Second Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  “Maybe we can upgrade our plane tickets to first class,” Jackson said eagerly.

  Johanna used her sternest voice. “We are not going to abuse our privileges. I already booked our tickets and those are the tickets we’ll use.”

  “Whatever,” Jackson said sheepishly.

  “Let’s go. The taxi should be out front by now.”

  Mal placed his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t have to warn you to be careful, but I can’t let you go without saying it just once. Don’t worry about the library. Everything here will be fine. You two just do what you have to do.” He kissed Johanna’s cheek and shook Jackson’s hand. “Good luck.”

  The taxi horn honked, signaling the driver’s impatience. Johanna and Jackson said goodbye and headed out.

  ★

  Furst advised the Dramatican military about their invaders’ multiple tentacles with far reaching capabilities. “Be ready to spring into action, you must.”

  “The crowds back, we must keep,” the military commander said.

  “Done, consider it,” Furst replied.

  The Dramatican soldiers stormed the library and faced a race of beings they couldn’t begin to comprehend, armed with devastating weapons. The Terrorians took aim and soon several Dramaticans were frozen in force fields before they could avoid being captured.

  When Furst had advised the soldiers to spring into action, he meant it literally. Finally, a Dramatican trooper, on seeing a Terrorian take aim, leapt high over the invader’s head and shot him in the back with a pistol crossbow that fired powerful, four-blade broadhead arrows. The arrows appeared to be a medieval design forged out of metal, and although their power could not rival the decimators, they still gave the Dramaticans the means to avoid total obliteration.

  While this transpired, a lone Terrorian trooper continued to erase books from the shelves of the library.

  ★

  “I am taking this child with me,” Pru Tellerence insisted for a third time.

  “Impossible. The child stays here.” The Russian official took the little girl’s arm and tried to pull her away.

  ★Imperium.

  The Russian official eyed Pru Tellerence warily as he let go of the little girl’s arm.

  “We’re going home,” Pru told the youngster, taking her hand. She turned to the official. “Her birth records, please.”

  The official nodded to a clerk who disappeared into a back office.

  While they waited, Pru Tellerence sang softly to the child who stared at her with wide, blue eyes, but said nothing. The clerk returned with a sealed manila envelope, which Pru Tellerence immediately ripped open. She searched the documents looking for clues related to the child’s birth. The record was sparse. “There’s not even a mention of her name here. She must have a name.” She looked expectantly at the official.

  “Izabella,” one of the staff members said. “We call her Izabella.”

  Pru Tellerence stooped until she was eye level with the child. “Izabella. What a pretty name, but such a mouthful. I think I’ll just call you Bel.” She returned the papers to the envelope, folded it, and stuffed it in her borrowed purse.

  “Good day,” she said, nodding curtly at the officials. “You can consider this child adopted.”

  ★

  Johanna and Jackson waited in a long line to check in at the airport. When they finally reached the ticket counter, the agent told them someone had made a mistake.

  “Don’t tell me we have to wait in another line,” Jackson whined.

  “You didn’t have to wait in this one,” the agent replied. “You’re first class passengers and could have checked in at priority services.”

  Johanna glared at Jackson.

  “What?” he said. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Would you like to tell me how we ended up in first class?” she whispered.

  “You ordered the tickets. You tell me. I had nothing to do with it.”

  The agent handed them the new tickets. “Bags?”

  “We have one each,” Johanna replied.

  “Yes,” the agent said. “Would you like to check them?”

  “No,” Jackson answered. “We’ll carry them onboard.”

  “Can I see them?”

  They both held up their backpacks. “That’s fine. You’ll have to go through security, but you can get in the priority line. It’s much shorter.”

  “Thanks,” Johanna said as she retrieved their passports.

  “Gate eighteen.”

  “Gate eighteen, got it.” Jackson nodded at the agent, grabbed Johanna’s hand and led her away from the crowded counter.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “About half past eight. Our plane doesn’t board until a quarter past nine. Let’s get something to eat.”

  “They may give us food on the plane.”

  “Who knows when that will be?”

  They quickly got through security, and Jackson scouted out different places to eat. “This one looks good and there’s a corner table open. Let’s eat here.”

  “Let’s just get something portable that we can eat at the gate. I wouldn’t want to miss the plane.”

  “They’re not going to leave without us.”

  “Please.”

  “Fine,” he said. “We’ll pick up sandwiches and soda and eat at the gate.”

  But the seating area served two different gates and was jam packed, so when they got there, they were forced to eat standing up.

  Jackson struggled to balance his soda while eating his sandwich. “Isn’t this fun and exciting.”

  Johanna rolled her eyes. “Just eat. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  He didn’t say another word until it was time to board the plane.

  LOI

  CHAPTER 24

  Pru Tellerence embarked on a mini shopping spree with her 3-year-old charge in tow. Izabella had only the clothes on her back and needed various items. Once they’d purchased sufficient garments and sleepwear to clothe her for a week, the overseer took the tot into a toy store. The youngster stayed glued to her side but Bel’s eyes took in everything. Finally, Pru Tellerence held out a doll and a stuffed kitten. The child touched the faux fur on the kitten and moved closer to rub her face against it.

