sakon76 | [fic] [Tales of Arcadia] Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet 78/?

Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 29th January 2022

"Blinky?" Jim stood inside the front entrance to the library. The stacks of books seemed somewhat thinner on the ground than the last time he'd been by.

"Back here, my boy!" his father called. Following the general direction of his voice, Jim wound his way through and between the piled-high books, until finally he emerged into a brand-new chamber that he'd never seen before. It was so new, in fact, that there were no rugs on the floor or any tables or chairs yet. But there were what had to be miles of shelves, and a blue-stone troll, happily filling them.

Blinky shelved one last book then turned to him, dusting his hands together with a look of broad satisfaction stretching across his face.

"So does this mean sometime we'll actually be able to get through the main room without worrying about a literary domino run?" Jim asked, because he had no brain-to-mouth filter.

Blinky blinked and stared. Then he barked out a laugh. "Yes, of course, my dear boy! Now, tell me what brings you here today."

"Eh." Jim set his messenger bag down against a wall. "I was just kind of... plotting things out? And I think maybe it's time we give Strickler that last piece of Killahead, so he can start setting things up with Gunmar?"

"My word." Blinky thought about it a minute, then asked, "You are absolutely sure we can trust him?"

"Blink, he's sleeping with my mom," Jim complained. "I think the not-trusting-him ship has long since sailed."

"You... have a point." Blinky turned around, as if to examine his new library room. "Now where did I put that stone...?"

Jim stared, unbelieving. "You LOST it?"

"I did not lose it!" Blinky said indignantly. "I have merely... misplaced it. Temporarily."

With a groan, Jim buried his face in his hands.

"What about a... morningstar?" Claire asked, fishing yet another item out of the heap.

Darci looked askance at the spiked ball hanging from a stick. "I think I'd hurt myself more with that than the other guy."

"All right." Claire tossed it into the reject pile and surveyed the remaining possibilities. She was, frankly, starting to run out of options as far as getting Darci a meaningful weapon. "Come on, Darci, there has to be something you think you can use."

"I don't know, Claire. Just, none of them feel like me, you know?"

Beyond her, Toby ducked and rolled, avoiding Draal's punches and springing to his feet like the ground was rubber. "Come on, Darce, what kind of thing do you think you'd be good with?" He never took his eyes off Draal, the two of them circling each other, equally light on their feet.

Darci considered. "I'm pretty good with a softball bat?" she offered.

Claire considered that. "We could get you a mace like Eli's?"

Darci shook her head. "Too much weight on the end, the balance is all wrong."

Claire gave up and shrugged. "A sword, then." Darci's eyes were wide, rejection writ across her face again. She opened her mouth, but Claire beat her to it. "You've turned down everything else, Darci. A sword's the right shape and length, without any weird balance issues. That's pretty much what you're left with."

Darci glanced at Toby. "But I don't want a sword like that one!"

"Eh, Eclipse is as much a cleaver as anything--" Toby yelped and rolled as Draal took advantage of his inattention. Unfortunately, he rolled into one of the jets of fire and had to scramble clear before he was barbecued.

Claire took the thread back up. "Yeah, let's get you something more evenly balanced than Eclipse and a little smaller than Excalibur." She looked at the weapons heap again and narrowed her eyes. Sorting through it all by hand would take too long.

She reached out with her magic instead.

One by one, the weapons levitated, were assessed, rejected, and flew to the reject heap. Darci's eyes were wide.

"Whoa," breathed Steve, also staring. Eli, standing by him, adjusted his glasses. Aaarrrgghh just smiled.

Finally, about three-quarters of the way down, Claire found a weapon she thought might suit Darci. The hilt was plain, the blade unadorned, but it was the right length and in generally good condition. It might need sharpening, but that was about it. "Here, try this," she said, carefully floating the sword toward her friend.

Darci eyed it, then her, but then took the sword by the hilt. Claire let go with her magic; Darci's arm only sagged slightly as gravity reasserted itself on the weapon, so it probably wasn't too heavy for her.

Which was when Jim came storming into the Hero's Forge, followed by Blinky. "I said I'm sorry," the troll said. "It's in the library somewhere--"

"I know you're sorry, Blinky!" Jim shot back. "But this is kind of important. We need that rock."

"And I will find it," Blinky insisted, catching up with Jim, grasping onto him with two hands and making the Trollhunter look at him. "I will leave no tome unturned until I remember where I left the blasted thing, you have my word."

