Megan Kane

        

         And then the son asked the father, "Father, why must we do this? Surely no one deserves such punishment."

         And the father said, "Come, Son, and I will show you what these people have done. Let us start at the beginning, with the perpetrator, a girl named Maja."

         "How could a young girl cause all of this?" asked the son.

         The father said, "You shall see."

         And there was silence.

 

 

         Maja walked down the street, trying not to attract any attention. She knew she was dangerous right now. The anger bubbled under her skin, and she longed to blast someone. But she couldn't do that, especially not here, not now. There were too many people around, too many witnesses. She'd have to wait till she got home before she could rid herself of her anger.

         She turned the corner, and opened the door to her home, a small first floor apartment with shabby furnishings and even shabbier inhabitants. "Mom, Dad! I'm home!" she called, dropping her small bag on the floor. "Hello?" There was no answer, not from her parents, or from her four brothers and sisters.

         She went into her room, a small closet-sized space; the walls covered with char marks, and slid a box out from under the cot that was wedged in one corner. Maja opened the box, and took out the small silver rectangle that lay there. "Computer," she said, "Show the location of Mother, Father, Tayca, Alger, Reechoes, and Riga."

         A map of the city popped up with six dots all clustered in one place. Maja had modified her computer to track her family, though it had been tricky to get her magic to mesh with the technology. It worked, but with limited accuracy.

         When she saw where they were, she slammed her fist into the bed, accidentally setting it on fire.

         "Blast!" she said, extinguishing the fire with a wave of her hand.

         She looked back on the map, to check to make sure that what she saw before was true. The cluster of dots was still stationed in the same place—the police station.

         Maja slammed the computer shut and ran into the living room, where she picked her bag off the floor and shoved the computer into it. She didn't have much time before the police caught up to her.

         Maja sprinted out the door and around the corner, leaving burnt rubber footprints behind her. She looked behind her and cursed. The police would be able to follow her easily with that trail, but she couldn't help it. The buildup of anger was too great—the power needed a release. She was either going to need to use up a lot of magic right away, or put up with her slowly disappearing shoes.

         She could already hear the police tracking her overhead. "Maja Traben," called the automated speakers on top of the hovercar that was quickly catching up to her, "We know where you are. Surrender now!"

         Maja tried to disappear into a crowd at the next street corner, but the crowd dispersed quickly when they saw the hovercar roaming the sky, a technology too expensive for anyone besides the government. Everyone else had to contend with cars that barely skimmed over the asphalt roads.

         Still cursing, and still leaving a trail of burnt rubber behind her, Maja continued to run. Sweat poured off of her, soaking her nylon jacket, which was quickly dried by the heat of her skin. She now was enveloped in a cloud of steam, which was not helping her condition at all. She couldn't keep running like this, even with the extra energy boost from the magic, which she needed for later. It was time to try something on the offensive side.

         Maja turned to face the hovercar, now almost over head. She put her arms out in front of her, and raised them towards the waiting car. She could see two policemen with stun guns aiming at her. Concentrating all of her anger on a single point on the car, she let loose, allowing the rage to pour from her hands in a bright stream towards the policemen. The car flew back in the air, landing on the ground some 50 feet away. She winced a little as she saw her blistered palms, but couldn't help but grin. That felt good.

         Maja ran as fast as she could around the corner into a crowd of afternoon commuters. She weaved around people, trying to get as far away from the mess as she could.

         There was no way she'd be able to get out of the city before they caught up with her. She needed to find somewhere to hide.

         Maja looked at the buildings that lined the street. She was in a residential area, so the buildings should be empty—all the children would be playing with their friends in the magnificent city parks, the adults finishing up their work. She glanced again at the houses, and whistled (quietly) at their size. She must be in one of the richer parts of town.

         Maja could hear the hum of the hovercar coming closer. She grabbed desperately at the first doorknob she saw, but the door was locked.

         The hovercars were almost on top of her now. No time to try any other doors. Maja pressed her palm on the door and concentrated. It popped open, and she slid into the room, slamming the door behind her. He legs gave out under her, and she sank to her knees in relief. She outran the police. She was going to make it.

         Maja heard a yell from the other side of the room. She looked up. A group of people stood on the far side of the room, all with frightened looks on their faces, except for one.

