Gun Mage 4: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth Page 4

  “I’ll look for you,” Darwin assured her.

  Viv gave the ex-trooper a brilliant smile, then slid out from her chair and hightailed it across the floor before Darwin and I were out of our seats. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the old dispatcher have a quiet conversation with the clerk, and then the two women disappeared down the hall.

  “I really don’t need to spend that much time looking for a hat,” Freya remarked when we were all seated again.

  “There is one thing I would like to check out, but we don’t all have to go,” Darwin replied as he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and laid it on the table. “They started to hand these out at the protest just before the police fired the mist.”

  The paper held the image of a mage, a far more peaceful version than I had ever seen, with his hands held wide in a welcoming gesture and a vapid expression on his face that was probably meant to suggest friendship and love. Below that was a two paragraph diatribe against the evils that had been unleashed on the world by technology and how the mages had saved humanity when nothing and no one else could. It demanded that all good Scrantonites stand up to the horrors that were about to be unleashed in the name of money, and do as the Magesterium commanded and destroy the train. At the bottom was the time and location for a meeting that was guaranteed to uplift all true believers.

  “You want to go to this meeting?” I asked in disbelief.

  “It’s a common police strategy,” Darwin explained. “Put a few plainclothes officers inside and see if they can learn anything, like what kind of attack this group might be planning.”

  “I imagine the rail company will already do that,” Sorcha pointed out.

  “Probably, but if we’re serious about getting on this train, I’d like to have an idea of what these people are planning and not rely on the skills of someone I don’t know,” the ex-trooper insisted.

  “I guess it makes sense,” I said as I stared at the picture.

  There was something strangely familiar about it, and I realized the image had been borrowed from the old religions. But the attempt to update it had been less than successful and the mage in the image was not one that inspired confidence in the Magesterium. If anything, it made me hope that this guy was just the stand in and the real mage would be back in a moment to take care of all my problems.

  “He sort of looks like Buddy Christ,” Freya noted. “But not as nice, or as strong.”

  “They definitely borrowed from the old Christian iconography,” Darwin mused as he picked the page up and studied it again.

  “I’ll go,” Sorcha declared. “I’m curious to see if any mages turn up for this meeting.”

  “I’ll go as well,” I added quickly. “I think Darwin has a good point about knowing what they’re up to.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not staying here by myself,” Freya huffed. “So I guess we’re all going.”

  “We have a little time yet,” I noted. “I should probably take Barnaby for another walk. These kinds of meetings can drag on sometimes.”

  We reached an agreement on when we would reassemble by the front desk, and then left to tend to various tasks. I found Barnaby sprawled across my bed and a few streaks of dried mud on the covers. I grimaced at the sight, but the Weimaraner gave me the canine version of a grin and we were soon back on the streets for another romp in the snow.

  Barnaby stayed close during our jaunt, for which I was grateful. Even in this elegant section of Scranton-Barre, people were starting to stare at strangers with suspicion. The day’s events, though quickly quelled, had left everyone feeling stressed, and I had to believe that the meeting scheduled for that evening would only feed the strain.

  As we worked our way along the street, I wondered if attending the meeting was really such a good plan. Though I understood Darwin’s reasoning, I didn’t want to be caught in any more riots while we were here. The idea of taking the train to Willsport was already sounding more like a fantasy, and I wasn’t so sure that the company would be able to pull off a second run. But I also couldn’t imagine leaving my friends to fend for themselves if things did get out of hand, and while Freya would probably have been okay with skipping out, I was pretty sure neither Darwin nor Sorcha would be talked out of it.

  We wandered further than I intended as I tried to come up with other plans, and even the Weimaraner was looking at me as if he wanted to know how much further we would go. Without any better ideas, I heaved a sigh and turned back toward the hotel. I started to realize then just how cold and wet I was without my own hat, and I made a note to encourage Freya to go hat shopping as soon as possible.

  I debated whether to take Barnaby with us, but finally decided to leave him in the room. He plopped down on the rug beneath the desk and didn’t look interested in moving any further, and besides that, I had a sneaking suspicion that bringing dogs to the meeting wasn’t encouraged, especially if they had a history of being disruptive.

  “Last again,” Sorcha teased when I finally made it to the front hall.

  “We took a long walk,” I shrugged. “Weimaraners have a lot of energy.”

  “Even after his earlier escapades?” Freya asked.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “So, do we know where this hall is?”

  “We do,” Darwin declared. “I’ve got the directions. It’s a bit of a walk from here, but we should make it in good time. It’ll give us a chance to observe the people who turn up, see if any of them stand out as potential troublemakers.”

  “That’s him sounding all cop like,” Freya snickered.

  Darwin shook his head, but he happily took the lead as we bade farewell to Emma then stepped back outside. The temperature had dropped just in the short time that I had spent in my room, and I shivered as a burst of wind blew along the street. If Freya didn’t go hat shopping soon, then I would definitely go for her, I decided.

  The walk over to the meeting hall was as long as Darwin had warned, and judging by the smell, we were close to the river. The streets were narrower and still covered in snow and muck, and only a few of the gas lamps had been lit. Everything, from buildings to carts, was covered in a layer of grime, and even the snow that started to fall looked brown rather than white.

