With the Greatest of Ease
EARC of “ManaTech: Mages” Chapter 2
By Tom Tinney
©2014 Tom Tinney/Pir8 Productions
Any resemblance to person Living, Dead or Undead is PURELY coincidental.
(Note: You really should read chapter one first: In the Trenches )
Margreet MacCleod, or Ban-Draoidhae Margreet, as she was known since she’d become mana-filled, was furious. Sitting in the turret seat of an AGO Flugzeugwerke C.IV observer biplane, piloted by her favorite man-toy, Oberleutnant Gϋnther Schubert, all she could do was scream in anger.
Customarily, Gϋnther flew them in a precise and measured way, allowing Margreet to cast her mana-constructs and gather the intelligence she wanted. That was not the case at that moment, as every mana-based critical component and structure, that the upgraded plane used to attain it superior flying characteristics, was gone. Even the mana comb she used to hold her very expensive Cloche hat in place, had disappeared, and the hat with it, although it had blown off due buffeting wind as the biplane shook and fought to stay aloft. Each mote of conjured mana had returned to their basest form, all memory of the previous cast, design, and purpose forgotten. It floated freely and would soon seek living things to orbit, like moths to a flame.
And Margreet was not an engineer, so putting the biplane back into some sort of working order wasn’t possible. She had practiced skills, but with typically smaller and more intricate constructs. And weapons oriented toward clandestine use.
“Johnny-boy is going to pay for this!” Margreet yelled in German, over the sounds of the crippled aircraft. The limping craft was rattling, groaning, and being admonished by Gϋnther’s continuing stream of obscenities as he wrestled with its failing controls, fighting for whatever altitude he could gain.
Margreet’s conjured spy tube was an extension of the curving paper-thin sheet of mana she held under the plane, its reflective surface muting the planes shape. Her end of the tube had rested on the rotating turret for her comfort, which was part of the biplanes integrated-frame. A frame bolstered by a supporting spider web grid of the weightless, and infinitely strong, mana-constructs that her ally, Draoidhae Georg Luger, used to modify her personal plane. Other mana-constructs included wing spars, body skin, engine parts and a refined propeller shape to reduce its noise. Most everything of importance either touched, or was connected by, a continuous path of metal or mana-constructs between each system. Not originally a design flaw, but proving to be one at that moment.
All those mana-built and enhanced parts disintegrated in an instant. She knew of only one artificer that could do that. Draoidhae Nikola’s errand boy, John O’Neil. She refused to call him by the “Draoidhae” title. Others may, but she wouldn’t because he couldn’t conjure or cast. He could only destroy. Thoughts of O’Neil and the damned amulet made her angrier.
“Margreet, dear, your assistance would be appreciated,” Gϋnther said, the tension and tightness overriding his normally calm voice. “Things are getting worse quickly.”
Everyone called her Ban-Draoidhae Margreet. The third time she had bedded him, Margreet told Gϋnther that he could drop her title when they were alone.
As if to put an exclamation point on his previous declaration, the engine seized and shot parts in all directions. Margreet held her hand out, gathering mana to her. Even though it had lost its memory, it was still close at hand. She was a powerful Ban-Draoidhae, and it would heed her call.
The plane pitched and started to nose over. Time was running short, so Margreet forewent any complex rescue device or time-consuming contraption. She was going for fast and big. She pictured her needs in her mind and reached into her inner being, as the Sidhe had taught all twelve of the Draoidhae that had crossed over when their realm had been discovered. There had been endless lessons. Lessons in control, she’d tolerated at the time, but at that moment, she truly appreciated them.
She broadcast her need for mana to gather. To come to her. She reached out from her own mana-infused body and grabbed at the motes she felt more than saw. The mana came to her hands, exploding outward in shape and size. She poured more energy into the construct and it grew, moving along with them, an expanse that would have collapsed under its own weight if it had been made of any other material. Mana weighed as much as the artificer wanted it to, or as little. It was as stiff or pliable as they wanted. Once the construction was complete, they could lock in its memory and it would hold the shape, function and purpose forever.
“Time to go, Liebchen,” Margreet said, throwing mana-blades to slice his harness and grabbing Gϋnther by the collar as she pulled him out of his seat. She leapt into the air as the plane twisted one last time and dove straight for the ground. All the human Draoidhae had inhuman strength, even the non-casting Mr. O’Neil.