         "Who're you?" asked a tall man of about twenty, who wore the oddly patterned clothes of those who were marked by the city as those with The Power. Those with the special clothing found it hard to find work or housing, and often left the country. Some people tried to wear the clothes to frighten others. As he slowly moved towards Maja, she was almost certain he was one of them.

         She caught a glimpse of the palms of his hands. They were red and blistered. She gasped, looking more closely at the others in the room. All had the telltale signs—singed sleeves, sooty clothes, and a permanent kind of burnt smell. So she was wrong, but this was good. She could hide here.

         "You're, you're—" She was cut off by the man.

         "Yes, we are. You already knew that, didn't you? That's why you lead the police to our front door!"

         "No!" protested Maja, though she could hear the hum of the hovercars as they scanned the area. They were still looking for her. "I'm one of you!"

         "Sure you are," snarled the man. "How did you find us anyway? Did one of them give us away?" he asked, jerking a thumb towards the frightened group behind him.

         "I've never seen her before," offered one dark skinned boy, a few years older than Maja.

         "Quiet, Zayan," snapped the man. "Now, who wants to help me kill her?"

          There were protests from the others, but Maja didn't hear them. She felt her anger turning cold, turning into pure, icy fear. It ran through her veins, chilled her thoughts. She couldn't die! She outran the police! She couldn't die!

         The man, having received no volunteers, advanced towards Maja, palms outstretched. She could see the buildup of magic right under his skin, waiting to be released. He stopped when he was a few feet in front of her. Maja tried the door handle. It was stuck. She pressed her palms against the door while staying as far away from the man's hands as possible, but it was still shut fast. The man laughed, his eyes glinting. "You won't get out of here anytime soon," he said.

         Maja's fear melted. This was ridiculous. She wasn't going to die. She couldn't die! The rage poured back into her, heating her again.

         The man was now directly in front of her. He pulled back his hands, preparing to deliver the blow, but Maja didn't wait for it. Instead, she threw her hands out, hitting the man's face, while concentrating as much as she could on her anger, and imagining him burning, imagining him frying, turning into a crisp, his smile seared away.

         She removed her hands, and what was left of the man fell to the ground. Her palms burned, her body ached, and she felt like she was going to mentally throw up. But she couldn't collapse, not just yet. She looked towards the group on the other side of the room. "I'm Maja," she said, "And I'll be staying."

         And before anyone could protest, she collapsed.

 

 

         The son said to the father, "I understand."

         "No, you do not," said the father. "Do you think anger is the only sin they have committed? Wait, my son, and watch."

         And there was silence.

 

 

         Zayan regretted not helping Alexander kill Maja some days.

         This was one of those days.

         She outlined their plan—she called it her plan, like he hadn't spent days working out the finer points on the concrete wall. They still met in the same room where Alexander got fried by Maja. That was five years ago.

         Maja was emphasizing a certain point on the wall, drawing a diagram in chalk and outlining it in sparks. Zayan didn't listen—why should he? Maja, as always, had very little to say that was worth listening to.

         He saw some of the younger ones nod at every word she said. He snorted. People listened to Maja out of fear, not respect. Now, if he was in charge ... but that was an idle dream. The others would never fear him the way they feared Maja or Alexander before her. He learned to control his anger, so he didn't always have big spurts of power followed by a time of weakness. He didn't squander his magic—he learned to save it for when it was necessary. He learned to master it. But the others would count that as a weakness, not strength.  He was twenty–two years old, and was destined to be the second hand man for the rest of his life.

         Zayan took another look at the chalk marks on the wall and groaned. She was throwing out most of his suggestions, and was going for the brute strength approach, in which everyone basically stormed the capital building at once. Never mind that that would take huge amounts of uncontrolled power. Never mind that the loss of civilian life would turn most of the city against them. Forget subtlety; let's just knock the building down! That'll solve all of our problems! Idiots.

         Maja must have heard his response to her plan, because she was glaring daggers at him now. This was particularly dangerous, because when Maja got angry enough, the daggers really did fly from her eyes, resulting in the death of whoever angered her. "Do you have any problems with this, Zayan?" asked Maja, contempt dripping off her voice as it had off Alexander's.

         Zayan sighed. And to think that he held such hopes for her once... "Yes, Maja," he said as calmly as he could muster. "I thought we agreed we'd implement my suggestions into the plan."

         Maja grinned, showing a surprising amount of teeth for someone who was human. "So that's why you're angry, is it? You didn't get your ideas into the plan, so you're going to throw a fit?"

