Tales from the Oriceran Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Volume 1 (Oriceran Fans Write For the Fans)

by Michael Anderle

  “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “It’s back!” She turned to look at Trig and said again, “It’s back!” She let out a huge laugh. The rush of magic had healed the last of her wounds, and she felt great.

  She left the magic extractor where it was. When the cleaners arrived, they would take care of it, as well as the bodies and blood. There would be nothing left on the property to show that they had ever been there.

  She sighed. There was still a lot of work to do back at the office. They had reports to write, and two wonderful ogre children needed to get back to their family.

  Epilogue

  Thankfully the rest of their day was uneventful.

  Once they got approval, they took Roderick and Petunia through a portal to Oriceran. Their mother was waiting for them as the portal opened. She was a very big ogre, but also a very happy one. The Order had been able to get word to Oriceran and had let the ogre parents know that the two children were OK. They were very grateful. Stephanie hugged the two children before stepping into the portal to return home.

  Before they started writing their reports, both the captain and Trig insisted that Stephanie get checked out by the Order’s medic, and thankfully she received a clean bill of health. Somehow, she had completely healed when her magic returned to her. Her magic wasn’t the healing kind, so that surprised her, but she wasn’t going to question it since she felt great.

  It was starting to get late when they finished the last of the reports. Trig stood up and put out a hand for Stephanie to take. “It may be too late for Jeff’s. Raincheck?”

  Stephanie smiled and nodded. “Raincheck.”

  “Nellie’s is still open. Do you want to go dancing?” As an afterthought, he looked at her and said, “By the way, I will consider this a date.”

  She smiled at him. “Hell, yes! It's a date. Let’s go dancing.”

  He gave her a big smile in return and offered her his arm.

  They walked by the captain as they were leaving and they heard him mutter, “It’s about damn time!” as they left the building.

  FINIS

  Author's Notes

  Honestly, I have no idea how I came up with the idea of Pembroke. I just started thinking about a gnome who was upset with his life working in the library and ran with it. I didn’t start out imagining him being so angry, but that’s how he ended up after writing him.

  I was a police officer when I was younger and in shape. I tried to write Stephanie and Trig the way I remember. Hopefully, everyone enjoys these two.

  Story-writing is enjoyable for me. I hope my enjoyment transfers to the written page. I will write stories regardless, but if other people gain enjoyment from them, I am even happier.

  Thank you for reading All in a Day’s Work. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

  — Lisa

  Southwest Style

  By Craig Lewis

  Poverty and lack of opportunity can lead to a vicious cycle. Lack of local opportunity compels anyone seeking better to seek it elsewhere. This is particularly true when such individuals were in fact exceptional enough to be noticed even among bigger fish in a big pool. Those who choose to remain with their roots and protect and guide those who would otherwise be forgotten can well be considered heroes.

  Dedicated to Martha Carr and Michael Anderle for building a sandbox then inviting us in to play, and to all the authors whose works fire the dreams to let us travel outside ourselves.

  Prelude

  School of Necessary Magic, Three Years Ago

  The room had extensive reinforcement, both magical and mundane. It was one of several on the campus of the School of Necessary Magic, but this was one of the strongest. Past experience with the experiment about to be conducted suggested this was absolutely necessary.

  The room contained few items. A long, spare steel table contained a vacuum-sealed bag exceptionally heavy for its size, and a tiny open dish of empowered liquid silver. And a ferret, sitting on the edge with its eyes closed in an attitude that clearly demonstrated complete attention to its surroundings.

  Other than the ferret, two young males stood across from each other near the middle of the table. Discerning people would see flashes of the shielding spells maintained by the faculty members monitoring the experiment from the room’s observation area.

  The Light Elf’s hands were poised. “We’ve got everything down. I can feel it. Ready when you are.” The human nodded. He’d call the cadence until the process was complete...or the experiment blew up. Again.

