New Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 3)

by Al K. Line

  The troll panicked, stiff fingers fumbling for them, ignoring me. I clapped again, this time aiming for the back of its neck as it picked up its medicine. I scored a lucky hit. A shard of its neck chipped off, pinging against the wall. It put a hand up in shock, then stood, angry and deadly. Again, I aimed for a lighter spot on its body where I could see the rock was different, a layer of something softer. A weak point.

  As the magic shot into its body, a hole appeared and the shale crumbled to dust, revealing a hard inner core beneath where its heart would be if it had one. I shouted out magic from my mouth, a thick stream of silver and black that joined with the flow from my hand and all aimed at the same spot.

  The troll actually got pushed back as I gave it all I could, but it was a delaying tactic more than anything else, not a way to beat it permanently. The hole got deeper, blacker, but already the pieces of its body were moving back, drawn to it like dwarves to hammers. Soon it was whole again, more annoyed than ever.

  The balls of whatever it had taken were still mostly on the ground. I lunged for one, grabbed it, then ran again, to get time to breathe. As the magic use came with its calling card, spikes of pain clawed from my hands now stained dark from magic and jabbed at my insides. It was nothing like usual, but enough to make me feel like I'd truly come home.

  This was what I did, this was what it meant to feel alive. Pain and adrenaline. The battle, the fight for survival, using the most primitive weapon in the Universe. Magic itself.

  Which is why I was a little deflated when I felt the troll pick me up by the scruff of the neck with two fingers and lift me off the ground.

  This was not good.

  Ouch!

  I felt like a kid on one of those swing rides at the funfair when you whiz around sideways, legs dangling. Except there aren't very big, and very hard walls that you slam into at funfairs, which is what I did.

  I hit the wall side on, pain flaring up my shoulder as I slid to the ground. The troll reached down for me, hand open ready to grab my head. If that happened it was all over. I'd be a stain on the grass, not even a meal for the zombies as they all seemed to have gone.

  Getting my act together, I pictured my body shimmering dark blue as if I emanated dangerous light, but this was no attack, this was a defensive move.

  As the troll grabbed for my head, its hand stopped millimeters away. I swear I could feel its fingertips tickling my hair, and hear the crunch of the stiff joints as the fingers scrabbled for purchase.

  Ignoring the pain, relieved at least nothing was broken, I got to my feet slowly, focusing on the protective aura around my body, expanding it as I moved away from the creature intent on ruining my day. Out of breath and definitely in need of more exercise, I leaned against the wall to get some air. It was a stupid move. The troll charged, massive fist swinging for me at surprising speed.

  On reflex, I dodged to my right as the fist slammed into the ancient stonework and pulverized it to dust. I weaved behind the creature, drawing as much magic as I could cope with into my body, releasing it with a guttural cry like I was pushing against the building itself.

  Wave after wave of dark magic pummeled into the back of the troll, searching for weakness, shards chipping off its body as I drew in more magic and discharged it relentlessly. It edged sideways as it fought to pull its hand from the broken stone, revealing a large hole and a peek into the interior of the building.

  Working with what I had been given, I focused on the crack lines in the mortar that now ran up the building, spreading out from where the damage had already been done. My hands moved up above my head, shirt feeling tight across my back, another one amongst many that would be ruined, as I altered the flow of magic, sending it in flat splashes that hit the wall like spiky, sparkling pancakes before they rippled out sending shock waves across the facade.

  Again, and again, I blasted with energy that dwindled by the second, but it was no use. The troll freed its hand and turned, arms in a wide bear hug that would crush me to goop.

  There were two choices. I could either blast the wall, or protect myself. Either way, timing was crucial. I stuck with what I was doing and breathed deep before giving the wall everything I had, shooting higher and higher with black sparks of jagged magic that slammed into perfectly cut stone and made the whole wall shudder then wobble as larger and larger chunks rained down onto the grass.

