Christopher Chance: Sorcerer's Assistant - Meeting the Family
Martin
didn’t argue with me for a second. It’s
because Martin knows what it means to be family. We rushed out the door, Martin in the lead
already scooping car keys for a surprisingly pristine classic mustang. Within moments we had roared out of the parking
lot and I was directing Martin towards home.
Home
wasn’t where I lived any more, but I had never really felt anywhere else I
lived was really home. I’d spent the
first eighteen years of my life laughing, crying, loving, playing, and
everything else that came with childhood in that house. It was where my father had died. It was the crux of my world, my
cornerstone. The idea that my family
could be in danger had brought back my wits and my vitality to some degree.
Throughout
the trip Martin kept asking how much further we were from my Mom’s place. He turned on some music at one point, a drone
I paid no attention to. Other than that,
the thing I remember the most is the smell of the rain; the deep, fresh, and
vital smell of a fresh rainfall. I found
that smell comforting and I’m still not sure why. After minutes that stretched to eternity we
were at my home.
The car hadn’t fully stopped before
I was out of the door and rushing to the front door as fast as my legs could
carry me. Behind me Martin called out
“I’ll be just behind you, don’t want to cause any more alarm than is necessary,
and the area doesn’t have any stench of magic.
Tell your family I’m a friend.”
The words barely registered to me.
My
Mother’s house is a quiet, unassuming single story home with three bedrooms and
two baths. It was a godawful prefab, and
literal copies of it could be found throughout the locality. Painted an unassuming brown, with a quaint
and unassuming garden it could be anyone’s home. The door was where my mother allowed herself
a splash of color. Some pizzazz if you
will.
Currently
it was painted brick red and there was an array of garden gnomes happily frolicking
in diorama fashion on the porch. I
pushed the door open without knocking, surprised to find it locked. My Mother usually didn’t lock her door before
I got into the business of wizards assistant.
Anyway, I started pounding and yelling for her to open up in sheer
panic. She was probably scared half to
death, and for sure she thought I was crazy.
When My
mother did open the door, the wide eyed and heavily freckled face of my kid
sister in the living room behind her, I bull rushed her with a hug
instantly. I was sobbing. I hadn’t cried before that point in the
night. Seeing my mother and sister okay,
the smell of the rain, and the safety of home finally let me release the pain
of the violence I’d seen. To this day I
cannot forget the faces of those who died at Spencer’s. They were the first of many that would come
to haunt my dreams. Some that I tried to
save, and couldn’t. Other’s who I
killed. A few, even, who I wanted to
kill but couldn’t.
Mom led
me into the living room, and a seat on the couch. Her quiet shushing won out over my hysterics,
her gentle calm able to influence my own mood somewhat. When I was recovered somewhat I realized that
several minutes of sobbing had gone by, and also that my kid sister was staring
down the only bona fide wizard I knew, insisting that he was not coming in.
“Tara,
it’s okay. He really is a friend, and
he’s here to help. There was… some
trouble at the bar tonight. I helped him
out of a jam and he wants to make sure nothing bad happens because of it. Let him in.”
A
suspicious look still written across her face, Tara removed her bodily blockade
of the door and grudgingly allowed the old wizard entry. Martin’s appearance explained his arrival
several minutes behind my own. He was
dressed in a spotless suit, complete with Rolex watch and designer shoes.
“Mom,
Tara, this is…”
“Mr
McDermott, very pleased to meet you both.” Martin interjected over my
introduction.
Martin
proceeded to explain to my Mother and sister how he was a high ranking
executive at an international investment company who was visiting family in the
area. How, while having a beer and a
meal he had been accosted by men of dubious moral virtue who had hoped to
secure certain insider trading information from him that could have earned them
millions of dollars. Then he praised me
rather heavy handedly, stating I had saved him from kidnapping through great
personal bravery. Unfortunately these
actions might incite vengeance from individuals so unscrupulous as to attempt a
kidnapping in the first place. Therefore
he would like to give them a generous sum of money and his deepest personal
thanks.
