Living with Your Past Selves (Spell Weaver)

by Hiatt, Bill

  His aching longing throbbed through me, hitting me like a Shahriyar stomach punch. In an odd way it was the twin of mine—and both of us were directing it at the same girl.

  I looked straight into Eva’s eyes. “Eva, do you trust me?” I whispered. She nodded a yes, plainly confused by the sudden question.

  “Then follow my lead,” I said, not waiting for a response.

  I spun her deftly, humming along with the music as I did so, building up whatever magic I could muster, visualizing a warmly pulsing connection between her and Dan. Narrowly missing the sophomore royalty, I whirled Eva and I around until we were right next to Dan and Mary.

  “Dan, let’s change partners,” I smiled at him, and without giving him a chance to reply, I pulled a startled Mary away from him and thrust Eva into his arms, visualizing the connection between them becoming a sphere, engulfing them, keeping them together. At the same time, I pulled Mary to me and spun off in the opposite direction. Someone applauded in the background. All of the other students seemed to be holding their breaths.

  I looked at Mary, who was actually shaking—with fear. Post-Founders’ Day Stress Disorder, no doubt. My sudden swooping in had taken her by surprise in more ways than one.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I whispered, with just a little jolt of magic thrown in, and her shaking subsided. She was not the partner Eva had been, but I tried to put on the best show I could, keep the eyes on us, give Dan and Eva a chance to be with each other without an audience. I failed miserably. Oh, not at the dancing, which was at least passable, though choosing between Mary and a sack of cement for a partner would have been a difficult decision. No, teenagers knew potential drama when they saw it. I could have been dancing on the ceiling, and their eyes would still have been locked on Dan and Eva.

  Eventually I twirled Mary back in their general direction and popped into Dan with surprisingly little effort, seeing the world through his eyes. He was looking into Eva’s eyes, and it was clear from her perfect smile, from the light in her eyes, that they had already reconciled. I pulled back out as fast as I could.

  Relief and misery wrestled with each other in my soul. It was not yet certain which would win, but my money was on misery.

  CHAPTER 15: THE LAKE

  The very next Monday, Dan went out of his way to find me during a passing period—quite a change, considering we had said barely two words to each other since the boxing match.

  “So, Weaver, are you still trying out for soccer?” Not exactly the line of conversation I was expecting, but whatever.

  “I don’t know, Dan. Do you still want me to?”

  “Yeah, I think I do,” he said, flashing me a smile I hadn’t seen for some time. “And I want to thank you. I know what you did last night.”

  “That sounds ominous,” I said lightly.

  “I’m serious. I wanted to get back together with Eva, but I just didn’t know how to do it. Maybe my pride got in the way. Anyway, you threw her into my arms during that dance, and suddenly everything seemed simple. Thanks, man.” A quick knuckle bump, and he was sprinting off to his next class. Just like that, we were friends again.

  I had been waiting anxiously for some resolution of his situation, but I did not feel the sense of relief I had expected. Maybe I was tense about what would happen that afternoon. Nurse Florence was being uncharacteristically mysterious, but I knew something was up.

  After school I met her in a fog-filled faculty parking lot.

  “That’s not…” I began.

  “No, that’s just me. We need to do what we can to get out of here unseen, all the more so now that I know Carrie Winn is the enemy. She is on campus frequently for one reason or another, and now we know her hidden agenda for spending so much time here. Besides, she could easily have someone else spying on you.”

  Stan, Dan, Shar, and Gordy quickly joined us. The last three she had somehow gotten out of football practice. Never mind—given how Coach Miller felt about Nurse Florence, she could probably have gotten the whole team out of practice. And the fact that the team kept winning probably didn’t hurt, either.

  Nurse Florence seemed rushed and didn’t say much, but it was clear the dream walks had proved successful and that Shar and Gordy had both been recruited. Shar had questions, which she told him would need to wait just a little while, as we needed to get on the road quickly. Gordy seemed content just to be there, but would clearly need some training, since he kept positioning himself so close to Stan it was a wonder Stan could breathe.