  Once more, a fat plate of magic slammed up high. The sound of the force boomed across the open fields, echoing back as the edifice teetered then toppled, tons of stone crashing down, more following as I ran away across the unkempt lawn. I watched as the troll got knocked to its knees, arms up to protect itself as stone kept on hammering down. Then the entire side of the building collapsed, dragging part of the roof with it. Massive chimneys that served fireplaces in numerous rooms toppled like when you see those controlled explosions on the TV.

  This was out of control though, and as more building collapsed so yet more followed, the structure too weak to support what was above.

  Stone, roof, trusses, joists, tiles, and a mess of plumbing and electrical cables plus a few pictures that hung on the interior walls crashed down in a massive, chaotic pile that buried the troll and just kept on coming.

  Then it was over, just small shards of stone and tile joining the pile as the building found new equilibrium. Dust billowed out from the mountainous heap. Rubble shifted as the troll tried, and failed, to make its escape and continue the fight.

  Bent over, finding it hard to breathe, clothes covered in dust and getting into my lungs, shoulder burning and chest even worse, I coughed and spluttered as I let the magic seep away with gratitude.

  Pain came for me then, real pain. The pain and the hurt I have encountered so many times in my life. When nothing else matters, when all that exists is your own body and what it is doing to you. Thoughts hurt, movement was excruciating. Retching and screaming was my world.

  It washed over me, pure agony and the price to be paid for channeling so much magic away from its rightful home. I sank to my knees, felt the dampness before I toppled sideways and clutched my legs to my chest, knowing it would be over at some point but unsure if I could take it, but having no choice in the matter anyway.

  Then the weirdest thing happened. I spoke to myself silently, told myself to snap out of it. That I was Faz Pound, Black Spark, and I was a real wizard. I remembered the conversation with Rikka from earlier, how he'd said it would get easier, and that if I wasn't hurting much from minor magic use then that was a good sign.

  I gave myself a good talking to. Said I should get my act together, that maybe part of this hurt was just in my mind, what I had come to expect so let happen, maybe even made happen. And besides, had I forgotten about the troll that would now be furious?

  Whatever part of my inner monologue worked, something did the trick, and the sickness passed quickly. Before I knew it, and rather surprised by such a quick recovery—normally it would be a good ten minutes until I was much use—I was on my feet and dusting myself down.

  Well, at least the fight proved one thing—I was definitely back, but much improved. The world had better watch out. Black Spark was reborn, and his magic was stronger than ever.

  I still ran away though. No point pushing your luck when an oversized, Tom Cruise inspired troll wants to crush your head.

  The Rescue Squad

  Thanks to some subtle magical manipulations, my shoulder now felt a little less like the bones were crushed, and the sickness was completely gone. I ran to the front drive, wondering if I could escape in the monster truck. It was doubtful. Everything about it was oversized, definitely bespoke.

  Much as I hated the thought, I knew I had to speak to the troll if I wanted answers as to why they were doing this, and where the hell the other zombies were. Were they right now running—staggering, I guess—around the city terrorizing people and basically causing Armageddon? It didn't bear thinking about.

  Some of them may be slow and ineffectual, but
the fresher ones, the not long dead, they were still quite speedy and certainly strong because of the poisoned craving for brains that overrode everything even as they watched behind bloodshot eyes unable to stop themselves killing. It would be pandemonium.

  One or two could be dealt with easily enough, but even that would have far reaching repercussions and the death-toll would be huge. But if scores of them were loose it could very well be game over for the entire country and beyond in a few days.

  I stared up at the overcast sky; thankfully, the rain had stopped. I smiled at a flock of birds chattering loudly off in one of the fields before open land made way for forest. At least the birds were just going about their business as usual.

  Something struck me as odd, though. Why were they all swooping up and down in such a dense flock? And they were loud, screeching and fighting, a little out of control.

  I knew what it was, what made them act that way, but I went to investigate, regardless. Speculation is one thing, certain knowledge another. Feet soaked and muddy, I trudged through the field, watching the birds scatter at my approach. They called their warnings, dark shapes like escaping souls crowding the sky as they sped away into the trees.

