Resonance: Harmonic Magic, #3

By P.E. Padilla

The master revealed…the end in sight.

 

Ayim Rasaad is dead, the threat apparently ended. After all the battles, all the death, all the heartache, Sam and the other heroes of Gythe thought they had finally won.

 

They were wrong.

 

Somehow, Rasaad's master pilfered the two artifacts of power his apprentice had found. Only one remains hidden. When the three are united, magical might as had not been known for ages will be at the user's fingertips.

 

Sam Sharp intends to be the one to obtain the last object, stopping his mysterious enemy once and for all.

 

All he needs to do is find the missing item that has been hidden for millennia, destroy the army trying to crush everything good in the world, and defeat a villain who may or may not be the most renowned Zouyim master who ever lived.

 

Get the final book in the Harmonic Magic trilogy and experience the struggle, the danger, the liberation of Gythe…or its destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oliver-Heber Books
• Release date: Feb 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215289396

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Zouyim master Chetra Dal had narrowly escaped death. His fellow monks had not. He was not in the clear yet, though. The creature, some sort of guardian, had found them searching where they did not belong. It hunted him still. Its heavy footfalls shook the stone floor of the passageway, and it sniffed for him with a wheezy inrush of air. Dal was not sure he would survive being found.

The master monk stopped and drew in a deep breath. He let it out slowly, soundlessly, allowing it to leave his body on its own, not forcing an exhalation. As the breath exited, his body relaxed and his mind cleared. He could not match his hunter in physical combat. His only chance was to outthink the beast. Another deep breath in and another peaceful out-breath, and he was completely calm.

Dal’s eyes swept his surroundings. The crumbling stone corridor smelled of earth as only a place below ground could. He was not sure of his exact location because of the confusion of the battle and his frantic escape after the monster had killed his three brothers. The creature had destroyed them in so short a time. It should have been impossible for anything to defeat three Zouyim monks so expediently. But he had witnessed it.

The Zouyim were masters of combat, experts at a martial system that had been developed over hundreds of years. More, though, they were adept at using the rohw, the pervasive vibrational energy that suffused all life and surrounded everything at all times. The monks’ rohw attacks seemed to have bounced off the creature, having no effect at all. How could that be? Nothing should be able to withstand the universal energy like that. The corner of his mind that was always calm was puzzled, and more than a little disturbed at the thought.

The stomping grew closer. The grunts of the monster’s breathing rang clearly now. Dal would have to formulate a way to defeat his adversary soon, or he would die as quickly as his brothers.

The corridor held nothing that could be used as a weapon. As the Zouy began running again, looking back over his shoulder, he cut a turn too closely and struck the edge of the wall hard with his shoulder. Pain shot through his arm as if he had been struck by lightning. So hard was the collision that part of a stone block rattled and moved a few inches, bringing a shower of stone dust down on top of him. Though he suppressed a cough, the sound of the collision itself captured his enemy’s attention. It grunted, and the thump of its footfalls grew more rapid.

The monk sprinted, not bothering to look behind him any longer, only looking ahead. He took three more turns down random corridors before he stopped short. He was in some kind of chamber. It was twenty feet on either side, square, and had one opening. The one he had just come through. There was no escape, with stone blocks surrounding him and the monster quickly coming upon him. He could not see it yet, but he heard it getting closer. It seemed as if his time in this life was done.

Deriding himself for thinking so despairingly, the Zouyim master snapped his mind back into focus. He went through all his available options and decided on the one that would give him the best chance of surviving. Without another thought, he ran at top speed.

Back toward the approaching creature.

He had barely made it out of the chamber when he caught sight of the greenish-brown scaled beast. Its massive bulk filled the corridor. Close to seven feet tall and at least five feet wide, it moved with a fluidity that belied its squat form. Its feet were thick and wedge-shaped, coming to a point at the toe. Dal had seen what that toe had done to Chilk Triss just moments before. The creature had kicked the Zouy and the toe had acted like an ax, splitting the monk almost completely in two. He had died instantly.

The tree trunk legs of the beast pumped, moving the barrel-shaped body toward Dal. Its arms, each carrying a multi-bladed weapon, readied themselves to strike when it saw the remaining Zouyim monk. A wicked grin split the fang-filled mouth that took up more than half the bestial face. Yellow, gimlet eyes locked onto Dal and glittered.