  “You’re sure you don’t want this,” the overseer asked, pushing the doll closer to the youngster, but Bel did not reach for the doll. Instead, she clutched the kitten as if it were a lifeline.

  The overseer paid for the purchase and proceeded to their next stop.

  ★

  Much to the Terrorian troopers’ chagrin, they did not land on Juvenilia as expected, but on Dramatica. “Where are the docile kiddlets they promised us? What are these leaping creatures?” And they didn’t expect the inhabitants of the realm they invaded to possess weapons. Terrorians excelled at inflicting pain, but not at tolerating it and would much rather be decimated than painfully gouged by a four-blade broadhead arrow.

  “Do not allow them to break through our ranks. Keir 414 must have time to finish clearing the shelves.”

  “What good will that do?” a new Terrorian recruit asked. “They must have books and maps and manuals in their homes they can rely on.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This is a Library of Illumination. When the information kept here disappears, the contents of their personally owned literature and documents will vanish. There will be no record of their history, their battles, and their accomplishments. Mathematic and scientific formulae will cease to exist. Thousands of years of recorded documents will be nothing more than a memory. They will become powerless.”

  ★

  The Fasten Seatbelt sign went off and Johanna’s grip on Jackson’s arm loosened. “I don’t think I’m cut out for flying.”

  He rubbed the spot to restore circulation. “Why would you say that? This is so cool.” He stood to stretch his legs.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. For a walk, I guess. I want to see
the rest of the plane. You coming?”

  “No. I’ll stay right here, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  A flight attendant approached him. “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I’m not a ‘sir.’ I’m Jackson.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers.

  She obliged him. “The lavatories are right behind the curtains.” She pointed over his shoulder.

  “Thanks.” He disappeared into the next compartment.

  Jackson looked around. The seats weren’t as large or luxurious, but were generous enough. “Why does everyone complain about coach? This looks comfortable.”

  A man looked up from a nearby seat. “This isn’t coach. You’re in the business section.”

  “Where’s coach?”

  The stranger maneuvered his thumb like a hitchhiker. “Back there, behind the partition.”

  Jackson made his way through the compartment and disappeared into another section of the plane. The seats were definitely smaller.

  “Okay. Maybe coach is a little tight.”

  A woman shook her head. “If you want coach, it’s back there.”

  Jackson saw another set of curtains and ventured past them. The next section was so crowded there was barely enough room in the aisle to maneuver past. He walked as far back as he could and found himself in one of the galleys.

  A lone flight attendant stocked a cart with beverages. “Need something?”

  “No. I just wanted to see what the rest of the plane looked like. I’ve never flown before.”

  “There’s not that much to see, really.”

  “Haven’t you been to first class? It’s a lot different than it is back here.”

  “Are you a first class passenger?”

  “Yeah. And I could really get used to traveling that way.”

  “So could everyone else.”

  Jackson stuck out his hand. “I’m Jackson. What’s your name?”

  “Beck,” the attendant replied. He ignored Jackson’s proffered hand and continued to load the cart with bottles.

  The plane hit turbulence and Jackson lost his balance. He grabbed the flight attendant’s arm to steady himself. A pinging sound rang out and the seatbelt sign went back on.

  “I suggest you go back to your seat and strap yourself in,” Beck advised.

  “Was that turbulence? It really wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

  They hit another pocket of unsettled air and Jackson’s feet literally left the floor. He grabbed the cart to keep from falling. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Skokholm Island. It’s in Wales.”

  “A bird fancier, are you?”

  “Nope. I’m going to look for a group of magicians.”

  Jackson finally received Beck’s undivided attention. “Magicians.”

  “Yeah. Have you ever heard of the Eahta Frean fram Drycræft?”

  The attendant’s expression froze. “Never heard of them. You’d better return to your seat now.”

  “See you.” Jackson headed back to the front of the plane.

  The flight attendant reached for more beverages. As he did, the sleeve of his shirt pulled back exposing a wrist tattoo of a dragon rampart entangled in a double eight Celtic shield.

  ★

  Score upon score of Dramaticans arrived at the library, ready to do battle.

  Pleth pushed to the front of the pack carrying a bucket of pitch and rags. “Wrap this around the arrows, I will. Up their pants, this will light.”

  “No!” Furst shouted. “Burn down the library, you will. An option, that is not.”

  “More books, we can get,” Dungen said. “Our world, we cannot allow them to invade.”

  Someone in the crowd chanted, “Fire, fire, fire …”

  Pleth tied a bit of rag around the end of his arrow and dipped it in the pitch.

  “No! Do this, you must not,” Furst screamed, but to no avail. His fellow Dramatican lit the arrow and when a Terrorian looked out of the front door of the library, Pleth took aim and shot it into the invader’s chest.

