Silver Shard

by Betsy Streeter

  “What have you done with her?” Henry shouts. He jumps up and runs at Monder with all of his strength. “Where is she?” He raises both fists.

  “Control yourself, child!” Monder roars. His head splits open and out spills a mass of tentacles tipped with blood-red eyeballs.

  Long teeth sprout from nowhere, claws appear, robes turn to black and Monder the Tromindox rears up to his full seven-plus feet of height. The teacup and saucer shatter on the floor.

  Henry falls backward, terrified. He flinches again and again as sharp claws flick at him, never quite making contact but coming close enough. The black tips glisten with venom.

  Monder screams at Henry from a multitude of mouths. “Your purpose here is to do as you are told. Do not make me remind you again!”

  His point made, Monder takes a moment to regain his former shape. His cheekbones and huge yellow eyes arrange themselves in the proper positions on his face. Tentacles and claws morph back into elegant robes sewn with gold thread. A long mane of black hair cascades once again down his back.

  “Now,” Monder says. “Shall we continue? I brought you here and you will now listen or I will throw you into a hole and leave you there.”

  Henry remains silent on the floor. He has gone from frantic and angry to subdued and fearful in a matter of moments. He stares straight forward and wraps his arms around his knees like he does back in his room.

  “Better,” Monder says. “Now, these maps. A good start, to be sure. But, they are incomplete. The quality is…a bit lacking. You will need to do better.”

  “What do you mean, better?” Henry says. “I don’t even know why I’m here! And you’re telling me to draw better?”

  “Again with the attitude,” Monder says. “Guild. So important to get them while they are still children, before their minds close off. But I could do without the attitude.”

  Monder is speaking in the direction of the screens, as if Henry isn’t even there.

  Monder wheels around again. “Your sister. I need your assistance with her. She has something that I need. And she thinks that if she gives it to me, she will get you back. But there’s a little problem. Do you want to know what it is?”

  Henry says nothing.

  “Your sister is as poor a listener as you are. Like you, she is taking far too long to do what I have requested, and I fear that I shall have to go and retrieve her. But first I require completed maps of this rift, this labyrinth. Your work must accelerate. Understand?”

  Henry nods.

  “Good. Now, get to work, and do not stop until I say to. If I must speak to you again I shall not be so accommodating. Now, off with you.”

  Monder snaps his long fingers in Henry’s face, and Henry can feel himself pulled backward. Everything around him blurs and in a split second he is back in a plain white room holding a marker pen in his hand.

  “PLEASE. BEGIN AGAIN.” It’s the voice again.

  “My sister is smarter than you,” Henry says. “She’s going to get me out of here.”

  “PLEASE. BEGIN AGAIN.”

  Henry puts the pen on the floor and begins to draw.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” Kate asks Anna, climbing off of her motorcycle.

  “Yeah, I recognize it from when I was a little kid. We used to come out here and barbecue,” Anna says.

  The two women park their chrome-and-black bikes at the side of the long, dusty driveway and remove their helmets. A squat, silver trailer sits at the far end, flanked by two disorganized Jumping Cholla cactus plants.

  The sky hangs low here, thick clouds reaching through the air from one enormous red rock to another. Anna and Kate rode for an hour down this dirt track, hoping they made the correct turn off of the two-lane highway. As soon as the late-afternoon sun bounced off of the trailer, creating a tiny flash in the desert, Anna knew it was the right place.

  Wind chimes tinkle around in the hot breeze, greeting the women as they approach the front door. The trailer has rounded corners and a lack of wheels, having been installed here on a permanent basis long ago. There’s a bowl of water on a tiny iron table by the door, presumably for visiting birds.

  “What are these little red things all over the ground?” Kate asks. She pokes at one with her toe. They look like tiny rocks, but they’re a bright unnatural color.

  “Oh, he likes candy,” Anna replies, and smiles. “Don’t worry, he’ll share with you.”

  Anna knocks on the screen door, which rattles around on loose hinges.

  No answer.

  Anna pulls open the screen and knocks on the real door, in hopes of making more noise.

