The Four Kings (14 page)

“I think we’ll take a commercial break.”

The four wizards laughed at her unforced error.

“I mean,” Amanda struggled to find her next words, “We’ll take a fifteen-minute break.”

Chapter Eighteen

Eight months post-Liberation

Amanda rubbed her eyes, which had glazed over at the latest bitcoin report. The instant data reporting of the bitcoins – over a trillion transactions per day – had generated gigantic volumes of economic data, now the envy of generations of economists. Nowadays, gross domestic product could be computed by the
second
, whereas pre-Liberators, they could only be calculated (and in rough form at that) once per
month
. And no messy conversions such as foreign exchange rates to muddle the data. It was
pure
. But it was helluva lot of work.

She was dressed in flannel pyjamas, hunched over her desk in her bedroom, gazing out the windows at San Francisco Bay. The entire Liberators’ Headquarters was heavily guarded. Due to her international fame, Amanda rarely went out anymore. Everyone wanted her attention. She had instant name recognition, and was simply known everywhere as “Amanda.”

She heaved her shoulders. Only four months ago – was it only four months? – she had enjoyed simple pleasures such as walking one block after the other, staring upwards at the skyscrapers as she strolled. Thinking of dropping by her parents in her weather-beaten Chevy or going to her favorite café to order a black coffee and a pastry were things of her past. Those days were long gone.

She felt holed up in the huge enclosure, completely decked out in glass. Yet she didn’t regret her new job, not for one second. The adrenalin was constant, like the twenty-four-hour Cable News. It was always there. Her nights now consisted of four-hour “sleeps.”

She looked at the family portraits on her wall and sighed. Her mother. Her father. Her brother Adam. She had only seen them a few times in the past several weeks. Her longing for her family intensified. Just to chat with them about their dog, Biscuit, or to hear about the latest antics of their quirky Uncle Sam.

One a.m. Time for bed. No. Just one more look at the crime reports.

She pushed herself away. Instantly, she felt like falling asleep. Almost staggering, she headed for bed, only several feet away from her desk, and plopped down on the mattress. Too tired to slip under the covers, she settled for lying on top of the sheets, then pulling the blanket over her.

She turned her head to the incessantly glowing light on the bedside table next to her. She wondered if she could fall asleep without bothering to turn it out. She’d managed a few times before.

Suddenly, Amanda screamed.

Demus had abruptly appeared, with a full grin, propping himself against her headboard. Resting on top of her covers, he was all decked out in white cotton pyjamas with red words, all saying, “Liberators.”

Amanda screamed again, but not as loudly as last time.

Demus looked at her, excited. “Good to see you, Amanda.”

She gazed at him. After the initial shock wore off, she noted that he looked so –
sexy
. So masculine, with his panama shirt hugging his torso just enough to show off his thin washboard stomach.

Amanda knew he was attractive, but her repulsion won the moment.

“Get out!” she shouted.

“Amanda, you’re working too hard,” Demus said, sporting a wicked grin.

“Get out! Now!”

“Come on, Amanda,” Demus cooed. Holding his hands out in an innocent gesture, he said, “I’m just here, that’s all. Do anything you like. Talk to me about anything you want. If you’ve ever dreamed of having a pony when you were a kid.”

“Get out!” she insisted, dragging out her words for emphasis. She was no longer shouting, but asserting more control.

Demus turned over, resting on his left arm, facing her. “Or talk to me about your favorite food. Anything. I’m here for you.”

“Demus,” Amanda scolded him, “Your pyjamas give you away. The timing. Everything.”

Demus feigned mock surprise. “Okay, okay.” He disappeared instantly, and then reappeared on the other side of the room, wearing a tight black long-sleeved shirt and jeans, sitting on a chair that had appeared out of nowhere. “Here I am,” he said, half apologizing, “now can you talk to me?”

“Demus,” Amanda weighed her words carefully, “Do you like me?”

His eyes open wide with excitement. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

“Then go.”

Demus’ entire body deflated. He momentarily looked defeated and dejected. With considerable reluctance, his voice strained, “Of course. I’m always a gentleman.”

With these words, he – and the chair – vanished.

Amanda took a deep breath.

For a fleeting moment – she pitied the wizard.

