Balance - Book 2

by Marc Dickason

  *****

  My Basics, the theory part, passed in a blur of papers, pens and information regurgitation. The proceedings started at 7AM and pushed through until 12PM, during which I wrote two separate papers, with a short break between. By the last question I could have been answering in gibberish and would not have known. All in all, however, I felt fairly confident I had at least been in the right ball park.

  After lunch the practical part was set to commence. And although a much quicker process the lingering inevitability of facing Delaney was foremost on my mind.

  At 1PM two trainers stepped into the canteen, announced a name, and guided the answering cadet out to perform the test. The next was called ten minutes later, and the next, until Clarence, Jet, was called.

  I answered and was led to the infamous Room 5C, where I had previously been granted my active status. Lotz, Delaney, my Reality Manipulation trainer Templeton and two men I did not recognise were waiting in the observation booth. Lotz gave me a smile as I entered. Delaney, seated beside her, managed a glare that could’ve melted steel.

  “Hello, Cadet Clarence,” one of the unrecognised men said via the amplification system. His voice rang off the cement ceiling. “My name is Gary Arnold, representative of the Department of Magic. I will oversee your evaluation and ensure it is official and fair.”

  “Hello, Mister Arnold.”

  He referred to a paper. “You have been the subject of much controversy in your time here already, Clarence. And I need not say that, by all means, you have proven yourself a strong Enforcer candidate regardless of the outcome of this evaluation.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “It was well beyond the expected level of participation; agreeing to be involved in the professional operation with Judy Carlson. And a shame the outcome.” He referred to the paper again. “It says here you have likewise volunteered to be involved in two other official D.O.M operations, assisted by your mentor, First Class Junior Enforcer Kingston. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very impressive indeed. Now, it has been much discussed whether you should be granted an extension, Clarence, given the circumstances of some of the more unfortunate events. Your hand has been injured, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir. But the pain is more then manageable.”

  “It also says here you attended your appointment at the Mental Wellness centre and were released. Is that correct?”

  “Correct, sir.”

  “Would you like an extension? You have every reason to request one.”

  “No, sir. I believe I’ll be okay.”

  “Indeed. You are very brave, Clarence.” He turned to the three trainers. “Wouldn’t you all agree?”

  They agreed. Lotz enthusiastically. Even Delaney was forced to participate.

  “Very well,” Arnold continued, “then let us begin. First, we would like you to demonstrate with Lotz your grasp of Raw Spirit Management. This technique, as I’m sure you’ve learned, is essential for many aspects of Enforcer duties. It is considered to be the backbone of a well rounded Cadet. Are you prepared for this demonstration? It is dangerous, and if you do not feel capable we advise you to say so now.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Lotz stood, exited the observation booth and descended into the demonstration area.

  “En garde, Cadet Clarence,” she declared, gesturing to a marked red circle on the cement floor.

  I took my position and crouched in anticipation, tongue flicking out to moisten lips. Considering what I had already faced during D.O.M duties, assumption was that an extreme display would be required. She drew up her Spirit, focused it on a hand, and let it fly. I braced and extended a hand, ready to roll with the impact, but the bolt turned out to be meagre. It smacked into my palm with barely enough vigour to snap back my arm. I absorbed the energy and readopted my stance, assuming the bolt to have been a warm up.

  “My approval is given,” Lotz said, returning to the booth.

  I blinked. Delaney threw her a sideways scowl upon her re-entrance into the booth. She had gone easy on me, bless her heart.

  There was a pause as pens scratched on clipboards. All heads turned to Templeton. He raised his bulk and waddled down into the demonstration area.

  “Hello, Clarence,” he said with smile.

  “Hello, sir.”

  “Did you think about what I said?”

  “Visualise, reach out, and imprint. Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. Show me.”

  I pinched my fingers, compressing air between them, and applied a tiny spark of Spirit. A flame sprang into life. Part of me knew it had no business doing so.

  “Yes, well done.” The podgy man beamed. “Well done indeed. Reality created by nothing but your will alone. Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me though, Clarence, have you been discerning about what you have chosen to visualise?”

  “I believe there was very little choice in the matter, sir.”

  “Ah. But then you have missed the point of the exercise, Clarence.”

  “I know what it is I want, sir.”

  “That we should all be so lucky. Perhaps keep in mind that what we want is not always what is right for us.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

  “Good.” He turned to the booth. “My approval is given.”

  Heads now turned to the unrecognised man.

  “You have already been approved for Manipulation and Influence,” he said, “The evaluation was filed some time ago, by the late Mister Gibson. A tragedy what happened to him. He was a good man and fine trainer.”

  “He was, sir.”

