Romney Balvance and the Katarin Stone

by J Jordan

“Okay, new plan. We’re going back to the spears.”

  Eva and Aldo squealed with glee.

  “Fishing only.”

  Romney was watching the four from farther into the forest. He sat at the base of a tree, sitting on his legs, and wondering to which tree those hundreds of little needles belonged. They were working their way into his pants.

  The small man was wearing better leathers this time. Or had he noticed it? This was a confusing midpoint for Romney. He was still lifting a spear from the muddy shore, his hairy arm bulging with muscle. He raised the spear up, turning to show the proper technique for spearfishing. But he was also sitting at the tree and sweating his dress shirt into muggy, sodden silk. As his large, hairy feet approached the cold lake water, Romney could feel his own feet tingle with numbness. He stood and removed his jacket.

  “You aren’t cold?”

  He knew the voice. Romney felt it should bother him that there were two Katreses in the forest. But it didn’t.

  “It’s muggy out here.”

  “It’s 53 degrees. Put your coat back on.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t be difficult.”

  “I’m a grown man and I can make my own decisions. It’s hot and I’m taking my coat off.”

  “Fine,” said Katrese, “don’t come to me when you have pneumonia.”

  They stood for a moment, Romney trying to shake blood back into his feet. He looked to Katrese, who had her arms crossed and her face averted. When she looked to him, her eyes were specked with stars.

  “You show a little concern for someone’s condition and they yell at you.”

  “You should be used to it.”

  “Some people show gratitude. They burn incense and leave flowers for me. I don’t have much use for lotus petals, but it’s the thought that counts.”

  The bed of needles withdrew from Romney’s shoes. He felt the sogginess of his socks. So he did what made sense.

  “What are you doing? Leave your shoes on.”

  “Would you stop jumping on my back? Why am I here? Why can’t I have nice dreams about beautiful women and piles of money? And nice cars. Nice dreams.”

  He looked out at the four original inhabitants of the dream. Semnir was waist-deep in the water. He was still, spear raised, watching the clear waters for signs of movement. The two elves, and the other Katrese, were watching with rapt attention. The elf named Eva was nibbling a fingernail, until the other Katrese batted her hand away.

  “Why all of this?”

  “Because this is the beginning.”

  Katrese paused a moment, her mouth twisted in thought.

  “Well, not the beginning of everything per say. That involves lava, tectonic plates, lots of heat and collisions, and whatnot. But this beginning is important.”

  She took Romney’s hand and yanked him toward the group. As they approached, the other Katrese turned to them and smiled. No one else noticed them approach. Aldo was much taller than any elf he had ever met, Tykeso included, and his eyes were larger. Aldo’s ears were longer too. Their points reached an inch above his head and flopped slightly as he moved his head. His figure was best described as statuesque. And hairy.

  Eva shared the same large eyes and long ears, but there were other aspects Romney only noticed by standing closer. For one, there was her shapely—

  “Ahem.”

  Katrese had turned the clearing of her throat into a terrible accusation. Romney decided it was best to return to the subject at hand.

  “Beginning of what? They’re fishing.”

  “This is the beginning of your predicament. Of the Katarin stone. The Jade Scar, too.”

  “They needed help,” said the other Katrese, “and magic seemed the best way to do it. I knew they would rely on it over time, if I wasn’t careful. But they just needed a little bit to point them in the right direction.”

  “And it started out small too. A way to ask for help.”

  Romney looked back at Eva, at the small, smooth stone hanging around her neck. He knew that if he stared long enough, the surface would shimmer blue.

  “You gave them the Katarin stone,” said Romney.

  “It acts like a two-way radio,” said Katrese. “If they ever need help, then they speak into the stone. And I would be able to answer and come to their aid.”

  “Why not let it grant wishes instead? Seems easier. Fewer pitfalls.”

  “Have you ever read an Andaran folktale? Any of them?”

  His blank expression was answer enough.

