HappenstanceMAGAZINE

JULY 1, 2013

A musing... America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our

freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.–Abraham Lincoln

HappenstanceJuly 1, 2013

Happenstance PublishingSharon Vander MeerFor permission to use

content contact: sharon@vandermeerbooks.com

Cover image: Old Glory

clipart.comPhoto: Sharon Vander Meer

Some interior images may be from clipart.com

Next issue:On or about July 15, 2013

Submission deadline,Friday, July 12, 2013No exceptions

Creative Prompt:Summer Celebrations

July 1, 2013, Page 2

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www.vandermeerbooks.com Copyright 2013

Page 5

Writers’ Block ReviewAnonymous Sources

Mary Louise Kelly converts her two de-cades of traveling the world as a reporter for NPR and the BBC into a fast-paced novel of

intrigue. Just released in June this tale of spies and danger will keep you up all night.

Page 4

Changeling KingEpisode 5

By Sergio Hartshorne

Page 8

In this issue:Page 3 • A flag to wave

Page 4 • Writers’ Block Review Anonymous Sources

Page 5 • Entrepreneur Blowin in the Wind

Page 6 • American Revolution Page 6 • Wounded Warriors

Page 7 • Poetry

Page 8 • Changeling King Sergio Hartshorne

Page 10 • Thunder Prime: Hunter’s Light Episode 12 Sharon Vander Meer

Page 12 • Day break through haze By Sharon Vander Meer

Happenstance Magazine

Entrepreneur SpotlightBlowin in the Wind

Opening a gal-lery was on Margaret and David’s bucket list, and now it’s a reality. Blowin in the Wind gallery features clothing, jewelry, fur-nishings and David’s sculptures.

A flag to waveWhen the American flag passes by in

a parade I choke up. When stirring patriotic songs are sung my chest swells with pride. This is my country and I’m proud of it. I don’t like the injustices that have occurred over time, but that does not diminish my belief the United States of America is still the greatest country in the world, from sea to shining sea.

What we hear on the nightly news is hardly representative of the kind of country we live in. Stories of murder and mayhem, child abuse and neglect, and the life and times of a womanizing cop accused of kill-ing his wife can make us start to believe the worst of everyone. It’s hard to think positive when we constantly are bombarded by negative input. We become discouraged with the sad state of affairs and start thinking “that’s life” and we can’t do anything about it.

But we can. We can look for the good in people and work at bringing out the best in them and in ourselves.

On television the other evening there was a story about foster parents who have taken in 20 children over the years. Many of those children are now adults with careers and a future. This couple had four biological children, who embraced this ever-changing family dynamic and offered support and encouragement to their unconventional brothers and sisters. This family garnered a whole five minutes in the spotlight. If the children (several of them deemed to be “troubled youths”) had done something horrible instead of graduating from college, how much air time and print space would they have received? For reasons beyond me, negative be-havior gets replayed a thousand times; uplifting stories barely get a nod, if anything at all, which is why a positive attitude is a survival technique everyone needs.

What does all this have to do with flag waving? Pride. Creating and maintaining pride in country instills pride in all aspects of life. Many lives have been sacrificed on the alter of war so we can be free. While war as a concept is distressing to me, I must respect and honor those who fought and died so I can be as patriotic as I want to be, or not at all. Living in a free country means you get to make a choice. It may not be a popular choice, but it is your choice. I don’t have to agree with you, but my belief in equality tells me I am blessed to be able to have my opinion, just as you may have yours. We don’t have to agree to live together in peace.

Democracy is a strange concept to those who have never lived in a democratic society. Repressive regimes dominate in areas where pov-erty and ignorance prevail. Thanks to the electronic age, there are fewer uninformed people in the world, but poverty and ignorance continue to plague much of society. As has been made evident in the unrest in the Middle East access to information is giving people courage to demand more freedom and more access to life-changing education, something we have enjoyed for 237 years and counting.

Have a blessed and safe 4th of July holiday. –Sharon

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 3

Submissions WelcomeThese prompts are suggestions, not fences to corral the writing muse.

July: Summer CelebrationsAugust: School DaysSeptember: Autumn LeavesOctober: Spirits and GhostiesNovember: Fabulous FoodDecember: Winter Celebrations

Submission deadlines: One week prior to the publication date, which is typically on the 1st and the 15th of each month.

