by C. A. Pack
Johanna stopped stirring her coffee. “How so?”
“He perfected a way for a man to transmogrify into sound and light and travel to other places in the blink of an eye.”
“Sound and light,” Jackson repeated, “because either one alone wouldn’t do the trick?”
Cathasach placed the large omelet on a plate and cut it into four pieces. “If I wanted to travel to California right now, I wouldn’t be able to do it as light, because it’s still night there. But I could travel as the whisper of a breeze, because sound can travel in light or dark.”
“Then why travel as light at all?” Jackson asked. “Why not always travel as sound?”
Cathasach placed the food on the table and slid into a chair. “Because, sometimes, you want to arrive unannounced.”
Johanna closed her eyes for a second as she savored the omelet. “Did he also happen to come up with a spell for time travel?”
Beck suddenly looked up and stared at Cathasach.
The older man took a while to answer. “Yes. But we have never been able to prove it works.”
Jackson’s fork, filled with food, stopped in mid-air. “Were you able to prove the other spell worked? The one where you become light and sound?”
Cathasach sighed. “Not me, personally. But one of the other Eahta Frean fram Drycræft did.”
“That’s what he claims,” Beck added.
Johanna carried her empty dish to the sink. “If you haven’t been able to prove the spells’ effectiveness, how do you know they’re real?”
“Because we’ve seen Myrddin perform them,” Cathasach replied.
“But Myrddin’s a ghost,” Jackson and Johanna echoed each other.
“He is, when he’s here, but not necessarily when he’s away from here. He once told me he was going to travel to a future time. He disappeared and an instant later he reappeared in the workroom, as a flesh and blood man, and brought me an object that didn’t yet exist here on earth.
“Fant—” Jackson stopped speaking when Johanna kicked him in the ankle.
“What was it?” she asked Cathasach.
“A tiny tablet on which words and pictures miraculously appeared.”
“Like a magic slate?” Jackson asked.
“Today, it’s known as a smart phone. But Myrddin showed me one thirty-five years ago.”
Jackson’s eyes lit up. “What did you see on it?”
Cathasach’s face softened as he concentrated on the memory. “Books. Pages and pages of books. Artwork. Some from grand masters, some I didn’t recognize. Music coming out of the tiny little tablet in the palm of his hand.”
“Yep,” Jackson agreed, “It sounds like a smart phone to me.”
“Except,” Cathasach said, “there were no smart phones back then.”
“Do you still have it?” Johanna asked.
“No. He took it back to wherever it came from. He said we weren’t ready for it.”
“So there are spells for time travel and transmogrifying into sound and light.” Johanna created a mental list. “But the collection you sent me has a lot more in it than that. What else could he do?”
Cathasach used his fingers to enumerated spells. “Turn lead into gold. Change his appearance. Command the weather…”
“Heal broken bones,” Beck added. “How’s that ankle, Johanna?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened.
“I’ll bet it’s not giving you any trouble today,” he said.
“It’s not. It doesn’t hurt at all. I figured it was only a sprain.”
“Did it feel like a sprain yesterday when you put your weight on it?”
“No. I thought I’d broken it.”
“You did,” Beck said, self-satisfied. “You can thank Myrddin for your cure.”
Jackson poured himself another cup of coffee. “Are you guys sure you’re not just hallucinating?”
“Johanna, walk over to Jackson on your broken ankle and tell him we’re hallucinating.”
She smiled. “If you’re having trouble performing some of the spells, what’s to say other sorcerers wouldn’t have the same problem?”
“That’s a chance we’re not prepared to take,” Cathasach said. “Besides, Myrddin said the encroachment could be coming from another dimension.”
“Like Terroria,” Jackson said.
“Like what?” Beck asked.
Johanna’s shoe re-connected with Jackson’s ankle. “He’s just making stuff up. I’d like to hear what your ideas are concerning another dimension.”
Cathasach cleared the table as he spoke. “Myrddin said he was free to wander and experiment on another world, even though here, he was trapped inside this cavern. He made it sound special, different, ahead of us in development in many ways.”
Jackson opened his mouth to say ‘Lumi,’ saw the look on Johanna’s face, and swallowed his comment.
“Anyway,” Cathasach continued, “if the threat is coming from a different dimension, I fear there is little we can do to protect his work. But then Myrddin, or at least his ghost, told me to send it to the curator at the Library of Illumination. He said it would be safe there.”
“I hope so,” Johanna said.
★
Izabella pulled her hand out of Pru Tellerence’s grasp as the overseer questioned Mal about Johanna’s expected return. The toddler amused herself by poking the arm of the overstuffed couch and watching it spring back.
★Did Johanna give you any indication when she’d return?
“No. As far as I know, she and Jackson got a request for assistance from a library patron and asked me to watch the place until they got back. They’ve never been to Wales before, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they take an extra day or two to enjoy the culture and scenery.”
She turned to Ryden Simmdry. ★And only Johanna can activate the lock?
⌘A vault is a curator’s safe haven. Even I, as master, do not have access.
