by Jack J. Lee
“Yeah…are we good?”
“Sure, we’re fine. Vic, I saw you outside doing Tai Chi. What style of martial arts were you doing afterwards? How were you able to jump so high?”
“I’m really sorry, Mina. I wish I had more time to talk but if we’re good, I really have to leave. I have an appointment and I can’t afford to be late.”
“Oh, okay.”
It could have just been wishful thinking, but I think she looked disappointed as I took off. I really didn’t like the way this girl made me feel. Jesus! I acted like a tongue-tied kid around her. I needed to get a grip.
I had only been driving for a few minutes when I realized I was starving. I pulled up to a McDonald’s drive through and ordered ten Egg McMuffins and a large orange juice. The cashier wanted to give me more drinks. I had to go back and forth with her a couple times to convince her all the food was just for me and I only needed one drink. I pulled into a parking space and in the next few minutes ate everything.
You have to pay for increased horsepower with worse gas mileage. It looked like my new body worked the same way. I was faster and stronger but I needed more calories. I wasn’t famished when I finished but I could have eaten a couple more breakfast sandwiches without a problem.
Salt Lake City isn’t that big of a town. After I got going again, it only took ten minutes to drive to the coin store, Rare Change and Medallions. There was only one person in the store. The instant he saw me he walked around the counter with a huge smile, his hand out for me to shake. “Welcome, you must be Victor Paladin. You look exactly like your great, great, great grandfather.”
I expected the guy to burst out into a ‘Ho, ho, ho.’ He resembled a miniature Santa Claus dressed in civilian clothes. He had a bushy white beard, red cheeks and nose, and comfortably large gut. He was tiny, barely five feet tall, and had a faint Irish brogue. He even had the round rimless glasses.
I had been paying so much attention to his looks that it took a few seconds for what he had said to penetrate. “You knew one of my grandparents?”
“One of your multiple great grandparents; his name was Regal.” When the tiny guy smiled, he was straight out of an illustrated story book; white beard, twinkly button eyes, and rosy cheeks, “I can see by your face you think the name is ridiculous, but your line has always preferred ‘majestic’ names.”
I told myself not to get my hopes too high, “Did you know my parents?”
His smile disappeared, he soberly replied, “No, I’m sorry I didn’t. I was briefed about the mix up when you were orphaned, but with ‘need to know,’ I wasn’t told anything about your mother and father. I can tell you a lot of stories about Regal. My name is Aidan Cahill.” As we shook hands, his expression brightened. “Please, please, let’s go downstairs where we can sit and talk more comfortably.”
Before I could ask more questions he turned toward the rear door and shouted, “Tim, come and take over the counter!”
A few seconds later an average sized blonde guy with the beginnings of a pot belly and thinning hair came in the room. He looked to be in his late twenties. His smile was so large that it almost broke his face, and he looked at me with something approaching awe. He ran over to where I stood, and with too much pleasure, grabbed my hand with both of his. “I’m Tim Hardy, Master Aidan’s apprentice. We’ve been without a paladin for almost a year now and it’s been a mess. I never expected our replacement to be a real honest to Jehovah ‘Paladin’. You’re just in time for the Redcap hunt. Oh my God, it’s such an honor!” he gushed.
“Thanks, Tim.” I glanced at Aidan with a what-the-hell’s-up-with-Tim look on my face. He nodded at me, chuckled, and jerked his head toward the door. I gently pushed Tim away from me. He didn’t want to let go of my hand. Luckily, Tim didn’t have magical strength.
As soon as I got away, I followed Aidan downstairs. The lower floor led to a hallway with multiple doors. Aidan opened the door to an office. He made his way around the large wooden desk to sit in a black leather office chair that must have been custom made for him. When he sat, he looked almost normal height. I sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
Aidan appraised me. I calmly looked back at him. I got the sense it would be a mistake to underestimate him. He slapped his hands on his desk. “Now, I saw the look on your face when Tim was babbling. You really have no idea what he was talking about.”
