Third Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  HB:✠ War seldom allows for such luxuries.

  PT:★ These may have to have special properties in order to work. They must be thin and light enough to carry on their backs, yet warm and comfortable.

  HB:✠ You are giving them an advantage by means of magic.

  PT:★ Yes. But it is a small point, and if it would make you happier, we can offer them to all the realms.

  HB:✠ How very democratic of you.

  It was late afternoon by the time Johanna and Cameron finished their tour of the lower levels. Cameron pointed up toward the cupola. “You didn’t take me up there.”

  Johanna hesitated. Ava was in the cupola. That wasn’t the problem. Explaining the decimator, however, could be a problem. Cameron knew about the potential for the library’s books to come alive, but he didn’t know about its other peculiarities. She wasn’t sure if it might be too much, too soon.

  “Could you wait here, one minute?”

  “Sure. Whatever you need.”

  Johanna raced up the cupola stairs and watched as Ava quickly trained the decimator on her and just as quickly lowered it to the floor.

  The juxtaposition of Ava aiming a deadly weapon at her while Ophelia contentedly purred in Ava’s lap made Johanna smile. “Ava. I have a guest. I’m giving him a tour and would like to show him the cupola, but I don’t think I want to get into a discussion about the portals or,” she nodded at the weapon, “that. Could you hide it nearby and pretend you’re reading a book?”

  “You like this guy?”

  “He’s a dean at the college your brother and I are attending in the fall, and he’s an approved client of the library. He’s familiar with what the books can do, but I think we should keep the Terrorians and the portals our little secret.”

  “Okay,” Ava answered.

  “Good,” Johanna replied as she rushed back down the stairs to get Cameron.

  While she did, Ava rested the decimator on a lower shelf of books and pushed it out of sight. She grabbed the closest book off the shelf and settled back. Grabbing the cover and first several pages between her thumb and index finger, she flipped the book open.

  Johanna smiled when she saw Cameron. “It’s okay. There’s just one person up there, and she won’t mind if I show you around. Ready to climb?”

  Cameron looked up at the giant helix that formed the cupola steps. “As ready as ever.”

  As they climbed, Johanna recounted the different levels she had previously taken him to and told him what they were called.

  “It all looks so different from here,” Cameron observed.

  “There’s a wonderful symmetry to the library,” Johanna said, “although this staircase is not dead center. There’s a forced perspective from here that makes all the levels look uni-distant.”

  Cameron didn’t reply. He was too busy studying his surroundings, looking for indications of symmetrical incongruity.

  When they arrived in the cupola, Johanna began to explain how the founders of the library had named it the “first level,” but she stopped when she saw Cameron staring at a series of two-dimensional, geometric shapes floating in the air and Ophelia playfully batting them with her paw.

  “What are you reading, Ava?” Johanna asked.

  The younger girl looked at the cover and read the title, “Edwin Abbott’s Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions.” The geometric shapes disappeared when she closed the book.

  “I’m sorry we interrupted you,” Cameron said. “Please. Read on.”

  Ava opened the book, and the circles, triangles, straight lines, and rectangles all reappeared.

  Cameron shook his head as he looked at Johanna. “It’s so extraordinary.”

  She tilted her head. “I thought you were familiar with the properties of our books.”

  “Only by word of mouth. I’ve never actually seen one in action before. It’s breathtaking.”

  She smiled. “And, sometimes, it’s even more than that.”

  Several militairres grabbed weapons and ran into the forest in the direction of the scream. They fanned out but kept in sight of one another. The sounds of grunting and moaning became louder, and the co-captains motioned to the others to move as quietly as possible. “No,” a voice screamed, and one of the militairres pulled back some foliage to get a better look at what was happening. Her laughter broke the tension.

  “What’s going on?” another militairre asked, pushing aside a mess of leaves and vines. On the other side she found one militairre hanging onto a wild pallid with her arms wrapped around its belly as it thrashed and darted, trying to keep out of the way of another militairre who was trying to wrap a vine around its neck like a leash. They were on the edge of a stream, and both girls were caked in mud.

  The other militairres didn’t let their laughter stop them from trying to lasso the pallid, and soon they proudly hoisted the live animal that would later become their dinner.

  —LOI—

  29

  As the day progressed on Dramatica, Furst found it hard to concentrate. His discussion with Pondor left him feeling bewildered. The older man was correct in his assessment about his son, but Furst felt bad for Dungen because he apparently had alienated everyone, even those close to him. He thought about his past encounters with Dungen and wondered what he could have done differently to prevent Dungen from becoming so bitter he would murder Lenc. His jumbled thoughts prevented Furst from concentrating on his work. The only thing that brought him out of it was shouting outside the library.

  Horatio Blastoe and Pru Tellerence stopped by the Romantican library to see how the work was progressing. New flower beds were in place and planted, and stone walkways had been laid out running through them. A large section had been marked off with chalk powder in the shape of a meditation circle.

  “It is taking shape beautifully,” Dame Erato told them with pride.

