Rebels of the Lamp, Book 1 (8 page)

Theo started down the long dirt driveway. Parker chased after him.

“You said I had until Monday!”

“Yeah,” said Theo, building up speed. “I say a lot of things I don’t mean.”

Parker chased Theo down the driveway, past the mailbox, and onto the street. He got about fifty yards before Theo faded off into the distance, leaving Parker panting by the side of the road. The
six-year-old girl who lived next door to the Merritts gawked at him from the seat of her pink-and-purple Disney bike. It had training wheels, laser streamers, and a white basket with pictures of
princesses on the front.

Parker waved to her.

B66056—VESIROTH’S JOURNAL, CIRCA 900 B.C.

After months of silence, Tarinn came to me. She had heard of a demonic sorcerer that had gone mad in the desert, and wanted to assure herself it was not her
old benefactor, Vesiroth. So nice to have company! I offered coffee and pastries, which she rudely refused, and with great pride I presented Tarinn with Xaru and his sulking elder brother,
Fon-Rahm. I was sure that when she saw the majesty of my creations she would finally understand my work. Instead, she was horrified.

She felt her fears confirmed: I had gotten too close to the Nexus, and the exposure had driven me insane. She said she could see the change in me from just weeks before. This
is, of course, ridiculous. Would a madman have accomplished such miracles? I have never felt more in control of my mind.

Tarinn was also different. Her brush with death had changed her. Her smile was gone, replaced with a look of grim purpose. She shunned my genies and issued me a warning. A
warning! From a second-rate conjuror not fit to change my sheets! She told me that if I did not contain my genies, she would. As if she had that kind of power! I am the great Vesiroth, who cannot
die. I was destined to crush this world under the heel of my shoes.

I dismissed Tarinn, and she left me with one glance behind her. Was it pity in her eyes, or hatred? No matter. I need counsel from no peer. With Xaru at my side I will be
unstoppable.

When Tarinn was gone, I felt a weakness well up inside of me. I collapsed to my knees, and Xaru had to help me back to my room. The transfer of power that had brought forth
Fon-Rahm and his brother has left me fragile and in a pitifully debilitated state. The power that is rightfully mine will remain in my creations until they are destroyed, and they will never be
destroyed. They sap my potency with their very existence.

No matter. There are only two. I have strength enough to do what needs to be done.

THEO GRIPPED THE CANISTER UNDER
his arm. It was awkward to carry, but doable, and he might as well get used to it. He was planning on going out
for football the next year.

He did a double take when he heard Parker behind him.

“Come on, Theo! Wait!”

He turned, incredulous, to see Parker on Suzie McLanahan’s bike, pedaling furiously.

Theo groaned. “Give it up, Parker. I’ve been running wind sprints all fall. I’m a trained athlete.”

“Yeah, trained to sit on the
bench
.”

Theo turned off the pavement and onto a dirt bike trail, picking up his pace and leaving Parker and his tiny, tiny bike in the dust.

Okay, that was a tactical mistake, thought Parker as he followed his cousin off road. Shouldn’t have mentioned the bench.

As Parker pumped the bike’s pedals, the black Escalade passed him going the other way, the two men in back still arguing in their dead language. The driver heard a scraping sound and
uncovered the metal tablet in the seat next to him. The plates on the tablet’s surface rearranged themselves again, this time pointing directly at Parker and Theo.

The driver slammed on the brakes. His unbelted passengers hit the backs of the front seats as he executed a perfect bootleg turn in the middle of the road. He turned onto the bike trail, lined
the Caddy up with the kids, and stepped on the gas.

Parker was already winded. Too much TV and not enough physical exertion, he thought. He shouldn’t have quit soccer. When he was nine.

As he huffed and puffed, Parker heard the black Cadillac pull up alongside him. Weird, Parker thought. The Escalade was bouncing over brush and rocks on a trail meant for bikes, not cars.

And it was getting awfully close.

The Escalade swerved slightly in at Parker, almost hitting him.

Parker slammed his fist into the side of the truck.

