by Thomas Duder
In fact, here!”
With that Morrow held up a hand, a small circle of glowing green energy erupting from his palm, signaling a Higher Work. As he undid the seal quickly, Williams felt relief that even though this, the “worst outcome,” had occurred that Morrow was willing to do this much up front. That the clones would explode was an added effect not even Frank had foreseen.
Within minutes the machine began to power down, the black lid of the pod opening up to reveal the true Caroline Walters. Waving Aristotle over, Morrow watched as his assistant pulled the woman from the black waters within, ignoring how the clones dropped where they stood, completely dead the moment she had been taken from the pod.
Smiling, Morrow turned to the infatuated Williams and murmured, “Now. We will set this poor, unfortunate soul aside and you will fight Aristotle. One round is what I require. Survive his assault and-”
Morrow’s eyes widened as Williams dropped his facade completely, moving with an unbelievable speed.
All he had worked for, all he needed to accomplish was a single touch. For that he had resisted, struggled, then “fell” under Morrow’s compulsory charm only for his previously invoked spell to kick in. For those most necessary moments he had needed Morrow to drop his guard and feel strong enough to at least withdraw the woman from the pod, an act he never would have suggested if he wasn’t certain of his control over Williams.
It wasn’t his pride, but the inherent subsonics Williams had also learned to cast.
It wasn’t the first time he stated the words “klaatu verata nickel,” but the second one that reinforced his necessary trance, a triple layering of hypnotic suggestion that would allow him to move at the right time, resist Morrow’s compulsions as well as appear to fall under it completely.
All for the single, glorious second of chaos he would need before either Aristotle or Morrow could feasibly respond.
In agonizingly slow motion, his perception sped up to a painful level, Wiliams hurled himself towards Aristotle and Caroline, the Leap spell empowering his speed. As his finger brushed Caroline’s arm, William’s chained spell immediately kicked in.
Reality warped, everything faded to black and he held Caroline’s wrist in a deathgrip as everything slid past him, the background blending from one point to the other as he landed on the motorcycle, waiting for him at the parkade.
Realizing Caroline’s nude form had gained a few bruises and abrasions where he had accidentally dragged her through the Emergency Exit spell, he very nearly cried as he realized she was still breathing.
Still alive.
Grateful the Ricketts twins had left the coffin-shaped sidecar attached when they let him borrow it, he unloaded the emergency kit he had brought with him, equally thankful to have brought a spare blanket in case just such a thing occurred. Wrapping her up in it, setting the helmet over her head and strapping her into the sidecar, he leapt onto the motorcycle and immediately took action, firing it up to life as a ripple in reality sprung before him.
The feeling of powerful magics wrought overcame him for a moment before he tore off through the parkade, a bat out of hell, as Aristotle fell through his own properly-made Teleportation spell.
Landing on one knee, Aristotle transferred the energy into a forward roll before he sprang to his feet and gave chase, far faster than a normal human should be.
Cursing himself for not leaving earlier, Williams kept himself from looking back as he took to the street level, only to find himself blocked off by a stream of drunken revelers who caroused through the main arteries of the Business Sector, citizens and religious zealots alike hoisting drink and engaged in less than savory activities even as they marched in a loud parade of their own making.
Cursing Tordek and every Tordekian alive, Williams was about to take the turn when Aristotle cannonballed into him, spearing his taut stomach with an unbelievably, painfully powerful shoulder tackle, bearing him to the ground in a single motion.
Letting his body relax and letting himself be taken to the ground, Williams released one of his carefully prepared spells. Lightning coursed from his mouth to cover both of them as Williams groaned a word of power, unleashing his Dragon’s Breath upon Aristotle.
Williams eyes opened wide as Aristotle’s form resisted the lightning strikes, simply grabbing the Magus by the throat and hauling him forcibly up to his feet before pummeling his face with several swift jabs and letting him go, expecting him to stagger away.
Reeling from the unexpected physical attacks, Williams fortified himself in a moment and backflipped to create distance between the two before flinging his arms wide, unleashing a rainbow of colors at his assailant.
