Story Thieves Part 20

As she listened, Bethany carefully flipped through the books she'd brought and ripped out specific pages, stuffing each into her pocket.

"Open your eyes, boy," the Magister said. "Don't you see? Don't you see what they've done?"

"If what you say is true, then why would they do this?" the boy asked. "And where would they find the power, especially without magic?"

"I haven't yet learned that answer, but I will. And you shall stand by my side when I do. I have a power source, locked in the dungeon below. With that power, I can free all oppressed characters from every story ever written. And then, with their former entertainers united against them, we'll send this world's people into the stories they wrote for us. We'll be free to live on their world, as we should have been from the beginning!"

"But many would be hurt, maybe killed," the boy said. "How can you think that's-"

"Those who would control the fates of others deserve no less," the Magister said. "But if you need further proof as to these people's treachery, I offer you this."

The door flung open, and Bethany stumbled into the room.

"This girl," the Magister said, pointing at Bethany. "It was her power I used to bring you here. Cast a spell on her mind, my new apprentice. Force her to tell you the truth. The others come from other worlds, but she was born here. She will know. Make her tell you."

The boy, wearing a gray s.h.i.+rt and pants that looked like they came from the middle ages, gave Bethany a doubtful look. "I don't use my power like that." He frowned. "At least, I don't want to. Part of me wishes I did, but . . . but that part isn't in control."

The Magister smiled. "You can be whoever you want to be once they're gone, my friend. That is the beauty of freedom, and all it takes is seizing it!"

"He might be right," Bethany admitted, standing up. "I can't honestly say that . . . Wait, what's your name?"

"Merlin," the boy told her.

Bethany's eyes widened, and she lost her place for a second. Merlin? But she quickly pulled herself together and continued. "He could be telling you the truth, Merlin. Not about freeing all the characters from stories, or trapping people in books-that part is insane. But writers here do somehow see into your minds, see your thoughts and your worlds, see other time periods and histories." She shook her head. "Do they make them up? Are they just witnesses to a different reality? I don't know. I don't know that anyone knows."

"That can't be!" the Magister roared. "The writers must hold us in their sway! You believe the people of Quanterium would try to wipe out all of Magisteria if they weren't being controlled somehow?"

"I think that people do horrible things when they're frightened," Bethany said quietly. "And I don't just mean the people of Quanterium. Go back to your world, Magister. Leave this place in peace, and we can forget any of this ever happened. Literally. We'll use a forget spell, and you can go back to being a hero, a mentor, a teacher, whatever your world needs. Whatever Kiel needs."

"Kiel betrayed me," the Magister said.

"This isn't you," Bethany said. "Not the real you. You're someone that people here look up to. Someone they wish taught them, even though they don't even believe you exist. Think about that. Think of what that means, that kind of inspiration, that kind of wonder. How do you think they'd feel if they saw you now?"

The Magister narrowed his eyes. "Do not test me, girl of two worlds. I tried to give you a world of happiness, but you rejected it. I still need your power, and it's just as accessible if I leave you in my dungeon instead."

"Hear that, Merlin?" Bethany said. "That the side you want to be on?"

Merlin dropped his head into his hands. "Part of me . . . yes."

Bethany swallowed hard. Right. Merlin had some evil blood in him, if the stories were true. Which they were, if he was here. "Um, okay. Then listen to the other part. The part of you that you want to be, not the part of you you're afraid you are. Embrace that half." She forced a smile. "Embrace the fictional, Merlin."

"You would return to your book, living out their stories?" the Magister told Merlin. "You'd prefer that life to one where we live in freedom?"

Merlin stood up and looked the Magister right in the eye.

"There must be another way-" he started to say, then immediately disappeared.

"So be it then," the Magister said, then turned back to Bethany, his eyes furious. "You seem to be making a habit of turning my apprentices against me, girl. I have grown tired of this game. It's time to end it."

"What did you do with Jonathan Porterhouse?" she asked, eyeing him warily.

"I left him in a book, as I promised," the Magister said. "First he wrote you a new life story for me, and now he will spend the rest of his days seeing if he can write his own. He cannot be left to control my world with his writing anymore!"

"Which book? There are thousands downstairs!"

The Magister glared at her. "The t.i.tles were meaningless to me."

Bethany gritted her teeth. "He could die!"

"I . . . would hope not," the Magister said. "But if so, would my world not be the better for it? And what about your friend Owen? Don't you wish to know where he is?"

Bethany's eyes widened. "What did you do with him?"

"This was not my doing, I a.s.sure you," the Magister said, then held up a book that Bethany had seen the cover of earlier that day, in a poster as big as a wall. "Kiel Gnomenfoot and the Source of Magic," the Magister read. "An advance copy, I'm told. It seems your friend didn't want the story to go on without its main character." He glared at her. "Perhaps Jonathan Porterhouse neglected to mention that he murders Kiel at the end of this book? And now your friend Owen plays at being Kiel, following his story. This sort of thing cannot continue!"

"No," she whispered. "Give me that book."