All in
all the whole thing went over better than I ever could have imagined it
would. My mother clearly found Martin
charming, and seemed to set aside her usual pragmatic nature in his
presence. She gladly believed his far-fetched
tale right up to the point where he excused himself for a breath of fresh air
and bowl of pipe tobacco. On his way out
the door he motioned for me to follow, using a cane I was sure he hadn’t
brought in with him.
The
late hour had cooled the air from its earlier summer heat, and a subtle chill
was in the air. Martin marched away from
the house with a grim purpose to his steps, not pausing until he was far from
my families earshot. There he turned to
confront me, his walking stick scratching in the gravel of the driveway,
clearing it away and revealing dark earth beneath.
“Young
man, it should prove no great difficulty hiding your family. Darius will not forget the injury you caused
him, but it was so minor that beyond a pittance attempt to locate you I truly
doubt he will go further from his purpose to harm you. Just in case we have taken precautions to
avoid his further involvement in your life.
If I were you I would flee should I ever encounter him again, but
barring that, you are now safe. Which
begs the question, what next?”
I was
flummoxed by the question. “What
next? What do you mean what next?”
“To the
best of my knowledge you are unemployed.
You have no need to attend to your family as they will be provided
for. No girlfriend. So what are your plans?” Throughout our interchange the stick
continued scratching away the gravel, revealing patterns of earth and also, I
noticed, forming strategic mounds of stone, such that rough pyramids fell on
specific locations.
“I… I
don’t really know. Get a job, I
guess? I guess I hadn’t had much time to
think about it.”
“Well,
I want you to think about it. I want you
to think about it now, very seriously and very hard, because I am about to
offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Mostly because I like you and your family reminds me a bit of my own in
a strange way.”
“You
see, you are going to have to make some tough choices, and learn some important
lessons over the next year or so,
because you’ve been noticed. “
“The
magical community is not a large one, and a young, unknown who was able to
shrug off the will of one of hell’s high lieutenants is going to receive a lot
of offers. From succubi, warlocks,
dragons, angels, demi-gods… maybe even God, though you don’t seem the
sort. Anyway, if you’re really lucky
you’ll get an offer from someone like me.
Someone who will offer to guide you to your full potential without
abusing your trust or seeking to manipulate you.
Here Martin ceased to simply
speak. His words took on a strange,
ritual, intonation, and he began something that sounded somewhere between a
song, a prayer and a chant.
“Bound,
now, be, in a circle of stone. Heed my
call or else heed none. Servant hence,
serve my will. Hence forth from now seek
no ill, or circle’s binding strike thee down.
Servant take this stony crown.”
For the
second time in my life I saw ostentatious use of magic. The magical symbols Martin had scribbled into
my driveway flared to brilliant golden orange light, and the tiny mounds of
gravel transformed into diamonds. The
very air around me seemed to thicken, and suddenly there was a transparent
barrier surrounding me. “Martin? Martin what in the FUCK is going on
here? What are you doing?”
“I need
to be sure Christopher. I’m sure you
understand. You saw how those others in
the bar were bent to his will. I need to
be absolutely sure that you aren’t in league with Darius. So, swear to serve me, to raise to hand
against me, or pass knowledge that you think might harm or hamper my will. Swear on your power, your will, and your
soul. Swear now or so help me God I will
destroy you as I might any demon against which I have battled!”
To say
I was stunned would be the understatement of the century. I was absolutely aghast. Bear in mind I was still reeling from a
psychic trauma, and altogether new to the whole spell slinging thing. Otherwise I might have been a little better prepared for such a
betrayal. Even as a newbie though, I
knew he was deadly serious. So I did the
only thing I could do.
“I
swear to serve you, under all of your conditions.” I felt like I lost a part of myself saying
those words, and I don’t know why to this day.
I don’t regret them, not precisely.
I do sometimes regret the happiness that taking up service for the old
magician has cost me though.
The
rest of the night went very well.
Smoothed over by Martin’s glib tongue and money, my assurances, and I
suspect a bit of magic our cover story went un questioned, and the next morning
moving trucks showed up to take my mother away.
I said goodbye an d then there was a world of things to attend to. Training, tests and quests would all become a
part of my day to day existence in the days that followed.
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