The magic mirror the eve.., p.16
The Magic Mirror (The Evermores Chronicles Book 7), page 16
He flung magic at Enfield, a net made from strands of light. Enfield’s hand buzzed with sound power as he slashed it through the air, severing the net. He whipped up his walking stick, and it glowed as he swung it at Winslow’s head.
Other Evermores jumped to their feet and charged in, some trying to drag the two apart, others joining in on one side or the other. Fran watched in despair as they punched and kicked, shoved, and tripped each other, then escalated into magic. Clubs and staffs of light appeared in the hands of some, while others used blasts of sound to knock each other over or webs of light to trap the people they’d called friends.
The crow flew above it all, croaking in excitement, urging on the fight. Fran didn’t share its feelings. She was appalled by what was happening.
The noise in the chamber was overwhelming—shouts of pain and anger, thuds of blows, the crackle of magic, and the boom of sonic blasts echoing from the solid stone. One blast of magic hit the wall with such force that a crack ran to the ceiling.
“Guys, stop!” Fran shouted. “This isn’t helping anyone.”
No one was listening. In the middle of the melee, Winslow and Enfield battered each other with glowing fists and bursts of power. Enfield stood on his good leg, fighting for balance as much as to beat the elder Evermore. Taldiss tried to jump between them, but someone caught her with a glowing rope and dragged her out, kicking and screaming.
A heavy hand tapped Fran on the shoulder. She looked around to see rock people coming into the cave. The one who had tapped her pointed at the fighting and shrugged.
“You want to know why they’re doing it?” Fran asked.
The rock person nodded.
“Because they’re idiots.” Fran shook her head. “But they’re my idiots, and I don’t want them getting hurt permanently. Could you help me break this up?”
The rock person looked at its companions, and they all nodded.
“Great.” Fran rubbed her hands together. “Help me get through to the middle. If we can separate Enfield and Winslow, we might be able to calm things down. Oh, and try not to hurt people along the way if you can.”
She strode into the fight, the rock people flanking her like bodyguards. They grabbed hold of Evermores as they passed, pulling combatants apart and holding on tight. Some Evermores tried to break free, flailing against their stone captors, but none used magic. Their real anger was for their kin.
A wildly swung staff almost hit Fran in the head. She caught it and yanked it from its owner’s grasp. “Hey, be careful where you swing that thing.”
“You’re on his side.” The owner glared from her to Enfield.
“I’m on the side of stopping this nonsense.”
Fran gripped the staff tight and strode forward. As she reached Winslow and Enfield, she thrust the staff between the elder Evermore’s legs and twisted, tripping him. He fell to the ground. Enfield stood over him, hands raised and throbbing with power.
“Thanks, Fran,” Enfield said. “I’ll tie him up, and—”
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Fran jabbed Enfield in the chest with the end of the staff. He wobbled for a moment on his good leg and fell.
“Everybody stop!” Fran bellowed, using her sound power to add volume to her voice. The Evermores, many of whom the stone people had already dragged out of the fight, stopped their struggle and looked at the slight young woman standing over the fallen leaders of their two sides.
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t have an opinion on the Source,” Fran said. “None of those opinions are worth fighting each other for. You’ve stood together for centuries. Surely you can work together now to find a peaceful way through this?”
The Evermores backed away from her, one faction to each side of the room. Winslow centered one and Enfield the other. They stared at Fran, wide-eyed like they saw some intimidating vision they’d never encountered before. It was only as the crow flew down to land on her shoulder that she realized the staff was splintering under the pressure of her fingers.
“Sorry about this.” She looked around for the staff’s owner. “I’ll get you a new one.” She drew a deep breath. “Whatever happens to the Source, you folks have to be able to live with each other afterward, and fighting like this will only make that more difficult. It was a good idea to talk this through, but it hasn’t worked this time. I suggest that you all take a few days to yourselves, think, clear your heads, and hopefully, we can deal with this later.”
She dropped the staff, which hit the ground with a clunk. “Or, like, whatever. I’m going back to work.”
She walked out of the cave, followed by the stone people, leaving the two bands of Evermores staring uncertainly at each other.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“A superhero-themed restaurant?” Handar looked at the building they’d stopped in front of and shook his head. “You think I’m ten years old or something?”
“Shut up.” Berra punched his arm. “I love this stuff, and I bet you do really. Muscled men and women fighting each other for what they think’s right? That’s exactly the stuff you watch.”
“War films are different.”
“Only because they’ve got different costumes.”
“They’re realistic.”
“Yeah, right, I’ve seen what those heroes walk away from. Besides, what about your life makes you think that superstrength and people flying ain’t real?”
“No one could fight in those costumes.”
“You fight in a business suit. Every one of these imaginary weirdos is dressed more practical than that.”
“Fine. I’m hungry enough that I’ll try it.”
“Good. I need you to get your strength up for later.” Berra winked. “We’ve still got some catching up to do from your time away.”
