by R. G. Thomas
Thaddeus’s anger faded to a dull burn. He shook his head and took a step closer, then stopped, the width of the room still between them. “Look, I know you’ve done your best all these years. It just feels really unfair that we’re stuck here doing chores while Mom’s somewhere up on the mountain, most likely scared or even hurt. After all the years of secrets, I think I’m allowed a little time to vent, don’t you?”
“You’re right, it’s only fair,” Nathan replied.
“I mean, I’m just learning about everything that has to do with our… what do you call us? Species? Race?”
Nathan laughed quietly. “How about community?”
“I like that.”
“Okay, good. Come here.” Nathan crossed and pulled him into a strong hug. “I’m sorry. About all of it.”
“Yeah, I know you are.”
Nathan held him at arm’s length. “So that’s one thing decided.”
Thaddeus grinned in spite of himself. He was still anxious to get back to saving his mom, but he no longer felt the raging fire of impatience and the almost screaming need for action.
“You know, you can’t take all the blame for Isadora being ahead of us,” he said. “It was my idea for us to take a detour and find the Well of Tears.”
“From what Teofil, Astrid, and Dulindir have said, Isadora pushed pretty hard for you all to go off track and find the well. I think you’re taking too much blame in this.”
Thaddeus raised his eyebrows. “And you’re not? Second-guessing your decisions from fifteen years ago?”
Nathan grinned and shook his head. “Fine. We both need to cut ourselves some slack, how’s that?”
“Agreed.” Thaddeus looked at the clock on the nightstand between their beds. “There’s some time before dinner. Can we find a place to practice magic?”
Nathan smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “I would like that very much.” He grabbed a pair of clean socks from the laundry and sat on the bed to pull them on. “Let’s go scope out the town a bit. See if we can find somewhere out of sight.”
Thaddeus followed his father to the door. “And, you know, if there happens to be a spell that folds laundry, that would be great.”
Nathan chuckled. “I’ll think on that one.”
Thaddeus told Teofil where they were going and then followed Nathan down the steps and out the front door. When they reached the sidewalk, they looked up the road toward town, then in the other direction to where the road ended at the foot of the mountain. A single streetlamp cast a yellow glow down onto the cul-de-sac. A narrow footpath had been worn through the undergrowth to the right of a guardrail, and Thaddeus traced the meandering path with his gaze until the trail faded away into darkness.
“It’s too dark to even think about a hike up that path,” Nathan said. “Let’s walk into town and see what’s going on.”
As it turned out, the town was even less lively in the evening. The Gulch Gulp coffee shop was the only business with more than two customers. The smell of coffee wafted out the door, and Nathan paused to breathe in the aroma.
“I miss coffee,” he said with a wistful sigh. “But I’ve been off it so long now it wouldn’t be wise to start drinking it again.”
“I miss the Internet,” Thaddeus said. “And Facebook. And texting. I’m still pissed my cell phone got wrecked in the Wretched River.”
Nathan smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll be home soon, Thaddeus. And hopefully your life will be much fuller than it was before. And we’ll get you a new phone, don’t worry.”
Thaddeus smiled back. Over his father’s shoulder he noticed a movie theater across the street. The marquee held just one word: CLOSED.
“They don’t even have a movie theater here in town,” Thaddeus said. “That’s sad.”
“Films all went digital.”
Thaddeus and Nathan both jumped and turned to find Ruby standing close behind them. A nervous chill went through Thaddeus as he wondered how she had managed to approach so close without either of them noticing.
“I don’t understand,” Nathan said.
Ruby shrugged and sipped from the Gulch Gulp cup she clutched in both hands. “The films are all going to digital prints now. The owner, Henry, couldn’t afford to update his equipment. He couldn’t show the latest movies any longer, and no one wanted to see the same old movies, so attendance dropped, and he was forced to close.”
“That’s too bad,” Thaddeus said.
“It was,” Ruby agreed. “He was a good businessman and a real community leader.”
“Was?” Nathan asked.
“Well, since he wasn’t bringing in money through the movie theater any longer, and no one wanted to buy it or invest, he was forced to find other work. And the only other sure work available around here that paid anything close to a livable wage was the mine.” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “We lost a lot of good men that day.”
“Explosion?” Thaddeus asked.
Ruby shook her head. “Cave-in. Some say they dug too deep. Others say they dug too fast. Either way, something happened down there, and all we up here know is that forty-seven men went into the mine that morning in January and never came out again.”
“Their bodies weren’t recovered?” Nathan asked.
“No. It was yards and yards of solid granite. There was no money to drill through all of it and still be able to offer the families large enough settlements to keep them from suing for more.”
“The families didn’t think to band together and demand the company retrieve the remains?” Nathan asked.
Ruby smiled, and Thaddeus noticed it didn’t seem to really fit the look in her eyes. “We weren’t really thinking straight at that time. I, for one, lost my husband of twenty-three years. I was fortunate enough to have my own income and, if you can call it lucky, no children. But there were others who had a number of children and no other options. We met as a group and voted on it, and it was decided we would all take the settlement and carry on as best we could.”
“I’m sorry,” Nathan said. “I didn’t realize.”
