Chapter 5

A lot of people fondly remember the 60's, the so called Summer of Love, the Beatles, the Stones, even the moon landings, yet forget about a lot of the bad stuff that went on too.

The real instigators of the Cuban Missile Crisis were the American administration, though even today you'd struggle to find many who actually believe that. We found out after we arrived that one of the Coalition's moles had put the idea in the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to station Jupiter IRBM's in Italy and Turkey putting the weapons within range of Moscow. Merlin had however lost control of Khruschev and the Premier was intent on building a missile base on Cuba and do the same to the USA, so instead of causing more paranoia in Moscow and enhancing his control as their potential saviour, Elymas was faced with the possibility of both administrations going to war with nuclear weapons with him in the middle.

It was the 16th of October 1962 that Morgana, a team of Mages and me as her assistant were on a plane to Washington DC with a mandate from the Council of the Wise to try and knock some sense into the heads of the U.S. administration. At the time we did not know that Elymas' mole had convinced the Joint Chiefs of Staff to unanimously agree that a full-scale attack and invasion of Cuba was the only solution, before vanishing mysteriously. They had been led to believe that the Soviets would not attempt to stop the US from conquering Cuba.

The reason we were on a plane and not using a portal was political, we were supposed to be representatives of the British Government, which meant planes and passports.

We met up with our American counterparts as we struggled with jet lag and exhaustion and it was apparent that Morgana was the star of the show with lots of deference being shown to her with the rest of us more or less being ignored. Which admittedly suited me just fine, I do my best work in the background and major players tend to get put under far more scrutiny. Though why they wanted Morgana there was not yet immediately obvious. I presumed it was because she had the trust of the Council of the Wise in such matters.

Whilst Morgana was taken into 'conference', I went ahead to the hotel we were booked into and started setting various wards and defences, standard stuff, nothing too complex, enough to give us all warning should something untoward happen. I certainly doubted they'd withstand a nuclear explosion, though admittedly the emergency portals I'd set up to an alternate Earth would see us safe, assuming we got to them in time.

Why haven't the Mages set up their own worlds and empires?

Company mostly, humanity is fun to be around and too many Mages get on each other's nerves (I call it prima-donna-itis). Yes, there are other worlds with humanity, who followed different developmental paths, but they have their own Mages and frankly we don't tend to play nice with each other. (It's to do with trust and how we use our magic, we aren't killing each other off.)

Assisting me was another journeyman Mage or rather in this case a journeywoman, Róisín, who answered to Arch, Morgana's second in command and one of the Departments bigger hitters. He and I got on just fine, though sadly Róisín and I didn't. She was of Irish descent and just out of her apprenticeship. As well as looking a little older than me, she gave the impression in our dealings that, somehow, I was responsible for everything going wrong there, from Cromwell to the potato blight, along with this century's troubles. Generally I ignored her, save only when she got sloppy with our joint work; yes, laying down wards can be imprecise and still work, but Morgana had been very insistent with me that the higher I got with my knowledge the more important it was that I was very precise with the symbology. Róisín naturally thought I was a stuffed shirt and was picking on her personally because she was Irish. I'd given up trying to explain, I simply waited for her to get out of my way so I could make sure Morgana at least was safe.

Testing a ward is fairly easy, you run your mind over it and the shape it takes in your mind tells you if it's working or not. Róisín's wards had a tendency to feel like a finger screeching down a blackboard to me and so I'd re-adjust the patterns by the use of telekinesis and rather than face her anger tried to do it as sneakily as possible. Pretty much to no avail of course, Róisín had a tendency to watch me like a hawk.

"Why can't you just leave my wards alone?" she demanded.

"Because they aren't quite right," I said flatly. "If you run your mind over them you're supposed to feel a smooth surface with nothing an enemy can use to punch through in the way of a weak area, such as the deflections and distortions I can feel when I examine your wards."

"I've been doing them with no complaints!" she stormed.

"Well, perhaps they never actually checked your handiwork and assumed competence," I threw back at her hotly.

