The Powerless Series: Complete 5-Book Set

by Jason Letts

  “You don’t understand how far I’ve come to find you, and and it could only be you. Just like my parents did once, I need your help. I’ve read all of your books, every single one. I have one in my bag I could show you. The man at Pinchy Publishing directed me to this general area, and I walked through the rain for days so I could learn from you. Please, please teach me.”

  Lightning struck again, and a flash of light swept over them.

  “What causes that?” he asked, gesturing up. Mira didn’t hesitate.

  “A build up of electrons that gives the clouds a negative charge. Because energy disperses evenly, it tries to balance out by transferring those electrons to the earth through the easiest possible route. That’s why the tallest things and metal conductors are always hit first.”

  “OK, OK,” he said, seeming to mull something over. Mira tried to remember every word he’d ever written, ready to be tested on her life’s study. She refused to fail because she didn’t know enough.

  “I’m sorry to say this, but I can’t help you. Maybe you do know my writings, but that’s not going to help you improve your power. You’ll have to find another to shadow for that.”

  Mira tried in vain to gloss over her weakness. She didn’t want to have to tell him she was different, and the thought of it sucked the joy out of her. Finally, the need for his help trumped her insecurity.

  “I don’t have a power,” she muttered.

  Flip Widget leaned closer, sticking his head out into the rain. All expression left his face, and he gazed with the innocence and astonishment of a newborn baby.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I don’t have a power. A man came and stole it from me after I was born. My name is Mira Ipswich, and I’ve lived in Corey Outpost since forever. I didn’t know about it because my parents kept me hidden on account of the danger. I’ve come all the way here to study from someone of a similar hand. You spent so much time working on science and writing all these books, I always wondered if you were like me. Are you powerless too?”

  His look hardened, and Mira imagined him giving that focused attention to a mathematical equation or a chemical reaction. He appeared to scrutinize the parts of a formula in her words, and he reacted as if he had hit a wall head-on when it didn’t all add up.

  “I can see how you drew such a conclusion, but the data is misleading. You could have never known my power is a terrible one. Even as a child I recognized the damage it would do to me, and after experimenting the first time I knew the second would be the end of me. I don’t know how I lived this long, with an eject button from life so readily at hand, but I managed much the same as you have done. I’ve stayed hidden and out of the way!”

  A growing discontent seized his disposition. His voice grew louder and he began to twitch.

  “And so your proposal is confounding. How can you do what everyone else does when you are so different? How can you want to be a shadow if it means you will fight? How can you fight if you know the hand of death can smite you so easily? The answer is naïveté. You can’t see it! You have been marked for a meek and lonely existence. Denying your nature will only lead to extermination.”

  A shiver ran over her, not from the cold rain or the sudden lightning but owing to his underestimation of her abilities and her resolve. She had to show him how serious she was.

  “You don’t believe I can do it? With this secondhand knowledge, I conquered my academy’s classmates and became their leader. We are going off to fight, and we’re fighting to rescue my sister. You need to do something for me. You need to believe in what you know and believe it can help me attain my goal. It’s time for the truths you’ve discovered to be put to their full use.”

  She could see his change of heart, and it pressed her to drive home her point. He met her firm gaze, finally showing her the kind of spark and intent she needed from him to further her cause. Widget breathed heavily, reveling in the new task before him.

  “Yes, it is. But do you realize what you’re up against? If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to go all out. That’s the only way it’s going to work, the only way you’ll have a chance. The most important part of being a shadow is believing in your mentor. You’ve got to do what I say at all times and trust it’s for the best even when I’m pushing you to your limit. We’ve got to find out exactly what you’re made of. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” she said, rekindling former giddy joy.

  “Good,” he concluded, stepping back and shutting the door in her face. Confused, she tried the door but it locked. She heard a noise, waited, and then watched the door swing open again. This time, Widget had a small bag over his shoulder and a hat.

  “Let’s go,” he ordered, stepping out into the rainy dark and leaving his home behind. Mira turned and watched him go.

  “But I thought we might take a rest inside. It’s raining!”

  “So much the better,” Widget grumbled without looking back.

  Chapter 5: Trial and Error

  Stumbling through the dark, Mira followed the sounds of her new mentor. The rainwater clung to every inch of her skin. She had no idea where they were going, and nothing but worries bubbled up in her mind. He stopped moving forward and she almost bumped into him. Tugging on branches, he groped around their unsettling environment.

  “What are we doing out here?” she asked. Unable to see him, his ghostly voice seemed to come from nowhere.

  “We’re living. That’s what I’ve got to teach you, how to live…‌no matter what.”

  A branch snapped loudly, and then another and another. Widget brought them to a nearby tree and set them on existing branches to form a canopy. He told her to look for small twigs, and soon they were running their hands through the damp dirt. They built up a pile on a spot where they had clawed away the wet leaves, but Mira thought it would never catch fire.

  “Here, take this,” he offered, and she felt him press a flask into her hand. Under his direction, she poured some of it on the wet sticks. He lit a match, which glowed so brightly and brilliantly in the darkness, and dropped it on the ground. The flame shot out in all directions as it ignited the liquid. The wet sticks hissed and smoked in agony until the fire began to consume them.