Jim visibly seethed. But he also sighed. "I'm not angry, Blink. Or I'm trying not to be. It's just...."

"You entrusted me with something important, and I have failed to recall its location," Blinky said, nodding. One hand patted Jim's shoulder. "It is understandable, Jim. But trust me. I have not lost the stone, and I shall work diligently to rediscover its location."

Jim forced himself toward calm. "I know. I'm sorry. Dad," he said.

Which won a smile from Blinky. "Well, then, my son. You stay here and train; I shall return to the library and seek out the missing piece of Killahead Bridge."

"Wait," Toby said as Blinky left the Forge. "He misplaced Killahead Bridge?"

"Yeah." Jim sighed and dropped his bag to the side. "Which I am not happy about, so I really need to train some aggravation out." He pulled his amulet out of his pocket and looked at it for a long minute. Then his gaze rose. "Aaarrrgghh. Any chance you'd be willing to help me figure things out?"

Aaarrrgghh blinked. "Aaarrrgghh always willing to help Jim."

That got him a smile. "Thanks." Jim closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said his amulet's incantation. Once he was clad in armor, without opening his eyes, he took another deep breath. His fist clenched.

Blue light flared, and when it cleared, full-troll Jim stood there before them, huge and hulking. As before, his armor had been subsumed into his blue-gray stone skin, only the amulet remaining on his chest. Just the tiniest hint of Nimue's crown showed; the green diamond gleamed on his brow.

Darci and Eli backed up. Steve gaped. Even Draal's eyes were wide.

But Toby went forward without hesitation, as did Claire. "Nice," Toby commented, patting Jim's arm. "You feeling in control this time, Jimbo?"

"Yeah," Jim said, blue eyes blinking. His voice was deeper, rougher, than it was in his other forms. But it was still unmistakably him.

"Awesomesauce." Toby fist-bumped him and grinned, only having been knocked back about two feet.

"Hey." Claire laid her hand on his cheek as he leaned down to her. The difference of scale made it feel like a real King Kong moment, which made her Fay Wray, she thought. But this was Jim, and he just smiled at her. "You okay?"

"I think so," he said. She raked her fingernails over the faintly glowing crystals that were his mane. Jim shivered.

Claire grinned. "Let's put a pin in that, okay?" she told him, eyeing his crystals, and stepped away.

Making room for Aaarrrgghh, who came forward. "Jim ready to train?"

Jim's gaze sought her, sought Toby. Then he nodded. "Ready to train," he reported.

Aaarrrgghh grinned.

They ended up in the balcony seats that ringed the arena, watching the clash of the titans going on below. Darci still had her sword in hand. She needed to find some kind of sheath for it, she thought. And some way of avoiding her dad pitching an absolute fit about her carrying around weaponry, sheathed or not.

She winced as Aaarrrgghh, who generally seemed to be a sweetheart, threw troll-Jim into the wall with a crash that shook the stone.

"Ouch." Steve winced.

"Is he okay?" asked Eli.

Toby and Claire, though, just watched as Jim levered himself up, shook his head once, then launched himself at Aaarrrgghh, grappling with him fist-to-fist.

"Good," said Draal, nodding appreciatively.

"What about that is good, man?" Steve demanded, gesturing at the scene below.

"He is adjusting and correcting for the differences of form already," Draal explained, not looking away from the battle. "For a Trollhunter," he said, gaze sliding sideways to Toby, "adaptability is the most important lesson to learn."

"Gotcha." Toby nodded.

Claire, meanwhile, just had a sappy look on her face as Jim managed to flip Aaarrrgghh over and send him flying into the same wall he'd just hit.

Aaarrrgghh snarled and bounced back without a pause.

"Yeah," said Toby, "Jim's definitely going to be a lot less stressed after this."

The match ended up taking the better part of an hour before Aaarrrgghh finally won, remaining standing and breathing heavily while Jim was on his back, panting for air.

"Welp," Toby said, stretching, "break time's over for the rest of us. Shall we?"

"After you," Draal said, indicating the stairs with a hand.

Darci hung back, though, and caught Claire's sleeve. She waited until the others were out of earshot before she nodded down toward the arena and asked softly, "Girl... are you into that?"

Claire gave her a sunny smile. "Darci," she said, "I'm into Jim. The rest of it... really doesn't matter." And with that, she skipped down the steps, heading for her monster loverboy.