The smile was much brighter this time, but there was still something about her eyes that didn’t quite fit. “Oh, how could you know? Anyway, most of those who lost someone have moved away, but there are a few of us left. We’ve had to take the places of our husbands on committees and in groups. We’ve even stepped in to lead the city council.” She smiled. “We call ourselves the Widows of Iron Gulch. A little gallows humor.”
Thaddeus chuckled nervously, a little uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation. Ruby must have sensed his unease, because she paused to take another sip of her drink.
“There I go again, just rattling on and on. Forgive me.”
“No need to apologize,” Nathan said. “We were just out for a walk to take stock of the town.”
“Then by all means,” Ruby said with a bow and a wave of her hand. “Please carry on.”
They bid Ruby good-bye and continued down the sidewalk in silence until they were sure they were out of earshot.
“Wow,” Nathan said.
“Yeah.” Thaddeus nodded. “Talk about an unlucky town.”
Nathan nodded but kept silent as they strolled along. When they reached the end of the business district, they crossed the street and walked back the way they had come. Thaddeus kept his gaze on the CLOSED message on the theater marquee and thought about the men who had died in the mine accident. He couldn’t imagine losing his father so suddenly, without the chance to say good-bye. Without even a proper burial for his father’s body.
“Let’s check back here.”
Nathan’s voice pulled Thaddeus out of his thoughts, and he looked down the shadowy alley his father indicated.
“Looks kind of creepy,” Thaddeus said.
Nathan grinned. “Perfect.”
They picked their way down the narrow alley between overflowing trash bins and an untidy pile of old tires. Rodents ran from them, rustling through old new
spapers and other garbage. The alley opened into a parking lot behind the movie theater, the far half lit by a buzzing sodium vapor lamp. In the dingy glow, Thaddeus could see the yellow lines of the parking space had faded and peeled away. A small forest of weeds had taken root in the tiniest cracks in the lot and grown almost to their waists.
“I don’t think anyone’s been back here in a long time,” Thaddeus said, his voice low.
“No one should come wandering through, then, and that will work for us.” Nathan stood looking at Thaddeus with his hands on his hips.
“What?” Thaddeus asked, suddenly nervous.
“Just looking at you and trying to figure out where to start.”
Thaddeus smiled and stepped closer to his father. “We’re going to work on magic?”
Nathan nodded, but he did not smile in return. “We are. And it’s deadly serious work.”
Thaddeus’s excitement subsided a bit, leaving space for a bit of fear to settle inside his chest. “Deadly?”
“If you use it wrong, or use it for evil purposes, yes.”
“Is that what happened to Isadora?”
Nathan made a face and looked away. “No one’s really sure what turned Isadora so evil.” He was quiet a moment as he stared off across the parking lot. “Those who knew her best thought it was something that had been growing inside of her all her life. Those who she attacked or loved someone she murdered just knew she was evil.”
“Did you know her very well before she attacked the village?” Thaddeus asked.
Nathan studied him for a long moment. Finally he said, “I knew her better than others, but less than some of her closest confidants. Her attack caught me as off guard as the rest of the village, otherwise I would have been better able to protect Claire.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a bad subject.”
“No, it’s not that. There’s a lot you need to know about what happened all those years ago, but it’s very complicated and we don’t really have time for it. For now let’s talk about magic.”
Thaddeus nodded. “I’d like that.”
“As I said, it’s serious work and takes focus and concentration.”
“The two times I’ve done magic, it was weird.” He held his hands out palms up and looked down at them as he flexed his fingers. “It was almost as if I was touching the thing I was affecting. When I made that ball of light over the Wretched River, I could feel it in my hands—it was warm. And I could feel the goblin’s scaly skin as if I had actually grabbed hold of it.”
“Okay, that’s a good place to start.” Nathan held his arm out, fingers together and pointed away from them. “Magic is an extension of our bodies. It starts inside of us, and there’s been some argument over the years about where, exactly. Some say it starts in the brain, where the outcome of the spell is imagined, but others think it comes from the heart, where the spell caster’s true intention is harbored.”
“Where do you think it comes from?” Thaddeus asked.
Nathan looked out over his arm. A row of weeds fell over as if they had been cut, starting from just beneath Nathan’s fingers and extending out in a straight line. Thaddeus gasped and looked from the path in the weeds to his father’s grinning face and back again.
“I think it comes from a combination of the two,” Nathan replied, then lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “And a spot low in your belly. Though nobody likes to admit to that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not as romantic, I guess.” Nathan shrugged. “Anyway, what I did was I imagined myself cutting down those weeds in a straight line.”
“That’s it?” Thaddeus asked.
“That’s it.” Nathan picked up a small piece of asphalt and placed it in Thaddeus’s palm. “Since the other times you’ve conjured magic you’ve been under duress, let’s start small. Feel that rock: the rough edges, the bumpy surface. Fix the feel of it in your mind.”
“Okay.” Thaddeus nodded. “Got it.”
“Good. Drop the rock on the ground.”
Thaddeus let it slip from his hand.
“Now throw it across the lot without touching it.”
