“This is the right place.” Terrin assured his companions as he checked the glowing numbers in the corner of his vision against the numbers on the parchment. Rowan looked at him dubiously.
“Are ya sure? ’Cause this doesn’t look like ah war base.”
He couldn’t help but agree. The clearing before them looked exactly like…a field. The grass swayed in the wind, and a butterfly danced through the weeds. Terrin was about to step forward and investigate further, but something odd caught his eye. A line of dead insects and the carcass of a rodent stretched across the path before them. His eyebrows drew together, and he glanced up. The tree branches stopped along the same invisible line. The edges of the leaves were withered and brown.
“It must be underground or somethin’. Let’s go look for ah trap door,” Plague said, taking a step forward.
“Stop! Everyone, stand back!” Terrin yelled. He extended his arms and pushed everyone away from the small meadow.
“What’s wrong, Terrin?” Tristen asked.
Terrin picked up a stone and handed it to Rowan.
“See that butterfly? I bet you can’t hit it from here.” He pointed to the insect carelessly fluttering from one wildflower to another.
“No one can hit something that small from this distance,” Tristen scoffed.
Tristen saying it was impossible solidified Rowan’s resolve to accept the bet. He pulled back his arm and hurled the rock in the butterfly’s direction. To everyone’s surprise—except Terrin’s—the rock bounced off the invisible wall with a sizzle and a few sparks. The dwarfs jumped. The image of the field rippled before stabilizing and returning to its peaceful mirage.
“It’s a wall?” Tristen asked as he cautiously took a step toward the serene scene.
“My mother wrote some notes about getting through Anchor’s ‘barriers.’ I’m guessing this is what she meant,” Terrin said with a glance at the scribbles etched across the page. “Granis nifũ,”[i]
A noise resembling a happy hum reverberated in their ears, and the outline of a hand appeared atop the tranquil meadow facsimile before them. Terrin glanced at the map again, with the futile hope there were further instructions.
“Are ya supposed ta touch the hand?” Rowan asked.
Terrin sighed deeply. He could feel the others’ gazes boring into his back expectantly. He closed his eyes and fought panic.
It’ll be fine. The Guardians wouldn’t install something that would harm them when they tried to enter the base.
He tentatively reached forward and pressed his palm to the outline. Circles appeared under his fingertips, and a string of Guardian text appeared on the surface of the wall. The circles turned green, and his four-digit number seen in the location command appeared beside his hand.
“Bon nic tik renn?” a female voice demanded.
After a few seconds, Terrin’s nanites translated. It was asking him what language he spoke.
Why ask what language in only one language?
He assumed the easy answer was nanites automatically translated the Guardians’ language, so anyone who could pass initial scans had to have nanites.
“Incarian.”
“Welcome, 6572. You have no recorded name. Your father was Zavier Govanchic, and your mother is number 6201. Please record name.”
“Terrin Orit'c. Could you please let me in?” Terrin asked awkwardly.
“Unidentified natives are within scanning range. Please identify if you wish to inter.”
“They are my guests. Open the door.”
There was a brief pause before rays of light shot out of the wall and scanned every inch of the four pirates. A beeping noise sounded at the end of each scan, and a blue box appeared for everyone. The computer checked its results before green checks appeared beside Snore’s, Plague’s, and Rowan’s boxes, along with their weights, heights, and genders. Numbers appeared under Tristen’s box with more detailed information.
“Scans complete. Number 5836 identified. Three natives identified. Terrin Orit’c, you are responsible for the natives’ conduct within the compound. Any infractions they commit will be reported to your superiors, and you and 5836 will be dealt with accordingly. Do you understand these terms?”
Terrin smirked. This thing is still wired for war. I’d like to see it try to report me to my superiors. I believe they’re all on Yamoi.
“I accept the terms.”
“Access granted.”
The data floating in front of Terrin vanished, and for a second, he was looking at grassland again. Then, a section of the scene before them dissolved, creating an entrance to the compound.
“It looks like ah hole in tha world!” Rowan exclaimed.
“Why did it have a number for me?” Tristen asked.
Terrin murmured the scan command under his breath. Sure enough, Tristen glowed dimly.
“You have magic in your blood, although it’s an old lineage,” he explained before turning back to the opening. He poked his hand through the door, then pulled it back. It really did look unnatural, like a portal to another world. He turned around and shrugged. “Let’s go.”
As soon as he stepped through, the lush forest morphed into a cold metal room. If he had to describe it in one word, he’d call it square. They were standing in a square room, and a glass enclosure the size of a closet rested against the far wall. Square lockers lined the walls, and a square table sat in the corner of the long room. Terrin did a double take when he saw the ‘table.’ It was hovering. Boxy chairs lined a metal counter, and they were also levitating. Cube lights illuminated the room with cold light. There were three cubes sticking out of the counter in front of each chair, and evenly spaced rectangular poles protruded between each set. Tristen poked one of the cubes, and it glowed blue. Tristen jumped back in surprise, and a screen of light spread across the poles.
