The Silver Sphere (10 page)

This real, daring journey had heroes, and from what it sounded
like, Zach was one of them. He was starved for knowledge about this world, and though
he wanted to continue the conversation, a little more time wouldn't matter. Throg
was right—they needed to get to safety, especially if Nightlanders were after him.

Zach boarded the boat, which swished and rocked beneath him.
He managed to keep his balance as the enormous craft rested low in the water. A
stove sat at the front, and a few rows of benches ran up close by the stern.

Throg used a pole to move them away from shore, then handed it
to Zach. "Let's go, and keep it down 'til I say we can talk."

As they proceeded down the river, Zach held his tongue. He helped
row out into the current, and once the vessel rode downstream, Throg motioned for
him to pull the pole on board before he pushed a couple of levers near the prow,
and two wheels on the rear of the boat began churning water.

Zach examined his surroundings to take his attention off all
the data processing in his mind. Taking a break was easy, as the forest was more
beautiful than any other he'd seen.

The plush foliage offered different shades of green and brown.
Strange creatures darted around the bank. He spied a raccoon with bluish fur and
an orange mask. A pack of ferret-like critters scurried alongside them, sprinting
in and out of the bushes. A pleasant scent permeated the air and reminded him of
a sweeter version of jasmine. He sucked in a deep breath, safe and at peace.

Throg broke his silence. "Are you hungry, laddie?"
The sturdy man's gaze remained fixed on the shoreline.

Zach had been so preoccupied by his journey that he hadn't even
thought of food. His gut rumbled. "Starved."

Throg turned toward the shore and slowed the boat down. Once
they got close to a tangled bush, he dug his hand into a cluster of branches.

"Pegasi nest, excellent eggs." Throg fished out two
of the largest eggs Zach had ever seen.

He eased the eggs into a basket and steered the schooner to the
middle of the channel again. Each of the eggs, bright yellow with dark brown speckling,
was the size of Throg's head.

"Pegasi are weird birds. Some animals you will encounter—as
normal as cats and dogs in these parts—will astound you. The Pegasi, for instance,
are rather large birds, common on the river, with heads that look like horses. Six
eggs in there, so don't fret. Plenty left to be born for this Pegasi family."

He moved around the boat with ease, hit a few wooden levers,
and then settled down to the middle of the deck. He stroked another lever and a
hood popped open. From inside, he lifted out green onion-like plants, some mushrooms,
and a bottle of yellow liquid that Zach figured was cooking oil.

He chopped the onion and mushrooms with a large knife and tossed
them with the oil in a wooden bowl. Two long, thin sticks appeared from under a
roaster, and Throg struck them on a piece of tar paper. The matches ignited, and
he lit the oven, then pulled a black iron pan from his satchel and poured the mixture
into the skillet.

Zach moved closer and spotted a Bunsen burner inside the compartment
beneath the stove. "This is amazing!"

Throg pointed to the cooker as he stirred the ingredients. "I
made the thing myself. The pilot underneath is encased in metal."

He cracked the eggs and beat them in the same wooden bowl as
the onion mix, added some spices, and spilled the eggs into the hissing iron. The
aroma of sizzling green onions, mushrooms, and eggs pervaded the air around them.

Zach's stomach rumbled like a blender chopping ice cubes.

Within a few minutes, Zach enjoyed some of the most succulent
eggs he'd ever put on his tongue, and he wolfed them down. They were fluffy and
salty. "This is delicious, Throg. Thank you."

"Aye, truffle oil is in season, and Pegasi eggs with radenook
green onions and chipsami mushrooms is one of the best meals you can fix on the
road." Throg devoured his eggs.

The bottomless skillet of cloud-like Pegasi eggs invited Zach
to gorge until he almost burst. He was so stuffed upon finishing, he didn't care
where they were or why. He gently put down the warm pan and rolled over to his side
with a half-joking, half-serious moan.

"Aye, young Zach, happens frequently to first-timers."
Zach's companion chuckled as he munched away on the delicious food.

