The Four Kings Read online

  “Keep moving your feet,” he gently told her, “Walk opposite to the direction of the ball.” His words were still being broadcast to millions of viewers.

  Of course, Amanda thought. Duh.

  But, from where she was, she saw it’d be difficult to jump from ball to ball, in the process navigating dozens of random rotational forces, all independent of one another. Actually, exceedingly difficult. Ahead of her, the field ground on, as whirring sounds clicked everywhere. She wondered if anyone would ever be able to make it to the far corner. Several close-ups of Amanda’s terrified face dominated the screens all over.

  “I recommend that you carefully scan the balls right next to you,” Regi advised her. “If they keep rotating away from you, it’s best to make the jump. If they rotate against you, it’d be very hard to complete the jump successfully.”

  Amanda gulped. “I have to jump?”

  Regi smiled his charming grin. “Well, how are you going to get across?”

  She nodded, still petrified. “What happens if I fall? Do I get crushed?” She stared ahead at the mind-numbing churning of the balls, all spinning robotically. Stare at them long enough, Amanda thought, and you’d be hypnotized. Just like staring into huge metallic rolls in a newspaper print plant.

  “No,” Regi assured her, “All our games have built-in safety features. No one ever gets hurt from a game… except maybe for strained or twisted muscles. If you fall in between the balls, they simply will stop, and you’ll instantly reappear on top of the last ball where you were standing.”

  Whew, Amanda thought. “I don’t want to do this.”

  She kept moving her feet away from the edge, her mind paralyzed. It was like swimming against the river’s current away from a waterfall, yet staying static in position.

  “You’ll be fine,” Regi said, still holding her hand. Then he disappeared.

  “Regi!” Amanda yelled, nearly freaking out. She fell backwards, but still remained on the top of the ball. In a sitting position, she was now rapidly heading toward a fall-off position, toward the shiny surface of the next ball, which rotated in an opposite direction. Terrified, she suddenly regained her senses, and using her hands and feet, scrambled backwards on all fours, eventually standing up shakily. Just moments before she was about to slip and fall off the edge of the ball, she swivelled, and ran up back toward the top.

  Oh my God, oh my God.

  The cameras decisively recorded her every facial tic, her dishevelled hair, and her panic attacks.

  Amanda, forcing herself to think, glanced at the three balls directly next to her. In her corner position, there were only three balls available to jump to. Number one, perpendicular to her on her left, number two, diagonally opposite her, and number three, perpendicular to her on her right. However, number two was much further apart, since it did not directly touch the ball where she was standing. Could she even jump that far? She doubted it.

  Number one, on her left, was rotating toward her. Not good. If she jumped there, she’d be fighting its punishing direction, and probably fall. Number three, to her left, was spinning sideways to her right – which should be okay. A neutral direction, as far as she was concerned.

  Ball number three it was then.

  Remember to over-compensate, by tilting to the right when landing.

  Amanda took a deep breath. Turning around, she stopped walking and allowed herself to be lowered down. One… two… three… this was it! She leaped. Having absolutely no experience in this game, she stumbled and fell when she landed on the other ball. She landed on her backside, and spun herself quickly around to face, feet first, her impending doom. Then, she started sliding down rapidly to the relentless grind of the two spheres, just barely touching each other. Her heart rate accelerated and she felt as though she might hyperventilate from her pure panic.

  Am I going to die?

  Suddenly, as if delivered safely from purgatory, she materialized right beside Indie, safe.

  Indie smiled as she placed her hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Not bad,” she said, delighted. “For a Mortal. We didn’t think you’d last more than a few seconds.”

  Amanda experienced an overwhelming rush of emotion, fighting back the hot tears building behind her eyes.

  Indie lifted her hand off Amanda’s shoulder. “Regi,” she called, “back to your position.”

  Amanda was grateful that soon the cameras would be facing away from her fragile state. While she didn’t know Indie well, Amanda craved more physical acknowledgment of her horrendous experience – a hug, or a lingering touch from anyone, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Everyone was now watching Regi.

