The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  Bartram put his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes to focus his concentration. He mumbled some words, made a hand movement, and then mumbled a second set of words—all of which was unintelligible to Nevin. With a flourish Bartram dropped his hand, sat back in the armchair, and said, “I regret the demise of your fish and your house plants.”

  Nevin looked over at the aquarium located on a stand against an interior wall of the living room. All the fish appeared dead or dying, with most of them floating to the top. He went over to examine what had happened, and discovered right away that the inside thermometer indicated a reading much higher than room temperature. Looking back at the taciturn Bartram, Nevin also noticed that all the houseplants in the apartment appeared to have been shaken until most of the leaves dropped, leaving bare stems. The tall ficus in the corner was still quivering. Good God! Casting spells is like intense karaoke. How will science explain this?

  “Will it be necessary to replicate what you have seen, Mr. Reasoner, so that you can have further objective proof? Perhaps we should defoliate the tree in the front yard? Or every tree on the block?” There was an unmistakable note of vindication in Bartram’s voice.

  Nevin fell back against the couch, even more amazed at this second display of spellcasting than at Anson’s earlier demonstration. On top of that, he was stung by Bartram’s criticism of having a narrow mind, something that he himself often said of overspecialized tenured professors who ignored knowledge from collateral fields. “All right, all right!” he said, holding up his hands with a sign of resignation. “I have no alternative explanation. I don’t know what to make of all this, but I will take you at your word.”

  Bartram raised his head in triumph and Anson beamed.

  “I’ll assume what you say is true,” Nevin conceded. “And I promise you, on my honor, that I have no desire to bring harm to either one of you. What can I do to help?” With this concession, they all seemed to relax.

  “Thank you, Mr. Reasoner.” Bartram showed the first hint of a smile. “I believe I can anticipate most of the questions which you and Anson have about my deliverance. It would be simplest to tell you the entire story from its beginning until I saw you in the library today. Before I do that, I am puzzled about Anson’s reference to ‘high magery,’ though I believe I know what is behind it. Anson, please tell me what has happened in Antrim?”

  Anson recounted all the events from the Gilsum attack in Huxley. Bartram listened intently to every detail while Nevin looked for any inconsistency that might betray the story these men claimed as truth. However, all accounts were flawlessly consistent.

  Bartram, sitting forward in the armchair, nodded his head slowly as he formulated a conclusion. “I am certain that you have guessed correctly about the use of ‘gas warfare,’ Anson. I also believe it was not ‘high magery’ but ‘low science’—if you will forgive the reproach, Mr. Reasoner.”

  Nevin was too confused to resent the jibe.

  “The explanation is really quite simple,” Bartram explained. “Someone from here, a colleague of yours, in fact, Mr. Reasoner, has brought the scientific knowledge of gas warfare from one land to the other.

  “Someone from here is over in Antrim practicing magic, er...science?” Nevin made a good faith effort to restrain his bias against this explanation.

  Bartram looked contemplative for a moment before continuing. “More importantly, this means there is little doubt that the fall of Antrim is imminent as Anson has predicted. Just as it is also certain that my story will weave into his. Let me begin...”

  For the next hour, Bartram recounted how he came to Hempstead from Antrim two years ago. Nevin’s skepticism continued to slowly wear down as the story unfolded, at least to the degree that he now accepted the possibility that this story could be true. The scientific-coated rigidity of his logic simply gave way, but not without difficulty. It was hard for Nevin to allow his emotional side to supersede his objectivity, but he was swayed as much by the intrigue of Bartram’s account as the man’s obvious sincerity in telling the tale.

