Free The Trials of Trass Kathra by Mike Wild Page A

dimensional.
    “An impressive collection, isn’t it?” he said. “Reserve stock which I normally only make available to special customers. Those I trust to use it properly.” His expression darkened. “Some of it I don’t make available at all.”
    DeFrys looked to where the old man was pointing. Beside him was another small chamber beyond the cellar, one that appeared to normally be hidden behind a display cabinet that was, for the time being, swung open on concealed hinges. His eyebrows rose at what he saw in there – even if he didn’t necessarily know what it was he was seeing.
    “Do you realise how many years it has taken me to collect these items?” Merrit Moon said. “How many sites I have risked my life to explore to bring them here, to safety?”
    “Proscribed technology,” DeFrys said.
    “What has come to be known as proscribed technology,” Moon said. A needless repetition that brought a momentary frown to DeFrys’ face. “Proscribed by a Church which has neither the wit or wisdom to use it properly.” He turned towards the chamber, staring wistfully at each object in turn. “Here there are devices that can change the nature of a man or his surroundings. Devices which can control the weather, bringing rain or sunshine depending on which is your desire. Devices which can turn the tide of a war...”
    DeFrys stepped off the bottom rung of the ladder and took a step towards the old man.
    “Why are you telling us these things, old man?”
    “I once told a protégé of mine – perhaps you’ve heard of her – Kali Hooper?” Moon went on. Again it struck DeFrys as a non-sequitur, “that she had to take great care in what she released into the world. I have to tell you the same now.”
    “These objects will be confiscated, old man,” DeFrys said. “Examined by experts within our ranks...”
    “I doubt, however,” Merrit Moon continued, “that you will pay much notice to what I say.”
    “What?”
    “I couldn’t take them with me, you see. Had to leave them behind. But I cannot let them fall into your hands. Simply cannot. It would not be right.”
    “What?” DeFrys said again.
    He stared hard at the old man, his face questioning, but Moon simply stared impassively back. A sudden tug of fear gripped the mercenary, for now that the old man was so close the sense of unreality about him that had been so nagging seemed more pronounced. He took a step forward so he was standing nose to nose with the man he was to arrest. His target had no body heat, no body odour, no substance at all.
    “For that, I am genuinely sorry,” Merrit Moon said.
    DeFrys swallowed and put out his hand. It passed right through Merrit Moon.
    “Genuinely sorry...” Merrit Moon repeated.
    Suddenly everything made sense to DeFrys. Moon’s seeming to blur as he moved. His momentary disappearance at the trapdoor. But most of all his inability to answer a direct question. The old man wasn’t being obstructive or evasive – he simply wasn’t answering questions because he hadn’t heard them!
    These last few minutes this... projection had been delivering a pre-recorded lecture.
    And class had just been dismissed.
    “It’s a trap, get out, get out!” he shouted to his men, but too late.
    As the walls around DeFrys began to throb and glow with strange green veins, he found himself scrabbling for the rungs of the ladder alongside his men. Forcing them off it, in fact.
    His breach in officerial responsibility was academic, for his men would never report him. The cellar of Wonders of the World exploded with a force no human bomb could have achieved, and a second later the rest of the shop – ground and upper floors – followed suit. DeFrys was running for his life from the building when it was wiped from the map, and the concussion hit him like a giant sledgehammer in the back. He was thrown forward to land crookedly and heavily on his front, the impact forcing out an explosive grunt.
    As Gargassians began to run