Paraworld Zero (15 page)

    “How dare they forget the supreme power of King Vaylen!” the cloaked man
exclaimed. “Without the Power of the Ancients, the whole paraverse would crumble and fall into
utter chaos. It is the very fabric that binds the parallel worlds together!”

    “Yes,” the man said, “but it has been over a decade since anyone has
witnessed this power you speak of. With the attacks of the Raiders on the rise and the recent
leak of information to our enemies, our patience has grown thin.”

    “One day the Senate will see the awesome Power of the Ancients, and when they
do they will cower in submission. Leave the Raiders to me. I have Drackus and Mayham in the palm
of my hand.”

    “All right then,” the stranger said. “I will relay your message to the
Senate. Farewell, my lord.”

    The two men parted ways, leaving Mr. Doyle alone in the garden to muse upon
the conversation he had just overheard. He twisted a jewel on one of his rings, and a faint
hologram of a man appeared in the air.

    “Drackus,” Mr. Doyle rasped, “I have some interesting news for you…”

    

    

    At the docking bay, Tabatha and Councilor Bromwell were saying their
goodbyes. A young couple with catlike characteristics stood a few paces off; their tails
intertwined in a romantic gesture. Tabatha glanced in their direction, and they both cringed as
if they’d just smelled something horrible.

    The ultramage spoke. “Listen to me, Tabatha. You have sacrificed a great deal
to serve the Crown, and because of this, you have been ostracized by your people. Your tail was
removed in order to conceal your identity, and you have joined the Order of Gee—both of which are
disgraceful in the eyes of your paraworld; nevertheless, your law expressly forbids you to become
involved romantically with another race.”

    Tabatha stopped him right there. “I’m not involved with Griffen!”

    “Hush, child,” he said, quieting the woman. “I’ve seen the way you look at
him when he enters the room. It is more than mere admiration I see in your eyes. I say this as a
warning and not by command: Be careful that the passion of the moment does not dilute your vision
of the future prize that awaits you in life. You are still young. Be patient.”

    “Thank you for your wisdom, Councilor Bromwell, but I have no intentions of
getting involved with anyone, let alone a pompous outsider like Griffen.”

    “Very well then. I told the young man to stop at Parallel World 698 to
recharge his electro-magical thrusters before heading to the next jump point. I’ll set the
coordinates for you.” At that, the old man waved his hand, and the space shuttle lights lit up.
Tabatha climbed into the tiny vessel and looked down at Councilor Bromwell.

    He spoke again. “Griffen is very diligent in what we ask of him. Although he
will be forced to stop several times on the way to recharge his ship, I suspect that he will
neither rest nor eat until he is at Centarious. If only we knew how to communicate through the
parastream, we could save ourselves a lot of grief. It may take days before you catch up with
him. Good luck and godspeed.”

    Tabatha sealed the cockpit and maneuvered the ship towards the open bay
doors. She engaged her E.M. thrusters, and the spacecraft shot out into the sky like a rocket.
Councilor Bromwell watched as blue electricity wrapped itself around the shuttle, forming a
magical bubble. A second later, the ship exploded against the white clouds and entered the
parastream.

Chapter 10
    

    

    Simon found himself floating in a sea of swirling mist. He felt as though his
heart might burst when he saw the beautiful young woman emerge from the billowing clouds above.
The majestic beast carried her gracefully down the marble staircase and brought her close enough
for Simon to see the loving expression on her face. She spoke.

    

    

    Simon didn’t understand her message, but he held onto each and every word as
if they fell from the lips of a goddess. Oh, how her sweet voice rang forth in a harmonious
string of music whose melody could outplay a whole symphony of musicians! The boy’s tender heart
reeled in torment as the mysterious woman turned to leave.

    “Wait!” Simon pleaded. “What’s your name?”

    She turned her head and smiled, her countenance white and pure. Remaining
silent, she blew Simon a kiss and disappeared into the clouds as she had done before.

    “Simon… Simon… Simon, wake up! You’ll be late for school.”

    “Go away, Dimitri,” he moaned.

    “What? Who’s Dimitri?”

    Simon opened his eyes to see Thornapple’s smiling face, and it suddenly
dawned on him that he wasn’t in the orphanage anymore.

    “I had that dream again,” he told the midget-sized boy.

    “The one about your dream girl?”

    “She’s not my dream girl,” he said defensively. “Besides, she’s probably ten
years older than me.”

    “Then why do you keep dreaming about her?”

    “I don’t know. She seems familiar somehow. She keeps telling me that
something bad is going to happen.”

    “Well, it’s been almost a thousand years since we’ve had any wars, and the
astronomers don’t detect any rogue meteors headed our way… Oh, I know what it could be!”

    “What?”

    “Something bad is going to happen to you if you don’t go to the dance next
week.”

    “How can I dance when I can’t even walk?” Simon asked. He crawled out of bed
and flopped onto his hover chair.

    “It’s been two months now. You’re not trying hard enough… or maybe you just
don’t want to walk so you won’t have to go to the dance.”

    Thornapple didn’t realize how close to the truth he really was; the upcoming
week terrified Simon. The dance was part of a festival that commemorated the thousand-year
anniversary of the Battle of Lisardious: a confrontation that almost wiped out the whole race of
Puds—big and small.

