Magician Interrupted (6 page)

“Hello?”

Paris sat bolt upright and spotted a very
pretty face on a rather attractive body.

“Please, can you help me?” Her face and smile
were so pretty he missed her arm rising and hand spraying mist in
his face. The last thing he remembered was her laughter.

As he woke a voice silkily caressed his mind.
Do
you know why we succeeded all these years, Paris? We played to your
ego, the oldest trick in the book. You were very clever to conceal
yourself in the underworld but ever so stupid to stall for the
pretty face.

He stopped a groan from escaping his
mouth.

The mental voice of Jeffnia continued,
It’s a pity you left in such a hurry and missed the party. I
told father that it was my nose and therefore my revenge. I can’t
believe you three thought you were the only ones to hold true
power. And don’t think you can use this against us for you’ll be
put where you can do no harm. Poor Paris. If you hadn’t ruined my
party I’d have been forced to reward you suitably. I fear where you
are going there will be little comfort. Of course I could fix my
nose myself but then we’d be exposed. I may be vain but not stupid
like some I know. I did enjoy finding out something though. You are
one of the Magician Elect. We’ve been controlling you for years.
Oh, by the way, you aren’t snoozing by the tree now. They moved you
into Sak overnight. You’re in a prison cell!
There was a giggle
and then silence.

He heard voices speaking quietly. He couldn’t
bring himself to open his eyes but felt the hard surface under him
and the cold from the floor leeching through his clothes. What a
fool he’d been. There’d been a cry of help from a very pretty woman
with an angelic smile ... well, what was a man, no, what was a
marine to do but help her? Not that he had helped her. In fact, he
hadn’t even offered her help but the thought was there.
Somewhere.

“He’s waking,” a male voice said.

Paris had meant to stay still but had wiggled
in agitation. So much for outsmarting the Assemblers. The only
thing he had figured out was that they had been at this for a long
time and were much smarter than he. If he ever got to the marines
he was determined to become smarter. The marines were the smart
ones he was sure of it. And he’d been a puppet for far too long and
the marines were not puppets.

As he opened his eyes he noted the bare cell,
bars, and he wore only his pants and top. Everything else had been
stripped from him.

After an embarrassingly long trial held in
Sak the words of judgement fell hard upon his heart just as the
spell they’d bound him with was a constant pressure upon his mind
and body. The Assemblers, in their drab black robes, were sitting
around the court pit looking down on Paris. He grimaced at their
evident delight in the proceedings.

“We banish you to the underworld.”

Paris had just stood there. Caught in his own
trap. Underworld. The one place he’d decided not to go.

Five days later, after travelling by horses
along paths surrounded by woods, the Assemblers rode to the bramble
on their right. The dark, knotty shrub rose from the ground and
grew thicker and thicker, against a rising mountain range, the
further they rode. One Assembler looked far too happy cutting
Paris’s rope cuffs, shoved him down a narrow path through the
bramble and pushed him in. There was a swirling mist that tunneled
into dark depths. It was all a little dramatic for Paris’s
tastes.

The clamp on his powers was suddenly
gone.

“Don't bother trying to escape, Paris. We’ve
means to ensure the Demons take you.”

Paris broke out into a sweat. He’d been
incarcerated in that very small cell with no visitors in Sak. The
food had been minimal and tasteless and there had been little
light. He stumbled along the mist laden path, that became a steep
incline, unused to such physical exertion. It seemed like a long
time before he neared a base of a mountain he hadn't seen above the
brambles. A very dark tunnel lay in front of him. He tried licking
dry and cracked lips. His hands were hot and knees felt weak. He
could see vague shapes in the darkness and in fear he passed out.
It can’t have been for long because he was blinking with sudden
inspiration. He dashed back down the slope and out as if the demons
were chasing him.

He yelled causing those who brought him to
turn. “But you can’t banish me.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a marine that’s why.” A tall, uniformed
man appeared to their left and stared hard at the Assemblers. “We
are calling him in early. I’ve been tracking him for days.”

