Downfall And Rise

by Nathan Thompson

  “Accepted,” the voice rumbled back. “Avalon will comply.”

  “You can do all that?” I asked.

  “I don't know,” Stell admitted, biting her lip briefly. “This has never happened before.”

  “Where's Guineve?” I asked, looking around. “And Breena? Do I need to summon her?”

  Soft blonde hair fluttered as Stell shook her head.

  “Let's wait on summoning Breena,” she said. “Right now she's only as powerful as you are, and not as durable. Keep her hidden for now. Guineve is finishing her preparation magic right now. Anything powerful enough to get through her is not going to be hindered by us summoning Breena. That reminds me.” Stell called out again. “Avalon, release all remaining restrictions concerning Wes Malcolm's untested abilities and powers. Allow him to advance and unlock them naturally or by his own experimentation. Confirmation code Throw the Hatchling Out of the Nest.”

  “Confirmed,” the mists rumbled back.

  Before I could ask, she cut me off.

  “I mentioned before about every Challenger having unique abilities. You have a whole slew of half-formed powers I can't understand, and I locked them in case they were some kind of dangerous mutations that would get you killed. I was going to unlock them if they ever finished forming and became safe for you to use. But just in case... in case something happens,” she added, looking worried again. “I've unlocked them, and if they ever finish forming on their own you can just use them at your own discretion.”

  “What happens if I try to use them now?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” Stell replied. “There isn't even enough magic in them to make you aware of them right now.”

  “Alright. Thanks anyway,” I said, taking a breath and trying to clear my head. “So to recap, wait for Guineve, and if someone comes sooner, deal with them on our own if we can, or delay them until she's ready if we can't.”

  “You've got it,” She said. Then she paused, giving me a slightly guilty look. “I can fight some, but I can't easily release my real power more than once here. It takes a long time for my primary body to recharge spent power. I can still hit things without magic, but you're going to have to do most of the heavy lifting until Guineve arrives. Can you manage that?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They were able to get me on earth. But if they're like I was when they just arrived...”

  “They should be even worse off,” Stell finished for me. “If they're just normal humans.”

  “Good,” I said. I was sure the people after me weren't done pulling unfair tricks out of thin air, but here in Avalon I could at least do the same.

  In fact, fighting my earthly enemies in a completely whole body was something I couldn't help but look forward to.

  “Are we going to know when they arrive?” I asked. “Or are they going to be able to sneak in, like I can't help doing every time?”

  Probably could have phrased that better, I thought with a wince. But Stell just shook her head.

  “You were able to sneak in because I had grown complacent and diverted most of Avalon's vigilance to other processes. That shouldn't happen at all this time. We'll get a warning as soon as they attempt to arrive, along with their exact location. Avalon will even try to prevent them from crossing over, although I'm not counting on that to do anything but delay them a little.”

  “That's great news,” I replied. “I'll use this time to get ready then.”

  My limbs began whirling and my mouth began intoning as I brought forth my magic. My bones and skin became reinforced with minerals, while little gusts of wind buffeted around me and added momentum to my movements. Finally, electricity began coursing through my body and darting around my digits.

  I rushed over to the armory Stell had finally gotten around to setting up and grabbed a spear, threw on a light coat of mail, strapped a small shield to my wrist and strapped a club to my belt.

  Let them come, I thought to myself grimly. See how well you do against me when I'm no longer crippled, unarmed and taken by surprise.

  As I rushed back to Stell, I heard Avalon's voice boom again from the distant mists.

  “Unauthorized entry detected. Avalon is resisting the attempt. The attempt is happening at the following location...”

  An image of one of Avalon's glades appeared into my mind-screen, along with a yellow path that seemed to lead me to the location.

  “Resistance is being overcome. Invader's ETA is currently five minutes and ten seconds. Five minutes and nine seconds…”

  The countdown continued to sound off in my mind.

  I made it over to the location just as the final minute was ticking down. Stell was standing further back, watching the mist constrict around a tiny purple hole in the air.

  I walked in front of her.

  “Are you not wanting them to see you?” I guessed as I took position. Some kind of static sparked around the purple hole, and it grew by another inch. Stell nodded calmly at my question.

  “The less these people know about Avalon, the better. But I'll stay close in case you need help.”

  “I shouldn't,” I admitted. “But then again they shouldn't have been able to kidnap me in broad daylight either.”

  I made sure all my passive spells were still working and checked over my armor and weapons one last time. I contemplated my spear, then flipped it over to the blunt end. Despite everything, I had still never killed a human being yet. Plenty of monsters, sure. But I had been killing monsters in video games all my life, and most of the ones here had looked so unnatural it was no problem. I didn't want to risk freezing up in a fight, so I used the less lethal part of the weapon instead.