  Amanda finally broke off her thoughts and gazed at him.

  Showing far more dexterity and cunning than Amanda had displayed, he jumped off the corner ball into the one that Amanda had selected previously. Nearly hugging the surface of the target ball with his low center of gravity, Reg quickly climbed to the top and scanned the newly adjoining balls for the best path ahead. Only taking a few seconds to plan ahead each time, Regi jumped, dived, ran, scrambled, and maneuvered his way through the maze, ultimately reaching the opposite diagonal corner ball in about five minutes. He had fallen off three times; each time, the balls all halted their grinding movements at once, and allowed Regi to materialize atop the immediate preceding ball. Beaming, Regi raised his arms in victory as applause swept throughout the congregation. Jokingly, he pretended to flex his arms, and hammed it up for the cameras.

  “He’s pretty good, huh?” Justica had walked up to stand beside Amanda, who was still transfixed by the spectacle.

  “Yes – he is,” Amanda said, still gazing at Regi showing off.

  “This is a hard game for me,” admitted Justica, “I’ve tried many times, and the best I could do is fall only five times in one round. No one has ever been able to cross it without falling at least once.”

  “I can’t even imagine going across it at all.”

  “You will someday, if you ever want to practice. After all, the wizards don’t use any magic when they cross it. They’re back to being Mortals, so to speak. They’re just like you and me when they play.”

  Amanda looked at Justica. She appeared even more beautiful in person, with no make-up and a natural allure about her. No dye or gel was apparent in her soft, luxurious hair, flowing out with radiant volume. Amanda found it hard to believe Justica was a wizard. She seemed just like any ordinary person, with slightly sad, softened features on her face.

  “How do you know if they’re using magic or not?” Amanda asked.

  “It’s obvious to us. Think about it –” Justica frowned, “it’s like playing a piano. If you see someone playing a piano, if they’re playing a recording somewhere in the room, you’d know if they’re faking it or not, wouldn’t you?”

  “I guess.” Amanda was still gazing at the steel balls, all continuing their hypnotic revolutions. Regi had materialized beside Indie. It was now Demus’ turn. He grinned like a maniac as he assessed the corner ball next to him. He had decided to start at a different corner of the maze.

  As if in a daze, Amanda watched as he successfully navigated the one hundred gleaming revolving balls. He was agile and quick, but not as good as Regi. And that wasn’t the end of it. Other wizards would join in, one at a time. This would go on all day. The enthralled expressions on the wizards’ faces were priceless.

  “So,” murmured Amanda to herself, “This is how the wizards do things. They work hard, and they sure play hard.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It was now Petition Day.

  Amanda inhaled deeply. She had a long list of Mortals, carefully screened from the thousands of applicants who had all demanded the right to be heard by the Liberators. She was thankful for the sparkling new office buildings the wizards had zapped up for her on the waterfront marking South Basin in San Francisco, just down from Candlestick Point. Plus, she’d appointed over one hundred staff. She’d carefully reviewed hundreds of ap
plications, and found the candidates she thought would be best. She guiltily felt some were even better qualified than her to be the Supreme Liaison.

  Petition Day also would be her first exposure to the world in her new role. She’d coordinate the meeting, call upon Petitioners, and ensure those selected would all have a turn. She also decided to impose strict time limits, in hopes she could get through the first list in one day. The rest would have to be scheduled in over the next several weeks.

  She frowned, despite knowing the cameras would pick up her every facial expression. She’d have to do a good job, as she was serving two different sets of bosses. One set, of course, consisted of the four Liberators themselves, plus their wizard colleagues all over North America. The second set was just as critically important – the millions of residents of North America, to whom she was accountable.

  Amanda felt as if her hands would start shaking. Moving her papers around to calm herself down, she kept waiting for Indie to convene the session.