  “A wish is misguided. And there’s always some inane detail you overlooked. You have to be careful if you’re making a wish, to the point of being ridiculous. It has to break the rules in a very specific way.”

  “Okay, so the Katarin stone is a direct phone line to you, noble Goddess of Creation,” said Romney. “I don’t see the problem. You keep saying that magic breaks the rules and that it has this terrible cost, but then you just leave it at that. I need to know what’s happening here.”

  “Undoing the fabric of reality is not a good explanation?”

  “No,” said Romney, “it isn’t. So start from the beginning. Tell me about the fabric of reality and explain why it’s susceptible to magic.”

  Katrese frowned at him, her dark eyes slowly drifting out of focus.

  “You want me to explain creation.”

  “Yes. If that’s where you gotta start, then that’s what I want to know. What is creation?”

  Katrese rubbed her chin as she pondered.

  “That is going to take a lot of time.”

  She looked around for some kind of starting point, but kept shaking her head as she looked at trees, then nettles on the ground, then the lake, and finally sighing as she looked up at the sky. Katrese cased the forest one last time, dissatisfied with the options around her, then muttering to herself as her gaze returned back to Romney. She tapped her lower lip with a long finger.

  “Okay,” she said, “I have an idea. But first let me explain something. The last time I did this, the mortals involved—and I mean no disrespect with that term—lost all sense of reason. They ran screaming off the nearest cliff. I should also mention this cliff was several miles away, but they ran to it very quickly. I should also mention this group of mortals—again, no offense—was an entire metropolis of people. So, what I’m trying to say is a group of rational and well-meaning mortals ran to their deaths to escape the abject terror that gripped them when they viewed what I’m about to show you. So, to put it simply, please be careful.”

  Katrese pulled back her sleeves, then rubbed her palms together in preparation. She continued shooting worried glances at Romney.

  “So tell me the moment you experience an existential crisis, a sudden shift in your perception of reality, or any creepy-crawly sensations in the depths of your being. Don’t look directly at it. Try to look at it from your periphery. Or wait, get a mirror and look at it from the reflection. Except that might skew the image or, worse, project it into the outer layers of reality. I really don’t know what to tell you with this. I’m sorry, this makes the second time I’ve tried this on mortals.”

  “You know you make it worse when you keep talking about it.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” said Katrese. “Tell me to stop when you feel the creeping dread. Just say ‘stop’ or just scream for three seconds if you can’t speak, or jump up and down if you can’t scream, or blink three times if you suddenly lose motor skills. That did happen to a few of them, just fell flat on the ground and died. I assumed it was a catatonia, but they never snapped out of it. Just kinda laid frozen in place, open-mouthed, staring at the terrible sham they had once known as their sky.”

  “Terrible what?”

  “You’re right. We’ve been talking about it too long. Let’s just get it over with. Like a bandage.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  Katrese dug her fingers into the air and became entangled in it. The world warped around her hands, as if it were a tra
nslucent putty floating in the air. Katrese planted her feet on the ground and began to separate the strange material. As she did, a small blue seam appeared in the middle of the air and grew by degrees into a fissure. The split glowed with intense blue light. A wave of heat and a churning noise washed over Romney. Katrese looked to him, hands in the blue light up to the forearms.

  Romney approached the glowing crack in the world. And as he did, he began to see what was inside. At first, it was an intense blue light that he had trouble looking at. But as he approached, Romney could see into the space beyond. It was an elaborate machine.

  It was gears entwined in gears, axles spinning in place, pinions rolling in racks, shifting back and forth. Some were large, others small, some too small to see, others too big to truly comprehend. And they all fit so perfectly together. All of its pieces, fitting neatly into each other, moving in perfect harmony. Literally perfect.

  This was the world.

