Earth's Magic

O
MENS

“T
he dragon again?” King Arthur said, trying to keep exasperation out of his voice.

“Yes, Sire,” the shepherd answered, bobbing his head deferentially. “Meaning no disrespect, Your Majesty, and we all know how important that dragon is, and the great adventure she went on taking your wizards around the whole world and all. But, Sire, she does eat rather a lot of sheep.”

The King began raking a hand through his blond hair, then stopped, suspecting it looked unkingly. “I know. And whenever we are told of a sheep taken by her, we do compensate the shepherd.”

“Yes, Sire, and we appreciate that, we do. But we are sheep-herders here, you see. And for that we need sheep—something to herd, if you get my meaning.”

“Of course. And I will try to do something about the situation. I thank you for bringing it to my attention. Now, be sure to go to my steward in the next room to receive your compensation.”

As the shepherd left, awkwardly trying to walk and bow at the same time, Otto Bowman, the King’s chief general, walked into the manor’s modest audience chamber. “Arthur, a courier
just arrived with a dispatch from Derbyshire,” the burly, black-bearded man said. “And there’s a couple of farmers waiting outside for you to settle some dispute over their land boundaries.”

The King stood up and paced to the room’s small window. It was one of the few in town still covered by ancient pre-Devastation glass. For a moment he seemed to study the water droplets slowly dripping from the tip of a dangling icicle. He sighed. “I’ve been waiting for the Derbyshire news, but I had better deal with the squabbling neighbors first. After all, Cumbria accepted me as their king before any of the other shires, and in the end, settling disputes and tending to the harvest is what kings
should
be doing instead of fighting wars.” He sighed. “Creating a peace so that we can do that—let people live their lives—is the only reason for fighting these wars.”

Frowning, the King turned around and glowered at his general. “But one thing I do
not
want to hear is any more complaints about that dragon. Otto, see if you can find Merlin. I have a job for him.”

The big man shrugged. “Haven’t seen the kid all day. But Heather’s down in the courtyard trying to teach tricks to that freakish two-headed dog of hers.”

“Good. Ask her to find Merlin and get him to convince that dragon either to not kill so many sheep or to spread out her hunting territory so the same flocks aren’t hit all the time.”

Otto nodded, walked into the next room, and ushered the two nervous farmers into the presence of their king. Then, lumbering down to the courtyard, he looked around for the girl, suppressing the slight tingle of uneasiness he always felt when dealing with magic workers.

Heather McKenna, he realized, really shouldn’t bother him. She was just a rather plain-looking teenaged girl, not much different, except perhaps in degree, from most of the other people
who were developing surprising powers now that the forces of magic were returning to the world. Though he had to admit that it felt just plain creepy that she claimed to be able to talk in her mind to certain magical people all over the world. But it was her boyfriend who really made Otto nervous. Heather might call him Earl Bedwas, as she had first known him in that Welsh school of theirs. But Arthur insisted that the pale, gangly teenage boy was really the ancient wizard Merlin magically returned to youth, returned to youth as Arthur himself had been.

Otto shrugged. After all, he’d been among the first to follow Arthur when the young charismatic man had arrived in Cumbria. Their old king had just died, and Otto, as one of his former generals, had realized that their shire, isolated on the northwest edge of England, needed leadership quickly. He’d never regretted his choice. Newcomer or not, Arthur was what was needed. And if he and most of Britain now accepted that their King Arthur was the original one out of legend, why couldn’t that strange kid who had come with him be the original Merlin? Everyone had certainly seen him work enough powerful magic. It’s just that it clashed so much with expectations. The storied Merlin had been an old man with a long gray beard. This scrawny kid was barely managing a scraggly first beard. He looked more like an underfed goat than a wise wizard.

Otto forcibly shoved aside his doubts. His job was fighting wars, not speculating about insubstantial things like magic. Glancing around the courtyard, he spied the slim girl he was searching for. She was sitting on the flagstones in the far corner staring at her two-headed mutie dog. Only one head was staring back. The other was looking all around with its pink tongue hanging out. When it saw the general approaching, that head perked up its ears and panted eagerly. Heather had been
chewing in concentration on the tip of a thin dark blond braid. Now she dropped that, looked around, and smiled at Otto.

