Free Shield and Crocus by Michael R. Underwood Page A

concerned with exotic reagents and reading all the philosophy books he could to impress aria. It always seemed like she’d read everything before Wonlar even learned it existed, unless it was a book on artifice, the one science she’d never pursued.
    The children settled on their request and Wonlar launched into “Aegis and the First Spark-Storm.”
    “It was less than a month after the Senate building burned down in a mysterious fire.” Wonlar layered on the sarcasm to “mysterious,” since it was all but sure that she was responsible.
    “I was just a young man then, studying at the academy of artifice. The first storm hit Broken Rib late afternoon on a crisp spring day. People milled back and forth, trying to get their errands done and enjoy the weather without attracting attention from Nevri’s guards.” another round of hisses filled the room.
    Wonlar squatted down and lowered his voice. “It started with birds. Cawing, crying, songs, every kind of birdsong you’ve ever heard and more. It came down like a wind, sweeping through the neighborhood, and then the streets turned to mud. What color is mud?” Wonlar asked.
    Pavi’s brother, Eava, said, “Brown.”
    “Exactly. But do you know what color this mud was?”
    Yara raised her hand, and Wonlar give her a wink. She’d heard this one before, so she launched right in. “It was green! Nasty snot green and it burned at the touch. The cobblestone streets turned into mud that might as well have been lava. People scrambled away from the burning mud, terrified.”
    Wonlar stood, striking a heroic pose. “But then, Aegis arrived.” The children cheered. “He wore white and emerald, and he had with him the Aegis itself, a magical shield with incredible power. With it, he jumped in huge bounds, from windowsill to cart, staying off the street. He pulled people out of the mud, helped bandage the wounded, and led them to safety. And then, he went back in for more. The storm changed then, and everything went sideways.”
    Wonlar picked up a toy ball from the floor and held it at shoulder level. “Normally, when we drop things,” he said, dropping the ball to the floor, “they fall down.” Wonlar picked up the ball and held it out again. “But things started falling sideways, slamming into walls.” Wonlar tossed the ball to the side, and it bounced off the bright orange wall leading to the kitchen.
    “Aegis walked along the walls of buildings like they were floors, and rescued people hanging onto the roofs of their buildings. The sky opened up and it started raining purple cauliflower and spoiled milk.” Several children wrinkled their noses, and Wonlar continued.
    Wonlar left out the truly terrifying parts, where the citizens had been transformed into boneless amoebas and spiked half-beasts, and most of all, he skipped the half-dozen that had just melted into the green mud, even though he remembered their cries as well as if it had been yesterday. A terrible thought rose up in his mind: How many people have I seen die? he pushed it back as he’d pushed back so many thoughts. Each time he went there to tell stories, he mastered his ghosts just a little more, but they did not yield easily.
    “The last two people he rescued from the storm were a young Qava and her and Ikanollo friend. The Qava woman was doing her best to save them both, levitating out of the district, but she’d been hit on the head by a sideways-falling bicycle.
    “[ Thank you ,] the Qava said, speaking in their minds.” Wonlar held both sides of his head to signal the Qava telepathy.
    “Then the Ikanollo asked, ‘But who are you? Why do you carry that shield?’”
    Wonlar aped the first Aegis’ voice as best he could, calm and confident. “‘call me Aegis. Will you help me tend to the injured?’ and so the Ikanollo and the Qava became First Sentinel and Ghost Hands, the first of the Shields of Audec-Hal.”
    “Another!” Yara shouted, clapping.
    Wonlar considered which story to