Cornered (#FridayFlash)

This is set in the same world as The Last Lightkeeper… which could be Termag, if the Dawn Greeters’ creation myth is to be believed. It’s darker fantasy than I usually write. I got the idea after reading Catherine Russell’s Caveat last week.

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Image source: openclipart.org

Riata rounded the rocky corner, gasping for breath. She dodged around a pile of brush, and barely avoided slamming head-on into the end of the canyon.

“No, no,” she panted. Had she miscounted? Four passages then right, three then left… and she had counted three and four. Of course she had miscounted.

Trapped. No way out. A vicious chuckle echoed down the canyon walls. The minions of the Dark were coming. Their thoughts rang in her head: The Light has forsaken us. The Lightkeepers have fled. We are alone, alone with the Dark. She sat down, her back against the wall. Something dug into her backside, but that was no longer important. The Dark closed in, taking their time, savoring her terror and despair.

For some, there is a place beyond terror, beyond despair. In the slow minutes before certain death, Riata found that place—not rage, not a desire to betray her soul for a few more years of life, but a calm certainty: I will die with meaning. She pushed the thoughts of the Dark from her mind, though they echoed all around, then reached around to see what poked her sitting place…

“Ah. That.” A small copper canister of fat. A little rancid, but it could yet serve. Her wagon had an axle that tended to bind in its bearings, and Riata had not yet found a way to adjust it. She was always greasing that Light-forsaken thing, and she was doing it yet again when the minions of the Dark had come upon her. She must have slipped the canister into a pocket when she fled. Her flint was always with her… and a brush pile lay between her and the Dark.

Hope did not banish fear, nor did she expect to walk away from this canyon—but now, she knew she could fight. The Dark might take her in this hour, but their victory would come with a price. In the eternal twilight, she keened a song of mourning, but broke branches from longer sticks and piled dry leaves around her open canister. The minions of the Dark, hearing only her despair, gave her all the time she needed.

As the Dark approached, vicious and confident, Riata began striking her flint over the canister. Clack. Clack. Sparks fell into the fat, and the leaves she had rubbed in the fat… and a spark stayed. Riata blew gently, continuing to strike her flint. More sparks alit and glowed under her breath as the Dark closed in. A tongue of flame arose.

Fwoomp

Caught in a trap of their own making, the minions of the Dark howled in pain and rage at the flare of Light blooming from the brush pile. Some fell, others charged, as spears of fire rained upon them and Riata’s dirge became a battle song.

Sunset (#FridayFlash)

With fridayflash.org winding down this week, I thought I’d write something about closure as well. It’s not nearly as fun as Chuck Allen’s Closing Time, but Termag’s history calls yet again…

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Image source: openclipart.org

“…the blessings of the Creator and the lesser gods be on your journey, and may you find peace and happiness at your destination.” The knot of folk standing on the raft bowed with hands to foreheads; Captain Chelinn and Rathu the warrior-priestess put hands to hearts in response.

Chelinn and Rathu stood side by side, watching as the departing folk poled the raft away from the landing. As the Vliskoyr River’s current caught the raft, they turned and looked sadly back at Vlis, a city dying once more.

“Don’t look back!” Chelinn chided them across water. “Forward you go, to the Gulf and beyond!”

Rathu put a hand on his arm. “Tell me true, old friend,” she said. “Do you think they will take that advice?”

Chelinn’s shoulders slumped. “Nar. But we can hope. How many are left now? Fifty?”

“Fifty-seven, including the staff who cook and clean for us.”

“A thousand souls to this, in a few short years. Bah. I oft accuse Ak’koyr of avoiding the truth, when it is convenient for them to do so. It is time I stop doing the same. I have failed here, Rathu. It is time to gather the rest of the folk and follow that raft downriver.”

“Indeed?” Rathu slid her hand to his shoulder. “I expected you to hold out until the last dozen.”

For the first time that evening, a genuine smile came to Chelinn’s face. “Ha! I still have a surprise or three left in me, you old skullcracker.”

“Flattery? At a time like this?”

“I find that few folk have faith in me now. I must do what I can to keep the few friends I yet have.”

Rathu chuckled, a throaty sound that always made Chelinn—for only a moment—look past the comrade in arms, the dear old friend, and see the woman beneath. “So you failed. Ak’koyr will gloat, but we’ve never cared a half round’s worth for their opinion, eh?”

“True. And… ah. Far too late, I now realize my mistake.”

“You rarely fail, Chelinn. Perhaps the Creator is reminding you to be humble. Where did you—we—go wrong?”

“I did not choose my settlers wisely. I recruited among the disaffected of Ak’koyr, those who hated their rulers. I should have brought in others.”

“Others?”

“Yar. People who wanted more than to wave their pinky at Ak’koyr. Ah, there are some good folk among those I brought here, and they all deserved better than what they had in the First Round. But I should have brought in others. Others who were for Vlis, not just those against Ak’koyr.”

“I understand. Where will all of us go, then?”

“Phylok. Ethtar told me long ago that if this experiment did not work out, I and all who came with me would have a welcome and a home.” He chuckled. “Perhaps he foresaw this outcome. Perhaps that is why I waited this long, so I would not burden the good Protector with enough people to fill North Keep.” Chelinn looked downriver, painted red by the evening sun. “I will rename the barge Sunset. We can give everyone a few days to prepare, then bid this place good-bye. And I’ll send a detailed account home to Dacia. Perhaps Sarna’s grandchildren will find it useful.”

“You’re not going south, then?”

“Nar. I intend to be a thorn in Ak’koyr’s side, as always. I’ll see them too busy regretting my presence to gloat at my failure.”

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 20 (CONCLUSION)

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

---

Mom gave him the news at the beginning of Labor Day weekend, Friday after she got home. “Your father and I have been talking some,” she said. Seeing Stevie’s hopeful look, she quickly added, “We aren’t getting back together or anything. But we’re going to communicate better from now on. We’ve agreed that the support payments he missed will go into bonds for your college. Once we’ve caught up on all the bills, we’re going to put more of that money aside for college.”

“That sounds cool.”

“And he really wants to see you, Stevie. I told him it would be okay if he picked you up tomorrow around eleven. You’re seeing Sarika on Sunday, right?”

Stevie paused. That’s right, three-day weekend. No school Monday. “Yeah. I guess that’ll be okay.”


To Stevie’s amazement, Dad showed up at five minutes to eleven. He had never been on time for a visitation before. He had a new car—a different one, anyway. Nothing fancy, but it looked and felt solid. “The old one finally gave up the ghost,” was all Dad said about it.

They said nothing important on the way. Dad stole nervous glances at Stevie, who curled up and watched the road. Back to the state park for more Frisbee, he guessed. To his surprise, though, Dad stopped at the Dari-Freez. “It’s about lunch time,” Dad explained. “Can’t have a boys’ afternoon out on an empty stomach.”

“Can I get the Choco-Peanut Explosion for dessert?” Stevie asked, thinking about the one he had left on the table a few weeks ago.

“Tell you what. We’ll split one. Sound good?”

“Sure.” Truth be told, after last night’s patrol, Stevie could have downed the entire dish and not worried about the calories. He only spent two hours on patrol each weekend, a compromise after tense emails with both Captain Heroic and Professor Zero once they found out, but he stayed busy for those two hours. Holdups, break-ins, even a stalker this time. After he told them The real supers should be doing this stuff, the banks can afford to hire security, not much more was said.

The Dari-Freez was crowded on a holiday weekend. When they finally got to the register, they ordered burgers and fries, since those were ready to go, and found a table. “Your mom said you got to go to summer camp,” said Dad, as they unwrapped the burgers and squirted ketchup onto the paper. “How was it?”

“A lot of fun,” said Stevie. “I guess Mom told you about Sarika.”

“Uh-huh. She showed me the picture, she’s a cutie. First girlfriend and everything. Quite a trip, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. Your mom said that camp did you a world of good. She said you’ve really grown up. You’ll be a Steve soon, maybe a Steven.”

“I guess.” Stevie shrugged.

“Yeah. Well, don’t be in a hurry to grow up, okay?” Stevie looked up at his dad, surprised, as Dad continued, “I know you feel responsible for your mom, but being an adult sucks. All the responsibility, keeping up appearances…” He sighed. “I’ll tell you more, but not here. At the park, where we’ll have a little more quiet.”