  They wait.

  “Do you suppose he’s out?” Kate says.

  “Out? Exactly where would that be? It’s not like he headed down the street to the easy mart,” Anna says.

  Fair enough. They wait another minute.

  “Maybe he really is out,” Anna says. “Let’s look around back.”

  They circle the trailer, careful to take a wide path around the Jumping Cholla. The back has been fitted with a wooden trellis, off of which hang a variety of pots containing plants that mostly are not among the living. There’s a square of concrete, too, with a couple of lawn chairs and a spectacular collection of yard decorations including a burro carrying two planters on its back, a fawn, several squirrels and frogs and at least one gnome. This is where they find the trailer’s resident.

  “Would y’all like some red hots?”

  “Hello, Winston,” Anna says. “Nice to see you.”

  Kate can’t pick Winston out from amongst the planters and yard art until he moves. Like the statues, he is gray and smallish. But when he turns around, his powder-blue eyes shine through round gold-rimmed glasses. He’s got a long white beard and ponytail; he walks with a stoop. He shuffles toward the women with one hand extended and the other holding a bowl of candy. He looks like if they don’t take his hand, he might tip forward.

  “Good to see you,” Anna says, taking Winston’s hand and kissing him on the cheek. “Do you remember Kate? Kate Silverwood?”

  “What?”

  “Kate!” Anna says, raising her voice. Clearly Winston’s hearing is almost gone. “Kate Silverwood!”

  “Ah! Yes,” Winston says, shuffling toward Kate and taking her hand. “Lovely to see you. Would you like some red hots?” He holds up the bowl.

  “Sure, thanks,” Kate says, picking out a couple of the tiny candies.

  “Take all you want,” Winston says, “I’ve got more.” With that he goes into a quiet, snuffly laugh. He shuffles over to a dilapidated wood table and sets down the bowl, spilling candies along the way. Kate now understands how the ground became littered with the tiny red objects.

  “Winston, we’ve got a favor to ask,” Anna says.

  “Julian called me,” Winston says. “On the secret phone wingy-dingy thing.” He snuffles again. “Come inside where we can talk.”

  Winston waves them toward the back door, which hangs on for dear life by a single hinge. Inside it’s dark with small square windows providing the only illumination. The floor creaks, but everything is clean. Mementos sit in neat rows on wooden shelves. The kitchen is a time capsule from another era, with boomerang shapes decorating the counters and a mustard-yellow oven mounted in the wall. Next to that there’s a glass cabinet containing an endless collection of snow globes. Apparently, Winston has traveled the world many times over, gathering the little globes along the way.

  “I suppose you don’t have time for a story,” Winston says, waving a hand at the snow globes.

  “No, sorry, we don’t,” Anna says. “I wish we did.” Anna looks at Kate. “First thing used to always be, we’d pick a snow globe and Winston would tell us a story of his travels. Best part of visiting, in my opinion. Winston sure can tell a story.”

  “Every word of ‘em true, too,” Winston grins.

  “Sure, Winston,” Anna says, shooting him a look. “But this time I’m afraid we’re under some serious
time pressure. Kate’s kids are both in Monder’s labyrinth.”

  “So I heard,” Winston says, looking at Kate over the top of his glasses. “So I heard. Industrious kids you’ve got there. Maybe a little too much. They got the vision, those two. They can see things, can’t they?”

  “Yes, they can, each in their own way,” Kate says.

  “Well, isn’t that just how it is with kids,” Winston says, smiling.

  “Isn’t it just,” Kate mumbles, swallowing back the knot in her throat.

  “Let’s head inside,” Winston says, turning toward the living area.

  Kate looks confused. Aren’t they already inside?

  “Help me with this Miss Anna,” Winston says. The two of them roll up the rug at the center of the floor, revealing a trap door almost the size of the room itself. There are inlaid iron rings at the corners.

  “Now Winston, you let me get this,” Anna says. “Kate? Can you lend a hand?”

