by TR Cameron
The mage grinned and gestured with his hand. A surge of force lifted the Atlantean and hurled him sideways into the brick wall beside him. He fell, dazed, and Ozahl collected the tiny marked packages from where they’d fallen to the pavement and shoved them into the pockets of his overcoat. A squeeze of his fist summoned magic that began to choke his foe, and he continued to apply pressure while he turned to watch his cohorts engage their targets.
They had raced past the guards, who lurched into motion to follow them but were still several seconds behind. Lila chose the one with the cash, a dark-skinned Atlantean in the standard jeans and hoodie combination. He had no chance to resist when she bounded up to him and punched him in the stomach with her left hand. The short blade stabbed into him and as he grunted, she slashed with the other hand to slice deep wounds in his protecting arms. He howled and fell and she searched his pockets quickly. She shoved what she found into her own as she turned toward their remaining opponents.
Dalton’s quarry saw him coming and tried to angle away. A sprint brought him in range, and the sap whipped in a short arc and caught the opposing gang member in the temple. The Atlantean fell without a murmur. His attacker searched the man’s pockets and claimed what he discovered.
By then, the guards had closed and one gravitated to each threat. Ozahl had feared they’d draw guns, but they were wiser than that. So far, the skirmish hadn’t drawn much attention, so they probably thought they could finish it quickly and get on with their night, not realizing how formidable those who had attacked them were. He considered blasting them but decided to conserve his power and enjoy the show instead.
His henchman met them first and he chopped a short block as the Atlantean whipped a haymaker at his face. He intercepted it with ease and the guard followed up with a shuffle inward and jab to the midsection that Dalton took with a laugh. He evaded the follow-up straight punch, and when his adversary threw a hook with his left, it was halted by a blow to his forearm with the brass knuckles. Even though Ozahl couldn’t hear the snap over the sounds of the wind, the strange angle his lower arm assumed and his shriek of pain told the tale. The distraction cost him as his attacker whipped the sap up between the guard’s legs, then struck at his head as he bent in agony. He toppled, unconscious at the very least.
By then, Lila had engaged her opponent. This man had brought a toy of his own, a large knife he produced from somewhere under his dark sweatshirt. He slashed horizontally, then flicked the blade in a surprise backhand. She avoided both strikes with quick shifts of her weight and snapped a kick at his midsection. He blocked and brought his off-hand down hard enough to make her lurch forward. Ozahl was fairly sure he saw the man grin as he lifted the knife high and plunged it down at her spine.
Her stumble had been a ruse, however. She dropped flat to avoid the attack and thrust her knife through his sneaker into the top of his foot. The Atlantean howled in pain as she yanked the blade out and stabbed it into his other shoe. He fell and she kicked the weapon out of his hand. She bent toward his face and when he tried to raise an arm to stop her, she jabbed the limb with her small blade. Ozahl couldn’t hear her, but he was adept at reading lips. Lila said, “Remember how it feels to lose,” and flicked her main blade to slice his cheek. She straightened and headed over to the mage, joined on the way by her partner. When they arrived, she asked, “Should we finish them?”
He detected the faint sound of a siren and shook his head. They’d fulfilled their most important objectives, although he would have preferred to actually kill them. “No, we’ve done what we need to do here. Let’s find another group in a less public location and you can take them off the board permanently.” The bloodthirsty grins on their faces confirmed that, once again, he’d chosen the right support for his mission.
When Ozahl reached his apartment, he carefully deactivated the wards that protected the space in his absence. It had been the work of many days to create them, placing an obvious layer over a less obvious one, and a truly devious one beneath. He was sure it was impossible for anyone other than him to get through them unless he permitted it.
The entry opened onto the living room, which held two comfortable couches covered in even more comfortable pillows set at a right angle to one another. A dark wood coffee table stood between them with a metal holder supporting three pillar candles in the center. A whisper and a pointed finger lit each, the magical energy channeled through the wooden rings he wore that were obvious enough to cause most to judge them some kind of strange wand that allowed him to cast.
Most would be wrong, however. They were a misdirection, as was his entire persona. Only here, with his publicly carried phone carefully locked away in a box that prevented it from sending or receiving signals, could he truly be himself. With a sigh, he stretched his arms high and let the illusion fall. His height remained constant as the fifteen pounds of extra flesh he pretended to have evaporated and left a slim man in its wake. The messy brown hairstyle he’d adopted morphed into a well-styled shining black, and his skin became paler as the tan he affected vanished. His eyes changed color from dull brown to a stunning blue that bordered on turquoise. He wandered down the hall and washed his face, another part of his ritual for clearing the other personality out of his mind for a time.
The person in the mirror wasn’t a wizard and in fact, wasn’t from Oriceran at all. He was a pale-skinned half-Atlantean, the product of a mixed marriage involving a human. Most of her mother’s looks except the eyes had come to him along with all his father’s magic. His true self grinned at him before he turned and headed down the hallway. When he entered the bedroom, Danna Cudon looked at him from where she sprawled on the bed, her normal suit traded for skimpy shorts and a skimpier t-shirt. She smiled widely. “How was work, love?”
