Paraworld Zero

by Matthew Peterson

  ‘Tis a musical prayer.

  Words unsaid, unbinding, unknown.

  ‘Tis the foundation of life, truth,

  and thy inner-self entwined.

  Within your destiny, it lies.

  Inside your heart, it confides.

  Maybe the source of his unique abilities didn’t come from the pendant, after all. Perhaps his magical powers actually did come from deep within himself.

  Nervous, Simon pulled the wand out of his shirt and tapped the bars—just like Tonya had done before.

  “Amnasee!”

  “Not Amnasee,” Tonya mumbled. “Annn-masee.”

  Simon was about to cast the spell again when he realized the bars were starting to glow red. One by one, the bars melted into molten pools of liquid metal. Unfortunately, the spell continued to spread across the room until all the criminals were freed.

  “Oops,” Simon said. He watched the prisoners run around the dungeon in chaos. The flashing red lights heightened the anxiety in the room.

  “Thomas,” Tonya called out weakly, “how do we get out of here?”

  “If you can get past the door, make an immediate right. Go down the hallway until it ends. Then turn left. On the third door to the right, you’ll find the hangar bay.”

  “Isn’t there one of those paratransceiver things we could use?” asked Thornapple.

  “You’d never make it,” the butler responded. “It’s heavily guarded and can only be activated by an authorized voice imprint.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Tonya said, faltering.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Simon asked.

  “No,” the old man replied, sitting down on his bed. “This is my home. Perhaps the master will see my loyalty and reinstate me to my old position.”

  “Well, good luck,” Simon said. “And thanks.”

  The teenagers rushed to the melted cupboard and gathered their possessions. Simon put Holo in his pocket and his mother’s medallion around his neck. He eyed the still figure wrapped in bandages a few yards away. The poor man on the gurney was staring right at him. With compassion in his heart, mixed with a bit of curiosity, Simon approached the stranger.

  “What are you doing?” asked Thorn. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “We need to help him,” Simon replied.

  Har pulled Tonya to her feet while Simon removed the cords and electrodes from the stranger’s bare chest.

  “He’s being drugged,” Thorn said, examining the breathing apparatus. Simon removed the equipment from the man’s face so he could breathe some clean air. Within seconds, a spark of life ignited in the stranger’s honey-brown eyes.

  Tonya limped towards her friends but was suddenly grabbed from behind.

  The cold voice of Flimdore ran down her spine as he cackled in her ear, “You have such pretty hair, missy. I bet it’s very sweet.”

  Simon looked up in horror to see the ugly man holding Tonya’s head back in an awkward position. He clutched her throat with one hand and caressed her pale, mutating face with the other.

  A rush of fierce anger swept through the young wizard like a firecracker. He brought up the wand but paused as Flimdore crouched behind Tonya’s thin body.

  “I just want a taste,” he said, laughing insanely.

  Just then, the man lying on the gurney raised his hand like a whip. Flimdore screamed in pain and fell to the floor. He squirmed around in circles, clenching his fists and closing his eyes as he moved.

  With his hand still outstretched, the strange wizard got off the gurney and walked towards the man thrashing on the floor. His victim screamed even more loudly. Then, when it looked like the attack would never cease, Tonya put her hand on the wizard’s arm and lowered it. The screaming turned into a muffled whimper as her assailant slithered away to a dark corner of the dungeon.

  Simon rushed to Tonya’s side, and she embraced him. With tears trickling down his leathery cheeks, Little Har put his arms around them both.

  “Who are you?” Thornapple asked, dumbfounded at the man’s quick recovery.

  The stranger’s eyes wandered around as he thought about the question. He studied his callused hands. They were the hands of a warrior. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Thanks,” Simon said, wiping a tear from Tonya’s face. “I’m Simon Kent.”

  The stranger didn’t respond. Instead, he became curious with a group of men and women huddled around a glowing sword that had fallen out of the cupboard. Every time one of the criminals touched the hilt, he or she would get shocked.

