Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Your vehicle should be up in a few moments, Mr. Delgado,” the man said as he fumbled the connected ear and mouthpiece back into the base of the device.

  “Was that so hard to do?” Michael sneered.

  Michael went outside to wait for his car among a crowd of people. It still boggled my mind, just the sheer number of people in one place.

  I noticed it before Michael did. A fine mist of pale white-yellow energy eddied through the paved walk and road. There was so much of it that it was hard to tell which direction it had come from once we were in the middle of it. It was hard to sense other energies through the yellow fog and it nearly blinded my Odin’s sight. When Michael noticed it, he started to look casually from side to side to find the source without being too obvious.

  The mist became thicker and thicker until a very serious looking little girl appeared, and it was obvious that the energy had originated from her. It radiated out from her like the sun’s rays, offering warmth and vitality to all that were in her glow.

  The girl’s light blue eyes studied her surroundings, her pale blonde hair was cut at shoulder level with bangs that sliced across her forehead, the sharp lines of the style made her stubborn set jaw look more severe. She looked to be maybe eight or nine summers, yet she held the hand of the hulking man who was next to her like a child of younger years. She tugged at the high collar of her pink dress with her free hand and sneered at the skirt of it.

  The man next to her would have been a terrifying brute in my time. I was considered tall in the lands that I traveled to, but this man would have made me look short and thin when I was alive. He looked like a grizzled blond bear of a man. His beard’s length was neatly trimmed and groomed, but his laughing blue eyes softened the severity of his look. He wore a dark blue jacket and pants that fit him perfectly and he radiated a deep violet aura that was a dark inky blot in the little girl’s radiance.

  “Daddy, do I have to wear this? It won’t be right at the fair!” The girl complained as she kicked an imaginary stone with her white shoe. “You promised that we would go!”

  “I know, Valda, my dear. I know,” the man’s voice rumbled like boulders falling down a mountain. “I have a few conferences I have to go to, but tomorrow I only have one in the morning. After that, I am all yours!”

  “You’re already all mine, you’re my daddy,” Valda said as she hugged her father’s tree trunk of a leg. “But you’re going to take me to the fair with the horses and fights and get me a sword. I want a sword!”

  “Yes, yes, I will get you a sword!” The brute of a man just laughed at his daughter’s audacity and demands. “Our taxi is here! Hop on in while I put our bags in the back.”

  Valda. Strong Warrior. It’s so strange to find such a familiar name in this unfamiliar time.

  Michael could barely contain his excitement and didn’t realize that his car had arrived. The man who delivered it tried to talk to Michael and hand the keys over, but Michael was almost salivating at the sight of the girl and her enormous aura.

  “Oh, oh sorry, here’s a tip,” Michael said as he shoved a crinkled wad of green pieces of paper from his pocket toward the delivery man, then tossed his bag in the car.

  Once in the car and moving, Michael cursed every time he had to stop, dodged in and out of the painted lane, and screamed at people to put the “pedal to the metal,” whatever that means. He quickly parked once he got to the hotel, rushed inside, and then yelled at the woman behind the desk to check him in quicker. He was so impatient he didn’t take the moving box up to his room and instead took the stairs.

  Panting and sweating profusely, he reached his room, slammed the door behind him, and grabbed at the distance communication device. He stabbed at the buttons impatiently, then tapped his foot while he waited.

  “Come on, come on!

  “Yes, this is Michael Damia Delgado, ID is 10061534MDD, I need to speak to the Helios, and now!

  “Yes, yes, I know that the head of the family is a busy man, but he will want to hear my news.

  “No, I will not leave a message!

  “I didn’t want to have to use this but maybe he will give me another one. Code Shining Light of Knowledge, I am using my one personal audience to speak to the Helios.

  “I know it’s unorthodox to use my code for an audience to speak with him on the phone! I don’t have time to fly to Spain to talk with him, the opportunity might be lost!

  “Thank you. I will hold.”

