by Ann Macela
Inside the pentagon, Johanna was helping the rescuer to sit on the floor while keeping his hands together and his violet blade sticking straight up.
Saxt walked over to them and stopped outside the fortress. He spoke softly so he wouldn’t startle the young man. “I’m coming in.”
When she nodded, he stepped through the gleaming walls. The power in them resonated in his center. Her pentagon didn’t need reinforcement from him—she’d cast it at full battle strength to stop any outgoing spells except her own. Nothing the boy could cast would pass those barriers and cause harm.
Saxt crossed to the other side of the rescuer and helped brace the boy while he and Johanna sat. Then Saxt joined the two of them on the floor.
“Okay, Benjy,” Johanna said in a calm, soothing, even voice, “you’re doing really well. When you created your sword, the energy traveled out of your center, up your chest, down your arms, and out your hands. Can you feel it moving?”
“Y-y-yes,” Benjy stuttered, his eyes big and round and his gaze locked on his blade. His sword tip wavered, and he returned it to the vertical.
“Now you’re going to pull the energy back into you. We call that ‘sheathing your sword.’ Concentrate, first on stopping the flow, then reversing it. We’ve practiced this with lightballs. You’re good at that, and you know you can do this. You should feel the flow start to slow. My hand on your wrist will feel it, too. Take a deep breath, exhale, and go ahead.”
The kid breathed and frowned at his hands. Slowly, his sword began to dim.
“That’s good, Benjy,” Johanna said. “Your energy is starting to reverse.”
Before long, only the boy’s hands glowed.
“Great. A little more concentration will do it,” Johanna encouraged. “Take all the energy into your center.”
The glow died, and the boy heaved a big sigh of relief. Saxt felt like doing the same.
“Take your hands apart slowly,” she said.
Benjy separated them about a foot and, wide-eyed, looked from Johanna to Saxt. “Oh, man. What did I do?”
Saxt grinned at him. “You became a Sword. I’m Saxt Falkner. Let me be the first to shake your hand and welcome you to our ranks.”
As Benjy shook hands, across his face an expression of awe and glee spread—before fear replaced it. “What about Chuck? Am I in trouble?”
Johanna gave him a hug. “No, you’re not in trouble. Quite the contrary. I think you became a hero.”
“Benjy …” Saxt said and frowned at the sound of the word. “What’s your full name?”
“Benjamin John Schutz, sir.”
“Well, Mr. Schutz, ‘Benjy’ doesn’t seem like the proper name for a Sword. What if we call you ‘Ben’ instead?”
“I’d like that, sir. Chuck was always calling me ‘Blow Job’ because of my initials.”
“Okay, Ben, welcome to the Sword ranks.”
“I guess we don’t need this now.” Johanna canceled her pentagon.
Jake Alexander came hurrying up. “I heard about what happened. Is everybody all right?”
“It appears so,” Johanna said, “but I’m taking Benj—Ben to the infirmary to be checked out. Chuck hit him pretty hard.”
“I’m okay,” Ben protested.
“We need to be certain,” Jake said and winked at the boy. “Can’t have our brand new Sword being hurt.”
“First,” Saxt said after a glance at the other kids who were lined up along the wall and watching them intently, “I think your classmates have something to say.”
Ben rose and faced them. The students crowded around him.
“Oh, thank you so much for stopping Chuck.” The girl who had been the object of the bully’s “attentions” gave Ben a hug. “He’s so obnoxious.”
“Has Chuck been bullying all of you?” Johanna asked. When the students silently exchanged glances, she said, “Come on, you can’t keep it a secret after what happened. None of you are in trouble. Not at all. We Defenders and Swords do not tolerate bullies.”
The story came out, at first slowly, with anger and fear and disturbing details. Chuck had terrorized his fellow students to the point a couple were thinking about dropping out of Defender training.
As she listened, Johanna sighed to herself. She had never noticed a single sign of Chuck’s bullying, the boy had been extremely careful to hide his actions, and the students never said a word. They feared worse retaliation if they snitched on him. Still, she should have seen something.