  The resulting high-pitched squeal would be slow to leave Dramatican memories. The Terrorians had oiled their skin before battle to protect it from the dry air in Juvenilia. The flaming arrow ignited the oil and the Terrorian fried faster than calamari in a restaurant kitchen.

  Some of his fellow troopers witnessed his distress and tried to retreat, but there was no way back to their homeland. The time machine that delivered the soldiers was far, far away and would not return for hours.

  ★

  Jackson knelt next to Johanna’s seat. Her eyes were closed tight and her white knuckles clutched the armrests.

  “You okay?”

  Johanna opened her eyes and nodded. “Where were you?”

  “I told you, I wanted to see the rest of the plane. Be glad you’re not sitting in coach. Those people are packed in like cattle. There’s hardly room to walk.”

  “That’s what you went to do? Check out coach?”

  “Pretty much. What did you do while I was gone?”

  “Pray.”

  “For what?”

  “A safe flight.”

  The plane hit a pocket of turbulence and dropped several feet in a split second. Johanna’s face went white. Jackson’s stomach clenched. “Maybe praying isn’t such a bad idea.” He rubbed the side of his neck.

  “Is that bee sting bothering you?”

  “What bee sting?” He suddenly realized what he’d just said. “I, am, uh … pretty convinced it couldn’t have been a bee. It’s too early in the season.” He closed his eyes, wondering why he kept up the charade. It’s my neck, and I can get it tattooed if I want. Still, Jackson wasn’t ready to show the artwork to Johanna.

  He didn’t have to think about it for long because their flight attendant arrived with dinner menus, and their conversation changed to what they’d have for dinner. “Steak with peppercorn sauce. That’s what I’m having,” he said, “with sautéed potatoes.”

  “I think I’ll have the salmon.”

  The flight attendant returned. “Champagne?”

  Jackson smiled at her. “Sure.”

  She poured them each a glass of champagne before moving on.

  Jackson leaned close to Johanna and whispered, “I guess they don’t realize how old we are.”

  “We’re old enough to drink wine in the U.K.”

  “Oh.” He thought for a second. “It was more fun when I thought we’d be drinking on the sly.”

  “You would think that.”

  After dinner, Beck stopped by Jackson’s seat. “I have something for you.” He handed Jackson a bottle of ale. “It’s a local brew from Pembrokeshire, near Skokholm Island. Since you’ve never been there before, I thought I’d give you an introduction to what the area has to offer.”

  “Hey, thanks.” Jackson chugged a generous amount of ale. “Want some?” he asked Johanna.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  He took another pull before yawning. “Maybe I’ll take a snooze.” He played with the seat buttons until his seat was fully reclined.

  Their flight attendant opened an overhead compartment and removed a duvet.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled before yawning again and sinking into a deep sleep.

  “I’m glad one of us can sleep,” Johanna murmured as she thought about Jackson. She knew he’d fall asleep immediately and appear innocent, even angelic, in repose. But try as she might, every little sound or movement disturbed her and she would not be blessed with a few hours rest.

  She closed her eyes, but they immediately flew open when she sensed movement in the area. The flight attendant who had given Jackson the beer was crouched down next to his seat. “You can take that beer away,” she told the attendant. “He has no more use for it.”

  ★

  The flight attendant nodded at Johanna as he removed the half-full bottle of ale and walked to the rear of the plane. He returned to the first class cabi
n a few times. Whenever he did, he noticed that Johanna remained keenly aware of everything going on near Jackson’s seat.

  ★

  The Dramaticans felt empowered when they saw other Terrorians quickly fall back inside the library. “We can win this battle,” Dungen shouted as he lit an arrow and headed toward the library doors.

  Furst stood dumbfounded. Nothing he had encountered during his career as curator prepared him for the ruination about to ensue.

  Inside, Terrorians squealed at the sight of flaming arrows. Hurl 881 spun his tentacles like a fan trying to blow the flames back at the Dramaticans, but his spin worked in reverse, drawing the heat and flames closer. He ducked back behind the stacks, but the Dramaticans pursued him and he unwittingly led them to where Keir 414 stood destroying their books. The Dramaticans became enraged.

  They shot at Keir 414, but the Terrorian turned his decimator on them instead of the books, and when the men in the rear saw their kinsmen disappear, they scurried out of the building to rethink their defense.

  ★

  The next morning, Johanna gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from the flight attendant.

  Jackson awoke with a start and threw off the duvet as he struggled to sit up. Tiny beads of sweat covered his forehead. “I feel awful.”

  “Coffee, sir?”

  “Do you have anything cold? I need something cold.”

  “Orange juice?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Johanna unbuckled her seat belt and bent over him. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “I don’t know.” He closed his eyes until the attendant returned with orange juice.

  Johanna got some aspirin from her backpack. “Take this. It may make you feel better.”

  “Thanks.”

  He scratched the side of his neck and the corner of the bandage came off.

  “Let me take a look at that sting.”

  Jackson didn’t have the energy to stop her.

  Johanna gently tugged away the gauze and her eyes widened when she saw a scabbed-over, oozing tattoo. “Were you going to tell me about this?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “It’s infected.”