Zach raced over to his friend and knelt beside him. "Adrian, are you okay?"
"Yeah, sure," his friend muttered through a bloody lip. A shiner already swelled over his right eye, his spectacles askew.
"Can you walk? We need to split."
Adrian groaned as Zach pulled him up and threw Adrian's arm around his neck. Zach realized how much smaller they were compared to their antagonizers, as he hefted Adrian's bag over his other shoulder and grunted.
"Geez! What do you have in here?"
Adrian didn't reply.
They hurried out the exit opposite the one the bullies had gone through. Zach sensed commotion behind, as teachers scurried around trying to figure out the cause of the blaring. Only a few of them had arrived at this end of the school, no doubt looking for any students left from band or soccer practice.
Zach shouldered the door open and he and Adrian slipped out of the building unnoticed. Once outside, he guided Adrian down to the green lawn. He dropped the heavy bag of books and wiped a layer of sweat from his brow.
"Did you pull the alarm?" asked Adrian, eyeing Zach as he fixed his glasses. One of the arms had been bent and he struggled to straighten it.
Zach nodded. "Yeah, I... I didn't think I'd find teachers quick enough."
Adrian smirked. The smashed lip looked only half as bad when he smiled. "Thanks. I'll have to remember that one."
Zach plopped down beside him, the grass cool and soft. "No problem. Is your mom on her way?"
"Not for another hour. Math club today."
"Wanna go to the five-and-dime?" Zach eyed the school. If Gordie and his gang found them out here, he wouldn't be able to pull a fire alarm to escape. "We can get some ice for your eye."
Adrian picked at the lawn, snapping blades and dropping them in a neat pile. "I dunno, Zach. I might just head home."
"I'll walk with you."
"You don't have to."
Zach noticed the tears welling in Adrian's eyes. The other boy wiped them away as his mussed brown hair whipped in the breeze. He looked miserable.
"I want to. You're my bro," said Zach. "I'm not going to have you go home alone. Come on, I'll carry your bag."
Adrian stood. Zach offered to let him lean against his shoulder, but Adrian shook his head.
"I'm good. Just a little freaked out."
Zach hoisted the book knapsack over his back. "No problem."
They paced in silence for a time. Zach considered teasing his friend, but nothing sounded right. Being beat up was terrifying—Zach had suffered his fair share of bullying.
Cars zoomed by on Harding Boulevard. They lived a good three miles from the school, but by the time they reached his neighborhood, Adrian started chatting again.
"I did buy a new fatpack," he said with a smirk. "I didn't think I'd do enough chores. Forty dollars down the drain!" He laughed.
"Did you open it yet?"
"Oh, of course. And you'll never guess what I got!"
"Which series?" Zach asked. He didn't immerse himself into Magic the way Adrian had, but he understood the game well enough. Sometimes they'd play together. Zach liked his Sliver deck. If he pulled the Sliver Queen out, almost nothing stopped it.
"New Phyrexia, duh," Adrian said with a snort. He grinned, then winced and touched his split lip. "Anyways, I got Karn! The Planeswalker! Can you believe?"
Zach shook his head. "I never understood Planeswalkers. They seem to break the game."
"Nah, you have the Eldrazi to balance everything."
They reached Adrian's place, a ranch style, red brick house with a sprawling front yard. A single cottonwood stood sentinel in the center of the lawn. The tree was already dropping cotton across the plot.
"We'll have to play a game. You gonna be okay?" Zach stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah." Adrian shrugged a frail shoulder and took his bag. "Thanks again, Zach. You're a good friend."
"No problem. Take care, bud."
"Hey, want to come in and play a quick game, like the old days?"
"Nah. I should have been home by now."
"You sure? Come on! It's not like they would even notice."
Zach glanced at him.
Adrian pushed his glasses back into place, but the arm was still crooked and they kept sliding down his nose. "Umm, I didn't mean that."
"Cool." Zach sauntered off and waved.
