Relics- The Chronicles of Solomon Drake

by Robert York

  He reached into his inside jacket pocket, producing an envelope sealed with red wax.

  “I want you to give this to Barnabas,” Merlin continued. “It’s for the Elder Council and will help sate their lust for the facts of what transpired,”

  He placed the thick and heavy envelope on my chest getting to his feet.

  “Don’t waste your time trying to open the envelope young Solomon, only one of the five members of the Elder council may do so,”

  I think the look of feigned innocence plastered on my face gave me away. He knew me far too well.

  “Curiosity and you are intimate bedfellows,”

  He turned to go.

  “No, wait,” I blurted out.

  I moved quickly getting to my feet keeping him from leaving.

  “I have so many questions,”

  That was an understatement. Questions raced through my fertile mind. A number of metallic things clanged beside me on the floor. I looked down and to my surprise there were three curved pieces of highly polished stainless steel metal at my feet. I reached to pick them up. My fingers hesitated however. My mind figuring out what these metal pieces were. That was impossible. There was no way I could be looking at these now. They were supposed to be surgically attached to my broken rib cage. I examined my damaged ribs through my shirt. I couldn’t feel the rough edges of a scar nor the uneven ridges where my ribs didn’t mesh together with the artificial ones. I couldn’t believe it. Merlin had done in minutes what the surgical team took nearly seven and a half hours to accomplish. He healed my damaged ribs making them as good as new. I looked up to see Merlin smiling a vulpine smile in my direction.

  “Humans make great things, sadly they’re lacking in the healing arts,”

  He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” I pleaded. “You have to answer some questions,”

  Merlin turned back, sporting a long-suffering look. He let out a dramatic sigh then said.

  “All right, I will allow you three questions,”

  Just three I thought. There was no way I could get all the information I wanted with just three measly questions. My mind raced. I had to make them good ones. I couldn’t waste them by asking silly questions like, why is the sky blue or how many licks does it take to get to a Tootsie Pop center. My mind finally set, I asked.

  “When that gun was pressed to my temple... in that church I mean, how did you prevent the bullet from ripping through my brain and killing me,”

  Merlin waggled his fingers mysteriously.

  “Duh… magic,”

  I scowled at him.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it…”

  Merlin held up a hand silencing me.

  “Be careful what you say young Solomon, Your words might be taken as a question when you didn’t intend them to be,”

  I nodded thoughtfully.

  “Thank you,” I replied.

  He inclined his head. Merlin was trying to save me the frustration of inadvertently blowing a question by asking careless ones.

  “OK,” I rubbed my hands nervously together. “I know this is going to be a frivolous waste of a question, but is there a chance Adrianna and I will be together,”

  Merlin quirked a disapproving eyebrow and the best scowl I’d ever seen. Better even than Barnabas’s legendary scowls. Then he said.

  “Do I look like one of those Magic Eight Balls to you,”

  “You said I had three questions, that is my second,”

  Merlin sighed deeply.

  “Fate though unpredictable at times does on extremely rare occasion prove to be sympathetic to the desires of love struck young men… So the answer is, it’s possible,”

  I smiled. Merlin gave me a fine thread of hope, which I was glad to latch onto. Adrianna left a lasting impression on me; I’d hoped that I had the same effect on her. My smile faded, turning from Merlin thinking of my last question. There was really only one other thing that truly bothered me. I began thinking about it after meeting Lord Foxmoor and his searching eye. The only question for me was did I want an answer to my question. I shook my head free of trepidation, turning back to Merlin.

  “At Oswald’s funeral… I met Lord Foxmoor, King of the Wood Elves,”

  “I know who he is,” Merlin said.

  I gave a curt nod.

  “Well, he took particular interest in me… He tried to pull me into a mindlock, but I was able to resist him. It was as though there were something or someone he’d recognized in me,”

  Merlin gazed at me blankly.

  “Did Lord Foxmoor know either of my parents,” I asked.

