by Robert York
Seeded into all the other reasons I was angry at the moment was the fact that I still lived with Barnabas and Mari. Don’t misunderstand me the apartment above the magic shop is extremely nice. Originally this apartment building had four apartments. Barnabas being Barnabas had the whole place remodeled combining all of them into one huge two-story living space. So there was a lot of room for everyone to have their own space including separate bathrooms for each of the six bedrooms and huge walk-in closets. Because I am still an apprentice being taught under Barnabas Blackmane I’m not allowed to live away from my Master.
I’m sure his reasoning can be attributed to his adherence to an out of date code relating to an apprentice and his or her Master. The Elder Council holds a Master accountable if their apprentice messes up. So the closer I am to him the closer he can watch me. Which probably explains Barnabas’s actions toward me given his previous apprentice’s trip to the dark side. Anyway, I understand all that, however it’s still awfully hard to bring a woman home. Especially, when a seven hundred year old man enjoys walking around the apartment in a red smoking jacket with matching fez, puffing on a pipe filled with cherry flavored tobacco. You laugh; I have to watch him walk around in that get up. I have to count my blessings however; at least he doesn’t fry bacon without a shirt on. You can sort of see why my love life is non-existent.
I sulked down the hallway of the apartment, past an original portrait of Barnabas painted by Rembrandt on my right - which was personalized by the artist himself – to the left hung an original Salvador Dali painting depicting something that only LSD could’ve helped the artist create. The apartment was spacious, as I have already alluded too. Roughly six thousand square feet with six good sized bedrooms, a dining room, living room and a kitchen that would make a TV chef envious. The only one who really made use of it was Mari. She was a master at cooking and hated for anyone to use her cooking utensils. As an April Fools joke one year I hid all of her copper pots. OK, I didn’t exactly hide them. I used a magical spell to make them disappear. The spell worked flawlessly, Mari however had a conniption fit when she discovered they were missing. She scared the absolute crap out of me, I confessed right on the spot. A vein popped out on her forehead threatening to burst while she yelled a torrent of insane nun threats at me. She rattled me so badly it took me nearly three days to remember the exact spell I used. Needless to say I try not to touch anything in her kitchen that is even remotely related to cooking.
I opened the door to my room and entered. Deciding to make a little detour I headed into the bathroom flicking on the light. I took a good look at myself in the mirror. I looked like hammered shit. I ran some cold water into the sink basin not bothering to flip the stopper down. I held my fingers under the flowing water as I took stock of my appearance. My skin looked pale and unhealthy. I hate winter. You never get any good sun around this time of year in Detroit and I refuse to get a tan with a bulb. My eyes are normally the color of a clear summer sky at noon, right now however they looked dull and gray. The dark bags under my eyes weren’t helping my appearance either. My brown hair was longer than I liked and I was in desperate need of a hair cut. My five o’clock shadow was quickly moving into the twelve o’clock hour. I really should shave, but I just didn’t have the time. I cupped my hands under the faucet filling them with cold water, leaning down I splashed the water over my face. Short startled breaths escaped my mouth at the frigid sensation. I repeated the process two more times before shutting off the water and drying my face on a hand towel.
I felt better, however nothing would replace a good night’s rest. I tossed the towel on the vanity and got back to my task at hand.
My room is fairly Spartan in decor; I try not to clutter my life with meaningless materialistic things. The walls are painted stark white and the floors are oak, with a few area rugs placed symmetrically around to give the room some color. I have a queen-sized bed made from heavy, aged mahogany wood with matching nightstands and a dresser. A desk sits in the east corner of my room with an iMac computer resting on it. Next to that are my two five shelf bookcases, stacked full of books from authors like Twain, Rowling, Sabatini, Wells, King, Poe, Haggard, Koontz and yes a few from Stephenie Meyers. Hey, don’t judge, I was curious as to what all the hoopla was about these books and movies. They may never become literary classics like Moby Dick or To Kill a Mocking bird, but they were entertaining. Whether you like the Twilight books or not women seem to love them. I think there’s even a website where people write erotic stories involving all the characters. I’m pretty sure men aren’t writing those sorts of stories or reading them for that matter. Well, unless the men are gay I suppose. But hey, whatever floats your boat. Besides the Twilight books can be a great conversation starter when you’re out on a date.
I have only two things hanging on my walls. The first is a framed eight by ten black and white glossy of Lt. Columbo the greatest fictional detective ever in my opinion. Second, is a framed original Avengers cover, issue two ninety-six illustrated by comic book legend John Buscema. It’s the cover that depicts the She Hulk knocking the crap out of the Mighty Thor. - No real significance there other than it was the first Avengers comic book that I ever read and I liked it. - Next to my dresser was an antique brass valet, which was heavily modified to meet my needs.
