Magical Maelstrom

The cold steel thrummed as it slapped the side of my head with the flat of the blade. I toppled to the right as the high executioner planted a boot on my neck, reversed the grip on his sword, and prepared to impale my me through the skull. “Hold it right there!” The voice that halted the large man was none other than my part time friend and wizard buddy, Jim Johnson. Jim isn't exactly your wizard standard. He wore a clean Hawaiian polo and khaki slacks, his tall stature, tanned skin, and black hair and stubble eased him into the look. He had a smooth smile and a strong voice, carrying his words across the abandoned warehouse. “With times are they are in the occult community, that's wizards included, we don't have enough intake of mages and sentinels to handle the operations we've undertaken, and killing off more won't help. His mistake is among the lesser of two evils.” Each of the wizards in the circle regarded him with cool expressions, either uncaring or just talented poker faces.

The elder-most wizard present stepped forward, his eyes grey with years upon years of knowledge. He drew his knarled oak staff upward, tip luminescent with charged energy, and pointing it at my eyes, all the while High Executioner still had the blade prepared to shish-kabob my brains. “Wizard Johnson,” he said, his own voice powerful despite his age, “although we may be in a difficult position, politically speaking, we cannot afford to have a man murdering people with magic. Especially not within our ranks.”

Jim laughed, his voice carrying across the cold walls. “In trial, it was established that Wizard Cliff used magic in his own self-defense. There was no cold malice to it, and no Black Magic intentions behind it.”

“Perhaps,” said the aged wizard, “but...”

Jim placed a hand up, simultaneously infuriating and interrupting him, “You yourself used Hindsight, you could clearly see the paths laid out for Nick as well as I could.”

The old man's eyes flickered with annoyance, but his features settled with age and wisdom.

Well, age anyway.

“As you can see,” Jim said, turning to the other wizards present, “Wizard Cliff should be freed of all charges.”

A general rumble of agreement echoed across the warehouse, muffling out the jeers. Jim slid back into his position. The aged wizard growled, but let the energy gathered in his staff wither. He slammed the solid wood into the bare concrete, creating an echo across the entire warehouse. “Thus, proceedings are dismissed. Wizard Cliff is to be released on probation. Wizard Ramirez.”

High Executioner Ramirez sheathed his long sword and turned to the elder wizard. “Yes, High Wizard?”

“I'm appointing you to keep an eye on Wizard Cliff, if he is caught breaking another Magical Accord, behead him.” I gulped.

“Yes sir.” He replied, and eyed me with malicious glee.

Jim and I walked toward the doors of the warehouse, and we left the warehouse and into the sunlight. California's sun slammed into my vision, but I strode with Jim out to our cars. His was an expensive Volvo with most of the electronics ripped out. One of the perks of using magic is being able to... Well, use magic. One of the cons of using magic is inadvertently breaking anything manufactured after the Cold War, especially electronics of any kind. If anything can go wrong, it will. I looked at my car, an old Lincoln that could probably double as a tank. Jim glanced at his wrist where an ancient timepiece stood on an old leather strap. “Nick, I've gotta head back to Nevada. You have things wrapped up here?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” With that, he jumped in his Sports Volvo and spewed gravel as he took to the roads. I watched him speed off and unlocked my car with the key. My remote unlock function mysteriously fizzled the other day...

Gee, I wonder how that happened?