Kolfer: Prologue

Some people absolutely despise their jobs.

Some people have committed themselves to occupations that do not suit their personalities, their dreams and their desires. Firemen don’t necessarily like running into burning buildings with hoses that look like elephant trunks—policemen don’t necessarily enjoy shooting innocent black people in the face because of their implicit biases—politicians don’t necessarily crave the media’s scrutiny of their financial accounts and their connections to offshore shell companies—and magicians, despite everything, do not necessarily take pleasure in spellbooks and curses.

“Could use a little help here, Kolfer.”

Take, for example, Lucy Lwa. Lacking in dominant magician blood, but frighteningly good with an AK-47, knows the politics of the magical realms like she knows the back of her hand, and makes a mean gumbo.

The dark-skinned, God-knows-how-old woman came from the swamps of Louisiana, fluent in Cajun French and a somewhat accented form of English. She is known as the only Stalwart to receive the honor of Mastery in Magic from the head of the Equilibrium, given due to her knowledge in the arcane arts of Arms magic, the only type of magic used by non-magicians.

Because of this honor, Ms. Lwa was saddled with the most powerful and most ambitious magician of her time, sent out to be her third mentor next to the likes of Benjamin and Piapot Brook. She hates every single second of it.

“Kolfer.”

Another example—David Court. Another Stalwart of the Equilibrium, he is also an Arms magician, but to a much more gaudier extent. Unlike his brothers and sisters in the Stalwart Hall, David was 23-years old, warm, impressionable, and more compassionate than his colleagues. Of course, his character traits weren’t the only things singular to him. In the age of automatic weapons and firearms, he possessed a crossbow.

The crossbow itself was an heirloom. His father, a fan of old weaponry, asked a Stalwart to make a crossbow and carve it in the shape of a serpent. The Stalwart complied, but with one condition: Your only son will become a Stalwart, just like I, and carry the crossbow in combat. Since Stalwarts were all celibate and required lifelong duty to a magician, David’s father was hesitant. However, since apparently he valued weaponry more than he did family, he accepted the offer.

Of course, David would grow up displeased of his father’s choices, but nonetheless accepting. He would spend the following years under the tutoring of Lucy Lwa, and therefore living under the same roof as the very magician that drove Lucy mad. He understood the sentiment.

“Kolfer!”

Indeed, many men and women regret their decisions in life. No career is perfect, and someone has to do them, no matter how unlikeable. Some people absolutely despise their jobs.

I am not one of them.

“Kolfer, if you don’t get down here I swear I am going to shove one of these airheaded goons up your--”

“Jeez Louise, calm your bullet-shaped amygdale down,” I closed my book, tossing it to the side. Ruhe catches it, her black mass absorbing Darwinian theories and the childish recollections of Mendel, before turning to me. Lucy was at a distance, glaring at me while she shot another soldier down.

“You really shouldn’t be writing on the job,” Ruhe reprimanded. “The Brooks are considering taking away your library if you keep this up.”

I chuckled. The mortar walls circled around us, torches lighting the way to a black man fighting eight different faceless soldiers at once. Lucy was in the fray, wrapped in robes and armor, shooting ten more faceless soldiers with two revolvers in her hands. Not one missed their shots. “Well, they can try.” I cracked my knuckles, waving Ruhe in. “What’s the objective again? I was analyzing the Standard Model during the briefing.”

“Again?”

“Oh, like that’s such a surprise,” a soldier jumped onto Lucy’s back, and she hurled him into another man, shooting them both down. “Helen Keller listens better than she does.”

“Well, maybe if you explained in a more dynamic way--”

If she had a face, Ruhe would’ve scowled. “Are you two done?”

Lucy panted. I looked to Ruhe. “Explanation?”

Ruhe sighed. “Back in 1987, there was an organization for the descendants of witch hunters--”

“To the point, Ruhe.”

“Uh, hey, guys,” David aimed his crossbow, shooting a foot soldier in the shoulder. Another grabbed him by the hood, pulling him back in order to expose him to a second soldier. “Sorry to bother you, but I sorta—maybe--” the second soldier raised a dagger up in the air. “--probably need a little help in not getting killed.”

I turned to Lucy. Lucy looked back, three more soldiers calling her attention. I rolled my eyes, walking towards the other Stalwart. I clicked my fingers, and in a second the torches went out. There was a scream. Ruhe jumped onto my back, molding into my physique. The darkness was lit slightly, and I could feel the warmth of the bodies around me, the beating of their hearts annoyingly shrill. I frowned. “Answer my question, and no history lessons—why am I fighting again?”

“Kidnapped girl,” Lucy replied. There was an audible ‘oomph’, bright flashes whenever she pulled the trigger to her revolvers. Even in the dark, she didn’t lose her aim. It’s the enchantment, of course, but it was a practical enchantment. How do the bullets know who to hit? “Scary hate group. These idiots are the members.”

“Duly noted.” I struck a soldier aside, clutching one by the neck and throwing them at another. I ran to the soldier holding David captive, grabbing them by the head. My fingers felt like ice, then, as a surge of energy slipped from the soldiers’ body, his heat slowly falling from the absence of light. He didn’t even scream as he fell to the ground, shivering. “There, happy now?”

David fell to the side, pointing up at me. “Back, back!”

“Oh, what now--” I groaned, looking back. A body of heat descended upon me, metal dipping into Ruhe’s form. The figure stared at me, then, dazed. “You lot aren’t particularly bright, are you?”

It shuddered, letting go of the dagger and pulling aside. “Well, Mistress,” Ruhe said, “What would you like to do?”

I clasped my hands together, chuckling. My fingers were black tentacles, each and every one of them wrapping around the running man’s ankles, pulling him in. “Now, don’t be crude, Mr. Redshirt,” I said, “Running away is so last year. Fortunately for you, dying will never go out of style.”

The man screamed as Ruhe swallowed a leg, then a torso, then a head. I could hear the crunching of bones as the shadow enjoyed her meal, leaving nothing to waste.

I smiled.

The sound of David’s feet clacking against the stone floors echoed. Lucy’s cleats approached me, her groans distinct. “You know,” she said, “This could’ve been easier if you just came in, oh, thirty minutes earlier.”

“I was writing my journal entry,” I defended, meekly. “How else are we supposed to keep an objective report of our missions?”

“My objective reports to the Equilibrium.”

“Oh, you can’t write for crap, and you know it,” Ruhe slipped off my skin, and I tucked my fingers in the pockets of my skirt, looking around in the dark. “Come on. We’ve got business to conduct.”