  He pulled my valknut out of his pocket by its chain and grinned.

  “I’m going to keep you! You have been a great good luck charm for me. Maybe that’s your ability, luck!”

  He set me down on the table next to the base of the “phone.” So many new words and items and things! The magic needed to run all of this… It would be breathtaking if I could breathe!

  “Yes, I’m still here.

  “Good, I’m ready. I’ll hold for the transfer.

  “Good day to the Helios.

  “Yes, I know this is extremely unorthodox, but the news couldn’t wait. I found one! I found what Heliodoro was looking for!”

  Oh, no…

  “I found an exsuspiritus!

  “No, they haven’t turned into an eidolon warrior yet, it’s a child! Her aura is huge! Absolutely incredible! To have that much power at such a young age, and she can’t be more than seven or eight!”

  Michael waves his free arm about wildly and paced alongside the table.

  “Yes, sir, we will have to get a team here ASAP. Her father might be an issue though, physically he looks like he belongs on TV wrestling and his aura is also potent. Not like the daughters, but unique in and of itself. I will see if I have an opportunity to quietly separate the two, but I can’t make any promises.”

  No...

  “I haven’t had a chance to read up much on eidolon warriors, could you have your assistant email me the report? I want to know what to watch out for in case being an exsuspiritus also means having the natural ability to infuse items with power or do spiritual damage.

  “My room has a computer, that won’t be an issue. It’s one of the hotels the family owns, so my privacy is assured.

  “We will finally achieve the patriarch’s dream; we will capture the energy of an exsuspiritus!

  “Thank you, sir, I’m excited too.” With that, he slammed the headpiece onto the base and hooted for joy.

  No! He can’t mean to kill a little girl! I must think… What can I do?

  Michael strutted over to the computer and powered it up. A few clicks here, and a few more taps on the board of runes, and then he read out loud what came up on the computer.

  “‘… eidolon warriors are people gifted with a greater than normal supply of metaphysical power and can infuse that power into an object. Those that have exsuspiritus, or an extreme excess of spirit, are particularly gifted eidolon warriors because they can continuously pour their power into an object. Most eidolon warriors only can do so for a minute or two and learn to ‘flash fill’ items. This imbues an item with their metaphysical power the instant before the item strikes, and they release the flow the instant after the object strikes. This takes intense training, near-perfect energy control, and the slightest mistake in timing wastes the energy of the warrior. An exsuspiritus can keep a continuous flow because they have the energy reserves to use.

  “‘Either way, training for an eidolon warrior is very difficult. They must have excellent control of their visualization abilities. If the visualization of their energy shape is even slightly off from the shape of the object, it creates an energy ‘leak’ which wastes energy and drains the eidolon warrior faster. If the eidolon warrior uses the same item regularly, the item’s energy storage matrix becomes more efficient.

  “‘More information is needed about eidolon warriors. All those encountered have been exceedingly hostile once patras were found with the family representatives.

  “‘All eidolon warriors have been discovered on the continent of As
ia, including the only exsuspiritus discovered as of the date of this report. There is a theory that their practice of meditation, mental control, and societal standards help form the mind needed for the mental rigors of training.’”

  The phone rang like a bell and with a groan of aggravation he got up and answered it.

  “What do you— oh, it’s time for me to go to the conference. I’ll be down soon.”

  He grabbed the key for the room and my valknut, then left for the meeting.

  The family hasn’t changed, they have become pickier and sneakier about their practices. All too familiar rage thundered through me, and I struggled to keep it contained and buried within myself. Michael was a powerful völva, like my magic-using grandmother. Like I would have been when I was alive, if I had the chance to be trained. I can’t let my emotions escape me. I must stay in control. I must do better.

  By the gods, I must decide…

  To save an innocent child… or to save my shattered wife.

  I brooded for the rest of the day and all that night.

