by Logan Jacobs
Chapter 1
“Hey, Hex,” John called out. “How much money you got saved?”
“Enough,” I replied as I glanced over at the other farm hand.
We were nearly the same age, so we’d formed a friendship of sorts over the course of the cattle drive despite the fact that I was the “new guy.” We were also opposites, at least in appearance. John was dark skinned, with eyes nearly black and hair so short it looked molded to his head. In contrast, I had my mother’s fair skin, blue eyes, and a mane of brown hair that flopped in my eyes no matter how I cut it.
“I can’t wait to get to the city,” John continued as he brought his horse closer to mine. “Larry says they have more ways to have fun than we have days in town. And that’s without all the festivities.”
I nodded and took a sip of water from my flask. For most of us, it was the first time we would ever journey to such a large metropolis. Working on farms and cattle drives meant most of a hand’s life was spent in small towns or on a horse on the long empty stretches in between markets, and the opportunities to experience anything more were limited.
But here we were, about to enter one of the largest cities in the land, and I had to admit, the idea of being surrounded by all those people was a little nerve wracking.
I’d always heard about life in the city, and now I was finally going to experience it for myself, even if it was only for a few days. It was exciting, sure, but intimidating as well. I tried to act as cool and calm as the older hands, but the sweat on my brow wasn’t there just because of the ride.
Our boss, Paul Reese, was in the guard shack with the tunnel agents, where he would sign all the paperwork for our entry into the city. The city was well outside his usual area of operations, but with this year being the big fiftieth anniversary since the meteorite strike, everyone wanted to throw a party, preferably a bigger one than their neighbors’.
And in the city, that meant steak on every grill.
Paul had found plenty of buyers who would pay a premium for his cattle, a price my foster father couldn’t pass up even if it did add an extra hundred miles or so to the drive. Not to mention the chance to take in some big city celebrations once the ride was over. Even a man as stoic as Paul Reese wanted to see what that entailed.
“Just hope the cold doesn’t keep everyone inside,” John added as he glanced at the sky, which had turned gray and unwelcoming as the day wore on. “I’d hate to come all this way and miss out on the fun.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty we can do inside,” I laughed, even though I’d just had the same worries myself.
“I didn’t come all this way to listen to a lecture,” John grumbled. “I hear enough talk about the bad old days at home.”
“But wouldn’t you like to see some of those old trains?” I teased. “I heard they’ve got one you can ride around in for a short distance.”
“More old world stuff,” John complained as he rolled his eyes at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were one of those pre-magic old timers who spends all his time talking about how great it used to be.”
I laughed again, but John wasn’t far off. I’d never known the pre-magic world, though my parents sometimes talked about it in hushed tones. They’d only been children themselves when the meteorite strike occurred, but they still remembered summers so hot people stripped down to almost nothing. They also remembered riding in cars, watching shows on a screen, and playing something called a video game. While most people my age disparaged the old world, I had an interest in it that was hard to explain to other people in my generation.
“I hear you can still see some of the old buildings,” John admitted. “Ones that survived the tidal waves. That might be fun. I’d like to see a building so tall it could be called a skyscraper.”
I nodded and glanced eastward to the city skyline we could just make out. My parents had sometimes mentioned this as well: buildings so tall you could see them from miles away. They’d stood for decades, even centuries, until the meteorite hit. Then the collision generated towering waves that destroyed much of the coastal areas and sent great plumes of dust into the sky that blocked the sunlight. Almost overnight, the earth began to freeze. Millions of people died, and thousands of plants and animals went extinct.
It seemed humans were destined for this same fate, but the meteorite had brought one other side effect with it. Some humans began to develop the ability to use magic. It came in many types, some more helpful than others, but these new mages found a way to restore balance to the Earth’s ecosystem. They also became the planet’s new leaders, and they did away with the old governments, religions, and technologies that had polluted the planet for so long. At least, that’s what was preached by the mages, but it was hard not to listen to my parents’ tales of the old days and imagine what might have been.
My own parents were mages, but I’d never inherited their magic. After they were killed, Pappa Paul took me in, partly out of respect for my parents, but also in the hopes that I might have inherited some of their magic. As the years passed, though, Pappa Paul grew more frustrated when I remained magic free, though he was never unkind about it. Then the final blow to my status on the Reese Farm occurred when both of Paul’s sons, Peter and Preston, began to develop magical abilities of their own.
At seventeen, I took to the roads as an itinerant farmhand and picked up work at whatever farm or ranch needed an extra body. I wandered as far north as Mount Katahdin and westward toward the Ohio River, but six years on, I was back at the Reese Farm. Pappa Paul had been happy enough to hire me, and Alana and his three daughters had welcomed me home like a long-lost son.
Paul’s sons, Peter and Preston, however, were less than happy to see me. Those two, the tormentors of my youth, the bullies who changed my name from Hector to Hex, were now full mages. They weren’t particularly adept, but Pappa Paul’s money ensured them a cozy spot in the local government and plenty of reasons to come home to request more financial aid.
