🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part One]

     "Not another step, jerkwad," scowled All Chemist, plucking a phial
from his belt. Science against magic... just a day earlier, Nathan would
have quivered in his boots at the thought of such a confrontation. Today
however, he saw that outcome would be decided by skill and courage, not
medium. "You'll have to get through me to get to my wife."
     "Will I?" asked Randolph, with a chill smile. "Will I really? Does
this offer extend to tomorrow? Or next week or next month, Nathaniel Wynn?
Will you stay home from your productive work forever to protect wife and
child? How noble of you. Or will you make a mistake and leave for a moment,
when there are so many beautiful crystalline icicles outside the window,
just ready to hold a scrying spell? Perhaps you would show a glimmer of
intelligence and knock them all down... whatever should I do then? Why,
could there be a snowflake trod inside on wet boots? Two or three or a
million? Enough, perhaps, to serve as contact point for teleportation?" He
grinned at All Chemist, daring his nerve to break. "You can never defeat me
in winter, hero. It is ending's domain and I know all of the tricks of the
end."
     "Then we'll just have to fight about it."
     Randolph heaved a sigh. "Why does it come down to this, Nathan? Why
can't you see the poetry to releasing your wife from her mundane family and
joining once more with me, the part which will make her complete?"
     "Some people don't want to sacrifice everything for art," replied All
Chemist gruffly, flicking the cork from his stoppered glass.
     "And some people never understand that life and death are an art with
no higher form of expression." Randolph drew a shard of ruby from his
pocket. "I'm tired of this Nathan. Stand away or learn firsthand about my
greatest love."
     All Chemist made no reply other than to bolt back the whole of his
penultimate concoction. His powerful frame shook once and he nearly fell to
his knees as power coursed through his too-mortal body.
     "Whatever you're trying, I wish you only the best," smiled Randolph,
holding the ruby shard in front of himself. "Bloodstone, strike!"
     Crimson leapt with deadly intent from the ruby piece towards the
motionless hero. Suddenly, All Chemist was no longer where he should have
been, instead hurtling himself at tremendous speeds out of the ruddy beam
which smashed to the ground and quietly vanished, taking a sphere of the
floor with it.
     "Nathan!" cried Mystica, not believing her eyes. At first she had
thought him disintegrated, unable to dodge in time... but there he was on
the other side of the room, whole and sound. The sight of him broke her out
of her shock and anger poured through her veins. She raised her hands to
chant a spell while All Chemist purchased for her the time to do so.
     "You think yourself quick," said Randolph, with a condescending smile.
"But the quick become the dead soon enough. Jack... from your energy I
call... give me the power to leech the speed from your father until he is
still as death!"
     All Chemist rushed towards Randolph, swinging a punch at speeds faster
than the eye could follow. Crystal in his right hand Randolph held up his
left, forming a barrier between himself and his foe. All Chemist struck the
field soundly and rebounded backwards, stumbling into a table covered with
delicate glass that shattered as he fell upon it. Randolph laughed in
delight and raised his crystal into the air, power swirling to it from
Jack's body. He pointed his finger at All Chemist, who was rising woozily.
     "Nathan," whispered Mystica, between lines of spell. With the force of
life and anger she unleashed her incantation at Randolph, a supplication
for his lifeforce to abate momentarily, driving him unconscious. Randolph
buckled under the weight of the spell, feeling his senses reel and his life
energy begin to desert him. Quickly he drew in more of Jack's, feeding it
into his own soul and reviving even as he brought the boy closer to death.
Randolph stood in time for a dozen shards of glass to be hurled at
hyper-velocity at him, several grazing his face. Grimly, the mage drew yet
more energy from the ashen-faced child, resuming his earlier attempt to
drain the speed from All Chemist.
     "Now all of your efforts are for nothing," he said, pointing a finger
at All Chemist. "Your speed is nothing. Feel it vanish, drained into and by
your son. In your last moments, you will know that it was your own flesh
and blood that made your death a reality. Even a cretin like yourself will
have a last moment of beautiful irony, Nathan. Be glad in this."
     All Chemist rushed towards Randolph, ignoring his mocking words,
hoping against hope that his wife would have the time to cast again while
he engaged her tormentor. But something was terribly wrong... his limbs
felt leaden and his legs refused to move him. He felt as though he was in a
nightmare where he could not move, no matter how quickly he pumped his
legs. Harder and harder he struggled and more and more he made no headway.
