Balance - Book 2

by Marc Dickason

  *****

  First on the Academy agenda was Raw Spirit Management.

  It was well publicised that Enforcers did not carry firearms, the reason being that raw Spirit was as effective as, if not more effective than, any firearm available. At least that’s what they told us. My suspicion was that Enforcers were forbidden to carry firearms because it saved a small fortune on the D.O.M’s budget. There was no denying, however, that the more I attended Raw Spirit Management the clearer it became how astonishingly versatile a substance Spirit could be.

  I entered the hall and a few Cadets hung their shoulders, perhaps having hoped I had lost my way or been struck down by unexpected plague. Not a reaction I blamed them for. Three had been injured during my first appointment, one with arm still in a sling. The occurrence had, however, had rather the opposite effect on the lady trainer, early fifties Elaine Lotz, who had appeared rather energised by the clumsy display of power.

  “An Enforcer has no need for a firearm,” she had declared during that first training session, “Since raw Spirit has far more effective results. If wielded correctly. And an Enforcer need not fear firearms, if he or she is competent in the assigned schools of magic.”

  This was bullshit, of course. It was true Spirit did not require reloading, was far quicker to fire off, did not jam, did not require much aiming, and could potentially injure multiple opponents. But an Enforcer had as much reason to fear firearms as any other, being that bullets made holes in people. No body armour in the budget either, it seemed.

  Following the lecture Lotz had requested I fire Spirit at her, ‘as much as I could manage,’ so the art of channelling Spirit could be demonstrated. Unlucky for surrounding Cadets, she had not been aware of my Class 5 level at the time. Lucky for those same Cadets I had fired off less than a quarter my total potential.

  “Today you get to demonstrate just how big your balls are,” Lotz announced presently, “Hands on practice, ladies and gentlemen, catch and distribute. Remember what I’ve taught you and you will not be injured. Decide on the flow path before engaging, there is no time once it is upon you, and process the distribution in one fluid action. You are a conduit, not an energy wrangler; trying to control the Spirit is what leads to dangerous errors. Up your arm, over your shoulder, down your body, past your heart, through your stomach, into your legs, and out to the floor. Decide now, so hesitation does not occur in the crucial moment. Does everyone hear me?”

  There were sombre nods.

  “Some of the other Raw Spirit trainers in this city,” she continued, running fingers back through short cropped blonde hair, “Like to have paramedics standing by on such crucial practical training days. As you can see I have not requested paramedics to be present.” She paused, pacing before the dozen staring faces. “That is because I am one hundred percent certain there will not be a mishap today. You are all, every Cadet in this class, capable of holding your ground and demonstrating the self control required for the exercise. To put it bluntly; you are not permitted to fail. Is that understood?”

  More nods. The hall was silent.

  “Well then. Our first brave Cadet will set the standard and pave the way for the others. Who would like that honour?”

  Her cool blue eyes scanned the crowd. I attempted to spontaneously turn invisible, having yet to fully recover from the embarrassment of Delaney’s class. But her gaze found me anyway.

  “Clarence?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Care to step up?”

  “Could I decline?”

  “If you want to hand over your balls, absolutely.”

  I sighed. “Very well, ma’am.”

  She smiled and I stepped to the front of the class, taking position in a red circle marked on the cement floor.

  “Think of it as catching an egg.” she said, stepping into her own circle, “Be ready to accept the energy, not resist it. Feel the natural flow and roll with its intended course. Attempt to fight the energy and you will land up with yolk all over your face. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The other Cadets inconspicuously backed away. Some were so eager to be beyond the blast zone they stood with backs firmly against a far wall.

  “Ready, Clarence?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here it comes.”

  She generated a crackling orb, the size of a golf ball, on an index finger and unceremoniously let it loose. I braced and stepped to the side, leaving an open hand in the trajectory. My stomach imitated a fist.

  The real trick was, I thought as I watched the projectile, silencing the instinct that screamed I did not want to be on the business end of a small bomb. The face of Conrad was still fresh in my mind, prime example of an orb’s capability.

  Then my arm was snapping back, conjuring images of attempting to catch a small meteorite. I rolled and spun sideways, letting my waist twist with the flow and dampen the impact. Then, a second later, an electric tingling engulfed my hand as the bolt prepared to release its energy. It was in that brief window I could either absorb and direct the Spirit, or suffer the consequences of it being inflicted upon me.

  I told my mind the tingling belonged to the ground. In response there was a rushing from hand to chest, a brief swirling as it hesitated around my heart, then continued down my legs and through the soles of my feet. A moment later came a THUMP as the cement floor shuddered.

  “Are you injured?” Lotz asked.

  “I’m okay, ma’am,” I replied, “Hand stings a little.”