The inside of the restaurant was everything Handar had imagined: bright colors everywhere, word balloons on the specials board, a mannequin in a cape suspended horizontally from the ceiling, as if in flight. The place was loud and cheerful in ways that immediately made him grit his teeth, but it could’ve been worse. He quite liked the mural on the back wall, a dynamic image of a muscular woman punching the head off a robot.
“Hi there,” the waitress said. “My secret identity is Cheryl, and I’ll serve you tonight. Do you know where you’d like to sit?”
“Near the back,” Handar growled.
If his tone unsettled Cheryl, she didn’t show it. She smiled brightly and led them to a table as far out of the way as she could, just below the robot mural.
“Let me guess,” Berra said as the waitress hurried off to fetch their drinks. “You wanted to be at the back in case someone saw you through the window and told people you came to a place like this.”
“Yup.” Hander sat straight-backed in his seat, surveying the room. “It ain’t just that. Back of the room’s more defensive, people can’t come at you from so many directions, and you’re usually near a way out.”
“So you’re ready for trouble?”
“Always.”
“Are you expecting some tonight?”
“Only from you.”
“Then maybe it’s time to relax?”
“I am relaxing.”
“You look like you’re on sentry duty. Sit back, loosen your spine, act like you’re on a date, not a border incursion.”
Handar snorted derisively, but he also sank lower in his seat.
“That better?”
“It’s progress. Hopefully getting a beer into you will help.”
“A beer or three.”
“Speaking of which…”
Cheryl the waitress returned and set their drinks down on the table.
“Two beers, tequila on the side,” she said. “Do you know what you want to eat yet?”
“What’s got the most meat?” Handar asked.
“Hm.” Cheryl tapped a pencil against her pursed lips. “There’s the Super Muscle Stack, a triple burger with layers of bacon, chicken, and chorizo. Or maybe one of the steaks. Less variety, but there’s a lot of it.”
“I’ll have that stack thing.”
“Do you want it barbecue style, spicy, or plain?”
“Barbecue.”
“Fries?”
“The biggest portion you’ve got.”
“Right you are. And you, ma’am?”
“Same as him, but spicy style,” Berra said. “And some hot sauce for the fries.”
“Very good…” Cheryl noted that down. “Ooh, if you really want extra meat, we do this side that’s strips of skin from off the back of a mutant hog, fried up and crispy, with rock salt.”
Handar and Berra grinned at each other.
“Yeah, we’ll have two of those,” Handar said.
“And two more beers to come with the food,” Berra added. “No way we’ve got any of these left by then.”
Cheryl hurried off with their order, leaving them with their drinks.
“I’m real lucky I found you.” Handar leaned forward over the table.
“Yeah, you are.” Berra licked her tusk, then leaned forward to kiss him. “Now, tequila.”
Handar tapped a saucer with lime and salt on it. “We doing those?”
“Seems like a waste of time to me.” Berra held up her glass. “Here’s to having you back.”
“To having me back.”
They knocked the shots back. Both Kilomea were resilient when it came to drinking, but even so, the restaurant’s cheap spirits made them shudder and reach for their beers.
“How was work?” Handar asked.
“It’s a bar,” Berra said. “It was full of drunk people.”
“You were working the daytime shift.”
“Our regulars take their drinking real seriously.”
Handar grinned. “Got to admire someone with dedication to a cause.”
“How about you?” she asked. “What you been doing?”
“Looking through the copies I made of all them prophecies and books and stuff, the ones I had before I gave them to Julia.”
“You learn anything new?”
“Yeah, that I ain’t smart enough for this.”
Handar bared his teeth, exposing the full length of his tusks.
“That’s a good look,” Berra said. “Brings out your macho side.”
“I ain’t feeling real macho today, not after a day full of paperwork. Especially a day full of failure at paperwork.”
Berra squeezed his hand.
“Don’t beat yourself up. This is big, complicated stuff. It’ll take time.”
“What if the boss ain’t got time? What if he’s dying wherever they’ve got him? There ain’t no one else who’s gonna get him out, and I still ain’t got a clue how I could do it.”
“You looked at it all?”
“Every last bit, some of ‘em a dozen times. Felt like my eyes were gonna seize up from all that reading.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not something reading does.”
“What, you’re a doctor now?”
“I’m certainly smarter than you.”
“Then maybe you should be the one doing this, ‘cause I’m stuck.” He grabbed his beer bottle and took a big swig. “What if I’m wasting my time, and I ain’t the one smart enough to do this?”
“You got someone else you could work with?”
“After last time?” Handar shook his head. “I should never have trusted Julia. Ain’t making the same mistake twice.”
“You trust me.”
“You’re different.”
Cheryl the waitress returned with their food and the next round of drinks. As she cleared the empties, Handar picked up one of the pieces of fried hog skin and tried it. There was a satisfying crunch as it snapped between his teeth.
“That’s good,” he said. “Why ain’t more places serving it?”
“They’re not as super as we are.” Cheryl winked and turned away. “You folks enjoy your meal.”