He let a long, deep kiss serve as the first part of the answer, and by the time they surfaced for breath, they’d both forgotten the question.
Chapter Ten
Cali had stayed in bed all day Tuesday to allow herself to heal and rose only to wrangle food for herself and Fyre. In truth, the amount the Draksa ate was one of the most surprising things about him. Some days, it amounted to nothing. Other days, he seemed to eat his own weight in fish and meat. She guessed it was some generational adaptation for the species, but when she thought to ask during one of her lucid moments while awake the day before, he’d simply given her his most annoying smile and replied “Look it up. You know, at the library.”
She’d forced herself up with a groan that morning and arrived at the dojo in time to do her chores there before her training session with Ikehara. Her whole body seemed to drag and she had barely managed the energy to put on her least dirty shorts and a t-shirt. Of course, her teacher noticed her sluggishness as she went through the warmup forms and questioned her. They’d spent half their time together with her sharing details about the fight and him offering comments and critiques about her decisions.
Everything is a teaching opportunity for this guy. She was glad for the instruction but relieved when the debrief ended, as there were apparently many different choices she could have made that would have improved the outcome. She knew it all came from the best of intentions but was still a little raw over the injuries she’d sustained. Even if he hadn’t chided her for it, she would have chided herself.
She stood opposite him with her magical sticks in her hands and waited for his command to begin. He lifted training knives in his fists, shifted his feet into a fighting stance, and nodded. She darted in quickly, then sidestepped to circle him. The feint failed to draw him out and he turned with her. It was worth a try. Let’s see how he likes this. She stepped in far enough to reach him and swung both sticks from their guard positions in simultaneous outside-in strikes aimed at his temple and his elbow.
Her expectation that he’d retreat was thwarted when he stepped toward her. He raised his left arm in a block against her right wrist, stopped the weapon aimed at his head, and accepted the other’s impact against his right elbow
, which was too weak to damage him because of his altered position. The right knife stabbed at her stomach, and she stepped around with her back foot to turn perpendicular and allow it to pass in front of her. She let the left stick fall from her grasp and attempted a lock. As her fingers closed on his wrist, he tried to twist the knife to cut her but she bent the joint in such a way that it locked with the sharp edge of the blade away from her.
She had many options from that position but selected the one she liked best and yanked him forward. He stumbled, and she recognized it for the trap it was in the instant before he spun and lanced his left-hand knife at her head. She pivoted as well and blocked it with her right stick. For a moment, they stood back to back before he made a deft twist to free himself from her grasp.
“Stop,” he commanded, and she obeyed and assumed a wary but respectful stance across from him. Only once had he followed an order to halt with a follow-up attack, but contrary to Emalia’s oft-stated opinion, Cali was actually capable of learning.
Ikehara nodded and approval glinted in his dark eyes. “That was a good response. You didn’t let yourself be distracted by the moment. But you’ve become predictable. Anyone who has watched you fight before knows you’ll try that move at some point.”
She sighed. Expillarimus. Exactly like Harry Potter. He had used the fictional wizard’s over-reliance on that spell and how it resulted in disaster as an example before. “Got it. I’ll work on it.”
“Excellent. So, your reflexes with the sticks have improved dramatically. They are truly an extension of your hands now. Against knives, you will need to better maintain your distance as shorter weapons will limit your responses.” She nodded. He’d provided a very concrete example of why she’d have to do that. “What would you like to face next?”
Cali gazed at the weapons wall in thought. Over the last couple of weeks, he’d chosen a weapon for the first part of their training session, then allowed her to select one for the second half. She thought about what she might face, which led her to think about the Atlanteans, which led her to consider the biggest mystery in her life at the moment. With a small laugh at all the answers she didn’t have, she replied, “A single sword.”
He clapped his hands together in approval and strode to retrieve the weapon, each step a demonstration of his abundant strength and grace. If I moved like that, I’d totally have my choice of boyfriends. If I had time for a relationship, that is. She locked that thought away in her brain and wrapped it in caution tape so it couldn’t escape. Her teacher spun the blade through an impressive series of warm-up swings, shifted it from hand to hand, and twirled it around his body.
Ikehara slid seamlessly into a ready stance and she squeezed her sticks and matched him. His bamboo sword was held high, the point angled toward her and his body a straight line that presented the narrowest target. She raised one stick high and positioned the other low, prepared to counter an attack at any height. Typically, she would take the defensive against the larger weapon, but when he started to move, she attacked in a rush. Exactly as he’d done with the knives, she narrowed the distance so her shorter weapons would have an advantage. She flicked the left one toward his head as a distraction and paid for it when the hilt impacted with her hand and made her drop the stick. Her main hand weapon whipped forward at his knee, and although he lifted his shin to take the blow, she knew she could have scored with it against almost any other opponent.
His sword whistled as he chopped down and she maintained momentum into a roll to get behind him. He had already swung as she stood, but she blocked it easily and called her magic weapon to her hand. She whipped it at his face and he was forced to release the sword with one hand to intercept it. A quick loop with her other one positioned it for a strike at his fist and he dropped his weapon. She stepped back quickly to end the round.