Eschewing spells for the satisfaction of flesh against flesh, Randolph
delivered a hard slap to All Chemist's face, knocking him again backwards
into his worktable. A small bottle rolled from the alchemist's belt: Jack's
power blocking formula. A drop had only kept Randolph from using the boy's
innate magical potential for a moment at best. All Chemist considered
briefly the ethics of using a larger dose on the innocent boy, but the
decision was soon taken from him as Mystica loosed another spell.
     Drawing upon the heat of the life-giving sun, Mystica sent brilliant
radiance and light at Randolph, which exploded against his chest and drove
him backwards into the far wall. Like all of the Incantantrix Vitae's
spells it could do no real harm, though it dazzled and pushed him about.
But the shelf of chemicals against which he landed was under no such
restrictions as it dumped its contents to the floor, the pooled chemicals
there sizzling and popping angrily.
    "No..." said All Chemist groggily, his hand reaching for a base to toss
onto the volatile liquid that had just been formed. In his tired state his
hand fumbled and sent his son's blocker skittering into the mixture. For a
moment, nothing happened... and then the glass of the small tube shattered,
adding the blocking formula to the mixture.
     "No!" cried All Chemist, his mind telling him instantly the results of
this commingling. Thinking only of son and wife, All Chemist threw his body
onto the deadly puddle which suddenly exploded in a fiery ball of
vaporisation. Mystica shrieked with anger and disbelief as the man's body
was hurled across the room to land limply on the stairs. Randolph stirred
and stood; All Chemist did not.
     "That was your husband's defiance," said Randolph, quietly as he waved
away the greenish gas that had filled the room. Behind him, Jack began to
cough and shudder as he inhaled. "This can end here and the boy can be
allowed to live, Sharon. Just come with me."
     "You... bastard..." gasped Mystica, walking towards Randolph, her
teeth chattering with fury. She knew that she was numb, that in a moment
the horror of what she saw would hit home and she might lose the will to
fight. So she had to finish this thing now while her mind still
anaesthetised itself with shock. "You... how... how can you? How can you do
this so casually?"
     "None of this is casual," replied Randolph, also walking forward to
meet Mystica. "This is all so very important to me, Sharon, don't you see
that? How right it is that your return to my arms begins with a baptism of
blood... the precious thing that is the symbol of us both."
     "Would you stop talking about metaphors and images!" shouted Mystica.
"Stop it!"
     "You're distraught," said Randolph, almost tenderly. "Come with me.
I'll take away your anger and fear and replace them."
     "Move out of my way," demanded Mystica. "I'm going to revive my
husband, free my child and you are going to help me or stand aside!"
     "On the eve of my victory?" asked Randolph, shaking his head. "No,
Sharon. That would be foolish of me and foolish for you to expect. Instead,
I'll make sure that your husband is dead, kill your child and take you as I
leave."
     Mystica gasped. "But... if I go with you willingly..."
     "Nothing will change." said Randolph. "You've made it perfectly clear
to me that you have no intention of coming along with me without a struggle
and any attempt to prove to me that you would is merely a trick. Therefore,
the only thing for me to do is sever every family tie that you have before
taking you."
     "You BUTCHER!" cried Mystica, calling to mind a spell as Randolph's
eyes flashed warningly.
     "Don't attempt to outspell me, Sharon," he said, his voice deep and
commanding as he raised his control crystal. "You will lose and you know
this. You face not only my power, but a power that you ripened within you
for nine months. I have no qualms about using up Jack's magic and then
draining him of his life utterly, Sharon. But you... you'd hate to see your
precious son die painfully like that. Make it easier on him and lower your
hands so I may bind them."
     "You're right, I can't face my son's power like that," said Mystica,
lowering her head in defeat. To engage in a pitched battle against Randolph
at this point would be to drain Jack's life herself as it was pitted as
defence against her attack. "Put down the crystal and we'll fight on equal
terms."
     "No, why don't I use the crystal once more to secure you, Sharon?"
asked Randolph, invoking his gemstone to draw upon Jack's reserve of magic.
To his astonishment, rather than the warm splash of lifeforce that he had
come to expect, Randolph received nothing from the boy's reserve. Mystica's
mouth opened in amazement, then comprehension.