Other bullies had probably existed right under her nose in the past. She couldn’t fix past problems, but she’d be much more vigilant in the future, she vowed. Another addition to her list of “Never Again.”
Jake drew her and Saxt aside. “Johanna, you take Ben to the infirmary. Another master can take over the class for you. Do you still intend on casting pentagons today?”
“No. Not with all the emotions and distractions loose here. Nobody will be able to concentrate. Ellen’s here.” She pointed to a Defender standing with the students. “She can run them through drills.”
“Good,” Jake said. “I’ll call Ben’s mother and Chuck’s parents. I saw the Ogdens in the hotel earlier. They may still be on site. After you make sure Ben is okay, come to Conference 101. I want you at the meeting with them. If Ben is not okay, let me know right away.”
“What about Chuck’s henchmen?” Saxt asked.
“We’re already interrogating them about what happened. They’re not authorized for this building, and Chuck ‘borrowed’ some robes and smuggled them in. I’m calling their parents also. What’s the age difference between the boys in the fight?”
“Ben is thirteen, and Chuck is fifteen,” Johanna answered.
“Chuck is definitely old enough to know better. His father’s also a Sword, and I’m curious to see if he’s aware that his son can cast a blade. Charles has always struck me as an honorable man, a by-the-book caster. I doubt he trained Chuck or he’ll be happy to learn his son is a bully.” Jake pointed to the balcony with the cameras and smiled—one of his “gotcha” smiles. “Chuck can’t deny a thing, however. We have it all recorded.”
“I’d like to sit in on the meeting, if it’s all right,” Saxt said.
“Glad to have a little Council weight,” Jake answered. “Let’s collect our bully.”
Leaving Chuck to the men, Johanna first asked Ellen to take over for her, then explained to the students what was going to happen. She closed with, “You won’t have to worry about Chuck ever again, and I promise you, nobody’s going to bully you while I’m here.”
They were disappointed about the pentagons, but not very, what with all the other excitement. Lisa, whom Ben had rescued, was gazing at him adoringly. Ben seemed a little panicked by all the attention, so Johanna took him out of the arena quickly.
In the elevator, Ben studied his hands like they had grown extra fingers and asked, “What happens now? I didn’t mean to cast that sword. It just happened.”
“We know, we saw it,” Johanna told him. “Sometimes the ability to be a Sword comes out when the person is under great stress, like you were, and maybe in fear for your life. I’m certain your talent would have shown itself later, when you were a year or two older. You know, the color of your blade means you’ll be a very powerful Sword, and that’s an enormous responsibility. Speaking of your blade, you have to make me a promise.”
Ben’s eyes grew large and his expression apprehensive. “What promise?”
Before she could answer, the elevator stopped, and they exited on the first floor. She drew him down to a corner where they could speak privately. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, “You’re only an apprentice right now. Until you become a full-fledged Sword, you must promise me not to try to cast a blade unless a teaching master is with you. Chuck was casting without the proper precautions and was placing all of us, especially himself, in danger. I need your word on this, Ben. It’s really important. You could hurt yourself or somebody else.”
The boy gazed up at her with solemn, big brown eyes. “I promise. You have my word.”
“Thank you, I know the word of a Sword is good,” she said, equally serious. “Also, keep your hands apart for a while. Oh, you can wash them. Only don’t pretend to be gripping a sword—or a baseball bat. We have to work on controlling your energy patterns and habits first. Until you understand those, you might cast your blade without realizing it.”
Ben gulped and quickly stuck his hands in his pockets. “I promise that, too.”
“Great.” She gave him a big smile. “Tell you what. While you’re getting checked out, I’ll call the hotel, and we’ll have some desserts delivered to the arena timed to your return. Everybody needs to replenish their energy. Think they’d like some cookies and ice cream?”
His face lit up, and for the first time since he drew his sword, he became the thirteen-year-old he was. “Oh, man, yeah!”
