A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (47 page)

“I have to
perform?
”

“Yes,” the manager said. “As the princess' rescuer, I bet
you know impressive magic.”

“Well, yeah, but . . . I can't perform! I'm a warrior, not a
stage actor!”

Basilard whacked the back of his head. “You're not a warrior,
you're a mercenary. That means you are whatever the client wants. Understand?”

“Yes, Daylra.”

Reluctantly, the battle mage made a spectacle of himself.
Meanwhile, the healer served apple pie, poured meat soda, and made small talk,
while the fighter was banished to the kitchen after she called a fox a raccoon.

With mana bolts, Eric displayed his power. With fire, ice,
and lightning, he demonstrated his might. At last, he proved his mastery of
night and day. The customers were not impressed. All of them could do the
first, most could do the second, and they were annoyed by the third.
Any
ideas?

Normally I would not debase myself to participate in such
a mockery of magic, but your laughable attempts to impress have compelled me to
act. Do as I say:

Eric created a white sphere in one hand and a dark sphere in
the other then clapped his hands together. Made from contrasting elements, the
spheres both resisted and melded each other. He forced the merge and a small
shockwave flew through the room, knocking over glasses and rocking chairs.
Instead of a grey sphere, he held a dull gold one. The audience watched,
waiting.

Eric dropped the sphere and on contact with the floor, it
shattered into light of infinitely many and constantly shifting colors. The
room became a void hosting them alone. They surged over the audience's head and
by their feet.
I've seen this before . . .
All at once, they
disappeared.

The audience stood, applauded, and called for an encore. He
was only too happy to oblige. This time he added theatrical movements like the
magician he saw at—
the
tunnel! It's the same! Is this the same power
that brought me here?

He bowed. “Thank you! Thank you! I'll be here until dinner.”

All of a sudden, he wasn't. He couldn't see his teammates,
or Annala, or the restaurant. The world was black.
Am I going back to Threa?
Color painted the darkness and solidified into the lobby of the Dragon's
Lair. Mia was in front of him and the intensity of the relief she brought
shocked him.

“Of course, we have plenty of martial art instructors. Do
you have one in mind, Princess?”

Kasile's here? . . . So it's another mind synch . . . I
wish I could figure it out . . ..

“You flatter me,” said a voice that was not Kasile‘s. “But I'm
not her.”

“The voice is all right, but the outfit is all wrong!”
Somehow, Mia sounded perky even when scolding. “There's no point in using an
obvious disguise.”

She pulled a hat off Eric's head. “Really, Princess, why
would a nomad come to a warrior guild for martial art lessons? Up north, girls
are taught by their own fathers.” She spun the hat on her finger. “It's a
tradition to lower the rate of longbow weddings.”

“It fooled the guards . . .” Kasile's voice said.

“Then your guards are stupid-heads.” Mia giggled. She glided
to the rear wall and pressed a button. “Oh, Laa-hharrggg! I have a job for
yoooouuu!” She glided back to her desk.

 A mountain of muscle carrying a battle-ax in one hand and a
drumstick in the other appeared in the doorway. He towered over Kasile; she
didn't reach his chest. Then a small girl with wings climbed over his shoulder
and waved.

“Hello!”

“And you are?”

“Malize! I'm his second head. You know, like 'right hand.'”

Laharg stuck the drumstick in her mouth. “You'll have to get
used to her nonsense. She spouts it all the time.”

Malize pulled it out and shouted in his ear. “It makes
perfect sense and you know it!”

The world began to shake and the image of the Laharg began
to blur. The shaking grew and the guild's lobby became fuzzy and indistinct.
Finally, everything crashed and Eric's head exploded in pain.

The mage blinked and his vision cleared. He was lying on his
back and Tiza and Annala were standing over him; the former smug and the latter
worried. He pieced the event together: Annala was shaking him awake and Tiza
decided to shove him awake.

He rubbed the bump on his head. “That was . . . astral
projection! I must thank my lovely assistants for bringing me back. Let's give
them a big hand!”

He clapped and the audience joined him. Annala took a bow,
but Tiza glared.
It probably wasn't a good idea to call her 'lovely.'
The only thing that saved him was the manager. She told the fighter to behave
and go back to the kitchen. Tiza bared her teeth and attacked her.

