Hidden Spark (Dark Magic Enforcer Book 6) (5 page)

I returned to my seat and we chatted about this and that, laughed and joked, drank tea and Mithnite ate all the sandwiches. Cocooned in love and stifling heat, belly full and a peace finally accepted for the things that had happened in the past. I could have stayed there forever, but there was business to be done and the hour was up all too soon.

As we said our goodbyes at the door she asked, "What's the job? And be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

"No, you aren't."

"Fair enough. Dancer had some story about a dragon stopping the dwarves being able to access their gold, but that's obviously nonsense. So, not sure. And why they want me is another mystery. They always take care of business themselves."

"Damn dwarves are sneaky buggers, and so rude. Be careful, and if you do meet a dragon, be nice, they're prone to incinerating anyone they don't like."

"So they really exist?" Nobody had ever told me they were real, now two people said they believed in them.

"They're real all right. I met one once. Right feisty bugger it was, too. So don't go trying to be a smartass."

"Me! As if. Come here, gimme a cuddle."

"Stupid boy."

She gave me the cuddle anyway. She even gave Mithnite one, and truth be told he probably needed it more than I did.

Fortified, buoyed, excited and somewhat nervous, I set off from Grandma's and the city with Mithnite in tow. I said he could wait at the car while I dealt with whatever this job really entailed, and could go get help if things went haywire. Poor boy was happy for the distraction, but I knew he still wasn't ready to talk.

Slowly, we made our way into the hills of South Wales to go meet Ulod at the old mine.

Off to the Mines

Wales has a long history of mining. Large communities formed around the much-needed sources of work, but as cheaper and cheaper imports became available, much like other industries such as the once booming steel industry, places closed, communities were devastated, unemployment skyrocketed, health deteriorated, and for the most part there wasn't a damn thing the Welsh could do about it.

Generations of miners, and the myriad businesses that supported them and their families, found themselves untethered from the one thing they believed was a constant. Mining ran deep in the hearts of the men. It was who they were, who their fathers were and their fathers before them, and it was all lost. Tradition and a way of life gone up in foreign, coal-fueled smoke.

Now there's little but museums left, or abandoned, black places, full of rusting machinery and lost dreams. Yet, in all the long history of digging underground, not a single person in Wales had ever seen a dwarf. Hard, superstitious miners even dismissed it as stuff just made up to spook young kids, never believing in them. They couldn't have been more wrong.

As with all true Hidden, dwarves have a permanent magical aura about them that hides their real identity from Regulars. It comes with the territory and isn't optional. Dwarves have interacted with miners and those exploring the world beneath our feet ever since man first thought, "Hey, there's bound to be something cool underground, wonder if we can ruin our planet by digging it up and burning it. There's got to be some interesting side-effects, too."

Dwarves aren't interested in coal or oil, though, they care, almost to the exclusion of all else, and that includes their own kind, even family, about gold. It's a passion, it's an obsession, and it's their god.

So the best way they found to come up into the world of man was to mingle. You know that grumpy dude with a thick beard, too much hair, face like a worn pair of good leather shoes that have seen better days, and hands that look like they could crush rock? That will be your dwarf.

They've got it easy in regards to the way they are presented to Regulars. They maintain most of the rugged look, just become normal height, lose the leather gear and the hammers too heavy for a human to lift, and dress like other miners, lost amid the throng. Quiet, obtuse, never interacting much with anyone as they mostly can't stand to deal with people they see as downright amateurs, and as for those of us that have no interest in mining or exploring what the underground has to offer, well, they pretty much hold us in utter contempt.

My musings on dwarves and mining in general were replaced with anticipation as I pulled up at the car park for the closed mine and followed the path that led to a stack of ancient metal machinery looking like a rusting preying mantis, all angles and out of place in the still-scarred landscape. This was one of many minor—and I mean very minor—tourist attractions, where you could wander around and get a glimpse into the life of the miner.

