by Drew Hayes
I very much wanted to ask her for clarification, though obviously, there was an explanation that stood out as having the most potential; however, before I could ask her, another voice tore through the arena. It belonged to Neil, and it was packed full of concern, desperation, and fear.
As well as a tremendous amount of magic.
“Mortus Aurellius!” Neil lighted to the ground with his hands raised, gesturing to Albert, who was barely getting away from a stab of the chimera’s tale.
“Neil?” He jerked his head over in shock, a lucky move that actually made it so a rogue swipe of tusk missed taking his noggin off. “What are you doing here?”
“Duh. I’m helping you kick this thing’s ass.” Neil took a brief moment to catch his breath, then began waving his hands and letting out another spell. “Merricort Stravinci!”
I wasn’t sure what this one did, but I could already see the effects of the first—they’d been apparent as soon as he cast it. Albert’s flesh was knitting back together at an accelerated rate, his wounds closing over like they’d never existed. Vampires have exceptional regenerative capabilities, and Albert was healing far faster than I could have managed, even with a fresh swig of blood.
The chimera had turned around and was eyeing both Albert and Neil, clearly deciding which of them to take out first. Both were stringy and small, though the one with the sword had obviously annoyed it by dodging about. Of course, the fact that Albert could dodge made Neil seem like a more tempting target. The soft voice of my inner predator, the instincts that came with being a vampire, whispered insight into how this creature, formed of pain and magic, was thinking. It was, to say the least, very disconcerting.
“You shouldn’t be down here!” Albert yelled, splitting his attention between the chimera and his friend. “It’s dangerous.”
“Which is exactly why I’m down here. You’ve been letting that thing treat you like a chew toy. Did you really think I wouldn’t intervene?”
“This is my problem to deal with. I’m the one who drew the sword; I’m the only one who has to get hurt.” Albert was practically pleading now, though I wasn’t sure what good he thought his words would do. Even if Neil changed his mind at that exact moment, he’d still be just as stuck in the pit.
“Albert—and I mean this with love—fuck that, and fuck you for saying it!” Neil turned his attention completely away from the chimera, staring at his friend across the small distance between them. “Your problem? I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces and go on living without you. I’m the one who has to try and cope with a world that doesn’t have my only damned friend. I won’t do that, Albert, not ever again. Like it or not, your problems are my problems, and if you’re in deep shit, then so I am. We’re in this life, battle, sword, all this fucking craziness, we’re in it together.”
It was a heartfelt, if unnecessarily crass speech, and it would have been moving to all of us, if not for something else that was already moving. When Neil had turned away, the chimera had made its decision, and was bearing down on him from across the arena. It moved more silently than I might have expected, the dirt muffling its hooved footsteps as it barreled toward the young necromancer.
“Move, you dumb shit!” Krystal screamed, hands cupped to her mouth in a desperate attempt to mimic a megaphone. Despite the distance, her words reached their target, and Neil suddenly snapped to his surroundings. It was enough to get him mobile, but unfortunately not enough to let him dodge entirely.
A tusk tore through his side, a few inches below his ribs, sending blood spurting into the dirt and Neil tumbling to the ground. Finally given a chance to do some real damage, the chimera didn’t hesitate. It leapt atop the young mage, a dark tornado of snapping jaws and pounding hooves. Neil managed to get his arms up in a feeble defense, but it would only take seconds for them to be shredded into uselessness. Fortunately for Neil, the chimera didn’t have seconds.
There was no scream of warning or anger, which was the sort of thing that might have given the chimera time to react. Instead, it was suddenly seized by strong hands—ones that looked as though they might be gripping its very spine—lifted off Neil, and hurled across the arena, where it slammed into the stone wall with enough force to leave several small cracks. It was clearly still alive as it limped back to a standing position, but it obviously realized it no longer had easy game to attack.
Albert, tufts of fur still clinging to his hand, stood between his friend and the monster, looking at it with the sort of expression I’d never have thought my cheerful assistant capable of. He swung the sword once, then gripped it with both hands as he locked eyes with the beast.
“Holy shit,” Bubba muttered. “Are zombies always that strong?”
“Not usually.” Amy shook her head. “Neil’s first spell was to regenerate Albert’s flesh; the second was to increase his speed and strength.”
“I didn’t realize necromancers could do that.” Given how little I knew about magic in general, I had no qualms admitting my dearth of knowledge.
“It’s much harder with other undead, but with a zombie they’ve created, it’s different. The two share a bond, they’re connected. It’s like Neil is casting on a piece of himself.”
“That’s the thing about zombies,” Krystal added. “On their own, they’re basically no trouble at all to put down. But you pair them with a necromancer, especially one who cares about their creation, and they can be some of the toughest bastards this side of Hell.”
“Looks like he’ll get to see for himself.” Arch was still watching the fight carefully, with his same neutral expression. I wondered, just for a moment, how much of this he’d guessed would happen. Then I heard movement, and my attention was drawn back to the fight below.