  Bartram’s story began with the storming of his cottage in the southern part of Antrim by mercenaries. He had not been home at the time of the initial attack, but arrived later as a party of four men were looting and destroying his property. Bartram knew right away that these men were mercenaries after the bounty offered by the King of Gilsum for the murder of any mage. Staying hidden behind trees and shrubbery, Bartram was eventually discovered and set upon by the men. He cast death spells that took the lives of three of them, but the fourth man beat Bartram severely. In their struggle, Bartram succeeded in getting hold of the man’s dagger and used it to dispatch him. Before night had fallen after this ordeal, Bartram packed a few belongings and set out for Huxley, thirty leagues to the northwest. Life as a mage had become too perilous and he sought the most complete escape possible. He knew of the existence of a deliverance spell, though he had never heard the spell nor talked with anyone who had attempted it. It was long thought by a few of the older mages that the spell was recorded in an old tablet somewhere in Antrim, and he had heard about an obscure palimpsest located in the village of Huxley. He put the two rumors together with the hope they could provide some kind of rescue.

  Bartram made the trip to Huxley without incident and eventually found the palimpsest conveniently available in the village’s meditation hut. It took him a few days to solve all the overwritten passages and commit the entire spell to memory. He finally succeeded in casting the spell and disappeared from view. Apparently, Bartram was the mysterious stranger some local children had reported seeing. Like Anson, he was delivered to the janitor’s storeroom in the basement of the science building at Hempstead College. Unlike Anson’s experience, the room was occupied at the time of his appearance.

  John Stryker, a chemistry professor at the college, witnessed Bartram’s materialization in the storeroom. After overcoming his initial unwillingness to believe his eyes, Stryker subsequently provided sanctuary for Bartram while questioning him endlessly on magery and life in Antrim. Stryker took the pouch of medicinal herbs that Bartram carried, and out of curiosity tried to cultivate some of the seeds. One plant did manage to bloom: a variation of the common violet that produced very dark, nearly black flowers. Not only did the black blossoms attract attention from botanists at the College, the petals and leaves proved unusually effective at promoting the healing of ulcerated sores. An extract of the plant was somewhat successful as a chemical cautery for cancerous skin lesions.

  Nevin knew Professor Stryker as a burly, dogmatic man with excellent professional credentials who tried to dominate not only the chemistry department, but all the other science departments as well. Stryker had first sided against Nevin over the flap with the geology professor, but surprisingly retreated when popular sentiment went with Nevin. Stryker also created quite a stir with his unexpected “discovery” of the black violet, which he claimed to have produced through his own research on chemical fertilizers. Nevin had found it unusual at the time that research on fertilizers would produce an anomalous flower, but no one pursued the question. Stryker became a celebrity in both horticultural and pharmacological circles, although interest died down when his plant would not propagate. It seemed that the flowers would bloom, but wither before seeds could be produced. After accumulating a considerable sum of money and prestige from this discovery, Stryker was granted a long-term sabbatical leave from the College.

  Bartram went on to say that he got to know Stryker very well and described him as a frightening man, embittered by his limited status and inability to move on to a more prestigious university. Unfortunately, Bartram was dependent on Stryker for secrecy and protection. They made an agreement in which Stryker arranged for Bartram to get a position as a library clerk using forged credentials. They even laughed at the manufactured name of Bartram “Bookman,” but the arrangement suited Bartram’s purposes perfectly. He was safe from the perils in Antrim, so long as he maintained the secret of his origi
n and a secluded personal life. He was more than willing to give up his life as a mage in exchange for the safety and stimulation of this newfound college environment.

  Stryker, however, had opposite designs. He became obsessed with the idea of his own deliverance to Antrim and the role he could play in that society. He felt he could use his knowledge to achieve the status and authority denied to him. After a long and futile attempt to dissuade Stryker from his plan, Bartram finally gave in. He cast the spell that succeeded in delivering Stryker, who took with him a fully packed knapsack. Until now, Bartram was not certain that he made it to Antrim—and evidently to Gilsum as well. Stryker was undoubtedly the source of the high magery that preceded the Gilsum attack on Huxley.