  Indie started off her speech. “Petition Day is now upon us. Now, it’s your turn. This is your day – Mortals of North America. No question is pre-screened by any Liberator. It was up to our Supreme Liaison, Amanda, to gather all the questions that are relevant. We’re here to serve you. This is direct democracy at its best.”

  Justica blurted out, “Imagine your President of the United States. When did he ever take questions from the public? Or your President of Mexico, for that matter?”

  “Correct,” Indie said. “Amanda, please start with our first Petitioner.”

  Amanda’s voice rang out, clear but nervous. “The first Petitioner is Albert Nyenhuis, former Secretary of Defense of the United States.” The screen cut away to an image of a visibly upset, slightly flushed older man wearing military uniform.

  “This is an outrage!” he shouted, carefully attempting to control his delivery.

  “Do you have a question?” Demus calmly asked.

  Nyenhuis forcefully spoke out. “The Government of the United States remains in control…”

  “That’s your opinion,” Indie pointed out, still smiling gracefully.

  “I repeat, the Government of the United States asserts its constitutional right to administer all decisions of our great nation. That has never been forfeited. We urge Americans to reject this flagrant abuse of power by outsiders.”

  “I want to point out that both Demus and I are lawful citizens of the United States. We are by no means ‘outsiders,’” Indie retorted.

  Amanda stepped in, intensely curious. “Indie, what about Justica and Regi?”

  Indie turned toward Amanda. “Regi is a citizen of Canada and Justica is a citizen of the United Mexican States.”

  “United Mexican States?” Amanda was confused. “You mean Mexico?”

  “Yes,” Justica replied, “Officially, we’re the United Mexican States. But you may call us Mexico.”

  Nyenhuis was fuming. His visage appeared once again on the screen. “This is a most unacceptable, most immoral invasion of the United States. We will continue to operate the Senate, Congress, and the President’s powers. No one else speaks for Americans except for us.”

  Amanda did her best to hide her shock. This familiar face was, for years, her commanding officer. Will I be convicted for treason? The vehemence was so unexpected, so raw, that she momentarily didn’t know what to do.

  Regi solved her problem for her. “Sir, this is about a petition. Do you have a question or a petition to present?”

  “You cannot dictate to me what to do. For the record, we request that the four of you, and any wizard, immediately forsake any claim you have to the powers of the United States.”

  “Denied,” said Indie.

  “Denied,” said all the other wizards, one at a time.

  Nyenhuis pressed on, peering through his bifocals at the paper he was holding. “We have demands that must be met. One, release your hold on the Pentagon and the Capitol.”

  “Amanda, next Petitioner please,” Indie said.

  “Two, release your hold on the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.”

  Amanda appeared startled. “I can cut him off?”

  “Three, withdraw…”

  Indie and the other three wizards nodded.

  Amanda appeared uncertain. “But he’s the Secretary of Defense!”

  “Four, restore all weapon facilities back to…”

  “Not anymore,” Indie held out her hand. “Please, Amanda, there are other Petitioners waiting.”

  Amanda reluctantly pressed the button, cutting off the still-speaking Secretary of Defense, and shakily announced, “Our next petitioner is Eva Halliwell, a dog breeder from Tucson, Arizona.” An image of a smiling older woman, with salt-and-pepper hair and oval-shaped glasses, filled the screen.

  “Welcome, Mrs. Halliwell,” Regi said.

  “I think I’ll stick with Ms.,” Halliwell laughed while Regi blushed.

  “Ms. Halliwell,” Amanda started off, “What would you like to say?”

  “Call me Eva,” Halliwell said, looking too confident for her moment in front of millions of viewers. “I’ve a simple question. You all seem like nice people.”

  “Thank you,” Demus said.

  She spoke up louder. “Why do you think have the right to just walk in here, and tell us what to do?”

  Amanda glanced around at all four wizards. While all seem startled by the question, they quickly recovered.

  “That’s an excellent question, Eva,” Indie said.

