by Jack Heckel
Chapter 20
Conflict at the Coffee Shop
After a second, the bell stopped ringing, but the light continued to flash its silent warning. There was a moment of stunned inaction. Someone shouted, “They’ve found us?” Someone else yelled something about being trapped like rats, and something else about abandoning ship. The Mysterians surged toward the hidden door that let out into the coffee shop. Rook leapt atop a chair and waved them back. “Quiet!” he ordered in a whispered roar. “The alarm only means someone’s in the shop who shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t mean they’re here for us, or that they even know we’re here. All we do by goin’ out there now is give ourselves away!”
The force of his will drove the other Mysterians back. They stood huddled together. We waited for . . . I don’t know how long. Was it a minute? Was it an hour? The looks on the faces of the Mysterians let me know that, at least for them, it lasted an eternity. Fear will do that. At some point, I began to count. I made it to sixty. Something thudded against the hidden door. The sound was muffled, but the impact must have been enormous, because it shook the entire room. This time when the panic came, Rook could not stop it.
There was a great rush of bodies. It broke first toward the door, but then a second blow fell and the Mysterians turned and came back toward where I was still sitting. People stumbled over each other and over me. Some of the Mysterians had enough presence of mind to attempt spells of travel, but their magic only flared and faded. A voice rang out, “They’ve shielded the room!” More screams and shouts erupted. Prayers were raised to gods whose names I had never heard. They were on the edge of hysterics. I tried to catch what they were saying, but they were all speaking over one another and the words were jumbled and nonsensical. I hoped the gods would be able to sort it out. I couldn’t.
As the chaos continued to spread, a third shuddering blow struck. A crack of mystical energy appeared in the door and widened far enough to permit a ray of light from the shop outside to break through into the little room. “Everyone get to the hypocubes!” Rook’s voice boomed out above the chaos. “The rest of you, join me. We will hold them off as long as we can.”
I had no idea what a hypocube was, but they must have been located in the bathrooms, because that’s where most of the Mysterians ran. The press of the crowd and the struggle to get through the doors was awful. By the time the next crashing boom echoed through the room, only three other mages stood with Rook. He looked disgusted, but in a way that let me know it was nothing he hadn’t expected.
Drake glanced at the crowd and then back to Valdara and me. “I don’t really need to go right now. Do either of you?”
I shook my head, while she looked at the scrum with a sour expression and said, “I hate lines.”
Drake smiled at the two of us and put out his hand to help me up. We walked forward to join Rook’s thin line of resistance. No words were exchanged between the four of us; we simply waited for the next blow to fall against the door. The dwarf pulled an ax from a piece of folded reality I had taken to be a pocket handkerchief. Drake spread his feet and spun his staff about in a move I remembered fondly from our days together on Trelari. Beside him, Valdara drew a sword and a deadly looking chakram from somewhere beneath her robes.
The Mysterians were right about one thing: there was no magic in the room. I pulled out Griswald’s key. It was still crackling with the energy left behind by Harold’s passing, and already its shape was shifting to adjust to my desire: maximum carnage.
Through the widening hole, I could see vague shapes moving, perhaps preparing for another assault. I was fascinated to see what was going to happen, but in the detached way one gets watching a cliffhanger scene in the middle of a movie. Somehow, I felt our story wasn’t going to end here—or maybe I was simply too tired to care.
There was another shock, and a tremendous roar, and part of the wall collapsed inward. A cluster of Sealers stood in the ragged opening, but down the hall behind them I could see that the battle was already raging in the coffee shop itself. Flashes of light and sparks flew. Kendra leapt into view, swinging a mace. One of the Sealers raised his wand and sent her flying backward into a stand of fair trade coffee. She did not get up again. Rook dove through the hole swinging his ax and shouting, “For the Mysterium!”
With a roar of “Trelari!” Valdara and Drake plunged into the melee.
I followed after them, but I realized I had no battle cry to give. I might have made this about Harold, but I knew it was really about me and my own guilt.