Paris sighed in relief. To the dithering
Assemblers he said, “Sorry, duty calls.”

There was a flurry of movement towards who he
thought was an officer and Paris was left out of the proceedings as
his fate was being decided.

Voices were rising but the voice of the
officer broke through the rabble. “Silence! He’s our new
mascot.”

Mascot? What the fuck?

At least he was getting a hang of marine
language.

With a grin, Paris couldn’t define, the
marine barked at him, “Move it, mascot.”

“Yes, um, officer.”

“I’m not an officer,
sir mascot
. I’m a
sergeant.”

Sir Mascot? Could mascots even be officers?
He hadn’t been knighted, that he knew of. Paris was insulted, and
confused. The sergeant’s uniform was pretty spiffy though so what
would his look like? As he marched behind the marine he asked,
“Excuse me, ah sarge. Is that mascot as in ‘witch’ or ‘good luck’?”
If he was going to say “witch” Paris decided to put a spell on the
soldier and get the hell out and hide for a few hundred years.

The sergeant gave him a contemptuous look.
“You don’t know anything about the marines do you … sir?”

“Um—”

“Good luck, it means good luck.”

Paris breathed out in relief.

“I don’t understand it though.”

Paris hurried his pace a little, struggling
to keep up. “Why?” Did he have the warehouse marine to thank or
curse for his position?

“Usually our mascots are pretty, and
female.”

Paris scowled.

Ahead was a marine cart. As Paris climbed in
he wondered how it moved for there was no horse. The marine poked a
key into a keyhole and turned it. The thing rumbled.

“Ah, it’s a marine mobility unit.” Paris was
suitably impressed.

The sergeant gave him another withering look.
“It’s a jeep.”

As they drove along in silence Paris grew
amazed. It was a few hours but Paris couldn’t believe the distance
they’d made in that time! He shivered, wrapped his arms around
himself feeling chilled and jumped when a sweater landed on his
lap. He twisted seeing a frizzy mass of brown hair framing the face
of a girl grinning at him from the back seat. Next to her was his
pack and boots. “Hi, Paris.”

He glanced at the sergeant, who seemed
unperturbed, before pulling on his top twisting again to grab his
boots. Thick soft tubes were stuffed inside.

“You need to wear those things on your feet,
they’re socks. It’ll make wearing boots more comfortable.”

He pulled them on liking the cushioning and
warmth. Next, he pulled on his boots noting they were more
comfortable and his feet didn’t move around as much. “Nice.” He
turned to stare at a curvy Path in her marine uniform. “What are
you up to?”

“Saving your scrawny arse. I’m the mascot and
I just fogged Mick’s brain a little.”

Paris sighed. “I owe you.”

She shrugged prettily and grinned. “We’re in
the marines!”

“What am I doing?”

“Well, you are down as a medic,” she said
smiling and leaned forward to watch the road. “But we can change
that if you’d like?”

Paris saw Ispa looming ahead again and
sighed. Soon he’d be off this world. He wondered though, at how
things might have been. Feeling depressed he said, “You knew they
were controlling me.”

Path nodded, her green eyes serious. “I was
trying to find a way to release you but the spells were
complex.”

Magician’s Elect were the top dogs. And now
he was stuck in the marines! “Damn it.”

The sergeant stopped off by Career Worlds and
Paris was reluctant to get out.

Path winked at him and jumped out and he
followed suit, albeit slowly. She leaned over and touched Mick on
the head. “Continue your duties.”

“Yes, ma’am. See you soon?”

Paris saw the lovesick expression and
groaned.

“Yes, on the ranger. Bye now.”

He took her hint and drove off, startling
some horses not used to mechanical beasts.

“What are we going to do? We’re stuck with
the marines now.” Paris peered into the window hoping not to see
the crazy chick.

Path nodded solemnly but pointed out, “This
gives you time to escape them and work out a plan. Besides, how
long are we in for?”

“Didn’t you check?” He said accusingly,
pretending he knew.

“No. I just wanted to be with you.”