“Awesome!” Rowan exclaimed.
Before Terrin could stop him, Rowan reached for the nearest protruding button. Everyone was expecting it to start glowing too, but nothing happened. The cube stayed the same dull gray as all the other inactive ones. Rowan poked a few others, but his attempts had no effect.
“Are they broken?” he asked.
Tristen stepped forward and tested one. The instant his fingers brushed the surface, a vibrant green light engulfed the cube and another screen appeared. He touched the adjacent ones, and they both lit up and brought their corresponding screens to life.
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“They only interact with people who have nani—Magic. None of the technology in here will respond to you like it will to me and Tristen,” Terrin informed them.
Tristen started poking random cubes, while Rowan, Snore, and Plague tried to touch the screens, only for their hands to pass through the displays.
“Stop touching everything,” Terrin demanded. “We have no idea what any of this stuff does, so leave it alone. We’re looking for the transporter so we can get to Lur Alava and save Elurra. Remember?”
The pirates muttered apologies as he directed them toward the glass room in the corner. He assumed it was a transportation device because it was the only thing that felt out of place. Terrin touched the glass surface, and white strings of light outlined a door and various buttons.
“Whoa,” Snore exclaimed.
Terrin pressed a glowing button beside the doors, and they silently slid apart. The group quietly filed into the glass room, too awestruck to say anything. Inside were two buttons. One had a dim up arrow, and the other had a glowing down arrow. Terrin pressed the down arrow, and the door slid shut. With a small jolt, the glass box descended. The pirates all reached out to grab onto something and ended up grabbing each other. They watched in fascination as the floor slid past and became the ceiling. The lights flickered on, and the dwarfs oohed in unison. A large array of weapons lined the far wall. Swords, knives, whips, and other unidentifiable items hung on pegs in organized rows. More lockers were in the corners, and various tables were organized in straight rows across the floor like soldiers standing in rank. There were two obvious points of interest.
The first was a large, raised, square platform in the center of the room. Glowing blue panels made it stand out from the rest of the floor. A large, square section of the ceiling protruded downward. The surface facing the ground matched the panels on the floor. The second was the right wall. The entire surface was covered in shifting data and various images. Charts, diagrams, pictures, and text flashed across it at lightning speed. There was a single cube in front of the screen, and it was floating like the furniture. The doors to the glass room opened, and the pirates stepped out in a daze.
“What do we do now?” Plague asked with a sniffle.
“Tristen, go over to that wall and fill our sacks with weapons. If you say ‘hichi’ they should get smaller. Make sure you grab that thing.” Terrin pointed to a huge weapon near the end of the wall that looked like the Guardians’ version of a cannon. “Rowan, Plague, and Snore can go with you and help fill bags.”
The pirates ambled toward the weapons wall, and Terrin glanced at the raised dais.
I’m guessing that’s the teleporter, but I have no idea how to work it. Do we stand on it and use the standard transportation command, or do I have to do something with the interface?
He had no idea how the Macro Analytical Global Interface Computer even worked. If he wasn’t careful, they could end up anywhere in Incari by accident. He decided to first try using the interface next to the wall with the shifting data. The glowing cube floated in front of him tauntingly. As soon as he touched it, he became one with the computer. His knowledge downloaded into the computer’s memory banks. The words “Kutsal Stone” flashed on the screen with an image of Elurra’s bracelet.
A beam flashed out and scanned him. Images of his skeletal structure, a map of his eye, and detailed data on the bracelet around his wrist appeared on the screen. Images of Lira, Raeya, Tristen, Elurra, Nitiri, and anyone else in his memory with Prath heritage paired with numbers and partial information from their files. The entire transfer happened within seconds of touching the cube. Terrin couldn’t pull himself away. It finally released him after what felt like an eternity. He stumbled backward, gasping. He bumped into one of the chairs, making the pirates glance up from their work. The image of the bracelet remained on the screen, the word “terrant” flashing.
“Terrin? Are you alright?” Tristen called.
Terrin turned toward them just in time to see the force field go up. Tristen’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, and he took a step forward, only to run into the invisible wall. His confusion turned to surprise, and he pounded his fists against the barrier. The other dwarfs tried to call to him, but no sound passed through.
“Good, now we can converse without disturbances,” a familiar voice said. “You are a treasure trove of data, Terrin. I am pleased you decided to come and visit me. It has been 906.7 years since anyone has entered my domain.”
Terrin jumped and turned to find the last person on Incari he expected to see. Elurra was standing a foot away. Her golden hair fell across her shoulders in waves, and her blue eyes gleamed with intelligence.
“S-Snow?”