After they finished, Dad went back and got a Choco-Peanut Explosion as promised. They dug in, but Dad let Stevie have the lion’s share, assuring Stevie he’d had enough. Stevie had no problem with that, and left the container empty.

At the park, another surprise. Instead of throwing a Frisbee in the open field, Dad had a disc golf set. He let Stevie get used to how the different discs performed, then they got started in earnest.

“Anyway,” said Dad, as they ambled across the field after their tee throws. “I was starting to say at the restaurant, I got my priorities all messed up last year. I didn’t send the support money because I didn’t have it. But I was all wrapped up in keeping up appearances, being an adult, all that crap. If I’d admitted I’d been laid off in the first place, and was really close to getting foreclosed on… well, it wouldn’t have paid your mom’s bills, but there would have been more understanding. Sometimes, you think you’re ready to be responsible… well, you know what I’m saying. You’re a smart kid.”

“I think so.”

“Fortunately, things got better recently. Here’s your disc. Found a new job, one of those foundations bought my mortgage so they could cancel it, catching up on stuff, yadda yadda yadda.” They threw their discs; Stevie’s stopped short of a stream and Dad’s went over it. “Anyway,” Dad continued as they approached the stream, “I really brought you out here to tell you something. But you have to promise to keep it a secret. You can’t tell your mom. Or anyone else, but especially your mom.”

“You got another family.” Stevie’s voice was flat.

“What?” Dad snorted. “No, it’s not that. I don’t even have a girlfriend. I haven’t even dated since your mom and I split up.”

“Really?”

“Really. I wanted to tell you this last year, but I chickened out. But—you keep up with all the hero stuff, right? Yeah. So you know about this Blink kid. He’s your age, and he even sounds like you. I was a little worried that it might be you at first, until your mom told me you were at camp. But I kept thinking to myself, that coulda been you, and I can’t dodge being your dad anymore.”

“Huh.” Now Stevie was interested. His alter ego had brought Dad back into his life?

“So anyway, I called your mom, and we talked, and I fessed up to my own financial issues. That was a little easier to do, now that I could fix things. That’s something you’ll find out about when you get older, you’re more comfortable about talking over a problem when you know how to fix it. Something… something else, and this is just between us. When you get to be eighteen, maybe a little older, you might find you have some—some special abilities.”

Stevie snorted. “What? Like I’m gonna be a superhero or something? Yeah, right.” He allowed himself a little pride on his delivery.

“Not a superhero, not exactly. Like I said, you have to tell no one. Promise?” Stevie nodded, intrigued, and Dad looked around. Nobody in sight. “I’m—I guess I should show you.”

Stevie’s jaw dropped as Dad hurdled the ten-foot stream from a standing start, then picked up his disc and leaped back. “Son… I’m Jaguar.”

Coming soon: My Dad, the Supervillain!

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 19

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

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“Whoa,” said Lashaun, as he and Chris stared at the picture Stevie took out of his wallet. Sarika had taken a picture of them, using the woods around Zero Point as a background, and emailed it to him. Mom, of course, had printed one to put in a frame, but printed a smaller one for Stevie’s wallet. “She’s beyond pretty.”

“Nice,” Chris agreed. “Cool that she lives close enough that you can see her. You got to sit with her at the movie yesterday? Do you even remember which one it was?”

Stevie laughed. “Yeah, it was the new Empire of Space flick. She likes them a lot, too.”

“Beauty and brains! You get a chance to play Wizards at all in that summer camp?” Lashaun waved his Wizards of Stolevan deck. They had come out to the park on a fine late-summer Sunday—partly to play Wizards, mostly to get away from the parents for a while.

“Nah. They had most of our days planned out.” Stevie, in truth, had left his deck at home. He so wanted to tell his friends about what really went on… “Guys, can I tell you something? You won’t tell anyone?” He winced, realizing he was about to tell them way too much.

But Chris smirked. “You kissed her, didn’t you?” Lashaun chortled, waiting for the confirmation.

Stevie sighed, partly in relief. “Yeah. During the part where they show everyone’s names afterward. We were waiting to see if there were any outtakes, but there weren’t. Then…” He waved his hands. It was all true. They watched the credits for a minute, then Sarika got his attention. He didn’t mind at all. It was an awesome first kiss. The second one was great, too.

After the whoops, the high-fives, and the laughter, Chris took a seat across from them on the picnic table. “This game ain’t gonna play itself, guys. Let’s get started.”

Stevie was rusty, but it started coming back to him by the time they finished the first round. As he was getting the upper hand in the third round, they gained a spectator: the high school kid who had picked the fight with Stevie back in the spring. His right hand was in a stiff-looking glove. He lit up a cigarette, fanning the smoke toward the card players.

“Not cool,” said Lashaun as Chris abandoned the table in a coughing fit. “He’s allergic.”

“Oh well,” the intruder sneered.

Stevie pointed at the sign on the pillar above them. “The pavilion’s a no-smoking area.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Me? How’s your hand?” Stevie reminded him.

The high schooler flushed and scowled. He tried to clench the gloved hand, but winced. “What’s it to you? I can kick your butt one-handed. Matter of fact, I think I will.”

Stevie glanced over at Chris, who had his cellphone out—getting video, Stevie hoped. An overconfident opponent, whose right hand was probably still not a hundred percent… no need for a superpower this time, fortunately. “Whatever,” said Stevie, standing up. “Let’s get this over with. I guess smoking really does kill your brain.”

Lashaun and Chris gaped. The high school kid suddenly looked a lot less sure of the situation—the weenie wasn’t begging for mercy or running away—but dropped the cigarette and stomped it on the concrete floor.

Stevie walked into the open, about ten feet from the pavilion, and faced the older boy. “Okay, bring it on,” he said, with all the sarcasm a young teen can deliver. “No trees this time. Show us all what a big man you are.”

He expected the high schooler to charge, but instead he came at a brisk walk. Still, he telegraphed his intended left roundhouse long before he swung; Stevie thought he might have been able to block that punch without training.

The fist came around. Move.

“Holy crap!” Chris shouted, as Stevie responded with a flurry of fists, elbows, and knees. He finished with a sweep, leaving the high schooler writhing at Stevie’s feet. The fight lasted three seconds.

“That’s going on Facebook!” Lashaun gasped.

“No,” Stevie countered. “I got a better idea. Tell you what,” he told the high schooler. “You leave us alone from now on, and we won’t put that video all over the Internet. You don’t want all your friends to see how you get owned by an eighth-grader, right? At least you didn’t break anything this time. Except maybe your big fat ego.” He walked back to the pavilion and sat. “Who’s turn was it?”

“Mine,” said Lashaun, sounding awestruck. “That was… that was totally awesome. Sign me up for camp next summer.” Behind Stevie’s back, the high schooler staggered to his feet and moved on.

“Coolest customer ever,” Chris agreed. “I thought you were toast, right up to when you toasted him. You sure you don’t want to put the video online?”

“Yeah. Hang onto it, though. Just in case.”

“Lucky for Frank he passed,” said Lashaun. “He can’t pick on you so much, now that he’s in high school this year. Finally.”

“He was almost okay after that thing with Blink, though,” Chris reminded him. “Speaking of Blink—Stevie, did you catch that interview? That was amazing. I wish I coulda been there.”

“Wiped out a bunch of battle-bots, and got a girlfriend, all in one day,” Lashaun added. “But your girlfriend’s a lot better looking, man. Too bad she goes to some private school on the other side of town.”

“It’s not so bad,” Stevie assured them. “We email all the time. Mom and I are finally gonna get a new computer next weekend, so we’ll be able to do video calls, too.” He yawned.

“Up late?” Chris asked.

“Kind of.” Last night, after Mom went to sleep, Stevie put on his black hoodie and popped outside. Blink spent a couple hours roaming the streets of Skyscraper City—but not the financial district. The supervillains weren’t bothering normal people, and the other heroes could keep them at bay. Blink walked the neighborhoods instead. He found a burglar climbing a ladder to the second story, and pushed the ladder over, dropping the burglar in the bushes. He used his little Super Soaker on a couple in the middle of a domestic, leaving them shocked enough to work things out. He wrote down the address of a meth lab, then called the cops from one of the few pay phones still standing. All in a couple hours, then he went back home and slept.