"How dare you!" she raged and attempted to force her mind onto the wards. The wards, unfortunately because my mind was linked to them, saw Róisín's attempt to touch them as an attack. She got lucky as she was inside the wards; I was outside and in a world of hurt. It felt as though a series of red hot spiked war hammers descended on my skull all at once, whilst the rest of my body was torn at and thrown clear across the room hard onto the wall where, mercifully, I lost consciousness, though not before my own defences operated my last resort shields.

I came to, mostly because the agony I was in no longer permitted me to stay under, the other reason was Róisín shaking my shoulders and trying (I believe) to see if, somehow or other, I was still alive.

I could barely see out of one eye, the other had shut down completely but what I could see showed multiple lacerations, burns and several compound fractures on my legs, I also felt as if my ribcage was in several pieces too.

"John, John, I'm so sorry, I'll get help," Róisín sobbed when she saw my eye flicker.

"Just hold," I gasped, feeling blood pooling in my lungs. I then concentrated on my age restoration mantra and ignored the agony I felt, seeking to visualise the highly complex glyphs and sigils of the composite patterns I needed to flow around me. I think this was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but finally I had it clear and glowing in all its manifest complexity in my mind and I allowed it to flow up from where I lay until it covered my body like a cocoon. I then dug deep into the hidden material bonds of my surroundings whilst ignoring the siren call of Róisín's life signs and screamed in agony as my body took the energy and repaired its hurts to the reset position the restoration mantra was set at. Bones ground over each other, wounds sealed and healed and nerves regenerated until the agony ceased and I was whole again.

At this point the door burst open and Morgana and Arch rushed into the room looking for an attacker and seeing only me lying dazed in Róisín's arms.

One look at the room was enough to tell them what had happened, though not why.

"Seems our young journeymen need some additional tutorage on wards," muttered Arch.

Morgana glared at him.

"John's ability with wards is not in question in my mind," she stated angrily. "What the hell happened, Róisín?"

"John and I had a dispute over the wards," she said miserably. "He was making some minor adjustments to the pattern smoothing and I felt he had no right. I, I, er, I attempted to stop him by linking into the ward whilst he was still connected to it," she finally sobbed out. "I'm so sorry, so sorry; I should have remembered my training and not interfered!"

"It's OK," I murmured. "I'm still here."

"John! You could have been killed, for the life of me I don't know why you aren't dead, the wards are designed to keep armies out if necessary and will kill to protect those inside, otherwise we wouldn't bother with them," Morgana practically shouted at me. "So stop with the false modesty and let me examine you."

Morgana's brow furrowed as she scanned me.

"I don't believe it," she finally said. "Arch, please check him out, because I can't believe my senses."

Arch also scanned me and shook his head.

"I can't find a damned thing wrong," he finally said. "Other than his clothing and what appears to be the signs of a mass bar brawl in the room. Róisín, come here please, I need to check your visual record along with Mage Morgana."

Arch nodded to Morgana and they both placed their fingertips on Róisín's head to read her visual memory of the event.

They both withdrew their fingertips at the same time and stared at me in horrified amazement.

"Are you fucking mad, John?" Arch finally asked. "Pardon my French," he said with a glance at Morgana.

"I was about to ask the same myself," she replied to Arch. "John, what you did was ... unwise and might have killed you, considering you had the luck or skill to survive a ward implosion."

"It was the only way I could think of to repair the damage," I said. "I could feel my strength going."

"How did you hold the pattern?" asked Arch. "The pain alone should have prevented it."

"Needs must I guess," I finally replied, as my own memories were somewhat hazy now.

"I've never seen a pattern that complex before," said Róisín.

"That's why I'm a bit of a perfectionist," I smiled. "Get the more advanced spells wrong and they'll kill you quick too."

"I'm so sorry John," she said with tears still in her eyes. "I would never have done that deliberately."

"We'll need to discuss this in detail later, young lady," said Arch. "But for the moment you're going to repair the room to its original condition and reset the wards perfectly with no sloppiness. It appears allowing you room to find your own way was not such a good idea after all."

"Yes, Mage," Róisín replied.

