Birthright - Book 2 of the Legacy Series (An Urban Fantasy Novel)

by Ryan Attard

  With a frustrated yell, I focused the last of my power into my fist and jumped. I was hanging upside down, so I shot downward. As I rapidly descended, I let out a scream, pulled my fist back and punched. My fist met the sparking ashes and exploded. Ashes scattered around, the spark long lost. A large crater appeared on the ground, with cracks snaking all the way past the dome and into the forest. I was thrown against the dome and bounced back painfully on the ground. I felt pain everywhere, but my mind was dulled and so all that registered was a loud thumping sensation. I tried flexing my right hand and found nothing. When I twisted myself to look, all I saw was a pool of blood and gore. My right arm was gone, leaving only a bloody stump at the elbow.

  I remember Gil slumping next to me, her face a mixture of nausea and relief. She came closer and closer, until she touched my face with her burned hands. The moment we touched, I saw a kaleidoscope of color, and a white world invaded my mind. It felt as if I were back in my own abyss, floating in the darkness, except this universe was a world of white, silver and ivory.

  Reality soon snapped back and something heavy fell on my chest. Gil lay there, unconscious, her figure slumped over me. I felt dizzy and light-headed. I turned sideways and tucked my remaining hand under my head just in time to avoid cracking my skull open. Again.

  From my peripheral vision, I saw the dome dissipate into nothing, and a pair of polished, black dress shoes stepped in my vision. They turned, and my eyes followed the direction they now pointed.

  The ashes were slowly clumping again, forming an avian figure. A small spark kindled at the very center. I heard Mephisto’s sigh and the swish of his hand. The wind gathered and the ashes spread into a million dust particles. The clump exploded into nothingness, and I was fairly certain that the phoenix was gone. With a flick of his wrist, our demon butler destroyed a monster that had taken all our strength to bring down and had cost me my life.

  I saw his shoes turn back to face me.

  “Tut, tut. You children have such a long way to go,” I heard him say. Gil’s weight was lifted off of me and I saw her feet dangling over the demon’s shoulder. I then felt a pressure around the back of my neck, and found myself being hoisted in mid-air as well. Mephisto slumped me over his other shoulder, and for a bizarre second, his yellow eye was inches away from my bloody mess of a face.

  “But you may yet achieve a power greater than anyone else on this plane,” I heard him say. “Yes, that I believe to be true.”

  17

  Present

  There was utter silence in the restaurant. Sun Tzu absentmindedly circled his finger on the rim of his cup. Amaymon sat on the same spot as when I started the story. The cat had remained motionless and quiet this whole time.

  “What’s up with you guys? Did I leave you speechless?” I said before taking a sip from my glass. If there was ever a time to chug down whiskey like it was happy hour, it was now.

  “Merely acknowledging what I already suspected,” said Sun Tzu. “Although there is a chasm of difference between suspecting something and hearing it aloud. Even in my later years, I can still be surprised. We all come from a different past life.”

  “Not so different, from my perspective,” I replied. “Sure, I don’t camp out at night in a forest filled with monsters anymore. But I do live here, and Eureka in now a nexus. No shortage of monsters for me.”

  Sun Tzu shook his head. “That is not what I meant.” He sighed and clasped his hands together. “You were close to your sister. You lived in a house where you shared both good and bad memories. You learned all about the wonderful world that surrounds us, although you may not see it so at this stage of your life.”

  “I had a house where I never felt at home, a father I never knew — who, when the time was right, chose to sacrifice us — and my magic teacher was not the kind-hearted Master Yoda. It was his brother,” I said pointing at the cat. “A sociopathic demon who got off on slowly torturing us.”

  Sun Tzu motioned to speak, but the cat beat him to it.

  “I’m more interested in the word itself,” Amaymon said. “Roots. That’s the second time you mentioned it, Erik.”