The chimera was circling, trying to find a way to get at the injured Neil, but Albert was keeping pace with it every step of the way. His hands tightened on the sword’s hilt, and it may have been my imagination, but it seemed to me the blade was glowing a bit brighter than before.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Albert said, his voice still gentle, even as he stared at the blood of his friend on the chimera’s lips. “I really don’t. I don’t like hurting anyone. But if you try to touch my friend again, I’ll do it.”
Either the chimera didn’t understand him, or it didn’t believe him, because it grew tired of circling and finally opted to take the initiative. Backing up a few steps, the chimera charged, its hooves pounding up a cloud of dirt as it tried to mow Albert down to get at the young man he was defending.
“I’m sorry,” Albert said, digging his feet in. From the outset, it was clear; he didn’t intend to dodge this time. He readied the sword and kept his eyes on the hungry monster bearing down on him. As it drew near, I feared for a moment that Albert had suddenly frozen in terror, as he stayed put even when the tusks were only inches away from his newly healed flesh. Then, in a motion so quick a single flick of the eye would have missed it, Albert swung sword with all his might, catching the chimera directly in the head.
There was a blinding flash of a light, and I mean that quite literally. All of us were momentarily rendered incapable of sight, rubbing at our eyes and the spots that refused to clear. When they finally faded, we looked down, expecting to see a scene of gore and death.
What we actually found was quite different, and exceedingly unexpected.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Arch said, peering into the arena. “Never seen that one before.”
“Ditto,” Krystal agreed. Bubba and Amy nodded their agreement, while I just stared in confusion.
Down in the arena were a still bleeding Neil, a very confused Albert, and technically no sign of the chimera. It had vanished, almost entirely. The “almost” was a necessary addition to the descriptor because, while the chimera was certainly gone, there were three new things in its place.
Nestled in the dirt and apparently sleeping was a panther cub, a baby boar, and what I greatly suspected to be a scorpion egg.
10.
“He cut the magic?”
“That’s a very, very simplified way of phrasing it, but yes, Fred, you’ve got the gist,” Amy told me. She was hovering near Neil, who’d been bandaged and brought up as soon as the fight was over. Despite how bad the wounds had seemed when he was attacked, Neil was already back on his feet and appearing unbothered by the chunks taken out of his flesh. Either mages had greater physical resistance than I was aware of, or someone in the facility had given him more than gauze and antiseptics.
“I actually liked Fred’s phrasing,” Bubba said. “Your whole ‘unmaking the enchantment while simultaneously appropriating the base components’ explanation gave me a headache. It’s a sword. It cut the magic. That’s the sort of shit I can wrap my head ‘round.”
“Technically, it was a theory, not an explanation,” Amy replied. She pulled another bottle from her coat and took a small sip. As she did, the orange glow in her eyes faded to a soft white, and a far more placid expression eased over her face. “I’m just guessing, after all. What Albert did, I’ve never heard of before.”
“Arch said there had been other wielders. Shouldn’t they have been able to do the same thing?” I asked.
“Don’t you ever pay attention?” Neil said. “Arch told us that the sword responds to the soul of the person wielding it. Albert didn’t want to hurt that chimera, but he had to swing the blade anyway. The sword adapted, giving him a way to end the fight without shedding blood. Though Amy is right, it is strange. I’ve been studying constantly, and that’s the first I’ve heard of such an incident.”
“There’s a few legends handed down through the packs, but nothing . . .” Bubba trailed off as the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention.
The four of us were back in Bubba and Amy’s room, while we waited for Arch and Albert to finish getting the results from the watching mages. Krystal had tagged along at her own insistence, since, at this point ,none of us trusted Arch as far as we could throw . . . actually, several of us could throw Arch rather far, given the proper motivation. Suffice it to say, we did not trust him enough to leave Albert in his care without at least one of us there as escort.
Bubba and I both perked up as we heard the sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway. Neil and Amy took a bit longer to notice the impending people, but as soon as they did, the injured necromancer was on his feet. It was probably a good thing he’d been getting treated when Albert had to leave, otherwise, he’d have a pitched a hell of a fit about coming along. His actions in the last hour had left me with a newfound respect, but that didn’t change the fact that we weren’t home yet and still needed to play nice.
Krystal stepped into view first, followed closely by Arch and Albert. We didn’t even need to ask about the results—the Cheshire grin Krystal was sporting, coupled with the look of sheer relief on Albert’s face, made it abundantly clear before a single word was uttered. Still, it was nice to hear Krystal loudly announce what we’d all been hoping to hear.
“He’s all clear! No magical side effects, no reason he can’t use the sword.”
There were sighs of relief, smiles, and even a whoop from Bubba as we rushed over to give Albert handshakes and hugs. It took a few moments for the clatter of happiness to die down, but as soon as it did, Arch reminded us that he was, unfortunately, still in the room.
“Congratulations, Weapon Bearer. As a representative of the Agency, I wish you all the best on whatever path your new weapon leads you down, and remind you that, so long as you’re adhering to the laws and upholding the treaties, you can always look to us for assistance.”
“Um, thank you,” Albert said. It was an impressive amount of politeness, given that most of us just glared at Arch. To his credit, he did pick up the hint.
