The Silver Sphere (11 page)

Another trooper came up to Stuart, gave him a pat on the back,
and encouraged him. "Give this the old schoolboy try now, sonny."

Several other pats and nods followed, until one of the warriors
thrust the joystick into his hand. Stuart smirked. The joystick was like a part
of him, and no one could take that away now.

A wall of soldiers formed another large circle around them. A
competitive Boozer replaced the jolly one as he shot a menacing glare at Stuart,
who stared him down cold. Thick tension zapped between the two of them. Stuart refused
to glance away from Boozer, even for a second. Everything got quiet.

"Now let's engage in
Dire Conflict
," boomed
a soldier. Somehow this event had become an official match.

Stuart's joystick began to vibrate and a blue glow emanated from
the sides. He felt a rush of pure adrenaline course through him. A holographic console
materialized in front of him.

"Pick the battleaxe," hollered out a voice from the
crowd.

"The spear. Take the spear," declared another.

As he gazed down at the console, Stuart realized they were pointing
out his choices. Caricatures of several armaments floated on top. Underneath each
weapon was a colorful button. On the bottom of the console were the words: "Choose
two weapons for your
Dire Conflict
."

The double-edged sword looked too good to turn down. But he also
knew Kron had just lost to the Minotaur bearing the same blade. He hit a button
with an arrow pointing down, and another set of weapons appeared. One of the names
caught his eye. "The Sword of Ariadne" was written under a long blade
with a red handle.

Stuart smiled. Greek mythology was one of his favorite subjects.
Kratos might have demolished the Minotaur in
God of War
, but real folklore
was better than that.
The Minotaur
had been a recent reading of his, and
the sword Theseus used to slay the Minotaur was given to him by Ariadne. He was
sure of it.

He hit the button underneath, forgetting the image was holographic,
and the sword vanished from the console when his finger passed through where the
icon had been. He continued to scan the choices and settled on a large chain titled,
"Battle Chain." The console dematerialized after his selection.

His warrior appeared, standing tall while twirling the battle
chain and holding the saber high over its head. His muscles rippled with each twirl,
and the rich, burgundy-colored armor he wore cast a regal aura. The sword of Ariadne
glistened like a beacon in the dark night.

Across the way, Boozer completed his weapon check on the console
and the Minotaur emerged straight from the ground. A mixed reaction of boos and
cheers again riled the men.

"Now you're in fer death," Boozer shouted and chortled.

The bull-headed monster charged the warrior, battleaxe in tow.
Stuart, operating on instinct, jerked his joystick to the right, and the Minotaur
ran directly into the crowd, surprising a few of the soldiers even though it was
a holograph.

"Harrumph," Boozer blurted.

Stuart was engrossed in the game now, armed with years of determined
practice from his own video games back home. Adrenaline sped through him and his
heart pounded.

The battle intensified.

The Minotaur once again leapt at the warrior, and Stuart pushed
his joystick down while he flicked the left "up" button in a circular
fashion. It worked to perfection.

The battle chain whipped cleanly through the air as the warrior
ducked at the same time. The Minotaur missed with the swing of his axe, and the
chain wrapped violently around its legs.

Stuart thrust the joystick forward while he leaned on the left
button. The Minotaur was ripped right off its feet and came thundering down with
a loud crack. The warrior cast the Minotaur a stony glare.

Wild cheers resonated from the crowd as Stuart continued to push
the joystick forward, the warrior dragging the Minotaur around the circle amid the
roaring soldiers. Then he made the warrior stop and raise the sword of Ariadne high
over his head. The blade dropped, preparing to end the match.

Instead of striking true, however, the holographic blade passed
right through the Minotaur. The bull-headed brute rose from the ground, its earthy
tones now much darker. Rage overtook the Minotaur as the beast forged past the warrior
hologram.

A stunned gasp emitted from the crowd as Boozer clicked at his
joystick, bewildered. For an instant, no one moved.

"It's come alive. The dang Minotaur is alive!" one
of the soldiers shouted.

The Minotaur marched toward Stuart. Shock kept him frozen to
the spot. He gaped at the creature, his eyes wide.

It stopped a moment and let out a tremendous screech as it raised
its ferocious head to the sky. Several of the soldiers scattered. Boozer charged
at Stuart, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him backward.

"Get runnin', Kin. He is looking for ya, laddie. Now go
for it. Dash back to Presage!" he yelled.

The Minotaur leapt toward Boozer, who had turned his head just
in time, lifting his sword up in front of the axe. The blade shattered on impact
and the blow knocked Boozer to the mud. Other soldiers swarmed the Minotaur amidst
yells and battle cries as Stuart charged back to the campfire.

The Kin sat around the campfire, content with the warmth of the
flames and tasty tea as they discussed their new world. Vilaborg returned with a
pair of soldiers and a cook carrying a large black pot. Max watched as Stuart slipped
away from the group. He frowned and caught the eye of Presage, who grinned and winked
at him before resuming his conversation with Vilaborg.

A stomach-rumbling aroma filled the air as the cook lifted the
lid off the pot. Max touched his gut as his mouth watered.

"I figured you would all be hungry for real food,"
Vilaborg said. "This is what I call summer stew. We rarely eat anything other
than dry bread and chud when we're on the road. Anyhow, our reconnoiters found an
overgrown, unkempt garden about a mile east from here, so good old Lars came up
with enough to make stew."

Lars thrust the black pot down, his soiled chef's hat falling
off in the process. Ladle in hand, he began filling large wooden bowls and handed
them out. The Kin stood in an orderly line.

How nice to have something hot to eat,
Max thought. The chud he'd devoured was wearing off.

Cumber returned with a basket covered with cloth. "Another
treat. Some toasty bread for ye." He pulled the twill off the steaming carton.

