Gun Mage 2: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth Read online

  “In a good way, I hope,” I noted as I tried to gauge how wide the gorge was. It was too far to jump, and there wasn’t any other obvious way to get across.

  The rumbling sound stirred the air around us, and we both turned back toward the trees.

  “I need the snub nose,” I gulped as I started to dig through the satchel I carried. Thankfully, the small revolver seemed to be attracted to my hand the way two magnets can be. I felt the grip slide into my hand and pulled the weapon from the bag.

  The beast muscled its way from the undergrowth and then stopped to stare at us with two pale yellow eyes. It started forward slowly, like it wasn’t sure why we had stopped, and for a moment, I wondered if it couldn’t see the edge clearly.

  As it started forward again, I pulled Sorcha behind me. Then I let the beast get as close as I dared before I pointed the snub nose at one yellow eye. The boom of the little gun rebounded through the forest, and the blue flame sparked to life as the 357 magnum bullet found its mark.

  The yellow eye exploded from the impact and the beast bellowed again. I saw a trickle of blood as well as some sort of green pus that oozed from the socket. The beast shook its head very slowly, as if it could dislodge the bullet, but then it started to flounder along the edge of the gorge. Its head drooped and started to drag through the dirt, and I was reminded of the body of a decapitated chicken I’d once seen run around the barnyard.

  The creature’s tail slipped over the side of the gorge first, and its rear end soon followed after. Its feet still scratched at the rock, but the long claws couldn’t find any purchase in the hard surface. The rest of the body toppled over the side, and then, finally, the massive jaws.

  “Let’s get to the bridge,” I suggested. “Before the mages.”

  We ran along the edge of the gorge toward the bridge. It was a simple structure compared to the one we’d used to leave Brook Island, and not nearly as long. It was also busy, with plenty of foot traffic as well as a cart and a few riders.

  But as we got closer, I could see that the people on the bridge were milling around in confusion and a few had even started to panic. Raised voices and screams drifted toward us as most of the people ran away from the crossing as quickly as they could. A handful stood close to either end of the bridge and stared around, as if they thought they might spot the source of the explosion they’d heard.

  “Time to get,” I heard one of the riders call out as he looked back down the road in the direction of New Rose.

  That was all the encouragement the rest of the people needed. As they caught sight of something moving toward them on the road, they quickly scattered as far away from the bridge as they could get. The crossing was soon empty, and the only thing I could hear was the sound of the river rushing far below.

  We inched closer and were nearly at the foot of the bridge, when we spotted the distinctive red robes of the Magesterium on the road. Sorcha and I quickly ducked into a stand of young trees and watched as the mages strode past us and onto the bridge.

  “So much for getting ahead of them,” Sorcha muttered.

  The two mages stopped near the near side of the bridge and peered over the edge. The mage with the chain shook his head as he watched the rushing waters below, and I thought he might have been crying. The dark-haired man snapped something at the man, then hit him almost hard enough on the shoulder to knock him over the bridge. The man with the chain turned an angry glare on his companion, but he didn’t say or do anything else.

  For a moment, I thought the two mages would move on. They started forward, and the black-haired man seemed focused on something further down the road. But then he stopped and scanned along the edges of the gorge.

  I slowly lifted the snub nose with both hands and aimed at the dark haired man.

  I eased the hammer back as quietly as I could, though the click sounded like an explosion in the quiet forest. The dark-haired man swiveled toward the sound even as he started to raise his shield. I pulled back on the heavy trigger and the blast from the snub nose echoed across the gorge. Flames and smoke shot forth, and the scent of sulfur and charcoal drifted past me. I saw a ribbon of red blood curl into the air, and then the dark haired mage dropped from view.

  I was pretty happy with my shot from that distance, but then the alarm sounded in my head again. I bit off another curse word and tried to figure out how soon I could summon the next gun. I had at least one more mage to deal with, any number of more ordinary dangers that we might meet as we made our way north, and only one bullet left in the snub nose.

