Sourtiarius: Chapter 3

Chapter 3: To Be Amongst Friends…


(To View Chapter 1, click on "Sourtiarius - Chapter 1" )
(To View Chapter 2, click on "Sourtiarius - Chapter 2" )
(To View Chapter 3, click on "Sourtiarius: Chapter 3" )
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Jeremy Marsh is a very unique individual, indeed. He does not possess the magical powers that the other ‘inevitabilities’ do. Rather, he is a being focused on one task – espionage. During the last few years, he’s learned fifteen different languages and partaken in numerous missions across the globe. Many of theses missions inevitably consist of assassination.

That suits him just fine, for his forte lies in assassination.

However, since the war in Iraq officially ended, his superiors have kept him situated. He knew they were preparing for an important mission, but he couldn’t imagine what it would be.

Then the stories began filtering in through routine intelligence briefings and from news outlets across the globe. A blue dragon had been found dead near an international base in Antarctica. Entire clusters of trees in the Black Forest of Germany came to life, destroying housing nearby.

He was immediately pulled back onto active duty, although he hadn’t yet received any fieldwork. Apparently, the government felt he did not meet the requirements necessary to combat these beings and felt he’d be more resourceful in preparing the assignments for those who did.

As it turned out, a Special Forces team dubbed Capacitors had been given the duty of hunting out these beings. The government had apparently spent ludicrous amounts of money creating soldiers capable of channeling electricity and unleashing it to devastating effect.

They managed to haul in a few interesting creatures, such as a troll captured in a Louisiana swamp. And to their credit, they slew a green dragon near the Amazon city of Manaus – one of the largest specimens recorded thus far, although scientific evidence tends to suggest that it was barely into its adolescent years.
Through it all, the Capacitors scouted and provided useful information. Information that allowed Jeremy to convince his superiors that he was fit for a field assignment against these creatures.

It was purely coincidence that he had been in Florida investigating Merrit’s past at the same time as the incident occurred. He was the first to receive word of their capture and reported this fact to his superiors immediately. It would be his first field assignment alongside the Capacitors.

And to be humiliated so on his first assignment before that bastard Jonathan and his fucking cronies! Of course, he was thrilled that Jonathan had lost his precious titanium blade to the bard. But the amusement proved short-lived and now he was considering ways to get past the duo’s defenses…and maybe even Merrit’s.

***

“I believe that if we manufacture bullets which carry an inherent electrical charge, we may be able to get past their defensive spells.” Jeremy, seated in a leather armchair opposite Michael Bradbury, stated with an aura of confidence.

“Perhaps a battery could be placed inside...” he began.

Jeremy pointed a finger to interrupt him and sorted through a stack of blueprints. “Like so?” he said, as he extracted a sheet and presented it with a flourish.

Mr. Bradbury peered over the top of his glasses at Jeremy before he looked over the paper. He was not overly fond of the man, but he respected his work and knew better than to overlook any proposals he presented.

“I see,” he said at length, “the cells power an electric buffer from the bullet head.” He paused for a moment as he surveyed the young man again.
“You’re sure this will work?” he asked doubtfully.

“The lightning the Capacitors used bypassed the protective barrier surrounding both targets. I see no reason why an electrically buffered bullet wouldn’t do the same.” Jeremy replied, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Alright, I’ll have them sent down to the lab shortly. If that’ll be all, Mr. Marsh –” he began.

“Actually, that’s not all, Mr. Bradbury.” He oiled, “I did have a few other ideas drawn up.”

Jeremy smiled inwardly at the Secretary’s resigned sigh and delighted as the man threw his hands to the air and sat down, defeated.

The prospect of taking over the Capacitors loomed closer every day.

***

Merrit called it Shining Light, the Cathedral of Mana. A castle of water lit by the bright of the sun and the pale of the moon. No man can find it and no map will hold its location. Within its watery walls one can focus on any event in any location. The refraction of light upon the translucent walls creates limitless canvases for the visions it brings.

Merrit brought Michael and Ezekiel to his castle in the wake of the government’s assault on them. He disappeared immediately without offering any explanation. The duo, still shocked from their entire ordeal, looked at each other and shrugged.

“The Lord told you about him?” Michael asked suspiciously.

