by Logan Jacobs
“Oh, gods,” Sorcha moaned as she found a rock to sit on. We were in a thicket of young trees and sprawling vines, just a few feet from the trail, but invisible to anyone who might pass by.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I tried to look at the bump on her head. The bleeding had stopped, but it had to be sore.
“I’ll be okay,” she replied, “but that other gun … ”
“The snub nose,” I noted as I patted the pocket where my own shining version of the gun now rested.
“It can’t believe how loud it was,” Sorcha muttered.
“I wonder if that’s because the barrel is so short,” I mused.
“I have no idea,” Sorcha sighed, “but maybe next time we could find something a little quieter for you to shoot.”
“I kind of liked it,” I protested as I remembered the burst of flame and the kick of power as the powder ignited. While the revolver had felt comfortable and easy in my hands, the snub nose had felt more like a beast, and the energy that filled me as I fired it seemed to reflect that.
What I really wanted to do was pull the gun out and fire off a few more shots just for the thrill, but Sorcha shook her head as if she’d read my mind.
And there was still the issue of why I hadn’t been able to summon the revolver.
Could I only create the last gun I’d held? If that were true, then I would need to find something that held more bullets.
“Well,” I added, “you may only have to listen to it a few more times.”
“What do you mean?” Sorcha asked as she poked at the bump on her head and then scowled.
“I think I can only create a gun once,” I explained. “I tried to create another revolver after I dropped the real snub nose, but I couldn’t do it. Then I could create the snub nose.”
“Like the pattern of the snub nose replaced that of the revolver?” she asked.
“I guess,” I mused. “Although, when I picture the revolver, I can almost feel it. It just doesn’t appear.”
“So, it isn’t gone,” she said with a frown.
“I don’t think so,” I replied.
“My head still hurts,” Sorcha sighed as she stood up, “and thinking about this is only making it worse. What I could really use is some water and a chance to rest, and then I’ll be able to work on it.”
“Water does sound good,” I admitted as I realized how thirsty I was. “There’s got to be a fountain or something in here somewhere. Even just a stream would be okay.”
“Well,” Sorcha mumbled as she glanced at the sky, “I think we’re pretty far from the river, but if we keep heading toward the west, we should find it again.”
“There’s bound to be feeders for it,” I noted, “and if this area is like most city parks, they probably built it around a stream or such that’s heading for the river.”
Sorcha nodded as I checked the sky, then started off in a westerly direction. We were soon deep in the underbrush, and what little energy I had left was spent swatting away branches and mosquitoes and cursing the pain that started to throb along my back and arm as the rush from the gun battle wore off. I was ready to take my chances back on the path when Sorcha tugged on my sleeve and held her index finger in front of her mouth.
I went still and waited while she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. After nearly a minute, she turned in a half-circle, took two steps, then stopped again.
“I hear water,” she finally said.
I tried to listen more carefully, but my ears still had a low-level buzz going on. Frustrated, I closed my eyes and forced myself to ignore the droning in my ears and the pain in my arm. I heard it then, the sound of water tumbling over an edge.
“This way,” I insisted.
We scrambled down an overgrown hillside littered with rocks and weeds. At the bottom we tumbled into a dry gulley, but the sound of the water was louder and closer. We followed the gulley, until we arrived at an old sluice gate. There was a set of rusting stairs to the top of the gate, and after testing the first few steps, we climbed carefully to the top.
We found ourselves over a small canal, just past one of the locks. Water cascaded over a ledge and filled a pool below us before it coursed away deeper into the park.
“Do you think it’s clean?” Sorcha asked.
“It looks okay,” I said, “and I don’t smell anything.”
So, we climbed down from our perch and approached the edge of the water. The canal looked like it had been here a long time though it hadn’t been in full operation for a while. I tested the water and gave Sorcha a quick nod. Then she filled her palms and slurped down the cold liquid greedily. I did the same until I felt like I was about to start sloshing. When I looked over at Sorcha again, she was trying to clean the area around her head wound, but she scowled as the cold water touched the sensitive skin.
“This probably runs all the way to the river,” Sorcha commented when she saw me watching.
“Probably,” I agreed. “It might even bring us closer to one of those bridges.”
“And it’s probably safer than trying to go through the neighborhoods,” she added.
“What?” I teased with a smirk. “No gangsters on the canal?”
“At this point, I don’t care,” she admitted. “I just want to get out of the city before anyone else can find us.”
“So, we follow the canal,” I said as I studied the terrain. “It shouldn’t be too hard. It looks fairly flat, and there’s enough cover that we can hide if we need to.”
Sorcha nodded and wrung out her hair. Then I helped her step back up to the edge of the canal, and we started to walk along the remnants of an old path. Tree roots and snaking vines were starting to take over, but there was still enough of the flat surface left that the walk was fairly easy.
Minutes later, we spotted people on the opposite bank. A few waved or called out a greeting, but most people were focused on their own affairs. We passed a pair of half-sunken barges that had been taken over by a group of angry blue jays, and we had to venture off the path when we encountered a large pit someone had dug in the middle of the lane.
