Witch Clan: Warriors! by John Stormm (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

now perused. Most of the current Warlock Party platform rested upon human pride and the assumption that inherent human greatness gave them mandate to rule the cosmos and bring about the Pax Humana. Big money was moving everywhere with dreams of reaping the richest rewards for the investing. These were big changes in Logren politics, considering that only two hundred years ago or so, the warlocks were practically considered pariahs among the wyrding folk. Oath breakers. Untrustworthy in any bargaining or magical dealings.

In this day and age, such cultivation of the ancient precepts of unbreakable will and word were beginning to phase out as quaint and archaic ideals. Society needed to be free of such moral anachronisms in order to expand and cultivate economic growth. It was said that extra room was needed for more entrepreneurs with newer ideas of how to make money that came in the form of paper talismans. There were certainly more job opportunities for skilled workers in these new venues. But what the gang noticed that in all these new trends, was that what society-at-large lacked was the wisdom that all such things come with their own price tags.

From their hidey holes in Broome Alley to their current seats in the public library, they could see the patterns that for all the monies that changed hands and stockpiled in bank vaults. The store shelves were cluttered with dangerous or defective goods which rarely delivered on their promises of health, wealth or even being a good bargain. Warlock politics brought with it warlock trade in which promises made were easily ignored. Consumers sustained themselves upon the belief that their next purchases would bring them what they wanted and at bargain prices. For all the money the average Logren citizen earned, what wasn’t taxed out of their hands before they could see it, was spent and lost on merchandise that rarely brought them the conveniences they promised. After all, the rich would wisely say: “You get what you pay for.” But the unprinted truth of that was that for most people, a good deal was out of their financial reach. Broken dreams filled landfills for the poor and strong boxes for the wealthy elite.

The Witch Kids educated themselves about their own world and it empowered them in ways they never suspected. They talked with Windwalker in a way that shook him to his soul and he began to move on this news on his own and the eatery became a stopping point for many new and interesting visitors. Dodger was preparing with Grandma Emma to masquerade as Little Fox at the Solstice Celebration on National Scry and the Mohawk warrior was training him personally in his own peculiar Atlantean style of fighting. Hex and the gang were canvassing the bookstore to find exactly what the ultimate purpose the evil Tome was intended to serve. It was there, they also found that another copy was obtained for members high in the Council. This was going to be a problem. Someone had plans for something nasty and they were urgent enough to merit the extra pain and expense. This was obviously no casual curiosity into things better left alone. These were the acts of someone dedicated to evil.

The Spiral Dance

Dodgin’ Dan Dolby, the deadliest man in the world. True, he was only posing as John Little Fox and the golden helm and visor would conceal his features, but he was there for the entire world to see and hold in awe. For days now, the Mohawk warrior taught him how to stand, to walk and what positions to take. His baldrics and bandoleers of weapons would not be worn during the Solstice Ceremony, but no one considered this man any the less lethal for it. After all, he had taken on the Grand Wizard’s Elite Shadows on the national scry without drawing a single weapon and looked like he was ready for more while the guards looked like they had more than enough. It was plenty difficult just to keep his fifteen year old hormones from taking him off the edge. He had to stop the daydreaming and focus on the job at hand. No one must ever suspect that the world famous warrior from Atlantis was anywhere but in the uniform Dodger was now occupying.

Grandma Emma and Stormy, also known to the world as Johnny were deep in preparations for a spiral dance ceremony for the event. It was amazing how studious Stormy became in transcripting the musical sequences for the musicians at the ceremony and the time the younger boy had spent going back and forth seeing that everything was perfect. He had never heard such music as this, that was at once earthy and yet otherworldly. Strange and primitive rhythms rocked at his innards until Grandma Emma promised she would give him a spell to keep him immune to the effects of the music and dance. It wouldn’t do to have her personal guard cavorting about the platform with all the celebrants. Somehow it didn’t seem so strange that they would go through all that detail for the drums and the music and yet neglect to train the dancers. He just knew their feet would find their own steps.