Ezekiel smiled and shrugged again.

“I’m as surprised as you are, but not as confused. In jail, while we were apart, certain aspects of our situation became clear to me.”

“Like what?” Michael asked, in slightly sharper tones than he intended.

Undaunted, Ezekiel continued, “You heard that guy you fought with call us ‘inevitabilities’? Well, that’s not too far from the truth. Something about Merrit changed the way everything works on the world, even the Lord.”

Michael looked away, overwhelmed by the events of the last 24 hours. He studied the walls, noticing how the images changed as he tilted his head in different angles. What at first appeared as an image of a distant pyramid transformed, as he slightly shifted his perspective, into an image of downtown New York.

“Zeke…do you see that?” he asked as the image shifted again into an unremarkable area of jungle.

“Yeah. Pretty cool, huh?”

Michael nodded and managed to break his gaze away long enough to take in more details of his surroundings. The floor was made of crystalline tiles and in the center stood a nondescript table with a comfortable leather armchair. On the table were newspaper clippings regarding the disaster in Alaska, the attack on London, and recent archeological discoveries, among other things. The room was approximately 50x80 ft. and a single corridor stood on the opposite side of it.

“Why’d you take the blade?” asked Ezekiel, drawing Michael’s gaze away from the articles.

Michael shrugged. “It seemed the appropriate thing to do.”

“And the gun?”

The bard’s gaze shot back up. “Fuck that bastard. Doesn’t have the balls to finish a fight without it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two.

“So what’s going to happen?” asked Michael

“I don’t know. I think we’ll understand this a bit better after we get a chance to talk to Merrit.”

“Isn’t he the one that was on the news a few years ago before this all started? The one who killed those cops in Florida?”

“I think so. But when I looked at him, I didn’t sense evil. I’m sure he only did it in self defense.”

Michael dwelled on his friend’s confidence in his newfound abilities.

“You know how to use your…your powers, already?” he asked, uneasily, “You seem to know what you’re doing…”

“I don’t know…I mean, I know how to pray and I can remember certain passages from the Bible that seem to have an impact on people around me, but I still don’t know the full potential of my faith.”

“Faith as small as a mustard seed, eh?”

They shared a smile.

***

Invisibly, Merrit also smiled as the conversation wound down. He hadn’t disappeared for just any reason; he had to dispel the deceleration field at the police station or it would’ve remained for hours. But it hadn’t taken longer than a minute and when he had gotten back, he simply felt too intimidated to approach the humans.

He took a deep breath, out of habit, and appeared before the duo.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, with a smile, “I trust the Shining Light has not overwhelmed your senses with her images. I do apologize for having departed upon our arrival, but I had to dispel the magic I created prior to our escape.”

“No problem. Sorry about earlier…I was kind of freaked out.” Said Michael. He stood uneasily for a moment, and then extended his hand, “I’m Michael Murdock, bard extraordinaire.”

Merrit graciously accepted the handshake and turned to Ezekiel, the man of God.

“It is a pleasure to meet both of you,” he said, eying the two, “and even more so to have my house blessed by the presence of one so touched by God.”

“Where is this place?” asked Ezekiel.

“Shining Light is beyond the horizon, between the lines, on the edge of vision and the tip of the tongue. It is both a place and a thought.”

“You mean if you stop concentrating on it, it’ll disappear?” Michael asked nervously.

Merrit chuckled. “No…perhaps a better way to explain it would be to say that it is a reality which overlaps ours.” An idea occurred to him, a distant memory of a game he once loved. “A ‘pocket dimension’, if you will.” He said, referring to a term popularized in the Dungeons and Dragons role-playing game.

Ezekiel nodded his head, but Michael still looked doubtful.

“Fear not, my friends, we are in the safest location of which I know. Only heaven could offer you more comfort…but unfortunately, that place is beyond me. Come, you are weary.” He said brightly, as he stood up and beckoned to the others. “I’m sure you could both do with a meal and I feel there are certain things which we must discuss.”

