Pendulum Heroes

by James Beamon

  They let him collect his unconscious henchman. It’d be a stroke of good luck if Overbite would ever contribute anything useful to the hive mind again.

  Taldin glared at Mike as he stood out in the dry flats. He carried his limp henchman with an arm draped over his shoulder.

  “I’ll get you for this.”

  “What you need to get is a move on,” Mike said. “It’s a long walk back to town with you dragging that bag of vegetables.”

  Mike waved goodbye to Taldin, cheesing a smile the whole time as Ruki cranked the engine back to life. The caravan shot a cloud of dust over Taldin and continued on its way.

  Ruki yelled over the drone of the engine. “This direction should take us all the way to Maltep. If not, we’ll be in a bit of a bind trying to figure out where we are on the maps I brought.”

  Mike nodded; wasn’t much to say to that.

  Ruki continued to yell despite the fact that Mike was standing right next to him. “How’d you know Taldin was setting me up to rob me?”

  “Game recognize game.”

  “I seriously want to know. If I wanted nonsense gibbered back to me I would have just asked the engine.”

  Mike sighed. “I grew up in a place like Tirys. Looked different but the vibe’s the same. We was thugs on a come up, every one of us. Point being, I knew what Taldin was about cause if I was Taldin I woulda done the same thing.”

  That seemed to settle the matter for Ruki. He nodded, adjusted his goggles and returned his attention to driving. Mike took up the seat across from Runt.

  Runt looked at Mike. “You grew up in a different place than the land of suburbs your brother spoke of.”

  “Much different.”

  By the time dad’s business allowed them to move to the burbs, Mike was halfway a man and definitely all knucklehead. He’d probably be locked up right now if it wasn’t for the army. But his upbringing came in handy out here. The last thing he thought he’d need was survival skills when he agreed to play Melvin’s stupid game.

  No one talked for long moments, letting the engine’s whine fill the silent spaces. Runt had his head down and eyes closed. Mike squinted out at the desert, seeing the dust dance on swirls of wind.

  “Hey!” Ruki craned his neck and yelled back to them.

  “Yo,” Mike answered.

  “I’m still not paying you guys.”

  It took about another hour and a half to reach Maltep. At first Mike thought it was just some kind of supply stop at an oasis. There wasn’t but six buildings or so, all of them made out of mud brick and resembling giant beehives. They were sandwiched between a small lake and a few hills that were almost big enough to be mountains.

  As Ruki took the caravan around the lake to the buildings, Mike wondered what was worth the trip. That’s when he saw bunches upon bunches of people emerge, but not from the crummy buildings.

  Holes dotted the hills. It looked like most of the town of Maltep lived in homes they had dug into the hillside. Now that the caravan was fixing to pull up, the townsfolk were coming out in droves. All of them wore similar tanned leather pants and long-sleeved shirts. They weren’t human, aian or megrym.

  “What are these guys?” Mike asked, looking at folks who looked back with eyes spaced far apart on their heads like deer.

  “Nasran,” Runt answered.

  Big ones walked and little ones ran toward the caravan on legs that bent forward at the knees, like a stork. Their hands only had four fingers, but each finger was long and slender, ending almost at a point that was icicle sharp. They had fluffy little tails that poked out of the back of their pants where holes were cut.

  “They don’t eat megryms, do they?”

  Mike was about to find out. Ruki brought the caravan to a stop and stepped out of the wagon. He was greeted by swarming nasran kids. The kids cheered and shouted and held out their long-fingered hands.

  Ruki seemed to enjoy the attention, patting kids and smiling as he cut a path through to get to the second wagon. Rummaging under the burlap tarp over the wagon, he finally pulled out a big glass container that held red licorice. The kids cheered even louder as Ruki started handing them candy.

  Ruki paused long enough to pull his goggles up to rest on his head. Trail dust made for a dirty face with two clean circular spots around his eyes.

  “Uncle warned me about this kind of thing,” he said, beaming a smile.

