by Adam Bennett
The boat pulled into shore right as the sun had gone down. Most of the girls ran off the boat as fast as they could; some stayed to thank Chunky Munkey profusely for saving their lives.
Lisa handed the tour guide every last đồng she had as a tip and a thank you. Dana handed him the only thing she had left of value.
“Here you go, sir. You're one kickass dude!”
Munkey looked at the black ball of hash in the palm of his hand and nodded his head with a large grin.
“Nice! Be well ladies.” It was almost as if he killed traffickers every day.
The girls ambled back to their hotel. “I’ll give you a little đồng, Dana. Isn’t that better than no đồng at all?” joked Lisa, trying to make Dana smile.
“It is, my friend. Thanks for sharing your đồng.”
“Anytime.” She wrapped her arm around Dana as they strolled on.
Dude, Where’s my Dong? was first published in PHUKET TATTOO: Crazy Tales of Far Away Places along with 15 other fantastic stories. You can find it on Amazon in ebook or paperback.
The Confluence
Pat Woods
Cathis turned her face away from the wind, which was coming from two directions at once. She could feel it simultaneously pushing and pulling at her with grasping hands, and she was grateful her cloak was weighed down with river stones. These slowed her movements, but Cathis wasn’t in a hurry. The Confluence was at least an hour away, and she couldn’t afford to hurry her preparations.
She began the invocation of protection, weaving her hands in intricate patterns while the tattoos that covered her arms from shoulders to fingertips began to glow with blue light. The colour became brighter as her spell reached its conclusion, then suddenly vanished as if the ink itself had been pulled out of her skin.
Now the blue light formed the outer edge of a large sphere that surrounded her. So long as her spell held, nothing could penetrate it. Cathis felt the wind die at once, though she could still sense it beyond the haven of her spell. It pushed at the blue sphere with a force that right now was merely insistent, but which would soon grow a thousandfold.
At a certain point, her magic might not be able to hold it back. Cathis hoped that by then it wouldn’t matter.
She took the six river stones from her cloak, arranging them in an evenly spaced line in front of her. Her choice of river stones had been deliberate, and now she spoke words of power over them.
“Elements of Life, Elements of Fate,
One to Bind and One to Break,
Like draws Like into the Snare,
Unlike Binds the Power there.”
As she had grown into her magic, Cathis had gained control over the four elements: stone, water, air, and fire. Each had the strength to hold the others in check, as any child knew. Air, water, stone—all could kill a fire. Air and water could destroy stone in time, and enough fire could boil water and consume the air around it.
A mage, however, knew that the elements could be combined and enhanced. A single magic stone, ensorcelled correctly, could stop a flood or quench a forest fire. Cathis had prepared well, and was now ready to attempt the greatest test of all.
The Confluence.
The east coast of Viriyar faced the vast expanses of the Gelt Ocean, which the unlearned claimed lacked both a bottom and a further shore. Cathis knew this to be nonsense, but the lands on the other side were too far away for any ship to cross without magical assistance. Far out to sea, where the water was warm and the winds inconstant, typhoons formed and swept inland during the summer months. Such was the force of their gales and torrential rains that the coastlands were but sparsely populated, and the few settlements there took refuge behind the coastal hills.
Typhoons were rightly feared, for they could uproot trees and tear buildings from their foundations. In their wake followed floods and landslides as the water they carried drenched the land. Only the bravest or the most foolhardy would venture out when a typhoon was at its height, and most families huddled in their cellars, shutting their ears against the screaming winds and praying to whatever gods they worshipped that the water did not find its way in.
At times, two great storms might form in different parts of the ocean and come together. Usually, this led to them forcing each other off in new directions, or even tearing one another apart in a fierce battle witnessed only by sea and sky. A larger typhoon could even absorb a smaller one, though this did not increase its fury, only the amount of rain it dumped as it passed.
During the Confluence, however, two storms of immense power made landfall at the same time, and their unleashed might rent the very land itself, tearing new gorges in the coastland cliffs and sending mountains toppling into ruin.
Mages could sense when a typhoon was on its way. Communities paid good money for an early warning, and more if the mage would agree to turn it aside or dissipate its rage. No mage in their right mind would stand before the Confluence, though.
No mage until Cathis.
But she had prepared well. Typhoons were born of the air, but water was in their souls, as it was in the river stones that lay before her. Like draws Like: the river stones would call to the water within the Confluence. As an additional snare, she had carved into each stone the Dorvic rune for ‘air,’ imbuing each sigil with her power. Each one had taken her a full day to create, and after their making Cathis had been able to do little more than rest a further three days.
The stones she had created would take in the power of the two typhoons as they came together, and more, they would hold it. Yet they were also stone—the Unlike, the ‘one to break.’ Infused with her magic, they would render the Confluence quiescent, trapped inside them until Cathis needed to bring it forth. With this one ritual, she would create the most powerful artefacts Viriyar had ever known.