  Staying with this despicable man will give me probably my only chance to save Torhild, but who am I if I allow the Delgados to kill a child? Michael has power and status within the company, but any measures taken drastic enough to stop him will reveal my presence and ability to leave my valknut.

  The father and Valda were at the same hotel. Michael had the owner, another Delgado clan member, check with the workers that handed out the keys and recorded in which rooms travelers slept. A man and daughter matching Valda and her father’s description checked in. Valda’s father alone was unique enough to ensure that the identification was accurate, and she was the only child to accompany a parent to a hotel otherwise filled with adults there for the conferences.

  Michael had all the opportunity.

  My spirit went cold. I loved my wife with all my heart and soul, I wanted to go to Valhalla with my shield maiden, I wanted to find a way to mend her broken valknut as well as her broken soul.

  But poor little Valda…

  I knew what I had to do.

  Michael skipped his conferences to attend the reenactment fair the next day. The fair would have been wondrous to behold if I hadn’t been in Michael’s pocket. The tents were brightly colored, entertainers of all sorts were already active early in the morning to amuse the first attendants, and there was a blacksmith somewhere in the sprawl hammering away at his forge.

  He arrived early to purchase an outfit to blend in. He looked extremely awkward in his tartan kilt, white pullover undershirt that should have been puffy and loose, and tartan wrap. My valknut was placed in an inside pocket with his leather folding pouch. Michael even bought an awkward hat and brown boots that laced up the back to finish the look off.

  After storing his clothes in his car, he wandered around the fair and feigned interest at the assortment of objects and curiosities there. He didn’t have to wait long; with the crowds came his prey.

  Valda looked like a tiny shieldmaiden. She wore an open ring chain mail shirt, a leather skirt made from overlapping strips of blue leather, matching blue boots. Her pale hair was elaborately braided back, and she had a miniature white leather shield with a snarling blue wolf painted on it. The stern child finally wore a grin and her energy radiated from her like a gentle storm.

  Even in full berserker rage, her father would have made me question what I was doing on the battlefield.

  He wore true ring mail with small scale-shaped metal plates attached over it, a wolf pelt over his shoulders, and pants with patches of boiled leather sewn onto them. The blue ribbons that were messily braided into his beard and tied into bows at the ends did little to soften his look. His grin matched his daughters as they wandered slowly around, stopping as they pleased to take in all the sights.

  The smithy caught Valda’s eye and, with a glance back to her father, who was busy looking at a woman’s silk dress, little Valda skipped over to eye the swords on the rack in front of the smithy’s tent.

  “Excellent!” Michael hissed.

  I slunk out of my valknut behind Michael and concentrated for the moment it took to solidify my hands enough and shoved the rack of leather belts, vests, and jackets he was walking past to get near Valda. The stand wasn’t anchored well, and Michael ended up entangled in all of the fallen goods. He flailed about wildly to shake off his entrapment, but only ended up wrapped up tighter.

  I strutted over to Valda, who didn’t see me at all. So much power, but no Odin’s sight? I stooped down in front of her and concentrated on my form. It was easier than it ever had been, her aura fed me like sweet nectar and made everything effortless. She looked up as I grabbed her shoulders and looked her eye to eye.

  “Run. Hide! Or you will be caught and killed. Go, now!” I urged, then relaxed my efforts to be seen and heard. Valda let loose a blood-curdling scream and an explosion of power that knocked the rack of swords away from her as she ran blindly into the crowd. It took me a moment to get my bearings again. It was as if I had drunk a barrel of mead, her power was absolutely intoxicating!

  I hated Heliodoro with all my being, but at that moment I was thankful for the lessons he gave me. He taught me how to be seen and heard by those without any sensitivity to the spiritual world so they could write down my people’s histories, the tales of our gods, and about our daily lives, as well as my own personal tales of my viking trips.

  Now, to make sure Michael never had a chance to hurt her again.

  He still struggled on the ground amid a group of people attempting to help him. He cursed and flailed under the second rack of leather clothes that Valda’s explosion of aura must have knocked down and sent toppling over him.