It was a grim business, and the signs by the various pieces of machinery and equipment told in no uncertain terms of the dangers involved in such enterprises in the early days, it remaining a hazardous occupation right up until becoming defunct.

We were the only ones there, as a sunny day in Wales doesn't often lead to people thinking wandering around looking at coal and slag heaps is a fun way to spend the morning—we save that for when it rains, as it's all about atmosphere.

Peering into a black pit, I heard a deep rumble from below. My body tingled in a way it hadn't for five years, and magic shunted my senses into overdrive as my eyes snapped to black and I almost lost consciousness with the ferocity of the magical vortex that slammed into my system like a troll charging for free chalk. I was elevated, alive like I'd forgotten was possible.

"Um, Mithnite, you might want to step back a little," I said casually as he strained to hear what was going on down in the depths.

"Why, what is it?"

"Something that eats trainee wizards for breakfast," I said as I bent at the knee and got ready to spray the dark arts around like a flamethrower.

"Oh, right." He took a step back, and then a few more, as out from the maw of the ravaged land came an almighty howl of otherworldly warning and I sidestepped just as a ferocious wind of white death erupted out and up, eddying and swirling around me.

Blinding, searing magic of an elemental nature battered my clothes, tearing my jacket open, my tie flapping like a noose above my head as it coalesced into the screaming face of a tortured ghost, impotent with rage that it expunged on the first hint of a magical presence.

Feeling almost weightless with the magic that surged through my tattoos—realigned to perfection thanks to a giant's gift—the magic engorged the ink that already stood proud of my skin, rubbing against my suit, making me feel like my skin would explode.

Oh, how powerful and alive I felt at that moment. How joyous a return to the man I had denied I truly was. My friend, my lover, my drug of choice back in my system after such a long hiatus. I'd been mad to deny myself this; I wasn't whole without it.

Streamers of magic shot from my fingers as I tried and failed to control the flow sufficiently, but my guard was up and in place, so if anyone was watching I'd just look like I'd lost the plot a little and was waving my arms like a loon. But as the shuddery lines of suppressive energy—making me feel like a Ghostbuster, and now the damn song was in my head—caught the tattered remnants of a ghost deranged with loneliness, I controlled myself, lowered the intensity and dragged it back down to ground level.

"Who you gonna call?" I sang, then shook my head and focused. Damn, but I was enjoying myself, and that's always a dangerous state to be in. It makes you sloppy.

The creature coalesced, scattered fragments of itself forming into the shape of a lost soul, a prisoner in the abandoned mine. A knocker, that's what it was.

I'd heard of them, knew they could be good or bad, a spirit faery of sorts, yet not quite real, if that makes sense? These were beings formed of superstition, yet never quite made it from man's mind to be truly individual beings in their own right, more an amalgamation of fears of the unknown. The half-formed creatures would 'knock' on the walls of the tunnels, warning the miners of danger, and over time the sounds miners heard formed into these almost-creatures.

Now the mine was empty and this roaming, lost, semi-soul was alone, unable to do what it had been brought almost into being to do. It wasn't malevolent, just afraid and scared and not even truly sentient, more the echoes of the minds of the men that toiled underground. Fear made ephemeral.

I caught Mithnite's movement out of the corner of my eye, and shouted, "No, it won't hurt us. It's just confused, okay?" He lowered his hands, the magic that shone along the length of his arm, tattoos proud and full of vitality receding as he returned magic to the Empty.

He was good, had progressed well by the looks of it, and I was proud of him for keeping his cool. I was also scared for him, but this was his path and his choice—I knew he'd never turn away from the life, whatever I said to him.

Focus back on the task at hand, I drew the knocker toward me, tightening my grip, making it compact and as much of a true thing as I could. It fought, not understanding, but I sucked deep, huge lungfuls of air tinged with coal dust and preternatural energy that wasn't a soul, just something on the verge that would now never get the chance to be whole.

In it came, down into my body, the essence of it inside, pure magic that was fragmented, directionless. And as the air cleared and the creature became naught but magic, I coughed it back up in thick lumps of white haze that shot up and away then drifted like fluffy clouds in the otherwise clear, blue sky. With a final spasm, the essence of an almost-thing popped out of existence.

