Chapter X: The Blackstaff

AN:

Hey there, Fan-fic-folks!

So, after several rewrites, this is finally done. I got rid of the politics, as apparently it made no sense without having read and remembered most of the books and knowing a bit about the underlying mythology (the person who told me that was very emphatic about ditching it, so I did). Honestly, I'm kinda struggling trying to give Chloe actual things to do. I was originally planning to use her as a Stranger in a Strange Land (Seriously great book. Weird as hell, but great. Check it out if you ever get a chance. Only book that does weird and slightly off alien better is A Mote in Gods Eye.) surrogate to let me fill in Lore and World details when needed, but since it turns out that the way I put those details is nigh incomprehensible, I'm having to rethink a lot of the ideas I had for her. Maybe I'll let her come out on a mission or two in the future, maybe I'll finally work out how to flesh out this world in a way that makes sense. Either way, stay tuned in the new year.

Oh, yeah. This is the end of the first act of Bump in the Night. Current plan remains to try and spend the rest of this year (today was my last day of university until January) getting every uploaded story I have to the end of the first act (basically, after all the main players and story points are introduced and when the lead in to the main drama in the second act is done) before I go back and actually work at finishing them over the next few months. I've been trying to trim down some of my plans so you aren't all waiting a year for the end of stories I started two years ago, but thus far that is slow going. So, yes. Expect all the less populated stories to start updating this year, and then the others to continue in the new year. I'll do my best to keep y'all apprised as that inevitably changes when some godsdamned twist of fate conspires to make that plan impossible.

For those of you unaware, Ljosalfar technically means light elves. They're the pretty boys to the Svartalves swarthy dwarfish look. The new(ish) God of War does some pretty interesting things with them. Check it out, if you've got a PS4 or a subscription to most big youtubers. Jacksepticeye did a full lets play.

Kudos if you get the Russian Lit reference. :)

Also, thanks to Demondealer for reminding me this story exists. :D

Thanks for reading and, as always, please review

"Seriously, Merlin? Like, THE Merlin?"

I shrug. "Actually, he introduced himself as Myrrdin. I get the idea that he prefers that to the title."

Ellis leans back, running a hand over his head. "Wow. I mean, man. That's kind of awesome. And you said he gave you advice, too?"

I shrug again. "Yeah. So?"

"So..?" He seems almost shocked. His pince-nez were almost quivering with disbelief. "He's Merlin. The last person on record that he gave advice to was King Arthur Pendragon."

"King Arthur was real?"

The look he gave me was thoroughly unimpressed. "Yes, King Arthur was real. Man, what do they teach you kids in school these days?"

"The Mitochondria is the Powerhouse of the Cell?"

"What?"

"What?"

We stare at each other for several seconds.

Ebenezar coughs. "Whenever you two're done doin'... whatever this is, I need to take a look at that artefact."

I hold up a hand. "It's alright, sir. I think I've got it." I concentrate for a moment, and grin when the gem lights up. "See?"

One bushy eyebrow raises. "No."

"Well, we need to get back to... whatever that town was called, right?"

He nods. "Right."

"Gimme a sec." I focus, gently letting out a small stream of magic into the gem. It starts to glow, brighter and brighter, until suddenly flaring and then dimming as the light blaring out in all directions like a sun coagulates into a single line pointing off to the left. "That way." I point.

The wardens exchange a few mildly sceptical looks, but at Luccio's shrug, they start walking.

As the town rises up ahead of us in the distance, I let out a crowing yell "Hah! I told you! I got this, sir!"

Ebenezar chuckles and claps a solid hand down onto my shoulder. "Apparently you do, Max. Nice work."

The group of us start to head closer to the town, intending to pass through to the town. I was technically aiming for the Way back into the Nevernever, but since the town was between us and our goal, Ebenezar had decided to stop in and talk to the administrator. He wouldn't explain why - and if I wasn't such a respectful, upstanding young apprentice, I would've spent the whole journey bugging him to explain - but I assumed they were friends and he wanted to say goodbye before heading back to a war for survival.

At least we'd be able to rest for a while when we got there. Man, I hate, hated, and will forever hate walking.

Unfortunately, it looked like that rest wasn't going to happen. Loud voices yelling in the distance started off indistinct and muffled, but quickly cleared into comprehensible English as we arrived in the main street outside the administrators offices. Two crowds of people were standing outside the large hall, each headed by a single individual. The one closer to the building was easily recognised as Alma Dostoyevsky. The other, none of us could see the face of to recognise. They were short, though. Maybe five feet at most?

