A Logical Magician

32

They spent the rest of the night and most of the next morning at Fritz Grondark’s garage. Cassandra, Simon and Sylvester slept, having skipped resting for long hours, while Jack remained awake and watched the dwarf work on the Buick. Much of that time, Jack related his adventures over the past few days.

The greasemonkey listened attentively, interrupting frequently to clarify specific points. The mention of the Universal Charge Card brought a gleam to his eye. He grunted in disgust at the Huntsman’s treachery at the mathematics building. Cassandra’s battle with the trolls had him grinning. Dwarfs and trolls, Jack discovered, were mortal enemies. But, more than anything else, the dwarf was fascinated by Jack’s musings on the symbolism of cold iron.

“Of all the fey folk, only my people mined and forged cold iron,” declared the dwarf as he pounded the Buick’s roof with an immense hammer. “As neutrals in the eternal war between good and evil, we were not affected by the power of the star metal. Thus, given to us was the task of creating the great swords of power.”

The dwarf smiled as if recalling far-off days. “In our great caverns beneath the mountains, my brothers and I wrought the steel and etched the runes, bringing life to those blades. Even their names were magic—Durandel, Joyeuse, Excalibur. Those were exciting times, Jack Collins, exciting times.”

“I understand,” said Jack, captivated by Grondark’s tale. “But what is the real secret of steel, of cold iron? Swords made from it killed dragons,” continued Jack, trying to find an answer. “Peasant folk hung iron horseshoes over their doors to keep out demons. In Roman days, iron coffin nails provided protection against evil spirits. Magicians often used circles of magnetized iron to imprison ghosts. Yet, in modern times, Dietrich von Bern wields a steel sword. And the Border Redcaps use guns loaded with steel-jacketed slugs. What happened?”

“Perhaps,” offered Grondark, smoothing out the steel, “it became too common? In ancient limes, only the mightiest warriors carried weapons of iron. Oftentimes, charms contained bits of iron, not gold.”

“Too common,” repeated Jack, his mind whirling. His thoughts from earlier in the evening came rushing back. “Good versus evil, order versus chaos. Symbols and specifics.”

“What are you muttering?” asked Grondark.

“You mentioned the great swords of power,” said Jack, leaping from one idea to another. “Why were all the famous weapons swords? Why not spears? Or axes?”

“There were a few of those,” said Grondark, frowning, “but not many. Magic swords were always the weapon of choice. Heroes preferred them two or three to one over other killing devices. They loved their swords. Oftentimes, the damned fools insisted on being buried with them. As if grave robbers wouldn’t dig them up a week later for the booty. At least Roland tried to destroy Durandel. Not that it did him much good. We built swords to last.”

Like all the supernaturals, Grondark exhibited a tendency to rattle on if given the chance. Ordinarily, Jack would have found his meanderings fascinating, but not at the moment.

“Why swords?” Jack asked again, trying to steer the dwarf back in the right direction.

“They combine fire and iron,” declared Grondark dramatically. “Swords are forged. They are fire and iron, united. A strong blade is the marriage between the two greatest forces of order.”

Seeing the sudden look of comprehension on Jack’s face, he asked, “Is that the secret, Jack Collins?”

“Yes,” said Jack, the truth bursting within him. “Yes, that is the secret, Grondark.”

“Then would you please explain it to me,” said the dwarf, “because I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“The important word is order,” said Jack, slipping into his teaching mode. “Most superstitions are grounded in a fear of the unknown, of chaos. Primitive man was frightened by many things he did not understand, so he personified them—gave them form and substance. Which is how the first supernatural beings came into existence. They were creatures of the fear, the disorder, that surrounded and threatened early mankind.

“Then came the first major step in human progress. The taming of fire. Using it, man was no longer afraid of the dark. The night was still threatening, but it was not overwhelming. Fire was symbolic of the triumph of order over chaos, civilization over anarchy.”

“What about cold iron?” asked the dwarf.

“Order over disorder, law over chaos,” declared Jack. “That’s the symbolism I was searching for. The conquest of fire led to the mastery of metal. Again, mankind used cold iron, used steel to transform society from the chaotic to the orderly. Iron weapons, iron horseshoes, iron nails brought order to the world. It drove out chaos.

“By definition, most supernatural beings, especially those of evil, were creations of chaos. Even the faeries, like Simon and his relatives, were considered mischief makers, trouble bringers. They were symbolic of disorder. That was why iron hurt them as well as the dragons, the monsters, the bogies. Order triumphed over chaos. That’s the key.”

“The key to what?” asked Cassandra, wandering into the garage, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “What’s got you so excited, Jack?”

Swiftly, Jack outlined his theory to the Amazon. She remained silent until he finished.

“Not bad,” she said. “But, if that’s the case, why doesn’t cold iron hurt Dietrich von Bern still? He’s definitely a creature of chaos. As are the Border Redcaps.”

“Because iron ceased to be symbolic of order a long time ago,” said Jack. “The same applies to fire. Once, they both worked as forces of good in the world. Fire destroyed the worst evils; iron weapons killed terrible monsters. But Fritz hit the nail on the head when he said they became too common. Iron and steel were used not only for good, but for evil. Innocents as well as villains were burned to death by fire. Good people as well as bad were put to the sword. Each crime, each outrage, lessened their powers. Humanity no longer thought of cold iron being used only for righteous deeds. Once mankind realized that steel was neither good nor evil, but merely an extension of the user’s desires, it lost all power as a symbol.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Guns don’t kill people, as we’ve been told again and again. People kill people. Cold iron doesn’t defeat evil because it no longer is symbolic of the triumph of order over chaos. In modern times, cold iron serves both law and chaos.”

“Then nothing can defeat the Wild Huntsman,” said Cassandra, her face ashen. “Nothing in this modern world is symbolic of the supremacy of order over chaos.”

Jack smiled. He felt almost lightheaded, as revelation after revelation filled his consciousness. Unexplained mysteries suddenly made perfect sense.

“That’s not true,” he said cheerfully. “There are lots of things that fill the bill these days. We’re surrounded by things that bring order to a chaotic universe. You merely have to change the way you’re thinking. Von Bern is powerful and he has powerful allies. But I have a few surprises for our German friend.”

Jack laughed out loud. “Everything fits together like a jigsaw puzzle. Order versus chaos. The Wild Huntsman has a Sword of Chaos, a Great Beast, and the Border Redcaps. That’s a pretty awesome force. But we have logic on our side.”

Jack was glowing with energy. “And, let me tell you, in the entire universe, nothing is more powerful than logic. Nothing at all.”