by Ann Macela
Phil fisted his hands on his hips and stared at her. Probably he was glaring, but he was too far away to see his expression in detail.
Johanna still didn’t move.
“What’s the matter, Jo? No power? Or no stomach for a fight?” Phil taunted.
She didn’t answer.
“Is this too much for you?” Phil’s third attack contained three pure energy beams at level fourteen. Again her walls repulsed them.
Johanna crossed her arms over her chest. Truthfully, she was a little bored. If his puny beams were all Phil had, she’d take him out with her first combination.
“Watch out for this one!” Phil taunted. A silver-with-violet-streaks energy beam—a level fifteen for sure—hit one of her walls. The attack ricocheted off the slanted wall, but the shot made it vibrate.
Well, wasn’t it interesting that Phil could suddenly produce such a level? Johanna raised the protection of her pentagon to fifteen, then added a little more energy until it glowed almost solid silver.
“How’d you like that, Miss High-and-Mighty?” Phil yelled and threw another beam like the last. It bounced off, to no effect whatsoever.
Johanna lowered her arms and carefully prepared her spells—at level fifteen. In quick succession, she threw a fireball, a lightning bolt, and two energy beams. All the missiles hit the flat facing side of Phil’s fortress.
His wall seemed to tremble for a few seconds. When he pointed at it, however, it steadied and changed colors to more silver. That made it almost a fifteen.
Phil must be using some sort of item to focus and boost his power—that was the only explanation for such a color shift above his well-known and well-established fourteen. He’d never had a mate, and bonding was the only way your internal level could rise. Furthermore, if Phil had been able to cast a fifteen earlier, he would have, to lord it over lesser levels.
And the magic focusing item? Nobody stipulated in the rules that such items were not allowed. He was within his rights to use one, even if it seemed like cheating to her. Saxt had figured correctly—Phil did have an ace up his robe.
Okay, he had an item. She was through waiting. If Phil wanted a fight, she’d give him one. See how he liked some pure-sixteen missiles.
She threw a lightning bolt, three energy shots, and a fireball, and topped off the barrage with the tidal wave. Timing her next spell carefully to hit exactly when the illusion wave receded, she pounded his wall with sledgehammer blows of energy, lightning, fire, and energy again.
As the booms and crackles and whooshes, the smoke, and the illusion faded, the audience roared, yelled, clapped, and whistled.
Johanna concentrated on Phil. The last set of spells had clearly shaken his fortress and its enchanter. His walls, battered, blackened, wavering, looked near collapse. Before Harlen could call a ceasefire to inspect it, Phil cast another fortress inside his first one—this new pentagon pointed at her. Then he canceled the spell for the outer structure. The crowd buzzed in confusion.
Trust Phil to take advantage of all the loopholes. Now no proof existed of his first shield’s possible damage. They hadn’t written anything in the agreement about replacing a pentagon. The common practice was to use one fortress only. Their battle was a duel between supposed colleagues, not a fight to the death.
“Bellman,” Harlen bellowed, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Let it go, Harlen,” Johanna shouted into the relative silence. She was going to end this fight unmistakably and cleanly, not on a technicality.
“You’re positive?” Harlen asked. When she nodded and answered, “Yes,” he pointed at Phil. “Don’t do that again, Bellman. Don’t cancel your present pentagon spell until I have a chance to inspect your shield for damage. If you do, I’m going to declare you the loser.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Phil grumbled and muttered a few choice curse words. Then he threw more level-fifteen missiles.
Johanna didn’t think much of Phil’s repertoire—all he had used up to now were straightforward spells, relying on blunt force alone. Since he fought only lesser level Swords, he might not have practiced the more versatile weapons. Of course, he didn’t have Kendra—inventive, sneaky, and enormously powerful—to practice with. If he didn’t like the tidal wave, let’s see what he thought of her next volley.