  By this time the older nasran had made their way to the caravan. They waved the kids off to play and enjoy their candy.

  The one leading the adults, an old dude if gray hair was any indication of age with them, offered his hand to Ruki. “You are well received in Maltep, Provos Trading Company.”

  “You’re just saying that because I have wagons full of stuff for you,” Ruki said. “But I’ll take it,” he finished with a smile, taking the hand and shaking.

  The nasrans fell to unloading the wagons while Ruki and the elder talked. Every now and then Ruki called out to the handlers to be careful with one box or another. Mike sighed; this looked like it was going to take awhile.

  He felt Runt’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the giant.

  “We are here and idle. And no town is without a bar.”

  Mike could get with that. He was halfway scared Ruki was going to pull off and leave them stuck in Maltep, but he figured nobody was crazy enough to ditch free employees.

  “Let’s make it happen.”

  Chapter 10

  A Proven Goodbye

  Rew Majora studied Rich throughout breakfast. He seemed pensive, managing an occasional smile while his friends talked and laughed. His appetite was scarcely there.

  “The day ripens,” Rew said, setting down her spiced tea. “Soon, you three will depart on a noble undertaking. Druze and I have done our best to prepare you for the road ahead. Are you ready to begin?”

  Her words killed the mirth that was vibrant between the girl and aian a moment ago. The three friends nodded their heads slowly.

  “Excellent.” She pointed two fingers at Jason and Melvin. “Druze will outfit you two for the journey.” Then she looked at Rich.

  “I need to see you in the library.”

  The friends looked at each other and Rew could almost see the conversation behind their eyes.

  What’d you do? Jason and Melvin’s eyes asked.

  I don’t know; I’m just as dumbstruck as you are, Rich’s eyes answered.

  The youthful honesty of it made her smile.

  “We’re not going to go over more spells, are we?” Rich asked when they were in the library. The sunlight streaming through the open windows washed out the gray of his robes.

  “Only if you feel the need to,” Rew said. “But that’s not why I asked you here.” She stepped toward him. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

  Rich shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You would rather keep it to yourself?” she asked. Her fingers found his chin and lifted it so his eyes met her gaze. “Do you think I would not understand?”

  “I...,” he began then fell silent. “Why do you trust us with something so important?” he asked.

  “You, your friends, you all have good hearts. And the power you wield...”

  “That’s just it, the power!” Rich said, cutting her off. “I mean, what if I go nuts? How much worse off would your world be with a crazy gray robe running around lighting up the people you care about and burning down the places you live?”

  He went over to the window, where he looked out over the Hierophane like there was an answer to his turmoil among the towers and gardens. “I don’t want to destroy a world you’re trying to get me to save.”

  She came over to him. “Then don’t,” she said, grabbing his hand. “You alone have ultimate say over what you do and how you wield your magic.”

  She led him over to a bookcase. Her finger ran across book spines until she found the Birleshik Arcana. She took it out and handed it to him.

  “Keep
this with you, in your library pocket. It is the unified theory of magic. I think it will help you understand the nature of your power and help ease your fears about the cost.”

  “How did you know I was worried about the cost?” Rich asked taking the book.

  “It is a burden you must endure alone, but is also one I share with you,” she said with a smile. “The first time scares us all.”

  Rich nodded. Then he looked at her, confusion etched across handsome features and boyish eyes. “What’s a library pocket?”

  He was so adorable it was charming. “It’s sewn into mage robes,” she said. “It helps distribute the weight of books, allowing mages to carry a handful without feeling lopsided.”

  “Oh, that’s what that’s called,” he said. She watched him fumble a bit with his robes before getting the book into his library pocket. Still, he was more confident of his movements and his spells than many acolytes who had trained and studied a full year. She wished she could have met him under different circumstances; he would have made a wonderful student.

  “Now, are you ready for the task ahead?” she asked.

  “As ready as I can be, I think.”

  “Then, Grand Razzleblad, present to me your spellbook.” She held out her hands.