  Mira watched him arrange kindling nearby to dry out while he attended to the fire. Its glorious warmth felt like a kiss to her fingertips, so pleasing that she wanted to sink her hand into the flames. Soon they had built a comfortable space, and Mira could expose her feet and dry her shoes. Widget stared into the red and orange hues with deep concentration, though the fire didn’t seem to occupy his thoughts.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked. His eyes jerked up, startled by her presence.

  “Your training regimen. By the time this is over, you will be completely different. We can’t have people looking at you and seeing some naïve powder-puff. You’ve got to exude hard and pure strength. In one on one combat, most of the fighting is done in the mind before the first blow is struck. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the students in your class were generally lazy, relying on their powers and even then blind to their real capabilities. Am I right? I’m sure I am. From here on out, you will no longer have the luxury of matching wits against the witless. Those you fight alongside will have learned as shadows, and those you fight against will have battle-tested knowledge.

  “So how do you compete? How can you garner an advantage? The first component will be physical training. You will run, climb, and lift until every muscle in your body can bear you. This includes combat techniques. Second, you will engage in mental training. Learning how to make a match is just the beginning. You should have a handful of devices and ingredients ready at all times. And if your application isn’t as quick as the snap of a finger, the time you spend bumbling and remembering might cost you your life.

  “Thirdly, and most importantly, I’m going to send you on a number of missions to simulate threatening situations. When you step out onto the field of battle, out into the blizzard
of chaos and hazard, fighting must be like second nature. Battle must be your normal, your contentment, your home.”

  The shadows from the fire flickered over his face as he spoke. She could tell from his words that this would be hard. The effort she needed to exert to help her sister would not begin against her enemy but with him.

  “And what about the ascent of Shadow Mountain?”

  “Oh, that? I wouldn’t worry about that too much.”

  “Why?” Mira moaned. “I’ve got to try to win it so the others will take me seriously. This one Darmen Elite boy named Neeko called me a freak, a walking defect. If I don’t prove otherwise, those kinds of judgments are going to hurt us when we need help trying to rescue my sister. A freak is expendable, but an underdog is valuable.”

  Widget waved his arms around in surrender.

  “OK, I can only teach you. I can’t make decisions for you. I didn’t realize entering a popularity contest was so important to your grand mission. How many fans will you make if you never walk away? The smart play is to fight when it counts, when there is actually something of value on the line. And, besides, you might not be ready when the fall comes. I mean, look at you. You’ve got no defenses. There won’t be a second chance if you go out there before you’re ready and make a mistake.”

  Mira flashed a sly grin as she rolled her left sleeve up to the elbow.

  “I’m not so weak as you think.”

  “What’s that?” Widget asked, leaning over the fire, indeed almost into it, to try and examine the static charger. Mira toggled the switch and the faint whirring of the motor hummed amidst the falling rain. She reached her hand out from under the canopy and a little blue bolt zapped the next drop of water that tried to fall on her hand.

  “It’s a static electricity generator, which gives me a charge just like these clouds. Anything that comes too close will receive a little, tiny lightning bolt. So, yes, I have one defense.”

  “Using a monopolar motor to create the friction? Hollowed out somehow to fit around your arm. Interesting. What kind of magnet have you got in there?”

  “A neodymium magnet.”

  “You don’t say. It must be a big one. How did you come by such an item? They’re awfully rare.”

  “I’ve got a special source,” Mira said, content to make him wonder.

  “Very interesting, indeed. Well I’m glad you’ve already got a head start on putting tricks up your sleeve, but you’ll need something with more wattage to deter the baddies you’ll encounter.”

  And from there Mira and Flip Widget began to discuss her arsenal. The adrenaline rush of their meeting quickly wore off though, leaving Mira with nothing in her mind but the need for sleep. Widget kept up the fire, and Mira had a better night outdoors than she could have ever imagined. The rain had stopped by the time she awoke, but that was just the first surprise. Widget had already found eggs for breakfast, and they tasted as good as anything her mother could have made.

  The sun had barely cracked over the hillside when he sent her out for her first run. Physical training wouldn’t end until the sun set, and then he’d work her mind once her body had been worn out. They spent days training and trekking around the countryside. Mira never had any idea where she was, and after a time it seemed they would never bump into another soul again.

  Thanks in part to both Widget’s survival tips and his gear, these travels were much more comfortable for Mira. During her torturous trek to his hillside abode, the outdoors had cut her in a way she thought would never heal, but gradually she forgot about that awful time and came to love nature, even seeing herself as a part of it. The hills she ran, the rocks she climbed, and the mountains she hiked all had lessons to offer her now that her teacher could point them out to her.

  Mira sat in the shade of a leafy tree one morning in an indistinct part of the forest when Widget called out to her with his latest instructions.

  “OK, the sun’s at forty-two degrees and I don’t want you to stop running until it’s at fifty-two degrees. Make sure you get your heart rate above one hundred beats per minute at least five times while maintaining eighty beats per minute as a baseline. We’ve got to increase the volume of oxygen your blood carries to your muscles and the best way to do that is using interval training.”

