by Tom Larcombe
“So, the idea doesn't bother you?”
“Why should it? The Bard said it best: More things in heaven and earth, and all that. They're simply another of His creations. They're choosing to aid us now in our time of need, so why would I turn that down?”
Michael sighed with relief.
“Thank you Father. You've no idea how relieved it makes me that you know of them and don't disapprove.”
“You're welcome Michael. Although one of these days we'll need to have a talk about how you know so much of them. It's almost as though you've spoken with them, but they're very peculiar about who they'll speak to.”
Michael's relief fled, replaced by trepidation.
I could tell him the truth, tell him that magic exists. I could do it right now and he'd believe me. It seems he knows already, but there's no time.
“Yes, we will.” Michael replied. “Assuming you're still willing to speak to me when your deductions prove true.”
Father Anderson's face broke out in a warm smile.
“Michael, the gifts He gives us materialize in many different ways. I've seen some things people would consider miraculous. The church hides those since the focus always ends up on the person and not the miracle. But I know, very well, just how strange those gifts can be.”
It sounds like he's speaking from personal experience. I wonder if he's— No, he couldn't be. Should I ask? Maybe if I do it circumspectly.
“You sound like you have some personal experience with that. You wouldn't happen to...”
How should I put this so if I'm wrong he doesn't think I'm insane?
“be associated with some of those miracles, would you?” Michael said.
Father Anderson grinned again.
“You might say that.”
Why is this so hard? Michael thought. I'm the one that wanted the world to know that magic was real and damn the cost.
“So what did you do?” Michael asked. “And how did you manage to avoid being burned at the stake or labeled a fraud?”
“I did nothing,” Father Anderson said. “One of my teachers in seminary noticed that I had the ability to calm others. The Church, of course, attracts more than its share of zealots and that includes attracting them to the seminary. My teacher noticed that whenever they argued with me, they'd become calmer for a while after.”
Spirit Magic. That sounds a little like what Bobby can do, Michael thought.
“This particular teacher was on the lookout for such things since they weren't as uncommon as you might think in those passing through seminary. He and a small group of others had abilities also, and they gave additional lessons to those that required it. Lessons that, at one time, might have gotten them burned at the stake.”
“Father, I believe you. Can we speak about this plainly? I'd hate to misinterpret what you're telling me.”
“Perhaps. How do you interpret what I've said so far?” Father Anderson asked.
“That magic is real and a number of potential priests have either a magical Talent, or possibly a variety of magical skills available to them.”
“I want to be certain we're on the same page here,” Father Anderson said. “Why exactly do you know this?”
“Because I have some skills of that sort myself,” Michael said.
“Which would explain why the little folk will speak to you.”
Michael nodded.
“Then since we're on the same page, yes there are a small number of priests who have a degree of magical talent. Most of their Talents relate to the spirit. There are a smaller number who have talents in any of the elements, or even combinations of them.”
“Wizards,” Michael said.
“I dislike the term, but I have heard it used for those with a broader array of skills.”
“It's the one we use among ourselves,” Michael said. “It's far better than some of the other options that people would understand.”
“We, Michael?”
“There are a number of us. Most choose not to reveal their abilities. When I was younger I wanted the world to know that magic exists. I even tried to prove it, and was disciplined for my efforts. Let's just say that managing a mine was not on my list of career choices.”
“So the mine is associated with wizardry? That would explain some things.”
“Not directly. But the crystals mined from it can be used by wizards for power storage.”
“So maybe it won't explain that.”
“Explain what Father?”
“I was born here in Crystal Beach and was sent back because they needed a priest who understands magic here. About one in a hundred of the people who are born here display some degree of magical talent. From what I've been told the average rate in the country is about one in ten thousand. So having a priest who understands is vital here.”
“Here? I would've thought I'd notice,” Michael said.
Maybe that explains why the sheriff remembers me, maybe they couldn't change his memories. I wonder who else in town has magic. Well, I know Gerry said something about Liz having a Talent, but who else?
“You've kept yourself somewhat secluded Michael, otherwise you might have noticed.”
“The seclusion wasn't my own choice. There's a much longer story there, but suffice it to say that there's a council of wizards who, as a part of my punishment, wiped the memories of me from everyone's mind here every few years. It hurt too much to keep losing all my friends, so I just gave up trying.”
Father Anderson's face took on a look of concern.
“How long have they been doing this?”
“Almost thirty years Father. Since several years after they first sent me here.”
The concern on the Father's face turned to pity.
“This is why, when we first met, you told me you hadn't attended church regularly for years?”
“Well, that's a good part of it.”
Father Anderson shook his head.
“I'm amazed that you've managed to stay sane while being isolated like that.”