  “Thirty seconds,” the mists intoned. The hole had grown to almost a foot in diameter, and the mist wrapping around it seemed to struggle to hold together.

  “Ten, nine...”

  Just get on with it, I thought angrily. The suspense was making this worse than my experience with actual combat.

  Finally, the countdown ended and the mist around the purple hole dissipated.

  “Containment failed,” Avalon intoned. “Prepare for unauthorized entry.”

  Purple lightning flared all around the hole as it enlarged rapidly, expanding to two feet, then four feet, then eight feet.

  And Chris Rhodes stepped into Avalon.

  My jaw dropped. But my high school nemesis just looked around with a frown on his face. He was wearing a durable-looking black t-shirt, and pitch-black pants made out of the same fabric military soldiers used.

  “Chris?” I shouted. “What the hell? Why are you here?”

  Instead of answering my question, he only scowled further. Then after another moment, he reached into one of his pockets and threw something back into the hole still hovering behind him.

  Four more men, two of them ones I recognized from my kidnapping, stepped through the portal as well. They were wearing bulkier versions of the combat fatigues Chris was wearing, and I could see knives long enough to be called machetes strapped to their waists. There were also gun holsters resting on their hips, but every single one of them was empty. One of them noticed and swore in surprise.

  “I told you it wouldn't work,” my old nemesis said with a sneer. “We'd know by now if people could bring guns here. You're lucky all your knives and padding made it.”

  He finally turned to look at me.

  “Cock-blocker?” he asked incredulously. “You're not supposed to be here. And when did you go all Greek hoplite?” he added, pointing to my shield and spear.

  “Good question,” I said with a snarl. “How about I not answer it, and instead you turn around and go back home, so that you can release my body and turn yourself over to the cops?”

  “Cops?” Chris skewed his head at that. He turned and looked to one of the fake orderlies. “I thought they helped you catch him?”

  “He was knocked up pretty bad, master Rhodes,” the thug said in response, having a strangely mafia-style accent. “He probably didn't realize he saw
them.”

  “Well whatever. Get in position to detain him again for when Dad and the others get here.

  “Yes sir,” the thug said, but as he and the other three tried to walk forward they stumbled.

  “What's the problem?” Chris asked, looking down. “Is there something wrong with the ground?”

  “It's hard to move here, young master Rhodes,” the thug said again, shaking his head. “Everything feels off.”

  Chris stepped forward, waving his hand around.

  “Not really,” he said. “It's different, but by so little it's barely noticeable.”

  “It's supposed to feel that way for you,” a cold voice said from within the portal.

  Three more figures walked in.

  My eyes widened in surprise, but then my mind-screen began to scream words all over my vision.

  WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

  FOREIGN CONTAMINANTS DETECTED!

  CONTAMINANTS ARE WARLOCK-CLASS SUBJECTS WIELDING MALUS POWER!

  REPEAT! WARLOCK-LEVEL MALUS POWER DETECTED! WARLOCK-LEVEL MALUS POWER DETECTED!

  BEWARE! BEWARE! BEWARE!

  A moment later the entire message vanished from my vision and mind. Static swept over my brain again. And a new message crawled into it.

  I found you.

  Traitor-prince.

  Chapter 27: My Little Nightmare

  When my vision returned to normal, I turned my attention back to the three new figures that had walked through the dark hole in the air.

  I recognized every one of them.

  The one of the left was my smirking therapist, still dressed in her pencil skirt and woman's business suit. She looked around, and seemed to approve of what she saw, except for me. She frowned slightly when she saw my face. But that was normal for her.

  The one on the far right was Pastor Barnes. He had changed his outfit from his usual Sunday suit to some kind of black clerical robe. He was frowning in disapproval as he looked around, and he outright scowled at me. He was holding a small pouch with a chain wrapped around it. He carried the pouch by the chain.

  The middle figure was a man I hadn’t met in years. He wore a matte-black business suit of a rare and exotic cut. It bulged in places, implying that it was somehow fortified. The design, color and protection suggested to me that it was easily the most expensive set of men's clothing I had ever seen.

  But then again, he could afford such a piece quite easily, because he was the richest man I had ever met.

  Warren Rhodes, Chris Rhodes' father.

  He stood at least a head taller than Pastor Barnes, stood even taller than I did. And unlike either of us, his body bulged with powerful muscle, making even his son and Davelon look lean. His gut was also large but that just somehow made him look even more imposing. He was, and always has been, the most terrifying figure I had ever met, and the force of presence he generated was second only to Dad's back when he was still alive. And unlike Dad, Mr. Rhodes, whom no one ever dared to call him by his first name, and with whom almost no one ever realized that they didn't dare, always seemed to be masking a deep sense of scorn for everything, even when he smiled at me. I had always thought that he had resting bitch face because of it.

