B00M0CSLAM EBOK

by Mason Elliott

  The early days of spring weren’t all drudgery. Life went on in many ways. With some degree of order and security back in place, people did what people always do. Older people passed on. Babies were born. Kids went to school and played sports and had fun with their families and friends.

  Two of David and Jerriel’s new friends were a couple a few years older than them. Brad Daniels and Ellen Stiles moved up the date of their summer wedding to a beautiful spring day. Both of them were young teachers in their mid to late twenties.

  Brad taught history and world studies at the same high school where Kevin Policinski taught science. Ellen taught at Christ the King, one of the local Catholic grade schools.

  Together they made a pretty, happy young couple.

  Brad and Ellen both had served in the militia with Kevin, but all three went back to teaching soon thereafter, once the main threat was gone. Even they admitted that they were all better teachers than soldiers. But like many of the young people in town at that time, they would rise to the occasion and defend their homes and their people if forced to do so, as part of the reserves.

  Many had done so, and would again.

  Jerriel cried, seeing Ellen in her plain but stunning wedding dress with her few bridesmaids, and Brad in his suit with his groomsmen. With digital cameras no longer working, older film cameras were used by friends and family to take pictures.

  Kevin Policinski and the university scientists knew something about photography, and had helped the council set up a few new film labs in town. Hand processing was slower, and the reactive chemicals slightly different now since the Merge, but the modified process could still be made to work. Not all knowledge was lost or incapable of being adapted.

  Throughout Michiana, people bartered items, and their time, and donated themselves and their skills to trade for different things.

  If there was one positive thing about the Merge that David appreciated, it was the fact that so many people came together to work for the survival of humanity. During the crisis they were under, the focus of many people changed from making money and getting ahead on an individual or selfish level, to looking out for each other and making sure that everyone was safe, secure, and well-cared for. The threat of destruction made some people take better care of one another on a community level.

  That part was definitely better. People were forced to work together in order to stay alive, and find some degree of security and happiness therein.

  In that respect, the Merge had made many people better people.

  But in any situation there were always troublemakers, opportunists, and charlatans who played upon peoples’ fears and tried to divide or take advantage of them.

  Watching Brad and Ellen cut their small wedding cake at the reception in the high school, with their friends cheering them on, David tried to think positively. No system of any kind was perfect and required constant maintenance and tinkering. Especially when it involved the messy, fallible human factor.

  As usual, people could only do their best.

  That was all that any one could do.

  The town council tried to listen to the brightest minds, the smartest people available to them. Then they came to the conclusion that they thought would work best for the people as a whole.

  Someone asked Dirk once what kind of a government they were forming. Dirk merely answered, “Plainly and truthfully, we’re creating a Practical-ocracy. Whatever we can find that works best, that’s what we’re going to do. If we find out that something works better, we’ll switch over and do that. And we’ll take our lumps and learn from there as we go.”

  Of course, there were a lot of voices from the past who wanted the old ways back as soon as possible–if not yesterday.

  They argued constantly to get their way, but whether some people liked it or not, the old world that they had known was gone.

  It really was.

  Politically, the two-party system was over, for the simple fact that it did not work. Nothing could ever get done. There was only one party now–the human race, and they were on their own in a dangerous new world with new laws and new realities.

  Endless arguing and campaigning between rival factions who were never going to change their opinions anyway just led to paralyzing failure. Nothing could change. Failure and inefficiency would mean death and starvation for tens of thousands, while fanatics from one side or the other argued endlessly about who should be in charge, and why the other side was the greatest evil on the planet. Such zealots would do so, literally until doomsday came.

  The people of Michiana no longer had time for such folly.

  In a survival situation, people didn’t have time for all of that hyper-political nonsense. Actual hordes of monsters crashing through your windows to kill and eat you and your kids made all of that past crap silly and obsolete.

  People had to stick together now and discover what worked–or become extinct.

  For better or for worse.

  David smiled, musing to himself at a table, a little tipsy from one glass of wine too many at the wedding of their friends.

  Michiana really was kind of like a big marriage, a wedding, like forming a big family of humanity that took care of itself and looked out for one another. The single-minded, obsessive pursuit of personal gain or power in selfish forms simply could not be tolerated as the primary focus of human life any longer.

  Not that there weren’t a lot of people out there still trying to go back to that. It was hard for fanatics to give up the past failures.

  For the present, at least, as isolated as they were, humans needed to band together in order to stay alive.

  All of the other distractions, all of that silly crap from the past was all deception and illusion, smoke and mirrors. Nobody had time for any of that horse hockey anymore.

  David danced with the bride and tried not to step on her feet. Jerriel danced with the groom. They danced together into the night beside their friends, holding onto each other.

  This was the way it should be with people.

  Just dancing with Jerriel and holding her close by themselves were rare and special treats for David.

  Smiling at her and looking into her eyes, for him, was a form of paradise.