I attempted a socially appropriate smile and shrugged. “You got that right. The only facts I know is that Paladin is now my job title as well as my name. I can’t leave town without clearing the Norse trolls out. Oh, and from now on, I can’t lie or have sex outside of marriage without throwing up.”
He sighed and his smile completely disappeared. “That’s not much, to be sure. It’s what I was told in the briefing, but I still have a hard time believing a man with the surname of Paladin would know so little. When you have time, you should read this.” Aidan handed me a small, leather bound notebook. “Tis the journal of the last Salt Lake City paladin. I don’t know if you’ve ever kept a work log before, but from now on you will. You will need to work on it every night. The minute you write it down, the information goes upstairs. Paul Swenson, the previous paladin, was traditional. He liked pen and paper. So do I, but a digital text file works just as well.
“Victor, there is so much I could tell you. Time is short. I need to prioritize and tell you what you need to know right now.” He smiled ruefully to himself, tugging at his hair as he got lost in his thoughts. He now looked like a miniature, fat Einstein. “I guess the best job description for you is a frontier-style sheriff. You’ll keep the peace and if necessary, kill the bad guys. The Redcaps Tim was talking about are a type of fairy who wears a wool cap soaked in human blood. If the blood ever dries, the Redcap dies. They need a constant supply of human blood.”
When I heard I had to fight fucking fairies, I wanted to scream. My world had been interesting enough as it was. I hadn’t needed to read fantasy or believe in fairy tales to spice up my life. I had been content in my world of science, facts, and numbers. I couldn’t believe the idiots with blogs decorated with unicorns had been closer to the truth than me.
Aidan noticed I’d stopped paying attention. He calmly made eye contact. I was struck by how much dignity this tiny man exuded. He should have been cute and funny; he wasn’t. When he had my attention, he leaned forward toward me, his voice intent. “There is a band of twenty or so of them holed up under the sewers near Pioneer Park. They’re smart. For the last couple of months they have been killing the homeless—people who are not likely to be missed. We finally noticed and we need to take them out quickly. Every time they kill someone, they gain enough power from the sacrifice to pull another Redcap through the veil. You have come at a perfect time. We were planning on going into the sewers this afternoon. I was not looking forward to it; I have been around for awhile and have picked up a few combat skills, but I have never been what you would call a warrior. Of the other four, Tim is probably the most competent in a fight.” Cahill smiled sheepishly, “Despite his appearance, Tim is actually highly skilled.”
My eyes widened at the thought of Tim behind me in a firefight. In the few seconds I’d been with him, I felt like I knew him. If he was one of the best they had, I was better off solo.
“The odds were not looking so good until we found out you were in town. I have to tell you, Victor—seeing how little you know, I don’t know if we are any better off. You are powerful. I could sense you from a couple blocks away, but you have to know how to wield your power for it to be of any use.”
I’ve always been good at reading people. Aidan and Tim had both been ecstatic to see me. Aidan now looked like his dog just died. The expression on his face seemed wrong. Santa Claus wasn’t supposed to frown. “So, why do you and Tim have to be heroes? There has to be more than a million people in the Greater Salt Lake Region. Why can’t you recruit more people?”
“To answer that, I’m going to have to give some background. I don’
t know how well you know the Holy Bible. If you go back before Jesus Christ and look at any and all of the historical records, you will see that every culture used magic. Greek, Roman, Goth, Assyrian, Egyptian; all wrote about magic as if it was commonplace. The Bible even describes a magical duel.”
He was telling me the bible was historically true. Fuck! I listened without an expression as he quoted a passage from Exodus I knew well. ‘Then Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and did as the LORD had commanded. Aaron threw his staff down before Pharaoh and his servants, and it was changed into a snake. Pharaoh, in turn, summoned wise men and sorcerers, and they also, the magicians of Egypt, did likewise by their magic arts. Each one threw down his staff, and it was changed into a snake. But Aaron’s staff swallowed their staffs.’[2]
Aidan was in full absentminded professor mode, tugging again at his hair, as he explained, “When Jehovah created man, He gave him free will. He hadn’t meant to give angels free will, but that’s how it worked out. He was shocked to find out angels and humans could interbreed. ‘There were giants on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God had relations with the daughters of men, who bore children to them. These were the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown.’[3]
“Humans with angelic blood can force their will upon the Universe. Humans with angel genes can work magic.”
