Disturbed by this, Lord Vaylen took off his black hood and revealed a deep scar that ran down the length of his face until it disappeared into his thick goatee. The man’s sallow skin looked ready to fall off the bone, and his deep gray eyes recoiled as if they had never seen the light before. Rumor had it that Lord Vaylen had become terribly disfigured while defending the king’s life in the Civil War against the Raiders over a decade ago. It was at that time that the Raiders split off from the kingdom and formed the Scientific Society, also known as the S.S.
Vaylen spoke with stern conviction. “All of the ultramages in the known paraverse have been accounted for. Ezra, are you telling me that you believe this feline? Do you honestly believe that a wizard could possibly become an ultramage without us knowing about it first? Why else have we created these so-called schools of magical learning, if not to discover this very thing?”
“Yes,” Councilor Bromwell answered, “to all your questions.”
Intercepting her brother’s bubbling hostility, Lady Cassandra stepped in. “Tabatha, what evidence do you have to support these accusations?”
“None but my word.”
Cassandra furrowed her brow. “I believe that you think you saw the Valamure curse. Many E.M. Enforcers even greater than you have been tricked by illusions of this sort before—”
“But it wasn’t—”
“And General Mayham has proven in the past to be somewhat passionate with his views… but to destroy a whole race of magicians?”
“I’d say you were on that ship eight months too long,” added Lord Vaylen.
“However,” Lady Cassandra continued, “these are strange times we live in. Since the disappearance of the king and queen, nothing has been the same. Tabatha, you’ve never given us reason to doubt you before. Is there anything more you can say that will help us decide on what course of action we should take?”
“I wish I would’ve discovered more information, but I left the carrier somewhat in a hurry—if you know what I mean. We were about to join up with another spaceship. I heard General Mayham say that the meeting would be an essential key to their success. I don’t know who was in charge of the other ship, but I do know it was orbiting one of the moons of the Centarious paraworld.”
“Drackus!” Councilor Bromwell blurted in disgust. He turned to the chief Guardian of the Crown and said, “Lady Cassandra, I fear that Griffen’s position may be compromised. If only we could send word to him.”
“Griffen Lasher?” Tabatha’s pointy ears perked up.
Lady Cassandra said, “We sent Griffen to Centarious as a mediator, so he could cool things down between the Centarians and the Scientific Society. Captain Drackus is determined to conduct weapons experiments on the third moon of Centarious. Mining operations have ceased because the workers are too afraid that the Raiders will attack them while they’re in the caves.”
“We need to stop Griffen,” Tabatha said frantically. “When General Mayham tells Captain Drackus that I stole the datachip, the S.S. will be furious with the royal family, and Griffen will be caught up in the middle!”
“It’s too late,” Lord Vaylen said. “He left hours ago. There’s nothing really we can do now.”
“Griffen Lasher is not expendable!” Tabatha said. “He’s one of the greatest E.M. Enforcers we have. He’s noble and brave and—”
Lord Vaylen interrupted, “Tabatha, my dear, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you had feelings for this man.”
Tabatha gasped, and her cheeks reddened. She closed her eyes and then opened them.
“Griffen is a great asset to the Crown,” she said. “Besides, I wouldn’t want him to die because of something I did. Let me warn him—please?”
Swayed by Tabatha’s emotion, Lady Cassandra instructed, “You may take a small craft, but, know this: If what you said today is true, General Mayham will want revenge. Travel with speed, but if you find that you are too late, under no circumstances are you to pursue the Raiders…” Tabatha beamed with gratitude. “I don’t want to lose a perfectly good spacecraft,” Cassandra concluded with a smile.
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Councilor Bromwell, will you escort Ms. Burke to the docking bay?”
“Of course I will,” the old man said, putting his arm out for Tabatha to hold. They headed towards the exit, but before they reached the door, it swung open, and in rushed a bald man with a look of anger in his eyes. Lord Vaylen recognized Tonya’s father at once.