  I got a flashback in my head. Mephisto picking up my sister from a tanker after we finally beat down Lilith and her Alpha. After I went all supercharged, after my death at Lilith’s hands. He looked at my new form with fear, something I didn’t know he could exhibit. I remember clearly what he said, that I finally grasped my own roots. At the time, I didn’t give it much thought. I mean, Mephisto loves speaking in riddles and twisting the truth. He wouldn’t lie, but you could never get a straight answer out of him.

  I relayed the information to Sun Tzu, filling in the gaps I left out earlier.

  “I see,” he said once I finished. “Not very helpful is it? But I suppose the answer to your power is already in front of you.” His expression turned pensive. I grabbed the nearly empty whiskey bottle and poured and divided the remaining liquid between us.

  “The angel said that your power is Life magic, is it not?” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “So, my next question is obvious. Why is a mortal using a type of magic which even deities are seldom able to employ?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Life magic is simple enough. I mean, back in the old days, Mephisto had us practice on Bonsai trees, tending to them using only magic. I killed mine in three days.”

  “Typical,” muttered Amaymon.

  “Hey, the last plants we had were destroyed by you. You ate the first one and crapped in the remaining two.”

  “Serves you right for being too cheap to afford kitty litter.”

  “Our neighbor has a perfectly good garden. Why not use that?”

  “The asshole put cacti and roses everywhere.”

  I scoffed at the cat and returned to the subject at hand. “Besides, every time someone summons a creature, it’s technically Life magic. That’s what anima particles are. Am I wrong?” I asked Sun Tzu.

  “You are correct,” he replied gently, “but you miss the point. Summoning and growing trees are manipulations of Life magic. When summoning occurs, Life, in whatever form it may be, is transferred from one place into another. Anima particles are just accidental leaking, like using water to wash your car. Some of the water is wasted.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Shocker,” muttered Amaymon sarcastically.

  “Shut up,” I immediately shot back. “What are you trying to say?” I asked Sun Tzu.

  “I am trying to tell you that you use pure Life magic. Unlike normal practices, where magic is simply transferred, you create your own Life Magic. And this is something which has never happened before.”

  He leaned forward. “The clue is how you integrated the anima particles. Those things are useless to anyone, even higher tier creatures like deities, avatars and Outsiders. It seems your power goes beyond that – to the next level. It’s the power that created nature, the solar system and all the planes of existence. My question is this: why do you, Erik Ashendale, a mere mortal warlock, have the power of a god?”

  I blinked a couple of times, trying to digest what Tzu had told me.

  Power of a god? Really? Me? Sounds unlikely. I mean, how do you measure the power of a god?

  Which god? The god? Couldn’t be possible.

  I mean, if I were that omnipotent the only music in the industry would be seventy’s rock and Firefly would never have been cancelled.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked darkly.

  “It is just a theory. But all the clues fit. But now, I wish to understand something else,” he replied. “I wish to know more about you. How did you lose your magical abilities, save your healing and the channeling? What happened to your father? And where does Tenzin enter the picture?”

  The hard questions.

  Either I didn’t have the answers for them, or I made every effort to avoid such questions. But I volunteered for this. I chose to tell Sun Tzu, if not for myself, then for the sake of everyone
else. Gil, Abi, Amaymon. For the sake of any victim the Sins will target again. I couldn’t let anyone get hurt simply because I wussed out. If I had to open this particular can of worms, then so be it.

  “Fine,” I said. “It’s a long, dark story.”

  “I have all the time in the world to hear you out, my friend.” Sun Tzu’s smile was warm and inviting. Just like a true friend’s. Just like a caring father.

  Just like Tenzin’s.

  “Fine. But before I start,” I shook the empty whiskey bottle at him. “I’m going to need more medicine.”

  Sun Tzu bowed his head slightly and exhibited his toothy grin. Amaymon hopped from the table, and I could feel him drawing just the tiniest slivers of power.