Chetra Dal dove past the creature, spinning in mid-air and barely dodging the blows from the weapons aimed at him. He rolled smoothly to his feet and was running again before his adversary had even turned. Its bellows pursued him down the corridor.

Dal knew he had only moments to live unless he executed his plan perfectly. Glancing quickly toward the beast, he darted through a short corridor and under an archway he had seen moments before. Here was where he would make his stand.

His senses told him to duck and he did so, feeling the wind of one of the monster’s weapons pass just above his head. The blades, arranged in a pattern much like the boughs on a pine tree along the main shaft of the weapon, whistled as it cut the air. The Zouyim master knew he couldn’t dodge the next blow. He would have to act now.

Dal separated himself from the material world, sinking deep into his core. He focused on the center of energy just below his navel and drew up all the power he could muster, both from himself and from his surroundings. With a sharp exhalation, he channeled all the rohw through his hands and struck at the archway with both palms, one over the other, hoping he had acted in time.

The creature’s other weapon failed to strike Chetra Dal. As soon as the Zouy struck the archway, the massive blocks making the top of the opening began to fall, one of them deflecting the blow that would have ended his life. The world seemed silent and calm for a moment, and then the roar of falling stone surrounded him and the monk dove clear, desperate to escape being trapped himself.

He landed roughly on his side, pain shooting up through his torso and making his vision narrow at the sides, but then he regained his perception. Peering through the dust filling the air, he let out a sigh of relief. The creature was pinned by tons of rock, only parts of one leg, a shoulder, and its head showing up through the rubble. It wriggled, trying to free its arms, but it was unable to get loose. Its grunts seemed as much from frustration as from anger.

Chetra Dal knew what he must do. His fellow monks had tried to pierce the creature’s hide with their swords, to no avail. Its skin was too thick to be cut. There was but one thing to be done. He hoped it would be enough. He knew that eventually the beast would free itself, and then nothing would stop it from killing him.

Dal walked slowly to where his adversary was trapped, eyes scanning the scene for any sign it could actually move to attack. He looked into the creature’s eyes.

I am not sure if you understand my language or not, Chetra Dal said in Ancient Kasmali, a language that had not been spoken in hundreds, if not thousands, of years. By the cessation of its movements and the narrowing of its eyes, it seemed that the monster did understand.

I know you are performing your task, your duty. You are to be commended for your commitment. However, I cannot allow you to kill me. I have work still to do in this life. Please know that I respect your task and honor you. The monk saluted the beast, right fist cradled inside the left hand, both held out in front of his chest as he bowed.

The Zouyim master breathed deeply for a moment, generating as much energy as he could. His body warmed and his hands began to glow. The creature’s eyes widened at first, and then it relaxed. It let out a huff of air and its sad eyes dropped to the cavern floor. Failure, the Zouyim master thought, was something felt by all intelligent creatures.

Dal made a few motions with his hands, concentrating his energy even further. Then, with lightning speed, he struck the top of the beast’s head with the open palm of his right hand. The monster’s eyes became unfocused, but still held the light of life. Three more strikes to the same spot, alternating the right and the left hands, did more damage. Finally, the last strike broke through and the monster’s head caved in, its eyes glazed over, and it ceased moving altogether.

It was done. The monk regretted causing the creature pain, but using his energy to the full could still not kill it in one blow. He had done the best he could.

Chetra Dal bowed weakly to the corpse once more and looked around. It would take quite a bit of exploring to regain the chamber in which they had first found the creature, but he would persevere for as long as it took. The guardian was obviously left to protect something of great value. Now that it had been defeated, the monk would see what it was.

Three hours later, Master Chetra Dal found his way back to the small chamber in which the bodies of his fellow monks still rested. Sadness radiated through his body like a winter chill. If only they had thought more quickly, perhaps one or more of his friends would still be alive. There was a lesson there. He would meditate upon it when he returned to the temple, and he would make sure to note it in one of his books of wisdom for the temple disciples. Wisdom was hard-gained, and the honorable man shared it with whomever would accept it.

Master Dal turned to the end of the chamber, where they had first spotted the guardian. On a simple shelf carved into the stone wall itself, he found a box. He ran his fingers over it, the carvings smooth under his touch. He was not sure what they depicted, whether words or simple designs. It had once been wood but had fossilized. Only three hand spans wide and perhaps two high, it seemed a small thing for the death it had caused. Grasping the cover, the monk opened the lid. As he raised it, there was a hiss of air escaping.

