Pasquinelli/Rise 465

Stumbling out of the huge double front doors (he had to hoist them open with all his strength), Jon couldn’t remember if he tripped on a stood or a cat on his run out of the Foyer. Thoughts were battling in his mind, each trying to get center stage. The most prominent ones were Ignus, the death and murder of Gar, impending doom...and now Fic Stenton and trying to get to the Shoreblue District and back again in less than (he checked his watch) four and a half hours. He felt like he was carrying a mountain on his back. The exhaustion and constant stream of adrenaline was wreaking havoc on his conscious mind or go insane -- possibly both.

The weight of the door was almost overwhelming, but Jon dug his foot into the floor and heaved it open. The sharp cold air hit his face immediately and he shut his eyes once he regained his balance against the onslaught.

Just as the door thundered shut, Jon heard someone call his name from the inside. He didn’t re-open the door, but he did spin around and stare at it. If someone really needed to talk to him, they’d heave that massive thing open themselves. Jon was just about to turn around again when it creaked and cracked open. Kavin Fauntyle came stumbling out just as Jon had seconds before.

“Jonathan, glad I caught up to you.”

Jon stood there and stared at him. He felt bad for attacking him a few hours ago, but his capacity for pleasantries was just not functioning at this late hour with no energy. At least Fauntyle looked perfectly uninjured.

“Honestly Minister, I find that hard to believe. I think I almost killed you a few hours ago.”

“Oh hardly. It takes more than some Eternal Fire to kill me.”

Jon pursed his lips and nodded.

“I actually...” Fauntyle started, “wanted to -- well, apologize.”

Jon’s composure softened. “I don’t understand. I should be apologizing to you.”

“No. In a sub-conscious way, I was egging you on in Topaz Hall. I think I wanted you to do something rash like that.”

“It certainly worked.”

“In Iannisene, it’s called the shak-nesh-tahl -- when someone provokes a Mage to unwillingly use their Charge. It’s not something I’m very proud of.”

Jon shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Wait a second, there’s an Iannisene language?”

“Certainly,” said Fauntyle. “It was developed centuries ago for correspondence and secret meetings. It’s hardly ever used today, though, and only few study or know it. But some key sayings remain.”

“Oh,” Jon’s mind was in no state to process that kind of information.

“And there’s something else. I feel rather...guilty for what happened to you after the attack. I’m sorry you had to be locked up, then subsequently kidnapped.”

Jon’s insides twitched at the mention of the ordeal. “I’m still sorry for attacking you too.”

“Think nothing of it. I’ve even agreed to defend you in the trial.”

“Thanks -- what trial?”

“For the murder of Gar Kiddens of course.”

Jon’s heart started racing. “But -- that -- that was an accident! He was going to kill me, and steal the Amulet.”

Fauntyle’s voice was now very calm. “I know, I know. However, it is standard procedure when something like this happens.”

“Something like what?”

“When a man is killed by a Mage via Charge.”

“Great...just perfect.”

“Don’t worry too much about it. I’ll be your defender and the evidence is clearly in your favor. And besides, the Council already knows that the Empress is on your side. After all, she’s the one keeping you out of prison.”

“I’m glad for that, considering what happened last time I was in there.”

“I agree. But I think it is also more than that. She really does...like you.”

Jon looked straight into his eyes. He could tell that it took him a great deal of effort to admit that. “I know.”

“While I may not agree with this entirely, I do know that it’s probably unstoppable...I have a wife myself.”

“Thanks...and you’re right, it probably is unstoppable.”

Fauntyle sighed. “Very well. You look like you’re in a hurry, so I’ll let you go. Just...please stop attacking people.”

Jon chortled. “I’m trying, I promise.”

Fauntyle nodded and began to lurch the door open. Jon was struck with an idea exactly as the door began to creak open.

“Minister?” he said it so abruptly that Fauntyle lost his footing and was thrust with the door as it closed again. Poor Fauntyle was again in a crumpled pile on the floor. “Sorry.” Jon extended his hand and helped Fauntyle up.