  Merlin took his time answering. I expected his usual condescending tone. When he finally spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle and understanding, which confused me for a moment.

  “A very good question indeed… Yes, he knew both your parents, but it would’ve been your father that he’d have been more familiar with.

  I swallowed nervously. My father. He’d been a nonexistent figure in my life so distant in my past that I haven’t given him much thought until recently. Having never met either of my parents, they both are more imagination for me rather than reality. I deeply miss not having those relationships, especially a relationship with my mother. She after all had the burden of carrying me for nine months. I was told she took her last breath the moment I took my first. That sounds more like dramatic license to me than the truth, but it probably isn’t too far off.

  “Are you satisfied with the answers to your questions,” Merlin asked.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m not… But I thank you for what you’ve told me,”

  Merlin smiled placing a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.

  “Being unsatisfied with answers is most healthy… It means you are ready to search for the full truth… Just remember this young Solomon, you might not like the answers to the questions you ask, “

  Boy, isn’t that the long and short of it. I’d asked questions about my parents over the years. Some basic. Such as, what did my parents look like? How old were they when I was born or did they love me? Some were not so basic. Such as, why did my father leave, did my mother die alone and is my father still alive? Frankly I’d given up asking questions about my parents because of the lack of answers I’d been receiving. It took me all these years to realize I’d been asking the wrong questions.

  “There are others that knew your parents, Lord Foxmoor isn’t the only one to have made their acquaintance,” Merlin said, emphasis on the first line.

  I looked into his eyes finding a level of compassion I’d never seen in them before, even when he was a spirit trapped in my brain.

  He stared hopefully at me and then said.

  “I must be going,”

  I nodded. I had so many more things to ask, but now apparently wasn’t the time.

  Merlin smiled placing a finger to the side of his nose giving me a sly wink. A swirling cloud of white glimmering magic rose up around him, obscuring him from my sight, then in the blink of an eye he and the swirling cloud were gone. I needed to put a call into Santa Claus to tell him that Merlin stole one of his signature moves.

  I looked down at the floor picking up my stainless steel ribs. I smiled happily placing them into the draw of my computer desk. I still held the envelope Merlin had given me, I figured I might as well find Barnabas and give it to him.

  I searched fruitlessly through the apartment, then the store. After that the basement and also the garage, I ran into Mari who just happened to be holding a plate of freshly baked Macadamia Nut cookies. I eased her burden by removing three from the plate. They were delicious just in case you were wondering. After receiving an admonishing look from her she told me where Barnabas was.

  I found Barnabas in Whitby, seated on a red tartan patterned blanket, his back propped up against the oak tree. The spell Lord Foxmoor cast was still active. Making it feel more like a late May evening rather than the blustery weather Whitby was experiencing just beyond the canopy of the sprawl
ing oak. Six glass brandy snifters were arranged in a line on top of the white grave-marker. The some of the snifters were filled with what appeared to be Richard Hennessy Cognac - based upon the shape of the nearly empty bottle standing next to the snifters - Three had been drained while a fourth was held casually in Barnabas’s right hand.

  “Is this a private party or can anyone join,” I asked.

  Barnabas turned; the effects of alcohol hadn’t yet impaired his movements. He gave me a cordial smile.

  “The blanket appears to have ample room for us both,” he said jovially, gesturing to a spot directly next to him.

  I parked myself beside him placing an Aldi grocery bag near me. Before I left for Whitby I grabbed a few essentials. I opened the bag removing a cold bottle of Samuel Adams Winter Blend. – Since Pinhurst has yet to be offered in a bottle, I had to settle for a human beer - Barnabas gave me a look of disapproval.

  “I don’t know how you can drink that swill,” he said as he took a long pull from his snifter.

  “Well,” I began. “First I remove the cap,” Which I did with a flourish, carelessly discarding the bottle cap over my shoulder. “Then I raise the bottle to my lips taking a nice long drink,” I said demonstrating each individual action with alacrity. “Once I finish making the swallowing sounds I follow it up with a satisfying Ahhhhhhh.”