  One problem at a time, I told myself as I took a deep breath. Before I started to worry about boogeymen on the road, I needed to know for sure how many mages I had to deal with at the bridge. I’d seen the dark haired mage reach toward his left shoulder before collapsing in a bloody spray. I wasn’t sure if he was dead, although there had been a great deal of splatter as he went down.

  Unfortunately, the other mage had learned his lesson. He’d ducked out of sight the instant the gun had boomed and all I could see of him was a few tufts of his hair as he crouched below the side of the bridge.

  “We have to get across that bridge,” I pointed out. “Which means we need to get past those mages.”

  “I don’t think they’re going anywhere,” Sorcha replied as she peered around my shoulder.

  We crept the last few feet to the edge of the bridge and peered around the trunk of a tree that hung over the gorge. I spotted the two mages near the middle of the bridge, near the spot where I had shot the dark-haired mage.

  That mage was definitely dead. Blood ran from the wound above his heart and spilled between the boards, then down into the river below. Even in death, he somehow still had an icy glare.

  The surviving mage crouched behind the side of the bridge. He had his back toward us, though he must have felt our stares. He glanced over his shoulder, then started to scuttle the rest of the way across the bridge. I raised the gun, but Sorcha placed a hand on my arm.

  “He’s leaving,” Sorcha pointed out. “And I don’t think he’s heading back to the Magesterium anytime soon.”

  “Why not?” I asked suspiciously as the mage scrambled onto the road on the other side of the bridge.

  “He wants to find that beast,” she sighed. “That’s all he’s thinking about now.”

  The mage made it to his feet, though he was still stooped over. He ran into the trees, and we could hear him as he moved toward the rim of the gorge. A few moments later, I spotted the red of his robe among the trees as he followed the path of the river.

  Bit by bit, people started to emerge from the forest. A few walked cautiously toward the dead mage, while others offered to go for help.

  “We need to leave before any officials get here,” I said as I placed the snub nose into my pocket. The alarm was still going off in my brain, but not as loudly once I let go of the grip. It was more like background noise now, which at least let me focus on our present problem.

  Sorcha nodded, and we stepped cautiously onto the road. We walked toward the bridge and the body of the mage. There were quite a few people gathered around him now, and most of those people spoke about a black mage. The rest of the crowd, though, were clearly not interested in lingering near the sight of the battle, either because of the possibility that a black mage was still on the loose, or because the local authorities would soon be there.

  Sorcha and I joined the flow of people that moved at a quick sprint to get away from the area. No one spoke as we moved along, and no one looked back. The crowd thinned out the further north we went, and soon it was just the two of us for long stretches.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time we found anything larger than a farm. I pulled out the atlas one more time as we huddled under a walnut tree and decided we must have reached the area near seventy-eight. Several large roads all converged on this point, and as we stepped from the trees, I could even see the old highways. I spotted one of the original green signs with seventy-eight and an a
rrow and pointed it out to Sorcha.

  “It’s getting late,” she mused. “Should we at least stop for food somewhere?”

  “I wouldn’t mind sitting down,” I agreed.

  As we followed the sign for seventy-eight, we noticed several of the pre-magic buildings were still in use. One huge building with blue paint was especially busy. Mage lights and gas lights lit the building as well as the old parking lot, and hordes of people flowed through the area. Carts, wagons, horses, and even a couple of dog carts sat nearby, all under the watchful eye of a group of men in lime green shirts. The crowd was almost festive, and the chatter drowned out just about everything else except the music that blared from the rooftop.

  “Maybe it’s some sort of shopping area,” Sorcha suggested as we hesitated near the entrance.

  “What’s an Ike-a?” I asked as I studied the sign that hung overhead. “Is it some sort of cooking? Like French or something?”

