by Scott Meyer
Gwen rose from her seat and had walked half the distance to where Martin sat before one of the thugs thought to grab her arm and force her to walk to where Martin sat. Soon, the thugs had crowded around, leaving about a ten foot clearing around the wizards to form a natural stage for Kludge to do whatever he intended to do. Donnie was still standing nearby. He was trying to act like a proud bird dog that had presented his master with a dead pheasant, but Martin wasn’t fooled. The boy wasn’t a very good actor, but he was good enough to fool Kludge.
“Well well well,” Kludge said, “Looks like our guests have finally decided to wake up!” Kludge was alarmingly tall and broad, with scraggly black hair and a nose that looked like it spent more time broken than not. He reached into the crowd and snatched Martin’s staff from one of the gang. Kludge was wearing a chain mail shirt he’d most likely stolen from someone who had learned that an armored shirt doesn’t save you from a punch in the face. Just standing next to him on the street he would have intimidated Martin. Sitting on the ground, tied helplessly to a tree at his feet, Martin was terrified. Kludge loomed over them like death itself, and he clearly knew it.
“Where’s their girlfriend?” Kludge asked. Gwen was shoved roughly to the front of the crowd. She stumbled, but caught herself before she fell. She didn’t look at the wizards. Martin thought she probably didn’t want to give Kludge and his buddies the satisfaction, or perhaps she didn’t want to give them an idea where to start.
Kludge stooped down to one knee, leaning a bit on Martin’s staff. Even then, he towered over the wizards. “Sorry we had to be rough with you three, but we couldn’t have you turning us into toads or nothing. It stands to reason that if you could do any magic all tied up and gagged like that you would have by now, so that means we’ve got you, and if you want to go back to your homes and hang upside down like a bat or whatever it is you freaks do, you’re gonna have to do what I say. Now, I’m gonna have the runt take one of your gags out, and whichever one of you is lucky enough to get to talk is going to tell me how to do what was done to the people in this here town, and if you don’t, I’m gonna do something pretty bad to this young lady here.”
Martin glanced at Gwen. The thug standing behind her was a head taller, and a full Gwen-width wider than her on each side. He had the dull eyes and broad smile of a born follower. He was the type of person who mistook being large for being tough, being tough for being strong, and being strong for being smart. He saw that Martin was looking their way, so he put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. It was a reassuring gesture, in that it was meant to reassure Martin that he had no qualms about doing any number of things that Gwen would not like. She had pulled up her hood. Only her mouth, set in a grim scowl, was visible. Her hands were slowly working their way up her measuring stick. Poor thing, Martin thought. She’s probably not even aware she’s doing it. I’ve got to think of a way to get her out of this. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a nasty jolt to Martin when he realized that the wrong place was in close proximity to wizards, or more specifically, him.
Kludge looked at the three wizards, deciding whose gag he would remove. He poked whoever was tied on Martin’s left with Martin’s stolen staff. Martin couldn’t turn his head, and could only see the man on his left’s boots, but was not surprised to hear Gary’s voice. If I were going to pick someone to tell me how to use magic to hurt people, I’d go for the one wearing black too, he thought.
After a deep breath, Gary said, “Let’s get something straight. If you hurt the girl, we tell you nothing!”
Kludge smiled. He had a few teeth missing, and the condition of the ones he had gave the impression that the missing teeth were the lucky ones. “If we hurt the girl, you’ll tell us nothing … voluntarily. If we hurt her enough, one of you might crack. If none of you talks, then we move on to you. We hurt you enough, I bet it’ll loosen someone’s tongue. If not, we move on to the dandy,” Kludge said, then kicked Martin, who was now regretting his shiny silver robe and hat. Kludge looked at Jeff with great relish. “By the time we get around to this one, I’m betting he’ll be ready to talk.”
“He won’t talk,” Gary said. “None of us will, and you’ll spend hours torturing us for nothing.”
Martin rolled his eyes. He didn’t blame Gary. Martin couldn’t think of anything better to say, but threatening these guys with the prospect of having to spend a lot of time hurting people was like threatening an avid golfer with hours and hours of playing golf.
Kludge kept his eyes on Gary, but tilted his head toward Gwen and the slab of beef with his hand on her shoulder, and said, “Percy, hurt the girl.”
Everyone’s eyes, Martin’s included, turned to Gwen, who was holding her measuring stick tightly with both hands. Because her hood was pulled up, Martin could not see her eyes, but she clearly did not want what was about to happen. The bully behind her grinned like a delighted child as he put his other massive hand on her other shoulder and started to squeeze and twist.
There was a sickening dry snap followed by a ripping noise. Everyone who heard it winced involuntarily.
Martin’s impulse was to look away, but he couldn’t. He was frozen with disbelief at what he was seeing. Gwen had snapped her measuring stick in half, then in one smooth, clearly rehearsed motion, hooked her thumbs into the sleeves of her cloak and pulled them apart, ripping a seam that had held the sleeves tight to her arms. With the seam destroyed, the cuffs widened to a loose flair. The two halves of her measuring stick looked to be almost the exact same length as Jeff’s wand. For the first time, it occurred to Martin that the exaggerated taper of the hood on Gwen’s cloak might not be purely decorative.