Within were five scrolls rolled upon wooden cylinders, which also felt as if they had turned to stone. The scrolls were exquisitely made from some natural fiber, but it seemed to be woven of many fine threads, tight and perfect and in the same condition as the day they went into the box.

The Zouy began to skim the scrolls to get a general sense of what secrets they revealed. They were written in Ancient Kasmali, which made him recall that the guardian had understood him when he spoke that dead language. He was only part-way down the first scroll when his eyes widened and his heart began to beat faster. The scrolls explained an energy, related to the rohw but superior.

He had never heard of this energy, called awkum, before. He would have to study these scrolls carefully. Perhaps he would be responsible for expanding the Zouyim Order’s understanding of universal energy. He would study them in secret, master the knowledge written there, and then he would share it. Until then, he would not tell anyone about what he had found. He would, most of all, have to make sure it was safe for others. He was a master, with the experience and wisdom to investigate things such as this. If it was safe to use, then others would benefit from what he had learned, but not until then.

Bowing to his fallen brothers, Chetra Dal put the scrolls into his pack and navigated the twisting corridors to the outside world. He would have much to study when he got back home to the Zouyim temple. Anxious to begin, he forced his weary feet to speed him home.

CHAPTER 1

The bhorgabir assassin Vahi scrutinized Chetra Dal, who had just returned from Iboghan. The old man held in his hands the two artifacts his apprentice Ayim Rasaad had been hunting.

Chetra Dal spoke. I am afraid Ayim is no more. She was defeated by those who were hunting her.

Dal’s face was wrinkled, but his thick body seemed much younger. He was old, in his late eighties, but he still moved with the grace of someone decades younger. Head swiveling toward Vahi, yellow eyes locking onto the assassin, he held the bell and drum artifacts in his withered, vein-covered hands.

I retrieved the artifacts Azgo and Orum, so all is not lost, the old man said. We have but to obtain the last artifact, Bruqil, and our success will be complete.

Vahi’s large dark eyes met Dal’s yellow. How did it come about that Rasaad was lost but the artifacts were not? The acrid odor of torch smoke lingered on the older man’s clothing. That and the sharp tang of blood, along with a dank, wet odor—a scent that made Vahi think of deep tunnels—assaulted the bhor’s acute sense of smell.

Chetra Dal gave Vahi an account of what happened. He told it without inflection or flair, but as a simple interchange of information. Still, Vahi could picture the scene as the story unfolded. To his keen mind, it was as vivid as if he were there himself.

They were in Iboghan, in a cavern far below the surface of the land. The chamber in which they fought was littered with stalagmites, and the torch light flickered, causing the scene to have a surreal quality, almost as if not fully solid. While two of the small party opposing Ayim Rasaad held her soldiers at bay in the narrow opening to the cavern, the woman herself fought against Rindu Zose, the Zouyim monk; Nalia Wroun, the Sapsyr; and Sam Sharp, a man from another world who was reported to be the Hero of Gythe. Meanwhile, a small furry creature, a hapaki, stood guard over the two artifacts he had pilfered from Rasaad before she could react.

Rasaad, once a Zouyim monk and briefly one of the Arzbedim, was more now, able to meld her physical fighting abilities with her use of the rohw, the vibrational power all Zouyim used. In addition, she used the awkum Dal had taught her to use, a power in many ways the opposite of the rohw and in many ways more powerful. Her opponents were no match for her.

Rindu Zose had tried to use his rohw to push Rasaad, but his impotent energy attacks merely slid off the shields she had constructed. His defenses were not so potent, however, and Dal’s apprentice lifted Rindu with her power and hurled him across the cavern. Nalia Wroun and Sam Sharp had no more success in hurling their useless energy at Rasaad.

Chetra Dal, cloaked in shadows of his awkum, watched his apprentice. If the woman could defeat the enemies, then so be it. If not, he would step in and aid her. At the appropriate moment. In the meantime, he would watch and see what unfolded. It seemed to him that Rasaad would handily defeat them. They could not contend with the power that was unfamiliar to her opponents.

Dal saw Ayim Rasaad gather the power within herself for a final, deadly assault. Soon now, soon. He watched with interest as the three arrayed against her.