“Yes?”

“Do you know of a way to get to another District in a hurry?”

“Of course -- GravShuttles, GravScooters... or Wings.”

“Yeah, that much I know.” Jon had seen the strange devices before -- floating one, two, or four seat pods that zipped around on the streets carrying passengers from one point to another. Then there were the GravScooters (Fauntyle had finally given Jon their proper name), which were one-person upright contraptions with a handle mounted to the running board surface one stood on. Jon had only seen Wings once, and they were the most fascinating and rare -- they were small backpacks that opened up into wing-like structures that allowed a person to fly higher than a building. “How can I get one?”

Fauntyle considered the request for a moment. He then asked, “Where do you need to go?”

“The western most corner of the Shoreblue District.”

Fauntyle considered Jon for another few moments. Jon could almost hear the wheels turning. “Very well. Take my GravScooter. It’ll take you a good half hour to get to Shoreblue by GravScooter, but it’ll get you there.”

Jon’s mind eased a touch as Fauntyle tossed him a triangular metallic object he produced from his robes. It was about the size and weight of a drink coaster, and was a dull metal but looked like it had been used heavily over the course of years.

“You’ll have to go around -- to the back of the castle. That’s where all the mobile units are, right next to the stables.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Fauntyle turned back to the door.

“And thanks...for everything.”

Fauntyle turned his head to Jon without making eye contact and nodded. After the door thundered shut, Fauntyle disappeared. It was only after he saw Fauntyle’s curly haired head bounce into darkness that he realized how young the ruling class in Iannis was. Save for the fifty seven Councilors, the two in the highest positions -- Empress and Prime Minister -- were both in their twenties and thirties.

Jon opted to go outside rather than through the castle, though going inside would probably have been quicker, but silence right now was more preferable than running into someone -- especially Jotea. Jon wasn’t sure whether he was ready to see her yet. At least, not now that Fauntyle seemed to recognize something between them. That fact just seemed to compound things.

The pinching cold was molesting Jon’s face as he trudged around the perimeter of the castle. In the high windows, he could see flickers of torchlight zooming in and out of view like lightning bugs gone mad.

After Jon walked what felt like ten football fields long around the castle grounds, he saw what could be considered the castle’s “garage” -- a stable structure with varying sized stalls, all of which had either GravShuttles or GravScooters tucked in them. Fortunately, of the several dozen stalls, only five had the GravScooters. Jon supposed that the one nearest the castle’s back entrance was most likely Fauntyle’s.

He’d never actually ridden one, but Jon had seen people activate their GravScooters many times before. The entire GravScooter was made up of a platform slightly wider than a typical skateboard, and a pedestal that came up to Jon’s abdomen. The pedestal was slanted toward Jon and the top of it shaped like a diamond, with a square recess for the “key.” Jon’s luck continued in his favor -- as soon as he put the metal key in the hole, the GravScooter whirred to life and started to float about six inches from the ground. Apparently, hierarchy and privilege still had their place, even in Iannis with the Prime Minister having close parking privileges to the castle. Although he’d seen much larger people on the GravScooters before, he stepped gingerly on it as to test his weight on the contraption. It didn’t buckle or fall -- it merely fell about half an inch as the charged mechanism adjusted to his weight. It returned to steady hovering a few inches from the ground.

Remembering his days of skateboarding, he tried pushing off backwards with a foot. But the GravScooter didn’t move -- all that effort did was throw Jon off-balance. It was only as he fell on his butt on the grass and relieved the weight on his feet for a second did Jon notice how tired and in pain his feet were right along with the rest of him. He propped his feet up on the platform of the GravScooter and untied his normally comfortable sneakers he’d been wearing all this time. As soon as he yanked them off it was if his feet were immersed in warm bubbly water. Relief poured over him and he massaged each foot for a full minute, and let out a groan as he wriggled his toes. Begrudgingly, he foisted himself up, and his newly freed foot clenched in protest.

