Drake was still sitting in the tent, entering data into his laptop. Raeder was reading some notes on his computer. He hit some keys which then displayed a graph. Some other physicists were sitting in the corner, sipping warm drinks and brain storming.
“Any new developments, Margaret?” asked Heinrich Raeder, looking up from his computer.
Drake looked over as well, his eyes almost glowing in the darkened tent. Deitricht’s spine shivered as she saw that light. Mage sight Drake had called it. He seemed to have a natural understanding that none of the other physicists had. Must be the way he’s wired, thought the professor, wishing they had more mentally ill people to study. They had been promised, but had not yet appeared.
“I’m not sure,” she answered, taking a seat across the table from the department head. “Everyone here seems to take magic so much for granted. Like we do electric lights. And everyone seems to be able to work it to some extent. If they have at least average intelligence, a little bit of skill, and the belief that they can do it.” The woman put her head in her hands for a moment and puffed out air. “Oh, God,” she said, almost crying. “I wish I were home instead of here. Even if it meant I were dead in a nuclear blast. At least I understood how things worked back there. Not like this dream world. Nightmare world more like it.”
“But there are differences?” asked Raeder, attempting to pull his most brilliant colleague back from despair and focus her. “You’ve seen the differences? Think Margaret. We need you to use that mind to help us. To save your people, those that remain, from the monsters of this world.”
The elder scientist wiped her face with her hands, dropped them, and looked at the department head with red rimmed eyes. He’s right, she thought.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sighing. “I can’t afford to despair. Even though I will probably never see my children or grandchildren again. You are right. All of the people I am kin to in this world are here with us. And I must do whatever I can to help them survive.”
She sighed one more time, shaking her head, and motioned for one of the students to bring her a hot drink. She looked again at the computers, and thanked her stars once again that the military had generators in the equipment they had brought with them. Or had it come along with us for some purpose, she thought, as the General believes. Without the generators the computers would be working on dead batteries. All of their instruments would be dead, and they couldn’t conduct a proper scientific analysis of the problem. She shook her head again and accepted the steaming cup of coffee, taking a sip and sighing.
“The differences,” she said, looking back up at her department head. “I guess most of those who could do a little magic, like make a small light, light a small fire, or sooth an animal, were people of average intelligence and little training. While the ones that could do greater feats were more intelligent and had more skill. Just like people in our world.”
“And what they had in common?” asked Raeder.
“They believe that the spell they were casting was going to work,” said Deitricht. “They believed with their whole hearts that when they said the words and made the gestures, the action was going to occur.”
She took another sip from her coffee and thought a moment, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. Raeder looked at the burning cylinder for a moment, then grabbed the pack she had left on the table and pulled one out, lighting it up himself.
“Not worrying about cancer anymore, Herr Professor,” said Drake with a laugh.
“On a world where they can heal a severed limb,” said the head scientist with a laugh. “What’s a little lung cancer?
“I asked the Elf woman where the spells came from,” said Deitricht with a distant look.
“And she said?” asked Raeder, nodding at her.
“She said that they were passed down. But that sometimes, once in a century, someone came up with a new spell. And they showed it to others, who then believed that the spell would work. And the spell spread.”
“Which meant that the originator had to believe that the spell would work,” said James Drake in an excited voice. “That must be how all of these spells originated. With the supreme belief of one person.”
“Not all,” cautioned Deitricht, waving a finger in the air. “The Priestess told me she and her kind got their spells from their Gods, given to them in a trance state. But I think your hypothesis about the other spells is correct. Belief in them is the key. Supreme belief.”
“Will we ever get that kind of unthinking belief out of Earth humans?” said Raeder, looking back and forth between his two colleagues. “I mean, they come from a world where this doesn’t work. The slightest doubt could be disastrous.”
“Maybe we can work with psychologists or psychiatrists,” said Drake, thinking back to his own days dealing with mental health. “Hypnosis might work for some.”
“What about the data you have been working with?” asked Deitricht of her prized student. “Finding anything?”
“Yes,” said James with enthusiasm, pulling his laptop around so the other two could see the screen and graphical images on it. “I have been analyzing the imaging we have taken from the mages and looking for the underlying similarities.”
“And what did you find?” asked Raeder, nodding at the computer.
“Something very interesting,” said the graduate student, looking away from the computer and at his mentors. “It seems that whatever underlies this magic, it isn’t, well, magic. Energy has to be gathered from somewhere before the practitioner can use it. That energy can come from several sources, and in fact a mage may tap several different sources for one spell. Observing the readings from our experiments I can see that each user had to draw energy from the environment, which might include their bodies, and channel it, in the process changing it. But it’s not something for nothing.”
“So our physical laws are obeyed?” asked Deitricht, her eyebrows narrowing.
“More or less,” said the graduate student. “There do seem to be some violations, such as the abilities to affect biological systems, but I’m not even sure if those are violations. I’m not a biologist. But I can tell you that there are no violations of the conservation of mass or energy. If mass or energy changes, it has to come from somewhere, or go somewhere. It just doesn’t, poof, appear out of nowhere.”