Or tag along on a cattle drive that would give them the chance to visit the city.
With that thought, Preston appeared on his horse beside me. I could have kicked myself for thinking about the two men because doing so always seemed to make them appear. If the local academy mages hadn’t been so certain I had no magic, I would have thought this was my particular gift. Think about someone you hate, and they’ll appear before you.
Talk about useless magic.
“We’ll be heading through the tunnel soon,” Preston declared as he rode up. He took after his father, with walnut colored skin, gray eyes as hard as slate, and curly hair cropped close to the scalp. He was as big as Paul, but where Paul was mostly hard muscle, Preston was leaning more toward fat.
The crossbow he kept looped on his saddle looked out of place as well, like an ornament rather than a real means of protection. Somehow, he’d use his status as a mage to avoid turning it over with the rest of the weapons our band of drovers carried.
Preston caught my glance at the weapon and sneered. “What are you lookin’ at?”
“We’ll be ready,” John assured him as he tried to avoid a bite from Preston’s horse, a moody bay named Chester.
“You two will have to stay with the cattle until the security hired by the buyer arrives,” Preston insisted. “That means no wandering off until Pop gives you the all clear.”
“We got it,” I replied casually, but what I really wanted to do was stick my tongue out at him like I’d done when we were kids. “Pappa Paul’s already told us.”
“That’s Boss Reese to you,” Preston snapped even though no one ever referred to his father li
ke that.
“Right,” I mumbled. “Boss Reese.”
Preston eyed me suspiciously while John tried to hide his grin behind his water flask.
“I hope you didn’t drink too much of the beer at the noon break,” Preston finally sneered. “You have to be really alert in the city. They’ll steal anything that isn’t nailed down.”
“It’s taken care of,” I assured him, but it was a struggle to remain calm with Preston nearby. He’d spent the whole trip offering advice to everyone on how to survive in the city, as if he’d ever been here before. I knew for a fact this was his first visit as well, but a bit of throat clearing from John reminded me we weren’t kids in the yard anymore, but boss and worker.
Or, at least, boss’s son.
“Uh-huh,” Preston snorted. “You’ll be using some of that magic of yours to protect the herd? Maybe put up a defensive shield or something? Oh, wait, that’s right. You don’t have any magic.”
I just shook my head and studied the skyline again. Preston was making it really hard not to resort to a punch, and I gripped the reins a little too tightly. My horse shook his head in protest, so I slowly released the leather. Then I took two deep breaths, and I reminded myself I couldn’t knock Preston around anymore just because he was an idiot.
“You know, Daddy always talked about the night you were born,” Preston continued as he shifted in his saddle. “What a great thunderstorm there was, and how your parents came to our house because their own shack was leaking like a sieve. And then that seer turned up on the doorstep to offer your parents a prophecy. Your parents never told anyone what went on inside the room once they agreed to hear her out, and Daddy still wonders what she said, but I bet I know.”
I didn’t bite. Preston and Peter had been making this same claim since Paul and Alana had moved me into the main house and tossed me in the boys’ room with their two sons. I hated that room from day one and used to try and find ways to slip into the girls’ room when I could. The three daughters, at least, were friendly, even if they did try to put lipstick on me.
“She told them their son wasn’t going to have any magic, that he was just a hex who would cancel out their own power,” Preston announced with a smirk. “It’s a good thing Peter and I have magic, or you’d probably have destroyed the whole farm by now.”
Anger started to boil in my veins like a wildfire, but I tamped it down. I’d never done anything that had ever brought bad luck to the Reese Farm or any other place I’d worked. In fact, the Reese Farm still flourished where others struggled, largely due to the spells my parents had cast, but Peter and Preston wanted me to be Hex, and so they continued to perpetuate the myth of my bad luck.
“We should get back to work,” John finally said as the first cattle started to move forward.
“Hex Theriot, the great un-mage,” Preston chanted just as he and Peter had done when we were kids.
God, how I hated that chant.
I gripped the reins again and refused to look at Preston. It was getting harder to resist the urge to hit him, though, especially after listening to his taunts for days on end during the drive. I had to remind myself I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d kept me out of the city, which was a distinct possibility if I knocked the boss’s son from his horse.
I turned my back on Preston and Chester, even though this was a risk since either man or horse might try to injure me. I heard the horse snort and felt him step closer to my own mount, but Preston had apparently had his fun for the day.
My tormentor clucked to his horse and turned Chester’s head toward the front of the herd. Then he cut a path through the cattle as he galloped back to the head of the herd where Pappa Paul had emerged from the shack to give out final instructions. Some of the steer protested as they were forced to make way, and more than a few nasty looks from the other hands were cast in Preston’s direction.
John and I turned back to our own tasks, too. We watched patiently as the herd moved forward and kept an eye out for any wandering cattle. Pappa Paul had been worried the bovines might decide not to venture into the tunnel, but they moved forward without any hesitation. The only real problem was the herd couldn’t spread out as they moved, which meant everything would take just a little bit longer. It also meant the tunnel we were using would be shut down to other traffic until we were through. Paul had worried about this as well until we reached the entrance to the city and saw “the tunnel” was actually two tunnels, and the officials handling the traffic had clearly dealt with this type of thing before.