Standing at the pedestal again, Jon noticed two handles protruding from the diamond-shaped console. He put his hands on them, and the rubber looked like it could move. He rotated his grip on the bars toward himself like a motorcycle, and Fauntyle’s GravScooter thrust forward and hit the wall, and Jon was sent over the console.

“Um, okay,” said Jon as he righted himself. Twisting the handlebars forward ever so slightly, he was able to move the contraption backward. It turned out to be very smooth. Checking over his shoulder to avoid hitting something else, he was able to work the GravScooter to a forward-pointing position again. Taking a deep breath, Jon twisted the handles as far forward as they would go. The GravScooter responded almost instinctively and lurched forward. The column moved surprisingly easily and Jon found that he could maneuver with very little effort.

“Just like riding a bicycle. But floating,” he said to himself.

Morning was arriving. Daylight would begin to splotch the grass in a few minutes, and the sky was already turning faint shakes of deep magenta at the ocean’s horizon. One thing Jon hadn’t thought of as he zoomed along the grounds around the castle’s perimeter was the weather -- he had forgotten until just now that the coldest part of the day was just before sunrise. Now he was moving at twenty-five miles an hour with no wind protection. But right now that was irrelevant. He needed to get to Stenton’s residence. His stint at the Hall of Records also showed him a general Norea map when Stenton’s house came onto the view screen. The Shoreblue District was not heavily populated, and was only bisected by one or two streets.

As Jon was zipping along, he found the wall to the castle grounds...then remembered the sign he saw when he tried to enter. And the walls were a good twenty feet high. Jumping certainly wouldn’t work. But a blast of Eternal Fire might, Jon’s inner voice said. He looked on either side of him. There may have been a person standing a few hundred feet away, but Jon didn’t care to discover. He could risk it at this distance.

Removing the Amulet from his pocket, he spoke softly into it, “Avitus Incendium Advocare.” The Amulet turned once again to liquid fire and melted into his arms, coating him with the burgundy robes. This transformation was especially satisfying because of all the layers of clothes that he now wore. Oddly, the garments seemed to know when Jon was warm or cold -- they never seemed stuffy when it was warm outside, or cold when it was cool out. Whatever the reason, Jon was just happy he had warm clothes and different shoes on.

He brought both of his hands together at his side and concentrated on generating a blast of Eternal Fire. It charged in hands to the size of a soccer ball. He took another glance either way and flung the energy ball at the stonewall. It impacted, but only a few cracks appeared, and some broken pieces of the facade fell to the ground. He would need to do that another twenty or thirty more times to break through the two-foot thick stonewall. As he thought more about it, Jon realized that punching a hole in the castle’s best defense probably wasn’t a good idea in the long run anyway. Jon’s legs were already protesting at the prolonged standing. He rested his head on his forearm and shut his eyes for a moment.

"Go to your right,” a warm voice said.

Jon opened his eyes and looked around. There was no one.

"The hidden door you came through in the gate is only locked from the outside. You can exit without a key.”

This time Jon knew exactly who it was. It didn’t take him very long to see a familiar figure standing in one of the windows. He couldn’t quite make out her face, but he didn’t need to. Her piercing gaze was felt, not necessarily seen. Leaning into the console, the GravScooter buoyed to the right as well, swiveling the entire unit ninety degrees to the right. He gave it speed.

"Keep going.”

Cold air was hitting his face again, but he looked straight ahead -- if he were to look at Jotea directly, it would be too hurtful right now. Distractions at this point were not an option. Though Jon was grateful she didn’t try and stop him. Indeed, she seemed to want to help him.

"Stop here.”

Jon eased off the handlebar acceleration. He stepped off the GravScooter and examined the wall where Jotea told him to stop with his hands. There was a faint outline of rectangle the size of a door. The crack in the stone couldn’t have been more than a hair thick. He looked back up at the castle, but Jotea was gone. Having no time to dwell, he threw himself shoulder-first. For all the effort (and now renewed shoulder pain), the door swung ever so slightly outward.

“Thanks,” he said aloud to the castle’s facade.