She chose the face to the right of Phil’s pentagon point as her primary target. First, a few diversionary spells. She curved a shooting star that hit the left wall dead center and showered flaming bits all over. Next came a “sticky” missile that gelatinously slid down the right wall, obscuring Phil’s view. Her following fireball split on the point, flowed around the fortress and exploded on the rear flat side.
While Phil responded to the unexpected boom behind him, Johanna laid a series of level-sixteen energy blasts in a line down her target face. Next she zinged a series of lightning bolts down the same trail, followed by another line of beams. She finished with shooting stars hitting every one of the five sides.
Phil didn’t answer any of her attacks. He seemed to be confused or, at the least, rattled, swiveling this way and that, working only on shoring up his pentagon. Where was his vaunted huge energy well? Was he running out of power?
When she stopped shooting for a few seconds, he did pull himself together enough to send a few beams her way. The poorly organized energy shattered on her walls. He started yelling, cursing her and Saxt and everyone connected with the duel.
“Give up, Phil,” Johanna shouted. “Call it quits. You’re overpowered and outgunned.”
“Bitch! You can’t do this to me! It’s not supposed to be like this!” he screamed and threw more missiles at her. Even though these were more coherent, they also fizzled on her shield.
She sighed. Why did losers always resort to name calling? It was time to end this debacle. She kicked her spells up to level seventeen and threw missiles, one after the other, at the middle of the right wall.
At first Phil tried to counter, even shot some anti-missile spells, only to have hers blow them out of the way—and go on to smash against his wall.
Johanna kept up the pressure, firing ball after bolt after beam. Phil ceased trying to retaliate.
Had he run out of energy? Was all that talk about the depth of his well camouflage for his lack of power? If so, no wonder he was always stealing it from somebody else.
Her center remained full of energy. She could shoot these spells all day. She’d basically won the battle. Now the problem was to convince Phil to admit failure.
After a few more shots, she ceased fire to assess the damage. When the smoke blew away and the bright lights faded, Phil’s pentagon looked awful—blackened walls dented and sagging, silver and violet lights flickering.
In its center, Phil stood, shoulders slumped, weaving slightly on his feet. One hand was gripping his robe right below his throat—as if something was under it. His magic helper item, perhaps?
“Everybody, hold your fire!” Harlan shouted, “Cease and desist. Bellman, can you withstand another shot? Is it worth it to risk injury to find out? I don’t see an outright hole in your shield, but those walls could give at any moment.”
“No, I won’t quit!” Phil yelled, raising his fists and shaking them at Harlan. “She hasn’t won yet! She can’t win! I won’t let her win, and I’ll never surrender!”
Phil cast another pentagon inside the damaged one. For a few seconds he simply stared at Johanna. Then he stretched out his arms, brought his hands together, and drew his sword. The blade gleamed silver with violet streaks—level fifteen.
At the sight of the blade, the audience went totally silent.
“Bellman, you’re out! You’ve lost! Sheathe that sword and lower your shield!” Harlan bellowed.
“Make me, old man,” Phil screamed and aimed his sword at Johanna.
Johanna immediately raised her pentagon to level seventeen and drew her own silver-and-gold blade.
Phil’s sword beam crashed on the point of her fortress. She ba
rely felt a tap.
Before she could strike back, she heard Saxt shout, “Harlan, stay where you are! You’re no match for him.” Her mate ran into the oval, stopping just inside its wall on her left, cast his own pentagon, and drew his blade, a duplicate of hers in level.
A part of Johanna wanted to tell Saxt she didn’t need any help from an over-protective mate, but another part rejoiced in his presence. They would protect each other. The sooner they ended this debacle, the better.
“I’m glad you’re here, Falkner. I’ll destroy you, too!” Phil threw some sword shots at Saxt, and his beams failed against those walls also.
Johanna looked at her mate. When their eyes met, the oddest sensation washed over her. Something—the setup, the pentagons, the blades—was not quite right, and the weirdest questions flew through her mind. What was he doing over there when he should be over here in this pentagon with me? What was he doing with only one sword in his hands? What am I?
