The Foul Mouth and the Troubled Boomworm (The King Henry Tapes)

by Raley, Richard

  My lot in life: being the short, stocky, overlooked friend.

  “Plus . . . I have another idea,” I hinted.

  “This better not involve Val or me taking our coats off,” Miranda warned.

  “I’ve seen you with your coat off and—“

  Something invisible smacked the back of my head.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re lucky I don’t have more anima for another,” she growled, eyes entering the danger zone behind her glasses.

  “Other idea is?” Pocket asked.

  “She just beat me with an aero-cudgel and you’re all ignoring it?”

  “Kind of deserved it, didn’t you?”

  “Still that mad about the fern jokes?”

  “Pretty much, dude.”

  We paused in silence. Around us all of Class ’09 readied for the next game. Root had started a countdown timer on the big screens. Couple minutes left in the break. Then the five minutes where we would set up around the Mound and another five minutes to prepare our pools. Then . . . Sabine and Water and a huge gamble.

  “My idea is this: how do you stop a hydromancer?”

  Val blinked, instantly getting where I was going. “Take away the water.”

  [CLICK]

  We waited to set up until after Welf had placed us in our spots, not wanting to arouse his suspicion. After he was gone, the rest of the band of traitors snuck over to my position opposite Water.

  Here’s hoping Root ain’t a Legend of Zelda fan.

  What?

  I met the only other Ultra in Fresno last week and the guy turns out to be this nerdy gamer, almost forces me to borrow some of his old console shit and now here I am with the Zelda jokes, it’s fucking horrible.

  Where’s the opportunity for a cock joke when you really need it?

  Miranda arrived first. “Any other tactical genius to impart, Mighty Leader?”

  I gave her a look over. We had all grown up, Miranda too. She’d lost some of her plump—guess you could call it baby fat, only if I did she’d find me and kill me if she ever heard this tape—and would lose more over the years. A good enough looking chick by the time we graduated as Ultras. Just covered up by ginger and attitude and I can’t believe Valentine finds you funny.

  I always remember that first month, that Camp Test, when I see her. The scared girl who had lost all the airs of society and the expectations of her betters and just tried to survive with the people she found herself clinging to. I think if we got trapped on the desert island we might have been friends. Not a whole lot of desert islands in the mountains though, so she was as antagonistic as some comic book villain all up in the death rays.

  Trying to pool anima, I wasn’t interested in argument, so instead I tried to be supportive. “That aero-cudgel was nice. Could you do it harder?”

  “Of course I can.” She left unsaid, so think about that next time you mention anything under my coat.

  “Might surprise Sabine to be hit with something she can’t see. Not like she can block it either.”

  Crossing her arms, Miranda didn’t meet my eyes, but did give me the point. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Raj next. “I don’t know if this will work but it sounds fun. Cryomancers and hydromancers are natural enemies in the Mancy, not as bad as pyromancers and hydromancers, and I don’t like to let the Mancy force my hand, but they do seem to like to fight with me for some reason.”

  Miranda patted him on the elbow. “You’re babbling, Raj.”

  Raj stared at the pale, freckled hand on his elbow like it wasn’t a piece of hideous ginger abomination. “I do that when I’m nervous.”

  “Guess you two have that in common,” I muttered.

  Miranda took offense but Raj seemed to dig having something in common with her. Why people always blind to someone digging them? Then you got the cruel bastards like me watching on and not saying nothing. Sometimes I wonder if maybe we should all just come out and tell people, instead of holding it inside. But then . . . might not like the results . . . don’t I know it.

  Young love . . . it’s a shit game.

  Valentine next. “I’m starting to think we should have run this by the others.”

  “And I keep telling you that you need to get rid of that conscience of yours,” I said.

  “It is troublesome . . .”

  “Look at me, carefree. Don’t give a shit about nothing.”

  “That’s you, carefree. Don’t look nervous at all, King Henry.”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “Nope. Eyes aren’t squinting, not gritting your teeth, or cracking your knuckles . . .”

  I forced myself to stop doing all three. “This is just my fight routine.”