“Until a few days ago there was a guard with me at almost all times. The one on duty when things started falling apart raced off to check on his family. Until then I was never really alone much.”
“But being denied normal associations with other people? That's cruel.”
“Well, I asked for it. They told me not to get too close to anyone or people would notice that I was aging slower than I should. I ignored them and nearly managed to get married before they started erasing the memory of me from people's minds.”
“Married?”
The memory of Miriam, as she'd been twenty-five years earlier, put a gentle smile on Michael's face.
“Almost. I imagine if they'd waited another year I would've been. I don't even want to imagine what it would have been like to lose a wife to their damned spell.”
After a moment Michael realized what he'd said.
“I'm sorry Father, please pardon my language. I get a little worked up when I remember all that.”
“No need for an apology Michael. I fear that if I were placed in a similar situation that my language might suffer as well.”
“I'm sorry, we'll have to continue this conversation at another time. I really do need to get to the sheriff. I have some information he'll want.”
“I apologize for keeping you then. Go, by all means. And thank you again for the food. We're barely managing to keep people fed. They go hungry, but at least they aren't starving.”
“I'm glad I can help. Hopefully our little friends will continue to assist us. I've introduced them to several other areas around town as well.”
“Hmm, Miriam's chickens perhaps? Maybe Mr. McCallister as well? I've been getting larger donations from both of them the last few days.”
“Maybe Father, but as I said I promised not to talk about it.”
Father Anderson nodded and walked Michael out to his bike.
“If you need someone to talk to, I'm here Michael. It sound as though your l
ife has been stressful for the last couple of decades. I'd be happy to listen if you need a friendly ear.”
“That's alright Father. I have good company at home now. It's another long story, but I've got family and friends up there now. I'll keep your offer in mind though, just in case.”
* * *
Michael glanced at the large crystal hanging over the entry to the sheriff's office. He sent out a tiny fragment of his consciousness to ensure it was working as designed. Satisfied that it was, he went inside.
“Is the sheriff here?” he asked the deputy at the front desk.
“Who's asking?”
“Tell him Michael Hart is here. I have some information he'll want.”
“Oh, you're the guy that does the solar lights aren't you? I'll go get him.”
Michael saw the second sun crystal he'd made for the sheriff sitting on the sill next to a window. It looked as thought Dan had paid attention and was making sure the crystals got sun whenever possible.
“Michael,” Dan said as he entered the room, “what can I do for you?”
“Can I talk to you privately for a minute?”
“Sure, come back to my office.”
When Michael was inside the office, Dan closed the door.
“What do you need?” Dan asked.
“I know you still had contact with Las Animas a few days back. If you still do, you need to warn them. There's an organized group of raiders coming this way. I think they might be planning on coming here, but even if they aren't they'll still end up in Las Animas.”
“How sure are you about this?” Dan asked.
“Rynn saw them herself. They were raiding houses out east, then they headed north. But now they're coming back south and west. They're on the roads though, so if they're heading this way like I think, they'll be coming down the north road out of Las Animas.”
“Rynn did, did she?”
Michael nodded.
“She's better at that type of thing than I am.”
“This is one of those things I'd rather not know the how of, isn't it?”
“Yes, but I thought you ought to know.”
“Can she get me any idea of numbers or anything?
“I think she said about fifty when she first spotted them, but that was a few days back. I'll ask her to get a count when she checks on them next.”
“Let me know. I'll put a few of the old veterans on alert. Most of them have hunting rifles at least, but I don't know what we can do against a group that large. I suppose I ought to see who else could help defend the town, there's only a few of the vets still alive and in good enough shape to fight.”
“Maybe have the vets give some tips to the others who aren't ex-military? We should have a few days at least.”
“Good idea. I suppose I ought to get on that. I'll drive out and tell them what's up. Wait, no, I suppose I ought to ride my bike out there. Gotta save the gas for real emergencies. I wish the radio were still working, I could contact them that way.”
I don't think dad would be too upset if I volunteered some of his gasoline. He always told me it's better to ask forgiveness than permission. And I bet I could rig one of the medium sized crystals to supply power for his radio. Maybe I'll see if Eugene wants to try that one. If I give him specific instructions I bet he could handle it.
“My dad showed up at my place also. He owned a garage and before coming here, he pumped his tanks dry with a manual pump and brought the gas along. I'm sure he wouldn't mind donating a tank or two of gasoline if you need it.”
“I'll ask him about that sometime soon. For now, I'll save it and just use my own horsepower. You let him know that you volunteered his gasoline before I ask though, okay?”
Michael nodded.
“I'd better be on my way,” Dan said. “I don't know who's going to be available or how willing they'll be. You said the raiders were attacking houses out east?”
