by Pam Uphoff
Several miles down the road, Flattered turned her head and eyed River's back. "What on Earth was that last spell? It was horrible!"
"Slash. It's like the hardest shield possible, super thin, thinner than a razor, thinner than an oil sheen on water, and you . . . slash it across. But you've got to be so close you can almost touch what you're slashing. I didn't have anything else left. Tomorrow I ought to be able to do . . . something. Maybe."
Simon put another five miles behind them, then stopped where the road forded a small river, reduced to a trickle in the summer heat. "Let's get some food into you witches. Can't have the lot of you fainting on me. Two's my limit for dealing with fainting beauties."
Grace smiled a little bit at that.
Two days later they passed the first farm villages, all with defensive walls. And found the first inn.
"Hot baths!" Flattered sounded starved.
Amused looked a bit apprehensive, and the other witches led her away to soak the bandage off. An hour later they joined him at the table. A bit wide-eyed.
Amused flexed her arm. "What was that potion?"
"I picked it up ages ago when I passed through Sahara. The Goddess of Healing is credited with it."
Grace was wide-eyed. "Are you from Sahara?"
Simon shook his head. "I was born in New Tokyo, ran away from home when I was fifteen."
Grace looked up at that.
"Only if you're truly desperate, Miss Grace Determined. Which you may well be, someday. But remember the bandits. It's got to be bad enough to face that."
She nodded. "Yeah. I'll need to be older." She heaved a deep sigh and looked wretched. But she didn't argue when Simon stopped outside her mother's mansion.
River walked in with her. The doorman blinked at the girl. "Lady Grace! I hadn't realized you were out."
Grace just shrugged. "Is mother here?"
"No, Mi'lady, she's attending an afternoon soiree at the Mayor's House."
"Good, tell cook I'll take an early dinner in an hour." Grace looked up at River. "I hope I see you again."
River was quiet the rest of the way home.
The goodbye gaze lingered, then she turned and walked into the parkland.
Chapter Ten
November 2236
New Tokyo, Asia
"The Mage Kings. Not content with their new city, they are organizing rebellion in New Miami!" Mercy paced, a furious glowing figure. "They want to drive us out, take our places. Well, I won't have it! Even Pax concedes that perhaps they’ll need to be put in their place sooner rather than later. Zapolo and Kelso. Two trouble makers, trying to make themselves kings.
"I say, we should do it now, before their poisonous ideas spread any further." She finally stopped, turned and glowered at her audience.
Edmund and Barry exchanged glances.
Barry shrugged. "It was a lost cause within a few years of the Exile, Mercy. We simply aren't enough stronger than they are to control them when they band together. There are too many of them. If you'd just live in luxury and let them go their own way, you wouldn't have these problems."
"Your stupid demands cause too many problems." Edmund grinned. "You need to just give opinions. And the people who try to rule otherwise need to have unfortunate accidents. You'll find very few people will bother you, after a few years."
"Generations of children brought up as independent thinkers isn’t a good thing. It will lead to strife and even more wars." The golden boy shot a glance toward Simon. "We need to get control of education."
Simon nodded obediently, and wished he were across the room, where River and her pals were sitting quietly behind the senior witches, here for this meeting.
There was snort from the head witch. "This is a matter that touches on all magic users. It's not just you gods who are receiving less respect and a smaller place in the power structure. The Mayor actually had the audacity to criticize our family structure. Some of the possible voting restrictions the city council has considered will impact us especially harshly. The rule has always been one vote per person. Not per family-as-they-define-it. Not limited to individual property owners, which would exclude ordinary wives, not just group ownership situations, like the Pyramid. And this inheritance only to the children of legal marriages? Obviously aimed directly at witches. And we will not stand for it." The old woman's voice was strong, and had dropped to a threatening growl by the end of her speech.
