by TR Cameron
His opponent made a sharp gesture, and the tables collided noisily as they tumbled toward him. He threw a wall of force in their path while he segmented the part of his mind that maintained the sai and ran to his left in case the barrier failed. The warrior gave a satisfied smile and rushed to intercept him. The trident lashed out, and he caught it on the curved guard of his lead sai, rotated the weapon to lock it against his opponent’s, and yanked it to the side. He stepped forward and stabbed with the other one, but a quick downward block of the magical bracer on the man’s forearm stopped it cold. His foe snapped that fist out at his face, and he disengaged and jumped aside to avoid the sweep of the freed trident.
The Atlantean laughed. “You are not worthy of this battle. A child could defeat you.”
Tanyith shook his head. “Whatever. If you were so confident, you wouldn’t have brought your little army along.”
The blonde-bearded man scowled. “That was not my choice.”
He shrugged. “Nevertheless, whoever told you to do it clearly didn’t think you were up to the task. Why is that, I wonder? Could it be that a girl half your size kicked your friend’s ass? I bet that’s it.”
His opponent didn’t reply but used his weapon to conjure three force beams that he swept across at chest height to try to slice him in half. Tanyith dropped and rolled to get under the attack and threw a fireball as he bounced to his feet. It struck his foe in the stomach but failed to ignite his clothes. For a moment, he was wreathed in flame before the attack vanished. Damn it.
The hasty plan hadn’t included anything other than evening the odds. He didn’t know anyone who had ever fought an Atlantean warrior, much less defeated one. Except Cali, and she didn’t explain how she did it. He shook his head. If I die at the hands of this dude, she’ll find a way to resurrect me so she can taunt me about failing where she succeeded. I’d better find a way to survive.
As motivations went, it was worse than most but better than some. The problem was that he didn’t know how to hurt the man. His mind sifted through options but discarded them as fast as they appeared. Blow him up with gas. No, the utilities are shut off. Electrocute him, but I have the same problem. Stab him. He dodged to the side as the trident poked at his face. Okay, no, his weapon is too long for that. Tanyith jumped into the gap that had been created behind the tables when they’d impacted the wall and sent his own blast of force forward to propel them toward the other man. He turned and leapt through the windows behind him, using a curved slab of force to protect him as he did so.
When he landed, he turned to watch the snarling man bat away the last of the tables. He smiled and shattered all the windows with a loud clap and hurled the broken shards at his foe. The warrior spun his trident in a blurred circle and intercepted the incoming projectiles. But they were only meant as a distraction since his first plan to beat him in a mostly fair one-on-one had failed.
A key feature of the school that had led them to use it as a hideout had been a nearby underground bunker, probably a relic of the Cold War. It had been damp and generally gross, but they’d set it up as a final position for defense against an attacking force. He shook his head as he ran to where he remembered the entrance to be. We always imagined we’d face the police or something. It never entered the realm of possibility we’d have to defend ourselves against one of our own.
The warrior roared in anger behind him, and Tanyith dove and rolled to avoid a potential attack. A blast of force rippled the air over his head. Too close. He found the heavy metal disc and yanked on it, to no avail. A look at his opponent showed him climbing out through the window. He’s like the damn terminator or something. Out of time, he blasted the cover free and leapt in after it. The seven-foot drop was easy and the dark hallway was ominous. He conjured a light in one hand and raced ahead, carefully avoiding the tripwires they’d so cleverly placed long before. Lack of use had allowed the water to seep in and the smell of mold and decay was almost overwhelming. Come on. Follow me in, you big jerk. A thump signaled that he’d received his wish, and he turned the corner at the far end.
The ladder was rusty but the trapdoor overhead was still intact. He backed away from the area and blasted an angled force burst that removed the wooden barrier. From behind him came a popping sound and a shout of anger. That’ll be the pepper spray. It’s great that it still worked. The traps were mainly physical, except for the final one he’d magically armed as he raced past. They also increased in effectiveness as one progressed. He stood under the open hole in the ceiling and looked at the maintenance building for the school, then lowered his gaze to await the appearance of his enemy.
The warrior rounded the corner, his face a mask of rage and murder, and Tanyith offered him a cheery wave and used a force blast to hurl himself up and through the opening. His foe’s growl was lost in the sound of explosions and a rush of water that filled and then collapsed the tunnel. It had been their last resort defense and the only fatal one, which was why it had required magic to shatter the first layer of plastic panels that held it in place behind the walls. The tripwire activated two hand grenades that broke the last barrier, which was only glass. It was lucky that the explosives still worked and the second layer of resistance was still whole.
He didn’t think the warrior could survive it, but he had seen too many movies to count on it. When he broke out of the building, he ran and as soon as he felt he’d reached a reasonable distance and portaled to the only place where he knew he’d be safe. The basement of the Drunken Dragons tavern was dark and chilly, but perfect. He drank half the healing potion he carried in a metal container in his pocket, conjured a sphere of warmth around himself, and succumbed to sleep. His second-to-last thought before unconsciousness claimed him was to hope that Sienna had made it to safety. The last one was a mental groan at the realization that he would need to buy another motorcycle.