From the side of his vision, he saw a glow. Sam was gathering his own power within himself. Not awkum, but rohw. He had strength, this one, but still not enough to break Rasaad’s shields. He would die along with his two friends.

The ex-Zouyim master tilted his head and looked more carefully. What was Sam doing? He was not gathering his power for an attack, neither for a defense. He reached out, trying to connect to…

As Chetra Dal watched, Sam’s intention became clear. But Dal was too late. Sam’s energy encompassed Rindu and then Nalia, and then the power from the other two slid perfectly into synchronization with his. They became one harmonious well of rohw, shining like the sun. Dal realized at that point that Rasaad was lost. More, he was not sure even he could withstand the onslaught of such force.

He watched in horror as Sam directed the rohw to batter Rasaad’s shields. No, not batter. His power swept her impervious barrier away as a leaf in a strong wind. But it could not harm her. So perfectly balanced were the two opposing forces that they nullified each other. It would remain so, unless Sam chanced upon a revelation about how to use his power. He seemed to learn quickly, figuring things out intuitively. Any second he might determine the correct path.

No, it was too risky for Chetra Dal to engage in a battle with so many unknown elements. The wiser course would be to retreat and regroup, fighting when the odds were surer. Though the loss of his apprentice was unfortunate, the important thing was to get the artifacts.

As he distracted the hapaki with a small use of power, causing a stalactite to fall near it, Dal swept up the artifacts and moved further into the shadows at the edge of the chamber. While he prepared to use Azgo, the bell, to teleport away, he witnessed Nalia Wroun battle physically with Ayim Rasaad as the other two combatants focused on keeping Rasaad’s shields down. Just before Dal winked out of the chamber and appeared in his own fortress, the Sapsyr defeated Rasaad, separating her head from her body.

Chetra Dal finished his account and dipped his head. "Perhaps we could have defeated the three together, but it was far from certain. I alone am left to wield the awkum and the rohw and could not chance both of us being killed. It was unfortunate, but necessary, I think."

I believe you are correct, Vahi said. I have observed these and have battled with other Zouyim. They can be very resourceful, I think. We will have another chance, and now we have two of the three artifacts.

Yes, yes. Dal sounded like he was convincing himself. But now we must plan. We must get to the third and final artifact, Bruqil the tuning fork, before our adversaries do. Once we have all three, we can destroy this new government at will, fortress or no. Summon Tingai for me. We have planning to do, and he will have a part.

Vahi bowed, his long, gangly body bending almost double, and then turned on his heels and left the room. There would be killing soon, and he would be in the middle of it. As he should be. It was, after all, what his people were created for.

CHAPTER 2

S o, what do we do now? Sam Sharp asked no one in particular. He paced the library that Dr. Walt had taken as his base of operations. Rindu Zose the Zouyim master and Nalia Wroun, last of the Sapsyra Shin Elah sat at one of the long tables. Dr. Walt was there, too, of course. He rarely left the room.

I am at a loss as well, Rindu answered. "When we obtained the drum artifact Orum before Ayim Rasaad, I believed we had succeeded in halting her plans to use them to take control of all Gythe and set herself up as its ultimate ruler. After we defeated her and then found both rohw artifacts missing, all that we knew changed."

Rindu was as solid as ever, despite his hesitation. He reminded Sam of a huge stone that could weather all storms without so much as shifting. His expressionless face, slightly tilting dark eyes flanking a wide, flat nose, didn’t betray the uncertainty Sam felt.

It is still a mystery to me how the artifacts disappeared, Nalia Wroun said. How was someone able to snatch them from beneath our very feet? Her beautiful face took on a cast of irritation as her delicate nose crinkled in distaste.

Sam shook his head, disgusted. We had them, both of them. All we had to do was to keep track of the items. I should have been paying more attention.

No, Sam, Skitter sent to his mind. It was my fault. I had them in my possession, but in watching the battle between you and Ayim Rasaad, I let my attention shift. They were right next to me, and I never saw the thief who took them.

Sam had almost forgotten that Skitter was in the room, too. He bent to look under the table and saw the hapaki’s stocky, brown-furred body curled up on the floor. His wise little face, nose pointed and whiskered like a cross between a raccoon and a lemur, turned toward the human. Sam and Skitter could communicate mind-to-mind through a mixture of feelings, the normal way hapaki communicated, and words, Sam’s human method for expressing himself.

