Simon looked through the telescopic eyepieces of the mask and realized he could now see through the blue fumes. In fact, he soon discovered he could manipulate his perception at will. When he looked at Thorn, he noticed that descriptive readings such as body temperature and weight appeared at the borders of his peripheral vision.
He concentrated on the label engraved on Thorn’s mask, and his vision magnified so that the label came right up to his face. He stared at the words, and they too became magnified. The label read: Preservation Gas Mask.
Like a two-way radio, Thorn’s mechanical voice broke the silence. “The mist preserves the books. That’s how they’ve lasted all these years.”
“That’s cool,” Simon responded, shocked to hear that his own voice sounded a bit synthesized as well. He looked around and saw rows and rows of bookcases spanning the length of the vault. In the middle of the room sat a very large book upon a white pedestal.
“Let’s start with that one.” Simon motioned towards the pedestal.
“Wow, that’s huge,” cried Thorn. “What does the title say?”
Simon walked over to the oversized book and inspected the cover. The strange characters danced around and then turned into English.
“The History of Pudo,” Simon read. “By John Willmaker.”
Thorn jumped with glee. “What luck. Open it up.”
Simon turned over the heavy cover and read the first page. “Volume 13. Dedicated to my lovely wife… My strength… My beacon… My everlasting joy… My—”
“My goodness! At this rate, we’ll be here forever. Let’s just skip to the end.”
Simon could tell that Thorn obviously wanted to get back to the dance. He, on the other hand, was happy to be away from the noisy crowd. However, Thorn did have a point: The book was enormous, and the time they had was limited.
Simon moved to turn the page when something odd caught his eye. “Wait a second, Thorn. Take a look at this.” He pointed to the bottom of the page where a picture of a large woman was printed.
“Ewww—I can’t believe that!” Thorn crinkled his nose. The gas mask filtered his voice, making it sound two octaves lower. “This guy was married to a big Pud?”
“I think he was a big Pud,” Simon noted.
“Oh, come on! They can’t even read, let alone write.”
“Why do you think this book is so big then? I don’t think even Alvin Bottlebrush could bench-press this thing.”
“History books are always big. Anyway, we’re never going to get back to the dance if we keep looking at ugly women.”
“All right.” Simon flipped to the last page of the book. “The year is now 1999 AD.” He stopped reading and mumbled, “Huh? That’s weird. My language spell must be messing up. This couldn’t have been written in 1999—that wasn’t too long ago.”
“Maybe they had a different reckoning of time.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Simon read again, “The year is now 1999 AD, almost two thousand years since the first draguno attack.”
“There you go,” Thorn interrupted. “AD most likely stands for After Dragunos. So that means the draguno attacks have been going on for three thousand years. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Simon read the last paragraph of the book. “Although our ancestors were unsuccessful at defeating the lizards the last time they emerged, we are confident we will be victorious. We will not allow these demons to destroy our world for a third time. With the help of the High King and with the blessings of God above, we will prevail!”
Simon closed the book.
Thorn wrung his hands. “So we really are in trouble, aren’t we?” The impending doom was finally starting to sink in.
“Yes, and the worst thing of all is that no one is going to believe us.”
“Maybe they will,” Thorn cried, his voice sounding a little muffled from his gas mask. “We just need to find some evidence that the ancient Puds were fighting lizards and not aliens. Let’s keep looking.”
“What about the dance?”
“I guess this is more important.” The little Pud sighed. “And to think… It took the near destruction of the entire planet to finally convince the city council to sponsor a dance… and I’m going to miss it.”
“Cheer up,” Simon encouraged. “I’m sure there’ll be other dances.”
“Yeah, like in another thousand years.” The little Pud’s voice became even more depressed. “That is, if anyone survives… How could we be so dumb?”
Never did Simon think he would ever hear a smaller Pud call his own race dumb, but before he could answer, Thorn spoke again.
“Simon, there’s a beautiful girl just outside of this building who is waiting to dance with me, and even though I’d really like to be with her right now, I can’t help thinking that a bunch of lizards are on their way to kill everyone. My ancestors said they were confident they’d defeat the dragunos, but even though they were prepared, they still lost. So how can we possibly protect ourselves when our scientists are looking up in the sky for aliens while right under their noses the real enemy is preparing to destroy us?”
“That’s what we have to find out,” Simon exclaimed. “We have to find out what happened a thousand years ago. Why did your ancestors lose the battle?”
“You’re right,” Thorn said, taking courage. “Let’s find the next volume of this history book.”
“Good idea. You start on that side of the vault, and I’ll start on this side. Just look for these words.”
Thorn memorized a few of the strange words on the cover of the history book and then vanished through the blue mist to the other side of the room.
Simon proceeded to rummage through his portion of the vault. As he searched through the old books, his mask did strange things. It was clearly evident that the functions of the mask included more than the ability to filter out the blue preservation fumes.
Simon soon discovered he could pinpoint a book high on a shelf and signal his mask to shoot out rays of light that would scan the book and pull out a holographic representation of it. Because no one actually had to physically handle the books, this was another way the Puds were able to preserve them for so long while still being able to study and translate them.