  Unlike most days when Mira jumped up and started immediately, a pained expression gripped her face and she slumped flat on the ground. Scowling, Widget rose and approached, standing over her as she held her stomach.

  “I don’t think I can. I’ve got a cramp. Maybe we can do something else, or take a short rest,” she said, rolling onto her side.

  “No! You’ve got to do this, no matter how much your menstrual cycle pains you. We’re not going to deviate from your schedule.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s impossible to do anything,” she murmured.

  “Mira, look at me. There is nothing going on inside your body I don’t understand. Isn’t that impressive? But just as there are effects from internal factors, you must still be able to respond to your environment.”

  Widget received a groan in response for his wisdom. He rolled his eyes, bent down, and grabbed her shoulder to get her attention.

  “OK, that’s fine. I get it. You can’t run. But let’s take advantage of this opportunity for learning and turn this into a life or death situation. You pretend to be you as you are now, and I’ll pretend to be a dangerous, deadly enemy tracking you down. How are you going to respond?

  “I’m going to walk away and come back in five minutes. You’ve got to have it in your mind that your life hangs in the balance here. We’ll see how much of a problem this really poses.” Widget turned and walked into the woods. He strolled some distance to a small stream flowing down the hill. Picking up a few rocks on the ground, he threw them at frogs littered along the bank. He smiled as the frogs reacted perfectly, hopping into the safety of the stream.

  Returning by the same path, Widget scanned the campsite but there were no obvious signs of Mira. She had vacated her spot on the ground, which he kneeled beside, running his hand over the grass. He peeked around a few thick trees, overlooking ones that were too narrow for her to hide behind.

  He spied a fallen tree trunk a little ways off, and he circled around to find it hollow. Grinning, he tiptoed closer without snapping any twigs or stepping on any crinkly brush. Leaning around a tree, he examined the hollowed out tree trunk, spotting something shiny sticking out of the end. It was Mira’s shoe.

  He crept closer toward the shoe, avoiding the other end from which she could see. Coming around the last tree, he crouched down, prepared to tag her by the foot. Lurching forward, he pounced smiling.

  “Good try, but I hoped for better,” he said, pushing the shoe with his foot. It flopped over, nothing inside of it. A second later, something dropped to the ground behind him, and an arm slipped around his neck.

  “Did I survive?” Mira whispered into his ear.

  Letting go of him, she went to retrieve her shoe. Looking back up, it startled her to see him glaring at her. She couldn’t tell if he was impressed or bitter.

  “Next time I’ll be sure not to underestimate you,” he said.

  “As long as next time is after I’m feeling better, that’s perfectly fine,” she said, holding her stomach and hobbling back to the campsite.

  A short, round man leaned against the railing before the massive black abyss. On the opposite side, river water plummeted into the untold depths below. People on the levels above him walked from here to there, climbed or descended stairs, or slipped into the passageways that had been dug into the earth.

  Only one person stood below him on the bottom level. Vern kept a fixed eye on the empty space before him. His fingertips extended into the air as though he was preparing to catch a ball. Though the light filtering down from above only vaguely lit his face, the sweat on his brow glistened.

  Without warning, the man flung a few wooden objects of various shapes into the pit. He scattered them in separ
ate directions, watching as they sailed into the darkness. They quickly disappeared from sight only to reemerge moments later, slowly drifting upward and together. Once Vern had recalled them all and held them in his hands, he tossed the pieces up to his mentor on the level above one by one.

  As the wooden pieces drew close to the man on the railing above, another force caught hold of them. Instead of traveling up, each wooden piece suddenly began to move to the side in a circle around his midsection. When they came around to the front again, he plucked them out of the air and assembled them into the shape of a doll.

  “Let’s try it again,” Mr. Westley ordered. “Try thinking about the shapes.”

  Again and again, he threw the doll parts and Vern retrieved them. It took a great degree of concentration for Vern to recover them all, and it irritated him when Westley would remark each time that his result wasn’t good enough. It had been a painstaking process for Vern to learn how to work his power on more than one small object at once, but when he finally succeeded the only praise he received for his accomplishment was a simple “OK, now we can move on.”

  His frustration with the man above gnawed at Vern, who repeatedly saved the wooden pieces from their endless fall. While griping in his head about the uselessness of doing this so many times, one of the pieces resumed its downward flight, and Vern jerked over the railing to bring it back.

  “What happened there?” Westley asked, his bald head leaning far enough over the railing to see the platform below him. Cradling all of the pieces in his arms, Vern looked up at his mentor.

  “Nothing happened. I did it perfectly just like all the other times. Every single piece is right here.”

  Westley let out an exasperated sigh, wringing his hands against the hardwood railing.”That wasn’t close to perfect. Let’s try it again. Toss up the pieces.”

  Vern refused to comply. Instead, he marched to the staircase, stomped his way to the top, and chucked the pieces at Westley. They all got stuck in an invisible current around his waist, circling him in orbit.