Journey Through the Mirrors by T. R. Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

Montez walked over to a work table that held an array of stone artifacts. “These pieces were scattered on the ground in the same chamber where the statue was found.” He picked one up and handed it to Logan. “We would like you to reconstruct whatever this is and provide any insights you might have about the symbols on the—”
    A loud rumbling suddenly interrupted them. The pieces of broken stone slid across the smooth surface of the table. Alarmed voices could be heard in the work room. The floor began to shake.
    “I think it’s an earthquake,” Logan said.
    “We need to get out of here,” Valerie said.
    Logan grabbed his backpack and hooked it over his shoulder. The three of them quickly walked back to the large work room. The shaking intensified, and a part of the scaffolding buckled, crashing down on one of the fleeing workers. Mr. Montez rushed over to help lift the scaffolding off the worker’s legs.
    “Let’s go! We need to get out of here!” Valerie yelled, as she pushed people toward the exit.
    Mr. Montez grabbed Elvia by the arm and escorted her to the door.
    The hysteria and pandemonium were no different outside the museum. People screamed and ran as stones tumbled down the sides of the pyramid onto the visitors below.
    “The kids!” Logan shouted. “We have to find them—they were at the Pyramid of the Moon!”
    Valerie nodded, and they ran north along the Avenue of the Dead. Hordes of panicked, screaming people were running in the opposite direction toward the exit and the parking lot. As Valerie and Logan navigated through the rampaging crowd, Logan heard a loud hum coming from the Moon Pyramid. The hum got louder, and suddenly, an arc of light shot out of the Moon Pyramid, hurling hundreds of its stones and bricks. Logan and Valerie stopped in their tracks. The exploding stones flew high into the air and dispersed in all directions, landing on men, women, and children indiscriminately as they attempted to flee.
    “Jordan! Jamie!” Logan yelled, as he started running again.

4
May the answers you receive be as great as the questions you ask.
    —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
    ISLE OF MAN, 7:12 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 20, 2070
    Every stroke of the bow on the finely tuned strings of the violin reverberated through the courtyard that lay between the roofless ruins of the Cathedral of St. Germaine and the main grounds of Peel Castle. The sun, which had not graced the Isle of Man for many days, had reappeared that morning and was now setting in the west. The shadow cast by the castle spire had reached across the courtyard’s immaculately manicured lawn and was now creeping up the weathered stone wall of the cathedral. The violin player’s black dress and long blond hair fluttered in a strong and sometimes gusty wind as she played on. Her bow transitioned from the slow louré stroke to legato , then from the haunting sound of the col legno back to louré . Flawlessly, she spun her tale. Two men sat on a stone bench in the adjacent courtyard, listening. The piece she’d composed told the story of a captive’s despair and the arrival of a savior who provided hope.
    “This piece is about you, my friend,” Sebastian said to Lawrence, thesteward of his home, Peel Castle. “We would not be enjoying her music at this moment had you not taken action years ago.”
    “You played a part in that liberation, too,” Lawrence answered, his eyes resting on his adopted daughter, Anita, who was still lost in her music. “Those were terrible times. We were all required to act after the Great Disruption and the Rising. Your parents would be very proud of you, Sebastian. Even today, you continue with your work. The son of Camden and Cassandra would not have made his way and escorted the world to safety had you not helped to lift the veil from his eyes.” Sebastian did not immediately answer, and a pause ensued before Lawrence spoke again. “You think there is more to this, don’t you?”
    “Others are moving