Mary's phone chimed as she sat cross-legged on the smooth stone ground of the arena under Jim and Toby's houses. She ignored it, knowing without looking that it was Tight Jeans Hank, wanting to know why she'd been so distant lately.

Let him chase me for a change, she thought, irritated. And, who knew, as a strategy it might even work. But mostly she was tired of putting all the effort into their relationship and getting nothing back.

Though it was kind of weird that she could feel her texts now, read them without looking. It was like guessing what had come in... but her guesses were 100% solid.

"Technomancy is based on patterns," Douxie, seated in front of her, said. "Do you know why?"

Mary shrugged. "Computers are all about zeros and ones, right? On and off?"

He nodded. "And that's what makes up code. If you want to go further back into it, though, computers are based on fibercraft. On weaving and knitting. Ever heard of computer punch cards?"

The name tickled at the back of her brain. "I think my grandpa used to work with those, like, a hundred years ago?"

Douxie nodded. "The punch cards that modern computers developed from were based on those of jacquard weaving looms. Which, in their own time, were a marvelous technological advance. So a lot of the technomancers who are old enough will have that basis of once upon a time having been weavers. Or, even for younger mages such as yourself, having crochet or sewing as a hobby. They're soothing. Familiar to your magic."

Mary considered that. "I like fashion...?" she offered.

"Which is certainly related," said Douxie, who she'd never seen wear anything but black and who therefore clearly knew nothing about the subject. "The other side of the coin is, technomancy is also about electricity. Now, I don't know if this was just a thing waiting for time to bring it about or not, but I do know that many of the older technomancers also had a fascination with lightning storms."

Mary thought about that, tried to make sense of it. "So... maybe there are still some people with one kind of magic and an interest in something completely unrelated, that's just waiting for those two things to come together into something new?"

Douxie nodded. "Says something interesting about time, doesn't it?"

"You lost me there," Mary told him.

He opened his mouth to reply, then paused and shook his head. "Time magic," he said, which clarified nothing. "Anyway, that's off the topic. Getting back to basics, your magic is to a heavy degree based on patterns. On rhythms. On logic."

"Oh?"

Douxie shrugged. "Claire's magic, shadowmancy, is emotion-based. Which means she sometimes has to form emotional connections to enable her magic. It also means she has a tendency toward feeling things more strongly. Which helps her with acting," he said, "and may be part of why she gravitated toward that art to begin with. Your magic, on the other hand, is more... intellectual?" He asked it like he was sounding out the very idea, trying to find the right words to describe a nebulous concept. "You can see how things will go, the patterns they will make, and if something doesn't fit the pattern, it may well irritate you and cause you to hyperfixate on the anomaly until you understand the larger pattern that made it act the way it did."

Mary blinked. That kind of made sense, she guessed. She liked figuring out people, what they would do, and how they would react. It was part of what made her one of the queen bees at school.

"What about you?" she asked. "Is your magic based on logic or emotion?"

Douxie laughed. Archie jumped down from the table he'd been laying on, and came over, curling under the wizard's hand. "I'm kind of both," he said. "My teacher was definitely more of the logic school--you have to be, to deal with sifting through Time--but between him and Arch, I ended up cross-trained. I lean slightly more toward emotion, but I can also use simple force of expectation to wield my magic."

"Douxie lacks a specialization," Archie spoke up. "Which is neither an advantage nor a disadvantage; it simply is."

"I'm not an expert at any branch of magic," Douxie told her, his expression light. "Which means I'm versatile. But it also means I can't shrug off a lightning strike like a technomancer can."

Mary's eyes widened. "Wait, you mean--"

He shrugged. "Don't go sticking any pennies into sockets yet. But I've seen Zoe literally get hit by lightning with no ill effect."

"That was not a fun night," Archie grumbled, settling down into Douxie's lap.

Douxie shrugged. "Eh, it killed the barghest. Now, the dark side of a logic-based approach to sorcery," he continued, "is that it can become all too easy to see something as a means to an end. So, like every young wizard I've ever helped, I'll give you this advice: you need to mind yourself. Always consider whether or not something is actually a good idea. Who will it hurt? Is it kind? And are you doing it for the right reasons?"

Mary didn't like that. "So you're saying Claire wouldn't do that?"

Douxie shook his head. "Wizards who use emotion as their fuel have their own pitfalls to avoid. Vengeance, for instance, becomes remarkably easy to fall prey to. Or paralyzing guilt. Or self-doubt," he added. "But my point is more this, Mary: we have power that others don't. And, like the characters in the X-Men movies, we have to be more mindful of our ethics than a lot of other people, because what we do can have farther-reaching consequences."