  The two women grab the iron handles and heave up the massive door. It must be a foot thick. When it reaches shoulder height, an unseen motor takes over and the door raises itself. Lights go on and a set of metal stairs unfurls below them.

  “After you,” Winston says, gesturing to the women.

  “Inside” turns out to be the size of a warehouse. It takes some minutes just to descend the mechanical stairway. Person-sized trunks and boxes line the walls, stacked to the ceiling. Many of these sport hand-lettered labels and a large number are secured with heavy padlocks.

  “What is all this stuff?” Kate asks.

  “Oh, a lot of it is outmoded weapons systems, obsolete time maps, things like that,” Winston says. I mean, a fair amount of it is junk, too—my old records, and a lot of weird experiments people have tried over the years. Maybe some of them I have tried.” He grins. “It’s like, nuclear waste. Volatile things, things nobody wants. Things you don’t want in the wrong hands. Like the Shard.”

  Winston opens the middle drawer of an ancient-looking file cabinet. “Now, let’s see…”

  “Winston, I already know the Shard’s filing number,” Anna says. “My dad told it to me before I came.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did, young lady,” Winston says, “but before we haul the thing out here we’ve got to deactivate its field. One false step doing that, and the emergency system could kick in and it would lock itself up for good. And, might I add, when we move it, everybody sees it move. Lots of eyeballs on this item, for sure. So let’s be sure to get it right, shall we. Ah! Here we are.”

  Winston pulls out a crinkled sheet of paper. But before he begins reading, he peers at Anna and Kate over his glasses.

  “Now we will go over what you are getting into with this piece of equipment.” Suddenly Winston’s voice is deeper, more resolute. “I’m not bringing the axe out here until things are fully understood.”

  “Okay,” Anna says. “Whatever we have to do. But we don’t have a lot of time.”

  Winston’s eyes sharpen and he shoots both women a piercing look. “You’ll have all the time in the world, if you don’t listen to what I’m going to tell you. Because you’ll be nowhere, on a permanent basis. As will your fine children. Doing this wrong is worse than doing nothing.”

  He steps on a pedal near his foot and a chalkboard unfolds out of the floor.

  “Now,” Winston says, approaching the board, “let’s go over the safety features of the Silver Shard.” He’s moving better now, as if he’s lost twenty years off of his age. He draws a cartoonish axe at the center of the board.

  “The Shard is currently being held inside of a dampening field, where it has been for several decades. Removing it from the field will place it on the radar for any number of parties who would track it if they knew where it was. Among these: Tromindox, corrupt ex-Council members, and some others we haven’t been able to identify including a not-insignificant number of ‘toms, many of whom are probably under the direction of Monder himself.” He draws circles with arrows pointing in toward the axe.

  “Once the Shard is out and its location is known, you must move it in accordance with portal protocols or risk inducing an uncontrolled collapse. The Shard may not, under any circumstances, be taken through a portal itself.” He draws a portal and then a slashing line through it. “The Shard’s location in relation to any space/time rifts will present an imminent danger. Since these rifts are all but impossible to detect, you will need to move the Shard along an approved safe path. Fortunately, I have one for you.” He hands Anna a tiny flash drive. “That’s encoded with the info. Load it up before you go too far or you’re in for some surprises.”

  “As soon as you take possession of the Shard, you will leave here immediately, probably pursued by a host of unsavory individuals. You, Kate, will need all of your assassin skills at the ready to make it out of here alive. Got all that?”

  “Yes, we do, Winston,” Anna says. “And Winston, Kate isn’t an assassin anymore. She’s been an agent for a long time. Ever since she and Gabriel had to escape with Helen.”

  “Okay, that’s enough about me,” Kate says.

  “Alrighty,” Winston says, eyeing Kate. He clearly knows far more about her background and her family than he has been letting on. “Fine, then. Stand back while I do my thing.”

  Winston punches another foot pedal and a console rises out of the floor in front of him. He types in the Shard’s catalog number and a mechanical arm retrieves a box the size of a guitar case from a shelf far at the other end of the warehouse. Gears whirr as the object comes toward them. The arm then places the case on the floor.

