by C. A. Pack
“How difficult could it be to find one tiny, little kitten?” he asked, yawning.
“Apparently, very difficult,” his mother replied. “Why don’t you try to help them?”
“Ophelia,” Chris shouted. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
Nero 51 could feel the walls of the library closing in on him. There were periods of his life when he had spent months without ever thinking of leaving the premises. But being trapped inside was entirely different, especially now that he had actually launched the invasion his grandfather had long talked about. I’m not going to let them stop me.
He returned to the cupola and played with the crystals used to operate the time machine. To time travel, all he had to do was touch the two crystals together and think about the time and place he wanted to go. But whenever he tried to go back to a time when the portals were open, the machine shuddered and couldn’t transverse the portal. He racked his brain, trying to determine the moment when everything changed. The air had appeared to shimmer while he returned from depositing troopers on Romantica. A temporal rift. It had happened on Romantica, but perhaps the other realms had not been affected. He needed to exhaust all possible options by trying to travel to each realm.
“What is he doing?” one Terrorian trooper asked another about Nero 51. “He’s been fooling with the time machine for hours.”
“What else is he going to do?” the soldier replied. “We’re trapped in here.”
They looked over at the time machine. Every so often, it appeared to waiver, but nothing more.
“He might as well give up,” the first trooper said. “He’s not going anywhere.”
Nero 51 worked feverishly to locate the precise second he had traveled back to Terroria from Romantica. The time machine took up space when the rift had occurred, so it was possible that tiny hole in space might not be protected. Maybe, if he could find that precise moment when whatever now kept them locked inside was put into place, it might provide an exit path. He tried over and over again, second by second, trying to pinpoint the exact moment they returned. He berated himself for not noting the time. He had been too preoccupied with seeking intel from their previous invasion of Juvenilia.
Suddenly, he felt the machine make the leap into another portal.
“He’s gone,” one of the Terrorian troopers gasped as the time machine disappeared. “Nero 51 has found a way out of the structure.”
“What about us?” another soldier asked. “Is he coming back for us?”
“He’ll have to eventually. This is his library.”
“Unless he gets himself killed,” a third soldier said dryly. “Then he would never come back, and we’ll likely die here.”
The others felt a chill that no amount of warm, moist air could help drive away. It had never occurred to them that Nero 51 was the key to their survival. Or their demise. They had been following him blindly. Still, few of them worried. As far as they were concerned, Nero 51 would never allow himself to be killed. Period.
Chris made his way up the cupola stairs looking for Ophelia. He didn’t believe the cat was big enough to successfully climb five flights of open spiral steps, but there was no sign of her below, and she had to be somewhere.
“What are you doing?” his sister asked when he reached the top.
He told her about the missing cat and she immediately thrust the decimator into his arms and said, “Take over.”
“Where are you going?” he called, as his sister streaked down the staircase.
Her answer reverberated back to him. “I want to see the cat.”
Chris could hear Johanna and his family calling out for Ophelia far below. As he looked down, he thought he saw a white streak jumping up onto a bookshelf.
Gotcha, he thought as he ran down the steps, ready to become the hero of the day.
The Terrorian troopers on Juvenilia strained their eyes to see through the murky water of the pond. The soldiers could no longer hear the kiddlets’ voices and hoped their pursuers had assumed they’d drowned, and had departed. Perog 2 slowly rose and allowed only his face to gently break the surface of the water. He tried to look around without making himself too much of a target. When he didn’t see any movement, he signaled his colleague to rise.
Mope 98 was not as graceful as Perog 2. He allowed his entire head to rise above the surface, causing a large ripple. He quickly ducked back underwater when he saw a giant flame rushing toward him across the surface of the pond.
The orange flame lit up the air above them.
At the very least, the troopers had successfully replenished their air supply and were good for another hour. But they now knew the kiddlets had not given up and would be waiting for retribution.
Horatio Blastoe visited Natalia Dalura and Dame Erato for the better part of the afternoon, as they watched and waited for signs of a disturbance caused by the Terrorian occupation of the Romantican Library of Illumination. However, aside from the fact that Natalia could not return home, there was little indication of the destruction going on inside the great edifice.
HB:✠ I do believe the library is adequately sealed for your protection, Horatio Blastoe commented. He stood to take his leave. HB:✠ Use the diary if you need to reach me. Alert me to any changes immediately.
“What do you think they’re doing in there?” Dame Erato asked.
HB:✠ Based on what happened on Dramatica, I would say they’re probably destroying all the books.
“That’s terrible,” Natalia cried.
HB:✠ Books can be replaced. Our greatest concern is for everyone’s safety. There was loss of life on Dramatica. The people of that realm bravely fought back and managed to stop the invaders from getting any farther than their library. However, a number of Dramaticans sacrificed their lives for the good of the realm.
Dame Erato shivered. “How sad. I hope our little militia is up to the task.”
Horatio Blastoe raised an eyebrow. HB:✠ We have never had a militia on this realm.
