Coronation: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #5) (23 page)
Read Coronation: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #5) Online
Authors: Kevin Hardman
“Won’t this make you some enemies?”
“You assume the people pushing this were my allies to begin with.”
“True, but I was told the
prexetus
would be some kind of test.”
The queen harrumphed. “Others may have been able to
call
for a
prexetus
– and may have even made suggestions about how it should be conducted – but
I
control its form and fashion. It’s whatever I say it is, and if I decide the
prexetus
is a stroll through a castle, then it’s a stroll through a castle.”
I shook my head. “That just seems too easy.”
“J’h’dgo,” the queen said, looking me squarely in the eye. “I’ve seen you in the middle of a crisis, and you handled yourself admirably. I don’t need a superfluous test to convince me of your character or your place in the Royal House. You belong here.”
Her words made me blush, but I somehow managed to keep my composure and mutter, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
It took another quarter-hour for things to calm down in the ballroom. By that time, Queen Dornoccia (and her circle of guards) had returned to the main floor and picked up where she’d left off in terms of making her rounds. It was seemingly her presence that ushered in a semblance of order on what had been chaos just minutes earlier.
Assuming I was dismissed, I had slipped away and rejoined my grandmother, who was gushing with excitement. Smiling, she gave me a fierce hug.
!> she beamed telepathically.
I was interrupted by someone forcefully – almost deliberately – bumping into me from behind, making me stagger forward a step. I turned to find a tall fellow to my rear sporting a thick brown beard – one of the few Caelesians I’d seen with facial hair.
“I’m sorry,” the man said with a grin. “Please forgive me.”
I acknowledged his apology with a nod. Empathically, however, I didn’t get the sense that he was sorry at all. Apparently Indigo felt the same, because when I turned back to her, she was glowering at the man who had bumped into me.
Fearing that this could escalate, I took her arm and said, “Why don’t we get some air?”
My grandmother didn’t respond, but – still glowering at the guy with the beard – she allowed me to drag her to a set of doors that led out to a veranda.
Once outside (and with the guy who had pushed me no longer in her line of sight), Indigo’s mood seemed to lighten a little. There were few people around, and none within earshot; almost everyone was still in the ballroom, probably hoping to get some face time with Queen Dornoccia.
“Now tell me what happened!” my grandmother said.
I gave her a very brief overview of my stroll with the queen, glossing over the bits that I thought were confidential (like secret passages). I also showed her the Telumem, which my grandmother held like it was the Holy Grail.
“This is a very precious gift,
Sxibbo
,” she said, staring at the trident. “Combined with her ruling concerning the
prexetus
, it’s obvious that Queen Dornoccia thinks very highly of you.”
“Or she wants me in her debt,” I countered.
My grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve really picked up on how the game is played.”
“It’s not like I had a choice,” I said, then gave her a wink. “But I was lucky to have a really good coach.”
She laughed and handed the Telumem back to me, and then raised a hand to stifle an unexpected yawn.
“I think I’m more tired than I realized,” she said.
“Well, we can go,” I said. “Before the queen changes her mind.”
“No, you stay. Enjoy your moment,” she said. “Besides, I think someone’s looking for you.”
Indigo nodded towards the ballroom; I turned to the doors we had come out of and saw Myshtal – or rather, Isteria – heading in our direction.
“Good-night,” Indigo said, giving me a final hug and a kiss on the cheek before departing.
“So,” I said as my new visitor came close, “your name’s actually Isteria.”
She smiled. “I told you that you could still call me Myshtal.”
“Aren’t you worried people will get the wrong idea?”
“Not really, since it’s actually my name. One of them anyway.”
Confused, I asked her to explain, and it turned out that she actually had about a half-dozen middle names, one of which was indeed “Myshtal.” For a moment, I thought it unusual for someone to have a term of affection as a name. Then I recalled that back on Earth I’d actually had a classmate at one time named Love, and another named Honey. In fact, I’d even known a girl named Novia, which in Spanish translates as “girlfriend.”
“Okay,” I said, acquiescing. “You’ll continue to be Myshtal to me.”
“Excellent,” she said with a grin.
We stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then I asked, “Did you know that she was going to do that? The queen, I mean?”
“I had no idea,” Myshtal responded. “But this isn’t unusual for her – doing the unexpected.”
“Well, tell her she has my thanks for being a rebel.”
“You can tell her yourself.”
“What?” I asked, nonplussed.
“She actually sent me to find you.”
My brow furrowed as I focused on what Myshtal had said. “She sent you to
find
me.”
“Yes.”
“So the queen knows about you,” I concluded. “Knows about your power.”
“She does,” Myshtal stated. “She’s the queen. It’s practically impossible to keep anything from her.”
“And?”
“She thinks it’s a gift. A positive development.”
