by Myke Cole
“You’re a Healer,” he said.
“A Healer using her magic in unauthorized conditions.” Salamander stepped forward. “Come on, Therese, you know better. That’s a point for you.”
“Suppress me,” Therese said. “Throw me in the hole with Scylla. I don’t care.”
Salamander raised a hand, but Therese’s work was done. She stepped away from Britton, leaving him rubbing his smooth cheek and longing for the warmth of her hand again.
Salamander shook his head and motioned them starkly toward the open ground, where most of the SASS enrollees were lining up in front of a female SOC captain, her long black hair in a businesslike bun on the back of her head. Five SOC Suppressors milled loosely behind her, submachine guns slung across their chests.
Behind them, Britton could hear the steel door in the cinder-block bunkhouse slam shut behind Swift. He thought he heard a woman’s voice, dark and sonorous, welcoming him. Something in its syrupy tones made him shiver.
“You don’t have to do that,” Britton said to Salamander. “It was just a scratch.”
“It’s for his own good,” Salamander said. “Swift’s got a history here, Novice. Escape attempts, violence against guards and fellow SASS enrollees. If we don’t break that spirit of his, command might decide he’s not worth the trouble.”
“And then what?” Britton asked. “Would they kill him?”
Salamander frowned. “It won’t come to that. They always cooperate in the end.”
Britton thought of Billy, his head covered in electrical leads, his mother crooning in his ear. Had he always been like that? Had the SOC made him that way? Harlequin’s words came floating back to him…just like you will be if you don’t do as you’re told. Britton shuddered.
“What’s going to happen to him in there?” Britton asked, motioning to the pillbox.
Salamander motioned Britton to get into position with the rest of the group. “You ask a lot of questions, Novice, and I’ve been very patient with you thus far. Swift is being rehabilitated. Now, my patience is beginning to wear thin, and you need to stop talking and start listening.
“All right, listen up!” Salamander bellowed to everyone. “It’s been an interesting morning that’s put me out of the mood in which I patiently tolerate your bullshit. This is your morning magical-control class. Some of you have some notion of control. The rest of you are only prevented from having dangerous magical discharges by virtue of the Dampener running in your veins. We’re going to fix that issue. Dampener and the regimented nature of SOC training will impair the raw emotional outpouring and check your power. But it has been the SOC’s experience that cold discipline is ever the master of wild emotion. It is our mantra, and one you will take to heart—‘safe and controlled.’ Selfers may make great displays of powerful magic, but the reason they cannot stand against us is because they don’t know the meaning of those two words. It is the same reason why the Goblins lack the ability to truly affect this outpost. Given the choice between power and control, a SOC Sorcerer chooses control. Remember, skill beats will, every time.”
Britton thought of the last time he’d heard those words, hovering in a Kiowa beside a burning school.
“We’re going to talk about the two fundamentals of safe, controlled magic use. These are Drawing and Binding. Before we talk about these, I want to reiterate what I just said. Safe and controlled, remember it, learn it, live it. First question, how do we stay safe and controlled?”
There was a pause as he waited for an answer from the audience.
“Anybody?” goaded Salamander, starting to smile. He turned to the female SOC captain beside him. “Captain Stormspinner?”
“Come on, people,” growled Stormspinner, her voice deep and mannish. She crossed her arms impatiently. “In case you didn’t notice, that’s a giant fucking fence all around you. It’s not like you can go anywhere. We own you for the nonce, and the only way out of here is attached to that flagpole. Demonstrating control of your magical abilities is the first step to making it there.”
Finally, one of the Novices shot his hand up. “By obeying orders?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Stormspinner said. “You have to stick to the rules. They may seem constraining at first. Magic is a wild and tempting thing, but it can only be manipulated to effective use under safe and controlled conditions. The rules have been laid down by more experienced soldiers who have gone before you. Respect them and respect this power you are lucky enough to possess. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“An overachiever, but I like your enthusiasm. Good. All right, here we go. Drawing and Binding. There are two things that every sorcerer must be able to do to manipulate magic. The first is to Draw it.
“Magic is little more than an elemental force here in the Source. I’d say it’s like air over here, but the truth is that nobody knows what it is. You may notice that magic is much stronger in the Source than it is back in the Home Plane. Keep that in mind as you work with it. When you are going to work magic, you first have to gather the fuel for it. You have to Draw the fuel supply from the magical current around you. Everybody with me?”
“Okay, good,” Salamander took over. “Drawing from your current is easier than you think. Remember, you all Drew from it either knowingly or accidentally when you first Manifested. I’d bet a lot of you already know how to Draw. After we’ve discussed this, we’re going to teach you some meditative exercises to help you learn how to Draw at will, but as you get better, you’ll find you can do it without even thinking. For most of you, it’ll be that easy by the time you go back to the schoolhouse to do your studying.”
He turned to Stormspinner. “Captain, would you mind demonstrating?”
There was no look of concentration, no mumbling of incantations. She merely extended her hand, and a bright, blue ball of ice hovered in her open palm.