On it hung my plain black robe and armor that consisted of a unadorned brushed metal front and back breast plate, bracers for my wrists and forearms, a well worn thick black studded belt with shin guards that matched the breast plate. My robe and armor had magical enchantments, which helped absorb, deflect or redirect magical attacks, and they were also good at preventing things like swords or bullets from causing wounds as well. I’m glad I paid extra to have all that done when I had my things made. My advice to all of you that are thinking about becoming a Battle Wizard is to not skimp on the protection. One day when your magic or weapons fail you in battle the only thing between you and an eternal dirt nap will be whatever armor you happen to be wearing.
In a modified holder stood my Battle Staff - which concealed my thirty-two inch Wizard’s Blade - and resting in a brass tray set into the base of the valet was my scarred and nicked eight inch oak wood wand about a half inch in diameter. The tip was capped with pure silver and had a core of twisted helix copper. Next to that was my bracelet, which was made out of long thick braids of silver and gold shaped into four swirled circles with enough of a gap to slip it onto my wrist. On the far wall facing east were two large windows that let in a lot of light, but I preferred a dark room when I sleep so I have thick blinds covering them. Across from the windows was my closet and that was my destination.
I exited the bathroom. I looked longingly at my bed as I walked past it. I was still pretty tired however I didn’t have time for a five-minute power nap. I opened the door sliding some clothes down the rod giving me enough space to access the recessed wall safe at the back of my closet where I kept my valuables. I started to work the numbers on the combination when I heard the front door open.
“Do you need me to do anything for you Solomon?” I heard Mari call from the living room.
“No I think I can get things together for myself.”
“OK,”
I heard her walk down the hallway past my open door to the room she shared with Barnabas. I opened the safe removing my two Colts and shoulder rig that also held a five-inch military style knife - none of which were exactly legal here in Detroit, but all of them had enchantments that rendered them invisible as long as they were in the shoulder rig. One of these days I should wear them to an airport to mess with the T.S.A. With my luck I’d end up receiving a painful deep body cavity search, not really something I’m itching to experience.
“May I help you Master!” Tilly said in an excited high-pitched voice.
I jumped he startled me so badly. Turning, I moved toward him, anger showing in my face and woven into my words.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I yelled towering over his tiny frame
.
Tilly stood next to my bed shrinking away from me as his excited smile faded. He raised his hands holding them in front of himself the way a child might anticipating a punishment.
“I’m sorry, Master,” he said in a small voice casting his eyes to the floor.
“What are you doing in my room anyway? I didn’t ask you in here!”
“I... Uh... Barnabas,” Tilly stammered
His eyes were as big as saucers and I didn’t care. I felt bad for jumping on him, but goddamn it this is my room and despite what Barnabas thinks or says I can take care of my own packing.
“Get out!” I yelled.
Tilly flinched but didn’t move. So I took him by the lapels in one hand leading him forcefully to my door pushing him out into the hallway.
“Get out and stay out!” I huffed out a breath and added, “You nosy little creep!”
He scrambled down the hall - his feet not appearing to make contact with the floor - out the front door not bothering to look back.
“What in God’s name is wrong with you?” Mari asked in an angry tone.
I hadn’t noticed her standing there; she was right next to me when I straightened. She was holding a few of Barnabas’s clothes folded over her forearms.
“What?” I said defensively. “He came into my room uninvited. He has no business being in there, I didn’t ask him…”
“You’re acting like a selfish self-centered brat,” Mari said cutting me off in a harsh reproving tone.
“You have no right treating him like that! He’s been through too much in the last few hours and doesn’t need to be mistreated by the likes of you!”
“Now hold on a minute...” I said as I felt my temper rising.
“No, I won’t hold on a minute.” She said interrupting.
“You weren’t taught to act like this. You were taught manners and respect. You were a good boy growing up, a little whiney and selfish at times yes, but still a good boy at heart. Life dealt you a terrible beginning I know, but you’re surrounded by lots of people that love and care for you and its high time you started thinking of others beside yourself for a change. You don’t have that luxury any longer, you need to grow up and act like a man instead of a little spoiled child. You have a responsibility to see to Tilly’s needs and be good to him and treat him with the respect he deserves, he is after all yours now.”
“What?” I questioned thinking she must be off your rocker.
Mari leveled her half hooded eyes directly into mine. I watched the corners of her mouth curl up into a wry knowing smile. She shifted the clothes in her arms so she could poke me in the chest with her finger.
“He is yours,” she said, emphasizing each and every word with a poke of her finger.
“I over heard Barney and Oswald talking... You know that braid of metal Tilly wears around his neck, it’s called a “Ring of Shame” Only Elves that have disgraced themselves, and their families or their race are forced to wear those rings as a punishment. They are striped of all their possessions, rights, freedoms, and are essentially reduced to being slaves.” She finished with a touch of sadness in her voice.
“Well, I’m sorry that he’s a slave... How does that make him my responsibility?”
“When you found Tilly in the back of the store you touched the metal ring or pendant around his neck, didn’t you,” she asked.
“Maybe...” I said searching through my actions earlier. Did I touch that pendant? I couldn’t remember.
