by Joshua Roots
“Thank goodness. I don’t know why the Skilled turns its nose up at Normal weapons. And before you call me on it, I’m not as averse to modernization as others. I love the good old days, but the truth is our people need to accept that times have changed. We either change with them or we’ll get left behind.”
“Trust me, you’re preaching to the choir.”
Pell chuckled. “Anyway, enough of my mutterings. I’ve reviewed your initial report and sent it up the chain, but I wanted your personal assessment.”
“In a word—bad. Unlike every other rift we’ve encountered, this one isn’t red hot, it’s a cold blue. The energy coming off it is almost tangible and the harmonics are freakishly musical.”
“And you’re sure the readings are accurate?”
“Positive.”
Pell whistled. “We haven’t seen a rift this intense yet. The power coming from it is off the charts.”
“It’s getting worse. The levels have almost doubled since I first called. Not to mention, the reality surrounding it is weakening by the minute. We need to seal it. Now. Hell, we should have buttoned this damn thing up the second we arrived.”
The old man was silent.
“Wizard Pell?”
“I’m here.” His tone was different, more tired than before. “Marcus, I’m afraid the Council wants to study this one.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “What?”
Arbent, who had been listening to my end of the conversation, gave me a questioning look. I pointed to the phone, then gave a thumbs-down. The edges of his mouth went the same direction.
“The sub-committee is intrigued by the uniqueness of this rift,” Pell said. “They are assembling a research team as we speak. You are to maintain your position and ensure nothing comes through. You are not, in any way, authorized to close the door.”
“The whole point of our team is to seal these things,” I replied. “It doesn’t matter if this one is unique, it’s still an unstable tear in reality. Besides, who knows what’s on the other side?”
“That’s exactly why R&D wants to inspect it. We have no idea what these rifts are capable of and the Council believes this is a rare opportunity to gather information. We are, after all, a society based on knowledge.”
The last line was a common phrase among the Skilled. Magic, like many natural forms of power, was as complex as it was mysterious. Even with several millennia of practicing under our belt, the Skilled still hadn’t figured out every aspect of what drove the power we tapped into for our spells. As such, we usually jumped at any chance to learn more about the world around us, especially if it meant studying a phenomenon that was as mysterious as it was dangerous.
But there were limits, even for the Skilled.
“Wizard Pell, I cannot emphasize enough how stupid it is to keep this thing open. My team alone has sealed three rifts this month and not a single one was packed with bunnies and marshmallows. Does no one remember the Hellcat that nearly wiped out my family?”
“Everyone does,” Pell replied softly. “But the Elders have made this decision.”
“Heaven forbid anyone question the gods.” I had no doubt the receiver of his phone was soaked with my sarcasm.
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but there’s no debating with the Elders.” He sounded almost robotic. “Expect a team of Wizards and Witches to arrive in less than an hour.”
I gritted my teeth and swore.
“Beg your pardon?” Pell asked.
“I said, ‘acknowledged.’”
The old man sighed. “Just be careful.” Then the line went dead.
I gave the team a quick update. Everyone groaned.
“What in the world are they thinking?” Helga demanded.
“Knowledge is power.” Arbent’s voice was heavy as he echoed Pell’s comment. “It’s stupid, but I can see why they would want to study this thing.”
The rift hummed louder, its edges sparking as the cold air pouring out of it intensified. The reality around the tear seemed to bend away, almost like it was trying to escape the deluge of unnatural energies.
Helga eased away from the rift as well. “We may not have an hour.”
Arbent crossed his arms. “I know, but those are our orders. Let’s hope nothing happens till the research team arrives.”
Alistair started toward the rift. “Screw R&D. Let’s see what is so special about this thing.”
“Stay put, kid,” Arbent warned.
The youth spun around. “It’s our job to make decisions in the field, right? Well, you told them the rift is getting worse and recommended we close it. Doesn’t it bother you that they’re questioning your authority as team lead?”
“That’s not the point. The Council has final authority on the matter. An Elder gave the order, so we obey it.”
“The Council isn’t out here, man,” the kid said, rolling his eyes. “We are. A bunch of desk-jockeys don’t know the situation better than—”
The roar that echoed off the distant trees drowned out the rest of the kid’s sentence. Everyone flinched and reached for their weapon. We all looked at one another, then turned to the rift.
“What the hell is that?” Alistair asked, his eyes wide as a leathery arm reached through the rift. It gripped the ethereal edges, then tore the portal open. Our reality exploded like an artillery round and a shockwave flung us onto our backs. I gasped for air as I struggled to rise, but paused when the intruder shoved itself fully onto our plane of existence.
Over ten feet tall, the beast had dozens of green “feet” that extended up a long, thick stalk. The flailing vines were covered in leaves and spines. The head, which was the only way to describe it, had five large pink petals surrounding a central node that contained red eyes and a mouth filled with long, sharp thorns.
“You have got to be kidding,” I said, my palms sweaty despite the frigid air coming from the rift.
The gigantic flower cocked its head, then bellowed as it charged.