I was about to comment that I agreed with Queen Dornoccia on that front when I felt a sharp prick at the back of my neck.
“Oww!” I exclaimed, slapping the injured area with my hand and rubbing it.
“Are you okay?” Myshtal asked, voice full of concern as she leaned close to me.
“I think something bit me,” I said.
She laughed. “All the more reason to get you back inside.”
She then looped her arm into mine and guided me back towards the doors to the ballroom.
“So,” I said as we went back in, “why didn’t you ever let on that you were a close relation of the queen?”
Myshtal made a noncommittal gesture. “It didn’t seem particularly important. Plus, I wanted to be able to report what you were really like.”
“And you think that I may have acted differently if I’d known about your relationship with the queen.”
She gave me a critical look. “No. I think you would have behaved just the same.”
For some reason, her comment made me smile.
“Congratulations!” said a familiar voice.
I looked around and saw Vicra standing practically in front of us. I had been so wrapped up in my conversation with Myshtal that I hadn’t even noticed him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Well, now that the
prexetus
is over,” Vicra continued, “wh–”
“I’m sorry, Vicra,” Myshtal interjected, “but the queen has requested his presence.”
“My apologies,” Vicra said, stepping aside.
“Let’s try to catch up later,” I said as Myshtal tugged me forward.
Now that I was paying attention, it was clear where she was taking me: the guarded stairwell. In fact, Queen Dornoccia was once again standing on the top step, giving the impression that she was about to address those in attendance a second time.
“Go on up,” Myshtal said as we reached the stairs. “I’ll wait here until you’re done.”
The guards made a path for me and I began climbing the stairs. However, I’d only taken two steps before I detected a wild burst of emotion erupting like a volcano behind me. Unlike the collective sensations I’d picked up from the crowd as a whole earlier, what I now felt was being broadcast from a single individual – a person who was radiating sheer menace. And danger.
I spun around on the stairs to face those gathered on the main floor. I poured everything I had into my empathic abilities, trying to pinpoint the person who was the source of the animus I was sensing. They were in the ballroom, that much was clear, but I was having trouble parsing down their exact location amidst all of the empathetic commotion cluttering the room.
Suddenly the emotion shifted slightly in content. There was still a massive amount of vitriol, but added to the mix was a growing measure of smug self-satisfaction. I knew immediately that something was about to happen – but what? Where? To who?
The answer came to me almost intuitively. I hadn’t felt the single-minded hostility until after I’d gained the steps. Therefore…
“Get back!” I yelled to the people gathered near the bottom of the stairs.
I didn’t wait to see if anyone obeyed; instead, I shifted into super speed and began zigzagging back and forth across the steps, like a pinball caught between some wicked bumpers, shoving the guards off the stairwell. From my perspective, they went sailing into the air in slow motion. In fact, the guards were all still airborne when I turned my attention to Queen Dornoccia. I raced to the top of the stairs, where she was still standing. Just as I reached her, the world exploded around us.
Naturally, I had phased myself and Queen Dornoccia. Thus, the explosion, when it occurred, sent stone, metal, and debris passing harmlessly through us. Afterwards, carrying the queen, I had floated down to the main floor.
Judging from the damage – the stairwell and the entire second floor landing had literally blown
up
(as in upwards, into the air) – it appeared to have been some kind of shaped charge. That actually made sense when you considered the fact that the bomber was someone present in the ballroom; they’d be unlikely to risk harming themselves with a traditional explosive that would hurl shrapnel and such outward in all directions. In fact, no one on the ballroom floor received anything other than minor injuries – mostly from debris and the like hitting the ceiling and falling back down. (By then, of course, it had lost most of its damaging momentum.)
“That’s the second time you’ve saved my life,” the queen said when it was over.
“All in a day’s work, Your Majesty,” I replied.
“All in the
same
day’s work, apparently,” she quipped. “And just so you know, it’s typically a criminal offense to attack the Royal Guard.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what she was referring to, and then I remembered that I had tossed all her guards off the stairs, like a leaf blower blasting foliage off the sidewalk. On their feet now, the guards had resumed forming their protective circle around Queen Dornoccia.
“But I think we can make an exception in this instance,” she continued, saving me the embarrassment of trying to come up with a response.
Needless to say, the gala wrapped up pretty quickly after that. Emergency response crews were all over the place in minutes. Unsure of whether there were any more explosives on the premises, the crowd was uniformly calling it a night and leaving in droves, to put it mildly. (It wasn’t exactly a stampede, but it would be a miracle if the exit doors were still on their hinges by the time the last person left.) There was supposed to have been some kind of fireworks display later, but everyone had clearly had their fill of pyrotechnics for the evening.
As for me, I got to accompany Queen Dornoccia and Myshtal when the Royal Guard hustled them off to safety shortly after the explosion. Once we were a secure distance from where the bomb had gone off, safely ensconced in some royal panic room, the queen drilled me on how I seemed to know in advance that an explosion was going to occur.
