Gun Mage 3: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth

by Logan Jacobs

  “I guess that makes it easy to figure out what you’re going to wear in the morning,” I mused.

  One of the Fredericks approached us then and handed us each a cold glass of lemonade. I took a sip and smiled widely. The lemonade had only a hint of sweet and was still tart enough to make me pucker. We used to make lemonade exactly like this at the farm when I was a kid, but most places I had been to made it so sweet that it didn’t taste like lemons anymore.

  “This is good,” I said after I’d downed about half the glass. “I like it tart.”

  “It’s best that way,” Frederick agreed as he sipped at his own glass.

  Frederick, like the three men who had intercepted us, had brown hair and pale blue eyes, though he had a longer face and lanky frame. I studied him for a moment as I made myself sip the rest of the lemonade instead of gulping it down, then nodded toward Abram.

  “Are you related to Abram, Eli and Isaac?” I asked.

  “Cousins on my mother’s side,” Frederick replied with a nod. “Most of us are related somehow, but we keep good records so we can be sure no one marries anyone we shouldn’t.”

  “Ah,” I remarked as I peered at the gathered crowd more closely. There was definitely a theme among the locals that involved various shades of brown hair and pale blue eyes.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Darwin asked, “but are you Amish or Mennonites?”

  “You know of our church?” Frederick asked in surprise.

  “Used to drive to Lancaster County occasionally to shop,” Darwin explained. “Back in the day, that is. Butter, chow-chow, jams. My wife picked up a quilt once. Beautiful thing, and it would keep you warm no matter how cold it was outside.”

  “I’ve heard about those days,” Frederick mused. “Perhaps you would like to talk to Jacob after we’ve finished. I’m sure you two would have much to discuss.”

  “Maybe I will,” Darwin mused as he glanced toward the elder in the rocking chair.

  “But to answer your question, we are descended from the Amish Church,” Frederick replied. “We took in many people of other faiths as well, in the aftermath of the meteorite, but we remained true to our roots, and those who stayed took on our ways as well.”

  “Myrna said that you believed in helping people,” I commented.

  “It’s true,” Frederick mused. “Though very few strangers find their way here. It’s better that way.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  Frederick watched the other Amish men for a moment, then looked toward the mountains.

  “At first, we did what we could to help,” Frederick stated. “And in those first years, there were many scared and uncertain people who found their way to us. But then the mages rose to power, and one of their first acts was to abolish all religions. Many of our towns were destroyed, and our people either killed or arrested. This town was built by those who survived the onslaught, and we have been quietly living in this valley for decades.”

  “And the mages haven’t found you?” I asked.

  “We are protected,” Frederick replied as he nodded toward the hill on the far side of the town.

  “Myrna mentioned a guardian angel,” Darwin murmured.

  “Michael has been sent by God to protect us from the demons that roam these lands,” Frederick intoned.

  “Demons,” I repeated. “Isaac called the mutants in the forest demons.”

  “Mmm,” Frederick nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard other outlanders call them mutants. But they are the spawn of the devil, and they bring evil.”

  Darwin and I exchanged quick looks, and I had to restrain myself from glancing toward Freya.

  “So you protect yourself from the demons with pitchforks and an angel,” Darwin sniffed.

  “And the dogs,” Frederick added.

  “Dogs?” I asked.

  Frederick smiled and the serious tone he’d used while discussing the mutants suddenly vanished.

  “We raise dogs to help protect the town and to help with hunting,” Frederick explained. “It’s an old breed that goes back centuries.”

  “I don’t see any,” I said as I glanced around.

  “Normally they’d be here as well,” Frederick laughed, “but some of the men are hunting today, and they’ve taken a pack of dogs with them. The rest are with Simon, the man responsible for most of their training. He felt some of the dogs were starting to slip, so he decided that today they would brush up on their training.”

  “What breed do you use?” Darwin asked.

  “Weimaraners,” Frederick declared.

  “Good hunting dogs,” Darwin replied. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Very smart dogs,” Frederick continued. “You can use them for almost any game, and yet they are very loving and protective around their families.”

