by Ann Macela
“Let’s continue our discussion with fewer people,” Saxt said into the silence.
“Good idea,” Jake seconded, and he stepped between Phil’s contingent and the other team members. “You did fine, folks. Keep practicing. Thank you for coming.”
Johanna could almost touch the curiosity rolling off the Defenders and Swords in waves. Although they obviously wanted to stay, they didn’t object to being dismissed. To help Jake herd them out, she started to sidle over behind the group. She had only taken a few steps, however, when Phil erupted.
Chapter Nineteen
“Damn it! No! Everybody, stay where you are. We’ll have this out publicly or not at all.” Phil drew himself up and crossed his arms across his chest. “I’ve been passed over long enough. Falkner, you’ve done nothing but criticize me since you got here. Done nothing to recognize my worth or my power. Well, I have news for you. I’ve discovered something about your wonderful new method that you didn’t know. Didn’t I, Rodney?”
“Yeah, Phil.” Rodney nodded enthusiastically, and Mort followed suit, their bouncing heads reminding Johanna of two bobble-head dolls.
“Damn right,” Phil continued. “I wanted to see if the ring could be manipulated to produce more. Nobody had tried that yet. Working with people who believe in my abilities, I found out the Defenders could slice the ring like a bagel and feed power to the top or the bottom. They can also split it into segments between them.”
“Therefore, you decided to use your newfound technique to feed yourself more power, without first telling us of your discovery. Without allowing us to test it, to be sure it didn’t harm either the ring or us.” Saxt stated. Johanna couldn’t tell which emotion under his even tone was stronger—incredulity or anger.
“Hey, I listened to you yesterday.” Phil spread his arms in an openhanded shrug, as though he couldn’t imagine why Saxt should be upset. “You said specifically that we didn’t know enough about this process yet. We were doing what you said. We practiced and experimented and figured it out.”
That was pure Phil, Johanna observed. Bending words to justify what he wanted to do and acting totally smug about it. Everybody else could go hang. Oh, she was thoroughly sick of him. She could feel her frustration level rising with every word he spoke. Take it easy. He’s baiting everyone.
“Listen carefully, Bellman,” Saxt said. “The major problem is not your discovery. It’s your power hogging tendencies. You obviously didn’t comprehend the part of our discussion yesterday about sharing energy equally. You were hogging it again here. How you were doing it is secondary to the larger issue, which is why you’re doing it at all.”
“Then how am I supposed to get the power I need? That my larger magic center needs?” Every time he said “I” or “my,” Phil poked his index finger at himself. “I’m the one who’ll be left defenseless.”
“The power you seem to ‘need’ is exorbitant, and the problem is yours alone,” Saxt told the glowering Sword. “Destroying evil items is not and cannot be a one-person show. It has always been about teamwork. Always. From the beginning of Defenders and Swords. From before that in legendary times. The necessity of teamwork has been proven again and again. None of us works alone. You know that.”
Johanna could “feel”—probably because of their soul-mate connection—how absolutely angry Saxt was, although neither his face nor his gestures showed it. His voice was low and even, his breathing regular, his posture straight and relaxed. With a rising voice, a reddening face, and clenched fists, Phil, on the other hand, was losing control.
“You know that,” Saxt repeated. “Don’t you.” His second statement wasn’t a question.
Phil glared at Saxt for a moment before he said, “So what? There are different kinds of teamwork. I can’t collect enough energy to fill my center unless I’m with a very strong team or I’m the only Sword. How the hell am I supposed to do my job without power?”
“Phil.” Clyde stepped in with his usual measured, reasonable tone. “You are receiving power, direct from the ring. We want you to use that energy and your own energy consumption wisely. You may have a larger magic center than average, but nothing requires you to fill that well and keep it full. Your attempts to take power unilaterally put others at risk.”