         Zayan bristled, his palms itching. He wanted to strike, to lash out, to upset the stupid puppies who sat on the floor around him, practically panting whenever Maja spoke.

         He took a deep breath. "No, Maja, I just thought that the plan would be better if it involved less than half of us dying," he said, voice rising slightly. "It's going to be hard enough as it is to get more people to join us, without adding in the high potential of violent death!"

         Maja shrugged, grinning at the lap dogs that sat around her feet. "We got all of these people easily enough; we've nearly tripled in size since I first came here. Don't you think we're doing pretty good?"

         There would be ten times as many if you didn't fly into a rage every other day. "There are other benefits to my ideas," he said. "Like less innocents dying."

         "There are other benefits to my ideas like less innocents dying," mimicked Maja in a high, squeaky voice. Her cronies laughed, and she joined them. "Why should we care about them? Where were these so called innocents when we were chased through the city by the police because we had the power? Where were the innocents when our families deserted us, when we had to live in hiding, alone, just to stay alive? Where were they when we lay starving in the gutters?"

         Zayan knew it was no use. Most of the others were younger than 18 years old—they had been kicked out by their parents when they were young. Some of them lived on the streets for years. To them Maja was a surrogate mother—albeit a frightening, abusive one—they would defend her fiercely. Even the others, the ones who were still alive from the time when Alexander ruled, would not be persuaded by his arguments. He was younger than most of them—they had seen him when he was eight, a small and skinny refugee. No one would follow him with that memory in their head.

         He knew he should stop, before Maja decided that he was more of a threat than a nuisance, but he couldn't. She ticked him off too much, and he was tired of dealing with it.

         He could feel the buzz of the power in his blood as he looked at the drawings on the board; saw the laughing dogs on the floor, barking insatiably at their leader's joke. Usually, at this point, he would pull back, retreat into sensibility and rationality, and take a few deep breaths. Not this time.

         He swept his hand towards the direction of the wall, and wiped it clean, until no chalk marks remained.

         Maja stopped laughing.

         Zayan waved his arm, and his plans began writing themselves upon the wall. Maja frowned, and Zayan felt giddy. There was no way she knew how to do something like that—it required too much control. He'd pay for this later, probably with his life.

         "What do you think you're doing?" asked Maja.

         Zayan reeled in his anger a little bit. "Maja, I know you're a little slow, so I'm going to explain this one more time. So I want you to listen, and listen very carefully."

         Maja seethed with anger. He could see it crackling and moving under her skin, but he was past caring at this point. Revenge was at hand.

         "Now, if we go with my plan instead of yours, Maja, we'll only have to kill a few people."

         One of Maja's crew snorted. "That's stupid," she said, rolling her eyes and glancing towards Maja for approval. Maja didn't look back, and the girl wilted a little.

         "Why?" asked Zayan. "Do you think death equals power? Is that what she has taught you?" he asked, pointing towards Maja. "Don't you idiots realize that if we don't kill anyone we have a greater chance of public approval?" He could almost see the words flying over their heads. "Do you want to have a short, bloody, revolution and then get killed when the people decide you're too dangerous and violent? You fools!"

         Zayan stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind him. He began walking down the street outside, head down, discreetly burning trash on the street. He walked for several minutes like that, trying not to think about what happened.

         It was no use. As he felt his sensibility return to him, he realized that he was as good as dead, after saying the things he said. Maja had once killed one of the new kids just because he started talking during one of her radical revolutionary war speeches. That had shut the others up real fast.

         Zayan kicked a drink can, and continued walking, past the tall residential buildings, into the heart of the city, where he could lose himself in the crowds. Reflecting back on the last hour, he supposed he had actually been quite lucky to get out of that room alive. Maja must have just been so shocked, to hear someone speak out against her, that she couldn't react.

         He was alone now. He didn't actually, like the others, have a place to live, outside of the house where they met. He usually slept in one of the small bedrooms upstairs, and had done so for over ten years. The others with the power, as stupid and bull –headed as they had been, were the only people he ever had. And now, to go back was death.

         He reached the center of the city. A crowd of people engulfed him, all talking on their holophones, or reviewing documents that were projected up from their phones in mid air. He shook his head. He wasn't quite sure how anyone did that without bumping into people all the time. He heard a crash from behind him, and smiled.