The Archmage curled a sarcastic lip, but remained quiet. There were a dozen full Compasses in the city, and their reputation for orgies and revolving marriages was based on fact, not rumor. They'd been thoroughly criticized as well.
Art stood and stepped out the stand with Mercy. "This city used to realize that we were above them. They respected us. But all the news, and worse, rumors, coming from all the new little towns, all the constitutions and civil rights . . . and now this 'King Kelso' moving beyond New Bombay and building a town, a large town, less than three hundred miles from New Miami? We're being treated like pariahs. We need to remove that town, and make it clear that they cannot encroach on our area of influence."
Peace shook his head. "Yet we don't want to foment war. We are not violent, antisocial men. We should return to New Miami, and talk to these people again. Perhaps a show of force. There must be a way to remove that town with resorting to violence." His eyes slid to meet Mercy's and they exchanged knowing smiles.
Mercy stepped forward. "The second thing we need to talk about can be made to be of use in this matter. As you all know, there's an inbound asteroid. We're going to shift it's impact point from the current ocean impact, which could raise damaging waves, to an impact on uninhabited land. Perhaps our selfless use of power will shame them into obedience once more. And so I think we all ought to practice making magic together. " She dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. "But enough of that. Please join me in taking refreshment, and we'll exchange ideas, plan on magical practices and so forth."
Mercy swooped down on Pax and took his arm to lead the way into a parlor with doors open to a broad, stone paved patio.
Simon nibbled while watching the gods interacting with the other powerful magic makers. I'm probably the weakest person here. His eyes drifted to the small knot of "Golian Wizards." His father and three other men, their body language a combination of wariness and aggression. They glowed as strongly, no, more strongly than the top witches and mages. For just a moment envy twisted at his emotions. His eyes tracked to the young witch triad. River. For her, I gave up power. Then reality reasserted itself. I ran like hell to keep from being castrated. River's just the most marvelous reason yet that I'm glad I did.
He glanced back at the wizards. Is that Dennis? That mean-faced old grouch? Has my older brother had a moment of joy since that horrible day when he regained consciousness and realized what they'd done to him? He's only three years older than me. He looks like a poisonous toad.
A stir of magic pulled his eyes back to River. Her triad glowed in the center of the patio. He'd seen them in practice and then in battle. This was practice, and now he knew it wasn't a third of what they were capable of, at need. Was it his imagination that River was dampening her glow much more than the other girls, to stay down at their level?
The gods, the male gods, Pax, Art, Vice and Virtue, strolled out and surrounded them. Edmund leered at River's definitely expanding belly and was ignored. He scowled as he stepped back and the flow of a Compass oozed into existence and swooped around the four of them. As it sped up and grew higher, the triad's glow deepened, reached upward, higher, touched the clouds and grew further. Golden light spread through the cloud. Brightened. And disappeared with a audible snap.
Seven people staggered away from the center, variously clutching their heads or cursing. Or both.
The three witches moved as far as the stone wall around the patio, then slid down to the ground. Simon ducked inside to load plates and took them out to the trio.
River blinked at the plate he held unde
r her nose. "Chocolate? Now I know I'm in love."
Amused managed a snicker before she bit into the fudge. Flattered followed suit.
Simon, greatly daring, sat down beside River. Just because it got him nearly out of the sight of everyone else. Not because he liked the way she was leaning on him.
It was, however, a very superior way to watch the older witches try to coordinate with the mage compass. The wizards coordinated not at all, even with each other.
"So, Professor Physics, how high are those clouds?" River stretched, then wiggled around to get her head back on his shoulder. Somehow his arm had gotten around her shoulders . . .
"Ten thousand feet, give or take. I couldn't tell how far further up you were reaching, but, well, even being generous, four or five miles won't be high enough to shift a meteor."
"We have to reach out at least a hundred, just to get out of the atmosphere. Ouch."
"The closer the asteroid is when you try to move it, the harder you'll have to shove it. It'll be a balancing act between reach and the power you can apply to redirect it." Simon stared at the cloud and wondered if it was even possible.
