Cracks in Reality (Seams in Reality Book 2)

by Siegel, Alex

  He looked at one of the big flat stones which formed the path leading to the temple. Chiseled words read, "One to one, sum to sum, triple and then you're done."

  "I don't get it," he said.

  She furrowed her brow as she stared at the clue. It was hard for him to look at her bruised, bloody face.

  A hissing noise made Andrew look up. Toothy snakes were coming out of the grass and slithering towards the apprentices.

  "You work on the puzzle while I fight the snakes," he said.

  "OK," Charley said. "I think the first half describes the Fibonacci sequence."

  "Right! And then multiply by three."

  Andrew spotted a stick lying in the grass. He ran over, grabbed it, and started swinging at the snakes. They dodged and hissed.

  In the meantime, Charley went to the grid of panels. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pushing numbered squares.

  "Three... three... six... nine... fifteen..."

  "Hurry up!" Andrew said.

  More snakes were emerging from the grass. He limped back and forth with desperate energy and swung his stick wildly. His dislocated pinkie wasn't helping.

  "Twenty-four," Charley said. "Thirty-nine... uh."

  Andrew tried to perform arithmetic in his head while fighting snakes. "Sixty-three!" he cried.

  "Right!"

  She pushed a square. A rumbling noise made the ground vibrate as the massive door swung open.

  The apprentices ran inside the temple. Working together, they pushed the door closed and crushed a few snakes at the same time.

  Sulfurous smoke made Andrew cough, and the air inside the temple was uncomfortably warm. "Lava," he said.

  "That's good," Charley said. "Tonya always saves lava for last. One more puzzle, and then we're done."

  They limped into the depths of the temple. Torches lit walls made of solid gold blocks, and smoke covered the high ceiling. Andrew didn't let his guard down just because they were near the end. Concealed traps were always a possibility.

  Charley took a step, and the floor gave way beneath her feet. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She had almost fallen into a pit with rusty spikes at the bottom. A dusty skeleton was impaled on the spikes.

  "Thanks," she said. "That would've hurt. The skeleton is a nice touch."

  They side-stepped around the pit and continued through the temple. They eventually entered a chamber so vast, it was bigger than the temple that contained it. Andrew smirked at the physical impossibility.

  Channels full of burning lava formed a grid on the floor. The channels were narrow enough to jump across but just barely. Marble statues on circular pedestals stood between the channels in some spots, and they were twice as tall as Andrew. The statues depicted six kings and six queens in traditional medieval costumes.

  "Now what?" Charley said.

  He looked for the inevitable clue and found it on the ceiling. He pointed at silver letters high above their heads. "There."

  She read out loud, "'The lovers' eyes must meet.'"

  Andrew turned his attention back to the statues which were facing random directions. The circular pedestals gave him an idea.

  "I think it means we have to turn the statues so the kings and queens are looking at each other."

  "Yes!" Charley said. "Let's try it."

  They hurried to the nearest statue, crossing two lava channels along the way. Hot gases seared Andrew's unprotected legs and groin when he jumped across the lava, but he didn't let the pain slow him down. It didn't matter. It was all in his mind.

  He and Charley tugged and pushed on the statue until it started moving. It continued to rotate smoothly on its own until it locked into a new position facing a different direction.

  "Only certain directions work," Andrew said. "We need to try combinations until we pair up all the lovers."

  He heard a splash and a sizzle. He looked down and saw a glowing blob of lava near his feet. He turned his gaze upwards and saw tiny holes leaking lava from the ceiling. Of course, he thought. We wouldn't want to make it too easy.

  Andrew and Charley scrambled to accomplish their task.

  Remembering the directions each statue could face turned out to be the hardest part. Choices had to be made about which kings to pair with which queens, and usually those choices turned out to be wrong. They had to keep backing up and trying new combinations.

  All the while, the leaking roof made the job harder and harder. The ground became a minefield of smoking hot blobs, and Andrew sandals were completely inadequate protection. A few times, lava fell directly on his skin causing ghastly burns. The smoke, heat, and pain made his eyes water constantly.