While the nurse checked him over, Johanna arranged for the treat. Afterwards, she escorted Ben, certified to be none the worst for his ordeal, to the arena—where the desserts arrived at the same time. When the class was settled, she headed for Room 101. It was time to take care of the bully.
Chapter Three
In the conference room, Johanna walked in upon two very upset parents yelling at a sullen son. On a TV on the wall was frozen a picture of the two boys, squared off against each other with swords drawn.
“What do you think you were doing?” With one hand on the boy’s arm, Charles Ogden, Sr., shook his son.
A picture of obstinacy with his arms folded across his chest, Chuck stared at the floor.
“Oh, Chucky, how could you hit him like that?” Estelle Ogden wailed on his other side.
“Stop!” Jake slammed his hand on the table with a boom.
The noise shocked the parents into silence.
“Sit down,” Jake said more calmly.
Saxt was sitting on Johanna’s side of the long rectangular table, and she slid into a chair to his right. Jake sat at the head of the table on Saxt’s left, and the Ogden parents, with Chuck in the middle, took the opposite side.
“The first order of business,” Jake said, “concerns not the bullying, but the blade. Chuck, who taught you to cast a sword?”
Chuck crossed his arms again, hunched his shoulders, and kept his gaze down at the table. His lips tightly pressed together, he shook his head.
“You must tell us, Chuck,” Jake continued in a tone of utter command. “We will have the truth. Who taught you to cast a sword?”
“Tell the man,” Charles ordered.
Chuck glanced at his mother, who nodded encouragingly. He smirked slightly when he turned to his father and answered, “You did, Dad.”
“What? I did not,” Charles answered, his voice rising. “Jake, I never showed him how to cast that spell. I didn’t even know he could produce a blade. He’s given us absolutely no indication or even asked about it.”
“Screw that, Dad,” Chuck said, his words dripping with derision. “I didn’t have to ask. You’d sit there after your team practice sessions and replay each move, each spell for Mom. You’d talk about how the energy traveled, what it felt like, what you were thinking.”
“Son, I haven’t talked about practice in years.”
“So what? I remembered every word. We were moving so slow in class—” he sent a scowl at Johanna, “—all those dumbass lightball drills with the little kids, that I got bored. I’m fifteen. I should be casting a sword, not being held back by a bunch of no-talent morons.”
“Why didn’t you come to me, tell me how you felt, ask my help?” Charles said.
“Yeah, right. Like you’re ever home, and when you are, you and Mom go out, or you’re working on your job stuff or too tired to do much but sit in front of the TV. I did ask a couple of times about being a Sword, and all you told me was to keep practicing with the Defender bunch and ‘it will come.’ Well, I was tired of waiting. One day when you and Mom weren’t home, I tried what you described.” His chest puffed out with pride, and he pointed his thumb at himself. “And it worked! I cast a sword!”
“Where did you do this casting?” Jake asked.
Chuck shrugged as though it was no big deal. “In the garage.”
“The garage?” Charles stared at his son with a horrified grimace. “With all sorts of car fumes and possibly oil drippings on the floor? And the gasoline for the lawn mower sitting right by the door? My God, Chuck! All it would have taken was one touch of the blade, and you could have burned the house down and probably killed yourself!”
“Don’t worry, Dad, I knew not to let it get close to anything. I read up on it in the Sword library online.”
Johanna kept herself motionless. Oh, how she wished, however, she could reach across the table and shake some sense into the insolent brat.
“How did you access the library?” Jake inquired. “That’s password protected.”
“I signed on as Dad, of course,” Chuck said as though doing so was intuitively obvious. “He has all his passwords on a card in his desk drawer.”
Charles groaned and rubbed his temples. His son’s revelations had to be giving him a big headache.
“When Ben cast his blade, you had yours out in a matter of seconds,” Johanna said to the boy. “New Swords take a long time to cast, and their first attempts are jerky at best. You’ve had help. Where have you been practicing and with whom?”
“Not at home, I guarantee that,” Charles said through gritted teeth.
Chuck only lowered his head and resumed staring at the table.