“Sorry, my lady,” came the distressed voice of the same guard as before, “but this man—”
“Mr. Doyle, how may we help you?” Lord Vaylen said.
“Lady Cassandra, Guardians of the Crown, how many months have gone by since my daughter was separated from that madman you call a teacher? I’m starting to lose track!”
“Excuse me,” Councilor Bromwell said as he tried to get past the tall man, “but we have urgent business to attend to.”
“That’s all right,” Mr. Doyle shouted. “I’m sure there’s many more important things than the welfare of my daughter. Go ahead! See to your precious business.”
“Thank you,” Tabatha said, pushing Councilor Bromwell out the door.
Distraught, Mr. Doyle paced the room. The thin man wore an expensive business suit with a white, pinstriped shirt and black shoes to match. He didn’t bother to put his leather briefcase down—an indication that he was on his way to some critical engagement. Large beads of sweat ran down his face. Although his head had been shaved, tiny stubs of vibrant red hair poked out of his scalp. It was an embarrassment for a shrewd businessman, such as himself, to allow anyone to see what he felt.
“With all the money I’ve thrown at this institution, you’d think people would be dying to help me find my daughter. But, alas, NO—All I get is excuses!” The man moved about the room furiously. “I get no respect, I get little help, and I get no results!”
“Mr. Doyle,” Lord Vaylen said, trying to calm the man. “Let’s take a walk in the garden. It’s much cooler outside than in here.”
The three adults strolled into the spacious courtyard and found themselves surrounded by lush vegetation and beautiful flowers. A small brooklet of clear water ran lazily around the perimeter, and multicolored birds sang in the distance. The school for the magically gifted could be seen over the tall trees, adjoining the huge castle. After a few moments in the tranquil environment, the little stubs of hair on Mr. Doyle’s head faded into a subdued bluish hue.
“Mr. Doyle,” Lord Vaylen said delicately, “we are very grateful for your generous contributions to the school and to the government. If your daughter is alive, I promise I’ll personally see to it that she is brought back to the school safe and sound.”
“How safe can she be with Leander Payne running the school?” The man’s hair started to change colors again. “I demand that you replace that incompetent fool immediately!”
Lady Cassandra spoke up. “Mr. Doyle, we have no intention of releasing Principal Payne. He is a very competent supermage. In fact, it was he who discovered the pathway Tonya took when she split off from the class.”
“Yes, but it was also he who was in charge of ensuring that the equipment was in good working order in the first place. My daughter is the most gifted student in her class, and I’ve surmised that the only plausible cause for her disappearance is that her paratransmitter must have been defective—well, I suppose it also could have been tampered with; I’m sure Tonya made a lot of students jealous.” Mr. Doyle began pacing again. “Professor Gwyn is also to blame. That coward of a teacher should have gone after her. The only reason I haven’t killed him myself is because of the simple fact that Tonya’s still alive.”
Lady Cassandra responded hesitantly, “Not to be insensitive, but how exactly do you know she’s still alive?”
The man pointed to the silver band around his finger. “Life-ring,” he stated. “I gave one to Tonya for her birthday. This light on the ring indicates her life force. She has
an identical ring that shows her my life force.”
“Amazing,” Cassandra said. “I’ve never seen anything that traverses parallel worlds like this. I imagine it took an impressive amount of skill and magic to create these rings.”
“Well, I paid an impressive amount of money for them. They’re one of a kind,” he boasted. “But anyway, that’s beside the point. Lord Vaylen, you said that if Tonya was still alive, you’d bring her back to the school safely. Now you know she’s alive, so I’m going to hold you to your promise.”
“Of course, Mr. Doyle,” the cloaked man said politely. “The pathway your daughter took led to an uncharted region of the parastream. If you will excuse me, I’ll prepare another search party immediately.”
“You’re a good man, Theobolt,” Mr. Doyle said. “It’s a pity you’re not the king.”
