Romney Balvance and the Katarin Stone

by J Jordan

  World gears seized once again. A blue flame skipped up through the network of machinery, gaining her elegant form once more. This time she would get it right.

  The Matron emerged onto the city streets, satin robes dragging on the asphalt. She pushed the crowd of frozen faces, as they peered up at the fading dragon. Devon was frozen on the spot, his face twisted in agony. Nobody, no matter how immortal, could withstand the raw potential of magic. She would deal with him first, so that he wouldn’t interfere again. The Matron readied a spell to blast him into another dimension, when her eyes fixed on his neck. He wasn’t wearing the Katarin stone anymore.

  “Hey, you,” said Katrese.

  She felt the arms wrap around her waist. The Matron swiveled on the spot, aiming the spell at the little man, that sneaky little trickster. But there were no stupid sideburns on the smiling face. There was a single braid running down the side of her face. And her eyes were the evening sky.

  She never understood why Katrese picked that shade of orange.

  “It’s time to go home.”

  The Matron looked down at Katrese’s neck. That wasn’t in the rules. A goddess could not wear the Katarin stone like that. Could she?

  Katrese wrapped her arms around the Matron’s waist and pulled her in. As she drew near the Katarin stone, the Matron could see the little man over Katrese’s shoulder, standing on the street corner with that stupid little grin on his face. The Matron howled as she struggled against the inexorable pull of the stone. She pointed and cursed at the little man, but the curse was lost to the raging sound. The malevolent finger had become a curling flame that twisted inward, then spiraled into the stone’s pull. The Matron’s blue flames gave one final curse to the world at large, then sank into the Katarin stone for the last time.

  The effect was different. Romney would later suggest that Katrese’s vast power had lessened the discharge, but he shrugged when pressed on how that made any sense at all. Then he would give his usual grin and say something to the effect of, “You’re hung up on that?”

  The fact was that the world machine gave no protest as the goddess released the built-up magical power. The light of the discharge was a softer glow on the cusp of being painful to look at, not the terrible eyelid-piercing light from earlier. Perhaps she had had practice with these sorts of things, one of our researchers would posit. Katrese was a great many things to many people. It was clear that she knew the ways of magic and how to use it, despite being adamantly opposed to its use. Perhaps she understood the thing she did not like, and understood how it worked, and had learned how to wield it.

  Perhaps, the researcher would continue, that understanding was a lesson she would want her children to learn: to understand a thing, and know what made it tick, was to have power over that thing. Then again, a writer and self-described Katresean would say, How do you think all those elaborate parts got down there?

  There was one more thing left to do. The other Katarin stone.

  Actually, there were several more things left to do.

  The first thing involved restoring the natural laws of the world back to working order. This involved fine-tuning the elaborate machinations of creation, and ensuring each gear and pinion was in its place. You had to take your time with these sorts of things. Luckily for Katrese, time was still off-kilter. She would fix that one last.

  Time and place and physics, and all the myriad other natural occurrences that brought the world together, were all put back in their place. Gravity and friction returned to the cosmic grind. The mechanics of light were back in motion once again, and the star ocean faded from Lanvale’s sky. The world was back to normal. But there were still several things left to do.

  ◆◆◆

  Agent Salinger approached the black sedan with his new partner. He gave Agent Yaldarra his best smile.

  “Hello again,” he said.

  Yaldarra looked surprised to see him and didn’t answer his greeting right away.

  “You’re alive.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Very much so. Thank you for asking. Who’s this in the car?”

  He pointed to a frazzled secretary in the back seat, hands cuffed behind her back. She looked utterly defeated, as if her greatest dreams had been dashed before her eyes only moments ago. Yaldarra looked to Mila Rin.

  “She . . . ”

  Yaldarra held the vowel in place, while she ran through the explanation one last time. Salinger was a weird guy, she reasoned. He would understand weird stuff.

  “She exploded,” Yaldarra said.

  Salinger didn’t frown at this. Instead, he peered through the tinted glass and smiled at the woman.

  “She looks fine to mine, all things considered. Good work. Cheers and whatnot.”

  Yaldarra noticed the other agent standing beside Salinger, her arms folded, her authoritative gaze unconvincing. She had trouble placing this new agent. Yaldarra extended her hand. The new agent took it and shook with panicked vigor. Her palms were sweaty.

  “Yaldarra.”

  “Costa,” said the agent. “I work in Andar.”

  “Tough gig.”

  Salinger threw open the door to the sedan and began to wrestle with the secretary. Yaldarra kept her distance, while Costa looked over Salinger’s shoulder to see what he was doing. After a frustrated scream from the secretary, Salinger wrenched something off her person. It was a necklace of some kind. Not ugly or gaudy. It was weird. The necklace was a smooth stone with a thin leather strap running through it. The stone flashed blue in the moonlight, but the angle of light was off. Yaldarra meant to ask more, but Salinger dropped the stone necklace into a large evidence bag and sealed it. He smiled to Yaldarra.

  “Good work out here. There’s bound to be a promotion of some kind in the works for you. Come, agent Costa. Our glorious leader will want to see this.”