"See y-you tomorrow," Adrian stammered, then jumped inside his house.
The stroll to his house relaxed Zach. Late afternoon sunlight beckoned the rich gold of early autumn. Long, purple shadows cascaded across the sidewalk and street. A picket fence sent lengthy spikes over the tarmac of the road, spearing the lawns on the other side.
Soon, he left the smaller neighborhoods behind, and sighed. The homes where he lived stood too uniform, lacking character and warmth. His house appeared more box-like than all the rest. He hiked up the winding drive to the front door.
The spare key hid behind his mother's pot of azaleas. He fished it out and unlocked the door, carefully replacing the key before he went inside. The moment he entered the house, he wished he'd gone around back.
"No, I don't have a clue where your special mug is! Just use another one!"
"You're the one who always puts everything away! Where'd you place the dang thing?"
"I didn't put it anywhere! I bet you left it upstairs! Did you even check?"
Zach rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He began to ease his way up the flight of elegant wooden steps when his mother shouted, "Zach, is that you?"
"Oh, smart, Sharon. Get the boy involved!"
"He might know where your stupid mug is!"
Zach retreated down into the kitchen. The tiled floor and marble countertops made the room feel cold. Even the dark wood of the cabinets didn't help warm the kitchen. He shivered.
"Hi, I'm here."
His mother stood with hands on hips. "Zach, where were you?"
"Adrian got beat up. I walked him home."
And, as usual, it went in one ear and out the other. "That's nice. Where's your father's mug?"
"I don't know. Didn't you hear me?"
"Of course."
Zach rubbed his temples and muttered, "You never listen."
"Zachy, if you know where my mug is, speak up," said his father, who patrolled the counter, tearing through the cupboards. "And, Sharon, be a dear and make me a snack. Some of those marshmallow treats?"
"Oh, and while I'm at it, should I wash your car?" Her voice rose in pitch.
Zach backed out of the kitchen. By the time they were both screaming, he had whipped out the back door and dashed to the guesthouse. The French doors beckoned him, promising to keep him safe from the tension of his family life. He trooped inside, locked the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could be a normal kid.
His computer—not the ones his parents used, but his, the one he had scrimped and saved for about three years ago—hummed happily on his desk. He slipped into the comfortable chair and switched the monitor on. The computer chimed to life. Once the loading screen had gone, he accessed the chat. Maybe Adrian would be online. He really wanted to talk to someone.
The sound of clanging swords made him jump. A message popped up.
YOU ARE NEEDED.
Zach paused. For such a small dialogue box on his computer, the brief text shouted in capital letters. Why did it appear so different from the usual exchanges? Had Adrian or another friend discovered some new technique? It couldn't be from his foster parents. Sometimes they messaged him after calming down, to coax him back inside for dinner—if they remembered he existed.
No, they were still shouting.
Mouth agape, he stared at the note: YOU ARE NEEDED.
The box flashed on his screen, awaiting a response. How curious. A joke from his friends? If it was Adrian, he would play along—or maybe not. He was tired of games right now. Zach typed in, "Who is this?" and sent it back.
A brief silence intensified
the next loud bang. The jangle made Zach's skin crawl. Never before had an instant messenger ring resounded with such violence. The noise conveyed something unearthly in the dialogue box.
In a different world and another time,
your alter ego will brilliantly shine.
You and others just like him
are very close to next of kin.
These heroes gone and evil hissing,
the sphere's power is now missing.
The balance is quickly shifting.
Please heed our call for help.
Zach read the rhyme twice, and goose bumps raced over his skin. His conviction grew surer. Adrian had to be playing around with him. He and his friends would tease each other on instant message now and again—except the box offered no identity.
The queasy unease in his stomach worsened. His hands shook a little as he typed. "How can I help?"
The clang sounded the arrival of another memo.
Step outside and find us waiting.
Promptly now, as we are fading.
