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My eyes widened and panic coursed through my very soul. I loved Duncan. He was my apprentice, he was as my own son, to say nothing of the decidedly non-platonic affection for him that I dutifully and brutally suppressed. Yes, I know holding both sets of emotions at once is a bit wrong.
If that son of a bitch Mendez and his toadies had brought harm to him I would rain down the very fires of hell and the lightning of heaven to lay waste to them like Mt. Vesuvius had rendered the cities of Pompey and Herculaneum to ash. Damn the Laws of magic.
I thought about that for a second.
To be fair I could technically kill them without violating the laws, but I was not sure at that moment that I would have the restraint.
I disabled the wards around my house proper before going inside and grabbing my sword. I went to the garage and started up Hexenhammer, its dull thrumming engine sending rumbles of power through me. I opened the garage door, backed out the bike and re-enabled my wards.
This was why they tailed me so clumsily that I spotted them. They didn't mean to follow me home, they already knew where that was, they were waiting for me there but had under-estimated or simply did not know about my wards. Either that or Mendez used his thralls to test them. That seemed likely too. No, I was tailed so that I could be spooked, driven into the Nevernever so that they would have the time to attempt to capture Duncan without my interfering. Those fucking bastards! What was worse, I fell for it! I got out onto Rural road and followed it north. Duncan lived on the corner of Rural and McKellips, about five minutes away, fifteen with traffic.
Just my luck, there was construction and it took me twenty.
I pulled into the apartment complex, one called Shadetree. It looked like military barracks housing. A number of white painted cinderblock two stories arranged around a central courtyard. I got off the bike and hobbled up a set of stairs to apartment 20D. The door was broken off its hinges and there was a charred corpse at the door.
Duncan's wards were something like my own, but not as strong. If someone wanted to commit suicide the wards would collapse, leaving just the solid core wooden door between the outside and Duncan. This was not the best neighborhood. The residents would prefer to stay out of the way rather than bring the authorities in on something going down at their doorstep. That and the cinderblock did a good job of soundproofing.
I raised my shield, my staff in my left hand, sword drawn in my right, and stepped in.
The apartment was a bloody mess. Hells bells did I teach him to fight. Bullet holes riddled the walls, save for a space by the couch where a neat hemisphere of wall was unmarked. That is where Duncan shielded himself. All of the candles were snuffed out, and the mace and shield that typically hung above that same couch were on the floor. The mace dripped and oozed with what could only be blood, and the shield was dented.
Duncan was gone. I stepped over a brained corpse, and saw movement from the corner of my eye. Someone was trying to move away. I strode over to him, assessing his injuries. One army hung limply and his shoulders didnt look right, so I knelt over him and grabbed his wrist, wrenching his arm backwards. Ah! A broken collar bone.
He screamed, letting out a high pitched cry that I almost felt pity for. I may have once, but I was too enraged to feel much of anything.
“Where is he” I growled
The young man screaming under me looked familiar. Yes. He was in my class last year, the one who asked about the pointlessness of learning dragon anatomy. What the fuck was his name? Francis?
He could only wimper in response to my question, so I eased up on the shoulder wrench.
“Where is he? Tell me and they will find you alive in a park somewhere rather than only finding a few scraps of you in the zoo's lion enclosure.”
“I... I … I dont know” he stammered. Something dawned on me. Duncan had studied with this one. He had been over to Duncan's apartment, they had gone to a few parties that semester before I intensified Duncan's training.
“Duncan was your friend, you piece of shit. Because of him your worthless ass managed to get a C in my class, and how to you repay him? You betray the location of his home and allow some crazed sorcerer to kidnap and abuse him. Give me one reason why I should not torture the information I need out of you. Waterbording is a fuck-ton better than you deserve.”
“Sorcerer? Magic... isn't...real.” he wimpered. His brain was trying to make sense of things, and between the drugs he was probably on and the magical compulsion he may or may not have been under it was not doing a very good job. It did not stop me from rolling my eyes.
“Then explain how not a single bullet hit Duncan at point blank range, and how your friend could be served at KFC extra crispy from just touching an unmarked door?”
I could have put him to sleep gently. I really could have, but I didn't feel like it. Instead I wrenched his arm back, hard, and then used my other hand to bash his head against the floor a few times until he fell unconscious and limp to the floor. Then I searched Duncan's apartment for something I could use to track him.