  He bowed slightly to Yaldarra, then moved on. Costa was on his heels. Yaldarra watched them disappear into the crowd of agents and law enforcement. She turned to the secretary, who was smashing her head against the seat and yelling furiously. That seemed like a lot of fussing over a weird necklace.

  A thought crossed her mind. Agent Blackbourne was in the lobby with the other field agents.

  Salinger placed the Katarin stone in Victoria’s hand and closed her fingers around it. Victoria could feel the warmth on its surface. The warmth brought the world into focus, for once that night. It felt like someone had her back in all of this. She watched the stone in her palm for a time, then looked up at Salinger. He looked as if he were waiting on a reply.

  “What was that?”

  Salinger smirked. At least he found it amusing.

  “I said you are the keeper of this Katarin stone now. It is up to you to guard its power from the world. There will be many who want it, and many who will try to take it from you. Know that we will help you in protecting it, but the burden of keeper is on you.”

  He waited for her to look up again. Victoria blinked at him.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We will help you,” said Salinger, “but the burden of keeper is on you. You are the guardian of this Katarin stone.”

  “Okay,” said Victoria. She couldn’t find any other response. There was something about the stone that made her feel safe and comfortable. It was an odd sensation, one she hadn’t felt in a long time, but she welcomed it all the same. When she looked up again, Salinger was smirking again.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said we’ll need to gather our comrades from the roof. That is, what’s left of it.”

  They looked up at the cloud of dust above, a thin veil just visible in the searchlights. The building seemed a floor shorter than it used to be.

  Devon’s resplendent bachelor pad was now a sandwich of building materials and expensive furniture, now smashed by the school yard bully into a single layer of detritus. The five dragon slayers were still unscathed by the wreckage, but the pervasive dust did little good to their sinuses. Cora and Tykeso had pulled thei
r shirts over their noses, but it only added a slight body odor to the plume of construction material.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  “Our only exit is under there,” said Cora, pointing to a pile of split drywall and menacing cables.

  “I can’t believe this. How did anyone approve a floor plan with no emergency exits?”

  “There is a way out. We gotta dig to get to it,” said Kinsey.

  She moved to the wreckage. Rikka moved with her, but didn’t bother with any heavy lifting. Instead, she looped an ornate amulet around Kinsey’s neck. The effects of the amulet were apparent when Kinsey started working. This was an amulet of strength. With ease, Kinsey moved a fractured section of wall aside and pushed a broken support beam out of the way. Kinsey dug under a pile of crumbled stone and mithril beams, lifted it clear over her head, and hefted it over the side of the building. But then, she stumbled over a tangle of wires and dropped to the ground. Rikka moved to her side. She placed a hand on Kinsey’s forehead, then shook the pain out of her fingers.

  “Oh no,” said Rikka. “She overdid it.”

  “We typically ease newbies into high level magics,” said Rella. “Take off your rings and amulets. Put them in your pockets and don’t touch them.”

  “I always forget. Enchantments are rough on you the first couple of times you use them,” said Rikka, slapping Kinsey lightly on the face. “Yeah, she’s out for the week.”

  Tykeso looked down at his two daggers, then examined his attire. There were no nice places to stow his sharp weapons. He decided on his back pockets. The daggers’ tips poked through the fabric.

  “Come on, we gotta dig our way out.”

  Everyone flinched at the loud pop. They turned to the source, each expecting some new dreadful turn of events. Instead, it was Romney Balvance. Romney flourished both wands and took a bow. His grin was impeccable. The effect was quite impressive, but no one was in the mood to notice it.

  “Just poof us down already,” said Cora. “I want to go home.”

  Romney raised the left-hand wand and flicked it. Cora popped out from thin air. Romney was pretty sure he had the hang of this. He popped Rella and Kinsey, then Rikka and Tykeso. He had a general understanding of how the “Poppy Wand” worked. You had to have an idea of where you wanted them when you flicked the wand. He was almost 90 percent sure they would end up in that general area, and that the other 10 percent around that general area was safe enough. Romney turned the wand on himself. He had popped onto a moving dragon. That had to count for something. He flicked the wand and popped.

  Cora ended up a few feet away from Victoria and Agent Salinger, who both flinched at her arrival. After a moment to regain her bearings, she filled them in on the situation. They formed a search party for the rest of the team. Luckily, everyone had ended up somewhere near the Reymus Building. However, they were still scattered. Rikka was standing on the periphery of the crowd gathering behind the police barrier, acting as if she had always been there. She pointed them to Tykeso, who had appeared by an ambulance on the other side of the barrier. He had already convinced two paramedics that he was an off-duty police officer, before finding a window to escape back into the crowd. He joined them once he had sidled his way through.

  Together, they found Rella sitting at a coffee shop across the street, with agent Kinsey sprawled across a booth in the same corner. There was a brief debate on whether to take her back to the ambulance on scene. However, this was cut short by the well-meaning barista who asked if their friend was all right.

  “All-nighter,” said Rikka.

  “Studying,” added Cora. “Important exams coming up.”

  “And drinking,” said Salinger. “All the kids are doing it.”

  “She looks bad,” said the barista. “I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

  Kinsey was flush now. The heat from her cheek was beginning to warp the vinyl seat cover.