Writer’s Guidelines:1. Must be original work.2. Grammar, punctuation and spelling must be correct.3. Maximum length 1,500 words.4. Acceptable genres and styles: poetry, humor, essay, memoir, short story, photo essay, feature articles, travel, social commentary, food, wine and dining, book reviews, fiction, non-fiction, mystery, romance and sci-fi/fantasy.5. Submission does not guarantee publication.6. Submit work to: sharon@vandermeerbooks.com.

If you have specific questions about the submission process,

please e-mail sharon@vandermeerbooks.comCompensation not paid at this time.

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 4

Anonymous SourcesAuthor: Mary Louise KellyPublisher: Gallery Books$26.00ISBN: 978-1476715544

Women who are flawed but fo-cused make for intriguing char-

acters. Alexandra James is fighting personal demons, and on some days barely keeping it together when a story falls into her lap

that alerts her reporter’s instincts. In “Anonymous Sources,” James becomes convinced the death of Harvard graduate Thomas Abbot Carlyle, a gifted student who has just returned from a year abroad, is neither an accident nor a suicide, despite evidence – or the lack thereof – to the contrary.

She manages to get past police lines and other barriers through sheer guts to further her investigation. Her tenacity and ability to sort through clues keeps her moving forward to the story of a lifetime, or perhaps to no story at all.

In this fast-paced book about international intrigue and an ever-changing newspaper world where online instant headlines vie with above-the-fold breaking news that sells papers, James finagles her way to Cambridge believing Thom’s last year holds the

key to his death.She learns a lot about Thom, his liaison with a glamorous

woman, and other facts about his life in England, most of it in-nocuous, hardly cause to commit suicide or reason enough be a murder victim. Nor does everything she’s learned about him indi-cate he is careless. He was well liked, had no controversial friends and seemed to have it all. With a charmed life ahead of him, how and why did he end up with a broken body in the cobbled court-yard at Harvard?

In her pursuit of the truth the New England Chronicle reporter triggers events that put her life in danger and make her even more determined to continue asking questions. What she learns exposes a conspiracy bigger than anything she could have imagined and puts her in the crosshairs of an assassin.

Author Mary Louise Kelly spent two decades traveling the world as a reporter for NPR and the BBC. Her assignments have taken her from Belfast bars to the glittering ports of the Persian Gulf, and from mosques in Hamburg to the ruined deserts of Iraq. As an NPR correspondent covering the spy beat and the Penta-gon, she reported on wars, terrorism, and rising nuclear powers. A Georgia native, her first job was working as a staff writer at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Kelly was educated at Harvard University and at Cambridge University in England. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband and their two children.

Review: Anonymous Sources

Editor’s Note: This was not written by a Happenstance writer, but did come to me through Alan Guy, a frequent contributor. I Googled it and found it in a couple of places, so as a disclaimer, we didn’t write it, but it’s worth looking at. These 21 reasons why Eng-lish is hard to learn also apply to the process of writing. If you’re not on your toes you can easily misuse a word simply because your computer either autocorrects what you’ve written, or you allowed “spell check” to make a decision for you. For instance there, their and they’re are said in the same way, but have distinctive meanings. To, too and two? Same thing. There are lots of examples of words that sound alike but depending on context have different meaning. Enjoy the list and if you have time, send in your samples of interesting words that can be used in different ways.

• The bandage was wound around the wound.• The farm was used to produce produce.• The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.• We must polish the Polish furniture.• He could lead if he would get the lead out.• The soldier decided to desert his des-sert in the desert.• Since there is no time like the pres-ent, he thought it was time to present the present.• A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.• When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.• I did not object to the object.• The insurance was invalid for the invalid.

• There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.• They were too close to the door to close it.• The buck does funny things when the does are present.• A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.• To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.• The wind was too strong to wind the sail.• After a number of injections my jaw got number.• Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.• I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.• How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

21 Reasons Why The English Language Is Hard To Learn

If you haven’t been to Blowin in the Wind you must stop by. Margaret

and David Smith have created a beautiful bright space and filled it with irresistible items, much of it treasured mementos from their previous home, a 7,500 square foot property decorated in charming eclectic style. You look at what they have and immediately picture it in your own home.

In my interview with Margaret she talked about what took her away from the area many years ago, and why she and David returned. The couple live in Pendaries and enjoy the challenges and joys of their new shop.

Margaret was born in Rociada, but didn’t spend much time there. She was adopted by her older sister when she was small and spent most of her growing up years in Colorado. She and David moved back to the area in 2006 from Nine Mile Falls, Wash.