  Today the mask was gone, and as he strode through the portal he cast a look around him, at the world of mist, vibrant trees and glowing rocks, a look that said this place was utterly unworthy of him, and that he was completely entitled to anything it had to give. His eyes were cold, in such a way that he could say “I hate you” just by making eye contact..

  Naturally, he looked straight at me.

  “Of course it feels that way for you,” he said again to Chris without looking at his son. “That was why I let you play that idiot game to begin with.”

  “Father,” Chris said with exasperated formality. “You own that game now, and you said I had to play it because Wes played it. You kept saying I shouldn't lose to him in anything.”

  “Yes,” Warren Rhodes said, casting a loveless half-glance toward his son. “It was, in part, me not wanting the shame of having a dead pedophile's brat be better at something than my own son. It was also because we suspected John's stupid game was made in part to prepare someone else for this world. So you learned to play it as another gift from me.” His eyes traveled between the two of us, noting our stances. “It's disappointing to see that he still achieved greater mastery than you.”

  Chris looked like he wanted to growl at his father but didn't dare. Barely.

  “I'm sorry, Father,” he said with careful formality. “I shouldn't have put that matter so far below my other duties in sports, modeling and technology.”

  “No, you shouldn't have,” his father agreed, as if his son had said something stupid and obvious. “You should have excelled at everything because you're my son, instead of failing to live up to your bloodline. Your apology is rejected. Now go take care of that pedophile's cripple-headed little shit.”

  Chris gave his father a incredulous look. Once again, his father did not even glance his son's way.

  “You want me,” Chris began. “To attack him, head on, without a weapon of my own? While he's standing there braced with a spear, having the advantage of reach, armor, and probably magic given the weird way his skin looks right now?”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “But I just realized I have the better question. Why haven't I begun beating you all yet?”

  They all looked up at me. Two of the thugs actually seemed to be figuring things out the quickest, because their eyes widened. But unlike me, they were still processing instead acting.

  Holding my spear high, I charged forward. I noticed Warren Rhodes turning and throwing something into the portal behind him, and then his goons were in my face. Still using the blunt end of my spear, I slammed my weapon violently into the chest of one that had leaped right in front of me. I heard a hiss of surprise as he flew back into the portal, nearly knocking over Pastor Barnes in the process. Before another of the thugs could finish moving, I swung my stick out at his feet, tripping him, then I whirled my weapon around and slammed it into him again before he even hit the ground.

  “Jesus Christ he's fast!” Someone swore as body guard number two went hurtling through the portal.

  “Oh God damn it,” I heard Chris growl, and before I could move onto the third thug I saw my nemesis leap into the air and kick me in the face.

  To my surprise, the kick was strong enough to knock flecks of stone from my nose. Before I could even finish processing that fact I felt several other blows rain all over the unarmored parts of my body.

  “There!” My enemy growled while snapping a couple more strikes at my face. “Happy now, Dad?”

  Finally recovering, I dropped my spear, knocked his arms away with my shield-bearing limb, and threw my own punch at his chest.

  My fist connected, and with a whumph and a sizzle the super-star quarterback went flying nearly a dozen feet in the air, barely missing the portal as he crashed into a nearby tree.

  “Nope, not yet son,” his father answered. “Try winning. That might do it.”

  I kicked my spear back into the air caught it with one hand. Just as I was about to use it on the nearby Father-of-the-Year candidate, the two men I had just dimensionally defenestrated came charging back through the portal.

  Along with four more friends.

  Who had already drawn long combat knives.

  I immediately leaped backwards, bringing my spear's reach into play. I had to change my strategy, I realized. It didn't matter how many I could knock through the portal if they could just run right back in.

  I might even have to kill them. But could I do that? Even if I could, what if they could somehow come back like I theoretically could?

  New plan, I decided quickly. Break all their limbs.

  In retrospect, I probably should have turned the ground to mud right outside the portal, because that had always worked before. But I had wanted to see what I was dealing with before casting any of my real s
pells, and Chris had distracted me with his sudden appearance and knowledge of kung-fu. And now I didn't have time, because Rhodes' men were rushing me.

  The bodyguards staggered as they attacked, still not used to Avalon's rules. I took as much advantage as much as I could, jumping away from their knives and slamming the staff end of my spear into a nearby attacker's arm as hard as I dared. There was a loud crack, and the man dropped his knife with a yelp, clutching his injured arm. I twisted away as another knife scraped against my shield, then I drew the blunt end of my spear back and slammed it into my opponent's kneecap. It crunched, a little more graphically than I imagined it would, and another man went down screaming.