Feeling like a dog to his cat, he shuffled
his feet and hung his head. “I didn’t read the fine print.”

“I’ll sort it out!” she said cheerily.

Paris knelt down and checked his pack even as
Path ducked into Career Worlds. After several minutes a smug
looking Path came out and strutted towards him. She was so tiny and
appealing he wasn’t surprised she ended up the mascot. Her face was
round and lips, pink.

“Only twenty years, Paris.”

He stared at her. “Only?”

She nodded, looking a little alarmed.

Paris yelled in delight. “That’s great
news!”

Path clapped her hands and accepted his hug,
meowing in his ear. He laughed and set her down.

“Come on then, let’s get off this
planet.”

Paris and Path waited in line to board the dark
shuttle that would take them to the war ranger with other marines
still lining up behind them. They made a merry bunch. Not in the
least bit keen to get off the planet, Paris thought ironically and
inwardly snorted. No one looked back. At first he’d been a little
miffed Path was with him but as she placed her tiny hand in his,
the resentment died away. Did marines hold hands? He doubted it.
But she was the mascot so maybe it was okay.

They took another step forward and waited
again.

“What adventures do you think we’ll
have?”

Paris had no idea but he’d watched shows on
brave heroes ranging off in space to save worlds. He sighed. They
were almost at the hatch. Inside it was dark and two marines stood
on either side checking credentials. Every time someone new stepped
in they moved to the right and disappeared into the depths. At last
it was their turn. The bored looking marines grew more animated and
they were shown to the left. Paris wondered if those for the meat
grinder were heading right and he was grateful that he’d been saved
from that. Actually, he should remember to thank Gareth for that
ring. The one ring that saved them all, well, him at least.

Paris leaned down. “Considering they don’t
get training like I thought they would they are all
well-disciplined.”

She nodded and her features were hidden from
his in the darkness of the passage. They followed a marine and then
turned right and were shown to a small space with three rows of
chairs. They were buckled in and left to wait. Paris realized he
should have gone to the toilet and kept turning around to get the
attention of someone.

“What’s the matter with you?” Path asked,
leaning towards him from the row across the aisle.

He mouthed, “Loo.”

Her emerald-colored eyes widened and then she
giggled. Clicking her fingers and batting her eyelids saw Paris
released and allowed to go. He moved to the back of the room,
seeing a little dunny sign flashing “vacant”, he opened the door
and moved in. As he was relieving himself an announcement sounded
from outside.

“Marines, we are lifting off.”

“Oh…”

He was flung to the side and the liquid from
the toilet sprayed up. He quickly tucked in his neglected boy just
in the nick of time as his front was flung against the door. Even
so it took him a moment to recover. He tried to seal the toilet lid
but it was too late. He stunk of pee. Moaning that magic didn’t
have a place everywhere was pointless and he couldn’t open the
door. He tried to cast a spell but was flung to the side. After
that he just crouched down.

An hour later the door opened and Path peeped
in. “Oops.”

He bit off his reply as she handed him fresh
clothes. Paris didn’t need to see his reflection in the little
mirror
again
to know his hair was dripping and sticking up,
he had red marks on his face, and was paler than usual. But he did
glance at the mirror as he left, seeing
it
smeared with
saliva when his face had been pressed up against it.

“There’s a shower in the next block.”

Fuming he left and quickly dashed into the
next block desperate to clean himself. After drying and dressing he
headed back down the passage and was awarded with a few frowns from
those running ranger checks. But no one questioned it. Paris
thought it was because how could he have gotten out of the harness
unless someone official released him? Groaning softly Paris hurried
back and sat, trying to work out how to get the harness on.

“Paris.”

“What?”

“We don’t need it at the moment.” Path’s
voice was apologetic. “I’m sorr—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Paris—”

He raised a hand. “Ah, ah.”

“But—”

He turned and frowned. “In the future if they
don’t let us out it’s probably for good reason.”

“They should have hatches on the toilets.”
She sounded annoyed at the marines lack of thought. “I’m going to
suggest that!”