“I could feel the presence of someone menacing,” I said, after explaining about my empathic abilities. “I also got the sense from them that they were anticipating something happening. The rest – figuring out the location of the bomb – was mostly guesswork and supposition. For instance, I didn’t know it was a bomb, but I got the feeling that it was somehow related to the stairs.”
“Not very logical,” the queen said. “But you obviously have good instincts.”
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“Now my people will investigate and inform me of how I was almost blown to bits in my own home.”
“How long will the investigation take?”
“I expect an initial report within two hours.”
I gave a long, low whistle. “That’s fast.”
She gave me a haughty look. “That’s one of the perks of being queen. People know you expect results, so they get them to you. Swiftly.”
“Any chance I can get a copy of that report when it comes in?”
“Typically such things are confidential,” Queen Dornoccia declared. “But I’d say you’ve earned it. I’ll have a copy sent to you at the Castellum Cardinal as soon as it’s ready.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
With that, I told the queen good-night, and – after waving goodbye to Myshtal – teleported back to the castellum.
I popped up in my room, appearing in the kitchenette with the intent of getting something to eat. Almost immediately, I felt my grandmother telepathically scanning for me.
she said.
We broke our connection, and I spent a few minutes rooting out some of the Caelesian junk food that the kitchenette held. A good portion of it was foreign to me (for instance, there was a sealed pack of what appeared to be grass clippings), but I found most of it to be fine in terms of taste.
I was in the living room, just finishing a box of wafers that looked like little squares of writing paper, when Sloe showed my grandmother in. She immediately came over and gave me a hug, and then began looking me over – feeling my cheek, touching my forehead – like a parent worried that her kid was coming down with something.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Maybe,” Indigo noted, “but I sent Berran to get Mabazol anyway.”
“Oh…Doctor Dolt.”
“Stop it,” she said, trying not to grin. “They should be here in a minute. And Mabazol is a fine physician.”
“Only if you’re not
dofuncon
.”
Indigo was spared the trouble of responding to my last statement by the arrival of Berran and the good doctor, who were shown in by Sloe. Like any true professional, Mabazol immediately went to work examining me.
“Can you tell us what happened?” Berran asked.
I didn’t immediately respond. Instead, I cut my eyes inquisitively towards Mabazol.
“It’s okay,” my grandmother said. “The doctor has been with us for a long time and can be trusted.”
After acknowledging her statement with a nod, I launched into a brief description of what had happened after Indigo had left: Myshtal escorting me to the queen…my sensing something malevolent…the subsequent explosion.
“And you have no idea who the person was that you sensed?” Berran asked. “The bomber?”
I shook my head. “None. There was just too much emotional turbulence in the room from the outcome of the
prexetus
.”
“Well, at least you weren’t harmed,” Indigo said, and then turned to Mabazol. “He’s fine, isn’t he?”
“His vitals are in line with my previous readings,” the doctor replied. “Considering what he’s been through in just the past few days, I would expect his nerves to be on edge at the very least, but as far as I can tell everything’s in sync. Apparently, crisis living is the norm for him.”
“I live for danger,” I said, tongue-in-cheek. “That’s why they call me Kid Sensation.”
“That reminds me,” Indigo said. “I probably should…”
My grandmother stopped speaking when it became obvious that I wasn’t listening. Instead, my attention had been drawn to an odd-but-familiar crackling sound. Looking to its source, I noticed that Sloe was still in the room with us, as opposed to returning to his usual spot outside my door. More to the point, I noticed the origin of the sound I was hearing: electricity arcing around the robot’s raised hand as he moved in my direction.
I looked around warily, trying to locate the threat (or nuisance) that had triggered this reaction in Sloe. Maybe there was an insect or something in the room, but I didn’t see anything that merited this type of response.
“What is it, Sloe?” Berran asked, obviously as curious as I was.
The robot was uncharacteristically silent, which was eerie in and of itself. As it got closer to me, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Something was way off here. However, it wasn’t until Sloe was only a few feet away that I realization dawned on me: Sloe wasn’t after some bug; he was after
me
!
Not far away, Berran must have come to the same conclusion that I did, because all of a sudden there was a pulse pistol in his hand and he was firing. His shots all found their marks on Sloe’s torso, but seemed to have no effect.
I phased, becoming insubstantial just as Sloe sent a bolt of electricity my way. It passed harmlessly through me.
A couple of Berran’s shots struck the robot in the head. They didn’t seem to cause any damage, but got Sloe’s attention. A sudden blast of electricity leapt from his hand and struck the courier in the midsection. Berran went flying through the air, landing on an end table that collapsed under the impact. He lay there groaning, momentarily dazed.