Cathis reached into her cloak drew out her wand, a carved length of wood a foot in length she had made herself in a week of intense magical labour. There was still much to do. Next, she must use her wand to write the words of the ritual she had devised into the earth itself. Before she did so, she cast forth her magical awareness. Her sphere of protection was holding, but the pressure on it was increasing. She scried beyond the blue radiance, assessing the wind strength and measuring the approach of the Confluence.
As she did so, she felt the presence of another mage. To her attuned senses, the aura of other magic users was like the bright flicker of a candle flame in a dark room. A mage might conceal it with an effort, but this one was not doing so. Indeed, her fellow practitioner wasn’t trying to hide, and had created a protective spell a few hundred yards away.
Cathis’ eyes narrowed. The other mage must have sensed her, yet had done nothing. What did that mean?
There was only one reason for a mage to be here: the same as her own, to bind the power of the Confluence. Thus, they were rivals.
Why, then, had this other mage not attacked her at once, taking advantage of her distraction to strike a fatal blow?
That one question, that one sliver of doubt, was the only thing that prevented Cathis from summoning her power and attacking the other mage. She paused, and in that pause, decided to find out more.
She did not, however, neglect her own protection. The tattoos on her forearms glowed anew as she reinforced her shield to protect her from hostile spells, as well as the winds, which now were strong enough to lay the coastal grasses flat and would have knocked her off balance if not for her sphere. When her defences were in place, she quested again for the other mage.
Tel. She knew him as soon as she brushed his protective spell. The recognition brought with it waves of memory that left her clenching her fists.
He was the last person she would have wanted to show up on this wind-scoured cliff, with the Confluence fast approaching. Yet now that she knew he was here, here, she had no choice but to deal with him.
Mages could speak to each other thought-to-thought, and since Cathis could not leave her sphere, she opened her mind and prepared to d
o so. Connecting with Tel, even after so long, was easy, like slipping on an old cloak or a worn-in pair of boots.
Tel responded at once, as if he had been waiting for her—which, Cathis reflected, he probably had.
—Cathis.
In her mind, his thoughts spoke with his voice. He spoke her name carefully, as if he were holding back his emotions. What emotions these were, Cathis did not know.
—What are you doing here, Tel?
She had not doubt of her own feelings; she was angry, and she filled the words of her thought with venom.
—I would have thought that was obvious.
He now sounded infuriatingly calm. Cathis hissed out a breath.
—Leave now, Tel. I won’t let you spoil this for me.
—That’s not why—
She didn’t wait for him to finish.
—You would challenge me for the power of the Confluence?
—No, Cathis. If you’ll just let me explain—
Cathis ground her teeth as she broke their connection. As ever, Tel was trying to sound reasonable, but as ever, he was missing the point. They would both have to use the full extent of their magic to bind the Confluence, yet there was every chance that their rituals would interfere with each other, likely with disastrous results. They would both need to keep half an eye on what the other was doing, when their full concentration should have been focused on the work at hand. This was no time for the kind of magical contests they’d entered into when they were younger, back when things had been otherwise between them.
More memories, treacherous memories, unfurled within her. Cathis shut them away viciously behind her mental doors. She had to get rid of Tel.
—Just leave this place and stay away from me.
Tel did not reply at once. Cathis hoped he’d take her warning to heart and go. At last, his thoughts came to her.
—Can we talk this out face to face?
Cathis growled in frustration. She was already behind with her preparations and time was running out. Why did he always have to make things difficult? She snapped a reply.
—I can’t leave this spot. Say what you want to say and go.
—I’m coming to you.
Cathis swore out loud.
***
Tel’s blue sphere advanced slowly across the wind-battered headland. Cathis completed as many of her preparations as she could, holding back on anything that would require her to expend her magic or her concentration. She would have full need of both to deal with Tel. Though part of her refused to believe he would attack her, the other part was screaming that this was exactly what he intended.
After all, they had not ended well.
If such was his plan, however, Tel was using his power recklessly. Only his magic enabled him to fight his way through the wind, and a hundred yards or so from her, the gusts became too strong. Cathis hoped that would be the end of it, but Tel somehow reshaped his protective sphere, forming a wedge like an arrowhead. This made him more aerodynamic, and he pierced the winds all the way to her side.
Cathis was impressed despite herself—she’d never have thought of that. Tel had obviously learned some new tricks since they’d last seen each other. She resolved to be on her guard.
Their spell spheres were now less than a foot apart. Cathis felt the familiar touch of Tel’s magic. It would have been simple for the two of them to merge their magic; they had done so many times in the past. Cathis felt an urge to do so, then a flash of anger at the impulse.
She could see Tel now, their spells no barrier to sight. He was leaner now, and appeared older than she would have expected. It had only been a year, though in some ways it felt like no time had passed at all. Tel had grown a beard, dark like his hair. His eyes were the same, though; brown like cocoa, at the same time both penetrating and strangely vulnerable. Cathis had always loved his eyes.
“It’s good to see you again, Cathis,” Tel said. He spoke softly, yet in spite of the wind his voice was as clear as if he’d been standing at her side; he was using a cantrip to project his words.