It was an odd experience, fighting a battle with no regard for my own safety. I’d seen others in battle rages and read books where heroes claimed such disconnections, but personally I’d never done anything without having a keen awareness of my own mortality. It felt a bit like watching a play, with the coffee shop beyond as the stage, and the hole in the wall as the proscenium. Around me, a first and then a second and then a third of the defenders fell. They were extras in a war epic.
As we fought, the line of Mysterians waiting to get into the bathroom slowly dwindled behind us. Only a handful of unfortunates remained when our defense truly began to falter. The bald man and the red-haired woman that had been in line in front of me retreated first. The man shouted, “We can’t hold them. Fall back! Fall back!”
Valdara, Drake, Rook, and I held a beachhead behind an overturned shelf of coffee table books near the entrance to the hall for as long as we could, but the Sealers were materializing in waves and soon their numbers overwhelmed us. As the bald man and his red-haired friend gave cover, we dove back through the hole that had once been the door. A volley of blasts erupted behind us, and when the dust cleared, the man and the woman were gone.
“There are too many of them,” Rook shouted. “They’ll overrun us soon!”
He glanced back to the bathrooms and I followed his eyes. All the Mysterians were inside now, but they were jammed in so tightly that the door couldn’t close. “We have to give them more time,” Valdara said.
A barrage of spells shot through the hole, forcing us to scatter for cover. Drake ducked behind an overstuffed leather couch. He growled, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I wish we had your crazy battle-ax.”
“I don’t mind you saying it to me,” Valdara said from where she sat with her back to an upturned table. “Only never let him know. He would never let us forget it.” She tried to smile, but winced in pain instead. I could see that her robes were pockmarked with burns from the Sealers’ spells.
Drake, his own face streaked with blood, winked. “Don’t worry, it was a moment of weakness.”
Rook came scuttling over from wherever he’d taken shelter to crouch beside me. His clothes were rent and torn, and a massive burn blackened his right side. “There are only about a dozen or so Mysterians left in the bathrooms,” he grunted. “Everyone ready for one last push?”
“Hell, yes!” Drake said. “Let’s get this thing over with and get to a proper bar.”
Valdara ran the bloodied edge of her sword across her cloak to clean it. “Anytime. I’ve just been waiting for you boys to catch your breath.”
We readied ourselves to spring and then something odd happened. The volley of fire stopped. Moregoth stepped into view. I would like to say that I was overcome with elemental rage at the sight of him, but the truth is, I was too empty for righteous anger. I did want to destroy him, but more in the way people instinctively lash out at snakes or squash cockroaches. He was vermin, and he needed exterminating. I channeled as much power as I could into the key, and stepped forward.
Someone, I think Valdara, shouted, “Avery! Get down!” Ignoring the plea, I pointed the key at Moregoth and unleashed every bit of hate and power I had. I saw his eyes widen with surprise. The room blazed with light as my own spell was joined by a dozen or more bolts of energy that arced out from the ranks of Sealers behind him. Even had I wanted to defend myself, there was nowhere I could go, no time for me to get out of the way or to weave
a pattern of protection. I waited. As long as Moregoth died first it would be a satisfactory exchange.
A fraction of a heartbeat later the room detonated with light and sound and heat. I was blown off my feet and thrown backward into the wall. The impact knocked the key out of my hand, and I slid to the floor. My ears were ringing and my head was spinning, but I was alive. When I could focus my eyes again, I saw a shimmering wall of blue energy had interposed itself between Moregoth’s men and us. I glanced at Rook. He shrugged. “Not my doin’, kid.”
Moregoth must have spun the wall at the last second. He had saved both of our lives, and it really pissed me off. I picked up the key, staggered to my feet, and walked forward again. “I thought you were a true believer, Moregoth,” I snarled. “I thought you longed for the sweet embrace of death. But now that it’s here you hide like a worm. How disappointing.”