  “That’s mine,” the warrior announced, stooping down and picking up the displacement sword. His memories were slowly coming back.

  Simon tried to cast the Open spell on the exit, but it didn’t work.

  “You must have knocked out the E.M. absorption device,” Tonya whispered. “Here, let me try.”

  “You can’t open it with magic,” Thomas informed them. “Lord Vaylen has cursed the door.”

  “We don’t need magic to get out of here,” the warrior said as he thrust his displacement sword into the thick hinges of the door. With a quick adjustment to the settings, the mass index of the blade increased to the point where the hinges finally snapped off the frame.

  “Cool!” Thornapple exclaimed.

  As the massive door fell over, the ceiling shook—not because of the fallen door but because of the weapons fire outside.

  “We’re under attack,” Thomas cried out. “Hurry! Get to the hangar bay.”

  The party took an immediate right and sprinted down the empty corridor. The rest of the prisoners—Thomas included—rushed through the broken doorway and ran in various directions.

  * * *

  When the dungeon was finally empty, a mysterious figure appeared out of nowhere. With strange curiosity, the dark wizard admired the puddles of liquefied metal Simon had created. After satisfying his interest in the destruction, he walked down the corridor where Simon’s party had fled. The tapping of soldiers’ boots echoed from the adjoining hallway, but when the soldiers rounded the corner, the mysterious figure was gone.

  * * *

  Har now carried Tonya in his arms because of her depleted energy. The party had been fortunate, thus far, not to come across any soldiers as they ran. Of course, the criminals were a huge distraction: flooding the corridors, attacking everyone they encountered. The rumbling outside continued, but the loud sirens inside tapered off, leaving the flashing lights as a reminder that the castle was still under attack.

  As if coming to the realization for the first time, the swordsman suddenly announced, “My name is Griffin Lasher… I’m an ambassador of the Crown.”

  “Well, Mr. Lasher, you sure do recover quickly,” Thornapple said.

  “I’m a fast healer,” Griffin responded. As the small group turned left, their newfound friend slashed his peculiar sword through two unsuspecting guards.

  Simon couldn’t stop gazing at the huge pictures that lined the hallway. He gradually fell behind. A quick glance at the first open door showed him an expansive dining room filled with fancy tables and plush-covered chairs. He couldn’t help but imagine the fantastic parties that must have taken place in that room—parties that, perhaps, took place at a happier time.

  Everyone had already entered the third door by the time Simon had reached the second one. He looked inside the second room and immediately stopped in his tracks. Strange emotions tugged at his heartstrings. He debated whether he should laugh or cry.

  As if bewitched by the melody of a mystical song, the large and spacious ballroom drew him in. Huge chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, and intricate paintings adorned the stone walls, but none were as entrancing as the largest picture hanging by itself above the enormous fireplace.

  Simon pulled out his mother’s medallion from beneath his shirt and looked at the strange design in wonder. The portrait on the wall was of a beautiful young woman—the woman from his dreams. She rode on a large, majestic beast and wore whi
te robes that reached the floor. But the most shocking thing of all was that around her neck rested the very same medallion Simon held in his hand.

  “A masterpiece,” came a familiar voice from behind. “Isn’t she?”

  Surprised, Simon turned around to see Lord Vaylen gazing up at the beautiful woman.

  “Who is she?” Simon asked. A tear ran down his face.

  “Someone I loved… a long time ago.”

  “I have to know who she is!” Simon begged.

  Lord Vaylen shook his head, freeing himself from the memories of days gone by, and said angrily, “It’s none of your concern.” Then he saw the medallion in Simon’s hand. A spark of wrath ignited in his cold eyes. “Where did you get that, boy?”

  “I—I found it,” Simon lied.

  “Impossible!”

  The dark lord lunged for the medallion but was met with a magical blast from across the room.

  “Leave the boy alone,” Griffen said.

  “Stay out of this,” he rasped.

  The ultramage lunged at Simon again but this time was struck by a glowing strand of energy. He grabbed the electric rope with his bare hand and attempted to throw it off, but the swordsman held tight to his end.

