Nikolas and Company: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten

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Authors: Kevin McGill
Tags: Fantasy, Magic, mermaid, middle grade
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Willrow.”
    Yeri nodded. 

    “Do you have any other questions?” said
Lir.
    “None that I can think of, Duke,” Yeri
shook his head. Secretly, he wished he had a myriad of
questions—anything to stall the inevitable.
    With that, Yeri awkwardly placed his
left foot over the boat. He held tightly to Captain Jonn’s muscular
forearm until he found a seat. Yeri lifted the oar, dropped it into
the water, and stopped.
    “I do have a question, sir, if you’ll
forgive me. Anyone might call himself a steward. How can I tell one
from another?”
    “Every city speaks to her
steward.”
    “Very good.” Yeri did not drop the oar.
“One more thing. He could simply lie and claim the city speaks to
him?”
    “That is why the scroll has been
enchanted and will recognize a true Steward of Huron from a false
one,” Lir nodded.
    “Right. Very good . . .” Yeri still did
not drop the oar. “One last thing. It seems I’ve already forgotten
his—”
    “Nikolas Lyons. His name is Nikolas
Lyons.”
    “Read my mind, sir. Thank you,
sir.”
    Yeri Willrow dropped the oar and pushed
away. As the water squeezed into the frothing merway, he said the
name over and over, “Steward Nikolas Lyons. Steward Nikolas Lyons.
Steward Nikolas Lyons . . .”

 
     
     
    Eight • A Rushed
Reunion

     
     
     
     
    Nick Lyons. My name is Nick Lyons,”
Nick answered the St. Mary’s nursedrone sitting behind the front
desk.
    “Full name, please,” the nursedrone
said, tilting her plastic alloy head to emulate a person asking a
question.
    “That’s my full name. Grand calls me
Nikolas, and so does Caroline Wendell too, I guess, but Nick is the
name on the birth certificate.”
    “How may I help you?” said the
nursedrone.
    “My mom and dad were drinking diet
sodas, and they got really, I don’t know, sick, or poisoned,
or—”
    “ErikandSonyaLyons!” Tim had just
caught up.
    “Your parents are in the Disease and
Poison Emergency Wing.” The nursedrone pressed a button. “Nick and
Tim Lyons are here for Erik and Sonya Lyons.”
    A female voice from the console
answered, “Send them to the waiting room. I’ve a few questions
about their parents’ files. Their biochemistry is off the charts. .
. .” The voice walked off.
    The nursedrone pointed down the hall.
“Follow the signs to the Disease and Poison Emergency waiting
room.”
    They took off running. The white
plastic walls reflected their desperate sprint.
    Zzzzzz.
    A small, white sphere with green
scanning eyes floated next to them. It was an
inocudrone.
    “Medi-one records tell me—” The
inocudrone paced with them. “—that Nick Lyons and Tim Lyons have
not received their inoculation shots for fifteen days. Remember
that forty new strands of the cold and five new mutations of the
Geneva virus have appeared in only the last forty-eight hours.
Please remain still as I administer the vaccine.”
    Tim and Nick stopped obediently and put
their arms out to the inocudrone. There are two places on the
planet not to be without your inoculations: the refugee camps and
the hospital.
    The inocudrone was cycling through its
third and last shot when it announced, “Receiving a new
transmission from Medi-one for Nick Lyons. You are to receive the
neural inhibitor, R-5235—”
    Nick jumped back. “No . . .”
    “R-5235 is designed to suppress all
aggression.” The inocudrone aimed its needle at Nick’s
stomach.
    Nick sidestepped quickly, found the red
emergency shut-off switch and twisted. The inocudrone fell straight
to the ground. A crashing sound reverberated throughout the hallway
causing nearby drones to pivot in their direction.
    Tim jumped over the disabled
inocudrone. “What happened?”
    “Come on.” Nick tore into another
run.
    They charged through the sliding doors
and were met by a packed waiting room divided into refugees and
suburbanites. One side wore tattered, mismatched clothes, while the
other wore that week’s hottest fashion. Still, they all shared

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