Third Chronicles of Illumination

Home > Fantasy > Third Chronicles of Illumination > Page 15
Third Chronicles of Illumination Page 15

by C. A. Pack


  “I can’t help you. The overseers have frozen the library.”

  “We were just on Fantasia.”

  “I managed to escape through a pinhole but could not go anywhere because the overseers have sealed all the libraries.”

  “Yet, I managed to hitch a ride with you. How amusing. That means there is a flaw in the enchantment used to seal the portals. I must discover that flaw. You must use your vehicle to take me back through your pinhole.”

  “It is no use.”

  Odyon grated his teeth. “I am the greatest sorcerer who ever lived. I can say that because all the others who even came close have died. Except one—but that is my problem.

  “Take me through the pinhole,” Odyon continued, “so I can determine the enchantment used to create it. I will sense its energy, read its pattern, and find a way to merge with it and duplicate it, thereby giving us control of the portals.”

  Nero 51 stared at the Mysterian. If what he said were true, there was a lot to be gained by humoring him. The curator inhaled before rising. “I will take you through the pinhole, but before I do, I want to know what I will gain from agreeing to do this for you.”

  “I just told you what you would gain. You would once again be able to travel through the portals, unchecked, and launch your attack for Garpa. Isn’t that enough?”

  “You said we would be in control of the portals. I want you to show me how I can have power over them.”

  “We have to gain control first, and we can’t do that as long as you stand there trying my patience.”

  “You said you would teach me how to disappear and reappear like you do.”

  “Fine. I will teach you how to be a shapeshifter. Actually becoming one will be up to you. It requires finesse and practice. But I will give you the tools you’ll need. Can we go now?”

  “I am to be the only ruler of the Libraries of Illumination.”

  “First, you have to win your war, and it will never get started unless you take me back through the pinhole.”

  Jackson headed home that afternoon armed with Emily’s cell phone number, address, and equal measures of guilt and anxiety. He’d done what he said he was going to do, and he had warned Johanna he was planning to do it. So why do I feel so bad? Emily was hot. Not that Johanna wasn’t, but Emily looked more like a delicate princess, compared to Johanna’s sultry vixen. Too bad Johanna didn’t act like a sultry vixen. If she had, he would never have asked Emily out.

  True, he wouldn’t have made the date without Logan pushing him. Maybe it will be wonderful. He just had to make sure Chris and Ava would be at home to help Johanna while he was out with Emily.

  He felt hot and sweaty even though the weather was mild. As he rounded the corner and saw the library, his stomach flipped. He would rather do anything than tell Johanna he had a date Wednesday night. But maybe I don’t have to….

  Before going upstairs to relieve Johanna, he waited for Ava to get home. As soon as he heard her come in the door, he walked out of his bedroom holding two shirts. “Which one of these shirts do you think looks nicer?”

  Ava looked them over and pointed to the blue one. “Where are you going?”

  “Emily Brent and I are double-dating with Logan and Cassie tomorrow night. I just want to set it aside to wear, so I don’t forget.”

  His sister looked like he had physically punched her. She didn’t say another word to him. She just dropped her books on a chair and left the suite. He knew she would go upstairs and tell Johanna. He was counting on it, because he was too chicken to tell her himself.

  —LOI—

  17

  The militairres did not stray far from their respective tables after lunch. No one wanted to miss the announcement.

  The two younger Jolen sisters returned with several signs. “We made a lot,” Milencia said, “because we thought it might be nice to invite members of the community as spectators. It will make the games more exciting, don’t you think?”

  Natalia pulled over one of the signs. “Not to mention it would be impossible to keep them away once they do hear about it.”

  HB:✠ These will do quite nicely.

  “Nice,” Arraba said, after reading one of the signs. She paused for a moment. “If we’re inviting everyone to watch, I think we’ll need to keep them to one side, rather than all around us. I wouldn’t want anyone to be hit by a stray arrow.”

  Horatio Blastoe pointed to an open area next to the one they had cleared for their tables. HB:✠ The spectators could sit in the shade at the edge of the forest. The militairres would, of course, await their chance to compete at their respective tables. And I think a platform would be nice on the other side of the spectators.

  “Why do we need a platform?” Felicia asked.

  HB:✠ You don’t. However, I think it would be nice for overseers who wish to attend and visiting dignitaries, like Furst, to have a special place to view the competition. Not to mention, your judges.

  Arraba turned on a dime. “Won’t we, as commanders, be the judges?”

  HB:✠ Yes and no. I believe you all deserve a vote, as does Furst, who helped train you. But I also think the overseers and your former curator, Dame Erato, would contribute wonderful insight. Besides, selecting a winner won’t always be easy. You may have to disregard a friend’s performance in favor of someone not previously regarded as highly. To have the winner selected by committee removes the perception of favoritism and allows you to lead without shadows dimming the light of your command.

  Mal walked around the Adventuran lab. “What about housing? Where do hu*bots live?”