He swiveled in his chair. A noise he couldn't identify emanated from near the French doors—perhaps a bell or a whooshing sound. His blood surged. The pounding of his heart deafened him.
He turned to stare at the message for a minute before rising from the chair. The knot in his gut confirmed that it wasn't a game, and it wasn't any of his friends. Before he even touched the knob, both doors swung open and a cold, clammy burst of air whipped through the opening. Knocking knees made it hard to walk and tremors shook his body, but his resolve remained steady.
Zach pushed across the threshold. An unexpected, murky fog lay in front of him. His house loomed ahead, and he headed for the back door. The bay windows from the kitchen, only a short distance away, were a yellow haze as the mist became thicker and darker with each step, cloaking the outlines of his rooftop.
He squinted, trying to find his home. His uneasiness intensified as he hiked onward—no way it should have vanished completely.
On and on he trudged. Grass became compact and stronger, like the scrub of a marsh. Bald patches of earth sprang up where walkways and a trimmed lawn should have been. He continued stepping cautiously, even as he noticed the changing ground. His tennis shoes squished into its spongy, mire-like surface. Where had the well-kept turf gone?
Still, no sign of his home.
The mist grew heavier and his clothing became soaked. He longed for the shouting and anger usually emanating from the house. Even when he stopped and strained to listen, no sounds could be heard; their shouts too had been swallowed by the dense blanket of fog.
Only fear kept him from calling for help. Wherever he stood, this wasn't home any longer. He ventured alone in the murk, thinking he might have gone the wrong way and ended up near Willows Road, which wound around the back of his parents' property. Zach turned and began retracing his steps, hoping he could backtrack to the guest house.
No such luck.
He stopped at last by a bulky object that loomed from the brume before him, blocking his path. The mist dissipated. A tree trunk was recumbent in the mud, its girth as wide as he was tall. The tree branches traveled in both directions as far as he could see, and he pondered turning around. The coarse lumber offered several good footholds, so he decided to scale up its side and take a peek. He'd never seen a tree this big before.
Rough bark, sticky with honey-like sap, made the task much trickier than he'd thought. He climbed the immense growth, but hesitated when a voice echoed ahead.
Zach froze to listen.
"What do you mean we've lost him, Casselton? The poor lad doesn't even know where he is."
"Vilaborg, we do not quite have this down to an exact science."
"What science do you have down at all, Cassie? The science fair you attended at the fifth level? Don't you have an approximate idea where the portal opened, or are we to freeze to death looking for the Kin?"
"You know how things go, you fool. Stop behaving like this is your first time. This is not uncommon, Vilaborg. The portal must have opened somewhere nearby. He will turn up. Blazes that the Cark Woods needed to be used for a Kin intercept," vented a clearly exasperated Casselton.
Zach stayed rooted to the trunk as he processed the new information. These two had opened a portal without being in full command of the science? Adrian would have scoffed! Zach pondered approaching them, but decided to wait. They might be dangerous.
The voices traveled farther away, and he hoisted himself over and dropped to the ground below, landing in a squat. A tingling, like pins and needles, coursed through his body. Zach shivered and looked at his arms and....
His breath caught in his throat as he stared at his clothing. He ran his hands over the shirt and trousers, as if touching them might make them real.
His clothes had transformed. His blue vintage MegaMan top had disappeared. Now the linen doublet he wore made him itchy. Instead of jeans, his legs were covered with brown leather. Squires used to wear such clothing, he recalled from his readings, but that had been a long time ago.
Other things had changed. For one, he'd grown taller—now the trunk of the tree was a head shorter than he. He felt stronger, too. Cold despair quickly replaced awe.
He collapsed against the fallen timber and pulled his knees to his chest. A tear crept down his face.
I'm not Zach anymore, he thought.
"Shelby, are you okay?"
"I'm right here. The door just slammed shut."
Mr. Dempsey bumped into a box as he stumbled toward her. "We're close to the exit. Let's get some light back, eh?"