  Romney didn’t remember when he first started screaming, but now he couldn’t stop. There were safeguards in place for these sorts of things. Like airbags for the brain, exploding into balloons at the first signs of terror and protecting the psyche from harm. They usually came in handy during supernatural events, such as this one. But Romney’s psychic airbags were not rated for viewing objects in dimensions beyond the four he was accustomed to. This was why he had suddenly fallen to the ground. He was gibbering incoherently to himself about the world machine. Katrese was by his side in an instant.

  “No, no. It’s over now. Just relax.”

  “Gears,” he choked out. “Gears. It’s all just gears.”

  “No,” said Katrese, patting him on the head, “it’s actually infinitely crossing streams of raw elemental energy, woven through the fabric of time. You just perceive them as gears, because your brain can’t handle seeing the real stuff.”

  “Gears, gears, gears. The world is gears.”

  “Among other things. Please calm down. I need you coherent for the next part.”

  “I can’t do it anymore. It’s all a sham. Just gears . . . it’s just a clock, a cosmic wristwatch, nothing more. It’s meaningless. There’s no reason to go on. It’s all just a watch on the arm of a cold, uncaring goddess.”

  Katrese slapped Romney along the cheek. It felt like a typical slap to the face, a feeling Romney had felt a few times in his life. Mainly in his college days. But the sound of it echoed through the forest like the crack of a whip. It reverberated through the ground, shaking a group of trees behind him. The world, sham or not, was once again in focus.

  “Don’t ever say that again,” said Katrese, “and don’t make me do that again. I hate slapping sense into people. Are you okay?”

  Romney nodded, holding his cheek. The mark tingled on his face.

  “All right,” said Katrese, “good. Now it’s very important that we keep all of that stuff moving. That’s what keeps this place intact. Those gears represent natural laws, things like gravity and friction, and time of course, and when you mess with them, you mess with everything in the world. Got it?”

  Romney nodded again.

  “Those gears are entwined. So let’s say you cast a spell that levitates something. Like a stone,” Katrese said, looking around the underbrush for an example. “Or a bunch of twigs.”

  With a flick of the wrist, a hand full of twigs rose off the ground and levitated in midair. The five twigs floated in front of Romney’s face, twirling slowly end over end. Underneath, Romney could feel the trembling of the gears.

  “See? Part of that is gravity trying to pull the twigs down, and that other sound is the air trying to push them with the wind. And that tiny ping was air resistance trying to create drag on the ends of the twigs. Each piece governs a part of the world, and each is entwined in the other. This simple spell is wreaking havoc.”

  “But everything is still okay,” said Romney.

  “Yes,” said Katrese, “but as you use more magic, you affect more parts, and you put more strain on the system.”

  Katrese twiddled her fingers. It was subtle movement that turned the twigs into thin, floating glow sticks. Each was now a different color. The world protested beneath them in larger quakes.

  “All right, I get that part. But then you just stop before it gets bad.”

  Katrese frowned at him. The twigs descended back to the undergrowth, losing their shine. She placed her hands on her hips.

  “Just stop,” she repeated, “before it gets bad.”

  “Yeah,” said Romney, “just listen to the world, and if it’s really shaking and screaming, then you stop.”

  He trailed off. Katrese could not hide her dissatisfaction with this answer.

  “Just stop,” she said, “before it gets bad. What a great idea.”

  She also had trouble hiding her sarcasm.

  “Sure, that’s great. Just stop wielding all that power. Drop all your enchanted clothes and wands and amulets, and just stop until things cool down again.”

  “Yeah,” said Romney, “you just gotta know when to stop.”

  Her fingers drummed on her hip as she stared at him. The cosmos was looking particularly daunting at this point. But then, there was a flash across her iris. A supernova, maybe?

  “What happens if it does?”

  Katrese gave him a deific sideways glance, as if even the idea of asking was absurd.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “No,” said Romney, “just curious.”

  He let go of his golden burden. The resplendent tower landed on its base, then toppled into a wave of gold coins. Romney tried imagining what the world might do in this instance.

  “Does gravity stop working?” he asked, “or does everything go dark? Is there a funny sound we should be listening for?”