“I have come here on vacation every year since I was born,” Margaret said. “My real mother and the sister who adopted me both died in 2004. I don’t know why, but I had this need to move here. I can’t explain it. I just had to move back to Rociada. Now I live here and vacation from here.”

She said they opened the new shop because her artist hus-band had it on his bucket list.

“David is a fourth generation carpenter. He makes all the wood urns, bowls, art pieces and pine furniture we are featuring at Blowin in the Wind.”

Formerly his father made many of the sculpture pieces, but David is an artist in his own right.

“We took his parents to Sedona, Ariz., 15 years ago. David’s father fell in love with the wind sculptures. He started making them and hasn’t done any woodworking since. We live in Pendaries and I have many pieces David’s father made for us. Golfers frequently ask to buy them, but I can’t sell them. I used to give my father-in-law’s phone number, and people would order from him. He would ship directly to them. He is 75 now and sells the sculptures out of his yard. He doesn’t want to do the ship-

ping.”David’s father suggested he make

the sculptures and sell them instead, which he has been doing for a num-ber of years.

“David normally sells his art at the annual Pendaries art show every 4th of July. This year the show was cancelled. David had worked all winter and had no room at his shop. We thought it might be a good time to start on that bucket list.”

The Smiths looked at a lot op-tions when searching for a location. Initially they were thinking of a small space, but the building at 108 Bridge Street had everything they were look-ing for, most importantly big windows to showcase David’s wind sculptures.

“This spot was bigger than we were looking for but I told Da-vid I could fill it.” And fill it she did. Along with the wind sculp-tures and wood pieces David makes, Blowin in the Wind carries clothing, jewelry and may other items.

“These are things I’ve had in storage since we moved here. I broke my foot the day we moved into our house in Pendaries. By the time I got out of the cast and boot I had gone from a size 0 to a size 10. Once I got out of the cast and boot I lost the weight and that’s why I have so may clothing sizes. I never got a chance to wear most of them so the original tags are still on them, along with the price I have marked them down to. I also have made a dent in my jewelry collection. I call it my artsy fartsy jewelry. It’s not expensive, just fun pieces I have collected over the years. Necklaces start at $15. At that price they won’t last long. I have a ton of candles that start at $2. We also have many New Mexico art pieces I have collected since we moved here.”

It is evident the second you walk into the store that Margaret loves clothing. She intends to expand her stock over time, but for now she invites buyers to check out the spring garments she has on the racks.

“I will start bringing fall and winter clothes in August. The sizes will still be 0 to 10 until next spring when I get to shop again.”

Margaret said the shop’s best selling items are the copper double spinner’s like the one on the store sign, and the Dahlia’s.

“They’re made in copper and any color the customer wants. David does custom orders, and it is up to a two week wait,” she said.

The store is open Monday through Saturday, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Margaret is aided in the store’s operation by sales associate Connie Garcia. For more information call 505 454-1050.

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 5

Entrepreneur Spotlight: Blowin in the WindNew on Bridge Street

Margaret and David Smith, owners of Blowin in the Wind gallery on Bridge Street.

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 6

When you say the Pledge of Allegiance, do you know what values you’re swearing to uphold?

Most Americans would say that they know their nation’s history. In fact, according to the first national survey of adult knowledge of the American Revolution, 89 percent of Americans said they could pass a basic test on their nation's founding. But only 17 percent of those same adults actually managed to do so.

The American Revolution secured our nation’s independence and established its enduring form of rep-resentative government. Many of the everyday freedoms that most Americans exercise without a second thought – including the freedom to practice the religion of their choice, or not to worship at all – were established by the American Revolution.

Only in understanding the liberties guaranteed by the Constitution and the Bill of Rights will Americans know how to preserve them. As Dr. Bruce Cole, presi-dent and CEO of The American Revolution Center, a non-partisan, not-for-profit organization, says, “Knowl-edge of the ideas on which our constitutional system is built is essential to maintain the relevance and vibrancy of our government that is of the people, by the people and for the people.”

Everyday Americans do not disagree – 90 percent think U.S. citizens should know the history and principles of the American Revolution, even if they vastly overestimate their own knowledge.

To help future generations remember America’s legacy, The

American Revolution Center plans to construct The Museum of the American Revolution in historic Phila-delphia, just steps away from Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell. It will be the first national museum to tell the entire story of the American Revolution.

“Through The Museum of the American Revolu-tion, we hope to engage rising generations in the ongoing story that is America’s democracy,” Dr. Cole said.