Aristotle grunted as the rainbow cascaded about his form, doing no damage whatsoever to him. Controlling both pain and rage, Williams immediately calculated his next attack while dragging his fingers through the air, leaving behind glowing, dark purple slashes that pulsed viciously.
Grunting, the masked attacker simply maneuvered his way to Williams left side, bringing him closer to the Tordekian revelers, some of who began to notice the fight. Wondering if his luck was really that good, the Magus pushed his offense by hurling ball after ball of simple magical energy at Aristotle. Sighing, Aristotle began to walk towards him, simply letting the balls of ineffective energy bounce off of his form and explode wherever they landed.
“You should note by now, apprentice, that your insultingly low levels of magic won’t truly affect me,” Aristotle growled behind his mask.
Smiling, Williams sprang his trap. As the revelers who took note of them began to chant “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” the Magus held his hands up towards the vicious purple slashes that hung in place, establishing his Telekinesis spell to surround them. With a grunt and mental tearing of effort, Williams forced the spell from where it had been placed to hurtle towards Aristotle.
Aristotle, caught off-guard by the tactic, backed up directly into the revelers who immediately laughed and clung to him, already attempting to tear off his clothes.
Laughing, not quite relaxed yet, Williams walked towards the motorcycle where Caroline was still safely strapped in. Though he knew that Aristotle had heavy resistance to direct magical attacks, even some ki attacks, it was the indirect ones that caught Aristotle since his defenses were based on his perceptions.
If he saw it coming, then it couldn’t affect him - both a curse and a boon of the mask he wore, which also gave him expanded senses. On the other hand, the unseen attack COULD hit, and while Aristotle had very strong physical toughness he still reacted in certain ways to spells he had never seen before.
It also helped that Aristotle was a germaphobe.
Disabling the Gangrene spell and ignoring the strange feeling of miasma that overcame him as he accepted the energy back into himself, Williams clutched at his ribs as a moment of pain overcame him.
“Damn, he-”
With that he yelped as the revelers suddenly surged away from the traveling party, clinging to Aristotle even as he blindly charged at Williams. Dislodging several celebrants with a violent shake, Aristotle gripped one by the toga and bore him aloft, held slightly behind him.
Realizing what he was doing, Williams leaped backwards and narrowly dodged the attack as Aristotle swung wildly with the celebrant, using the larger man as a weapon. Crying out, the equipped partygoer began to pray loudly to Tordek with all his might, the other revelers beginning to go Battle Mode yet unable to join the fray due to the nature of the Thirteenth Clause, their devotion to their chosen God halting them from breaking troth.
Aristotle snarled under his mask, “Though they can be out and about, they cannot join IN the fray! To do so would be to break the Pact.
But there are far more interesting ways to take advantage of this, too!”
With that he flung the celebrant at Williams. Firing off a quick Telekinesis spell and deflecting the reveler to the side, the Magus steeled himself as Aristotle’s expected follow up rush began. Stepping into his guard, A
ristotle smashed his elbow into Williams stomach, grabbing him by the hair almost instantly with both hands and smashing knee strike after knee strike into his face and chest.
Doing his best to keep his arms up and defend, the Magus knew instinctively what was going on - though Aristotle was the superior magic-user, he was keeping the battle in extremely close quarters, a traditional strategy against a Magi like Williams.
Thankful for his training with the Shop, Williams continued to block with his forearms, smiling to himself as Aristotle let go of him and backed up suddenly, his legs shivering.
“What…what?!”
Unzipping the sleeves of his bodysuit, Williams whipped his arms forward, dislodging the hidden metal plates that had been loosely secured to his forearms, grabbing them in mid-air. Clanging them together, he flipped them over and gripped them like miniature clubs, the ends slightly tapered for just such a thing.
”A gift from a friend!” Williams chuckled, “He thought someone like you may try something like this, and one SHOULD trust one’s gut instincts, if not one’s friends!”
