Chapter 22

Aden stood with Qasi and Ezza in the battlemage’s watchtower looking out over the harbor. With a tap of one’s finger, the panes of glass would expand or contract, giving the lookout a telescopic view of the landscape far out in the harbor and beyond, into the sea.

“You are a walking, breathing bad luck charm,” Ezza said. “Are we going to go out there to investigate?”

Aden chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his choices. The onus was on him for his stupidity. He had decided to play with toys he did not understand and could not foresee what implications would follow. Even Swindlow with his backstabbing silver energy knew what he had been working with and how to use it.

Where were the manuals? The lesson plans? The rot was in his old temple and so it seems, the rot was here in this school, centuries before. The practice of phyzeec was truly dying because no one could write out steps and lessons.

The remnants of their ignorance still haunted the world though. Aden shook his head in denial. Human beings and their decisions haunted the world. Phyzeec was simply an element of the world, neither good nor evil or a blessing or a curse, or even a cure or a poison. Humans killed humans. Humans destroyed buildings and humans massacred the best and the brightest, leaving the morally challenged to wield the weapons. He was going around in circles.

“I’m tired of this foolishness,” Aden said with a flip of the hand toward the harbor. “This was someone else’s war, of people whose names no one can remember, and yet their hubris is our burden.” He met Ezza’s eyes. “We are going to practice using the sword. You are going to dress in the practice dummy and I’m going to do my best to cook your hide inside of it.

“Governor’s orders,” Aden concluded as he headed down the stairs.

The three of them looked ridiculous as Aden surveyed their first attempt. With one forcing himself into the suit, two people were needed to stuff the unlucky sot in it. Even with the man in the suit, the pulling, tugging and stuffing to close and seal it was a four-handed effort. Carefully, so as not to panic the man in the suit, Aden charged the surface of the suit, bringing various shields to a full charge. As Ezza waved his arms or shifted his torso, the mobile shields would link and unlink to form a stronger barrier. Aden wanted to study the attractive properties of the shields, which resembled magnetism but was not; instead, he straightened up and pulled down the corners of his shirt to divert his curiosity.

Holding the jeweled sword in front of him as the practice dummy swayed across the floor brought forth a mutter of curses concerning Aden’s ignorance and ongoing stupid decision making. Dust motes sparkled in the streaming sunlight from far above, pulling Aden away from his bleak thoughts. Using techniques meant for other, more benign instruments, Aden began charging the sword, tracing the channels within the metal that led to jeweled capacitors, dense alloyed batteries and circuits of unknown provenance. The sword was light enough to wield with one hand, but pleasurable feedback was exponential with two hands.

As the sword reached full charge, the feedback shifted from a deep, sonorous wave to a calm continual wash. Aden had learned, as all children had learned, how to use a sword. As a young man, he had stood against an opponent or two in amateur contests to show off. This sword was alive with phyzeec though and its purpose was clear while holding it; this sword was taken up to obliterate objects and bodies.

Aden took the first offensive position and swung gently into the bounding form of Ezza. Electricity sizzled as the defensive forms shifted. Aden came back to first form, paused, and then stepped into a flurry of attacks, ending with a thrust into the middle of the torso. The padded dummy flew backwards and Ezza landed on his rear, still skidding backwards.

The thrill of the strike opened Aden’s eyes and stretched his nostrils to pull a deep draw of breath. Just as he would have conjured a small ball of phyzeec with his finger and flicked it with casual ease, Aden formed an intense blue ball at the end of his sword. As the ball intensified, its color turning dark blue and sliding into indigo, he flung at the seated dummy, which burst in a bright light of color followed by an acrid smell of burnt metal.

The suit crackled with waves of energy once and then twice. Ezza’s head lolled to side as he laid on his back. “Get him out of there,” Aden ordered as he began draining the sword in reverse order of its powering up. When he was done, he felt as if he had received back more than he had fed into the weapon. He licked his lips with sensual pleasure.

When the helmet was finally removed, Aden called out, “Are you ready to go again?” All he received in return was a curse accusing his mother’s side of his family of unspeakable acts going back generations. Aden gave a mirthless chuckle.

After retrieving Ezza from the padded suit, Aden forced Qasi to climb inside. Smaller and thinner, he fit more easily into the suit. Aden powered up the sword again and began to attack the dummy. His target was more agile though, throwing an arm in the way, awkwardly dancing out of the way, or simply batting away a strike or a throw of phyzeec. Qasi kept Aden moving, even getting close enough to swat his shoulder after one egregious misstep.

As Aden regrouped, he took a mincing step to the right, preparing to lunge on his left, when a blow to his right arm almost caused him to drop his weapon. “Wha?”

Ezza stood next to him with his hands on his hips and an outrageous grin. “A good soldier is always aware of his surroundings, wizard, a good soldier being one who lives to see the next battle.”

The sergeant took a deep breath and dismissed Aden with a slow shake of his head. “Scholars make lousy soldiers. You’ve got power and fury in your hands, but a real lack of understanding what personal combat is on a battlefield. I know you lost a real battle, but it was a battle of wits and cheating. Out there in the harbor is the tomb of a real warrior and next to him, you are a mere insect.”

“You are not helping here,” Aden said.

“No, I’m putting an end to this nonsense,” Ezza said. “You need to fight like the wizard you are and not like the battlemage you think you need to be. The way you are going about things, the result is going to be you and everyone else dead.”

“This is a failure,” Aden said, letting the tip of the sword rest on the floor. “Why did I even consider that I could do this?” He hung his head.

“A dead end is not a failure,” Ezza said, as he began to loosen the straps and pop the snaps on the dummy suit. “You cannot use this weapon, at least the way you’ve been trying.”

“I’m not a child,” Aden said, wiping the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “I do know my limitations.” The lump of rock in his gut was pressing against his stomach and his bladder, giving him the mixed message of wanting to vomit and pee at the same time. Instead, he eased himself to the floor and buried his head in his hands. “A lot of people are going to die because I can’t use this sword.”

“For the hope of a moment’s peace, can you please stop the self-pity and the whining,” Ezza said. He had one foot on the stiff shoulder of the suit and his arm wrapped around Qasi’s chest, looking awkward and nearly ready to topple over. “At least help me get this mealy piece of gristle out of this death trap.”