His voice reassured Shelby and gently rallied her. "Yes, please," she said.
Mr. Dempsey guided her forward.
She expected to reach the door soon, but they kept walking. Ten steps, fifteen steps, then thirty steps later, and still they had not found the entryway. She pinched herself to check whether this was all a bad dream or not. The pinch hurt and she didn't wake up.
"That's strange," Mr. Dempsey said. "I can't see a darn thing, but I know this room like the back of my hand. We should've hit the door by now."
The temperature dropped further—or did her cold fear make it seem so? Shelby shivered even more and, in an attempt to stay warm, wrapped her arms around herself.
"Do you feel cold, Mr. Dempsey?"
"Right through my bones, Shelby. Let's go this way." He eased her in another direction.
They tiptoed forward one careful step at a time. The darkness remained complete.
"I can't understand this for the life of me," Mr. Dempsey whispered. "Walls don't just vanish!"
The ground underneath Shelby's shoes had changed. The pull of gravity seemed different. No longer did the familiar, even hardwood floors of the library support them; rough stone and loose gravel now made the walk bumpy. The smell of the air changed too, as old printer's ink and paper had been replaced with the scent of rock and water.
"Mr. Dempsey, the floor...."
"I feel it, too. This is so strange."
Her eyes adjusted to the easing darkness, and she could just make out the shadowy outlines of some type of corridor. As they advanced, Shelby strained her ears. The steady trickle of water echoed from somewhere far off.
An orange glow appeared up ahead. Every muscle in her body tensed, and her heartbeat sped up.
Mr. Dempsey stopped and touched her elbow, and Shelby halted as well.
"I don't quite know what's going on here," he whispered in her ear. "I actually thought I dozed off at the front desk and this was a dream. I even pinched myself."
"Me too," she said, glad he was present to protect her. If anything went wrong, Mr. Dempsey would help her.
"We're in some sort of cave. The message on your computer drew us here. We should proceed cautiously, so keep quiet."
Shelby nodded, calmed by his logical evaluation of their situation. Mr. Dempsey knew everything. As long as he was with her, nothing could hurt her.
The light guttered as
they crept forward. The scent of fresh air entered the cave and Shelby sighed. Its essence was refreshing.
"Shhh...." Mr. Dempsey put his forefinger in front of his nose.
The murmur of voices rose ahead of them. She glanced at Mr. Dempsey, and he again pressed his finger hard up against the tip of his nose. She nodded.
They moved forward a few more paces and halted. The cave ended and bright light shone outside. Shelby examined her surroundings as she listened. They were in a forest, where thick trees and foliage encompassed them.
The voices sounded clearer, and she could make out the conversation.
"Now, now, we will find her, Sculptor. You worry too much. Only ten minutes have passed. Give her time."
"I can't understand how after all these years the great Achernar has not perfected the mobile portal. I mean, really now, Barrick. We should be right in front of the entrance, ready to greet our guest. They're always frightened as it is."
The first person, Barrick, said, "Many energies are at work in the portal, Sculptor, both scientific and arcane. Near impossible to perfectly harness such a force, no matter how much research Achernar and the mentors conduct."
"Maybe we should rely on Malefic to decipher the solution then. I hear he was quite the mentor trainee up in Catonia."
"Come on, Sculptor. All you do is gripe. We've been entrusted by Achernar himself to carry out this crucial task. Intercepting Kin is an honor, and you sit gossiping and grumbling like a schoolgirl." Barrick bellowed. "As far as Malefic goes, you should join him if you're so impressed. A mixed breed like you would be enslaved on the spot. Don't you recall the number of lives lost in Hideux's camps on Andromeda? I'd lop Malefic's head off without hesitating." Hurt seemed to lurk under his angry voice, accompanied by fear. "But no, you constantly praise him like some lunatic."
Harrumph. "It's not clear if he's even Biskara's son," wheezed Sculptor. "Those are just rumors, you know that."
The Silver Sphere Page 2