Adamant Blood

Mark stepped out onto the porch.

Mom sat on the bench on the porch, crying into her hands. Dad rubbed her back as he sat next to her.

Dad looked up first. “You don’t have to do this, Mark.”

Mom shuddered. She did not look up.

Mark had a lot of thoughts bouncing in his head for the last few hours. He put some of them to words. “I have a chance to help a Hero of Humanity come back from the brink. In the worst case, it’s one life given in pursuit of a higher calling. In the best case, everyone gets what they want and more people don’t have to die to a Fallen archmage or dragon, and Addashield can stand trial for what he has done already. I have to do it. I hope you can forgive me if the worst should…” He teared up. “But if the worst should happen, then it’ll happen to me, and that’s fine. Grandpa would be proud, and we should all be so lucky to be able to spend our lives helping others.” He held back a sob, and said, “You’d do the same if it was you. Humanity helps each other. That is what we do. That is how we survive.”

Dad shuddered, tears flowing freely, quietly. He looked upon Mark, and his words failed him. He was proud, terrified, and bereft all at once. He could only nod.

Mom breathed in, sobbed once more, and then sat up. With tears streaming down her puffy red face, she said, “You’re taking on too much responsibility, Mark. You can barely walk without wobbling. You’re still a year away from being able to train with a weapon again and Addashield is a monster. Even with these… these dangerous drugs...” She stood up, looked Mark in the eyes, and said, “Promise me that if you need to, you will take the Tutorial teleport and escape him, and then use the option to appear somewhere in Daihoon.”

Mark easily said, “I promise.”

Mom hugged him tight, and Mark fell into the embrace. Dad hugged both of them.

Mom softly said, “Demons can’t be reasoned with, Mark. Don’t try to reason with them, and never believe what they say.”

Dad added, “You’ve seen the movies, Mark. Those movies are not far off from the truth. Demons are not people.”

Mom whispered, “All they care about is what they can get out of a person. They don’t actually need anything at all. They…” She stopped. She breathed.

Mark held on to both of them.

Some time later, Detective John spoke up behind Mark, “Pack up your essentials. We need you two unfindable, because Addashield’s demon will absolutely use you to force Mark into accepting a demonic Contract.” He told Mark, “Addashield’s demon will probably use a lot of people to try and force you into a demonic Contract with one of her brethren. You don’t have to accept a Contract you don’t want. Demons don’t respect humans as anything other than diversions, but they do recognize other demons, and there’s not a single demon that will accept a Contract made for them by another demon at spellpoint. Whatever lies and truths you might hear in the future, believe that, Mark. You don’t have to accept a Contract you don’t like.”

Mark let go of his parents to hear the Detective, but Mom still held onto one of his arms while Dad held a shoulder. Mark said, “I understand.”

Mom tensed. Dad’s grip firmed.

“Good,” Detective John said, “I want Mom and Dad cleared out in an hour.” He turned to the police and other people standing around in the night, by their cars, by the street, all of them wearing dark colors, some with wind floating their sleeves, others with headgear with a lot of lights, and some who seemed not there, until Mark noticed them, and then they were gone again. A lot of active heroes. Detective John called out, “Wake the neighborhood! We’re evacuating everyone, as planned. Red line to 5 kilometers out, orange beyond that. Move!”

People got moving.

Mark kinda stood to the side, in the living room.

Mom and Dad already had some go-bags packed, because any sane person would have those packed. But they were going on an extended vacation; not just an evacuation. Most people would expect to be gone for a month, at the earliest. Maybe forever. Or at least that’s what Mark overheard as people moved.

Some technomage came in and did some stuff to all the electronic devices in the house, sparks flickering from her fingertips as she moved throughout the property. The last thing she did was install a bread-box-sized silver cube into one corner of the living room by plugging it into a socket and then doing some sort of magic to it and the walls. The silver box grew into the wall with a bunch of silver tendrils. The power flickered, and then came back.

“House isolated and AI installed,” the technomage announced to Paladin David.

David nodded. He had stood near Mark this whole time. Mark wasn’t sure why David stood by him, but when Mark stepped toward the hallway to see whatever someone was doing to his room down the hall, David said, “Please stay here for now, Mark.”

“… Sure.”

Mark stayed put.

Brawny soldiers came in, looking like normal people, but they left the house carrying suitcases that were absolutely stuffed and moving furniture around everywhere. Someone asked Mom about accommodations for an archmage and Mom said something about grandpa’s bedroom being the best one, and that they had never really done anything to the room except clean it up. It was across the hall from Mark’s room.

The officers went into that room and did stuff.

“Will this actually work?” Mark asked Paladin David. “The whole… bring him back to himself, thing?”

“Probably not.” David looked down at Mark, his armor seeming to shine in the mundane light of the living room. “But it might.”

Mark asked, “Paladins are demon hunters, aren’t they? Have you ever killed an archmage before?”

“No one has killed an archmage in a non-compliant Contract in 550 years. It simply doesn’t happen. Killing a Fallen is a more realistic goal. We kill Fallen of all types, all the time. The last non-compliant archmage was 77 years ago, in 1970, in the middle of the Reveal; the breaking of the Veil. We couldn’t do a damned thing to him, either. His non-compliance cost your world much of India, and was responsible for Malaqua rising from those ashes and becoming a god. In the end, that archmage turned dragon, rather than simply die, rather than become Fallen. The dragon was much easier prey. Our previous generations killed the resulting dragon in under a week.”