  Despite the desultory air, the streets were busy as people finished up the last of their tasks for the day. No one paid us much heed, though I did spot a few loiterers in the alleys who watched our group as we passed by. As we neared the hall, I saw other people who were clearly not local to this part of town strolling toward the only brightly lit building in the area. It was interesting to see that the outrage against the trains extended into some of the wealthier classes, something I hadn’t considered before.

  “Let’s sit in back,” Darwin urged as we stepped into the hall. “It will give us a better spot to watch everyone else.”

  We found a group of chairs that had been set up in one of the corners and quickly claimed them for ourselves. We watched quietly as the rest of the seats were taken, and still people kept arriving. People stood against the walls or sat in the aisles between the chairs, and a few even managed to sneak onto the stage behind the curtain. Unlike the tension we had felt in the streets, the air in the meeting felt more like expectation.

  “At least this group seems happy with the way things went today,” the Irishwoman noted as she watched a group of men on the stage.

  “Not surprised,” the ex-trooper muttered.

  “I think I need a hat with a really wide brim,” Freya added for no apparent reason.

  Finally, one of the men moved to the front of the stage and held his hands up to quiet the crowd. The noise slowly died away and when the hall was quiet, the man folded his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet for a moment while he seemed to gather his thoughts. We all watched him, this pear-shaped figure with a balding head and a green and black striped shirt, until he finally stilled and cast his eyes slowly across the packed hall.

  “Thank you all for coming,” the man declared in a
warm and reassuring voice. “I know many of you participated in the rally at the D.M. building earlier today, and I know I speak for everyone when I say thank you for your service. The fact that they saw the need to use the weeper’s mist only proves how scared they really are. They know they’re in the wrong and that the majority stands against them.”

  The crowd cheered for several seconds while the man drank in their approval. He smiled at the audience as he started to rock again, and then when he’d had his fill, he held his hands up once again.

  “I’m happy to say we have our promised guest speaker tonight,” the man continued. “A real mage, who will speak to the evil that is being committed.”

  There was another round of applause and I caught movement behind one of the curtains. A moment later, as the speaker turned and waved someone forward, the curtain was pulled aside and another man stepped onto the stage. Applause gave way to cheers and hoots, but the new speaker barely reacted.

  The real mage was a slender man of around forty, with a shock of white blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He wasn’t in the traditional red robe of a Magesterium mage but wore a pair of baggy pants and a stiff, heavily embroidered jacket that fell to his knees. The blue fabric was clearly chosen to emphasize the color of his eyes, and it was hard to look at anyone else as the mage stood at the front of the stage and looked upward, like he was hearing a message from above that none of us could detect.

  “Brother Anselm,” the first man declared as he stepped aside and joined the applause that rained down on the mage.

  I glanced at Sorcha and saw her brow was furrowed in concentration as she studied the mage. She felt my glance and looked over, but she didn’t offer the smile I was expecting.

  “What is it?” I asked quietly.

  “He’s like me,” she replied. “A control mage.”

  “Oh,” I muttered as I looked back at the stage. “This could get really bad.”

  Brother Anselm finally held up a single hand and the crowd instantly went quiet. The mage slowly raked his stare across the gathered people, and somehow, it felt like he looked at each and every individual right in the eye. Even though I knew it was probably part of his magic, I still wanted to lean forward and hear every word the man intended to utter.

  “My fellow citizens,” Anselm said quietly when he finally spoke, “It gladdens my heart to see so many of you here tonight. I know how disheartened some of you must feel after the attack on our brethren earlier today, but take heart, and know that the Magesterium supports you.”

  The crowd clapped and whistled, and I joined in as well, though I wondered why the crowd was so quick to accept this mage’s assessment of the Magesterium’s support when he wasn’t in a red robe.

  “You’ll be happy to know that I have been in contact with the Magesterium, and they have agreed to review the appointment of Hiram Painter as the local mage,” Anselm continued. “I have offered to provide evidence of Hiram’s abandonment of the Magesterium and his continued alliance with these business cartels that flout Magesterium authority. We all know that Hiram’s house, his carriage, his entire lifestyle is paid for by the likes of Walter Dean and Joker Riley. He takes their money and their gifts, and then looks the other way as they seek to bring evil back into the world.”

  The mage’s voice had dropped an octave as he spoke, and his cadence had become more measured. Even though I recognized what was happening, I couldn’t stop listening to the mage. A small part of my brain wondered how he was able to hold so many people under his spell, but that seemed less important than hearing what this brilliant man had to say next.

  “Sadly, the Magesterium will not be able to act in time,” Anselm continued after a small pause, and I could feel the disappointment that filled the mage. “So we are left to prevent these atrocities on our own.”

  Anselm paused and lifted his gaze toward the ceiling once again, and like every other person in there, I looked up as well. I had no idea what we were looking for, though it didn’t really matter at that point. If one of the old gods had appeared and declared Brother Anselm to be his son and heir, I would have clapped and cheered as loudly as the rest of the crowd.

  “Hex!” Sorcha hissed.

