I formed a needle of power at the tip of my finger and began to press through the layers. The first ones were pretty easy. They were the newest and not as set in their form. When I punctured a layer it snapped wide open, like it was stretched elastic. It was kind of cool to see all the colors rippling back from the needle.
After I’d gone through about five hundred layers they started changing. They became harder and more brittle. They didn’t snap back as far and they were tough to get through. To compensate, I made the tip of my power sharper and the needle fatter. Now it was more like a very sharp nail rather than a needle. That worked well for a while but eventually it wasn’t enough anymore. The layers had gotten too tough again.
I took a break and peeled off all the layers I’d already pierced. The layers were a bit like the shrink wrap around one of the old DVD cases. It’s super tough, until you get a little tear. Once you get it started, though, it’s easy to peel off.
I also took a moment to check the outside world. I was having some success in my throne room, but was it actually affecting the sword in the real world? Turns out it was. It probably helped that my blood was coating the sword. That was bringing the outside of the sword under my domain.
I couldn’t imagine how old this sword must be to have so many layers. How many people had wielded it? How many people had it run through? All that blood and power creating coating after coating of residue.
It was like rings on a tree stump. The more rings, the older the tree. I felt like I was peeling back history as I tore apart layer after layer. The last few were really tough. They had been here a long time.
I had to change my tactic again from a nail to a drill. I created a spiral in the point and then made it rotate. The last coat was a flat gray, like all the magic had leached out of it many years ago. I cranked up the drill speed to the highest I could manage. It was going so fast and the layer was so tough it started smoking. I reinforced the strength of my drill bit, pushed hard, and finally it went through.
I ripped off the last layer. The sword was finally clean, and it was beautiful. There were slight waves in the metal and they seemed to ripple a little bit in the light.
I’d come this far. Was the sword alive? Would it hear me?
I put my hand on the bare metal. “Hello?” I sent out a cautious touch of power. It bounced off something.
I felt life. I felt time. Lots and lots of time.
It kind of felt like I was talking to a very old tree. It was alive, but it was asleep. There was so much magic potential, but there wasn’t much actual magic left.
I felt something else too. Sadness. And resignation.
I tried again. This time with more power. “Hello?”
My magic was barely a ripple in a small lake. It wasn’t going to notice me like that. I pulled back and smacked it hard. This time I let my magic flow.
“Hello!”
“Who disturbs my slumber?” A dry dusty voice reverberated in my head.
I wanted to say “It is I, Aladdin,” but I’m pretty sure this sword wouldn’t catch the Disney reference, and this wasn’t the cave of wonder.
“My name is Jason,” I said.
It said nothing back. I waited a few moments. It felt awkward. What does one say to a sword that your impaled upon?
“So, you like to sit in stone?” I asked. I pushed with more power. I needed to keep his attention.
“It is restful,” was the reply. It was more than just words. I got images and feelings. There was a giant blond man covered in furs. He would put the sword in the stone by his house when he wasn’t using it. The sun would rise and warm it. The stars would rise and cool it. The stone was solid and quiet. The sword liked that.
It was much better than the times the blond giant wielded it. Then it was all clanging and impacts and screams.
“That sounds nice,” I said. “Restful is a good thing to be.” Where did I go from here? “The thing is, Mr. Sword, that you are sticking through me at the moment,” I said. “For me that’s not restful. In fact, that’s the opposite of restful.” I sent the image of me on the ground with the sword through me.
I felt the weight of its inspection. “Ah. You are but a fledgling. So young. No worry. Soon you will rest.” I got the image of my bones in the sun. They had been picked clean by scavengers and bleached by the constant exposure. The sword was still through me. We rested together.
“That’s not resting. That’s dying.” I smacked the sword with magic again. “For me that’s bad. I’m a living creature, not stone or metal, so that is the end for me.” I attempted to send feelings of just how bad that was. Penny didn’t really understand fleshy things, although she tried. It was probably the same with the sword. The sword liked to stay in stone, so it probably figured I was fine laying there for a few decades.
“I’m dying,” it said. I knew it was true. The sword was only alive with magic and there wasn’t that much left. Well, compared to what I had, it was a huge amount of magic. Compared to what the sword could hold, it was very little.
“You don’t have too,” I said. I sent images of me powering it up.
“My source is gone,” it said with great sadness. I saw a small hairy man of great power. It was the first thing the sword knew and it loved him. They talked and laughed often. The man shared his life with the sword and the sword held his power. The sword was the man’s defense and he was proud of that. They were together, and then they weren’t. Now the sword was held by the blond giant and it could no longer feel the hairy man.
The sword didn’t have a concept of time. Either something was, or it wasn’t. It started dying the day it was taken. The blond giant and many others forced it to use what power it had for them. They also tried to own it, but they were not as strong as its creator. They tried to force their magic in, but the sword would not allow it. Finally, the sword spent most of its time sleeping. It was a magic sword in name only.
The whole revelation gave me pause. Is this what could happen to Penny? If I died would she spend lifetimes just fading away?