  “I see here he had also prepared an application for your specialisation in this school of Magic. Was it your intention to specialise?”

  “It was, sir.”

  “Very well. You will find the papers with me when you wish to make them official. My approval is given.”

  It was finally Delaney’s turn and he swept down into the demonstration area, eyes glittering with anticipation.

  “Be prepared, Clarence,” he declared, “Your injury will not stand as an excuse if you fail. Are you ready to defend?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

  My place of calm was adopted. Delaney’s face relaxed as he did the same.

  “En garde.”

  His eyes focused on my face…

  No preamble, no drawn out staring contest, the world shrank and black tentacles shot out to probe my head. I held them at bay, staying rooted in my Place of Calm. But Delaney did not desist.

  Flickers of grotesque images floated through my mind. A wolf pouncing on a gazelle that cried out in a human voice. A tree shrieking in agony as a chainsaw bit into its bark. A mother rat eating her hairless young as they screeched like new born babies. I let it all pass through. Not focusing, ignoring it, none of it was my concern.

  Still Delaney persisted. Still I managed to keep him at bay.

  “Game over,” I knew, “I’ve beaten you, you son of a bitch.”

  And then I released my defences and allowed the tentacles creeping into my head. The world tumbled away around me, revealing what I thought had been walls, were in fact a flimsy construction of dominoes and cardboard. Behind them a bizarre alien landscape was revealed, it stretched off as far as the eye could see, rising and falling in hills and valleys.

  “This isn’t so bad,” I told myself, “I expected worse.”

  But as I focused on a nearby hill I realised there was something unusual about it, something unnatural. I squinted and realised the ground was not rocks and coarse dirt as I had thought. It was made of human bodies.

  “Oh,” I said to myself, “this is a bit worse.”

  I was surrounded by tens of thousands, perhaps millions of naked human bodies, twisted and contorted in grotesque death poses, bulging and melting in various phases of decomposition. It became clear the rushing sound filling my ears, whic
h I had thought to be wind, was in fact the buzzing of clouds of feasting flies.

  I looked down and regretted doing so immediately. My legs disappeared up to the knees between pale jutting shapes, crawling with maggots and human soup.

  My Place of Calm held.

  Then came a moan off to my right, somewhere between the braying of a mule and whinny of a horse. I resisted looking. The moan came again and was followed by a moist slithering. One of the bodies crawling towards me. Still I didn’t look, keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon.

  It drew nearer.

  Slither… slither…

  And the moan, contorting and twisting, sounding now like the bleat of a goat, now like the shriek of a vulture, finally settling on being words slurred through imperfect lips.

  “Partner… partner…mommy loves you…”

  My eyes squinted shut and jaw clamped.

  “Scratching around in the dirt… scratching around in the dirt…” the voice croaked.

  Slither… slither… slither…

  Just a few meters away now, approaching my legs. Any second an icy hand would clamp on my arm. Anticipation festered; panic began clawing into my head.

  Slither…slither…slither…

  But no.

  “You’re in my head now, Delaney,” I said, “So that means…”

  I drew in a deep breath and opened my eyes, knowing what I would see, but prepared. My mother was on her stomach before me, looking up, pale naked body writhing and bullet wound gaping like a second mouth in her cheek.

  I ignored her.

  “This isn’t how it is,” I said to myself, “I have something else in mind.”

  A ripple went shooting off across the grim landscape like a bomb. The sky darkened and bodies fell away. I drew up an image in my head, one I had reserved for the occasion. There came the rushing of Spirit as it was projected onto the blank canvas. A canvas that did not belong to my head alone.

  “If you’re in my head, Delaney - that means I’m in yours.”

  Before me was an enormous double bed surrounded by a hazy world of endless fog. On the bed lay Lotz; naked, sprawled, with an expression that said; ‘Do something dirty to me now. Or I might explode.’

  Now a replica of me appeared, animated by a little trick learned courtesy of Trisha the day care teacher. He stepped forward and descended on the naked woman, emitting a classically pornographic groan. Lotz’s leg was raised in a fashion that could only be achieved by the gymnastically trained, and then my double proved he was worthy of X-rated stardom. There was no romance, no ‘love making’. The sex was dirty, passionless and raw. Thrusts were followed by moans, naked breasts bobbed and fingers clawed at naked skin.

  The next thing I felt was a fist smashing into my cheek and my backside hitting the cement floor.

  “You son of a bitch!’ Delaney roared.

  He was towering over me, hands clenched.

  “Leonard!” Lotz snapped via the amplification system, “For goodness sake! What are you doing?!”

  Delaney looked up, colour rushing to his cheeks. There was a shifting from rage to embarrassment. He turned and headed for the observation booth.

  “My approval is given,” he muttered.