Quick thinking from Eric trapped her in a barrier. She punched,
kicked, and screamed even louder. The barrier shook and cracked. Eric grimaced;
it was going to break! Her eyes glowed sea blue and the barrier shattered in
countless pieces. Breathing heavily, she snarled at the manager.

“GDL . . . DIE!”

She lunged. Basilard grabbed her arm and pulled her into a
tight hug. Tiza thrashed and struck, but he endured it all, murmured in her
ear, and she calmed down.

“Daylra . . .” Nolien murmured. “Was that—”

“You have a job to do,” Basilard said. He looked only at
Tiza. “Do it.”

“Yes, Daylra.”

The audience was perplexed. Some were leaving their seats.
Eric reclaimed their attention with a light sphere exploding over the entrance.
“And
that
, ladies and gentleman . . . was a berserker spell! Yeah . . . we
use it to buff her in tough battles . . . don't we, Nolien?”

“Oh yes,” the healer said confidently. “Our mana stimulates
her nervous system to boost her adrenaline and endorphin levels which increases
her strength and resistance to pain.”

Hesitantly, the customers returned to their seats and
continued eating and watching. Without more than an “excuse us” to the manager,
Basilard escorted Tiza out.

Customers came and went and the day continued as normal.
Annala smiled at Eric as she passed and he thought it outshined his current
act; illuminating his staff and performing a battle dance with it. Nolien
approached a table near the stage and asked for the customer's drinks.

“You and Annala seem close.”

“Yeah . . .” Eric said.

“She seems like a nice girl and a good friend.”

“Yeah . . .” Eric said again.

“They say boys and girls can't be 'just' friends, am I
right?”

“Yeah . . .” That's how his older brother explained a new
girlfriend every month.

Nolien gave the day's special to the customers. “So you and
Annala
are
a couple?”

“Yea-what!?” Eric said. He lost his grip on his staff and it
dropped on his foot. He groaned in pain and hopped. His audience laughed and he
flushed in embarrassment.

“You might want to hang onto that,” Nolien said. “Oak is
pretty heavy.” Eric glared at his back until he disappeared into the kitchen.

When the restaurant closed, Team Four regrouped for their
next mission. Annala was afraid Motsuc would be closed too, but Eric reassured
her that the store was also his home and workshop. Then he added his doubts
about Motsuc
ever
leaving his shop because he was pale as a ghost.
Annala giggled, Tiza teased, and Basilard bonked her on the head.

The commotion from the back room sounded precisely the same
as the last time he was here. Though he meant it as a joke, maybe Motsuc really
didn't leave his shop . . . A slap of clay crashed to their feet and a body
swung into Eric's face. He screamed and whacked it.

“I'm sorry,” the skeleton said as it swung. “I am closed
right now. Please come back tomorrow during regular business hours.“

Tiza grabbed the thing and held it steady. “Don't worry,
Dimwit,” She knocked on the face. “It's plastic.” Then her face contorted into
a smirk. “And that was a
very
manly scream just now.”

“What do you think?” Motsuc asked, his head halfway out of
the backroom door.

“You almost gave me a
heart attack!”

“Oh good! My clients are going to
love
it!”

Basilard stepped forward. “We are here on business.”

“Splendid! What can I do for you?”

Basilard explained why they came and gestured to Annala.
Motsuc's eyes focused on her and became wide as saucers. For a moment he froze.
He didn't speak, move, or even
blink
. At last, he stepped out of the
doorway.

“Well . . .um . . .let me see what I can do . . .” With
shaky fingers, he took a magnifying glass from a shelf. “If you would just . .
. hold the runed item out for me to see . . .” Annala held out the gloves and
Motsuc examined them. “I see . . . anything else?” Annala pointed to the collar
and then to her stockings.

“Where did you get these?” Motsuc asked.

“A piece of shit!” Motsuc cowered before her rage but none
were more surprised than Eric. He'd never heard her swear before. “Can you
remove them or not?”

“I can! No worries! I can.”