  Perfect.

  I strode over and effortlessly walked through the debris, then loomed over the prone man. He looked up and into my eyes. I can imagine what he saw. I was nowhere near the broad stature of Valda’s father, but my ring mail and bear pelt made me appear broader and taller than I had been in life. I drew one of my axes and concentrated on it, let my power flow into it. I knew my ghostly ax wouldn’t do any physical damage, but I had hurt Heliodoro in such a way with my hands so something inside his spirit broke. The first time I attacked him it damaged his spirit somehow, but the second time I attacked him years later killed him.

  But Michael didn’t know that my ax wouldn’t cut him.

  “No…”

  People gasped and ran as they saw the glint of the sun reflect off the head of my ax as it swung through the air. I pooled my energy into it, flooded it with as much of myself as I could focus, to the point where gifted or not, people saw an arc of metal swing down. When my ax contacted Michael’s chest it sunk in but didn’t even split the threads on his shirt or tartan wrap. His aura was thick enough to protect him from a physical blow from me, but he already had some sort of damage where his heart was. I could see it in his spirit.

  And my strike just made it worse.

  Michael clutched his chest and growled in pain as he gasped for breath.

  I swung my ax again and struck the second knot of energy on the top of his protruding stomach. Then a third time to the knot by his groin. Each time he gasped in pain and clutched where I struck, then clutch his chest again.

  “You will not hurt the girl,” I told him as he gasped his last breath. I dropped my ax and let it dissolve into nothing, though it did so slower than it usually did.

  My valknut! I didn’t know anyone here, and no one seemed to notice the warrior standing over the dying man’s bulk half-buried in leather.

  Maybe…

  Bless little Valda, her aura continued to pump vitality into me. I could see the yellow haze of her spirit’s power starting to thin like a fog being blown away by a soft breeze. What was left continued to flow into my being and filled me like a water skin. The sensation was luxurious, almost intoxicating. I had used what normally would have been all of my reserves with the first strike of my ax, then repeated the effort twice more. That would have been i
mpossible for me to do on my own, without her aura’s strength.

  I bent over and concentrated on my hand and managed to grip my valknut within Michael’s pocket. I was able to pull it out and take two steps with it in my hand before I ran out of strength. I laughed at my success. Why didn’t I ever try this before?

  Even with the additional vitality, I had limits. I waited as people walked around or through me. It, as always, was a very nauseating feeling of being pushed and stretched apart but I didn’t want to lose my valknut. I knew I couldn’t go back to the Delgado family; Michael’s death would raise concerns and I had a feeling that someone would connect Michael’s death to how Heliodoro died after he pulled my valknut out of storage again.

  Valda’s aura dissipated slowly, but the leftover motes seeped into my spirit and soothed the strain I had caused. Normally it would have taken me days, if not weeks, to recover my strength back. It took moments in the sea of her sunlight.

  I grabbed the chain my valknut was attached to and dragged it away from the confusion until a foot stepped on it. A very large foot. I looked up from my crouched position to see…

  It can’t be…

  The man was as big and brawny as Valda’s father, but his long mane of hair and thick beard were a flaming, fiery red. His ice-blue eyes peered into the very core of my spirit as he bent his heavily muscled frame down to pick up my valknut.

  “I saw what ye did,” he whispered. His Mjölnir pendant glinted in the sunlight. A goat bleated somewhere in the background. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. My entire being, the core of my essence, trembled under his gaze, yet I dare not move or run. Not that I could get very far from my valknut in his hand.

  “I see you. I also saw that man, and how he be huntin’ the child.

  “Let’s talk.”

  If you enjoyed “The Meeting,” make sure you pick up your copies of Hidden Magic and Wayward Magic to fully enjoy Brandur’s journey. If you have already enjoyed the entire Magic Underground Anthology Trilogy, go check out the Ghost Stalkers website for news of Gwendolyn Woodschild’s novel, The Haunted Witch!