Johanna blinked as a shiver ran down her backbone. Where did those ideas come from? Whatever the source, she didn’t have time to think about them now.
She had a battle to win.
Saxt said one word, “Practice.”
“Yes.” Johanna settled and braced herself as if she was facing an evil item. Her center revved up as though she was. Bringing her blade point down to aim at Phil and spelling its tip to the smallest aperture she could, she called to Saxt, “Ready.”
“Take his right side. Straight down. On my count,” he replied, his voice coming through the now silent arena as though they were alone in the room. The audience must be holding its collective breath.
Phil knew something was up, and he swung his sword from one side to another as if he could actually parry one of their beams. Even at this distance from his fortress, Johanna could tell his energy was almost gone. His skin appeared pale, his eyes were sunken, and his hands seemed to shake. He was probably pouring whatever he had left into his shields.
“One, two, three!” Saxt ordered.
Johanna shot the laser-like beam out of her blade directly at the top right side of Phil’s pentagon. Saxt’s hit the left at the same moment. Phil screamed in pain when the beams sliced through his walls, and he sent a shot from his sword directly at the line she was drawing.
Phil’s power burst accomplished absolutely nothing. In fact, she couldn’t even feel the slightest twinge or bump or resistance to her downward progress.
In the smoking wake of her and Saxt’s attacks, rainbow-colored magic energy roiled and spread until Phil’s walls rippled. When their beams reached the granite stones of the floor and blasted through his barriers, the back three sides of Phil’s fortress disintegrated, leaving only the front two to protect him.
Johanna raised her blade and watched Phil cancel his sword spell. Contrary to reason, he didn’t surrender. Instead, he held out his hands to the two walls, sending energy directly into them as though into the ring. His effort had to be the only force holding them up.
“You’re done, Bellman!” Saxt shouted.
“Eat this, you fucking son of a bitch!” Phil yelled, drew his sword again, and shot a beam directly at Saxt.
His attempt, mostly the indigo of a level ten, sputtered and died before it even came close to Saxt.
They could end Phil’s idiocy by destroying the remnants of his shield, Johanna hoped. At the same time, they had to be careful not to strike him with an energy beam. To do that could kill him. She called to Saxt, “Cut across the walls right over his head. I’ll work on the bottom where they touch the floor.”
Saxt nodded and began cutting about a foot over Phil’s head. She, meanwhile, did the same at floor level, being careful not to hit his feet.
Phil started screaming incoherent words, curse words, meaningless sounds. He shot low-level beams from his blade all over the place, but they only ricocheted off the two pentagons and the oval’s barrier.
When she and Saxt cut simultaneously through the walls, the structure collapsed completely, dispersing with a shower of colorful glitter. Phil fell to the floor and curled into the fetal position. His screams died to moans.
Johanna and Saxt canceled their sword and pentagon spells while the healers and Phil’s two buddies rushed to the fallen man.
Harlan looked up at the still silent audience. “A Sword has been injured. You people leave quietly.” With a low buzz of conversation, the crowd began to make its way to the exits.
Johanna and Saxt ran to Phil, who roused enough to tell the healers to leave him alone. After some minutes of confusion—and muttered invective from Phil—the healers said they couldn’t detect a real injury, although they both were having trouble reading him with their diagnostic spells. Since he was conscious and refusing treatment, they couldn’t really do anything else for or with him.
Phil ordered his henchmen to help him up, and they half-carried their leader toward the anteroom. He gave no acknowledgement he had lost the duel, asked no questions about Johanna’s rise in level, made no admission he had been using an item to boost his power.
At the doorway, he stopped and turned to stare directly at Johanna. He rubbed his center and spoke like he had to force the words out of a sore throat. “You haven’t heard the last of this. I’ll have you yet.”
Leaning heavily on his followers, Phil left.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Saxt, Johanna, her team, Jake, and Miriam gathered in Dorothy’s condo after leaving the arena. Despite the victory, it was a somber group—a fact which Saxt appreciated. Oh, yes, they heaped praise on Johanna and him for defeating Phil, especially after the man had drawn his sword.