And yes, I realised that thought was ironic, coming from me, but I... eh... shut up.

Ebenezar lead the way as we pushed between the crowds, our little group providing a third side to the little triangular face-off. "What the hell is happening here?" I frowned at him for a moment, wondering why his lips and words didn't match. Then I remembered the spell. Apparently, Ebenezar McCoy spoke Russian. Which made sense, really. I mean, he had to have chosen this place as his hideout for a reason, right?

Dostoyevsky lit up when she saw the old man. "Old Coot! Welcome back. I was just explaining to this idiot that we aren't going to abandon our homes just because some Ljos want us to."

"Ljos?" I chime in.

"Ljosalfar: Light Elves and scions of Summer. They've been trying to get us to leave, so they can take our metals for their bows. This," With that, she gestures to the shorter man in front of her. "cowardly idiot wants us to throw down our axes and retreat, but I know we can hold the town. We've done it before, and we'll do it again."

The man steps forward. He seems entirely unbothered by the height difference and completely non-intimidated by the woman towering over him. "And if it were just those ljosalfar, I'd agree, but they're bringing others. Humans, a couple of satyrs. We can't take on that many, we'll-"

"have help," Ebenezar interjected smoothly. With a charming smile, he added "If you'll have us, of course."

Both Dostoyevsky and the idiot look almost astonished. "You... really? The White Council will help us?"

Ebenezar shrugs. "It's what I said, wasn't it? Now, where do you want us?"

They didn't attack at dawn.

Really missed a trick there, in my opinion. Dawn was awesome, both aesthetically and tactically. The latter especially for me. As the ljosalfar creep out of the treeline, Ebenezar leans down and says "Whenever you're ready, Max."

I take a breath and raise my wands.

The countryside explodes in colour and light as I very, very carefully manipulate the sunbeams streaking over the landscape. Carefully, because there was an astonishing amount of energy in a sunbeam and I could quite easily fuck up the planet if I wasn't, y'know. Careful. Lucky this was my thing, really. When it came to delicate shit, I was made out of awesome.

People always say never to look into the sun, but none of them say what to do when the sun looks into you. Not that surprising, I guess, given that non-magicals can't do even half of what I'm doing right now. Then again, this was in a simpler form on a Pink Floyd album cover, so maybe they should've come up with something. Either way, when this supernova of a flashbang went off, the baddies had no idea what hit them. Several of the enemy alfar and humans suddenly buckle and scream in the same instant. I should probably feel a pang of sympathy for them, given they're all going to be basically blind for the rest of their presumably short lives, but eh. Fuck 'em.

A line of the townspeople appeared from various windows and doorways and let off a volley of shots into the trees to the North. They were super effective! The screams from the bullets tearing through only added to the cacophony from my... killer lightshow.

Another set of screams arose from the townspeople we had posted on the South, pulling most of the people on the East and West out of position as they frantically raced to help their friends and family. It was kind of annoying, but I honestly couldn't blame them. Humans, we're emotional creatures.

Though it seemed we'd broken the first push, apparently the second had rallied well and they were concentrating on the southernmost side of the town. There wasn't much on that end, mostly residences (now empty) and a few town amenities. Unfortunately, that also meant there wasn't much cover, and our people were getting pushed back faster than they could hope to manage.

Eventually, it came down to the middle road. The ljosalfar hadn't the numbers to surround us, but they didn't really need them. Their expertise with bows wasn't just making them, after all. Any time any of our people lingered too long out of cover, they'd find themselves turned into a pincushion by three-foot tall Legolas-wannabes. None of them saw a damn thing coming.

I spent most of the time trying to stay sane - battles are incredibly noisy and chaotic, even for someone without my particular... sensitivity - but I did manage to catch Ebenezar being... suspicious. The man was on the senior council, literally the heavyweight's heavyweight champions, and here he was casting the real world version of a magic missile cantrip. That may have been a little bit of an exaggeration, but this guy could do far more than he was. Normally, I'd assume he had his reasons and leave it at that - it was the prerogative of wizards to be grumpy and mysterious, after all - but right now I was stressed and tired and kind of pissed off and I just wanted to go lie down for a few quiet hours. So, I added to that chaos and noise. By yelling. At my Master's master. At one of the biggest, baddest wizard's on the planet. At least I was kind of polite about it though. "What the fuck are you doing? Kill them already!"