  He produced it after a quick rummage through his library pocket. She flipped through the thick tome until she got near the end where the pages were blank.

  She spoke a creation spell, her focus locked on the empty page. Her hand glowed white as she held it over the blank space. Ancient words scrawled themselves onto the page, flowing from the bottom up.

  When she was done she presented the open book to Rich. “This is a replica of Mage-Scholar Kaftar Friese’s spellbook, page one hundred seventy-three. The spell you’ll need is the third one.”

  “I can read it, but I don’t know what it means,” he said, staring at the stylized calligraphy.

  “The language is very ancient. Not even I know what it means. But, as far as we know, only this spell of Kaftar Friese’s design can contain the creature, as evidenced by the last mage who captured it.”

  “I thought you captured it last time,” Rich said, his attention half given to reading the new page in his book.

  “I’m afraid that was a bit before my time. I just kept it contained through the use of the witchlock which bears my name.”

  She gently closed the book he was preoccupied with and studied him. “You can do this, Rich,” she said. “Are you ready?”

  Rich nodded.

  When the two of them returned to the courtyard, Melvin and Jason were watching Druze demonstrate the finer points of controlling a hava-chaise. Essentially a platform that hovered a foot above the ground, the hava-chaise moved depending on foot placement and the manipulation of two levers that extended from the platform to waist height. Druze stopped the hava-chaise and dismounted when he saw Rew and Rich.

  “Jason, Melvin, teach Rich,” he said.

  Through excited chatter, Jason and Melvin explained how to control the hava-chaise. They talked in terms she could scarcely decipher like aviation layout, control scheme and played stations. But Rich had no trouble following along, and soon enough all three of them could control their individual hava-chaises fairly well. They laughed as they raced around the courtyard.

  A thunderclap from Druze got their attention. They brought their hava-chaises to a halt in front of the mages. As they dismounted, the platforms settled gingerly down onto the ground.

  Rew looked at the three of them. Jason and Melvin already wore the packs she and Druze had prepared. It was standard traveler’s gear: bedroll, jerked meat, waterskin, and other odds and ends. She held out the third pack to Rich.

  Rew knew Druze had given Jason and Melvin items specifically meant for them as well. She looked at Jason, the one who seemed the most knowledgeable of the world. “Are you able to read the map we gave you?”

  “Yep,” he replied, a smile creeping up the corner of his mouth. He pulled the map from his pocket with that disturbing bone hand. “I’ve spent hours staring at maps like this, pre-staging my game time. Yours isn’t the most detailed and stylized, but I can work with it.”

  Meanwhile, Rich rummaged through his pack, exploring the contents. Rew turned her attention to Melvin. The girl was looking down at her boots.

  “My dear, you should wear the hooded cloak Druze gave you.”

  “Why? I thought that was for inclement weather.” She looked up at a clear blue sky.

  “I know your attire is derived from the customs of the Khermer, but still, look at you. Your attire is barely there. The cloak protects against bad weather as well as your bad sense of decorum.”

  The girl glared at Rew. Rew looked back nonplussed by whatever thoughts the girl entertained. When you’re trying to move efficiently from place to place without harassment, it just made sense to not parade around like you’re the head priestess of your own fertility cult.

  Having either swallowed what she was going to say or acquiescing to sound advice, Melvin put on the blue cloak. A red-jeweled clasp at the neck held it in place, allowing the material to cover a body that only exposed itself in brief flashes of movement. Much better now.

  Druze spoke before Rew could. “It’s time,” he said as he looked at Rich. “Create a water bowl so Jason can determine your direction.”

  Rich took a step back as if Druze was asking the impossible of him. He stood there for a moment without reply or motion, then he took off his pack and started going through it.

  “I got an idea,” Rich said, “much faster and easier than making a bowl.” He dug out the waterskin, set the pack down and then he did the most ridiculous thing imaginable. He filled his hands with the water.

  He carried his cupped hands over to Jason. “Ok, drop a finger in.”