He grabbed the GravScooter by the shaft and walked it through the wedge-shaped door. Casting a glance back at the castle, he stepped up back onto the GravScooter, and generated another Eternal Fire energy ball in his hand and threw it like a baseball at the edge of the door. It swung back into place.

Thankful he was wearing his robes and comfortable shoes, Jon put the GravScooter as fast as it would go down Imperial Way. The upscale shops were all dark, but large vehicles carrying soldiers were all over the street, along with privately owned vehicles packing up and leaving. Jon was used to this street being a bustle, but he wasn’t used to this. This was panic, tension and fear. Gone were the crisply dressed businesspeople, vendors and professionals. In their place, war. The sky was the only thing that seemed to offer any hope -- it was beginning to gleam, and there was not a cloud in the sky. If Jon hadn’t known what loomed, the soft light on the huge cobblestoned street would have made him think this the most peaceful place in existence.

Judging his speed to be about thirty miles per hour, Jon estimated it would take about twenty minutes to get to the Shoreblue District to where Fic Stenton lived.

It was a very good thing cold air was still batting him in the face -- it was keeping Jon from getting too drowsy or even worse, kept him out of a dream-state. He dreaded what they might be like after a day like yesterday.

As the minutes and miles ticked by, Jon thought of what he’d ask Fic. Something along the lines of, “Hi. You’re a Temporal Mage. Can you help me destroy a pathological mass murderer with the same abilities as me?” Or better yet, “could you show me how you do that thing with Time?” Speaking of which, he checked his watch again, as was his custom every few minutes now. There were just over four hours now. The sun was still cold, but hints of a warmer day remained on the horizon through the trees. Jon’s face was freezing, and his eyes watering, but the accelerator was kept firmly on the fastest speed possible. Cold air be damned; he was going to get there. The area quickly changed from business to residential -- first the relatively small shops graduated to more standardized high rises (“high” being three to five stories), and finally to gently curving tree-lined neighborhoods with separate houses. It was not quite like the houses in Nexile’s Stonethrow District -- these homes were large, sprawling and very well kept. This was clearly one of the city’s elite areas.

Jon saw someone jogging along Imperial way, and figured he could risk a fifteen second lapse in his journey to make sure he was going the right way. “Excuse me,” he said, bringing the GravScooter to a near stop. The man jogging saw Jon stopping, noticed his robes flapping behind him, looked at him in horror, and ran even faster in the other direction.

“Wait! Sir!” Jon yelled and pulled a U-Turn on the street and followed the man.

“I have nothing you want! Leave me be!” The man blindly released a Charge at Jon, whom it missed entirely and broke one of the cobblestones into a hundred pieces in the street. Jon sighed heavily, turned the GravScooter around and continued on his previous course.

Golden morning light was beginning to splash the home’s facades, and the stone work reminded Jon of Oak Tree Manor. For a brief moment, he let his mind entertain a wave of nostalgia for the place that was peaceful, quiet...and secure. He also wondered what Mrs. Jouler was doing right now. Remembering the time difference, he figured she was probably up and making breakfast or gardening. He remembered the dishes she prepared, and although food in at the castle was always impeccable, there was something comforting and homey about what Mrs. Jouler made.

As the streets gently curved this way and that, up and down lazy hills, Jon kept his mind on Mrs. Jouler. He wondered how the roses were doing ... in fact, he could actually visualize her on her knees with a big sun hat, gardening again and humming a tune to herself. He saw a small bird land on the stone property wall. It looked at Jon before ruffling his feathers and taking off into the forest. It was going at super-sonic speeds dodging trees and branches quicker than lightning. It slowed down to a clearing... a very familiar clearing. The bird landed on a twisted branch high in a tree, and sat still as a rock.

A high window began blowing in a circle, and all the pine needles on the floor began dancing and swirling in a near tornado around the clearing, and the Gate revealed itself. The sunlight gleamed on it, but only for an instant. The light turned into fire -- blazing, roiling, and destroying the forest around it. Then the hot fire turned black and purple, then began beeping. Beeping?