  “I used to love playing with the dogs,” I sighed. “The Reeses always had plenty around the farm. And we usually had one or two on the drives, but there wasn’t much time to play, then.”

  “Perhaps when Simon has finished the day’s training, we can slip by the kennel,” Frederick offered. “There’s a pup that I’ve had my eyes on, and I’d like to hear how she did today.”

  I still had questions I wanted to ask, but a shout went up, and three boys who were nearby quickly ran among the men and gathered up all the glasses. Then we all moved into position, and on the signal, began the process of raising the walls.

  It was hard, backbreaking work, even with every man helping out, but at the end, we had the outer walls in place, and a second team of men quickly descended with the interior posts. I was moved to roof duty while Darwin helped with planking out the floors. It felt good to work on the barn and to forget, at least for the moment, that somewhere outside this valley a horde of mages wanted my head.

  Near sunset, we had a brand new barn that still smelled like freshly cut wood. The women and children clapped and cheered as the last boards were nailed into place, and then lamps were lit and food set out, and everyone gathered around the tables. Darwin and I found Sorcha and Freya, and the four of us went to stand by an oak tree while Jacob delivered a speech called a ‘blessing’. It was made in the same strange language that the cousins had used earlier, so I wasn’t really sure what he was saying.

  “They’re nice people,” I said quietly after I made sure no one else was around, “but we should leave as early as possible tomorrow morning.”

  “You heard the same thing about mutants being demons?” Sorcha murmured.

  “We did,” I replied. “And even though these people aren’t supposed to be violent, I’m not sure I want to find out what happens when they get their hands on one.”

  “Ah, gramps,” Freya sighed. “All I ever bring you is bad luck.”

  “You do not,” Darwin insisted.

  “It’s not you,” I added. “It’s their own shortsightedness. If they had the chance to know you the way we do, they’d realize how stupid that is.”

  “Damn straight,” Darwin affirmed.

  Freya smiled, though she still looked nervous as she glanced toward the townspeople. Darwin squeezed her hand, and the rabbit woman rested her head on her grandfather’s shoulder for a moment, then gave me a playful jab.

  The blessing wrapped up, and the Amish started to take places at the picnic tables. We found four spots together at one of the tables, and sat down with Freya wedged between me and Darwin, and Sorcha across from the three of us. It worked out well, with Sorcha drawing most of the attention while Darwin and I fended off anyone who was too curious about Freya. Along the way, we managed to tell the tale of how we had saved the town of Tucker from the tar creatures, minus the mention of the guns.

  The Amish were impressed with our story, and Jacob even suggested that we were serving God in our mission. I wasn’t clear on why a trip to the west coast was something their god would care about, but it seemed to help assuage the last doubts the Amish had about us, and once the meal wrapped up, we were led back to the town w
here rooms awaited us. Freya and Darwin, being grandfather and granddaughter, were given rooms in the same house and the horses were given space in the family’s large barn. Sorcha was taken in by an elderly couple who lived next door to the church, while I was sent to the house of Frederick the dog-lover.

  When we arrived at Frederick’s door, he smiled at his wife and tousled the heads of his three children, then signalled me to follow him. We walked a bit further down the street, then made a left turn past the smithy.

  “The kennel is just ahead,” Frederick said with a wink as we dodged around a man leading a horse.

  The kennel was a narrow building with a fenced-in backyard. I could hear the familiar sounds of dogs snuffling as they settled in for the night, and a quiet voice talking to them in the strange language. Frederick tapped on the door, then opened it just wide enough to stick his head around the door.

  “Simon, can we visit for a few moments?”

  “Frederick,” a scratchy voice called back. “Be quick about it. I just got the youngsters settled.”

  Frederick opened the door the rest of the way and the two of us stepped inside. Simon was the first man I’d seen in the town with red hair, and he wore it in a frizzy halo around his head. He was seated on a stool next to a table that had been piled high with leashes, collars, and worn leather balls, and he didn’t look up until Frederick cleared his throat. Despite the gloom of the place, I could see Simon jump when he realized there was a stranger with Frederick.