  He and Charley pushed on relentlessly. The purpose of the training was building mental strength and discipline. He had to become an unstoppable machine capable of shrugging off any distraction. Only then would he be ready to face Blake.

  Finally, the statues were in the correct position. Beams of white light shot between their eyes in a final flourish.

  Then Andrew and Charley were back in the real world. The transition was jarring, but Andrew was used to it.

  "Well done," Tonya said. "Both of you continue to impress me. I'm running out of horrors to throw at you."

  Tonya was a master sorcerer and Andrew's instructor. She had never revealed her age, but he guessed she was in her mid-fifties. Blue eyes were an attractive feature, and straight blonde hair was another. She always kept it perfectly coiffed and trimmed to a medium length. Her round face had pale, clear skin with only a few wrinkles. She was wearing large pearl earrings and a black dress shirt buttoned up to the collar.

  Andrew was seated at a wooden table with Tonya and Charley. Andrew instinctively checked himself for injuries even though he knew he was fine. All the pain and blood had been imaginary.

  "How long were we in this time," he said.

  Tonya checked her watch. "A full hour."

  "Felt like a day. I'm worn out."

  "When you're trapped in a delusion, the sensation of time tends to dilate."

  She had used her powerful sorcery to create the world of nightmares for Andrew and Charley, but it had seemed completely real.

  He looked over at Charley. He certainly preferred the real-world version to the battered woman in the delusion. Plastic clips held back her shiny brown hair. She was tall and thin with a narrow face. Her brown eyes always stared directly at him with an intensity he didn't normally see in girls. A green sweater fit tight enough to show off her curves.

  "Are you OK?" Andrew said.

  She nodded. "Just a little stiff from sitting without moving." She stretched her arms.

  He stood up, and the sudden change in blood flow made him dizzy for a second. He leaned against the table to steady himself. He had been physically paralyzed the entire time he had been in the delusion.

  The apprentices were training in the basement of the Fine Arts Building of Theosophical University. They had spent an enormous amount of time there lately. The seam chamber had practically become Andrew's home.

  The Theosophical Seam dominated the room. Normal eyes couldn't see it, but to a sorcerer like Andrew, it was impossible to ignore. His inner eye perceived it as a pulsating black vortex. It had the general shape of a frozen lightning bolt except it constantly vibrated. An endless gush of chaotic energy poured out and provided the juice that made sorcery possible.

  He didn't feel quite right, so he shuffled over to a complex machine in the corner and turned it on. Marbles began to roll out of holes on top. They shot down chutes, wound through corkscrews, bounced off plates, rode on conveyor belts, dropped into funnels, passed through hidden pathways, and performed dozens of other tricks. It was a symphony of basic physics. He and Charley had built the machine from individual parts, and they were still making tweaks. It was a fun project, but it also served an important purpose.

  Sorcery tended to undermine the rational parts of the mind. Prolonged, intense exposure could cause a sorcerer to forget what was
real. Andrew had gotten lost in his own imagination many times during his training, and in severe cases, the condition was life-threatening.

  Watching the marble machine restored his sense of order. It was solidly grounded in laws that hadn't changed in 13.8 billion years. Unlike himself, the marbles followed predictable paths and could never go insane.

  Charley joined Andrew in front of the machine, and they held hands. After a few minutes, he felt better. Memories of rock-trolls and a golden temple faded away.

  He turned back to Tonya. "Are we done?"

  "For now," she said, "but the session ran long, so you'll have to go straight to martial arts. No time for a break."

  His shoulders sagged. His mind was exhausted, and his body would be next. He wasn't a great fan of martial arts.

  "Get moving," Tonya said.

  Andrew and Charley went to the solid steel door which protected the seam chamber. The door probably weighed a ton, and pushing it open took a lot of strength. The apprentices walked into the corridor outside.

