by Martha Carr
Correk glanced back down at the book and read the same page again. It was in an ancient language and was a spell for bifurcating a road in two to confuse enemies in battle or to help with getting away quickly without being followed. "Divaid paeo," he whispered, not paying enough attention. He looked out the window in time to see the curve of Turner's driveway splitting in two. He jumped up, scanning the page quickly for a way to reverse the spell but there was nothing more. He flipped the pages to the back as he saw the driveway continue to peel back, upending some of Turner Underwood's prized boxwoods.
Turner looked up hurriedly, glancing at the window to the study as he looked back at the driveway, raising his arms, his eyes aglow, yelling, "Baekwod," in the same ancient language. The two spells pushed against each other for a moment, spewing rocks and gravel into the air as the road became rubble.
"Two moons!" Correk slammed his hand on the desk, searching through his memory for any spell he had ever learned that would help fix what he had started.
Turner waved his arms bellowing, "Ad infinitum," stopping the rocks in midair and reassembling them as they fell back into place.
Correk stood very still, taking his hands off the book as he watched Leira smile in his direction. The road settled back down with a slight divot running down the side and a bush that was now planted square in the middle. Turner frowned and looked back up at the study, his hands on his hips as Leira shut her eyes and pulled in energy through her feet, setting out an intention.
The road once again lifted, swirling in a counter-clockwise direction, gently depositing the old boxwood back into its rightful spot and repaving the road. Leira looked at Turner, shrugging as Correk got up to go outside and apologize but Turner was already settling back into the lesson, his back to the window.
Correk sat back down and turned the page. "I think it's safe to say I've got that spell down." He looked down at the book, shifting so he couldn't look out the window as easily, and made a point to not even move his lips as he looked at the new spell. Each page was illustrated with hand-painted images of before and after to help with deciphering the spell even if there was a language barrier.
Turner had shown Correk the books, explaining that they were published centuries after the spells were created. "Hand painted by the Gnomes. Very clever people. These are the only remaining editions. Handle them with great care. If even a page is destroyed the spell is lost forever." Turner had rocked back, resting his hands on his cane.
"That would be a good thing with some of these spells." Correk traced the illustration of an Elf on fire, wondering how often that spell was ever used.
"I've had the same thought myself, many times but over time I came to learn that each spell that exists in the world balances some other spell. If one were lost then another could run amok. Despite what you may be thinking, every incantation, every bit of magic has its purpose. Dark magic happens when a spell is used to twist magic into causing undo harm. Remember the first thing you learned about magic as a small child. It all runs on feelings. That means magic is fueled by intention. It knows, somehow what we hope it will do and when our motives are twisted, the magic becomes dark. If there weren't purveyors of this nonsense then all these books could be let loose in the world. But these words are powerful and therefore the consequences stack up higher. So they are hidden, but must be learned by the Fixer, just in case..."
"I never realized any of these books existed outside of the Oriceran library vault or the Silver Griffins."
"Yes, that's the point. If others knew then they would become a target. Secrecy will be your friend in this job."
Correk tapped the page of a book. "If this is the only record of a spell, why learn them?"
"A good question. Somewhere out there is the mate to this spell. The one that offsets it in some way we can't even imagine till we see them performed, one after the other. We don't know what that spell is, many of them have thankfully not been performed for thousands of years. But we know from the wisdom that has been passed down that it's out there. You will see many wonders in this role that will take your breath away, day after day. I know rescuing a gargoyle from a witch wasn't very exciting but those are the days I appreciate. There are too many that are much more difficult or dark. But then, there are also the days that are humorous or fun."
Correk's eyes widened as he got more excited. "In the beginning, the original creators of magic wrote two spells for everything..."
Turner clapped his hands together. "Yes, you are getting it. That is a piece of information we do not share with others. No need to get someone curious about hunting for a sister spell. But they all must be learned by us. If that spell were to reappear in the wrong hands and was left unanswered, the results could be more than we're willing to pay. So we learn all the spells. Besides, it's cool to know how to create starlight whenever you need to, just ask the ladies." He gave Correk a wink and had tapped the top of one of the piles. "All of magic has a balance to it, a symbiotic relationship. As the Fixer your mission statement is to keep that balance intact. In that way you will protect all the magical beings who rely on it. Got it? Good! I'll leave you to it." He had left the study whistling, a smile on his face.
"Not whistling a tune now." Correk shook his head, turning the page. He ran his hand over the colorful painting on the large page. It was the spell used over eight-hundred years ago to start the fires in what was supposed to be the last battle with Rhazdon. Correk held his breath as he read the words the old king of Oriceran had said, trying to end the war. The battle where the king had slipped into the world in between.
"Every spell has a counter-weight to it. Rhazdon must have known that too. She was brilliant at mastering them. Unfortunate that she turned out to be such an outstanding bitch."
Correk pulled the book closer, reading the spell again, the reason to learn them all sinking in to his bones. He reached up and pulled down the smallest of the books, balanced on the top of the pile. Incantations Testament and Guide. The author was unknown.
