The Silver Sphere

Home > Other > The Silver Sphere > Page 4
The Silver Sphere Page 4

by Michael Dadich

She jumped. "Yes," she said, her voice even and guarded as her bright blonde mane tussled around her face. The band she used to tie her locks back had broken on her ride to the camp.

  "Emily Lawson?"

  "Yes," Emily replied, shyly staring down at her tea, her lengthy caramel hair concealing her features. She refused to meet Presage's gaze, and had her knees pulled to her chest.

  Emily Lawson. The name sounded familiar, but Riley couldn't place it. The edges of her lips tugged into a frown.

  Presage grimaced before continuing. "Stuart Lesser?"

  "Depends on what you want," said Stuart at once, as he maintained his stare. His transformed clothing and long dark hair whipped in the breeze.

  Riley flinched at the attempted slight. The boy seemed less friendly by the moment and his attitude nagged at her. No one talked that way around her—she didn't allow them. Not because she forced people to be nice, but rather because she tended to bring out others' good nature.

  I'll have to get these guys in order. We might be stranded somewhere new, but I refuse to let them mope!

  Presage bobbed his head. "Thank you all for answering our plea for help. I understand this may be a bit overwhelming, considering you were taken from your home through a portal to Azimuth. The interceptors, I'm sure, explained a little about what has transpired."

  Another man, named Cumber, one of the pair who had found Riley, placed a stool close to the campfire. He had the look of a large, thick dwarf with a crimson and grey beard that grew down to his scabbard. Presage eased down and accepted a cup of steaming brew from him. The sweet, tangy aroma drifted into the air, while Riley glanced at her own empty teacup. Judging by his smile, Presage enjoyed a satisfying gulp before continuing.

  "You are on the planet Azimuth in the country of Meridia, and we've called for your assistance. Recently, Meridia's governing body, the Aulic Assembly, disappeared. Each of you was born with a psychic link to one of the six members on the Assembly. As you passed through the mobile portal, you inherited the abilities of your links on the Assembly." Presage sipped his tea as he eyed each of the Kin.

  When his warm stare landed on her, Riley smoothed her skirt.

  Max rubbed his knees. "I don't understand how we can help."

  "Forgive my candid explanations, but there is little time. An ancient evil, Biskara, has returned to our world. We believe he is responsible for the Assembly's disappearance. Biskara wages war through his mortal sons, and we believe an individual named Malefic Cacoethes has emerged and raised a powerful army with Biskara's aid. On your planet, some of the larger wars and catastrophes had Biskara's support as well. You would know him on Earth as Satan."

  Biskara. Malefic. The face from her nightmare resurfaced, and then vanished. Riley shifted and her stomach churned. Their names sounded awful.

  "How do you know about Earth?" She brushed a strand of loose hair from her brow and repressed a shiver. A gust whipped through and the chill worsened; even the crackle of campfires couldn't stay the thickening fog.

  Presage gazed at her with deadpan green eyes, and sipped his tea while holding the cup with both hands. "My dear, we all originated from Earth."

  They peered up at him, squirming as they sat. Even Stuart, who had stopped observing other soldiers and seemed focused on the conversation, fussed.

  Presage's answer hadn't satisfied Riley, but she didn't press.

  Cumber plodded over to the old officer, crouched down, and whispered into his ear. He was a soldier of middle age, garbed in wool garments instead of armor. A sword hung from his boiled leather belt.

  "Alas, we must saddle-up and move from this location. Sitting in one place too long is not safe. We are off to the capital of Meridia: Meracuse."

  Presage rose as several soldiers hurried around the camp and packed their belongings. Tents were broken down and stored, food wrapped tidy, fires stamped out, and horses loaded. Everyone rushed about, save the Kin.

  Riley clustered with the others, trying to stay out of the way as warriors scurried around them.

  Cumber walked up to them with satchel in hand. "You must be hungry. This here is chud, which lasts a long time when traveling and offers many nutrients. It's made from the roots of druids, and it tastes pretty good to boot." He offered the chud.

  Max accepted a piece and twirled it in his hand before taking a bite. "Mmm. Reminds me of beef jerky."

