Third Chronicles of Illumination

by C. A. Pack

  “Wow,” Waxmo and Pokkie said in unison. “How’d you do that?”

  Duddu shook his head and Marbol just stared.

  ZF:§ Has anyone here found Peer Meap?

  A dozen heads silently shook side to side.

  The militairres were so excited to receive the overseers’ gift of sleeping bags that their voices drowned out the shouts coming from the field abutting the woods where they were camping. Pru Tellerence and Horatio Blastoe sensed the intrusion and used a spell to silence everyone’s voices.

  The eerie silence followed by shouts in a foreign tongue caused several of the girls to jump. They dropped their food on the ground and began to run toward the screams.

  The platoon leaders made sure they armed themselves before following the others. Milencia slipped the strap of the decimator over her shoulder as she ran, but she wasn’t wearing her harness and it bounced around, slowing her down. She didn’t notice until it was too late that none of the other girls were moving and slammed into Natalia, who crashed to the ground. Why didn’t she use her arms to brace her fall? Milencia looked up. The militairres appeared to be frozen in place and several large creatures were pulling out arrows that had pierced their tentacles. Behind them, two overseers stood like statues, and Dame Erato was lying on the grass, bleeding out from an arrow in her chest.

  The new Terrorian invasion plan was not that different from Nero 51’s original scheme, which didn’t work. It was time to switch things up. He made sure he instructed the troopers on the strengths and weaknesses of the realms they had previously attacked and discussed ways to change their tactics so they could prevail.

  He saved Fantasia for last and decided to personally lead that patrol. He hated that realm and its curator the most, and he wanted to savor wreaking havoc on Johanna Charette’s world. Unfortunately, he was so intent on tormenting her, the time machine took him to her exact location, rather than the field behind the library.

  As soon as Ava heard an unfamiliar voice coming up the cupola stairs, she closed the book she was reading and just pretended to look at the cover. She glared at her brother when she saw him with Emily.

  “Ah…Emily, this is my sister, Ava.”

  Ava looked Emily up and down. “Nice dress,” she mumbled as she picked up the book she’d been reading and studied the cover again, shutting Emily out.

  “Meow.” Ophelia batted playfully at Emily’s sheer, flowing skirt.

  “Could you please keep that thing away from me?” Emily pulled her skirt out of Ophelia’s reach. “I don’t like cats.”

  “Figures,” Ava mumbled.

  “So this is the cupola,” Jackson said, a little to loudly. “Just more of the same. C’mon. Let’s go.”

  “No, Jackson. I think we should take some pictures up here.” She leaned over the balustrade and shouted, “Cassie…Logan, up here!”

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re right behind you,” Logan said without enthusiasm. Jackson is going to kill me for this.

  Emily turned back to Jackson and quickly raised and lowered her eyebrows. “This is so exciting.”

  “What’s all the fuss?” Johanna and Cameron walked out of one of the alcoves. She looked at Emily. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that libraries are quiet places where you should keep your voice low?”

  “It’s okay. My boyfriend works here.”

  Jackson’s face turned red. “I…uh…this wasn’t my idea.”

  Johanna stared at him for a moment. “You look really nice.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “You’re going to the prom, aren’t you?”

  Cameron had been silent until that point. “Maybe they’re future Cranford University students.”

  Emily smiled at him. “Do you go there?”

  Johanna smiled. “Doctor Thorne is the dean of the English Department.”

  “Really. I’ve been accepted at the Morgan School of Design, but I could be persuaded to switch colleges.” She gave Cameron a sweet smile.

  Johanna looked at Jackson and caught his grimace.

  The lights blinked and the air wavered. A second later, the grotesque figure of Nero 51 in triplicate appeared. Emily screamed, startling the Terrorian curator, and he snaked out a tentacle and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her toward him.

  Ava darted for the decimator, but Johanna screamed out, “Ava, no.”

  Nero 51 suddenly realized he did not have the curator and froze for a second.

  That was all it took for Johanna to chant a translation charm and say, “Release her. I’m the one you want.”

  Jackson threw himself in front of Johanna to shield her from the Terrorian, but she stepped around him. “She has nothing to do with the library. I’m the curator.”

  “Take me,” Jackson blurted out. “I’m a curator, too.”

  “Johanna Charette,” Nero 51 said as he snaked another tentacle out and grabbed her.

  “Okay, Ava.”

  Ava lifted the decimator and aimed it at Nero 51.

  “Release the girl,” Johanna repeated.

  “As you wish,” the Terrorian said. He dangled Emily over the balustrade.

  Johanna mumbled a chant that made the Terrorian involuntarily retract his tentacles. Another Terrorian aimed his decimator at Ava.

  Logan and Cassie grabbed Emily and yanked her free, but Jackson wasn’t quick enough to shield Johanna. Cameron had tried to pull Ava out of harm’s way and was caught in a force field.

  Nero 51 grabbed Johanna, and a split-second later they disappeared, along with Cameron Thorne.

  —To Be Continued—

  If you enjoyed reading this book, please take a moment to write a review on Amazon, Goodreads, Librarything, or similar sites, even if it’s only one sentence long. Indie authors, like myself, need reviews to survive. I also appreciate hearing from readers, so feel free to email me at the following address. Thank you.

