Original Souls (A World Apart #1) (31 page)

He laid flat on the ground and started making his way to the main aisle. After he turned the corner, around what used to be the women's section, he saw that the path down the main aisle was blocked by debris. The perfume stand was knocked on its side and the ceiling had caved right there. He looked around for another clear path. There was none. And he could hear the fire roaring and cracking louder with every passing second. He knew it was only a small matter of time before other parts of the ceiling started falling. Perhaps the one over his head? Then he'd be just as much a goner as the unconscious patron.

He knew what he had to do, but was reluctant to try it for the first time under these tense circumstances. But he had to. So, he employed his last resort. He hadn't used magik since he casted the Erratum spell. It was risky, considering the new way through which he would wield his power. No longer with his llave, but with the hand of fate.

He willed it to work. The flesh melted away as if the fire had caught it. But instead of leaving a void, it revealed a purplish-blue transparent glass, shaped as a hand. A sparkling shine, of which he couldn't deny the beauty. It glowed in the midst of the building smoke. Cris coughed. He knew that was the sign that his window for success was closing rapidly.

He placed the hand on the ground, and called out. "Porta!" Immediately, a portal of the same coloring as his glowing hand opened up in the floor. He pressed through his circumspect feelings. He insisted through his weary thoughts that another portal bring the man's body, lying on the other side of the fire barrier, over to him.

Sena. Hendrix told him the night before that it was his will that determined what fate would now do. He didn't know if his will would be strong enough. But before he could finish doubting himself, the unconscious man washed up next to him, like a drown victim. The man was literally wet too, but Cris figured it was sweat rather than plain old water coating the ma
n’
s skin and clothes. In fact, they could use a lot of water in La Ropa right this minute. He couldn't believe that no sprinkler system had kicked in. The things business owners do to cut corners and save money.

Cris felt confident now. The man was safe with him. The fire collapsed some more of the tile ceilings in the front, and that's when Geary started having his crew put it out. Cris could hear the chime of sirens calling from outside the store. This business would be salvaged, the fire wouldn't spread down Crix ave.

He figured that was his cue to exit. In style, of course. He easily opened up a new portal right beside himself. The portal was underneath the unconscious patron, he dropped through to infinity. Cris hoped it was more like the school, as opposed to real infinite space. He looked back before he almost dropped himself in the swirling vortex at his boot-clad feet. He was thinking about all the hard work and hours he put into shopping today. He couldn't just leave his bags behind, because he never wanted to shop for anything ever again. Not after all this.

He stood up tall in the middle of the blazing fire. Geary and his crew had let it rage for too long. Their efforts with fire extinguishers weren't cutting it. The real firefighting crew would have to take over to put this one out. Cris figured he had enough time, so he went to retrieve his purchases from One Stop Drop, and the carrier full of clothes he collected while in La Ropa. He found everything, nearly intact. Save a little ash, his items were in good shape.

The real fire crew entered the front of the store. Just having cut down the gate with some oversized scissors. "Is anyone back there? If you are, stay down, and away from the open flames. Just stay down!"

Cris ignored the firefighters warning and walked back over to his spiral portal. He dropped his One Stop Drop items in first. Then he turned to the carrier. He knew he hadn't actually paid for these things, but justified it with saving that girl and the unconscious man, even though h
e’
s the reason the store is being grill-charred by flames in the first place. He threw that thought out of his mind. He figured, if the owner couldn't even pay for the mandatory sprinkler system, then the store deserved to burn. He scooped up the clothes and tossed them in. After all, a couple of employees did take him hostage. Stealing a few ki
d’
s outfits would cost less than the lawsuit the owner had coming.

After he wrapped up his thoughts about becoming a thief, he stepped, without even the slightest trepidation, into the spiraling purplish-blue portal, and to another place. Hopefully that place would be the Aurora Boreal school. Or else he and that unconscious patron were replacing trouble, with HUGE trouble!

April 1, 1002 ~ Midday

Three students were listening to a very loud radio in their dorm in Concordia Nova. One of the three buildings that are connected to Olympia. Olympia being the main building where all the classes took place, and where the staff and Corinth all have their dorms on the twelfth and top floor.

They were dancing and jumping around like kids. Well, they were kids. Two girls and a boy. The boy decided to jump up on his bed, to the far left of the dorm, playing air guitar. His favorite song was playing and nothing could stop him from shining as bright as his favorite rock stars did on stage, night after night. The two girls watched and rocked out alongside him from the floo
r
— when suddenly, a man fell on top of the boy's bed from a dark purple glowing light on the ceiling.

The girls screamed as the boy toppled over, falling to the ground. All three screaming as the unconscious fellow lay there, unwittingly scaring the trio of nine-year-olds half to hell. Other children heard them screaming in the other dorms, and came running out into the halls.

The portal stayed open on the ceiling. Likewise, the children's mouths stretched wide and hung low. Not one of them stopped screaming at the top of their lungs. Not even to catch a quick breath of air. More miscellaneous items fell from nowhere onto this boy's bed. Some school supplies. Paperback notebooks, a thin touch screen tablet, pencils, and the whole nine. Then lots of clothes came tumbling down after that. A colorful pair of sneakers rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Nearly touching one of the girls' feet. She freaked! Jumping up from the floor running around the room screaming so loud now, that the unconscious man started to come to.