  Nervous, yet intrigued, Riley nibbled. It was peppery like jerky, but stringy too, and held an aftertaste similar to oats and cashews.

  Presage barked orders, directing traffic around the camp as wagons piled up with barrels of fresh water and supplies.

  Soon, the Kin were on horseback around Presage, surrounded by several soldiers. A long train of warriors rode before and behind them, and the sound of hooves on hard earth thundered.

  Riley glided closer to their guide. "Mr. Presage, even though we know a bit about your planet, what could we possibly do to help?" At school, she had the best grades. Math never stumped her, but this equation begged a different answer. It seemed like the old man was keeping a secret from them.

  "We need the six active Kin to utilize their psychic links with their alter egos here on Azimuth, the members of the Aulic Assembly. They disappeared last week, all on the same day. Their rescue is of the utmost importance—besides the concern for their lives, of course—because the Aulic Assembly is made up of the only individuals able to operate the armillary sphere, or the 'Silver Sphere,' as it is called. Before I continue, have any of you heard of an armillary sphere before?"

  They shook their heads, and Stuart murmured something. Riley glanced at Emily, but the quiet girl had her focus locked on the horn of her saddle.

  "Well, an armillary sphere is an old astronomical model with solid rings. All circles of one single sphere, in this case Azimuth, are used to display relationships among the principal celestial circles. This particular sphere is special. The Silver Sphere gives the exact celestial coordinates of Biskara. It was created a long time ago when Biskara transformed from fable to reality. This ability to monitor Biskara kept him at bay, as his plans could be better followed and foiled. Without constraints, he can devise and carry out his evil plots—Azimuth, and by proxy, Earth, would be no more."

  "Is it possible to monitor one of his sons through the Sphere and find out if Malefic is one?" Max asked.

  Riley eased her mare around a sapling sprouting in the middle of the path. The horse whickered and tossed its massive head. She knew Malefic embodied evil—she just wasn't sure if he was really the son of this Biskara creature.

  "The Sphere is a celestial tool," Presage said, "which cannot detect mortals. Biskara is able to direct the war through his offspring's corporeal existences and, when unimpeded, keep them one step ahead of their opponents. This is the Sphere's vital importance. Hence, the disappearance of the Assembly and Malefic's increasing power leads us to believe he's not a typical terrorizing dictator. Otherwise, we could easily overrun him with our armies."

  Each of the other Kin looked confused as Riley shuffled her feet, her forehead pinched. Though they spoke the same language, she did not understand everything Presage tried to tell them. It sounded like a lot of fantasy to her.

  Still, she wanted to get home. "What happens if we make contact with our links?"

  Presage turned to her. "Once we locate your links and are able to operate the Sphere, we can bring the war to Biskara and then handle Malefic."

  "We are g-going to fight Biskara?" Emily stammered. Her eyes widened with fright, and she clutched the reins of her palfrey to her chest.

  "No. The combat with Biskara is on a celestial battlefield. The truth seekers, some from Earth even, will pursue him. The truth seekers are defenders of this celestial universe. We'll encounter our own problems on the corporeal plane, though, I can assure you."

  "Truth seekers?" Emily's voice quivered.

  "Another time, my dear. Our war is with Malefic and the Nightlanders, here on Azimuth. We had Biskara's co
ordinates until the Assembly vanished, but we haven't been able to defeat him."

  Presage coughed, pulled out his canteen, and took a sip. "If it is indeed true that Malefic is Biskara's son, he would be easier to oppose if his father were preoccupied on the celestial battlefield. Now rest. You will find comfort and familiarity with your new surroundings. Almost like you're home."

  Max and Riley exchanged glances.

  She hunched over and whispered, "We aren't anywhere near home."

  Zach curled against a log and held his knees, his heart pulsing in his chest as he stared straight ahead in a bewildered state. Dried tears stained his cheeks.

  Somehow, he had lost track of the people he overheard. Vilaborg and Casselton were their names. They sought him, and that was a relief—at least someone was looking for him.

  He rose from his position and worked his way toward the direction he'd last picked up voices. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot, and odd noises permeated from the dark woods, followed by an ominous silence. Zach froze and listened, his head cocked, checking for more sounds. Convinced no one tracked him, he advanced alongside the log.