She didn't get it.

He sighed. "Imagine that, say, you needed money for something. Doesn't matter what," he said. "Given your skills already, you might find it all too easy to step from 'I need money' to 'I can use my magic to get the money' to 'I'm going to hack people and steal the money.' Or maybe 'I'm going to hold a hospital's system for ransom until their insurance gives me money.' And," he added, "for some people, there's no such thing as 'enough money.' It becomes a very slippery slope." He looked direct at her. "Tell me you can see the ethical issues there."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. I can definitely see the problems."

Douxie drew a deep breath. "And, as someone who's survived centuries of this... if a mage who did something like that got caught? I can see a couple ways it would go. Some of them involve incarceration, possibly vivisection... but even more of them involve an inevitable pogrom." He must have seen the blankness on her expression, because he said, gently, "I don't want to see witch hunts become literal again, Mary. Because I've seen lots of people get swept up in them and die, the magical and the mundane alike. It's a horrible thing, and I never want anyone to have to live through those again, all right?"

She swallowed. "So when you used your magic in the restaurant...."

"I actively risked the lives of thousands of people, in the act of saving one life," he told her quietly. "I cannot blame the local magicians for cutting me out, given what I did. And that's what lies in the balance of convincing everyone, with this movie of Toby's, that what I did was just a special effect, and burying it."

Her first instinct to knowing what he'd done was horror and wanting to know why he'd endangered so many people. But more than that.... Mary looked at him, really looked. Because there was something off, she thought. Something wrong with the pattern. "So we're convincing the world magic isn't real... by showing them magic?" Douxie nodded. "But...." She turned it over and over in her mind, trying to figure out what was sticking out, what was wrong.

Then, suddenly, she had it. "The scary monster lake lady in Russia. She said magic had to return to man, for the world to survive," Mary remembered. "How the heck does that fit in with pretending it's all just a movie?"

"It doesn't," said Douxie. "Which is where this gets complicated." He took a deep breath. "I mentioned time magic earlier. My... teacher. Merlin. He's the only one I've ever seen wield it. He can see the future, can even freeze time for a bit. But there are ways others can also use it. For instance," he said significantly, looking into her eyes, "to come back from the future."

The arena was quiet. So quiet, with no sounds of traffic or birds or even electricity humming in the walls.

Just... silence.

Mary broke it by wetting her lips. "Are you telling me," she asked, "that you're from the future?"

Douxie nodded. "A few of us are. There was an apocalypse, and... well, we've come back to try and prevent it."

She snorted. "Pull the other one," Mary told him.

Douxie shrugged. "Believe me or not. It's true regardless. The thing is, in that future, Arcadia Oaks came to accept magic, and trolls, and other things, as real and wonderful and commonplace. So I have hope that it can do so again. And if one town can do it... why not others? Why not the world?"

"And the movie?" Mary asked.

Douxie shrugged. "We never made it, the last time around. We never needed to."

"And this time?"

Douxie, for the first time, looked lost at sea. "I've no idea what will happen," he said quietly. "There's a point A," he said, indicating with one hand, "and a point B," he indicated with the other, "and I don't know how to connect them. How to get from hiding the magic of the world and disguising it... to revealing it and having it accepted." He shrugged. "Greater wizards than I have died beating their heads against that problem. For all of Mordrax's miracles, that was one quandry he was never able to solve."

Mary swallowed. "And where did I fit into this future of yours?" she asked.

"I'm sorry to say you didn't," he told her. "We never found out you had magic, the first time around."

It was crazy talk. There was no way she could believe him.

But magic itself was crazy talk too.

So there were two options: either Douxie was off his rocker, delusional, or just plain lying to her...

...or he was telling her the truth.

Occam's Razor, thought Mary. What was there for Douxie to gain from lying to her? From making her look or feel stupid? Pfft. He wasn't the kind of guy to just be mean to her like that. And she didn't think he was delusional.

Which meant he probably was telling the truth about being from the future.

Magic, she thought, like a curse word.

"All right," she said, leaning forward. "Assuming I'm buying this thing about an apocalypse... how do we prevent the end of the world?"

Author's Note: Claire and Barbara totally have certain things in common. Like completely not minding and in fact being curious about their boyfriends' other forms....