Think that you could have passed the quiz? Maybe some of the survey’s findings will surprise you:

• More than 50 percent of Americans wrongly at-tributed the quote, “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs,” to George Washington, Thomas Paine, or President Barack Obama, when it is in fact a quote from Karl Marx, author of “The Communist Manifesto.”

• Sixty percent of Americans can correctly identify the number of children in a former reality-TV show couple Jon and Kate Gosselin’s household (eight), but more than one-third do not know the century in which the American Revolution took place (the 18th).

• Nearly 50 percent of Americans believe the Civil War, Emancipation Proclamation or War of 1812 occurred before the American Revolution.

For more information, visit www.AmericanRevolutionCenter.org.

– From NewsUSA

How much do you know about the American Revolution?

A lethal roadside bomb wounded Master Sergeant Jeffrey Mittman

on July 7, 2005, in Baghdad, Iraq. Though within 30 minutes of the attack Mittman was airlifted to a hospital in Baghdad, he sustained permanent bodily damage. When he awoke one month later at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washing-ton, D.C., he was blinded in his left eye, his right arm was badly damaged, and he had lost his nose, lips, and most of his teeth.

After the U.S. invaded Afghanistan in 2001, tales like Mittman’s have become increasingly more common. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq created more injuries

resulting in blindness than any conflict since the Civil War. Advanced medical technologies have enabled more service personnel to survive serious injuries, which in prior wars would have resulted in fatalities.

Back at home, Mittman faced many roadblocks to rehabilitation. Today, as it was back then, 70 percent of working-age people who are blind cannot find jobs.

Mittman chose to become involved in a training program with National Industries for the Blind (NIB) through the Warrior in Transition Program; in this role he supports a critical mission of employ-ment for people with disabilities. He recently received the prestigious “Oz Day” award, presented to a federal employee or member of the military who demonstrates exceptional service in promoting employ-ment opportunities for people who are blind or severely disabled.

“I decided long ago – I can either own

[my experiences] and learn from these experiences or I can let them own me. I chose the former,” said Mittman. “I am humbled and proud to receive this honor, and I am eager to continue to be an ex-ample to our wounded warriors and other individuals with disabilities, showing them what is possible.”

Through the Wounded Warrior Program at NIB, wounded veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts can become informed about training, job placement and career opportunities within NIB and 90 associated nonprofit agencies across the country. NIB’s mission is to enhance the opportunities for economic and personal independence of persons who are blind, primarily through creating, sustaining, and improving employment.

For more information about the Wounded Warrior Program, visit www.nib.org.

– From NewsUSA

NIB helps wounded warriors and provides resources

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 7

Dedicated to the dedicated

Haze spreads across the skyline.Smoke from yet another fire?Forests are burning,and we’re burning too.Burning with sadness.In Arizona death movedthrough ruined treesgutted the landscape,consumed the life forceof Nineteen.

Fire the wily beast,a changeable dragon,emotionless and brutal.It took their lives,it cannot, must notobliterate our memories.

Each leaves a legacyof service and commitment.

When you put your lifeon the line for others,you might lose it,but you do it anyway.

Service.Commitment.Times Nineteen.

The tool of the doer

There is no reasonnot to follow your dreams. Don’t let fearpaint you into a corner.

Trust that voiceThe one that says, “Go for it! Take your gifts,make the most of them!”

Faith is the tool of the doer. It helps you move forwardFirst one step, and then anotherUntil you reach your goal.

By Sharon Vander Meer

Ragged Old FlagBy Johnny Cash

I walked through a county courthouse square, On a park bench an old man was sitting there. I said, “Your old courthouse is kinda run down.” He said, “Naw, it’ll do for our little town.” I said, “Your flagpole has leaned a little bit, And that’s a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it.

He said, “Have a seat,” and I sat down. “Is this the first time you’ve been to our little town?” I said, “I think it is.” He said, “I don’t like to brag, But we’re kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag.

You see, we got a little hole in that flag there When Washington took it across the Delaware. And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key Sat watching it writing “Oh Say Can You See”. And it got a bad rip in New Orleans With Packingham and Jackson tuggin’ at its seams.

And it almost fell at the Alamo Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on through. She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill. There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg, And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag.

On Flanders Field in World War I She got a big hole from a Bertha gun. She turned blood red in World War II She hung limp and low by the time it was through. She was in Korea and Vietnam. She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam.

She waved from our ships upon the briny foam, And now they’ve about quit waving her back here at home. In her own good land she’s been abused – She’s been burned, dishonored, denied and refused.