Unfortunately I taught him too well. No nail clippings, no hair or blood. The only thing I managed to come away with was a pair of dirty underwear, and my intentions for those underpants were entirely thaumaturgical, get your mind out of the gutter.
I needed to keep interrogating Francis, but could not do it here, even with a cop-shy population those screams were bound to alert someone who could call the police, so I picked him up in a fireman's carry, strapped him into my sidecar and took him home.
…
He started to stir, and I slapped him hard enough to cause whiplash. That woke him up. He struggled against his bindings, but he was stapped into heavy wooden chair with a combination of rope and manacles. The room was still pitch black.
“Lux candela” I muttered, investing a tiny portion of my will. The room was bathed in light as candles scattered throughout my basement lab came to life, and torches by the door sprang into orange flame. The lab was a typical wizard lab. A silver inscribed summoning circle was in the far corner from the door, there was a worktable in the center, and shelves full of...stuff. I had jars, bags, and boxes full of everything from sulfur to eye of newt to distilled sunshine. His eyes widened at the sight. I wasted no time.
“ Impetus Jugis” I said, investing another bit of will to gently lift his chair off the floor. I then imparted a spin, and twirled him around like a child on an office chair. I sat him down. He vomited all over himself.
“I can snap my fingers and turn you to ash, Francis. And there are fates worse than death.” I paused. He was terrified, shaking, and had pissed himself.
“Tell me what I want to know Francis”
He stammered, the words trying to come out, but he could not force them. Fuck. He was compelled into silence. I felt kinda bad about how I had treated him. Okay, I actually felt really bad. I took one look at him and did him the only mercy I could.
“Somnus” I said clearly, and the kid fell into a deep sleep. Extremely frustrated I grabbed the underwear and a little packet of smelling salts and stepped into the circle. I willed energy into the circle with a touch and felt is spring up around me. Then I took in a whiff of the smelling salts and muttered several words, summoning up my will in the process.
“Scientia ex scaena” Then I took a big breath of dirty boxer briefs. Their pungent odor filled my nose and I scuffed the circle, feeling its energy release. I got nothing. The spell did not work. Fuck. This either meant that Duncan was dead, or was contained behind a circle, which would cut off the mystic connection between him and the shorts. I then tried something similar with the spent roach, but the connection was too fleeting for the spell to work.
I lurched upstairs and collapsed into my big arm chair. I needed to clear my head, but couldn't. I looked over to my coffee table and saw the picture on the frame. He stood with a beaming smile in my living room holding up his grad school acceptance letter. The picture was grainy and in black and white, I had used a camera from the 40s to take the picture, but he got accepted into the Medieval and Renaissance studies program, under my advisement. Worry and despair ate at me, it felt like my heart was trying to crawl out of my throat. I closed my eyes and felt two salty tears flow down each cheek.
It was then that felt the intrusion on my wards. I grabbed my sword and staff from beside the door and strode, still limping, outside. My ribs still hurt of course and the speed with which I moved caused pain to stab through my chest, but I could not let that stop me.
As I got outside I heard a car peeling around a corner, and almost stepped on it. A crossbow bolt with a rolled up piece of notebook paper wrapped around it. I unwound it and read the message.
Two hours, The Library, come alone and unarmed
So Edwardo wanted to arrange a meeting. I did not see how I had much choice. Then I heard the sparrows singing to each-other and inspiration hit me. I had forgotten a certain Norse legend, one which I was well equipped to imitate.
I made my way down to my lab and yanked the flask of dragon blood off my shelf. Yes, I said dragon blood. It is a long story how I got it, it was payment for services rendered, that is all I will say on the subject. I measured out a dram of the blood and drank it down. There were three effects. The first was that my throat and chest burned as if little miniature suns had been rammed down my gullet, and a headache exploded in every part of my brain that almost made me pass out right there. I focused on the pain and controlled my breathing, forcing the agony into a nice little box inside my head along with the pain in my ribcage and left it locked inside. It would break out later with a vengeance but I could burn that bridge when I got to it.
The second thing that hit me was a sharpening of my senses. The resolution at which I could see increased. What actual sight was to my camera's photographs was what my newly enhanced vision was to my normal sight. Colors were deeper and more sharply contrasted, definition increased. I discovered that my floor was not exactly level and I could see imperfections in the silver of my summoning circle. My hearing also sharpened, I could hear little scuttling sounds in my walls, and could even narrow down the number of legs. I had cockroaches. Damn it.