  C.A.Pack@LibraryofIllumination.com

  Now turn the page for a “sneak preview” of the

  Fourth Chronicles of

  Illumination

  Ꙩ

  Cameron Thorne, the dean of English at Cranford University, grimaced and twisted his face to one side with his eyes tightly closed. “What is that smell?”

  “Terrorians.”

  He squinted just enough to see Johanna Charette, curator of the Library of Illumination. “Am I dreaming?” he asked. “I just had a hell of a nightmare.”

  “It’s a nightmare all right, but it’s very, very real.”

  “How can this be real?” He quickly got to his feet to try to put some distance between himself and the Terrorian vapor that swirled across the floor. “Wait. Don’t tell me. We’re inside one of your books.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” She sighed. “We’re not even on Fantasia anymore.”

  “Fantasia?”

  “That’s what the College of Overseers, who run the Libraries of Illumination, call Earth. ‘Fantasia.’ We’re part of the Illumini System.”

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but I can say for certain, you’re starting to scare me.”

  “You’ve got nothing to fear from me. But I can’t say as much for our tentacled abductors. They absolutely hate me and would love to see me die a slow, painful death.”

  “That doesn’t sound promising.”

  “I just hope Jackson managed to secure the library after we were taken.”

  “Is that hard to do?”

  “It is with the Terrorians. They have our time machine, but I thought they were stuck between the layers of time and space. I guess they figured out how to break free.”

  “Meow.”

  “No,” Johanna said as she searched the vapor in the area of the mewling. She lifted a bundle of fur, and Ophelia purred at her. “Now, I have to worry about you too.”

  Cameron scratched the top of Ophelia’s head. “You know,” he said to Johanna, “everything you’re saying sounds totally off the wall—like you’re just grabbing bits and pieces of you
r favorite sci-fi stories and mashing them together. Yet, my insides are tied up in knots because I believe every word of it.”

  Johanna managed a small smile. “I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this. It really was just supposed to be a pleasant lunch and a library tour for my future college professor and new library client.”

  “What do you think our chances are of getting out of here?” Cameron walked around the enclosed space that imprisoned them, looking for a way out.

  “Normally, I’d say slim to none. But I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve, thanks to the Eahta Frean fram Drycræft.”

  “Welsh?”

  “Yes. It’s a secret society formed to protect the works of Myrddin Emrys, more popularly known as Merlin the Magician.”

  “Merlin the Magician is fictional.”

  “Nope. He’s as real as you or I.”

  “I’m the dean of the English Department. I did my doctoral dissertation on medieval Arthurian literature. Myrddin Emrys may have been real, but Merlin is a complete fabrication.”

  “When we get back to the library, I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Well, at least you’re optimistic about us getting back to the library.”

  Johanna sighed. “I’m so sorry, Cameron. I really wish the Terrorians would have left you and Ophelia behind.”

  “But then you’d be all alone. At least you have me to protect you.”

  His comment took her breath away, if only for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Furst used his diary to contact overseer Pru Tellerence. He wanted to tell her about the Terrorians’ sneak attack and how troopers were now capturing his kinsmen outside the Dramatican library. He walked back to the “halo” window and looked out into the field behind the library. He could see a half-dozen soldiers and a dozen immobilized Dramaticans. The fighting appeared to have stopped, although four of the troopers faced out from the field with their decimators ready.

  Pick them off, I could, Furst thought. But the sealed library window would pose a problem. The cupola? The curator looked at the railings above him before staring at the base of the cupola staircase below. Too much time, that would take. He slid the decimator behind his back and flexed his knees before jumping from the halo level to the cupola.

  Furst took a deep breath after his feet connected with the floor. Dramaticans were known for their jumping abilities, but he took a leap that would be considered well beyond normal. He rushed into one of the alcoves and found an octagonal window that opened for roof maintenance. He opened his diary to ask Pru Tellerence if the window was sealed. He did not expect to see the words, Furst, we are under attack.

  The Terrorians who invaded Romantica were so intent on removing the arrows that had pierced their tentacles, they didn’t notice Milencia’s late arrival on the field.

  She fell to the ground after crashing into Natalia and found herself staring into the curator’s eyes. “Are you all right?” Milencia whispered.

  “I can’t move,” Natalia answered. “We’ve all apparently been incarcerated in our own personal force fields.”

  “But you can speak.”

  “Yes. But I can’t turn my head or use my limbs.”

  Milencia tried to touch Natalia, but the force field repelled her hand. “Did I hurt you when I crashed into you?”

  “No. Apparently, it’s also protecting me.”

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “Unless you think you can pick off six large invaders before they see you, I’d say not much. It would be better for you to sneak away and warn everyone to lock themselves inside their homes.”

  “Dame Erato doesn’t look good. Is she dead?”

  Natalia couldn’t move, but that didn’t stop a tear from pooling on the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to happen. One of the militairres shot an arrow at the Terrorians, but the arrow went wild. If Dame Erato dies, it’s our fault.”

