“Hold on, Simon!” screamed Tonya.
She hit the brakes, but nothing happened.
“Passengers should always wear their seat belts,” informed the digital voice of the car.
Tonya spun the wheel around and forced the vehicle to become level again, but in the process, she threw Simon’s small body to the hood. By this time, the car was trembling so badly that the screws and bolts were starting to come undone. The front windshield ripped away, and Simon yelled as he slipped down the shiny, black hood.
Tonya didn’t know what to do. She realized that, without the guidance of the paratransmitter, she was on her own to steer them to safety, but she didn’t trust herself; she’d just started school, for heavens sake, and wasn’t experienced with this sort of thing. No one was, really. After a brief moment of inner struggle, she came to the bitter conclusion that she had no choice but to manually enter one of the paraworlds—a decision every paratraveler hoped they’d never have to face. The probability of success was dismal at best, but she had to try.
“Hold on just one more second,” Tonya shouted.
She slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The vehicle sprang forward, fueled by the last remnants of magical power from Tonya’s spell, and miraculously entered one of the gateways. An explosion of blue light engulfed the car and sent them hurtling into a new world.
For a split second, Simon felt immense pain consume his whole body, but then everything became calm with a blanket of cold darkness that seemed to absorb every ounce of light around him. Succumbing to unconsciousness, Simon closed his eyes and acknowledged to himself that his universe was gone.
Chapter 6
The Power of Gee
Somewhere high above Paraworld Bantu, a spy named Tabatha Burke hid within the metallic walls of a Raider space carrier.
“I think she went this way,” yelled an officer, leading a group of soldiers down a dimly lit corridor.
Tabatha waited for the tapping of their boots to fade away before she emerged from the shadows. Her fair skin and big yellow eyes complimented her extremely thin figure. A black pseudo-skin material covered her entire body from head to foot and showed off her lean muscles as she pranced. She tightened the hood over her face and rounded a corner with catlike agility. The hall was empty.
Like a black panther, she glided through the hallway without making a sound, but then she halted suddenly at the swoosh of an automatic door. Tabatha clenched her fists and quickly opened her hands to reveal sharp, curved nails jutting from the tips of her gloved fingers.
With incredible speed, she ran up the wall, jumped to the ceiling, and sank her claws into the flat metallic surface. She pressed her body tight against the dark ceiling as a gangly man walked through the open door.
He spoke into a bracelet on his arm. “No, General Mayham, we haven’t found her yet, but I assure you—”
“I don’t want excuses!” boomed a loud voice from the bracelet. “If the information she stole finds its way to the Guardians of the Crown, our whole operation could be in jeopardy. I don’t want her captured—I don’t want her questioned—I WANT HER DEAD! Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” The response didn’t come from the officer but from Tabatha.
She bent over and pulled the bracelet off the wrist of the unconscious man she had just fallen upon and spoke to the unseen general.
“General, could you tell me exactly what this is I stole from you?”
She held up a shiny datachip, about the size of a quarter, between her fingers as if she were inspecting a diamond.
“Tabatha!” yelled the general. “How could you betray me like this?”
“It’s very simple, General,” she said coyly. “You don’t pay me as much as the Guardians do.”
“But think about the cause!”
“Yes, the cause,” she said, flipping the datachip into the air like a coin. “Your precious little crusade to rid the paraverse of all who perform magic.” She closed her hand on the chip. “Well, General, if you haven’t noticed yet, I’m somewhat partial to magic.” She opened her hand, but the datachip had disappeared.
The red homing beacon on the bracelet started to blink.
“Gotta go!” she said, sliding the bracelet down the hallway.
Tabatha turned around just as a laser blast seared past her face. She said a word under her breath that sounded like Balamee and then raised her hands. Two faint discs of energy hovered about her palms.
Another laser came at her, but this time, with lightning-fast reflexes, Tabatha caught the blast in her hand, causing the laser to dissipate on contact. She absorbed two more blasts into her hands before she lashed out with glowing stars, which sailed through the air and hit several guards. The stars exploded with green and red light, paralyzing the victims upon impact and disabling some of the laser rifles.