He thought of Warmonger’s last DM:

@Blinkss14 I won’t badger you anymore. But the offer’s open, whenever you’re ready.

Ready to switch sides, in other words.

Maybe there was a better way. If Warmonger was right, the heroes were defending villains worse than Warmonger’s whole bunch. Busting an occasional purse-snatcher was cool, but that’s not what heroes usually did.

Maybe Blink could change that.

continued…

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 18

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

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Blink met with Nixi and Sarika in front of the elevators on level F-2 the next morning, as they had for the last month.

“Oh yeah,” said Nixi. “Cap messed up his ankle last night. I guess it’s just us this morning.”

“I don’t want to go alone,” Sarika huffed, taking Blink’s hand.

“We can go together,” Blink suggested. “All three of us. We know the route by now.”

Sarika scowled, looking between Blink and Nixi. Nixi just smirked, while Blink racked his brains.

“Seriously,” he said at last. “We should go together. That way, your mom can’t say we were out there alone. I don’t want to get on her bad side. She saved my life and all, you know.”

“I guess,” Sarika huffed.

“Let’s take this golf cart,” said Nixi. “The keys are in it.” The look she gave Blink said high-maintenance.


“So what have you been doing this summer?” Blink asked Sarika, as Nixi jogged behind them.

“I’ve been working in the Advanced Research department,” she replied. “We’re gonna take the pieces of the battle-bots you guys destroyed and make new ones. Security can use them.”

“There was something left?”

“Well, you and that villain wrecked the bottom halves, and Mama and the other Devis destroyed top halves. There was enough left to make seven whole ones, and a bunch of spare parts. So we’re dropping everything to get that done this week. We’ll need to reprogram them all, too.”

“You should get Nixi to do that.”

“It’s a different set of skills,” Nixi said from behind. “They’re doing embedded software, and I’m doing web development. I could learn what needs to be done, sure, but by the time I could help, it would be time to go back to school. And the intranet wouldn’t get done.” She chuckled. “That’s why Uncle Zero didn’t have them fix the intranet. I already knew what to do.”

“Yeah.” Blink turned back to Sarika. “That’s this week. What have you been doing the rest of the summer?”

“Captain Heroic has been helping with some gadget designs. I’ve been interning, mostly helping him out.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. Well, Captain Heroic isn’t here to escort me back to that side of the facility, so I guess I can eat breakfast with you.” Sarika gave him a dazzling smile.

“Yeah… uh, that’s great,” he said. “Do you eat meat, though? They serve a lot of bacon and eggs.”

“No, but what about pancakes? I can eat pancakes.”

“Yeah,” Nixi said from behind, between breaths. “We get pancakes.”

“Good,” Sarika replied. “So I’ll eat with you, then I’ll go back to my stuff.”


After breakfast, Captain Heroic and Professor Zero took Blink to a conference room in the public-facing building. “This is a standard debriefing,” Professor Zero told him. “You and Cap both need to describe what happened last night, in your own words. And don’t correct the other one. Each one of you will have a chance to tell your side, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Blink. Captain Heroic nodded; Blink figured he’d been through a thousand of these. The oldest and youngest superheroes described their roles, and both found the other’s stories to have only the smallest discrepancies.

“Okay,” said Professor Zero, “now I need Blink to tell me about his encounter with Warmonger. What was said. Don’t worry about details. I want them all. Start with when you reached the highway.”

“Yeah,” Blink replied, reliving the moment. “There were two eighteen-wheelers parked out at the road—”

“They probably brought the ABAs,” said Zero. “Do you remember any markings?”

“They didn’t have any. I don’t think. So I started walking, and Warmonger stopped and offered me a ride.”

Zero leaned forward, pen poised. “Then what?”

“Well, he said something to get me mad, and he had to stop and pick up the back of his Jeep a few times. Then, he told me—I need to ask you guys something.”

Zero and Captain Heroic looked at each other. “What did he say?” Zero asked, sounding wary.

“Why do you—we—provide free security for the mega-rich people?” Blink asked, trying to keep his outrage in check. “Why is it up to the villains to keep them from eating everyone else?”

“Blink, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” Zero replied. “It’s… well, it’s hard to explain.”

“You’re the genius,” said Blink. “You need to figure out how to explain it. Because I’m not sure I want to be a hero like that. Grimes Financial about threw us out of our house, and—and—” he trailed off, sputtering.

“I understand,” said Captain Heroic. “You don’t want to defend them. You won’t have to, though. When you’re active, you can find your own niche. But as a hero, okay? We made a deal.”

“Yeah.”

“What bothers me,” said Professor Zero,” is that Type I superheroes are genetic. That means you have an ancestor with superpowers, and I don’t mean a distant ancestor. Grandparents at most.”

“Huh.” Blink thought a moment. “My grandparents are pretty normal.”

“That’s the point of a secret identity,” said Captain Heroic. “Can you think of anything about them that seems… oh, I don’t know. A little off?”

“Nuh-uh. Maybe if I knew what to look for. Some of the stuff Mom did to keep our house was pretty amazing, though.”

“Mothers are natural superheroes,” said Professor Zero. “But if you think of anything, use the Secure Message app to contact me.”

continued…

Of Made and Born, pt 2 of 2 (#FridayFlash)

The conclusion to last week’s post…

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Matos stood quiet a long moment, then heaved a deep sigh. “No. But how…? We have children!”

“Your new ‘friends’ have fed you on lies and half-truths. They point to the monsters that corrupt Makers unleash upon the world, and tell you that is all the works of the Makers. They point to the newly Made, or those fashioned by the slothful, and tell you that those mockeries are all the Made. I Made Dawna for you the day after you bared your soul to me, but it was a month before she was ready to meet you. I Made her clever, honest, and above all loyal—but her story, her life history, that took longer—and like the free will that the Born are naturally given, I gave her the free will to choose you or not. If I and my champion live the night, I will do the same for him.”

Inspiration struck me, as it often does at odd moments, and I fed it to the newly Made. The champion spoke again: “I am Chell, of the Seven Guardians! I have sworn to protect all those, Made and Born, who suffer injustice!”

“I have always trusted you, Zand.” Matos’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “Why did you not tell me?” He lowered his sword and reached for Dawna; ever loyal and intelligent, she took his hand. “Did you not trust me?”

I bowed my head. “Matos, I have sinned against you. I did not reveal myself out of cowardice. You know how it is with Makers. Where your new friends do not hunt us, we are shackled by the mighty to Make them even more of what they already have. Or among the poor, we are mobbed to Make the very stuff of life. One wrong word at the wrong moment, and I would be dead or captive, or overwhelmed by the needs of the moment, or on the run. As I may be this night, if my—if Chell must fight while I flee.

“You must choose, my friend. Will you renounce the Cult this night and embrace Truth? Or… or choose the other way?”

“Perhaps they themselves are misled? They have not seen the whole truth?” Matos looked uncertain once again.

“I suppose it possible, but unlikely. But if so, do you think that you could convince them of their error?”

He laughed. “I have never seen them uncertain of anything. No, they would not—they do not—” He paused for a long moment, then fell to his knees in the dirt and refuse, flinging his sword behind him. He drew a long breath. “Matos. Dawna. You have not sinned against me. I have sinned against you. I have—I have thought of you as Evil upon the world, both my dearest friend and my wife.” He began to sob.

Chell stepped forward, sword sheathed, as Dawna and I knelt on either side of the man we loved. “Matos, the Seven Guardians are both Made and Born,” said Chell, kneeling as well. “That is how it must be, for the Creator of all things has made this world for us both. There is a place for you among us, a chance to be part of something greater than ourselves.”

Matos laughed. “A legend that springs from nowhere? Or perhaps, from the dirty backside of a tavern?”

“Why not?” I said. “This is the world we live in: one where, as you say, legends spring from nowhere. Yes, some Makers create monsters to terrify the world, or Make obscene amounts of wealth for themselves. But most of us simply Make what is needed to help our friends or neighbors.”

“So I would become the second of the Seven Guardians. An honorable career, although not a path to riches.”

Dawna laughed. “And when have riches been our great desire?”

Matos gave his wife a happy smile; we stood together once again. “You speak wisely, as always. My beloved.” They laughed together, then embraced. “So we are two of the Seven Guardians, Chell and I. What of the other five?”

“Oh, they will be known as they are needed,” I laughed. “Two more of the Made will join you when they are ready. The others will be of the Born.”

