Authors: Richard Jackson
Shihan didn’t just teach his students how to kick and punch. That was the easy part. You could learn that anywhere. No, he saw it as his responsibility to give his students something more. He taught the harder lessons, giving each of his students the tools they needed to make themselves better in and out of class. For some, this was a sense of discipline and control while others found direction and purpose but the one thing everyone learned was responsibility. Under his guidance, my natural gifts were refined and developed. My mind developed far more than my body. It was sharpened to a razor edge allowing me to think clearly in a crisis. I made up for what I lacked in raw power with skill and trickery.
After the dream sending, I feel the need to do something physical. I have enough time for a work out in the dojo before Nerva comes to pick me up. As expected, my knee starts to hurt the more I use it. The short walk and climb up to the third floor where the dojo is located is an exercise in masochism. Instead of taking a formal class, I work on my kata. That doesn’t stop Shihan from glancing my way from time to time to give me instructions and helpful advice. The kata’s name I am practicing translates loosely as "Breaking Down the Large Fortress" though the only thing breaking is my concentration. Emotion clouds my vision as I struggle through the movements. I’m lucky the ogre didn’t shatter my kneecap though the more I practice, the more I realize the damage is pretty extensive. When this is all over, I will have to get my knee looked at. Until then, I’m going to have to deal with the pain.
I switch to the heavy bag for a while, venting my anger and frustration. This is insane, a nightmare. Meredith is willing to hurt and kill me for what, a magic rock. Maybe, just maybe, I would feel better if I knew what he wanted the Bloodstone for. Somehow, I doubt it. I picture Meredith’s smug expression as I slam my fist into the bag again. I’m angry at him as well as myself. Someone got hurt, maybe killed and I am partly to blame for it. Add to that, Kara’s continued absence has me frustrated and worried. She still hasn’t come back and it’s been over a day. Something is bothering her. Is she scared? Does it have to do with what Meredith said? What is she hiding from me? There are too many questions that need to be answered. Despite the furious combination I unleash on the heavy bag, the answers aren’t to be found here. That is why I need to see Sol. I hope he has some answers for me.
***
I shower and change, ready for my meeting with Sol. Nerva is waiting for me downstairs. It’s not hard for her to make the tight jeans and white t-shirt look sexy.
“Sporting the casual look today” I say with a smile. She takes a moment to stick out her tongue at me before getting into her car. There is no hiding my limb as I get into the passenger seat.
“And you should take it easy in class.”
I don’t tell her about Meredith. There will be time for that later.
“I’ll be more careful.”
“You better.”
With that said, we hit the road. Nerva drives a powder blue ’76 Buick Skylark. The car is a classic. It’s built like a tank compared to the other cars on the road while still handling like a dream. Her ride’s sound system, to put it bluntly, is kick ass. It pumps out hits from groups and artists I’m unfamiliar with.
She drives like she dances, seemingly wild and carefree but she’s takes her entertainment and driving seriously. I don’t know where she is taking be but I can tell Nerva is taking the scenic route. Even though I said it was important, her enjoyment comes first. Still, it doesn’t take long to reach our destination. I’ve been to Solomon’s library before. Each time, it is someplace different. This time it’s in Flushing above the T-Bone Bar and Grill. As I get out of the car, Nerva steals a kiss, one that would make Kara angry if she were here.
“Remember, you owe me.”
Chapter Seven
Sol’s library is more magical than most. Even though he has moved it a dozen times that I know of, it still has the same look and feel. It is Sol’s work of art, a labor of love and his most prized possession. Not only did he have an immense collection of magical tomes, his library also included books on the arts, sciences, history, philosophy, poetry, and fiction. Each book, scroll and tablet in his collection is somehow protected from the ravages of time.
