A/N: I'm sorry for the delay. Summer's lazy days have really taken their toll on me. I haven't been able to get myself to do anything productive. I'm hoping that schools looming presence might give me a deadline to work harder. Thanks for being patient with me. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
Someone on my Farm (Ee Aye Ee Aye Oh)
"Hoss, Missy! Get a move on! We're burning daylight here!" The old wizard bellowed when he reached the old sheet metal door.
I couldn't move faster if my ass were on fire and I had wheels on my shoes; sitting on your knees for five thousand days will do that to a person. Not to mention I was carrying Elaine; who, by the way, was still barely conscious.
"Quit yer lollygagging!" He shouted again, turning around. It was the first decent look I got at the old guy. He was fairly short and thick with working man's muscle, not that crap that body builder haves. He was mostly bald with a few wispy tufts of white hair, mostly coming out of his ears and peaking over the neck of his shirt. His nose looked like a typical old man's it was big, wide, and red.
"I'm trying you old coot!" I shouted trying to get my legs to move without feeling like they were weighed down by sand.
"Well, why didn't you say so?" He said after a large rolling laugh. Shrugging he turned away from the door and walked back over to the two of us. "Here Hoss, lemme help you with that." He picked up Elaine into a fireman's carry like she was nothing and walks back to the door as if nothing happened.
With Elaine's weight not longer keeping me back I limped out of the warehouse thing at the speed of grandma with her walker. Outside was like a whole new world compared to that black bag and the dimly lit shithouse.
It was bright, the sun was out, and it was hot. Had I not known better it would have seemed like a downright pleasant day; but I knew better. It would have been if not for the simple fact that a few moments ago someone, Morgan, held a sword above my head waiting for the word go to swing it.
"Nice day ain't it." The old wizard said with a content sigh.
"No it's not." I mumbled under my breath.
"What was that Hoss?" He replied, not bothering to turn around. The bastard may be old, but I guess he still has his hearing. "What was yours that didn't burn up in the fire is in the bed of my truck."
Three people, one truck…that didn't sound too pleasant, unless it had a back seat, I doubt it did.
Turns out…it didn't. There are a few precious times where I hate being right; this is one of those times. "So are you going to tell us your name or do you want to be called Ole McBastard?"
"Sorry 'bout that Hoss." He said with another hearty chuckle, "Names Ebenezer McCoy." He extended a gruff and calloused hand; a far cry from the manicured nails of DuMorne. "Well, it's Wizard McCoy to you and missy here."
"Alright, Wizard McCoy." I said with all the sarcasm I could muster at this particular moment. "Do you mind explaining just what the hell happened in there?"
"Were you sleeping? You were on trial for your life, in case you were." He said as he reached the rusty red Ford pickup.
"That part I got." I shot back opening the passenger door. "What I don't get is what happened after the trial started. There was some yelling, or forceful speaking if you don't like yelling. That was followed by silence and whispers. All the while I can feel a piece of sharp pointy steel behind my neck and someone with an itchy trigger finger."
"You two managed to get put under the Doom of Damocles." He said as if was commenting on the weather.
Needless to say I was thoroughly confused, "doom of damn cheese?" I stuttered trying to repeat what he just said, "what the hell is that, and how do I get rid of it?"
"It's probation of the wizard variety." He responded simply, shoving Elaine into the middle seat. "Screw up again, and it'll be your heads on the floor with no trial…and I'll be there with ya. So don't screw up again, Hoss!" He shouted as he rearranged a large double barreled shotgun (the kind that fathers often use when their daughter goes on a sleazy first date) and a staff in rack on the back window.
Apparently he's just that southern.
"What about Elaine?" I asked trying to find her seat belt. I still wasn't sure what was wrong with her, but I hoped that the council didn't magically lobotomize her or something mean and nasty.
After today…I would never put that by the White Council!