It was not as old as the others and written in Elven with the text on each page appearing as Correk glanced at the page. The book was meant to serve as a study guide to many of the books, telling their history and when they were used to disastrous or heroic results. There were footnotes provided on how they could have been done better or worse and brought about different results. He pushed the book to the side and went back to the larger spell book. Will have to see if I can take that book home with me.
He read page after page, getting drawn into the spells to tame a dragon or even one to appear invisible for brief periods of time. "Has to be the way Turner disappears so easily. Like a party trick for him. His girlfriends must be very entertained."
"Whose girlfriends?"
Correk started, kicking the table and jostling the books as one pile teetered, and fell over into a landslide. A book skittered off the table and landed at Leira's feet, just inside the doorway.
"I didn't hear you come in."
"Clearly. I thought you were studying the ancient rituals or was there an Elven Playboy edition back then and they were rockin' the ladies. Makes sense. Hey, there's even pictures." Leira came closer and touched the page. "These are kind of beautiful. Rao..."
Correk stood up and put his hand over the rest of the spell. "Just don't say anything out loud."
Leira snorted. "That could have happened to any Fixer in training. It's all back to where it belongs now."
"Thanks to you." Correk gave a crooked smile. "I suppose a little humility is good for me, every once in a while." He carefully restacked the books and found a chair for Leira, pulling it closer to the desk.
"I thought you had the troll with you." Leira sat down next to him and looked at the spines on the books, doing her best to decipher some of the ancient words but not getting very far.
"And have to explain to Turner Underwood why there was a tiny orange footprint across one of his ancient, priceless tomes? No thanks. Butchering his driveway will
have to stand as my one idiot move... I hope."
"Figuring out these words is harder than learning to read the symbols. There's probably more than one bonehead move in you. Don't worry about it. You've pulled me back from a few and today was nothing. Frankly, even I know repaving the driveway was an easy job. You could have done it. You just startled Turner and you know he doesn't take surprises as well as you'd think he would. That and he's a little obsessed with those bushes. Something about being almost as old as he is, which I think is a little bullshit mixed in with the truth." Leira turned the page and saw an illustration of an Elf doing battle with an apparition. "What is this? Ghosts? Tell me there aren't ghosts that could haunt us."
Correk bent over the book, close to Leira's face. "No, as far as I know there are no ghosts, but I'm only on the second book out of an entire library. I'll let you know. That is a projection that can wield a weapon. According to Turner, not used for thousands of years. Something about letting something loose that you can't put back."
"He likes to be cryptic at times. Part of his cool vibe. Hey, do you think the spell to create a shifter is somewhere in here?" Leira carefully turned the pages, scanning the illustrations. "Maybe even something to undo the harm done to the bionic animals," she said, excited. "Didn't Turner say that for everything that comes up, a spell has already been created long ago to counter it?"
"Something like that. But magic can't answer everything, at least not without demanding something in return."
"It's easy to forget how old magic really is and how long there's been a constant pull between the opposing sides."
"The ever-present balance. Can't have one without the other." Correk turned to Leira, her face just inches from his as she peered at the book. "You are the living embodiment of that principle." Never noticed how green your eyes are before.
"What are you doing? What's that? Why are you scanning me like that?"
Correk covered his surprise by arching an eyebrow and doing his best to look annoyed. "You're seeing things."
Leira narrowed her eyes, looking at Correk. "Yeah, okay... I've got my eye on you," she said, smiling. Not exactly telling me the truth. That's not like him. "How's it coming with learning all this?" She looked at the stacks of books.
"This is only a small portion. Apparently the learning never ends, which means there will be times when I'm carefully rifling through very ancient texts that are irreplaceable trying to find a solution before something melts, oozes or goes kaboom."
"You can do it. I believe in you. I've seen what you can do and Turner wouldn't have picked you if he didn't think you were up to the job... even after you redesigned his driveway." She slapped Correk on the back, smiling. "How much longer are you trapped here? It's a pretty day and we need to get outside."
"I think we can call it for today. I've taken in all I can absorb. This is going to be a marathon and not a sprint. What did you have in mind?"
"A hike... a hike would be nice through McKinney State Park. It's been too long since I've done that. Hey, aren't you going to ask me about my date last night. Usually, by now you've made at least two pointless jokes and asked a series of nosey questions. Why the silent treatment?"
Correk swallowed hard, hoping he could get the words out. "How was your date last night? Any shots fired?"
"That's more like it. No, and there was no love connection either. Nice guy but it wasn't doing anything for me. There was just something missing. I don't know."
"Too bad, he seemed like a nice guy." Correk followed Leira out to her car, the knot in his stomach dissolving at last.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Rhazdon sat at the bus station, waiting for the announcement over the loudspeaker that the bus heading for Austin, Texas had finally arrived. Her body ached from sitting on the narrow wooden bench and she was looking forward to resting on the padded seat and closing her eyes. She looked up and caught her reflection in a nearby window and shuddered at what she saw. A withered old woman did her best to sit up straighter, hanging on to her cane. Her thinning hair was tied back in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and there were brown spots covering her twisted hands. A long thin scar appeared under her chin and disappeared under the maroon silk top she was wearing.