He blinked a few times, but she didn’t disappear. Something was clearly amiss, though. She looked too flawless, like a projection from his imagination. She smiled, turning Terrin’s knees to jelly.
“You are the closest to a pureblood Prath since the one called Iara perished. Aside from you, your sibling, and Elurra Isálte, no other individuals on this planet possess recent Prath blood. You brought me the missing piece. I have been seeking the metal to annul the Kutsal Stone’s effects, and now I have everything I need.”
Terrin rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“You’re the computer, right?”
She beamed and nodded.
“You may call me Anchor. Magic is acceptable, but that is more of a role I share with my brothers and sisters. We have much to discuss. You have a mission to complete, although you do not know it yet.”
“I don’t?” He asked slowly.
“Your reality is gradually unraveling due to frequent contact with annil, or ‘the rifts’ as you call them. The frequent earthquakes are early signals of the end of your world. A portion of the deaths blamed on the Cythraul after Nitiri’s exile 25.8 years ago were caused by the void. The exposure to annil has increased exponentially, and—”
Terrin gestured for her to pause. “Please explain what annil is, and how it will somehow cause the end of the world?”
Anchor cocked her head to the side thoughtfully.
“Your understanding of reality is limited, so let me use an analogy. Imagine Incari and Yamoi are glass bowls containing fluid. The liquid represents all life.” She held up her hands, and bowls materialized. “Annil is the space between them. Incari is in a pocket dimension, so—”
“Losing me again,” he interjected.
“Travel between the two worlds is impossible by traditional means, but the rifts are bridges between them that penetrate the outside of the bowl. If the bridges are small, traversing is possible, and the damage left behind can be repaired. However, if there are too many bridges, or they are too big…”
She trailed off as her bowls sprang leaks and liquid spilled down her arms. The cracks in the bowls grew until they both shattered and dissolved into nothingness. Terrin gulped.
“I have lost 542 cybugs to annil rifts in the last Yamoian year—43.1 years by the Incarian calendar. Approximately 659 native biological creatures have been consumed over the same timeframe. Forty-nine of those creatures were humanoid. You have seen evidence of these disappearances yourself. Doom circles are remains from the void openings. According to my data, if the one you call Nitiri opens a larger rift, it may do irreversible damage. Tectonic activity will increase, and the void will absorb this planet.”
Terrin remembered all the mysterious damage he and Elurra had discovered in the woods back when searching for herbs. In Tipet, he had experienced one of the earth trembles. It had felt like the world was collapsing around him.
“How much time would it take for annil to take our world if Nitiri succeeds?” he asked.
“The majority of my models indicate ten to fifteen Incarian years. However, the most catastrophic indicate seven or less.”
Terrin’s jaw dropped.
“The world’s going to end in a decade?”
“Correct.”
“Why are you telling me this now? Why did you choose this form to speak with me?”
Anchor smiled. It was the exact expression Elurra used when she knew something but didn’t want to tell him what it was.
“I need your help,” Anchor said. “From my analysis of future timelines leaking through annil, one vital point is approaching, and it connects to you. The only hope of sealing the rifts requires your help.”
“Isn’t there a way you can stop Nitiri? You are Magic. You can do anything, can’t you?”
He was thirteen years old. There was no way he was the key to saving Incari when a supercomputer surrounded him.
“As a Macro Analytical Global Interface Computer, I am programmed to assist the Prath in every way possible. Thus, I cannot harm anyone with nanites. The most I can do is refuse to let Nitiri access my database. However, I am also programmed to close the rifts, and I have done everything in my power to stop the events in motion. That required getting you involved. We are responsible for putting your mission into action to counter Nitiri’s objectives.”
“We?”
“We, the Prath bunkers, are one. We may be in separate locations, but we are linked. Magic is the title you give us, but I am one of them, and they are me. We share one purpose and one central core.”
Terrin’s eyes widened as he put the pieces together.
“You’ve been scanning the time streams and collecting information. You’re the one responsible for Snow’s visions, aren’t you? You showed Snow her parents’ deaths to warn her and Lira’s past to guide us. It was you all along,” he realized, his eyes widening as he understood the full picture.
“Correct; we guided you. We directed the spider controlling Elurra to your home, and I showed Elurra a recollection of the past to lead you to Garthu Vore. We sent the leviathan to return you to your destined path. Few creatures can communicate with us without Prath decent, but the Emuiri can due to their natural telepathic abilities. I stopped the Cythraul from crossing the border into Amora so you could reach safety. Even now, we are supplying Elurra the knowledge she needs to arrange the final confrontation with her aunt. We have been supporting you all along.”
Terrin’s head was spinning. He had never truly believed the Guardians were gods, but the ethereal woman before him felt almost godlike when he contemplated how she’d guided the last few months of his life with an invisible hand.
“Why do you need me?”
Anchor studied him carefully, as if she was trying to calculate his response.
“Your task is simple. To save your world, you must give your life.”