"The same as you. More or less. There are some rumors floating around the Council that the late Wizard DuMorne may have enthralled her. If he were guilty o' breakin' the law; you two would not only be off the hook, the council might give the both o' you medals for catchin' and killin' him."
"Good golly, a medal. That's just the thing to erase the thought that they were going to cut my head off." I began realizing that this old rusty piece of shit truck didn't have any seatbelts. "Oh wait; a medal would be the last thing that would make the memory of the black bag and the sword held over my head." I finished ranting with a deep breath and started to stare out of the window. There was nothing there except dull grey buildings, dull grey concrete, and little squiggly lines of heat coming off them both.
"You keep being snotty with me Hoss and you won't be around much longer. I'm too old for your brand of sarcasm." He grumbled sliding the key in the ignition. "You lay off now, I was the one fightin' for your lives in there. I told them council asshats to get off their arses and do some investigatin'." He slowly turned the key in the ignition holding his breath until the engine turned over with a roar. To put it bluntly the truck's engine was deafening…how this coot could still hear my mumblings driving this clunker around all the time was beyond me.
"So if those 'asshats' find out that DuMorne was a Warlock like I said then none of this cheese filled doom thing?" I asked, well shouted, after we pulled onto one of the surface streets of whatever town the quote trial was held in.
"Ya, you could say that." He mumbled, "But that doesn't mean yer off the hook either. The councils gonna watch ye both like a hawk fer a long while either way." He snorted out a quick laugh and maneuvered his dinosaur off the surface street and onto an onramp that proved too short to get this hulking behemoth up to a decent freeway speed.
I gotta pace myself, or I'll run out of snide names to call this walking tetanus shot. Crap, that's the last new name I'm gonna call this rust bucket for at least a day. Damn it, shutting up now.
I decided the best course of action right now was to just shut up and try and enjoy the ride. Not particularly fun when you maybe still girlfriend is still mostly asleep and drooling on your shoulder. But I made do, or tried too.
Soon the busy cityscape, a city I don't think I'll ever be going back to even when I live to be two hundred years, melted into flat countryside that the Midwestern U.S. is made entirely from. Figures that Old McWizard would live on a farm, probably bought it a hundred years ago, and refuses to sell out.
A few hours, stony silence, and a couple buckets of Elaine's drool later the flat Midwestern prairies and farms and fields of wheat and corn began to be replaced with low rolling hills. At the same time the six lane freeway was swapped out with a two lane highway. Apparently there's something in the Midwest other than flat.
"How far are we going?" I asked breaking the hours old silence, not really wanting to hear the answer but at the same time I wanted to know just how long my prison sentence in this…car…would be.
"About thirty miles." He replied simply. Thank god it wouldn't be much longer. "But seeing as we're going through some pretty nasty roads, two or three dozen hills, and a couple of nasty hairpin turns; we should be there in two hours. Three at the most."
My jaw hit the floor. Two, or three hours to go thirty miles! Where the hell were we going? "Where the hell are we going?" I asked letting my thoughts spill out into my mouth and ultimately into the space around me in the form of teeny tiny vibrations that the human ear perceives as speech.
"Hog's Hollow!" He announced as if that was something to be really freaking proud of.
"And that's what exactly?" I asked shaking my head slightly in disbelief.
"My old home and the new home for both of you." He answered in an equally proud manner.
I mentally slapped my face in disbelief. I'm going to be living in a place called Hogs Hollow, and I'm supposed to be okay with that. I don't really don't mind if and only if I never ever have to worry about getting kicked out of bed by a pig or share my breakfast with a goat.
Elaine on the other hand might have a problem. That is if she ever recovers from whatever the hell happened to her.
I hope she does.
And I hope she's willing to forgive me.
After the revelation of where I would now be living sunk in, I decided to do something that I rarely ever do…I kept my mouth shut. Shocking I know, but it happened.
