The concept of using portals for mining was straightforward enough. Just create a portal, one end above ground, and send the other one to digging into the earth for the gold ore. No problem, right? As one end of the portal dug into the ground, the rock and dirt would pour out of the other end (the one above ground) until the gold was reached. A simple enough concept.
But as always, the devil was in the details, and it had taken considerable practice to move one end of the portal while keeping the other end fixed. Also, guiding the portal underground, where Paul could not see where it was going, had turned into a difficult trial. Almost like threading a needle from the far side of a large room.
Still, with persistence, his efforts had finally paid off and he had what he needed.
All the use of magic involved had made him exceedingly tired. With a wave of his hand and a few words, he created a portal and retrieved an old sleeping bag from a dump in Macon, Georgia and then, with another portal, a half-dozen discarded pillows from Salina, Kansas. Both the sleeping bag and pillows held distinctive, unpleasant odors, but fortunately, another quick spell took care of that problem.
With the sun setting slowly behind the mountains to the west, Paul stretched out as best he could in the sleeping bag on the hard, rocky ground, his hand against the house-rock (to keep the spell alive for heat). He fell quickly and contentedly into a deep sleep.
EIGHT
Northeast quadrant of Pakistan
Karakoram Mountain Range
December
Wednesday, 4:23 a.m. PKT
Paul awoke in the wee hours of the morning, long before daybreak. Every muscle loudly protested its abuse. At first, he was a bit cranky, feeling more than a degree of self-pity, stranded as he was in one of the most desolate locations on Earth, his muscles sore, his body cold. But then he remembered the gold he had acquired the previous evening, and his spirits picked up appreciably.
With one hand to the boulder, he cast a spell, bringing forth a chipped, white china cup and saucer from a dumpster in the downtown sector of Newark, New Jersey. He obtained the hot chocolate to fill his cup by snatching a teaspoonful at a time through a series of small portals from the leftover cups of dozens of patrons in several restaurants scattered around the greater Perth, Australia metropolitan area. His logic was that taking that which others were discarding was not theft but instead came under the heading of salvage. After reheating the liquid with another spell, he gingerly sniffed and sipped it, drinking in its aroma and warmth.
As a thin sliver of light appeared in the east, he retrieved a discarded, dirty plate and fork from a garbage can in an alley in downtown Dallas, Texas. Afterward, he washed them in the icy water of the stream and then, with an anticipatory grin, brought through a nice breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast (all leftovers, of course) from a variety of restaurants along the east coast of Australia via a series of small portals. After wolfing that down, he almost felt human again.
Gathering together his talisman ingredients from the day before, he sat at the house-rock and closed his eyes.
“In the names of Houdini, Copperfield, and Bill Bixby, I command these materials to form together to create a talisman.”
Nothing happened.
Paul sighed in renewed frustration. Obviously, he was doing something else wrong.
“To paraphrase Thomas Edison, this is not another failure. It’s just that I’ve found one more of ten thousand ways that my magic doesn’t work!”
He needed some of that super intelligent help now.
By snapping his fingers and invoking a spell, Merlin appeared a few yards away. The sage studied Paul and the materials in front of him.
“My, my, you have some of the precious materials you need. Not the best ones, it would appear, but adequate to create a modest talisman. I admit, I am surprised. I guess even a blind anteater can find an anthill now and again. You’ve done well, young man. Now you need to create the symbols and hold the ceremony.”
Paul shook his head. “I’m not ready to invest that sort of time or effort. Later. Right now, just like you said, I just want something modest, something that will let me move around, even if it’s limited.”
Merlin appeared as disappointed as a young child would be in discovering that all his Christmas presents was clothing instead of shiny new toys. “Always in a hurry, the young. I’m sorry, but no shortcuts here. You must make time for the symbols and ceremony.”
“Symbols and ceremony?” Paul asked with a frown and a raised eyebrow.