Moregoth pushed his long black hair away from his ghostly pale face and smiled thinly. He held up his wand. It wasn’t glowing. “Death knows I have no fear of it. I had no part in this. Watching your body burn into the ether would have made my own demise all that more enjoyable.”
I scanned the Sealers, but they looked as confused as I did. “It was me, kid,” Drake said as he pulled himself to his feet. He removed a leather strap from where it had been wrapped about the top of his staff. Beneath it, the Crystal of Righteousness shone with a blue light of such purity it seared my eyes. I put up a hand to shield them. “When did you get your magic back?” I asked.
“About thirty seconds ago.”
“That’s great, Drake,” I said, and I was happy he had managed to find his faith again. I was also relieved, because this meant I could go back to killing Moregoth. “Drop the wall so I can deal with this maniac once and for all?”
“I can’t do that, kid.”
I was confused. “Do you mean you don’t know how to drop the wall?”
He shook his head. “No. I know how to drop the spell. I mean I won’t.”
My anger flared anew. “Why not?”
“Maybe because he doesn’t want to have to explain to Sam and Ariella how he let you kill yourself,” Valdara said sharply. “Of all the half-witted . . .”
Drake shot Valdara a stern look, and she fell silent. “That’s not why, Avery,” he growled. “Frankly, if you want to go out killing some vampire wannabe, that’s your business.” He looked Moregoth up and down with a raised eyebrow. “Personally, I don’t think he’s worth it. What I won’t do is sacrifice myself, or Valdara, or Rook, to satisfy your need for revenge.”
“Much appreciated,” Rook said with a tip of an imaginary cap. He glowered through the wall at Moregoth. “Until next time, punk. Oh, and get a haircut. You look like a damned hippie!”
The dwarf tried to grab my arm and pull me back toward the bathroom, but I shook him off. “No, Rook. I’m not leaving until he’s dead.”
Drake leaned on his staff. “It’s not that simple, kid. If you stay, I stay.”
“And if he stays, I stay,” Valdara declared, moving to stand next to him.
The two of them looked at Rook. The dwarf looked between them. “What? They’re both annoyin’ as hell. I say let them blow each other up if that’s what they want.” They kept staring at him. He rolled his eyes. “Fine, if they stay, I also stay.” He shook a finger at them. “But you both owe me a drink. Now, can we get out of here? People who wear ankhs creep me out.”
This time, Valdara and Rook both put their arms around me and tried to lead me to the door.
I pulled away, and pointed the key at Drake. “Drop the wall!” I shouted.
“No, Avery,” he said. “I will not help you die today. Not for that creature.”
With a wordless cry of blind rage, I launched myself at the wall. With a crack of power, it threw me back. I rose and charged again. Again, it threw me back. I struggled to my feet a third time, but my head was ringing like a bell and my legs gave out before I could take two steps.
Valdara knelt beside me as I tried to rise again. “Avery, please,” she pleaded.
Her voice in my ear sapped the last of my anger. It was futile. The only way to get through the wall would be to kill Drake, and I was not so far gone as that. I lay on the ground and wailed with frustration. “Don’t you understand? I have a chance to do something good for once. Let me do this for Harold.” I looked up at her through eyes wet with unshed tears. “For you.”
“I understand you want to make amends for your past, Avery, but this is not the way,” she said, and then added, “It’s too easy.”
Behind her Drake said softly, “Valdara . . .”
She looked at him sharply, and he backed away, hands raised. When she spoke again there was a hard edge to her voice. “You will have your chance to balance your sins, Avery Stewart, but if you die today, then you will not have paid your debts. You owe the world more than this. You owe me more than this. Now, get up and let’s get out of here before you get all of us killed.”
As always, she was right. I had been thinking only of myself. Typical, really. I held out my arms, and Valdara and Drake lifted me to my feet. Rook was waiting by the women’s bathroom, urging us forward. “Come on. Come on. There’s still one hypocube in here. Let’s get out before Mr. Creepy lights some incense and starts tryin’ to call upon the spirit of whatever dead animal he’s got stuck on top of his head.”