Cathis was snapped out of her contemplation of her ex-lover’s face. His use of such petty spells had always irritated her. Magic wasn’t some party trick for impressing the country folk; it was a gift, one that should be used to help others and better their lives. It riled her to see it squandered like copper pennies at a harvest festival.
Tel had never fully agreed with that; oh, he had always claimed to respect her beliefs, but she would always catch him using his magic to complete some mundane task or amuse himself. That always led to the same fight, the same pointless exchange of views that could never be resolved.
“Don’t take it so seriously,” he’d say. “I only do it once in a while, and I won’t do it again.”
Yet he would, of course, only he’d be more discreet, until she’d catch him again and they were back at the start of the same argument.
Tel had always managed to find a way to mollify her, to break down her walls and get her to forgive him. But he never changed.
He still hadn’t; the voice cantrip was proof of that.
“Say your piece and leave me alone, Tel. We—I don’t have time for you right now.” Her words were sharp enough not to need magical enhancement.
Tel looked hurt—an expression that came naturally to him—but Cathis thought there was a harder edge to the set of his mouth. Was it the beard that gave his features that cast? She had to admit that it suited him, made him appear less like an excitable puppy—ecstatic when he received attention, pathetically downcast when this was denied.
“I’d hoped we could at least be civil—” he began.
“After what you did?”
The hard edge was in his voice now. “I truly regret what I did, and I apologise for it—as I did at the time.” For a moment, it appeared that he would say more, but he bit back the words.
Cathis knew what they would have been. “As I did not, right? You still think I should be the one saying sorry—”
His anger flashed. “We were supposed to share everything!”
“What you did proves I was right not to tell you!”
Once again, Tel swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. He took a deep breath.
“I didn’t come here to repeat all the same things we said before.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“I thought you might be happy to see me.” At last, his emotions got the better of him, and he added, “I thought you might have moved on and let things go.”
The baselessness of the accusation stung her. What the hell did he imagine she’d been doing? Sitting at home and nursing her grievances?
“I have moved on, Tel. I’ve put you in the past. I just wish you were capable of doing the same.”
“You always underestimated my capabilities,” he said, his voice low. “Perhaps today you’ll finally realise that.”
“Tel, I’ve never—” Cathis began, but he had turned away from her, angering her once more with his petulance. Of course, he still blamed her for what had happened. Tel had never learned how to have a good hard look at his flaws.
Their final argument, the fight that had broken them, had come when Cathis could not find her wand, which she had needed for a ritual of Dorvic rune carving. It was to have been the first step along the path that would eventually lead her here, to the heart of the Confluence. Even then, she had been preparing. However, when the time came to inscribe the runes upon a set of rocks, her wand was missing. Tel had taken it.
Between mages, such things were not done; to touch another’s wand, never mind make use of it, was a show of disrespect that could easily be construed as a deadly insult. Between Cathis and Tel, things were different, and had been ever since they’d fallen in love as students under Archmage Mawlen. They had frequently combined their magic and made use of each other’s wands. At first, they’d always done so with scrupulous attention to respect and permission, but familiarity had added layers of casualness that t
heir fellow mages, especially Mawlen herself, had looked upon with disapproval.
Once, it had led to a storm between them, as Tel had borrowed Cathis’ wand for some petty conjuration. She’d been furious—using her wand to indulge that habit of his she deplored the most—and she’d let him know she would not tolerate it again. He’d promised that he would never do so.
Of course, he’d broken that promise, and she’d caught him doing it that day. It had led to a terrible scene, in which Tel had tried to convince her that the matter wasn’t as serious as she was treating it.
“It’s not like I’ve been fooling around with it,” he’d insisted. “I was trying something.”
“Trying what?”
“To control fire,” he’d said, adding almost proudly, “I think I’m getting the hang of it. Perhaps one day, I’ll be as good as Mawlen.”
Fire was the most capricious of the elements—it had to be created, and was not found otherwise, save in the depths of the earth. Moreover, it was the only element that consumed. As such, it was the hardest to master. Of all the mages Cathis knew or knew of, only Archmage Mawlen could truly claim such power. Tel had been trying his best to control fire for a long time, sharing his growth and his frustrations with her as he went. At another time, his growing proficiency would have delighted her, but now he had gone too far.
“You used my wand—you used up its power!” she’d raged at him.
“Do you need it for something?” His look had been defensive, marred with a confusion that she’d felt sure he was feigning to deflect her accusations.
“I need it to—” she’d said before she could stop herself, her anger getting the better of her.
“To what?” Tel had frowned. “What were you going to do?”
Cathis had not told him about her plans: the runes, the rocks, the Confluence—any of it.
She might have pretended to herself that she wasn’t ready, that she wanted to surprise him with her new skill, but deep down, Cathis knew this wasn’t the case. This was to be a great work of magic, and Tel… Tel was too frivolous for such things. She didn’t trust him not to interfere, not to distract her. When Cathis had first conceived her plan, she’d agonised about whether to tell him, but it was clear to her now that she’d done the right thing.