Jon woke with a jolt as Fauntyle’s GravScooter beeped at him and Jon yanked on the handles and swerved hard to the left as he was a few feet from smashing into a tree. He righted himself back on Imperial Way. His heart was thumping in his throat and he re-focused back on the street. “Almost dying twice in one day is already way too much,” he said aloud to make himself hear something other than his own thoughts and the wind. Houses were becoming sparser, and as his pulse went back to normal, Jon started worrying if he was even still going the right way.

Just about the time he considered turning back, the sign for Bleeker Street came into view. Jon veered right onto it. He began counting up as he saw the addresses on the houses. The homes here were not as luxurious as the ones on Imperial Way, but they were still quite lovely in their own right. Jon considered that he would feel more at home in Nexile’s house than one of these, but by sheer circumstance he ended up living in the largest, grandest private residence in the continent. Jon wasn’t peering at the address numbers for very much longer, though. A lone figure huddled over an aged GravShuttle caught his eye...precisely at the house he needed to be. The figure hobbled back toward the door. Jon pulled the GravScooter right up to the GravShuttle, and left it hovering by the curb. He took a stance a few feet from the GravShuttle and waited. Once the figure re-emerged, it was carrying several boxes that obstructed his face.

“Mr. Fic Stenton?”

“Wha?” rumbled the man.

“Thank goodness I found you. I think I need your help.”

“Ha! You and the Norean army.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, they are. And I’m busy. Or are your eyes in need of help too?”

“I--no,” Jon said, feeling rather stupid.

Fic dumped the boxes in the open trunk of the GravShuttle and eyed Jon. It was definitely Fic Stenton; he looked just like his picture -- narrow eyes and a permanent scowl on his face. He didn’t seem to notice Jon’s robes in the second he locked eyes with him, but he did seem to notice something else. “If you were part of the Norean Forces, you’re out of uniform. So it can’t be official business.” He paused for a couple of seconds. “So move it, kid. I’m busy.”

“I noticed,” said Jon, hardening his resolve. Kid? “And I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need to talk to you.”

Fic just snorted and turned back to the front door. Fortunately, age was on Jon’s side. He quickly stepped in Fic’s path a few feet from him. Fic stopped and looked into Jon’s eyes again.

“Move it, boy. I won’t ask you again, and next time, you will move. I’ll be sure of it.”

Jon half smiled at something he remembered Jotea saying about Temporal Immunity. “Somehow... I doubt that, Mr. Stenton.”

“Fic’s narrow eyes squinted at Jon. “Move.”

“No.” Jon folded his arms in front of him.

Fic, in a surprisingly agile and quick motion, threw out his finger, pointed directly at Jon. Jon then felt as if someone had given him a light push -- he didn’t even have to take a step back to hold his balance.

Fic flashed a look of bewilderment for a second, but then smirked. He swatted at the air as if a fly was annoying him, and instantly, Jon felt the change -- air was still and thick, noise ceased, and moving became more of a chore. Jon cocked his head to one side, but did not move otherwise.

“So it’s you, then, is it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” said Jon. “It’s me.”

Fic squinted at Jon. “You’re the reason I gotta move outta my house and city?” He inched toward Jon, apparently unaffected by the halt.

“In a way, I suppose so.” At this point, he thought Fic might attack him, even though in body he seemed rather feeble.

Fic grunted. With another dismissive wave, the Timeline restarted around them, and the Jell-O-like air dissipated. After side-stepping Jon, Fic returned to the house, and came back out a few seconds later with a lamp in one arm and a metal pole in the other. It wasn’t until he was back at the GravShuttle that he acknowledged Jon again.

“So what do you want? You’re annoying me.”

“I -- I came here to see if you could help me beat him.”

“Who?”

“Ignus, who else? Remember, the reason you’re moving out and away?”

“Heh, you want me to show you how to stop him?”

“That was the general idea, yes.”

“Then not only are you annoying, you’re a fool.” He stopped with his hands on the objects in the trunk, and looked squarely at Jon. “You can’t beat him. He’s got the same damn Amulet as you. And he’s got decades more experience with it. You don’t stand a chance.”