  PT:★ Yes. I’m surprised to see how far you’ve progressed without the help of all the militairres.

  HB:✠ And with so few citizens helping.

  Dame Erato laughed. “We had quite a large crowd of people working here. But it is the dinner hour, and many of them have gone home to be with their friends and families.”

  HB:✠ This is certainly impressive.

  PT:★ We have a surprise for the militairres and should be on our way. But I really wanted to see how the library grounds are coming out.

  “May I walk with you to the encampment?”

  PT:★ Of course. They will be excited to hear of your progress. Pru Tellerence took Dame Erato’s arm and they made their way toward the militairres’ camp.

  The time machine came to rest on a verdant field with a dense forest bordering one side and a large platform with four tented tables on another.

  Odyon swung his head from side-to-side as he stared at the landscape. “What have you done? This isn’t Mysteriose. What were you thinking about when you started our journey?”

  Nero 51 remained quiet for a moment. “This isn’t my fault.”

  “Of course it is. I wasn’t holding the crystals. I was busy transmogrifying.”

  “It was you. You gave off a glimmer when you changed. It reminded me of one of the recent curators.”

  “Which one.”

  “The Romantican.”

  Odyon held up a hand to silence Nero 51. The sound of voices seemed to be getting closer.

  “Quickly,” Odyon ordered. “Take us back to your realm immediately. We don’t want to be discovered here.”

  The vehicle disappeared just before two overseers and Dame Erato came into sight.

  Jackson had promised to pay Ava big bucks to relieve him from guarding the portals after only a few hours. He needed time to shower and shave, and wanted to make sure he would be dressed and out the door as soon as Logan called.

  The guy in the tuxedo store had talked Logan into renting black patent leather shoes, and Logan made Jackson rent them as well. He hated the idea of slipping his feet into shoes someone else had worn but h
ad to admit they looked really good with the tux. He took a deep breath and walked out of the bedroom, surprised to find his mother standing there.

  “Mom. What are you doing here?”

  She looked at him quizzically. “I’ve been living here ever since you and Johanna asked me to.” She looked him up and down. “You look very handsome. Where are you going?”

  “Senior prom.”

  “With Johanna?”

  “No. With Emily Brent.”

  His mother sighed but suddenly looked up and smiled. “I have to take some pictures of you.”

  “Logan is going to take pictures. I’ll have him send them to you.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Jackson’s phone rang. “Yeah?…I’ll be right out.”

  “Not until I take a picture.”

  “I can’t leave him hanging. He has the girls with him.”

  “Good. I can get pictures of all of you.”

  Everyone piled out of the limo when Jackson said he couldn’t leave until his mother took some photographs. Logan helped Cassie out while the limo driver opened the back door for Emily. Emily looked like a supermodel. She wore a beaded midriff top and what looked like a tight miniskirt under layers of sheer fabric that cascaded to the floor.

  Jackson introduced her to his mother, and Mrs. Roth took no less than a dozen pictures of the teens.

  Emily looked up at the library. “Is this where you live?”

  “I work here. My family is just staying here while, uh, we get some work done on our house.”

  “Oh. Can we see inside?”

  Jackson blanched. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We’ll be late for the prom.”

  She smiled. “The prom is only ten minutes away and doesn’t start for an hour. Besides, we want to be fashionably late. Only the real nerdy kids arrive on time.”

  “I’ll give you the short tour.” He led them inside and raced through the main level of the library referring to “books, just like in any other library,” and the gong on the circulation desk that no one was allowed to play with.

  Emily stared up at the cupola staircase. “What’s up there?”

  Jackson looked up warily and then at her. “Nothing.”

  “You have this incredible spiral staircase going all the way up, to nothing?” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the helix. “Come on.”

  Mrs. Roth looked stricken. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your dress may get caught in your high heels and trip you or rip your skirt.”

  Emily gave Mrs. Roth a dazzling smile. “Okay. You all don’t have to come. Just Jackson and me.” She literally pulled him up the first several steps.

  Cassie pulled Logan up as well. “I’ve never been up there. I want to see the view from the top.”

  The time machine appeared on the square across from the front of the Terrorian library, disrupting the drills of the troopers. Nero 51 found Barzic 922 and ordered him to have a platoon of all available troopers meet the curator in the square.

  “What are you planning?” Odyon asked.

  “The time to strike is now,” Nero 51 replied.

  “And where, exactly, do you plan to strike first?”

  “Everywhere.”

  The militairres’ encampment was nearly complete. Lean-tos formed a large circle with a small fire pit in front of each one for warmth. A large communal space sat in the center of all the lean-tos and contained a much larger fire pit with open flames on one side where several wild hares and hens roasted alongside a juicy pallid. The butcher’s daughter—a militairre grappler—happily relinquished building chores to take on the job of preparing the wild game for dinner. She hated killing the pallid, but one of the archers did her a favor by ending its life with a single arrow.

