The Marus Manuscripts

by Paul McCusker

  “I see my house,” Liven said, flatly unimpressed.

  “In five seconds you will not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Watch.” Tyran counted down slowly. “Five . . . four . . . three . . .”

  “Two . . . one,” Dr. Lyst counted down. When he reached one, he tensed in anticipation of the explosion. It didn’t come. “Something’s wrong,” he said a few seconds later. “Something’s gone wrong!”

  “This is ridiculous!” Liven said and pushed the telescope away.

  Tyran was red-faced. “Wait! It will come,” he assured them.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to,” Liven said with a scowl, “but your time is up.”

  “No!” Tyran said.

  “Let’s go back to our meeting, gentlemen,” Liven suggested to Dedmon and Acad.

  Tyran held up his hands to stop them. “No! It will happen.”

  Liven pointed a finger at Tyran. “And you’d better be glad that whatever you were doing failed. Because if you do anything to hurt my family or my house or anything that is mine, you won’t live to regret it.”

  Tyran turned scarlet and suddenly grabbed Liven. “You will stay here and watch until I tell you it is time to go!” he demanded. “Now watch!”

  Dr. Lyst was talking into something that resembled a walkie-talkie, trying to learn what had gone wrong with the bomb.

  Wade continued to look at Liven’s house through the binoculars. It was a large Romanesque building with pillars in the front. Tall windows lined the first and second floors.

  “Well?” Dr. Lyst shouted into the communicator. “What happened?”

  A garbled voice said something back to him that Wade didn’t understand.

  “Say that again?” Dr. Lyst commanded.

  Wade scanned the house. It looked impressive in the midmorning light. The pillars cast shadows against the white stone. The sun glinted in the windows. Suddenly, Wade froze. Something had moved in one of the windows. He was sure of it. “Dr. Lyst!” he said, his mouth going dry.

  He now saw a woman clearly in one of the upper windows. She had opened it and was shaking a large cloth—maybe it was a small rug—out the window.

  “Dr. Lyst,” Wade cried out, “there’s someone in the house!”

  “There can’t be. It’s supposed to be empty,” the doctor said and pressed his eye against the telescope lens. “Oh no!” He lifted the communicator again and started to say, “Abort the detonation!”

  Just then, the house exploded.

  The brilliance of the flash made Wade wince. The sound rattled his rib cage, the windows of the castle, and the wall under his feet. Then, for a moment, a sickening silence hung over the city. No dogs barked, no birds sang, no horns sounded, and not a human being moved or breathed.

  A moment later, from somewhere far below, Wade heard a baby begin to cry.

  Liven slumped to the floor of the roof. His face had gone completely white. He stared into an emptiness only he could see. One second his house was there and Sheresh, his housemaid, was shaking out a small rug from his son’s bedroom window—and the next second it was all gone. The house, the road leading up to it, the trees surrounding it, and even a large chunk of the Cinemon Ridge itself—all were obliterated. Only a scorched black smudge marked where his home had been.

  “You’re a madman,” Acad whispered.

  Tyran looked at them one by one and spat out, “You laughed at me! Well, now let me hear you laugh!”

  Dedmon and Acad stared at him.

  “My wife, my children,” Liven said as if bringing himself out of his shock.

  “They are safe,” Tyran said. “Your wife is running her usual morning errands, and your children are at school.”

  “Sheresh was there.”

  “The house was empty.”

  “Sheresh the housemaid was there! I saw her! Right before the blast.”

  Tyran turned to one of his guards, who nodded quickly to confirm Liven’s statement.

  “If she was there,” Tyran said, “she was not supposed to be.”

  “She’s dead! You killed her!” Liven cried out. The rage contorted his face as he rushed to attack Tyran. Tyran quickly stepped out of his path. Liven stumbled and fell to the ground. He lay there, sobbing heavily.

  Tyran turned to Acad and Dedmon. “You have seen the power I have,” he said coldly. “My explosives will bring our enemies to their knees. Now, the question is, whose side do you want to be on? Mine or theirs?”