  “Join and form the mold.” Two lines of power emerged from the mages, passing to—no, through—the ferret. The converged line was denser and more powerful than either source line.

  The human shaped the emergent line. First came a long, mostly flat and narrow shape, obscured slightly by the power’s radiance. Next came a pair of bands circumscribing the central shape, one horizontally oriented, the other vertically. All participants, and clearly this included the ferret, paused to inspect the new construct briefly.

  “Injection.” The sealed packet rose, to be sliced open with a gesture. The contents, an advanced powdered steel, were directed into the mold.

  “Refine.” Students of sword forms could now recognize the shape, or at least its influence, as Japanese: roughly a wakizashi with an integrated guard. Even the groove was present. A purist might object; the tsuka was far too short.

  “Set.” The ferret nodded as it took control of the field for now, freeing the mages to power the next stages.

  “Pulse.” This was the first stage where destructive failure might occur, but it had been some time since that had happened. An electromagnetic pulse of high intensity but exceptional brevity converted the powdered steel into something with a much more structured appearance.

  “Heat.” This took time. The mages poured energy into the metal steadily until a dull red glow emerged. The vertical and horizontal bands trapped and recirculated the thermal energy radiating from the form.

  “Scribe.” The human held the heat stable while the elf adjusted the pressure field. Various runes were being traced into the shinogi, the blade ridge above the groove, which was a delicate process. The runes had to be drawn precisely, and the entire rune construct was connected. Editing didn’t work; they’d learned that, too. No, a mistake would force the entire scribing phase to start over.

  Some minutes later, the elf paused to catch his breath. Both heavily sweating mages reviewed the completed runes with approval.

  “Silver.” This was the companion phase. The runes did nothing without the silver. It flowed into the etched lines as the field was reshaped to lay out the runes onto the metal, leaving glittering tracework flush with the still-dark steel. As Sedrec completed the silver injection, Ramon clamped the field even tighter to lock it into the rune pattern.

  “Vise.” The mages took control of the form again, increasing the pressure to about five hundred psi. This was far from enough to execute the sintering, but it greatly aided the overall stability to do this. This fact had been identified by the elf during early process reviews.

  “Build charges.” The elf had control of the pressure field. His job would be to crush the metal with twenty thousand psi at the right time. The human prepared a small, intense, carefully calibrated lightning strike. The combination would complete the electro-sintering process...or explode spectacularly.

  “Sinter charge ready.”

  “Pressure pulse ready.” The elf insisted on having a line in the script...and it was his responsibility anyway. They couldn’t hold this kind of power for long, either.

  “OK, Felicia, on my count.” The ferret, actually a spirit who preferred to manifest in its current form, would trigger the spells. The sinter took only thousandths of a second, and mortal reaction times were inadequate to ensure simultaneity. And if it went bad...

  “Three...two...one...now!”

  The flash was dazzling.

  The form…

  HELD!

&n
bsp; The mostly finished sword blade floated serenely. The work wasn’t done, not yet; they still had to anneal, then quench the blade while empowering and then sealing the runes. These steps were equally important, but low-risk. The mages performed them with due diligence considering the massive effort to reach this point, and the fatigue, physical and magical, it had caused. After another half-hour’s work, the blade was complete. Blue energy rippled through the runes as a minor light spell was boosted to flashbulb intensity.

  They’d done it. Ramon Montero and Sedrec the Light Elf had successfully completed their joint senior project—and Ramon had his sword’s blade.

  Sedrec would have to wait a few weeks for his.

  Chapter One

  Las Cruces, New Mexico

  The morning Mass in Spanish had concluded some time ago, but five people had remained after inside the small Holy Family church. One was an older gentleman dressed soberly, albeit lacking a clerical collar. He was inspecting and lightly polishing the ciborium, by which task his position became evident: sacristan. Two others were teenage boys, dressed casually but in spotlessly clean clothing as they restored the nave area, refreshed the consumed votives, and generally helped set the church back to rights.