“Back off!” he screamed. “Share the road!”

The driver of the truck rolled down his window. He smiled apologetically at Parker, and then he stuck a machine gun out the window. As the driver aimed the gun directly at Parker’s head,
Parker began to wonder if there was anyone in the world who wasn’t really, really mad at him.

B67008—VESIROTH’S JOURNAL, CIRCA 900 B.C.

I have created a monster.

As with Fon-Rahm, I took Xaru to the city. We soon came across a group of soldiers marching through the streets. I commanded Xaru to kill them. I held my breath, fearing that
Xaru would be subject to the same weak-kneed pangs of conscience that afflict Fon-Rahm. I am pleased to note that my concerns were unfounded.

With one concentrated blast of fire, Xaru annihilated the soldiers where they stood. The very ground underneath their bodies was melted into glass from the heat.

As the ash that was once the soldiers floated into the desert sky, I turned my face toward my son, Xaru. He was smiling, content, and finally free to express his only purpose
for being.

It was as I had hoped. Xaru has proven more than eager to kill. What I did not expect was that his zest for bloodshed would be more overwhelming than my own.

With no soldiers left to slaughter and my curiosity settled, I was ready to go home. I strode down the street, gratified to see the eyes of merchants cowering in their stores,
terrified by the carnage following me.

But Xaru was not finished.

He turned his power on the witnesses. There was nowhere for them to run, and they died in shock. Then Xaru burned the buildings that lined the street. Fascinated, I allowed
him to cut down the running peasants like the scum they were.

But then I saw three figures cowering by a pile of rubble. It was a mother, trying in vain to protect her two young girls from the destruction that rained down upon them. The
woman turned her face to me, and a cold chill ran down the length of my spine when I recognized her. It was my own wife, somehow back from the grave with our daughters, and returned to
me.

I shouted at Xaru to stop before my family was once again ripped from me in a wave of flame. My wife and daughters must be spared!

The look on Xaru’s face was one of pure resentment. He obeyed my command, but it was clear he would as soon vaporize me for my insolence.

I turned back to the carnage, my eyes searching madly for my family, but they were gone. I ran up and down the ruins of the street, but I could find no trace that they were
ever there. Did I really see them, or was this a cruel hallucination to mark my descent into madness? Was Tarinn right after all? Was I mad?

Xaru cast his eyes away from me. I must remember not to turn my back on Xaru. He is ruthless, single-minded, and filled with the lust for blood. He is just as I made
him.

B67020

I can no longer restrain Xaru.

My will is weakened by his very existence, and I fear he has learned that my hold on him is uncertain. I made him too well.

He takes a perverse delight in killing, and it is clear that the city will become a slaughterhouse if he is not contained. My life’s work is to be undone! Men were born
to bow to me, not the genie Xaru!

If Xaru is destroyed, the life force I have placed within him will return to me and I will grow strong again. As much as I hated to lose such an exquisite creature of
destruction, I felt it prudent to make the preparations that would cast him back into nothingness. I cast the spell, but it failed to strike even a minor blow. I am too weak. Xaru knows he has the
upper hand, and he will soon come to the well-reasoned conclusion that he does not need me at all. Clever genie!

Tarinn was right. I have unleashed magick beyond my control.

Fon-Rahm has vowed to do battle, but he and Xaru are too evenly matched. Neither genie could destroy the other.

I saw Xaru reading my ancient books. What could he want with the knowledge within? I saw the spell he wished to cast and I burst into laughter. Xaru is indeed my son and heir.
He had been hard at work mastering the spell I used to create him and his cursed brother, Fon-Rahm.

Xaru wishes to create genies of his own.

THE ESCALADE HIT A RUT
and bounced high on its twenty-two-inch chrome wheels.

The bike trail was rough going, but the Cadillac could take it with no problem. It had four-wheel drive and a beefed-up suspension, along with the V-8 engine, a huge navigation screen, and wood
trim in burled walnut and olive ash. The men in suits had stolen a very nice car.