  “If you say so. I make no judgments.”

  I went back to her original argument. “This only works if we don’t tell everyone.”

  “I know . . . still. If Sabine beats us . . .”

  Listening in, Miranda finally had her chance to rain on the parade, “We’ll have blown the game and the match and the entire tourney by listening to King Henry Price and no one outside of this group will ever talk to us again.”

  Raj pointed out the other possibility, “But if we win, we’ll be heroes.”

  Pocket last. He came up out of breath, sweat on his brow despite the low temperature. “Sorry, had to water a plant.”

  Val and I shared a glance. “He thought if he made the joke then we’d pass it up,” she decided.

  “He was wrong.”

  “Geez, you two are killing me today,” Pocket complained.

  “Because we actually scored some kills,” I told him.

  Pocket pouted as Val gave me a high five. Well . . . my part was high, her part was like sidearm on account of being half a foot taller than me. Pocket gave the real explanation after he’d put some air back in his lungs. “Almost ran into Welf’s spot, had to run around the whole other way . . . which is way longer than you’d think. I haven’t even pooled yet.”

  “Where was our glorious leader at?”

  “Air.”

  “How nice of him to choose the foggy, hard-to-see zone where his plan works best.”

  Val defended Welf—which is the only habit of hers that I really hate. “It’s not that he wants the glory, it’s that he won’t let go. He thinks he can do the best . . . and, you have to admit, he’s often right.”

  “I admit nothing,” I growled. The screen clocks were almost done. Not much time left now. “Everyone but Pocket have a pool?”

  Three nods.

  Go time.

  [CLICK]

  Water.

  It’s a deceptive cocksucker.

  Problem with it is that we’re so happy it’s around. It’s there all the fucking time.

  Fire . . . you know to fear fire the first time your parents let you touch it. Get the lesson they’ve unloaded real damn quick. Electricity . . . zap zap goes the taser. Sunlight . . . spray on that block, put on those dark glasses. Air . . . every breath we take, down deep, where we can almost pretend we don’t, we imagine the absence of those lungs pumping. Earth . . . guess that comes down to if you’ve ever felt an earthquake. Never going to trust the ground after your favorite teapot goes kamikaze on the tile floor.

  Water.

  It’s always there.

  Open a tap and get a drink. Wash the dishes. Wash the clothes. Wash your stanky ass-crack. Swim in it. Fill toy guns with it. Fish in it. Sit on the edge of the ocean and let the waves roll up on your ankles. Stand beside a lake in the middle of nowhere, having your second-to-last cigarette, enjoying your last moment of peace before entering the Asylum. Water’s always there for you.

  Until it’s too much there for you. The worst of all natural disasters happen from water. Tsunami, flooding rivers, hurricane swells. It’s fun until it’s towering over you. It’s fun until you’ve got no land to stand upon. It’s fun . . . until it’s too late.

  The Water Zone felt exactly the same.

  Whoever design
ed it—be it Root or the Lady or someone else—they understood water.

  It felt fun.

  It felt nice.

  Ponds. Streams. Little falls gurgling over rocks. In those first steps up the Mound, I wished I’d spent less time planning and more time taking a piss.

  Pocket led the way. A good ten feet in front of the rest of us, spread out in a line, Val and Raj on the ends with their gloved hands ready to fire electronic beepage. They were allowed to use actual anima from the off hand, but only on the environment. Throw fire or ice or whatever at another student and their vests would go ape-shit. Make my little penalty look like a pansy soccer flop.

  “What am I looking for?” Pocket whispered back.

  He wasn’t just in the lead due to him being such good bait. He was also the outdoors guy. Our scout. Our Power Ranger. But like the badass green one. Getting all up in that Pink Ranger pussy. If anyone would notice a trap before it smashed him, it was Pocket.

  Which only made the fact that he kept on up the incline without stopping worse. There be dragons in this cave. But where? Lots of ponds, lots of streams. Lots of rocks to climb over. Where was Sabine? How close did she need to be to slap our asses with a hydro-whip?

  “Ripples?” I guessed.

  “It’s all rippling. It’s moving water.”