The Sourceror lead them down the corridor and into a larger chamber. The wall’s makeup remained the same, but tapestries depicting moving scenes of seemingly far off magical events hung from various angles around the room. Stretching the length of the room stood a large dining table with comfortable oaken chairs, enough for the three of them. Merrit beckoned for the two companions to sit at either end of him and he took the seat at the head of the table. On the wall behind him, mounted upon a shield of pure green energy, stood a four-foot long bastard sword with a gem-encrusted hilt and blazing fire surrounding the entirety of it.

Michael marveled at the sight and leaned across the table as soon as he took his seat to better glimpse the magnificent blade. A single onyx the size of a man’s fist was set into the base of the blade where the hilt and pommel met, and from it the magical fire surged. He could see shapes moving within the confines of the gem, and as he began to stand, Merrit’s voice cut in.

“Yes, she is a marvelous blade. Too powerful, I fear.” He said, with a shake of his head.
Michael nodded his total agreement and slowly sat back down.

Ezekiel smiled inwardly at his friend’s amazement. How he loved bladed weapons!

“Please, simply concentrate on the drink and meal of your choice, and it shall appear before you.” He began, gesturing towards the table.

A large steak appeared before Michael, complete with seasoned fries, biscuits and gravy. Before Ezekiel appeared a fish filet with a side of shrimp and french-fries. Merrit simply had a bowl of Captain Crunch cereal.

Incredulous expressions rested upon Merrit, to which he simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“I eat lightly,” was the all the explanation he gave. “Priest, if you would lead us in prayer before our meal?” he prompted, with a humble smile towards the man of God.

Ezekiel proceeded to offer a prayer of thanks, paraphrasing Jesus’ words during the last supper. They dug in nervously, strangers to each other, but confident in each other’s character.

“The powers you’ve attained,” Merrit began, abruptly, “stem from the introduction of magic into our universe.”

Michael swallowed his french-fry, peered at Merrit, and asked, “But the other one…Tarrim, I think, was his name…he was around before we ever heard of you, not counting the shootings in the 90’s. Why didn’t this happen back then?”

“I am still learning the truth of my existence,” he said at length, “of our existence, and so my knowledge is not yet complete. I am of the opinion that due to our proximity to each other during the years of my ascension, and also as a result of nascent qualities you both posses, you two have acquired your individual abilities.
Magical affinity occurs when one is in close proximity to a powerful buildup of magic. That explanation does not, I realize, go so far as to indicate why the process took so long. It relates to Tarrim’s ascension into Sourcery, which is as yet a mystery to me. I do not know if any other magically inclined individuals have appeared thus far, for I likewise do not know of his past.”

“What do you mean by ‘Sorcery’?” Ezekiel asked suspiciously, “Do you try to call on evil spirits for your powers?”

Merrit waved a hand to calm the young priest.

“Ezekiel, I would never so much as glance in a spirit’s direction for any reason but its banishment.” And the truth, the sincerity of the voice, took Ezekiel off his guard as he relaxed back into his seat.

“There are, invariably, humans who attempt to practice such arts, but I am something entirely dissimilar.” He waved his hand into the air, and two words appeared, spelled out in green energy – Sourcery and Sorcery.

“Sourcery,” he said, tapping the appropriate word and causing it to bounce as if it were made of jello, “is the channeling and manipulation of magical forces to cause supernatural effects beyond the scope of mortals. A Sourceror is a conduit of magic, a veritable seam in reality through which it may enter our world. And that is what I am.

“The meaning of the word has changed, however, due to the evolution of speech, as well as the means through which said manipulation is accomplished. Sorcery,” again, he tapped the appropriate word, “as you have already pointed out, is the creation of supernatural effects through the assistance of evil spirits, a practice which I abhor with all my being.”

“But still…you use magic. How do you know that isn’t against the will of God?” Ezekiel demanded.

Ezekiel looked to Michael, and they shared an uneasy glance as Merrit appeared to cope with an internal struggle. Would he lash out at them for nothing better than the questions demanded of Ezekiel by his faith? But Merrit quickly gained control of himself, and he smiled again at the two friends.

“I apologize if my actions have startled you. Fear not for your safety in my presence; even if I do lose control of my actions, it is against my nature, and the nature of what I have become, to attack innocents. In response to your question, dear priest, my being is neither for, nor against, God’s will for this universe. It is his will which I strive to follow, and yet I am inherently incapable of doing so.