  “Gordy, be cool!” I cautioned, as we were piling into Nurse Florence’s van. “It’s good to keep an eye on Stan, but you don’t want the whole world to know what you’re doing. Just like in football, don’t telegraph your next play so obviously to the other team.” That was apparently the right analogy. Gordy insisted on sitting next to Stan, but at least he wasn’t insisting on sitting in his lap.

  “Not anyone’s idea of brilliant,” Nurse Florence had called Gordy, and that was true, but there was something endearing about the way he had embraced his new role. He probably would have come to Stan’s defense in any case, but he had clearly agreed wholeheartedly to whatever bargain Nurse Florence had proposed and was determined to hold up his end of it.

  I ended up sitting next to Shar, who looked at me as if I were a completely different person. On the trip I ended up filling in some of the gaps in the basic story Nurse Florence had given him, but each question I answered brought up three more, and both of us became so engrossed in the conversation that we were startled when the van finally parked, and we realized that we were at Lake Cachuma.

  “Why are we here?” I asked as soon as I was out of the van.

  “Shahriyar needs to receive his weapon, and there are certain…protocols I have to observe.”

  The day had been clear and bright, but I could not help noticing a very sudden and very thick fog rolling in.

  “That’s not…”

  “No, that’s still me,” said Nurse Florence with a little chuckle. “I’m not necessarily expecting a big crowd here on a weekday afternoon in the middle of October, but we can’t afford to be seen.” I had always liked the views from Lake Cachuma, particularly the Santa Ynez Mountains, but in a few minutes I had a hard time viewing my hand in front of my face. I also noticed a substantial drop in temperature, probably designed to make any random lake visitors think twice. Nurse Florence led us on what seemed a very roundabout route but which did eventually lead us up to the edge of the lake. The fog parted around us, so that we could see a little stretch of the shore and a small part of the lake. No one was more relieved to have arrived than Stan, since Gordy stayed glued to him like a second skin the whole time we were in the fog.

  “Watch that spot carefully,” commanded Nurse Florence in her best authoritative tone. Not being the best at following orders, I glanced around when nothing seemed to be happening and noticed that Nurse Florence was no longer visible. I felt my body go on high alert. Maybe her disappearance was part of the plan, but it made me uncomfortable. I had White Hilt with me if I needed it, but it wouldn’t do me much good if someone attacked me from behind while I was fixedly watching some point out in the lake…

  “Tal,” whispered Stan urgently, “look!” My attention shifted back to the lake. I had thought that nothing was left that could surprise me anymore, but I was wrong. An arm was thrusting out of the lake, and that arm was clutching a sword. I had never seen this before…well, not in this life, anyway.

  “Shar,” I said, turning to him. “Since this trip was to get you armed, I’d say the idea is for you to wade out and get the sword.”

  Two days ago I’m sure Shar would have laughed in my face. Today, he took off his shoes and socks and started wading into the lake without a single question. The rest of us watched silently as he sloshed toward the upraised arm, ripples spreading out in all directions from his fast-moving legs. The moment he took the hilt of the sword in his hand, the arm disappeared into the water. Shar turned to us and br
andished the sword in the air. The sword flashed green despite the lack of direct sunlight. Shar practically ran back—well, as close as he could come to running in the shallows of the lake. As he got closer, I noticed his sword had a faint emerald glow to it, again with no direct sunlight. The glow was coming from within the sword itself. Maybe not quite as cool as the flames of White Hilt, but definitely cool!

  “Does it feel right in your hand?” I was startled by Nurse Florence’s voice right behind me.

  “I don’t know about this part,” said Shar, looking skeptically at his new prize. “I’m Jewish.” Shar had evidently read enough Arthurian literature freshman year to know how many of the stories involved swords engraved with crosses or with relics of Jesus embedded in the hilt or blessed by the archbishop of Canterbury. Right now he was eying the sword as if someone had handed him a pork sandwich on the first day of Passover.