A fire lit within Jon. “Maybe. But I’ve got a huge advantage...” He unclasped his watch from his wrist, held it out before him, and let it dangle from his fingertips. “I can control this. He can’t. He would have frozen when the Timeline stopped. I’ve seen it happen, but I still need your help.”

“And what do you think I can do, boy?” He placed a hand on his hip. “Years... years it’s taken to hone the Temporal Charge to the control I have over it. What do you possibly think you can learn in a few minutes?”

“I really have no idea. But something -- Anything would help, Mr. Stenton. If I can get the upper hand in some way... maybe we could keep him out of this city. And you could stay.”

“I’m not staying even if you do beat him this time. You know the legend of the Phoenix, even if you get him, he won’t stay down.”

Maybe it was the Amulet helping him choose the words, but Jon heard himself say, “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m wearing these robes too. As long as he’s still around, I’m not going anywhere.”

Fic let out a heavy breath. “I’m getting far too old for this, boy.” He opened a side door to the shuttle. “Sit down. I’ll be done when I’m done, then I’ll see what I can do about your hopeless problem.”

Jon didn’t feel like arguing the matter, and it didn’t seem like Fic wanted him there for very long anyway. So Jon gratefully sat down in the comfortable captain’s chair on what would have been the passenger’s side in a car. His entire lower body seemed to scream with appreciation. Suddenly the world felt good again. He sat back in the chair and put his hands in his lap.

When he opened his eyes, Jon’s head was swimming and his neck hurt. He raised his head and rubbed his neck. He couldn’t figure out where he was for a moment. Iannis...Shoreblue... Fic’s house! He looked around; Fic was sitting on the stone property wall, smoking a pipe. Jon checked his watch -- Eight thirty-five AM. The Guild would reach the city gates in less than two hours. Jon was furious.

“How could you let me sleep for so long?!” he said as he slammed the GravShuttle’s door shut. It rattled so much Jon thought it might fall off.

“You were tired.”

“Yes, but--”

“Shut up for minute. You weren’t going to learn anything the way you were before. Feel better, right?”

Jon had to admit it. “A little, yeah.”

“Thought so. I may be a curmudgeon, but I didn’t survive this long being an idiot. You needed rest. Simple as that.”

“Okay fine. The Guild is gonna be here in less than two hours. Can you help me...now?”

“Sure. How far have you gotten?”

“Where?” said Jon, wondering what the heck he meant.

Fic was already impatient. “With your Temporal Charge!”

“Well, I stopped Time about two days ago.” He thought for a second. “And I slowed it down a couple days before that.”

“And?”

“And..it was very difficult and it didn’t last very long. What else do you expect?”

“The offensive capabilities?”

“What offensive capabilities?”

Fic removed the pipe from his mouth and rubbed his head. “You mean to tell me, that after all this mess that’s going on... you don’t even know what that thing is capable of?”

“Yes,” Jon said flatly. “Hold on,” Jon had a thought. “Wouldn’t you have felt it when I stopped or did anything to the Timeline?”

“Not necessarily. Yes, we are immune to changes in the Timeline, but proximity is always a factor. It you had stopped the Timeline then came over to me, I would have synched up with your bubble of Time. But both times you did anything, you were probably miles away. I would have noticed if you were within about a few hundred yards only.”

“Got it, check.”

“Now, since you don’t seem to know, the passive parts of Time manipulation are pretty piddling when you put them next to the active abilities. Together, you’ve got something there.”

Jon had no idea Time could be used as an aggressive, offensive weapon. Apparently reading his mind, Fic added, “Oh yes. You better believe it. Again, how do you think I survived this long?”

“Show me what you can do.” Jon didn’t want to be rude, but eminent danger was great motivation for not procrastinating.

“It’s all to do with how you manipulate the Timeline.” He pushed himself on his feet off one knee. “When you stop, slow, or reverse Time, it’s all in a concentric bubble around you. It stretches out for about a hundred yards in all directions. But, if you concentrate precisely where you start and stop the Timeline to a microscopic level, and focus that bubble, it will create a wave of energy in Real Time, and can move things around.”