  Tan tiles covered the walls of the basement, and the floor and ceiling were just plain concrete. Decades of grime encrusted pipes and ducts hanging overhead. Florescent fixtures cast bluish light, and a few bulbs buzzed annoyingly. Mechanical equipment behind closed doors added deeper notes to the constant background noise. The basement wasn't very pleasant, but it was the perfect place for dangerous secrets.

  Andrew and Charley didn't have far to go. One of the storage rooms in the basement had been converted to a martial arts studio just for them.

  They walked in and found two men wearing white karate uniforms and black belts. One man was Agent Dan Easton of the Federal Bureau of Physical Investigation. His light brown hair was short and even. Stubble covered his chin as usual, but the stubble wasn't long enough to qualify as a beard. He had a handsome face and a slim, muscular body. His sculpted good looks always made Andrew want to stand between Dan and Charley to keep them apart, although she had never expressed interest in him.

  Agent Dan was the official liaison for Andrew and Charley. Dan's job was to keep them safe and make sure their important needs were met. Sometimes he acted like a fussy parent, and other times, he was more like a parole officer. The apprentices needed his permission to go anywhere.

  The other man in the room had four stripes on his black belt. Andrew didn't know his real name, but everybody called him "Tungsten." He was over six feet tall and solid muscle from his bulging neck down to thighs like tree trunks. His skin was the color of coffee with plenty of milk. His head was shaved bald except for a short Mohawk down the middle. A scar ran from the corner of his nose out to his ear. His lips were curled in a slight snarl revealing two gold teeth in front.

  "You're late," Tungsten said.

  "The session with Tonya ran long," Andrew said. "It was rough."

  "You don't look hurt."

  "The damage is between the ears."

  Tungsten frowned. "Well, I'm not going to take it easy on you."

  Andrew wanted to come back with a snappy reply, but he thought better of it. Tungsten had absolutely no sense of humor and just two moods: grim and grimmer. The BPI had picked him for his combat skills, not his interpersonal skills. He was an ex-soldier with a drawer full of shiny medals. He knew everything there was to know about killing and had probably invented a few new ways.

  The martial arts room had blank, white walls. Blue padded mats covered half the floor, and the other half was bare. A heavy bag hung in the corner alongside a man-shaped punching dummy. A wooden shelf held accessories such as jump ropes, boxing gloves, pads, a rubber knife, a wooden sword, and so on.

  A cloth partition in the corner created enough privacy for a dressing area. Andrew went behind the partition, grabbed a karate uniform from a shelf, and changed his clothes. He still had a white belt, but he felt he deserved a colored one. After weeks of intense, daily training, he didn't consider himself a beginner anymore.

  Charley took her turn behind the partition. While she was changing, Andrew began his routine of stretching and calisthenics. He had learned the value of warming up properly. The training was hard enough without fighting a pulled muscle.

  Dan and Tungsten already had a little sweat on their brows. They did some light sparring while the apprentices got ready. Dan was a pretty good fighter, but Tungsten was vastly superior. Even when they were just messing around, the big man made Dan look inept by comparison. Tungsten had amazing flexibility for a muscle-bound behemoth.

  After fifteen minutes, the apprentices were finally ready to begin the class in earnest. Andrew still felt a little disoriented from Tonya's training, but the exercise was helping to ground him. Vigorous physical activity was a great antidote to the side-effects of sorcery.

  "Get into a stance!" Tungsten ordered.

  The apprentices settled into basic defensive stances. They raised their fists protectively.

  "Stronger," Tungsten said. "Root yourself into the ground like a tree."

  Andrew settled a little deeper into his stance. Growing roots from his feet was out of the question, but he tried to have root-like thoughts.

  Tungsten walked over to Charley and pushed her shoulder, knocking her off balance. Andrew didn't like it when Tungsten put his hands on her, but Andrew kept his mouth shut.

  "Always stay on your feet," Tungsten said. "You can't win a fight if you're falling over. Come at me, both of you. Try to move me."

  Andrew reluctantly walked over and grabbed Tungsten's muscular arm. If was like holding onto a statue. Charley grabbed the other arm, and the two of them pulled with all their strength. Tungsten didn't move an inch.