  Nurse Florence chuckled. “Shar, give me some credit. You think I’m going to bring you a sword made out of the nails with which Jesus was crucified or something? I always take the faith of the wielder into consideration. This is Shamshir-e Zomorrodnegar, the emerald studded sword of Persian tradition. It has no Christian connection at all, and though it was last wielded by Amir Arsalan, it didn’t start out being Islamic or even Persian. Legend has it that it once belonged to King Solomon. It’s a sword worthy of someone of Jewish descent.” Shar’s eyes widened, and he looked at the sword as if an angel had just delivered it from heaven. He was so moved he actually knelt and said a little prayer over it in Farsi.

  “Now, does it feel right?” Nurse Florence asked again, more gently, when Shar was finished with his prayer. Shar stood and made a couple of thrusts with the sword.

  “It feels as if it were forged for me. It feels perfect,” whispered Shar.

  “That’s a very good sign,” said Nurse Florence, nodding her head in satisfaction. “A sword always finds its wielder. If it was not meant for you, you could feel that, too.”

  “I half expected Excalibur when the arm came out of the lake,” I said, not really sure myself whether I was serious or joking.

  “My organization wasn’t willing to send out Excalibur,” replied Nurse Florence, totally deadpan. “All kinds of issues, not the least of which is that the wielder technically becomes the rightful king of Great Britain in the eyes of some traditionalists.”

  “You have Excalibur?” asked Stan, in a totally awed voice I hadn’t heard since he first found out about my awakening.

  “My order does,” said Nurse Florence.

  “Wait!” I said suddenly. Yes, another lightbulb moment. “You’re the Lady of the Lake!”

  “I’m a lady of the lake,” replied Nurse Florence. “There have been many of us. I’m not immortal, and I’m not an aware reincarnate like you. As Taliesin 1 you knew both my namesake and her successor, Nimue.”

  I couldn’t believe I had missed such obvious clues. Her first name was Viviane, just like the lady of the lake who raised Lancelot, she could heal, and she could travel over distances using bodies of water, as she had with the UCSB lagoon the night we almost lost Stan. I had known the first Viviane rather well, yet it took the whole getting the sword out of the lake routine for me to make the connection.

  Nurse Florence stopped for a moment as if she were listening for something. “There’s no one nearby,” she said finally. “Shahriyar, let’s see how well you can handle that blade. Tal, fight him with White Hilt, but go a little easy until he gets used to Shamshir-e Zomorrodnegar.”

  “Can we work out a shorter name for that?” I asked as I drew White Hilt and watched the flames envelope it.

  “I’m going to call her Zom,” replied Shar, in a tone that suggested anyone who didn’t like the idea was pretty well out of luck. Then he drew Zom from the scabbard Nurse Florence had provided. First the emeralds in the hilt burned with green energy, then the whole sword. Shar swung, and the two blades crashed together with an explosion. Shar had struck with such force White Hilt had nearly been torn from my hand. Oddly, the flames dissipated on White Hilt where the two blades had struck each other.

  “What the hell!” I exclaimed, backing away just fast enough to avoid the next blow. “I don’t think I need to go easy anymore.” Shar advanced rapidly. As with boxing, he was much stronger and only a little slower. I could not afford too much direct contact, so I spread the flames out into a shield radiating from the tip of White Hilt. That should keep him at a distance.

  Instinctively, Shar swung right through the fire shield, which to my horror sizzled out as if gallons of water had been thrown on it. I managed to dodge out of his way, but he managed to hit White Hilt often enough in rapid succession to actually extinguish its fire. I could see the flames trying to light again on the blade—very slowly. In a real battle, Shar could kill me, with my only choice being to run like hell in the opposite direction.

  “Okay, time out!” yelled Nurse Florence. “Shar’s instincts are as good as yours, Tal. He knew exactly what to do without being told.”

  “What’s up with that sword?” I asked irritably. “I have never seen anything put out While Hilt’s fire except Morgan’s massive rain storm. Yet it went out every time Shar’s sword touched the fire or the blade.”