The Magister snapped, and flames burst into his hand, setting the book ablaze. "There are more," he said calmly. "Down in the library, as well. Porterhouse had an entire box of them. But those will burn just as easily, my dear, if you continue to defy me." He wiped the remaining ashes from his hand and raised an eyebrow. "So what now, Bethany? You have no protectors, no magic on your side. You've left behind your happiness, the only thing you wanted, and for what? To have your say here?" He shook his head. "Perhaps there really is no escaping our stories. It is not too late to help me. Kiel might listen to you. Join me, and together we will end these authors' power once and for all!"

Bethany couldn't stop staring at the ashes of the Kiel Gnomenfoot book. Owen was trapped in there, and going to . . . die?

All of the fear, the worry, everything she'd felt the last day or two suddenly just disappeared. No more guilt or panic about books or changing their stories. Owen? The same Owen who'd looked at the Everlasting Gobstopper with so much excitement, who'd told her about the locating spell for her father? The Owen who loved Kiel Gnomenfoot so much that he'd messed up the entire series just to be a part of it?

"Protectors?" Bethany said softly. "Magic? You think I need those things to face you? A made-up character? Everything you were was in those books. Out here, you're nothing. A shadow. A fiction."

Her mother, her father, everything just faded away in front of an all-consuming anger. Be more fictional, Kiel had said.

"You should not speak to me that way," the Magister said, his voice low and cold.

"You talk a big game," Bethany said, glaring at him with pure hatred. "Let's see what you've got, Mr. Imaginary Magician."

His eyes widened, and both his hands rose. "So be it, then. The dungeon it shall be for you, and this time, there will be no happy ending to your story!"

"Only if you catch me," she whispered, holding up a page of a book that she'd taken from the library. "Come and get me, old man."

And with that, she dove in.

CHAPTER 38.

Owen opened his eyes to pain. Pain everywhere. He groaned, trying to figure out why he couldn't move most of his body. Everything was smoky, and the air just felt hot, way too hot.

"Charm?" he said, his voice croaking from the smoke.

And then he noticed why he couldn't move.

Charm lay on top of him, eerily still.

No. Oh please, no.

Most of her body had been blackened by the explosion, and she was missing her robotic arm and leg. "Charm?" Owen said, almost pleading, and gently tried to lift her off of himself. She weighed far more than she looked, and he could barely move her enough to slip out from under her.

All around them were the remains of popped plastic bubbles, what had to be some kind of protective crash mechanism. Somehow, Charm had saved him both from the crash and the explosion.

"Charm?" he whispered, gently touching her shoulder.

Her robotic eye opened slowly, but didn't focus on him. "Kiel?" she whispered.

"Yeah, it's me," Owen said softly. "You look . . . good."

She tried to smile, but only half her mouth seemed to work correctly. "My robotic parts . . . They usually send damage reports. I'm not even . . . getting those. I . . . I don't think I can move."

"You're going to be okay," he lied. "Seriously. You'll be fine. You just need to rest."

"I can't move," she said, and the light in her eye began to fade. "Kiel . . . you have to go. Go now. Get out of here."

"I can't just leave you here," he whispered.

"You need to," she said, her robotic eye fixed on him, finally, even as it grew dimmer. "The Science Soldiers will . . . be here any minute, if they're not . . . here already. They'll find you. . . . They'll capture you!"

Owen glanced around at the carnage from the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p crash and thought he made out more than a few robotic casings. "I think we have a few minutes."

"Go, Kiel," she said, and the light in her eyes began to flicker. "Take the keys. They're in my pocket. I got them . . . from the s.h.i.+p. Get to the vault. Stop Verity. Please."

He started to argue, but the light in her robotic eye went out as she fell unconscious, and he just nodded instead. "I will. I'll . . . I'll go. I'll take care of all of this. And I'll come back and find you, when I can. Okay? Don't worry about anything. I've got it."

He wiped his eyes, then grabbed the six keys from her and pushed himself to his feet, his entire body screaming in pain. The sounds of Science Soldiers' metal footsteps began to echo through the rubble, and he realized he really didn't have any time. There had to be a hiding spot around here . . . but what would hide him from the robots' scanners? He remembered that their scanners could penetrate anything other than metal, but there was nothing left of the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p big enough to hide him, and- He glanced down at the rubble and realized that maybe hiding wasn't the best idea. Maybe he needed a disguise, instead. And not one made from magic.

The first Science Soldier to arrive, a commander, clanked its way to the crash site and found Charm's unconscious body, as well as Owen wearing the outer sh.e.l.l of a beat-up Science Soldier like a costume, standing over Charm with a laser rifle held at the ready.

"REPORT, 4329918," the commander said.

"s.p.a.cEs.h.i.+P CRASH-LANDED, SIR," Owen said in his most robotic-sounding voice. "CRIMINAL CHARM MENTUM THE ONLY SURVIVOR."