I think we’re all to blame, really, Sam amended, sending along feelings of sadness and disappointment. We thought Rasaad was the only enemy to worry about. We had no idea there was another one.

What is done is done, Rindu said, cutting to the heart of the matter. The milk should not cry over the cracked eggs.

Three human heads and one hapaki swiveled to look at the Zouy. I think you may have mixed two sayings up, Sam said to him. I think what you’re looking for is ‘you shouldn’t cry over spilled milk.’

Ah, yes. Of course. That makes much more sense. Sam had given the Zouyim monk a gift of several books of wisdom. Rindu was fond of quoting wisdom from old masters, so Sam brought him the books from Telani, also called Earth, the world from which Sam came. Rindu was trying to learn English so he could translate the books into Kasmali, the language spoken on Gythe, but his grasp of the language was tenuous. It made for some confusing, and often humorous, phrases.

The point is, Dr. Walt said in his British accent, there is but one artifact left, and we need to find it first. If our adversary obtains it and uses the three together, we would not be able to withstand his power. The doctor shook his grizzled head, white mane flying as if in a windstorm. He pushed his glasses further up onto his nose.

That’s the other thing, Sam said. We’re not even sure who or what we’re fighting against.

According to Lahim, we do know the name of the one who took the two artifacts, Dr. Walt pointed out.

Lahim Chode was a seer, a man with the ability to remote view events, as he explained it. His glimpses of places and times were sometimes helpful, sometimes confusing, and sometimes downright frustrating. He said he had obtained information about their foe, though Sam wasn’t sure yet how reliable the information was. He didn’t doubt that Chode had talent and saw things, but he doubted the interpretations at times.

Chetra Dal, Sam said. As he did so, he looked to Rindu. The Zouy had reacted strangely when he heard the name from Lahim Chode just a few hours before. He and the other Zouyim master Torim Jet had said they knew the person. Rindu’s face was normally all but unreadable. There was emotion there now—his eyes round, nostrils flaring, mouth slightly parted. You knew Chetra Dal, Master Rindu?

Rindu’s eyes pointed toward the stone wall of the library but looked as if they were focused on something outside the room, hundreds of yards away. He was silent for a moment.

Turning his eyes toward Sam and focusing them, he spoke. "Chetra Dal was a great Zouyim master. He was instrumental to my training in my younger days at the temple, but not just mine. He influenced everyone who met him. He had an aura of peace and wisdom about him that even those not sensitive to the rohw felt.

"The brothers tried on more than one occasion to make him Grandmaster of the Zouyim. He always refused, stating that others were better suited for the position. Still, the Grandmasters rarely made an important decision without consulting Master Dal. He was the wisest and most powerful man I have ever known.

"He it was who taught me what it means to be a Zouy, and he it was who showed me how to walk the path, the wireh. My calligraphy brushes and supplies were Master Dal’s, and he taught me everything I know about the characters of Syray and the art of writing them to come into harmony with the rohw."

Rindu’s expression drooped, becoming sadder than Sam had ever seen it. When I was but fifteen years old, Master Dal went on a dangerous mission. He never returned. Word of his death reached the temple, and we mourned his passing for several weeks. We could not believe he was gone. The Zouyim Order lost much that day.

The others were quiet, waiting to see if Rindu would continue.

After a moment, he shook his head as if to clear the memories. I find it impossible to believe he is responsible for any evil. That he lives is possible because I could believe that even death could not defeat my master, but to work against us, against all Gythe? This I cannot believe. Perhaps Lahim Chode saw what he has told us, but there must be a misunderstanding in what he observed. Master Chetra Dal could not be the power behind the wickedness we have seen.

Wood crackled in the fireplace. The others looked at each other in silence, none wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Dr. Walt cleared his throat.

I am sure there’s a logical explanation for it, Rindu. Maybe we should focus on the artifact itself, and this other matter will resolve itself. No matter who it is we are fighting against, one thing is clear. He is trying to gather the last of the artifacts so the three can be used together to destroy the government we are working so hard to create. If we prevent him from using the three together, we will succeed, whoever he is.

It is so, Rindu said, regaining his normal stoic, expressionless demeanor.