Sol stands next to his poor overworked wooden desk. Unlike the sturdy bookshelves lining the walls which house his collection, the desk looks like it is on the verge of collapse. It is piled high with stacks of papers and books Sol is in the midst of studying. His chair is equally overworked. Sol isn’t a small man, not big like Hagan. Picture a beardless Santa Claus with black silver streaked hair and you come close to what Sol looks like. Not quite so large but you get the idea. As always, he dresses for comfort. Today is no exception. The grey sweats he wears have seen better days. The remains of his gourmet lunch could be seen on his shirt but it did not stop him from sounding any less imperious. Yeah, he is glad to see me. Even though Sol makes it difficult for people to see him, the man liked company. As he put it, no one would waste their time jumping through his hoops if they didn’t need or truly want to see him. No one could just drop by for the hell of it or because they happened to be in the neighborhood. This gives Sol more time to do what he likes doing best, reading and enjoying the finer things in life.
“Albritton, I’m disappointed in you,” He gestures to one of the reading chairs. “I would have come to you if I knew you were hurt.”
And here I am apologizing for not inconveniencing him. “I’m sorry but I have a big problem and not a lot of time.”
A raise of one eyebrow is Sol’s only reaction. It’s seldom I actually need to use his library or pick his brain for information. I’m not a sorcerer or anything like that. If I were, this would be the perfect place to research little known spells and incantations. I usually visit Sol to chew the fat with him or listen to one of his stories about the good ole days. Other times, he invites me here to discuss doing some work for him. Only on the most difficult cases will I drop by to talk shop or find out about some esoteric fact you probably couldn’t find elsewhere.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the Bloodstone. I try to ignore the way the ring feels in my hand. It’s not as bad as last night. Maybe I have gotten used to it but the feeling is bad enough. “It’s about this,” I say as I give Sol a good look at the ring.
His eyes widen in alarm and instinctively, he takes a step back nearly upsetting the books on his desk. “What the hell have you done? You fool, you’ve killed us all!”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say but that wasn’t it. Sometimes, Sol likes to joke and use old clichés. He also has a tendency to exaggerate. This time he is serious. “It wasn’t me. Someone named Meredith did it.”
Sol’s hand moves swift and sure in what could be a sign of protection. If Meredith were here, I am sure Sol would have more than a few words for him after he throttled the life out of him. Usually, you can’t speak to someone after they’re dead. Sol is one of few who know the steps necessary to do so. With a scowl, he says “It shouldn’t surprise me that another of my ‘esteemed’ colleagues lacks a sense of self-preservation. Let me guess, he said something about the Seven?”
“Yeah, he did,” Sol knows all about the break-in at Scott’s house but not the details. If he didn’t find out from the news or Nerva, he would have heard it through the grapevine. He keeps track of that sort of thing, some might call him paranoid but he prefers the term hyper-vigilant. It is why he keeps moving his library and dwelling. I add the detail he is probably missing. ”Meredith was the one behind the break-in at Scott’s.”
“Then he is even more the fool but a dangerous fool nonetheless,” Sol pauses a moment motioning me to put away the ring before continuing. “It takes a certain degree of power, skill and insanity to delve into the First Magics.”
If he thinks it is bad then there has to be a good reason for it. Odds are Sol tried to study it in the past and learned the hard way how dangerous they can be. This brings up another question. “Sol, I’m not exactly a new kid on the block but this is the first time I’ve ever heard of this stuff. Want to enlighten me?”
Sol’s smile returns now that the ring is out of sight. With it, so does some of his good humor. “Yes ‘o seeker of knowledge. The First Magics as many of us in the trade call them is the magic of the Dragons and their enemies the Seven. You never heard about them because the few of us who know about the First Magics ‘discourage’ others from studying them. We go out of our way to keep it a secret.”
I look at Sol and wonder just how many people he has ‘discouraged’. He likes to use euphemisms when talking about something unpleasant especially when it involves violence or anything he might be prosecuted for in a court of law.
“They are uniquely dangerous. So dangerous that we try and ‘confiscate’ anything related to them. Unfortunately, every once in a while someone stumbles upon a way to tap their power. The problem is that there are usually spectacular consequences for doing so. Tunguska is a good example of that.”