“You see, our reality was special; God hadn’t intended on magic existing here. As evidenced in most religious works and much of the recorded history of our planet, its use has largely been condemned. But there is a reason for that – the only magic that has existed has been ritualistic, involving the invocation of spirits, which is not really magic at all, in the truest sense of the word. When Tarrim became a Sourceror, however he managed to do it, he brought with him all the changes that occur when magic is introduced into a reality.

“Likewise, a few years later, ascension was forced upon me by a Sourceress from another realm named Aradia, whose purpose in doing so was to combat the evils Tarrim had induced with his arrival. So you see, I was placed in this situation as the only viable deterrent against the tyranny of Sourcery, but in doing so, I am inherently against the divinely ordained structure of our universe.”

“My God…I never imagined that any of this could be the case!” Ezekiel exclaimed.

“It wouldn’t have been had Tarrim’s ascension been prevented somehow.”

“So, what, its just us three out here with crazy government clones and a few dragons around the world? Pseudo-Dino’s who somehow survived the ice age?”

“Not for long. My purpose in bringing you here was to warn you of what is to come, and, at the very least, help you in the process of learning how to utilize your abilities. First of all, the government hasn’t got a clue as to how complex the situation is, as I explained a moment ago. All they want is to capture us, or at least some of our DNA, and scrutinize every part of our being. By the time they actually realize the truth of the matter, society will already have caught on to the changes we’re experiencing.”

“What do you mean, man? There’s going to be more people walking around with powers like ours?” Michael asked, disbelievingly, astonished with the prospect.

“If I have come to understand the nature of reality correctly, then as we speak, whatever limits you can apply to that which we refer to as our universe are being saturated with raw magic. Once a certain threshold has been passed, a backlash occurs, which basically envelops the entire planet in one of those areas of magical buildup I referred to earlier. This process is about to occur. And I do not refer to humanity alone. All the creatures you thought could not exist in this world will appear, as if they’d been here all along.”

“And this is supposed to happen when?” Michael incredulously inquired.

“Within the next year.”

“By the time people really realize what’s going on, society and culture the world over will be changed.”

“So what are we supposed to do now?” Michael demanded, “Hide from the government up here in your castle? What’s going to happen to us when we go back? You, or God, or something gave us these powers and, besides the fact that they can get us laid,” he smiled at the disbelieving grin splayed across Ezekiel’s countenance, “they’ll do me no good out there while trying to find a job…unless I charm someone into hiring me, of course. But other than that, there’s no point in having them!” Michael finished, glancing around.

It was understandable that he was nervous; they were all nervous! Ezekiel had to concede that his friend had touched upon a valid point, so he stroked his shaggy beard as he said, “Good point. What do you think, Merrit? You don’t seem to have any problem with being separate from the ‘real’ world.”

Merrit grimaced…if only they knew…

“My path has always been marked clearly, without my knowledge or consent. I have not the capacity, nor the humanity, to perform mundane tasks while having superiors peering over my shoulders. To a Sourceror, there are no superiors but God.” He added, his voice strangely monotone.
Ezekiel looked surprised at his use of the term ‘mortals’, but Merrit didn’t seem to notice it as he continued.

“There are creatures out there which have the ability to ruin large portions of civilization unless they are kept in check. You saw with your own displays of power at the police station that modern weapons seem to have little effect on highly magical energies. Unless the governments of the world plan on bombing their own cities in their efforts to destroy them, there is little they can do. The cut of the blade or chant of the dweomer are the best defense against the beings that will appear within the next few years.

“As I see it, you have two options open before you – Return to the city, disguise your powers, and attempt to continue your lives as normal as you possibly can, or wander the lands, attempting to survive, and possibly hold back against the wave of creatures that will soon fill our world.”
The words were grim, an ultimatum forced upon the two friends just as it had been upon Merrit. He knew there to be a third option, one of tyranny and oppression, but he felt he knew these two humans well enough to leave it out. If their hearts were prone to such actions, he hardly need mention the possibility to them before they realized it themselves.
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(To View Chapter 1, click on "Sourtiarius - Chapter 1" )
(To View Chapter 2, click on "Sourtiarius - Chapter 2" )
(To View Chapter 3, click on "Sourtiarius: Chapter 3" )