And the government for which she stands Is scandalized throughout the land. And she’s getting threadbare and wearing thin, But she’s in good shape for the shape she’s in. ‘Cause she’s been through the fire before And I believe she can take a whole lot more.

So we raise her up every morning, Take her down every night. We don’t let her touch the ground And we fold her up right. On second thought I DO like to brag, ‘Cause I’m mighty proud of that Ragged Old Flag.”

Poetry

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 8

The Ghost CallerBy Sergio Hartshorne

Kila led the scrying using a set of old man’s bones, the King helped by serving as an ancillary foci. She began

by painting a circle on the floor of the hostel they were staying at, using a mixture of shark’s blood and saltpeter. One of the bones towards the outer part of the mage circle began glowing.

“There!” she called out. “I have it. The next stone in your series of three is owned by a Ghost Caller called Fark.”

“A Ghost Caller?” the King asked. “Is that like a Necroman-cer?”

“No, no,” Kila said. “A Ghost Caller is a member of a sect of men who are usually benign.”

“Usually?”“Yes and I’ve heard of this one. He fits the bill. But I hear that

he’s a little eccentric.”“Good,” the King said firmly.“Good? What do you mean ‘good’?”“Good,” he said again. “At least he won’t be boring.”After the scring was over, with much heartache the King

and Shenk left Kila, who needed to return to her home. They had directions from Kila to the old man’s home in the elven port city of Elias.

The journey was uneventful, except for one thing. They found out that what they were looking for was not three stones but five orbs. They discovered this from the captor of a new traveling companion whom they picked up on the way. He was a Manimal named Yarp. They rescued him from the clutches of a group of three Corrupt Screevers and a Dark Mage.

They had been on the lookout for a place to make camp for the night when they saw a strange sight. There was a man being ridden by a horse! Or at least that was Shenk’s contention. The King, older and wiser than his traveling companion, knew what it was from the start. “Screevers,” he’d said. Then, as an aside, “Duck.” Shenk did and narrowly missed being skewered by a stone spear. Shenk went into a furious charge then, pulling loose his flanged mace. He had all three of the Screevers( bloated things with six tentacled arms, horses’ heads and dagger sharp teeth) killed and his booted foot on the throat of the mage in under a half minute. “I thought you’d want this one alive,” he said. The Dark Mage, a porcine man with thick mustachios glared at them sullenly.

The King clapped Shenk on the shoulder. “Quick thinking.” The King wrenched the mage’s arm up behind his back. “What were you doing with them. Screevers, the oldest and foulest race known to man!” The King interrogated the prisoner. That was when Shenk noticed the quivering Manimal.

“Oh me head,” the Manimal had said.The Dark Mage spoke then. “We were taking a convoy of

slaves to market in the city of Traes. This bastard is the only one left. The others escaped yesterday and killed all but the four of us doing it!”

The King and Shenk shared a look. “I must meet these es-

capees,” the King said. The King changed the color of his eyes to a dark golden color.

The reaction from the Dark Mage was immediate. He forked the evil eye at the King and began shouting: “Devil Spawn! Skin Changer! Demon! Hijo de Puta!”

The King hit him once in the mouth, hard, which stopped the stream of epithets. The sight of the Dark Mage, throwing these names at his employer was so unexpectedly hilarious that Shenk was hard pressed to keep from bursting into laughter. The King noticed what looked like a crude saddle strapped onto the Mani-mal then. Walking over, he asked the poor thing what his name was. Manimals were humans trapped into sharing the body of an animal by dark magic. This one was half man and half leopard. “Yarp,” he’d whined.

Afte catching his breath the poor creature continued. “I used to have a longer name, a human name, but that’s all I can remem-ber. Will you let me go, now, please?”

The King began unfastening the harness, cutting the straps with a sharp mage’s dagger he’d found on their prisoner. “I think you should come with us Yarp. We’re going to see a Ghost Caller. Maybe the spirits of the dead can help us both.”

Before Yarp could answer, the evil mage began laughing uncontrollably.

“I know who you are Changeling! Ivan von Reeshark! Last claimant to a centuries old throne. I spit on your memory and the memory of all your race!” This time it was Shenk who stopped the mage from speaking by hitting him square on the jaw and knock-ing him out cold.

“What do you think boss, should we kill him?”“No, I know this man. Harrald von Ribbentrop. He’s an old

adversary of mine, cousin to the man who stole my throne. I fig-ure to get more information out of him before too long.”