  * * *

  After Bartram concluded his story, there was a prolonged silence as the three men simultaneously took a deep breath and retreated to introspection. For each of them, the series of events that brought them together had very different implications. Bartram was immovable about maintaining the secrecy of his origins so he could live out a quiet life in obscurity. Anson was still committed to return to Antrim to seek a way to save his land and its people from certain ruin. Nevin was intellectually shaken, but also stimulated about the opportunity to learn new and remarkable things. A few hours earlier, he was uncertain about his own future and that had dismayed him; now he was even more uncertain what would happen next, but he had a growing excitement at the possibilities.

  It was not surprising that Bartram eventually spoke first, since he best understood the situation. “Anson, if you chose to remain here I could help you find sanctuary. But I can see that you are determined to return to Antrim. I am equally certain that you cannot succeed in your mission without something to tip the balance of odds that weigh against you. King Meire will certainly not trust you, and even King Lucan will be skeptical without something extraordinary to sway his thoughts.”

  “Yes, you are right,” Anson replied. “But I have thought of the advantage which can turn the balance to my favor. Sir Nevin must accompany me.”

  Nevin did a double take upon hearing this pronouncement. He did say “we.”

  Anson was certain that alone, he would not succeed. He needed Nevin, whom he guessed could easily equal or surpass Stryker’s influence, and whose physical size would be as formidable as his knowledge. Furthermore, he had observed what Nevin accomplished with only a hint of mindpower, thinking that Nevin’s potential for magery was probably far greater than his own.

  Anson slid off the couch and knelt on one knee in front of Nevin. With a look of desperation, he pleaded, “Sir Nevin, my land is beset with chaos and wanton death. My village has always resounded with the shouts and laughter of children, but there are few children now. This is the surest sign that a land is dying. Even I, as reverent for life as any man, was forced to harm another. Sir Nevin, I feel I can help bring this degradation to an end, though I cannot do it alone. I need the help of one with high powers. Will you make the deliverance with me and aid me in this cause?” Anson wept as he lowered his head in supplication.

  Nevin became extremely uncomfortable. This gesture by Anson was both noble and deeply moving, but Nevin was struggling with his own private battle between an extraordinary adventure offered by these remarkable men and his skepticism that such things could be true. His mind raced and heart pounded with anticipation. Finally, he responded with unaccustomed but growing enthusiasm.

  “Y-yes. Yes. I mean, of course I’ll go. I don’t really know what I’m getting into, but what have I got to lose?”

  Anson moved to a sitting position on the floor with his back leaning against the couch. Looking up toward the ceiling, he took a deep breath and sighed, “Good. That is good.” Anson turned next to Bartram and asked what the next step should be.

  Bartram responded, “You and I should write down the words to the spell and be sure both you and Mr. Reasoner know it thoroughly. Mr. Reasoner’s deliverance should be carried by the power of your invocation, along with my own influence plus whatever he can contribute. With Stryker, it took several repetitions and I was almost carried along with him because so much mindpower was needed from me. It should go easier with the three of us.

  Bartram added, “If it is acceptable to Mr. Reasoner, we should all stay here for the night. The spell must be cast in the storeroom where Anson and I arrived and Stryker departed. For reasons that I do not understand, that place is linked with Huxley and I expect you will return to its meditation hut. So, we do not need to cast a reversal, but a strait iteration. We should eat well this evening and get a complete night’s rest, then make for the Science Building just before dawn.

  “Mr. Reasoner, if you will give us a pad of paper and something to write with, Anson and I will test our recall to formulate the words for the spell. After we finish, you will have to study the words and commit them as close to memory as you can. Is this plan acceptable?”

  All three men nodded in agreement and began their preparations. Anson and Bartram sat at the kitchen table while Nevin prepared dinner for the three of them. The two mages worked diligently for several hours until they handed Nevin a sheet of notebook paper with dozens of phrases and words that constituted the spell. The two mages then retired to the beds Nevin had prepared for them, while Nevin sat in his armchair and studied the spell.