“Aye. Your magic will come to naught without those. Use the pentagram as a minimum. And have the ceremony as you make the talisman.”
“Why?” Paul asked, increasingly confused by Merlin’s replies. “What difference do symbols and ceremony make to performing magical spells? I just don’t see the logic involved.”
Merlin sighed in frustration. “That’s the way it works. Do or not, as you wish. But the spells won’t work without them.”
Paul sighed deeply, thoroughly annoyed. Merlin was right. What difference did the reason make? If that was what it took to make the spell work, then that was what he would do.
“All right, I’ll do it,” he grunted irritably, gracelessly conceding defeat to Merlin’s counsel. And with a thought, Paul snapped his fingers to send Merlin on his way.
He glanced around, still irritated at the waste of time. First, he would need to clear off a spot of ground to work with since this location wasn’t level enough or large enough to suit his purposes. And then he would have to find something to create the symbols with. Oh, and then for the ceremony....
• • • •
Paul set a large black boom box down next to the house-rock and turned to inspect the work he had just finished.
Where before there had been several large rocks and a ton of gravel, there was now a circular piece of ground roughly several hundred square feet in size covered over with a few inches of fresh dirt. Using three partially emptied white spray cans of paint retrieved from a landfill near North Las Vegas, Nevada, Paul had painted a large pentagram on the ground. The boom box and a set of scratched CDs had been retrieved from another landfill, this one near Detroit, Michigan. Paul had then distributed the gold, the meteorite, the obsidian, and the emeralds, placing them at the apexes of the pentagram, leaving the fifth apex open for himself and the boom box, right at the foot of the house-rock. As an afterthought, he had retrieved several used mismatched incense candles from different trash bins around the world and placed one of them at each apex.
The boom box was in sad shape, but with a few quick spells, it was able to play again, drawing its power through the house-rock. After repairing one of the scratched CDs, Paul was able to get it to play properly too.
Then he resumed his place on the ground next to the house-rock, his left hand laid on its gritty surface.
With a smug smile, he pointed at each candle, lighting them one by one with heat from the Earth’s core. Then he pushed the play button on the boom box.
With “Rockin’ Robin” playing in the background, Paul closed his eyes in concentration, stretching forth his right hand toward the center of the circle, and said:
“In days of old
magicians spoke of
earth, air, water, and fire
In days of new
scientists work magic
electricity, optics, magnetism, radiation,
Let the power of old
and the power of new
Meld into one without flaw
In a wizard’s tool
for the cause of good
for the aid of many
Be it here
Engage”
Cautiously, he opened his eyes and blinked in surprise at the brilliance of four impossibly white globes, each of his objects, at the other apexes of the pentagram. Slowly, in concert, they began creeping toward the center of the pentagram. Paul watched, mesmerized, his jaw hanging open, his eyes wide.
The meteorite, the obsidia
n, the gold ore, and the emeralds—all merged at the center of the pentagram. And as they did so, the light intensified even further, becoming blindingly white. Paul was forced to close his eyes and turn away.
For five minutes, it went on. The boom box followed up with “Yes, We Have No Bananas” and then “When the Saints Come Marching In.” Paul started to wonder how long this was going to take but then noted that the light had begun to fade. Slowly, the radiance dampened down to a soft glow, and Paul was able to open his eyes again.
The ceremony seemed to be complete, so he took his hand from the rock, slowly climbed to his feet, and walked over to the newly formed object in the center of the pentagram.
It was flat, an inch thick and six inches square, solid black in color with a surface as smooth as glass, speckled with gold flakes, crystal and shiny white dots. The newly created talisman silently called out to him, imploring him to pick it up.
With an unconsciously directed motion, Paul did just that, bringing his creation up close, holding it in both hands, studying it intently. It was surprisingly lightweight and beautiful. It also seemed to hum, just beyond the edge of his hearing, lightly vibrating in his hands.
Paul grinned, a tingle of excitement coursing through his body.