  Anna and Kate pull energy guns from their belts and power them up. The guns emit high whines, pulling electricity from the air—great for blowing apart the loose molecules of the shape-shifters; probably not so effective against ‘toms. Anna’s got a few tricks up her sleeve as well, but everything they do must be accomplished while moving. At a high rate of speed. In the right direction.

  Before Winston uncloaks and unlocks the case, he turns to Anna and touches her cheek. “You’re a good person, Anna. You’ve done much for the clan. Your dad is, too. He has had to make hard choices.” Then he turns to Kate. “I know you have tried to do what’s right, Kate. Yours is a path of impossible decisions unique to yourself. Be well.”

  He pops open the case, causing it to light up and set off a deafening alarm.

  Winston lifts the Silver Shard from its longtime home and hands it to Kate. Kate takes it in both hands and looks it over. It really is made entirely of silver, heavy and solid, but it is far more intricate than Kate expected it to be. Its blade curves downward on one side and ends in a spike on the other. This is affixed to the handle with a cast silver tree whose roots wind and twist down into the handle. On closer inspection, it appears that this weapon might be a single intricately-forged piece of metal. Kate can see ghostly spiral patterns in the flat sides of the blade, remnants of melted portal coins. Whoever created this weapon was a craftsperson of the highest order, and capable of manipulating materials in ways long thought to be impossible.

  The case has prevented the Shard from tarnishing; it shines bright. Kate wraps the axe blade in a black cloth, slings it around onto her back, and straps it there.

  Winston pulls one more item from the Shard’s case. It’s a leather journal with a portal coin embedded in the cover. “Take this,” he says to Anna, pressing it into her hand. “Read it when you get to someplace safe.”

  “But Winston—why?” Anna says.

  “No time. Go, go, go!” Winston says, shooing them toward the stairs. “Remember, no portal travel. You follow the map I gave you.”

  The women head for the top of the stairs and Winston rides the steps upward as metal hinges fold over on themselves. The mechanical door closes up with a loud clang!, deadbolts and other devices clicking into place underneath it. Some of these contain explosives, others are pressurized. All would have to be disarmed at the same instant for anyone to access the underground warehouse.
Winston does not intend to open the door again.

  Anna and Kate run to their bikes and fire them up. They swerve back onto the dirt track, making note of the size and position of the dust clouds rising in the distance. Just get to the main road, then increase speed and plot a course. As they jump rocks and drop into indentations in the terrain, a bit of the exposed axe handle flashes in the sun.

  Winston pours himself a glass of water and slowly drinks it, standing in the kitchen window. He takes a deep breath and then goes to the front door and opens it, stepping out onto the tiny porch.

  The sky has blackened in an instant. Winston can hear the low hum of an uncountable number of engines, growing louder. He stands perfectly still. Only his ponytail moves in the breeze.

  There are a multitude of thuds like sonic booms. ‘Toms riding motorbikes or driving armored pickup trucks appear out of the air and crash onto the dirt, moving at full speed. Clouds of swarming Tromindox join them. Winston watches as they come at the tiny trailer, chewing up the terrain and sending rocks and dirt flying behind them.

  Winston never kept pets because he knew this moment would come. He could not ask a faithful animal companion to make such a sacrifice. But he would have liked to have had a horse.

  “You’re too late,” Winston says into the wind.

  There will be no evidence left of the trailer, or of Winston, or of the spilled candy or the snow globes. There will be no bowl of water for the birds or wind chimes or Jumping Cholla. And there will be no record that he sent up a flare at the moment that Anna and Kate left, attracting attention away from them and giving them crucial minutes to get away.

  Finally, there will be no evidence of the underground warehouse, cloaked and buried.

  Helen saw her brother as clearly as she possibly could have seen him. He was right there in front of her, running toward her, calling to her. And then in an instant, he was gone.

  Henry fell straight down into the ground, but Helen can’t figure out how. She examines the spot where he disappeared, but finds nothing. There is no sign that he was ever there. Not even an indentation or a footprint. Nothing.