     "The formula... he inhaled it..." she said quietly, looking at
Randolph as hope began to flood back into her heart. "His powers are
blocked to you, murderer! You can't use him as a bargaining chit!"
     "Oh can't I?" asked Randolph, a sharp thumbnail slicing into his
finger, drawing blood. "What if I were to say otherwise?"
     Mystica's eyes widened as she realised her adversary's intentions.
"No... not that spell..."
     "Yes, why not?" replied the mage with a grin. He allowed a drop of his
blood to drop onto Jack's arm and began to quietly cast a bizarre mixture
of haemo and chronomancy. "You can't interrupt this spell without extreme
consequences, can you Sharon?" he taunted, making passes over the boy's
head, then chest. "Which leaves me free to decide his fate while you watch,
impotent to act."
     "No, I can't," replied Mystica, stepping up to man and boy. "But you
forget something."
     "What are you talking about?"
     "I can join you, Randolph. You always forget that sometimes you don't
hold the high card, you imbecile."
     Mystica slit her own finger and allowed a daub of blood to fall onto
Jack's other arm. Stretching out her arms she began to add to Randolph's
chant, each mage trying to drown the other out. Together their magic
reached into the boy's lifeline and began to probe about, searching. The
two now spoke only the language of magic, but they could understand each
other perfectly though neither would deign to learn the other's tongue.
     --He is my victim,-- chanted Randolph, sparing a moment to glare
across the youthful field of battle at his opponent.
     ++He is my son,++ incanted Mystica, smiling benignly at Randolph.
     --I will cut short his life, Sharon. I declare that he shall die.--
     ++I will give to him his life, Randolph. I declare that his death will
not be final.++
     --I claim that his death will be painful and hideous, even if you will
not allow him the release of final death, Sharon. His death will be beyond
endurance of sanity.--
     ++I claim that his death will be shared with another, even if you will
pass them both through the ring of hell, Randolph. Their death will not be
beyond the endurance of love.++
     --I say that he will die again, Sharon. I say that this death will be
solitary.--
     ++I say that he will live again, Randolph. I say that this death will
be a discovery.++
     --I testify that he will die a third time, Sharon. I testify that this
death will be his last and most final.--
     ++I testify that this death will be a beginning, Randolph. I testify
that though he ends, what passes on will be tested and the more pure
because of it.++
     --I profess that his greatest nightmare will come true, Sharon. He
will watch, helpless to act as that which he holds dearest is ripped from
him forever, never to return.--
     ++I profess that he will awaken, Randolph. He will find a way to
banish the night terrors.++
     --I depose that he will destroy and tear down. He will break what he
touches and crumble those around him to dust.--
     ++I depose that he will build up from the ashes. He will restore that
which is broken and heal those about him.++
     --I dedicate his life to calamity, Sharon. He will reap the whirlwind
but at such enormous cost to those that the maelstrom touches.--
     ++I dedicate his life to legacy, Randolph. He will, through action and
deed, inspire and bring peace to the maelstrom at last.++
     --I seal his fate with my blood.--
     ++I steal your memory with my blood!++
     --Wha--
     Caught in their oracular loop, neither mage could escape the sequences
long ago set forth for weaving a destiny upon another. Mystica prayed that
her desperate gamble would pay off... that she would later have time to
seal her weaving in blood. If she could not neutralise Randolph in this one
moment he would be free to unravel the whole of Mystica's binding, leaving
only his. The two magi were virtually defenceless to one another as they
tried to influence the destiny of Jack, which gave Mystica one opening. A
snap incantation - the fastest that she'd ever conjured - settled upon
Randolph, reaching its fingers into the man's mind and attacking all
memories that had a single common feature.
     Jack.
     Raldolph's eyes closed as he felt himself under assault, though by
what and whom he could not place. Panicked, he pulled a handful of precious
gems from his pocket, scattering all but one across the floor. Madly he
recited a spell over the stone, even as Mystica's spell fixed itself
permanently within Randolph's memories. With a flash of reddish light the
man vanished, leaving behind only ruby dust in his wake.
     Mystica felt the numb shock beginning to wear off of her, but shrugged
away the sensation for a moment. She still had one more task to perform and
she could not leave it incomplete for more than a moment. Touching her
fingers to Jack's face, she called forth magical energies and completed the
rite that Randolph had begun, with intent to destroy the boy's future life
and shatter Mystica's will.