Cries of terror interrupted their discussion. They turned to see a crowd of people pull back in fear as a deceased rajah rose to his feet atop a flaming funeral pyre. He picked up the woman lying beside him and descended into the smoke. He carried her toward a group of men at the edge of the woods. “Let us be off,” Passepartout advised Phileas Fogg, having just saved the young woman’s life. They quickly mounted an elephant and rode off, but not before the people realized they’d been duped, and a bullet tore through Fogg’s hat.
Ryden Simmdry closed a book the toddler had opened and handed it to Pru Tellerence. ⌘ Izabella may be a little too young to appreciate the subtleties of “Around the World in 80 Days.” The scene faded, although it took a little longer for the smoke to dissipate.
★She’s very discerning. Most three-year-olds wouldn’t have chosen Jules Verne.
“I saw the most unusual thing,” Mal said, “but it must be my eyes playing tricks on me.”
◍What did you see, Malcolm, because I saw something odd, too.
“The bodies of Terrorians roasting on the funeral pyre.”
Selium Sorium nodded, but didn’t need to say anything because the other overseers read his thoughts and saw what he saw.
★I doubt Jules Verne ever came into contact with a Terrorian.
⌘Which means there’s been some kind of rift in reality, and the changes are trying to find their place in the continuum of thirteen different realms.
★
The call to arms started slowly, but gathered speed, and Furst soon had an army of more than three hundred Dramaticans. He divided them into groups and gave them assignments. He told one group to amass all the weapons they could find—crossbows, pitch, slings and arrows. He tasked another group with stocking a school building across from the library with food and fuel. A few select men developed military fighting tactics and strategies and trained the others. Another group made sure the new provisional headquarters had cots and blankets and medical supplies. Cooks, laborers, even blacksmiths pledged to do their part, the latter forging
shields, swords and helmets for the soldiers.
“Enough time, I hope we have,” Furst said to Pleth. “A big battle, it will be. Well-prepared, I hope we are.”
He drew up a massive schedule indicating where each volunteer should be at any given hour. He gave each person time at home as well as at the barracks. He didn’t want to completely disrupt their daily lives while they waited for another attack. If each person could donate two days a week while they prepared for battle, they would still have time for work, family, and relaxation.
Some of the Dramaticans wanted to jump into fighting mode whole hog, but Furst dissuaded them. “Continue our normal existence, we will. Devote ourselves to battle when we are attacked, we’ll be able to. Soon enough, it will be.”
The younger men and boys trained for the front lines. They had the energy and quick reflexes to better escape Terrorian fire. The older Dramaticans planned defense strategies. They would bring up the rear in battle, firing on the enemy while their attention was distracted by the quickness of the younger troops.
One decision rankled Furst. The Dramaticans had captured fourteen Terrorian decimators and the curator claimed they would be the Dramaticans’ best defensive weapons. However, an elder inventor, considered a genius in innovation, insisted on taking one of those decimators apart in an attempt to replicate it. Furst balked at first, saying they needed to keep every foreign weapon at the ready. But the inventor, Berra, insisted and the Dramatican Ruling Council gave him his way. Berra gathered a contingent of volunteers to help him and had them making gun barrels and triggers as he studied the interior mechanism and technology. The Dramaticans trailed the Terrorians in technology, but not in wisdom. Still, creating certain components took a skilled hand, and disassembling one weapon to recreate many took time.
The Terrorians had done a thorough job of disintegrating most of the popular and frequently used books in the library. However, Furst hoped the invaders had not descended into the sub-basements. There were books from other realms stored down there, and he believed they would be an excellent source of information that could greatly help the Dramaticans.
The entrances to the lower levels remained locked, and weapons were trained on them if they opened. However, Furst knew it would be only a temporary measure. He would have to select a couple of new recruits and venture below ground. Besides, it would be better to know if any of the invaders lurked in the sub-levels, rather than to live in ignorance.
“Your ablest soldier, I need.” he told the Dramatican in charge of weapons training. He made a similar request to the person developing strategy.
Together, Furst and the two soldiers prepared to descend into the basement. Another half-dozen Dramaticans gathered to guard the door. They devised a verbal signal, and Furst instructed the soldiers to shoot to kill if the door opened without being preceded by the signal. Then, with a decimator in hand, Furst opened the door to the sub-levels and the small band disappeared into the depths of the library.
★
⌘I must return to Lumina. If the continuum has changed, I will be able to witness it there more accurately.
Ryden Simmdry transported to the capital city, Lumi, in search of the slightest differences in manner or design. Nothing appeared to have changed. He entered the College of Overseers and called for a meeting of the minds. He knew it wouldn’t be immediate. Some deans were in residence, however others were abroad visiting the realms they oversaw, and would need time to complete their work before returning to Lumi. Finally, they gathered in the chamber used for their meetings. The master did a quick head count. He knew Pru Tellerence remained on Fantasia, but another one among them had not yet arrived. Not wanting to waste any more time, Ryden Simmdry called for the others to take their places at the table.
⌘Dame Erato appears to be missing. Please tell me she’s not visiting Terroria.
δWhy would you think such a thing?