  I felt Sorcha’s presence tickle my awareness, and somehow, I tore my gaze away from the hero on the stage and looked at the Irishwoman. As I stared into her eyes, I felt her concern wash over me, and then with a sudden jolt, I felt like I was back in my own body again.

  “What--?” I stammered as I tried to shake off the spell.

  “He’s found a way to magnify his power,” Sorcha replied quietly. “Probably with reaper seed.”

  “We should leave,” I whispered. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well tonight. He’s building up to something.”

  Anselm had started to speak again, but I forced myself to block out his voice and focus on Sorcha’s presence. It helped, though it was a struggle not to look back toward the stage and the soothing voice that reminded everyone of the wonderous things the mages had done for humanity.

  “Darwin!” I loudly whispered into the other man’s ear.

  Darwin blinked, and his eyes slid toward mine for a moment, but then the siren song pulled him back in and his gaze shifted back toward Anselm.

  “If we can get them out of the building, they’ll be okay,” Sorcha said to me.

  “How do we do that without attracting everyone’s attention?” I asked.

  “Now rise, my brothers and sisters!” Anselm called out from the stage.

  His voice rang through the hall, and I could feel it in my bones. I shivered as the magic wormed its way inside me again, but like every person in there, I stood up. It felt like my body wasn’t my own anymore, and as much as I wanted to look toward Sorcha, my gaze was locked on the man at the front of the building.

  “Let us go to the station and destroy the iron beast,” Anselm ordered.

  I heard myself cheer with the rest of the crowd, and then we were turning as one toward the main doors, which had been thrown open by two of Aselm’s followers. Darwin, Freya and I started to follow, but our spot in the corner kept us wedged in the hall while the rest of the seats emptied out.

  Sorcha shoved her way in front of us, and once again, I felt her presence along our bond, as well as her very real fear that we were all about to be killed. Flashes of our moments together filled my mind, and as I stared at the Irishwoman, I could see a golden glow around her.

  “Hex,” Sorcha pleaded. “Don’t go.”

  “Never,” I finally managed to say.

  Chapter 3

  Anselm’s magic still tickled at my brain, but my bond with the Irish mage was even stronger. Filled with her strength, I blocked out Anselm’s message and turned toward my other two companions. I didn’t want to hurt either of them, but I wasn’t above knocking them out if that’s what it took to keep them in the hall. I’d seen the armed guards around the train, and I had no doubt there would be more after the morning’s events. Anselm’s magic wouldn’t protect these people from arrows or blades.

  “Just keep them in the corner until everyone else is gone,” Sorcha said. “I can undo Anselm’s spell then.”

  “Where is Anselm anyway?” I asked as I pressed Darwin against the wall with my body. The fact that Darwin didn’t react to the mistreatment was all the evidence I needed that the man was under a spell.

  “He left the stage,” Sorcha replied as she tried to herd Freya away from the crowd that was slowly leaving the meeting hall. “I suspect he won’t be joining his followers on their mission.”

  “What the hell is his game?” I asked angrily as Darwin finally started to push back against me. “I have a hard time believing he’s been in touch with the Magesterium or we’d be overrun with mages in red robes already.”

  Sorcha didn’t respond right away as we found ourselves struggling against our friends. Darwin and I both grunted as the older man first tried to push past me, and then tried to knock me down.

 
It was another sign of just how powerful Anselm’s magic was that no one tried to break up our scuffle. I finally had to sit on top of the older man while he tried to buck me off. The only good thing to come out of it was that Freya had stopped struggling with Sorcha to watch her grandfather. Despite Anselm’s spell, some part of her still refused to leave without him, and once it was clear that Darwin wasn’t going to be able to simply toss me off, the rabbit woman charged toward me and tried to knock me down.

  “Freya!” Sorcha commanded with her own magic voice. “Stop!”

  Freya plowed into me, but rather than knocking me down, she grabbed my arms and stared at me in confusion. She looked down at Darwin, who had started to mutter, then looked around the meeting hall, which was now empty.

  “Freya!” Sorcha called again.

  The rabbit woman’s nose twitched and then her gaze locked onto Sorcha. Sorcha returned the steely gaze with open arms and a warm smile.

  “Freya,” the Irishwoman repeated a third time in a gentler voice.

  “What--” Freya mumbled. “Why are you sitting on gramps?”

  “So he wouldn’t join the crowd and head over to the station to destroy the train,” I replied as I studied the mutant. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” Freya replied as she sat back hard on her butt and rubbed her head. “That Brother Anselm guy was a good speaker.”

  “He’s a mage like Sorcha,” I noted. “One who enhanced his magic so he could control everybody in here.”

  “Oh,” Freya muttered. “Um, gramps?”

  At a nod from Sorcha, I slowly rolled off the older man. It took Darwin a moment to realize I was gone, but then he clambered to his feet and started toward the door.

  “Gramps!” Freya called out as she grabbed the ex-trooper’s arm.

  “Stop!” the blonde mage called out as she stepped in front of Darwin once again.

  Darwin made a half-hearted attempt to shake off his granddaughter and push past Sorcha, but he finally stopped and stared around the hall.