He smiled tautly back. “How’s it coming with the dog training, miss?”

She frowned. “I’m trying to send Rus mental messages. His left head picks them up pretty well. His right would lots rather play than work.”

“Well, miss, it’s work I got for you now.” Then, remembering that she and that wizard kid had been engaged for several months, he added, “Though not too onerous an assignment, I think. Arthur wants you to go find Merlin and get him to do something about that dragon. She’s eating too many of the local shepherds’ sheep. Bad for public relations, you know.”

Eagerly Heather stood up. So did the dog, both heads now panting excitedly. “Right. He went out early this morning. I’ll check his usual haunts.”

Haunts is right
, Otto thought as he watched the girl and her silly dog heading out the gate. But unsettling as that kind of power was, he could hardly fault this Merlin kid for using it. Between his magic and Arthur’s leadership, it looked like Britain might be united again for the first time in the five hundred years since the Devastation. And then once the last holdouts like Glamorganshire and possibly Manchester were pulled into the union, they might at last have the peace that Arthur so longed for. And for all that he was a military man, Otto was beginning to feel ready for a little peace himself. Since Arthur’s arrival some three years ago, his had been a life of almost constant traveling and warfare. That could wear on even the most hardened soldier.

Grunting, Otto headed to the stairs. No time to dream about the future when the present was breathing down his neck. He’d better get back to Arthur and learn what was in those dispatches.

Heather, with Rus trotting behind, nodded to the guards as she left the old manor house that was the heart of the town of Keswick. The ancient complex of buildings had been repaired and expanded since it had been taken over by Cumbria’s new king. With all his traveling around Britain, he wasn’t in residence that often. But it made a good winter headquarters when the harsh winter closed down the land. And his Cumbrian subjects were so proud about having the High King living here that they’d planted the area around the manor with whatever rare flowering plants they’d been able to find and transplant. Now, of course, most were still just bare sticks or humps in the ground waiting for the brief growing season.

Heather glanced at the dormant garden and took a deep breath. The crisp morning air carried the tang of wood smoke from the town’s fireplaces. Overhead, the sky was the usual pale gray as the sun forced its way through the high pall of dust that had circled the world since the nuclear Devastation. But the heaviest of this year’s winter had passed, and temperatures were slowly edging upward. The sparkling air held a faint promise of spring.

She threaded her way through the familiar narrow streets of Keswick, nodding at the few people who gave her a greeting. She’d stopped resenting that most people treated her with reserve. It was understandable that they half feared the powers she had. She had feared those powers herself a few years ago when they’d first started appearing. At least her having such powers no longer made her seem a total freak in these people’s eyes. How could it when magic was popping out, in some degree or another, in so many people now? And though some folks might be leery of mutants like her dog, Rus, there were enough other muties around now that he hardly seemed unusual. Besides, with his shaggy black and white coat and his two happy, slobbering
faces, even the most fearful couldn’t deny that he was rather cute.

She shifted her fond gaze from Rus as he trotted before her and began scanning the field ahead, the warriors’ practice field on the edge of town. Earl didn’t spend a lot of time there. His warrior skills from his previous life seemed to have been well retained. But she thought that their mutual friend Welly would probably be there, and he might have some clue where to find Earl.

Welly was there, all right, and wearing his practice armor. But instead of sparring with sword or spear partners at the moment, he was standing watching a group of young women being trained in sword and dagger by Takata.

Heather stopped as well to watch the young Native American warrior barking orders and sparring with the others. She moved with the grace of a dancer but was as strong as any male warrior. And with her black braids flying and muscles rippling under her red-brown skin, the girl was simply a pleasure to watch. Heather sighed, not with envy but with admiration. She’d been in a few battles herself but could never have the skill or pleasure in fighting that Takata had. After another moment, Heather turned her attention to Welly.