"SURVIVORS HAVE BEEN ORDERED TO BE TAKEN TO THE PRESIDENTIAL PALACE FOR INSPECTION BY DR. VERITY," the commander said. As more soldiers made their way into the crash area, the commander gestured for them to pick up Charm and carry her away. Owen began to follow, but the commander stopped him.

"REMAIN IN SURVEILLANCE MODE AT CRASH SITE, 4329918," the Soldier said. "DR. VERITY ORDERED A THOROUGH REPORT. USE ALL AVAILABLE SCANNERS AND CHECK IN WHEN COMPLETE."

Owen started to protest, then realized that robots weren't exactly known for arguing. "SCANNERS DAMAGED WHEN THE s.p.a.cEs.h.i.+P CRASHED INTO MY UNIT, COMMANDER," he said, flinching under the Science Soldier helmet that he'd yanked circuitry out of in order to fit his head. "NEED REPAIRS BEFORE ANY FURTHER SURVEILLANCE CAN TAKE PLACE."

The commander paused, tilting his head as if considering this. Or scanning Owen. Uh-oh. Owen slowly, subtly readied his laser rifle, just in case. But the commander just nodded. "SEE TO REPAIRS AT THE PALACE, THEN RETURN FOR SCANNING." With that, the commander turned and marched away.

Well. That was easy. Robots might not argue, but they were pretty easy to lie to.

Owen fought the urge to sprint after the soldiers carrying Charm, and instead walked robotically after them toward the large troop transport that'd take them all back to the palace. He climbed in with the rest of the unit, each sitting frozen in their a.s.signed seat as the transport began to move. Charm had been set on a stretcher that floated in midair within the transport, so at least she wasn't getting hurt as the transport b.u.mped over the wreckage from the crash.

Soon the ride smoothed, and Owen noticed that they had hit the empty streets of Quanterium. He'd read about the city in the books, of course, but the sight of it almost took his breath away, though that could have just been his lungs still feeling bruised from the crash.

Blue electrical energy crackled everywhere within transparent walls and beneath gla.s.s bridges over streets, filling each building with power. The buildings floated off the ground at varying heights, with trees and gra.s.s planted in perfect measured squares all around them.

Everything, everywhere was perfect. Quanterium had no sickness. Every known disease had been eradicated centuries ago, according to the books. No one was hungry, as food was created by specialized machines from the CO2 they breathed out. And with the Nalwork as a distraction, who needed money?

All in all, Quanterium would have been a paradise, if not for the robotic armies roaming the streets and the tyrant who was about to destroy a planet full of magic-users.

As Owen watched, the buildings grew more and more elaborate, though he noticed that they were all basically the same design, just with more or fewer features. There wasn't much creativity here; everything had a similar look, as if the magic-users had taken all the imagination with them when they left Quanterium. Everything just felt so similar. Everything, that was, except for the Presidential Palace, which they now approached.

Carefully cultivated gardens surrounded the palace, kept in untouchable condition by a coating of plastic over all the plants, frozen in time at the peak of perfection. No animals or birds roamed these grounds, though, and no people sat on the benches that popped up every few feet.

Instead, Science Soldier units paraded up and down the gla.s.s pathway to the palace. As they drew closer, more and more soldiers appeared. When his troop transport finally ground to a halt, Owen looked out to find thousands of other transports on every side of him, each one filled with Science Soldiers. Some were gigantic, hundreds of feet tall, probably from a reality where everything was huge. Others floated along like b.u.mblebees. Here, there were humanoid-looking robots, and there, lizard-shaped ones.

The armies of an infinite multiverse, that Dr. Verity had gathered to wipe out Magisteria.

Owen nodded to himself, then stood up with the rest of the Science Soldiers.

For Charm's sake, for Bethany's sake, to make up for his own mistakes, it was time to finish this story already.

CHAPTER 39.

The Magister roared in anger at Bethany's disappearance, then leaped right into the page after her. He landed easily on a world with three moons and one burning green sun. All around him, people gave him looks as they went about their business, all wearing clothes so fine and weightless they could have been made of clouds.

"What is this place?" the Magister asked.

Then something hit him hard enough to send him plowing through a nearby building.

"This is Argon VI," Bethany said, standing over him with a hard look and her fists raised. "A world light-years from Earth."

The Magister, a bit surprised he wasn't hurt, started to murmur a spell, so Bethany picked up a hovering car and slammed it into him over and over. "You see," she said as she hit him, "Earth was about to explode . . . for some reason or another, I forget. A couple of scientists decided to save their baby daughter, Gwen, so they put her in a rocket and sent her here."

She picked the Magister up by his robes, swung him in a circle a few times, then launched him into the air.

He came down miles away in a desert, and Bethany landed just behind him. "You wouldn't know, but it's the reverse of something called Superman," she said. "Argon VI has less gravity than Earth, so it makes Earth people superstrong." Then she punched him into the sand up to his shoulders. "And the green sun apparently gives you the power to fly. I don't entirely get it, but that's EarthGirl for you."

The Magister stopped his struggling for a moment. "That would mean that we both share these powers, then?"