I was certain we were going to make it to the river without further problems, but as we came around a bend, I stopped and sniffed the air, as did Sorcha.
“Someone’s cooking,” I commented.
“It does smell good,” the mage replied as her stomach rumbled.
“Maybe they’ll be willing to share,” I suggested as my own stomach growled in response.
“I do have a few coins left,” she noted. “If they don’t want to share, maybe we could buy some food from them.”
We started walking again, and as we sidestepped past a low-hanging limb, I spotted a barge pulled up along the shore. There was no cargo on the deck, just a shack of sorts, a line of clothing drying in the sun, and a man and woman in a pair of deck chairs. On the shore nearby was a small fire pit with a spit. The aroma of roasted pig dominated, and my mouth watered in response.
The man and woman on the barge watched our approach carefully. They didn’t leap for any weapons, but they didn’t call out a greeting either. I put them both near fifty, with matching gray braids and soft brown eyes. The woman had a long, narrow face and a nose that had been broken at least once. The man was rounder, and his beard hid what I suspected was a double chin.
“That smells delicious,” I said as we drew even with the barge. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share.”
“Well, now, that depends,” the man replied in a slow drawl.
“On what?” I prodded when he didn’t add anything else.
“On who you are,” he added. “We know everyone who plies the canal, and I’m afraid I don’t recognize you.”
“We’re just passing through,” I told him. “We’re heading for the river.”
The pair exchanged veiled glances, and some unspoken communication took place between them.
Sorcha inched closer to me, and I tried to move my hand closer to the gun as casually as I
could.
“We prefer to avoid trouble,” the woman noted in a brassy voice. “So, what kind of trouble are you?”
“How do you know we’re trouble?” I asked.
“Two people from the main island, looking like they’ve been through hell, following the canal so they can reach the river,” the woman replied. “No doubt you plan on heading to the mainland after that. The only reason you would be going out of your way to cross the river that way is because you’re in trouble and the authorities are looking for you at the tunnel.”
I shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Sorcha. She wore a frown on her face as she studied the pair, but she wasn’t ready to share whatever she was sensing about them. So, I turned back to the couple and tested my best smile.
“You wouldn’t be far off,” I admitted. “We might have one of the local gangs looking for us as well.”
“And you’re still alive?” the man asked in surprise.
“Um, well, we did have this fight,” I mumbled.
“Which gang?” the woman asked as she leaned forward, and there was a glint in her eyes that was hard to define.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We met them near the riverfront, at a distillery.”
“The Huns,” the woman remarked. “I guess you didn’t meet Azra if you’re here.”
“Azra?” I asked.
“Their mage,” the woman explained. “If she appears, you know you’re doomed.”
“Tall, long braid, likes to throw lightning bolts?” I pressed.
“That’s her,” the woman agreed, “but if you know that, how are you here?”
“Uh,” I hesitated.
“We killed her,” Sorcha supplied. Her sudden loud declaration startled all of us, and I looked at her again to see if she would give me a hint as to what she’d planned. The blonde mage kept her gaze on the two strangers, though, so I turned to look at them as well.
The woman sat back and stared at us in awe, and the man dropped the glass he’d been holding, which sent a pale red liquid across the deck. They gaped at us for a moment, but neither Sorcha nor I offered any more information.
“Azra’s dead?” the man finally asked.
“She is,” I confirmed.
“Well, that is good news,” the woman declared as she stood up, “and that kind of trouble I can live with. Come on, we have some fresh green beans and peas ready to eat, and the pig will be done soon.”
The woman waved us onto the deck while her companion unfolded two more chairs. Then he nearly shoved us into the chairs while the woman disappeared into the shack. She returned with two plates, piled high not only with the promised vegetables, but thick slices of bread and ears of corn as well.
The woman handed a large empty platter to the man and shooed him from the deck while she sat down in her chair. She nodded at us as we started to eat, then noticed we didn’t have drinks. So, she stood up and returned to the lean-to, and this time, she came back with two bottles of beer.
“We don’t usually keep much beer on board, but I’d say you’d earned those if you really killed Azra,” the woman said as she dropped into her chair.
“Are you sure she was dead?” the man asked as he clambered back aboard with a platterful of roasted pork.
“Wait, I don’t want to miss anything,” the woman warned as she hopped to her feet again and made another trip inside. She came back with two more loaded plates, and the man placed several slices of pork on each plate, then sat down in his own chair again.
“I’m Benny, by the way,” he said as he took a bite of the pork.
“And I’m June,” the woman added.
“Are you married?” Sorcha asked as she dipped the bread in some of the drippings on her plate.
“Nearly thirty years now,” June replied as she smiled at her husband. “We’ve been on the canal even longer than that.”
“And who are you?” Benny asked as he looked between us. “If you don’t mind me asking. I’d like to know the names of the people who killed Azra.”
“Sorcha and Hex,” I replied as I pointed to each of us in turn with my fork.