“In doing so you became Tilly’s new owner and will remain his owner until the day that you or Tilly died or if whoever placed the binding spell on him were to take it off,”
“Wait, Bialek was his last owner...” I trailed off because my brain finally caught up with the facts.
“Bialek died, which caused the binding curse to flow back into the iron ring around Tilly’s neck and remain there until a thick headed moron like myself was stupid enough to unwittingly accept Tilly’s services by touching the ring,”
“That’s right,” Mari said patting my cheek with her free hand.
“Welcome to the world of adult responsibility,”
Mari smiled up at me then turned on her heels, walked down the hall back into Barnabas’s room. I stood there, just thinking. My life as I’d known it… Correction my “carefree” life had just gotten a tad more complicated. I found myself in a situation that I really hadn’t been before. My life was possibly in danger with respect to Barnabas and his band of Arthur nerds. It was only a matter of time before I found out how all these cards will fall on that subject. What I knew for certain, was that there were four powerful objects hidden somewhere. OK, I knew the locations of two of them. Christ I’d inadvertently become the vessel for one of them and there was a group or groups of people that would do pretty much anything to get a hold of them.
Now if all that wasn’t a kick in the teeth, I have my own personal slave, which needs to be taken care of and looked after. Ugh... It’s like having a toy poodle that can talk. I need to figure a way out of this situation and fast. Oh and I was apparently a spoiled selfish brat. My shoulders sagged as I turned round heading back into my room to finish getting my gear together.
It took another twenty minutes to get ready. I chose to travel light for the crown drop off. I decided against taking my Battle Staff, if I were going to get into a fight it would be an ideal weapon, but I’d be lugging around a wooden box and a staff might prove awkward. Conversely, there were the looks I’d get when I would show up in public with my staff. Guys toting around a Wizard’s Battle Staff aren’t really popular with the ladies and quite frankly I’m tired of the Lord of the Rings jokes. I wore my shoulder harness, which held my two Colt Defenders and six spare magazines of ammo as well as my five-inch military style knife. I also carried my eight-inch Wizard’s wand strapped to my right wrist. The wand was held in a device that would allow it to spring out when I flexed my hand in a certain way.
I also chose to wear my bracelet on my left wrist. The wand and bracelet were tools to help me focus my magic. They’re sort of like the nozzles on a power washer. Without a nozzle on the tip of the wand you get a wide spray of water, however if you attach a nozzle with a smaller aperture you get a more focused, more powerful stream. Wizards like Barnabas and Oswald are very practiced in the art of hand gesture magic and can wield power effectively without any tools like wands or bracelets. Barnabas has been teaching me a bit of that form of magic, but it is extremely difficult and takes more concentration. I can manage some of the more basic spells like lighting candles or opening locks or even moving small objects. As for my attire, I kept it pretty simple. I wore a black t-shirt with the online game City of Heroes logo on the front, a pair of faded blue jeans, my steel toed construction boots along with my red and black Bugaboo winter jacket.
I made sure to grab a small leather pouch from the drawer of my nightstand before heading back down stairs. Barnabas was standing at the counter, a canvas army surplus medic’s bag rested beside him. I assumed the wooden box containing the crown was inside. Oswald, Glum and the Vampire twins were conspicuously absent. Mari was I assume still upstairs and I saw no sign of Tilly. I walked over to Barnabas standing on the other side of the counter across from him.
“Where is everyone?” I asked curiously.
Barnabas looked up smiling.
“Everyone is doing what they have been assigned to do. Oswald and Glum are questioning our two Vampire guests in the basement, Mari and Tilly are packing what we will need when you get back and you of course are taking this…” he placed a hand on the medics bag. “…To a safe place.”
“And where exactly will I be taking that?”
“You’ll be going to Chicago, more specifically Stumpwater’s. I want you to give this to Reb Ironbolt.”
“The barkeep at The Laughing Goblin?” I asked, puzzled.
“He and his people will know how to protect a treasure of this nature, he is a Dwarf after all.”
I nodded
slowly in agreement. Dwarfs were miners, skilled craftsmen and tenacious fighters. Hell, Dwarves would protect treasure or anything that was given to them to guard to their dying breath. I think the urge was deeply imbedded into their genetic code or perhaps it was more of a precious metal fetish. Whatever the cause for the Dwarves fanatical devotion to gold, silver and precious stones, Reb wouldn’t give the crown up without a fight. He’d probably give it to his brother Garse Ironbolt for safekeeping. Reb’s brother Garse was one of the nine Dwarves that sat on the Strun Council that oversaw Morda the Dwarven gold horde. Barnabas made a good call there.
“Alright,” I said.
Barnabas pushed the bag toward me.
“Have you seen Tilly?” I asked.
Barnabas shook his head in the negative, I turned calling for the little guy.
“Tilly, I’d like to have a talk with you if you please.”
I waited a moment then heard an audible crack and felt the thrum of fading magic.
“Yes, Master,” Tilly said timidly.