Matos looked past me, perhaps toward a makeshift temple where he had spent entirely too much time lately. He took up his sword and sheathed it. “Yes, my friends, I renounce the Cult. The lies they have told me condemn them. And there will be a reckoning.” He gave us a smile, grim at first, but then turned genuine. “Our new life begins tomorrow. But tonight, let us four find another tavern, one where I have not made a fool of myself, and drink toasts to love and friendship.”

“A toast always worth drinking!” Chell laughed. We made our way around the side of the tavern and away.

THE END

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 17

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

---

“Okay, ten seconds. Rudy, be ready to run some of that aerial footage from earlier.” Montana paused, then held up five fingers, counting down each second. “Thank you, Gunnar. Twenty-two ABAs were deployed against Zero Point this evening. No known group outside the military has that many, and there are strict regulations about private ownership. Fortunately, Skyscraper City’s oldest and youngest superheroes were here to defend Zero Point, with some surprising help. Professor Zero, what can you tell us about the attack tonight?”

Professor Zero clasped his hands on the table and faced the camera. “Not much, Montana. I’ve been in touch with our regular security crew, who faced the threat with bravery and skill, by the way. The identification plates they’ve found so far had serial numbers cut away and removed, so there’s no telling who purchased them. Some of the electronics are intact, so we’ll be analyzing them to see if there’s any custom software that might lead us to a culprit. I have to point out, several of the ABAs were crippled, but still otherwise active. It’s making things hazardous for Security as they attempt to repair some of our breached defenses tonight.”

“Thank you, Professor. Captain Heroic, what can you say about tonight’s work?”

“It was a rough night, Montana. We had a couple of close calls. But Blink should tell you about it. He did most of the work.”

“For those of you watching tonight, this is Blink’s first appearance at a news conference. Skyscraper City’s youngest superhero burst onto the scene a few short months ago, helping to thwart a robbery at Grimes Financial. After rescuing a student from a street gang a week later, he has not been seen since. So Blink, you and Captain Heroic saved the day?”

Blink shook his head. “It wasn’t just us, Montana,” he said, his long practice sessions finally paying off. “Nixi here, and Professor Zero, guided us all evening. We’d have been stumbling in the dark if it wasn’t for them.” Next to him, Nixi snorted and Professor Zero gave him a smile. “And we weren’t alone. Warmonger wanted to prove that machines are no match for soldiers, so he switched sides for the evening. He grabbed a hammer and tuned up on like four or five of those battle-bots.”

“Really? How interesting!” Montana did look interested. “But what was your role?”

“Oh. I’d pop—teleport—behind a bot, plant a limpet mine on it, and pop away before it had a chance to shoot. Captain Heroic helped a lot. But then I got tired, and we ran out of mines, and we still had one of those things after us. Lucky for us, the Devis arrived just when we needed them.”

“So you took an active role in the battle?”

“Well, yeah. I had to. This was kind of an emergency.”

“And from what I’ve heard, you performed admirably.” Montana beamed.

“I’ve had a lot of training this summer, Montana. Captain Heroic has been like my mentor. One of the Masked Warriors, too. And Professor Zero, of course. It’s been like summer school, except a lot more fun. I wasn’t expecting to have to use all my training so soon, but at least I know it was… not all in vain, I guess.”

Captain Heroic laughed. “It’s been a pleasure to train him. And to work with him. We’ve agreed that he’ll be inactive now until he finishes school, but he’ll be a great addition to the team when the time comes.”

“I agree, he did pretty well out there,” said Nixi, surprising them all. “He went out and did the job like he’s been doing it all his life. A real professional. It was good to have him on this mission, and to be a part of it myself. Maybe we’ll partner up again some time in the future.”

“I’m just relieved that we got through the night with no serious injuries,” said Professor Zero. “We’ll find out who launched this attack, and we’ll respond. But tonight, we celebrate our success.”

“And you four—and others—have certainly earned it,” said Montana. “We’ll be looking forward to covering Blink in the future, and we’ll have more on this story on Fourteen at Seven, tomorrow morning. But for now, I’m Montana Rack, Channel Fourteen on the Scene. Rudy?” She waited a moment, then took out her earpiece. “That’s a wrap,” she said. “Great job, guys. Cap, can I talk to you in private for a few?”

“Sure.” Captain Heroic stood, and winced at his ankle. “Gonna need a walker if I keep this up much longer,” he grinned. “I’m supposed to be retired.”

“Are you not going to interview the Devis?” Blink asked.

“They don’t do interviews like this,” Montana explained. “Their usual spokesperson is dealing with the issues in town, but we’ll tackle that in the morning show. I suspect there’s a connection to what happened out here tonight. Go get some rest, Blink. You deserve it.” She helped Captain Heroic limp out of the room.

“If Sarika lets you rest.” Nixi gave him an evil grin. “I figure after what I just said, she won’t let you out of her sight for a while.”

“Good work, Blink,” said Professor Zero. “You handled yourself pretty well. Outside, and just now.”

“Thanks.”

“Take Montana’s advice. Get some rest. You’ll be back to classes tomorrow.” He gave Blink a lopsided smile. “I might try to arrange for you and Sarika to have some free time together. Supervised, of course. If you’d like.”

“Uh… sure.”

“Don’t forget to write up the evening in your journal. Everything. Nixi told me her part, by the way, so you need not spare that. And we’ll work on your weaknesses for the next couple of weeks as well. Goodnight, Blink.”

Blink shucked the hoodie and tossed it back to Montana’s intern. “Thanks for letting me use it,” he told her.

“No problem. Sounds like you had a long day.” Sam lowered her voice to a whisper. “Maybe by the time you’re on the job, I’ll be the one in front of the camera. Then it’ll be me interviewing you.” She winked and went back to packing up all the gadgets that are part of a remote TV gig.

Blink shrugged and walked out—and as Nixi had warned him, Sarika was right there. “I think she likes you,” she said without preamble. “But I saw you first. Mom said that when we’re back at home, she can pick you up and we can go to the mall. Maybe see a movie or something.” She grinned, a smile that lit up Blink’s world.

Maybe a hero did get the girls after all. He’d have to figure out how to tell his mom about her, and listen to the embarrassing gush, but that would be okay. “That sounds great,” he told Sarika.

continued…

Of Made and Born, pt 1 of 2 (#FridayFlash)

I have a two-parter this week. It’s a Termag story, from the distant past before the Makers departed for the City of Refuge. The line "damn it, you fool, I’m her father!” came from a dream I had. I built the rest of the story from there…

---

Image source: openclipart.org

Dawna found me behind the tavern, watering the midden. “What cheer?” I asked her over my shoulder.

“No cheer, Zand. I’m frightened,” she admitted, as I finished and faced her. “You heard Matos in there. He has fallen in with that—that cult. If he finds out, I don’t know what he’ll do!” She began to cry, then stepped forward, falling onto my chest.

I did the only thing I could: held her and tried to comfort her. “I’ve known Matos forever,” I said, trying to reassure her. “He’s a good man, even if he’s confused—”

“Exactly what are you doing out here with my wife, Zand?”

Dawna spun out of my light embrace, her surprise easily mistaken for guilt. Matos looked puzzled, hurt, and a little angry—the normal things anyone might feel upon seeing one’s wife and best friend embracing in the dark. He put a hand to his sword.

“Matos—” I looked at my oldest and dearest friend. It was time—no, long past time—to drop the pretense. “Damn it, you fool, I’m her father!”

“Father?” he repeated, as Dawna looked back and forth between us. She realized what I was about to reveal, and I saw how that frightened her even more than the Cult of the Born.

“No!” she pleaded, then turned to her husband. “Matos, don’t listen to him, believe of us what you will!” Loyalty was her great virtue. I had seen to that.

“You can’t be her father,” Matos scowled, ignoring her plea. “We’re all of an age. What kind of fool do you take me for?”

“The kind of fool who is a good man, but has been blinded by fear, half-truths, and outright lies,” I said, looking him in the eye.

“Zand, no!” Dawna turned back to me.

I crossed my arms, more to reassure Matos than out of exasperation. “Dawna, he’s been my best friend for years. I’ve trusted Matos with my life. I should have never kept this from him.”