The battle on Lavender Rock had drained her of magic and crippled her. She knew she was dying and time was short. There were things that had to be made right before her time was over. She looked down at her ticket. "Turner Underwood, it's time we met again. There is much to tell you before it's too late if you are to survive the coming menace. After all, I'm the one that set it all loose and tipped the balance into chaos." And if I play my cards right, maybe I can save myself, yet. Leira Berens will have to play along, but she may be persuaded. Everyone has their soft spots.
"All aboard for Austin, Texas. Five minutes till the bus pulls out." The announcement blared over the old loudspeakers.
Rhazdon smiled and wearily pulled herself up to a standing position, pain passing through her body and into every bone. "Not long now... The next chapter begins."
CHAPTER THIRTY
Louie sat at the bar in an old pub he liked to frequent near the Dark Market, sipping on a warm beer, his sword strapped to his back and a a leather bag full of artifacts lay at his feet. It had been an exceptional day of scavenging and he wanted to stop for a drink before heading home to the cabin. He had managed to ditch the ankle bracelet for awhile and make it back to Oriceran for the day. Living on Earth was cramping his style. "There will need to be balance," he said, holding up the foamy glass of beer and wiping off the dirt he found on the other side of the glass. No sense in complaining. The bartender would only spit on it and give it back to him. This was better.
He almost turned around when he walked in after seeing the three Kilomeas huddled at a table near the door, but decided to ignore them and sat down anyway. Besides, this is where I told Ronnie to meet me. Not going to let a few shit for brains Kilomeas run me out of here. He was sure he recognized one of them from some of his digs. He turned around to get a better look. Yeah, that's the lazy fuck who likes to chase other scavengers.
He arched his back, rubbing his shoulder as the toe of his boot nudged the bag and the sound of metal hitting metal could be heard by anyone sitting nearby.
Louie looked up to see who had taken notice but no one was looking in his direction and the Kilomeas were too involved in arm wrestling each other with one arm and a knife in the other to pay attention to him. Louie watched, amused for a moment but turned back after awhile, raising a finger to the bartender to signal for another beer.
He laid half a small gold coin down on the counter and took a long swig, swishing it around in his mouth. The door opened, sending a cold breeze into the small pub and annoying the Kilomeas who let out loud grunts, one of them banging his studded hammer on the table. Ronnie slipped into the bar and quickly made his way past the Kilomeas, taking a seat at the bar on the far side of Louie.
"Hey, hey! Take it outside," yelled the Elven bartender who was drying glasses with a damp rag, frayed at the edges. The bartender sent a warning shot of three small fireballs no bigger than a drop of water sizzling over the tops of the Kilomeas large heads, barely missing a Crystal man sitting at a nearby table. The Crystal retaliated by breaking off a frozen spike and tossing it like a javelin, neatly hitting the bar right in front of where the bartender stood.
Another Kilomea joined in and shook his fist in the direction of the bar but they settled down and went back to making small bets with one another.
"Tell me again why you like this place so much?" Ronnie settled in at the bar and pushed a coin forward while waving to the bartender. It was a rule in the joint that you showed your money first, then got a drink. There was no food to be had unless one of the patrons bit someone in a fight, which was likely on most nights when it got to be close to closing time.
"It's close to work and cheap and no one bothers you."
"No one bothers you?" Ronnie choked on his beer,
sputtering. "Everyone bothers you in here!"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh, so you're some kind of celebrity and you needed to get away from your fans? Or is it the ladies? Boy, that's rich."
"Too many eyes in these parts, these days. This place is full of the kind that don't want anyone knowing where they are..."
"Look out!" Ronnie screeched, sliding off his bar stool, spilling his glass as the Kilomea brought down his large hammer, and Louie leaned back far enough, sliding off the bar and pulling out the sword in one smooth movement.
The Kilomea smiled, showing pieces of a worm still clinging to his teeth. He swung the hammer sideways, attempting to sweep Louie off his feet like a bowling pin.
Lean back and slice the handle of the hammer with the edge of the sword.
The sword was speaking to Louie inside his head. It wasn't the first time. He had grown to trust what it said, acting instinctively whenever he heard it.
The broadsword cut into the thick wood, weakening the handle and splintering it, surprising the Kilomea and enraging him further. He slammed the hammer to the ground and reached out with his hands to throttle Louie as his friends got up from the table to join in the fight.
The bartender quickly grew a larger fireball in his hands this time and sent it screaming in front of the Kilomeas path, cautioning them to stay out of the fight.
"You know the rules," he shouted. "No piling on."
The two beasts stomped out of the bar, roaring with their heads back and mouths wide open as the wind rushed in again.
