The Impossible Wizard: The Aegis of Merlin Book 1 Read online

  She logged out and smiled a self-satisfied smile. Nothing motivated the idiots like questioning their courage. Her tool would show up tomorrow, no doubt about it.

  Conryu’s fist hammered into the quarter-inch rope wrapped around the wooden training dummy. Like a machine gun his palms and forearms smacked the wooden dowels that jutted from it at odd angles. His shin slammed into the fake leg with enough force to crack it. Sweat dripped off his nose and soaked his hair.

  He’d come to the dojo early, both to help Dad with the morning class and to take his mind off the press conference Mr. Kane had set up for this afternoon. So far neither correcting the basic poses of the beginners or pounding out his frustrations on the dummy had done the least bit of good.

  Mr. Kane had stopped by late the night before to tell them what he’d decided, just like Conryu had no say in the matter. At least they didn’t expect him to speak. All they wanted him to do was stand there while the reporters snapped some pictures, like he was some new sort of animal being delivered to the zoo.

  He hit the center of the dummy with a double palm strike, rattling it in its frame.

  “Your form is a mess.”

  Conryu turned toward his father’s deep voice. The master of the dojo knelt before a small shrine that held a katana and wakizashi set that family legend claimed one of Conryu’s ancestors had wielded during the Elf War. He didn’t know if that was true, but the swords certainly looked old enough with their scuffed black scabbards and frayed ray-skin hilts. They were the oldest weapons in a room lined with just about every type of hand weapon imaginable, from simple staves to swords.

  “Just trying to work off some stress.”

  “Violence won’t help your anger, they feed on each other. Take deep breaths, move slowly. Let your chi flow from your core to your limbs, carrying the negative emotions away.”

  Dad hopped to his feet and began the familiar kata. Like a man moving in water his father shifted from one pose to the next, each movement accompanied by deep breathing. Conryu joined in, falling into the rhythm of movements he’d first learned as a four-year-old.

  As usual Dad was right. With each shift a little more anger left him until they stopped and Conryu felt at ease once more. They faced each other and he looked into the warm, gentle eyes of his father. Deep and brown, framed by fine wrinkles, those eyes held depths Conryu doubted he’d ever plumb.

  “Better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

  They bowed to each other and his father finally smiled. “May as well enjoy your five minutes of fame, Conryu. In a week they’ll have forgotten all about you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right. With age comes wisdom.”

  “And humility.”

  “Smart ass. When are you supposed to head over?”

  Conryu yawned. “Mr. Kane’s supposed to pick me and Mom up at two.”

  “You’d better take a shower and head home. Can’t have you smelling like a dojo on your big day.” Dad sniffed and pulled a face. “Though it might convince the reporters to keep their distance.”

  “Thanks. You coming to the show?”

  “Sorry, I have an afternoon class. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  Conryu nodded, not at all surprised that his father didn’t plan to join them. Outside the dojo Dad didn’t like dealing with people. Conryu didn’t know why, but Dad seldom went anywhere besides home and to the dojo.

  He headed to the locker room while his father returned to meditating in front of the shrine. Conryu took a shower and swapped his sweaty black gi for jeans and a t-shirt. He checked his phone. Only twelve thirty; he had time to stop by the garage on his way home. He had to tell Mr. McShane that he wouldn’t be coming to work for him as soon as he’d first hoped. It seemed only right to tell him in person rather than letting him hear it on the news tonight.

  Conryu paused to dry a drop of water from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt then slipped out the side door into the alley between the dojo and the pawn shop next door. A car whizzed by as he walked to the end of the alley and turned up the street to the shop. He stopped to look in one of the pawn shop’s windows. He’d found some valuable parts over the years, but alas not today. A shiny red electric guitar in the display caught his eye.

  He’d never learned to play—too busy with martial arts—but he’d always wanted to. It seemed a funny thing for someone that hated attention to be interested in, but there you go.