“Answer the question,” Jake ordered.
Chuck glared at Jake, sat up straight, stuck out his chin, and proclaimed, “Mr. Bellman helped me.”
The sound of the name washed through Johanna like an icy snow shower. Of all people.
“Phil Bellman?” his father said, his face rigid with shock. “He never said a word about training you. I saw him right before you called us. He was having coffee in the restaurant.”
Jake picked up the phone, punched some buttons, and told someone on the other end to find Phil and send him immediately to the room.
“He helped me, taught me lots,” an obviously proud Chuck announced. “I can cast real smooth now. He has a whole big room at his house, like an arena, where he practices. He showed me some cool sword tricks and how to fence, too.”
“You fenced with your magic blades?” Johanna couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. Was Phil crazy?
“Nah. He wouldn’t let me. We used wooden ones. It was awesome.”
“Did Bellman tell you what would happen if you touched your magic sword with his?” Jake asked, his tone mild.
Johanna had heard that tone before—Jake was really furious. As was she.
With a “what could it possibly matter” expression, Chuck shook his head.
“Did he show you how to cast a pentagon, or did he cast one for you?” Jake asked.
“Nah. Mr. Bellman said I’d learn it in class, and he wasn’t going to waste his time on it.”
“My God,” his father muttered and slumped in his chair.
Johanna could only imagine how his son’s revelations were affecting Charles. She was probably having some of the same feelings.
“What about shooting an energy beam out of your blade?” Jake inquired.
“Nah.” Chuck’s face brightened with enthusiasm when he added, “But he said he’d do that soon. Man, will that be awesome!”
Grinning, the boy sat back in his chair and laced his fingers over his belt buckle. He probably thought he was in charge of the situation.
A few legal pads and pens sat in the middle of the table. Saxt, who had remained silent through the interrogation, pulled a pad and pen over and began to write.
Johanna saw only the first line: “Requirements.” The door opened behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to watch Phil come in.
“Hi, everyone. You wanted to see me, Jake?
What’s up?”
He took the chair next to Johanna, and she tried to breathe shallowly when his cologne engulfed her for a few seconds.
“Keep your mouth shut, Chuck,” Jake said and nodded at the newcomer. “Phil, Chuck’s been telling us you helped him learn how to cast a sword. Is that correct? You gave him lessons in the spell?”
Phil appeared puzzled, but he answered readily, “Yeah, I did.”
“How and when did you two come to this arrangement?”
“About two months ago, he was talking to a friend of mine, one of the Defender Indies, and I joined them. I mentioned practicing with my friend, and Chuck wanted to watch. When he asked me to give him some pointers, I did, figuring it was better he learned from an expert. His casting was pathetic until I got hold of him.”
Johanna had to bite her tongue to keep from telling Phil exactly what she thought of his “helping” Chuck. Every Sword and Defender knew the ancient rules: only the teaching masters and those specially trained and approved were allowed to instruct the young. Furthermore, proper safety procedures were to be followed at all times—especially those for protective pentagons.
“You are aware you should have referred him to the masters, aren’t you?” Jake inquired as though the answer wasn’t going to be important.
“I knew what I was doing. I’ve had the training,” Phil replied. “Five years ago. I was never placed on the teacher lists, and I don’t know why. Besides, he said he wasn’t getting anywhere in class.”
Meaning, in her class. Johanna ignored the slur—for now.
“Did you teach him how to cast a pentagon?” Jake spoke matter-of-factly, and Johanna marveled at his calm. She was becoming angrier and angrier.
Phil shrugged like safety was an insignificant matter. “I figured he’d learn that in class. Besides, I have a special addition on my house for magic practice. I knew he couldn’t do serious damage in there.”
“And you didn’t think a fortress was important for a youngster who doesn’t have a clue about controlling the power?” Jake sounded almost bored.
“I couldn’t see any harm.” Phil said, spreading his arms. “We were in a big open space, and I certainly didn’t come near him while he had his sword out or let him point it at me.”