“Now, this isn’t Drawing alone,” Stormspinner said. “I have to Bind the magic to make it visible. There isn’t a way to make the Drawing process itself visible, but what you’re looking at is Hydromancy at its rawest. This is the material that I use to build a spell.”
With that, she tossed the ball up in the air. It came down as a quantity of water, splashing a few of the Novices, who laughed and covered their heads.
She smiled. “Now that was a spell.”
“Okay, settle down people,” Salamander called to the some of the enrollees who were laughing and flicking water at one another. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.
“Here’s where your first safety tip comes in. When you Draw from the Source, you’re offering your being up as a magnet to pull it out. It’s like fishing, and the bait is you.
“Raw magic is extremely powerful. If you aren’t safe and controlled, and by this I mean knowing how to cut off the flow and how to Bind the magic safely away from you, you risk becoming what’s called ‘a magic sink.’ Magical energy is like water; as soon as it spots an opening, it puts its full weight behind flowing through it. You are that opening. If you’re not careful, the weight of the current can overwhelm you. Believe me when I tell you that you don’t want that. The Dampener should suffice in this case, but if one of you should begin to go nova, we’ve got plenty of Suppressors here to take the edge off.”
Major Salamander gestured to the body of enrollees. “Our usual practice is to have the more experienced Novices assist their newer peers with their training.” Both he and Stormspinner began to gesture to members of the crowd, who stepped forward to talk to their counterparts. Therese stood forward and faced Britton and Downer. “I’m still fairly new, but I’ve got the basics pretty well down.” Downer smiled shyly at the pretty older woman, and Britton nodded thanks.
The No-No Crew stepped backward, folding their arms across their chests. Wavesign went to join them, but Therese grabbed his upper arm, ignoring how it soaked her to the elbow. “Come on, Ted, you need the training.”
“Not him,” Salamander said, pointing to Br
itton. He pointed to a small square of four blast barricades twenty yards across the muddy expanse, far away from the rest of group. “He sits in there.”
“Why?” Therese asked.
Salamander paused, stunned. “Young lady, did I not just tell you that I am no longer in the mood for your bullshit right now?”
Therese was unfazed, but Britton answered. “Because I’m a Portamancer. The gates can open up anywhere, including in the middle of this crowd.” He turned to Salamander. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think those T-walls are going to help. I’ve seen my gates slice a car and a tractor in half. I don’t think the concrete will make much difference.”
Salamander sighed. “I appreciate your respectful tones, Novice, but you are rapidly becoming a fucking burr under my saddle. Now get your ass in the middle of those barricades and await instruction.”
Therese moved to follow. “What the hell are you doing?” Salamander called after her.
“I’m helping,” she replied. “If those barriers can protect us, then I’ll be fine. He needs somebody to talk him through the beginning part, and he’ll do better if it’s someone nice to him.”
“Damn it, Therese!” Salamander called after her.
“Throw me in the hole!” she answered. “Throw us all in the hole. Or you can shoot me.”
Salamander cursed and turned his back on them, saying something to Downer and Wavesign, as Therese and Britton walked off.
“That was brave of you. Thanks,” Britton said to her.
“It’s no big deal,” she said. “Salamander’s a sweetheart, actually. He’s probably the one guy in this whole nasty organization who actually wants to help Latent people. He puts on a show to keep things under control, but in the end, he’s on your side.”
“Therese, he wasn’t kidding. The gates can open anywhere, and they cut through anything.”
She nodded. “I trust you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You seem like a good sort. Maybe it’s because you stand up to both Swift and Salamander. Maybe it’s because you tried to protect me back there. Maybe it’s because God tells me so. I’m just going with my gut.”
“Call me Oscar.”
She smiled. “I’m Therese.”
He stepped through the space between the barricades into an enclosed patch of mud roughly five feet square. “What about Swift and the No-No Crew? What does God tell you about them?”
He saw her shrug through the gap between the barriers. “They’re all good, Oscar. Swift’s just trying to cope with his loss, I guess. Pyre’s just a kid. He follows along. The anger is just so…useless is all. I know it’s a bad situation, and I know that none of us want to be here, but…fighting everything, everybody, all the time. Swift isn’t happy just taking his own stand; he wants everyone else to take it with him. The guy’s the definition of bad influence.”
Britton nodded as Therese moved out of his field of vision. “I can understand where he’s coming from. I was already in the army, and they didn’t give me a chance once I came up Latent.”
“Well, here’s your second chance,” Therese said. “If you believe Salamander.”
Britton didn’t answer, unsure if he did or didn’t. You promised yourself you’d find a way out of here. A couple of kind words, and you’re going to forget that?
“You ready to get started? Can you hear me okay?” she called from the other side of the barricade.
“Let’s do this.”
“Have you ever Drawn magic before…?” Therese asked
Britton thought for a moment. “It comes from feelings…emotions. I know it responded to stress when I ran. It picks up when I’m angry or sad.”
“That’s right. Your emotions are the motor, but your brain is the steering wheel.”
“So how do we steer?”
“You just do,” Therese answered. “You have to feel it. Visualization helps. I picture the body whole, and the magic bends that way. Sometimes, I have to push hard, but it works. And you also…talk to the body. Tell it to knit. I don’t how to explain it. You can always try a prayer, Oscar. God never fails me when I reach out for Him.”