John and I followed the last stragglers into the entrance to the city. It was a relic of the pre-magic days, but the roadway was now packed dirt, and only a handful of the white tiles still clung to the walls. The place had an odd smell, like musty clothes and something I couldn’t identify. There were lichens and seashells littering the floor too, left behind by the flood waters that had once filled this space, and about halfway along we passed a patch of tiles that said “NE ORK” and “RSEY.”
“It’s kind of creepy in here,” John remarked as the sound of hooves echoed around us.
“Can you imagine what it must have looked like when it was filled with cars?” I replied as I tried to picture one of the rusting heaps from the countryside as it drove through the torchlit expanse of the tunnel faster than any horse could run.
John shook his head as he peered into the gloomy depths. I did as well, and I found it conjured up visions from an old story from our childhood about ghouls that hid in dark places, which then leaped out and attacked their unsuspecting victims. There were certainly enough dark places along the tunnel to hide a blood sucking ghoul or two.
Fortunately, I spotted the sliver of gray light that meant we were reaching the end. I heard John sigh in relief, and we exchanged grins. As the last of the cattle stepped out of the torch light, John and I were right behind. The rest of the herd was already making its way down a narrow, fenced street, and I felt a twinge of disappointment. Paul had said the pens where we would leave the cattle were close to the tunnel, but I’d still hoped to see more of the place as we worked our way along the city streets.
Still, what little we did see was impressive. There were tall buildings, some with five or six floors, and all made of stone and brick. Gas lamps lined the road, and even in the afternoon hours, they added a cheery glow. The sidewalks were made of concrete and filled with people, many of whom stopped to watch the cattle move by. Most of the men wore dark, somber colors, but the women preferred brightly colored fabrics embroidered with beads and bits of glass that flashed in the sun.
And what a lot of people there were.
I’d never seen such packed sidewalks, or so many people in one place. It was exciting, but also intimidating, and my palms grew sweaty. I reminded myself of all the fun we would have, and how easy it would be to avoid the likes of Preston in such a place. That helped, and I looked over at John to see how he was doing.
John’s eyes were wide as he took in the crowds and the buildings. I saw him wipe his hand against his pants and figured he was experiencing the same mixed bag of emotions that I was.
“Hope those security guys don’t take too long getting here,” John said when he caught me looking at him. “I can’t wait to see what the rest of the city looks like.”
“I imagine they’ll be here soon,” I replied. “The buyers will want their own protection in place quickly. I mean, would you trust a couple of cowhands who had just driven your cattle over several hundred miles without losing a single cow to protect the herd from those big, bad city thieves?”
John laughed, a sound which helped both of us settle down. Then we started to enjoy the sights more, and we even managed to tip our hats to some lovely ladies near one of the corners.
The cattle road came to an end at a scene that looked like it had been lifted from any large ranch. Squeezed between a forest of brick and stone buildings was a collection of corrals, some already filled with other animals, inclu
ding cattle and sheep. I spotted Pappa Paul and Preston talking with two men in dark suits while the hands from the drive moved our cattle into two of the corrals. We followed the last of our cattle up to the corrals, then dismounted to help close the last gate.
“Hex, John, these are Mr. Gibson and Mr. Carson,” Paul said as the latch fell into place. “I’ve let them know you’ll be staying here until their own men arrive.”
“It won’t be long,” Mr. Gibson assured us. He was probably in his sixties and sported a mustache that hid most of his face, and I guessed he probably had a bald spot as well, though it was hidden by the ridiculously tall hat he wore.
“We know young men like you will be anxious to get out and enjoy everything the city has to offer,” Mr. Carson added with a smile. He was a few years younger than Gibson, though I could see gray at his temples. He was clean-shaven and wore a red jacket, which was the only splash of color I’d seen on a man in the city so far.
“Bunks have been arranged for everyone,” Paul announced as he nodded toward the long wooden building that stood at the far end of the space. “Everybody’s been checked in. Larry will be by to give you your bunk assignments.”
“Here,” Gibson said as he pulled a flier from his pocket and thrust it at me. “They’ve got some special events for the festival if you want to take a look.”
“Oh, thanks,” I murmured as I accepted the sheet of paper.
Paul nodded, and then he and the two city men walked away. Preston watched them until they were out of earshot before he turned to John and me.
“Don’t screw this up,” he hissed. “Pop has a lot riding on this deal.”
“We won’t screw it up,” I shot back as I rolled my eyes.
Preston looked like he was ready to add another comment about my lack of magic or proper respect for him and his father, but Paul barked his name, so Preston made do with only a scowl before he scurried after his father.
A kid of about twelve, who had been standing nearby with Paul and Preston’s horses, approached us and quietly accepted the reins for our mounts.