  “That’s what makes…Zom so valuable. Neither the sword nor its wielder can be affected by hostile magic. In practice that also means magic dissipates if Zom hits it directly. White Hilt is a powerful enough artifact that its flames die out only near the contact point, and the magic can reassert itself…”

  “But not as fast as I’d like,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” agreed Nurse Florence, “not fast enough for combat situations. Also, though Zom’s touch only temporarily disables continuous enchantments like that on White Hilt, it will break more transitory spells completely, and I have heard that creatures otherwise invulnerable to physical attack are vulnerable to it. With that blade, Shar can take anything Carrie Winn can possibly dish out, and more.”

  “Then shouldn’t I be wielding it, since likely I’ll be leading the charge.” Shar looked scandalized at the suggestion.

  “You need to change strategy, Tal. You’ve been trying to be both bard and warrior, and that combination doesn’t really work. How often did either the first or second Taliesin wade out into the middle of a battle? Remember how hard it was to fight the pwca physically and get your magic together? Or the kelpie, for that matter?” I must have looked downcast, because her tone softened immediately. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t continue your combat training—in a pinch, you will need to be able to handle your blade—or that you’re a bad fighter. You’re actually extremely good at it. But you can do more for your friends with a song than with a blade in the long run, and if you need to use the blade, use it as a distance weapon. You know how to direct the fire in a way no previous wielder has ever known. Imagine Shar charging forward to disrupt the enemy while you fire bursts of flame into their ranks.”

  I must still have looked terribly unconvinced. “Remember Merlin, Tal? How often did he pick up a sword and charge the enemy?”

  “He had a sword,” I said defensively.

  “And he used it in your presence how often?” The answer was never, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, so I just eyed her glumly.

  “Have you not yet learned the strength of teamwork? This isn’t about what role you play, but how what you do complements everyone else’s effort. Shar has the better sword because he is the better swordsman, better equipped to lead the charge. But if we have to fight, he won’t last five seconds after Winn’s guards open fire unless you have solved the problem of how to use magic to disable their guns. For that matter, if you can’t take out the security system, someone will spot the fact that not only you, but also Shar, is coming in armed, and you’ll get dropped before you even get in the door.

  “Not that that will happen,” she said firmly. “Because if I suspect that you can’t get your magic to disable her technology, none
of you will get within twenty miles of Awen—ever. Even that’s a risky course of action, since, as you pointed out, Winn will suspect something is up, but the possibility of retaliation later is better than the certainty of slaughter now. So what is it going to be, Tal? Man up, and play the role only you can play, or let your male ego get you into locking horns with Shar and throwing away our only chance to defeat Winn?”

  Of course, she was right. I was in better shape now than during the combats of a few weeks ago, but I knew I would have trouble drawing enough breath to really sing or focus well enough to really spell cast if I had to sword fight with a tough opponent at the same time.

  “Okay, I guess that was the testosterone talking earlier,” I said, just a little grudgingly. “Shar, the sword is obviously best suited to your hand. I’ll back you up with music and magic.”

  “Hey,” said Gordy, “What about Dan and me? When do we get our swords?” Nurse Florence stifled a snicker.

  “Magic swords are a rare thing, Gordy. The fact that one small group like this has two is practically unprecedented in modern times. I have confidence you can do your part without special equipment.”

  “Shar’s a better fighter than I am, and he gets a magic sword. How am I supposed to defend Stan properly with just my fists?”

  “Wait! He’s here for me?” said Stan shrilly.

  You hadn’t noticed he was practically climbing into your skin with you?

  “There could be a lot of danger, Stan. I knew you would want to go anyway, so…”

  “So you got Gordy to be my babysitter?”

  “I got Gordy to have your back like Dan has mine. Nothing wrong with that.”

  I knew Stan was about to blow sky-high and then be embarrassed about it later, but I didn’t see how I could stop it. However, Gordy, with some hitherto unexpected psychological insight, pulled Stan off to one side, where they talked heatedly for a while, but when they rejoined the group, Stan was calm again.

  In the interim Nurse Florence had been pondering. “Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen. I need quiet to make a quick contact. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the fog without giving anyone a chance to ask questions. Shar was almost too busy admiring his sword to notice, and Dan asked for a closer look, effectively occupying both of them for a few minutes.