Ebenezar continued to blast lame-duck spells with one hand while turning his curious, disbelieving, craggy gaze onto me and raising one bushy brow. "What did you just say to me?"

"You heard me," Oh, I was so going to regret this later, "You could take all these idiots with your hands behind your fucking back, why are you going so easy on them!? Stop holding back, or we're going to die too!"

The old man stared at me for a few solid beats, his other hand never stopping moving all the while, then he sighed. "Hold this, then."

He tossed me his staff, and I had to scramble to catch it. There was no way in hell I was going to let it drop, I may have been rude to him, but I wasn't insane. He extended his hand and spoke a word I couldn't quite understand, then darkness swirled together and condensed into a staff of dark, twisted wood, unmarked by any kind of carving at all.

The Blackstaff.

I think, anyway. There had to be a reason for the title, after all.

Ebenezar turned away from me, facing toward the enemy line. Arrows flew at his robes, but none hit; half of the arrows bounced off, the other half simply shattered. His robes barely even rumpled. The old man said, mostly to himself, "Youngsters these days have no idea..."

Then, he swept the staff from left to right, murmured a word, and ripped the life from every enemy there. All of them, to a man, just... died. There was no struggle, no spellfire, no screaming or pain. One moment they were firing arrows at us like bullets from a machine gun, the next they were all on the ground.

Ebenezar stared at the line of corpses, implacable and aloof.

Me, I stared at the staff.

The Blackstaff pulsed and shimmered and quivered with what my senses could almost see as... delight. I got a truly disturbing image of this... thing, this weapon, being alive and knowing exactly what its purpose was, and that what it wanted was to be used for that purpose, as much and as spectacularly as possible. And I'd practically shoved him into indulging it.

God, I hated myself even more right then.

Stretching out across Ebenezar's leathery skin, veins of inky black ooze reached from his hand and disappeared into his robes. Ebenezar's grimace told me more than I wanted to know or see, and I felt another faint pang of regret for pushing him. Especially the knowledge that I'd never quite admit to myself, then or now, that when he looked at me, he saw the tiniest pieces of Dresden.

He opened his hand, and the staff, and the veins, vanished. He shuddered, then held out the same hand to me. "If you would..?"

I gave him his staff back. He smiled. "Was that what you were wantin', Max?"

I looked at him, then the line of corpses in the treeline, then him again. I nodded numbly.

"Good. Now, we should be gettin' along. I'm sure we all want to be back wherever you're stayin' soon, get some rest."

With that, he strode back into the town, calling out for the others. I stayed quiet as I scampered after him.

Dostoyevsky shook Ebenezar's hand with alarming gusto. An older man might've had his hand broken by her level of enthusiasm. "Thank you, Old Coot. Thank you. I don't know what magics you used here, but Tunguska owes you a debt of gratitude. Our Svartalves will be at your disposal for a commensurate favour, whenever you wish."

Ebenezar nods, the very picture of humble gratitude. "Thank you, Ma'am. That's most fair of you."

She smiles as she drops his hand, and the townsfolk seem close to applause as they watch us leave. Thank fuck they didn't though, that would just be embarrassing. Personally, I still walk just a bit faster than usual until we were at least a couple of miles out.

"Max!"

Chloe dashed out of the Mill's door and threw her arms around me. I had to stop a moment to catch up, but I quickly put my arms around her too. "Hi Chloe."

I vaguely catch Ebenezar walking past us out the corner of my eye, then hear an ancient sounding voice call out to greet him. "Hail, Elder. Enter and be welcome in this place."

I step up on my toes to peer over her shoulder at Weatherwax. The old woman in the doorway stares back unsparingly. Her hand was curled around a long staff tipped with a vibrant purple crystal. Ebenezar stood in front of her, studying her. Whatever he found must've satisfied him, because he simply gave a short nod back. "Thank you." He didn't bother with the old world formalities. Frankly, here, they were taken as given.

After all the pleasantries and "Hey, glad you're not dead!"s were exchanged, Weatherwax leads us back to the war-room. Our new addition being a member of the White Council, and one we all actually liked, seemed to boost the mood considerably. We spent the rest of that day drawing plans together, narrowing down where the other members of the Senior Council would've gone and how we were going to get them back. It was surprisingly hope-inducing.

We were all starting to think that maybe, just maybe, we could actually pull this off.