Such a contrast. Zach lay bloated, yet he giggled at the sky.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy.

"Say now, did ye know the runes yer puttin' on that are
for fertility?" Cumber pulled Stuart to the side and whispered into his ear,
"Ye don't want the lassies to catch you with that on yer chest, do ya? It'd
be devilishly embarrassin' for ya."

"Oh, no, no, Cumber, this is the Triforce. You know, from
The Legend of Zelda
? Trust me, this is really hip where we're from."
Stuart sketched the sigil onto the middle of his leather shirt with a piece of charcoal.

"Come on now, laddie. Ye can't possibly be serious about
tha' bein' stylish!"

"Whatever. I'm telling you, this is über rad where I'm from.
If I'm going to be a warrior, I want the Triforce with me."

Stuart decided he was finished explaining his reasoning to someone
he'd met not four hours ago. Cumber's garb was much nicer than any of his new clothes,
but Stuart wasn't about to complain. Where Cumber had a cloak, Stuart now had the
Triforce. He'd never felt cooler.

He stood up and sauntered away from a mumbling Cumber, displaying
the three triangles over his chest. Stuart returned to the others, but stopped short
and stared down at the charcoal drawing. Riley was one of the prettiest girls he'd
ever seen, but he doubted she knew what the Triforce was.
Maybe I do look stupid.
He sighed and drifted away from the fire where they sat.

As he walked, Stuart considered his situation. He and the other
kids had been brought here from their world—something every anime he was aware of
had in common—and were now called 'Kin.' They had to save the world from an ancient
evil, too, and were armored heroes. Heck, he'd even
changed
. Not only had
he aged, but....

He gazed at his reflection in a water barrel, rubbed his neck
and jaw, and smiled. The face in the water was tougher, meaner, and an overall improvement.
When he'd passed through the portal, Stuart had gained a little weight. Before,
he'd been stick-pole thin with pockmarks on his cheeks, but now everything fit and
he boasted a smooth complexion.

He grinned and flexed one of his arms. Muscles bulged. He continued
along and wondered if his new physique would help him achieve his dream of being
like a ninja. Silently, he made a wager with himself:
I bet I could creep past
those guards and out of sight without anyone noticing me.

He slipped off to explore the rest of the camp. No one followed.
Darting in and out of the shadows, he found the activities around the encampment
much more interesting than the boring campfire and the monotonous old Presage. A
bard strummed a stringed turtle shell as he sang to a small crowd. A handful of
soldiers crouched and rolled dice. A few archers shot at targets. Not far off, another
pair spoke as they whetted their axe blades.

He stopped at a busy group of boisterous troops and peered through
the crowd to find out what kept their attention. Two soldiers stood in a circle
across from each other, holding glowing joysticks in their hands. Closer to the
middle of the ring were a pair of enormous, dazzling holograms. A muscle-bound warrior
leered at an imposing Minotaur.

Stuart knew what a Minotaur was from the game,
God of War
.
Kratos had run into them more than once. The Minotaur reared its bullish head as
it swayed a huge axe in its hands, and the warrior across from it waved a large
sword. The combatants rushed forward and met with a crash.

The soldiers wielding the joysticks jerked back and forth, shouting
expletives as they twisted and turned. One wrong move could end the match.

The holographic warrior blocked an overhand swing with his buckler
and then rolled under a blow from the Minotaur's fist. The crowd of battle-hardened
soldiers surrounding the two players cheered.

Stuart grinned. The holograms seemed to be sweating and wheezing,
as if the creatures fought in mortal combat. "I've never seen anything like
this!" he murmured to no one.

The Minotaur caught the panting fighter with a swift kick to
the ribcage. A wrenching sound, similar to a series of branches breaking, cracked
through the air. The fighter grimaced and stumbled.

The Minotaur stalked the warrior in the circle as the man limped
in retreat, trying to force the creature off by brandishing his sword whenever the
Minotaur came too close. The feint of swinging his blade back and forth worked for
a time, but the holographic soldier grew weary and his poorly aimed thrusts slowed.

