Lone Survivor: The Sorcerers' Scourge Series: Book One

by Michael Arches

  I said hello in the Osage language and thanked them for coming so far. Then I invited them into the dining room for some food after their exhausting drive. We sat alone on the patio and sipped sweet tea while we ate smoked brisket and beans.

  “I’m sorry it’s taken so long,” Grandpa told me. “We first had to make sure no one in our family would be threatened while we’re away.”

  “Of course,” I replied.

  I asked them about my other many relatives, including my grandma, and was told that they were all fine.

  Then Samuel said, “Tell me how you’re making medicine here.”

  I described the healings I’d performed, and they listened patiently. I also told them about the Celtic magic I’d learned and the Kronos spell I’d screwed up. Plus, I mentioned my ability to share feelings with other animals and blend into them.

  Samuel smiled. “My grandfathers were both spiritual men, and Paul Knows Fire could vanish into animals as you describe.”

  I was glad to hear that I wasn’t as weird as I thought. Diana seemed to have no idea how tribal magic was practiced on reservations any closer than Mongolia.

  Francis patted me on the back. “It’s good to see the old ways continue. We’ll perform the sweat ceremony, and that will purify you so you can communicate better with Wakonda.”

  Diana dropped by our table, and she and Samuel compared notes on the ways that Osage magic differed from Celtic practices. My cousins and I mostly listened.

  By the time we finished eating, storm clouds were brewing outdoors. Diana went back to her office, and the rest of us walked to the open parking lot in front of the commons building. There, we removed the gear we needed for the ceremony from Samuel’s king-cab pickup.

  He said, “First, we must build a fire to heat the rocks, hopefully before the rain begins.”

  My cousins and I carried a half-dozen large rocks to the community’s fire pit, and Samuel used wood stacked nearby to get a good blaze going. While the rocks were heating up, the four of us took long sections of bent willow from the back of the truck and tied them together to form a frame for the lodge. Then we covered it with blankets and tarps to keep the heat and steam inside.

  The rain began gently at first, but it quickly turned into a downpour. Using metal buckets, we carried the hot rocks to the center of the sweat lodge. Lastly, all four of us changed into loincloths and moccasins. Samuel lit a bundle of cedar twigs and wafted the smoke over us to purify us as we entered the lodge.

  It was already warm, and Samuel poured water from a gourd decorated with beads onto the rocks to create plenty of steam. Then he began to tap a drum made from deerskin stretched over a carved wooden frame. He sang in Osage and prayed to the Great Mystery Spirit. I only recognized a few words, mostly names for spirits and people. My cousins joined in with Grandpa when they knew the words, but I mostly hummed.

  My whole body shuddered. I couldn’t tell whether that was something mystical or simply my reaction to the intense heat and humidity.

  Samuel pointed to the pile of rocks in the center of the lodge. “No need for foreign magic. Wakonda.”

  A fireball the size of a cantaloupe shot toward the pile. The air crackled as flames covered the rocks for a few seconds and then slowly dissipated.

  “Now, you try,” Samuel said, looking at me.

  I stayed calm and visualized the fireball I’d just seen. “Wakonda!”

  My hand pulsed, and a softball-sized flaming sphere hit the rocks.

  I burst out laughing at how easy it had been, after I’d failed so many times. “Why can I do it now but not before?”

  “At this moment, you are directly connected to the Great Mystery Spirit. All things are possible when you walk down His path.”

  Next, my cousins shot their own fireballs into the center of the lodge. They were less powerful than I, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. Wakonda was the source of strength for all of us, and His power was infinite.

  -o-o-o-

  MY RELATIVES MET MANY of the clan at dinner. Everyone seemed interested in talking with real Osage warriors at the height of their strength.

  After dinner, Samuel told me he needed to speak to me in private. We went off to a corner by ourselves and drank hot tea.

  First, he asked me for more details about how I’d lost most of my family on our farm, including his daughter. He’d heard Francis’s version, but I hadn’t had time during that awful morning to tell my cousin the full horror of what I’d seen.