I don’t know about the rest of you, Sam said, but I’m tired from all the running and battles and other things that have happened today. I think I’m going to try to get some sleep and tackle this problem tomorrow. Maybe after sleep, things will be clearer.

That sounds like the right idea, Sam, Dr. Walt said. Perhaps we can get together after breakfast and talk more about what we have to do. Time is of the essence, but a few hours of sleep will give us a new perspective.

Everyone agreed and headed off to their own chambers to sleep. In the morning, thought Sam, we can start fresh. Maybe things will seem simpler. They couldn’t get any more complex. Of that he was sure.

CHAPTER 3

The next four days were interminable. Sam was on edge the entire time, wanting to do something, but not knowing what he could do. Without information about the last artifact’s location, he and the others had no clear course.

Emerius was as tense as his bowstring, stalking around and snapping at any who talked to him. Any except Ix. The hunter and the assassin seemed to have become friends.

Sam didn’t spend much time with either of them, though. He spent most of his day helping Dr. Walt, looking through the libraries for information about Bruqil. He squeezed in lessons with Rindu and some sparring with Nalia, but barely. He was thankful he could. Without those outlets to his pent-up energy, he would have gone mad.

There was an insistent sound trying to crack the shell of Sam’s thoughts.

I say, Sam, did you hear me? Sam? Dr. Walt said.

Oh. What? I’m sorry Dr. Walt, I was just going over some things in my mind. What did you say?

It’s quite all right, my boy. I understand. I said that Lahim is here. He says he has had a viewing.

Sam’s head snapped up. Lahim Chode had come into the library and was leaning on his walking stick. The man really did look healthier. Aside from his limp, which Sam was sure would disappear completely in time, he was the picture of health. With his face fleshed out and his hair cut and neatly combed, he hardly looked like the crazed seer he appeared to be when Sam first met him.

Hi, Lahim, Sam said, waving at the man. How are you? You are looking fit as a fiddle these days.

The seer looked at Sam quizzically.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t a saying in Gythe.

Thank you, he said with the slightest hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. I just wanted to tell you—he motioned to Dr. Walt, Torim Jet, and Rindu—and the others, that I have had a viewing. I’m not sure how much it will help, though.

That is wonderful, Lahim Chode, Rindu said. Please, sit here while you tell us. He took a small stack of books off the cushioned chair beside him.

Chode took the seat while whispering his gratitude. "It is a partial vision, mind you, something that makes no sense to me yet, but I am hoping it will become clear later on. I have been trying to find the last artifact, the tuning fork Bruqil, but with remote viewing you cannot consciously focus on something to see it. You have to do it in a…roundabout way. I have to convince myself I am not looking for something, while still allowing the deeper part of my mind know that I am in fact looking for it. It’s a difficult thing. In any case, I think I have seen the hiding place of the artifact."

Sam couldn’t contain himself. That’s great, Lahim. How can you say it won’t be helpful? That’s exactly what we’ve been looking for.

The seer’s downcast eyes made Sam realize that the information probably wasn’t exactly what he had been wishing for.

"I saw a doorway. It was large, maybe twice as high and twice as wide as the double doors to this library. It was made of stone, but it was also not of stone. It blended into the surrounding rock, but as it opened, it glimmered as if lit from within. I caught glimpses of snow surrounding it, and a crystal clear lake that was perfectly still just to the side of it.

Then, I saw through the door to a tunnel that seemed to have been bored from the rock of the mountain, cut with such precision that I didn’t see any chisel marks at all. My vision skipped then to a chamber located further into the tunnel. I felt danger but did not see it, and then I was in the room, standing before a pedestal, which held the tuning fork in a depression perfectly fitted to it. There was light all around it, as if sunlight poured through a hole somewhere to fall upon the artifact, but I saw no hole in the rock. That was all. My vision ended there.

Sam understood now the seer’s caution about the information. It really didn’t tell them anything useful.

All those gathered in the room were silent for a long moment.

Finally, Dr. Walt spoke up. Thank you, Lahim. As you say, the information may not help us right now, but put together with other information we find, it may be the key to determining the location we are looking for. The scholar was still scribbling on a piece of paper in front of him, no doubt his notes about the vision.

I’m sorry I couldn’t help more, Lahim Chode said. I will keep trying to find more information. It is frustrating at times, this power of mine.

