The Silver Sphere Read Online Free Page B

demanded, jumping to his
feet.
    She blinked hard. The voices had sounded ordinary, but these
individuals weren't normal. They had typical skin and hair, yet they were built
for war. Even the football players at her high school seemed scrawny compared to
the two troopers—especially the one called Barrick. They resembled characters in
a movie about Camelot and King Arthur, not people from modern-day Earth.
    Barrick rose, his muscles bulging through the studded armor and
boiled leather he wore. His beefy forehead was almost absent in an untamed jungle
of eyebrows, and his neck seemed as thick as a ship's mast. He eased a large sword
from its scabbard. The blade gleamed in the flickering light of the campfire.
    Mr. Dempsey stood motionless while Barrick glowered at him.
    In one swift motion, Sculptor stepped toward Mr. Dempsey and
aimed a pistol at the librarian's head. Sculptor's lean, abnormally long face expressed
little. Shelby thought she glimpsed a glimmer of fear cross his eyes, but it was
gone in an instant. The dark blue cape strapped to his shoulders stirred in the
breeze. One portrayed a medieval warrior and the other some sort of futuristic policeman
in Arthurian armor.
    She wanted to dart out from behind her tree to keep them from
hurting Mr. Dempsey, but fear froze her to the spot. Barrick, the short one with
the sword, wore a fierce sneer, and for a moment, she thought she saw the beast
in him. A whimper escaped her. Her nails dug into the tree's soft bark, and cold
sweat rolled down her temples. If she allowed them to hurt Mr. Dempsey, she'd never
forgive herself.
    "Speak up, dear sir," Sculptor snapped, "or I
will unleash Barrick upon you. They say his people are closet cannibals."
    "Shut up, you raging idiot," Barrick said, his glare
still focused on Mr. Dempsey.
    "I, uh-um, w-well, I, I..." Mr. Dempsey stammered.
    "Well, well," Sculptor said. "You are quite the
vocalist, my dear sir. Perhaps you should audition as an announcer for the games
at Fornax. You would do just fine, better than the biased gibberish Jeb Rooza and
his sidekicks regurgitated at last year's events, eh, Barrick?"
    Barrick seethed with anger. "Shut up, you blasted fool.
This is serious. He resembles a citizen of Earth, yet he may be Malefic's spy."
The brute trudged forward a step, his long sword raised, the sharp blade glittering
like magma.
    Shelby shook with terror.
    "Identify yourself at once," Barrick said.
    "How original, my dear Barrick," Sculptor scoffed,
throwing his partner a weary glance. "I didn't suspect you were an avant-garde
man. Such a progressive demand merits your potential as a poet."
    Mr. Dempsey snapped out of his stupor. "Hold on now,"
he called. "I presume I'm present due to something about a portal you opened.
I was in the library, and went to the storage room for supplies, and then I was
here."
    Sculptor cocked an eyebrow. "The Rutherford B. Hayes Library?"
    "Why y-yes, actually. I-I'm its curator, Walter Dempsey."
    "Please tell me, how'd such an average president manage
to get an athenaeum named after him?" Sculptor offered a wry smile. "Why
not a school, or better yet, a stadium?"
    Barrick huffed. "Stop jesting! We need to learn if this
person knows anything about Shelby Pardow."
    He sheathed his sword and prowled closer. Though Mr. Dempsey
towered over him, Barrick appeared a formidable figure. The stout man looked much
stronger than Mr. Dempsey, and twice as mean as the beast.
    Shelby ducked lower to the ground, trembling. She prayed Barrick
wouldn't hurt poor Mr. Dempsey.
    Barrick bowed on bended knee. "Forgive me, my friend, and
trust me. We'll not harm you. Seems to be a miscommunication. We were looking for
a girl named Shelby. But now that you're here, you must come with us so Lord Achernar
can resolve the issue. We apologize, sir, for any inconvenience we have caused you."
    Sculptor holstered his gun. "Yes, we're sorry, sir. My personal
apologies that I was placed on this all-important mission with a