  Prophet IAN c. spoke without stopping his work. “We have built recharge units into some of the abandoned buildings around the city. We do not need to eat or sleep or provide for our families, so there is no need for individual residences. We only need a minimal column of space for each hu*bot, and we can rotate the recharge periods so that one column can serve several hu*bots over the course of a day. A large structure that may have housed four people in the time before, now can service five thousand hu*bots. It allows Adventurans to stay close to their work in the cities, rather than waste time commuting from the outer districts.”

  “How would a stranger, like myself, know which hu*bots have earned special prestige?”

  “The most prestigious hu*bots quickly move up in rank and can be distinguished by the type of metal sheathing on their arms. You can also tell by their eyes. Most hu*bot eyes are clear glass lenses set into their artificially colored skin. However, some higher ranked hu*bots have earned glass human-like eyes. They may come with yellow, or violet, or red irises. The most prestigious color is violet, with the amount of status declining as colors run through the spectrum from violet to red.”

  “So, Adventurans don’t have money, or personal vehicles, or large houses to symbolize their position in society,” Mal said, “but a hu*bot with a gold arm and violet eyes is considered more influential than one with a copper arm and red eyes. And both are more distinguished than a hu*bot with polymer skin and clear glass eyes.”

  “Yes,” Prophet IAN c. agreed. “And no hu*bot can buy those items. They have to earn them with their contributions to our society as a whole.”

  “I hate my brother,” Ava complained to Johanna.

  “What did he do?”

  “He asked some other girl out on a date for tomorrow night.”

  Johanna felt like someone sucker punched her in the stomach. “You’re not talking about Chris, are you?” It was not a question.

  “Jackson is such a jerk.” Ava pulled the decimator out of Johanna’s hand.

  “Ava.” Johanna’s voice was sharper than she would have liked.

  “What?”

  “You’re too riled up to be holding a dangerous weapon. Hand it back and go cool off.”

  “I’m all right. I swear. It’s just that Jackson makes me so mad sometimes.”

  “Jackson has to do what he thinks is best for him. Besides, I don’t want a boyfriend who i
s interested in seeing other people. I’m not into playing the dating game. It’s better that it came out now, before our relationship progressed.”

  Ava sighed. “I know….”

  “Will you be okay on your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I didn’t eat much for lunch and I need to make dinner.”

  “You don’t have to make dinner. You can order room service.”

  “Under the circumstances, I think it would be better if I make my own.” Johanna gave Ava a hug before leaving the cupola.

  Back in her apartment, she looked around for ingredients. Before Jackson declared his freedom, she had ordered everything she would need to make him a lasagna dinner. She originally planned to cook it on the night she would finally confess her love for him. Just because he had a change of heart didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the pasta herself. Instead of thinking about Jackson, she turned on a radio and sang along to the songs being played. The love songs were tough to listen to, but the upbeat songs got her moving, and before she knew it, she was placing her dinner in the oven.

  Johanna set the oven alarm on “loud” and left her front door open while she ran upstairs to the cupola to make sure Ava was okay. She found the younger girl pacing like a soldier. The fourteen-year-old took ten steps, turned on a dime, and took another ten steps in the opposite direction.

  “You’re going to wear a groove in the floor.”

  “I can either wear a groove in the floor, or make one in Jackson’s head.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, but I do,” Ava said.

  Chris interrupted her. “Good. You’re here,” he said. “I have to go out tonight for a…study group, and I wanted to make sure you and Jackson are here to help Johanna. See you later.” Without waiting for a reply, he was out the door in a shot.

  “I’ll bet he’s not going to any study group,” Ava said. “He looks too happy and he smells too good. I bet he’s going out with Brittany.”

  “On a school night?”

  “On any night he thinks she might succumb to his charms.”

  Ozzro heard Dungen criticizing soldiers in the Dramatican barracks before he actually saw the man. It was soon evident Dungen was looking for Ozzro. Dungen stomped over to him and stood within inches of his face. “Looking for Lenc, you are?”

  “Yes,” Ozzro replied, trying to keep his voice calm, even though he knew his hands were shaking. He clasped them behind his back to keep them still.

  “Why?” Dungen demanded.

  “Share a meal, I wish to. Seen him, I have not.”

  “Nor will you,” Dungen said roughly.

  Ozzro felt his nerves jitter. Is Dungen going to confess to Lenc’s murder? “Say that, why do you?” he asked as calmly as possible.

  “Gone away, he has. Out of this region, he is.”

  “Oh?” Ozzro didn’t know what else to say.

  “Stop looking, you can. Stop asking about him, you can. Gone, he is.”

  Ozzro sighed. Is it that easy to kill someone? “Yes. He is, I suspect.”

  Dungen narrowed his eyes and stared at Ozzro. “Mean by that, what do you?”

  “Nothing. Agreeing with you, I am.”

  Dungen lowered his voice. “All you’re doing, that better be.”

  Ozzro was scared, but he could smell the other man’s fear as well, and wondered if Dungen had already guessed that he knew what happened to Lenc.

  The time machine still contained the coordinates Nero 51 had used to propel himself through the pinhole during his last attempt to escape the Terrorian library. Odyon took up a position beside Nero 51 and then disappeared.

  “Now where did he go?” Nero 51 screamed as he jerked back a tentacle to fling the crystals used to operate the time machine against its transparent walls. He stopped himself when he thought better of it.