“Huh?”

“Watch, boy. You’ll see. This is what I tried to do to you earlier.” He pointed his finger at the GravScooter. It instantly toppled to one side.

“But I thought -- ”

But another sound interrupted Jon. A tree next to the GravScooter had been uprooted and fell on its side too.

“Wow. So it’s like Jo-- the Empress’ telekinesis?”

“Not quite. Hers is a lot stronger and she could pluck all the feathers off a duck one by one, and open a chasm in the ground and create a volcano. You and me could make the duck explode; we can’t do anything that nitpicky.”

The thought of being able to move things with his mind, or rather Time, was very enticing. Being able to constantly throw Ignus on his ass after he so easily flung him around would be a welcome change.

“Aren’t you gonna try?”

“Uh, no, probably not. I just want to know what I’m capable of.”

Fic eyed him suspiciously.

“Look, I’m low on time. They’re gonna be here soon and judging by how long it took me to do anything to the Timeline, Norea will be the capitol city of Ignus-land before I can even master one of these abilities. Knowledge is power, right?”

“Sure. So’s a good armament of Charges.”

“Just...keep going.”

“Incursion’s next, cuz it’s related to the one I just showed you,” Fic said, clearly wanting to speed things along as much as Jon. “Tell me, kid, what would happen if I kept going?”

“What do you mean?”

“I pushed the GravScooter over by focusing on a spot near it, and making Time start and stop many times instantly, and focusing the expulsion of that energy toward the GravScooter. That’s how it fell over. So what would happen, say, if I kept fussing with the Timeline in that one spot, but didn’t release the energy?”

“I guess it would...just build up.”

“Yes! Now you’re getting it. Then, when it’s good and strong...”

Fic whirled around to his GravShuttle, then looked as if he was frowning at it intently, arms thrown outward toward it. It took a few seconds before Jon could see the air begin to distort and pulsate from around the GravShuttle. The energy waves became increasingly rapid until finally, the shuttle shook, and exploded. Metal, papers, glass and bits of nick knacks went flying everywhere. There remained no structure of the GravShuttle at all. In fact, there was a shuttle-sized crater where it once stood. Jon stared at what was left of the GravShuttle with his mouth open. After all that fuss about Fic wanting to pack and not be interrupted, the GravShuttle was gone, and many of Fic’s possessions were scattered around in a debris field around a hole in the ground.

Fic smirked at the wreckage, with an air of being proud of himself.

“You just --” Jon sputtered.

“No I didn’t. Or I did, but I’m gonna undo it. Watch.” He thrust out his hand toward the debris field, and Time itself seemed to reverse and all the debris imploded and reconnected itself to recreate the aged shuttle.

“Selective Temporal Reverse. Don’t try doing that one with your eyes closed.

“You just reversed Time?” Jon said, mouth even further open now. He had never seen Time reverse itself before.

“Only within the debris field. No need to reverse the whole Timeline. If I had, you would have felt it.”

“Wow,” Jon said.

“There’s also TimeStream.”

“Sounds...festive.”

“Hardly.” Fic raised his hand, and the air seemed to distort in a circle around Fic’s hand. It became a concentrated bubble, and flew out at a stump in his yard in a beam. The effect was mesmerizing -- the stump seemed to slowly explode in perfect form. It was expanding but also looked as if it was melting as it grew larger. Fic dropped the TimeStream, and the stump was now a seven-foot diameter circle of distorted and gnarled wood.

Jon walked close to the stump. “Painful looking.”

“Oh yeah. Now take a real close look at it.”

The lightwood was stretched and contorted so much that small swirls dotted the wood, and cracks riddled its surface. Reaching a finger to it, Jon touched the poor stump. Under his extremely light touch, the stump shattered like a pane of glass under a sledgehammer. Jon jumped backward.

“Not one you want to use on someone you like.” Fic laughed. When he did, Jon preferred him when he was silent and brooding.

“Heh, right.”