“I see,” And I do, all too clearly. Like Sol said, you would have to be a fool to mess with something that dangerous. No one knows what caused the Tunguska event in 1908. Some scientists theorize it could have been anything from an asteroid or comet air bursting above Siberia to a micro black hole opening up. There are even wilder theories. It looks like Sol has his own ideas about what happened. No matter what you think caused the event, Tunguska is as a good example of what ground zero at doomsday would look like.
“So we need someone skilled in the use of First Magic or a Dragon to defuse this thing.”
The mischievous twinkle that is usually in Sol’s eyes is replaced by a more calculating look. He’s weighing the odds here. “Dragons and their servants are harder to arrange an appointment with than me. To be honest with you, I don’t know any personally but there is something we can try.”
I’m not sure whether I am relieved or not. For the most part, Dragons don’t have a very good reputation. You can find more stories about a dragon razing the countryside and eating young maidens than you can stories where they act as protectors and guardians. One thing all the stories have in common is that they are all extremely powerful and prefer not to be disturbed.
Sol walks over to one of the bookshelves. He quickly finds the tome he is looking for. It’s old, nothing more than a collection of dried parchment tied together with a string. He sets it down with care on a nearby table, his fingers spreading out the pages gingerly. “I’ve deciphered a few pages from this collection. It has a drawing of the ring you’re carrying,” He smiles “Take a look at this page and tell me if you can make anything out of it.”
I nod, looking down at the page. There are no words, just tiny lines and scratches among pictures and diagrams. All of it written in a reddish brown liquid whose origins, I try not to think about. I shouldn’t be able to understand any of this but slowly, the chicken scratch starts to make sense. It’s still a jumbled mess in my mind, too much for me to truly understand without more time, time which is in short supply but there is one thing is painfully apparent.
“If I read this right, we’re screwed.”
***
Sol leaves me alone to call Dorward while I see if I can make any more sense out of the parchment. It poses as many questions as it answers. At least, we learned something new about my little talent. It’s connected to the First Magics. That’s why I am able to read the parchment without years of study. Unfortunately, being able to read it is a far cry from understanding what I am reading. Some concepts don’t translate into words. The little I do understand doesn’t cheer me up. My connection to the First Magics makes it possible for me to attune myself to Bloodstone and use its powers safely, whatever they are. Unfortunately, the parchment doesn’t state how to go about attuning myself to the ring. I could try to use the Bloodstone without attuning myself to it but II run the risk of nuking myself and everyone around me. It would be like trying to disarm a bomb with sledgehammer. The only other person we know who might be able to use the Bloodstone safely is Meredith and the Lord only knows what he would use it for.
I already know what Scott will say when Sol gives him the news. “Well then put him on a plane to Antarctica and we’ll hope for the best,” Yeah, it sounds cold and heartless. It is but that’s the sort of person Scott can be. If it’s a choice between lots of dead people and one person then the poor sap is going to lose. I can’t really blame him but I can be a little bitter about this and the fact I would let him put me on that plane before I let the ring do something spectacularly bad in a place like New York. Still, there has to be a way out of this, something I’m missing. I just need some time to figure this out before push comes to shove. Luckily, Sol and the rest are willing to take a chance and trust me enough to make the call without forcing the issue.
Something about Meredith and the ring doesn’t fit. From what I’ve seen of him thus far, the usual rules don’t seem to apply to him and that worries me. His spells are too fast, too powerful and cast without effort or energy which puts me at a disadvantage despite my own talents. There is also the matter of all the energy he has poured into the Bloodstone. Where is he getting it from? The more and more I think about it, I decide the answers are in the Bronx.
I put aside the parchment. Staring at the thing is beginning to give me a headache and headaches don’t help me think. That’s when I feel Kara’s thoughts.
“
I’m sorry,”
And I can tell she actually is. It doesn’t come across as empty words. “
I couldn’t think of a way to tell you.
”
“
It’s all right. I missed ya.
”
The silence is comfortable and welcome, just having her here is enough for me. It’s always like this after we’ve been apart for even a little while. This time, I’m first to break the mood. “
If I’m to get out of this, I need answers.
”