55 years ago…

 

                The bus exhaust was thick in the air. Dyson shifted his weight on the bench so that the slats would dig into a different part of his leg. At this time of the night, the few people who moved through the bus station hardly paid attention to the young man. They had their own problems. They had their own reasons for being at a bus station at 3 in the morning. To most passers-by, Dyson was simply another feature in an already bleak landscape.

 

            Dyson felt the cash in his pocket. With this amount of money…he could go anywhere from here. And anywhere but here is where he wanted to be. But where to go? Where could he go that his father couldn’t find him? Any place that his father’s money couldn’t reach? Dyson chuckled sardonically. ‘There’s no place I can get to on a bus, anyway,’ he thought.

 

            In 20 years he had grown to hate his father. He hated the money. He hated Big City’s elite. He had hated boarding school and he now hated college. He wanted to go off and be a farmer…a dock worker…a criminal…anything. Anything that would annoy his father. At that moment, Dyson wanted to be anywhere, but decision making wasn’t his strong suit.

 

            Three nights in a row the young man had dressed down and hidden out here, waiting for some place to come over the loud speaker that piqued his interest. Marrstown…Fleen Bay…Montgomery Isle…Umbra… nothing. Exotic names. Hell, everything was exotic next to BIG CITY. So he would sit and drift in and out of sleep, becoming just another bus station vagrant to the eyes of everybody else.

 

            Dyson never saw Arnold Pendant and a man in a cloak step into the bus station. They stopped just inside the door. Pendant was an old man. His gnarled fingers, covered with trinkets of wealth, were wrapped around the silver cane handle that propped him up. His ancient eyes scanned the nearly deserted bus station. The man in the cloak turned to Arnold.

 

            “That’s him.” They both looked at Dyson. “He has been here the last three nights. He’s young, fairly athletic and handsome.”

 

            Arnold’s, thin lips pulled into a smile. “He’s perfect.”

 

            A few minutes later, when Henry in the ticket booth looked up from his book, Dyson, who had become a fairly familiar face, was gone. Henry wondered for a moment where the kid had gone. Then he shrugged, checked his schedule and went back to reading his book.

 

Big City

AGELESS

by Eric Schwartz

 

            Wyshok Meen, being one of the few women on the force, was used to the staring, whistles and the comments, but something about Douglas Luxor really made her uneasy. She knew she was a fairly attractive woman and she was used to men glancing her way, but Luxor’s eyes seemed to move around her like a burglar casing a house. If she believed in the “willies” she’d swear that he had given her a raging dose.

 

            On top of that he was a real asshole.  He was a sweating, fat, mustached detective who constantly smelled of liquor and chomped on a cigar. He laughed overly loud at his own jokes. Everybody knew that he roughed up quite a few perps and witnesses…hell everybody did from time to time. But Luxor had sent more than a few to the hospital with serious damage done. Rumor had it that there was still one perp of his that couldn’t eat…or walk.

 

            Wyshok desperately wanted to bring him down a peg…or 12. But this wasn’t the time or place. This was a house of fear, a house of dread. The vibrations screamed to her. She had long since learned to block them out, but she could feel that those who lived here feared the worst.

 

            As Wyshok and her partner Kel stepped over the threshold into the mansion, she could feel Luxor’s eyes fall on her. She rolled her eyes. Kel looked back at her.

 

            “Don’t worry about him,” he said. “He’s an idiot.”

 

            Wyshok smiled. Kel had been her partner for the last year, ever since she joined the force. Officially Sweepers were not police officers. They were consultants retained by the force. Since they were often in the field, they were always teamed with a regular cop. She still was not sure what Kel had done to swing the job of babysitter, but Wyshok often chuckled that it must have been terrible.

           

            The house seemed to go off in all directions as far as the eyes could see. Trevor and Margit Powdell lived here with their son Dyson. Trevor had made a fortune in movies, first as a contract player, eventually moving up through the ranks as a director, producer and finally as the head of Monstrous Pictures. This was one of 3 mansions the family owned. One here, one on vineyard land up in the Skion Valley and one back east. Powerful, well connected and stinking rich, Wyshok could not believe that the jittery man in the bathrobe was THE Trevor Powdell.

 

            Wyshok and Kel were soon approached by Captain Andrews and Luxor. Andrew’s hand shot out and shook Kel’s.

 

            “Hello Kel. Thanks for bringing her down,” Andrews said. Wyshok rolled her eyes. It was the same kind of “her” that men used to describe horses, cars, boats and guns. To the rest of them she was a piece of equipment. She chuckled. It really was pathetic.

 

            Kel nodded. “No problem Captain. What’s the situation?”