“The Power of the Ancients has passed over me,” Lord Vaylen explained, seeing the disturbed expression on his sister’s face. “The magical force will bestow itself only on the rightful heir of the throne. I was late in the race—albeit by mere seconds, a minute perhaps—and the honor was given to my good brother instead.”
“But you are next in line to be king.”
“True,” Lord Vaylen said. Cassandra became more agitated. “However, as your life-ring reassures you that your daughter is alive, my lack of receiving the Power of the Ancients reassures me that my brother and his wife are still alive. And if all goes well, I will never have the burden of carrying the Crown.”
“Curse the rebellion!” Mr. Doyle spat. “Whatever happened in the Civil War to cause the king and queen to go into hiding is simply deplorable. How many more years must we wait before their return?”
“Who knows? Only time will tell,” Lord Vaylen responded. “Only time will tell.” The cloaked man limped to the edge of the courtyard. “Until we meet again.” He disappeared down one of the garden walkways.
Mr. Doyle raised his briefcase. “Well, thank you for your time, my lady, but I really must go now.” He started to leave.
“If there’s anything more we can do for you—”
“No, thank you. You’ve been more than helpful already.” Without waiting for a response from Lady Cassandra, he rushed down one of the secluded pathways.
A few moments later, he heard the voice of Lord Vaylen talking to someone in the shadows. Mr. Doyle hid behind a tall partition of shrubbery. He put his ear to the wall of foliage and listened in on their private conversation.
“We can’t just let them blow up everything they fancy,” the stranger whispered.
“Yes, I know that, but I now have some leverage that will keep them in check,” Lord Vaylen hissed under his black hood.
“What possible leverage could you have with the Raiders?” the man asked incredulously.
“All in good time, my friend. All in good time. I will be delayed for a short while. I promised an important benefactor I’d find his daughter, and I am a man of my word.”
“Yes, of course, Lord Vaylen, but until your return, how shall we deal with the Raiders?”
“Let them be.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord, but is that a wise decision?”
“I have my reasons. The council will just have to be patient.”
“Lord Vaylen, there are some in the Senate who believe that the Guardians of the Crown can no longer bring order to the paraverse. Many grow tired of waiting for your brother’s return. Others disbelieve that the Power of the Ancients even exists. They feel it is just a story perpetuated by the Guardians for the purpose of bringing compliance to your laws.”
“How dare they forget the supreme power of King Vaylen!” the cloaked man exclaimed. “Without the Power of the Ancients, the whole paraverse would crumble and fall into utter chaos. It is the very fabric that binds the parallel worlds together!”
“Yes,” the man said, “but it has been over a decade since anyone has witnessed this power you speak of. With the attacks of the Raiders on the rise and the recent leak of information to our enemies, our patience has grown thin.”
“One day the Senate will see the awesome Power of the Ancients, and when they do they will cower in submission. Leave the Raiders to me. I have Drackus and Mayham in the palm of my hand.”
“All right then,” the stranger said. “I will relay your message to the Senate. Farewell, my lord.”
The two men parted ways, leaving Mr. Doyle alone in the garden to muse upon the conversation he had just overheard. He twisted a jewel on one of his rings, and a faint hologram of a man appeared in the air.
“Drackus,” Mr. Doyle rasped, “I have some interesting news for you…”
* * *
At the docking bay, Tabatha and Councilor Bromwell were saying their goodbyes. A young couple with catlike characteristics stood a few paces off; their tails intertwined in a romantic gesture. Tabatha glanced in their direction, and they both cringed as if they’d just smelled something horrible.
The ultramage spoke. “Listen to me, Tabatha. You have sacrificed a great deal to serve the Crown, and because of this, you have been ostracized by your people. Your tail was removed in order to conceal your identity, and you have joined the Order of Gee—both of which are disgraceful in the eyes of your paraworld; nevertheless, your law expressly forbids you to become involved romantically with another race.”
