The Shaktra

  “She could be afraid we’ll fall into the hands of the bad guys and they’ll torture the truth out of us.”

  “That brings up another point. Who are the bad guys? First it was the elementals because they were trying to invade our world. But then, after she sent them back to their realm, she dropped hints that it was not their fault.” Steve added, “She used that word once, the ‘Shaktra,’ but then she never explained what it was.”

  “I don’t think she knows what it is,” Cindy said.

  “Then how does she know about it?”

  “She’s remembering parts of her life as a fairy. She’s told me that much.”

  “But she doesn’t give you any details?”

  “Not really,” Cindy said.

  “Has she told you anything about the Yanti?” Steve asked.

  “Hints. When she first found it on the mountaintop, she knew exactly what to do with it to send the elementals packing. Since then I think she’s been experimenting with it, but not getting very far. She did tell me that she had no idea where it came from. In fact, she gave me the impression that she didn’t even know where it came from when she was a fairy.”

  “That’s odd,” Steve said.

  Cindy studied Ali. “The poor girl, she really does have the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

  “What do you think about her going into the elemental kingdom alone?”

  “She won’t be alone. She’ll have Farble and Paddy with her.”

  Steve waved his hand. “They could turn against her in a heartbeat.”

  Cindy shook her head. “They love her, or at least they respect her. But I told you at the house how I felt. It’s one trip where I don’t think we can help her.”

  “I don’t like it,” Steve muttered.

  “You don’t like it because you feel guilty for not going. So do I. But she’s right, we would just slow her down.”

  “I disagree. Say she’s able to open the fourth door. What if she’s killed the second she gets over there? We wouldn’t even know. She would just be . . . gone.”

  “I don’t think Ali’s that easy to kill nowadays,” Cindy said.

  “She has power but she’s still human. If she gets shot in the heart with an arrow, or stabbed in the back with a knife, she’ll die, just like you and me.”

  “Don’t talk that way,” Cindy said.

  Steve shook his head. “I’m not ready to let her go off on her own.”

  “Do you think you can stop her?”

  The question shut him up. He went back to staring out the window, while Cindy returned to her magazine. The scenery was lovely—with great views of Pete’s Peak, its snow-covered summit brilliant in the summer sun—but the trip was nevertheless long and tedious. It seemed to Steve as if the bus stopped every time it saw a bench. He could not wait until he was sixteen and had a driver’s license.

  Ali finally sat up and waved for them to join her in the back. They were quick to oblige, and asked how she was feeling. Fine, she said, although her eyes looked tired.

  “I heard you two talking about me,” Ali said.

  “You were supposed to be sleeping,” Cindy said.

  “Did you hear what we said?” Steve asked.

  “You can doubt me, I don’t mind. Half of what I say must sound crazy.”

  “Half?” Cindy said.

  Ali smiled. It was such a simple thing: teeth, lips, and a mouth working together. But to Steve Ali’s grin was more magical than the Yanti and the entire elemental kingdom put together. Ali did not simply smile—she radiated.

  “I guess it’s pretty freaky to imagine another timeline,” Ali said.

  “How did we die in that . . . time?” Steve asked, not sure if he wanted to know. Ali lost her smile and stared at him.

  “Bravely,” she said.

  Steve felt a chill. “Well, if we die in this timeline, go back there and save us again. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Ali changed the subject. “When we get to Omega Overtures, I want to go in first—by myself.”

  That did not go over well.

  “The only reason we’re taking this stupid bus ride is to help you out,” Cindy said.

  “We’re not going to stand out in the parking lot,” Steve said.

  Ali raised her hand. “I just want to check out the scene, then you can join me.”

  “You’re worried the person who sent those e-mails is the Shaktra?” Cindy asked.

  Ali looked surprised, wary. “I never spoke to you about that.”

  “You spoke to Lord Vak about it, and I was there, remember?” Cindy said.

  “We know you’re worried about it, whatever it is,” Steve said. Ali was evasive. “I doubt it’s at Omega Overtures. I’m just being cautious.”

  “If the Shaktra is there, it’s odd it would use its name in an e-mail,” Steve said.

  The observation struck Ali. “It is odd,” she agreed.

  “What are you looking for at the company?” Cindy asked her.

  “Anything unusual. I plan to go in as a big fan of Omega Overlord, try to weasel my way in to see someone in publicity. To do that, I need you guys to tell me everything you know about the game.”

  “Do you have a fairy power that allows you to force your will on someone?” Steve asked.

  “That doesn’t sound like a power I would want,” she replied, not answering his question. “And it’s not necessary. I just need to get my foot in the door, that’s all. I’m pretty sure I’ll sense if something is wrong there.”

  For the next thirty minutes Ali drilled them about the game, and by the time they reached Toule, she probably could have played it and won. Steve was not sure if it was because of her recent change or not, but it seemed to him that Ali had developed a virtually perfect memory.

  The bus let them off downtown. For a city that had been leveled by an explosion, they saw no overt signs of calamity. Of course, that had been thirteen years ago, almost fourteen. Why, Steve thought, they had been busy being born right then.