 

            “Mr. Powdell’s son, Dyson, has disappeared. He vanished from the Whedon Avenue bus station earlier this morning.”

 

            “Kidnap?”

 

            “We don’t know. No demands for ransom have been made.”

 

            Wyshok finally piped up. “This seems pretty straight forward. Why have a Sweeper called in?”

 

            Andrews looked at her. “Mr. Powdell has some friends downtown. He has demanded they pull out all the stops and use every resource in getting Dyson back.”

 

            Luxor chuckled. “And apparently that means bring out the witches.”

 

            Kel shot Luxor a look. Luxor just smiled and winked at Wyshok, who shivered slightly like she had just peed on her own leg. Kel looked back at Andrews. “Have you finished talking with him?”

 

            “He wanted to take a break. So we’re just going back right now. Come on.”

 

            The four stepped back to the table. Powdell looked up as the police sat down.

 

            “Any news?” Powdell asked, lighting a cigarette. Distaste and distrust wafted from the man’s mouth, nearly masking the fear that quivered like a bog sludge underneath. The pride and defiance of power colliding with human frailty, until the man with the money is incapable of reaching too deep into any one emotion. Powdell’s eyes stabbed at the cops. “Well?”

 

            Andrews sat. “Nothing yet sir. We just have a few more questions we’d like to ask.”

 

            Powdell pulled a tobacco seed from his tongue. His gaze loosened and rested on Wyshok. “Who’s the skirt?”

 

            Wyshok, unfazed, shot a hand out. “I’m Wyshok Meen. I’m a Sweeper with the Police Department. I am helping with the investigation into your son’s disappearance.”

 

            Powdell didn’t shake her hand. “A witch?” He shrugged. “Well I hope you have better luck than some of these flatfoot cops.” He looked back at Andrews. “Okay. What else did you want to ask me?”

 

            “Do you know why your son was at the bus station?”

 

            Powdell laughed a hollow laugh. “Dyson has some strange romantic notions. He dreams of being one of the ‘people’. He believes that my family’s position and status is a badge of shame. I allow him his little fantasies. He’s been sneaking out to go…slumming for weeks. Sometimes to a bar or a Goblin dance hall. The last few nights it’s been to this bus station. Not that he would ever be able to get up the nerve to actually leave. It’s one thing to hate the teet. It’s another to leave it.”

 

            “So he was just hanging around down there. No real purpose.”  Kel asked.

 

            “Yeah. I had a man follow him the first couple of nights. After I realized that he wasn’t actually going to go anywhere, I just let him go. He’d be back in his room by sun up. This morning he never turned up.”

 

            “Maybe he finally got up the nerve to leave.” Kel shrugged.

 

            Andrews shook his head. “No. We’ve already checked with the bus company. He didn’t get on a bus. According to the man in the ticket booth, Dyson vanished between two departures. About 2:30 in the morning.”

 

            Wyshok leaned into Kel. “I need to see the bus station. I need to see if any magic was used there.” Kel looked back at her and nodded. Luxor rolled his eyes.

 

*

            Dyson opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His eyes were heavy from crying. He didn’t know where he was or how long he had been there. The room was dark but comfortable. He knew only that he was frightened. For the first time in a long time he prayed to see his father.

 

            Two rooms away Arnold Pendant and his consultant sat in the library. Surrounded by a fortune in dark, hand carved woodwork and wine colored carpeting, the two discussed the next phase.

 

            “I think we’re running out of time,” Pendant coughed. “It won’t be long.”

 

            The Consultant nodded. “Arnold, everything is prepared. We have the Innocent’s Record. Tonight we will perform the last ritual and then we only wait. What I want to talk about now is the transition.”

 

            Pendant swallowed hard. “I keep forgetting about that.” He looked up at the consultant. “What will it be like?”

 

            “I won’t lie to you, Arnold, it’s terrifying at first. The blackness grows and you will feel an incredible despair. You will see things as your mind begins to go. Things you had long forgotten, people and things from your past. You will get very cold as your blood begins to slow. But at the last moment, when every muscle in your body relaxes, you feel…release. Like the tension of a lifetime leaves all at once. At the same time chemicals will release in your body and you will find peace. A few seconds later, you are dead.”

 

            Silence filled the room for a few moments as Arnold Pendant came to grips with what he faced. Then he looked up at The Consultant.

 

            “All right. What about after that? What is that like?”

 

            The Consultant smiled. “Like stepping into a warm bath.”

 

*

            Big City’s midday sun had created an oven inside Kel’s car. Even with both windows down, the breeze provided little relief for Wyshok. Her head lulled back on the seat and she looked over at Kel.