Motsuc backed away from Annala, but didn't turn his back. He
replaced the magnifying glass on the shelf and selected a new device. This one
was a hammer with suppression runes up and down the handle. Etched into the
head was an image of a single eye with a wide and piercing stare. Eric
recognized it as the symbol of Order.
The rune must work by drawing on him
for power.

“Hold still and I'll depower the rune.”

 The hammer's head glowed with a colorless light, which
distorted the surrounding space.
It IS invoking Order's power . . .which
would explain why Dengel thought the rune couldn't be removed . . .He didn't
know a tool could do this.

Annala fidgeted, but held still nonetheless. The rune
appeared as the hammer drew close and pulsed like a heart. The beats quickened
as the head was laid on top of it. Then they slowed and the circle faded. Eric
felt like he watched something die.

That is the power of Order.
It drains the energy
that supports all life and seeks to control its Source. It is a disgusting and
blasphemous power.

Just thinking of that rune as an elf or human makes my
skin crawl.

A dried husk, yes. However, it is a 'necessary evil' to
preserve Noitaerc.

Annala was overjoyed. She ripped the collar off and instantly
a mana sphere appeared in her hand. The sphere became water, then mana again;
fire, and then mana; wind, and mana one final time before it vanished. Her
smile reached both ears and she threw her arms around Eric's neck.

Tiza opened her mouth. “Tiza, not a word.” Her mouth closed,
her arms crossed, and she humphed. Annala's happiness grew with each charmed
cloth she tore off. 

“That'll be twenty-five gold, please.”

“I'll pay for it,” Eric said. “You shouldn't have to when
you already suffered so much.”

“No, I'll do it,” Annala said. “It was my fault.”

“What's a little gold between friends?”

“Eric, I'm flattered, but I've put you through enough
trouble.”

“It's no troub—”

“Thank you for your business, ma'am.”

Tiza put her coin bag away. “What? You stole the last
toenail, so now we're even.”  

“Are you a novice mercenary?” Motsuc asked Tiza. He was
relaxed now that Annala had stuffed the five items away and no one wanted to
talk about them.

“Yeah, why?”

“How would you like to work here over the summer? All you
have to do is stand at the front desk and take customer's orders. I'll pay you—”

“I'll pass. I'll be too busy with guild missions.”

“Actually, you won't,” Basilard said, “Novice levels jobs
are sparse in the summer because school is out. Students compete for jobs that
novices do over the school year. I'd take it if I were you; you might learn
something about forging.”

“How would you know?” Tiza asked.

 The thirty-something-year-old smiled fondly. “When I was
your age, it was
my
job.” The kids looked from Basilard to Motsuc and
back again; they looked the same age.

“One of my ancestors was a demon. I don't have his fur, but
I do have his longevity.”

“All right. I'll take you up on that job.”

“Great! I hope you're not as clumsy as Basilard . . .” He trailed
off when Basilard gave him a cold look. “Wasn't! Anyone can drop a wrench once
or twice.”

“Team, let's go before I get an urge to ask Motsuc where he
got these items.”

Motsuc gulped. “I assure you I run a legitimate business!”

“Relax, Motsuc. I do not care what you buy or sell. Unless
of course, someone pays me to care.”

“That day will never come.”

“I hope not.” Basilard said. “I don't want you setting a bad
example for my students.”

Nolien congratulated Tiza for finding employment in the same
manner she found correct paths. She swatted him; he ducked and said he foresaw
the swipe just like he foresaw the mission slump and so secured a position at
Roalt's branch of the Silver Dragon Orphanage. Basilard almost knocked Nolien
off his feet with a congratulatory back slap, for which Tiza mocked him. Still
hanging off his arm, Annala asked Eric to work at Across the Sea.

Back on Threa, he had practiced sleight of hand, but always
choked, bungled the trick and got heckled. One time they threw rotten tomatoes
at him. This time it was his job
and
he knew real magic. Whenever he got
nervous, he'd remember that an audience wasn't as bad as giant scorpions or
monster wolves. It had been fun and the applause wasn't too bad either. He told
Annala he'd apply the next day.

Alf and Meg lay at the guild's entrance in a tangled and
moaning heap. When one tried, weakly, to move the other, just as weakly, pulled
them back down. Annala backed away uneasily and said goodbye to Team Four.