"And we've all trained in close work, because that's where we can apply the most power." She narrowed her eyes. "At a hundred miles up, to divert it a hundred miles north, we'd have to change the angle of descent forty-five degrees to the north. A chunk of rock a half mile in diameter? We couldn't possibly do it."
Simon shivered. "Half a mile?"
"That's what Chance said he'd been seeing in his dreams. If we could reach out two hundred . . . four hundred miles or more. Old Gods! We need to be practicing extending our reach. Hugely."
"Yeah." He sat back and watched the mage compass and the oldest witches push a giant blossom of power upward, punching a hole in the clouds and seeming to reach for the stars. But actually, still not out of the atmosphere. "They're wasting too much energy low down. They don't need a pillar, they need a needle."
"Oh?" A chilly female voice. Mercy loomed over him. "And do you think you know more about it than we do? Our weak little Professor?"
"I'm used to analyzing things involving physical energy. We may not be able to measure magic, but we can measure the effects, and many of the same laws of physics apply."
River stood up, abruptly. "Let's test it. As if it were volume of effect verses the amount of energy we put into it. A subjective measurement, to be sure. But an interesting idea." She looked around, then led the way to one side of the patio. "Right. A scale, or something."
Simon stooped and picked up a flowerpot. "Just for a first order test. I'll stand a quarter of the way across the patio. Envision a square cross section of push, two inches by two inches. Push the pot. Then we'll do it again with a one square inch push. Then we'll repeat when I'm halfway across, three quarters and all the way. "
It was subjective as all hell, and even with his quick reactions, tough on the flower pots. But the power required increased with distance, and with the square of the cross section. More mages came and watched, then tried reaching upward with smaller columns.
Simon made himself useful, and found himself included in the working group.
He tried to avoid compromising River's reputation with the Goddess or the pyramid. While spending as much time around her as possible.
River found it amusing, exasperating, and finally sad. "Witches don't have husbands, witch babies don't have fathers. Simon, I'm sorry. I understand that this is going to be painful for you."
He just hid the hurt and sniffed dismissively. "I may be a professor of physics, but I assure you that I took enough biology to be quite certain . . . "
She snickered. The eavesdropping Amused and Flattered laughed so hard they had to prop each other up.
But later, alone, it hurt.
I ought to kidnap her, haul her away . . . Except she'd kill me. And . . . her position of trust is so valuable . . . Simon thumped his head on the wall of his apartment. And sent a report to his boss.
They moved out of town and started knocking down nearly invisible targets on distant mountains.
No one explained why their encampment—two mansions and a hundred tents—was called Los Alamos by the gods. But one morning late in November, Simon woke, and found most of it gone. A few servants were packing. River had gone with all the other magicians and gods. He drove quickly to New Tokyo. No mansions. He sent a quick message to his boss, and headed for the water front. There must be a ship heading south. Must.
Chapter Eleven
December 2236
New Miami, India
The New Miami Pyramid had a triad of Full Moons. With the Blondes in one corner, and River, Amused and Flattered in the other they formed a widespread base for the pyramid’s power gather. Technically not yet trained to Full Moon status, but able to channel and all six of them pregnant, the Bright Quarter Moons were close to the Full Moons in power. In the last weeks of practice they'd worked out the best combinations for raising and projecting power. And this was it.
The courtyard was dim in the setting sun, then painfully bright as the magic gathered.
Two triads of the Dark Quarter, and one of the Dark Crescent stood just inside them.
The eight men, gods and mages, formed a Compass inside that. In the center, Mercy and the two Eldest sisters formed another Dark Crescent Triad.
The power they held was enormous. Spinning, glowing, painfully bright. As one they reached out into space with a tiny needle. As the Earth swung, for a brief moment they were directly beneath that asteroid. They touched it. Pushed it to slow it. Began to shift it north.