     ++I seal your fate in my blood.++
     Task done, Mystica dragged herself over to her husband, touching a
finger to his brow and uttering a simple cantrip. The lack of response to
her probe confirmed her worst fear, and wearily she slumped to the ground
beside the body. Hugging arms tightly to herself, Mystica allowed the
horrors of the day to catch up with her as she wept bitter tears.
***
     Casey and Rebecca Wynn exchanged glances at the sound of a frantic
rapping at their door. Casey nearly dropped the newspaper in his hand as he
took in the identity of his visitor.
     "What do you want, witch?" growled the man, his wife making a sign of
the cross next to him. Mystica, battered and still in costume, stood on the
front stoop holding her unconscious son in her arms.
     "I need your help," gasped Mystica, through an unending stream of
tears that trickled down her cheeks. She was far beyond the point of
exhaustion, moving about only through sheer willpower and a stubborn
refusal to topple over. Still Casey made no move to take from her the
burden that she carried, nor invite her in to sit.
     "You need my help?" asked the man angrily, shaking his head. "You lure
my brother into a life of pagan sin like a succubus and you expect me to
help you? Go away, whore of Babylon and beg God's forgiveness before it's
too late for your soul."
     "It's not for me," pleaded Mystica, through her tears. "I have no one
left to turn to..."
     "If you hadn't abandoned God's way, you'd have Him," replied Casey,
his voice rivalling the best preacher's.
     "It's for Jack," gasped Mystica, looking at her brother-in-law
piteously. "He can't stay with me anymore... he can't... Randolph will come
for him if he finds out I have a son... oh god, I hurt..."
     "Don't blaspheme, witch!" snarled Casey, looking at Jack. "You want us
to take in your bastard, do you? Why should we shelter your demonseed?"
     "He won't manifest magical powers, Mr Wynn," replied Mystica, feeling
her aching arms begin to slip. With the will of motherhood she held
tightly, damning herself if she should let her boy fall. "Something
happened... he won't... he should be normal all his life..."
     Casey stared at Mystica for a long time, clearly aware of the pain
that each passing second caused the woman. Finally he nodded his head and
stepped aside.
     "We'll take the boy from you, witch," he said, indicating the couch.
"Maybe we can salvage his soul from your evil teachings. But there's one
condition."
     Gratefully with breaking heart, Mystica placed Jack on the couch. She
looked at Casey with worried eyes. "Condition?"
     "Condition. You will never darken our door again, not for anything. If
you're bleeding to death, being chased by Satan himself or whelp another
child that you need to drop, you will find someplace else to go. That's the
price."
     Mystica's tears began to trickle faster though she wiped them away
with her sleeve. "Casey... he's my son..."
     "Not anymore he isn't," said Casey. "All or nothing, witch. Which will
it be?"
     Mystica wept quietly for her son before nodding to the man. For the
last time she touched her son's brow, pouring a small degree of her power
into him.
     "You will have... such a destiny..." she cried softly, three of her
tears spilling onto the child's face. She looked up accusingly at the two
Wynns. "He won't... remember me, except as a very distant memory... an
aunt, maybe. He will remember today... vaguely... and he will assume
himself to be... your son. The memories he will have of his childhood...
will depend entirely on you. If you deal honourably with him, he'll
remember happy and good times. If you don't... then...please. Give him only
a good childhood... please..."
     "Out of our house, witch," said Casey Wynn, taking her arm roughly and
moving her towards the front entrance. "We don't need a lecture on how to
raise a child from a heathen. We have the good book to guide us."
     "Casey, Rebecca, I'm begging you please love him!" wept Mystica
plaintively. "There's no one else who can take him, please love him!"
     She caught the last glimpse she would ever have of her son lying
supine on the couch just as the door slammed shut in her face. Alone and
broken, the Incanter of Life walked away from the Wynn household to lure
Randolph away.
     Under Mystica's feet the snow crunched and about her the wind howled.
Mystica felt none of it. Her soul slept far beneath the snow and ice,
bitter as a pomegranate's seed.
***
As usual, this story is trademarked, all rights reserved 1997 to
Frobozz/Chris Angelini (email:cangelin@uoguelph.ca homepage:
http://www.uoguelph.ca/~cangelin). Everything alluded to is intended as
satire, and no trademark infringement is intended or implied. No.