  Sorcha shrugged but pulled me along toward the main entrance anyway. A group of young people wearing the same blue shirts and red trousers stood just inside the doors and handed everyone who stepped inside a pamphlet. Sorcha thanked them, then tugged me deeper into the building before anyone could comment on our appearances.

  The building felt more like a warehouse than shops or offices, and it was enormous. I couldn’t even see the end of the building, despite the high ceilings and the complete lack of walls. Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. There were all sorts of strange, sort-of walls, like something the traveling shows used whenever they put on a play. Between these walls were rooms like you would find in a house, filled with furniture. There were whole rows of dining rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, bathrooms, and even an entire section labeled as ‘entertainment centers’.

  People sat in the rooms and talked with someone in a tan uniform. Signs near each room gave a person’s name and specified what topics they could help you with. Some of the rooms had lines of people waiting patiently for their chance to consult, while others were empty except for the uniformed specialist.

  “What is this?” I murmured as we strolled past a popular section devoted to solving marital problems.

  “I’m not sure how to describe it,” Sorcha replied quietly. She had studied the pamphlet as we moved through the rooms, and now she pulled me out of the flow of traffic and into a ‘rest and recovery’ spot filled with overstuffed chairs. A few other people were already there, so Sorcha pulled me to a pair of less comfortable looking chairs near the back.

  “Is this some sort of… advice center?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she stated as she tried to find a way to sit on the hard, smooth surface of the chair without sliding out. “But it’s all part of a church, I guess is what you would call it.”

  “A church?” I asked in surprise.

  “Devoted to magic and the Magesterium,” she added. “All of these… ‘consultants’ are supposedly trained by the Magesterium, and whatever they can’t solve, they will forward to an appropriate mage for magical…’intervention’. For the right price. Or if you can’t afford that, they’ll say prayers for you. Also for the right price.”

  “I’ve never even heard of such a thing,” I snickered.

  “I guess it makes sense,” Sorcha noted as she looked over the pamphlet again. “Most people don’t have a mage handy that they can consult whenever they have a problem. And if there is a mage nearby, he can probably only help you with one or two things, like curing your flock or making it rain.”

  I tried to imagine anyone consulting with either Peter or Preston, the two brats with minimal magic who’d been my nemeses growing up. I certainly wouldn’t trust them to cure a sick cow, much less conjure up a rainstorm to save the crops.

  “So all these people just come here to ask for advice or get help from a mage?” I asked.

  “That’s what they claim,” Sorcha agreed. “I have no idea if they have any actual ties to the Magesterium.”

  “I guess this means there’s no food in here,” I sighed as I watched the hordes move between the various experts.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Sorcha noted. “But there have to be restaurants nearby. Someone has to feed all these visitors.”

  We gave up our seats and rejoined the flow of people. The arrows painted on the floor led us through a maze of similar fake rooms, and past a long row of shelves like the ones we’d seen at Home Depot. These had all been filled with a variety of potions, cures, and an assortment of magical items. At least, that’s what the signs said. People picked through the shelves as they looked for items recommended by their consultant, then made their way to the cashiers near the exit.

  We slipped past the people waiting to pay for their items and stepped back outside. We moved to the side to study the other buildings in the area in the hopes of finding some place that had food. As we took in the possibilities, a woman in one of the tan uniforms approached us.

  She was in her fifties and sported a gray ponytail. She walked up to us with a friendly smile, a thick notebook in one hand, and a mage crystal in her other hand. It was hard to miss the incandescent glow that lit up the center of the crystal, and both Sorcha and I tensed up as the woman stopped in front of us. The crystals could be used for any number of purposes, depending on the magic placed on them, but the fact that she approached us out of everyone was enough to send my hand toward the pocket where I’d tucked the snub nose.

  “Oh, you’re mages,” she purred as she held up the crystal for us to study. “I’ve never ever actually had one of the stones go off before, so this is very exciting. Of course, we’re honored to have you here. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to have such magic in our presence.”