  “What kind of deal are you offering us?” Acad asked.

  “You make me the governor of this realm,” Tyran said.

  “You say ‘governor,’ but you mean ‘dictator,’ am I correct?” Dedmon asked.

  “I am willing to allow the elders to serve as an advisory board in my new government. You will not have to lose your prestige or positions. But I expect your loyalty.”

  Acad wheezed for a moment, then asked, “And what if we don’t agree?”

  “Then perhaps all your homes will be destroyed as Liven’s was.” Tyran stared them down with cold eyes. “And next time, I may not care whether your families are still inside. Think about it.”

  Wade barely made it to the wall before heaving the contents of his stomach over the side. It was more than his mind could take: A woman going about her business as she probably had for years on end, casually shaking a rug out a window, was dead. Did she have a husband? Children? Friends? Other loved ones? None of it mattered now. The bomb had gone off, and she was dead. And for what? So Tyran could give a demonstration.

  Wade began to shake uncontrollably as the tears fell down his cheeks.

  Dr. Lyst angrily threw down the communicator. It shattered into small pieces on the hard stones of the walk. Then he kicked at the telescope until it fell over. “Does he realize what he’s done!” he shouted.

  “He killed her,” Wade said.

  “Yes, he did. He killed her,” Dr. Lyst said. “And it won’t bode well for our cause!”

  Wade wasn’t sure he’d heard Dr. Lyst correctly. “Our cause?” he asked.

  “We want the people to follow Tyran because he’s a man of power and of vision,” Dr. Lyst said, “not because they’re afraid of him.”

  “Didn’t you see what just happened, Dr. Lyst?” Wade complained. “He killed an innocent woman!”

  Dr. Lyst waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that. Yes, yes, it’s tragic. But worse, it could damage our plans.”

  Wade gaped at Dr. Lyst. “You don’t care, do you?” he said, shocked by the revelation. “You don’t care that she died.”

  “Oh, please, Wade,” Dr. Lyst said. “I have more important things to care about than the life of a housemaid.”

  Suddenly, Wade remembered something Muiraq and Arin had said about the evil of this generation: The first thing to go when people turn their backs on the Unseen One is their humanity. “Men who commit heinous and immoral acts become heroes—giants in the land,” Arin had said. “Lives become expendable to wicked ideals and causes. We celebrate inhumanity because we no longer understand what it is to be human.”

  Tyran returned to the castle within the hour. Wade followed Dr. Lyst to Tyran’s office, where their leader was clearly delighted. “The elders have agreed to support me!” he announced happily. “Now I must seize the momentum and make a speech in the city square.”

  “Slow down,” Dr. Lyst said. “I think we should have a chat.”

  “I do not have time,” Tyran said.

  Dr. Lyst persisted. “I’m afraid you’re losing sight of your goals,” he warned.

  “What are you talking about? I am achieving my goals—as of this day!” He clapped Dr. Lyst on the shoulder. “And you made it possible with that wonderful bomb of yours. But you cannot waste time. We need more of them.”

  “Listen to me, Tyran—”

  “My throat is getting raw,” Tyran interrupted, deaf to Dr. Lyst’s concern. “Does anyone have a lozenge?” He went to his desk to find one. />
  “Tyran!” Dr. Lyst snapped.

  Tyran stopped where he was and looked at the doctor.

  “I understood about blowing up the house,” Dr. Lyst continued. “That was a solid demonstration of power. But . . .” He hesitated.

  Impatiently, Wade picked up the thought. “But you killed an innocent woman this morning!” he said.

  Tyran turned to Wade and said casually, “Yes . . . and?”

  Wade didn’t know what to say. He had hoped Tyran might feel some sense of remorse. “Aren’t you sorry?” he finally asked.

  Tyran’s gaze went from Wade to Dr. Lyst. “Why is this boy bothering me with stupid questions?” he asked.

  Dr. Lyst took another tack. “Whether you’re sorry or not, the crowds may not be, shall we say, appreciative that you killed one of their own,” he suggested. “She was a worker, Tyran. You’re supposed to be representing the workers, not killing them.”