  Odyon appeared, demanding, “Are we going, or not?”

  “I would have left if you hadn’t disappeared.”

  “I cannot merge with the energy in the pinhole while in human form.” Odyon hissed. “I am going to disappear. As soon as I do, go.”

  Odyon evaporated from sight and Nero 51 thought of his destination. The time machine soon bounced in between the layers of time, looking for the appropriate exit.

  Suddenly, Nero 51 felt like he was falling. He blacked out. When he came to, he found himself in a Library of Illumination that was definitely not his own.

  Hue the elder called Mal back to Mysteriose. “We have agitators in our midst who are opposed to the tax, or at the very least, currency that has a ‘chip’ in it. They are afraid of what the chip might do to them.”

  “I would say, ‘that’s ridiculous,’ however, coming from Fantasia, I can understand their fears. Perhaps a little essential water will allow me to gather my thoughts before speaking to them.”

  Hue smiled. “Yes, my friend. I can see how that will provide the liquid courage you’ll need for this crowd.”

  The essential water helped galvanize Mal’s thoughts. He addressed the crowd, dispelled their fears, and finally got a majority of them to agree to the basic need for a collection of resources, if not taxes.

  Hue replaced Mal at the center of the discussion ring and explained that the chip in the currency was developed to keep people from making their own notes and stealing unearned resources from all the others. “The chip you all seem to be so frightened of is there only for our protection. If you prefer not to have it, we can print our own notes, but don’t come crying when you go to pick up your allotment of platinum, only to find there is none left because others with forged notes took it all.”

  The crowd buzzed. Mysterians were not exactly known for their honesty. In the end, the leaders agreed that the notes provided by the College of Overseers were in everyone’s best interests, and Mal assured them while he personally took responsibility for the legitimacy of the notes, Hue the Elder would make sure he did it in a way that would not reduce Mysterian resources.

  Jackson slowly climbed the stairs to the cupola. He dreaded seeing Johanna, but he’d promised to take over for Ava. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, all he could think about was the aroma of food coming from Johanna’s apartment.

  “Hey,” he said when he found Johanna with Ava.

  “Hi. Are you here to relieve your sister?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” She turned to Ava. “Want some lasagna?”

  “You made lasagna?” Ava’s eyes opened wide. “That’s my favorite, but Mom doesn’t know how to make it.”

  “Well, I do, and I’d say it’s just about ready for the two of us.”

  “Hey. What about me?” Jackson asked.

  Ava narrowed her eyes. “What about you?”

  “Nothing.” He picked up the decimator. “See you later.”

  Marbol gathered his Bullaroot players around him. “I know you all want a chance to score in the final tri-match, but it looks like Duddu is onto us, so I need a second disrupter for his field. Harlo, I think you’re the one for the job. And, Waxmo, I need you to replace Fibber, because they expect him and you’ll be a big surprise.” He meant it literally. Waxmo was bigger than Fibber in both height and weight.

  On the opposite side of the field, Duddu discussed a similar strategy with his team and told Elmie and Boxer to continue the good work. Neither of the other two teams assigned disrupters, because none of the players wanted to be prevented from a chance to score.

  The shrill vibration of a whistle curtailed the antic chatter of Juveniles. They returned to their spots in the stands to watch the third tri-match.

  “Play on!”

  Once again, the crowd roared as the players took their respective fields. The captains stood ready to pitch, and when the second whistle sounded, they sent out their best shots.

  Both red and blue teams scored target shots on the first pitch. Red scored slightly higher than blue because the ball made contact closer to the center. It seemed like a team s
cored every single minute, which kept up the excitement and the sound level.

  The red team scored another double rebound, which created a frenzy in the stands.

  Duddu signaled Boxer, and when their eyes locked, Duddu nodded once. Boxer nodded once in return and positioned himself near Marbol for the next play.

  The balls were fired toward the targets and the captains crouched down, ready to run. As Marbol scored a shot once again, he took off toward the left, only to hit the ground hard. He hadn’t seen what tripped him and was knocked unconscious when Boxer’s foot made contact with his head.

  “Captain down! Captain down!” the players called out, and a whistle signaled time out. Red team players carried Marbol off the field to the deafening thunder of stomping feet.

  A delay ensued while the three remaining captains discussed discontinuing the game. Duddu assured them that Marbol would have wanted the game to go on.

  The game continued with less enthusiasm, but Pye was determined to win—not only for Marbol’s sake—but because he, too, had been in the tunnels when the Terrorians had fried, and he didn’t want to return. Pye managed to keep the red team two points ahead of the blue team, and the game ended with his own powerful kick sending a ball into the net just before the final whistle.

  The red team butted heads, chests, fists, and butts with each other in a show of victory. Duddu and his blue team were strangely quiet, considering they came in second and wouldn’t have to clean out the storm drain.

  Pollo’s teammates whooped with joy when they looked at the scoreboard and realized they had edged out Guffle’s green team by one point. They could celebrate with the others while Guffle, Flugle, and their team members excavated the Terrorians’ remains.

  “Do it now,” Pollo advised Guffle, “and you’ll get back in time for some of the celebration.”

 

‹ Prev