Before Dawna could answer, Matos laid a hand—a gentle hand—on her shoulder. “That an embrace between you two is innocent, I can believe. Even a brief indiscretion, I could forgive. But Zand, don’t try to justify what I saw with outrageous claims. That only makes me suspect you both.”

“Six years ago, Matos,” I said. “What happened?”

“You mean when Audra ran off with the butcher’s son, not a week before we were to be wed?” Matos looked down; perhaps the memory of that betrayal was already twisting his guts. He gave me a thin smile. “You took me out of harm’s way and got me roaring drunk. But what has that to do with this?”

“Walk that old path again with me, friend. What did you tell me when the spirits loosened your tongue?”

He shrugged. “That… that I had been unsure of her for a while. That I’d been turned by her physical charms, but she showed herself neither intelligent nor honest. Nor loyal, in the end.”

“And you said you would marry a woman with the head of a donkey if she were only clever, honest, and loyal.” We both laughed at the memory. “And a month later, I introduced you to Dawna.”

“Indeed.” Matos relaxed a moment, and smiled. His hand slipped off Dawna’s shoulder to her waist. “I’ve said ever since that I am forever in your debt for that. It was like she was made for me.”

“Matos… she was. I Made her for you. Not with a donkey’s head, mind you, but I thought you would forgive me for omitting that detail.”

As usual, my attempt at a jest fell wide of the mark. “What? Are you saying you’re a Maker?” He pushed Dawna away and drew his sword. “Tell me that’s a lie, Zand. Tell me!”

“It’s not a lie, Matos!” Dawna threw herself between us. “I am Made. Zand is my father. He Made me to be your wife! And I swear, if you strike at him, I will leave you!”

I took advantage of the distraction to Make a champion. He strode forth, skirting the midden, facing Matos with sword drawn. “Put away your weapon, O Born, and there will be no bloodshed this night.” Not the first words I would have preferred one of my Made to utter, but necessity ruled the moment.

“See? This is the evil of the Makers!” Matos spat. “They Make not men, but empty shells!”

“That is the half-truth you were taught,” I said. “All the Born are created in the image of the Creator, with the power of creation. You know the rhyme:

Ruler or knave,
The Creator has gave
A part of Himself to us all.

Woman or man,
All of us can
On the power of creation call.

Some create stories,
Some create songs,
Some create sculpture or art.

Others are given
The power of living—
Creation that comes from the heart.

Look at your wife, my friend. Is she an empty shell? Speak true!”

continued…

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 16

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

---

The hallway outside the press room was crowded. One figure detached herself from the crowd and ran to them—to Blink, to his surprise and Nixi’s.

“Blink!” Sarika gasped, taking his free hand in both of hers. “I was worried about you!” She hugged him. He felt Nixi’s smirk behind him.

“I—I’m fine,” he stammered, putting his free arm around her. “I ran out of steam, and Captain Heroic twisted his ankle. I guess I have limits after all.” So much for popping to the beach, he thought.

“But you won. That’s the important thing.” She turned, and waved to an approaching Devi. “Mama! Over here!” Blink stared, and Captain Heroic chuckled, as the woman who had saved them joined Sarika. “This is Blink,” Sarika told her.

“Uh, nice to meet you again,” said Blink. “Thanks for saving us out there.”

“My pleasure,” the Devi said, giving Blink an appraising look. “Have you spent much time with Sarika?”

“Uh, no!” Blink protested. “I’ve hardly seen her outside training!”

“Truly? She has talked so much about you. I thought perhaps you and she were working together.”

Sarika ducked and grinned next to her mother. “I told you we weren’t!” she said. She led her mother away, saying something about meeting at the mall.

“Looks like you’re in,” Nixi said dryly. “Daughter of a goddess? I’m guessing she’s gonna be kinda high-maintenance.”

Blink blushed, and Captain Heroic laughed, as Zero smirked. “Well,” said Zero, “let’s go on in. We don’t want to leave Channel Fourteen with dead air.”


“Good timing,” Montana Rack told the four of them as they entered the press room, Blink and Zero helping Captain Heroic. “We’re going live at ten. Top story! Oh…” Her composure flickered away for a brief moment. “What happened, Cap?”

“I tripped in the dark,” said Captain Heroic. “Hosed my ankle. I’ll limp around for a while, but I’ll be all right.”

“We can work with that,” Montana replied. “Kyle, Frank, let’s shoot them at the conference table. Put the wall behind them.” She ushered them to the seats, as the camera operators hustled to re-adjust. “Zero on the left, Cap on the right, and we’ll put the kids in the middle. Move these extra seats out of the way. Kyle, you stay wide. I’ll stand off to the side, and you frame all of us. Phil, you go close-up on the interviewees. Rudy can tell you which one he wants.”

She put a finger to her ear. “Okay, we’ve got two minutes. No time for makeup, we’ll have to go with what we got. Sam, can you bring some water for them?” The intern hustled over, with four bottles of water, passing them around. Blink and Captain Heroic, who had come straight over from the staging area, gulped down the water; Zero and Nixi drank deeply as well. “Blink, where’s your hoodie?”

“We had to use it for a decoy,” Blink replied, then turned pale. “Oh crap… if Mom sees my face…”

“You can use mine,” said Sam, shucking her black hoodie and tossing it to him. “I’ll need it back, though.”

“No problem.” Blink pulled the hoodie on, keeping the hood over his face. “Now you see me…”

“Definite improvement,” Nixi whispered, giving him a friendly nudge.

Before Blink could respond, Montana slapped her hip and picked up her mike. “Okay, show time!” She turned to face Kyle’s camera, pausing, listening to the audio in her earpiece before continuing. “This is Montana Rack, Channel Fourteen on the Scene, at Zero Point. Our top story tonight is breaking news: this evening, an unknown entity launched an attack on Zero Point, using Autonomous Battlefield Androids, or ABAs. We now go to Channel Fourteen’s expert on military hardware, Gunnar Schutte, for an overview of these devastating war machines. Gunnar?” She paused, then turned to face the interviewees. “Okay, we can relax. We pre-arranged this part. Gunnar will be about a minute, then it’ll be your turn. If you need to adjust your clothes or your seating, now’s the time to do it. Thanks for doing this on such short notice, by the way.”

“No problem, Montana.” Captain Heroic gave her a fond look. “We’ve run Blink through the whole wringer this summer. So far, he’s handled it pretty well.”

“I’ll do better than you, I bet,” Blink whispered to Nixi.

“You just watch,” she replied, giving him an evil smirk.

“Behave, you two,” Professor Zero muttered. “This is important.”

continued…

The Final Confession of Judas Iscariot (#FridayFlash)

This is one of those stories I’ve wanted to write for a long time, and finally managed it this week. Being Good Friday, I guess it’s the best time for it. It ’s an alternate history in which Judas did not hang himself…

---

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

The final confession of Judas, the Iscarius and Betrayer.

The Master taught us many things while He dwelt among us, and we did not understand some of them at the time. I, perhaps I understood least of all. But with certain death comes a measure of clarity, and this night I have finally learned the last lesson.

I have spent my final hours in prayer—why sleep, when eternal rest comes with the dawn? I have not prayed for deliverance, for the Messiah had told my fate in the hours before my greatest error: Woe to him by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would be better for him if he had never been born. He forgave me, of course, the night after he rose from the dead. He set out to conquer something far greater than the Romans—He conquered Death itself. And though I wished to die, He bid me live instead.

My errors were many in life, but this was my greatest: I believed He had come to establish an earthly kingdom. I gave Him over to the Sanhedrin, believing that I could force His hand. That He would at last show his power, throw off the shackles of his captors, and restore the Kingdom. One does not force God’s hand! At best, he may find that he has only done what God intended in the end.

Dawn is breaking. My time is short. The scaffold is ready, and I hear the guards coming. Would that I had the honor of dying on a cross, like the Master! But though I am the worst criminal of all, I shall be hung like a common one. Or a suicide.

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 15

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

---

The augmented reality display showed Blink, bent over with hands on his knees, in the fading light of the decoy. “Come on,” he rasped, tossing Blink over his shoulder. He started to toss the bag of mines, then stopped. “Heyyy.” He armed their last four mines, laid them in a row, then jogged straight away from the approaching ABAs.

“I can walk now,” Blink protested.

“Gotta keep moving,” Captain Heroic replied. “Maybe we’ll buy ourselves some time…”

Behind them, they heard two sharp clanks, the limpet mines’ strong magnets catching a bot by the ankles. A few seconds later, the mines detonated.

