by Logan Jacobs
“Are you two some of his graduates?” Darwin demanded.
We both shook our heads.
“We only just met him,” Sorcha added when Darwin didn’t ask anything else. “He helped us find our way across Brook Island.”
“And he sent you here to do what?” Darwin asked. “Because I know he didn’t send you all the way out here just to say hello.”
“He said you had information we could use,” I replied.
“Information about what?” Darwin pressed.
“Umm…” I hesitated as I glanced at Sorcha, and then Freya, who stood just behind her grandfather with a look of interest on her face.
“Don’t worry about the girl,” Darwin snapped. “She’ll hear it all any way.”
“Gramps,” Freya protested, but a quick look from him silenced whatever else she had been about to say.
“So what’s so important that Evan sent you all the way to Morristown to find me?” Darwin asked angrily.
“He said you had guns,” I admitted. “He said you could show us your guns and provide us with information about how to, I don’t know, be safe around them.”
“Guns?” Darwin repeated in disbelief. “First off, what do you need guns for? And secondly, if I did have guns, and that’s a mighty big if, why the hell would I share them with some complete strangers?”
“We don’t need to take the guns,” I tried to explain. “Can I show you something?”
Darwin glared at me and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He lifted his chin, studied me for a moment, and then finally nodded his consent.
I put my hand in my pocket and slowly withdrew the snub nose. I heard Freya gasp and saw Darwin start to reach for his own waistband, so I quickly laid the gun carefully on the table and pushed it toward the older man.
“You’re bringing a shitload of trouble down on us with that thing,” Darwin snapped. “Where the hell did you find it?”
“I made it,” I replied.
“You did what?” Darwin said as he finally picked up the snub nose and started to examine it. “You did not make this. It’s got the manufacturer’s stamp. This is a Smith and Wesson Model Three-Sixty.”
“It’s my magic,” I explained. “Once I hold a gun, I can recreate it, down to the last detail.”
“So you’ve held a snub nose?” Darwin retorted.
“And a Colt revolver, and a Ruger twenty-two rifle that Evan said you gave him,” I added. “Oh, and I have a Mossberg Maverick.”
“So let’s see you create one of these other guns,” Darwin snorted.
“I can’t,” I replied. “Not yet. I have to wait twenty-four hours after I fire the last bullet before I can make it again.”
“So you fired a Colt revolver and a Ruger and a Maverick in less than twenty-four hours?” Darwin asked in disbelief and then added, “That was you this morning. I thought I heard a gun, but nobody around here has one so I figured it was something those idiot mages were up to.”
“We were being chased by some mutants in the wasteland,” I sighed. “We made it here through a portal, but two of the mutants followed us.”
“Gramps,” Freya said quietly, “Don’t you want to at least hear this story?”
“No,” Darwin snapped as he sat the gun back on the table. “We don’t need whatever trouble is following these two. If you’re in touch with Evan, you can tell him I’m glad he’s doing okay, and to let me know if he needs anything, but I won’t help you.”
“Gramps--” Freya tried again.
“No more, Freya,” Darwin growled. “Now, see them out before I change my mind and shoot them. You never should have brought them down here in the first place.”
Freya started to protest, but the hard, angry look in her grandfather’s eyes quickly quelled her complaint. She motioned Sorcha and I to follow her, and we both stood up quickly.
I picked up the snub nose and slid it back into my pocket, all under the watchful gaze of Charles Darwin. Once the gun was safely back in my pocket, I made a point of keeping my hands in front where Darwin could see them.
I had to squeeze by him to follow Freya, and for a moment, we were chest to chest and eye to eye. He radiated anger, but beneath that I thought I saw fear in his eyes, and I wondered what type of encounters he’d had with mages in the past.
I heard the hinge squeak, and Freya’s softer tread as she climbed the steps, followed by Sorcha’s boots. I tilted my head just a bit, not so much a nod as an acknowledgement of the man in front of me, then walked as calmly as I could to the steps, with Darwin’s eyes boring into my back the whole way.
Stepping back into the bright day was both startling and momentarily blinding, and I had to stop on the edge of the concrete pad and blink several times until my eyes adjusted.
“That was interesting,” Sorcha murmured. “So now what?”
“So now we head back to town,” I sighed. “Maybe visit the Coachman’s Inn.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Freya huffed as she started along the trail. “I really thought he’d at least listen to your story since Evan sent you. He and Evan have been friends forever, like back in the pre-magic days, and Evan was the one who convinced gramps to rejoin the rest of the world. I’ve never known him not to do something Evan wanted.”
“But Evan isn’t here,” Sorcha pointed out. “And he doesn’t really have any reason to believe anything we’ve said.”
“Is it true?” Freya asked as she stopped and turned to face us. “Can you really create a gun after you’ve held it?”
“I can,” I admitted. “But you can’t tell anybody.”
“No problems there,” Freya snorted as she started forward again. “I’ll just add it to the load of other secrets we keep around here.”
When we were back at the ramshackle house and the slow-moving waters of the bog, Freya pointed us toward the rutted track we’d followed on the way in.
