A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 26

Inside the dingy motel room Ian sat pensively at the foot of the bed. Vale pulled off her bow and placed it on the dresser. She leaned against it while Mal laid down between them. Ban stood near the doorway surveying the room with obvious distaste before stepping inside. He focused on Ian, silently prompting him to explain his earlier statement.

Ian glanced at Vale and she shrugged in acquiescence, "We need to trust someone. He is part of the Order of Brass, he knows the city, and he is appropriately cautious of the Court."

Ian trusted her judgment. Less than thrilled, he succinctly described the circumstances that brought him here. Again. The warehouse fight, the golem, waking up in a strange cave, meeting Vale and Mal. He left out Anders because he simply couldn't go through that again. Skipping ahead, he talked about the journey through the Ironwoods to Landorei at the Ranger's behest. The uneasy recounting of their introduction to Dakon DeBarro this morning filled the last major gap before the subsequent attack on their decoy hotel room. How or why they had information on the Harlequin Court Ian decided not to share.

Ban listened to the story without comment. Only glancing at Vale for confirmation when Ian's story began to sound like ridiculous fantasy. Which, mainly, was when Ian started his tale in D.C. on a place called Earth. She shrugged each time, leaving the minotaur to draw his own conclusions.

To prove his tale Ian pulled out exhibits A and B; his gun and phone. He powered on his phone and played a song, AC/DC's Thunderstruck. Everyone in the room expressed their own version of shock, giant wolves included, to the noise. Ian noted he still had a decent charge, and since it was of little use to him without any signal he went ahead and took a selfie with a visibly confused Vale. Then showed it to them, demonstrating it was more than a pretty light-box that made noise. Then he powered it back off, explaining that it could only be on for so long before it needed a recharge.

He didn't demonstrate how the gun worked but explained that it was a common weapon in his world and gave a warning to avoid the dangerous end. He also ejected the magazine and pushed out a bullet to show them. And as a last bit of proof, he pulled out his detective shield, which included a photo ID below it.

"Well, that is quite the tale," Ban said, breaking his pensive silence. "So, you're not crusading for justice, or even trying to fight. You just want to go home?"

Ian noted that the minotaur sounded almost disappointed.

"Your apparent fearlessness in walking brazenly into the law firm could also be construed as foolishness," Ban continued, "though that doesn't explain why they attacked your hotel room, at least not entirely. The Court is dangerous, but they can't know you are poking into their affairs... can they? And what's more, there is still no direct connection to the Partners, the leaders of Justiciar Law, and the Court." Ban began pacing now as he continued his musings. "Of course! The intercepted message. It must apply to Ian, it's too much of a coincidence."

"You must understand," Ban said, ceasing his pacing and facing Vale, "I have received information about a plan that the Court is very near to enacting. They mention a traveler from another realm, which must mean Ian. And these plans are for a worldwide catastrophe, and I do not doubt their veracity."

Ian felt a tingle on the back of his neck, drawing his attention away from Ban and towards the bay window. Out in the middle of the street, he saw a crimson-robed figure reading from a scroll. The scroll emanated a soft glow like a flickering candle, lighting up the reader like a Christmas caroler.

What is he...?

Orange light bloomed, and time stood still for Ian.

He recalled a physics project he'd done in college. The resulting term paper detailed the energy required to create the very object currently hurtling towards him. One-fifth of a megaton. His professor had failed him because the experiment was pure fantasy and in no way verifiable. No one would ever see a real fireball cast by an actual wizard. Proving his professor wrong may have given him a sense of triumph on any other day, but today he was busy trying not to die.