  I related every detail I could remember to Samuel, including how scared I was. After I’d finished and had answered all his questions, he said, “Be aware—our family members probably destroyed Cantor while we were performing the sweat ceremony. I won’t discuss the details, but I planned for him to die this afternoon. If everything proceeded properly, he suffered mightily before meeting his end.”

  That brought tears of joy to my eyes. “Fantastic! He’s really dead?”

  “I expect so, but I won’t get confirmation until we return home. If my plan bore fruit, I’ll be content again.”

  I was so happy, I couldn’t sit. I paced back and forth. Laura and others stared at me, but I ignored them.

  After a few minutes, I said, “You came today to give yourselves alibis?”

  He nodded. “In part. I obviously needed to come to help you, so we accomplished both purposes today.”

  “How was he supposed to die?”

  Samuel glanced around to make sure no one had wandered close. “I will say no more about it, except that your uncles all argued vigorously for the honor of killing the man. Your mother was dearly loved by all of us, and the wound in my heart from the loss of her will never fully heal. I hope that his death was painful and savage enough to warn other sorcerers to leave our tribe alone.”

  That really roused my curiosity, but I’d have to wait. Grandpa wasn’t the type to kiss and tell.

  “Remember,” he said, “Cantor’s death is only one step in achieving justice for our tribe and our family. You will have to accomplish the much more difficult task, namely destroying the slayer who ordered the attack, Raul Escobar.”

  That bastard controlled the sorcerers’ Rocky Mountain region. I had no power to defeat him anytime soon.

  “I haven’t forgotten what he did,” I replied. “As soon as I’m strong enough to take him on, I will. Slavery is too good for him. They both deserve the most painful deaths possible.”

  Grandpa nodded in agreement.

  We both sat, lost in our thoughts, until we were interrupted by a well-wisher who wanted to meet Samuel.

  After dinner, the rain finally stopped. I helped Samuel and my cousins pack up all their gear so they could get an early start for home in the morning. Diana made three guest rooms available so they could get a good night’s sleep before the long trip back to the Osage rez.

  -o-o-o-

  Monday, September 23rd

  AFTER BREAKFAST AND MANY hugs, my family members left for home. I said my goodbyes in a halting voice. I’d learned so much from them in less than a day, and words could not express how much I appreciated their help.

  After they disappeared, I headed to work in the barn, stacking hay bales high in the loft. That helped to burn up some of the raw emotion I felt.

  Herman and I finished the job and chatted for a few minutes about different kinds of goat cheese we could make over the winter. In the midst of that, Diana strode into the barn wearing her ever-present frown.

  “You need to come to town, now,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Eastwood has issued a bench warrant for your arrest,” she said. “A county deputy is waiting in the commons building for you.”

  My overalls and patched flannel shirt were covered with bits of alfalfa. “Am I supposed to go like this?”

  Diana nodded. “According to the deputy, you have no time to change. Nicky will meet us at court. Something must’ve
really pissed off the judge. He’s ordered the district attorney and the county sheriff to attend the hearing, too.”

  I had a feeling I knew what that something might be, but I didn’t think I should tell her about Cantor. Grandpa had spoken to me in confidence.

  A few minutes later, the deputy locked me in the back of his patrol car, and then drove to town. Diana and Crystal followed.

  The courtroom was filled when I arrived. Nicky showed up a few minutes later and pulled me aside. The deputy wouldn’t let him take me out into the hallway, so we spoke in hushed tones.

  “Listen,” the lawyer said. “I just heard a news report on NPR saying that an Oklahoma sheriff was assassinated yesterday. What was the name of the guy who killed most of your family?”

  “Ron Cantor,” I replied.

  Nicky rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Yeah, that’s him.”

  I fought a grin. “I hope the bastard suffered horribly.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Nicky snapped back. “The judge probably suspects you did it, or arranged for it to be done. He can send you back there and no doubt will. It’ll take a miracle to change his mind now, but we might be able to delay your extradition pending appeal.”