“And where does this energy come from?” asked Raeder, his brows knit in thought. “Can you tell me that?”
“I can see it,” said James Drake, smiling at the two. “My mind is somehow different. I knew that on Earth, when I suffered through voices and delusions. Here the wiring works differently. I guess you could say that it works well, and I can see the energy all around us.”
James thought for a moment and the tent brightened, the air crackled with energy, and a wind blew through the confines.
“You did that before,” said Professor Deitricht. “We can see that you can work magic. And without the training these people seem to have to go through.”
“Not much,” said the student. “And not well. But I feel like it will come to me, when I learn the rudiments of the system.”
“Wild Mage,” said Deitricht. “That is what Sistarash mentioned part way through the session, when I asked her about training. A mage who is born with power. Quite dangerous. To themselves as well if they don’t master their craft before using powers they don’t understand.”
“Oops,” said James, releasing the energy he had been controlling with a thought. “I’d better watch it then, until I’m sure it’s safe. But you asked where the energy comes from, Professor Raeder. It’s all around us. In the movement of the air, the sunlight, the shifting of the earth beneath our feet. The mage taps into that energy, and manipulates it for his or her purposes.”
“And if the mage is cut off from that energy?” asked Raeder.
“Then the mage can’t work his magic. Any more than a car can run without fuel. That would be the immutable law of this system.”
“We need
to learn how to work this energy,” said Margaret Deitricht, looking at the two men. “Or we need to learn how to cut our opponent off from the energy they need. Or both.”
Chapter Twenty
The Great Wyrm didn’t really have a name for himself. In the way of dragons, even an intelligent ancient like himself, he only thought of himself as a symbol. To the people who lived within two hundred kilometers of his lair he was known as Glandarang.
The dragon was truly ancient, having lived the life span of a half dozen of the Ellala. Twenty thousand years he had seen come and go. He was as close to an immortal being as this world had, until now, and the mightiest dragon on the subcontinent.
Glandarang lay among his treasure trove in the largest cavern of the complex he called his lair. Gold, silver, gems, precious materials such as weapons and armors, tons of valuables formed a bed for the dragon. Some had been given as tribute to the monster, a bribe so that he would attack other towns when it came time to feed. Some had been taken when the creature decided he wanted to take the wealth of the puny creatures that shared the world with him. Some came from the hordes of other dragons, defeated in battle. It was the treasure that rivaled that of any Empire of the world. And it was jealously guarded by the Wyrm.
The dragon slept, as he had spent most of his time the last five thousand years. He awoke to feed on a yearly basis, gathering some more treasure as it became available. But mostly he slept, his senses still alert for intruders who might attempt to loot his precious treasure.
The strange vibrations, coming through the rock of the cavern floor, awoke him from his sleep. He had never felt their like in his many centuries of life. He did not know what they were. But he was sure he knew what they meant. Someone had arrived in his valley. Intruders. And intruders could only mean one thing. Someone was here to take the dragon’s treasure. And they would have to pay for their affront.
* * *
“Another beautiful damned valley,” said Staff Sergeant Marcus Jonas, sitting up in the gunner’s hatch of the M1B9 Abrams. “That’s all this place seems to consist of.”
Captain Antwoine McGurk nodded his head as he swept the ridge line with his field glasses. According to the map there should have been a castle here. That was the objective, to get rid of the military forces and fortifications in the valleys closest to the rally point. And the aerial reconnaissance had shown a castle in this valley. If this is the right damned valley. It was hard to tell, since they were all looking alike, with their surrounding snowcapped mountains and streams of clear cold water running through their centers. How could he tell if they were in the right valley or not? It wasn’t like they had GPS to fix their location.
“Not seeing anything up here, sir,” came a call over the radio.
McGurk swept his glasses out to focus in on the far wall of the valley, where one of his scout platoons was working its way along the alpine grasslands of the high meadow. He picked up the lead APC, then the four trailing vehicles, including a tank on overwatch, protecting its little brothers.
“Keep a close watch,” he ordered, sweeping his glasses back to the other side of the valley, where one of the other scout platoons was deployed. He could see the confederate flag, the chosen symbol of the mostly Southern boys of the unit, waving from the antennae of a first scout platoon vehicle up ahead. The four tanks of the company tank platoon were traveling in a wedge in the center of the valley, just to the north of the stream.
I shouldn’t even be here, he thought, though the troop was still his old troop. As the ranking officer of the squadron he really should have put another officer in charge of this troop and established a squadron HQ to coordinate the valley sweeps. But he also wanted an experienced commander in charge of each of his troops, and there wasn’t another for this one, so he was wearing two hats. This world was dangerous enough, with what was worse, unknown dangers, without putting an inexperienced man in charge of the limited forces they had. True, they seemed to be more advanced than the natives. But those natives had proven that they could really hurt the military forces from Earth. And there were a lot more of them.