  The other end of the fire pit contained burning embers under a large flat stone, which the militairres used to roast vegetation. A couple of women had chopped down a tree and hollowed out slabs of wood to make rough-hewn serving trays, which now held nuts, berries, and apples. And they used the large curved leaves from the Romantican gylesso tree to hold roasted vegetables.

  Natalia looked over the encampment and smiled. “Our militairres have really shown they can accomplish the impossible, even on short notice.”

  Arraba nodded. “They have such an array of talents, aside from their ability to fight, that they’ve all been able to come together and contribute to this impromptu mission.”

  The sky overhead was clear, with stars winking their approval. “It’s so peaceful here,” Felicia said. “I could live out here forever.”

  Troopers received maps and orders to capture as many citizens in force fields as possible during one full solar rotation. A representative would be sent to meet with them at that time to determine the next course of action for whatever realm they were on.

  The Terrorians waited until darkness to transport soldiers to the realms. Nero 51 personally delivered platoons of men to the fields behind each Library of Illumination. They were instructed to blend with the landscape until their bio-bands signaled them to begin. A small group was assigned to try to gain entry to the libraries and destroy the books, even though he thought that might be futile. It was far more important to capture as many prisoners as possible and transport them back to Terroria. That would open up negotiations, and while he made the other curators sweat it out, he would use the time machine to travel within the libraries and destroy them.

  —LOI—

  30

  The solar flares on the Adventuran sun raged but did nothing to brighten the night sky. To the contrary—as their destructive power increased, massive explosions of energy proved too strong for Adventura’s power grid. Section by section, the power on Adventura shut down until darkness bathed the entire realm, and all their shiny, new refrigeration units ceased working.

  Furst grabbed a decimator, but instead of running out the front door, he ran upstairs to the halo level and looked out the windows, trying to spot the source of the shouting.

  It was past dusk, but the moon was full, and he could see what looked like a giant glass orb on the rear lawn. His hair curled tightly when he spotted Terrorians, and his blood raged when he saw them taking aim at his kinsmen, rendering them frozen in place. He felt impelled to run out and help the others but stopped when he saw senior officers from the militia running en masse with flaming arrows. Surely, they would quell the attack. But there were too many Terrorians, and they seemed to be more prepared to handle leaping Dramaticans, freezing them in mid-air and ignoring them as they fell to the ground. Slaughtered, I will be, now, if I run out.

  The Mysterians closed ranks around Mal as their voices rose in indignation. Who was this stranger in their midst? Drace the Elder called for order, but the crowd had ideas of its own. “Sacrifice him,” one of the priests called out. “The gods need to be repaid for what he has stolen.”

  Hue pushed through the crowd until he stood by Mal’s side. “This man has taken nothing. He has been by my side all day until just a moment ago. You probably don’t recognize him without his robe and headpiece, but he is Malcolm Trees, the overseers’ Chancellor of the Exchequer.

  “The priestess is lying!”

  Before the discussion could go any further, an elderly woman screamed. The crowd turned to see barbaric creatures aiming their weapons at everyone and rendering them inert.

  “Terrorians,” Hue said under his breath as he grabbed Mal’s arm and ducked behind a wall hanging. “I must get you to safety.”

  All the overseers felt a ripple of unease at the exact same moment.

  ALL: ℌ One of our curators is missing.

  Marbol and Duddu sat across from each other on Peer Meap’s bed and carefully lifted the cover to the “secret book.” They began to read the entries and found they were boring passages about what had happened in the library or community on a given day, mixed with questions. Duddu threw the book down on the bed between them. “This is stupid. This book isn’t going to help us find Peer
Meap.”

  The pages started to shuffle to the back page and the words, Where is Peer Meap appeared.

  Marbol snapped his head up. “Did you see that?”

  “Yeah. But it’s asking the same question. That’s no help.”

  “But how did it know to do that?” Marbol thumbed through the pages. “Oh, secret book, if you can hear us now, please tell us how to find Peer Meap.”

  ZF:§ We have just become aware that Peer Meap is missing. What have you done to find him?

  At the sudden appearance of the overseer, the color in both boys’ faces drained. Duddu passed out, slumping against Marbol.

  Marbol grabbed his friend’s arm but kept one eye on the overseer. “Duddu, wake up. Duddu—”

  Zenith Fullova snapped his fingers, and Duddu’s eyes sprang open.

  “What happened?”

  Marbol grabbed Duddu’s head between both his hands and twisted it to face the overseer. “That happened.”

  ZF:§ I’m Zenith Fullova, the dean of Juvenilia. I work with Peer Meap to make sure the library is operating in the best possible way. You boys should not be in here. The libraries were sealed. But that is not as important as discovering the whereabouts of Peer Meap.

  “We don’t know where he is,” Duddu said. “We looked everywhere.”

  Marbol poked him in the arm. “Yeah, but maybe one of the other kids found him by now.”

  ZF:§ Where are the others?

  “Town Hall.”

  ZF:§ Then we should go there immediately. Zenith Fullova placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder, and before they could blink, they were inside the town hall game room. The boys, who had been sitting on Peer Meap’s bed, tumbled to the ground.