Then, exhausted, she let her head fall to the pillow.

Chapter Nineteen

“Let the games begin,” Indie announced to her citizens all over North America. “Another exciting Games Day underway.”

Regi and Demus were now glaring at each other in friendly mock disgust, circling each other as if they were in a boxing ring. Yet, they were about one hundred feet apart. This “game” required space – a lot of it. The huge screens on all sides showed close-ups of their intense expressions.

“Amanda,” Indie turned to her, “You’re the judge.”

“Me?” Amanda protested, totally surprised. She didn’t feel qualified to oversee the competition at all, given that she wasn’t a wizard.

Indie didn’t even bother to acknowledge her response. “Justica will award the points. You’re to determine if any of the two men are cheating.”

“But –”

“This is Level Three. You’ve seen a few of them, Amanda. Move on.”

Demus and Regi gazed sideways at her, both tense over their impending showdown.

“Ready, get set, go!” Indie yelled.

Regi, quick on the move, zapped first.

Instantly, Demus found himself in a scene akin to being in an airport baggage check terminal, standing next to a steadily moving conveyor belt, stacked with assorted luggage, amidst throngs of travelers. Sizing up the challenge, he quickly scanned the new environment, crouching. The passengers, otherwise looking bored or chatting among themselves, glanced at Demus’ strange combative stance. Then, an ominous loud ticking sound rang out.

Regi watched on with glee, anticipating Demus’ next move.

“A bomb!” Demus yelled, while the terrified bystanders screamed and scrambled for safety away from the conveyer belt. Using his magic powers, he zapped up all the suitcases, valises, and handbags into the air, one by one. Each of them ascended about a thousand feet into the air. Suddenly, one of them exploded with a loud boom, emitting debris that rained down on the scene below. The stricken bystanders covered their eyes and screamed again, some ducking for cover under the benches in the terminal.

While Demus was distracted by the pandemonium, a sniper, dressed in civilian clothes, took out an air rifle and shot Demus into his left side. Demus groaned and grasped at his wound.

Amanda jumped a little, startled, and had to remind herself that none of this was
real
. Demus couldn’t possibly be injured – could he?

“Five points for Regi!” Justica said.

Demus zapped away the sniper, and the scene froze immediately. Irate, he pointed a finger at Regi, who was still chuckling. “Cheater!” he yelled, and turned to Amanda. “Strike these points!”

Pressured, Amanda searched her mind for the rule book for Level Three, which she had read several times. “On what grounds?”

Demus’ face was full of fury. “Simultaneous stimuli,” he growled.

Regi stepped forward, peeved. “For Pete’s sake…”

“Hold on,” Indie held up her hand, waiting for Amanda.

“Simultaneous stimuli,” Amanda repeated, biding her time while she thought furiously, “That relates to bombardment to the subject of various threats that all occur at the same time.” She reflected some more. “Since the shooter came after the bomb exploded, I can’t conclude in your favor.”

“It was too fast!” Demus yelled, his face red.

“No,” Indie asserted. “It was a few seconds after. Amanda’s right. You got caught off guard, Demus.”

Demus turned to Indie, realizing he was fast becoming outnumbered. He started to say something, but shut up.

“Honestly, Demus,” Indie said, “If I had been there, I would’ve guessed that if there was a bomb, there must be a bomber. Right?” She glanced at each of the other people in the space. “It was logical. You should’ve thought of it. I would’ve anticipated the terrorist taking advantage of the panic caused by the bomb.” She smiled sweetly at Amanda. “What’s your decision, Ms. Fullerton?”

“The decision stands.”

Upon the words, the airport scene vanished, leaving nothing but open air between the two combatants.

“All right,” Indie said, holding up her hands. “Let’s move on, then. To be more than fair, even if Regi should be allowed to try to beat you to it again, let’s instruct him to hold himself back and allow you to make the next move, Demus.” She stepped away, as Demus and Regi circled each other again.

“I’m surprised Demus is behaving this way,” Justica admitted, whispering to Amanda. “Usually he relishes these contests. He never complains.”

Amanda gulped, and then nodded her head.

“Oh, my Elsedor,” Justica said, wholly transfixed by the fight scene.