Taking a deep breath, Aristotle halted the shivering of his legs as Williams slowly began to sidestep him with sure strides, never crossing his feet. Though he was nowhere near as good as Aristotle at close quarters combat, the Shop had done their level best to drill certain practices into Williams even as they heaped on lesson after lesson in the magical arts and the various skill-effects that existed.
He had survived a week of hellish training for this very thing, the very worst scenario brought to life. Though he was facing off against someone whom even Frank and Dash recognized as a threat, he had one advantage given to him, one that stuck out in his mind the most.
While Aristotle could beat him up or subdue him, he could NOT kill him.
“No, but I can certainly beat you up,” Aristotle murmured loud enough to be heard, startling Williams out of his reverie, “With my magic arts, I can easily break your arms and legs while keeping you alive. I know every spot to strike on you that will paralyze you for life, keeping my word to my Master Kind.
I have plenty of these idiot Tordekians to use as both shield and weapons against you, and I hold a closer position to the Caroline woman. What DO you have, I wonder, that makes you think you can still possibly win this. Yes, I see it in your pretty brown eyes, boy. You don’t have the fear in you yet. There is still hope there.
I have not broken you yet. So, tell me. What is it that you have left, then?”
“Left?” Williams whistled lightly as the Tordekians regrouped and began to form a human wall, blocking off their battle to watch quietly. Williams, knowing they wouldn’t leave due to their twisted warriors pride, instead knelt down to slap a hand to the ground. Underneath him a dark brown magic circle erupted, the darkly glowing glyphs bespeaking of a specific style of summoning, “Why, THIS!”
With that the ground underneath him quaked as a pile of earth erupted from the street and pierced the center of the magic circle. For a moment the earth mound, half Williams height, trembled before sloughing off, revealing a small, brown-skinned girl. Long ears, tapered and lobeless, sprang out of shoulder-length green hair, her entire form small and covered in a simple shift.
Her eyes opened to reveal red irises that gazed at Aristotle without emotion.
Aristotle, though, backed up slightly and growled a single word, “Spirit Summoning?”
Williams, just about out of mana, began to seek wildly for the nearby ley line to spindle more energy from, “Indeed. And this one KNOWS you! I may not have power in psionics or spiritual faith, but what I DO know is magic. I live it, breathe it, like all Magi do.”
Aristotle snarled at seeing his old familiar, whispering her name, “Gnome. You ungrateful whore.”
Speaking in a gravelly whisper, the Earth Spirit, Gnome, murmured back, “Did you think Kind would protect you forever?”
Shaking with rage, Aristotle pointed at her, his focus lost entirely on the summoned spirit, “This…this goes against the teachings of the Order of Magi. Conjuration? This isn’t in your dossier.”
“No, it’s not,” Williams licked at a thumb before holding up both hands to the sky, “That’s because I’m no longer JUST in the Order of Magi.
I am of The Shop now, too. And do you know what the Shop does best?!”
Smiling, the apprentice cast his spell, at the same time roaring out, “WE KICK ASS!”
Bringing his hands down to the ground, Williams poured the entire remaining stock of his energy into his final summon. Ignoring the strange work, Aristotle kept his eyes on Gnome, knowing full well her capabilities. Behind the dispassionate Earth Spirit, the street once again cracked as one more object erupted from the soil far underneath.
Rising up, buffeted by its own powers, the whitewood staff known as Ash appeared, glowing with strength and the desire to be unleashed. Yanking it out of mid-air, Williams whirled the staff about himself before taking up a stance with it, holding the staff firmly with both hands. Recognizing the staff, Aristotle sprang into action, charging up a vicious spell of his own as reddish-black clouds began to gather about his feet and hands, his voice turning into guttural barks as he uttered words that no human ever should.
Mist began to creep about the battlefield as he unleashed Ash’s power. As Aristotle’s battle spell began to cause the edges of his form to tremble and become opaque, Gnome began to chant as well, her small hands held towards her former master and partner as her sclera began to take on a blacker coloration.
