by D.E. Dunlop
Eventually Angela was on the strip. Her face was hidden behind the mask, but her braids were easily seen hanging behind.
“Just give up now, Angela.” Maynard shouted from the side. “Save yourself the humiliation of losing in the first round.” He laughed.
“Come on, Maynard. That’s uncalled for.” Jessie urged.
“It’s just a joke.” Maynard excused.
“Yeah, well it’s not funny.” Jessie replied. “She’s our friend. We’re supposed to be cheering her on.”
“Get over it already. It’s not like she’s your girlfriend.” “Told you so, Raven.” Maynard shouted when she took a hit.
“What are you doing, Maynard? You know she hates that nick name.” Jessie said. “Besides, remember what happened last time you mocked her?” He asked with his eyebrows raised. “The President put you up against her for poor sportsmanship and she beat you.” Jessie reminded while Maynard nodded his head with a very annoyed look on his face.
“That was pure luck and you know it.”
“I’m just saying I wouldn’t want to push it during an event like this.”
“Lucky fluke, Raven.” Maynard chided when Angela made a hit.
“Halt!” The president called. “Match suspended until later this afternoon. Maynard, take up your equipment and face Angela on the piste.” She ordered.
“Told you so, Buddy.” Jessie said as Maynard got up.
“That’s okay. It looks like she needs someone to remind her how it’s done anyway.” Maynard said just a little too loudly.
“Maynard takes one point deficit for poor sportsmanship.” The president instructed the scorekeeper.
Jessie urged Maynard from the sidelines with exaggerated gestures to shut up before he made it any worse.
Angela and Maynard made their salutes and took their en garde positions.
“Allez!” The president yelled.
Before he knew it Angela had hit him. They started over. Another hit for Angela. The audience cheered and cheered as she hit him again and again. A regular match goes for three minutes or until one competitor scores five points, whichever comes first. However, the president did not call the match until Angela had scored ten points. She had a severe dislike for mockery and other types of poor sportsmanship. She wanted Angel to rub it in Maynard’s face.
The crowd was on its feet by the end and Maynard simply left. He didn’t even take the time to take his mask off or even salute Angela or the president.
“That was awesome!” Tinne cheered. “He didn’t stand a chance!”
“She sure made short work of him didn’t she?” Owen concurred. “I bet he’ll think twice next time he wants to bad mouth her.”
“I don’t think I would want to show may face for a couple of days after that slaughter.” Tinne’s mother added as they got up to leave.
Tinne’s family couldn’t get enough of his vanishing trick. They continued to pester him about how he did it for most of the ride home. Joseph was completely awestruck and wanted to see it again. He was slightly put out when Tinne refused to oblige. His dad, although pleased with his son’s performance in the competition, was somewhat irritated. He couldn’t understand the possibility of a human being simply vanishing on the spot and it ate at his demeanour until he stopped talking altogether. Earl simply smiled with amusement. Over the centuries his family had refused to believe in the magic he claimed to have regardless of the proofs he gave them. This time it appeared as though his descendants were finally grasping it.
**********
“You’ll have to talk to your son in the morning.” Tinne’s mother said gravely as she and Owen extinguished the lamps.
“Why? What’s the matter?” He asked with concern that was bordering panic.
“Don’t worry he’s not thinking about girls. Earl didn’t show up again today.” She answered. “He hovered around the lane all day for two days in a row now.”
“It’s high time he learned something useful to do with himself anyway. He’s nearly a teenager already.” Owen said bluntly.
“Don’t be harsh with him, Owen. His heart is broken.” His wife pleaded.
“I won’t, I won’t. I’ll take him to work with me tomorrow. I could use some help with this sculpture I’m working on.” Owen clenched his jaw briefly. “If that old fool was a day younger I’d turn him over my knee and tan his hide.”
**********
“Rodney!” The young lady screamed as she threw her arms around the neck of the scraggly worn out looking soldier in the doorway. “I thought you were dead!” She exclaimed. She smothered him with the kisses only a wife whose been separated from her husband a long time could smother him with. He held her close but didn’t return the joy or the same level of affection. “What’s wrong my Love?” She asked with great concern as he sat and covered his face.
“I’ve failed.” He groaned through his palms.
“What? What do you mean, you failed?”
“I’ve failed, just that; I’ve failed.” He said again, lowering his hands and looking at her imploringly. “I wasn’t able to complete the assignment.”
“So what happens if you fail?” She asked, sitting beside him and leaning her face on his shoulder. He hated to think of what would happen let alone speak what he thought would happen.
“I haven’t reported to the queen yet.” Was all he could think to say.
“Okay, so you make your report and ask for another chance. I mean, it’s not your fault, right?” She suggested while brushing her long black hair out of her face. Rodney inhaled deeply and sighed. “What?” His wife asked.
“You know the Queen is not forgiving.” He said flatly.
“But she has to be.” She nearly begged. “Oh, Rodney what will we do? I can’t live without...” She couldn’t finish her sentence for sobbing. They both new very well the Queen got what she wanted and any who failed her paid severely for her disappointment. The vast number of Catherine Wheels that lined the entrance to her palace easily attested to that knowledge.