I settled back into the bench seat as best I could with Elaine still seemingly asleep (or unconscious as the case may be) on my shoulder continuing to saturate my t-shirt in drool. For the record ladies, drooling is not attractive in any: way, shape, or form. I slowly found a way that I could tune out the deafening howl of the engine. A tired yawn escaped my lips as I watched the trees and crap as we passed by.
Wow, I just realized I haven't slept in almost three days, and since it's going to be a while before we get to whatever red neck haven that soon awaited us; I took a nap. Since my options for a pillow were: hard glass, shotgun barrel, and a head covered in light brown hair; I don't think I actually need to spell out what I used. Figure it out yourself or stay in the dark.
It wasn't a particularly restful sleep, but my body and my mind needed it, so it was completely worth it; there were no dreams, no excitement, and certainly no frills. For that I enjoyed.
For all the clichés about killing another living person, most of them are right. Even when you only cause they're deaths instead of actually landing the killing blow; for example when you cause some heavy beams to fall on someone's head instead of setting them on fire. You feel it; it's like part of you broke away, you split in two. There then exists the person you were before, and the person you were after.
I don't know how else to explain it that's less cheesy than that. After the initial split, the innocence that you had before begins to slowly weigh on you in really unexpected ways. I haven't seen all of them yet, but I hope the worst is over. Now when I sleep I'm haunted by The Bastards eyes. That's it, I only see his eyes, and more than anything I watch as the life leaves them and they begin to glass over. There hasn't been one night since it all happened that I've gotten a decent night's sleep. The second was the fear, the pain, and the terror that fire now instilled in me; not because I was necessarily afraid, but it…it was a rush. And that's not in a good way, but rather in a bad way; this was the kind that serial killers try to recapture after the first kill.
If there were worse things out there than that…I don't want to see them, and I sure as hell don't want to feel any of them.
Fortunately this sleep was just an all encompassing black sleep.
The next thing I knew and old calloused hand began shaking my shoulder this, apparently, is one of the greatest international signals for wake the hell up.
I shook my head up to meet this new threat with a half asleep "who's there?"
"C'mon Hoss, we're burning more daylight than I want to. I already got Missy inside; she'll be out of it for a couple days." McCoy said (hey I'm too tired to think up a creative and slightly insulting nickname) walking toward the house.
Hogs Hollow was a very misleading name. He must have created it to scare off unwanted visitors with a name straight out of Deliverance. And that's fine by me. Instead of the one room cabin I'd begun to expect, it was a rather large two story log cabin…A real one, not one of those you see on TV or in the movies, where they were clearly made with power tools and ton of people. This one was built by one person over the course of many, many years. The wood in the house was in various states of being cured, some of it was dull grey, while some of looked like it had been cut and put in within the last couple of weeks.
Needless to say, my shock showed on my face. "She ain't much, but I like to call her home." The geezer said sensing my shock at what this placed turned out to be. "I didn't take any of your stuff out of the back; you'll have to do that yerself"
I grumbled, but complied. I hopped down from the rust bucket and trudged to the bed of the old Ford. Not much of mine survived the fire, what did was just some of the basics: clothes, a few books, and my mother's silver pentacle amulet. The latter was still around my neck, but I guess orphans don't get many possessions as a rule.
Elaine and I have both learned that the hard way.
I hefted the two small duffle bags out of the back and started towards the house. When you become a ward of the state this is a ritual you get used to. Taking what few things you own out of a new car and into a new house, hoping that this one will be better than the last. Very rarely does it turn out good; I thought I finally lucked out when The Bastard plucked me from the group home which is the new euphemism for orphanage.
Maybe this time would be different. For both of our sakes I hoped it was.
I started towards the house, bags in tow when the old man shouted to me. "Your room's upstairs, and to the left. Missy's is across the hall."
I followed his instructions wondering the entire time if I'd been too hard on the old guy. He didn't have to help us out at the trial; it probably would have been easier on him if he didn't. He took on two new apprentices who were accused of murder, under the threat that if we screw up again he gets to die too.