  Barnabas smiled, chuckling.

  “You never fail to bring a smile to me when I need it most,” he said going back to his quiet brooding.

  I took another drink of my beer. Though fond of beer, today I found it tasteless, using it merely as a prop. It is impolite to let someone drink alone.

  “So how long have you been doing this little ritual,” I asked indicating the snifters with the neck of my bottle.

  “Since Oswald was laid to rest,” he began. “I drink with my friends as often as I can.” He indicated the five snifters with the one he held.

  “And how often is that,” I asked.

  Barnabas shrugged.

  “At least once a week, perhaps more,”

  He looked at me suspiciously.

  “You don’t have any twelve step brochures on you, do you,” he asked annoyance rising in his tone. “Did Mari put you up to this,”

  I raised an interrupting hand.

  “No to both of your questions,” I said protesting. “I’m just concerned about your health and financial well being... At thirty five hundred dollars a bottle for that cognac you’ll go broke before your liver gives out,”

  Barnabas smiled wryly.

  “Nothing but the best for my liver,” he said draining the snifter then rose to replace it with a full one.

  I pulled the letter from my shirt pocket, hesitating. Should I wait for him to sober up or just deliver it now? Given the amount he says he’s been drinking there was no time like the present.

  “I had a visitor today in my room,” I began.

  Barnabas turned, a surprised look on his face.

  “Well I hoped you used protection, ghastly diseases these days,”

  “No, Not that kind of visitor,” I said defensively getting to my feet. “God, get your mind out of the gutter,”

  Barnabas shrugged disappointed.

  I didn’t want to talk about sex with my adoptive father and mentor. There were so many levels of gross associated with a discussion like that. I didn’t think my insurance covered that sort of psychiatric counseling.

  “Merlin came to see me today,”

  Barnabas showed no emotion, he said.

  “Did he now... How bloody kind of him,” he raised his glass in mock salute taking a sip of cognac.

  “He gave me a letter for you to give to the Elder council,”

  I moved closer to Barnabas handing him the letter. He took it reluctantly.

  “What does it say,” he asked.

  “I didn’t read it,”

  He stared skeptically at me.

  “I didn’t,” I said defensively. “Merlin said he placed a spell on it and only a member of the Elder council can read it,”

  He nodded his understanding, sliding the letter into his hip pocket.

  “Well let’s hope it has some constructive things to say on my behalf,” Barnabas said bitterly.

  He sighed heavily turning to me.

  “I’m sorry son... How are you feeling,” he said changing the subject.

  “Much better today,” I said.

  “Glad to see that those abominable implants are finally taking root,”

  “Yes they are,” I said not revealing the fact that Merlin did a little surgery of his own.

  “Did I tell you,” he began turning away from me. “That Frankenstein will be moving in with us,” he gazed at me obliquely, judging my reaction.

  I had nothing against Frankenstein; I thought he and I got along well. I was sort of pissed that Barnabas was trying to bait me into an argument. I get the fact that he’s in a low place and I’ll do what I can to help him out of it, but I won’t bite on his little lure.

  “Fine with me,” I said. “I just hope he doesn’t snore, two people snoring in the apartment would be unbearable,”

  Barnabas smiled wryly; obviously gratified I was able to sidestep his little trap. After a moment his smile faded, his usual deep thoughtful expression returned. After a good ten minutes he said.

  “I’m sorry that I got you mixed up in all of this,”

  He turned to me, a pained expression on his face.

  “All of this could have been avoided had I just trusted the council more,” then he added. “Oswald would still be alive... They all would.”

  Tears welled up in his eyes, but didn’t fall as he drained the fourth snifter replacing it with the fifth. He cleared his throat composing himself. It amazed me how well he was able to control his emotions.

  “You didn’t know,” I finally offered.

  “No,” he spat, “But I should have... I should have,”

  He moved to the trunk of the tree placing his free hand upon it, looking off into the distance.