Tabatha jumped backwards in a series of flips and then danced around the hall to avoid further contact with the laser fire. Because the ship was hovering in space above the planet, the electro-magical waves were scarce. She knew she couldn’t defend herself with magic for long, so she decided to fall back on her hand-to-hand fighting skills.
Her decision was an unfortunate one… for the soldiers, that is; for Tabatha was of the Order of Gee—a group of trained fighters who intermingled the ancient art of karate with the awesome power of magic. Her muscular leg shot upward and kicked a guard square in the chest, leaving a faint trace of red florescent light in the air as the man flew backwards into three other soldiers.
Tabatha dodged as a large soldier clumsily took a swing at her with his rifle. She responded to his feeble attempt to hit her with a flurry of jabs to the solar plexus. Sensing movement nearby, she immediately fell into the splits as two armed soldiers—one on each side of her—fired their guns at the same time. Both men toppled to the ground.
She spun in a circle on the floor and knocked down two more attackers. Rolling forward onto her hands, she thrust her legs into the air and wrapped them around the neck of another soldier standing in front of her.
She paused for a moment and looked up at the young man’s handsome face between her calves. “Hey, you’re kinda cute,” she said, squeezing tighter. She pulled her legs back with unnatural strength and sent the man crashing into a wall.
Tabatha glanced around and realized she was hopelessly surrounded, but a renewed sense of hope filled her soul as a sudden pocket of electro-magical energy surged past her. Not wanting to lose the opportunity, she drew upon the power of the E.M. waves by quickly raising her hands above her head and yelling, “Splindore!” A whirlwind of light lifted the remaining soldiers into the air and slammed them hard against the ceiling.
The strong wind blew off Tabatha’s hood and played in her long white hair, making her pointy ears twitch in discomfort. When she lowered her arms, the wind ceased and the soldiers fell.
Drained, Tabatha bowed her head for a moment to catch her breath. She then sprinted down a narrow passageway and made a sharp turn. As she rounded the corner, she saw something thrust towards her face. Caught off guard, Tabatha turned her head to minimize the blow, but the rifle butt struck hard and sent her sprawling.
“That’s for using me,” came the cold voice of the tall gangly man she had incapacitated earlier.
Tabatha got to her knees and clutched her bloody forehead.
The officer kicked her in the ribs and said viciously, “That’s for the general.”
She rolled onto her back in pain and looked up at the man as he raised his gun towards her chest. Her vision went in and out of focus.
He smiled and said, “And this is for the cause.”
Tabatha closed her eyes and heard the firing of a gun… and then a thump next to her. She opened her eyes to discover that she was face-to-face with the dead officer.
A tall, shadowy figure loomed overhead, pointing a gun in her direction. Tabatha squinted, but no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see the man’s face behind his black h
ood. Many of the lights in the area flickered out as he moved towards her.
“Thank you,” she said, sitting up. Her ribs swelled with pain.
Too far away to assist her, the stranger extended the palm of his hand, as if he were requesting some sort of alm.
“What?” Tabatha said tersely, annoyed by the gesture.
Remaining silent, the cloaked figure snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Tabatha’s body rose into the air. She whirled around as if she were strapped to some invisible gyroscope. From out of the blur, the stolen datachip dropped to the floor and rolled down the hallway.
The dark stranger magically summoned the chip to his hand and then turned around and walked towards an open door. He raised his fist nonchalantly and snapped his fingers to release Tabatha from his invisible grip, fully expecting her to fall unconscious to the ground—but before he reached the exit, the mechanical door shut itself. He spun around and saw that Tabatha hadn’t crashed to the floor but was standing upright, reaffirming the notion that cats do always land on their feet.
“ReGaurdae!” she yelled, slapping her hands together.