  “Um, oh,” Sorcha mumbled. “Thanks.”

  “Are you here to offer services?” the woman asked hopefully.

  “Er, ah,” Sorcha muttered.

  “We’re just passing through,” I replied. “We’re on a quest but we needed a moment to recuperate.”

  “A quest!” the woman cooed. “How exciting!”

  “We were hoping to get something to eat,” I prompted as the woman batted her eyelashes at me.

  “Oh, you’ll want the mall then,” she said in a disappointed voice. “But have you registered yet? They won’t let you in if you haven’t registered.”

  “Registered?” Sorcha and I repeated at the same time.

  “At the Northern State Offices,” the woman explained. “All non-residents have to register when they arrive or they can’t use any of the services. And mages have to specify what type of magic they have.”

  “Oh--h,” I stuttered. “We didn’t know.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” the woman quickly assured us. “It’s just a safety precaution, what with all the people who come here. I’m sure they’ll be happy to help you, since you’re on a quest.”

  “But we don’t need to register,” Sorcha noted. Her voice had dropped to something deeper and smoother that was both sexy and hypnotic. It was the voice she used when she deployed her magic, and I watched the woman curiously to see if she or the stone would realize what was happening.

  “Why, of course you don’t need to register,” the woman agreed after she blinked.

  “You were going to give us vouchers and passes for the mall,” Sorcha purred.

  “Here are your vouchers and passes,” the woman replied as she opened the notebook. She flipped through a few sheets of loose paper, then handed two tickets to Sorcha along with two half-sheets of blue paper.

  “Don’t forget, we’re on a special quest, so you won’t tell anyone you’ve seen us,” Sorcha added.

  “I won’t say a word to anyone,” the woman agreed.

  “Ask her how we get to the mall,” I whispered to Sorcha.

  “How do we get to the mall?” Sorcha asked.

  “Take the orange tram,” the woman replied.

  “Now, go back inside,” Sorcha commanded.

  The woman smiled and tottered back toward the doors. />
  “I’m really starting to like this magic of yours,” I mused.

  “Uh-huh,” she scoffed. “I think I see our ride, by the way.”

  An orange cart pulled by a pair of draft horses had pulled into the lot and moved toward the Ikea exit. A small crowd had started to gather near a pole painted the same color of orange, and we fell in near the back.

  Only a few people tumbled from the cart once the horses stopped, but it was a full load heading back. Sorcha and I managed to press ourselves onboard, though I felt a twinge of sympathy for the horses who had to pull this load of humanity to the mall.

  Luckily, it wasn’t a very long ride, and the horses left the old highway when we reached a gold-lettered sign that said ‘Liberty Mall.’ The mall turned out to be a sprawling complex of odd-shaped buildings gathered around a circular road. Some of the buildings were connected while others were stand-alones. The cart stopped at each building in front of a sign that listed what stores and businesses were located in that wing. The signs were long, and it was almost impossible to read each one before the wagon would move again.

  But the most amazing thing about the buildings were the walls made of glass. Every place we stopped at had an entire wall of windows that provided a view into a well-lit and inviting interior. There were soaring ceilings, murals of flying machines, and even aerialists at one location. I stared in fascination at each building as we pulled up, lost in the sheer strangeness of it.

  Sorcha finally pulled me from the wagon at one of the last buildings and dragged me inside. She handed our guest passes to a man and a woman just inside the door.

  “We’re guests of Ike-a,” Sorcha pronounced in her soothing voice. “You’ll let us inside without asking any more questions.”

  “Please, go on in,” the woman declared. “We’re always happy to welcome special guests of the I-key-ah.”

  “I-key-ah,” I murmured as we strode inside.

  We wandered around the two-story building, and I quickly discovered that the walls of windows extended throughout the structure. As we made our way down a long concourse, I could even see old flying machines still parked on the concrete. I know I looked like a country bumpkin as I stopped to stare at everything, but I didn’t care.