He could feel the talisman’s power, similar to the boulder, but nowhere near as strong and yet different. It was as if the talisman sang quietly, a clear beautiful melody, one which if he could hear it more clearly, would hypnotize Paul. He clasped it to his chest and felt its warmth.
As he studied the talisman, it occurred to him how awkward it might get carrying it around in one hand all the time. What he needed was some sort of pouch, perhaps a way to strap it to his belt. But it would also need to stay in contact with his skin somehow so that he could use its power on a constant basis. Well, he would think more about that later, when he had the time.
So, okay, his first talisman was done. He could now move about freely and perform most of the simple feats of magic. To prove it, he eagerly snapped his fingers. A large portal appeared, and with only a trace of his former reluctance to trust a portal, he stepped through to the mountaintop oasis. And he was more than a bit gratified to find that it worked perfectly and without any ill effects.
But it wouldn’t be right to leave all that mess behind in the riverbed. Not that anyone would see it, as isolated as that location was. Still, it was the principle of the matter.
So he went back and cleaned up the mess, humming merrily to himself as he did so, sending everything back to where it came from. He also returned the excavated rocks and gravel to their original configurations. There! Right as rain.
He returned to the mountaintop, where he prepared an elaborate dinner at a nicely decorated table, listening to several selections of classical music playing in the background while he enjoyed his meal. As he savored the last bite, he came to a decision. It was time to go home now. Indeed, it was probably past time to go since it would be difficult to explain his absence to his neighbors or to the local authorities. And that was assuming he didn’t ever go back to his old job. Still, he needed a base of operations, and his California house held considerable sentimental value. It would make a decent place to live, at least until he had fully developed a plan on how to begin his mission of mercy to the rest of the planet.
Sure, Paul could leave now, but he was pretty tired and it had already been a very long day. He would wait and leave first thing in the morning. For now, he used a spell to reassemble the bed and curled up in the blanket, his new talisman tucked tightly into one hand, up against one cheek. Feeling a deep warmth of satisfaction, he fell fast asleep.
NINE
Northeast quadrant of Pakistan
Karakoram Mountain range
December
Wednesday, 10:45 p.m. PKT
Paul awoke and sat up suddenly, an unknown fear chilling his entire body. Somehow, he knew that something was terribly wrong, though his five normal senses told him that nothing was amiss. Slowly, he looked around.
The sky was crystal clear, the clouds from earlier in the day now long gone. The stars were shining brightly in incredible splendor. The moon was just past its zenith, in its waxing gibbous phase, not far from being a full moon. As such, it was casting a fair degree of light on the mountaintop. The flowerbeds were visible, peacefully basking in the moonlight.
Then, near the cliff’s edge, a large shadow moved.
Paul’s fear spiked even higher. There appeared to be something there, though he could not make out any details—just a shadow that was moving very slowly in his direction.
For a few seconds, he couldn’t force himself to move or to even generate a coherent thought; the fear was virtually paralyzing. Then he clinched his jaw and reached out for his talisman. Its smooth throbbing sensation helped him feel a tad bit better. Whatever was out there, he now had the power to deal with it.
Paul snapped his fingers, and an intense ball of light formed thirty feet over his head like an army parachute flare, throwing the whole mountaintop into broad daylight. And with that light, Paul could suddenly see his visitor with stark clarity. Startled, he stared at the...it...whatever it was, with even more alarm and horror.
It wasn’t human. A tall as a man, perhaps a little taller, with wide shoulders and a bulging chest. The head sported wild black hair, sprouting out in all directions. Two long horns, just above the forehead, poked through the hair. Eyes large and as black as coal glared at Paul. A mouth with outsized jagged teeth smiled hideously. The creature’s skin was bright red, its clothes a dark gray and vaguely militaristic in style.
Never, not in Paul’s wildest nightmares, had he ever imagined such a creature! Nor had he heard or read about such a beast!