  “Allow me. I’m getting stiff sitting on my ass all day.” He padded toward the bar and disappeared behind the counter. In his place appeared a man with a shorter, but stouter, build than mine. He wore all black, from the cargo plants to the black tank top, to the black beanie. His eyes retained the same feline appearance, and when he grinned his serrated teeth flashed wickedly. He reached behind him and pulled out a bottle. Without reading the label, he twisted off the top and took a long swig.

  “Hmm, single malt. Ain’t bad.”

  All this time the other three patrons present, Turtle, Long and Tiger, halted their game and watched the demon with predatory intent. Not that they were making much progress in their game before. Long and Tiger were locked in a perpetual staring contest, with Turtle trying to be the jolly man in between. Each move the two made against each other involved a lot of slapping down tiles and growling challengingly. I never knew Mahjong could be so fierce.

  They stared at the familiar, their expressions dark. Amaymon noticed them, held up his hand, and started holding up fingers at random. Turtle let out a gasp and immediately grabbed a couple of tiles. The other two looked at the tiles and shook their heads in defeat. Turtle looked at Amaymon and bobbed his head in thanks, beaming so widely that his eyes closed. The other two glared at the demon who cost them the game, only to see him flipping them off.

  “Is he always this helpful?” asked Sun Tzu as Amaymon grabbed a second bottle and made his way toward us. “Turtle usually lets them win, so they can keep playing game after game without resorting to violence.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s Amaymon for you. The only reason he helped Turtle out is so he can piss off two people at once instead of just one. And to egg them into fighting each other,” I replied.

  “A demon through and through,” said Sun Tzu as he held out his glass and Amaymon filled it to the brim with amber liquid.

  “And don’t you forget it,” Amaymon replied smugly.

  I snatched away the bottle and filled my own glass. With a silent toast, we all drank and refilled our glasses. Not Amaymon, though — the barbarian chugged straight from the bottle.

  “Ain’t you got a story for us, Erik? Start spillin’, man,” said Amaymon in the urban accent he speaks with when in human form.

  “Sure. But this is when things turn…” I paused to look for the appropriate word, but anything I thought of could not encompass the gravity of the story. “Well, this is where the crap hits the proverbial fan.”

  18

  Approximately 8 years ago

  We woke up in the infirmary. It was a small, busy room tended by two very short, quiet young women. Other beds were occupied by members of the Mansion’s security, although judging from their injuries, their jobs also extended to tending the supernatural chicken runs.

  The first thing I remember was squinting. The light shone directly on me and was soon shadowed by Mephisto, who loomed in like some kind of cheap special effects specter.

  “Ugh,” was all I managed, and tried sitting up. An alarm went off in my head. I shuddered all over as every muscle, tendon and bone ached and cracked. I felt like I’d been hit by a bus and then swept off in a hurricane. But I guess you’re bound to feel some backlash when you go up against a phoenix, die in the process, and then cast a spell using your own body.

  “Well done, Erik. You survived. Both of you did,” Mephisto said.

  The world stopped spinning for a moment as I grasped the edge of my bed and tried desperately to get up and punch the demon in the face. The problem was, I saw his face in three different directions.

  “Any particular reason why you tried to kill us, or are you just that bored?” I spat, still trying to get adjusted to standing up.

  “Oh, but there is a reason, young Master,” he replied. Something about his voice made we wish I was back with the firebird. “This was the final stage of your training and you both passed. Congratulations, children, you are both one step closer to being warlocks now.”

  “So, that means we get to keep on killing monsters for no apparent reason? Whoopty-freakin’-doo,” I said.

  “There is a reason, and a very good one at that. But first, I have one final lesson to teach you,” he replied. “Something that you both experienced but have not studied: channels.”

  “We already know how to channel magic,” said Gil.

  She’d been quiet all this time, standing beside me and trying not to let me fall on my face. She didn’t have any injuries on her, but I could see some large plaster patches covering her arms, and she smelled of solvent and medical unguents. Safe to assume her arms were burned and the smelly paste was some sort of remedy.