A car, however, even a car as dope as this car, could not be expected to glide smoothly over the rugged terrain next to this particular Cahill, New Hampshire, bike trail, and this car
didn’t. The bouncing threw off the driver’s aim, and his shots thudded into the dirt harmlessly instead of blowing holes straight through Parker Quarry.

Nadir, the driver of the Slade, swore. Not out loud, of course. He had taken a vow of silence when he had taken control of the Path, and he was not going to break it over some undersize American
teenager in a Dodgers T-shirt. He swore to
himself
. He had expected the lamp to at least be stationary, buried still, or perhaps on the shelf of a museum too stupid to realize what they had,
but now here he was chasing two children down a trail made for dirt bikes, not three-ton luxury trucks. This was getting annoying. Nadir was not a man who welcomed annoyances.

He shut out the yapping of the Path members in the backseat and swapped out a clip for his submachine gun. The gun had once belonged to a police officer in Illinois. The police there had
executed a raid on Nadir and his men, thinking that they were part of a terrorist group. The police were right, sort of. Nadir was a terrorist, all right, but not like any terrorist the cops had
ever seen. After the raid was over and all of the police officers were dead, Nadir took the gun. He liked guns and he hadn’t been able to bring any of his favorites with him, airport security
being so tight these days. He and his men had to dispatch the policemen with swords and knives, just like in the old days.

Parker rode faster than he ever had before in his life. He could hear the Caddy roaring ever closer when he caught up with his cousin.

Theo was stunned to see him. He figured he had left Parker in the dust when he turned off the main road.

Theo said, “What are you—”

He didn’t get any further than that, because Parker rammed his bike into him, crashing both of them into the wide drainage ditch that ran next to the bike trail. They tumbled down the side
of the ditch, smashing their shins and elbows on rocks and hard ground as they fell, tangled up in their bikes. When they landed, thought Theo,
if
they ever landed, he was going to kill
Parker.

They landed, finally, knotted together in a cloud of dry dirt. The canister from Cahill University slid to a stop a few feet away.

Theo gasped. He was already furious at Parker, and that was before the jerk ran him off the road. He could hardly believe his cousin was that intent on keeping the stupid canister.

“You could have killed me!” Theo said. “You could have broken both my legs!” He wasn’t in any actual pain, but that didn’t mean he was okay. He was certainly
scraped and definitely bruised.

And the worst part was, Parker wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring at the top of the ditch, some six feet up.

When Theo asked, “What is wrong with you, Parker?” Parker had the gall to actually hold up his finger in a “please be quiet I’m on the phone” sort of way.

“They’re coming back,” he said.

Theo looked up, incredulous. “Who? What’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” said Parker.

On the bike trail, Nadir calmly stopped the truck. He and the other men got out. There was no hurry. The children were trapped, unarmed, and they had the lamp with them. There was no one else
for miles. They could take their time to claim their prize.

The three men took their police-issue guns and walked over to the side of the trail. They peered down through the dust into the ditch.

Parker and Theo gawked backed at them.

Nadir smiled and raised his gun.

“I can’t believe it,” Theo said to Parker. “You weren’t making it up. You really do have a gang after you.”

Parker just gaped. Think of something, he thought. You’re good at this. Talk your way out of whatever this was.

“Uh, look, guys,” he said as the three men inched their way carefully down the side of the ditch. They clearly didn’t want to mess up their suits. “I, um, think maybe
you’ve made a mistake, here? I think maybe you’re looking for somebody else and not us?”

He looked to Theo, who nodded.

“Just a misunderstanding of some kind, is what I’m saying. It could happen to anybody. But whoever the guys are you’re looking for, I can assure you, it’s not us.
We’re in the
seventh grade
.”

Parker really thought that last bit would sell them. Nobody would kill a seventh grader with a machine gun. That would be excessive.

The men, now at the bottom of the ditch, looked at one another. One of them turned to another and said something in a language that neither Parker nor Theo had ever heard. The other guy laughed.
Parker smiled. Maybe he had gotten through to them. Maybe they realized they had cornered the wrong guys. Laughter is the universal language.