“Spread out!” Arbent shouted, leaping out of the way as the creature snapped its leafy arms in our direction. Everyone dove for the ground as a handful of spines slammed into the trunk of a solitary oak nearby. The tree shuddered and the bark around the green shafts shriveled and died.
Arbent was the first to recover. “Helga and Alistair, take up flanking fire on the right. Mick, you’re with me on the left. Marcus, time to disobey orders. Seal the rift while the rest of us take this thing down!” He slipped off his backpack and tossed it to me.
“You got it, boss!” I replied, catching the bag, but he was yelling at the kid who seemed to be struggling to launch a decent spell. Leaving Arbent to babysit, I ducked beneath a spine-covered arm and sprinted towards the rift.
The cold flowing out of the oval was startling, but I pushed it from my mind as I dove into Arbent’s pack. In addition to food bars and first-aid kits, the main pouch was stuffed with all sorts of goodies designed to close the gap. After countless trials and errors, the Wizards and Witches at R&D determined that the only way to close a door to our reality was with elementals unique to our plane of existence. Their field tests showed that raw, organic items worked best. As such, each rift team was required to carry as much “earthly” material as they could. Arbent’s bag was packed with spring water, rocks, dirt and a few items I didn’t recognize.
Unfortunately, our rift was more powerful than anything the R&D kids had theorized. It was anyone’s guess as to how well our trinkets would hold up against something so large and unstable.
There was only one way to find out.
I grabbed the first thing I could get my hands on—a large chunk of iron ore. Gripping it, I focused my Skill, willing some of my power to infuse the rock. Having learned my lesson during my first rift closure, I was careful not to dump too much too quickly. Instead, I eased my Skill into it until it nearly vibrated with power. Satisfied, I heaved it towards the pulsating oval.
The chunk of ore spun throug
h the air, then exploded in a shower of sparks as it crossed through the rift’s opening. The intensity of blue around the edges faded slightly while something on the other side wailed in pain.
On our plane of reality, the murderous flower howled as well, then spun its grotesque head toward me. One of its petals was singed and it was missing part of a leafy arm. Yet despite its injuries, it showed no signs of slowing down. The eyes narrowed and it bared its thorns. Venom dripped from the tips as the beast bellowed at me.
My knees turned to jelly. Common sense screamed for me to flee, but I was grounded by the reality that the only thing standing between our world and this rampaging creature was the small sack of goodies.
And the idiot holding them.
Operating more on instinct than anything else, I removed the top to a small bottle of spring water, added my Skill, and flung the contents onto the simmering rift. The tear constricted with a screech that was echoed once again by our attacker.
I reached into the bag a third time, but was forced to dive out of the way as one of the leathery arms flipped a handful of spines at me. They narrowly missed, but one imbedded into the pack. It quivered as white venom leaked all over the canvas.
The arm came at me again. I jerked the bag upward intercepting two more spines. The impact jarred my teeth and I stumbled sideways, away from the rift. I tripped, landing hard on my butt. Thankfully the ground was soft.
Before I could recover, the creature charged. I rolled, expecting to be crushed beneath a root-foot, but the flower never even gave me a second glance. Instead, it thundered past me, trailing burning leaves and white sap. It screamed as another spell hit it, then vanished through the rift.
“Get that thing closed, now!” Arbent boomed as he and Helga struggled to douse the fires from their spells. The flames were spreading quickly, having already consumed one of the massive hay bales nearby.
“I’ll help!” Alistair shouted, racing to my side. He hauled me to my feet and we both turned to the rift. The cold pumping out of it stung my face and hands. In the distance of the other world, the hazy image of another flower, one much larger than our previous attacker, began to take shape.
We stared in horror. The creature that had torn up our reality was just a baby. This was its Mama.
And she was pissed.
I handed the kid a stack of earthly crap. “Speak the words, then toss these at the rift.”
He nodded and we both formed the spell, then hurled our objects at the opening. Mine exploded on contact in a shower of sparks that pulled the edges together a few inches. Alistair’s, however, barely fizzled.
“Come on!” I snapped. “The element has to be infused with Skill for it to work.”
“I’m trying.” Frustration marred his fresh face.
Anger and panic swelled inside me. “Well, try more successfully.”
We threw object after object at the rift, filling the air with the scent of burning ozone. Despite our efforts, Mama was bearing down on us faster than we were closing the portal.
What we needed was an atomic bomb of an element. Something so unique to our plane that it did not, or could not, exist elsewhere. Something...human.
I drew my sword and slid the blade across my forearm before I could talk myself out of it. As my blood dripped to the ground, I held my arm over the metal. My life force splattered on the steel causing the strange etchings that ran up and down the blade to glow. Several more droplets and the sword exploded with scarlet light, humming with power.
Remembering what had happened to the cows, I approached the rift cautiously.
“Please don’t turn me into hamburger meat,” I muttered as the arctic winds washed over me. I took a breath, then stabbed my bloody sword into the center of the deadly window.
Electricity rocketed up my arms as my Skill rushed into the portal. The edges of the rift raced toward my blade while thin tendrils of energy wrapped around it like boa constrictors. The connection flooded me with otherworldly strength.
A presence appeared in the rift. It was nothing more than a shadow that faded quickly when I turned my senses on it.