  “Why should I care what the crowds think? The destruction of that house—and her death—demonstrated that I mean business. They will strike fear into their hearts.”

  “Destruction? Death? Fear?” Dr. Lyst lashed out. “Is that what you’re after now? I thought it was vision and strength and freedom.”

  “Sometimes the only way to persuade the people toward things like vision, strength, and freedom is to scare them.”

  “No. In the long run, fear only leads to more fear, and then to oppression.”

  “I am losing my patience, doctor. I have an important speech to make, and I do not need you to muddle my thinking. Now, I suggest you and the boy get dressed for our big moment.”

  “You want us to go with you?” Wade asked.

  “Yes. You will be on the grandstand with me. I want the people to see the brains behind my bombs and”—he gestured to Wade—“the inspiration behind them. Now hurry.”

  “But—” Wade started to argue, but Dr. Lyst signaled him to be quiet. It was time to leave.

  When they were out of Tyran’s earshot, Dr. Lyst said, “There’s no talking to him when he gets like that.”

  “What are we going to do?” Wade asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid he’s lost control.”

  “I don’t want to go to his speech. I don’t want anyone to think I’m with him.”

  Dr. Lyst glanced at Wade. “But you are with him,” he observed.

  “Not anymore,” Wade said. “Not after he killed that woman.”

  “I’m afraid you have no choice.”

  Thurston was nowhere to be found, so Wade had to rummage around for clothes to wear. In a spirit of defiance, he decided to wear the clothes Arin had given him after he’d first arrived: light trousers and tunic with a robe. The outfit seemed just right for the warm, sunny day.

  Wade considered trying to escape. He didn’t like the idea of being on display at Tyran’s speech. And the more he thought about it, the sicker he felt for his part in blowing up the house and killing the poor servant woman. If I hadn’t talked to them about the atomic bomb, it might not have happened, he told himself. He looked over at the wall panel next to the bed, the one that led to the secret passageway. Maybe I can escape through there.

  Before he could decide, however, a stern-looking guard came to the room and indicated that Wade should follow him. They walked down the main hall to the courtyard, where Tyran and Dr. Lyst were waiting. A flicker of surprise showed in Tyran’s eyes when he recognized Wade’s clothes. “Nice outfit,” he said sarcastically. Then he motioned for everyone to get into the back of his black sedan, and they drove into Sarum.

  Wade was startled to see the condition of the city. The windows in many shops and homes were shattered, more so as they drove to the center square.

  “Did the rioters break them?” Wade asked.

  “Maybe some, but most of the damage was caused by the explosion,” Dr. Lyst explained. “It was a far more powerful bomb than even I suspected.”

  “Yes, it was,” Tyran affirmed with a smile.

  Wade also noticed that many of the shops were closed. “Is it a holiday?” he asked.

  “It will be after today,” Tyran said. “We will call it ‘Independence Day.’”

  Dr. Lyst ignored him and said, “A lot of the people are sick with this mysterious illness that’s going around. The hospitals are packed with patients. The city health authorities are now calling it an epidemic.”

  “One more thing for me to blame on the elders,” Tyran said.

  “You’ll find a cure for it?” Dr. Lyst asked skeptically.

  “No,” Tyran replied. “As my leading scientist, you will find a cure for it.”

  Wade was tempted to bring up the subject of the effects of radiation, but he thought Dr. Lyst might get angry with him. He decided to remind the doctor of it later, in private.

  As they approached the town square, the crowds thickened. People milled around aimlessly, though some had picket signs protesting the morning’s explosion.

  Tyran instructed an aide in the front of the car, “Make a note of who the protesters are. We will deal with them later.”

  The aide nodded and lifted a communicator to his mouth. “Photograph and identify the protesters,” he ordered someone on the other end.

  The car made its way slowly through the hordes of people who were gathering for Tyran’s speech. Many stopped to watch the black sedan drive past. Wade was struck by how pale and tired everyone looked. One man stumbled against the car, and Wade nearly cried out. The man had a sickly, yellow crust oozing from his nose. Just like Cromley, Wade thought.