  Druze smacked his cupped hands. Water sprayed into Rich’s face.

  “It is just as I thought,” Druze said, his eyes full of anger. “The cost rides this boy.”

  “Druze, it will be fine,” Rew said. “Rich will...”

  She stopped talking as Druze’s look fell on her. She had not seen that hard glare in a century. There would be no placating or reasoning with him on this. His baleful stare went back to Rich.

  “Look at you, a child scared to go out in sunlight because you’ll cast a shadow. How can you cast the containment spell when it is time to?”

  Rich looked at him with defiant eyes. “I won’t fail to cast.”

  “You fail to cast now!” Druze yelled. He spoke esoteric words in a heated flurry. Then he pushed out with open palms and tornado-strength winds erupted from his hands. The winds knocked Rich back and down, causing him to tumble in a roll across the courtyard.

  “Your endeavor is not child’s play,” Druze said to Rich, who was on his stomach spitting out grass. “You leave here to face unknown dangers in unknown places and you hesitate to cast even basic spells.”

  Rich looked at Rew.

  “Don’t you dare look to her for aid!” Druze altered and bent his sleeve. The black fabric stretched the distance to where Rich lay and whacked him across the face, knocking him on his back.

  “She has no say on this,” Druze said as his spells expired, causing the sleeve to shrink to its original form around his arm. “Now cast the spell or we dance.”

  Rich licked his lip, tasting the blood on it. He stared at Druze. Rew could see the anger behind his eyes.

  He got up on one knee and threw a handful of dirt. “Guuch kir!” he yelled and the dirt hardened and sharpened in midair.

  Druze spoke and the blackness of his robe expanded, swallowing most of the projectiles. A few errant pieces whizzed past Jason and Melvin, ricocheting off the marble columns behind them.

  “Shouldn’t we stop this?” Melvin asked Rew.

  “No.”

  Druze advanced on Rich. “Do you think altering dirt is going to save you from marauders or walking corpses? We need a gray robe for this task, not a boy at a costume bal
l.”

  He spoke a succession of spells so quickly he made it look easy. The sky darkened with clouds and a tornado wrapped itself around Rich, hauling him up into the sky. Druze looked up at the swirling winds, controlling them with hands that he spun around in circles.

  Somewhere up there in that swirling vortex, Rich was spinning around. He may have shown a lot of promise, but the time Rew had spent with him was nowhere near enough to prepare him for a mage duel. Her eyes frantically searched the twisting winds for a hint of his robes.

  Then he appeared. Not only appeared, Rich emerged from the tornado riding a giant icicle. Druze leapt out of the way as the icicle crashed into where he stood a moment ago. On top of the ice, Rich looked at the black robe with fury in his eyes.

  Druze killed his wind spell. Then he bowed his head to Rich.

  “Mage of gray, do you still hesitate to summon a water bowl?” Druze asked him.

  Rich glared at him. He did not respond to Druze, but jumped down from his perch of ice.

  “Suchanaa,” he intoned, thrusting the newly created bowl to Jason.

  “Badass,” Jason said, looking at Rich as if he was a total stranger.

  Rew shared that feeling. Nothing she had shown him could account for that level of spellcraft. There was more built into his gray robes than he could possibly know.

  “That was truly remarkable,” she told him.

  “Yeah,” he said, “well, you can thank your trigger happy bodyguard for that.”

  “What ever makes you think Druze is my bodyguard?”

  Confusion replaced the anger etched on Rich’s face. “Well... um...” he began, not knowing what to say to her question.

  “Is it that you thought the Hierophant needs protection... or that my body should be guarded?”

  Rew watched Rich’s cheeks redden as he stammered through speech. It had been such a long time since she had felt this kind of nervous energy from a man. Everyone saw her as Hierophant Majora, Voice of Seat Esotera, someone to either fear or revere. Rich saw none of that and so much more. Rew couldn’t help herself.

  Jason saved Rich from further embarrassment. “Dude, it’s pointing northwest,” he announced, looking at the finger in bowl.