  Young Steven Hayward even got up the nerve to ask Jerriel for a dance, and blushed like a beefsteak tomato all the while. David couldn’t blame the young boy for being smitten with her.

  In those moments, David felt very much at peace with their new world.

  When they all got tired of eating, drinking, and dancing, everyone wished the happy couple well, and went on home to sleep.

  David and Jerriel and many of their friends rode their bikes back to their houses, down the middle of the city streets in the cool night air. It was funny to hear so many bikes clipping along down the wide open roads now, with no more cars or trucks to fill them.

  A few people in town, outside of the military, were lucky enough to have horses to ride. The town council worked with the area horse owners to greatly expand horse breeding from that point forward.

  Brad and Ellen took a long, romantic carriage ride back to their house, to begin their life together as man and wife, in a mixed-up world that was far from certain.

  That all took love, and it took guts.

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  Like many of the defenders, Mason didn’t like the looks of the new developments at the front one bit. The grueling war was now being prosecuted by the enemy on a 24/7 basis. Fighting continued all throughout that day. At night, the monster hordes swept back in and took over for the mercs, who would rest in turn, and take over once again at the next dawn.

  Enemy artillery coordinated their attacks with the infantry and archery units, and no one could forget the enemy mages.

  These new tactics forced the South Bend defenders to very quickly rethink and reorganize their own strategies and tactics. First, they needed to switch their units over to also work in shifts, fighting day and night in response to the enemy. The two shifts were
formed, but that left very few front line troops in reserve–in case of an enemy breakthrough.

  As many feared, second line troops were organized into militia units, brought up, and made active as reserves.

  Sadly, these units had numbers, but they were far from effective: older men, women, and young boys and girls ages ten and up. And additional supplies of weapons, armor, gear, and even food and water had to be rationed among them.

  Eventually, such secondary reserves would be brought up to help plug holes and hold the line with the regular militia against either monsters, or worse–seasoned, professional mercenary soldiers who knew exactly how to conduct military actions.

  No one was looking forward to the casualties that were obviously going to result from such clashes. But the defenders had no choice in that now.

  Mason himself informed the militia commanders that the writing was on the wall. They might as well start evacuating what remained of the city, because it was going to be quickly enveloped by the war.

  They could not hold the enemy back. They could only delay them.

  And, on top of that, Mason’s ammunition stores continued to dwindle, although he tried to make every shot count whenever he was on the line.

  The word went out.

  The evacuation began, and quickly became a panic.

  The defenders of Mishawaka were quickly informed that the enemy would most likely be engaging them in their areas–within the week.

  Why would the enemy halt its advance once South Bend fell?

  Mishawaka would then become the new front line, and then sparsely populated Osceola, and Elkhart after that–until the Urth humans of Michiana were either completely subjugated or wiped out.

  That choice would be up to the enemy.

  South Bend grimly promised that they would send any surviving forces over to help defend Mishawaka, which wasn’t really in any better position than South Bend had been at the start of the war.

  The numbers all looked grim, no matter who looked at them.

  In response, the defenders grew desperate. They brought about a dozen people up to the front lines who had exhibited fledgling magical abilities.

  Some could create or cast fire; a few cold; two, lightning; one smoke; and the final one, an exploding, blasting ray.

  Blondie said that they were all sorcerers, just coming into their powers. He warned them that this was a very dangerous time. He warned Major Avery and the new recruits directly that these new mages should not overtax themselves. They could easily burn out their powers in the beginning, or worse.

  They could severely damage or even destroy themselves.

  They asked Blondie to give them some instruction, and he did what he could, but Blondie was not a teacher, and he still had huge gaps in his own memory still from his amnesia.

  “A sorcerer’s powers are part of him, and can be affected by his emotions, his mental state, and his physical condition,” Blondie attempted to explain. “Sorcerers learn to use, focus, and increase the strength of their abilities gradually, through slow, steady practice with the guidance of experienced mentors. That is why they become apprentices. There are many dangers and pitfalls in trying to develop such abilities on one’s own. Such powers cannot be forced, or rushed. To do so can be disastrous, and it far too easy for the ignorant to make big mistakes.”

  The budding mages still had many questions that he simply could not answer. It was a very frustrating situation for everyone involved.

  Blondie still couldn’t even use his own former powers at will yet. They only ignited as a defensive reaction, whenever he or his comrades around him were in great jeopardy. And that usually meant in the heat of battle.

  That night, the militia tried to have the new mages only cast three times. But the pressure to perform during war made the mages take further risks.

  As a result, one mage burned himself out, and might not ever be able to use his abilities ever again. Even worse, a woman in her mid-thirties burst into flames and perished, unable to control her powers when they backfired and went out of control during a fifth casting. Other than dousing her charred corpse with water and finally putting it out, there was nothing else the militia could do for her.