With the twitch of his eyes, he could move the hologram around and even flip through the pages. Simon wished he had a mask like this back on Earth; because of his short stature, there were many times he couldn’t reach the higher bookshelves at the school library.
After a while, Simon got a kink in his neck. He sat on a stone bench that was carved right into the wall and relaxed. He tried to look through the dense fog, but the mask couldn’t penetrate far enough to allow him to see the other side of the room.
“Any luck, Thorn?” he called out into the blue air.
“Not yet. But I do have to say that these masks are pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
“I wonder if you could see through clothing with these.”
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“Oh, I know. I was just wondering.”
Simon couldn’t help but smile because of the obvious embarrassment in Thorn’s voice. He sat, musing on the idea of being able to see through clothing, when, all of a sudden, something caught his eye: a tiny red book lodged between two enormous ones. It just seemed out of place—like a hummingbird trying to make its home in an eagle’s nest.
He attempted to scan the cover with his mask, but the rays of light couldn’t seem to reproduce the tiny book. Maybe it wasn’t really a book at all. Simon extended his hand and manually pried the book out of the bookcase.
An insignia protruded from the front cover. Simon tried to open the little red book, but it was sealed tight. He flipped it over and read the back cover. “The key to the machine that will save us all.”
Deep in thought, Simon tapped the armrest of the bench, contemplating the strange insignia on the cover. What machine? he thought.
Simon stared blindly into sp
ace. He played with the engravings in the armrest. Using his forefinger, he followed the strange grooves until they were swallowed up into a shallow hole. He was just about to put the book back when he looked down at the cavity in the armrest. At first, he thought the round hole was some sort of cup holder, but then he realized it looked exactly like the emblem on the little red book, only concave.
A surge of excitement ran through his body. Had he just discovered a clue to the mystery of the ancient Puds? He pressed the book onto the armrest until he heard a click. The insignia snapped into place perfectly. Looking around and feeling anxious, he turned the book until he heard another click, but nothing else happened.
Suddenly, the seat he was sitting on—as well as a section of the wall—fell backwards, throwing Simon onto the ground in the process. Shocked at what had just happened, the boy picked himself off the cold earthen floor and tried to regain his composure.
It didn’t take long for Simon to realize he was no longer in the library. A shroud of darkness prevented him from seeing anything at all. The settings of the mask must have been adjusted when he fell.
Simon blinked, and his vision changed. Everything remained black as night, but now he could see the outlines of blue formations floating in the dark, musty air. As he moved towards the faint images, he walked into something cold and hard. He put his hands up to feel the invisible wall but then got the shock of his life. Instead of seeing his hands, Simon saw the faint blue outline of his bones! The mask had given him x-ray vision, and the blue images he had seen floating in the air must have been the skeletal remains of something embedded in the wall.
Simon stared at his arms and marveled at the many bones in his wrists. He looked down at his legs and spotted the place where they had been torn off from his car accident. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Well, Thorn,” he said aloud, “I guess these masks can see through clothing.”
Simon blinked, and his eyesight changed again. Although his x-ray vision was gone, he could now see shimmers of pastel light reflecting off of everything. As he moved his hands, they left a trail of yellow behind—like what a sparkler does when someone waves it in the air.
Simon looked closer at his surroundings and realized for the first time that he was in a cave. Overwhelmed, he took a step forward and tripped on something: the little red book.
When he picked it up, the walls came alive with a greenish-gold color. Simon moved the book closer to the cave wall, and, like magic, strange writing appeared on the rocky surface. The ancient characters morphed into English for the boy to read. “Inside the heart of the volcano, we will purge this world of the dragunos.”
Simon moved his head, and the optical settings of the mask changed the way he viewed his surroundings once more. As he made his way down the tunnel, he saw the heat signatures of the cave—mostly blue and white images with small trickles of red and yellow.
Simon blinked, and his infrared vision changed to some sort of sound wave vision. The ceiling reverberated slightly, and as he walked through some puddles, his footsteps became whirlwinds of inaudible sound that bounced off the walls and collided into each other. Simon began to feel nauseous as he watched the sound waves—or at least, the visible representation of the sound waves—move about the cave.
Frustrated with the malfunctioning mask, Simon closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he saw absolutely nothing. Even the ancient words which had illuminated from the walls had vanished. Darkness—complete and utter darkness: It was something Simon did not like one bit, especially because he had no idea where he was.
He blinked one last time.
A pounding flash shocked his nervous system as the darkness transposed itself into a radiant white light—a contrast so drastic and sudden that it blinded him. He covered the telescopic eyepieces with his hands, but it did not help. Even when he closed his eyes, he could still see the pure-white images of stalagmites and stalactites growing from the floor and ceiling of the cave.
Dazed, the boy stumbled forward and smashed his head into a jagged rock formation. He crumpled to the ground. The white images—now burned into his retina—faded into black as Simon drifted out of consciousness and into a deep sleep.