“Can you find your way back?” she asked.
“If we don’t meet any dangerous animals or mages along the way, I think we’ll be okay,” I jested.
“There’s nothing like that around here,” Freya noted. “Medrick the Marvelous Mage makes sure of that.”
“You don’t sound like a fan of Medrick,” I noted.
“So not a fan,” Freya sighed. “He’s a real prick. But I will admit that he does keep things safe.”
“Freya!” Darwin’s voice rang out.
“Guess I should go,” she sighed. “Gotta get that hinge oiled. Nice meeting you, and good luck.”
She gave us a quick wave, then sauntered back toward the rickety fence and the trail beyond that. Since neither Sorcha nor I felt like facing Darwin again just yet, we started down the rutted road without a backward look.
Lewiston Road was busier when we passed along it on the return to town, though it was mostly young children who ran between the yards of the different homes as if it was all just one big playground. A few of the kids stopped to watch us pass by, and two of them even waved, but whatever game they were playing soon had their attention again, and they went on about their business as if we had never been there. A young woman with an infant in her arms and an elderly man who sat in a rocking chair on a porch both eyed us suspiciously, but when we continued on toward Main Street without stopping anywhere, they turned their eyes back to the children.
“He does have guns,” I sighed as we stepped onto Main Street. There was no one else around at the moment, and I didn’t think we’d have much chance to talk about guns once we were back in the town proper.
“You’re sure?” my companion asked.
“I could feel them,” I replied. “I had felt the Maverick in the house, too, but I was so focused on trying to hold off the mutants that I blocked it out.”
“Maybe we can come up with some way to convince him to help,” Sorcha suggested.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “He wasn’t just angry. He’s afraid as well.”
“I felt that, too,” Sorcha mused. “It’s something to
do with the granddaughter, but I’m not sure what.”
“It does seem odd that she lives out there with him,” I mused. “And I don’t care what she says, I can’t imagine she likes being isolated like that all the time. Could she be a mage?”
“I didn’t sense any magic in her,” Sorcha replied.
“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” I pointed out. “He’ll shoot us both if we go back out there unless we can give him a good reason to at least show us the guns.”
“And if we can’t convince him?” she asked. “It seems like a lot of effort to get here just to be turned away.”
“Realistically, how long can we stay?” I pressed. “The wastelands gave us some breathing room, but I’m sure they’ve guessed we’re heading west. They’ll be back on our trail soon enough. As much as I’d like to see this stash of his, I think we should just go ahead and make plans to leave tomorrow.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sorcha sighed. “But at least we’ll be able to enjoy some of that fine dining at the Coachman’s Inn, and maybe a night on sheets that aren’t about to fall apart.”
“We should look at some horses,” I laughed. “Just to see what’s available. We can cut some time off our trip if we can find some good animals.”
“I like the sound of that,” Sorcha agreed.
We chatted idly as we got closer to the town and more people started to appear on the road. Coaches and wagons rumbled past as well, and even a group of farmhands on horses trotted by. Motown was a happy, successful town, and though I had no love for mages at the moment, I had to admit that Medrick seemed to be doing a good job.
We made our way to the Coachman’s Inn first, where we were happy to discover that there were rooms available and that lunch service would begin shortly. We reserved separate rooms, since the clerk looked offended at the very idea that an unmarried man and woman would consider sharing a room in such a fine establishment, and then booked a table for lunch.
With our paltry collection of goods deposited in our rooms, and time yet before lunch, we asked the clerk about horses. He pointed us toward a yard on the opposite side of the town from the Police Department, near the other old church. We thanked him and set off down Main Street once again, though at a more leisurely pace. As we strolled along and peered in windows, I heard more than one person remark on the short, ugly mage that had caused such a ruckus that morning. I grinned at Sorcha when I heard that story repeated for about the tenth time, and we walked past the church in a very good mood.
The second church looked even older than its partner at the other end of Main Street. It was shorter and squatter, with walls made of stone. There was a square tower near the center of the building that looked like something you’d find on a fairytale castle, with an arched opening on each side of the tower near the top. Most of the windows along the front and sides were little better than slits, although we spotted a larger, more colorful window on the back of the church. It looked like another image of the man with his arms held wide, along with a few other people, but the sun wasn’t at the right angle for us to get a good view.
In any case, I wasn’t paying attention to the sights any more. I was convinced that someone had followed us since we had stepped out of the Coachman’s Inn, though I had yet to spot our tracker. Whoever it was, they knew enough not to let their reflection be seen whenever we stopped in front of a store window.
“I think we’re being followed,” I finally whispered to Sorcha as we paused to study the back of the church.
“Oh, good,” she sighed. “I thought maybe I was just being paranoid because I haven’t been able to spot whoever it is.”
“Neither have I,” I admitted. “But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.”
“Should we go back to the inn?” she suggested.
“Let’s go ahead and take a look at the horses,” I said. “Maybe we’ll be able to figure it out. If not, we’ll go back to the inn and decide if we should sneak out the back and leave now.”