A wide smile spread over his features. “Good. You made some changes there. Well done. Between now and our next session, consider what moves you use too often and how you can modify or replace them. You won’t disarm me so easily again, that I promise you.”
Easy? You call that easy? She shook her head and laughed. “Whatever you say, Sensei.”
He nodded with a playful glint in his eye. “As it should be. Now, get ready for class.”
After the class, Cali portaled home for a shower since Ikehara had decided that everyone “looked tired and needed to sweat.” The blissfully hot water that cascaded over her was a luxury she never wanted to leave but after ten minutes, she ran out of time. She dried her hair, put on her favorite jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and nudged Fyre into motion. The walk to Emalia’s lasted most of a half-hour and brought them there precisely when she was supposed to arrive. A closed sign hung on the door but it was unlocked, and they passed through into the small room at the back.
The tea was already waiting and appealing notes of cinnamon and apple floated through the air. She sat, took a few delightful sips, and sighed happily. “Now that is a good brew.” The Draksa sniffed and made a pleased noise, then curled under the table.
Her great aunt had apparently decided not to tell fortunes that day as she was in her casual clothes, a long skirt under a button-down shirt and oversized cardigan. She laughed at Cali’s reaction. “You kids today are soft. When I was young, we drank bitter tea and we liked it.”
“Made from roots you harvested from dying trees on the way to a fourteen-hour shift simultaneously working in a factory and going to school. Yes, I know the story.” She grinned.
The older woman continued to laugh, then wiped her eyes. “The mouth on you, child. You remind me of your mother more every day.” Some memory caused her to frown slightly, and she pushed it away with a visible effort. “So. You were in another fight.” Before doing her Rip Van Winkle imitation, Cali had called everyone to update them on the event and her reasonable health.
“I did. And now, I have two weeks before I have to worry about the next one.”
“Which will be three-on-three.” That she knew the rules of Atlantean ritual combat shouldn’t have been a surprise and yet it was, merely another in a long line of unexpected talents revealed by her great aunt.
Cali finished her tea and held the cup out for more. “Yes.”
As she poured, Emalia asked, “Who will you choose as your third?”
The question was unexpected, and she chided herself internally for not having thought about it already. “I guess I don’t have many options. Tanyith, I suppose.”
The woman nodded. “You might want to get Zeb to ask the council for help beyond that. Your list of direct allies is frightfully small and I’d prefer not to have to take the field myself. I’m a little old for such things.” The soft smile told her she would do so in an instant if necessary.
No way can I allow that to happen. “Will do.”
“So, I think it’s time to change the direction of your training for a while. What you’ve learned so far should serve you in most subtle situations, but we need to prepare you for the coming battle and the ones after that.” She paused, then added, “You know, you really should read up on the rituals.”
She sighed, stood, and stretched her arms wide and twisted them to loosen tired muscles. “At the magical library, yes, I’m fully aware. I’m going there in the next couple of days. Let it go, woman.” Emalia rose with a laugh and summoned a portal. On the other side was a large, dark, open space she didn’t recognize, but she stepped through without worry, knowing her mentor would never, ever lead her astray. Fyre followed on her heels and the older woman did as well before she closed the rift behind them.
They were in an empty warehouse judging by the large doors along one wall and the numerous scuffs on the floor that made a grid shape suggesting pallets and forklifts. The amount of dust lingering in the air and rising from the ground with each step indicated that it hadn’t been used in some time. She whipped around as a thought occurred to her. “This isn’t 1601, is it?”
Emalia shook her head. “No, chi
ld, no such luck. I’m sorry. This is merely a place that…a friend owns.”
Cali folded her arms and regarded her with a grin. “Invel.”
The older woman blushed enough for it to be detectable. “Perhaps. But that’s irrelevant. We are here to work on your skills.” She made a complex series of gestures and said words she couldn’t make out, and a translucent target appeared about twenty feet away. It was humanoid and resembled an enforcer, stocky and tall. “Show me your force magic.”
She obliged and punched the air and the image rippled where the magic struck. When she turned to her teacher in expectation of approval, she received only a slight frown.
“Can you do it without punching? Point and fire?” She demonstrated with a raised hand and the air itself rippled as a blast of magical force crossed the distance to the illusory enemy.
The girl frowned and concentrated, raised a palm, and willed the power to flow. When it didn’t, her expression transformed into a scowl, and she searched her brain for a way to make it happen. The image of a stormtrooper from Star Wars slipped into her mind, and she pictured the energy as a blaster bolt. A burst of force leapt from her hand to drive into the target with enough power to make it vanish for a second. She turned to Emalia with wide eyes.
Her teacher nodded. “Yes. Exactly that. You chose the paths that worked best when your magic was restricted, but now that it is free, there are better ways to use it.”
“Could I channel that into a punch like I used to?”
She shrugged. “Doubtless, with enough practice. Now, I want you to imagine your pool of magic as lava.”
Cali closed her eyes and visualized the heart of a volcano roiling within her. It took her almost a minute before she felt like she could sustain it in the face of distractions. When she opened her eyes, Emalia pointed at the target. “The idea is the same. Send fire from your hands to the target.”