 

            “This is a waste of time.”

 

            Kel chuckled. “You think?”

 

            Wyshok lit a cigarette. “I’m telling you. The kid skipped town. They’ll find him tomorrow, half drunk in Ironton with some beret wearing elf girl, smoking some wild mountain weed.”

 

            “Then why are we going to the bus station?”

 

            Wyshok blew out a lungful of smoke.  “I may be whiny, but I am thorough.”

 

            “That you are.”

 

            “Anyway. There’s always a chance that we might find something. Busting open a great case would do wonders for my career.”

 

            “If you are so worried about your job, why don’t you have your guy talk to the Commissioner?” Kel stopped abruptly and bit his lip. Wyshok scorched him with a look. There was a long pause. “Sorry, Wy, I forgot.”

 

            Wyshok looked out the window. “Even if he was inclined to do something for me at this point, I don’t know that I would want him to. This is my job and I need to do make the best of it myself.”

 

            Kel couldn’t believe that he had brought him up. It had only been a week, how could he forget? “Has he called?”

 

            Wyshok shook her head. Frank was never one for the phone. He hated them. He used them when he had to, but he always said that a handshake and a look in the eye was worth a million phone calls. Wyshok smiled sadly.

 

            The rest of the drive to the bus station was silent. As the car rolled to a stop outside the station Kel looked over. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

 

            Wyshok set her jaw, as she was apt to do, she leaned forward to stub out her cigarette. Her eyes climbed up to meet Kel’s. She shrugged, as if to indicate that the moment had already been forgotten. Her eyes told a different story. It was hard enough for Kel to not lean forward and kiss her on a normal day. Now, with the glistening of sadness revealing her soft side, it was almost impossible. For the last year Kel had watched Wyshok try so hard to make her relationship with Frank Johnson work. He was a good man, a city council freshman. Unfortunately, it seemed that Johnson’s ambition took its toll on Wyshok. Kel always assumed that it would never work…he hated being right.

 

            The two stepped from the car and walked toward the station.

 

            Something began to tingle in Wyshok. It grew stronger as they got closer. A vibration. Her pace slowed as the tingle became a quake. On the Mystic Plain, she could feel it. Like ripples after a rock drops into water. The even-keel magical energy of all life had a flutter. An echo.  As she stepped into the station doorway, the echo physically shook her.

 

            Kel looked at her. “Do you have something?”

 

            Her brow furrowed. Her hand swept out in front of her, feeling the criss-crossing lines of energy that ran through all things. She closed her eyes and felt around the disturbed area.

 

            “Something was here. Something heavy. It’s been almost 12 hours and there is a residual disturbance. Somebody stood on this spot, with something.” She lowered her hand and looked at Kel. “I just can’t tell what.”

 

            “Was the kid taken by a spell?”

 

            “No. Magic wasn’t used. There’s no signature, nothing that indicates any casting. But an object was here. Something strong. Powerful.” She looked at her hands. “Warming up.”

 

*

           

            The quill moved of its own volition, transcribing the thoughts of the man who looked out the window. He gazed long at the Big City afternoon. Even from the second floor library of the estate he could feel the energy of the city just below the surface. Thick air grayed the buildings that rose into the sky to the south. Lying before him, an expanse of green…guild created. He smiled and looked down at the windowsill. The quill stopped moving. He may have been a powerful wizard, at the top of the hierarchy…but he was a long winded poet. He chuckled.

 

            The quill rested itself in the ink well.

 

            Hogarth turned back from the window and moved to his desk. Something other than hot, muggy air hung all around. Something was brewing. He couldn’t tell what, but the under-wizards had been busy all day. They had been speaking in hushed tones, as if he couldn’t hear them. He slipped into the comfortable velvet of his chair and relit his pipe.

 

            He puffed thoughtfully for a moment. The knock on his door broke his concentration.

 

            “Yes?” He replied to the knock.

 

            Kenther, a senior under-wizard entered and approached. “Master Hogarth, might I have a moment of your time?”

 

            “You are here about the ripples?” Hogarth smiled. His middle-aged eyes twinkled and set Kenther at ease.

 

            “Yes sir.” Kenther placed a folder on the table. “We have been analyzing the disturbance all day and we are at a loss.”

 

            “I’ve felt it too. Something is growing in strength. It hasn’t reached its potential, but it’s close…” Hogarth suddenly seemed lost in his thoughts.

 

            Kenther tried to interrupt. “Now we have drawn up a few theories based on…”

 

            “It’s old. Very old. Possibly one of the 7.”

 

            “My personal feeling…” Kenther look up, confused. “The 7?”