“You’re welcome, Albert. To the rest of you, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but my actions were out of necessity, not malice. If I’d given Albert a half-hearted trial, we might never have seen him swing the sword’s real magic, not until it happened in a place without proper safeguards. Hate me as you need to, just understand that, because of my test, Albert can now go on with his life, having no fear that wielding the blade will cause inadvertent harm to those around him.”
“We don’t hate you, Arch,” Krystal said. She chanced a quick look at us, no doubt taking in the hard eyes on Bubba and the unmasked glare that Neil was sporting. “Well, most of us probably don’t. I know why you did what you did, but I also know there were better ways to go about it.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Arch told her. “Before I take my leave of you all and send you back to Winslow, there is one more matter to discuss.” He turned to Albert, whose face scrunched up in renewed fear. “Albert, that sword of yours is very powerful, and to unmake a creature formed of magic the way it did is a gift I’m not certain it’s ever possessed. Whatever other abilities it might hold are bound to be special as well. Wielding that power is no small responsibility, so, if you’d like, the Agency would be willing to help train you on how to do it.”
Neil grit his teeth, Albert’s eyes went wide, and I felt my back tense. In all the excitement of the chimera, I’d nearly forgotten that this might happen. My eyes were stuck to Albert, who seemed to be having trouble finding the right words for his response.
“I . . . that would . . . could . . . what would that entail?”
“You’d be transferred to an Agency training facility immediately, and would begin learning how to wield your new weapon, eventually becoming an Agent who protects the parahuman world. Given what I’ve seen today, I would undertake your training personally. While I know you dislike me, even Agent Jenkins will vouch for my skill and capabilities as an instructor.”
“Much as I hate to admit it right now, getting personally trained by Arch is a fairly prestigious thing,” Krystal muttered.
“So . . . I’d have to leave everyone?” Albert looked at us with a panicked expression.
“You don’t have to,” I said quickly. “This is your choice, Albert. No one is going to make you do anything.”
“He’s right,” Arch said. “It’s your choice: learn to use your sword in a way that helps the world, or tuck it away and ignore the responsibility you’ve been charged with.”
“Fuck your guilt trips,” Neil spat, wrapping an arm around Albert’s shoulder. “He can make up his own mind.”
Arch crossed his arms. “And what you’re all doing isn’t guilting him into staying around and wasting his potential, to say nothing of the sword’s?”
Albert mumbled something under his breath, so soft that not even I could hear it over the steadily rising voices of people arguing. He shuffled awkwardly and stared at the ground, motions I knew all too well meant he had something to say, but was scared to speak. It was the same body language he’d had when he admitted to accidentally shredding three days’ worth of filing work.
Neil was reaching a fevered pitch. “Why don’t you take that—”
“Why don’t we all quiet down and listen to what Albert actually has to say.” Much as I loathed raising my voice, I knew it was a far easier task for me to accomplish than Albert. He gave me a grateful look, then turned to face everyone.
“Mr. Arch is right. This sword does come with responsibility. I can tell every time I draw it. There are things I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what. Just . . . things.”
Neil began speaking, but Albert stopped him with a hard stare.
“That said, it’s just a sword,” Albert continued. “I’m my own person. I get to choose what I do. Drawing the sword is no different than being turned into a vampire: I still get to decide what kind of person I am. So, no, Mr. Arch, I won’t go with you. I’m going to keep working as Fred’s assistant, keep hanging out with Bubba and Krystal and Amy, and keep spending my time with my best friend. If you really think what I can do is so important, then you can come to Winslow and teach me there.”
“What if I say this offer is non-ne
gotiable? You either come with me, or you get nothing.” Arch’s face was placid as always, hiding whatever true sentiment he felt. The man knew how to play things close to the vest, I had to give him that. It was an excellent skill, but against someone as straightforward as Albert, it was entirely wasted.
“Well, then I would have say—” Albert’s eyes darted over to me, then to Krystal, and then to me again. “I would have to ask you to, pretty please, if at all possible . . . go fuck yourself.”
The room was quiet as death. We all stared at Albert, some of us with mouths agape, shocked at his reply. Albert almost never cursed, and cursing in a way that told someone to piss off . . . that was completely unheard of. I sincerely don’t know how long we would have stood like that if another noise hadn’t broken the spell. It was unfamiliar at first, almost alien in nature. In fact, it was only after looking around and finding the source that I realized what it was.
Arch was laughing.
Not doubled over or anything, just small bubbles of mirth escaping his mouth, clearly unbidden. It didn’t last long, and once he realized, he resumed the usual hard-faced expression. But it was too late. The mask had slipped, and for just a moment, we’d seen past the stony-walled exterior of Agent Arch.
“I like you, Albert. If nothing else, you’ve got some serious brass ones on you. I’ll think over your counter-offer and be in touch. For now, all of you get out of here and go home. I’ve got paperwork to do.”
With that, Arch turned and walked out of the room, leaving us alone.
“It might not have seemed like it, but I’m pretty sure that was him agreeing to your conditions,” Krystal said. “Arch isn’t one to mull things over, and when he takes interest in something, it’s hell getting him to let go. My money says he’s booked a hotel room before we even land.” As she spoke, Krystal urged us forward, back into the halls that would hopefully be the start of our journey home.