It was a dress rehearsal for everyone’s benefit. Dodger watched in silent awe as world leaders and Council members took directions from the Atlantean Matriarch to find their spots on the edge of a giant circle on the huge podium. He even got to bow and use Little Fox’s martial salute to the Vizier, Dauntless Dick himself and Grand Marshal of the Pentacle, Rumsdon. In his ceremonial capacity to the Matriarch, it was understood that Little Fox spoke to no one but her and only as needed. He would not be required to speak to anyone and thus preserving the illusion that he was, in fact, the deadliest man in Logres tonight. He also got to meet Uncle Milty, Ivory City’s first and foremost comedian. Mr. Berle’s mastering of the Atlantean comedic style had skyrocketed the scholarly old gentleman to rarified heights and even gained him his very own scrybox feature every Tyrsday night, which no one liked to miss. The man was known for single handedly raising the Logren morale after all the sinister news of Devil attacks and murders. Uncle Milty would be opening the night’s festivities with a few of his famous adlibbed lines and then introducing the star studded list of special guests. Who would ever place an orphaned witch kid from the back alleys to a place like this in the center of the universe? It would be a night he would always remember.

Dodger was stunned by the enormity of the celebration, but not so much so that he didn’t notice Dauntless and Rumsdon chanting quietly off stage while the others discussed cues and positioning with the Matriarch and rehearsing short speeches they would each give as Uncle Milty introduced them at the podium. The pair were wearing formal robes, which was not unusual in itself with Council members at any given time. It was just curious that they were so involved in synchronously turning and chanting quietly in unison during the rehearsal. It was then that he recognized the sigils on the backs of the men’s robes were those he had seen in the Tome he had jacked so many weeks ago. He couldn’t make out a word they were saying as they took such pains to do it sub voce, but he had read the Tome and was certain that none of this could mean anything good. He made a mental note to pass this information to Stormy and Grandma Emma at his first opportunity. For the sakes of them all, he truly wished he was the deadliest man in Logres. He had the sinking feeling that it would take nothing less to bail them out of the trouble to come. Whatever it was.

* * *

The night of the big event was upon him and Dodger’s stomach was a mass of fluttering butterflies. Grandma Emma and Stormy took the news about the Vizier and Grand Marshal Rumsdon with the assurances that whatever evil spell they had planned that they would be in no mind to perform such a thing tonight.

“There will be multiple spells working in concert tonight, if you’ll pardon the pun,” Grandma said raising a finger. “First, the music is spelled to keep the musicians playing it long and with harmonic variations to keep it interesting. We need this dance to continue a full hour for Little Fox to get his job done. Secondly, between Johnny and myself the dance will be so enchanted that the hard part will be to keep the spectators from rushing the stage to join in. Johnny’s got a knack for this all by himself but this time I’m going to enforce the deal and make it carry. No one on that stage except for you and I will be able to resist dancing and they’ll do it in a harmony of spirit I think you’ve never seen before. The dance portion is scheduled for only twenty minutes, but we’ll create such a grand spell that we’ll work it for the better part of an hour. I only hope their hearts hold out for them. I don‘t think anyone will have the strength to cast a spell, evil or otherwise once this goes into effect.”

“Afterwards, the Vizier has to give the closing benedictions,” Stormy added, “and I’m sure he won’t want to botch that on national television.”

“Television?” he asked.

“That’s our word for your scrybox,” Stormy explained. “The technology is different, but the end result is the same. With Uncle Milty on the set now, I get them confused sometimes.”

“You’ve got an Uncle Milty too?” he asked, voice raising higher. “Are our worlds mirrors of each other?”

“I think people are pretty much the same anywhere,” Stormy answered. “But worlds and cultures are different as people in their own ways. A little change in viewpoint and you can pretty much get along anywhere, I think.”

“Maybe