Amanda didn’t understand. She looked at the contest, and saw that Demus, exhibiting a wicked grin, had conjured up a man wearing nothing but a full body suit in pitch black. There weren’t even openings for the eyes or mouth. The man appeared lean and muscular, threatening Regi, who suddenly appeared pale.

“I haven’t seen that for a long time,” Justica muttered under her breath.

“What is it?” Amanda asked, ready to panic.

“A shape shifter,” Justica said.

“Is it within the rules?”

Justica hesitated. “Just barely. Watch very closely to make sure it’s not too overwhelming for poor Regi.”

Amanda’s pulse quickened, and she stared at the sinister figure in black.

Regi stepped back, assuming a defensive stance, his legs wide apart, and his torso slightly leaning away.

Instantly, the figure morphed into a giant black scorpion, with features so dark that Amanda couldn’t tell the contrast between the body parts. The scorpion darted ahead, appearing directly in front of Regi in just a second, its pincers advancing. Sensing its trajectory, Regi disappeared. The scorpion brought its tail crashing down to the left of where Regi last stood. It erred.

Regi materialized atop the scorpion’s back. In his right hand was a light sabre. He started to bring it swooshing down onto the scorpion’s neck, but the giant beast was too fast for him, and grabbed him with one of its hind legs. Before Regi could suffer a bone-jarring impact on the ground, he vanished.

“Ohhh!” Amanda shuddering and covered her face with her hands. It was too much for her.

Demus smirked as he watched Regi’s predicament. Twisting his wrist, he released the fingers of that hand. The scorpion transformed into a foreboding robot, again totally enclosed in black. The face appeared as if it were an ancient native mask, with all facial features exaggerated and delineated. The eyes were haunting, with an eerie greenish glow. Regi, who had reappeared standing in front of the robot, seemed terrified.

As Amanda gasped in horror, two more pairs of mechanical arms pivoted out of the robot’s metallic chest, endowing the robot with six sets of arms. Six steel swords magically materialized, one in each hand. Brandishing its weapons, the robot executed a series of complex, expertly-controlled maneuvers that left practically no escape routes within a six-foot perimeter.

“Stop it, Amanda,” Justica pleaded, her eyes fearful.

Amanda stepped forward and yelled out, “Violation!”

Demus, who had been observing his creation contentedly, snapped into an instant rage. “What!”

Amanda slightly retreated, but held her ground. “Intimidation.” She looked at Regi. His eyes told her everything: he was afraid to chicken out, but he was secretly relieved he wouldn’t have to battle such a monstrous creature.

Demus sputtered, “This can’t be! Come on!”

All four looked at Indie. She frowned. “It is a very borderline case,” she finally said. “As much as I’d love to witness this battle, it does seem excessive. Perhaps in a future Game Day when Regi has demonstrated he’s more than capable of jousting with this incredible creature.” She pursed her lips. “Reluctantly, I have to agree with Amanda. Try something a
little
easier.”

Demus scowled, then giving no warning whatsoever to Regi, released his right hand, and transformed the robot into a glistening black dragon.

“Much better,” Indie announced to her audience, “Mortals, sorry for the confusion. Please do continue to enjoy the Games.”

As Regi dodged the fire of the dragon, Justica whispered to Amanda, “Gee. Demus is sure in a bad mood today. I wonder what’s causing it.”

Amanda felt a lump in her throat and lied, “I have no idea.”

Chapter Twenty

One year post-Liberation

Amanda strolled the hallway en route to the cafeteria from the main office, within the Liberators’ Headquarters in San Francisco in search of some dinner. Deep in thought, she glanced out through the glass windows. An orange glow emanated over the horizon, atop the vast ocean and it appeared as if the sun would set soon.

Today marked one year of Liberation.

Surprisingly, all four Liberators had neglected to mention their one-year anniversary during Debate Day today. They were too engrossed in the debate over installing giant mirrors – by magic, of course – in the Canadian Arctic in order to combat global warming.

It was one year ago on April thirtieth that everything changed.

And despite the rhetoric that flourished on all sides today, she noticed Demus was sullen and withdrawn. She wondered if he was ill
. But wizards don’t get ill – do they?
For the umpteenth time, she wondered if it was because she had continued to reject his amorous advances.