Excelsior (19 page)

Matthew nodded back. “Don't call me 'kid.'”

*   *   *

Zorribis slowly walked through the back section of the museum, Jason beside him. They made their way to the Arms & Armor exhibit and walked through the entranceway. Zorribis gasped. His eyes immediately fell upon the large display of horses and knights in the center of the room.

“Astounding!” he exclaimed. “How were your fathers able to move in this kind of armor?”

“From what I understand, very slowly. I think the sword is right over…” Jason’s words died in his throat as they encountered an 8- foot-tall brass display with a large broadsword mounted in the center. Its handle and centerpiece gleamed in the light, its unblemished silver blade like a razor-sharp mirror. The jewel positioned at the center of the sword held an energy that swirled restlessly, aching to be freed.

“I never thought I would see it with my own eyes,” Zorribis’ voice was soft. He did nothing to wipe away the tear that slipped down his cheek.

“Are you all right?” Jason asked him.

“Better than all right, Jason. Grannik, I wish you could see this. It’s so beautiful.”

“I’ve seen it,” Zorribis could hear Grannik’s response in his earpiece. “And yes, it is quite a sight.”

Jason led Zorribis around the rest of the area. “So what now?”

Zorribis pointed with his chin to the two guards on either side of the sword. “Now we need to somehow distract the guardians so they won’t see me placing the device onto the sword. You can take care of that, right?”

“I’ll think of something,” Jason said with a smile. “How will you get the device on there?”

Zorribis looked up and saw a narrow balcony where museum staff members infrequently appeared. “Leave that to me.”

Suddenly, they heard the clamor of many footsteps getting closer. The sound echoed off the museum’s marble walls. Zorribis’ handsome dark face turned ashen. They were almost here. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was back in the Denab IV of his boyhood.

“Zorribis! Zorribis! You have to go now, Hodera is coming.” The footsteps of the Krunation soldiers were getting louder. Zorribis could hear the staccato daggers of Hodera’s boot heels leading the way. He looked at the tiny passage his father, uncle and sister had just smashed open using their feet and fists. A trickle of blood dripped off his uncle’s knuckles.

His mother pleaded again, “Just like we taught you, Zorri! Please go!” He grabbed her and buried his nose in her shoulder, willing himself to remember her scent and the warmth of her arms around him. He turned to his father, who roughly kissed his forehead. He took an amulet on a leather cord off his neck and put it over his son’s head.

“Now Zorri, now. There is no time. You must live for all of us.”

His uncle gave his cheek a gentle slap, “Now, young one.”

Zorribis drank them in with his eyes then took a deep breath and leapt up to grab the bottom of the passageway. He swung himself up and twisted his body around in midair, holding out his legs in front so they slid easily into the corridor. Once safely inside, he crawled soundlessly through the passage, his childhood of hunting in the forests serving him well. He only stopped when the Krunation soldiers led by General Hodera forced themselves into the tiny enclave where his clan hid.

“So much intelligence and talent in this family and not one of you are smart enough to join the Krunation Empire,” Zorribis could hear Hodera taunting his mother.

“Beast!” his mother spat. He knew his fierce mother taunted the general to give him time to escape. Zorribis crept onward. He could hear Hodera’s silky reply but couldn’t make out the words. There was a scuffle then a terrible scream rang out.

“Stop it, damn you!” shrieked General Hodera. “I need them alive!”

Zorribis heard his father’s war growl as he lunged. Blaster fire erupted. The boy froze and curled into a ball, hands over his ears. The sudden silence was deafening.

A voice cut through the stillness. “Wait, where’s the boy?” Hodera demanded. There was a blow and something heavy fell to the floor. “Insolent cur! I will cut off your appendages for this! Find him! I want him alive!”

Zorribis was moving again but his body was numb. His jaw clenched in icy determination as he felt his way along, his vision obscured by a steady stream of tears.

“I think I see something!” A soldier found the corridor just as Zorribis reached the end. The boy wriggled out of the narrow opening and onto the roof of the old supply building where his clan had been hiding. He clambered up and ran along the roof, keeping his footfalls light and his body low. He could hear the Krunations spreading out among the maze of small cement buildings. His clan was the last of the free Denarians living outside the caves. They had evaded the Krunations for months but their time was up.

Zorribis ran from roof to roof, eyes burning, heart threatening to pound through his chest, ignoring the Krunations who were now yelling and shooting in his direction. Every blast flew past his small body and once he got to the last building, he jumped as far as he could, flipped himself completely around and landed on his feet.

As soon as the boy’s feet hit the ground, he turned his head back toward his hideout to see if anyone had followed him. If he had been looking ahead, he would have kept himself from bumping into the broad, solidly muscular, scaly chest of a tall Krunation commander looking down at Zorribis. The Denarian bounced off the commander’s body, which didn’t move one inch, and his feet left the ground as he dropped to the floor.

Zorribis struggled to catch his breath as he stared with intense fear at the specimen standing in front of him. The Krunation held an enormous rifle casually in his left hand that was not aimed at Zorribis’ head. The child slowly stood up and walked away, his eyes locked on to the commander, who didn’t budge.

He suddenly heard the footsteps of approaching Krunation soldiers and without hesitation, Zorribis ran into the dense shrubby woods. He turned back in time to see the soldiers approaching the hulking commander.

“Commander Connoram, did you see the boy?” a soldier asked. With his right hand, Connoram pointed in the opposite direction of Zorribis. The soldiers followed their superior officer’s direction and were out of sight within seconds. Connoram then glanced in Zorribis’ direction and showed no change of emotion as he watched the boy turn and run deeper into the woods.