Clyde pointed to the others who had been in the pentagon with Phil. “These people recognized what you were up to. Margaret knew exactly what you were doing, and she was justifiably angry. You must learn to moderate yourself. Even if, especially if you’re the only Sword on your team. Otherwise you’ll drain your Defenders dry, and that will really leave you and them totally unprotected. Do you think an evil item will have any mercy?”
Johanna glanced around the circle of men and women and mentally winced. No good would come from taking Phil to task in front of a crowd. Never mind that he had brought it on himself. In the past, Phil always retaliated against people who reprimanded him before others. By ignoring those of higher level or authority, or by slander, innuendo, and duels if the person was weaker. He would try this time, too, she was certain.
Furthermore, from the avid attention the other team members were paying to the argument, every detail would be all over the HeatherRidge by morning. Phil would be doubly incensed if the gossips broached the subject of his chastisement, and he’d made enough enemies so that somebody would be gleefully announcing it to one and all.
More important, the confrontation might end badly right now. The way Phil was standing, hands fisted on his hips, runes and glyphs on his black robe sparkling, eyes full of fury, he was not going to calm down. She could swear the temperature in the arena had gone up with his anger. The scent of his aftershave increased almost to a gagging state.
She hoped he maintained enough control to stop from throwing any spells or drawing his blade. Just in case, she readied the castellum spell in her mind and shifted to stand slightly in front of Barnaby, who would have little to no protection against a blast from Phil. Saxt must have had the same idea because he stepped back to stand at Barnaby’s other side.
She needed to keep her own fraying control also. Lately Phil and his actions acted like a flamma spell to her candle, and while telling him off was satisfying, it did no good in the long run. He never listened, only plotted revenge.
She should stay out of this argument. Let Saxt and the others handle Phil.
Really she should.
She flexed her fingers, ready to cast a pentagon if Phil forced the issue.
“We all have to learn moderation, Bellman,” Saxt went on, still trying to apply reason to the discussion. “Every single Sword. Every single Defender. The new method shows us that our magic centers expand in ways we never knew before—or perhaps you were the only one who realized it up to now. That’s not the point, however.
“In the pentagon minutes ago, despite the instructions and the warnings, you continued to pull in more, first by using your friends to send power only to you, then by taking more from the entire ring by yourself. You simply cannot continue that action and expect others to enter a pentagon with you. Who will trust you?”
“Okay,” Phil said with a crafty, faux-innocent smile, “Let’s say I moderate my intake. I’m really careful. I prove it every day, in every test, with every single little piece of the Cataclysm Stone that we destroy. When do I work with a team on a permanent basis? Can I work with you and your team, Clyde? Will you assign me to a team, Saxt, based on my ability and my power and not Defender politics?”
Oh, Phil was crafty. Johanna felt her anger rising again. He hadn’t apologized for his hogging or even acknowledged that he had done anything wrong. Now he was trying to negotiate out of a sticky situation and force his way onto a team and play a part in the destruction of the Stone remnants. The man had the subtlety of a warthog.
“I can’t assign you arbitrarily to a team,” Saxt replied. “You know that isn’t how the teams work.”
“And we’ve already explained that several members of our team won’t work w
ith you again,” Clyde added.
With a gleeful “gotcha” expression, Phil turned toward Johanna. “In that case, the only way I can see to actually prove my capabilities, live up to my potential, and attract a team of my own is by a duel with Johanna.”
Here we go again with the duel. How many times do I have to refuse him? What can I say to penetrate that hard shell of willful refusal to accept reality? His head was as thick as his aftershave was strong. Johanna almost growled as her anger and disgust rose higher. Her center began to vibrate like it did when she faced an evil item.
“Why Johanna? Why not duel with me?” Saxt asked. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll fight with you.”
That statement snapped Johanna’s gaze from Phil to the man by her side. His protectiveness was showing again. Saxt was concentrated on Phil and didn’t look her way.
“No way,” Phil answered. “You’re a fifteen. I have no chance of winning. Johanna and I are about the same. We’d both have to go full out. Single combat. What do you say, Johanna? May the better Sword win.” With his trademark smirk and a taunting flourish, he bowed toward her.