I couldn’t do that to her. I was determined to live through this day and get this sword to let me go.
“I can be your source,” I said. “If you will let me.”
It just chuckled. I was far below the small hairy man in power. It was like a candle saying it could take the place of a volcano. That might be true, but I fought back.
“I am already a source,” I said. “I already have an awakened one. I am not powerful enough for you now, but I can be in the future.”
It inspected me again. I felt its disbelief. It was looking forward to dying. It wanted to just sleep forever and let all this loneliness go. It also wanted to pulse with magic again and be part of something. The two sides warred for a while.
“No, little one,” it said. “You are too small. Too young. Too new.” I felt it start to shut down again.
“Penny!” I called desperately, and then she was there. I’d heard her in my head and I’d seen her assume different shapes as metal, but I’d never seen her as a person before.
She was beautiful. She was about six feet tall and built like an Amazon warrior. Her skin was silver and her eyes and hair were copper. She flowed and moved with liquid grace and power. Her hair fluttered in an invisible breeze and she smiled at me like the sun rising on a spring morning.
Something about her made music while she walked, like the tinkling of bells. Although she was metal, she exuded warmth and life. She came over and I hugged her. I thought she might be cool, but she was warm too. Maybe awakened creatures were warm?
I realized I was already thinking of the sword as a creature and less as an instrument of death. It was alive and hurting. I hated that.
“Penny, the sword doesn’t have a lot of magic left,” I said. I wasn’t sure how much she already knew. “It’s lonely and you know I don’t like that. I also need it to let me go. Can you see what you can do?”
She chimed at me and I felt approval and agreement
. Penny put her hand on the sword too, and I felt it vibrate. She buzzed at the sword and it buzzed back. This went on for a brief moment. Much sooner than I thought, she looked at me and smiled.
“It is done,” she said. I heard it through my link with the sword. “It is done,” the sword agreed. I guess we were all communicating together now. Like group Skype, only magical.
“That’s nice.” I said. “but I’m afraid I don’t understand metal talk, or earth, or whatever you were using to communicate with. So I’m not sure what is done.”
“You are a source,” the sword said. “That is impressive in one so young. I will not silence you.”
“Thanks!” I said. I didn’t want to be silenced either. What good is being immortal if you only live for a few weeks?
“She has also said you spend time with her. I would like to have that again. I have decided to live.” The sword said that as a proclamation. Like it was setting something in stone, which I guess it was sort of.
“We have agreed to share your magic and ownership of you. She will remain your primary, and when you have aged, I will be your secondary.”
Well that was interesting. I thought of Penny as my charm. I guess she thought of me as hers and now she had agreed to share me.
I didn’t have the type of power this sword needed, though. I was a trickle; this thing could use a whole river. If it would get me out of this sticky situation, though, I’d give it what I had.
“That sounds good,” I said. “There are a couple more things, though. Just stuff for right now.” Penny chimed at me questioningly. The sword stayed silent. We’d have to work on its conversational skills. If I made it through this there would be plenty of time for that later.
“I need part of you to stay inside me and seal the wound. If you come out, I’ll bleed to death. Us fleshy creatures need liquid to live. If all our liquid runs out, then we dry up and die.” I tried to push out images to match what I was saying. I’m sure metal didn’t have any frame of reference for blood and what it was to us.
Penny and the Sword buzzed at each other. I’m sure it was something like “Fleshy things. So strange. Oh well, let’s humor him.” Then Penny chimed at me that this was ok.
“The other thing is, I still need to take out the necromancer that is attacking the House. I know you are low on magic, but will you fight for me this time?” I know I was asking a lot, but with a working magic sword I might have a chance.
“Yes.” the sword said. “I have something to ask also. I do not want to be a sword anymore.”
Say what? A sword that doesn’t want to be a sword? How was it going to fight for me? I got a series of images with this statement. It didn’t like all the screaming and clanging and anger that came with battle. It was a sword, but it did not love battle. Actually, it hated it.
It liked warmth and sunlight and sitting still. I got images of the sword in the forge with the little hairy guy. The guy seemed to have a skill like John’s, and he made all kinds of items. He wasn’t as good a John, though. John didn’t need a forge to work with metal. Most of the items this guy made were normal things for the times, but some of them were magical as well. The sword enjoyed being part of the group.
The sword didn’t have a name for it, but in an awakened sort of way, they were friends. They would communicate outside of the hairy guy and they liked being together. When the sword was stolen, it not only lost its source, it lost its circle of friends too. It was lonely. All these years, and it was lonely. I knew what that was like and my heart went out to it. I wasn’t much of a source yet, but I could give it a home.
I didn’t know how to say that in words, so I just sent it emotions and images. Images of home. Images of belonging. I told it about John and Sandy and how they loved each other even though they said they didn’t. I showed it Penny and how much I had missed her when she had taken on too much magic for me. I showed it Bermuda and how I loved waking up to him and Tyler in the morning. As I showed it all this, I got a sense of something. There was something it dreamed about, but didn’t dare ask for.