  It only took five minutes to walk from the dojo to the garage. Conryu centered himself as he approached the familiar two-bay structure. The right-hand door stood open and a huge gut covered in bib overalls stuck out from under a lift holding a sleek, green racing bike imported from the Empire. The rapid-fire click of a ratchet mingled with the acrid stink of spilled gas. Conryu sighed. What a great place.

  “Mr. McShane?”

  The ratchet fell silent and the gut jiggled as the master mechanic worked himself out from under the lift. A kind, grease-smeared face gradually appeared. The handlebar mustache twitched twice followed by an explosive sneeze.

  “Conryu, my boy. Come to give this old man a hand?”

  “Don’t I wish. Unfortunately, I have bad news.”

  Mr. McShane heaved himself to his feet. “Your folks are okay, aren’t they?”

  “They’re fine, it’s nothing like that. It’s just I won’t be able to come work for you as soon as I was hoping.” Conryu quickly filled him in on the gist of the situation. Mr. McShane listened in silence, his only reaction a slight widening of his eyes. It was nice to find someone besides Dad that didn’t freak out the moment they heard. “Anyway, I have to graduate from the academy before I can move on to get my mechanic’s license. There’s going to be an announcement today, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

  “I appreciate that. Don’t worry. Sooner or later there’ll be a place for you here whenever you want it.”

  “Thanks.” They shook hands and a weight lifted from Conryu’s chest. He really didn’t have to give up on his plans. If he was patient he could still do everything he wanted to. That thought buoyed him all the way to the press conference.

  Conryu tugged at the itchy collar of the stiff shirt his mother had presented him with upon his return home. She must have gone shopping since he knew for a fact he didn’t have anything in his closet this uncomfortable. At least she’d let him wear jeans, a brand new, stiff pair, but he’d take what he could get at this point.

  The two of them stood together in the entry hall of the Department of Magic. The secretaries were gone and the building silent. No one had even bothered to turn the lights on. All they had to see by was the diffused sunlight from the ceiling windows and what came in through the doors.

  Across the road four panel trucks with satellite dishes on their roofs had gathered along with a collection of reporters and cameramen. A hasty platform had been erected just outside the main entrance. Since it was a Saturday the traffic was minimal, nonetheless eight men in security service uniforms had gathered at either end of the driveway to keep confused visitors from entering the area. It was quite a circus, and all for him. Who’d have thought?

  “I wish Maria was here.”

  “I know.” His mother patted him on the back. “Orin didn’t want to confuse things by having a second student on the platform. Don’t worry, in another hour we’ll be back home and this will be nothing but a memory.”

  “Connie, Conryu, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  They turned to find Mr. Kane approaching along with an old man who looked like a mad scientist from a horror movie. He had a bright, not quite sane gleam in his eye. He stared at Conryu with an intensity that Conryu usually reserved for the latest model of motorcycle, the ones with bikini models lying across them. Sweat beaded up on Conryu’s back and he forced himself to relax. If Mr. Kane knew the man he couldn’t be dangerous.

  Mr. Kane gestured to the stranger. “This is Professor Angus McDoogle.
He’s a visiting scholar from Scotland. He has a hypothesis that you might not be the first male wizard.”

  The professor rushed over and grasped Conryu’s hand in his clammy fingers. “An absolute pleasure to meet you, my boy. Your appearance will be a boon to my work. I hope the two of us can be friends.”

  Conryu reclaimed his hand and wiped it on his pant leg. “Yeah. So if I’m not the first male wizard, who was?”

  “Merlin.”

  Conryu raised an eyebrow. “Like from the movies? King Arthur’s advisor?”

  “Not exactly. The Merlin you’re familiar with is based on old legends which in turn are potentially based on a real person. I’m still searching for definitive evidence, but you at least prove that a male wizard is more than just a fantasy. I also believe the great wizard’s spirit has lingered after his death to influence our world. I will be forever in your debt for proving part of my theory.”