My entire body tingled with power not my own and I felt a strange euphoria. It was the same feeling I felt when I tried pot back in high school. I focused on the cockroaches in the wall, and I could hear them talking. They were muttering something about the distinct lack of food crumbs in my lab and how the kitchen was always more productive.
That was the effect I was looking for. I was somewhat curious as to how permanent this would be, but I did not have time to think about it. Sigurd had eaten a portion of Fafnir's heart, I drank a dram of blood. I was not sure how the effects would differ, but it should last long enough for the blood to be digested, perhaps ten hours. Some parts of it may remain permanently. I left my lab, grabbed some chalk from my desk, Duncan's picture, Mendez' file and a chunk of the baguette Duncan had brought over for dinner a few nights ago, and walked outside.
When I got there I could smell things. My neighbors on the left were cooking lamb chops, and my neighbors on the right had gotten distracted cooking dinner by an early evening quickie. Huh. I could hear where they were too. The kitchen. They must have had a food fetish. I filed that away for later, and felt something inside me stir. That animal part of me that wanted to mate, to reproduce. The part that felt only need. It had been a while, I mused. I could probably join in their fun if I... I realized that I did not need the distraction and looked down and scolded myself like one would a dog who liked to jump up on strangers.
“No! Bad! That is very inappropriate!”
I broke the bread into crumbs and cut my finger with the edge of my sword, smearing a little bit of blood over the crumbs and sprinkling them on the ground before drawing a circle.
The birds I needed to talk to were everywhere. Some chattered on about food, others were trying to convince females to mate with them. They all saw the bread. As I stood back, a number of them, some two dozen little sparrows descended upon the crumbs. As soon as one of them took a bite of a blood soaked crumb the circle snapped closed around them and they were trapped. I stepped up.
“Hello little feathered ones.” I said to them in greeting. They all looked up at me, their little eyes wide with shock that I understood them.
“In exchange for thy freedom, and for my services guarding thine nests from cats, prithy track down these two persons” I laid the images down before them. One of the sparrows, a male slightly larger and more brightly colored than the others hopped forward and looked at the pictures
“We have thy word?” the little bird asked.
“You do.”
“When we shall do as thou asks, in exchange for our freedom, and nest guarding. You have our word”
“I would like to hear it from all of thee” I replied, to which all of the little birds tweeted their ascent.
“It will take time. Come back to this place six hours hence and we shall have the answers ye seek” the alpha make twittered. I scuffed the circle, releasing them. They finished off the bread crumbs and then flew outward over the city. I had a meeting to keep.
…
I pulled Der Hexenhammer into a parking spot on Mill Avenue, Tempe's party district and placed enough coins in the parking meter to give me an hour of time, then I walked the hundred meters to The Library. I had to work very hard to not be overwhelmed by the sounds, smells, and sights newly discovered by my drinking of the dragon's blood. I was so distracted I was not able to properly pay attention to my surroundings and must have seemed as if I was drunk, I could not even keep from running into several in the throng of college students who walked the same sidewalk.
There were street preachers on the corner opposite the little book lounge I was going to. They seemed to be staring pointedly at the little establishment while talking about how the bible said to suffer not a witch to live. Too bad they got the translation wrong. I looked across the street and flipped them off, muttering a word in latin; their sign burst into flame spontaneously. I did not stick around to see their expressions. I opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
The Library was a strange little place. It was surrounded by college bars. A lively piano bar was downstairs, Hooters and the Skylouge were above, both of which were rumored to be nicer establishments run by the White Court. This one however was a combined occult book shop and lounge, and catered to the supernatural crowd. The proprietor was a tall blond haired Norwegian woman by the name of Birgette, not unskilled in the art, she placed avoidance wards on the door to keep mortals from giving the place much more than second look. Suggestions like that were a bit on the gray side of the Laws of Magic, but because they were so useful we Wardens did not consider them problematic. She had also had her establishment designed neutral territory under the Unseelie Accords, as indicated by the sign in the door that said “Accorded Neutral Territory”.