“Yes, Rynn told me about forty miles east of here there was a cluster of houses. The raiders hit them, looted them, and burned them to the ground. I don't know what they did with the people who lived there, but I doubt they're still alive.”
“I'll pass that information along if you don't mind. I doubt any of them would have outright refused, but if I tell them what the raiders have already done? Those veterans will be out for blood.”
“Go ahead, just tell them someone scouted it out and saw what happened. That's true as far as it goes.”
Dan nodded his head.
“I better be on my way. The more warning the vets have the more training they can offer.”
* * *
As Michael was riding up the final hill to his house, another bicyclist passed him, also going up the hill. Pete was waiting when Michael crested the hill.
“Hi Michael, I was hoping I could claim the rest of my payment for the bikes,” he said, holding out a disposable plastic grocery bag.
“I don't think that will be a problem Pete. Just let me catch my breath and grab some water first. Would you like a drink?”
“I wouldn't turn it down. I have to pump my own water now. I'm glad I built a few hand pumps out of the materials I had. Managed to install my own a couple of days back so I've got water again. If you know anyone who needs a pump, send them my way. I've got three still sitting out in my back yard.”
“Will do,” Michael said.
He went inside and came out with two glasses of cool water, then sat back on the porch and tried to cool off a bit.
“So I know you make bicycles and hand pumps. What else do you make?” Michael asked.
The door creaked open and Michael spotted his father coming outside.
“I can make lots of stuff. I don't do much on spec though, I hate having finished pieces lying around when I don't know if they'll sell. The bikes I do on spec because it seems there's always someone who wants one. Mostly people ask me for something and I tell them if I can do it or not. Then we negotiate a price.”
Michael gestured towards his father.
“Pete, this is my dad Andrew. Dad, this is Pete.”
“Good to meet you,” Andrew said. “I heard a bit of what you were saying there. So you like to tinker with things?”
“Guilty as charged,” Pete said. “It's amazing what you can make using parts, or even just materials, from items people throw away.”
“You work in aluminum at all? The harder stuff, not the light flexible kind.”
“I've done some of that. I've got a bunch of it hanging around, too, since I find it more difficult to work with than steel.”
Andrew looked over at Michael.
“Son, do you still have parts for more of those panels like you use for the house?”
“The solar panels?”
Andrew nodded.
“Yeah, I've got lots of them. I kept having parts blow out on me or melt so I was buying them in bulk to experiment with when I finally got it right. I should have enough left for quite a few.”
Andrew smiled.
“I've got an idea,” he said. “Can I get you to make me one of those panels Michael?”
“I can do that, but it isn't going to be right away. There are a few more important things I need to be doing right now.”
“That's not an issue. I won't be able to finish the project I'm thinking of until I get it, but there's a lot of other work to be done on it also. Pete, with the aluminum you have can you make something like a three wheeled recumbent bicycle?”
“Probably, but I'd need you to sketch out what you want. If I can...”
Michael took the bag from Pete and headed out for the garden. He filled the bag while Pete and his father talked. When he got back to the porch, they were just shaking hands.
“That sounds like a good plan Pete. I'll come down tomorrow and we can work out the design together, okay?”
“Sure, Michael knows how to get there. You can get the directions from him. It's a hell of a walk though.”
“I've still got some gasoline, so mayb
e I'll drive down. I'll do it early though so I don't attract as much attention. That's only if I don't think I'm up for the walk.”
“I'm awake by five most mornings,” Pete said.
He turned to Michael and took the bag.
“Thank you,” Pete said, hefting the bag. “Your dad has some useful ideas. He and I are going to put our brains together on a few projects.”
Pete waved and headed back for his bike. He strapped the bag of vegetables into the carrier on the rear of his bike and headed down the hill.
“So, what was that all about dad?”
“You'll have to wait and see. I don't want to get your hopes up.”
Michael sighed in exasperation.
I always thought he'd stop doing that after I grew up. I guess I was wrong. It was irritating enough when I was younger, but now? It's even worse.
* * *
* * *
Chapter 3
Rynn sat on the back porch and contemplated the information she'd gotten through her divination.
Ranks and ranks of soldiers firing their rifles at one another. That had to be World War II, I can't think of anything else it could've been with the Garands the Allies were using. Then fading into a view just like this one. The mine, with the mine office and Michael's garden in the foreground. Although his garden wasn't as large when I saw it through the divination. The berry patch looked smaller also, so maybe it was from a while ago instead of now?
Try as she could, it was an impossible task for her to condense those visions into a clue to the key for the cache.
How do those two scenarios fit together? How do they tie into the keys we need?
She sat there musing until Michael called her in to dinner. They were eating in shifts since there were too many people in the house to sit at the table in one sitting. Rynn was on the first shift and she sighed mentally when she saw the food.