  Katrese’s eyes flared a deep blue. Romney could hear the telltale drone of a magical wave.

  “Nothing so pleasant.”

  Romney couldn’t get the idea out of his head. What would happen if the world were broken?

  The blue light burst from Katrese’s eyes. Without warning, the fissure into the world of gears was open once more. But now, the myriad gears had seized. The grinding and whining of worldly parts was enough to shake the ground. Romney could feel the vibration in his bones, in his eyeballs, and in the air in his lungs. A blue flame rose from the fissure and spilled out in a fiery curtain. An earth-shattering pop followed, then the crunching sound of metal, and then a cascade of loud snaps. The fire erupted, spraying out into the forest, a volcano of blue magma suspended in the air. Trees vanished. Underbrush flashed out of being. The wind stopped. Time and space danced into oblivion. A tsunami of sizzling, crackling blue rose from the growing pool of blue fire. It rose high into the air, towering above the sky, above existence. And then it came down.

  Romney closed his eyes. The goliath wave rushed forth and broke through him. The magic touched him, and became sizzling, shuddering pain. He could feel lightning racing through his jaw, clinching his teeth and turning them into vibrating contacts for electric fire. Every nerve and fiber of muscle, every grain of bone, every blood vessel was coming undone. Buzzing, burning, shaking, splitting apart. He opened his eyes, looked into the blue fire winds and columns of electric pyre, and saw maelstroms of unbridled power, winds of dreams yet realized, and the fires of potential.

  Romney couldn’t breathe. There was no air within the flames, only the buzzing and the crackling. He looked to his hands. They were two burning appendages with shaking bones and fizzling veins. He tried to scream, but the horrid rushing boom had drowned out sound and thought.

  He fell to what he could only hope were still knees and tried in vain to stop it. He held up his arms, his branches of burning light, and tried to push the fires away.

  A spell here and there never hurt anyone. Magic swords and enchanted bracelets had their uses. Spells to heal the sick or to inspire courage in downtrodden hearts. Small things, small gifts. That’s how it always started. But then you alw
ays needed a little bit more. There were more people to help, more villains to dispatch, more hearts to sway. Always more. Villages in need of heroes, kingdoms in needs of saviors. There was always someone, somewhere, who needed help. And soon you depended on magic to help them.

  All the while, the earth shivered below. Floating sticks were child’s play compared to the travesties locked in Devon’s penthouse. The laws of nature would bend and wobble under the tremendous strain of new magic. Gouts of fire from wood, pools of strength from burnished copper, a blade of light. And these were the weaker enchantments. Magical contraptions filled Romney’s imagination, like seawater through a porthole. There were scepters that could move the wind. A bow that shot star fire. A hammer as heavy as the earth itself. Throwing daggers that returned to the hand. A staff that could shield a city in a glittering dome. Another that could summon water from the earth.

  These enchanted items came from different times, wielded by people all over the world. Some of them were used for good, and a few for less noble purposes, but they had all saved lives and protected homes. And they had another thing in common.

  At one time, they had nearly torn the earth apart.

  Magic was fine in small doses. It was nice to have around, because it gave you what you wanted: an armful of gold coins, a grove of rare trees, a stone that called on goddesses. Magic did many good things. But, it was ultimately a shortcut; a way to get something done quickly. Magic gave you what you wanted. But it took its toll on the world around it. It bent the rules. Too much bending and the world would break.

  Katrese’s voice came in soft and low, but it held the power to slice through the cataclysm and sweep it away. They were in the forest again. Semnir had only been in the water a couple of minutes, but Aldo and Eva were already getting bored. The elko trees were gone.

  “Any machine can wear down, given enough time and enough pressure. A world can break. Nature will lose its grip on order, so magic steps in to compensate. And magic is chaos in its purest form. It will shape this world in its image. Everything here will be lost in that fire, Romney. You, your friends, everything.”

  “And that is the trouble with magic,” said the other Katrese. "You never see the harm it does, until it's too late."