The lounge had thirteen tables, thirteen bookshelves filled to the brim with both mundane and more significant works on the supernatural, as well as thirteen candelabras which held thirteen candles each, thirteen mirrors, and thirteen ceiling fans. All of this was carefully arranged in a seemingly haphazard fashion in order to disperse the wanton magical energy that often accompanied those who wielded power. I opened my Sight, and checked for veils, cloaking spells. I saw only the scattered light and magical energies that the furnishings ensured. I willed my Sight closed and strode up to the bar with a slight limp.
“Hi Steven!” the cheerful proprietor beamed. She was in a conservative librarian's suit and wore her hair in a ponytail that went down to her waste, she also had square rimmed glasses, and spoke with a distinct accent. Then she saw what was wearing. I was dressed for battle, in my arming jacket and chainmail, black fatigue pants, fedora and sporting the gray cloak that marked me as a Warden. Her gaze hardened with concern.
“What's going on?” she asked.
I leaned next to her and motioned for a honey Meade which she handed to me while leaning in so I could speak quietly.
“Malum ferox captus meus discipulus. res est penitus ut Niveus Concilium , is vires satus pugna. Aufero vestri patronus pro suum salus.” I said in Latin. I reasoned that if any of Mendez' thugs were here, they would not speak the language and it was reasonable that he did not have the discipline to learn it either.
“EGO mos operor sic. Rudimentum ut aufero pugna ex illa moenia ut vos es validus” she replied, getting the implicit message.
“I will try not to bust the place up, and the Council will pay for any damages.” she nodded rung a small bell. The patrons knew what that meant, and they started to clear out.
Around fifteen minutes later, after everyone had cleared their tabs I sat at a table near the entrance reading a copy of Nibelungenleid.
I smelled them first. They smelled like sweat and drugs and burned cordite, then I heard them, walking confidently if with ridiculously strange postures down the sidewalk chattering to each-other in Spanish.
Two goons walked through the door first, both hispanic and in baggy cloathing, tattoo sleeves on their arms. I could tell through my dragon blood enhances senses that they were carrying weapons, probably concealed machine pistols. Behind them came Mendez. He did not look much different from them, but his gait was more predatory. He surveyed the lounge and motioned for his goons to leave. They exited and he sat down across from me.
“Gotta hand it to you Frost, you trained the kid good. His wards took out one of my guys, he brained one with that mace and seriously wounded five others with that exploding shield of his before we took him down with a ketamine dart.” he told me casually, his accent more than a little thick. “His mind is strong too. Four hours and his defenses have not broken, better than most apprentices do. Still between my assaults, the torture and the drugs I dont think he will make it to morning before I break him. Mentally and... physically.” he grinned at me, casually shrugging his shoulders.
He was definitely the type to rape those he took, just to break them down even further and make them easier to control. Monster. Rage built in me. I wanted to utter a word and burn him to ashes right there, but I forced that urge down.
Duncan had seen things that no human being should ever see. Through it all, his mind had survived more in tact than any I had ever seen. It had even made him stronger to a degree, fighting against that much awfulness had not broken his mind or left him vulnerable. It left him calloused. Most people who were not used to manual labor found themselves cut and bleeding after doing a bit of heavy lifting and construction work. Those who did it often found themselves largely immune to that sort of wear and tear. The mind I supposed was similar. Mendez was right though, he could not last forever.
“He has been under the tutelage of a Warden of the White Council. I have laid low demons and smitten black court sorcerers with my power, Mendez. Earlier this evening in the Nevernever I forced the surrender of a Summer Court guardian serpent. I eat Maleficar like you for breakfast. I do not take the training if my students lightly. What do you want?” I asked. My voice was even and my poker face was perfect, a sea of tranquility. He blinked. I thought he was expecting to get more of a rise out of me.
“I want you to back off Frost. Ignore my operation here. I will give your apprentice back to you, and in exchange for your cooperation will give you money, drugs, women. Whatever you want. I just want you to leave me to my affairs.” he said this while clutching a small fetish, a small dried mushroom in a medallion around his neck. The ward on my fedora triggered, giving me the seconds I would need to act before I had to throw up my mental defenses. I put up a hand and clenched it shut forcing a portion of my will into his body.