  What a nut job.

  “Um, you’re welcome?”

  “Okay, Professor.” Mr. Kane grabbed the crazy man by the shoulders and turned back toward the interior of the building. “Why don’t you head back to your office? We need to begin the press conference.”

  Angus shrugged off Mr. Kane’s grip. “Surely you’ll want to have the world’s leading expert on male wizards out there with you to answer any questions the reporters might throw your way.”

  Leading expert? This guy thought a make-believe character was a real person. Conryu didn’t know which part of Scotland the professor came from, but they ought to send him back. Preferably in a straight jacket.

  “Angus, we talked about this.” Mr. Kane spoke in the tone he used to use when Conryu and Maria got into something they shouldn’t have. “Now get back to your office while you still have one.”

  The professor shuffled off, grumbling.

  When he’d gone Conryu asked, “Where’d you dig him up?”

  “Conryu!” His mother scowled at him.

  “It’s okay, Connie. Angus takes a little getting used to. He’s been overexcited ever since he learned about Conryu. You essentially validate half his thesis. Try not to take it personally.”

  “Whatever you say. Can we get this over with? This collar’s driving me nuts.”

  Mr. Kane laughed and guided them towards the front doors. The little group climbed up on the makeshift platform. Ten reporters and cameramen milled around in front of them. One lonely photographer snapped pictures. The blond wizard from yesterday joined them from another direction. She carried a folder tucked under her arm.

  “I trust you came up with something, Terra,” Mr. Kane said.

  “Yes, though it’s mostly nonsense and jargon. Nothing that would convince an actual scholar.”

  Mr. Kane smiled. “Never underestimate the power of nonsense and jargon. It’s the grease that keeps the wheels of government turning.”

  “I thought money did that,” Conryu muttered.

  His mother slapped him on the shoulder, but she had a faint smile.

  Mr. Kane stepped up to the podium and raised his hands. The assembled reporters fell silent. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out today. I’ll keep my remarks brief and please remember, no questions. The Department of Magic, in the course of our duties, has discovered the world’s first confirmed male wizard.”

  Silent stares of disbelief greeted this announcement followed by a blizzard of questions. Everyone was shouting at once and Conryu couldn’t make out a single word other than “impossible.” Every question seemed to have that word as an essential component.

  Mr. Kane raised his hands again, this time to considerably less effect. After several minutes of being completely ignored the reporters fell silent once more.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Kane continued. “As I was saying, we’re not taking questions, but when I finish my remarks our leading researcher will have more information for you. Now, this remarkable young man beside me…”

  He paused as all eyes and cameras turned to focus on Conryu who offered a feeble wave.

  “This young man is Conryu Koda. Over the course of our standard annual testing the portable device indicated he possessed wizardly potential.”

  Mr. Kane droned on, telling the press everything that happened yesterday. Conryu’s attention went to the photographer. The man had put his camera away and was staring at Conryu with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

  Conryu started to point him out to his mother, but the photographer broke eye contact and reached for his gear bag. Conryu blew out a breath. Just his imagination.

  The photographer came up with a saw-backed bowie knife and charged the platform.

  “For the True Face of God!” he screamed as he reached the edge of the platform.

  Reporters shouted.

  Cameramen rushed to adjust their target.

  The lunatic with the knife leapt onto the platform.

  Conryu stepped in front of his mother.

  “Die, abomination!” The photographer charged, the knife raised above his head.

  Conryu stepped in, grabbed his wrist as the knife descended, twisted and yanked him off balance. The man’s wrist locked and he doubled over. Conryu plucked the knife from his opponent’s disabled hand and tossed it over beside the podium.

  Fists hardened by years of training lashed out, pummeling the attacker in the jaw and temple. Conryu hit him eight times in two seconds. When he finished, the unconscious man slumped to the stage, just as the security men arrived to claim him.