“What the hell is that?” came a call over the troop circuit. McGurk recognized the voice and swung his binoculars over toward the near side of the valley. The vehicles had come to a halt and he could see the commanders in their hatches scanning the mountain wall. The Captain swung his glasses up until he saw movement, then focused on the wall.
The chattering on the net picked up as his people saw what was coming from the cave in the wall. He couldn’t get a real sense of scale on the creature, but knew that it was big. Really big. And then it roared, and McGurk felt a wave of fear run down his spine like he had only felt when he was a young child. And the dragon pulled its bulk out of the cave and started down the slope of the mountain.
* * *
Glandarang stretched his long neck, his head rising out of the cave. He could see something moving down on the floor of the valley. He looked closer and saw that there were objects, large covered wagons were the only thing he could think to call them, moving along where the valley floor flattened out. It looked like something, like the Ellala or the humans he had fed on in the past, were sitting in the objects, their heads and shoulders sticking out. They were moving those heads and shoulders around as they cupped their hands over something they held before their faces.
The dragon pulled himself from the cave, his massive neck and shoulders entering the open air of the valley. The sun was high in the sky, and he quickly scanned the heavens with his sharp eyes, making sure there was nothing in the air overhead, such as another of his kind, using the diversion in the valley to attack from the sun. Seeing nothing, he continued to pull his body from the cavern. The figures on the objects were now looking at him. And he knew that those strange double cylinders they held were pointing at him.
Those are intruders of my valley, he thought. There had been some in the past which he had dealt with them, and that had kept others away, up until now. With a roar of rage and hatred the dragon pulled more of its body out of the cave. His rear legs hit the mouth of the cavern and he started down the slope, feeling the fires in his body strengthen as he prepared to attack.
* * *
“Mother fucker,” yelled a trooper, looking up from the driver’s hatch at the monster walking down the slope. “That damned thing’s as big as a football field.”
Lieutenant Clancy Kirkpatrick didn’t know if the creature was actually that big. There was nothing to give it a sense of scale. But he thought it had to be bigger than any mockup of a dinosaur he had ever seen. Probably over a hundred tons of monster, maybe closer to two hundred. He rotated his turret toward the monster, elevating the thirty millimeter cannon as he did. His hands were shaking on the grips of the weapon as it locked into place. He had never felt such fear in his life. All he wanted to do was get out of the damned track and run, and find a place to hide from that damned creature.
“I didn’t expect Godzilla,” called a track commander over the platoon frequency.
“Shut up on the circuit,” said the Lieutenant in a shaky voice, hearing the fear in the other men. “Prepare to engage on my command. Mortar track, prepare to drop rounds rapid fire. Scouts are to remain mounted, in case we have to get the hell out of here quick.”
Not much good their little pea shooters could do against that thing anyway, thought the officer, while wondering if his own weapon would do much if anything to the monster. At least they had a tank with them. The vehicle now sat fifty meters north of his track, and its gun was elevating onto the monster.
The creature roared again, fire shooting from its mouth and nostrils as it turned its head into the air, rearing up for a moment. Again the wave of terrible fear passed over the men of the armored cavalry platoon. They were paralyzed with terror, and the dragon continued to walk down the slope of the mountain.
* * *
“All units in range, open fire,” yelled McGurk over the company circuit, even as the ta
nk bounced into a small rut in the ground, heading at best cross country speed toward the monster. The self-stabilizing gun of his tank fired, sending an AP round off at the monster. The round flew high, striking the side of the mountain and ricocheting into the sky with a puff of dust.
“How in the hell did you miss?” yelled the Captain over the tank intercom to the gunner. “That thing’s bigger than a sauropod.”
“I don’t know, sir,” yelled back the gunner in a quavering voice. “I can’t keep my hands steady. I’ve never felt this damned scared.”
More rounds struck around the massive creature, none hitting. The dragon roared again, sending a few streams of fire into the air.
Why are we so damned terrified, thought McGurk, as he watched a stream of thirty millimeter tracers hit the creature and bounce from its thick scales. Sure it’s big. But we’ve got the firepower to kill it. We know we do. It’s got to be some kind of power the thing has. To make people so afraid of it.
Another stream of thirty millimeter hit the monster, these also bouncing into the air. One of the nearer tracks fired a missile that streaked for the chest of the creature, hitting and going up in a ball of flame. The creature roared again, its head weaving for a moment. The head then stopped, the mouth opened, and a stream of almost white flame cascaded from the maw of the dragon, crossing three hundred meters of open area and striking the front of the Bradley that had fired the missile.
McGurk had never seen anything like the effect of that stream of flame. The Bradley brewed up instantly, all of its ammunition going off the moment the flame hit. The vehicle was a burning pyre in less than a second. None of the crew survived for even an instant. The front of the Bradley actually melted into the soil, and the grass and low shrubs around the vehicle flashed into ash.
Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1 Page 32