  Yet there were signs, if one looked close. The buildings were mostly new. None had the flair of structures that had been hammered together at the turn of the last century. Also, the town had many trees, but none were that tall, or etched with the deep lines of a proud history. Toule was pretty, surrounded by thick forest, as was Breakwater, and it was considerably larger than their own hometown.

  Yet the city lacked a center; more, it seemed to lack soul. There was a main street, no town square, and the former looked as if it had been erected hastily, maybe to put a quick bandage on the agony the city had gone through when the waves of fire had swept its streets.

  However, on the north side of town, closest to the mountain and sheltered by the trees, was a modern structure that could only have been the home of a successful business. Omega Overtures headquarters was an awesome mosaic of glass cubes. It was as if each section had been fused together without regard to gravity, falling trees, or, for that matter, cost. Steve doubted there was an office with a lousy view in the whole building.

  Omega’s logo—fitted in ruby red on the side of the structure, in exotic contrast to the darkly tinted windows—was a bundle of three hypnotic wavy lines. He recognized the logo from the side of the game boxes.

  Ali stared at the building for a long time without speaking. Cindy and Steve could only watch and wait. Finally Ali lowered her gaze, put a hand to her head.

  “You okay?” Steve asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “Is Darth Vader in there or what?” Cindy asked.

  “There’s something weird . . .” Ali frowned. “Not what I expected.”

  “That’s helpful,” Steve muttered.

  Ali glanced at him. This time her smile was forced. It did not shine, it just made him more uneasy. He could not help feeling a pinch at the thought of her high up on the mountain at night, with only a leprechaun and a troll for company. Worse, he could not imagine having the courage to walk through a door—whatever its color??
?without any idea where it led. That was part of the reason he admired her. She reminded him of all his shortcomings, and desires, with the same look. When she spoke next, it was almost as if she read his mind.

  “You’re not my slave, you know,” she said. “You don’t have to do what I say.”

  “We’re afraid not to,” he said.

  Ali scanned the area, pointed. “If you want, you can hang out in that park until I return. I don’t think I’ll be long.”

  “I want ice cream,” Cindy said.

  “Get whatever you want.” Ali began to walk away. “Wish me luck.”

  “Always,” Steve whispered, although he did not think she heard him.

  CHAPTER

  6

  Ali had felt as if she was being watched when she had studied the building. The odd thing was, two weeks earlier, she had felt the identical sensation, as if the same pair of eyes had stared at her both times. Back then, in the middle of the night, she’d had a disturbing dream. She was standing in an icy chamber, with five glass coffins set on top of a row of low black boulders. The clear box on her left drew her attention, for a beautiful woman with long red hair lay sleeping in it. But as she approached, the case began to fill with bubbling red liquid. It might have been steaming blood, or worse, acid. As the red goo spread over the woman, she began to dissolve, like a wax doll in a boiling pot. In seconds there was nothing left but the sick liquid, with bits of hair and bone. It began to spill onto the floor and splash her legs, and she let out a scream. . . .

  And that’s when she had awakened, feeling a terrible sense of loss.

  Then she had heard a sound outside.

  Someone . . . a woman . . . whispering.

  Putting on her robe over her pajamas, she had climbed out of bed and went out on the front porch, where she had searched up and down the block.

  Only there had been no one there. The whispering had stopped.

  “Must have imagined it,” she muttered to herself.

  Yet she had felt as if she was being watched.

  Even when she had gone back inside, the feeling had persisted.

  Now she felt the same sensation, but it was lessening, as if whoever was watching her was slowly turning their gaze in another direction. Halfway to Omega’s headquarters, Ali lost the sense of being watched altogether.

  Inside the building’s lobby, she found a receptionist and a blind man. The latter sat on a sofa near the front door, holding a long white cane. He was close to thirty, with dark wavy hair and sunglasses so thick she could not catch a glimpse of his eyes. He was extremely thin, incredibly pale—so white he could have been born on the moon.

  The receptionist was on the phone, preoccupied, but the man turned his head in Ali’s direction as she came through the door. It was a curious sensation to feel his stare, and know that there was nothing behind it. But it did not remind her of the cold feeling of being watched she had experienced minutes ago. The man stared a few inches off to her left. It was obvious that he was completely blind.

  “Are you the messenger boy?” he asked.

  “No. I’m just. . . a girl.”

  “Oh.”

  She noticed his ID badge. “Do you work for Omega?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m a big fan of your games.”

  The man was interested. “Which game is your favorite?”

  “Overlord. My friends and I play it all the time.”

  The man gave her a gentle smile. “I’m so glad. I helped design it. If you’ll permit me to brag a little, I’ll go so far as to admit that I came up with the idea for it.”

  “Really? Are you a programmer or something?”

  “I can program computers, but technically I’m called a systems analyst. I oversee a group of fifty programmers. Most of us worked on Overlord together.” He added, “It took us three years to design that game.”