 

            Hogarth smiled and looked at his hands. “Have you heard of The 7?” Kenther shook his head. “There are 7 great relics in the world. The 7 Great Balances. They exist to help keep balance in the universe. They are very powerful.”

 

            “Have you…”

 

            “No. No I haven’t. In fact no Guild Master has laid eyes on one of the 7 in half a millennia. They are hidden…lost. It seems that one has surfaced.” Hogarth tapped down the tobacco in his pipe and looked up at Kenther. “Every moment its power grows.” He smiled to himself. “And I don’t think the one using it, fully understands it.”

 

*

 

            Wyshok took a long drag on her cigarette. From her desk she could see Kel in Andrews office, arguing. For a moment she looked over at Luxor, who was already staring at her. She rolled her eyes and looked back toward Andrews’ office.

 

Kel leaned on his arms and locked his elbows. “She felt a significant vibration.”

 

            Andrews shrugged. “I have no idea what that means.”

 

            “It means that some powerful magic was present in the location where Dyson disappeared. We need some men to follow up on it.”

 

            Andrews chuckled and looked up at Kel. “Look, finding this brat is now the PD’s number one priority. The Mayor’s office has us exhausting every avenue. I don’t have the men to spare.”

 

            “But sir…” Kel stammered.

 

            “I don’t have any men to spare chasing down vibrations. Isn’t that what sweeper units are for?”

 

            A moment later Kel stormed past Wyshok’s desk, took her by the elbow and lead her from the station.

 

            “We’re on our own.” He muttered gruffly.

 

            Wyshok chuckled. “So what else is new?”

 

*

            Pendant took a deep, rattling breath. The doctor pulled the stethoscope from his ears. He looked sadly at the old man.

 

            “I’m afraid you don’t have long, Mr. Pendant.”

 

            Pendant nodded. “How long?”

 

            “I think it would be prudent to start measuring in hours,” the doctor said.     Pendant coughed and nodded…and smiled.  The doctor cocked his head. “You do understand what I am saying, don’t you?”

 

            “Yes, doctor, I do.” Pendant chuckled a hollow, gurgling laugh. “And your services are no longer required.”

 

*

 

            Frank Johnson took a long drag off his cigarette. The marble and bronze foyer of City Hall echoed with dozens of footsteps and yet Frank managed to not hear it anymore. As he did every day he spent the better part of his lunch hour reading the morning’s papers, smoking like a chimney and having his shoes shined by Kveez’l who kept shop in the main foyer. The sound of shoes, voices, flashbulbs, none of it seemed to matter any more. This was his 30 minutes of heaven every day. He stubbed out the square and lit another. The flashpoint sulfur of the matches and the smell of shoe polish further pulled him away from the reality of the moment.

 

            “Hello Frank.” Came the voice. It seemed to leap up out of the foyer din and grab his heart. He lowered his paper and stared into her gaze.

 

He tapped Kveez’l on the shoulder. “That’s all for today, Kveez’l. Thanks.” Wordless, Johnson rose and folded the papers under his arm. “I did ask that you not come and see me. Didn’t I?” He turned and headed for the great marble staircase in the center of the foyer.

 

Wyshok took a drag of her cigarette and followed. “You know me, Frank. Never one to give up without a fight.”          

 

“Look, Wy.”

 

“Frank, as much as this may hurt your ego, I’m not here about us. I need a favor.”

 

Frank Johnson stopped. “A favor?” He turned to look at her. “A political favor? You got a speeding ticket you need out of?”

 

Wyshok stepped in close. “Don’t be an ass with me Frank. You just remember who called this off in the first place. Now I’m asking for a legitimate favor, as a fellow public servant.”

 

Frank raised an eyebrow. He could feel her breath on his face. He could still feel her body under him. He hated not being with her. He hated having to shut her out. He blocked his feelings and best as he could. “Shoot.”

 

“Kel and I are working the Powdell kid,” she began. Frank nodded in understanding. “At the bus stop where the kid was snatched, I sensed something. Something big.”

 

“A spell? A relic?”

 

“Bigger. Something I’ve never felt before.” She dropped her cigarette to the marble. “I need to access to the Wizard’s Guild.”

 

Frank looked at her again and chuckled. “You have to be out of your mind.” He turned to move up the stairs.

 

“Frank! The cops are hopeless. They have no idea what they’re looking for. If I don’t get some help on this, that boy is going to die.”

 

“Access to the Guild isn’t like I’m giving out season passes to the ball park. You’re talking about the second most powerful political body in the City.  They don’t open their gates to just…” Frank stopped, huffed and turned to move up the stairs.