  Yet the extra boost from the costly mage castings helped out over the course of three hours, and were used sparingly. But after that, the new mages had to leave the line and find a place to rest and recover.

  A line of heavy thunderstorms raged in halfway through the night, with high winds, driving rain, and lightning. Much of the front lines turned to churning mud, and the lightning was truly perilous for both sides. Caught out in the open lifting metal weapons to fight with was very ill-advised during such a powerful storm.

  Not only that, but Blondie seemed to have an definite affinity for lightning and lightning storms.

  He found a vantage point and directed lightning down on the enemy lines with a furious vengeance. After just half an hour of such punishing effects, the monsters withdrew in panic, leaving many dead and wounded behind them in the mud.

  Blondie and the weather had bought the defenders half a night’s respite.

  The militia did their best to recover and regroup, using the time as wisely as they could. In fact, they were training all of their people to the limit of their endurance each day, attempting to prepare them for the fighting on the front lines that lay ahead. Yet the enemy still seemed to possess almost every strategic and tactical advantage.

  “Here’s our problem,” Mason complained to Major Avery.

  Blondie smirked. “Mace, since when did we whittle them all down to just one?” he asked, with a wry edge to his voice.

  Mason snorted. “Screw you, Blondie. Bill, on top of everything else, all we can ever do is react. All we can do is defend and wait for them to hit us again, hammer us night and day, and wear us down. We can’t attack. We can’t break out of this trap they have us in. And we all know that eventually, they’re going to wear us down and push us back until all of South Bend is theirs. We’re going to run out of defenders, and out of town to defend!”

  Messengers raced in to announce. “Major Avery. Pistolero! The new lake you told us about on Allen Street is attracting the lightning from the storm. The waters there are glowing again, just like you said they did in the past!”

  Mason felt his own eyes widen and his mouth drop open. “Avery, get all of our inert shooting supplies and gear over to that damn lake. Blondie, Thulkara, we’re less than a mile from that location. We need to ride over there fast!”

  Their mounts weren’t ready, so Mason and Blondie grabbed two post horses from the messengers. Thulkara simply ran behind them as they passed beneath the storm.

  An enormous lightning bolt nearly struck them.

  Blondie sensed and redirected it onto a huge sycamore tree that exploded in flames on their right flank, going up like a huge torch as the trunk burst and split with loud cracks.

  Then the peal of deafening thunder blasted the air around them the next instant.

  “Keep going!” Mason tried to yell over the storm’s fury. “We have to get there before the effects fade!”

  It took them only a few minutes to reach the deep end of the lake that extended out toward the dark woods. But to Mason the time seemed to telescope into an hour or more. They kept riding around the near side.

  This might be his one chance to renew his shooting supplies, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

  The water was indeed glowing more and more with Wild Magic, as Blondie described it.

  When they reached the shallow end of the lake where the houses from the broken street were still partially submerged, Mason glanced at the remains of his shattered duplex. The wreckage was in the process of being cleared away from the concrete foundation.

  But more amazing, was the ferocity of the lightning hitting the lake, and apparently causing the water to glow even brighter, in rippling waves.

  Blondie pointed at the latest strike. “See, the enchanted water is absorbing th
e energy of the lightning and transmuting it into Wild Magic energy. This must be very similar to the forces that imbued you with your current powers.”

  Mason looked around nervously, shucking all of his gear that already worked.

  “I hear horses and wagons heading this way,” Thulkara told them.

  “I hope they get here soon,” Mason said. “The affects I witnessed right after the Merge only lasted for minutes at best. Otherwise, I would have drowned. They have to get those supplies here so that we can try to charge them up.”

  “It’s a form of enchantment, actually,” Blondie noted. “But yours is a very strange case, Mace. You and your gear are symbiotically part of the magic. It won’t work without it being channeled directly through you. Good thing you were a strong, latent sorcerer at heart. That’s the only explanation. Your unique focus is probably directed by your force of will.”

  “What does all of that mean?” Thulkara said. “I hate it when mages talk magic.”

  “He means that my guns are part of me, and that’s why they work for me like they do.” He stripped down to his boxers again, putting his duster back around him while they waited for the wagons and carts to get there.

  Hurry, guys. “I’ll tell you,” Mason said. “I’m not looking forward to another cold swim in that water.”

  Blondie looked at him and both his eyebrows went up. “I wouldn’t either. And that’s Wild Magic, Mace. It’s unpredictable. If you can’t control it and direct it with your force of will, there’s no telling what it could do to you.”

  “I was in it before. I’ll be all right.”

  Blondie grabbed his arm. “Mace, you don’t understand. Every time you go into something like that, it can be different. It could very easily destroy you.”

  Mason pulled his arm away. “Then I’ll be dead, and it won’t matter. I have to take this chance.”

  The enchanted water rippled with a waves of glowing light, as two more gigantic lightning bolts struck it.

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