“So, details,” June encouraged.
Sorcha and I glanced at each other as we tried to weigh how much to tell the pair. They seemed harmless enough to me, but Sorcha still had a puzzled look in her eyes.
“We … got lost,” I finally said. “We came across the bridge, and we thought we could just walk down to the river, but we got turned around. When we did finally find the river, we encountered a group of men outside the distillery. They told us we needed to pay a toll to cross their territory.”
Benny and June both nodded as if they had heard this story before.
“And when you reached for your money, they attacked,” the gray-haired woman surmised.
“Not exactly,” I replied. “We convinced them we could pay them even more if they would just see us safely out of their territory.”
“How on earth did you do that?” June asked in surprise.
“Sorcha can be very persuasive,” I said with a shrug. June looked at me in disbelief, but I noticed her husband turn a speculative eye on the mage.
“Oh,” June finally muttered.
“So, they walked us to the Hook,” I continued, “and that’s when they attacked. It was at this odd intersection where three roads met.”
“And it was just the two of you?” Benny asked suspiciously as if he couldn’t picture how the two of us could have taken on the gang without help.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“But how did you actually kill her?” the wife demanded around a mouthful of bread.
“I shot her in the head,” I said with a shrug.
“Ah, a bolt to the brain,” June sighed happily. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. But where’s your crossbow?”
“I dropped it,” I admitted. I didn’t need Sorcha’s warning glance to know I shouldn’t mention that I’d shot Azra with a gun.
“So, do you two just sail along the canal?” Sorcha asked before June could press us for more details.
“Indeed we do.” Benny nodded. “It’s really quite pleasant since very few people even know it’s here outside of our fellow houseboaters. Not to say it’s always perfect. We have our own gangs to deal with, but as long as we make the deliveries on time, they leave us alone.”
“Deliveries?” Sorcha pressed.
“Just some … unapproved items the gangs sell to certain people in the city,” Benny admitted. “We don’t ask too many questions when they load the cargo. It’s just better that way.”
Benny and June watched us carefully, but when neither of us looked shocked or disapproving, they relaxed again.
“But what brings you two out to Brook Island?” June asked.
Sorcha and I glanced at each other again, and I looked at my now empty plate. Then I set it aside and looked at Benny and June.
“I might have gotten in a spot of trouble with the local authorities,” I replied.
“The government kind or the mage kind?” Benny asked in a bemused voice.
“Maybe both,” I admitted.
“Ha!” June snorted. “I like you, Hex. Not only did you kill off one of the worst enforcers on this side of the river, but you also managed to piss off the mages. Anyone who can do all that is a-ok in my book.”
“You don’t like mages?” Sorcha asked in surprise.
“Not all mages are bad,” June assured her. “I’m sure you’ve probably guessed by now that Benny and I have a little magic of our own.”
Sorcha nodded, and I tried not to look surprised.
“We just don’t like the Magesterium,” Benny added. “First, they wanted us to pay them for the right to use our magic, and then they tried to keep us from getting married.”
“Why would they do that?” I inquired.
Benny shook his head, and June scowled.
“They won’t allow two mages to marry if they think the magics will cancel each other out,” Sorcha
explained, “or if they think they’ll merge and create a black magic.”
“Neither of which happened,” the wife pointed out.
“Is that why you stay on the canal?” I asked. “So the Magesterium won’t find you?”
“They tried to find us when we first came out here,” Benny mused, “but they gave up after a while. I guess even those idiots realized nothing terrible was going to happen if we spent our lives together.”
“Now, we just try to help other mages when we can,” June added. “Those the Magesterium is looking for.”
“We can take you to the river,” the bearded man stated. “Even help you find a boat that will get you across.”
“And in return?” Sorcha asked with a raised brow.
June eyed the delicate gold ring the blonde mage wore around her finger, and without a word, Sorcha took it off and handed it to the older woman. June smiled happily as she studied the band before sliding it on her own finger. Then her husband smiled in approval and turned to look at me.
“Now, the people we deal with along the canal are not always so happy to see strangers,” the gray-haired man explained. “We’ve got a spot where you can hide if we come across any less friendly types, but I need to know now that you’ll obey me without question if I tell you to hide.”
“Absolutely,” I assured him.
“Good,” Benny declared. “We’ll just clean up a bit, and then we can continue on our way. June, honey, why don’t you show Hex and Sorcha where they can see to their personal needs while we take care of the boat.”
“I have some clothes that should fit you,” his wife mused as she studied us, “and some salves for those scratches.”
While June returned to the house part of the boat, Benny gathered up the plates and glasses. I started to help, but he gave me a friendly pat on the back and told me to wait for June. When his wife returned, she carried a stack of clothes and towels, a bar of soap, and a collection of small vials. Then she led us off the boat and along a footpath I hadn’t noticed before.
We were back in the underbrush again, but it soon gave way to a grassy area around a small pool of water. June set everything down on a flat rock, explained the contents of each vial, then left us with a wink and a sly smile.