  Griffen quickly shot out another glowing strand, which pounded the dark wizard in the chest. Lord Vaylen’s black hood fell off as he struggled with the two bolts of energy, and for the first time, Simon saw the grotesque deformation of the man’s face in its entirety.

  Lord Vaylen grabbed the second rope with his other hand. Then, with great magical power, he reversed the spell and raised Griffen Lasher off the ground.

  Like a puppeteer, the ultramage tossed the warrior in the air. Griffen smashed into the lower-hanging chandeliers, sending shards of glass to the marble floor below. Finally, with gritted teeth, Lord Vaylen whipped the electric strands and sent the man upwards towards the largest chandelier in the center of the room.

  Simon covered his eyes just as Griffen was impaled upon the sharp bottom of the crystal chandelier. The brave warrior held onto the massive light structure as it jolted from the impact. A glass spike jutted from his back. Simon heard crunching sounds. The plaster from the ceiling started to crumble away. Then, with shocking finality, the chandelier fell.

  The heart-wrenching sound of a thousand pieces of broken glass filled the room. Simon dropped to the ground and covered his head as specks of crystal pelted his body.

  Lord Vaylen limped towards Simon with crazed determination. The short boy looked up at the looming figure above him.

  “Now,” Lord Vaylen said, panting, “give me that medallion.”

  The dark lord stretched out his hand, and the medallion leapt from Simon’s fist and floated upwards. The ultramage’s eyes widened with anticipation as the prized pendant drew near. But just as the necklace touched Lord Vaylen’s grasping fingers, Simon leapt from the floor and grabbed his sacred possession.

  A burst of blue light sprang from the black metal as both wizards held onto the medallion. Instantly, the Power of the Ancients filled the entire room. Simon thought the blinding light would consume him. Then, as quickly as it came, the blaze went out, and both wizards fell.

  Simon discovered to his amazement that he still clutched his mother’s medallion in his sweaty hand. He stood up and saw the ultramage lying unconscious on the floor. A grunt sounded from behind. He whirled around to see Griffen Lasher brushing himself off.

  “You’re alive?” Simon exclaimed.

  “Like I said,” the warrior replied calmly, “I’m a fast healer.” Griffen looked in disbelief at the fallen ultramage. “Let’s get out of here, kid.”

  Simon took one more glance at the beautiful woman from his dreams and then followed Griffen out the door.

  * * *

  Simon and Griffen had not left the room for more than five seconds before the mysterious dark figure appeared out of nowhere. Curious but puzzled, he turned his head and tried to see the significance of the large painting on the wall.

  Suddenly, the building shook from a bombardment of weapons fire. Soldiers could be heard rushing down the hallway.

  The mysterious man walked over the broken glass, reached into Lord Vaylen’s black cloak, and pulled out a round datachip—the same chip Tabatha Burke had stolen from General Mayham.

  * * *

  The air became cooler as Simon and Griffen traveled down a stone tunnel. Griffen swung open a door, and they both entered the icy hangar bay.

  A gust of chilly wind wrapped itself around Griffen’s naked torso, making him shiver. Except for a few damaged shuttles, the hangar bay appeared empty; all of the functional vessels were out fighting the Raiders.

  “Are you just gonna stand there in the freezing cold, or are you gonna get on board?” came a woman’s playful voice.

  Griffen smiled to see Tabatha’s long white hair flowing in the crisp breeze. The top part of her slender body protruded from the cockpit of a ship that bore the insignia of the royal family.

  “Nice to see you’re alive,” Tabatha purred affectionately as Griffen and Simon climbed aboard to join the others. “Just don’t get any blood on my seats, okay?” Although Griffen’s wounds were completely healed, blood soiled his stomach and pants.

  Tabatha launched the tiny craft into the sky, away from the castle.

  “Sorry it’s so crowded back there,” she said, looking back. “I wasn’t expecting this many people.”

  “That’s all right, Tabby,” Griffen said. “I just hope you have enough juice to transfer us out of here.”