  As I got closer, I slowed, steeling myself for what I was sure I was about to see. It didn't make it any better; I still got there in the end.

  I stood on the edge of a huge pit, steeply sloping sides leading down to a nightmare scenario, the soil piled around the edge randomly. The stench was awful now the rain had stopped. A slight breeze, as if sent to sear the defilement into my bones, blew putrid gas and the stench of decay into the otherwise uncontaminated air.

  Inside the pit, strewn like discarded toy soldiers, were hundreds of bodies. The zombies.

  Each one had its head crushed, body parts mangled, arms and legs at strange angles as they had been thrown into the grave on top of their brothers and sisters. A mass killing. Genocide. The trolls would have seen it as a mercy killing, which it was, in a way.

  Zombies live the most awful lives you can possibly imagine, but they are Hidden, part of our world, and they choose to stay that way. Just like vampires, they decide whether to remain what they are once infected. There is always a choice, and they had made theirs, so we protected them, let them have their chosen future. But it was still unthinkable for me—I would gladly take true death rather than be an undead creature that slowly rotted away and lost my mind.

  The poor souls in the pit had finally been freed from such a life, but against their will. The trolls had made the choice for them, taken away what little freedom they had left. They had no right to do so. It wasn't their place; it wasn't their decision; it wasn't their life, such as it was.

  I turned at the sound of footsteps, wiping my eyes on my ruined shirt.

  "Hey, Spark," said Rikka gently, face neutral as he stared at the bodies.

  "Hey, Boss. Hey, Dancer." Dancer's cheek twitched, unable to tear his eyes from the brutality. "Well, I know for a fact you didn't find Paul." I nodded at one of the last bodies to be added to the pile. So much for the trolls giving mercy killings.

  Paul was entirely aware of what, and who, he was, so would have witnessed all the trolls did. It would have torn his mind to shreds, seeing everything he had fought to keep together for so many years suddenly being ripped apart like it meant nothing, as though his people meant nothing.

  "Sorry, Paul, it shouldn't have ended like this," said Rikka from beside me.

  "They're out of control," said Dancer, looking a little green. You know it's bad when he looks like that. He digs up bodies for a living and brings them back to life.

  "Let's go have a chat with a troll," I said as I turned my back on the zombies, dead for the final time, and trudged back through the mud and the grass, hefting the ball I still held into the air.

  This was the answer, what was making them act the way they were. Hopefully, the dude under the house would have more information. He better had, or I'd grind him to dust and to hell with the consequences. I'd scatter his body across the globe and it would take millennia for it all to come back together to make it whole again You may not be able to kill a troll, but I'd certainly make it unpleasant as hell for as long as I could unless it told me what I wanted to hear.

  Maybe I'd do it anyway. I was in that kind of mood.

  A Troll Interrogation

  Rikka, for all his faults—mostly of the emotional kind—is a very intelligent man. Beyond merely clever, he has an innate ability to understand a situation faster than anyone else I have ever met. It often makes me wonder why he sends me chasing around the city dealing with problems when I'm sure he already knows a hell of a lot of what needs to be done.

  At that moment I was in no mood for anything cryptic, so after filling him in on what I discovered in the house, and the meeting with the troll and subsequent bit of bother, I got straight to the point. We stood staring at a faltering tower of rubble as the troll beneath struggled to free itself, while Dancer reluctantly went inside to finish the search and sort out what to do with the undead I'd found on the high street.

  "You know what this is?" I held out the ball of magic-infused rock, or whatever it was I'd taken from the troll. "He was eating one. His mind was reverting to its true nature so he ate one of these and he was back to being smart again."

  Rikka nodded. "I know what it is. It's a ball of brains. A smart pill."

  "That a technical term, is it?" I said, really not in the mood.

  "Don't push it, Spark, I'm having a bad day. Why do you think I wanted you for this?"