  “I didn’t kill the guy, and I didn’t conspire with anyone to do it. But just between you and me, I’m not surprised.”

  Nicky shook his head. “Don’t tell me anything more. In front of the judge, you have to condemn all vigilante justice. Got it?”

  I shrugged. “Isn’t every battle between a witch and sorcerer a form of vigilante justice?”

  He scowled. “No, that’s what I call a fair fight. An assassin shooting someone far away is much different.”

  It didn’t seem so different to me when that sheriff could kill again at any time, but I kept that thought to myself. “Whatever you say.”

  I was going to ask another question, but the judge took the bench. Everyone in the courtroom stood.

  He sat and pounded his gavel. “This hearing will come to order. Is Ian O’Rourke present?”

  I was about to raise my hand when Nicky pushed me forward. “Nicholas Delacourt, Esquire, Your Honor, appearing on behalf of my client, Mr. Ian O’Rourke.”

  Eastwood pointed at the witness box. “The defendant, er, potential defendant will take the stand.”

  I sat in the box. The clerk swore me in and gave me a Miranda warning. That didn’t bode well.

  “The court has decided, on its own initiative” Eastwood said, “to approve the Morgan County, Oklahoma, extradition request. Mr. Ian O’Rourke will be transported—”

  “Your Honor.” Nicky stood. “If I may—”

  The judge swept his hand toward Nicky as if he were shooing a fly. “Not now, Counselor. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have signed an extradition order for Mr. O’Rourke. But before he leaves to face his home state’s justice, I intend to get to the bottom of a shocking report I just saw on television. Yesterday afternoon, someone assassinated the Morgan County sheriff, Ronald Cantor. He was first shot in the leg with a bullet from a high-powered rifle. While he was still alive, he was scalped and then partially disemboweled. The local coroner estimates it took twenty minutes for the sheriff to die as his skin was slowly cut into strips and peeled off.”

  So, Cantor had been shot in the leg first. That must’ve hurt like hell, and then it kept getting worse. I did my best to keep a straight face. Way to go, Grandpa!

  Eastwood glared at me for a moment before asking, “Where were you yesterday afternoon?”

  That was easy. “I was at Brigid’s Community Ranch in the mountains west of Boulder.”

  “Who can confirm that?” the judge asked.

  “I was surrounded by dozens of adults and kids. I’m sure there are numerous people who saw me yesterday afternoon.” I started rattling off names, but the judge put up his hand to stop me.

  He must’ve suspected that I hadn’t pulled the trigger or sliced the bastard up because northeastern Oklahoma was so far away. I could hardly have gotten back in time unless I had flown, and those records were easy to check.

  “Who in Oklahoma have you been in contact with since your immediate family burned to death in a house fire earlier this month?”

  He was trying to pretend they hadn’t been murdered, and I wasn’t going to let that bullshit pass. “In the first place, Your Honor, they were beaten to death. The fire was simply to cover up the evidence. And—”

  Eastwood pounded his gavel. “Sir, I will hold you in contempt if you do not answer my questions and only my questions.”

  “Your Honor,” Nicky said. “He’s doing that. Your question was based on an incorrect—”

  The judge pounded his gavel to drown Nicky out. “Desist! Or you’ll both be locked up.”

  Actually, the threat of contempt didn’t have much sting for me. I’d much rather be jailed in Boulder with easy access to a great lawyer than be shipped back to Oklahoma as a cop killer.

  Eastwood’s brow furrowed. “Who in Oklahoma have you been in contact with since you left your home state?”

  “My mother’s side of the family is spread out all over back there. I’ve talked to dozens of them by phone since I left. We’re very close-knit.”

  He had to know that, because the Boulder cops had already pored over my phone, email and financial records. Dozens of folks had called me to offer their support.

  Eastwood leaned forward. “Whom in your family have you talked to concerning an attempt on the sheriff’s life?”

  “Nobody.” Grandpa, I figured, had rightly been worried that our phones were tapped.