 

Wyshok felt like she had been stabbed. “Just what, Johnson?! Just ANYONE? Just a cop?! Just a sweeper?!”

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Frank put his hands on his hips and looked at his feet. He took a deep breath. “How old is this kid?”

 

“19 or 20.”

 

Frank nodded. “Head on over to the Guild Estate. I will call. They will be expecting you.” Wyshok looked at him and nodded. No smile was visible, simply the set jaw of forced detachment. She mumbled in thanks and turned to head back down.  “I’m engaged.” He blurted. The knife in Wyshok twisted. She turned, her forced detachment quivering on the edges. She said nothing. Frank smiled weakly. “I didn’t know how to tell you. She’s the daughter of a senior councilman. I know it’s sudden but it’s…”

 

“Magic?” Wyshok finished.

 

“I was going to say healthy.”

 

Wyshok nodded. Her mind exploded with a million acidic retorts. She turned, stepped off the stairs and moved toward the doors. Frank watched her go. He swallowed whatever was rising, turned and headed for his office. The least he could do was call ahead for her.

 

*

Dyson struggled against the ropes that tied him. He occasionally would nod into sleep, his eyes heavy from hours sobbing. He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but when he woke, one of the two men who had brought him here was sitting next to the bed.

 

“Who are you?!” Dyson bellowed, tears again flowing freely.

 

“I am the Consultant. I work with Mr. Pendant.” The man’s words were precise, almost soothing.

 

Dyson looked in the man’s eyes. “What do you want with me?”

 

The Consultant smiled. “You will be giving someone a great gift. Sometimes, lesser men must die…so greater men may live.” The smile grew very warm. “You understand that don’ t you? By ending the life of a homeless, street urchin with no future, we keep a greater man in the world. That will be your legacy. That will be your gift to the world.”

 

Dyson laughed through his tears. “Homeless…ha! Do you know who I am? I’m Dyson Powdell.” There was no recognition on The Consultant’s face. “I’m the son of Trevor Powdell … the head of Monstrous Pictures.”

 

The warm smile fell slightly. “I don’t believe you.”

 

“Look in my wallet!”

 

The Consultant lifted Dyson slightly and maneuvered the wallet out of his back pocket. Hesitantly The Consultant opened the wallet. The driver’s license inside confirmed what Dyson was saying. The room seemed to spin for the moment. The Consultant took a short calming breath. His head was swimming and his heart pounded in his chest.

 

Dyson saw the distress on the man’s face and laughed. “Right now, my father has the entire city looking for me. You don’t stand a chance.”

 

The boy’s smugness changed The Consultant’s attitude. “It doesn’t matter. It will all be over by the time they find us…and when you are returned to your parents… you won’t remember a thing.”

 

“When I…what?!  I thought…”

 

The Consultant smiled again. This time, there was no warmth. There was no comforting. There was only malice. “Boy, I don’t care who your father is… you can’t live four hundred years without having a few tricks up your sleeve.”

 

Dyson Powdell’s laugh disappeared as The Consultant left the room.

 

*

Kel stopped the car at the huge, ornate gate.  A security guard stepped from the gate house and moved to the passenger side door.

 

The guard leaned down to the open window, “Can I help you, sir?”

 

Kel flashed his badge. “We are with the BCPD. I believe you are expecting us.”

 

The guard motioned to some one else inside the guard house and the gate opened. “Indeed we are sir. Just follow the drive to the main house and you will be greeted at the main door.”

 

Kel nodded and pulled forward. As the car slowly moved into the wooded estate, Kel watched the heavy gate close behind them. The mid afternoon sun filtered through trees and forest that lined both sides of the drive. The green finally gave some relief to the heat that had been building up in the car. He looked over at Wyshok. The Sweeper said nothing, she just stared out the window.

 

Kel wasn’t sure what had transpired between Wy and Johnson, but it must have been bad. He wanted desperately to comfort her or beat up Johnson or beat something up or … he wanted to do something but didn’t know what. He turned back to the green of the wooded estate.

 

Whatever else was going on at the time left them both. They both caught their breath as the woods opened to reveal the Main House.

 

Everything else seemed to fall away around the house. The gray and tan of the limestone masonry seemed to glow where the sun fell on it and shimmered faintly in the shadows that lived in the nooks of the house. It stood alone on a hill, the smaller houses of the compound dotting the landscape behind. Here, in seclusion, the wizards and sorcerers of The Guild worked, researched and wrote spells. Wyshok could feel wave after wave of vibrations as they progressed. Here the lines and plains of magic converged, were manipulated, repurposed. Oddly, Wyshok felt at home. The incident with Frank seemed to fall away as the vibrations of good works came over her.