She slowly pulled her hands apart, and a yellow rod with a glowing, inner flame extended from one palm to the other. When she could spread her hands no farther, she caught the rod in the middle and stretched it again until it formed into a full-sized staff.
The mysterious man dropped his rifle and pulled out a straight wand from within his cloak. He formed the shape of an oval in the air and bowed deeply, almost in jest. Angry, Tabatha charged and swung her magical staff towards his head with terrific force. Exhibiting little effort, the stranger blocked the attack with his wand and practically forced the staff out of Tabatha’s hands.
She frowned, then reared back and took another swing, but with the flick of his wrist, the stranger blocked the staff just like he had before. Tabatha screamed in frustration and attacked with a series of impressive moves, but the dark man stood immovable, his tiny wand blocking each and every blow as if she wielded a dandelion instead of a weapon of war. Sparks showered the floor every time her yellow rod crashed against her enemy’s wand, but he remained unaffected.
Tabatha wondered how the man could demonstrate his awesome powers with such little E.M. energy about them. Just then, the cloaked figure thrust out his free hand. Tabatha flew across the room and smacked into the far wall. Disoriented, she shook off the pain and hissed.
Steaming with rage, Tabatha picked up her yellow staff and broke it across her knee. She summoned all of the E.M. energy she possibly could to keep the inner flame from escaping. Then she raised both shafts into the air and spoke loudly: “Spliteasto!” This particular spell had always been difficult for her to perform, but after watching the sticks morph into what looked like a pair of glowing nunchucks, Tabatha smiled in approval, realizing that she had pulled it off flawlessly.
Methodically rotating the nunchucks across her toned body, she started towards her opponent again, but to her dismay, the dark figure reached into his cloak and pulled out another wand. The two magicians clashed in a melee of frenzied blows, but no matter how hard Tabatha tried to hit the man, he seemed to always block her attack.
Sparks exploded everywhere, as if they had just walked into a room full of lit fireworks. Horrified, Tabatha realized her foe must be an ultramage; how else could he summon every ounce of E.M. energy in the room to do his bidding?
The man partially disarmed her, sending one of her nunchucks flying behind him. His youthful speed surprised her. She lashed out with her remaining nunchucks, but they too were ripped out of her hand and thrown to the side. At that moment, the man crossed his wands and rasped the word, “Valamure.”
Tabatha’s eyes widened in terror at the sound of that horrible word. No, it can’t be!
With remarkable flexibility, she immediately arched backwards, hovering so close to the ground that her radiant white hair swept the floor. Thick, gray fumes sprayed out of the two wands and blew right over Tabatha’s body, forming a semitransparent cloud above her.
After the cloaked man finished his spell, he threw something at his feet, which caused an explosion of smoke to engulf him. When the smoke cleared, he was gone.
Tabatha stood up and stared at the mass of gray moving against the ceiling. It was a wraith—a ghostly entity whose very touch sucked out the life of its victim. Magic of this sort was rarely performed because, even if the magician possessed the power to cast the spell, incantations of this magnitude took an immense amount of electro-magical energy to execute. And more importantly, the conjurer was usually the first to die. Nevertheless, the cloaked man had summoned the demon, and it was now Tabatha’s problem.
Not waiting a second more, she rolled sideways and sprinted down the hallway with all her might. She opened a door and rushed past a small group of soldiers. Astonished at her sudden appearance, the men raised their laser rifles and started to fire. Tabatha threw herself down and lay prostrate against the floor as the large wraith glided through the wall behind her. Like apples falling from a tree, she heard the terrible thuds of bodies collapsing.
The deadly phantom hissed coldly in the air as it fed on the helpless soldiers. Its long, ragged robes brushed the ground just inches from Tabatha’s face.
Tabatha wiggled her way across the room and fled out the side exit. She ran down a long corridor and finally found the transportation room—but just before she opened the door, she glanced back to see the hideous wraith enter the hallway.
Two technicians sat lazily at their desks.
“Get out of here!” Tabatha screamed.