The prisoner spoke at length upon waking. He cursed his captors, the gods and all creation. In between swearing fluently in five languages, including High German, Spanish and Low English he let slip that the King and Shenk were seeking five stones, not three, and that the last one to hold them all was the Demon King Sreenath, when they were called the Orbs of Destiny. Finally, he wore himself out and settled for glaring at the King sullenly. The King extracted a bright orange egg from his pack. “You see this, Harrald? This is the egg of a flesh dragon. I’m going to leave this tied to you until it hatches and burrows inside you, where it will feed on your entrails unless you tell me whether that story about the Demon and the Orbs was true or not.”

“No! No! I swear it was all true!”The King remained silent as the man screeched and begged

at Shenk not to let him plant the egg. Satisfied at last that no one could be this good of a liar, the King walked up to Harrald. The King said: “To Hell with the waiting, it’s ready now,” and cracked the egg over Harrald’s head, at which point the man began to cry and from the smell of things soiled himself.

“Chicken egg,” the King said.“What?” the prisoner replied, thoroughly shocked.

– Continued on Page 9–

The Changeling King Episode 5

Happenstance Magazine July 1, 2013, Page 9

Changeling King, continued from page 8“Chicken egg,” the King said evenly. “From an aurucana. I

thought you’d know that with all the swear words you picked up in that language.” The King laughed. “You’re slipping Harrald. Tell your master I’m coming for him.” The King motioned to Shenk. “Let him go,” the King said. “He’s useless without his knife and his spell book.” The King held up a tattered leather-bound tome with arcane symbols scratched onto the cover.

Shenk laughed and complied, placing his complete trust in his employer. Yarp, stunned by the display of cunning on the King’s part, had but a single question: “How’d you know it would work?”

The King smiled. “Harrald never was much of a student of culture. I learned that from my father. He used to teach at a school Harrald and I shared.”

Yarp nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

*********The Ghost Caller had a series of bells on strings rigged to let

him know when to expect unannounced visitors. The bells in the courtyard rang loudly. The Ghost Caller summoned one of the beneficent shades he shared his tower with.

“Thomas. Do we know them?”“No, milord Sorcerer. But I think you should see them.”

“Them, who’s them?”“A Changeling, a Dwarf and a Manimal.”“A Changeling, a real Changeling? Let them in, quick! Have

Charles search them for weapons!”“Already done, milord.”“And stop calling me milord!” Fark never knew whether

Thomas was mocking him or not.The King and Shenk willingly gave up their weapons, which

included the Sword called Fury, Shenk’s flanged mace and Harrald’s long mage’s knife. The King did warn them though. “This sword was given to my by my father, a great mage and is enchanted so that I know its location at all times. More over it has several nasty surprises in store for any would-be thief including a Blood Leeching Charm.”

Charles only said, “I’ll keep that in mind.” The Ghost Caller insisted on welcoming them with a party.

The ale flowed cool and fast and before midnight Shenk and Fark were both thoroughly intoxicated. The King, by virtue of being a Changeling was immune to this condition. Fark and Shenk began singing a series of bawdy songs about a tinker and his lab and the neighbor mage’s wife. The King, seeing that he would get no good out of either of them until morning, decided to call it a night.

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July 1, 2013, Page 10Happenstance Magazine

Episode 12Pella and Bart head for the shuttle craft having achieved their

goals of securing an earlier launch time and getting access codes forcontacts on Chandor. But leaving won’t be that easy.

I ran through the narrow connector tunnel toward the main corridor and the safety of numbers with my pursuer huffing

not far behind. I burst into the corridor and right into a perma-form wall, at least it felt that way. I staggered back and my mouth dropped open. Sparkling pale green eyes regarded we with con-cern.

“Kobi?” I gasped the query out, hardly able to believe my eyes, and on the verge of hyperventilating from exertion and fear. I looked behind me. My pursuer was barrelling toward us.

“You all right?”I swallowed and shook my head. “Bart.”A heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder before I could say

another word, and curled my face against a rock hard chest none to gently. I was crushed against the rough fabric of a stinking tunic. I tried to wriggle free, but my captor held my upper body in a vise-like grip. I couldn’t fight back or scream. I could barely breathe. I kicked wildly, but my captor squeezed harder cutting off my air.

“Get on with you, Malchorian, this one’s mine.” “Sorry, friend, didn’t know. Don’t want no trouble,” Kobi said.How could Kobi think I would willingly go with this piece

of scum? My mind bellowed the question but the only thing that came out was muffled grunts.