  The cat woman steered the ship away from the fighting. “I just got here,” she declared. “My engines are almost drained.”

  “Get above the stratosphere,” Tonya instructed with obvious pain in her voice. Her skin crawled with colorful movement as the rabid mutation swept over her body.

  “But there’s hardly any E.M. waves up there,” Tabatha argued.

  “Exactly.”

  Simon knew instantly of her intentions. Anxiety grabbed hold of his emotions and squeezed. Indicating that he understood as well, Thornapple added, “Yeah, go as high as you can.”

  As they sliced through the thick blanket of snowy clouds, the twin space carriers finally came into view, just a mile or so above them. Dozens of ships were retreating into the carriers.

  “What’s going on?” Tabatha asked. “What are they doing?”

  Griffen looked up through the cockpit and said, “I have an awful feeling about this.”

  A blue aura began to encompass the two enormous spaceships above. The light grew brighter and brighter.

  “They’re going to fire!” Tabatha screamed, lurching the ship to the side.

  BOOM! Both carriers were gone.

  “No, they went into the parastream,” Griffen exclaimed. “They could be anywhere now.”

  Simon whispered in horror. “They’re going to attack Imperial City.”

  “What!” Griffen said.

  “I overheard them talking. They have some sort of weapon—”

  “Yes, I know—I’ve seen what it can do.”

  “Then we have to stop them,” Thornapple said.

  “We’re too late,” Tabatha cried. “It’ll be hours before the E.M. thrusters are charged up again.”

  Tonya shook violently, but she managed to whisper, “Go into outer space.”

  Tabatha opened her mouth to protest.

  “Just do it!” Thornapple yelled.

  Har looked up with his big brown eyes and said in a slow voice, “Trust Simon.”

  The woman stared at the children with a bewildered expression but finally consented. “All right,” she said, “but I don’t know what good it’ll do. If we lose power up there, we won’t be able to get back down to the planet.”

  Tonya winced as the pain shot through her spinal column. “We’re not going back down.” She felt a numb, tingling sensation spread out to every limb. The coldness of space beckoned her as she looked at the heavens above, and the North
Star seemed to shine more brightly than it had ever shone before. She signaled with a faint nod of her head. “Go ahead, Simon.”

  The young wizard put his hand on the wall of the ship and closed his eyes. How many times had he charged the batteries of his video game machine? This wasn’t quite the same thing, but he had to try.

  What am I doing? he thought to himself. This doesn’t run off electricity!

  He felt Har’s oversized hand rest on his left shoulder; the large Pud was so trusting. Then he felt Thorn’s little hand rest on his right shoulder.

  Simon concentrated harder. Something deep within him stirred: a reservoir of power that had been waiting to come out. A blue light emanated from his body and filled the ship.

  Griffen and Tabatha looked at each other in shock as the craft vanished from Lord Vaylen’s dimension and entered the parastream. With his eyes still closed, Simon continued to hold onto the wall of the ship.

  “This is impossible,” Tabatha cried as she looked at the readouts on her control panel. “We’re at full power.”

  “Then go!” Griffen shouted.

  “I doubt we could catch up with them,” Tabatha yelled back. She frantically ran her hands over the control panel and exclaimed, “We don’t have any coordinates set, and I don’t have control of the ship!”

  Simon’s body still glowed. A strange feeling of euphoria came over him—the same feeling he felt when the woman from his dreams spoke to him. Oddly enough, he had the distinct impression of going home.

  “We’re moving too fast!” Tabatha screamed as the ship turned sharply into another large tunnel.

  The space carriers were just up ahead. Simon let go of the wall and took a deep breath. He felt weak for a second or two but was soon rejuvenated.

  “I have control of the ship again,” Tabatha announced. “Hold on!”

  She dodged past a barrage of lasers. Peppered with red smears, the orange walls of the parastream absorbed the brunt of the attack. Unfortunately, several of the lasers seared through the tiny ship and tore into the hull like a can opener. Then, as if the shower of lasers were not enough, deadly rockets flooded the parastream—each one headed towards the craft.