  “So I hear,” she said, shaking her head pleasantly.

  Indie gestured warmly. “The world’s in turmoil. Unemployment is at record rates. Nuclear war was imminent.”

  “Excuse me,” Halliwell interrupted, “I’m aware of that. By the way, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting rid of all these horrible nuclear weapons.”

  Regi and Justica enthusiastically clapped. Demus joined in.

  “But…” Halliwell held a finger up into the air, “why can’t you trust us to deal with our own problems? We didn’t ask for you.”

  “I understand that, Ms. Halliwell, I really do.”

  “Call me Eva.”

  “Yes, Eva,” Indie said, bringing her arms down slightly in perfect parallel form, “It’s absolutely necessary.”

  “We didn’t ask for you, did we?” Halliwell appeared gentle, but aimed her words like daggers at Indie.

  Indie attempted to keep her cool. “Eva, if you’d just let me explain.”

  Halliwell knew she had made her point. She waved her hand. “Oh, never mind. I just thought I’d put that in there. Good luck with being our new kings and queens. You’re going to need it.”

  Amanda swiftly covered for Indie. “Thank you so much, Eva, it meant a lot to us to have you here. Next Petitioner is Rosa Garcia, a policy analyst in Mexico City, with the National Human Rights Commission of Mexico.”

  A slender, short woman with short-cropped black hair appeared on the screen. She was speaking Spanish, but Amanda only heard the English transcription.

  “Good morning, Liberators,” Garcia began, “I wish to identify myself.”

  “Amanda already—” Indie held her hand up.

  Looking directly at her notes, Garcia ignored the reminder. “I am the senior policy analyst for headquarters, National Human Rights Commission of Mexico. Our mandate is to investigate all human rights violations in Mexico that fall under our jurisdiction. We’re not recognizing your legitimacy over Mexico. However, I do have a question about a condition of hiring your Supreme Liaison, who apparently is supposed to answer to us.”

  Amanda turned her head, startled. Was she being challenged?

  “Yes, Rosa?” Justica asked in Spanish.

  The stranger finally gazed ahead at the screen. “You said that the competition was open only to those aged twenty-seven years or under.”

  Indie looked uncomfortable. “Yes, that’s correct. Amanda is twenty-two years old.”

  Ga
rcia glared through the screen. “I’m fully aware of Ms. Fullerton’s age and that she meets your criteria. I personally don’t have a problem with her. The question is why did you set that age limit? Such an age limit violates our constitution based upon human rights.”

  Justica shot a quick glance at Indie. Indie drew in her lips, and then crisply said, “It’s based upon a personal preference.”

  “And what personal preference is that?”

  Indie shot an angry glance. “Don’t trust anyone over the age of thirty. The Supreme Liaison wouldn’t yet turn thirty by the time she finished her three year term.”

  Garcia opened her eyes wide in a show of incredulity. “Did I hear right? Don’t trust anyone over thirty?”

  Demus interjected, “You heard the lady. It’s the policy of all the four Liberators, standing united as a group.” He turned to Amanda. “Her question’s done. Turn to the next Petitioner.”

  Amanda gulped, then pushed the button as Garcia said, “Now, really…”

  She found her voice. “Next Petitioner is Professor Adam Scully, of the Economics Department of the University of Toronto in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.”

  An image of a clean-shaven man, with a receding hairline and gentle-looking eyes, appeared on the screen. He was wearing a suit jacket and tie. “Good morning, Liberators.”

  “Good morning,” Indie answered back.

  “Very interesting. Very interesting,” the professor thoughtfully murmured. “I never thought in this day and age I’d ever see magic.” He held up a finger. “Someday, I’d love to ask you tons of questions about how your magic works. But let me congratulate you. Anyone who’s been able to develop magical powers must be exceptional. And as long as you have moral values as well, I’d call all of you extraordinary.”

  “You’re too kind, sir,” Regi said modestly.