The brute backed toward the narrow artery that lead to the shuttle docking bay dragging me as if I was nothing more than a feather. As soon as we were out of the main corridor he eased his hold but didn’t let got.

“Settle it, little fem fem,” he muttered in my ear, “or I’ll hurt you real bad. You don’t want that, now, do you?”

I tried to hit his chin with my head, but I was too weak. Sud-denly my captor jolted, and then began to fall forward taking me with him. At the last second he rolled to the left and powerful arms snatched me out of his grasp as he hit the floor on his back. Kobi set me down, grabbed the hulk by one leg and hauled him into a storage room. He gave him another stun zap that would ensure a lengthy sleep, and shut the door.

He barked one question. “Bart?”I gasped for breath and pointed toward the the shuttle’s dock-

ing berth. “Stay here.”I shook my head and made to follow him.“Stay. In your condition you’ll be in my way.”I slid down the wall and nodded. I heard him moving stealth-

ily down the corridor and could tell he was hugging the wall. Thing is, I don’t like to be left behind, but I have also learned men think they have the answers. Trying to convince one of them otherwise is a waste of energy. As soon as Kobi’s attention was off me, I quietly followed.

When I arrived in the docking bay Kobi was leaning over a prone Bart. No one else was a round. I swallowed around the

lump that formed in my throat. An unnamed something surged under my breastbone and traveled across my chest. I could scarcely breathe for fear Bart was beyond help.

“I told you to wait,” Kobi said without looking at me. Bart groaned and struggled to rise, pushing away Kobi’s attempt to help him.

“Is he okay?”“I will be if this big oaf will give me some room.”Kobi grinned and settled back on his heels.Bart sent a lopsided smile – or maybe it was a grimace – my

way as he rubbed his head. “You worried about me?”I sniffed derisively and turned away to hide my relief. “Not for

a minute. I just didn’t want you to wear those swine out by mak-ing them keep you in stun too long. We’d better move or we’ll miss launch.”

Bart shook his head at Kobi. “Fem’s got no heart, none at all.” He rose fluidly but staggered once he was on his feet. He recovered and headed toward the Hermes shuttle.

“Do I have time to get my duffle?” Kobi asked.Bart and I stopped in our tracks and exchanged a look. It’s not

like we hadn’t understood the implications of Kobi Arbruster’s be-ing on Launch Alpha.

“Romani knows I’m coming.” As if that was all either of us needed needed to hear. All it did was introduce a whole bunch of questions.

“Look, Kobi…”“I’m here. Pella. Might just as well take advantage of it. Besides,

I know a lot more about where you’re going than you do.”“What? How do you know…”“Do we really have time for this right now?” Bart askedI gave Kobi a long hard look. He was going with us no matter

what I wanted. I blew out a breath of frustration and motioned with my head for him to follow. Jake Casey had sent a kinder sitter. Maybe for Bart, but more like for me. Bart was more than capable of taking care of himself. Well, so was I. I was beginning to feel ganged up on and I didn’t like it one bit.

I sat mostly in silence once we were on the shuttle and listened first to Bart tell how he came to be laying flat out on the floor when we arrived in the docking bay, and then to Kobi tell how he came to be on Launch Alpha.

In short Bart had sustained stun stasis before and knew it was futile to fight it. He used mind control technique to overcome the effects of the stun and was aware of what was going on around him the whole time.

“Gotta tell you, Pel, when you took off like that I thought you were leaving me on my own. But then I thought, ‘Nah, not Pella, she’d never let some hardheads get the better of her.’” He grinned at me and I rolled my eyes.

“I was looking out for me,” I said.Bart laughed and returned to his story, which didn’t amount

to much. For no reason he could determine, he was released from stun and hit his head when he went down, which knocked him senseless, probably because he hadn’t fully recovered from being blind sided by the bruiser at Pax Bistro.

Thunder Prime: Hunter’s Light

July 1, 2013, Page 11Happenstance Magazine

“Maybe they got tired of waiting,” I said.Kobi shook his head. “More likely they were in communica-

tion with your admirer, the man chasing you. Once he was out of commission and you were out of their reach, they took off, who-ever they are.”

I ignored the implied question and thought about his reason-able explanation, which didn’t cover questions I kept to myself, like how did Durec know we were on Launch Alpha? How did she know where we were docked? How much more did she know, like our change in launch times? And just what exactly was Kobi do-ing here? I tuned back in to hear the former Jonasalla and former special agent for Galactic Security tell us how he came to be in the right place at the right time. It distilled down to Jake finding out Bart was taking time off, something he never, ever did, and B.J. tell-ing him about my being abducted. The yada, yada, yada of it was Jake sent Kobi to help. That’s what the big man said. He was sent to help. I kept my rising anger capped.

