Summoned to Rule

by C L Walker

  Roman was getting more comfortable with the word kill, and I wasn’t sure it was a good thing. There was a chance he could turn out like Bec. Slim, but I’d seen it before.

  “I think we’re done here,” Nikolette said as she began to stand.

  The tattoos glowed and I fixed my stare on her. “Sit down.”

  Her expression changed slowly, realization blossoming in her eyes. She went from stern matriarch to someone seeing something amazing. It was an interesting display, and the right response to being confronted by me.

  “I still don’t believe it,” she whispered.

  “Yes, you do,” I replied. “Sit down so my friend can talk to you.”

  I shot Bec a look and found her smiling at my back. Roman was fidgeting beside me and Melany just looked confused. Nikolette had put her hands flat on the table and was tracing my tattoos with her eyes.

  I let the glow die and waited to see what Roman’s plan was.

  He laid out his theory and what he’d seen, and I didn’t understand any of it. I was covered in magic and it had never interested me, and hearing the dry litany of what each of the symbols etched into my skin did wasn’t going to change that.

  “So there’s a reinforcing pattern to the simple charms,” Melany said in response to some gibberish Roman had spouted.

  “Exactly. It’s why they don’t fade.”

  “But if that were true then the more greater-power channeled, the more chance of an explosion,” Nikolette said.

  “Which is why he can’t channel greater-power.”

  I tuned them out, only listening enough to know when they reached a conclusion, if they did. I held my coffee and let them treat me like an experiment, because Roman was my friend and he was excited.

  They wouldn’t be able to break my curse. Bec’s surprise was a waste of time, but it showed me something new about her; she had planned this long in advance. She had worked out what steps I would have to take in response to becoming leader of the lost souls and she’d made sure everything lined up. The meeting in the coffee shop was booked before I got back, I realized, meaning Roman would have had to speak to the Sinclairs before even knowing if I would be there for the meeting.

  Bec was smart and she was fearless, but she was cocky. It would get her killed if she didn’t watch herself.

  “So the subtle charms are linked,” Melany said. “But that would mean he’d need to exert nearly constant control.”

  “No,” Roman replied. “They’re semi-autonomous. But if the link were broken…”

  “This shouldn’t work,” Nikolette said. I was starting to get uncomfortable with the way she was studying me. “It should peter out as soon as the power source is removed.”

  “No.” Roman grabbed my arm and pulled it across the table for the witches to study. “Any new magic introduced to the system causes a…a feedback loop, reinforcing the whole thing. It could lie dormant for as long as needed and re-emerge in a moment, as strong as ever.”

  “That is quite brilliant,” Nikolette said.

  “Sure,” I said. They looked up at me like they’d forgotten I was there and wasn’t just a collection of interesting tattoos. “But there’s nothing you can do to break it, is there?”

  “No, Mr. Agmundr,” Nikolette said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Wait,” Roman said. “What if you could remove individual tattoos?”

  “Sure,” Melany said. “But scratching them out wouldn’t break the links. You’d have to actually get them to detach, somehow.”

  “And that’s where you come in,” Roman finished, sitting back and looking at the group with a wide-eyed expectation.

  “It can’t be done,” Nikolette said. “As you said, there is a reinforcing loop designed into the scheme. You might be able to cut one of them off, with the right preparation, but if you did something wrong you’d get an explosion.”

  “It has been done a handful of times, recently.”

  “No, it hasn’t.” Nikolette was dismissive, returning to her default disdain for the hedge-mage.

  “It has,” I said. I stood and lifted my shirt, exposing the fine tracery of my tattoos to the witches. “There should be a few gaps in there.”

  “That’s not possible,” Nikolette said softly.

  I pulled my shirt down and sat before my empty coffee cup. They were staring at me constantly, like I was a difficult puzzle and they all wanted to solve me.

  “If it helps,” I said. “Some were removed by a god and some by a woman who used to be the vessel of an elder-god.”

  “But the principle should be the same for you,” Roman said quickly.

  Nikolette was staring into space, going over the problem in her head and not really seeing the room. “If you removed the right symbols you could take away the autonomy of the system. The link to the vessel would still be there but there would be nothing to reinforce it.”

  “Exactly,” Roman said, slapping the table in his excitement.

  “So how do we do it?” Melany said.

  “No idea,” Roman replied. “That’s why I need you guys. I’ve got all the theory down and I’m pretty sure it stands up, but I can’t do what you can and I can’t see the magic at all.”

  I felt bad for Roman; he was smart and capable, and he understood everything on a deep level, but he wasn’t born with the ability to see the magic so he couldn’t weave it. I couldn’t either, but I had never cared. For him it must have been like knowing all about color yet not being able to experience it.

  “This is an interesting challenge,” Nikolette said. “But I don’t believe we are going to help you.”

  Melany seemed less sure, shooting her mother a look that parents for millennia would understand after they denied their children something they wanted.

  “Why is that?” Roman said. He was still excited but I could see the coming disappointment waiting on his face. “This is worth doing just for the knowledge it would bring. Think of things that could be done with basic symbology if I’m right.”