“Was a joke. Loosen up, boy. I know I’m not a ray of sunshine, but you gotta laugh once in a while.”

“Ha, ha.”

Fic grinned for a second. “You got spirit, kid. It might take him a few tries to kill you.”

“Smashing.”

“The next --”

“Fic you old coot, where are you going?” An old woman with long black hair speckled with gray just emerged from the next house wearing a fuzzy, pink robe with her arms crossed.

“Hortense,” Fic grunted. “What a non delight to see you.”

"Where are you going?” she repeated, arms still folded.

Fic turned back to Jon, ignoring Hortense. “This next one is what I cal Time’s Arrow.” Fic pointed at Hortense.

“Don’t you point that --” but she never finished. What looked like the same kind of distorted air as the TimeStream Charge shot out at Hortense, and Jon gasped, but she didn’t contort or slowly explode like the stump did when the ray hit her. Instead, she seemed to freeze on the spot and simply faded away until there was no longer Hortense standing there.

“Where’d she go?” Jon demanded.

“Not Where.” Fic paused. “I thought you were getting this. The next one’s called Erasure. Doesn’t take a lot of --”

“Just a second.” Jon was defiant now, especially after seeing the stump. “What happened to that lady?”

“Relax, boy. She’ll be back in a minute. The next one’s Erasure. Here, pick up that rock.” Fic pointed to a rock roughly the size of a grapefruit. At this point, Jon wouldn’t have been surprised if Fic asked him to shove it up his nose. “Now throw it at me as hard as you can.”

“Uh...”

“THROW!”

Jon cocked the rock like he used to when he was a kid in little league, and thought for a second that how the blood might splatter on the ground from the pointy edges. Fic pointed again in the rock’s direction. Jon threw it hard at Fic, but Fic didn’t move. The rock, however, disappeared in mid air.

“Ha! See there... that’s Erasure.”

“That’s just like the last one you did.”

“No, no. There’s a great deal of difference, boy. That rock... has been erased from the Timeline. That... woman,” (he shuddered at the thought) “will be re-appearing in a few seconds.”

“So where did she go?”

“Listen, boy! When, not where.”

And just like clockwork, a figure appeared in Jon’s line of sight. The figure was frozen for a moment, with her hands on her hops.

“--finger at me, Fic Stenton,” Hortense finished.

Jon nearly fell over at her appearance, but she seemed to notice no change. Hortense continued to glare at Fic.

“I’ll point it wherever I please,” Fic said, apparently used to people reappearing in the present and continuing a conversation as if they had never left. “Now get back in your house, you old mule, and mind your business.”

Hortense was incensed. She widened her eyes and opened, then closed her mouth a few times before frowning at Fic and going back in the house, huffing.

“That’s all she wrote,” Fic said, returning to his packing as if he’d stopped to pet a stray dog during the entire time he was showing Jon the wonders of Time.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s all she wrote’?”

“Done. Go back to the castle.” He hobbled back into the house, leaving Jon standing there. He wasn’t sure if he was tired of showing Jon his abilities or wanted to leave. He hesitated, and turned to the GravScooter, but didn’t go to it. Fic came out again, carrying a pile of clothes in his arms. He caught sight of Jon. “Boy, what are you still doing here?”

“Oh...I just thought --”

“Go! You’ve got a battle to win. You’re running out of time. Ha!” He added.

Not needing a second telling, Jon picked up the GravScooter and began to push the handles to get it to a forward-facing position on the street.

“And you, Phoenix-boy!” Fic called out to Jon. “Whatever you do, don’t cause a rent in the Space-Time Continuum. You’ll de-molecularize if you get too close, plus they’re a bitch to close up again.”

“Sure...right, don’t rip up Time. Got it.”

Fic gave a short nod and returned to his packing.

Guessing he was finally dismissed, Jon pulled back the GravScooter’s handles as far as they would go. It took off like a shot down Bleeker Street, and he nearly toppled off the contraption as he turned left onto Imperial Way. Again he checked is watch -- One hour and five minutes remained.