  “This is Hex,” Frederick stated as Simon blinked at me. “They arrived today and asked for rooms for the night. Turns out, he’s pretty good at barn raising as well.”

  “Hi,” I said awkwardly as Simon continued to blink at me.

  “Dogs are out back,” Simon finally said.

  Frederick tilted his head toward a second door, and the two of us slipped through while Simon struggled to make sense of my appearance. We ended up in a large, grassy area with another building just beyond that. The voice I’d heard over the fence belonged to a young woman in the traditional dark blue dress, but her bonnet had been pulled down to reveal a braid of light brown hair coiled around her head. She stood next to a table with a brush in her hand, and something the silver coated dog she was trying to clean found interesting in her other hand.

  “Frederick,” she called out with a smile when she saw my host. “Oh.”

  “This is Hex,” Frederick quickly offered as I stepped forward. “And this is Simon’s sister, Beth. She helps with the training as well.”

  Beth ducked her head, then locked her eyes on Frederick’s hands.

  “Dizzy did well today,” Beth announced. “She’ll be a fine dog for you and your family.”

  “He’s beautiful,” I murmured as I studied the dog that waited impatiently for his treat and his brushing.

  The Weimaraner had a shimmering coat that shifted between silver and gray as it moved in the lamplight. It had a long, wide snout and silver eyes that watched me carefully as it waited for a clue whether I was friend or foe. When neither Frederick nor Beth sounded the alarm, the dog cocked his head slightly and slowly studied me.

  “This is Barnaby,” Beth sighed as she finally looked at me. “He’s a good dog, really. He’s just….”

  “He’s just too smart for his own good,” Frederick finished with a laugh.

  Frederick patted Barnaby on the head, then stepped into the second building. A few barks and yips greeted him as he opened the door, but he gave a few quick commands in the Amish language, and the dogs settled again.

  “Do all the dogs stay here?” I asked.

  “Some do,” Beth replied. “But most have a caretaker they stay with. We just happen to have so many right now because it’s breeding season. The caretakers are expected to bring the dogs back in. We request it so we can be sure we always have enough litters.”

  “And who is Barbaby’s caretaker?” I asked as I held my hand out toward the silver dog.

  Barnaby sniffed, looked at Beth, then tilted his chin so I could give him a good scratch underneath.

  “Barnaby doesn’t really have a caretaker,” Beth sighed. “We tried him with a few people when he was a puppy, but it never worked out. He just stays here now, though the hunters all like to take him with them. He’s very good in the field.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Oh, he’s about eighteen months now,” Beth laughed.

  Frederick returned then and gave Barnaby another pat.

  “Thank you, Beth, for letting us visit,” Frederick said quietly. “My little ones are counting the days.”

  “If Dizzy could count, I’m sure she would be doing the same,” Beth said with a smile.

  We said goodnight to Beth, then to Simon when we stepped into the front building again. Simon still looked unconvinced that I was real, and Frederick simply waved at the red-headed man before returning to the street. The town was quiet, though a few people passed along the streets, and lamps flickered in windows. An orange tabby sauntered past us, its tail in the air as it hopped onto a sill then slipped through the open window.

  “It’s really peaceful here,” I noted. “You would never know what was in the surrounding forests.”

  “God protects us,” Frederick replied. “His angel keeps the demons away.”

  “The… demons seemed determined to keep us away from here,” I mused.

  “They fear the power of the Angel Michael,” Frederick declared.

  “Having the Weimaraners helps as well,” I surmised.

  “They do,” Frederick admitted. “Though Michael is God’s servant, and he uses the power of God to defeat the demons. That is what they fear most.”