  “Rediscovering ancient magic doesn’t interest me,” Nikolette said. “And there are no practical reasons for us to do this for you. You are asking a favor without giving us anything in return.”

  “That’s what makes it a favor,” I said. I didn’t like how they were treating Roman, and I couldn’t stop myself from getting involved. “Let me give you some motivation: if you don’t at least think about the problem, I’ll destroy everything you’ve built in this town and you won’t be able to stop me.”

  Bec’s hands were suddenly on my shoulders as she leaned into the conversation. “What he means by that is he would very much appreciate any help you could offer.”

  “No,” I said. “What I mean is—”

  “Don’t threaten us, Mr. Agmundr.” Nikolette was gathering magical energy to herself; the tattoos responded to the act as the threat it was, glowing as they prepared defenses.

  “Don’t pretend to think you can hurt me,” I said. It was a bluff as long as my energy was low, but they didn’t know that.

  “I can hurt your friends,” she said.

  “And I can kill your family,” I replied, as dismissive as she’d been to Roman.

  She didn’t take it as well as Roman had.

  “Mother,” Melany said, putting her hand on Nikolette’s arm. “I would like to discuss this further.”

  Nikolette stopped whatever she had been about to say, but her eyes never left mine and her intentions were clear.

  “We should go,” Bec said, trying to pull me from the chair. Other patrons in the coffee shop were watching us, noticing the glow coming from my skin.

  “You should,” Nikolette said.

  I didn’t want to turn my back on the witch but Bec was dragging me out of the chair and pushing me to the door. Roman was looking at me in horror and Melany had tensed up. Only Nikolette and I seemed calm, but it was the calm before a mighty storm.

  I let Bec lead me out and push me into the car. She and Roman sat in the front
again and we drove away.

  “That was maliciously stupid,” Roman said. “That was a level of incoherent idiocy beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “Watch your words, hedge-mage,” I replied. I used my quiet voice and he responded the right way, shutting his mouth before he said anything he couldn’t walk back from.

  “No, he’s right,” Bec said. She was impervious to the glare I sent her way. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “She threatened you,” I said.

  “Only after you were a massive dick. Hopefully you haven’t messed this all up.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” I said. My phone was buzzing in my pocket and I contemplated tossing it out the window.

  “And if it did?” she shot back. “You could be free. You could put down some roots, maybe hang around for longer than a few days.”

  “I see what this is about, Bec.”

  “You don’t see anything,” she said. She turned to face the front and crossed her arms.

  “Guys,” Roman said. “I think someone is following us.”

  I had very little power left, but I had enough to check our surroundings. I had the tattoos search and present me with an image of the world.

  A car was trailing us. I could see a little of where it had been before I noticed it, a trace in the air that showed its time before I looked.

  They were Chaos members, five in the car with weapons loaded and ready.

  “Find somewhere to pull over,” I said. “Somewhere there aren’t too many people.”

  “They’re speeding up,” Roman said, a moment before they rammed us.

  “Find somewhere without people,” I said. The tattoos didn’t have the power to face the gang and stop them from pulling whatever they had in the mall the previous night.

  “We’re in the middle of town.” Roman was on the edge of losing it and I couldn’t help him. If Bec had been driving she would have kept her cool, but that wasn’t who Roman was.

  The next time they rammed us he turned the wheel and the car spun. It crashed into a parked car on the side of the road.

  The Chaos car pulled to a stop. I was getting out when they opened fire.

  Chapter 13

  The tattoos threw up a shield, but they were waning fast and I only had moments.

  “Get him out of here,” I yelled back to Bec, who was already pulling Roman from the far side of the car.

  I trusted her, turning my attention to the enemy. They wore a variety of street clothes, no uniform or similarity except for the circled A sprayed on their backs.

  I ran at them, hoping the shield would last long enough. They were ceasing fire, running out of bullets and having to reload. It gave me a window, and gave the tattoos a few moments more before they ran out of steam.

  I tackled the nearest one, a woman who dressed like a bureaucrat but had the face of a mad person. I slammed her into the car as the shield died and the tattoos went dormant.

  I was in trouble. I turned and launched at the next one before they could finish reloading. I punched him in the gut and he fell to the ground. I snatched his sub-machine gun from the air as it fell and threw it at the next man.

  That one blocked the attack, raising his hands to stop the weapon from hitting his face. It left him open when I got closer and punched his diaphragm as hard as I could. He went down in a gasping heap as I moved on to the next.

  A bullet hit me, high in my chest. Pain exploded from the site and I felt it lodge in the muscle of my back. I hadn’t stopped moving but I was knocked off course. The nearest enemy was within grasp.

  Another bullet grazed my thigh and threw me further off my path. I ran into their car and stumbled, barely able to keep on my feet.

  I grabbed the next man and slammed his head against the car. I turned his gun on the others before he could fall to the street. His bullets tore them apart.

  I wanted to see to my wound but I didn’t have time. People had scattered when the gunfire broke out, but they were still there, watching and on their phones. The authorities would be on their way.