"You come with me, John," said Morgana. "I'm going down to the genetic level in a scan with you and then we're going to have a long and very pointed talk about Mage etiquette, as well as some basic do's and don'ts when it comes to what you should do when injured. Or rather I'm going to talk and you are going to damned well listen!"

"Yes, Mage," I replied meekly.

In her room though she just took me in her arms and hugged me.

"John, John, you silly man, don't ever do that again," she sighed. "I still can't believe you survived it, that silly girl!"

"I've been working on an amulet spell of last resort, stemming from my research into Null fields," I said and lifted a now very tarnished silver medallion from out of my tattered shirt pocket. Morgana studied it closely, finally producing a very large magnifying glass out of thin air to trace the patterns within.

"This is astonishing and very fine work, John," she finally said. "I can see how you survived now, it must have absorbed an enormous amount of energy, but what did it do with it?"

"It's linked to a fixed point in the Mount Erebus volcano in Antarctica," I replied. "I figured the energy wouldn't cause too many problems or notice in an active volcano."

"I suppose we should be grateful you didn't choose Mount Vesuvius," said Morgana with a slight smile.

"I'm not that silly," I grinned back at her.

"OK, serious now," she said. "John, you must never attempt to use the aging reset as a healing option. For one thing it absorbs energy from pretty much everything if the damage to yourself is too high. You might have killed Róisín healing yourself."

"I excluded her from the field parameters," I replied.

"You did what?" Morgana exclaimed. "You were dying, you summoned up a complex regeneration spell from memory, held it around you perfectly despite the agony you must have been in and then reset its parameters to exclude living objects?"

"Er, yes," I replied. "Seemed like the thing to do."

"Good Lord!" said Morgana sitting down and staring at me in amazement. "I'd find that hard to believe if I wasn't pretty much there at the time."

"It was just necessary to concentrate, Mage Morgana and if I didn't I was going to die. That tends to concentrate your thoughts incredibly well I've now found."

"Well, yes, I suppose it would really," she said quite bemused. "Now about you and Róisín," she said.

"No real problem," I said. "I think we understand each other now."

"John, you should ask before resetting a ward," Morgana said. "It's the polite thing to do."

"She didn't believe they were wrong," I said flatly.

"You still should have asked and then if refused, spoken to me about it."

"Yes, my Mage," I sighed. "I guess I'll have to work on my diplomacy."

"Yes, John, do that and apologise to her tomorrow. I think she'll appreciate you all the more for doing it as I imagine Arch is tearing more than a few strips off her for nearly killing my journeyman."

"Just wish she'd get over the English oppressor bit, it's not like I was personally responsible for all Ireland's troubles," I sighed.

"It gets your attention," Morgana laughed.

"Now hold on!" I exclaimed. "If she wanted a date she could easily ask."

"You're the one who's supposed to ask, dummy," Morgana smiled.

"Oh," I said very red faced.

"You'd be good for each other," said Morgana. "It probably won't be exclusive eventually, too many female Mages for that and Róisín knows this, or should, still, as the first, she gets to vet who else becomes involved. Also your job will frequently keep you apart, but you'll both have your needs met regularly when you can get together."

She was right, then again she usually is.

The following morning bright and early I caught up with a very subdued Róisín at breakfast.

"I owe you an apology," I said. "It was incredibly rude of me to interfere with your work without your permission."

She looked a little shocked at that considering what had happened.

"I apologise too, for nearly killing you, John," she finally replied.

I grinned at her.

"Good now we're even."

"Even?" she replied.

"Yes," I said. "We've both apologised."

"Oh good," she replied. "I thought for a moment you'd poisoned me to even the score."

"Now Róisín, you know I like you far too much to do that."

"You like me?"

"Well, yes, why else do you think I put up with the potato blight accusations?"

Róisín blushed deeply.

"I just couldn't seem to get your attention any other way; you're so focussed all the time," she admitted.

"None as blind as those who will not see," I said. "But I would love to get to know you better, take you out for dinner sometime soon."

"You're asking me to go out on a date?" Róisín asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"OK," she said, grinning at me.