Chapter 19
Unveiling the Dark Forces
The snow-encrusted planet could hardly sustain life. A blanket of stormy weather stretched its cold fingers into every crevice of the barren land. Emerging from the harsh elements, a towering castle broke through the thick ice and held strong against the raging wind that bit the sky. A white and lonely speck in the paraverse, this parallel world was home to Lord Theobolt Vaylen, Guardian of the Crown.
“Shut it down!”
“But the master said—”
“Do you want the master to die, Merworth?”
“But, Commander Wright—”
“I’m in charge here, and I say shut it down!”
Cowering in obedience, Merworth pulled a lever, which caused the E.M. machine to shake violently in response. The deafening noise gradually decreased as the power to the machine slowly drained away. Everyone stared in anticipation as the display lights died out one by one. Like a wounded beast giving in to submission, the machine finally relaxed and then turned off completely.
The room became deathly silent.
“Master Vaylen?” Merworth called out, cautiously approaching the large machine.
There was no response.
“Master?”
The room remained quiet. Merworth tried to peer through the murky round window on the front of the machine, but the white steam from within clouded his vision. The tension in the room became even more profound as the long moments passed. None of the other physicians dared to move or make a sound.
Merworth turned to look at his colleagues. Suddenly, a gruesome face pressed itself against the glass. The doctors shuddered as Lord Vaylen slid down the window. Part of his skin remained behind.
“Get him out of there!” the man in charge screamed. Two guards pried open the door, and Lord Vaylen fell out onto the floor. “Are you all right, Master?” the commander asked, rushing to his side.
Lord Vaylen looked up from the billowing steam and rasped, “Didn’t I say that under no circumstances should you stop the procedure?”
“Yes, but you’ve never been in the machine for that long.”
“I require strict obedience, Commander.”
“Yes, of course, Master,” the commander stammered while stretching out his hand to Lord Vaylen. “I was only concerned for your welfare.”
Lord Vaylen took the commander’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Well, my old friend,” the dark lord said calmly, “allow me to relieve you of your concern.”
Still clutching his master’s hand, the commander felt an overwhelming surge of energy flow through his body. In an instant, the helpless man crumbled to ashes before the ultramage’s feet.
Turning to the group of doctors, Lord Vaylen announced with a cruel smile, “It appears as though the treatment was a success.”
The horrified doctors nodded in agreement but were too scared to say anything. Merworth grabbed Lord Vaylen’s black cloak from the wall and brought it to his master.
“Thank you, Merworth,” the wizard said kindly as he hid himself behind the dark cloak. He moved his hand to grasp the physician’s shoulder, but Merworth flinched instinctively. “Oh, come now, Doctor,” Lord Vaylen chided. “Do you really think I would kill my best friend?”
“But you already—”
“Shhh!”
Lord Vaylen raised his hand to silence the doctor. He stooped down and fixed his eyes upon the pile of ashes smoldering at his feet. Quick as a snake, the ultramage plunged his hand into the hot ashes and pulled out a writhing creature.
Merworth gasped. “A sneaker worm!”
“I’m afraid Commander Wright has been dead for some time now,” Lord Vaylen explained sympathetically. “Replaced by this spy.” He squeezed the worm in his hand.<
br />
“But how did you know?” Merworth asked.
“The E.M. machine. It opened my eyes like never before. Thanks to our special guest, I feel I can withstand anything.”
“Excuse me, Lord Vaylen,” a voice from the intercom chimed. “The Raiders have just entered our paraworld. General Mayham and Captain Drackus would like to speak with you.”
The Guardian of the Crown bit his lip and snapped, “I’ll talk to them in my office. Follow me, Merworth.”
After a brisk walk through the tall and spacious corridors, the two men entered Lord Vaylen’s office. Holographic images of both General Mayham and Captain Drackus stood in an alcove in the wall.
General Mayham spoke immediately. “Lord Vaylen, we demand that you release Griffen Lasher into our custody at once. We know you have him, and we’re not—”
Lord Vaylen raised the sneaker worm in anger and spat, “Gentleman, I believe I do have something of yours… but it is not this man you are seeking.” With a sharp twist of his wrist, he cracked the worm’s spine and threw it down. The worm convulsed sporadically about the floor and made a shrill clicking noise as it died. “I do not appreciate being spied on.”
“And we don’t appreciate being lied to,” Captain Drackus responded coolly. “My security cameras filmed you destroying my holodroids.”
“I assure you, gentleman, that I have never set foot on either of your space carriers.”
“But my cameras—”
“Are inaccurate,” Lord Vaylen finished his sentence. “Check your security system again, and you will find that it was not I who invaded your ship.”
“But the intruder was wearing your black cloak,” Captain Drackus argued.
“Did he walk with a limp?”
Drackus thought for a moment. “No.”
“Then it couldn’t have been me. Now gentleman, I do not wish to discuss this any further. I have pressing business to attend to. Good day.”
Before the captain or the general could say another word, the transmission cut out and the holograms vanished. Lord Vaylen pushed a button on his bracelet and said, “Please inform me when the Raiders have entered the parastream.”
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