“We could run away.” The distraught woman cried.
“She knows I’ve returned, Janelle. If we run we’ll be running the rest of our lives. I couldn’t do that to you.” He thought about life on the run and the horrible things that would happen to Janelle if he ran without her. “I have an appointment to make my report in an hour. I only came to say good-bye.” Rodney set his face, and put his arms around his desperate wife. “I’ll just have to get it over with. It’s best for you and our family.” He explained. She begged him, pulling on him, sobbing while he walked to the door. He stopped and turned to face her. He took her face in his hands gingerly. “My Love, there’s nothing in the world I’d rather do than run away with you, but you know as well as I that she would haunt us. If she didn’t find us she would go after our families and they’d be tried for treason. Hell, they wouldn’t even be tried. Every last living relative until someone turned us in or they were all gone.” He kissed her and wiped tears from her cheek. “Your parents, your baby sister...” He kissed her again. “This is the only way.” Rodney took a deep breath as he embraced his fate, left his weeping wife on her knees in the front door where pencil lines marked the growth of their children and he walked down the street.
“What do you mean; you killed him and left him in the north?” Katharine was looking over the balcony of her palace. Her knuckles, on the oak rail, were white. Rodney could feel his heart in his throat.
“Your task was simple. I sent ten of you and five dogs to retrieve a man who is older than the hills.” The queen knew very well Earl’s abilities, but wished not to give the man any undeserved excuses. “You’ve been gone nearly a year and a half and you come back alone to tell me most of your men were imprisoned in some hick town and my dogs, your target and remaining soldier are dead at the bottom of some bluff two months north of here and you can’t rememb
er how to get there? Do you recall me saying this man had something of mine and I needed it back?”
Rodney nodded nervously. He did remember well how to get back to where Earl lay he just wanted it all to end. Like his queen said he had been nearly a year and a half on this chase.
“He was some kind of wizard or something.” He excused.
“Don’t tell me all that hocus-pocus nonsense got you all spooked.” Katharine mocked.
Rodney didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t explain or excuse the things he had seen; yet he couldn’t bring himself to admit his fear or confirm the idea he had just mentioned.
“I swear he used some kind of magic or something on us.” Rodney continued to plead his case to deaf ears.
“Pathetic fool.” She hissed and snapped her fingers in the air. Rodney felt his feet leave the deck of the marble balcony. Katharine then flicked her wrist like one shaking down a mercury thermometer, which caused Rodney to be hurled out over the city and plummet into the same.
“Is that enough ‘some kind of magic or something’ for you?” She mocked.
Chapter 4
Dick’s Place
A silent shadow slipped across the morning sky. Jet-black feathers slightly rustling as the bird descended in a great dive, slicing the horizon only seconds before twisting with spread wings to stop gracefully with a small hop on the branch of a barren maple.
Across this little clearing, still shrouded in early morning shades, sat a small lean to, the fire pit slightly smoking from the night before. Within a short time the fire was alive with fresh wood, tea over the flame by a tri-pod.
Ren and Tinne were busying themselves with saddling the horses and packing their travel bags. The raven swept across the clearing to perch nearer the camp and squawked a short “bonjour”. Tinne glanced over his shoulder, a smile breaking on his bearded face. There was recognition and an intellectually intimate link between their eyes.
“Good morning, old friend. It’s good to see you again.” Tinne said. The raven versed and phrased a response as he searched for scraps around the campsite. Tinne shared his morning meal with his feathered friend as Ren cleaned his pans.
The two horses, like silhouettes against the brilliant white landscape, made their way steadily through the soft drifting snow. The morning air was crisp and the wind was still, except for the occasional gust to sweep the snow, like fine powder, across the path. The region in which they now travelled was of rolling hills, scattered with deciduous and coniferous forests. They made their own trails as both men felt that main roads, commonly travelled, were lacking in mystery and character. This and the weight of their loads caused the need to rest frequently. By noon that day they had already passed Little’s Hill and were resting by the lake.
Now Ren was what you might call an egocentric. He loved to boast about his looks and his talents, while gazing at his reflection on the water, he used this as reference while he ventured into his brag.
“See, Tinne, perfect features. Green eyes, perfectly straight nose, high cheekbones, long coppery red hair. I am absolutely beautiful, a perfect specimen of manliness. Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be me? I’m the best at everything I do.”
“I already know what it’s like to be you; constantly running from hordes of superstitious people.”
“They think I’m a demon or something.”
“You mean to say that you’re not?”
“No. I’m just a regular guy.”
“You, Ren, are in no way regular. You’re incredibly reckless; you take every risk you can. If the risk isn’t high enough, you find a way to make it higher. And, somehow you always prevail, fluke or skill, call it what you may. No. You are not regular.” The reflection dissipated as Ren turned, dipped his hand in the ice cold water and washed his face.
“Even still, it is good to be me.”