  "Because I can crack some heads and suck magic out of whoever is behind the fact the trolls are smart again? Nobody said anything about them being violent and cruel though."

  "They won't think of it as cruel, they will see it as a kindness."

  "That's what the one under the house said."

  "There you go then."

  I studied Rikka, looking for signs of emotion, but he was locked down, all business. "Why wouldn't they see it as anything but cruel?"

  "Because they believe in magic, are magic, and zombies are a perversion of that. They are creatures that were once alive but no longer are. Zombies hoard magic that belongs to the Empty, not part of them. However this virus started, way back in the history of time lost to us, something got severely corrupted. It's not how things are meant to be. They have never liked it, but they leave things alone, but with intelligence and the ability to act how they want, to reason and think things through, which is all new to them, they have done what they feel is right, what is best for us all. And you can't argue with that, Spark. Zombies are a danger to humanity."

  "I guess. But look what they did. It's barbaric."

  "Spark, they are trolls, not human beings. Are you telling me it's barbaric for a person to put a dog to rest when there is no hope for it? To help a sick bird pass gently when otherwise it will simply suffer until it dies?"

  "No, of course not!"

  "Then don't be so quick to judge. I don't think you are really, are you?" I shook my head. I wasn't.

  I was looking for something to explain what had happened, to make sense of it all.

  "They are trolls, born of the planet itself. Their ways are different, as are the ways of so many creatures we call Hidden. How can we judge when we can't even understand? They were saving us, saving the living humans from their own foolishness."

  "Maybe you're right. This one still tried to kill me though."

  "That's as may be, and we will find out why soon enough. Did you goad it?"

  "No, I didn't."

  "Somehow it saw you as a threat to its own survival then. They are fighters, after all. I'm not saying they are jolly fellows that don't like cracking heads, all I'm saying is that maybe what they did here wasn't malicious and cruel for cruelty's sake. I believe they were doing what they thought of as the right thing to give humanity the best possible chance of survival."

  "You could be right." My head was swimming. What a morning! Back fo
r half a day and I was seriously reconsidering my return to the fold. I could have been at home with Kate, sorting out the mess of the garden, battling with chickens, staring at her bottom as it fought against her tight jeans like two perfect loaves of bread fresh from the oven, all warm and ready for me to sink my teeth into.

  "Spark? Hello?"

  "Sorry, I was miles away."

  "What are you smiling at?" Rikka asked suspiciously.

  "Nothing. Anyway, you haven't answered my question. Although I don't think you need to. The witches, right? This isn't wizard work, these lumps of smart pills, this is something the witches would do."

  "See," said Rikka, actually smiling and looking proud as though I'd just passed a spelling test, "I knew you were coming into your own. Of course it's the witches, we just have to find out why. They are up to something and it goes beyond just making the trolls brainy."

  "What about Tom Cruise here?" I said pointing at the pile.

  "Huh?"

  "Never mind. Doesn't matter. What about him?"

  "Leave him. There's nothing for us here. We have bigger fish to fry. Well, um..."

  "You mean I do."

  "That's my boy," Rikka slapped me on the back.

  "Boy! I'm older than the Titanic.

  "Yes, but I am older than many countries, so you are all children to me."

  "Oi, what did you say to Illus?" boomed the deep baritone of Intus, a moment after wafting away noxious smoke and adjusting her balance on a small toppled pile of stone. Imps, it's all about the timing.

  "We're busy," said Rikka.

  "Busy, I'll give you busy," Intus waved her arms around manically.

  "Okay, go on then," said Rikka, deadpan.

  "Er, um, don't you try to be sneaky with me, Mage Rikka." Even under stress imps like to keep things polite.

  "What's all this about, Intus? We are in the middle of something here."

  "The trolls and the zombies, you mean?" I nodded. Imps know what they want to know, and do exactly what they want to do. "Don't worry about that for a human minute. Illus is fuming. Said you and some kids tried to get him to say things. Did you? Did you try to get him to say things?"