Thaddeus looked between the rock at his feet and the edge of the parking lot, gauging the distance. He furrowed his brow and stretched his arm and fingers down, pointing to it. He focused his thoughts on the rock, imagined it flying through the air and landing at the far edge of the lot.
“Imagine it still in your hand,” Nathan said, his voice quiet and calm. “Feel it in your grip.”
Maybe if he closed his eyes. Thaddeus stretched his fingers even farther toward the ground. He could recall the memory of how the rock had felt in his hand, but it didn’t feel like he was holding it again. Sweat beaded across his forehead and a line of it ran down his side, even though a cool breeze was blowing. He put all of his energy into grabbing the rock and flinging it across the parking lot.
Just when Thaddeus thought he would never be able to do it, he felt something in his palm. It was rough-edged. Crumbly. He gasped and opened his eyes to find the rock sitting in his hand. When Thaddeus looked up, his father was smiling at him.
“Did you mean to pick it up?” Nathan asked.
Thaddeus shook his head. “I wanted to throw it across the parking lot like you asked me to.”
“But you summoned it,” Nathan said. “And that’s an important start.” He laughed and pulled Thaddeus in for a strong hug. “You just did magic, my boy. And without someone’s life on the line.”
Thaddeus blew out a relieved breath and hugged him tight. When Nathan pulled back, they looked at each other and laughed again.
“I did it,” Thaddeus said. “I really did magic.”
“You really, truly did.” Nathan squeezed his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” Happiness filled Thaddeus, as bright and warm as summer sunlight. He closed his fingers around the rock, the rough edges digging into his palm, and then he opened his hand and tossed it in the air a couple of times before slipping it into his pocket. “I’m keeping this as a memento.”
“Good.” Nathan tipped his head toward the other side of the parking lot. “We should get back.”
They followed the path Nathan had created in the weeds until they reached the end of the parking lot, then took the sidewalk back to the business district. The Gulch Gulp was closed now, and they walked along the deserted street in companionable silence, the looming shape of Wraith Mountain to their right blotting out a good portion of the stars. Thaddeus wanted to nurture the warm feeling within him, let it blossom into optimism for what lay ahead. Maybe this time they were being forced to wait would be good for all of them.
Chapter FIVE
THE FOLLOWING morning, Thaddeus slept later than he had in weeks. Sunlight filled the bedroom when he finally blinked awake, and he pulled the covers over his head with a groan. After all those nights sleeping on the ground, the mattress felt like a cloud. He didn’t think he’d ever slept so hard. He lay completely hidden beneath the covers, his mind adrift. Sounds from other parts of the inn came to him now and then, but he didn’t really focus on them. There was no sense of his father still in the room with him, and Thaddeus savored the solitude. While he felt close to all the members of their group, he had been missing some time alone. As the only child of a single parent with a fluctuating work schedule, Thaddeus had spent a lot of time on his own. He’d gotten used to being able to spend long intervals just sitting and thinking about anything and everything. The last few weeks had been packed with much new information and the demands of hastily made and important decisions.
Though he reveled in the time to himself, the muted voices and laughter, along with the smell of breakfast, finally lured him out of bed. He took a quick shower to wake himself up before heading downstairs into what he assumed would be a well-deserved round of teasing.
He ran a comb through his wet hair and pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved pullover, then took a look outside the window. Eve
n though the room faced west, away from the rising sun, the light reflected off the snow near the top of the mountain and streamed straight into it. Well, that was one way to get people up in the morning. As he descended the steps, the sound of voices grew louder, and when he entered the kitchen he couldn’t help stopping and smiling at the sight before him.
Teofil, Astrid, Miriam, and Dulindir all sat around the small table shoved into a corner of the kitchen. He figured they’d all decided the dining room was a much too formal setting for breakfast. His father stood in front of the stove, keeping an eye on crisp strips of bacon and a skillet filled with scrambled eggs.
“Well, it looks like we were loud enough to raise the dead,” his father said when he caught sight of Thaddeus in the doorway.
“Good morning glory!” Astrid practically shouted, and she and Teofil dissolved into laughter.
Miriam smiled and shook her head. “That’s a little gnome humor for you right as you wake up, Thaddeus. Come sit down.”
“Get it?” Astrid said. “Morning glory? Get it?”
“You’re a goof,” Teofil said. Thaddeus didn’t feel like pointing out that Teofil was still chuckling at Astrid’s joke himself.
“Good morning, all,” Thaddeus said as he sat across from Teofil. “You all are up and at ’em early today.”
“Early?” his father scoffed. “It’s almost eleven o’clock!”
“What?” Thaddeus looked around for a clock and found one hanging above the door to the dining room. His father was right; it was ten forty. “Oh wow, I slept a long time.”
“We all did,” his father said. “We needed it.” He approached the table and set in the center a plate heaped with bacon and a deep dish filled with scrambled eggs. “Dig in, everyone.”
“Where’s Hannah?” Thaddeus asked as he snatched a piece of bacon out from under Teofil’s reaching hand. They shared a smile, and Teofil got him back by grabbing the serving spoon for the eggs.
“I told her we’d cook our own breakfast,” Nathan replied. “So she’s decided to take this time to hike the lower mountain trails.”