We were nearly to Rook when Moregoth’s hacking laugh cut across the room. “This is just sad.”
I stopped and tried to turn. At first, Valdara and Drake would not let me go. “Avery . . .” Drake growled.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him. Something in the coolness of my voice must have convinced them I was not going to go bashing my head into walls again, because they let me go. I turned back to Moregoth. He was standing in a melodramatic pose, his head tilted to one side, staring at me through Drake’s protective wall. He’d put on a pair of heavily tinted glasses, but even so, I could see by the lines at the sides of his eyes that the light was bothering him. “You have something to say?” I asked.
“Rather a question,” he replied. I opened my arms in invitation. “It’s only that I am curious,” he purred, stroking his chin with the polished nail of his forefinger. “How does a man that once ruled worlds as a god allow himself to be dictated to by these . . . shadows? You were their Dark Lord. Now, they treat you like a servant. Fight. Don’t fight. Run. Fetch. Beg. Kneel. Die. It’s pathetic.”
“Pathetic?” I gave a low chuckle. “That’s rich coming from someone who dresses like a mortician from a clown college.”
Valdara, Drake, and Rook all laughed, and even some of the Sealers seemed to have a hard time keeping a straight face, but Moregoth gave no reaction. After a moment’s pause to let the laughter fade, he looked down his long nose at me. “I tell you that your ‘so-called friends’ are treating you like a dog, and your response is to say that I dress funny? To quote you, ‘How disappointing.’”
“I could come up with some better insults, if you want,” Rook grunted. “That you’d leave the house wearin’ that shirt tells me you must be—”
I held up my hand, and the dwarf stopped. “He’s right. I would hate for someone to judge me for my utter lack of style, or you for looking like an extra in a Men Without Hats video.” I walked slowly back to the glowing wall. Moregoth’s sneer remained fixed in place, but I wasn’t trying to reach him. I was looking through him, talking directly to his men. He was beyond redemption. I was betting not all of the Sealers were. “It may not be right to judge you by your fashion sense, but I do think it’s fair to judge you by your actions. You and your masters have spent your lives denying the rightful people of Mysterium a place on their own world, and now you’ve turned your powers on the innocent people of Trelari. You are small and mean.”
Moregoth hung his head like a marionette with its strings cut, then he straightened himself up and clapped slowly and softly. “What a fine speech: florid, emotional, and so deliciously indulge
nt. Tell us, Mr. Stewart, now that you have become a true believer in the ’cause,’ will you be giving up your privileged existence to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with all those poor, pitiful wretched Mysterians lost in the subworlds?”
I lowered my voice so he had to break his pose and lean closer to the wall to hear me. “You may find it incomprehensible that someone from Mysterium would desire freedom for everyone in the multiverse, but I’m not alone. Every day more and more mages are realizing the way we’ve been treating other worlds—including, it appears, the Mysterians—is not right. You may find it laughable, but I intend to do everything I can to bring you and your masters down, whatever that means for the Mysterium I’ve known.”
“Then perhaps I should start calling you Dark Lord again,” he said with a voice raised loud enough so that everyone could hear him. “It was precisely this same strain of delusional self-righteousness that led you to try and ‘help’ the people of Trelari. We all know how that turned out.”
That struck a nerve. I took a breath to calm myself. “You may think it was a failure, but Trelarians do not and neither do I. The fight for their freedom will become the rallying cry of a new generation of mages.”
He shrugged indifferently. “Perhaps a few misguided souls will follow you . . .”
“More than you know, Moregoth!”
“Less than you might wish, Dark Lord,” he said with a chuckle.
I could tell he was building up to something. Some secret I didn’t know that he thought would break my will. It was written in the rigid anticipation of his body, and in the cruel way the ends of his mouth were turned up. I suddenly felt weary of bantering with him. “Say what you need to, Moregoth. We have places to go, and you have yet another failure to report.”