Amidst the rising power of magic unleashed, the soft footfalls of a giant, white dog cut through the din of chanting. Walking out of the mist to sit next to her new summoner, the Guardian Spirit “Shiro” glanced about. Much like his summoned connection with Gnome, simply grasping Ash while being synchronized with the Artifact staff allowed him to understand the Guardian Spirit, her presence within his mind exactly what he had trained to accept. A cross of massive wolf and the best qualities of all dogs, the ghost dog looked up at Williams, her soft, warm voice resonating within his skull.
”I am here, friend. Frank has said you are contracted to me now, too.
Where is the fight?”
Williams pointed at Aristotle, linking both Gnome and Shiro in the same communicative channel. Aloud, he barked, “KILL!”
Immediately Shiro sprang forth as Gnome erected a simple concrete wall behind Aristotle, stretching from building to building in order to cut off both the motorcycle and the Tordekian onlookers from his possible wrath, the street itself flowing up under her command.
Empowered claws and teeth flashing, Shiro came in low and hard as she sought to strike Aristotle with raking blows, juking to the side with a flowing, unnatural manner as Aristotle answered in kind with strikes of his own. Hands and feet covered in vicious, poisonous clouds, Aristotle surged towards Gnome only to find his attention diverted by the attacking Shiro. Growling and snapping her jaws swiftly, the apparition flowed from one position to another, attacking Aristotle from impossible angles.
Impossible for a normal person.
Aristotle, his expanded senses and training beginning to truly show, spun from one angle to another, never letting her take his back. Lashing out with a foot here, a spinning back fist there, Aristotle slowly backed up towards the concrete wall, going sideways for a moment as he perched both boots on the wall before hurling himself to the ground, rolling and dodging Shiro’s wicked attacks before leaping up and slamming both enchanted shoes and fists to the ground. Growling in the strange, guttural language, Aristotle covered himself in a shell of the same deadly energy.
Balking, Shiro leapt backwards as Gnome rushed at him from underneath her, stopping as she drew close to his shell to stomp her foot into the ground. Without the need to chant or perform mystical gestures, the Earth Spirit sent a wave of soil to erupt out of the street and cover over Aristotle’s strange shell, giving him an extra layer of earth before raising her fist before her sight and gripping it hard, causi
ng the wetted earth to draw inwards towards him, attempting to crush him.
Erupting out of both shell and soil grip, Aristotle ran alongside the wall for a moment before hurtling himself at Gnome, intent on completely destroying her, his aura crackling with the deadly, dark energy.
Empowered by his Locomotion spell, Aristotle had only need to touch Gnome in order to dispel her. Though she was no longer his to command, she had also lost power when he had given her up in exchange to follow Morrow Kind.
Even though Williams had displayed an impressive array of attacks and combat capability, he was hardly of Aristotle’s skill.
Reaching out, almost hungry to bring “death” to the very spirit he had once betrayed, Aristotle roared in frustration as Shiro appeared out of nowhere in front of Gnome. Becoming tangible enough to be struck, Shiro and Williams both yelped as the energy of the Locomotion spell transferred to the White Dog instead, smashing her and her conjurer with painful energy.
Instead of being dispelled, though, Shiro merely bit down on Aristotle’s shoulder, finally getting her teeth into him.
Staggering backwards, Aristotle cried out in pain for the first time as Shiro rolled, her form both bulky and powerful, graceful as she dropped him to the ground in an impressive takedown. Growling around her mouthful of enemy, Shiro ground her teeth together and began to run, dragging Aristotle along the ground before mounting the wall, running sideways along it while continuing to drag him.
Unable to move lest he lose control over both summons, automatically dispelling them at the worst timing, Williams ground his own teeth as he strained against his own mental and magical limits. Summoning Gnome, even as low powered as she was, had proven to be more than he was easily ready for, and while using Ash didn’t count as Conjuration inexactly, it DID put a strain on him mentally to stay connected to both Spirits at the same time. While he had taken to the teachings of The Shop and had foregone swearing himself to the Four Elements (thus limiting the Magi options when it came to Magia schools, as per the contract), he still believed faithfully in them as much as any God he had ever known.