Zorribis ran and ran until he came to the entrance of a small cavern. His family had been heading here when they were forced to hide from the Krunations. He peered hesitantly inside and saw a small pair of eyes looking at him and an equally small hand beckoning him to enter.

“Come on,” the boy inside the cavern whispered. “They’re getting closer.” Zorribis gulped and followed the boy.

“My name’s Karini. What’s your name?”

“Zorribis,” he answered, his voice trembling. As he followed Karini further into the cave, he could hear talking and slowed his pace. Karini turned back to him and smiled. “It’s all right. You don’t have to be scared. It’s all right.”

Karini’s voice grew deeper until he was speaking with an adult baritone. Jason’s baritone.

“It’s all right, man. It’s all right.”

Zorribis’ eyes snapped open and realized he was breathing hard, his heart pounding. Jason gave him a concerned look. “You all right, Z? You kinda spaced out there for a moment.”

“Sorry. Just… bad memories seem to come at the worst times, don’t they?”

“Well, yeah. But you’re OK. That’s just a tour group making its way around the exhibit.” Zorribis looked past Jason to see a collection of older ladies wearing matching red T-shirts being led by a museum tour guide.

“Well, they certainly don’t look too threatening,” Zorribis remarked with a wan smile. “I think you need to join their group. We’ll need a distraction.”

Jason studied the women for a moment. “I can do that.”

Zorribis looked at the staircase to their left and the balcony above it. He nodded in that direction. “Perfect. I can get a clear shot with the flip from up there and it seems to be out of range of most of the surveillance devices.”

“It’s off limits to visitors,” said Jason pointing to a sign.

“I’ll be fine,” Zorribis said, studying the balcony. “You just worry about creating a diversion. One that won’t cause the constabulary here to incarcerate us.”

“Oh, I see. I got the easy job.”

Zorribis felt his temper flare but relaxed when he saw Jason’s playful grin.

“I’ll have these ladies eating out of the palm of my hand,” Jason asserted.

“Don’t feed them; just use them to create a diversion.”

“It’s an ex... Oh, never mind.” Jason turned, thrust out his chest and walked up to the women.

The guide led the tour to the sword and gestured toward it. “And here we have one of the most intriguing exhibits that has ever to be loaned to the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” he said. “Seven years ago, a group of archaeologists under the direction of Dr. Franklin Ritgen uncovered this artifact deep underground in
Greenland
. To this day, the ‘Ritgen Sword’ remains a mystery. Its origins and manufacturing process are the subject of much heated intellectual debate and has yet to be verified.”

“Why isn’t it behind glass?” asked one of the women looking at the display cases lining the room.

“I assure you that it is well protected. We have infrared sensors and two guards stationed on it at all times. And more sensors within a four-foot perimeter surround it. It is very safe.”

A small woman with frosted hair fumbled with her faux leopard handbag next to Jason. “Where are my reading glasses?” she muttered into the depths of her voluminous bag. In her other hand she clutched a brochure on the exhibit.

Jason saw his opening. “Madam, allow me.” He held out his hand for her brochure. She peered at him a moment, then her face softened and she handed him the brochure. He opened to the first page.

“The blade of the Ritgen Sword is unsurpassed in the quality of its craftsmanship,” Jason read.

The woman took a step closer to him and sighed. “It’s so, so… King Arthur,” she said dreamily. She held out one hand. “I’m
Selma
.”

Jason took her hand uncertainly. He glanced at the sword and a broad grin lit his face. He bowed and kissed the outstretched hand.

“I am . . . Vittorio.”

“Victorio! Like victory with an O.”

“If you would like me to be, then for you
Selma
, I will be Victorio.”

Selma
giggled like a schoolgirl. Two of her friends came over.

“Who’s your new friend,
Selma
?” One of the women was tall and regal and walked with a cane. The other was as short as
Selma
and round, but her eyes were quick.

“This is Victorio.” Jason felt
Selma
tuck her small hands around his arm. “Ooh, what muscles! You must spend hours in the gym.”

“Actually, no. Who are your friends,
Selma
?” Jason marveled at how suave these women made him feel. This could be fun.

“Nancy, Leora, this is MY friend, Victorio,” said
Selma
gazing up at him.

Leora held out her hand then froze as Jason kissed it.

“Victorio,” she murmured, her hand going to her throat.

Nancy
stepped up close to Jason and studied him intently. “Victorio, has anyone ever told you that you have the ‘it’ factor? I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something delicious about you.”

“IT is because he’s so handsome,”
Selma
asserted.

“He is handsome, but that’s not it,”
Nancy
insisted.

“He certainly smells nice,” Leora added. “Is that your cologne?”

“I don’t wear cologne,” Jason replied.

The ladies exchanged glances. “You mean that’s YOU?”
Selma
squealed loud enough for the group to hear. They now had the attention of the rest of the women. They were beginning to swarm around him. Looking toward the staircase, Jason saw Zorribis nod and saunter up the stairs.

When Zorribis saw the corridor was clear, he made his way up to a spot about 40 feet across from the sword. He hopped nimbly up on the balcony and balanced on it while he looked at a recessed security camera. Taking what looked like a retractable pen from his pocket, Zorribis clicked it twice in the direction of the camera then smoothly hopped back onto the corridor.

A door opened and a young woman in a business suit stepped out, her eyes on the folder she held in her hands. She had almost walked into Zorribis when she looked up in surprise. “May I help you? Guests aren’t allowed up here. It’s staff only.”

Zorribis smiled. “That is my hope. I have come to ask about a position.”

“Position?”

“As an employee. I am an expert in arms and armor of the Carolingian Period and wish to apply for a position.”

“Oh! This is rather irregular. Why don’t you mail in your CV to Dr. Hesselback? Maurice Hesselback? He’s the head curator in that department.”