Later, Martin, Jeff, and Gary would discuss Gwen’s salutation. The whole idea of a salutation is to make it plain to anyone who sees it that you do have magical powers, and that you should not be messed with. They all agreed that Gwen’s was probably the best salutation they had ever seen, and what made it so effective was its subtlety. All salutations were triggered by a specific action or phrase. It could be anything. Phillip hummed a tune, Martin (in a failed attempt to amuse Phillip) yelled the magic words that Apachee Chief from Super Friends would use to grow huge.
Gwen shouted, “NO!”
Once triggered, a good salutation would demonstrate the wizard’s power by doing something that normal people could not do, and which could not be faked. Phillip flew. Martin grew into a giant statue.
Gwen emitted a single, blinding pulse of white light, like a human-sized flashbulb. At that moment Percy, the thug who was touching her, flew twenty feet back and bounced off of a wall. The salutation itself made no sound. The people watching made plenty of noise on their own.
After the initial flash of a salutation was complete, most of them employed some continuing effect to remind onlookers of the Wizard’s fearsome power. Phillip hovered in the air and emitted a blue glow. Martin, now to his embarrassment, had break danced.
Faint but unmistakable waves of energy were radiating from Gwen with blistering speed. It looked as if anyone who got their hand too close would see the flesh ripped from their skeleton. Her hood had tipped back slightly. Her face was visible. She had murder in her eyes. She aimed the wand in her right hand at Kludge and muttered something under her breath. Kludge immediately shot into the air, shrieking like a little girl and dropping Martin’s staff as he went. He hung helplessly in the air above the heads of his awestruck gang. One of the thugs made a halfhearted move toward Martin’s staff, which was now lying on the ground, but all it took was Gwen silently pointing her second wand at him and he sheepishly withdrew back into the group.
“Now,” she said quietly, through gritted teeth, “You idiots are going to untie these idiots, or I throw that idiot into the fire.”
The bravest of Kludge’s gang said, “Girly, you can kill Kludge, but you can’t kill all of us before we swarm you.”
Gwen t
ried to answer, but couldn’t be heard over Kludge screaming threats and obscenities at his gang. She sighed, and with a flick of her wrist caused Kludge to gain altitude. His voice became more distant and more shrill.
“As I was about to say, yes, I can kill all of you where you stand, but I didn’t say I was going to kill anyone, not even him. I’m going to throw him on the fire, then get the wizards out of here whether you untie them or not, leaving you all here with an angry, burned Kludge looking to take his pain out on someone, and who knows that none of you did anything to save him when you could.”
They looked up at Kludge, who was still raining down curses on their heads. Immediately, the mood of the crowd shifted, and it was clear to all that Gwen was going to get her way. Donnie leapt to untie the wizards before anyone told him to. Martin picked up his staff. Jeff and Gary were given their wand and staff back. Gwen maneuvered Kludge so that he was floating over a tall tree. She stowed her second wand in her pocket and put her hand on Jeff’s shoulder. He put his hand on Gary’s shoulder and Gary put his hand on Martin’s.
“All right,” Gwen said, “we’re gonna go now. Consider yourselves warned. Next time any of you gives any wizard a hard time, we won’t be so gentle.”
Martin quickly grabbed Donnie, put him in a headlock and touched his staff to the young man’s temple. Martin yelled, “Yeah, and to make sure none of you primitive screwheads tries to follow us, we’re taking this runt hostage, see?”
The crowd of thugs listened to Martin in silence, then turned in unison to see what Gwen would say to that.
She shook her head slightly. “Ugh, whatever.”
She looked up at the still-screaming Kludge and said, “Faligis”, which caused him to fall quickly into and then slowly through the tree, bouncing off the branches as he went. While everyone was watching that, she said, “Transporti al konduki preĝejo,” and the five of them disappeared.
Not far away, the lead-covered chapel that gave the town of Leadchurch its name was an island of tradition and tranquility. Its thick walls and solid foundation gave a sense of peace and solace to the faithful, who were sitting in the pews, communing with the Almighty. Their faith, like their church, was unchanging and serene. Then four wizards and a hostage materialized in front of the altar and immediately started yelling at each other.
“How long have you been a wizard?” Martin asked.
“That’s a stupid question!” Gwen said.
“Yes, it is,” Gary said to Martin before turning to Gwen and saying, “Answer the stupid question!”
“I started about a week ago,” Gwen said, sneering. “I figured if you fools could do it, I might as well give it a shot. By the way, none of you carry a secret wand hidden somewhere in your clothes? Really?”
“I have one,” Jeff said. “It’s in my pants.”
“Don’t make the obvious joke,” the other three said in unison.
“No, really. It’s one of those old-school collapsible pointers. I just couldn’t get to it because he tied us up.” Jeff pointed his wand at Donnie, who asked politely if he could be released from Martin’s headlock.
“Where are we?” Martin asked. He’d walked past the church, but had never seen the inside.
“We’re in the lead church,” Gary said before asking Gwen, “Why on earth did you bring us here?”
A voice from the back of the pews bellowed, “I’d like to know that myself!”