I should give him a fair chance, he deserves it.
The inside of the house looked pretty much like the outside. Exposed logs with bits of mud and straw stuck in between for insulation, rough but functional furniture, an old wood burning stove, an icebox, and a kerjillion little candle holders spread around the house with half melted candles stuck in them. It looked…rustic.
But the stairs were solid enough when I paced up them with all the stealth of a bull, just to be sure. The second story consisted of three rather plain rooms. One to the left, my room apparently; one to the right, Elaine's; and one straight ahead, McCoy's I'm assuming.
I walked into my new room and wasn't surprised by what I found. This place looked rustic too; I'm using that word a lot lately. I should stop, right now. Inside there was nothing but a fairly small closet with no doors and only a few, a small chest of d, and a World War II era cot and mattress. In other words it was the definition of Spartan.
It seemed like he was expecting company, but not just regular company; the kind of company that stays a while and brings all their stuff with them. I wonder who's going to be staying a while.
I set my two bags down by the foot, deciding to test out my new bed. Anything has to be more comfortable than the bench seat that I'd been sitting on for the past nine or ten thousand hours. I kicked off my old tennis shoes and hopped on.
For a bed that's between sixty and a hundred and twenty years old it was surprisingly comfortable and there were sheets already on it. I closed my eyes again and began drifting off to sleep again.
"Hoss, what the hell are you doin' lyin' around here?" McCoy shouted from the door. "I'm supposed to teachin' you how to be a wizard, not letting you vacation. You have work to do."
My eyes shot open and the blood drained out of my face, he was standing over me with a large gnarled staff in one hand and a larger double headed axe. "Now…" I stammered in disbelief.
"No time like the present to start learning Hoss." He grumbled turning and walking down the stairs with sure thuds. I shrugged a little, completely to myself, before cramming my feet back into the still tied tennis shoes at the side of my bed.
I guess that means I get to get settled in later. I almost jogged out of the room, not wanting to keep anyone with a huge axe waiting for any longer than I had to. I exhaled deeply when I opened the front door, all that mountain air, or something along those lines. I scanned the area ahead of me looking for the geezer and his wicked looking axe.
"Over here Hoss," McCoy said appearing from a stand of trees off to the side of the makeshift drive way. "Hell's bells Hoss, the longer you take, the longer we'll be out here!" He disappeared back into the stand of trees.
I grumbled slightly, wishing for once he would tell me just what was going on at least a little in advance so I wouldn't be stuck guessing at what the hell's going on all the time. I headed into the trees at a more normal pace, and thirty seconds later I wandered into a manmade clearing with a mess of wood stacked to one side, a smaller stack to the other and in the middle a ginormous stump.
"Stars and stones it took you long enough to get over here." The old wizard shouted across the clearing.
"Alright, I'm here, what am I supposed to do?" I asked trying my damndest to keep my anger in check. The entire situation is really starting to annoy the hell out of me.
"Split wood of course. In case you didn't notice, the house doesn't have central heat. So if you want to stay warm tonight, you best get to cuttin'." He extended his arm offering a slightly smaller ax then the big, double bladed number he'd carried earlier.
"I thought you were supposed to be teaching me about magic, not using me as your own personal man servant." I said snidely as I took the axe. There was already a small log resting on the giant stump.
"Who said we aren't?" He replied gruffly planting his staff in the before taking larger axe in both hand. "Magic is all about visualization. Sometimes chopping wood is a magical exercise." He gave a big grunt and brought the axe down on the large log, splitting it neatly in two. "And other times, it's about cutting wood."
"Which one is this?" I asked bringing my own axe down on top of the log placed on the stump, missing it by a mile.
"That's what you have to decide for yourself Hoss."
A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. Next time we'll be back in the portion of the story I've nicknamed "Who Cursed Harry Dresden."