Sweating, breathing torturous, I spat the last of it up and waited for the payback for using magic, stealing from the Empty.

Hands braced on knees, adrenaline pumping hard, body hyped and me joyous even as I anticipated the searing pain, I waited, and waited.

A jolt ran through my body, like an electric shock, and then I was back to being just me.

I'd wondered if this would be the case, and my musings had been correct. Once before, I'd battled and beat the magical comedown, a switch flipping in my head that told me I could master it if I only had the will. Now I was partially true Hidden, had magic of an immortal giant inside me, and five years of abstinence, my return to the Hidden world one of true acceptance. I was a different kind of wizard.

A dark magic enforcer the likes of which my world had never known before.

Life was about to get interesting.

Overdressed, Underprepared

"That was so cool," gushed an awed Mithnite, joining me. "Totally different to training."

"You better believe it. Look, I know we've conjured demons together, and that you've done lots of crazy stuff already, but this is the real thing, and it's deadly. You understand?"

"Yeah, course I do. But it was still cool."

Ah, the joys of youth. He'd learn, if he lived. It was a sudden downer to think of such things, but he knew better than anyone that it was a very real possibility. Better he understood and saw the reality of such things, than got himself in a sticky situation and froze.

I had no time to give a lecture, though, or even a minute to contemplate my newfound skills and bask in the glory of magical immersion, as Ulod appeared beside us as if he'd risen from the ground. I heard no car, didn't see him approach, and it was just downright unnerving as I turned, jumping, to see him standing there. I stared down at the top of his matted hair three feet below me.

"Damn, where'd you come from?" I took a few steps away so I could see his face.

"Deep down in the bowels of the earth from a place no human can ever know the name of."

"Um, okay. I didn't mean that, I meant... Never mind. So, are we ready?"

"I am, don't know about you," replied Ulod, giving me the once-over and scowling. "And what's that?" He pointed a stubby finger at Mithnite.

"I'm Mithnite. Nice to meet you."

Ulod grumbled then ignored him. "Okay, let's go. Need to grab anything? Change?" He frowned at me, at least I think he did. Dwarves have a permanent annoyed look even at the best of times.

"You said not to bring anything, that you had it all covered."

"I'm just taking you to meet them in charge, but not many dwarves wear suits for mining."

"Good, because I'm not a dwarf and don't intend to do much mining. I wear smart suits and I'm not bothered about gold."

Ulod kind of freaked. His face ran through a gamut of expressions from bewildered, to confused, angry, suspicious, settling on befuddled. "Haha, very funny."

I looked at him, sincere.

"You can't be serious? Everyone loves gold. It's so warm, and soft, and shiny and lovely. It's all there is, don't you know nuffin?"

I just shrugged. "Not bothered." I knew it was messing with his head, but I was still rather shaken by the encounter with the knocker, and besides, if you can't wind a dwarf up about gold then what's the point in them being here?

"Not... bothered," spluttered Ulod, unable to comprehend. "It's gold!" He managed, face bright red.

"Come on, let's get this over with. What now?"

"In there." He nodded at the large hole the knocker had come from, secured by a four foot railing to ensure nobody fell in.

"I thought all the elevators were out of commission? It's not even here now, just the framework."

"Don't need it. We gotta jump."

"Jump! Are you nuts? I'm not about to jump into a bloody big hole in the ground. We'll die."

"Don't be daft. You humans are so ignorant. We jump, them down below waitin' will take care of the rest."

I in no way felt confident about launching myself into a black pit of despair—my mind was like that often enough for me to have no inclination to do it physically as well—but Ulod seemed so confident that I trusted him. Sort of.

"Mithnite, don't go wandering off. Stay by the car and wait for me. This is your first job, so don't blow it. All you have to do is wait so I can drive home. Okay?"

"Aye, aye, Captain." He gave a smart salute. Cheeky bugger.