  "You see?" he said. "Balance is key. It's much more important than being big."

  But being big certainly helps, Andrew thought.

  The lesson continued with basic punches and kicks followed by advanced combinations. Sweat was soon dripping down their skin. Everybody, including Dan, took turns sparring with each other. Andrew didn't like sparring with Charley because he didn't want to hit her, while fighting Dan or Tungsten was frustrating. They were so much better than Andrew. He always felt like a clumsy fool when he faced them.

  He was learning though. He and Charley weren't athletically gifted, and neither of them enjoyed physical exertion, but Tungsten was molding them into martial artists regardless. The BPI had chosen a good instructor.

  The last part of the class was practicing with weapons. Tungsten grabbed a rubber knife and walked over.

  "Let's work on disarming techniques," he said. "Andrew, you first."

  Tungsten stepped into an aggressive attack stance and put on a fierce expression. It wasn't hard to imagine him wielding a real knife the same way.

  Andrew had learned a few ways to disarm a man. He approached Tungsten warily. Without any warning, Andrew slapped the back of the hand holding the knife while simultaneously striking Tungsten's wrist on the other side. The wrist bent, but the knife didn't come loose.

  "Harder," Tungsten said. "Don't worry about hurting me."

  I wasn't, Andrew thought.

  He repeated the technique using all his strength, and the knife flew out of Tungsten's hand. Andrew grinned with satisfaction.

  "Good." Tungsten walked across the room and picked up the knife. "Charley, do the same thing."

  He approached Charley with the knife held in a menacing manner. He probably weighed twice as much as her. Even though the knife was rubber, she shrank back instinctively.

  "Come on," he said in an aggressive tone. "Pretend I'm Blake, and I'm about to kill you. Protect yourself."

  She flinched. "I don't think he would use a knife. If he picked up a weapon at all, it would be a gun."

  "That's an assumption, and assumptions get people killed. Disarm me!"

  Charley made a game effort, but she couldn't knock the knife out of Tungsten's hand. His grip was too strong. Her thin arms couldn't generate enough force.

  "That's not working," he said, "but giving up is never an opti
on. Try something else."

  Come on Charley, Andrew thought. Think of something.

  She abruptly tried to kick Tungsten in the groin. Demonstrating remarkable reflexes, he turned his hips and deflected the attack, but it distracted him for an instant. She grabbed his wrist with both her hands and threw her entire body forward. The knife was forced backwards until the rubber tip hit him in the chest.

  He stepped back and smiled. "Nice! Very creative."

  "But she tried to kick you in the nuts," Andrew said.

  "In a real fight," Tungsten said, "there are no rules. We started late, and I think we're out of time. We'll meet at the gun range at 6 PM. Tonight we'll play with shotguns. Bye."

  The apprentices took turns changing back into their street clothes. Dan changed next, and Andrew and Charley waited impatiently for him. The apprentices never went anywhere without a BPI agent in the vicinity. With Blake on the loose, their personal safety was a constant concern.

  Andrew and Charley also protected each other with sorcery. They were always within earshot. They attended the same classes, shared all their meals, and slept across the hall from each other. When one went to the bathroom, the other waited outside the door.

  They grabbed their backpacks and winter coats from a coat tree in the tiled hallway. Dan had his own backpack and looked more or less like an older college student. Everybody proceeded up a narrow staircase.

  The hallways were wider on the main floor of the Fine Arts Building. The apprentices had come up behind a stage in the area where theatrical props were stored. Pirates of Penzance was being performed in the evenings in the main auditorium. Andrew saw black flags, a treasure chest, ropes, sails, fake swords, and other pirate gear. The show looked like fun, but he would be lucky if he could find the time to see a performance.

  Andrew and Charley went outside through a back door and entered a world covered in snow. The white stuff was everywhere, and after sitting on the ground for weeks, it was hard, crusty, and dirty from pollution. Biting cold made Andrew grimace and pull his wool ski cap down as far as it would go. Lingering sweat on his face instantly cooled to near freezing. He took mittens out of his pockets and hurriedly put them on.