  The last two—one human, one Light Elf—had just finished swapping an old pew in need of restoration for one that had recently received that attention when from each of their pockets the same curious sound emerged.

  “Privateering, we will go

  Privateering, Yoh! oh! ho!

  Privateering, we will go

  Yeah! oh! oh! ho!”

  Ramon Montero answered before the Knopfler lines started again, giving the sacristan a sheepish glance. That ringtone, one of three, suggested that taking this call was not optional.

  “Spellswords, this is Ramon.” Spellswords was the business he and his partner, the elf across the pew, ran—part bounty hunting, part Anti-Enhanced Threat support team. Las Cruces, New Mexico wasn’t exactly up to paying for full-time AET support, so at need, the pair provided their services at rates the local governments could handle.

  “Mr. Montero, I’m glad I reached you. My name is Jim Thomas and I oversee the White Sands Reserve.” The Reserve primarily entailed the land that had formerly been the White Sands Missile Range south of US 70. The range had been decommissioned as a military base a decade before. Given a stark lack of motivation to attempt commercial development, the area had been turned into a desert wildlife preserve. “We have an incident with some...non-native wildlife, and we would like your company’s assistance. It’s nothing any of us have heard of, including a Wood Elf the Gardener sent.”

  Montero glanced at his elven partner Sedrec, who had been listening on his phone and now gave him a thumbs-up.

  “One moment, please.” He covered his phone and addressed the sacristan. “Sorry, we’re gonna have to bug. They’re having problems in Mordor.”

  The man turned to the boys. “Finish that up and you’re done for today. Two more weeks, though! And if you give Mr. Santos any problems? Don’t. Right?” The boys averred they’d be good. Ramon turned his attention back to his caller as he and Sedrec started out to their car.

  “Sorry; just wrapping up something. OK, so what’s the word?”

  “We’re doing population studies, as you know, mostly using drones. Audio picked up an unusual high-pitched sound—something like a roar in falsetto, they said. The camera caught a brief glimpse of a critter that looked to have two heads. One was dog-like, the other reptilian, best they could tell...because right then darts or something flew up and blew the drone away.”

  “Belial’s bleeding balls! Fine, the darts make it sound like a manticore, but two heads? Some dickwad on the Oriceran side probably dumped the results of a magic experiment here so he doesn’t get blamed for it.”

  “Yes, and I’ll file a report at the Palace if so. That’s illegal experimentation even in Oriceran. Mr. Thomas, this is Sedrec. Where and when are you staging? We’re gearing up now.”

  “White Sands HQ, and ASAP.”

  “I know the missile park adequately, so we’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

  “What?” Mr. Thomas’ reactions were still not conditioned to a magical world, but his position required a somewhat greater knowledge of it than many. Portals were handy. “It’s a twenty minute drive... Oh. Right. Great! See you there shortly, then.”

  As the pair completed their preparations, using gear from the magically secured case in the trunk—what looked to be light ballistic vests, desert hiking boots, Glock 41s with extra clips, light packs, and of course their personal runeswords from which they took the company name—the other “partner” darted across the grass from the garden and jumped onto the hood, and then to the roof.

  Ramon looked at the ferret now peering at him. “You get lucky? Hope so, cuz we don’t have time to hit the house for a snack.” The ferret sent him images of yippy little dogs that must have belonged to neighbors with a general sense of disgust.

  Ramon just laughed. “Well we’re heading to Mordor, so who knows? You might get a bite over there.” He held out his arm for Felicia, his pet/friend/familiar/guardian spirit, so she could ride in her usual place on his right shoulder. Felicia didn’t have a problem with churches, but they weren’t her favorite places.

  Sedrec just smiled. “I presume you and Her Majesty are now ready?” He was already opening the portal.

  Chapter Two

  White Sands Main Post

  Four humans, a female Light Elf, and a male Wood Elf were at the park when they stepped through the portal. Sedrec darted over to give the Light Elf a bear hug, and the oldest human came to shake hands with Ramon.

  “Mr. Montero, I’m Jim Thomas. Glad you got here so fast. Not sure how long this’ll take, and I do not want to give this thing any more of a chance to make trouble than I have to.” He started the introductions as the others (sans the hugging, chattering Light Elves) came forward. “This here is Dan Mirles. He’s one of our licensed wardens.” The weather-beaten man nodded, his rifle in cradle carry. “This is Eric Armstrong. Ex-Army; used to be stationed here, in fact. He knows the ground.” Armstrong preferred a sling carry, and he’d clearly taken his gear with him after discharge. “And this is Stan Davidson. He’s our comms guy. Drones are being run from HQ, and they talk to him.”

  The Light Elves sauntered up as the Wood Elf spoke. “I am Marben. Given the nature of this preserve, the Gardener felt supervision was prudent, and he chose me for that role. I’ve seen salamanders, firehawks, minor basilisks, and even a few lesser drakes. All ordinary enough, for Oriceran anyway, and no real threat. But this? I have no idea.”

  “So that probably means it’s illegal, so he fetched me.” The female Light Elf smiled at the group, then focused on Ramon. “I’m Treasa...and yes, I’m Sed’s distant cousin. We haven’t seen much of each other in years! You must be his boyfriend?”

  “And here you had me worried I was finding one of his old flames. Yep, I’m Ramon. Nice to meet you.” He gave her a hug; he had technically been family since his and Sedrec’s joining ceremony.

  “Nice to meet all of you. Tall, blond, and dour is my partner Sedrec, and on my shoulder is Felicia. She should be a big help finding this thing and probably keeping everyone from becoming a pincushion if this is anything like a manticore.

  “We’re both registered class-five bounty hunters and fully licensed mages. We’re also about the closest there is to an AET-level response in the area, and we have state authorization. El Paso has a swarm of bounty hunters, but they’re...not civic-minded. Considering Juarez, they don’t need to be, I suppose. Tell us what you can do, so we know what we need to do. Dan?”

  “Physical enhancements, thanks to a useful artifact. Stronger and tougher than usual, don’t care about the heat, and I heal fairly fast.”

  Eric nodded. “No artifacts but sniper trained. Very accurate ranging and sight to about a thousand yards, not that we’re likely to have a shot that lon
g, not out here.” The old Missile Range terrain only looked flat, and mesquite dotted the landscape as well, offering cover to anything low to the ground. Given the basilisks and salamanders, it wasn’t the safest of places.

  Treasa and Marden had bows and elven abilities, so Ramon wasn’t worried about them. “OK, so do we know where the thing is?”

  Eric answered, “It was about six or seven miles east out Nike Avenue, where the various launch sites were—which should cut down on the cross-country. The road’s not in great shape, but it’s a lot better than hauling ass cross-country.”

  Ramon was the public face. Sedrec was stronger tactically. “We have to think it heard the drone and took exception to it. We need to nail down its location, and the final approach will have to be on foot. I don’t think the tail spikes are too much of a threat, but only if we know where they’re coming from. Stan, how many drones do you have that can work this scrub?”

  “Just two that can cover any kind of ground. Front view. I’ll have both on a split screen.”

  “Excellent. Felicia, if Your Majesty would be so kind as to follow the road—let’s say, out to this complex, LC-35. That’s a good outer limit for now, I think. Stan, have the drones fly five hundred meters to either side. If that doesn’t work, we’ll plan some other passes as time permits.”

  Ramon looked at Felicia. “And if you eat a basilisk or salamander, you know damn well you’re banned from the house for the night...at least. And pace the drones, please. You’ll see them; the drone operators won’t see you.”

  The humans’ faces were etched with concern: was this guy sane? Having the ferret issue a wheezy, toothy hic-hic sound that was blatantly laughter didn’t help much. Seeing Felicia change into her spirit form, which was translucent and caused the sunlight to prism everywhere, stunned them into belief.