris, and Ava entered the library just in time to see Mal and their mother head toward the bindery. “Where’s everybody going?” Jackson asked as the Roth siblings trailed their mother like ducklings.

  Inside the bindery, they gathered around Johanna and watched as she inserted a key in the door lock.

  Johanna pushed the door open and called out softly, “Bel?” Everyone else filed into her office behind her. They looked behind the door and under her desk and in blind corners.

  “She’s not here,” Jackson said.

  “I thought for sure I heard someone,” Johanna replied.

  Mal rubbed his beard.

  “Any ideas, Mal?” Jackson asked.

  “It’s odd, but I hear a far off voice inside my head saying ‘in the closet.’”

  “That’s the only place left,” Johanna said. She grabbed the doorknob and gave it a tug. It moved slightly, but felt like someone inside was hanging onto it to keep the door from opening. “Bel,” Johanna said. “It’s okay. It’s me and … Uncle Mal.” She tugged harder, but still met with resistance from the other side. “She’s a strong little thing.”

  Jackson nudged her aside. “Here, let me.” He pulled the knob with all his strength. The door flew open and Johanna’s three-week-younger self tumbled onto the floor.

  They all stared down at her, their mouths agape.

  ★

  Nero 51 walked into a packed room in Building 16. It was not as convenient a location as Building 7 had been, nor as well-equipped, but he’d blown up Building 7 after his troops failed to take over the libraries during their previous attempt. He saw General Lethro 814 standing off to the side, surrounded by a group of military and political leaders. By now, everyone in this gathering had heard that their latest assault had failed. He needed to regain their confidence and ensure he still had their support before he could continue. This was it. He needed to inspire them. He inhaled deeply.

  “My fellow Terrorians, as you well know, we are embarking on another extensive operation to take back our rightful place as the prime realm.

  “I commend those of you who worked so hard to remove our weapons from my residence and store them in a safer place. I knew the College of Overseers would come snooping around here, and that precaution assures me we still have the weapons necessary to complete our mission.

  “I have personally traveled through the portals to ascertain the damages and immediately recognized a scheme by the overseers to scramble the portals’ directions, so travelers never know where they will end up. It gave me insight into what we are up against, and it allowed me to study some of the other realms as they are today.”

  He watched as General Lethro 814 whispered to a soldier standing next to him.

  “We have seen our share of what lesser minds might construe as setbacks,” Nero 51 continued, “but every step we have taken thus far has provided us with intelligence and reconnaissance.” He raised his voice. “We are stronger because of them. We must now throw off our mantle of caution and attack the realms simultaneously as originally planned. Our previous battle only ended badly because of the overseers’ interference. Now that we know what to expect, our mission will not fail. Be reminded, we can use the time machine to pinpoint the best moment to invade.” He studied the faces in the crowd searching for signs of agreement before he continued. “But not right away. The eyes of the overseers are upon us. Outwardly, we must appear calm, but covertly, we will pursue our goals.” He spoke with more force. “We will train. We will strategize. We will prepare to the
ultimate of our abilities. And then, when their oversight wavers, we will attack!”

  The room erupted with a roar of appreciation and renewed vigor. Nero 51 stretched out his tentacles as far as they would go, as if to embrace the entire crowd. He nodded in acceptance of their enthusiasm. I have them firmly in my grasp. And then he gave them a strangled smile and allowed them to congratulate him on his vision for a new Terroria.

  ★

  Johanna got up and dusted herself off. She gave Jackson a playful shove. “Are you happy now? Ryden Simmdry told me not to let anyone in.”

  She looked around at the others, astonished to see Jackson’s family and Mal standing there. “What’s going on? What’s everybody doing here?”

  No one answered. “What are you all staring at?” she demanded. “Is there something spellbinding behind me?” She turned quickly and froze. Both Johannas crumpled to the floor as soon as their eyes locked.

  ★

  Multiple guns pelted Pru Tellerence the moment she appeared on Dramatica. She silently thanked Ryden Simmdry for casting a spell to protect her.

  “No! No!” Furst screamed.

  ★It’s all right, Furst. The master took precautions. She looked at the cavernous space. A lot of the debris had been cleared out. Only shelves lining some of the walls still stood, plus a couple near the cupola stairs. The others had been vaporized or destroyed by fire.

  “Much destruction, we have,” Furst said.

  ★The College of Overseers will make sure all is set right, as soon as the threat passes.

  “Still possible, is it?”

  ★I’m afraid so, although we’re doing all we can to stop it. According to Nero 51, some rebellious youth on Terroria took it upon themselves to launch the attack.

  “Well trained for rebellious youth, they were. Military precision, they had, and powerful weapons. Lying, I think Nero 51 is.”

  ★I’m told you now possess some of those weapons, with more being made.

  “Not as efficient, ours are. Much damage, they cause.”

  ★Don’t worry. We will do whatever we can to help. Is there anything you need right now?