Aidan leaned back. I could see him making sure I was still paying attention. Satisfied, he continued, “The standard story is that Lucifer and the third of the hosts of heaven rebelled because they refused to bow to man—not true. They didn’t rebel out of high-minded principles. They rebelled because they wanted to make their own choices and decisions.
“Jesus’ crucifixion, death, and resurrection fixed Jehovah’s mistakes. Christ gave all men a way to salvation and at the same time took away free will from angels. Angels no longer could have children. Our Universe is a reflection of God’s will. A human who keeps his magic use to a minimum remains human. If he starts using magic regularly, the Universe starts treating him like an angel and his ability to make all his own decisions begin to wane. Magic disappeared from history after Jesus because magic users eventually lost their free agency.
“I’m a defector from another Universe. I come from the same dimension as the Redcaps.”
I was incredulous. He was claiming to be a fairy? On second thought, it explained a lot. His miniature stature and his claim to have known one of my ancestors now made sense. I resisted my temptation to ask him more about his home dimension and why he defected. He knew more than I did and he claimed we had limited time. For now, I had to let him judge what I needed to know. Aidan noticed I was distracted. He courteously stopped talking, waiting for me to ask a question.
When I shook my head he continued, “My powers do not come from God, but when I defected, I had to pass what you might call a citizenship test. I learned the three holy books—the Torah, the Bible, and the Koran and agreed to bind my soul to Yahweh. I am forced by my binding to defend and protect Earth from the minions of all other gods. Now that I know the Redcaps are here, I have no choice but to fight them.
“Tim got his start as a follower of Aleister Crowley. He got good enough at magic to lose his ability to make all his own choices. He now has to help defend the people of Salt Lake City. Ever hear stories of men who can’t swim jumping into deep water to save people from drowning and then dying themselves; of men who run repeatedly into burning buildings to save others? That’s what happens when they try to resist God’s commandments for too long. The strength of the compulsion causes them to become suicidal.”
I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. The shit just kept on piling higher and higher. It was a bitter laugh and Aidan looked concerned. “Don’t mind me Aidan, please go on.”
“All of us have to move in on the Redcaps while we still have the ability to make some choices. Your most dangerous foes are the Norse; they are out to kill you personally. But the most immediate, pressing task you have is to get rid of the Redcaps.”
Cahill looked at me expectantly. It was question and answer time. I didn’t know where to start. “What…why me? I’ve never done any magic.”
Aidan looked at me quizzically, “You really don’t know?”
I just stared at him without changing my expression. I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it.
“According to the briefing I received, as a seventy pound thirteen-year old, you fractured the kneecap of a fairly large grown man. You got shot in the heart and you didn’t die. You have prevented yourself from aging for twenty-five years. Didn’t it occur to you it might not just be luck? At its most basic, magic is forcing your will upon the Universe. You have been doing that for a long time.”
Whatever I had expected him to say, it wasn’t this. For the second time in this conversation, I started laughing. It figured I had no one to blame but myself. “You mean all those years I’ve been thinking I’ve been so smart and tough, it’s all been magic?”
Aidan grinned broadly. Even his teeth twinkled, “Don’t sell yourself short. For most of your life, you’ve been doing the equivalent of getting power directly from an active volcano without any safety measures. Opening yourself up to the Universe’s power is relatively easy, to be sure. Surviving the aftermath is not. You should have burned out your brain decades ago.”
I saw respect in his eyes as he continued, “You must have an extraordinary amount of self-control and discipline. Up until a few hundred years ago, hermit monks were fairly common. They lived in seclusion and spent all of their time studying ancient texts and mortifying their flesh. Normally it requires that kind of intense ascetic lifestyle to have the mental discipline to survive magic without buffers.”