         There was another crash from behind him. Frowning, Zayan turned around, and nearly fell over. There, a few feet in front of him, sat Maja in the midst of a jumble of wires and bits of silicon. She, apparently, knocked over one of the large news screens that covered the walls in this section of the city, since businessmen seemed incapable of being separated from the news for more than a few seconds. The weather forecast—smog as usual—still played across the broken screen.

         Zayan walked over to her. She still had a murderous look on her face, though now she actually looked embarrassed, her face tinged with red, her head turned slightly down, looking away from him.

         He stood above her, and extended a hand. She looked at it as if it offended her, before talking it and pulling herself up. She dusted off her nylon electric blue jacket, and glared at him. Zayan shrugged. There was a glimmer of hope now, he thought. She hadn't killed him right away. He might actually make it out of this alive.

         "We need to talk," she said, grabbing his arm and hauling him into a little park that was sandwiched in between two skyscrapers. A man was walking a small dog, and two children were attempting to climb a tree, strewing small twigs and leaves around the base of the tree.

         "Here are the conditions," said Maja as soon as she was certain the man and the children were not listening. "We go with your plan, we pretend like it was my plan, I pretend to punish you, you pretend to be submissive, and I won't kill you. Who knows? I might let you get a good job in my new government."

         "I thought your new government was going to be a dictatorship?" asked Zayan.

         Maja shuffled her feet, leaving brown patches of dirt wherever she moved her feet. "I've been thinking, and I think that I might need a few more people in my government. I'll still have absolute control, of course, but we need to reassure the people that their government is the best government. So I'm going to have five or six advisors."

         "Why did you change your mind about my plan?" asked Zayan.

         "Because," said Maja, a sharp look in her eye. "If I were you, I'd stop asking stupid questions and just be grateful."

         "I will, I am!" said Zayan, afraid she would retract her offer.

         Maja smiled. "Good. Now that we understand each other, let's go back to the meeting house. We have a lot of work to do." She walked off, leaving a trail of footprints behind her.

         Zayan followed a few feet behind. Oh yes, he was grateful. Very grateful. He'd go along with her plan, act as submissive as she wanted. He'd wait, wait for his chance. Maja couldn't live forever. He would make sure of that.

 

 

         The son said, "I do not understand."

         The father, growing weary of his son's questions, shook his head. "What do you not understand? I thought it would become clear now, why we are doing this."

         "No," said the son, "I do not see how the sins of two could condemn an entire planet."

         "Let us go forward a few years, then," said the Father. "And you will see the fruit of the seeds of those first two."

         And there was silence.

 

 

         Maja stepped off her starship, and surveyed the planet before her.

         It felt so good to say that. Her ship. Legal owner and pilot of what she hoped would be the first in a great fleet. She had a few others, bought with the money she took from her country's own treasury. A wry grin flitted across her face. Oh yes, this was far from her humble beginnings. No longer scared, angry little Maja Traben, but Queen Maja, ruler of Matlock, conqueror of worlds.

         Or, at least, she would be the conqueror of worlds if this new venture went as planned.

         It, of course, had been Zayan's idea in the first place, but Maja would never admit that to anyone. Why not, he had suggested, take over other worlds? It had been an easy enough process in their own country, and why have one world when a whole universe could lie at your feet?

         Maja was really starting to warm up to Zayan.

         She saw a group of delegates approaching her, moving swiftly across the grassy plain. This was a nice planet, she thought, it would be a shame to have to torch it.

         She sent a message ahead of her ship, requesting that the leaders of the nearby countries come to meet the Queen. They were going to get more than a friendly diplomatic meeting, though.

         "I am glad you have all made it," said Maja. She paused for a moment to fix the small crown that rested on her head before she continued. "I have called you here to request your immediate surrender, and that your countries all submit to the will of the rulers of Matlock.

         She inwardly delighted as the rulers all looked amongst themselves in shock as they tried to decide how to respond to her request.

         One particularly bold young man, dressed in bright scarlet with a long sword at his waist, stepped forward to challenge Maja. "And why should we submit to you, when we have an entire world behind us, and you only have one puny starship?"

         Maja laughed, making those closest to her jump back in surprise. Her hand glowed as she shot a stream of blue sparks towards the old woman to the right of the impetuous boy. The woman fell down, gasping for breath.

         "That's why," she said.

