The Silver Sphere (5 page)

"Why, we're sworn to protect her with our lives, and take
her to meet the rest of the Kin and Lord Achernar."

"So your mission involves others? Other children?"

"Children? I guess on Earth they're considered children,
but the Kin are fierce adversaries on Azimuth."

"What are these 'Kin' you speak of, Barrick?"

Sculptor stepped forward. "We have to take you to Achernar,
Mr. Dempsey. We can discuss as we ride. Malefic's soldiers are combing the woods,
and we need to move out. Our first priority is finding Shelby. She's mincemeat if
Malefic finds her before we do." Sculptor's tone had gone from playful to serious.
His expression had changed, too. He rubbed his temples and his brow contorted.

"Well, I don't think finding her will be much of a problem
at this point." Mr. Dempsey walked in Shelby's direction. He paused and glanced
around, rubbing the back of his neck, then shouted up the path. "Hey, Shelby,
you can come down now."

"I'm right here," she blurted, stepping from behind
the tree. A few pine needles stuck to her hair, and she picked them out as she edged
toward him. She was careful of the underbrush.

The glare of the campfire illuminated her arrival.

Mr. Dempsey gaped. "Shelby, you
are
older. I thought
it was just the light! And your clothes...."

She stared down and gasped. Similar garb to Sculptor and Barrick
replaced her old attire. Now she wore brown leather pants and a matching shirt.
She expected such fabric to be stiff, but the outfit fit like a second skin. Around
her waist was a boiled ox-hide belt with studs and a gold buckle.

"I... I'm t-taller," she stuttered.

She then inspected Mr. Dempsey. In the dark, it had been hard
to tell, but now she viewed him clearly. The lines under his eyes and around his
mouth had gone. "Mr. Dempsey, you're younger!" Despite his transformation,
he still wore the same khaki pants and sweater vest from Earth.

Mr. Dempsey studied himself and then placed his hands closer
to the fire. "I do feel better than I have in years. Remarkable."

"Well, thank the stars and all our mothers," Sculptor
said, sounding relieved. "Something good! Now I can go back to Meracuse with
pride and not have to report to Achernar that we lost a Kin. Not to mention this
Tuskarian brute! He's so hard to work with!"

Mr. Dempsey began, "Shelby—"

"I listened to everything. This is crazy."

"I know. I can't explain it—or believe what happened."

She turned to Sculptor and Barrick. "Lord Achernar sent
you to retrieve me?"

"Yes, milady. Captain Lazzo Barrick of the second brigade,
third division of the alliance of Meridia. I am also your designated interceptor.
Nevertheless... at your service." He bowed.

"I've been stuck with this raving brute from Tuska before,
madam," Sculptor said. "So no need to fret. For a fortnight, I have traveled
with this savage, and I'm accustomed to his eccentricities. Please, forgive him
his lack of manners. I'm Sculptor Luten. Charmed to meet you." He swirled his
arm in a flowery bow, then straightened again and studied the dark trees. "Since
the introductions have been made, we must be off. Malefic is roaming through these
parts, and it is important we return to our battalion."

"Malefic?" asked Mr. Dempsey.

"We'll have plenty of time to discuss everything, sir, but
questions will need to be answered on the road. For now, we, my merry group, are
off." Sculptor spun on his heels with a flourish of his cape.

Shelby and Mr. Dempsey eyed the splendid steed Barrick brought
before them. The Clydesdale had a shiny, chocolate-colored coat with a honey-blonde
mane. A feathering of long, cream-colored hair gracing the back of its legs flapped
as it trotted over. The horse snorted.

"This is Lenore," Barrick said, and fed her a sugar
cube. "She's very well trained, so don't fret if you've never ridden before.
We have only one additional mount, as we didn't anticipate Mr. Dempsey's arrival.
Both of you can share her, if you like. She's a sturdy girl."

Mounting a horse turned out to be more difficult than Shelby
had imagined. Though she had grown, the Clydesdale still towered over her. She managed
to put her left foot in the stirrup, but couldn't quite pull herself over. Barrick
offered his hand, and she used it as a step to mount. Once in the saddle, Shelby
fought retreating to the ground, uncomfortable with the way Lenore swayed beneath
her.

"Use the reins to direct her. Just the slightest tug will
tell her which way to go. She'll follow us without any direction, though."
Barrick smiled up at her.

She nodded. "Thanks."

Mr. Dempsey mounted behind her with Barrick's help. He seemed
more at home on the enormous horse than she.

Sculptor put out the fire by emptying a bucket over the flames
and kicking dirt onto the ashes. Once the pit was smoking white, he said, "We
should go. Malefic's men may soon find our camp."

Barrick and Sculptor mounted their steeds with the elegance of
practice. With a soft boot to the flanks, their horses were off at a steady pace.
Shelby thought she should kick Lenore, too, but the mare started without the slightest
nudge. Not used to the rocking of being on horseback, she clutched the reins to
keep from falling.

A quick motion caught her eye. Shelby glanced down at a bizarre,
bright green squirrel scurrying by, and a shiver ran up her spine.

She was glad Mr. Dempsey was with her. This place was certainly
not home.

How terrifying,
thought Riley as she fidgeted with the
hem of her leather skirt. Campfires guttered nearby, and a canvas tent perched at
her back. Mulch, dusty horses, metal, and burnt food scented the air while swords
and axes clanged, sounding just like the instant message that had popped on her
computer a few hours prior.

Three others huddled beside her, a girl and two boys. Riley managed
to coerce the fellows to give their names—Stuart and Max—but the girl refused to
speak. She was pale, with long sandy hair resting on her skinny frame—the type of
person Riley tried to befriend back home, but never succeeded in doing.

"Where do you think we are?" asked Max.

Riley's gaze slid to him. With a bold jaw and short brown hair,
he reminded her of a boy she had a crush on at school.

Stuart lifted and lowered one shoulder. "England. Or a Renaissance
Fair, maybe."

Riley shook her head. "No, we're not on Earth, I'm sure
of it. Look at how we changed."

The noises and odors, though familiar, unnerved her, almost like
something she experienced in a dream once. At the age of five, Riley had suffered
a nightmare about a man, pale with wiry red hair, which still haunted her. He'd
smelled just like this place.

Max opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut as a figure,
garbed in silver armor and navy enamel, approached with an air of gazing sympathy.
He stood tall with a calm face, his long dark hair peppered with gray. A blue cape
fluttered from his shoulders, secured by enormous medallions with lion heads on
them, and a sword hung belted at his hip. Despite her uneasiness, Riley spied kindness
in his green eyes.

"Hello, I am Presage, a mentor here in the country of Meridia."

Riley examined him, her brow puckering, while Stuart gazed off
to the side, distracted by another discussion a campfire away.

All around them, the clamor of the camp persisted as warriors
used whetstones to sharpen their weapons, horses whickered and neighed, pots clanged,
and the aroma of cooking food roamed the air.

Presage set his gaze on one of the boys in the group. "Max
Tuttle, correct?"

Max's athletic build tensed and he locked eyes with Presage,
fire blazing in his pupils.

Riley bit her lip and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear
.
I hope he doesn't try to hurt this Presage guy. He seems pleasant enough.

Presage continued, "Riley Upchurch?"

She jumped. "Yes," she said, her voice even and guarded
as her bright blonde mane tussled around her face. The band she used to tie her
locks back had broken on her ride to the camp.

"Emily Lawson?"

"Yes," Emily replied, shyly staring down at her tea,
her lengthy caramel hair concealing her features. She refused to meet Presage's
gaze, and had her knees pulled to her chest.

Emily Lawson.
The name sounded familiar, but Riley couldn't
place it. The edges of her lips tugged into a frown.

Presage grimaced before continuing. "Stuart Lesser?"