No butter, but the heated bread and stew made up for its absence.
They all plunged into their bowls. Max smacked his lips. Garlic and onion mixed
with other flavors, like a strange melon or orange and creamy bits of rice-like
grains.

Lars clapped his hands together. "Ye know the chow is good
when no one is speaking."

Max dunked his bread into the dish. The mix of baby carrots,
spinach, corn, and mushrooms in rich gravy grew addicting, and he scarfed the meal
down. The heel was flavored like sourdough bread, but warm. Small chunks of dried
chud had been baked into the loaf.

He finished the stew and wiped his bowl clean with a hunk of
bread. When done, he strode over to a bin Lars had set up, deposited the saucer,
and returned to the fire.

A sudden stabbing pain in his crown doubled him over. He placed
his fingers on his temples as the head rush spun into a brain freeze.

Riley dashed to his side. "Max. Max!"

Presage glided over, patting his back. "It will pass. Hold
on a little longer, Max, just a minute."

Max sensed satisfaction in Presage's
tone. The pain forced him to close his eyes, and the image of a man materialized.
The blurred countenance had a narrow jaw and large ears; his eyes were shut, and
the lips emitted a groan as he attempted to speak. The face dissipated, taking the
discomfort along. Max's eyes fluttered open. Everyone had gathered around him.

Presage smiled. "Are you all right now, son?"

"Yeah, yes. What was that?" Max held his groggy head.

"Did you see anything?" Presage's brow arched.

"Yes. I mean, I think so. I saw the face of a man, but only
for a second. He tried to say something."

"Good news then. That is your fellow Kin. He's alive and
attempting to establish his connection with you."

Max had recognized the man's face from somewhere. Down ten-nothing
at the homecoming game a few weeks ago, he'd had a similar experience and hadn't
been able to complete the scoring drive. Still a bit unsettled, he rose to his feet.
Nausea turned his stomach for a moment, and though it passed, he remained agitated.

Riley massaged his neck. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, a little light-headed. Is the experience
like that every contact?" Max looked up at Presage.

"Oh, no, they will get much less painful over time—akin
to working your physical body into shape. You're sore in the beginning, and eventually,
you build up stamina."

"Uh, Presage, what is my link's name?"

"Ah, your link—a good man, well-liked by the people. His
fellow Assembly members consider him quite the socialite." Presage grinned.
"That is Macklin Morrow who is trying to contact you."

"Macklin Morrow," Max whispered.

"Who is my link?" asked Riley.

"Yes, Rowan Letty would be your Kin. You have a striking
resemblance to her, Riley." Presage placed his gaze next on Emily. "Emily,
your Kin is Elita Ezmer—quite the politician. In fact, she—"

A terrible screech wailed from over the hill. The men around
the Kin all went for their weapons and dashed toward the sound. Max shivered as
a gust of wind whipped through camp. One man came running at them.
Borgy,
Max recalled.

"Sir," Vilaborg said and then gasped for air.

Presage shut his eyes for a few seconds as a noisy surge of bedlam
carried from over the ridge. He opened them and gazed out to the huddled group.

"It has commenced," he whispered, and scanned the hilltop
in the direction of the inhuman wail.

A few moments later, a shadow appeared at the crest of the highland
and scampered down.

"That's Stuart!" Max jumped to his feet. His head still
ached, but letting his companion get hurt wouldn't be a good play.

Stuart slipped and fell, clutching something in his hand. He
rolled down the slippery slope, coming to a stop only when he hit a canvas tent.
In a flash, he sprang up and bolted toward them.

"Should we saddle up the Kin and get a move on, Presage?"
Vilaborg said.

As he stared at the approaching Stuart, Presage paused a moment
before responding. "No, we will be just fine." He winked at Vilaborg.

"
A min-oh-toor... Minotaur!
" Stuart yelled with
a gasp as he ran up.

"A Minotaur in the camp, you say? Now, now, Stuart, that
is simply a game the soldiers play—some high sorcology,
Dire Conflict
. You
scared the stars out of us." Vilaborg exhaled as he patted the crouching Stuart
on his back.

Stuart shook his head as his chest heaved, sweat dripping off
his forehead. Max walked over to the two of them.

"No, no, I know
Dire Conflict
is a game. I played against Boozer." Stuart paused again to catch his breath.

"You were playing
Conflict
against Boozer? Well,
Boozer is always the Minotaur. Darn near unbeatable, he is. He did tell you it was
a game, Stuart?"

"You aren't listening. I know it's a game. I was playing
the Minotaur when he came to life. The soldiers are fighting him now!" Stuart
pointed in the direction from which he'd come.

Men's distinct shouts reverberated throughout the camp, and the
scrape of metal rang out as a hundred swords were drawn.

Though he couldn't see it, the sounds alone made the thought
of combat real. Several voices raised in a cry against the Minotaur. For an instant,
he remembered being on the field with the crowd cheering for him. A battle was no
different than trying to score a touchdown—except the penalty was your life.

Vilaborg struggled to say something and hesitated. The soldier
looked down at the joystick in Stuart's right hand and frowned.

"Presage?" Vilaborg glanced at the older man, his forehead
scrunched.

A horrific screech thundered down at them again. Someone shouted.
Another soldier hollered so loudly that Max's shivers became goose pimples. Uneasiness
filled the air as they all gazed up the slope in the direction of the wild shrieking,
advancing ever closer.

Mr. Dempsey ended the taut silence. "Presage, what in the
world is that? I've never heard anything like it."

"Why, Stuart has told us. A barbaric, rabid Minotaur is
descending upon us. We need to be strong in the face of evil, my dear Kin. This
will be the first of many horrors we must conquer."

Shelby yelped. "Well, what are we supposed to do when this
Minotaur comes crashing down on us, Presage? We haven't been given any weapons."