Sloe turned his attention back to me. However, before the robot could take any action, someone leaped between us. To my great surprise, it was Mabazol.
The doctor slashed at Sloe’s torso with something that looked like a penknife. I later learned it was some type of laser scalpel, and although it left a wicked scar in its wake, it failed to penetrate the robot’s metallic exterior.
Faster than I would have thought possible, Sloe swung an arm at Mabazol, batting him aside like a whirlwind buffeting a leaf. Bent at the waist, the doctor went soaring through the air backwards like a shuttlecock. He struck one of the exterior windows, crashed through it, and fell, screaming in terror.
Still phased, I took off after Mabazol, flying through the broken window and diving towards the ground after him at high speed. The doctor was about halfway to the ground and still shrieking in fear when I caught up to him. I became solid, looped one of his arms across my shoulders and then – making sure I had a good grip on him – arced back up.
We reached the broken window just in time to see Indigo smash a metal stool into Sloe’s head. It didn’t seem to hurt the robot, but the legs of the stool bent under the force of the blow. As I floated inside with Mabazol, I saw her swing the stool again. This time, Sloe caught it; there followed the screech of tearing metal as he ripped the stool in half.
The robot swung at my grandmother. I sucked in a harsh breath, sure that he would hit her, but somehow she ducked the blow. She then stepped in, landed a kick and a punch, and then danced away as Sloe tried to catch her with a backhand.
Mabazol wasn’t screaming any more, but he grimaced as he held a hand to his chest, and his breathing was painful and shallow. I looked around for a place to dump the doctor – out of harm’s way – so I could rejoin the fight. Thankfully, I remembered that there were several secret rooms connected to my suite. I teleported us to one of them and gently laid Mabazol down on the floor. Satisfied that he would be safe (at least temporarily), I phased and zipped back out to the living room at high speed.
Indigo was still on her feet, displaying impressive martial arts skills but fighting a losing battle nonetheless. She would get tired soon, slow down…and then it would be over.
<
Sxahnin
!> I shouted telepathically.
I frowned, unsure of what she was trying to do, until I saw Berran getting to his feet.
Of course – she hadn’t been trying to win in hand-to-hand combat with Sloe; she had been buying time.
“Now, Princess!” the courier shouted.
My grandmother ducked a punch from Sloe and then rolled away just as Berran flipped two of the bottle-cap grenades from the armory at the robot. He winced in pain as he did so, and I realized immediately that his aim was off – the bottle caps were going to fall short.
I zipped forward at super speed and snagged the grenades out of mid-air. Turning to Sloe, I ran at him, slid around to his rear, and slapped the two explosives on his back. Finally, I went streaking towards my grandmother, scooping her up as she was attempting to put some space between herself and the anticipated explosion. I phased the two of us, as well as Berran, just as the grenades went off.
The twin explosions were deafening in the enclosed space. The shattered remnants of various pieces of furniture went flying all over the place, along with glass and twisted pieces of metal. Klaxons began sounding and emergency lights began flashing. A few servants peeked in through the blasted entrance to my suite, but I telepathically screamed at them to stay back. Observing the damage in my quarters, none of them had to be told twice.
Sloe, thrown forward by the blast, went smashing into a stone column in the middle of the room, demolishing it, and then went bouncing across the floor until he fetched up against a wall. He lay there for a moment, giving the appearance of being defeated, then slowly began to rise. As to damage, there seemed to be two large indentations in his back where I had left the grenades, but nothing else.
“He’s too tough,” Berran muttered. “I’ve got nothing that can breach his shell.”
“Hmmm,” I said, the courier’s words giving me an idea. “Wait here.”
I used my phasing power and then ran towards Sloe at super speed. I went through the front of him and out the back. However, as I passed through, I grabbed a bunch of his internal components and took them with me: wires, processors, computer chips, etcetera. Sloe seemed to go wild in response to what I’d done, arms swinging recklessly as the rest of his body became engulfed by spasms.
I dumped everything I was holding onto the ground and ran at Sloe again, this time going from back to front. Once again, I snagged as much of his constituent elements as possible. I dropped them, turned and repeated the process a third time. Then a fourth.
Rinse and repeat
, I said to myself.
Within minutes, I’d practically hollowed Sloe out; needless to say, the robot was no longer moving. Satisfied that the danger was past, I went to check on the other three. Indigo appeared to be fine, and Berran swore that he was winded more than anything else. The only person who copped to being injured was Mabazol, and – after teleporting him out of the hidden room – even he managed to make light of the situation.
“The humiliation of being saved by one of my patients hurts more than anything else,” the doctor quipped.
“So what happened to Sloe?” I asked after confirming that no one had life-threatening injuries.
“He was obviously compromised,” Berran stated. “Which means the entire castellum may be in jeopardy. We have to get you and the princess to safety.”