“About time I got one!” Captain Heroic laughed, setting Blink down. “Nixi. One or two?”

“One,” Nixi replied. “Unfortunately.”

“Can you run now, Blink? We still got one more after us.”

“Maybe we should lay down some more mines,” said Blink, still short of breath.

“I put all four down. I figured we’d have a better chance of nailing one.”

“The last one’s still coming,” said Nixi. “You need to keep moving. Maybe it’ll turn back.”

“Roger.” They got moving. Nixi used the display to point them toward the road. Behind them, the ABA kept coming, picking its way through the trees that slowed its pursuit. Blink picked up the pace as his wind came back, but the battle-bot continued to gain on them.

“If we had another decoy…” Captain Heroic muttered.

“Any chance you got a lighter?” Blink asked.

“Hey, yeah. I had it in case Nixi’s remotes didn’t work. You got something in mind?”

“Yeah.” Blink pulled off his hoodie and hung it on a tree branch. “Light it up.”

“Nice improvisation. Good to know some of what I’ve been teaching stuck.” Captain Heroic held the lighter to the cotton-polyester garment until it caught fire. It blazed up, and they hustled away, veering toward the road.

“That worked,” Nixi told them. “For now, at least. It’s at the hoodie, but it’s just standing there and shooting it. I think it’s going to wait for your decoy to finish burning up, then it’ll come for you again.”

“Let it,” said Captain Heroic. “We’re at the road.” They crawled under the hedge, then crossed the road and crawled through on the other side. “That should slow it down.” They doubled back, jogging a little faster now. Behind them, they heard the ABA crash through the hedge. They picked up the pace.

Then Captain Heroic fell with a strangled cry.

“What?” Blink rasped. “Are you okay?”

“Crap. It’s my ankle. Keep going.”

“No way. I ain’t leaving you here.” Blink grabbed an arm and hauled the old hero to his good foot. “I’ll pop us back to the staging area.”

“You can’t! You’re already worn out. You don’t know what it will do to you.”

“Even if I pass out or something, that’s better than letting you get shot up.” Blink wrapped his arms around Captain Heroic and hoisted him. The staging area, he thought. I need to be there now.

Nothing happened. The bot drew closer. “Oh crap,” Blink breathed.

“Go! Run for it!” Captain Heroic insisted. Nixi and Zero echoed the sentiment in his headset.

“We’re not dead yet.” Blink looked at the approaching ABA in the display. “Hey. Maybe it’ll get confused if I move off.” He edged away from Captain Heroic, watching for any reaction. The bot slowed for a moment, turning toward Blink, then back to Captain Heroic, then continued toward the fallen superhero.

“No, you idiot! This way!” Blink picked up a rock and threw it at the battle-bot. He heard the missile clang off its armor, and threw two more. Again, the ABA stopped, as if assessing the situation, then turned back to Captain Heroic.

It’s over, the old superhero thought, watching the ABA loom larger in his display. I had a good run, though. It raised an arm, tipped with a machine gun—

Twin beams of energy stabbed down at the android, hurling it backwards. It slammed into a tree, then attempted to return fire. But as it shot, the energy beams blasted it again, vaporizing the bullets and melting the ABA’s armor. It ground to a halt in a shower of sparks.

Blink looked up, and saw a woman riding a sparkling rainbow. A golden cape billowed behind her. “The League of Devis!” he crowed. “Just in time!”

“Are there any more of those?” the Devi called down, her accent reminding Blink of Sarika’s.

“The rest are at the conference center,” Captain Heroic replied, pointing the way.

“Then I will join my fellows there. Be well!” She flew away.

“That was too close,” Blink muttered, helping Captain Heroic up again.

“You’d better get used to the phrase ‘in the nick of time,’ my friend. You’ll be hearing it a lot when you’re on active status.” Captain Heroic threw an arm around Blink’s shoulders. “Good thing I put you through all that conditioning, you can hold me up. Let’s get back to the staging area. The Devis can finish off the rest of the bots.”

“What about Warmonger?” Blink asked, then they heard the Jeep rev up. It crunched into the hedge as Warmonger turned it around on the narrow lane, then zoomed away.

“I guess he’s okay,” Captain Heroic winced as he forgot to stay off his bad ankle, and put some more weight on Blink.

“Warmonger tweeted you again,” Nixi told them. “He says, ‘I ran out of juice and the stupid hammer broke. Cavalry’s here anyway. See ya in the funny papers.’ Whatever that means.”

“Get on back here, you two,” said Professor Zero. “I’m sure Montana Rack wants that interview more than ever.”

to be continued…

continued…

Bailar Downriver (#FridayFlash)

This is another one of the “young Bailar” stories, the next scene after The Voice of the Forest.

---

The barge crew and porters laughed as Bailar sim Prensin pulled himself out of the muddy water of the river landing, using his staff and the gangplank to steady himself. “An inauspicious beginning,” he muttered, clambering onto the gangplank. On the other hand, he had kept his pack out of the water. His food and belongings were dry and safe.

“Hoy, lad.” One of the crew offered him a hand. “I’d not seen anyone slip off that gangplank before.”

“My balance is a steaming heap of bowgnoash,” said Bailar, letting the poleman haul him aboard. “Always has been.”

“To be rude about it, boy, no need,” the barge master snapped. “Yer pack, under the tarp ya can drop. Settle in, outta the way ya stay.”

“Yes, sir,” Bailar replied, using his new staff to keep his balance. Greased with fat and cured in the chimney, the river water ran off it. The only wet part was its leather boot. He made his way across the barge to the tarp. The crew had their own places staked out already, but there was plenty of open space. He chose a spot near one corner and sat with his pack. His bedroll was wet on one side, but he laid it out and left his pack on the dry side. It would all be dry by nightfall.

With that out of the way, he sat in the sun along the edge of the tarp, watching the porters and crew work. He was alone, but he had said his good-byes. His sisters tried to talk him into staying home, if only so he could mind their children once they chose mates and wed. But sorcery seemed like a good match for him—perhaps he could use magic to go and do without falling on his face so often. He would certainly see more of the wide world than he would staying at home. Even his parents had never been farther than Exidy…

The polemen strained, pushing the barge away from the landing. No turning back now, he thought, letting the early-summer sun dry his clothes. The next two days would be interesting. In the Matriarchy, women ruled from the household to the throne, but barges were a man’s domain.


“Your pardon, notable,” Bailar asked the first person he saw on the Exidy docks. Behind him, the porters offloaded sacks of wheat and rye, likely including some that his parents had grown. “Where might I find the local sorcerer?”

“Old Gilsen?” The woman looked him over. “He dwells across the river.” She pointed to a landing across the Wide; a wide-bottomed craft sat pulled up on shore. “You can hire a boat and paddle across, if you’re in a hurry. If it can wait, Mara can bring him to you even sooner.”

Bailer puzzled at the riddle for a moment. “Are you saying that’s Mara’s boat over there?”

“Indeed. Clever lad, you are. And yonder they come.” She pointed to two figures making their way down the river bank to the landing. “They’ll come ashore at the landing. Follow me.”

They made their way to the landing, Bailar watching his footing to avoid stumbling or worse. At the river’s edge, a sturdy woman pulled her boat ashore while the man sat waiting.

“Hoy, Mara!” Bailar’s guide called. “This boy-sprout wants a word with your passenger.”

The two of them eyed Bailar. The man nodded and clambered onto the damp sand. An old grand, Bailar thought, noticing the white sash draped over one shoulder. The man’s hair was only a slight shade darker than the sash.

“I am Gilsen the White,” the old grand greeted him. “Say your say.”

“My name is Bailar sim Prensin,” said Bailar, putting a hand to his forehead and bowing, the salute to a superior. “I wish to become your apprentice.”

“Indeed?” Gilsen looked surprised. “Son, you know that it takes more than a staff to become a sorcerer. You have to have the Talent.”

“I know, sir. This staff is to help me with my balance. I know I have magic in me, for I heard the Deep Forest speak.”

The two women looked at each other; their smirks said upriver bumpkin. Bailar ignored them.

“If that is true, then you may well be suitable,” said Gilsen, surprising the women.

“Do you have room for another apprentice?”

Gilsen stifled a laugh. “Indeed, son. If you would, come to the market with me. When we finish, we shall return to my home, and I will administer a few tests.”