  I attempted to shake feeling back into my palm.

  “Well done, Clarence,” she said, eyes twinkling, “If you had made the absorption sooner your hand would not even have taken the initial impact.” She gestured for me to join the others and turned to address them. “A similar process may be used if you wish to absorb Spirit permanently and add it to your own reserves. This is useful, but something that should be done with caution since a fair amount of guessing is involved. Will you be capable of containing the Spirit inflicted? Is it beyond your personal reserve limitations? Choose wisely, since a commitment made to absorb is one that must be followed through. Once directed energy does not change its mind. And if the amount does happen to be beyond personal limitations, the excess will seek to escape by any means it can. I need not explain that this is generally fatal, depending on the amount of energy in question. Though,” she added, a little smile touching her lips, “I doubt that in your case, Clarence, you would have much trouble absorbing any Spirit sent in your direction.”

  “What about deflection, ma’am?” I asked, thinking back to the battle between Selena and Benny in the parking lot, “I heard about an Enforcer batting aside a projectile with a hand. Isn’t that easier than having to redirect or absorb?”

  “It is unconventional, but possible,” she responded, “Very dangerous and something best left to those with experience. Though keep in mind it is not the hand batting the energy aside, but a focused clash between external and internal Spirit. The hand, in this case, was charged with Spirit and acting as a buffer. Other questions?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Alright then. Shall we find partners and get started?”

  As expected the other Cadets bolted in any direction but one that might take them into my line of sight. I tried not to feel offended and turned to Lotz, shrugging meekly. She let out a tinkling laugh.

  “No partner for Clarence?”

  A small figure emerged and stepped forward.

  “I’m here, ma’am.”

  I recognised the girl; blonde hair, tiny frame, face looking like it had escaped a fashion catalogue. Previously Benny had eyed her in the canteen.

  “Ah, Anderson,” Lotz said with a smile. “Step up.”

  The girl approached with mouth set into a firm pout. The Cadets watched her, as if bearing witness to a person en route to the gallows.

  “Looks like you’re the brave one,” I said to her.

  She responded with something b
etween a grunt and a scoff.

  “Alright, everyone get started,” Lotz called, “Pitch and catch, catch and pitch. Minimal Spirit, please. Hold your ground and be the conduit.”

  The other Cadets paired off and soon the SIZZLE-THUMP of Spirit being caught and redirected ensued. Anderson turned to me.

  “Pitching or catching?” she asked.

  “Pitching, I guess.”

  We moved to our circles and faced each other. Cadets stretched off in rows on either side. The ground trembled as THUMP after THUMP indicated successful redistributions.

  “You ready?”

  She nodded and braced.

  My Spirit was called and a swarm of sparks blossomed into life, creating an irregular, swirling dome. A drop was guided to my fingertip.

  “Here it comes,” I called.

  The tiny bolt sailed off and Anderson caught it, face screwed up with concentration. The sight, undeniably, reminded me of an adorable high school student attempting to catch a cricket ball.

  Sizzle-Thump.

  “Well done,” I said, smiling.

  She did not return the smile. “What was that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Give me more.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  I summoned a touch more Spirit and let it fly.

  Sizzle-Thump.

  “Come on! More!” Here voice rose and drew glances.

  A fraction more Spirit added, off it sailed.

  Sizzle-Thump!

  “Come on! Why are you holding back? More!”

  Her cheeks flushed with anger. Cadets stopped and turned to watch.

  “I can’t…” I stammered.

  “More!”

  I drew up a decent amount of Spirit. It crackled ominously on my fingertip.

  “Get ready,” I called out.

  “Do it!”

  SIZZLE-THUMP.

  “More!”

  “I can’t! I’ll hurt you!”

  She glowered at me, eyes burning a hole in my face and little hands clenched at her sides. A dozen Cadets stared. Finally, face turning tomato red, she turned and stomped out the hall, blonde hair bobbing. The sight was strikingly reminiscent of a teenage girl being sent to her room.

  “Alright, keep practicing,” Lotz ordered, “Are we on a break?”

  She approached me as the SIZZLE-THUMPS resumed.

  “It doesn’t matter the amount of Spirit,” Lotz said privately, “It can all be redirected as long as the person does not try to absorb any. No need to be throwing marshmallows at her.”

  “Oh,” I muttered sheepishly, “I wasn’t really thinking. She looks so…”

  “Fragile? I know. Gets her a little over-excited when people notice that.”

  “Hard not to notice it. If I’m honest I have trouble imagining her as an Enforcer. Should I go after her?”

  “No, never mind. She’ll have to deal with her own little dilemma. But the upside is now you can have me as a partner.”

  She backed away into the opposite circle, smile seeming a little more delighted then it should.