And under the gestalt of the whole, River saw both the intent and the results.
A slower approach would move the strike zone west.
"No! Pull it faster, away from the City. You’re making it hit the City!" Her voice wrenched her loose. Power sparked, flashed from the walls around the open courtyard, crackled like lightening. A blast knocked her off her feet, reverberated off the walls.
River scrambled back to her feet as Mercy descended on her, fury and death in her eyes and in her upraised hand.
River backed away. "You’ve changed it’s course. It’s going to hit the City."
"That was the plan, you traitorous bitch. Who do you work for? Wolf? Yes!" The death spell leapt from her hand. River shielded. The spell crashed through, physically throwing her back, into the stone wall. The residual power in the wall flashed. As everything went dark, she heard Barry’s voice. "Perhaps we should check with the astronomers. We may have managed enough change already."
"Go north, away from Miami, go north." "Go north, away from Miami, go north." The voices tangled, male and female. Always the same voices. The War God. Logic. Fertility and Healing. The God of Love. The God of the Roads. Who were the others? Her own father, perhaps? Chance, Just Deserts?
God of Chance, I’m sorry! I think I just made your premonition come true. They wanted to destroy New Bombay, but now they’ve targeted New Miami.
"Lock her up. Put a guard on her who can’t be over-powered magically. We’ll deal with her later. Pax? Have we moved it enough?"
"Yes. There will be no war. I can feel it."
Art's voice cut in. "The astronomers said that the earlier we moved it the less change we needed to make. We touched it immediately."
"We should check." Barry again.
"There’s no time." That sounded like Edmund. "The Army marched three days ago. We need to hurry if we are to be outside Kingston when New Bombay is hit."
Pax’s irritating drawl answered. "I sent a marker. We’ll be able to teleport directly to them. Let’s eat, then we can leave at dawn. We have most of a day before impact."
Hands grabbed her, tried to make her stand. Ristophe and Dangelo. Her legs didn’t seem to be there. They gave up and dragged her. Once outside the courtyard, they called in the guards and made them do the carrying. Sent someone for the Commander. In fact, most of her body was gone. And there went her brain spiraling down into
the dark, after it.
The pain woke her. The cramping agony she identified immediately. Miscarriage. Mercy didn’t kill me, but she’s killed my baby. She curled up into a knot as another wave of pain swept through her. And I came close to dying with you, my unknown, unnamed, child. I’m so sorry. I could not protect you. River managed to focus mentally for a moment, to send something, some wave of love, of comfort, but there was nothing to receive it. All that was left was for her body to expel the fetus, the already dead child.
She could see the results of Mercy’s attack on her own body, patches of dead tissue, mostly small. Too much for the baby to survive, too little to kill River. Very odd, this perception, as if her body was translucent. I’m going to be very sick, as those dead patches . . . do whatever they’re going to do. My heart is fine, lungs good. That one on the liver is not good . . . She paced. She cramped, and bled. She cried. In the end she held a tiny bald thing in one hand. And cramped, and bled while the placenta passed. And then cramped and bled more.
She’d had some vague impression of guards looking in on her occasionally. She’d tried to be laying down and still every time she heard them coming. She had no idea if she’d managed it. The tiny high slit of a window brightened, the night had passed before she was done.
She ripped up her bedding, for pads, for a tiny shroud. For washing and for a towel. She heard footsteps coming closer, again. She staggered over to the corner where she’d left most of her clothes and dressed hastily.
I have to get away. I have to warn people. I have to escape.
The window slit opened. She moved into the center of the cell, and looked back. Recognition bloomed. Mercy’s commander, her pet War God. A tall muscular woman, eagle eyed, proud.
"God of War. Do you hear me?"
The commander's lips peeled away from her teeth as she laughed.
"God of War! Anyone has always been able to summon you. But you were always the one who decided which side you were on. Remember? Have you heard the voices?"