For the next couple of minutes, that was all they did. They abandoned their conversation as they plowed through thick stacked burgers, heaps of fries, and those bits of crunchy skin. Once their initial hunger had abated and they had enough food in their bellies to absorb the booze, they both slowed down, taking their time over what was left.
“What makes you so sure that these prophecies are gonna tell you how to rescue your boss?” Berra dipped one of her fries in hot sauce.
“The prophecies say there’s a great darkness coming, and the boss, he’s about as great a darkness as you can get.”
“He’s got a mean temper, huh?”
Handar laughed so hard he almost spat a chunk of burger across the room.
“You could say that, yeah. A mean temper and a mean pile of power to go with it, none of which is exactly the sort that smells of sweetness and light. He’s more the opening portals and summoning monsters sort.”
“Guy with power. I can respect that. Although it doesn’t seem to have done him much good.”
“An inferior force can beat a superior one if they catch them by surprise. That’s all an ambush is.”
“So your boss got ambushed.”
“Basically, yeah.”
Berra picked up a fry between two clawed fingers and looked at it thoughtfully.
“The prophecies say your boss is gonna do more big things?”
“I reckon so if I understand it right.”
“But you don’t know what or how.”
“Not in detail.”
“What makes you think they’ll tell you how he can get out?”
“If he doesn’t get out, he can’t do that stuff. Stands to reason that he’s getting out.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the prophecies will say how.”
Handar swallowed a mouthful of burger and leaned back in his seat. He took a slow swig from his beer and stared up at the mural on the wall, not looking for inspiration, only a distraction for his eyes while his brain did some work.
“Damn,” he whispered. “You’re right.”
“Course I am.” Her bowl of fried skins empty, Berra reached over to steal one of Handar’s. “I’ve earned this.”
“Yeah, you have.” He slid the bowl across the table and leaned forward, shoulders slumped, staring at his plate.
“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” Berra asked. “You just worked out something new. That’s good, ain’t it?”
“It is and it ain’t. Knowing there ain’t an answer in the prophecies means I won’t waste time hunting for it, but that means I’ve got no way to find it.”
She slapped him lightly across the side of the head.
“Hey, idiot, we worked out that the answer might not be there, not that it ain’t there.”
“What’s the difference?”
“If it might not be there, then it might be too.” She held out her hand. “I know you’re carrying those copies around with you everywhere you go, like a good soldier carrying his pack. Hand them over so I can have a look.”
It wasn’t as if Handar had any better options. He took the phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her with the folder full of prophecy documents open.
Berra leaned back in her chair and started reading, scrolling from one image to the next. Sometimes she’d zoom in to look at something more closely or squint as she tried to make sense of messy handwriting and old fonts. Every so often, she took a sip of her beer. The remains of her burger and fries lay neglected on her plate.
Handar watched her as he ate the rest of his meal. He’d never realized before that he could be turned on by someone thinking, but it was happening right now. Any time he looked at Berra, something stirred inside him.
Watching her try to solve this problem, to help him out so he could help the boss, showed how much she valued him. It showed her smarts as well. She was the whole package, looks, brains, determination. Maybe they should finish up quick and get back to his apartment…
“This here.” Berra tapped the screen. “What do you think of it?”
She laid the phone down between them, and Handar read the part she’d highlighted.
“Portals and doors,” he said. “There’s a lot of that in there. It’s all to do with the boss unleashing his power, carrying out his plan.”
“Yeah, sure, I saw some of those bits, and I read the notes on them. Lots about things opening. This ain’t about opening a door. It’s about breaking it. And look…” She tapped the screen again. “It’s talking about a prisoner.”
Handar stared at the word. She was right. All this time he must have misread it or skimmed over it, but it was there.
“In a world of light the prisoner lies,” he read. “Trapped beneath that which they built. This prisoner will give of their power, both that which they hold and that which is held from them. When the power runs red through the way, the door shall shatter, and freedom shall stalk like a shadow across the land of flashing lights.”
“Land of flashing lights sounds a lot like Mana Valley, don’t it?” Berra said through the last mouthful of her burger.
“Yeah, it does, and the boss sure is shadowy.” Handar grinned at her. “You really are smart. You know that?”
“Yeah, course.”
“This is it. If I can find more bits connected to it, I can find a way for the boss to get out, or at least find him and tell him about it, so he can work it out for himself.”
“Let me guess, that means you want to spend the night reading prophecies?”
Handar laughed. “That can wait for tomorrow while you’re at work. Right now, I’ve got a much better plan.” He waved across the restaurant at Cheryl the waitress. “It involves the two of us getting out of here.”
“All right, but you’d better order dessert to go. I’m not letting you turn this into a cheap date just because I helped you save your boss.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Fran looked at the clock on the wall above the reception desk. Then she looked at her phone, just in case, because sometimes clocks on walls were wrong, and she didn’t want to make assumptions.
“I thought our appointment was at three,” she said.