Natalia lifted her chin a little. “My nature walk group has taken it upon themselves to train in self-defense. I’m sure once I’ve informed them about what is going on, they’ll want to study more aggressive forms of offense and defense.”
Horatio Blastoe grimaced. HB:✠You were never given weapons with which to protect yourself.
“Aren’t weapons overdoing it a bit?” Natalia asked.
HB:✠ The Terrorians are outfitted with weapons that can either trap you in a force field or vaporize you entirely. We have produced identical weapons for every realm to even the odds. However, I never completed delivery of your weapons because I saw Terrorians when I materialized in your library and quickly retreated. I must return here with weapons for your use.
Dame Erato rolled her eyes. “Really, Horatio Blastoe, don’t you consider that overkill?”
The overseer sighed. HB:✠ It depends on whom you want to see killed—them or you. I wish I could tell you weapons are unnecessary, but I can’t. Perhaps, instead, I can find someone to help train you.
Natalia smiled. “We would be happy for your assistance.”
Furst paused before knocking on Dungen’s door. Confronting his kinsman was not in his nature, but he believed deep within that Dungen had taken the missing firearm. Before he could knock a second time, Dungen abruptly pulled the door open.
Both Dramaticans gasped. Neither expected to see the other at that precise moment.
Dungen’s face contorted in anger. “Doing here, what are you, Furst?”
“Two settings, the gun you have borrowed has, to tell you, I’ve come. Be careful, you must, when Terrorians, you fight. Force field, the O means, and obliteration, the X means. Hurt yourself, do not.”
Furst nodded once, turned and walked away. As he retreated, he waited for Dungen to scream out a denial, but the self-proclaimed head of the library council didn’t say a word.
Furst whispered the Dramatican term for caught red-handed. By acting like it was common knowledge that D
ungen had taken the weapon and pretending to instruct him so he would not hurt himself, he had diluted the other man’s ability to surprise him and possibly fire upon him.
Or so he hoped.
Chris had a tough time determining which shelf the cat had jumped onto when he reached the main reading room. He knew it was close to the center of the room on the east side of the library, but that was it. The shelves all looked alike from this close up, so he had to scan each one, trying not to scare the kitten into running away.
“What are you doing down here?” his sister screamed. “You’re supposed to be guarding the portals.”
“Here.” He handed her the weapon he had slung across his back. “You guard the portals. I need to find that cat.”
“Useless,” she muttered under her breath as she headed back toward the cupola stairs.
Books. Nero 51 looked around the library the time machine had come to rest in. He had broken free of the Terrorian library but wasn’t sure where he had landed. He could hear several voices below saying something strange. What is an ophelia? he wondered.
Still, he didn’t want to wait around to find out. He wanted to return to his own realm and amass his soldiers for another wave of attacks. He turned too quickly, smacking the tentacle that held one of the navigation crystals for the time machine against a shelf. He watched the crystal skitter across the floor and bounce down the cupola stairs. Fegt! He then realized someone was ascending the stairs at a rapid rate. He peered over the edge and saw the crystal a few steps down. He grasped it in his tentacle and rushed back to the time machine. He had no weapon, so engaging the enemy was beyond good reason. He inserted the crystal, but before he could concentrate on his destination, he saw a tiny being take aim with one of his own decimators and pull the trigger.
—LOI—
6
“Meow,” Ophelia mewled when a hand closed around her.
“Come to papa,” Jackson said as he nestled the kitten against his chest. “I found her,” he called out.
Everyone, except Ava, followed his voice to the stacks nearest the back door.
“I think she was planning to make a break for it,” he joked.
“She must have changed direction when I ran down the stairs,” Chris said, banging the shelf with his hand. “I definitely saw her jump onto a shelf on the other side of the library.”
The sudden move surprised the kitten, who dug her claws into Jackson’s chest.
“Ow,” the older Roth boy cried, thrusting the kitten away.
“Here, I’ll take her,” Johanna said, reaching for Ophelia and gently cuddling her.
“I’d better get back upstairs,” Chris said, “before Ava starts complaining.”
A sudden boom and a flash of blue light in the cupola shook the library.
“Ava,” they all screamed in unison.
Mal entered the overseer’s chamber to request permission to begin visiting realms, ostensibly as the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
RS:⌘ Avoid the libraries, Malcolm. As you know, they are sealed. But you carry with you the ability to transport anywhere. Much as our miters help us travel among realms, your chaperon, or hat, contains the same power.
“I was thinking of starting with Terroria.”
RS:⌘ I would wait before visiting that realm. I’m sure the Terrorians are livid about the library being sealed. I think it might make more sense to start elsewhere, perhaps one of Terroria’s former allies.
“Mysteriose and Adventura?”
RS:⌘ Yes. It might be interesting to hear their opinion of what is happening with the libraries.
“Do you have a preference?”
RS:⌘ They are equal. Choose whichever one you’d like to start with, and tread carefully.
Dame Erato could understand Natalia Dalura starting a militia, but didn’t know how effective it might be if Romantica were ever invaded. “Just what is your little group capable of doing?”