  “Good thinking. I will stay with her until they arrive. No, friends, don’t worry. I insist on staying by her side. The rest of you should go find Mr. Balvance. There’s no telling where he is.”

  This was true. There was no telling where Romney had ended up. He was standing in an office building, with a wand in each hand, wheeling around in confusion. The fluorescent lights reminded him of an office building. And there were the sectional walls of cubicles, except that they were resting in stacks against the walls. And now that he was gaining his bearings, he noticed the furniture was encased in plastic wrap. All of the computers were still in boxes. His eyes moved to a figure in the corner of the room, who approached slowly. The light revealed incredibly orange hair and a linen robe marred with something like axle grease. Her face was tired and smudged with soot. Her eyes were as dark as the night sky above.

  “Good work,” she said, still wiping her hands clean on her robes. “Devon is out, Mila is in handcuffs, Lorna’s in reinforced restraints, the Matron is back in her hole, and the world is in working order once more. For the most part. Hold off on skydiving for a while.”

  “No need to worry,” said Romney. “I’ve quit airplanes all together.”

  “Everything put back together and working in harmony. There’re just a few more things left to put back.”

  She gestured at his wands. Romney noticed them for the first time. They began to feel like natural extensions of his limbs.

  “Maybe I could help you some more. There’s still so much we can do with these.”

  Katrese smiled at this. Her expression said that she had heard this line before. Her response was practiced.

  “The world is in balance once more. There’s no more need for magic. If you want to help me, then start by putting those wands away.”

  Romney looked down at the wands again. There was something exhilarating about magic, and satisfying, and altogether wonderful. It was fulfilling to do something good, but there were so many possibilities to do more. Romney looked back at Katrese. Her smile remained in place, though it was straining.

  “I could fight crime,” he said. “Just one ‘pop’ and the bad guys are in jail.”

  “There are police who do that.”

  “But there’re so many other things we could do. The world isn’t safe.”

  “It is as safe as it’s going to get,” said Katrese. “It’s time to put the magic away.”

  Romney looked down at the two lengths of wood. So much potential, so much greatness. The things he could do with them. He looked up at Katrese, who wasn’t smiling anymore. She was concerned.

  “You can be a hero without it, you know. Keep doing the little things and inspire others to do the same. You always forget that. You don’t need to save the entire world every day to be a hero. The most heroic deeds are often made from a thousand acts of kindness. That’s the thing people always forget about heroism.”

  She approached him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He felt the warm, fuzzy feeling again. Romney looked up into the two pools of evening sky.

  “You have always been a hero, Romney. But it took saving the world for you to see it.”

  Katrese held his hands and smiled. He looked down at the wands one more time. There was still such potential in them. He could change the world with those two lengths of wood. But deep down he knew Katrese was right. The true potential lay in the hands that held them. Sure, it would be hard work and there would be times when it didn’t work out. The greatest actions were always 99 percent perspiration, which itself was made of equal parts agony and suffering. And time would play its role; none of it would change overnight. But the changes would be big and the achievement theirs, not the work of mysterious powers. The world could be changed with those hands.

  His fingers unraveled. The two wands clattered to the ground. Katrese smiled at him.

  “Don’t worry. There are still plenty more things for you to do.”

  She kissed him on the forehead. And with that, Romney passed into a strange slumber. Lucky for him, he had a goddess by his side.
/>
  Romney Balvance appeared at his apartment the next morning, perfectly healthy and ready to start a new life of good. He started small, at the Underbrew Café, by leaving a Ontaran note in the tip jar for the barista. By the time Cora and Tykeso arrived, he had given another fifty notes to a children’s hospital via his cell phone. They promised to send him pictures, as soon as the charge cleared. He looked up to see Cora holding up the morning’s newspaper. It was plastered with stories of the previous evening.

  The headlines spoke for themselves: Devon Reymus, Stealing From Museums? Wyvern in Custody, OIB’s #1 Caught in Lanvale. Mila Rin and the Family Smoak: Mob Ties to Reymus Industries. Real Ontaran Heroes: Arindale Kinsey Captures Devon Reymus, Ends Crime Wave. And those were just the front cover.

  Romney smiled, folded the paper up, and left it on the corner of the table. The three associates ordered coffee and breakfast. They spent the better part of the day discussing what they planned to do next. They decided that whatever came next, they would stick together. After all, Cora would say, they made a good team. They tossed around ideas of what to do. Some were good, some bad, one of them particularly awful. Selling lemonade on the corner, in any part of Lanvale, is a very bad idea, no matter how noble one’s intentions.

  With time, their conversation turned back to the night before and then to their many adventures over the past few weeks. There were no arguments over what had happened. They spoke freely. And not once did Cora call anyone a simpleton. But eventually, Romney slumped in his chair.

  “No one is going to believe us.”

  Tykeso and Cora watched him quietly. He was correct on this point. But that didn’t seem to dissuade Cora.

  “We could gather eyewitnesses and interview them,” she said. “Sure, we can’t point to the Reymus Collection now, but we have our own experiences. And there are all the people we spoke to, and all the people who saw it happen with us.”