  “You began your life with so many difficulties,” “No mother, no father, no home to speak of... Just an innocent newborn babe left to fend for yourself.”

  He glanced back to me.

  “Did I ever tell you that Mari, Sister Mari at the time, found you in a brown corrugated box on the front steps of her orphanage.”

  He smiled in fond remembrance.

  “A little beaded bracelet around your right wrist spelling out your name along with a hurriedly scrawled note on Hotel Drake stationary that simply read, “please take care of him,”

  I remained silent. I’d heard most of this over the years. I still have that name bracelet tucked away in my wall safe, however it wasn’t until this very moment that I realized where I got my last name. Most everything I received during my childhood years were borrowed hand me downs of one sort or another, why not my last name.

  “I never intended you to come to harm or have you experience pain of any sort... But, we all know that the road to hell is paved with good intentions don’t we,” He said, his last words trailing off.

  I let the silence hang between us for a bit before I spoke.

  “Is that the reason you’ve been tough on me all these years,” I asked.

  “Partly,”

  “And why you’ve been teaching me weaker spells,”

  Barnabas snorted ruefully.

  “Did Merlin tell you that,” he asked.

  “Yes,”

  “What else did he tell you,” asked Barnabas.

  Should I discuss what Merlin and I talked about with Barnabas in this state or should I wait until later. Granted what Merlin laid out before me was still freshly on my mind, I still needed time to think about it. Questions about my parents would keep until later. Right now I had to be here for Barnabas. It looked like he needed someone to talk to.

  “Not much more than that… Mostly generalities,”

  Barnabas nodded, then said.

 
“Well my boy, he’s right… I’ve been teaching you weaker spells… The main reason for that is you’re without doubt one of the strongest Wizards I’ve ever come in contact with, that fact alone coupled with your immature nature and impulsive behavior compelled me to instruct you in the manner which I chose...”

  “Because you were afraid history would repeat itself and I’d turn into something resembling your former apprentice, Rahm,” I said interrupting, no anger in my words only stating facts.

  Barnabas nodded once.

  “Something like that, I’m sorry Solomon that I didn’t trust you either… I should’ve listened to Mari years ago,”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” I said moving to stand next to him. “Thank you, I don’t know how I would’ve turned out or where I would’ve ended had it not been for you... You gave me a family and a place where I belonged.” Though the whole Brood Worm tank cleaning thing did at times give me vivid fantasies of murdering you in your sleep,”

  Barnabas chuckled.

  “Humility doesn’t come naturally, you have to learn it, that’s what my master taught me... Though his lessons involved scraping the calluses from the bottoms of his feet,” Barnabas gave a disgusted shake in remembrance.

  “Yeah, I’ll stick with the gross worms thank you,”

  There was a long pause between us and then Barnabas said.

  “Life as we knew it has changed and not for the better… You’ll be tested in the years to come my boy... Evil will find you whether you look for it or not,”

  “I know,” I replied as I took a sip of beer. “I sort of figured that out when Whitey and the twins showed up at the magic shop,”

  Barnabas nodded thoughtfully.

  “Do you think you’re ready for what awaits you,” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “No,” I said with a mild chuckle untouched by humor. “But I think I can handle it,”

  Barnabas nodded then drained the snifter. He looked at the sixth smiling ruefully.

  “I think five will be my limit today,” he said.

  We both turned our gazes to the east. The night sky was giving way to a dazzling spectrum of color. Deep purples fading into deep reds, then to brilliant shades of orange as the first slivers of sunlight began to push their way into the waiting day. A day, which on the surface promised mild weather and a dazzling blue sky for the sleepy town of Whitby, I finished the last of my beer wondering to myself how many more peaceful days I’d be able to enjoy as the years progressed. I pondered the glorious scene before me glancing down at Oswald’s grave. A pang of sorrow stung me, as guilt crept into my thoughts. I was alive while he’d paid the ultimate sacrifice. The thought left me humbled yet wondering what fate had in store for me. If the last few months were any indication the rest of my life was going to be anything, but boring.