  Eastwood threw up his hands in disbelief. “Are you stating under oath that you didn’t plan with anyone in Oklahoma to get revenge on that sheriff for what you say he did to your family?”

  “That’s a different question,” Nicky interjected.

  I thought carefully before I answered. “I planned nothing specific, but you can bet that we were very upset about the cold-blooded murder of my parents, my big brother, his wife, and their two darling daughters, who were butchered—”

  The judge banged his gavel to shut me up, and then pointed it at his bailiff. “Get him out of here and process him for immediate transport to Oklahoma.”

  “Your Honor,” Nicky practically yelled. “We seek reasonable bail pending an immediate appeal of your extraordinary order.”

  “His bail is revoked, and your new application is denied. Get him out of my sight.” The gavel slammed down. “Next up, Diana Murray. To the stand!”

  Two bailiffs led me away, and Nicky followed. Unfortunately, so did the reporter, Cindy Paxil. For some reason, Crystal followed, too.

  “Ian,” she said. “Now’s your chance to tell the town exactly what Sheriff Cantor did to your family.”

  “No comment,” Nicky replied.

  She asked a few more questions phrased to get a reaction out of me, but I ignored her.

  When we entered the sheriff’s office, Paxil took off. So did Crystal.

  The cops left me alone with Nicky for a moment. He took the opportunity to tell me, “Be patient. It’ll take them a while to process you and arrange for transport. Don’t say anything. As soon as I’m finished helping Diana, I’ll come back.”

  “What about my video? Why didn’t you mention that?”

  He smiled. “Because I want to see the looks on the faces of the Oklahoma prosecutors when we throw that bomb at them. If we mention it now, they’ll get a chance to prepare some crazy explanation.”

  I had to trust Nicky when it came to legal strategy. “Okay.”

  He headed back to the courtroom.

  The cops put me in a holding cell. One deputy asked, “Do you intend to appeal the judge’s ruling?”

  “I need to wait for my lawyer before I say.”

  He left me in the cell.

  The cops had taken my watch, so I had no idea how long I had to wait, but it seemed li
ke hours. I was sharing the cell with a guy who’d been arrested for burglary. He was withdrawing from some drug, and he whimpered and moaned as he thrashed on the floor. I asked if he wanted my help, but he told me to leave him alone.

  I was happy to, while I focused on my own misery.

  -o-o-o-

  NICKY FINALLY SHOWED, AND he arranged to talk to me in a nearby room. Then he turned on loud music on his cellphone and said quietly, “Assume they’re watching and listening. They shouldn’t, but they might.”

  I nodded.

  “Felicity is filing an immediate appeal and seeking bail pending the outcome of that proceeding.”

  I started to mention how broke I was, but he held up his hand.

  “Diana’s taking care of it. The amount could be outrageous, but you should be free soon, unless the Oklahoma cops turn up evidence that you participated in the murder.”

  I shook my head.

  “Good. Then the odds are good that the appellate court will keep you here pending an appeal of the extradition order. Eastwood is known for being impulsive.”

  “Is Diana okay?” I asked. “I don’t want her to suffer because of me.”

  He snickered. “You’re an endless source of trouble, Ian. I hope you appreciate how hard she works to save your ass.”

  That comment sent a pang of guilt through me. I’d made things rougher for her than necessary because I didn’t like her bossy attitude.

  “I could probably do better on that score,” I said.

  “To lead is to suffer,” he replied. “Eastwood didn’t dare arrest her, too. She can’t turn him into a newt, but he doesn’t know that.”

  “What about the other person with me?” I meant Crystal, but I didn’t want to use her name.

  Nicky nodded. “They’re both back at my office.”

  With that, he stood and left. The cops returned me to the holding cell to go on waiting until my bail request got sorted out.

  Chapter 20

  A COUPLE OF HOURS later, Nicky’s partner Felicity busted me out and drove me to the ranch. She’d talked an appellate judge into granting me bail of a hundred grand pending a hearing on my appeal of the extradition order.