  I wondered what type of powers an angel had, if such a thing even existed, but we were back at Frederick’s house by then, and we were greeted by a swarm of children and his patient wife as soon as we stepped into the house. Sarah, Frederick’s wife, pried two of the children from my legs, then led me to the guest room on the first floor. It was tucked just off the kitchen and obviously did double duty as Sarah’s sewing room. The bed stood against the far wall, already turned down to reveal pristine white sheets. A colorful quilt had been placed at the foot of the bed, ready for use if the room became too cold. The rest of the space was given over to racks of thread, piles of cloth, and various pieces of clothing that were awaiting completion.

  “Oh, your friend stopped by while you were at the kennels,” Sarah said. “She left you a satchel of clothes and a note.”

  I took the proffered note and recognized Sorcha’s handwriting immediately. I thanked Sarah, who hustled back into the kitchen to deal with her son’s demand for water, then unfolded the letter.

  “I’m all alone in the little shed behind the house,” Sorcha had written, “and my hosts are kind but deaf. If you feel brave enough to risk the ire of their god, you could join me for another night of fun. (Girls just want to have fun.)”

  My Irish mage was probably going to get me into deep trouble one of these days, but at least I would die happy.

  Chapter 7

  Frederick’s household was not filled with night owls. The kids ran amok for another hour or so, then disappeared into their bedrooms. Frederick and Sarah finished a few chores and spent some time talking with me about our attempt to reach the west coast, then quietly slipped into their own bedroom and closed the door. I went back to my own room and flopped onto the bed, still fully clothed, and waited for the house to settle.

  When no one had moved inside the house for an hour, I crept quietly from the bed and stepped into the kitchen. There was a back door nearby that led into a small yard where Sarah grew herbs and spices, but there was no fence to be climbed or gate to be opened, and I could slip away with no one the wiser. I closed the door to the sewing room, then tiptoed to the kitchen door. The door squeaked when I tugged it open and I froze in place, but the house remained still and silent. I exhaled the breath I had been holding and slipped out into the night.

  It
didn’t take long to discover that the Amish, as a rule, were not ones for late night activities. I spotted lamplight in a few homes, but the town itself was still and silent. I was alone under the vast star-filled sky as I hurried along the road, and I’ll admit that I took a moment to stop near one of the street corners and drink in the view.

  Sorcha’s hosts lived in a small one-story house that sat next to the church grounds. It wasn’t much bigger than the stable I saw nearby, and like the rest of the town, it laid dark and quiet. I crept around the side of the house, and spotted the shed that Sorcha had mentioned in her note, though the term shed was a disservice to the building. It had windows, a sturdy door, a shingled roof, and a fresh coat of paint, even if it was the size of a shed.

  I scurried across the brown grass and patches of ice to the door. After a quick check for wandering Amish, I tapped on the door. It opened a crack, and Sorcha’s emerald eyes peered out at me. She smiled, then opened the door the rest of the way.

  Like my room, Sorcha’s shed also served a dual purpose. The bed and a small bookcase sat under a window with a view of a large elm, while the other side of the room was taken up with an array of cabinets, an easel and stool, and a large collection of painting supplies.

  “Helga paints when she and Leonard aren’t tending to the church,” Sorcha stated as she closed the door.

  “I can guess why she does it out here,” I noted as I wrinkled my nose. “I wouldn’t want that smell in my house, either.”

  “You get used to it,” Sorcha laughed as she led me toward the bed.

  She peeled off the white nightgown she was wearing, no doubt provided by Helga and Leonard. There was only a small mage light in the room, one I recognized as one of ours, and Sorcha seemed to glimmer in its gentle glow. She was naked except for the two necklaces she wore, the mage stone and the black opal.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I said with deep appreciation as I drank in the view.

  “You certainly know how to flatter a girl,” she teased as she dropped onto the bed. “Will you join me?”

  I yanked off my clothes and tossed them into a corner, then pulled Sorcha on top of me as I landed on my back on the mattress. Her usual scent of peaches and jasmine filled my nose, but there was something else there as well that reminded me of lavender and mint. I buried my face in her hair while my hands roamed over her luscious curves, and I realized that she must have bathed before I arrived. I felt a twinge of regret that I hadn’t been there for the show, but at least I got to enjoy her perfection afterwards.