I’ve lived a solitary nomadic life for years, I spend at least forty hours a week reading random stuff—history, biology, physics anything that catches my attention, and I’m an endurance athlete. I’d been a hermit monk without knowing it. “So why do the Norse trolls want to kill me personally?”
“They want to claim your weapons by right of conquest. Every paladin inherits invulnerable armor and a fearsome weapon. Anyone who kills a paladin has a chance to claim those treasures. The trolls mortally wounded the previous paladin, but he lived long enough to protect his gear.”
Aidan rubbed his tiny hands together with an expression of joy. Somehow he was able to keep from looking cute. I got the sense his happiness was genuine. He liked giving gifts. “They are now yours.”
Chapter 6: Pig Latin
Aidan got up and went over to a large safe in the corner of the room. He opened it, revealing a large kite shaped medieval knight’s shield and longsword. Both were made of a polished silver metal that glowed. The illusion I was talking to Santa grew stronger as he chortled. “Victor, you don’t hide your emotions well. I can see you’re not impressed with the paladin’s traditional weaponry.”
He held up his hand to hold off my response. I could tell he thought I was making a mistake. “Before you make up your mind, you should know the shield and sword will come to your hand instantaneously whenever you want them. They will also return to whatever storage place you choose. I would recommend storing them in this safe. They can never be broken and do not require any care. Nothing on Earth can penetrate the shield. The sword will kill any creature that doesn’t have god-like strength and powers.
Once a week, the shield can be used to heal all wounds. The sword is ever sharp and will cut through steel like cardboard. While you live, no one else can touch your sword and shield without your permission.”
If I had a choice, there was no way I was going to look like a Renaissance Fair geek. I couldn’t believe that in this day and age, the best a Holy Warrior could do was a sword and shield. “Look man, I’m really not into suiting up like Prince Valiant. Do I have any other options? You know, something a little more modern?”
Aidan looked slightly offended. “In the six hundred plus years I have been an armorer for paladins, I
have never had one turn down the traditional shield and sword. I have heard of one paladin in the early 1800’s who changed his gifts to a breastplate and spear. It’s more common to make minor changes to the grip, hilt, or length.”
“But, if I wanted, I could change the sword to a gun?”
“Yes…as long as you knew exactly what you wanted and could hold a vision of the gun in your head.” I could see him get lost in thought. The worry and the hesitation I had previously seen on his face disappeared.
“How would the magical sharpness doohickey work on a firearm?”
Aidan was clearly a gear-head. He loved talking, thinking, and messing about with gear. He became more animated, his brogue more pronounced. “You can change the magic spell on your gear. A few thousand years ago, there was a time when a flaming sword was popular, but over the millennia, it has become obvious which spells work best for sword and shield. Hmmm, I don’t think anyone’s ever thought much about the best spell for a gun. I can tell you what will not work, though—endless ammunition. Conservation of mass and energy applies to magic, too. Maintaining super sharpness does not require much energy, so it’s constant. The flaming sword could light up for less than an hour a day. Converting energy into mass takes a lot of, well…energy. We could probably get you a magic reload of de novo ammo...say once a week, maybe longer.
“It’d be easier to magically transport ammo from one location to another. We could cache ammo in one location and magically call it to another. The mechanism behind transportation is non-intuitive, but it takes less energy to transfer through the aether than to try to create ammo out of thin air. It works on the basis of quantum entanglement.”
He peered up at me to see if I knew what he was talking about. When a subatomic particle like a photon is split into two equal photons of opposite polarity, they are ‘entangled’—what happens to one photon is inexplicably replicated by the other. In 1993 Charles Bennet and others proposed the idea of teleporting light using this process. In 1997, a group from Innsbruck proved that this could be done; this experiment had been repeated successfully multiple times. Theoretically any subatomic particle could be teleported. A science fiction author once said, “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”[4] It looks like he was right.