The door to the chamber creaked open and the last overseer appeared.
ΩSo sorry I’m late. Plato Indelicat took his seat at the table. ΩI had to make sure everything is in place for Johanna Charette’s sentence on Terroria. I will escort her there as soon as we have completed our meeting.
LOI
CHAPTER 30
Ryden Simmdry could control his expressions better than any actor, but not when confronted by an old friend he believed he would never see again.
⌘Plato Indelicat, it is so good to see you.
ΩI apologize for my delay, but as I said, I wanted to make sure everything is in place for Johanna Charette’s sentence.
⌘Yes, of course. Ryden Simmdry took a deep breath. A temporal rift had definitely occurred, and it appeared to be significant. ⌘What I am about to tell all of you may seem startling at first.
⧳What can you tell us that we don’t already know?
⌘Quite a bit actually. He allowed his thoughts to develop unshielded.
The other overseers’ faces did little to disguise their surprise.
δYou would have us believe we are living in the past and don’t remember anything that will happen during the next three weeks, although it’s already come to pass?
◍It’s true.
§How is that possible?
⚛You’ve time traveled?
Ryden Simmdry shook his head. ⌘There has been a disruption in the space-time continuum. I was on Fantasia with Selium Sorium, when we experienced the rift.
ΩHow can you be sure it was a temporal disturbance?
⌘You would not be here, my friend, unless one had occurred. You died at the hands of the Terrorians, escorting Johanna Charette back to Fantasia after her sentence.
ΩOh dear.
♆Are the Terrorians going to attack us?
⌘Their uprising will be quelled, however, they will steal a time machine, which is why we are now discussing the problem.
⚛It could create an endless loop.
⌘We must stop them before that has a chance to happen.
πExcept it already has happened.
⌘True. Yet, Selium Sorium and myself were shielded from it.
⚛What would you attribute that to?
⌘I can’t say for certain, but I believe if we all arrange to be on Fantasia in three weeks when the rift re-occurs, we may all be protected.
ΩThat is a possibility, but isn’t it dependent on what other changes may be made to the space-time continuum during that interval.
⌘Yes. And we have another problem. A powerful sorcerer from earth created spells that give the person casting them special properties. Someone is reputedly trying to steal his notes, and that can’t be allowed to happen. I believe they’re safe for now, but we need to overcome that issue as well.
§If he is so powerful a sorcerer, why can’t he protect them himself?
⌘He is long dead.
◍Johanna Charette and Jackson Roth are currently working on who may be involved in the plot to steal them.
≎Is there anything else we should know?
⌘We’ve appointed Malcolm Trees Chancellor of the Exchequer.
δTo my recollection, we’ve never had a Chancellor of the Exchequer.
⌘We do now.
⚛For what purpose?
⌘He will be instrumental in collecting taxes. And information.
♆We do not collect taxes.
⌘The taxes will be minimal. We’ll say it’s for the resources needed to maintain the integrity of the portals.
⧳Is that necessary?
⌘It’s a necessary feign for the unobtrusive collection of information.
ℌAh.
★
Jackson made a face and rubbed his neck.
“Is your tattoo bothering you?”
“I think the scabs fell off.”
Johanna got up from her chair so she could examine the tattoo. “There’s nothing there.”
“Like I said, the scabs fell off.” He touched his neck.
She grabbed his hand to get his attention. “Th
ere’s nothing there. There’s no tattoo.”
“That’s impossible.”
She looked at Cathasach and Beck. “Did either of you cast a spell…”
Cathasach eyed her warily. “Who did you say you are?”
“Johanna Charette. You sent me Myrddin’s memoir.”
Cathasach’s eyes widened. “Why would I do that?”
Jackson murmured just loud enough for Johanna to hear. “Something’s wrong here…”
Johanna stood up. She grabbed Jackson’s arm and pulled him up as well. Thank you for breakfast. We’ll be on our way, now.”
Beck shot out of his chair. “Not so fast. What are you doing here?”
Jackson squeezed Johanna’s hand before he spoke. “You brought us here after we met on the plane. Don’t you remember?”
Beck’s eye’s narrowed. “No.”
“Wow, that Pembrokeshire beer really did a number on you last night if you can’t even remember meeting us. Why don’t you go sleep it off? Johanna and I have to get going.”
Cathasach stood as well. “You won’t mind if we search you first.”
Jackson spread out his arms. “Search away.”
Beck patted him down and then went through their backpacks. He turned to Johanna. “Okay, darling, assume the position.”
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. “Excuse me?”
“Spread your arms and legs so I can pat you down.”
She bridled, but did as he said. Beck patted her down and found nothing on her.
“Okay,” the flight attendant said to Cathasach. “I’m going to escort them to the landing and back to the mainland. Call for a boat to meet us.”
“I will.” The older man rubbed his jaw.
★
The sudden appearance and subsequent disappearance of Phileas Fogg and company frightened Izabella to the point of hysterics, and it took more than an hour for Pru Tellerence to calm the child. Even then, occasional sobs erupted from the tiny tot until, exhausted by the ordeal, Izabella fell asleep.