“Dollens Attonitus” I hissed, and his entire body wrenched. Every voluntary muscle in his body contracting from the alternating current I rammed through his body and ground out through the floor. I even put in the extra energy to control the current and keep it away from his heart and brain. He pissed himself and I heard a ripping sound as the force of his abdominal contractions forced his bowel contents out after ripping their way through the clenched sphincter. The only sound he could manage was a rasping almost soundless scream. I let him hang like that for about a second and a half before releasing the spell. His muscles relaxed, nothing permanently hurt but his pride, and he recovered, breathing heavily and quivering in his chair.
“That was for trying to force my mind. How does it feel to be a helpless victim asshole? I have a counter-proposal. You give me my apprentice within three hours. Unharmed. If you do so, I will give you a head start of six hours before I begin to use every means at my disposal to hunt you down and deliver a swift painless death. You may escape, you may not. You will have a chance then. If you do not deliver my apprentice to me within that time, or if you harm a hair on his head, I will make you beg for death. You will get down on your knees and suck my dick, your eyes looking up and pleading me to end your suffering. Either that or I will drop you off near the lair of a skinwalker. Take your pick.” my voice sounded almost jovial.
“You're bluffing” he told me after he regained his breath. “If you could do that, you would have used a tracking spell to find either of us, or both” he looked smug. He still thought he was holding all the cards. “besides” the continued “You are a Warden. Warden's don't torture people. That would be evil.”
I laughed. My laugh was long, rich, and deep. It probably sounded a bit crazed. His smug grin left his face.
“We Wardens execute children who violate the Laws. The only stricture I am legally under is that I cannot violate your free will or kill you with magic. Oh sure, some of the Wardens may not like the fact that I took a few pages from the Abu Girab Handbook prior to your decapitation, but don't think for a second that any of them would think you undeserving. You magically raped someone before you completed puberty, thrill-killed with magic prior to the age of majority, and have enslaved how many hundreds of people? You are a cancerous boil on humanity, a pathetic half-man who gets off on hurting others and enough of the Council will think you deserving of whatever punishment I decide to dish out that the only censure I will receive is a symbolic slap on the wrist for being overly zealous. You have killed Wardens, and you have someone I care for deeply held captive. I will stop at nothing to bring you down and have the resources to do it. Now get out.” I stood, pointing at the door.
“Oh and don't forget the baby powder. You might get a rash”
He shuffled to the door in obvious discomfort and said something in spanish to his toadies. Now, I am a mythology professor in addition to being a Warden. I speak a lot of languages. Sure I specialize in older european myths, so I speak mostly older european languages. However once you learn one or six languages it is easier to learn others, so I had picked up three of four modern european languages. French, German, Swedish, and Spanish. So when he told his minions to kill me and Birgette I was already moving.
They spun around the door at the same time I was interposing myself between them and the bar and raising my my left hand. I pulled in my will, focused it with a tremendous effort of will without my buckler as a foci, and poured the energy into a shield. Birgette started to scream.
“Tectum!” I screamed. Without my foci I could not do anything as complicated as a reflective shield, and the stray bullets would hit people outside anyway. Instead it was a simple barrier shield, matching my will against the force of the incoming bullets. It left me momentarily drained, and all I could do for a few seconds was hold the shield up as the air filled with steel jacketed lead in front of me. Through the gunfire and the strain of holding up a crude shield I managed to draw in enough power for the simplest spell in the book.
“Fracta” I hissed, and the guns practically exploded in their owners hands. Police sirens were blaring and I could hear screams from outside.
“ Impetus Jugis” I muttered, taking their weapons with telekinetic force and pistol whipping them unconscious with their own guns.
“You Okay handling the mortal authorities?” I asked her. She nodded, regaining her composure. “Is there a back way out of here?” She nodded again and pointed back toward the bathrooms.
“Look what those fuckers did to my books!” she yelled when she got her head fully back on. She started ranting in Norwegian.
“Put one more thing on the list of things Mendez deserves to die for. If you have trouble replacing volumes give me a call. I know a guy.” I told her as I left. Birgette was good people. She could lie convincingly to the cops.
I got back on my bike and headed home and back behind my wards. I was exhausted and had a few hours before the sparrows got back to me. I set my alarm and went to bed for a nap. I was asleep instantly.
GALE Force Biological Agent/
BOTM/Great Dolphin Conspiracy/
Herpetology and Evolutionary Biology Subdirector:SD.net Dept. of Biological Sciences
There is Grandeur in the View of Life; it fills me with a Deep Wonder, and Intense Cynicism.
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