  Wade glanced at Dr. Lyst. The doctor shook his head as if to warn Wade not to say anything.

  The car came to a halt, and guards gathered around the doors so Tyran, Dr. Lyst, and Wade could have safe passage to the large grandstand set up at the back of the square. Some of the people applauded as the three of them walked up the stairs. A few hecklers booed them, but they were instantly silenced by other members of the crowd.

  Wade heard someone mention his blond hair. Then an old woman pointed at him and shrieked, “He’s the one! He’s the cause of our problems!”

  “Ignore her,” Dr. Lyst said as they sat down in chairs behind the podium.

  Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hundreds and hundreds of people were crushed into the square, and they all seemed to be looking at him. He didn’t like the attention. He wondered, also, if they would truly be angry about the death of the housemaid.

  Tyran approached the podium and lightly tapped a sticklike object attached to the top. The tapping was amplified from speakers stationed all around the square. It was a thin microphone, Wade realized. It wasn’t like the fat, oblong microphones used for radio and television speeches back in his world.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please,” Tyran said, his voice booming throughout the square. The crowd quieted down. “This is the dawning of a new day for Sarum—and for the entire nation. Many of you witnessed that dawning in the power of the explosion that rocked our city this morning.”

  A hum of discussion worked its way through the crowd.

  Tyran continued, “I confess to you that it was the house of Liven, our foremost elder, which was destroyed.”

  The hum of discussion grew louder.

  “I confess to you that, sadly, his housekeeper was killed in the explosion.”

  The crowd grew louder still.

  “I also confess to you that I, Tyran, was responsible for the explosion.”

  Now the crowd erupted in a cacophony of shouts and cries.

  Here it comes, Wade thought as he braced himself. They’ll riot now.

  But the shouts and cries weren’t in protest, he quickly realized. They were calling out things like “How?” and “Where did you get this power?” and “Tyran’s a genius!”

  Wade couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They weren’t angry or rebellious; they were impressed.

  A handful of people off to one side yelled, “You murdered an innocent
woman!” but they were shouted down by the majority of the crowd. Wade thought he saw some of Tyran’s guards move in to arrest them.

  Tyran turned to Dr. Lyst and Wade and winked at them. He went on, “We have developed this power through the genius of Dr. Lyst, whom many of you know, and through a young stranger who was sent to us by fate!” Tyran waved his hand toward Dr. Lyst and Wade.

  The crowd began to applaud. The sound moved like a wave toward the stage. Then came the cheers and shouts. Tyran gestured for Wade and Dr. Lyst to stand up. The doctor obeyed. When Wade didn’t move from his seat, the doctor reached over and pulled him to his feet. Wade blushed and wished the stage would collapse and swallow him right then. They don’t care, he thought as the people cheered for a full five minutes. Wade thought of Arin again and all he’d said about the wickedness of this generation.

  “The power you saw this morning was to prove the validity of my claims to leadership,” Tyran said when the crowd had calmed down again and Wade and Dr. Lyst had retaken their seats. “You know well the work I have been trying to accomplish in this city on your behalf. You know well how I have fought for your rights and your prosperity. You know well how I have been thwarted time and again by the elders, who are more concerned about their own reputations and pockets than about the people of this city. Have they not allowed us to be attacked on all sides by our enemies? Have they not allowed a mysterious illness to run rampant throughout the city?”

  At this the crowd began to shout and cheer again.

  Tyran waved at them to quiet down. “Those days are over!” he continued. “They have seen the power that I warned them I have harnessed and have agreed to make me the governor of Marus.”

  The crowd howled and applauded.

  “The days of privilege for the few are over. From this day forward, I will lead this nation into a new era, an era of prosperity and of victory over the many enemies who threaten us!”

  The people seemed uncontrollable in their enthusiasm.

  “Let them be warned!” Tyran cried out. “Let them all quiver in the face of our power! We, the people of Marus, are rising from the ashes to victory!”