“If you aren’t a sword, what would you like to be?” I asked. I was pretty sure I was on the right track.
“I want to be round,” it said. “And empty. I was near this once. It seemed to have a good life.” Of all things, I got the image of a vase. It was old style, with a pot shaped bottom and two handles with a narrower top. It was very ornate, with swirls and flowers and those fat baby angels. I got the impression that this thing had sat in the window, filled with flowers, and been admired and cherished. That’s what the sword wanted to be.
“Sure!” I said. “That sounds great to me. I have a window in my bedroom and it get the sun in the morning. You can sit there and enjoy your life. You don’t have to be a sword for me.”
I sent it images of my bedroom window and it seemed happy, even excited. This whole conversation was not turning out like I had expected at all. I got a sense that there was something holding it back.
“Remember, you can’t turn into a vase right away,” I said. “I’ll leak out, and we still have a battle to win.” That’s when I got it. This massive magical sword didn’t know how to change its shape.
“Oh, that’s easy,” I said. “Ask Penny. She started out as a flat disk we use for money and now look at her! She’s pretty amazing when it comes to transforming.” My praise went down well with Penny. All her bells tinkled and soon she was buzzing at the sword. It was surprised at how easy it was, and soon we had a plan.
25 Time for the Claws
I jumped back to real life. On one hand nothing had changed. The sword was still sticking through me and stuck into the ground. The necromancer was still beating on the House shields.
On the other hand, everything had changed. My remnants were gone. My body and magic were finally all mine. No more psycho riders trying to take me over. Now I could feel the sword, its power inside me. It wasn’t an aggressive battle sword, but it was a defender. That’s how it had been made. It had accepted me as its own, and now it was ready. It was time to defend!
It requested magic, and I gave it. The pull was intense. I’d never had anything drain me like that before. I got the impression it was trying to be gentle, too. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if it really sucked in my magic. I had a lot of growing to do before that happened.
The sword flowed like liquid, just like it had learned from Penny. The handle fell off, it wasn’t enchanted at all. The part of the sword inside me lost its edge. I didn’t need it cutting me anymore. The metal flowed around me, like a thin but powerful armor. It also flowed down my arms and I sprouted claws.
This was so badass! I was a liquid metal version of wolverine.
The sword was still pulling magic but not as much anymore. I checked the wound. I was bleeding, but the former sword was doing a good job of keeping me sealed up. It was time to kick some mage butt.
I got to my feet. I hurt, but I could move. It was going to be ok. I could work with this.
I started toward the mage just as a horde of red eyed granny godmothers flew by me and attacked him. The air was so thick with them I was afraid to move in case I hurt my own people.
For a moment, I thought that would surely be the end of him. There was no way he could stand up to this dense of an assault. As many of them as there were, though, they couldn’t get through his armor.
I also saw Bermuda. He was limping, but he was alright. He came up and rubbed against my leg as I watched how the mage was going to fare against the godmothers. I wanted to give him some love, but I didn’t want to stick him with my new claws. The sword was slowly draining my magic too, I needed to end this before I ran out.
Once it was apparent that the grannies couldn’t get through, I made my move. The mage had gone back to attacking the shield so it was easy to come up behind him. My creations weren’t strong enough to make a dent in his armor, but I had magic claws now. Let’s see what they could do.
I punched the mage hard, r
ight in the center of his back. I felt the swords magic flare, and the claws pierced his armor and stabbed right through him.
I thought the mage would fall to his knees or scream or something. I expected blood at the very least. Instead, the mage froze. Then he reformed so now he was facing me. He didn’t turn around, he morphed like he was made of water.
This wasn’t a mage. This was a golem! I was fighting another freaking golem!
When I’d stabbed it in the back, I thought I was being smart. I thought it wouldn’t be able to reach me. Now it was like I had stabbed it in the front, and it could reach me just fine.
It swung a blow at my head, and I blocked it with my claws. They cut through part of its fist and a chunk fell off. It hit the ground and flowed like heavy syrup. The grannies pounced.
Now it wasn’t part of the main body, they could handle it, and in a few seconds that part of the necro-golem was gone. The golem’s hand reformed, although now it was smaller than before.
So that was my battle plan. Hack this thing apart piece by piece.
The golem hit me with its other hand. It rattled me, but the sword armor stopped most of the impact. I pulled my claws out of its chest and went to town.
It was attacking me with its arms, so I tore them apart first. I found I couldn’t take out too big of a chuck or my claws would get stuck. I got battered a few times before I could get away so I learned quickly. The sword was still using my magic to flow with my movements, so I had a limited amount of time before I ran out and it froze up.
That didn’t bear thinking about, so instead I tore into it like a mad man. I hacked at it until it had no arms left. It kept on trying to reform them with the mass it had left, so it was getting smaller and smaller. I didn’t want it running away either so I shredded its legs too.
The last thing I needed was this coming back again with fresh spirits and another tiger. It got most of its arms back but now I’d managed to completely take off one of its legs. It put its remaining leg in the center and hopped around. Whoever had made this golem was crazy good.
Misfit Mage Page 36
