A Scripta

Masonry started to laugh, “Your name is what?”

“Nutcracker.” The small brown-haired man gazed impassively at Masonry, as if he was bored with this whole exchange.

“What the hell kind of hero name is that?”

“Not any more stupid than Bladeless,” the man commented.

“It’s an obvious statement of my talent.”

“Might as well call yourself Bare-Knuckle Brawler. Oh, sorry, that’s been taken.” He walked to the middle of the huge room. Masonry had been impressed with the murals on the walls and the markings on the floor, not knowing what they were, but assuming they were magic. This room looked like it was used for battles. “Show me what you can do.”

Masonry summoned the darkness within, and his fists smoked. He looked up at Nutcracker.

“I’m waiting.”

“Do you want me to hit you?”

“Do whatever it is you do. I’m your enemy.”

Masonry looked down, and then rushed at Nutcracker. He hauled off and hit him hard in the ribs. It felt like he had punched a pillow.

“Again,” Nutcracker said, nonplussed.

Masonry let off a few good punches, and the man didn’t move. Again, it was like punching something soft. The man nodded. “Now, my turn.”

He raised his arms, and Masonry felt a huge blast of wind come at him. He centered himself and didn’t move. Then a bolt of lightning hit his arm. He yelled, jumped back, looking up at the dark cloud that suddenly appeared in the room. The cloud advanced on him, and another bolt shot out, hitting him squarely in the chest. He fell, the wind knocked out of him.

“Your defense sucks,” Nutcracker said, as the cloud moved to float over him. “You’ve been relying on offense all this time. I’m surprised you're not dead yet.”

“Gee, thanks,” Masonry retorted, getting up and brushing off his pants.

“Doesn’t the Netherworld cloud your vision?”

“Huh?”

Nutcracker rolled his eyes. “I’m among the heathens. The power that you use – what do you call it?”

“Darkness.”

“Fine, fine, Darkness. Does the Darkness ever cloud your vision? Want to take over?”

“All the time.”

“Do you let it?”

“I try not to.” But sometimes, and he didn’t want to admit to this M.A.G.I. agent, he had mistakenly killed enemies.

Nutcracker looked at him, as if trying to read his mind. “You need to practice that, to learn to control it, not let it control you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Well, the first thing we’re going to teach you is meditation.”

“Meditation? Are you serious?”

“You’re magic. Learn to use it.”

“Does that mean I’m gonna levitate and all that?”

Nutcracker gave him a crooked smile. “One step at a time, Bladeless. Sit down.”

Masonry sat in a lotus position. Nutcracker shook his head. “No, that’s not comfortable. You have to be comfortable. Lie down if you want.”

Masonry lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling, also covered with murals.

“Close your eyes. Listen to my voice.”

Masonry closed his eyes, and heard a voice in his head, Don’t trust him.

Masonry snapped open his eyes. “Stop.”

“What?” Nutcracker had moved to sit beside him.

“I can’t trust you.”

“That’s the Ne—the Darkness talking. The Darkness doesn’t want to be controlled. It wants to control its vessel. You’re being used, Bladeless.”

“But if I…if try and control the darkness, it won’t give me power.”

“Wrong,” said Nutcracker. “If you know anything about dark magic, you should know that it’s selfish and always likes to be set free. If that means it gets bottled up a little bit, it just means it’s stronger when it’s let out.”

Masonry said, “Kind of like sex. If you don’t do it for a while…” He blushed, realizing where he was going with the analogy.

“Exactly like that.” Nutcracker rubbed his chin. “I need to teach you some basic defensive magic.”

“Do I need to?”

“You shouldn’t be scared of magic. It’s what you have now. Use it.” Nutcracker sat back. “Now, let’s try this again. Close your eyes…”