 

Kel stopped the car in front of the door. The two stepped out of the car. The mid-afternoon sun still shown in the sky, but the surrounding woods seemed to cool the air. As soon as the two exited the car, the huge, carved doors opened and a young man in a tunic descended the stairs to greet them.

 

The young man shook Kel’s hand and then Wyshok’s. “I am Orvits. Master Hogarth is expecting you.”

 

Wy put up her hand. “Woah! Hold on a second. We are actually going to be talking to Hogarth himself?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Wyshok took a deep breath and shrugged. She and Kel followed Orvits up the steps and into the house.

*

Luxor hated crazy people. Hated them. His gut instinct was to hit them until they either started talking or shut up. Worse than that he hated drunk crazy people. Or drunk crazy people that smelled. Hector Drax was all three. He was another half drunk, fairly crazy bus station dweller. Worse yet he was sitting in a chair opposite Luxor in an enclosed interview room…stinking up the joint. Luxor wanted to beat him until he stopped smelling. But he couldn’t. He had strict orders to not touch any witnesses.

 

The hulking cop slumped in his chair and stared at the crazy, smelly, homeless drunk who smiled back at him. A moment later the door opened and Andrews walked in.

 

“Sgt. Luxor? Is this the witness?”

 

Luxor stood up. “Yeah. But he’s not going to tell us anything.”

 

Andrews smiled and motioned toward Hector. “May I?” Luxor shrugged and moved to another corner. Andrews sat down. “Mr. Drax, you were at the bus station last night?”

 

“Yes I was. Talla said she’s gonna meet me. She stole a bottle of Moonglow.”

 

Andrews held up a picture of Dyson. “You saw this young man?”

 

“Yeah. I seen him. He kept taking Talla’s spot. Under the clock. He wasn’t for real. He never asked nobody for nothing. He wasn’t real.”

 

“And you saw him leave?”

 

“Yeah! He left with the newspaper man.”

 

Andrews looked at Hector and turned around to Luxor. Luxor just shrugged. Andrews looked at Hector. “The newspaper man? You mean the guy who runs the news stand?”

 

“No that’s Barney. I’m talking about the newspaper man.”

 

“What are you talking about you crazy son of a bitch,” Luxor blurted from the back wall. The jibberish had finally gotten to him.

 

Andrews shot him a look. “Luxor!” He turned back to Hector. “Mr. Drax. I’m afraid we don’t understand.”

 

Hector took a sip of coffee. “The Newspaper Man. The man in the newspapers.”

 

“Another bum…uh…homeless man? One who sleeps in newspapers. Like you?

 

“NO! The man in the newspapers.”

 

Andrews shook his head. “You mean someone you’ve seen in the newspapers. Somebody that has their picture in the paper.”

 

Hector nodded yes and took another swig of coffee. Andrews and Luxor looked at each other.

 

“Do you know the Newspaper Man’s name?” Andrews probed.

 

“I don’t know it. I never learned reading.”

 

“When was the last time you saw him in the newspaper?”

 

Hector shrugged. “Last week. Maybe two weeks ago. I don’t remember. It was real cold and I put them papers in my boots cause of the cold.”

 

Luxor looked at Andrews. “When was that cold snap?”

 

Andrews thought for a minute. “Beginning of the month. Get over to the Herald and get some old papers from around then.” 

 

Luxor nodded and headed out. Hector lit a cigarette and looked at Andrews.

 

“Yup. The Newspaper Man and the other guy walked out with that boy.”

 

Andrews looked at the half-crazed, bad smelling drunk and said, “What?”

 

*

The Consultant readied his makeshift temple. Everything had to be ready when the time came. The proper caution had to be taken. On the white linen lay a pad of paper filled with writing - the Innocent’s Record,  a metal plate, a box of matches, and an ornate wooden box.  He opened the box, as he had done a dozen times before and looked into it. The ring sat immobile and harmlessly on the red velvet. The Consultant’s fingers lifted the ring gently. He smiled at it like an old friend who had just come through the door of the tavern.

 

“Things may have changed,” he commented to the ring. “I’m not sure what you will be carrying tonight.” He let the ring fall into the palm of his hand. His eyes fluttered shut and he began the incantation.

 

*

Orvits finally left Kel and Wyshok at a pair of wooden doors. He motioned inside and moved back down the hall. The two cops exchanged glances and opened the door. As they stepped inside the library the saw a teenage boy standing, glaring at them from behind the desk at the far end of the room. An older man was looking out the window and seemed to be talking very sternly.