  “U zego a inca-gi.” Milencia froze when she heard the Terrorians speak. She looked around for a means of escape. A massive willow tree was just a few arm-lengths away. She turned her head and saw the Terrorians cluster together to discuss something. Milencia crawled behind the tree and held her breath. Even though she didn’t exert a lot of energy, her heart thumped heavily, and she tried as hard as she could to quiet her heartbeat and control her breathing. What felt like several minutes passed without incident. Milencia slowly crept around the trunk of the tree to see what the Terrorians were doing. Her jaw dropped when a large glass bubble appeared and two militairres were loaded into it. She gasped when they disappeared, ducking back behind the tree.

  The invaders lined up the other frozen militairres two-by-two in a long line. At this rate, it could be hours before they went away. Or maybe not. The bubble suddenly reappeared, empty, and two more militairres were carried onboard.

  A melancholy spirit pervaded in the overseers’ meeting room on Lumina.

  RS:⌘ The Terrorians have invaded Romantica and managed to capture Pru Tellerence and Horatio Blastoe, as well as the militairres. Fortunately, they ensnared their captives in force fields rather than killing them.

  AR:∑ We must go free our brethren.

  RS:⌘ We do not need to go free them. The deans are still wearing their miters and can remove themselves at will. Right now, they are acting as our eyes and ears.

  MK:◼ How interesting. They say the prisoners are apparently being removed in the stolen time machine.

  GA:⚛ This calls for an entrapment snare.

  RS:⌘ Pru Tellerence and Horatio Blastoe do not have that capability. Only you, Galio Abbingdon, and I can engage an entrapment snare.

  MK:◼ Will you be traveling there, then?

  RS:⌘ It is wiser to allow them to be transported to Terroria. They can give us information on what is transpiring on that realm.

  RZ: Ω If I’m not mistaken, although I have no memory of the actual event, I did not fare well there even though I’m an overseer.

  RS:⌘ Ah, Plato Indelicat, that is only because you became separated from your miter. Pru Tellerence and Horatio Blastoe will take themselves away if they fear that is about to happen to them. You have provided them with that important lesson.

  AR:∑ Can we discuss Adventura, which is under attack by its own sun?

  RS:⌘ By all means.

  AR:∑ The power grids have failed across the entire realm. Previously, only their tissue cloning was threatened. Now, their very existence is threatened. They have no way to refrigerate the plasma they use to keep their brains and hearts functioning, nor any way to recharge their non-organic sensors. In less than seventy-two hours, their civilization will cease to function.

  Scorching winds blew debris across the deserted landscape of Adventura’s main cities. The massive explosions caused by their raging sun had destroyed the realm’s interconnected power systems, plunging everything into darkness.

  In the capital city of Venit, gold arms gathered in cohorts to discuss strategies to sustain the majority of their citizens in stasis. Physicians discussed ways to maintain heart and brain health. Scientists studied the phenomena that caused the massive blackout. Mathematicians calculated how long the solar storm would last and how much further damage it might do. Engineers concerned themselves with developing new mechanisms for generating power. And violet-eyed gold arms—the most elite echelon of all—weighed all the various approaches and considered how they might mesh together.

  Few would admit it, but never had Adventurans felt so helpless, at least, not since the nuclear aftermath of the Two Millennia War nearly annihilated their civilization. Each of them still carried the cloned remnants of those same ancestors, and their forbears’ ancient emotions stirred back to life.

  The Juveniles were amazed to see an overseer. Most of them had never seen anyone so old. They circled around Zenith Fullova, touching his robe and marveling over his beard and hat. The overseer had visited Juvenilia regularly but mostly confined his stays inside the librar
y. He was as concerned as the children over the disappearance of their curator.

  ZF:§ When was the last time you saw Peer Meap?

  One of the younger boys stared at the overseer, his eyes wide. “Did you see that?” he asked, without taking his eyes off Zenith Fullova. “His lips don’t move. He can talk with his mouth closed.”

  All the Juveniles took a step closer to the overseer, hemming him in. “Say something,” one of them called out.

  ZF:§ Allow me to restate the question. When was the last time any one of you saw your curator?

  “Wow. Would you teach us how to do that?”

  Zenith Fullova smiled. ZF:§ First, you must tell me about Peer Meap.

  “He’s been gone a good, long time,” Duddu answered. “I haven’t seen him since before the monsters came.”

  ZF:§ Are there monsters here, now?

  “They’re mostly dead. One drowned in the pond. We fried one in the storm drain. The others are making a big stink in the library. We don’t want them here.”

  ZF:§ They don’t belong here. It is the reason why we sealed the libraries. However, Zenith Fullova looked at Duddu and Marbol, §you boys still managed to get inside.

  Marbol held up his handmade weapon. “I used my sonic scrambler. The first time, it broke the glass in the window and the monsters escaped. But then, something happened, and we couldn’t get inside even though there was no glass left. Then, I modified my scrambler and tried it again. It doesn’t look like I broke the glass, but now we can get inside like there’s nothing there.”

  Zenith Fullova carefully studied the device. ZF:§ May I borrow this?

  Marbol hunched his shoulders and made a face. “It’s the only one I have.”

  ZF:§ I can get it back to you, unchanged, within moments.