  “We used crystals and thaumaturgy before,” she said.

  “Crystals and such trinkets will only get you so far. I am talking about the real channels of power,” he said in his creepiest tone. He looked intently at me, “Blood, Body, and Soul.”

  “What happened to me, Mephisto?” I asked, looking at my hands. I had no bandages and no plasters. In fact, were it not for the fact that my clothes looked like something even a homeless person would throw away, I looked perfectly healthy.

  “All in due time, Master Erik. All in due time. But first, we must cover the basics of this issue. Meet me at the usual study after dinnertime. That should give you enough time to recuperate.”

  ***

  “Using the body as a channel will result in powerful magic,” said Mephisto. “As Erik showed with his impromptu water spell, the amplification of the spell increases tenfold at the very least. This, however, is a dangerous method of creating spells, because of the backlash.”

  The demon paced around the room as we sat down, trying to shift into a position where our injuries would not bother us. We weren’t succeeding.

  “The human body is not conditioned for magic. Let me give you an example. If you were to use a wind spell using the air currents surrounding you and your breath as a catalyst that would be a safe way of creating a spell. However, if you were to channel magic directly into your body and use only your breath as both spell and catalyst, then you would not only expend every last morsel of air inside your lungs, but also every molecule of oxygen inside your system. Blood cells would die and your muscles would atrophy. The damage would be too great.”

  “But what about when there are no channels?” asked Gil. She tapped her pencil on her notepad, a gesture she usually did absentmindedly as she got into the lesson. “Like our battle against the phoenix. All we had was a crystal. What happens once the channel is no longer functional? Will words, alone, suffice?”

  “No,” replied Mephisto. “Chants are used by humans simply because the human mind is not accustomed to magic. Or rather, deliberate magic. You humans need everything to be organized and categorized. Magic is not so… anal.”

  “Did he just call our entire species a ‘tight ass’?” I muttered in Gil’s ear. She giggled silently, trying not to make too loud a sound.

  “Humans use chants to achieve the right frame of mind, as a sort of catalyst for the mental portion of the spell. A chant is a mind frame and little else. Indeed, once you advance yourselves into the deeper realities of magic you will be able to wield it as easily as you breathe,” continued Mephisto. “So, to answer your question, M
iss Gil, if your channel were to break or shatter, you will be left with no choice but to put your body and life on the line.”

  “But,” he snapped abruptly as he spun like a flamboyant magician about to perform his pièce de résistance, “the main issue is the durability of the channel. What if I told you that one may create a channel so powerful that it is virtually unbreakable? One so attuned to its wielder that it not only channels magic, but tunes it according to the user’s will and amplifies it accordingly?”

  “One ring to rule them all?” I quoted smugly.

  “Defiant as usual,” said the demon. “But let me ask you this — why do the most iconic mythological figures always appear wielding one weapon? And why is that weapon always named?”

  “Because people like to name things.”

  “Or, perhaps, because their relationship with the object is so deep that a part of their very essence, their soul you might say, is inside that object, tying it to them forever. Why is it that spirits always linger in old houses? Because the person who lived there has invested a portion of their essence inside the very walls of the building.”

  “So, you’re saying that any wizard could just create a channel which is indestructible and all that?” I asked with disbelief. “Why doesn’t everyone do that and be done with regular junk?”

  “Because it is exceedingly difficult to create one. The person needs to be completely open to magic, find an object suitable for them, and most importantly, find a creature with magic parallel to theirs, subdue it, break it down to its essential elements and integrate those elements into the object.”

  Gil and I looked at each other. I guess both of us began to realize what it was that our family actually did with all the monsters.

  “Who would go through all that trouble and danger?” asked Gil.

  “Exceedingly powerful and desperate wizards,” replied Mephisto. “Like your brother.”