Chapter Twenty-Four
After several sessions during the week since she’d begun training in mental magic with Emalia, Cali began to feel that she had made significant progress. Her mentor had taught her different approaches and different metaphors but overall, it came down to the same things—piercing the defenses, priming the target for a distraction, and delivering the distraction. She’d managed to increase her speed and her confidence, and today’s efforts had been the best so far. They’d practiced upstairs, but Emalia had insisted on a break before they continued and of course, that meant tea and cookies in the downstairs kitchenette area.
Cali took a sip from her cup of tea and lowered it to the table. “So, what’s next?”
Her teacher nibbled at the edge of a rectangle of shortbread before she set it daintily on the china plate in front of her. “Your skills are reliable in what we’ve practiced so far, so we are free to move on to new things. My thought is more direct influences.”
“Like mind control?” She was still more than a little freaked out over the idea that it was possible to use another being as a puppet.
Emalia sighed. “No. Simply causing an action rather than a reaction.”
“More explaining and less being mysterious, please.”
The older woman laughed. “Consider it like provoking a reflex. While you can’t make someone do a large chain of activities or something complicated, you could do smaller things.”
She thought about it. “Like making them sneeze at the wrong moment?”
Her aunt stretched across the table and tapped her on the forehead with her index finger. “Now you’re getting it.” She leaned back. “That would be at the easiest end of the range. Harder would be making them drop something they were holding since they’d have a competing desire to hang onto it. But things like that are certainly possible.”
Cali yawned and stretched. “I think maybe that’s a little much for today, though.”
“I have something else for us, anyway.”
“What?”
Her teacher grinned. “I visited the library and learned a little about the charm your parents
left you.”
She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table so quickly that the cups rattled in their saucers. “Oh, tell me more.”
“It’s a shield charm, as we thought. There are several possible activation words, but I couldn’t find any clear indication that one would be better than another or if these are all the possibilities. We’ll have to use trial and error to determine which one.”
Cali shrugged. “It seems simple enough.”
Emalia exhaled a small sigh. “With magic, everything has a risk. The improper word could have unintended consequences.”
She frowned. “Why?”
The older woman raised a hand as if beseeching the universe for understanding. “Magicals are not immune to paranoia or self-delusion. Sometimes, there are traps to prevent theft or misuse.”
“But my parents wouldn’t have done that.”
“And if we were positive that this was created by them, we could be confident that it was safe. But all we know is that they had it and that they wanted you to have it.”
“I trust them. And if anything does go wrong, you’re right here. So let’s give it a try.”
Emalia looked hesitant but nodded. She extended the charm, and Cali clipped it awkwardly onto the necklace she wore. Her mentor had performed a series of detection spells that she claimed proved it was nothing dangerous, and she had immediately started wearing it as a way to feel closer to her parents.
“Okay, what’s the first one?”
“Clypeus. And it’s not enough to simply say it. You must also will the shield into being.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s always fine print with you. What?”
Her aunt laughed. “When you say the word, you have to also actively want to be shielded from harm. Put that in the front of your mind.”
She suppressed several potential smartass remarks and nodded. “Okay.” She brought the idea of a protective barrier that looked much like one of Fyre’s ice attacks to her mind and whispered, “Clypeus.” She waited expectantly, but nothing happened.
“Apparently, it’s not that one, then. Try Clypeum.”
They worked through all the versions of several different words without any effect until they reached the last third of the list. When Cali whispered “Aspida,” a glimmer appeared in the air around her but faded quickly.
Emalia leaned forward. “That’s the one, then, but you need to concentrate harder to activate it.” She held a hand up to stop the girl from doing so. “Since there were no other matching charms in the bag your parents left, I’ve worked under the assumption that it's reusable, but it’s also possible that it will be consumed if you cast it. Now that we’ve stumbled on the word without invoking the spell, do you want to try it now or wait for an emergency?”
As always, Cali wanted to know but restrained herself with a frown. “It seems stupid to use it without a reason if it’s a one-shot. Let’s wait.”
The woman nodded and looked uncomfortable. “When I was at the library, I found something out about the sword that seems to connect with the Atlanteans’ attack on you.”
She perked up. The lack of understanding had gnawed at her, and she hadn’t had a single idea about how to resolve it other than relying on Emalia to find something out or asking Zeb to inquire among his friends. She’d held off on the latter to see if her teacher could make any headway. “What did you find?”
“We have to start with a brief history lesson.” Emalia stood to refill both teacups, set the pot down, and remained standing. “In ancient Atlantis, there were two routes to power. First, you could be born into the right family.”
“Royalty?” Cali interrupted.
Emalia waggled a hand. “Kind of, but not exactly like you know the term. More like a council formed of several ruling families, a member of which would hold the position of monarch at any given time. But the remainder still wielded significant influence.”
She nodded doubtfully. “Okay, gotcha. And the second way?”
“Ritual combat.”
“So anyone could essentially become royal?”