Well, that did it, Phil. His contemptuous bow was the last straw to her rapidly fraying temper and rapidly increasing disgust. He’d brought her into the argument. She wouldn’t stay out any longer. She would not duel with the man—not with a blade. In these circumstances, words could be even more effective.
“You may think you’ve backed me into a corner,” Johanna stated as reasonably as she could. “You have not. I will not fight you. I have told you that over and over. Demonstrating that you have a variety of offensive and defensive spells ‘proves’ nothing. Establish your own team, show everyone you can destroy evil items of increasing potency and with absolute consistency, and without harming your team members. Prove you can be trusted.”
“Oh, Johanna,” Phil sneered, “your refusal simply reeks with fear. Why are you afraid of me? Don’t think you can handle my power, defeat me?”
Johanna shook her head. Typical Phil tactic: change the subject instead of accepting responsibility for his bad behavior. Calling her a coward went way beyond being reasonable, courteous, or fair. It was time to go on the offensive, to show him how sharp an edge her mind and her voice possessed.
“So now I’m afraid of you?” she asked. “Let me remind you, I was on the front line in the battle with the first big chunk of the Cataclysm Stone. Where were you? We called everyone in the neighborhood to help when it counterattacked. The fight lasted for hours. Several of our people collapsed at the end. We could have used a level fourteen’s blade. Where were you?”
Phil opened his mouth to answer, but she pressed her advantage. “Over the past few months, we brought together teams and Indies to destroy most of the smaller and some of the medium-sized pieces left over after Jim Tylan shot the larger remnant and blew it apart. We published notices, asked for volunteers, and used every single Defender and Sword who asked to be included. You never indicated an interest, asked about our plans, or volunteered your services. You never acknowledged our work or gave us a reason for your absence. I’ve participated in about half those difficult destructions. You call me afraid? Where were you?”
Phil’s face contorted like she’d sucker-punched him. Maybe she had. He rallied, however, as only Phil could do.
“I’ve been traveling a lot on business,” he answered in a sanctimonious tone. “Some of us do have to earn a living. We’re not dependent on practitioner funds, or living off the endowments the rest of us contribute to for training. I’m finally at the stage financially when I can take the time off to join you in those Cataclysm destructions. I have nothing to apologize for, in regards to the Cataclysm Stone or anything else. I’m also proud to say I got where I am today on sheer merit, smarts, and abilities, not like some people I could mention.”
As he looked her up and down to leave no mistake whom he meant, Johanna stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about, Phil? Or who? Me?”
“Yes, Ms. Oh-So-Perfect. You. Everybody knows you wouldn’t be so high-and-mighty, in so exalted a position, if you weren’t ‘Poor Little Johanna, the Sword Who Lost Her Soul Mate.’” He said the phrase in a mock sad, singsong manner. “If Clyde and other high level people hadn’t made you a favorite, you’d be in the same situation as the rest of us younger Defenders—still searching for a team.”
“That’s patently untrue.” Clyde stepped up to her side. “Johanna’s where she is from sheer hard work and her own talents. Because of her abilities, her steadfastness, and her trustworthiness, we asked her to join the team even before she found her mate. What’s the matter with you, Phil? Have you gone crazy, making such an accusation?”
“No, I’m seeing the entire situation clearly for the first time,” Phil answered. “Your minds are closed against me. I’m going to find a way to prove my worth, to make people stand up and take notice. There’s a new Sword in town—me. Whether you hypocrites like it or not. Johanna, you will duel with me, whether you like it or not. Come on, guys, let’s get out of this pest hole.”
Everybody silently watched the three men leave.
When the door closed, Miriam, in her deep voice, stated, “People, we have a problem.”
Chapter Twenty
As he drove a silent Johanna home in the snowy night, Saxt was grateful the roads were in decent condition, thanks to the plows and salt spreaders. He didn’t know if he was capable of concentrating solely on driving the snow-covered, icy streets.