  A clamor from the bushes to his left made him pause.

  In a puff of dirt and dust, an odd creature burst out of the flora. The small, hairy figure stopped abruptly when he spotted Zach. The strange man only came up to Zach's knees, but seemed brutish. He studied Zach with wide, startled eyes.

  "Okay, little fella, don't be scared," said Zach. The last thing he wanted was to terrify someone who might help him get home.

  A wild expression exploded on its painted countenance as he bared his yellowed teeth beneath a wiry, whitewashed beard. "Kin! Alert—I have a Kin!" the little man screamed.

  The furry character brandished a large horn. He jerked the small opening to his lips and blew so hard, his cheeks inflated like two balloons. The blast echoed across the woods.

  The blare jolted Zach's heart and he raced off down the side of the log. He veered into the first opening he spied in the trees, and thundered through shrubs and bushes, imagining a tribe of little hairy, painted men with spears giving chase.

  Without warning, the right side of the forest vanished. The ground crumbled as the ledge gave way, sending him crashing down a steep hill and smacking into a sturdy oak tree.

  He lay dazed and motionless for a few moments, praying he hadn't broken anything. A couple of parts throbbed, but nothing needed immediate attention, as far as he could tell.

  Several horns from above trumpeted, and he sprouted and scurried through the thicket ahead. Leaves slapped his arms and face, and branches tried to hold him back, but he kept running. He moved adroitly in his newfound physique, aided by an adrenaline spike.

  The lush and colorful woods slowed him to a jog as he marveled at his surroundings. Royal blue and lime green bushes, chocolate-colored roses, and trees full of violet apples sprawled everywhere. The farther he traveled, the more dazzling the forest became.

  The echo of horns ebbed, and Zach stopped to rest against a boulder. He placed his hands on his knees while he panted, sweat dripping down his nose and forehead. Muscles he'd never used before screamed from the exertion of running hard for so long. At least he was alive.

  He wiped his muddy hands on the brown leather pants that had replaced his jeans, sinking against the tree to contemplate his next move.

  Out of nowhere, entrancing sounds reverberated around him. The volume increased, a chorus of several voices chanting a melody. His body grew rubbery as sparkles encompassed the area and choruses of female voices sang an unfamiliar language. The beauty of their song intoxicated him.

  He had to find them.

  The ground and tree vibrated and something flashed beside him. He glimpsed a pair of glistening blue eyes, but no other features appeared—only bright blue irises, the eyes of a comely woman. He rubbed his face and squinted, the cerulean eyes dancing all around. Dozens of them darted in and out of the foliage as the sweet, magnificent music continued. The symphony of choristers spoke to him.

  The voices became more distinct when his eyes drifted shut. They directed him where to go. "Follow the Eridanus River downstream a few miles to a man on a boat. The man's name is Throg. He'll bring you to safety. Leave now. It will not be safe here much longer," the voices chimed in unison. Behind the words, an unclear melody floated, one that made his entire being ache from its elegance.

  "Wh-who are you?" He yawned.

  "The Fugues. Tell Throg the Fugues have sent you, and he will take you to safety."

  His body was steered—in fact willed—to travel the direction the Fugues wanted him to go. Walking was surreal—rubbery and foggy—as if he couldn't quite touch the ground. His legs moved of their own volition, wobbling beneath him. Trees and bushes almost seemed to stand aside for him to pass, like a dream.

  Then his mind cleared and everything became real again. The rumbling of a river echoed, and the sudden return of reality bothered him. Before, the trees had been strange colors. Now only a few plants—mainly flowers—were different from those on Earth. Tree trunks were brown, leaves were green, and the forest floor was covered in pine needles and mulch.

  He reached the riverfront by stumbling down a hill, and knelt down. He cupped his hands and doused his face with the freezing cold liquid. The trip hadn't been terrifying, being led by those voices, though it had shaken him a bit. Chilly water dripped along his neck and cheeks. Wet hair plastered to his forehead.

  He squinted out across the stream, turned, and looked back the way he had come. "What in the blazes happened?"