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 14

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

---

“Guys,” Nixi said in their headsets, “Uncle Zero says the reinforcements are delayed. There’s been a big uptick in activity in town, and a lot of them are tied up. But Count Boris and a few of the Devis are breaking off and getting out here as soon as they can.”

“In other words,” Captain Heroic said, “we’re on our own. A retiree, a rookie, and a villain who temporarily switched sides.”

“What about Ma Ling?” Blink asked.

“Her skills aren’t geared toward fighting ABAs.” Professor Zero’s voice sounded distant; perhaps he was leaning over to speak into Nixi’s mike. “She’s helping us out where she can, and the security team is holding off the assault so far. The screen says about half the remaining ABAs are investigating the decoys. Tac is recalculating, but I’m sure it’s buying us some time. Get back in the fight, if you’re ready. We need all the help we can get right now.”

“Stay a little left,” Nixi reminded them. “Keep the decoys between you and the ABAs until you get a visual.”

“Roger,” said Captain Heroic, jogging along with little effort, like he and Stevie had done every morning. But now it was Blink running alongside, having no trouble.

Gunfire and a hollow clang resounded beyond the decoys. “One of the ABAs stopped moving,” said Nixi. “But it’s still up.”

“Warmonger probably kneecapped it with my hammer,” Captain Heroic chuckled. “I guess we need to get moving if we’re going to stay ahead.”

“Let’s do this,” said Blink. He scanned the woods ahead; the augmented reality display shaded the flames of the decoys and showed the ABAs moving closer. “Is it clear behind the closest one?”

“Yeah.” Nixi got that excited tone again. “Go get ‘em.”

“I’ll take one mine at a time,” Blink told Captain Heroic, hoisting a limpet mine. “Now you see me…” He disappeared, popping in behind the nearest ABA. It whirled to face him, and he threw the magnetic mine at it and popped back to his partner. “Two, one—” The flash preceded the explosion by about half a second, and Blink grinned. “That’s how we roll!”

“Confirmed down!” Nixi said, as they heard gunfire and another clang. “And it looks like Warmonger kneecapped another one.”

“I hope he’s okay,” Blink breathed.

“He will be,” Captain Heroic assured him. “He’s a survivor.”

“Tac reassessment in,” Professor Zero told them. “The decoys bought Security another twenty-five minutes, even if the remaining seven ABAs turn and rejoin the main force right now. Every one you guys take out gives us three more minutes.”

“Roger,” said Captain Heroic, handing Blink another mine. “Nixi, what’s the best one for Blink to take out next?”

“Third from the right,” she replied. “It’ll be clear in a few seconds. Ready… now!”

Blink was gone and back in two seconds; the mine detonated in two more seconds. “Boom-chaka-laka!” he yelled.

“Hey! Kid! Cap!” they heard, then Warmonger joined them, puffing and still clutching the hammer.

“You’re hurt!” Blink cried, looking at the gash on Warmonger’s arm.

“Just grazed. But I need a fresh tankful of that teenage wrath. Don’t worry about the ABAs, even your mom shoots better.”

Instead of the intended anger, Blink laughed. “Nice try.”

“Yeah, well keep an eye out for Captain Grabby-Hands there.”

Blink heard Captain Heroic draw a sharp breath, and Warmonger sighed with relief.

“Imply a straight old fart is gay, pisses ‘em off every time,” said Warmonger. “Okay, gotta run. You’re ahead four to three, right?” He sprinted back to the battle.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Blink. “I know you’re not gay. One of my best friends is, though. Only time I’ve been glad to get friend-zoned.”

Captain Heroic doubled over in a belly-laugh, and Nixi giggled in their headsets. In the distance, they heard Warmonger whooping in delight as he pounded another ABA.

“What’s next?” Blink asked Nixi.

“Either of the two on your right. They’ve reached the decoys, and they’re turning around.”

“Okay, this one’s a two-fer.” Blink held out both hands for mines.

“Don’t get cocky,” Captain Heroic warned, but gave Blink two mines. “Maybe we can keep them occupied if we get closer, though.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the decoy line.” Blink disappeared. Seconds later, two mines went off. “Six!” he yelled, as Captain Heroic jogged to meet him.

“Two headed to Warmonger’s position,” said Nixi.

“Warmonger!” Captain Heroic bellowed. “Incoming!”

“Incoming yourself!” Nixi shouted. “The other two are headed for you guys!”

“I need a rest,” Blink puffed, somewhere in the dark.

“Crap! You overdid it!” Zero grated through Nixi’s mike. “Break off and get out!”

“I got him!” Captain Heroic shouted, sprinting toward the decoy line.

continued…

Fair Trade (#FridayFlash)

“Is all well, good scribe?” Breeze wrote on the chalkboard.

Image source: openclipart.org

My feet were freezing, and I hate for my feet to be cold. The lighting was all wrong. This suit chafed me. But I really shouldn’t complain; I was one of the first twenty humans to set foot on Mars and converse with an alien in person. Symbolic, the language the Phwu had taught us over the last year, was very literal; an inquiry like this expected more than fine, thanks for an answer. “There is some discomfort,” I wrote below Breeze’s inquiry, “but I can function well enough.”

“I share in your discomfort, being very warm. Let us proceed, then.”

“Good Lord, it’s -50°C out here and he’s complaining about the heat,” I said aloud. That got a couple chuckles in my helmet radio.

“You’re talking about the fracking weather?” one of the ESA people griped.

“He said ‘let us proceed,’ so I think we’ll be getting down to business now,” I retorted.

Breeze—his (its?) real name was 40kph wind from the northwest at six atmospheres and 120 Kelvin, so you can understand why we gave him a nickname—confirmed my guess. “As we stated (two weeks) ago, we wish to use your fifth planet as a dwelling place. In exchange, we offer you our starship and the information you need to understand its working.”

I translated the Symbolic for the benefit of those in our delegation who didn’t understand it, as well as for the cameras. Everyone tried to respond at once, making a gabble in my helmet radio. “Ask him if the information is in Symbolic, or if we’ll have to figure out another language as well,” someone finally said.

“Got it,” I said, and turned to the chalkboard. “Must we learn another language to understand the technology?” I wrote.

“The information is in all interspecies languages, including Symbolic,” Breeze replied. “We include tutorials so that you may learn those languages compatible with your senses.” There were at least two dozen different languages used to communicate out in the galaxy; usually, two species could find one they could both use. Biologists were already talking about using some of them to communicate with dolphins.

Again, my helmet radio filled with gabble. The Chinese and ESA delegations were urging caution; NASA and Russia were gung-ho. When the transmission got back to Earth, the xenophobes would crap themselves, but that was normal. As far as I was concerned, it was a no-brainer. The whole galaxy in exchange for one lousy gas giant we weren’t going to use anyway? What I didn’t understand was why our delegation was trying to hash this out all over again; the Phwu had made the offer before they sent us the ship to bring us here. (One of the wags at NASA wanted to dub the ship Short Bus, since it seated twenty humans who probably didn’t measure up to the galactic average, but he got smacked down in a hurry.)

“Ecuador is trying to claim this ship as theirs, as it landed there,” one of the Russians said. “Where will the starship land, and what country might claim it?” The question of where the ship would land had almost triggered World War III, although we kept it really quiet so the Phwu wouldn’t hear. In the end, we all agreed on Ecuador. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea in retrospect.

“Wait a minute,” I said, and took up the chalk. “Can you broadcast the information and the tutorials to the entire world?” I wrote.

“Of course,” Breeze replied. “We expected to do just that.” You have to understand, in Symbolic, the phrase do just that is very emphatic.

“Uh, guys,” I said. “I think the Phwu understand us better than you think. If you put Breeze’s response in colloquial English, it would be ‘well, duh.’ Nobody’s going to have a leg up, here.”

Blessed silence filled my helmet for a minute. “I think that will be acceptable,” said one of the Chinese delegates.

“Works for us,” said NASA. The others, including the delegates from India and central Africa, agreed.

“We find that acceptable,” I wrote, conscious of the cameras recording my every move. “When will the broadcast begin?”

“In (one hour),” Breeze replied, then threw an arm around me in an approximation of a human hug. “As for the starship, we shall put it in orbit around the third planet. It belongs to all your people.”

“Get soil samples!” one of the NASA people shouted.