“We are very effective at archery. Only Cecilia has failed to ever hit a target, but the rest of us have fairly decent aim. We can start a fire using a metal file and a rock. And Alicia is very good at spear-fishing and is teaching the rest of us.” Natalia smiled. “Madam Beech is putting together packets for each of us, survival kits you might call them, with fishing line and hooks and seeds for plants if we’re ever forced out of our homes and have to live in the woods.”
“That’s good,” Dame Erato replied, “if you’re forced from your homes by fire or storm, but how will any of that help protect us against Terrorians?”
HB:✠ Perhaps these will help.
The two women, startled, turned to find Horatio Blastoe and one other person standing behind them, their arms filled with oddly shaped tubes.
“What are you holding?” Dame Erato asked.
HB:✠ These are Terrorian weapons. The Dramaticans captured a number of them and we’ve had them duplicated for all the realms. If the Terrorians are going to inflict this kind of firepower on others, it’s only fair they be prepared to face it themselves. And I’ve brought someone with me who can teach you how to use them to best effect.
The person standing behind Horatio Blastoe laid the weapons he was holding on the floor.
“Furst!” Natalia Dalura cried, running over to give the Dramatican curator a hug. “I’m so glad you’re well.”
“My services, I volunteered. To fight off invaders, there are many Dramaticans trained. So, to teach you how to fight Terrorians, I’ve come.”
“That’s wonderful, but it will have to wait until morning. Everyone is home, asleep.”
“For no one, war waits,” Furst said pragmatically.
HB:✠ Furst is right. But there’s no need to wake everyone yet. Show us where your militia has been practicing, and we’ll take the weapons there.
Mysteriose looked exactly like Mal expected. The skies were gray with an odd silver glow escaping between layers of…What? Clouds, perhaps? The structures beyond those lining the town square were more like mounds—inset with rocks—than buildings. And there were masses of dark, dreary trees, their trunks covered with lichen and their branches draped with silvery-gray threads. A proliferation of webs connected many of the trees, the remnants of insects and small creatures entangled in their hold. The air was damp and Mal shivered, glad of the heavy robes he wore as Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Dean Proteus Bligh noticed Mal’s discomfort. PB:♆ It’s not the cheeriest looking place, especially when compared to Lumi, but many of the people are pleasant enough if you respect their culture. Come. Let us go to Town Hall.
The exterior of the Mysterian Town Hall looked similar, in architecture at least, to the town halls on other realms. However, the interior had wide open stone seating pits rather than rooms filled with traditional furniture; hand-woven Mysterian tapestries hung from the rafters, dividing the space.
Proteus Bligh led Mal to the largest of the seating pits, where a wizened old man led a discussion about the need to protect the trees from thieves trafficking in firewood.
The old man nodded to the overseer and continued his discussion.
Proteus Bligh led Mal to seats on the outer ring of the circle. PB:♆ This is as good a point of observation as any, he whispered.
Mal nodded once in agreement. He studied the Mysterians attending the discussion. Many of them were older and their eyes seemed to be as black as coal. They dressed in drab fabrics with the only color coming from their wildly hued scarves. All of the younger attendees were males with long locks, varying degrees of facial hair, and multiple tattoos and piercings. Their most arresting feature, however, was their silvery eyes. Unlike their elders, Mysterian youths’ eyes glowed with an unearthly light. He leaned his head toward Proteus Bligh. “I notice there are no young women in attendance.”
The overseer nodded. PB:♆On Mysteriose, the males are the politicians, the laborers, and the warriors. They keep day-to-day life operating on an even keel. The females are the priestesses, the spiritual leaders,
and the healers. They are more powerful than the men in many ways but wouldn’t be able to function without them.
“Has it always been this way?”
PB:♆ It has been this way since the Two Millennia War. Before that, the males were powerful priests, as well as politicians, warriors, and laborers. But many of them were killed in the war, and the women adapted to the change—growing incredibly powerful. Eventually, the men seemingly lost their ability to perform as priests while the women reached a pinnacle by which they all cultivate their power as priestesses. However, many of the older women have the knowledge and experience to realize it’s beneficial to keep an eye on what the men are doing. So, they attend these discussions. The younger women don’t yet have the knowledge that comes with experience and are too busy honing their craft to attend.
The people around them began to disperse, however, the speaker and a few of the other men sitting closest to the center of the circle approached the overseer and Mal.
As Nero 51 fumbled with the crystal, Ava’s finger tensed on the trigger of the decimator. But, before she could pull it, a flash of light blinded her and a percussive explosion knocked her to the ground.
The shock made Nero 51 freeze in place, until a bit of fog seeped into the time machine and took shape as Odyon.
“I suggest you get us out of here,” the wizard said, using a translation charm to converse with the Terrorian.
Nero 51 closed his tentacles around the crystals, and a moment later they were back in the Terrorian library.
Terrorian soldiers picked up their weapons and targeted Nero 51’s companion.