"Depends on what you want," said Stuart at once, as
he maintained his stare. His transformed clothing and long dark hair whipped in
the breeze.

Riley flinched at the attempted slight. The boy seemed less friendly
by the moment and his attitude nagged at her. No one talked that way around her—she
didn't allow them. Not because she forced people to be nice, but rather because
she tended to bring out others' good nature.

I'll have to get these guys in order. We might be stranded
somewhere new, but I refuse to let them mope!

Presage bobbed his head. "Thank you all for answering our
plea for help. I understand this may be a bit overwhelming, considering you were
taken from your home through a portal to Azimuth. The interceptors, I'm sure, explained
a little about what has transpired."

Another man, named Cumber, one of the pair who had found Riley,
placed a stool close to the campfire. He had the look of a large, thick dwarf with
a crimson and grey beard that grew down to his scabbard. Presage eased down and
accepted a cup of steaming brew from him. The sweet, tangy aroma drifted into the
air, while Riley glanced at her own empty teacup. Judging by his smile, Presage
enjoyed a satisfying gulp before continuing.

"You are on the planet Azimuth in the country of Meridia,
and we've called for your assistance. Recently, Meridia's governing body, the Aulic
Assembly, disappeared. Each of you was born with a psychic link to one of the six
members on the Assembly. As you passed through the mobile portal, you inherited
the abilities of your links on the Assembly." Presage sipped his tea as he
eyed each of the Kin.

When his warm stare landed on her, Riley smoothed her skirt.

Max rubbed his knees. "I don't understand how we can help."

"Forgive my candid explanations, but there is little time.
An ancient evil, Biskara, has returned to our world. We believe he is responsible
for the Assembly's disappearance. Biskara wages war through his mortal sons, and
we believe an individual named Malefic Cacoethes has emerged and raised a powerful
army with Biskara's aid. On your planet, some of the larger wars and catastrophes
had Biskara's support as well. You would know him on Earth as Satan."

Biskara.
Malefic.
The face from her nightmare resurfaced,
and then vanished. Riley shifted and her stomach churned. Their names sounded awful.

"How do you know about Earth?" She brushed a strand
of loose hair from her brow and repressed a shiver. A gust whipped through and the
chill worsened; even the crackle of campfires couldn't stay the thickening fog.

Presage gazed at her with deadpan green eyes, and sipped his
tea while holding the cup with both hands. "My dear, we all originated from
Earth."

They peered up at him, squirming as they sat. Even Stuart, who
had stopped observing other soldiers and seemed focused on the conversation, fussed.

Presage's answer hadn't satisfied Riley, but she didn't press.

Cumber plodded over to the old officer, crouched down, and whispered
into his ear. He was a soldier of middle age, garbed in wool garments instead of
armor. A sword hung from his boiled leather belt.

"Alas, we must saddle-up and move from this location. Sitting
in one place too long is not safe. We are off to the capital of Meridia: Meracuse."

Presage rose as several soldiers hurried around the camp and
packed their belongings. Tents were broken down and stored, food wrapped tidy, fires
stamped out, and horses loaded. Everyone rushed about, save the Kin.

Riley clustered with the others, trying to stay out of the way
as warriors scurried around them.

Cumber walked up to them with satchel in hand. "You must
be hungry. This here is chud, which lasts a long time when traveling and offers
many nutrients. It's made from the roots of druids, and it tastes pretty good to
boot." He offered the chud.

Max accepted a piece and twirled it in his hand before taking
a bite. "Mmm. Reminds me of beef jerky."

Nervous, yet intrigued, Riley nibbled. It was peppery like jerky,
but stringy too, and held an aftertaste similar to oats and cashews.

Presage barked orders, directing traffic around the camp as wagons
piled up with barrels of fresh water and supplies.

Soon, the Kin were on horseback around Presage, surrounded by
several soldiers. A long train of warriors rode before and behind them, and the
sound of hooves on hard earth thundered.