“Thunder Transport had a cargo headed for Launch Beta, so I hitched a ride ‘cause you can’t get there without coming to Launch Alpha first. I contacted the Hermes thinking to talk to you, but got Romani instead. When I told him I wanted to join the crew he agreed.”

“Just like that,” I said flatly.Kobi hesitated, and then nodded. “More or less.”Somehow Kobi had finagled his way onto Hermes, and I didn’t

think it was a easy as he made it sound. Alman Romani was already whacked out because he had Candle and Bart on board. Taking on the Malchorian seemed an unlikely thing for him to do, unless Kobi had leverage.

I didn’t have time to think about it because we had arrived at the Hermes and were preparing to dock. When we disembarked Box was waiting for me, as close to frazzled as I’d ever seen him. In his polite way he greeted Kobi, acknowledged Bart and then asked to speak to me in private on a matter concerning the kinder. It took a minute for me to recall who he was talking about. I’d forgotten all about them.

“Sure.” What I really wanted to know was whether we were set for launch, but I fell into with my ANAI.

“You are well?” he asked.“I’m here, so I guess the answer is, yes. Where are the kinder?”“Sleeping.”Was he gritting his plasticine teeth?“They weren’t any trouble were they? They’re all okay?”His lips moved as if he were going to speak, but nothing came

out. After a moment he stopped and so did I. “What’s wrong? Is it one of the kinder?”

He began walking again and I hurried to keep up. “We will talk when we get to your cabin.”

Once we were in my quarters he closed the door and looked around, as if checking to be sure we were alone.

“This is not about the kinder. Other than to say I do not wish to be responsible for them ever again.”

I plowed my fingers through my hair and hid a grin with a yawn, which wasn’t entirely faked. I was suddenly tired to the bone. “Okay, but if you didn’t want to talk to me about them, what do you want to talk about? I’m tired and need to get some rest before

launch.”“Do not go anywhere without me in future. You put your life

in danger and I could not protect you.”All I needed was for Box to get over-protective. Yes, that was

his job, but I didn’t have to like it when he started thinking he was my boss instead of the other way around. I down played my time on the platform, especially the part about nearly being abducted again.

“Box, it is not for you to tell me what to do. Beside, I was fine. Nothing happened. We got what we wanted and we’re on our way to Chandor.”

Box lifted his hand and touched my right eyebrow. When his hand came away SPIN glittered on the tip of his finger.

“You had me wired! How dare you.” I was practically sputter-ing. “What were you thinking? You keep doing that without telling me and I don’t like it!”

“SPIN may be the one thing that keeps you from becoming a nanosecond of energy.”

“What are you talking about?”“Jojo Franklin has been murdered. The authorities are looking

for the last person to see him alive.”I licked my lips and turned away. I didn’t like the smarmy fel-

low, but I was sorry he was dead.“What happened to him?”“Unknown. In addition to monitoring SPIN to be sure you

were safe, I also monitored electronic security chatter to be sure nothing was being said about the Hermes jumping ahead in launch sequence. And then I was distracted by your run in with Ardis Du-rec’s men. You are fortunate Kobi Arbruster arrived when he did.”

“Yeah, fortunate.” I started pacing the confines of my small cabin. “How much of this does Romani know?”

“Nothing. So far Franklin’s death is a security matter and not being publicly broadcast.”

“Nobody knows we went to see him. I don’t see how this will interfere with our plans.”

I took another turn about the cabin, contemplating whether the others needed this information and decided they didn’t. We had a goal. I had the pouch with codes for making contact with people who could help me once I reached Chandor. That’s all I needed.

“Let’s keep this between us.”Box nodded, but I suspected he didn’t agree. He took SPIN to

its secure container, locked it in, and left me to myself, my mind fired with second-guessing.

Next issue: Episode 13Pella and her friends will soon be on their way

to Chandor. Will Ardis Durec give up soeasily? Check out episode 13 in the next issue.

To catch up on the entire story from thebeginning, subscribe to Happenstance Magazine

and a link to magazine archives willbe provided to you.

Thanks for reading Happenstance.

Day Break Through Haze – The defused light from an early morning sun breaks through the haze from fires burning in Northern New Mexico.

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