    “You better get ready for school,” Thornapple warned. “If you’re late one
more time for Mrs. Larz’s class, she’ll have your hide for sure.”

    If Simon loathed going to school on Earth, it was nothing compared to what he
felt now. Mrs. Larz was a plump lady about three-and-a-half feet tall. She had long tangled hair
and a demeanor that made cockroaches look good. The only thing that made the class half bearable
for Simon was that Tonya had to suffer through it with him.

    When Simon and Tonya got to the school that morning, they waved goodbye to
Thornapple as he entered a classroom full of other students his age. Simon and Tonya were deemed
intellectually challenged
by the school examiners, but because the Puds held strong
beliefs that everyone should go to school (that is, if you weren’t a big Pud), the two children
were allowed to sit in with the kindergartners.

    They sat at their tiny desks just as the school bell rang. Mrs. Larz waddled
to her chair and plopped down. She brought out what looked like a red crayon and started drawing
on her desk. Each mark appeared magnified in the air at the front of the classroom.

    “How do you find the volume of a square pyramid?” Mrs. Larz asked. She drew a
pyramid on her desk.

    Everyone in the room raised their hands—except for Simon and Tonya.

    “Ralfus,” she said, calling on one of the students in the front.

    Ralfus stood up and recited the formula from memory. “The volume of a square
pyramid equals the altitude times the area of the base, divided by three.”

    “Very good, Ralfus. I see that
most
of you have done your homework.” She glared at Simon and Tonya distastefully. “Now
here’s a trick question: We haven’t looked at other types of pyramids yet, but who can tell me
what formula I’d use to find the volume of a hexagonal pyramid?”

    She drew a pyramid with a six-sided base and pushed a button for it to
automatically rotate in the air. The children wrote frantically on their desks to come up with
the answer.

    Simon turned to Tonya and said under his breath, “When I was as young as
these kids, I think I was still learning the alphabet. This is ridiculous.”

    Tonya smiled and tried to choke back a laugh.

    “Simon,” Mrs. Larz said, overhearing his comment, “do you have the answer for
us?”

    Simon’s heart sank. Mrs. Larz seemed to always call on him, even though he
never had the correct answer. This time being no exception, he stuttered, “Wh-Wh-What Ralfus
said.”

    The four- and five-year-olds laughed, but Mrs. Larz silenced them with her
raised hand. “That,” she said calmly, “is correct.” Her words shocked the entire class, including
Simon. “The volume of
any
pyramid can be found using the same formula.”

    Tonya looked at Simon with newfound respect, but all he could do in response
was shrug his shoulders and smile.

    “All right, class,” the teacher said, erasing the marks on her desk with her
sleeve, “I think that’s all the math for today. I just wanted to make sure you understood
yesterday’s lesson. Today, I would like to discuss an important subject that I’m sure you’ve all
heard about: the Battle of Lisardious. I have with me a copy of an ancient record written by our
ancestors a thousand years ago.”

    She brought out a thin slate with a computer screen attached to it.

    “After long, strenuous research, our scientists have been able to translate
the history of this great battle. The top line shows the ancient text, and the bottom line shows
the translation. Let’s read the translation, shall we? Please read a paragraph and then pass it
along.”

    Mrs. Larz walked to the back of the class and handed the slate to a tiny girl
wearing pigtails. The child began to read. “Only a few of our kind have survived the great Battle
of Lisardious. We have been driven into the darkness of the volcano in hopes that our enemy will
not follow.”

    The girl with pigtails passed the slate to a boy next to her, and the boy
continued the history. “The larger Puds are a hindrance to our progression. We have started to
fight amongst ourselves.”

    The boy passed the slate to Tonya. Rosy streaks appeared in her hair as she
stammered over the words. “Uh, we are
jogging
—no—
running
out of food. Um, let’s see. I-do-not-see-how-we-can…” Tonya couldn’t remember how
to say the last word. “I don’t see how we can…”

    “Survive!” Mrs. Larz filled in the rest of the sentence for her.

    Bowing her head, Tonya handed the slate to Simon. He looked down at the Pudo
language and, as usual, the strange characters morphed into English before his eyes. Simon
assumed that being able to read Pudo was just part of his unique gift.

    “Millions of these monstrous creatures are emerging from the sea every hour.
Our crops have been consumed, and everything we have labored to build has been destroyed in less
than a day. Could this be the same apocalypse our ancestors faced a thousand years ago? We have
concluded that it—”

    “Simon, what are you reading?” Mrs. Larz asked, trotting over to his desk.
“That’s not how it goes.” She looked at the computer screen. “Show me where you are.”

    Simon pointed to where he was reading. Mrs. Larz snatched the slate from him
and exclaimed, “You’re not even reading from the correct line! Didn’t I say the translation was
beneath
the actual text? Simon, you need to listen better.”

    “But all you said was to read a paragraph and pass it along.”

    “Don’t get smart with me, young man. It took our best scholars years to
decipher this ancient language. Class, this is what the actual translation reads: ‘The aliens are
increasing in numbers, and they ride upon the seas. The aliens are stealing our food and are
trying to take possession of our cities. It will take us many years to rebuild what has been
destroyed.’”

    Mrs. Larz handed the slate to the next student. Simon stayed quiet for the
rest of the class. Afterwards, he and Tonya met up with Thorn in the hallway.