Paul heard a small noise off to the side, and he spun to the left.
An identical creature stood near the cliff’s edge in that direction too.
Fearing the worst, Paul turned and looked to his right.
Yep, there was one off that way as well.
He was surrounded. Paul gulped in total terror, his whole body consumed with paralyzing panic.
The creature in front of him loosed a terrible cry, and Paul’s fear somehow ratcheted even higher. With a second cry, the beast pointed skyward with a hairy arm and a clawed hand. Paul’s light sputtered and died, returning the whole scene to moonlit dimness.
Fear surged through Paul like a wild storm as he stared unblinkingly at the nearest monster. He could sense the evil that all three of these creatures radiated like radio waves. His life was in the gravest of danger. It was fight-or-flight time!
With that thought, Paul was suddenly able to move again, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. Quaking in fear, he somehow managed to focus his thoughts a little better. Using everything that he had discovered about using portals, he hastily assembled a spell for one to Delhi, India. Stammering out the words, he waved one hand and the portal popped into existence. But before he could even roll free of the bed, he heard another vicious cry, and then his portal suddenly glowed with an eerie yellow-green light. Hesitantly, Paul leaned forward to touch it and was shocked by a strong electrical charge, strong enough to fling him backward on the bed. The portal snapped instantly closed.
This time, all three of the creatures bellowed out a cry of weird noise.
Paul abruptly realized that they were laughing at him! His blood turned to ice water.
But then anger stirred in his chest. He jumped to his feet and shot forth his left arm, creating a blast of superhot plasma that streaked in an instant across the distance toward the first creature.
However, four feet or so short of the beast, the plasma bounced off an invisible wall, dissipating in all directions. Again, all three of the creatures laughed at Paul.
With a wave of his arm, he yelled, “In the name of Federation starships everywhere, SHIELDS UP!” And he was instantly enclosed in a solid force field.
This time, the creatures laughed twice as long, gesturing and poi
nting at Paul as if he were the funniest thing they had ever seen in their lives.
“Ah, this ain’t exactly inspiring confidence,” Paul muttered unhappily to himself.
The ogre on the right raised its hand, and suddenly the ground at Paul’s feet turned red-hot. His shield didn’t protect the ground beneath his feet, and he instantly found it too hot to withstand. He jumped backward, behind the bed, his shield collapsing, his feet blistered from the heat.
More laughter. They were actually toying with him!
Overcome with great anger, Paul lashed out again, putting all the power he could into a single blast of pure energy that ripped forward—
—into an invisible wall twenty feet in front of him, the blast boomeranging backward, hurling him to the ground, singeing his hair and clothes, and instantly setting the bed on fire.
He managed to sit up and stare wild-eyed at the monster that had so nonchalantly defeated his best spell.
The creature on the left then sent a blast in Paul’s direction, and Paul, acting on impulse, extended his left arm forward, creating another invisible barrier.
The firepower of the creature’s discharge enveloped Paul’s barrier, disintegrating it in a flash and flowing up Paul’s arm, all the way to his elbow. The energy of the blast detonated, consuming everything in its wake in a violent discharge of light and energy. Paul was slammed savagely to the ground, and a sudden surge of pain threatened to overwhelm him.
In disbelief, Paul raised his left arm and stared at the charred stump, now missing everything from his fingertips to up past his elbow. How could such a thing happen? He gritted his teeth as wave after wave of pain pushed him toward unconsciousness. With a terrible sense of urgency, he cast another spell, clamping down on the nerves of the arm, dampening the pain. Panic, hopelessness, and despair gripped him so hard that he could hardly breathe anymore. Why wasn’t his magic protecting him? Yet again, there was laughter from the creatures. In the back of his mind, there was a small voice gibbering wildly in fear. He was about to die a horrible death, and there seemed to be no way to stop it! His heart raced as terror flooded his body from head to toe.
Genie and Engineer 1: The Engineer Wizard Page 10