         She heard the officers from her ship stepping forward, using their own power to keep the other rulers immobile. Maja laughed as she saw the horrified looks frozen on their faces.

         "Are there any other questions?"

 

 

         "Now, Son, it is time to end this."

         And there was silence.

 

 

         Zayan was arguing with Maja when the world exploded.

         He always knew it would end like that—both of them arguing, and then Maja would decide he was too much of a nuisance, and kill him.

         But he had lasted a thousand years at her side, conquered planets with her, lived in splendor, ruling and advising from a throne of pure gold, and she had yet to kill him.

         So it came as a shock, when the world exploded, that he really wasn't going to die by her hands.

         They had both been sitting on their thrones (his slightly lower than hers, of course) when one of the girls he recognized from their training academy came into the throne room.

         "What do you want?" asked Maja, looking down at the girl.

         She was staring straight ahead, not saying anything.

         Zayan started to sweat. The last time something like this happened, it had been someone trying to kill Maja. Of course, that particular assassin was on his payroll. This girl was not.

         "Guards!" called Zayan, motioning for them to step forward to take the girl.

         Maja caught his hand. "Wait, Zayan. Let us see what she has to say."

         The girl seemed to come to a little, and stepped back uncertainly from the gilded thrones. "My apologies, your majesties, I—" She stopped, the strange look overtaking her face once again. "The time has come," she said, but in a much louder voice.

         "Are you all right, girl?" asked one of the men on Zayan's right, one of the few other advisors left from the old times. The only reason he was still alive was because he was too stupid to realize the danger around him, like right now.

         "Guards!" shouted Zayan, louder this time.

         "Quiet!" shrieked Maja, waving a hand to still his tongue.

         The girl stepped forward, growing bolder. "You must now pay for your sins," she boomed, stretching her arms out wide.

         "She's going to destroy us! Take her!" Zayan shouted internally. But his own magic was not strong enough at the moment to counteract what Maja had done to him. He put this crime down on the ever growing list of offences against him. Someday, he was sure he would make Maja pay. Someday.

         "What sins do we have?" asked Maja, laughing. "We control all, have you forgotten that? We are the ones who decide what sin is, and what it is not."

         Momentary panic flashed across the girl's face, quickly replaced by a cruel look of contempt. "Yes, you are gods of your own making, aren't you? But now vengeance is upon you."

         Zayan finally managed to break through the spell. "Guards, take her!"

         Maja got to the girl first, though. Screaming with rage, she shot a blue fireball at the girl's chest, causing her to fall back in the waiting arms of the guards. They dragged her out of the room. "Impetuous little thing," muttered Maja, taking her seat on the pile of silk cushions that sat upon her jewel encrusted throne.

         "You don't think we're in danger?" asked Zayan, staring at Maja in shock.

         "Of course not," said Maja, waving her hand as if the gesture could erase the worry from Zayan's mind.

         "I don't believe it! She obviously knew something we did not! We did not get to where we are now by ignoring the warning signs!" Zayan rose from his throne, ready to challenge Maja. She stood up as well, sparks already playing around her fingers, but she never got the chance to use The Power. Everything, everywhere around Zayan exploded in a great rush of fire. He tried to scream, but felt that he no longer had a throat, no longer had a body at all, but was floating in a never ending darkness.

         And then there was silence.

 

 

         The soldier leaned back from the controls of his starship, putting his head in his hands as the planet in front of him exploded. His young son, too young to realize the impact of such a thing, watched as small chunks of rock collided with each other, creating fireworks in the night sky.

         "Did they really deserve it, Father? Was that really the right thing to do?" the son asked.

         "It was the only thing we could do, Son," said the father, patting the boy on the head.

 

 

Copyright 2007, Megan Kane

Meagan Kane lives in Kansas with her parents and three little sisters. 

  

 

Cover: "Secret Shangra-La:

Hidden in the mists of memory lies Shangra-La" 

This is a pencil sketch gone over with ink markers, scanned, and enhanced with digital colorizing software. 

Copyright 2007, Melinda Reynolds 

 

Support The Sword Review 

The Sword Review is a publication of Double-Edged Publishing, Inc., a nonprofit corporation designated as a 501(c)(3) public charity. Double-Edged Publishing believes the written word is a powerful tool, capable of shaping ideas and changing lives.

Mail checks to:

Online donations can be made and more information can be found via The Sword Review or the Double-Edged Publishing websites: