To Fling a Light

by Wong Yoong Le

  I raised a finger, willing for that particular piece of sky to be clear again. As a practitioner, I was unable to directly affect beings that harbored life. Usually, I went with just blasting solidified masses of air or dropping them on the heads of unfortunate enemies; but for this mockery of life, I had a simpler solution. Releasing any sentiment of control, I indulged in a feeling of raw power coursing through me briefly; before I spoke.

  “Vanish.”

  The light reflecting off the… flying object disappeared. The dissolution of the unnatural cold marking its destruction. Given that I had relinquished all control, I had no choice over how its destruction came to be, but it was the most efficient way to deal with such an elusive enemy. If I had done that to something that possessed human intelligence, I would have had to pay an equivalent price. My own life. In return for the one I had taken; an equivalent exchange.

  Given that I was still alive and very much unharmed, it was clear that my initial hunch was correct. The fact that this creature was a familiar formed from ectoplasm meant that there was a collaborator: for the sealing of the Far Shore meant the destruction of all ectoplasmic bodies that were currently on Earth. Someone in our world had created the scout and formed a new outgoing link from it to our enemies, for no other being other than the Outsiders could mold ectoplasm and grant it false life. I felt a chill run down my spine, one that didn’t come from the crisp night air.

  It was pure madness to work with the Outsiders. They were, by and large, insane. They were incomprehensible to humanity; and even to the already hard to understand supernatural beings of Earth.

  But the appearance of this scout meant that someone actually had the balls to work with them. My breathing grew heavier at that thought. I wasn’t sure how many collaborators the Far Shore had here, but it couldn’t be too much; only the desperate and desolate would take them up, and these people were the minority in Singapore. And of this minority, people with the required level of ability to work with the Outsiders were fewer still.

  I had read somewhere that their visual appeal; if one stretched the dictionary definition of that term into a fictional realm, was on par with the monsters of Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos. After seeing what was most likely an Outsider a few days ago, I had to agree.

  At any rate, able and sane people wouldn’t consider them a working partner. That said, when they contacted potential helpers, the Outsiders usually appeared in tamer forms… but it wasn’t too hard to notice that they were disguising themselves. Of course, one could try confusing them with certain supernatural beings, but you would have to try really hard when they had two to three extra appendages.

  Far Shore collaborators had to be distorted in mind, to be able to work with them. But these sorts of people were also the most unsuitable to carry out any covert tasks the Far Shore might give them. As such, only some unique types of people would work.

  As for what these people were like, the book I’d read didn’t offer a clear picture. I had asked my mentor before regarding what a denizen of the Far Shore was like, and he looked at me really weirdly, before ignoring my question. Entering our world with their original bodies carried risks, so most of them used an ectoplasmic proxy-body to carry out their dastardly deeds; and I’d gotten real curious about their real forms at that time.

  However, it seemed that even Igor himself hadn’t traversed over to the Far Shore before, although he was one of the few probably capable of doing so.

  At any rate, for the Far Shore to use their collaborators to scout us meant that this job was more than meets the eye. I was pretty sure that I wasn’t the only one to harbor such suspicions, but it was time to find out what the catch really was.

  After a few minutes of intense monitoring, I relaxed and sat down on the floor. It seemed like there were no more scouts for the time being, at any rate. I yawned audibly, waiting for my shift to end.

  Chapter 13

  The sun shone down on the bouncing beach ball brought out by a father and daughter pair. They were playing something akin to keep-up, dribbling the ball between themselves. It was around 11 a.m., and the sun blazed down quite harshly; very harshly, actually. I squinted as the ball, at the zenith of its parabola, reflected the harsh sun beams into my eyes.

  “Makes you feel like you’re young again, huh?” Miles, who was relaxing beside me, mused out loud.

  Both of us were seated in chairs at the beach: underneath a frilly parasol that had seen better days.

  “The last time I played with balls was in junior college.”

  I gazed at the ball wistfully. There was some charm in the little bouncy thing, but it was too hot out there for me to even consider joining in.

  He snorted. “Your wording is rather exquisite.”

  I rolled my eyes at his comment, which was just building him up to be a cliché perverted old man. He looked at the colorful beach ball flying around for a bit longer, before closing his eyes.

  “Aurora’s roughly your age, but she seems more invested in these innocent games. I don’t have much to say about it, but it’s nice to see some family bonding here; unlike most families today.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s nice to see a parent doting on his child,” I added on, a melancholic tone permeating my words.

  Miles looked at me briefly, before turning back to watch the game. I was grateful for his silence.

  At some point in time, while we were talking, Hao Wei had joined in with the festivities… which threw my reading of his character somewhat off.

  “Speaking of games,” Miles asked, “what hobbies do you have?”

  “I can’t claim to have anything as a hobby.” I frowned, as I sifted through my memories. “I usually drop things after a few days of doing them. Guess I’m not good at committing myself to anything, huh? In fact, practitioner training is the only thing I actually stuck with.”

  I smiled mirthlessly; it was true. I really couldn’t find it in myself to dedicate my all to any particular activity. It was like a curse of sorts, if you ask me. Thanks to that, I never really invested much money in indulging my whims; not like I had the money anyway.

  Miles shrugged in a non-committal way in response, and we lapsed into silence.

  Right when I was on the verge of nodding off, the beach ball, powered by some forsaken misaimed throw, came barreling towards me. Before I could lift a finger, however, Miles had already acted, and the ball stopped barely an inch from my face.

  I grabbed the ball and tossed it back.

  “Thanks.”

  My eyes followed the ball around, as it bounced around randomly.

  Kicking back, Miles reclined on the chair, his wrinkled face not looking so aged all of a sudden. “Think nothing of it, kid.”

  His hand was holding a small stick, in a fashion reminiscent of a conductor and his baton. It was ornately decorated with golden carvings and scribbles.

  Miles caught my curious gaze and smiled. “It’s a focus tool. I guess you youngsters would call it a wand, but focus tools come in all shapes and sizes.”

  He raised his left forearm, where a tattoo could be vaguely seen. “It’s just paint and ink, but it helps to anchor an image. This tattoo here shortens the time needed to transmit voices over long distances.”

  He rolled the wand around in his fingers. “As for this wand, it’s a bona fide focus tool, in that it helps me channel mana. I can complete general spells without taking more than a second with it. It’s pretty handy, and worth a pretty penny too. I ended up in debt for two years after I got this baby.”

  I was starting to see why he was pretty desperate for this job. Being a wizard probably required a fair bit of money. I wasn’t exactly the right person to understand, given that I didn’t really need to spend, but I could get behind the idea of buying lots of artefacts.

  “It’s lucky that the pay for this job’s really good, huh?”

  “All thanks to you, kid.” Miles grinned widely, rubbing his hands. “But what will you be spending yo
ur hard-earned cash on?”

  “Me?” I tapped my feet, contemplating. “I haven’t thought that through yet, so I’ll just toss it into the bank. I’ll probably use it to fund my university education: at worst, it’ll collect interest for me. Maybe I’ll spoil myself with some good food while I’m at it.”

  “Speaking of food…” Miles glanced at his wrist, presumably looking at something. “It’s lunchtime — free food ahoy!”

  He got up and rushed for the dining room, leaving me behind. When was the last time he had a pay raise? In 1959? I debated briefly whether to join him, but ultimately decided against it, and walked towards the three people playing keep-up.

  “Isn’t it a bit too sunny right now?” I winced as I walked into the sunny area.

  My skin was pallid white—a direct consequence of staying in a de-sunned realm for a good few months. Coming home to the August sun a week ago had caused some skin to flake off; and I had only stayed outside for a few minutes to open the door.

  “Nope.”

  “Feels alright to me.”

  “The sun’s gentle!”

  The trio responded together, causing me to wrinkle my brows. There was some newfound coordination at work here. Was playing some ball games enough to unit them in heart and mind? Speechless, I retreated into the shade. It didn’t occur to me that these three idiots could actually take the heat, and I threw another withering look at the frolicking adults, before entering the house. I was getting scared of them; and I read online that stupidity was infectious.

  “Ah, welcome back, kid. Lunch isn’t half bad today!” a spirited voice greeted me as I entered the dining room.

  I sniffed the air, before looking at the dishes. And for the second time in two minutes, I was left speechless. Every single plate had more space than food on them. Like the shrimp dumplings. Especially the shrimp dumplings. I silently picked up my utensils and scooped the rest onto my plate.

  “Hey!”

  I ignored his protest and started eating, shoveling rice and kidnapping bits and pieces of other dishes. I tossed a particularly large piece of crab stick on my plate, looking at it with some satisfaction.

  “Come to think of it, where’s Crow? I haven’t seen him all day.”

  Miles smirked, his cutlery clinking as he mirrored my acts of kidnapping food. “He’s outside of that grassy maze thing, polishing his dagger.”

  “Dagger?” I tilted my head in confusion.

  I squinted and recalled that Crow was holding a very ordinary knife yesterday. “Wasn’t it your usual kitchen knife?”

  “Nuh-uh. It’s a ceremonial dagger: the kind used in The Duchess of Malfi,” his grin grew wider as he said these words.

  Choosing my words carefully, I confirmed with Miles again. “So… he’s just polishing his dagger?”

  “Yep, what of it?”

  “I… see.” I shoveled in another spoonful of rice and shrimp, thus sparing me the need to reply further. It was territory that I didn’t want to exactly touch after all. Maybe I’ll let someone more naive talk to him next time. Like Hao Wei, who was still playing outside: or Aurora.

  Trying not to make eye contact with Miles, who had obviously gotten into a mood unsuitable for the dining table, I quickly polished off the plate and left the room—pushing open the door leading outside, just in time for the trio to enter.

  “Better hurry, or there’ll be nothing left.”

  Dropping that sentence, I braced myself as I stepped into the sun. I felt my skin shrivel up, and my footsteps hastened to where Miles last saw Crow.

  The hooded figure that was Crow squatting on the ground came into view as I brushed away a stray flower. A bead of sweat rolled down my face as I looked at him. Just the sight of him so warmly wrapped up was enough to make me sweat. The hooded jacket had changed to a nice beige color, which was a pleasant change.

  Sensing my presence, Crow looked up, but the regular sound of metal grinding on stone didn’t cease. He looked at me quizzically, head tilted.

  I cleared my throat. “Erm, lunch is ready.”

  He nodded silently in reply, the hood bobbing harder than his head. He was holding on to something that looked suspiciously like one of the stray stones lying around the flower bed, and a dagger in the other hand.

  “So,” I asked, “you’re just polishing your dagger, right?”

  Something in his eyes changed, a hint of mockery in his eyes. Truth be told, it was just for the sake of conversation that I asked him. I scratched my head awkwardly and started kicking at stray pebbles, waiting for him to reply.

  “It’s just a kitchen knife: I added some small decorations to the handle to personalize it, that’s all.”

  He flipped the knife upwards, catching it by the blade skillfully. My eyes shifted to the handle. It was colored in the usual matt-grey that I’d come to expect from kitchen knives and didn't resemble a dagger in the least.

  “There’s something wrong about this, isn’t there?”

  My eyes followed the finely-decorated handle. Little stickers, the flowery and cheerful kind, were pasted on every available surface. The dedication the owner had towards this piece of cutlery was obvious, and you couldn’t help but praise the owner for it. The oddity only came when one realized that the owner of the knife was not a young girl who loved cooking, but someone who was apparently an assassin.

  “Is there?” Crow brushed me off.

  It was entirely possible that I was being insensitive or something, or I was still unconsciously bound by gender expectations. He tossed the knife again, catching it in the same way, before slashing and stabbing at the air a few times.

  I backed away, one step at a time.

  He was still wearing the face mask, and rather than an assassin who prided himself on blending into the background, he looked closer to a sociopathic murderer with a knife walking into a crowded area. It didn’t matter that the handle was decorated nicely with flowers and hearts: the moment he gripped it, that fact stopped mattering.

  The knife flourished around his hand masterfully one last time, before vanishing into the jacket. He got up, tossing the stone onto the ground, and made for the hut. As the hooded figure disappeared, I swallowed down a lump in my throat. A cold bead of sweat ran down my spine.

  Once I was sure he was gone, I picked up the stone. There were a few grooves, but all of them had been ground so smoothly that I couldn’t help but wonder about the knife he was using.

  I glanced around furtively again, before I pocketed the stone. A few more grooves of that quality here and there, and I could start passing it off as some rare item to aspiring wizards and cultivators.

  Probably. I brushed my dusty knees, wiping it clean of some grayish powder, before following Crow back into the maze of flowers and vegetation.

  Chapter 14

  I watched Hao Wei’s beet-red face twitch, his veins popping with concentration, and I suppressed an urge to laugh at his ridiculous appearance. He was seated cross-legged in front of me, gritting his teeth, as he tried to comprehend the rules governing the world.

  The natural barrier called talent pervaded all aspects of human society. Unfortunately, being a practitioner did not exempt you from them. When I started, I was also unable to understand Physical Laws: it was natural.

  Physical Laws, otherwise known as Natural Laws, governed virtually every aspect of everyday life, and ranged from manipulating friction to movement vectors. It was something so natural, that few people truly understood them.

  But my innate talent allowed me to simply bend these laws through my will, without needing to manipulate them intimately. That was the state I was in; a crutch that I had never stopped relying on: but as far as practitioners went, I was an anomaly. My surroundings heeded my very words, creating wonders as I willed them to be, but a practitioner’s true value laid in the subtle and precise manipulation of all types of laws, not the creation of phenomena.

  Miles and Mr. Meng were watching Hao Wei on the side, and upon noticing me tr
ying to suppress my laughter, beckoned me over.

  “What’s he doing?” Mr. Meng asked, a dubious look on his face.

  I schooled my expression, trying to look important and all-knowing. “He’s trying to comprehend Physical Laws. He’s almost there: it’s just that he looks like he has constipation.”

  I shook my head, and my laughter subsided. “His ability to comprehend is leagues above mine. Right now, he just needs a few more steps, and he’ll be able to manipulate Natural Law.”

  Miles’ eyes lit up. “So, he’s closer to being like you?”

  I nodded, my eyes feeling weird. Something was trying to flow out. Was this the feeling a teacher had when he saw his pupil graduating? It was weird, this feeling… but I didn’t mind it. I patted myself on the back mentally.

  “The pupil has surpassed the master, huh,” Aurora, who had poked her head into the room, chose this moment to make that comment.

  I felt my face slightly cramp, and my back started stinging. That felt like a low blow, somehow, despite it not being the case.

  “Aurora! Don’t be rude!” Mr. Meng hastily admonished his daughter.

  He slapped his forehead, before bowing to me. “My apologies, Mr. Newton. My daughter likes to shoot off her mouth, please pay her no heed.”

  I waved my hand, brushing his apology away. “It’s the first time I’ve been on the receiving end, but it’d be hypocritical of me to blame her when I do the same on a frequent basis. Plus, she’s not wrong.”

  After all, I never did take anything seriously. No true effort: No true dedication. I never put in the effort or had the drive to excel, so it was little wonder that the hard worker that Hao Wei embodied would go way further than me. I could picture him sitting up all night, trying to live up to his gift; his ability as a practitioner.

  I sighed, this time with a mix of complex emotions. I looked at his face, scrunched up with even more concentration. It wasn’t too late for me to put in true effort: it wasn’t like I hadn’t put in effort while I was at Igor’s. But that was the only time I actually put my mind to it.