  “If you see a hot Algerian-French chick with blond hair and sandy skin, that’s a sign too.”

  We made the second level marker. The crowd was oddly silent. There was the occasional outburst but it was quick, over in a hurry. Like when you’re more interested in something else. Phone call during sex. Girlfriend telling you she got promoted at work while you’re watching sports. Yeah, yeah, later honey, Chargers are blowing the game like usual. Fucking Manti Te’o should stop looking for his invisible girlfriend and start looking for the fucking ball!

  What you bet that Root has two of those screens tuned special, just to the Water Zone? One on us . . . one on Sabine as she waited. Waited for us to get closer. Dragon brushing its teeth, getting them taste buds all ready and open for the flavor.

  “Everyone stop!” Miranda yelled out.

  “Quit trying to make me crap my pants!” Pocket growled back at us.

  Miranda focused on one of the larger pools of water, squinting at the surface. “I feel something.”

  Next to her, Raj frowned. “Anima saturation?”

  “Not my type.”

  “Mine either.”

  They looked at the rest of us and we shook our heads.

  My turn to stare at the pool in question. Something was off about it.

  Val agreed and also figured it out, “It’s placid.”

  “Oh shit,” I whispered under my breath.

  Raj threw his right arm forward and I actually felt anima release. It’s a lot like anima pooling, just sharp and quick instead of soft and over a long period. So for a geomancer like me: a jolt in my feet. It surprised me. Sure, I knew it was possible . . . but I’m not exactly Mr. Sensitive when it comes to anima.

  Or feelings

  Or fucking anything at all really.

  Miranda’s best in the class at it. Always staring at people when they’re pooling like they let a huge fart rip. Twitching when someone throws that anima around. Can’t say I’m jealous of the skill. Would have been annoying to deal with it all the time, especially at the Asylum. But Winter War . . . fighting another mancer?

  Useful skill to have around.

  With Raj’s bit I took my luck to come from being right next to the guy and sleeping in the same room with him for the last year and a half. Familiarity. Gave me enough warning to step away as cryo-anima did its thing to the pond.

  Anyone up for skating?

  The whole pond was frosted over with ice and slush. Not like some time-lapse fast-forward job from outside in but all at once . . . every part, equally frozen. I don’t know much about ponds or lakes and know less about snow. Last winter at the Asylum was the first time I’d ever seen any. But I guessed half a foot deep of ice, black and frosty, not that creamy white shit you expect. More like a window.

  Up over the ice, the stream of water kept coming, dripping down from the heights, gliding over the ice, and then down to the lower ponds. When I say pond I mean a fucking pond, too. Not puddle, not nothing you’re going to walk through. Feet deep, feet wide. Lot of water, hydrogen and oxygen having a massive orgy.

  Trapped . . .

  With Sabine inside?

  “Anyone think that will hold her?” I asked.

  No one answered in the few seconds of silence before the ice exploded.

  Why my instincts decided that I should throw myself over Miranda of all people I’ll never know. I knocked her to the ground trying to protect her, my body over hers, small shield that I am. Maybe I knew Val and Pocket would be fine on their own and I expected Miranda to do her usual stand-and-stare-at-the-approaching-doom bit. I don’t know. Either way, Val and Pocket ate the dirt without my help, arms over their heads.

  Raj . . . no so much.

  Poor bastard took a block of ice right in the chest. Had to catapult him backwards a good ten feet. Could call it his Leo-hit-by-King-Henry impersonation. Remind me never to get hit with anima or with anima powered objects—shit looks like it hurts. Especially on a hill where you ain’t on even ground. I’ve told you before, geometry is a bitch. Fucking curves, man.

  One moment Raj was there admiring his handy work, next moment the handy work is gone and so is Raj. Only reason I knew Sabine didn’t erase him from existence was a moaning from somewhere down the Mound and a beeping from Raj’s vest telling him that he should exit the field of play, ya know, after he puts his rib cage back in place.