  A single memory burned bright: the Fugues had sent him to find Throg.

  He rose from his knees and followed the river downstream.

  At Captain Jack's, Nick Casey's favorite restaurant, he ate a bowl of French onion soup and a Captain Jack's burger next to his friend Cliff. The next morning was going to be an early one for class at Densmore College, so he said goodbye to Cliff after eating and walked out to the parking lot.

  The sounds of shouting and yelling erupted, and a van screeched by as the cries of a woman slashed the air.

  Nick raced over to her. "What's wrong?"

  "My baby!" she shrieked, tears welling in her eyes. "They've got my baby!"

  "Call the police," he yelled.

  Without another word, Nick launched down the street. The van stood only a few blocks ahead, forced to stop at a light behind ten other cars. He picked up the pace, his shoes slapping against the hard concrete, his heart smashed and his lungs already ragged.

  He reached the van just as the light turned green, and jumped onto the back and latched himself to the door. A girl wailed inside, so he grappled the handle on the double door and wrenched it open.

  The girl wasn't alone. A burly man shouted, "What the hell? Get out!"

  Nick stumbled inside as the van lurched to life. He curled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the man's stomach, winding him. Just as Nick stretched for the girl, the man growled and knocked him into the side of the van.

  A muffled voice came from up front. "Keep the kid quiet, Jordy!"

  "Some nutcase got in! But he's not leaving," Jordy growled, glaring at Nick as he held him against the metal wall.

  Nick glanced over at the teenage girl, who couldn't have been much older than fourteen. Long honey hair framed her terrified expression, and snot ran down her chin from her nose. She squatted while crying, her face scrunched.

  "Run!" Nick gasped.

  She was tied down, and rage filled him. What sort of monsters would kidnap a little girl? A sudden well of power hit him and Nick threw Jordy from him. The kidnapper's head smacked into the other side of the van and he dropped to the floor, hard.

  Nick whirled around and pulled at the knot in the girl's ropes until it loosened. "I'm here to help," he whispered.

  Jordy groaned off to the side, writhing with his head in his hands.

  "My name's Nick Casey. Please, trust me."

  She wiped her eyes
and sniffled. Not once did she look away from the felled man. Her voice came out in a choked whisper. "Okay, I'm E-Emily L-Lawson."

  Nick pulled her into his arms. "On the count of three, I'm gonna jump, all right?"

  Emily nodded, her body shaking as she rose. Though she was in at least her early teens, she weighed less than he'd expected.

  "Hang on tight!"

  As the van sped along, Nick launched from the back, and a sharp pain jabbed in his side. He looked down and... an ice pick was stuck in his gut. Jordy snarled from behind as Nick dropped from the exit.

  The first thought in Nick's mind was, Roll over. Protect her.

  He landed so hard the wind rushed out of him. He wheezed and his fingertips ran cold. Emily crawled toward him as cars honked. Someone had their high beams trained on him and yelled for traffic to stop.

  "Mister, you okay?" Emily's voice cracked as she took his hand in hers.

  "I'm... fine." Even as he gasped it, he knew it was a lie. "Are you... okay?"

  She nodded as tears dripped from her chin onto his neck. "Please don't die."

  "Someone call an ambulance!" a man cried somewhere nearby.

  Another voice shouted directions to the police dispatcher.

  He vaguely heard the girl's mother yell out, "Emily! Emily, are you all right?"

  As his vision faded, Nick spied the girl being pulled into her mother's arms, the mother weeping and repeating, "Thank you," over and over.

  Emily darted to him and cradled his head.

  Emily, he thought, and closed his eyes.

  Nick gazed at the radiant stars of the clear night, his head light as a cotton ball. Ascending, he rotated and viewed the bright, spinning lights below. Two ambulances and a few police cars formed a circle around his body. Its open eyes stared up at him from the stretcher while a paramedic tried desperately to revive it.

  Cold panic rushed through him.

  I must be dreaming, or my mind is slipping. He continued to glide higher, the image of the emergency technician over his figure fading away. Thick and murky blackness engulfed him with an arctic embrace as the shadows twisted and turned around him. Darkness ensued for a time, and he fell asleep.

 

‹ Prev