Later that day the team assembled and instructions were handed out. Arch and Róisín were to go to the White House, ostensibly to pass on British Intelligence reports to Kennedy that if the U.S. invaded Cuba the Soviets would roll over Berlin. Morgana and I were to go to the Pentagon and meet with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and give them the same information, but also try to find out who was giving them the information that invading Cuba was a 'safe' option and neutralise them.

Other members were to approach the various free press agencies to keep the pressure on the Soviets and Americans whilst opening a channel for back door negotiations for when the time arrived. We'd also been informed in a roundabout way that the Coalition of the Pure were trying to rein in the Soviet Union too. We might be enemies, but we do like having this world to live on. Nuclear war was in no one's interest and they'd been unable to rein in or even contact their operative, the Council had the feeling they were very worried and out of their depth for once.

The following day saw Morgana and I being escorted into the Pentagon to a meeting with various aides of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, apparently we weren't 'high enough' to warrant an actual face to face, though it may have been that they were just too busy preparing for World War Three to see us. It was apparent though that the Pentagon itself contained several magical defences, none of them particularly defined, a sort of formless energy waiting to be tapped, but no sign of who was doing the tapping.

I did want to ask Morgana what she was feeling though as it clearly wasn't the same as me, she looked very, very nervous and totally out of sorts from her normal poise.

We were led into an antechamber with comfortable seating and left to our own devices and I also mentally formed a set of privacy wards which I scuffed around the two chairs we were sitting at. Sitting, I turned to Morgana and raised my eyebrows.

"This whole building is a trap, John," she finally said. "But for whom or what I simply do not know."

"I can feel vague wards," I said. "A lot of untapped power, but no focus."

"That's part of what's worrying me," she said. "Normally a building's shape has nothing to do with its potential in magic, but this place seems to have several unique characteristics that operate on the quantum sub molecular level. I can't believe that it was an accident either."

"Surely the Council would know?" I asked.

Morgana sighed.

"I should not be telling you this John, but I have had the feeling for several decades now that someone or perhaps more than one on the Council is not acting in its or humanity's best interests," Morgana said. "It's been very subtle and I've never really been certain, I'm still not altogether convinced now, but I can't believe that they wouldn't have noticed this either. This place is far too big and far too strong not to have been checked out by those members of the Council who live in the United States unless they were deliberately misled and kept away from here. Which also begs the question, why have we been allowed in?"

"That might explain how the Coalition lost control of its agent provocateur," I said quietly.

"Yes," said Morgana.

We both started as the door to the antechamber swung open. It should not have been possible for any human to get that close to us or even surprise us without our knowledge, until we realised that the thing opening the door wasn't human at all. It was man shaped, wore the uniform of a lieutenant colonel in the U.S army, but the shape was all we could envisage, there was no humanity at all behind the mask.

"They are waiting for you now," it said. "You will follow me."

I was about to refuse, but to my astonishment Morgana stood and followed the thing towards the now evident portal in the door frame, her eyes blank and her mind screaming at the loss of control. I stood too and followed and could feel the edges of my mind something trying to get past some of my charms, particularly the one I'd designed to deflect my position. Once out of the antechamber we ported into a hidden room and the first thing that hit me was the stench of rotting meat and blood, all surfaces were coated and the only living occupants were Morgana, myself and our guide, assuming it was actually alive and not some projection. All surface areas of the floor contained dead, rotting bodies draped in positions which told of torture and agony and all appeared to have been drained of what Mages call soul energy or life force if you will in the process of torture. It was then I became aware of something forming at the end of the room, something my eyes refused to believe and my mind almost shut down to behold. It was an Old One, H P Lovecraft called them Cthulthu. Though God alone knows how he knew about them or for that matter what they called themselves. I had been told they'd been expelled from this plane of existence by the servants of the Almighty after a war lasting aeons and had been responsible for several extinction level events. There were also hints that the split between heaven and hell was part of the aftermath of seeking victory at any cost. What is known about them is that they are old, cunning, indifferent to all life save as a form of spiritual food source and utterly alien to our universe, whilst we can do magic, it has been posited that they are magic.

Chapter 6 »