Yellow eyes shaking awake to the cracking sound of a little girl's cries. He lifted his head, while lying underneath a mound of clothing and school supplies. Just then, another unlucky man dropped in, using the first guy's body as a cushion. The weight of the second man falling onto the formerly unconscious fellow, sent him right back into a daze.

Criston, the man, and all of Corinth's school stuff made it safely to the school, but not so soundly. The kids in the room couldn't stop yelling for help. Some of the older kids outside had already ran for a teacher, by taking the Oeste sky-bridge over from the top floor of Concordia Nova to Olympia building.

"He
y…
he
y…
hey-y-y!" he shouted so loudly that it overpowered their cries for help. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I was just . . . just." He thought about his word selection carefully. He didn't want to alarm the three terrorized faces staring back him with wide eyes anymore than he already had. "I was just, dropping in," he said with finality. "And now I'm going to be leaving." He leaped off the bed and went for the door, but it opened from the other end first.

"What is the meaning of all this screaming I'm hearing about?" came the blistering storm of words out the mouth of a completely white-eyed ministrant. He burst into the dorm with the sense that he'd encountered silly child's play like this all day long. Blinded by his own intolerance for youth, he then saw Criston recoil and jump back onto the bed. The frustrated ministrant looked the suspicious man in the eye when he said, "sir, you picked the wrong dormitory to mess with," calm and concise was his tone.

His llave already rotating. He whispered softly, "Canem." Downward from the very center of the ceiling came dull lights pulling into a cyclone. The deep orange lights reached their apex, coalescing into hologram dogs. Four of them, that all simultaneously jumped at Criston, who was crouched on all fours atop the boy's bed, once they fully formed.

The children in the halls, and the three on the floor all gasped wildly. The man on the bed suddenly produced a glowing hand from amidst the stockpiled items, and not to mention the unconscious man beneath. He flagrantly waved the hand in front of the dogs, and they recoiled from their agitation now gone into remiss. Sen. Bernard was in awe as his Canem spell was neutralized with ease by this mysterious intruder. The shining hand began to glow so bright that everyone covered their eyes. The students in the dorm and halls alike. Even Sen. Bernard's all white eyes could not withstand the brilliance of the blaring Hand of Fate. The mysterious intruder then slammed his hand down on the bed, and everything disappeared in an instant! Including the bed! The only thing that remained, were the colorful sneakers that had fallen off during the initial chaos.

Everyone looked around stunned and confused. Where had he and the bed gone? Sen. Bernard bent over and whispered to his orange hounds in Maledictus. "Ir, Encontrar O Nosso Intruso." Go, find our intrude
r
… were his instruction to the hounds. They bounded through the door's archway, jumping through students bodies, like air passing through fan blades. The airy holographic hounds just passed through invisibly. They came out on the other end, never having truly interacted with the students at all. Still, the children screamed from the fear inspired by the vicious looking pack of wild orange dogs.

"Don't be afraid students," Bernard said flatly to them, while waving in the air the hand that held his llave. "Those hounds were sent to find our ghost man. They are your protectors, not your attackers." Some still shuddered as the hounds passed swiftly, but a large scale panic was averted. "Now, go back to your respective dorms peacefully. And make well sure you do i
t—
silentlyyy!" he dragged out the last word with a specific disdain for even the slightest bit of chatter. Looking around at individual faces to strike fear in their already frightened hearts. He turned back into the room and said, "you three, with me!" Pointing down at them, his face was all business.

His completely white eyes and hair made him stand out. At least in Hyperborean, where there weren't many Blancans. In comparison to the amount of people from other Worlds, Blancans were very few in numbers in the far North. In Blanco, Bernard blended in perfectly with his peers. A very serious people, and painfully intelligent. They all had very white features. All of them. And not just their eyes, but also the hair on their heads and bodies. It made them look older than they were, but also more distinguished. Most Blancans had tan skin. Unlike the other races, who come in all skin tones, their genealogy is largely focused down to specific traits, making them look alike in overall appearance. Though they could differ drastically in facial features. Most family members in Blanco don't even resemble one another if you get a good look at them side by side. Especially when it comes to the cut of their noses, jaw lines, head shapes, cheekbones etc.

Bernard was younger than he looked. Not yet forty years, but an approaching birthday would soon put him in that age group. Most despise the Blancans looks. Though Bernard had a certain handsome physics about him that didn't turn every woman from the other Worlds off. It was his attitude that did that. It sent them running away screaming curses every time. Sharp and concise features, in conjunction with a piercing and malevolent tongue. He was quite a pill to swallow for most. His only known admirer was Sena. Hendrix. They shared a rather uniquely cynical outlook on the Worlds at large.

Because of his fearsome nature, the three returning fourth-graders were reluctant to follow him. But he was the disciplinary for the twelfth floor of Concordia Nova dormitory. They'd either go with him straight away, or be punished, and still end up going with him anyway. They decided punishment wasn't an option, so they all got up and left the room with the ministrant.

Down the halls of the dorm building they went. Bernard was leading them back to his office. He intended on making an official report of what happened in their dorm. The fire torches against the wall blazed as normal. Though there was ample lighting from several windows, they never turned those torches off. Covered by lamp shades with different figures of animals and other mythical characters, they painted amusing shadows against the walls at nightfall. They were real fire torches, but nonetheless controlled by electricity. Just like an oven, using electricity to spark the fire of the pilot, these torches could be turned off and on with the flip of a switch.