  Fat lot of help they were.

  Once again Conryu found himself the center of attention. Questions were shouted his way. He shot Mr. Kane a desperate look.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Kane shouted over the questions, “that concludes our press conference. We’ll email you copies of our researcher’s notes. Good afternoon.”

  Everyone retreated to the Department building. As soon as they were inside Mom rounded on Mr. Kane. “I thought you said there’d be good security? Conryu might have been killed.”

  “No way,” Conryu said. “That guy had no idea how to properly use a knife.”

  “What if he’d had a gun?”

  Conryu couldn’t argue with that.

  “I know you’re upset, Connie, but please try to keep calm.”

  “Calm! What if it had been Maria out there? Would you be able to keep calm?”

  “I take your point. However, the assailant has been subdued and we’re all safe now.”

  “This assailant. What about the next one? I never should have let you talk me into this. You’ve made my son a target.”

  “Mom, relax. We read about these True Face of God guys in school. They want to kill all wizards. The girls are in just as much danger as I am. Besides, they aren’t very good at their job. As of six months ago they’d only managed to murder three wizards, and they’ve been around for like twenty years.”

  “Am I just supposed to accept the fact that lunatics with knives are hunting you?”

  Conryu cocked his head. “Is there some other option?”

  Detective Lin Chang pulled into the parking lot of the Department of Magic. One of the security officers raised her hand to stop him until he flashed his badge. The woman moved aside and waved him toward a mixed group of police and security officers. They were all gathered around a beat-up, rusted-out, once tan pickup. That had to be the assailant’s vehicle.

  When Lin had gotten word that Conryu had been attacked by a knife-wielding maniac on national tv he’d jumped to get the case. It didn’t surprise him to learn Conryu had subdued the attacker. He attended the Koda dojo and had seen the young man fight. He might be seventeen, but Lin would have put him up against just about any two men he knew and be confident of Conryu coming out the winner. Lin simply couldn’t let someone get away with attacking a brother warrior, it was a matter of honor.

  He clambered out of his green sedan, attempted to straighten his perpetually wrinkled suit, gave up and ambled over to the gathering. “Someone
want to tell me what happened?”

  One of the red-shirted security officers stepped away from the group. “The assailant drew a weapon in the middle of a Department press conference and attempted to stab the victim, Conryu Koda. He was subdued and taken into custody.”

  One of the cops laughed. “Subdued? The medic said that kid fractured the nut’s skull. Be a wonder if he ever wakes up.”

  Lin turned his gaze on the cop. “And where is the assailant now?”

  “Ambulance took him to Sentinel Central Hospital. Don’t worry, Sarge, we told them to put the guy in a secure room and sent two of the boys along to make sure they did it.”

  Lin smiled when the officer used his nickname. He’d served six years in the Alliance military before being discharged with the rank of sergeant. “And the victim?”

  “We took his statement and got an address, then sent him home.”

  Lin clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. We get an ID on the attacker?”

  The same security man handed Lin a shoulder bag. “This was all he had on him.”

  Lin took the bag. “Who are you again?”

  “Adam Warren, head of security for the Department.”

  The truck had no tailgate so Lin set the bag in the bed. He dug a pair of rubber gloves out of his pocket, slipped them on, and pulled the bag open. Nothing too exciting inside. Photography accessories, film, lenses, and, hello, a business card. He took the card out and held it by the edges.

  Smith’s Freelance Photography. There was a picture of a black guy in his mid-thirties, a phone number, and an address. “This the attacker?” Lin asked.

  Adam shook his head. “Naw, the perp was a white guy.”

  “Well, well, the plot thickens.” Lin dialed the number on his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. He tapped his chin for a moment. “O’Shea!”

  One of the officers, a twenty-five-year-old kid with hair so red it almost glowed moved closer. “Sir?”

  “Go over to the hospital. I want the assailant fingerprinted as soon as he’s secured.”