  The two I’d shot were dead, and the one whose gun I’d used to do it had a crushed head. I turned to the first two; the woman wasn’t breathing and the man barely was. He was getting control of his lungs again, but I knew from experience it was a painful process.

  I crouched beside him and wrapped my hand around his neck. He grabbed my arm but when I looked into his eyes I didn’t see the fear I’d expected. I saw anger, but no fear.

  “Why?” I said. I could hear sirens in the distance and someone running from the university we had barely left. “What are you doing?”

  “Anarchy requests your death, old one.” The man could barely breathe but he knew what he had to say, even if he had to use his last breath to do it.

  “Why?”

  “He is a god,” the man said. I squeezed without thinking and he choked. When he could speak again he said, “I do not question my god.”

  “Only idiots don’t question their gods. Where is he?”

  “He will devour you. He will take your essence and make it part of himself. He will—”

  I closed off his air and wondered what to ask him next. I was bleeding and I had no time, and I didn’t think he was going to give me anything. But I had to try, because otherwise I knew I was in for more random attacks when I was driving with my friends.

  “Tell your god I’m coming for him,” I said. I kept his throat closed until he passed out, then punched him in the Adam’s apple. I didn’t want him turning the scared people around us the way the other one had turned the people in the mall.

  I rifled through his pockets and withdrew his phone and wallet. The area was clear of threats; the running man was just some guy who’d come over to watch. He had his phone out and pointed at me.

  I ran into the alley where Bec was waiting with Roman.

  “What’s the plan?” she said.

  “We get out of here before someone shows up,” I said, directing them away from the accident. “Then I’m going to go find out some more about this Chaos.”

  Chapter 14

  Bec told me where to go, where the Chaos gang had made their home. I was bleeding and the tattoos were dormant, but I needed to know why these people wanted me dead.

  The wound in my chest was healing, faster than a normal human but still too slow. I was going to be weaker than I normally was even without the tattoos, but I wasn’t going to fight. Not yet.

  The neighborhood had once been up and coming. Coffee shops had sprung up, and the city had started repairing everything for the influx of new citizens. Now there were For Sale signs everywhere and the people walking from their homes watched their surroundings for criminals.

  Chaos owned the streets around me. I kept my head down and walked, pulling Roman’s coat closed and trying to stick to what little shade there was. I could cover up the blood but I couldn’t cover up being seven foot tall. People crossed the street when they saw me, but I was just one of their concerns and they forgot about me quickly.

  Chaos members were gathered on a corner, talking loudly and laughing. People had given me a wide berth, but they didn’t dare walk the same street as the young men and women of the gang. I stepped into an empty coffee shop and took a seat near the window.

  I didn’t know what I was looking for; some sign of their god, perhaps, or a big flashing notice that said why they kept coming after me. All I knew was that I had to do something, even if that something was watching them from a distance.

  Bec wanted to free me; it was the one thought capable of dislodging the threat the gang posed. She and Roman had found a way, even if the witches thought it was too hard. They had put things in motion, working for my best interests. And I had treated them badly for it.

  I wanted to feel guilty but I didn’t. I wanted to be excited by the possibility, but I wasn’t. I hadn’t taken anyone seriously before when they’d promised me my freedom, but I knew Bec and Roman weren’t lying or t
rying to manipulate me. They genuinely thought it could be done, and judging by Nikolette’s reaction, so did she. It would be difficult, but it was possible.

  Freedom: something I hadn’t considered for myself since the beginning. I’d known what I was getting into, on that mountaintop surrounded by my wife’s blood. The old cleric had been clear; he hadn’t lied to me and pretended my life would come back at some point. He’d told me this was it, forever, and I’d taken the deal anyway.

  And now the hope was being dangled before my face and I wanted to run away. I wanted to deny the possibility and put it behind me before they’d even had a chance to see if they could make it real.

  Why? Why would I push against the idea of freedom from my long servitude? Was it fear of what the world would be like when I could choose for myself? Had I become so dependent on being ordered around that I didn’t think I could survive without the masters? Or was I worried about the probable failure, worried about getting my hopes up and having them dashed when everything fell apart or the witches double crossed us?

  Or was I worried that I would lose the power of the tattoos? They were tied to my curse; Roman’s gibberish had said as much. I might still be marked when they were done with their work, but there was a chance I wouldn’t have the power I had lived with for thousands of years. I might be stuck as a normal human, suffering the whims of the gods like everyone else with no way to punch back.

  I sipped my coffee. It was terrible, as though they were reusing the ground beans and burning the milk. It was still coffee though.

  A member of the gang answered his phone and told the others to be quiet. He listened for a full minute before putting his phone away and issuing orders. The men and women scattered, heading in every direction and leaving three men standing on the corner.

  A car pulled up, a long black vehicle with heavily tinted windows. The man with the phone stood to attention beside the rear passenger door and waited for the window to roll down so he could talk to whoever was inside.

  Was this Anarchy, their god? I wished I had some power in the tattoos to send out and discover who was inside, to see if I really was facing another god who had an issue with me. But I had to rely on my eyes and I couldn’t see anything inside the car.