  Plan Ice Over the Lake gone and then everything went to shit with it. The pond water from the explosion rained down on us and with it came Sabine, like some damned creature out of the sea. Forget dragon, this was some leviathan shit. Even worse than that, some Sharktopus shit.

  Every inch of her was drenched. There was a lot of her to see too . . . no normal colors here. Root had let her wear a one-piece swimsuit instead. No shoes, no coat, just . . . swimsuit covered by her vest. Bare muscled arms with swimmer’s shoulders, long lean legs . . . every inch of them sun-kissed and tanned. Wet blond hair. Water beading over a pretty face. Bit of her hips showing.

  An older, insanely hot teenage girl in a bathing suit . . . you’ve found my weakness! How did you know?

  Not Miranda’s weakness apparently, since she levered my body off of her and thrust out a hand that sent a burst of packed air hard at Sabine. Aeromancers: not good at going direct. Sabine slipped backward two feet, pushed from the gust, but her vest didn’t even give a warning beep.

  How long are you going to sit on your ass? some part of my subconscious asked. Right, I thought, there’s a fight going on. I scurried to my feet, slipping once on the wet dirt showing the warning signs of mud. Reluctantly, I brought my hands up in fists. “Sorry about this,” I said.

  Sabine smiled at me, bringing her own hands up, but open palmed, like she might slap me. She said something in French, “Ogg La Nob Nob Gaga Gaga Boo Boo.” No, that’s not accurate. It’s fucking French, like I have any clue. Unless it’s a curse word you’re shit out of luck.

  Merde, merde, merde! Ahh, you naughty frog-eaters!

  Quick glance back at Miranda and to the side at Valentine. Miranda returned to her feet with far less poise than even I had. Val was already up, glove hand forward, trying to get a shot at Sabine but I stood between the two. Sabine kept sidestepping to keep it that way, using me as a shield.

  “She’s pooling back up,” Miranda warned.

  Say goodbye to what tiny don’t-punch-girls chauvinistic morals you have and punch the girl already, Price. Almost whining over having to do it, I tossed a straight punch right to Sabine’s chest, aiming for the red vest. Her hands moved fast, slapping down on my wrist.

  Bad.

  She shifted her grip.

  Very bad.

 
; A twist and my arm went up, then she bent forward.

  Fucking Judo, I thought in the spare second before my whole body went airborne and into the nearby pool of iced up water. Thanks, Raj.

  Shit be cold.

  I don’t know if it was the cold water or that I just got my ass kicked by a girl, but my balls shriveled up and disappeared. Can’t tell you about the rest of my extremities, being that thanks to the unexpected splash and the plunge of icy temperatures, I couldn’t feel much. I did nothing but float there . . . eyes facing upwards, picking out the black chunks of ice from where they blotted out the winter sunlight.

  Q: Last place you want to be when fighting a hydromancer?

  A: In the water.

  Q: Where are you?

  A: In the water.

  Statement: Get out of the fucking water, idiot.

  I’m not a great swimmer. We’ve covered this. But neither was the pond that deep. Even for fifteen-year-old-me my feet still brushed against the bottom of the pond, mud and guck suctioning on one shoe but the other finding a nice flat rock. I pushed off, arms up and clearing the small chunks of ice. There are many ways I don’t want to die . . . knocking myself out so I drown in a pool of water is one of them.

  I broke into the air, not nearly as gracefully as Sabine had and without the explosive force. No grace here, only determination as I paddled to the side and rolled, grabbed, and did anything necessary to get out.

  Sabine and Miranda stood facing off. Normally, Miranda would’ve been taken out in a second, only Sabine was leery of Val and that gloved hand. All three of the girls kept moving: Miranda to get out of the way, Val to keep Sabine in her sights, and Sabine to keep Miranda between her and Val.

  There was no sign of Pocket.

  As I coughed up water, I ruminated on this fact and changed my plans. I’d been planning on some iron fisting . . . but . . . new plan: I pulled off my shoes and dumped a cup of water from each. “That wasn’t fun.”

  The three girls glanced at me, but only for a couple seconds before returning to their game of checkers.

  “Going to remember that dunk when we face each other in the finals next year, Sabine.”