Their triumph didn’t mean all was sweetness and light, however.
Saxt himself was agitated, on edge, not settled, in his mind and his body. Too many questions unanswered, too many situations unresolved. And no explanation for that eerie awareness of an event, an action remaining to be accomplished—a sensation that washed through his body when he looked Johanna in the eyes right before they attacked Phil. He’d have to discuss it with her later.
At the moment, it was best to deal with the here and now, what he could control.
“Phil still remains both a problem and a threat,” Saxt said, and everyone nodded. “I frankly do not trust the man. Johanna, did you get a feel for what kind of item he was using to boost his power?”
She glanced up from her chocolate sundae. “No, I didn’t. It couldn’t have been very powerful, though. Phil didn’t manage to lift his blade level to sixteen, and the missiles he threw lost their punch even before we cut his walls. He was decidedly running out of energy. It looks to me like all his talk about having such a huge well was just that—talk.”
“Does anybody have an idea about the item?” Saxt asked and, when everybody shook their heads, continued, “Phil wasn’t exactly cheating by using a focusing item, but he was really skirting the line. Typical behavior, from what I’ve seen. Because of that and his other actions, I don’t believe he’ll follow the provisions of the agreement he signed. His threat when he left indicated as much. You all know him better than I do. Do you have recommendations for approaching him to discuss those provisions? For ensuring he abides by his promises?”
“From his attitude, his behavior, his actions, I’m afraid Phil needs some psychological counseling,” Clyde said. “I can’t see him accepting it, though. In thinking about the situation, I’ve realized how isolated Phil has become—mostly his own doing. He has always assumed an air of entitlement and superiority, in addition to his bullying, that attracted some of our, shall we say, ‘weaker’ colleagues. He’s driven away those who might have helped him.”
“What was that statement he made at the end?” Rosa asked. “About ‘having you,’ Johanna?”
“Phil seems to be fixated on me as a mate,” Johanna replied and loaded her spoon with another bite of ice cream. “Why don’t you explain, Saxt, while I replenish my energy?”
Saxt explained his theory, and Clyde, Ros
a, Pat, and Dorothy agreed and started reminiscing about Phil’s actions over the years. Their observations proved the worth of his idea.
“I can remember wondering long ago,” Rosa said, “if Phil would be your mate, Johanna, despite your antipathy toward him. He always watched you like you were a piece of cake he’d like to eat. That was before you and Billy found each other, of course. After that, Phil faded from the picture, and you saw very little of him. I think Saxt is right—that ‘cake look’ is back in his eyes.”
Johanna finished her last bite and put the spoon down. “I was dumbfounded when Saxt told me his observations. At first, I thought it might be his mate protectiveness coming to the fore. Now I’m really surprised at what was going on right under my nose. Why didn’t I see any of this?”
“Oh, Johanna, dear,” Dorothy said, “you were always totally busy with school work and magic study and then Billy, and you disliked Phil so much, you simply blocked him out. And I, for one, was happy you did so. There was always something ‘wrong’ about him, but I could never decide what it was.”
“None of what you’ve said is going to make dealing with the man easier,” Saxt concluded. He turned to Miriam. “Since Phil’s a Sword, he technically falls under my committee’s jurisdiction first. If you and I approach him, as members of the Defender Council, we can compel him to talk with us. Why don’t we call him on Monday and try to set up a time for a meeting as soon as possible.”
Miriam sighed before saying, “I’ll call a couple of other council members. Maybe they can fly in tomorrow or Monday to add some neutral voices to the mix. From what you’ve all said, you and I are already on his enemies list.”
“Good idea,” Saxt agreed.
“Keep me out of it,” Johanna interjected. “I want to be as far away from him as possible.”
“You will be as long as I have anything to say about it,” Saxt stated, and his center began to vibrate in agreement. “Thanks for the hospitality, Dorothy. Come on, Johanna, let’s clean out my suite and go home.”