They both had too many problems to mull over. Or, one big problem: Phil Bellman.
It had taken over an hour to discuss the situation with Miriam and Barnaby. They spent half of the time on the explanation by Jake, Clyde, and Johanna of how they’d arrived at this impasse. The other half was taken up convincing Miriam to let him handle it in the Committee on Swords while keeping the argument confined to the HeatherRidge.
Miriam wanted the Defender Council to censure—or at least formally note—Bellman’s conduct in the pentagon. None of the HeatherRidge four, however, thought now was the time, but for different reasons.
Saxt saw censure only as a last resort. Unless it had teeth, a slap on the wrist was not going to make Phil change his ways. He also suggested that Miriam have the Defender historians research how they’d solved similar problems in the past. Phil could not be the first Sword in history to hog energy.
Jake wanted to give Phil enough rope to hang himself, then clobber him with proof and charges even the stubborn Sword could not weasel his way out of. If he had so much money, let him pay for his actions.
Clyde, ever reasonable, suggested finding someone Phil would pay attention to, who could make him listen and help him see the error of his ways. Perhaps Fergus Whipple. If Phil wouldn’t listen to the highest level Sword alive, they could take more drastic measures, even deny him access to evil items to destroy.
Johanna thought that Phil would simply blow off a censure. He would never apologize for his hogging and hardly even acknowledge his actions were bad to begin with. Look what he’d said and hadn’t said this evening. His reputation preceded him, and no established team was going to accept him. If he talked his buddies into joining him in a pentagon … well, they’d better have the healers handy when the Defenders collapsed or a item counterattacked. As for Fergus influencing him? Phil hadn’t listened to anyone in years.
She also recommended barring unauthorized, unregulated teams from destroying even the smallest sliver of the Cataclysm Stone. The strength the remnants had shown was formidable and not to be taken for granted. Indeed, the various experts on evil items had not yet decided the best method for annihilating the largest, most powerful pieces, still residing in the HeatherRidge vault.
When asked if she thought talking to Phil’s followers would influence Bellman, Johanna shrugged and said, “If the others act the way Rodney and Mort did, I doubt it. His buddies have shown little ambition to develop their abilities, and their Defender talents are totally wa
sted. They’re perfectly happy letting Phil call the shots.”
Saxt agreed with her. He did not want the Defender Council involved in what was, up to now, purely a Committee-on-Swords problem. If Bellman asked to register a team, the Council could step in. An unregistered group, possibly also secret, was beyond all regulation, however. The most the Council could do would be to deny evil-item access to anyone except registered teams, teaching masters, and legitimate researchers.
Truly it was a pity that no authority could determine who became a Defender or a Sword. Alas, talents were spread in practitioner life the same way they were for non-practitioners—at random.
As he turned the car into her driveway, Saxt sighed. Time to go on to more pleasant topics.
Time? Oh, hell. The dashboard clock said past ten, way past ten. Where was his and Johanna’s time together?
No matter what, they were going to have some now.
***
Johanna had left a single light shining over the sink, and they could see to hang their coats in the closet by the laundry room.
Saxt followed her into the shadowy kitchen. Even in the minimal light, her blond hair gleamed, a beacon leading him to her.
When she faced him, probably to ask if he wanted something to eat or drink, he simply walked up to her and took her in his arms.
She put her arms around his waist and her head on his shoulder, and they both sighed.
Ahhh. This was more like the way it was supposed to be. Wrapped in the arms of a woman, who smelled good like flowers, who felt even better than a soft pillow, and who tasted …
“Johanna …” he murmured.
He separated enough to gaze into her darkened eyes, then give her a small kiss.
It wasn’t enough. He returned to her mouth for more.
She tasted as good as—no, better than—the best dessert in the world. He indulged himself for a while.
When Saxt let his hands roam on her back, up her spine, over her shoulder blades, down her ribs, she gave a little hummmm of enjoyment and began to do the same with her hands on his back.