Her eyes flared as the anger rose in her again. John O’Neil was going to regret inconveniencing her efforts. Before she could start to list the ways he would suffer, she was distracted by Gϋnther’s screaming. They fell freely. The German officer looked down, and back, his face masked in terror. Margreet smiled. She already felt the mana’s proximity and they struck an invisible barrier. Not a flat surface, but one at a steep angle.
It was the child in Margreet that came up with the solution to their dilemma. The mana surface became less steep and they slid along its unseen curve, until it transitioned into a long slide at around a 120-degree angle. The mana surface was like ice. No friction was generated, so they slid along at a good clip. The surface took them toward the German line.
Margreet looked for the exit end of the mana-slide she had conjured out of thin air. They started less than 500 feet up when they hit the slide, which meant it only went about 1000 feet before ending well short of the German trenches. Margreet touched the mana surface and put more energy into it, pulling in more of the scarce mana, extending the exit endpoint by reducing the downward angle, so the slide ended mere feet from the nearest trench her allies occupied.
Her action reduced their speed significantly and the allied troops on the ground, looking skyward, must have noticed the two humans that floated toward the enemy lines while seated. The troops opened up with their small arms.
Gϋnther flinched uncontrollably as each round hit the mana-construct with a crack and a thud, but Gϋnther’s reaction was to be expected. After all, he was still very mortal. Margreet laughed. Normal rounds would not be able to break through. She wished she’d brought some grenades to rain down on them. Even if she didn’t hit any of them, they’d be forced to seek cover. More rounds struck with no effect.
She turned to smile at Gϋnther when a round came through the surface and whizzed between them. She must have looked surprised because Gϋnther’s eyes bulged and his mouth hung open. Another round pierced the mana-slide.
“Sniper with mana-rounds!” Gϋnther yelled, looking around as if he might spot the troublesome soldier.
Margreet pushed into the surface, extending the invisible supports under the mana-sheet and raising the end they had come from. It increased the angle and allowed them to speed along. She also made it opaquer, obscuring their forms from the ground.
Rounds continued to come through the mana-slide at intervals. The sniper couldn’t see them, but he was leading them based on his best guess. And he was guessing too damned close for comfort. Margreet grabbed a portion of mana out of the slide and moved her hands quickly, shaping a long conical piece. She yelled into the narrow end.
“Minenwerfer, fire on those positions. Get their heads down!”
Someone must have been listening to her, because she heard the woomf–woomf of mortars launching. The ground underneath and behind them erupted in explosions. A second and third barrage quickly followed, the sniper fire slowed and stopped.
When Margreet and Gϋnther reached the end of the slide, barely half a meter off the ground, they stood. Gϋnther began to run towards the trench.
“Halt,” Margreet barked. “Nein, mein Liebchen, you’re escorting Ban-Draoidhae Margreet. We walk with confidence and authority. We don’t run from our enemies.”
“Jawohl, Ban-Draoidhae Margreet,” Gϋnther said, standing straight and brushing off his uniform, extending his bent arm for her to take. He turned and escorted her to the nearest trench.
Their little show was for their troops. She had no doubt they were not impressing the allied troops, in the opposing trench, in the least and she was no fool. With her free hand, she pushed energy out and grabbed the mana-slide. She quickly pulled the last thirty meters of mana-slide up, twisting it over on its side to act as a barrier, protecting their backs while they walked to the trench. As they reached the trench edge, with bullets bouncing off the section of mana-slide, hands reached up to help Margreet step down into the trench.
Once in the trench, she laid the piece of mana-slide on top of it. Mortar rounds from the allies came down where they had stood. Additional rounds were walked right on top of the trench. Margreet looked up through her now clear mana-slide trench-cover and watched the rounds explode against it with no effect. The men in the trench clapped and cheered.
“Ein prosit to Ban-Draoidhae Mata Hari, we love you!”
“Of course, you do,” Margreet replied, a wicked smile on her lips, as she stared down the troops and the cheer lost energy. She hated that moniker. It was for a person that no longer existed. The cheering changed.
Almost as one, the troopers realized their mistake and began cheered more loudly.
“Ein prosit to Ban-Draoidhae Margreet, we love you!”
Margreet smiled and politely waved toward both groups of men that surrounded her on either side.
“Now, Gϋnther, let’s find some transportation back to the headquarters and try to figure out what those little scamps, Nicky and Johnny, are up to, shall we?”
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