 

“…this is why I have forbidden such spells! Now you are on punishment. For the next two months you will not have access to the library of spells above simple healing spells. The Black Tomes are for research. Research! Do you understand?!”

 

The boy’s eyes moved from the two cops to the desk. “I understand.”

 

The older man turned from the window and finally noticed Wyshok and Kel. He nodded slightly in recognition and mild embarrassment. “All right. You can go.”

 

“Thank you sir.” The boy said with a growl. He moved across the floor and stepped between the cops as he left the room.

 

The older man motioned for them to enter. “I apologize. My son doesn’t seem to think that the rules apply to him.” His scowl quickly left his face, the laugh lines around his eyes returning.

 

Wyshok bowed slightly. “Master Hogarth?”

 

Hogarth smiled. “I am.” He stepped up to Kel and shook his hand. Kel introduced himself. Hogarth then moved to Wyshok and smiled broadly. “And you are Wyshok Meen.”

 

Wyshok was slightly taken aback. “You know of me.”

 

Hogarth chuckled. “Frank told me you were coming. I was surprised to say the least. I actually met your father and grandfather on several occasions. Fine clerics. Both of them.” He eyed Wyshok for a moment. “This is why I was surprised. That fortune would bring a Meen to my door.”

 

Wyshok dropped her eyes. “Thank you, sir. I wish that the circumstances of my visit were better. A young man has been taken. And I may need your help.”

 

Hogarth moved behind his desk and lit his pipe. “Please continue.”

 

Kel stepped forward. “Last night, after midnight, Dyson Powdell was taken from the Whedon Ave. bus station. Earlier today Sweeper Meen and I went to the scene of the disappearance to check for signs of a magical abduction.”

 

Wyshok continued, “I found no evidence that any spells or relics had been used…but something had been there at the same time that he disappeared…”

 

Hogarth stood, smiling. He continued Wyshok’s thought. “Something heavy. Something that, just by its mere presence, left ripples on the Mystic Plain like the wake of a motorboat. “

 

Wy’s mouth dropped open. “Yes.”

 

Hogarth nodded. “We have been tracking the same disturbance. The vibrations have been growing in strength. It is fortuitous that you came to me. Please have a seat.” The two sat as Hogarth moved to a bookshelf and pulled an ancient tome from it. He opened it gingerly. “Since the world was young there have been 7 Great Balances. These powerful Relics were created by sorcerers who sought to harness the great forces. Creation. Death. Magic. Time. Space. Good. Evil.”

 

            “Why?”

 

            “Like all peoples, sorcerers, those who can feel and manipulate magic, have had to evolve. They were ignorant. It was not done with evil in mind. They simply wanted to have more power over their surroundings. To feel they had more control over their world. The same thing we still want.”

 

            Kel leaned up in his chair. “So you think that one of these relics. One of these Balances is in Big City? But what does that have to do with Dyson?”

 

            Hogarth nodded. “As I said, we have been feeling and trying to find the same disturbance. Until now there has been nothing to go on. The disturbance on the Mystic Plain has been great enough that we can’t trace it to the source. And until you stepped through my door, I didn’t even know which of the balances we were looking for. “

           

            Wyshok lit a cigarette. “You know now?”

 

            Hogarth opened the book and held it out to both of them. “Indeed I do.”  Wy and Kel’s eyes came to rest on an ancient drawing of a ring.

 

            Unseen by the three, a pair of teenage eyes watched from the partially cracked door. The eyes blazed for a moment as his father prepared to explain all to the two cops.

 

*

            Arnold Pendant could taste blood in his mouth. He coughed again and supported himself with the wall as he moved up the hall looking for The Consultant. He could feel death coming. He could feel the time at hand. Each step taking more and more effort. His breath and time short, his heart pounding in his ears, he finally reached the door. 

 

            The Consultant opened the door to find the sweat drenched old man panting in the hallway.

 

            “It’s time,” Pendant gasped between fits of pointless breath.

 

            The Consultant nodded and escorted him to the location of the makeshift temple.

 

*

            Andrews stood, his mouth gaping open. He couldn’t believe that a member of The Guild, let alone the High Guild Wizard, was standing in his office. Kel and Wyshok listened as Hogarth retold his tale to Andrews.

 

            “It’s called the Ring of Nahn Dal Ka. It’s an ancient relic. It is a mystical vessel that is intended to house a soul for transfer from one body to another.  It can either be used to house the soul for transfer or can simply act as a conduit, simply transferring the soul from one body to another in an instant. Either use takes the completion of a series of rituals.”

 

            Andrews put up a hand. “I’m sorry Master Hogarth, but I don’t understand what this has to do with Dyson Powdell.”