Tabatha stopped him right there. “I’m not involved with Griffen!”
“Hush, child,” he said, quieting the woman. “I’ve seen the way you look at him when he enters the room. It is more than mere admiration I see in your eyes. I say this as a warning and not by command: Be careful that the passion of the moment does not dilute your vision of the future prize that awaits you in life. You are still young. Be patient.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, Councilor Bromwell, but I have no intentions of getting involved with anyone, let alone a pompous outsider like Griffen.”
“Very well then. I told the young man to stop at Parallel World 698 to recharge his electro-magical thrusters before heading to the next jump point. I’ll set the coordinates for you.” At that, the old man waved his hand, and the space shuttle lights lit up. Tabatha climbed into the tiny vessel and looked down at Councilor Bromwell.
He spoke again. “Griffen is very diligent in what we ask of him. Although he will be forced to stop several times on the way to recharge his ship, I suspect that he will neither rest nor eat until he is at Centarious. If only we knew how to communicate through the parastream, we could save ourselves a lot of grief. It may take days before you catch up with him. Good luck and godspeed.”
Tabatha sealed the cockpit and maneuvered the ship towards the open bay doors. She engaged her E.M. thrusters, and the spacecraft shot out into the sky like a rocket. Councilor Bromwell watched as blue electricity wrapped itself around the shuttle, forming a magical bubble. A second later, the ship exploded against the white clouds and entered the parastream.
Chapter 10
Forgotten Language
Simon found himself floating in a sea of swirling mist. He felt as though his heart might burst when he saw the beautiful young woman emerge from the billowing clouds above. The majestic beast carried her gracefully down the marble staircase and brought her close enough for Simon to see the loving expression on her face. She spoke.
Great potential awaits at the door,
yet doubt consumes your soul.
Watch, therefore, for pride’s deep snare.
It eats, ever hungry, consuming all
yet is never satisfied—wanting more and more,
devouring mighty kings of worlds,
as well as lowly paupers without lands or gold.
Peace, equality, and civility must subdue the beast’s hunger
lest this evil destroy you all
and the enemy, long since forgotten, returns to rule once more.
Simon didn’t understand her message, but he held onto each and every word as if they fell from the lips of a goddess. Oh, h
ow her sweet voice rang forth in a harmonious string of music whose melody could outplay a whole symphony of musicians! The boy’s tender heart reeled in torment as the mysterious woman turned to leave.
“Wait!” Simon pleaded. “What’s your name?”
She turned her head and smiled, her countenance white and pure. Remaining silent, she blew Simon a kiss and disappeared into the clouds as she had done before.
“Simon… Simon… Simon, wake up! You’ll be late for school.”
“Go away, Dimitri,” he moaned.
“What? Who’s Dimitri?”
Simon opened his eyes to see Thornapple’s smiling face, and it suddenly dawned on him that he wasn’t in the orphanage anymore.
“I had that dream again,” he told the midget-sized boy.
“The one about your dream girl?”
“She’s not my dream girl,” he said defensively. “Besides, she’s probably ten years older than me.”
“Then why do you keep dreaming about her?”
“I don’t know. She seems familiar somehow. She keeps telling me that something bad is going to happen.”
“Well, it’s been almost a thousand years since we’ve had any wars, and the astronomers don’t detect any rogue meteors headed our way… Oh, I know what it could be!”
“What?”
“Something bad is going to happen to you if you don’t go to the dance next week.”
“How can I dance when I can’t even walk?” Simon asked. He crawled out of bed and flopped onto his hover chair.
“It’s been two months now. You’re not trying hard enough… or maybe you just don’t want to walk so you won’t have to go to the dance.”
Thornapple didn’t realize how close to the truth he really was; the upcoming week terrified Simon. The dance was part of a festival that commemorated the thousand-year anniversary of the Battle of Lisardious: a confrontation that almost wiped out the whole race of Puds—big and small.
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