  While the mages slept, Nevin read and reread the handwritten sheet. He became deeply engrossed in the words, gradually discovering a sense of wholeness of the spell, and, at the same time, several distinct elemental parts. It was a fascinating verbal theorem. The more he studied the spell, the more it seemed like a formulation structurally resembling a chemical equation.

  Nevin often sat in that chair reading late into the night, eventually falling asleep before rising early for his class. This time he fell asleep and dreamed of wizards, kings and castles. When he awoke to the gentle touch of Bartram’s hand on his shoulder, he had a bit more difficulty than usual sorting out what was a dream and what was real.

  Chapter 11

  Mindpower

  When the trio reached the Science Building, it was just past sunrise. They made for the janitor’s storeroom in the basement, but when they approached the door Nevin was concerned that someone might be inside. He entered first, a prudent decision since Al was sitting in a chair reading the morning paper.

  “Hey, Professor Reasoner. This is a surprise. What are you doing here so early?”

  “Oh...Hi, Al. I’m...just getting ready to clean out my office. Are you going to be around a while?

  “Yeah. I heard about you clearing out. Sorry about that. Yeah, I’ll be here all day. Say, you need something?”

  “No, that’s OK, Al. I’ll see you later.”

  “You sure you don’t need something?” Al seemed to be getting curious.

  Nevin shook his head and left the room, closing the door behind him so his two companions would not be seen. He whispered, “The janitor’s in there and it looks like he’ll be there a while.”

  “We must think of a way to get him out,” said Bartram, concerned about the delay.

  “Can’t we try the spell in my office?” Nevin asked. “It’s only a few doors down the hall.”

  “It is too risky. There is no telling where you might end up if we started from a different site. It probably would not work at all, if my guess is right. I expect this spell only works in certain locations, and that may explain why the palimpsest was placed in the Huxley meditation hut.”

  “What do you mean, Bartram? What is so unique about that particular room?” Nevin asked.

  “I cannot explain with certainty, Mr. Reasoner, but I think it is a nexus point of two trackways that pulse with energy. You may have heard of something like this called ley lines.”

  “Yes, I have read about it. I know there are many examples where huge amounts of human effort were used to build monuments on intersection sites. And that electromagnetic energy pulsates there. Chinese history claims that some people can percei
ve this energy without instruments.”

  “True, Mr. Reasoner. All true. Did you know that some yogis radiate psychic energy so powerful they can levitate or move objects? Perhaps that is too ‘magical’ for you to accept, but your modern science confirms these practitioners have extraordinary brain activity during their demonstrations. Psychic energy is still energy, after all—but enough! Now is not the time for didactics.”

  “I would really like to know more about that, Bartram, but you are right. Now we have to deal with Al.” True to his promise to help these men, Nevin came up with a plan. “Follow me to the men’s restroom.”

  The two men followed as Nevin hurried to the opposite end of the corridor and entered the men’s restroom. From the number of plumbing fixtures and the dazzling amount of shiny pipe and sparkling ceramic tile, Anson had difficulty understanding how this facility would function as a room for “resting.”

  While Nevin studied the pipe connecting the line of urinals, Anson examined the row of closed-door partitions against the back wall. While peeking past a door of one of the cubicles, he whispered over his shoulder to Nevin, “Are these little closets where you cloister yourselves for ‘rest’?”

  Nevin and Bartram both responded with a subdued laugh. Nevin said, “I guess you could say that’s what some people come here for.”

  Nevin returned his attention to a vertical piece of pipe connected to the first urinal. While warding off some guilt over the vandalism he was contemplating, he told his cohorts to wait there while he ran to one of the labs. He returned with a slip joint pliers and proceeded to turn the collar nut on the pipe. When the nut was loose, he knocked the pipe free with the heel of hand. Water spewed out in a vigorous stream, startling the two mages who had to jump to avoid getting sprayed. Nevin told them to go to his office while he took care of Al. He then rushed to the janitor’s storeroom, where he poked his head in the door and told Al about the flooding restroom. Al streaked out the door with his toolbox, while Nevin remained behind.