Sam put his hand on the seer’s shoulder. I’m sure the information will be very helpful once we’re able to tie all the clues together. Thank you. Will you stay for a few minutes and have something to eat, maybe chat with us?

Chode smiled at Sam. Yes, I think that would be nice. I can spare a few moments before going back and trying again.

After Lahim Chode and the two Zouyim left, Sam sat heavily onto one of the chairs. This is driving me crazy, he said to Dr. Walt. We are just sitting around while Chetra Dal is heading toward the last artifact. I’m sure he already knows where it is. He doesn’t seem to be the type that would initiate a series of actions unless he had planned and obtained all the information he needed from the start.

I understand, Sam. I can’t help but feel like it is my failure. I’ve spent my life searching for knowledge, and now the one piece of information that could save this world eludes me as if all my research skills amount to nothing.

The two sat silently for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, staring at the tables in front of them until Dr. Walt spoke.

I just wish we could read the data files from those machines you found in the library at Roswell. I mean Kawkibon.

Sam’s eyes lit up. That’s right. Those things are like computers. Maybe if we figured out how to make them work, we could get more information. They don’t deteriorate like books do, so I bet there’s a lot stored that we haven’t seen yet. Why don’t we give it a try?

Dr. Walt had no better idea, so the two of them went to where Sam had teleported the entire library. He had found the collection of records in a buried research facility near where Roswell, New Mexico was in Telani. It was ironic, Sam thought, that the location would be significant in both worlds. The Old Kasmali name here in Gythe, Kawkibon, meant star rock, or meteorite.

Using his rohw abilities, Sam had teleported the entire library to a huge room in the fortress. Dr. Walt had searched many of the books and files, all in pristine condition because the whole research facility had been sealed tight, but hadn’t found the information they needed.

Just inside the doorway, Sam stepped up to the closest desk. A flat screen, much like a computer monitor, projected upward from the desktop, and a cube measuring ten inches or so square with a circular hole on the top sat beside it. Sam stared at it, wondering what to do to make it turn on.

They had done this before, staring at the ancient machines, trying to figure out how to use them. They didn’t even have any visible power cords. What’s more, the data—or so they believed—was stored in little solid cylinders. The data objects fit perfectly into holes in the computers themselves, but putting them in didn’t cause the machines to go on. Sam was perplexed. He sat down on the chair in front of the desk.

So, Sam said, these are probably some kind of computers.

Agreed, Dr. Walt said.

The computers we know need a few things. Power, for starters, but also a display, which— he pointed to the screen coming up out of the desk —I think this is. Then, there’s an input device like a mouse or keyboard.

Unless it’s voice activated, Dr. Walt said. In that case, we would need only power and connections to the monitor.

Unless the monitor connects wirelessly, Sam added.

Is such a thing possible?

Of course, Sam said. Oh, I forgot, you’ve been in Gythe for a long time. Wireless connections for computers are common now on Telani, though I haven’t seen wireless monitors.

Dr. Walt scratched his head Right. Just power then.

Look at this plate set into the surface of the desk, Sam said, running his finger over a slick plate about half the size of a normal keyboard. There’s a light layer of dust over everything that has accumulated since I moved the library here to the fortress, but none of it is on the plate. It’s like it repels dust.

My word, Dr. Walt said, readjusting the glasses on his nose. You’re right. Fascinating.

Look at the monitor, Sam continued. It’s thinner than any monitor I’ve ever seen. It looks like it should be bending under its own weight, only as thick as maybe twenty sheets of paper, but it’s strong enough that I can’t bend or budge it. He ran his finger over the top edge of the monitor. Dust is on the top of it, but none is on the screen itself.

That material looks the same as the plate on the desk. Is it some sort of polymer?

I think so, Sam said. It’s certainly not stone, ceramic, metal, or wood. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s very slippery.

Hmm, yes, Dr. Walt said as he ran his finger over the monitor first, and then the desk plate.

Power, Sam said, tapping his forehead with his index finger. There are no cords, no place to plug one in, nothing. I don’t hear or sense any kind of whining or vibration, either.

Dr. Walt stared at the box. If they truly are computers, they would also need some type of processing unit, a brain. And internal memory, possibly in addition to external storage.

I think it’s pretty clear all the little cylinders on the shelves are storage units, Sam said. "They fit exactly into the holes on the top of the computer boxes. As for the other things, those would be inside the box. Except there doesn’t appear to be a