They quickly ate and headed around the bay. As they approached the southernmost end of the road that would lead them up the hill and right through the centre of the fortified city they took notice, once again of the large rusting sculpture that stood between them and the shore of the lake.
“What a hideous thing to plant on the lake.” Ren said indignantly.
“I think it’s supposed to catch evil spirits and prevent them from entering the city.” Tinne said.
“It’s ugly.” Ren concluded.
Unconcerned, they continued on their way to the small café on the hill to which they usually frequented. Shortly the monstrous ramparts loomed above them at the crest of the hill, hugged by ancient maples. The streets outside the wall were badly abused by time and hundreds of years of neglect. The buildings that lined the streets and avenues were like skeletons in the snow, food for savage vines and trees. The road, at their feet, lay cracked and broken, sparse remnants of unrecognizable asphalt, rutted by rain and previous spring thaws.
At the top of the hill they crossed a bridge that spanned a wide ravine that once cradled a bustling freeway. In its day this highway was packed with motor vehicles of every type, but now, the only sounds were that of hooves and wooden wheels on the bridge deck and the birds in the trees. The one sound that was louder than these was that of the electric engines opening and closing the great gates of the city. Passage by way of the freeway was no longer possible as the founders of the city built walls that reached from the bottom of the ravine to the top of the bridge. This prevented large numbers from passing through and surrounding them.
The battlements reached high overhead as the two men approached. At the gate they gave their information and the guard opened a small door to let them through.
Bayfield was the grandest city in all the region of Simcoe, home to thousands and boasting an army of more than four thousand, rivalled by only a few south of the Marsh. The city itself covered approximately five square kilometres with defence walls of stone and cement standing fifteen metres above the top of the ravine and five metres thick. It was now a little more than five hundred years old. It was built in the latter days of the void, as its creators were quick to see the coming changes in the world. In the time of its birth the city that housed it was of little importance in the affairs of the world and this was to their advantage. They had witnessed the rising turmoil in the larger cities and set to work, unnoticed by the world. It was equipped with its own hydroelectric generator plant as well as a telecommunications system. They almost instantly did away with the use of fossil fuels, as they had to be supplied by the larger cities to the south. Bayfield was soon completely self-supported. Needless to say many of the shops that existed on this hill went under due to the lack of consumers travelling from the outside areas. Only necessity based establishments survived. Smith shops of various types were re-invented.
The shop Ren and Tinne frequented on a daily basis was known as Dick’s Place. It was owned and operated by a gentleman of English descent and his name was, of course, Dick. Dick’s Place was of average size with a coffee shop in the front half, Ren and Tinne’s favourite place in the world next to Kearsey Park, which was situated next to an ancient cemetery, and dining room in the back half where the more wealthy patrons would enjoy a fine meal. Ren, Tinne and their friends had been regulars of the establishment since before its inception, or so the joke was told. Dick was the third or fourth owner and these two friends had known and supported all the previous. If Dick would let them they would stay all night and into the next day just drinking coffee and visiting. Ren’s fiancée became a waitress in the dining room. It was Lindsay’s idea, Dick’s wife. She said to Ezbieta one fine afternoon, after watching the three, Ren, Tinne and Ezbieta sit around and talk and read and draw and write as well as all the other hobbies they had, for a couple of hours, “Why don’t you work in the back for us? You’d be great at it. You’re very hospitable and good with people. I’d never have to worry about you being late for work. You’re always here anyway.” Ezbieta gladly accepted the offer. She
had been wondering how she would be able to pay her rent now that she had moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment.
**********
The snow fell lightly; large fluffy flakes taking their time to reach their nearly frozen destination. The sky was a dull grey, yet bright. Ren and Tinne sat sideways, with the table between them, silently watching out the front window of Dick’s Place. Each of them had a hand around a mug of hot coffee. Ren nearly had the ashtray full when Jas’n came in. He stood in front of the table for a minute. Ren and Tinne didn’t even notice him standing there.
“Been here for a while?” Jas’n asked.
Ren and Tinne turned around and nodded at him.
“Coffee?” He asked.
“Sure.” They answered.
“I buy, you fly.” He said to Tinne.
Tinne accepted the deal and went to the counter while Jas’n removed his scarf and over coat and took a seat across from the window. “Where’s Ezbieta?” He asked Ren.
Ren just lifted his chin in the direction of the back dining room.
“Workin’?” Jas’n surmised.
“Yep.”
“Hey, today’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Jas’n asked as he took out a tailor made and his Zippo.
“No. Tomorrow.” Ren replied.
“Halloween is your birthday? That’s cool.” Jas’n said.
Tinne returned with three cups of coffee and sat down. “Thanks, Jas’n.” He said.
“Yeah, no problem.” Jas’n replied. “So, you doin’ anything for Halloween?”
“I’ll probably go egging.” Ren said.
“Right on.” Jas’n chuckled.
“I’ll probably go to a Samhain ceremony in Sunnidale Forest.” Tinne said.
“What’s that?” Jas’n asked.