Falling over each other, they stumbled out of their chairs and fled into an adjacent room. Tabatha’s fingers ran wildly over the control panel as she punched in her coordinates. She jumped over the computerized console and stood inside a cramped cylindrical tube.
“Stop where you are,” barked a soldier from behind the console. He pointed a weapon at her.
Tabatha gasped in horror as the monstrous wraith flew right through the man and continued towards her. Its wide mouth expanded to ten times its normal size as it prepared to swallow her whole.
With heightened reflexes, Tabatha flicked her wrist at the console and magically pulled a tiny lever. The glass tube erupted in blue lightening. Frantic, she attempted to shield her face with her arms but then disappeared into a cloud of electricity as the malicious wraith passed through the empty tube.
Chapter 7
Pudo
Pillars of white steam, wrapped around thick plumes of smoke, sputtered from somewhere below. A soft hum sounded in Simon’s ears as he gazed sleepily at the vast funnels of vapor, embedded in clouds of ebony. The boy felt his body rise higher and higher above the unearthly ground. Then, suddenly, there was no darkness, no shadows, no evil nor despair—just an overwhelming harmony and a whiteness that swelled—so lovingly, so delicately—throughout his whole being. He was in a universe of immaculate light that sent his senses into a blissful state of euphoria.
Is this Heaven? he thought.
As if in answer to his query, a beautiful young woman, sitting atop a majestic beast, emerged from the mist above. The creature she rode resembled a lion but was considerably larger and broader. Its long, white beard grew down to its muscular paws, and its nostrils flared every time a puff of steam escaped its mouth. Simon felt pure love encompass his soul as the animal descended a narrow flight of steps.
The angelic lady wore a white satin robe that swept the marble floor as she moved. Her fair skin glowed with a radiance that Simon had never imagined possible, and her flowing hair seemed to be caught up in a peculiar breeze that followed only her.
As she drew near, her mouth widened into a pleasant smile that filled Simon’s heart with warmth. She spoke in a musical tone that was pleasant to the ear yet sounded surreal and unnatural.
‘Tis a musical prayer.
Words unsaid, unbinding, unknown.
‘Tis the foundation of life, truth,
and thy in
ner-self entwined.
Within your destiny, it lies.
Inside your heart, it confides.
“What—” Simon stammered. “What is?”
She smiled and answered, “Magic.” As the word left her tender lips, it seemed to echo over and over in Simon’s ears. “Magic—Magic—Magic.”
The mysterious woman rode back up the marble steps and then turned around to say, “Your first gift, I leave unto you.”
She blew the boy a kiss and then vanished into the thick clouds. Ever so slowly, the dreamlike environment faded away until only cold darkness remained.
Simon opened his eyes, and the flood of reality came rushing in. He squinted to see the outline of dwarf-sized men and women walking around the room.
“Where am I?” he asked, still a bit dazed.
“Simon!” exclaimed a familiar voice. “Simon, you’re awake! Doctor… doctor, he’s awake!”
The face of a small man, perhaps less than four feet tall, appeared above him. The man shined a tiny light into each one of the boy’s eyes and announced in a high, squeaky voice, “Yep, he’s awake.” The doctor turned off the flashlight and stuck his meaty fingers into Simon’s mouth and started to feel around. “Now tell me, boy, if this hurts.”
Simon tried to talk, but the thick fingers in his mouth prevented him from saying anything comprehendible. He glanced over at Tonya. She looked different somehow. Her green hair was no longer curly, but something else seemed out of place. Had she gotten taller?
“Dr. Troodle, he doesn’t understand you,” Tonya informed the man. “He can’t speak your language.”
Gagging on the stranger’s fingers, Simon jerked his head away and yelled, “Stop it!”
“Well, I understood that,” Dr. Troodle said, stepping back.
Still confused, Simon sat up and shouted, “Where am I? Who are you?” He looked down at the sheets covering his nakedness and cried, “Where’s my clothes!”
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