Much of the Reveal was a time of great upheaval across the Two Worlds. Mark had only ever really learned North American history in high school and middle school. He didn’t know exactly what Paladin David was referring to, but he had heard some of Malaqua’s history, just as he knew all of the other gods of the New Pantheon.

Mark had one question, though, that burned brightly in his mind.

“You said ‘your world’? About Earth?” Mark asked, “You’re from Daihoon, then?”

Mark had never met someone from Daihoon before. Not in person, anyway. David looked like any other sort of human, and he was. Probably. The Veil had gone up an estimated 5,000 years ago, though, splitting humanity from itself. Not much had changed biologically between people, but, now that Mark was looking, David’s eyes were a bit purplish-blue, and his blond hair was a bit reddish here and there. The guy looked in his 40s, and maybe he was.

But he was a paladin, and the gods didn’t come back until after the Reveal. That’s why Mark didn’t recognize that he was daihoonian. Paladins were a thing over here, on Earth. They had yet to catch on much over on Daihoon. Too much culture over there that didn’t believe in gods.

Maybe David had parents from Earth? That happened a lot. Or the other way around happened, too.

Or maybe Mark’s understanding of the world was limited, which, ya know, was the most reasonable explanation.

David said, “Any other time I’d tell you about it, but I can’t right now. Informational security.”

… Oh.

He didn’t want Addashield learning of people from Mark and then going after those people.

Mark privately vowed to watch his words as much as he could… Which was just a normal thing to do around an archmage anyway, right?

- - - -

Mark hugged Mom and Dad once more on the porch.

Detective John interrupted the moment, saying, “If we stick around any longer, someone could get killed. We need to leave.”

Mom held Mark close, saying, “I love you, Mark.”

“Be safe, Mark,” Dad said, “And in a month you’ll be Awakened and we can go on vacation somewhere, or something. I love you.”

“And you’ll be big and strong again, too!” Mom said, trying to smile through the tears.

Mark said, “I love you, both.”

This neighborhood of Gladegrove wasn’t too crowded with houses, but Mark heard people down the roads yelling at officers about how they didn’t want to move, while other people were already packed in their cars and driving away as fast as possible. Lights were on in every single home.

Some cop muttered to her friend about how it was ridiculous that they weren’t evacuating faster.

Mom and Dad both heard that, too. Mark hugged them tighter, and then he let go.

They let go a second later.

“Bye, Mom. Dad. See you later.”

“See you, son.”

“Love you, honey.”

“Love you.”

Mark watched them get into the hovering police car, and then take off down the street.

It had all happened so fast.

Holy shit, that had happened fast.

That thought struck Mark like a punch to the gut.

Mark stuck around on the porch for a little while longer, in the night, under the globe lights of the porch. Moths flew everywhere, casting wild shadows this way and that. Mark felt cold. He was still vastly underweight compared to what he used to be, though for his height of 5’8”, 125 pounds wasn’t that bad.

He shivered in his gym clothes.

Paladin David stood there with him for a little while, before he went into the house and found some hot cocoa and made Mark a mug. They sat on the porch together, and Mark felt less cold by the minute as he cradled the mug and sipped the cocoa.

Soldiers called out that their neighbor Jandon’s house was clear, and then they strung red and white warning tape across the pillars that led up to their porch. They did the same thing to the Williamson’s house down the road. Mark assumed they were doing more to other houses.

David said, “They’ll eventually get all of the area evacuated, but it won’t happen till tomorrow. I’m leaving now, though.”

Mark chuckled. “You couldn’t stand up to an archmage, eh?”

“No. I can’t.”

“… Well thanks for telling the truth, but fucking hell that’s depressing.”

David grinned. And then he put his grin away. “This is probably going to work out exactly as we want. You’ll get your first shipment of drugs by drone tomorrow, along with ready-to-eat meals. I’ll make sure it’s all labeled for you. The House AI will be able to help you organize further, if needed, but it shouldn’t be needed.” David stood up. “Demons won’t work at the behest of other demons, so no matter what you are told, know that you don’t have to accept a Contract forced upon you by some other demon’s actions. They actually hate it when a mortal is predisposed to welcome them into their soul.”

Mark stood, and he wasn’t wobbly at all. “Detective John Smith said the same thing… That’s not his real name, is it?”

“It’s a fake name. He’s someone high up. I couldn’t tell you who.”

Mark breathed. And then he said, “So all of this is predicated on the idea that this will actually work to get Addashield back to civilization. I got a House AI now, and drugs that I assume cost a fortune, or which are gated behind knowing the right people, or having the right connections.” Mark asked his question, “What has Addashield said out there that makes you think this is going to work how you want it to work?”

“I can’t answer that one. Good night, and fair travels, Mark Careed.”

After a moment, Mark nodded. “… Fair travels.”

David walked down the porch stairs, into the night.

Mark blinked, and somehow David was gone.

“… Maybe a speedster?” Mark openly guessed. “Teleporter?” And then Mark stepped out into the night, holding onto the railing of the porch, calling out into the sky, “You can come over tomorrow if you want, Addashield!”

Was it stupid to call out to a near-Fallen archmage?

Yes.

Was Mark being stupid, or was he being smart about the chances to make this work out right?

He had no idea. He felt honorable, though. Maybe that was more important than being smart or dumb. Smarts and stupids only mattered when you knew all or near-all of the forces in a system. Mark knew nothing about anything right now. And so: Honor. Honor could get you through the unknown, and if you died, then at least you didn’t hurt others on your way out.

Mark went back inside the house.