“It’s not a mage,” Sorcha tried to reassure me.
“Could still be trouble,” I replied.
We started to walk again and found the local horse dealer easily enough. He had a large operation, with stables for rent as well as horses for sale. We strolled past an intense negotiation for a red colt and draped ourselves on the corral posts to watch the handful of horses that munched on the hay. There was an impressive draft horse which was worthy of everyone’s admiration, but not what we needed for a hard ride across the country.
“I like the gray,” Sorcha noted.
“She’d probably be a steady ride,” I agreed as I looked over the mare. She was well built, with strong legs, a wide chest, and ears that pricked at every sound. Her gait looked smooth as she trotted toward the water, and she watched the people around the stables with interest.
“She’ll cost a lot,” Sorcha sighed.
“We still have plenty of Scott’s money left,” I snickered.
We watched for a few more minutes, but our tail never appeared. We spent a few minutes with the owner and promised to return to discuss the cost of the gray mare and a bay gelding that also looked promising.
“Let’s go this way and see if we can spot our watcher,” Sorcha suggested as we took another slow walk past the corrals.
This way was a small road that ran along the back of the stables. There was a sign for a healer and an estate lawyer further along, but that was it. The road appeared to meander off into a nearby field where I would guess the horse dealer could take his charges for some exercise.
“Good idea,” I said as we turned into the lane.
We ambled past the healer and the lawyer and enjoyed a slow walk under the shade of the oak trees that lined the road. When we were past the last building, a rundown affair with a stack of empty casks out front, we stopped to look at the field. I heard movement off to our right and started to pull the snub nose from my pocket.
“It’s just me,” Freya said as she stepped out from the shadows.
“Why are you following us?” I demanded.
“Because I think we can help each other,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” Sorcha asked.
“Look, you want my grandfather’s help, and I think I can talk him around to showing you the guns and telling you about them and, well, just whatever else you want to know,” Freya blurted out breathlessly.
“Okay,” I said. “What do you want in return?”
“I want to go with you when you leave here,” she declared.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” I said.
“You’re going west, I’ll bet,” she retorted. “Are you going west?”
“And what if we are?” I replied. “West could be anywhere.”
“But it won’t be here,” she said firmly. “Near my family.”
“So you just want to run away from home?” Sorcha asked.
“No, that’s not it,” Freya huffed. “Not exactly. Look, do you want my help or not?”
“We’re making a long and dangerous trip,” I noted. “There are no guarantees we’ll get where we want to go, not with the Magesterium on our tails. We could very well end up dead before we even reach the halfway point. Joining us could be the same as joining a suicide mission.”
I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I wasn’t exaggerating either. And the last thing we needed on this journey was a bored twenty-something who wanted to get away from her family for a few days or months. And though the dark haired archer had some good skills with a bow, I had no idea how she would react in a do-or-die situation with red robed mages.
“I can fight,” Freya insisted. “And I can track. I can do lots of things. I even know how to shoot a gun.”
“Freya--” Sorcha started to protest.
“I’ll talk to gramps tonight,” she cut in. “If you want to make the deal, come out to the house again tomorrow morning. Gramps will show you the guns, and when you leave, I’ll leave with
you. Take it or leave it.”
“If you change your mind, we won’t turn around and bring you home,” I warned in one last bid to warn her off.
“I won’t change my mind,” she affirmed.
She stalked away then, along the road, past the lawyer and the healer. We watched her until the archer reached the stables and slipped inside one of the barns.
“What do you think?” Sorcha asked.
“I think I want to see Darwin’s guns,” I sighed. “Which means we may have someone else joining us on this journey. I can’t imagine she’ll stay for more than a day or two, though.”
“I wouldn’t count on that,” Sorcha murmured.
Chapter 11
With the mystery of our stalker solved, we returned to Motown for a quiet day and a peaceful night. At least, that was the plan, but it was hard not to get antsy as I sat in my room and watched the town slowly wind down for the day. I knew we should be on the road and putting more distance between us and the mages, but it felt important that I hold Darwin’s weapons and learn what I could from him about guns.
I barely slept, and I was already up and washed before the kitchen was officially open for breakfast. The cook took sympathy on me, though, and cooked me up a plate of fried eggs and hash, and even added a short stack of pancakes. It was all greasy and gooey and perfectly delicious. Add in a cup of coffee that could strip paint, and I was ready to go while the rest of the guests were still struggling to get out of bed.
Except for Sorcha, who looked like she had spent a restless night watching the town as well. She appeared in the dining room exactly one minute after the kitchen officially opened and sat down in the chair next to mine. She ate her egg sandwich more slowly, though she wasn’t above scooping up the rest of the yolk with a slice of sourdough bread.
“When Freya mentioned morning,” Sorcha mused when she’d sopped up the last bit of egg, “how early do you think she meant?”
“If yesterday is anything to go by, I’d say she and Charles are both up early,” I replied, “though I don’t think she was picturing this early.”
“Well, we could walk slowly,” Sorcha pointed out.