The authority in the voice made all four of the wizards freeze. It also made Donnie freeze, but he was already in a headlock, and was fairly immobile. Silently, they looked to the back of the room and saw a flustered looking nun standing next to Bishop Galbraith. A moment passed, then all five of them started frantically explaining all at once.
The bishop listened to the unintelligible chatter for a moment before shouting, “This is the Lord’s house and I am his representative here on earth, and I swear if you don’t all shut up and behave yourselves, I will see to it that you meet him personally!”
They all went to Bishop Galbraith’s quarters to discuss things like mature adults, because an older authority figure had ordered them to.
“Why on Earth did you decide to take a hostage?” Gwen asked.
“Oh, I know Donnie. He’s a good guy. He just got caught up in the wrong crowd. Isn’t that right, Donnie?”
Donnie nodded a little too quickly, as if he thought he might still be caught up in the wrong crowd.
“Well, now you’re free of them.” Martin said. “Lie low for a few hours, then go home. If Kludge or any of his friends ever shows up asking questions, tell them that we were flying low over some trees and you jumped for it and hid. Then tell them that you don’t want to hang around with them anymore because not one of them lifted a finger to rescue you.”
“But what if they’re out there trying to save me right now?” Donnie asked. After a long silence, he said, “Yeah, right. Never mind.”
Donnie thanked the wizards, made his excuses, and got out of there. After he left, Bishop Galbraith gave Martin a look that said, I’m impressed, but don’t expect me to ever tell you that.
With the hostage issue off the table, the next order of business was explaining to Bishop Galbraith why they were there. He sat behind his desk as they stood, like naughty children meeting with the principal. They explained what Gwen had found in Rickard’s Bend and how she had brought the others in to have a look. They told him how they had ended up in the clutches of Kludge and his band of oafs. They glossed over who had teleported them to the church. They all knew it was best to discuss that when the Bishop was not around. Instead, they discussed why they’d come to the church at all.
“It seemed like the safest place to hide out and come up with a plan,” Gwen explained.
“On account of churches have to offer sanctuary!” Jeff said.
“I don’t have to offer you anything, son,” the bishop snorted.
“It’s the last place Kludge would ever come looking for us,” Gwen said.
“Yup, ‘cause the church hates us wizards!” Jeff said.
“I do not hate, boy. Not wizards, or anyone else. Though there are some wizards that I dislike, more so by the minute,” the Bishop replied. “No, Kludge won’t come looking for you here at my church because doing so would mean coming to my church, and he’ll look everywhere else before he resorts to that. Besides, I expect you don’t plan to stay here very long.”
“You’re right,” Martin said. “Rickard’s Bend has to be dealt with. We’ve got to figure out exactly who did that, and how we can stop them from doing it again.”
It was clear, even to the Bishop, who hadn’t even been there, that the mass killing at Rickard’s Bend was the work of a wizard. Martin and Gary had remained silent about their speculation that someone was trying to make Hobbits.
“So then,” Bishop Galbraith said, “is there a wizard any of you know who is capable of this? Someone who’s secretive? Some wizard who is probably in this area and has had time to himself to do something of this scale?”
Gwen and the Bishop were silent. They had nothing to say. Martin, Jeff, and Gary were also silent. They had something they didn’t want to say. They looked at the floor. They looked at each other. They looked at Gwen and the Bishop. Gwen and the Bishop looked back at them, and they quickly looked at the floor.
The Bishop bared his teeth and blurted, “Out with it!”
Martin sighed and reluctantly said, “Well, there’s Phillip.”
An eternity seemed to pass. The room was silent. The only sound was a faint, distant dog, snarling at something. Martin wondered if there were any friendly dogs in this town. Finally, the Bishop spoke.
“Well, it’s clearly not Phillip. Who else?”
Martin, Gary and Jeff shrugged at each other. Martin said, “I don’t want to believe it either.”
>
Good,” Bishop Galbraith said, “I give you permission not to. Who else could it be?”
Martin said, “Phillip fits perfectly! He lives nearby. He’s as powerful a wizard as anybody. He has a whole floor of his shop that nobody’s allowed to see. He disappears up there and refuses to talk about what he does. I hate to say it, but it fits.”
Gwen gave Martin a long, penetrating look before saying, “He’s right.”
Martin was relieved.
“It’s not Phillip,” Gwen continued. “Who else could it be?”
Martin reflected on the fact that his feelings of relief were increasingly fleeting.
“Look,” Martin said, “I’m not saying Phillip did it.”
“Nobody is, so let’s move on,” the Bishop said.
“But,” Martin said, “we have to rule him out.”
“Fine. He’s ruled out. Who else could have done it?” the Bishop said.
Martin sputtered uselessly for a moment, then composed himself. “I don’t want to think that Phillip did this. I don’t believe he did this, but we have to be sure.”
“I am sure,” the Bishop said. “I’ve known Phillip for ten years. That’s a lot longer than I’ve known any of you.” The Bishop paused and looked at Gwen. “Actually, I’ve known you a little longer than that, haven’t I?”
She replied, “Something like that,” and actively avoided eye contact with anyone.