“Vacuum tubes?” I heard from an ESA delegate. “The electronics on this barge are from the fifties! Hell, we probably could have traded them a few computers for the starship!”

That, of course, was a completely different can of worms that we opened about seven hundred light-years from home.

Blink: Superhero Summer Camp, episode 13

Blink’s earlier adventures:

Blink
Blink’s First Adventure | 2 | 3 | 4

Superhero Summer Camp (this one): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

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“Okay, I’ve got you on the map,” Nixi said in his headset. “Follow the road for now, up toward the conference center.” That was the building he had popped out of just over an hour ago… but he could be mad at Nixi later. There was hero work to do. This is what he had trained for half the summer.

“Yeah.” Blink took the road in short pops, covering ground faster than he could run.

“Whoa,” said Nixi. “The three closest bots broke off and are heading your way. Every time you blink up the road, they change course.”

“That means they’re using infrared,” said Captain Heroic. “They’re following your body heat. Blink, if you’re willing, we can change tactics. Temporarily, anyway. Go ahead and take out those three, then come on back.” He explained what he had in mind.

“Cool,” Blink said, when he understood. “It’s getting dark, though. I can’t see much.”

“Flip down the glasses,” Nixi replied. “It’s an augmented reality display. It’ll show the position of the bots.”

“Awesome.” He flipped the lenses over his eyes, and the bots showed up as tiny red dots. “Still a ways away.”

Boom, he heard ahead of him, and one of the bots disappeared from the display. “What was that?” Blink asked.

“One of them stepped on a mine,” Zero replied. “None in your area to worry about, and your transponder will keep them from detonating on you, but be careful. Just remember, the bots will open fire if you’re close enough.”

“Yeah. Two to go.” The bots were red streaks in the display now. He moved in with short pops, trying to keep trees between himself and the enemy.

“Clear behind them! Go!” Nixi sounded excited.

“Now you see me…” he muttered, taking a limpet mine in each hand. He popped directly behind the one on his left. Up close, they were intimidating, ten-foot steel giants with machine guns for arms. Blink slapped a mine on its back, then popped away before they could react. As they spun to where he had stood, he popped behind the second one and mined it. Another pop took him back to the road.

“Clear!” he shouted. A second later, the mines detonated. “Owned your asses!” he yelled, pumping a fist.

“Good job,” said Zero. “Just remember, your mike is open. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” Truth be told, Blink was too excited to feel any fatigue or embarrassment. This was like being in a video game, but for real.

“Good. Come on back, and we’ll get the decoys deployed.”

The decoys were one of Captain Heroic’s improvisations: towels, soaked in diesel fuel from the backup generators, wrapped in plastic bags, and tied to iron bars. Blink carried four, Captain Heroic eight, and they hiked into the woods and planted them at Nixi’s direction.

“How is this going to work?” Blink asked, jamming one of his decoys into the soft ground.

“If the bots are programmed to check out heat sources,” said Captain Heroic, using a two-pound hammer to drive the bar in further, “they’ll turn this way. Hopefully, a few of them will step on the mines between here and there. More important, we might get enough of them to break off the attack to buy some more time. Nixi has remote lighters set up in these things. She’ll set them off once we’re clear.”

“Okay.” A few minutes later, they drove in the last one and headed back to the road. As they climbed into their golf cart, they heard a motor and saw lights approaching. “That sounds like Warmonger,” said Blink, squinting. “Yup, that’s his Jeep.”

The Jeep stopped, and Warmonger stepped out. “Hey, Cap,” he said. “You know we got a truce for the night, right?”

“Yeah,” Captain Heroic replied. “How did you get over the blowout strip? You’ve met Blink already, I’ve heard.”

“Special tires. You think I’ve never seen a blowout strip?” Warmonger eyed his old enemy’s hands. “Hey, is that a hammer? Can I borrow it?”

“What for?”

“To bash some robo-heads in, natch. Boots on the ground beats bots on the ground, every time.” Captain Heroic shrugged and tossed him the hammer. “Thanks. Hey, kid. Is he your baby-sitter?”

Blink’s anger flared up, and Warmonger grinned. “Yeahhh. That should do it for now. Where’s the action?”

“That way.” Captain Heroic pointed into the woods. “The bots are programmed to check out infrared sources, so we have a dozen flares planted down that way. They’ll go up in a minute. You can probably use them for cover.”

“Yeah, that’ll work. You guys take out any, yet?”

“I got two,” Blink replied with some pride.

“Alrighty. Time to catch up.” Warmonger sped into the woods, faster than Blink had ever seen anyone run.

“Whoa,” said Blink. “I thought only Jaguar could run that fast.”

“When he pisses someone off, like he did you just now, he can do all sorts of things. That’s why he hates facing off against the Masked Warriors. Those guys never lose their cool.”

continued…

DeVine (#FridayFlash)

Here’s a peek at one of Skyscraper City’s supervillains. If you haven’t been reading all along, don’t miss out on Blink: Superhero Summer Camp (link to first episode); new episodes drop every Monday. Or hit the Skyscraper City link for other related stories!

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From a distance, Gethsemane Church shines like a jewel on Skyscraper City’s northern edge. Crystal spires catch the sunlight, gleaming like a beacon and blinding unwary motorists at rush hour.

The grounds are no less imposing nor less beautiful. Exotic and native plants grow in ordered harmony across twelve acres of prime real estate. A wide expanse of lawn, manicured as finely as any country club’s fairways, provides a natural space for outdoor events. Even the sprawling parking lot, big enough for a thousand cars, has plenty of shade and greenspace. The impious often say that Gethsemane is a shrine to its High Minister, Charles “Chuck” Worley. But it’s hard to argue with success, and Gethsemane is success on steroids.

Image source: openclipart.org

But even Rev. Worley would say that there are two gems in the tiara that is his church. One is the replica of its namesake, the Garden of Gethsemane, where the Savior Himself prayed for deliverance. The other is indoors, the Arch of Living Vines over the pulpit, reminding the faithful of the parable of the vine. (These vines are not grapes, and bear no fruit, but that minor quibble is lost on most.)

On this Tuesday afternoon, the sanctuary is almost empty—except for one man at the Living Vine. Snick go a pair of clippers, and a long length of vine drops to the floor atop a growing pile of clippings. Anyone watching Philip Klor at work would be horrified, but Klor insists on working with nobody nearby. He does his job well (and cheaply) enough that Worley tolerates this one quirk. Nobody else could complete his vision of an arch of vines over his pulpit, after all.

With the arch thinned out, Klor reached out and focused. Slowly at first, then gaining speed, the vines grew. On both sides, the vines stretched up the chicken wire that formed the Arch, thickening and leafing out. In minutes, the chicken wire was hidden by lush green, growing exactly where it needed, with not a single leaf out of place.

Klor hopped down the ladder and strode to the back of the sanctuary to check his handiwork. “Lookin’ good as always,” he muttered. Returning to the risen area around the pulpit, he stuffed the clippings into a bag and fed the planters a generous helping of fertilizer and mulch. Automatic systems, more of Klor’s handiwork, took care of the watering part.

Sauntering out to the prayer garden, he looked around. That chump Worley often brought his own chumps out here to shake more money out of their pockets, but today he had the place to himself. He checked the place out, willing a few of the plants to try a little harder, to get a little greener. As always, they responded. The pay was crappy, and Klor often daydreamed of walking out and burying the grounds in kudzu behind him, but he did his job. It was—no pun intended—excellent cover for his real work.

Tucked away behind a holly hedge was the caretaker’s cottage. Gethsemane provided him with living space, but he had to pay rent out of what little they paid him. Not to mention the ten percent “tithe” they withheld from his meager paycheck on top of taxes… but this megachurch was not Klor’s sole source of income.

Not by a long shot.

He deposited the clippings in the mulcher system behind the cottage, then went inside for a shower. Minutes later, clean and refreshed, he sat at his computer. His Internet link went through the church’s network, which was constantly monitored for signs of impropriety, but there were ways around that. Accessing his cover site, a botanical database, he hopped on the anonymizing relay and went to town. Or, to be more precise, Twitter.

Party at my place Friday, one tweet offered. There were several replies from accounts he followed, chatty cover aliases, offering to bring drinks or snacks. He chimed in with his own reply.

The supervillains were planning something big. DeVine meant to be a part of it.