Witch Clan: Warriors!, John Stormm [books to read in your 20s female TXT] 📗

be three people suddenly set upon by his security force. It also appeared the small party was holding the upper hand at the moment. It would be a pity if any innocents were killed by stray fire from the highly charged force lashes employed by his force as the small party seemed to forego the use of weapons in their standoff.

“Make certain that none of your loose cannons start firing wildly into that crowd of voters,” he instructed his chief of security. “If we can just contain them quickly, it will be a nice testament to our humane efficiency in dealing with the enemy. You hearing me?”

“Yes, Excellency,” the chief agreed, already relaying the information in his communicator. A hurried exchange and the puzzled chief spoke again, “Excellency, there is a complication,”

“What could possibly be complicated about surrounding three very outnumbered Forest Devils?” he replied in irritation, watching the fracas unfold.

“They’ve definitely rifted here,” the chief explained, “But as near as we can tell, the woman and the boy are quite human and we’re not sure about her personal guard as the helmet and visor hide his features.”

“Humans?” he mused aloud. “Personal guard? A matronly woman and a boy from another plane? What we have here is a diplomatic opportunity, chief. Escort me down to greet our new guests and see if you can get the fighting stopped long enough to establish how friendly we really are.”

With fanatical devotion and blurring attacks, the gold helmeted guard gave no quarter, extending one leg and dropping into a spinning squat and sending three Elite Shadows to brutal spills on the unforgiving pavement. The boy in the iridescent coat stood firm in front of the woman and the first guard to reach for him got a rude surprise when the lad ducked the grab, causing the guard to overbalance and then stood up sharply ramming his shoulder into the guard’s crotch sending him flying headfirst into the side of a media van. The boy and the guard thus busy, the woman managed to stop a second guard in his tracks with hardly more than a sharp glance. Herein was the power in this outworldly trio and Mordred lusted after power. It was this obsession that had caused him to keep his newly acquired Rift Wand close at hand, within the confines of the research wing at the Capitol as opposed to being locked away in some deep vault in the Pentacle Building. Rumsdon was not happy about this, but he would simply have to adjust.

With orders received, the security forces backed up a few steps and held their positions as non threateningly as they knew how. The boy kept his ground in front of the woman with her back to a news van and the helmeted guard looked over his shoulder for instructions from the matron, who signaled he should remove his helmet. Tucking his helmet under his arm, he stood at ease and waited. Quick blue eyes scanned the crowd for any challenges. None of his weapons ever left his baldric in the scuffle.

“I’m very sorry for the rude welcome,” Mordred offered, advancing with a slight bow, “We are a world at war and the only intruders we have seen arriving in such a manner have not been human nor were they friendly. Would you be so kind as to identify yourselves and where you come from and what your business here might be?”

Neither of the males spoke, but the woman stepped forward and they moved forward before her in an obvious move to protect her with their lives. He was impressed. Certainly this was a woman of some importance where ever she came from.

“I am Emma Silverlock,” she replied graciously, “current Matriarch of Atlantis and this is my personal valet, Little Fox and my grandson, Johnny. I am not sure exactly how we arrived here as we were watching an experiment involving rift energies and something seems to have gone wrong. I’m afraid I’m not sure as to when we may be able to return to our homeworld and I’m hoping we might find some degree of human hospitality in yours. And whom do have I the pleasure of speaking to?”


“Serendipitous and fortuitous circumstance, good Matriarch,” he replied with a smile and a gracious bow, hamming it up for the cameras, “bring you to our humble capitol and to our world’s Grand Wizard. I am Mordred Seventh at your service and very pleased to make your acqauintence. I am very sorry for our little misunderstanding. I am so glad no one was hurt. I had no idea there was another human world out there besides all the forms of alien deviltry we’ve met thus far.”

“Indeed,” Emma replied. “In all of our own history where the fae have winked in and out of our lives, I would never have suspected that we might find ourselves winking into someone else’s world as such.”

“Have your people had much interaction with these fae?” He asked.

“For a long stretch of our history,” Emma replied, “they were considered the stuff of myths and legends. Only recently have our wizards developed the science and technology to prove the theory of extra planar existence. Only a moment ago, we were at a demonstration of how large, controlled amounts of electromagnetic energies could be used to open and stabilize rifts to cross large distances instantly in our own world . We had no idea we’d be drawn through one and this looks like no city I know. My husband and my people will be frantic.”

“Well milady is quite the traveler,” Mordred responded with a smarmy grin. “You have reached Logres and this is our capitol, Ivory City. I am the ruling Grand Wizard of this world, Mordred VII, at your service and it looks as though our media hounds are demanding some explanation as to why and how our state of the world speech was interrupted . This is what we know in our circles as a ‘photo opportunity’. Just smile for the cameras and we’ll introduce you to the world as our newest honored guests and then we’ll get you settled in some where’s nice and see what we can do about establishing contact with your world and getting you all home safely. You are among friends here.”

Cameras flashed incessantly. Others clicked and hummed as media personell stabbed microphones forward and shouted questions in rapid fire. Mordred took Emma’s arm gently and beamed and waved to all the cameras and walked for the Capitol steps as the boy and the guard fell into step directly behind them and the Elite Shadows kept the crowd just out of arms reach. Promising more information after the latest dignitaries were personally interviewed by himself, the crowd backed off to a polite distance and Mordred escorted the trio into his office in the Ivory Tower.
Mister Tyrsday Night

Bored, bored, bored, bored and BORED! Johnny felt that he would be spending the rest of his natural life being poked, prodded and questioned in some very bland examination room. This was supposed to be the adventure of a lifetime as a spy in a new and unknown world and here he was. Bored to death in a doctor’s office. Even a real doctor’s office would have been an improvement because at least they had old magazines to read and receptionists and other patients he could practice “the Itch” on to amuse himself.

They did medical evaluations on himself, Little Fox and Grandma to determine their health and humanity and now he was waiting for yet another examiner to come in and do a psych profile (whatever that meant) and do cultural studies on them all. He at least had an idea that this meant he was going to be this new doctor’s social studies teacher and that amused him. It was a very familiar face that greeted him, floating somberly above a white lab coat and a white plastic name tag that read: M. Berle, Examiner.

“Hello Johnny,” the examiner said with a quirky smile. “I’m Examiner Berle and I’m here to ask you a few questions about you and your culture. Hopefully, the things I learn with you will help our fearless leaders from making too many social blunders with your folk that might hinder any friendships our worlds might build upon.”

At that moment another white coated figure leaned into the room catching the Examiner’s attention.

“Milton, will you be wanting copies of these transcripts?” She asked.

“Oh yes, please,” Mr. Berle responded, “and in triplicate as the primary study goes upstairs for immediate review.”

“I’ll get right on it,” she said and ducked back out of the room.

“Now where were we?” Examiner Berle pondered.

“Uncle Milty!” Johnny crowed with obvious delight.

“I beg your pardon,” Examiner Berle replied, “but am I to take it that I resemble an uncle of yours back in Atlantis?”

“Well, yes and no,” he confessed. “Not really my uncle, but Mr. Tuesday Night for certain.”

“You’ve lost me,” Milton replied, looking puzzled. “Your grandmother had made mention of something about Tuesday Night, but didn’t elaborate any further than that. Is that a night of the week? Like Moonday, Tyrsday, Wodensday, Thorsday etcetera?”

“Maybe like your Tyrsday,” Johnny supplied.

“And this Uncle Milty is of some fame to be named after a week night?” Milton asked.

“Oh, he’s a famous comedian from all the way back to Vaudeville,” Johnny said. “Didn’t you do any Vaudeville