A knight cried out from the crowd, "Finish him!"

"Let's go now, Boozer. Get on with the stroke of grace,"
another man shouted from beside Stuart.

Finally, the menacing Minotaur swung its battleaxe with such
fury that it shattered the warrior's blade of steel and drove right through to his
chest. The warrior collapsed to the ground, and the soldier operating him groaned.
The battle finished and both holograms faded away.

Boozer rambled inside the ring, his joystick raised to the sky
amid a chorus of cheers and boos. He was a burly man with stringy red hair and a
short, knotted beard. Crow's feet wrinkled around the corners of his eyes when he
grinned.

Boozer goaded, "Ye cannot tangle with the Minotaur and live
to tell about it, can ya, Kron?"

"Ah, double dung, Booz. Ya cheated after ye chose the old
battleaxe anyway," pouted Kron in disgust.

"Oh, I did now, righty. And ya managed to sneak in the li'l'
buckler w'out me knowin', but that's fine?" Boozer shrugged and chuckled.

Stuart stood mesmerized with delight. "Bravo, bravo,"
he shouted and clapped his hands.

"And so," Boozer said, "we have one of the fabled
Kin here cheering on the ol' Minotaur, now do we? In awe of the skills of the Boozer,
are ye?" His eyes befell the mark on Stuart's chest. "Wha' is tha'? The
rune of fertility?"

"It's the Triforce," Stuart corrected. "Besides,
I'm more impressed with the graphics. I'm a bit of a wiz at these games where I'm
from. I bet I offer you a worthy challenge."

He just wanted a crack at playing. While he'd watched the other
two play, he'd spied multiple ways the knight could have won. It was a matter of
skill, of seeing the small things. He knew he was one of those irritating kids who
were unnaturally good at all the new video games.
That's all I'm good at. That
and my skateboard.

A soldier standing next to Boozer said, "Now, young man,
the resourcefulness of the Kin is well-known, but the Boozer here is undefeated
in
Dire Conflict
."

"
Dire Conflict
is the game, huh? Well, Boozy, how
would you like to take on a Kin and test what ya got?" Stuart walked toward
him.

Boozer gaped at him with amazement. He smiled and then frowned.
"Hmm, ye have never played
Dire Conflict
, and ye think you can whoop
up on the Boozer, eh? Why, do ye realize if they included
Dire Conflict
at
the games in Fornax, which they dang righ' should, I'd be grand champion, laddie?"

Stuart shrugged one shoulder. "Well, then this should be
a global... er, universal... tournament. I happen to rule the roost back home. The
Triforce doesn't lie." He grinned and put his hands on his hips.

The crowd came closer. A few troops muttered to one another.
Stuart heard the word 'Kin' tossed around and he smiled. Maybe some of these men
would chant his name when he outpaced Boozer. This would even top the arcades in
his neighborhood.

"Let the Kin give the game a whirl agains' ya," yelled
out one of the soldiers.

Several soldiers cried, "Yeah!"

"Come on, Boozer," said his previous opponent, Kron.

"Alas, my dear Kin, ye will face the wrath of the Minotaur."
Boozer winked and grinned. "Give the people wha' they wan'—tha's my motto."

"All right!" yelped Stuart. Not every day did he fight
against someone on another planet with a video game. Now he really
could
boast
he was the best when he returned home.

Energy burst throughout their vicinity as dozens of excited armored
men came forward to watch the match. The chilly air warmed with the soldiers' proximity.

Someone shouted, "Bet you ten pints of Vixen blueberry ale
the Kin wins!"

"I'll take tha' bet," said another.

Kron came to Stuart's side and whispered into his ear, "The
buttons on the bottom are defensive blocks, and the ones on the top are offensive
strikes. If ye hold the top lef' and bottom lef' buttons down together, this be
your master strike. Use this sparingly, as it will sap yer energy. The stick itself
pretty much controls the warrior's body. There's more, but ye will have to make
do with tha'." He broke free of Stuart and disappeared into the crowd. His
black-haired head bobbed away.