 

            “The ring is used to transfer souls. The rituals need a host body, generally a younger one to receive the soul. Dyson was taken to be a host.”

 

            Andrews looked at his desk. “You mean whoever did this, intends to transfer themselves into his body through this ring?”

 

            “Exactly. And it’s going to happen soon.” Hogarth moved closer to Andrews.

 

            “How do you know.”

 

            Hogarth turned to Wyshok. “Can you feel it?”

 

            Wyshok nodded. Indeed the ring was causing squall like waves on the Mystic Plain. “It’s going to happen soon.”

 

            Kel threw up his hands. “But where?! Where is it going to happen.”

 

            Andrews pulled his jacket on. “Arnold Pendant’s mansion.”

 

            The others looked at him. “What?”

 

            “A vagrant from the bus station last night identified Pendant as one of the men who left with Dyson. He recognized him from the society pages. Pendant is old and sick and matches the description of our Ring user.”

           

            Kel shook his head. “Who’s the other guy?”

 

            Hogarth looked at the ground. “I would assume he’s a wizard. Someone who could perform the rituals. Perhaps a wizard for hire.”

 

            Andrews looked at Hogarth. “Will he be dangerous?”

 

            Hogarth nodded. “Potentially.”

 

            Andrews headed for the door. “I just sent Luxor over there to check things out.”

 

*

            The boy was tied on the bed, apparently knocked out. Ether. The old man was sputtering on a nearby bed. Standing center in the room was a man in a tunic. He spoke in hushed tones like a Cleric and set fire to a book of some sort.

 

            This wasn’t good. Luxor could tell that as he moved into the room.

 

            His lumbering frame knocked against the door and the man in the tunic spun hard to face him.

 

            It all happened to fast for Luxor. Luxor raised his gun and yelled freeze. The Consultant leapt to the old man and grabbed something from him. Luxor commanded that The Consultant freeze again. The old man wailed in protest and gave out a pitiful wheeze and fell limp. Luxor fired and missed. The Consultant slipped a ring on to his finger.

 

            Luxor was bewildered by what happened next.

 

 

*

Kel’s foot throbbed as he buried the gas pedal. He didn’t dare look over at Wyshok. He could feel the air in the car thick with electricity. Her intensity seemed to flow through everything. So he drove as fast as he could. He heard a sigh in the seat next to him.

 

“I hope we’re not too late, “ Kel said, peeling around a corner.

 

“It’s over.” Wyshok said, taking a deep breath.

 

“What?!”

 

“For better or worse, it’s over.”

 

*

 

            “I’m sorry about driving, sir.” Andrews said as he squealed around another corner.

 

            Hogarth braced himself through the turn but maintained an air of dignity. “Not at all Captain.”

 

            “We just…well, we really want to get Dyson Powdell back to his parents and the ring into your hands.”

 

            “The vibrations…the waves have stopped.”  Hogarth said quietly.

 

            “What does that mean?”

 

            “It means that the ritual has stopped. The Ring is dormant again.”

 

            Andrews smiled. "That means that Luxor may have made it in time."

 

            Hogarth looked at him from the passenger seat. “Perhaps.”

 

*

            Gun extended Kel rushed in followed closely by Wyshok, her heart pounding in her chest. She begged silently that they weren’t too late.

 

            It was over.

 

The Consultant lay dead on the floor, a cooling ring of blood moving through the carpet. Pendant lay on the bed silently, half covered with a sheet. His frail form deathly still. A metal plate contained the smoldering remains of a book. Luxor was untying Dyson. Kel lowered his gun.

 

“Luxor?” Kel monotoned.

 

The cop nodded. He loosened the last rope and Dyson was free. Wyshok crouched down near the body of The Consultant. The gunshot to the head was nearly point blank. The dark scorching surrounded the massive entry wound. Her eyes scanned the room.

 

“The ring? Where is it?” She glanced up at Luxor, who never looked up. He pointed at the floor. Wyshok approached the small ring. It was plain from a distance but as she got closer, it became amazingly intricate. The deep green of the stone and the flakes of precious metal sparkled in her eyes. It lay warm in Wyshok’s hand. It held her transfixed for a moment. She could feel its vibration. It’s power. Subtle and heavy. Her gaze was broken by a hand gently plucking the Ring from her. She looked up.

 

Hogarth’s eyes were kind but intense as he looked at her. He smiled softly. She averted her eyes slightly. He looked down at the ring.

 

“Nahn Dal Ka,” he said. Wyshok looked confused. He smiled. “The Soul Box.”

 

Her brow furrowed. “You mean there’s a…”