  “I’m not surprised. The game has great visuals and the plot is so complex.” She realized she was repeating Steve word for word. Stepping near the blind man, she said, “I’m doing a report for a summer school English class on your games. I came here to see if I could talk to someone who worked on Overlord. Would it be okay if I asked you a few questions?”

  “Sure. But when the messenger comes, I’ll have to take the package he’s bringing to a few of my people in the back. It’s promotional material we’re working on for a new game—the sequel to Overlord.” The blind man added, “You might want to mention that in your paper.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Armageddon.”

  Ali rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “Sounds wicked, I can’t wait. So it carries on the theme of the end of the world, and machines taking over, and all that?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that. As you know from playing Overlord, the machines alone don’t really take over. It’s the hybrid of them, and humans—the cyborgs—that gain ultimate control. But in Armageddon we take it a step further. We introduce a third element.”

  “What is it?” Ali asked.

  The man smiled again. His lips were thin, a little dry, and he had the whitest teeth. “That’s a secret, I’m sorry. My boss would have my head if I talked about it.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “Sheri Smith. She’s an amazing woman. She started this company only seven years ago and built it into an industry leader. If I was in your shoes, I’d try to interview her for your paper. She’s very quotable. Would you believe she’s younger than me?”

  “How old are you?” Ali asked.

  He chuckled. “How old do I look?”

  “Thirty.”

  He nodded. “Thirty-two. You?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “You sound older.”

  “I try,” Ali said.

  “What’s your name by the way?”

  “Lisa Morgan. Yours?”

  He held out his hand. “Mike Havor. Pleased to meet you, Lisa.”

  She shook his hand, he had a light grip. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Are you from around here?”

  “I’m from Bale.” That was twenty miles south of Toule.

  “I live here in town so I don’t have to drive to work.” He smiled at his own joke. “Actually, I’m able to walk to work. I live down the block.”

  “May I ask a blunt question?”

  He nodded. “You want to know how a blind person is able to work with a team of programmers designing a video game?”

  “I would imagine it would be hard.”

  “I wasn’t born blind. I lost my sight in an accident when I was young. So I know what stuff looks like, and I know what I want the games to look like. But I admit I need constant input on how the game is coming to life. I don’t rely on just one person. I listen to a dozen people, then form a mental image. Ms. Smith helps me the most. We work together closely. Maybe you can use that fact in your paper. You see, Ms. Smith doesn’t come from a computer background, but a literary one. She’s published several children’s books under various pen names.”

  Ali made a mental note to check out those books. “Isn’t it strange for someone to start a computer company and not be versed in computers?” she asked.

  “It’s not as strange as you would think. Programmers can be hired and told what to do. It’s vision that’s crucial, and Ms. Smith has that in spades. I told you I came up with the concept for Overlord, but she was the one to see its potential. Before we met, I tried shopping it all over the country and got nowhere. I owe her a lot.”

  “Is she in today?”

  “She’s in a series of meetings. I’ve been trying to talk to her myself all day. But if you hang around, you might get five minutes with her. I can’t promise you anything, but I can put in a word for you.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr. Havor.”

  “Mike, please.”

  “I notice you never call your boss Sheri.”

  He chuckled. “Well, she is the boss, and she is a li
ttle less informal than most of us around here. Not to say she’s unpleasant, you understand, she’s always very polite. But she hates to waste time. If you do get to meet with her, ask your questions quickly. That way you’ll get the most out of her.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Ali said.

  A minute later the messenger boy arrived with the package Mike was waiting for. Mike signed for it and started for the back, but he asked Ali if she wanted to have a look at the promotional materials and she said sure. So without really trying, she took one step deeper into the company.

  As they were walking down a long hallway—Mike expertly waving his cane in front of him—they passed a painting of a beautiful woman with long blond hair and green eyes. The name at the bottom of the painting read: SHERI SMITH. Mike was right, she looked younger than he did, not more than thirty, perhaps a lot less. And the woman’s green eyes were so bright, Ali felt as if she were staring into a mirror.

  Outside, in the park, Cindy licked a chocolate ice cream cone while Steve worked on a thick vanilla shake. The dessert—from a small shop on the main street—was better than any Steve had tasted before. Apparently they made their own ice cream fresh every morning. If there had been a similar shop in Breakwater, he thought, he would weigh two hundred pounds.

  Despite the fantastic sugar fix, the two of them felt frustrated. They wanted to help Ali save the world, and they knew they could not help her because the world was too big and they were too human. When it came right down to it, he thought, they were no better than cheerleaders. Steve expressed his thoughts aloud to Cindy.

  “True,” Cindy agreed. “There ain’t nothing a mere mortal can do to stop Lord Vak from bringing that freaky army back here again.”

  “How do you think he’s going to do it without the Yanti?” Steve asked.

  “I don’t know, but Ali sure thinks he can. And watching those two arguing on top of the mountain, I’d have to say that’s one elf king who’s used to getting his own way. I told you before, he could have taken the Yanti from Ali if he’d wanted to. Her magic was not working so good on him.”

  “I’ve never understood that. Why didn’t he take it?”