Britton frowned, unsettled by her words, thinking of his father’s violent religiosity. But she seemed so different from his father, beautiful where Stanley was ugly, kind where Stanley was cruel. Judge not, he thought, then laughed inwardly at the biblical turn of phrase.
“You’re real religious?” Britton asked.
She nodded.
“I don’t want to go after you about it, but I don’t understand how. The church has been the biggest persecutor of us…oh, my God, I just referred to Latent people as ‘us.’”
Therese laughed. “It makes sense, I guess.”
“I hope I’m not offending you…”
“You’re not, Oscar,” she said. “A lot of people lose religion when they find magic, and I guess that makes sense. I know the church hasn’t been a big supporter. But I mean, hell, it’s not the first time that the church has been turned to work against God’s intentions. You’ve got the Inquisition, the Crusades, clinic bombings, what have you. This is no different. God knows what’s right, and so do those who really follow Him.”
“But doesn’t the very existence of magic turn some of that on its head?” Britton asked.
“Not really,” she said. “But to be honest, I don’t really think about it. I would never have gotten this far without my faith, Oscar, I think I would have given up a long time ago. It keeps me going. When you have something that important to you, sometimes it helps not to ask a lot of questions. Make sense?”
Britton was silent for a moment. It did make sense, but he didn’t like it. He knew it wouldn’t help to say that. “Sure it does,” he said instead. “So, how do we start?”
“You’re going to…get emotional. Recall something significant from your past — an exciting event in your life, something tragic or momentous. You’re going to do your best to channel it. You know how to reach past the Dampener? Activate your emotions?”
Britton thought of his unauthorized use of a gate from just the night before. “Yeah.”
“The Dampener should keep it tight and give you the ability to shunt it back, but if you feel yourself overwhelmed, give a yell and one of the Suppressors on the wall will roll it back for you. Ready?”
“Here goes nothing,” Britton said. He reflected on a sad memory to help trigger the magical flow, picturing his old house. The memory intensified under the influence of his heightened senses on that side of the gate, the image of his former home as vivid as if he were standing on the sunken porch steps. He could smell his mother’s baking from the kitchen window. He could feel the tide roar into him, building along with the emotion behind the Dampener’s barrier. He reached for it as he had outside the DFAC, and it flooded him with such intensity that for a moment he feared he would be unable to control it. But in the end the Dampener kept it regulated, and the gate snapped opened mere inches from his face. It flashed closed again, reopening so close that he took a step backward. He focused on the air a few feet before him and pictured the gate opening there. His muscles cramped at his effort to stem the flow, channel it, shape it to his will. Come on, you bastard, he thought, you’re mine. Obey me.
The gate rolled open right where he had wanted it to.
Britton blinked. The shimmering portal had opened on his parents’ house. Startled, he gave the Dampener rein and let his emotions slide back into the compartment. The gate vanished, leaving him breathing heavily.
“You okay?” Therese’s voice came from the other side of the barrier. “How’d it go?”
“It worked,” Britton answered. “Just not like I expected.”
He cursed inwardly. That was it? It was as simple as mastering your emotions? If only he’d known when his father had crouched over him, fists pounding his chest. If only he’d had the Dampener then! It made it so easy. The thought that the SOC had it, could have just given it to him, to Downer, to
anyone who was struggling with Latency, enraged him.
He focused his mind, conjuring up fresh in his mind the rooftop where he’d shot Downer. He focused on the air a few inches in front of his face, where he wanted the gate to appear. The gate opened about a foot back from that spot, but its television-static surface showed the charred remains of the school’s roof, the battered remnants of the helo still on its side.
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
“Oscar, what’s going on?” Therese asked.
“I think I know,” Britton said. “Let me try one more thing.”
He focused and thrust out his hands again. That time the gate opened on his barracks room in South Burlington. It stood empty, every drawer open, every item removed. The door had been taken off its hinges. Yellow tape reading CRIME SCENE: KEEP OUT stretched across the doorway.
Britton shut the gate and blew out his breath. “Holy crap. I can go anywhere I want with this. All I have to do is picture the place.”
He heard Therese suck in her breath and turned to look. She had come around from the safety of the barricade and stood in the gaps between them, watching him. “Oh my God, Oscar. That’s amazing. What’s on the other side?”
“Anywhere.” Britton grinned through the effort of keeping the gate open. “Anywhere I want.”
Therese put her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him. “So, what are you still doing here?”
Britton instinctively jerked a hand to his chest and didn’t answer.
CHAPTER XV: PRACTICE
Stormcraft is the keystone of the Aeromantic arsenal. To properly harness it, the Sorcerer must understand the electrostatic relationship between colliding ice particles and be sensitive to the electric fields they generate in moist air. A number of elements — temperature, moisture level, particle size, and wind strength — all must be manipulated in perfect synchronicity to harness lightning to combat-effective levels. This sounds complicated, and it is, but by the time you graduate from this course, you will be able to do it while airborne, tracking multiple targets and without a second thought.