Her aunt snorted. “Of course not. The trials were to determine who could compete to be monarch. They did allow one commoner each time a Rite of Succession was invoked, but they didn’t usually last very long. In any case, one version of the rite that I found described included battles with a delay between them. The gang might be using a ritual approach to attacking you. When the woman said, ‘next level,’ it probably meant something like next round.”
Cali frowned. “Why on Earth or Oriceran would they do that?”
Her teacher sat again and looked her in the eye. “I can’t be certain, but that might have something to do with the blade piece your parents left you. I found a picture of a sword with similar markings, and the story that ran alongside it told of an artifact weapon that had been broken in battle and the pieces gathered and distributed among the royal families at the time.”
The implication hit her, and she whispered, “Holy Hell.”
Emalia nodded. “Exactly. It’s extremely likely that at some point in your history, your family was royalty. And it’s completely guaranteed that you’ll be attacked again when the week they promised is up.”
“Maybe we should have Karaoke on Wednesdays.” Zeb’s voice was teasing but Cali wasn’t in the most receptive of moods since half her brain still tried to process the revelations from earlier in the day.
“Maybe you should simply accept that some nights are slower than others.” The customers had been steady and surprisingly needy, but the extra attention she’d provided hadn’t resulted in increased tips, a situation she found highly annoying.
Her irritation only made his grin grow wider. He spoke as if he were thinking deeply. Internally, she called it his “philosopher’s voice.” Externally, she accused him of being slow-minded most of the times he used it. “A second game night each month, maybe.”
She rolled her eyes. “Heaven forbid. One is more than enough. I’d prefer the Karaoke.”
The front door opened and Tanyith walked in, a shiny black motorcycle helmet under his arm. He handed it over, and Zeb stashed it behind the bar. She asked, “So?”
He nodded. “Yeah. They had eyes on the place.” He’d been out to check on his apartment. “I found watchers guarding virtually every way in.”
“Will you portal?”
“No. It’s far too likely that there will be a trap waiting for me. There’s nothing of real value left behind. Most importantly, Sienna texted and she’s safe.”
Zeb clapped briskly. “That’s worthy of a toast.” He pulled three short glasses of cider and handed them out. “To Sienna.”
They replied in kind, clinked glasses, and drank. “So, should we skip meeting the ship, then?” she asked.
Tanyith shook his head decisively. “Absolutely not. The faster we dig to the bottom of all this garbage, the faster we’ll be able to get out from under it and return to our normal lives.”
“There’s nothing normal about you, dude,” she quipped,
Zeb replied, “I’m the only normal one among us.”
She laughed. “Oh yeah, totally.” She turned to Tanyith. “So, what are you hoping to get out of the boat people?” Someone shouted her name from behind her, and she held a hand up with a sigh. “Wait a sec.” She twisted and yelled, “What?” before she headed toward the complaining patron. One thing led to another, and she returned to the conversation after a twenty-minute delay and clambered onto her high seat again. “Okay, where were we?”
The dwarf laughed. “Discussing why Fyre is so much smarter than you.” A snort from the floor behind the bar registered the Draksa’s support for the comment.
Cali called, “Shut up, you,” but it was filled with affection. She pointed Zeb. “And you, buddy, if you know what’s good for you.”
She faced Tanyith with a fake smile. “You were saying?”
“I guess there’s a lot on the table here. First, we want to see if the Atlan
tean gang actually is meeting them at the docks and whether they’re using offers or threats to get them to come here. I really hope it’s the former. That’s how we would have done it in my time. And the fact that the new arrivals are socialized in the islands before coming here makes that seem more likely.”
“Are we okay with it, if it is?”
He shrugged. “Not entirely, at least for me, but I don’t know any better way to help the newcomers at this point. We can work that angle once we have more information.”
The response was disappointing, not because he didn’t have a plan but because she hated the idea of new arrivals being immediately pulled into the gang’s influence. Unfortunately, she lacked any other ideas at the moment. “Okay. What if it’s threats?”
Tanyith gave a crooked smile. “Well, that’s easier. We stop it.”
“And then what happens to the people?”
“I guess we’ll need to loop Barton in—or a more appropriate police division.”
Cali laughed. “She’ll be around there anyway, I’m sure.”
He nodded. “Yeah. She wouldn’t give us the info and not arrive to see what we do with it.”
“Do you miss her?”
With a sigh, he turned to Zeb. “Refill?” He extended his glass and the dwarf took it. After fortifying himself with a few slow sips, Tanyith answered her question. “Not nearly as much as I miss the serenity of life before I knew you.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “So you’d rather go back to prison? We could probably make that happen for you.”
He shook his head. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“You’re right. That was unfair. I’m sorry.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “So, is that everything?”
“No. There are a couple of other things we need to find out. First, are the Zatoras kidnapping and imprisoning people from the ships? If so, we determine how that’s happening and make it stop.” She nodded in complete agreement. “Second, are there any other Atlantean gang activities going on with the ships? It seems logical that they’d choose portals wherever they can, but maybe not. Logically, if you have access to a giant boat, it makes sense that you’d use it.”