“Anytime now!” Helga shouted.
As much as I wanted to chase after the strange presence, there were more important matters to attend to.
I eased my sword toward the right edge, dragging the energy with it. There was a flash as the two points connected and the humming lessened.
“A little help here,” I said to Alistair as I stitched together another portion of the rift. He pricked himself with a knife and wiped the blood over the large end of his staff.
Using our weapons like a paintbrushes, we swept them across the rift again and again, weaving energies like mystical sutures. Several of Alistair’s attempts failed to stick, so I doubled my efforts to make up the difference.
As if we needed additional motivation, the Mama Flower appeared through the haze of the other reality and charged. I waved my sword several times in a mad dash to create as many connections as possible. Realizing there was no way to close every hole in time, I grabbed Alistair and hurled the two of us to the side a heartbeat before the beast connected with the rift. Reality bowed toward us as our magical stitches strained to contain the beast.
Thankfully, they held.
Unfortunately, the connections weren’t enough to stop everything from transitioning into our reality. As Alistair and I attacked the rift once more, spines flew through the openings like bullets from a machine gun. I manipulated the air in front of me into the shape of a wedge, deflecting most of the smaller spines. Next to me, Alistair did the same, but he cried out as one punched through his spell and embedded into his shoulder. The color drained from his face and he crumpled to the ground.
I reached for him, realizing too late that I’d lost my concentration on the spell. Something slammed into my chest, lifting me off my feet. I landed hard on my back, dropping my sword on impact.
I struggled to find both my breath and my sword. I lay on my back, fighting for air as the enormous beast furiously clawed at the rift. One of the stitches popped and a leathery arm reached through the opening. It arced toward me with lightning speed, but recoiled as Arbent stepped in front of me and drove his bloody staff into the center of the opening. The explosion of light was blinding as he dragged his staff to make a connection between the edges.
Helga appeared at his side, shoving her equally empowered staff into a gap as well. On the far side, the cries of the enormous flower faded as the duo slowly sutured the doorway together for good. The moment the rift closed, Arbent was by my side.
“You’ve been hit. Stay still.”
“I’m fine,” I wheezed, yanking the spine out of the Kevlar vest underneath my ripped jacket. There would be some bruising, but it was insignificant compared to the alternative.
I struggled upright. “Alistair?”
“He’s in rough shape,” Mick said from a dozen yards away as he worked furiously to keep the kid alive. The wound was a deep purple and weeping yellow pus. Alistair was motionless.
I wanted to do something for him, even if it was nothing more than offering words of comfort. But try as I might, I couldn’t find my voice around the lump in my throat. Alistair was a cocky, underpowered tool, but he’d stepped up when it counted.
Maybe we’d all misjudged him.
Maybe he’d die never knowing he’d proved us wrong.
Desperate to maintain my composure in front of the team, I tore my gaze away from the kid and surveyed the scene of the battle instead. Severed flower limbs and singed petals littered the field while the venomous, white sap slowly ruined the ground it touched. Flames had all but consumed the nearby bales of hay, filling the skies above with smoke. In the distance, the farmer cursed at us like a sailor.
And every member of my team was bloodied in some way.
The only success from the incident was the closure of the rift, which was healing nicely. Then again, we’d specifically been ordered to keep it open, so it was onl
y a partial victory.
“Oh man,” I said, staring at the destruction. “The Council is going to be pissed.”
Chapter Two
A Good Time at the Old HQ
Pissed was an understatement.
“You deliberately disobeyed orders,” the ancient woman declared in an accusatory tone. “My orders, in fact. Why?”
I took a sip of water, hoping the cool liquid would soothe the frustration that was knotting up my innards. Or, at the very least, lessen the pounding in my head.
It didn’t.
“Warlock Shifter,” someone else interjected. “Please answer Elder Rancin’s question.”
I set the glass down, then gazed up at the men and women on the raised dais. Each represented a sect of the Skilled community. I recognized Wizard Pell from Research, as well as three Healers from the medical branch. The rest of the inquiry board was comprised of a Hunter I’d never even heard of and half a dozen familiar faces from my own specialty—Combat.
The pair of Elders at the center, however, represented the worst sect of all. The one filled with professional buzz-kills.
Diplomacy.
I didn’t care much for the Elders. Whereas most of the Skilled saw the men and women with ultimate power and control of the Council as demi-gods, I saw arrogance. Yes, the Elders were the elite when it came to power and knowledge, but they didn’t get their hands dirty or bloody. They ran the Skilled from the comfort of their cushy offices and huge mansions, completely detached from the struggles of day-to-day life
Of all the Elders, Rancin was easily my least favorite. Cold and haughty, her only redeeming quality was the fact that she’d spearheaded the Reformation Treaty between the Skilled and the Normals twenty years ago.
My dislike of her was compounded by the fact that she’d been riding me since the day I’d walked through the doors of HQ seven months ago. Most of the Elders didn’t give me the time of day—no doubt too busy ruling with absolute power—but Rancin treated me as if I’d kicked a box of puppies or something. And nothing I did, not even successfully closing a damn rift or defending my friends and teammates, seemed to make a difference.
