THE SOURCERERS

    This is the first chapter of a story I've been kicking around for a few years.  

 

“The Sourcerers"

Out here in the fields, I plow for my meal.  I get my back into my living.  I don’t need to fight to prove I’m right.  I don’t need to feel forgiven!”

                        - Baba O’Reilly - The Who

It is sometime in the future. . . and things have changed . . .

 Lance walked into his barn pulling his grandfathers old sheepskin coat tighter against the chill fall air, watching as the storm clouds gathered in the sky and lightening struck at the far end of the farm.   It was getting harder to find the fuel for the tractor because most of the crop was needed for feed or food and couldn’t be spared to produce fuel.  

 Gramps had loved that tractor.  It had served him well and he taught Lance how to care for it and keep it alive.  Gramps had warned him not to abuse the machine and had warned also warned everyone he could about the Sourcerers.  The young, burly man let out a heavy sigh that came out of his nostrils like a thick fog.  Soon he would be forced to go back to the horse-drawn plow like his neighbors.  Lance hated horses; temperamental and ill-mannered beasts that they were!  “Actually,” Lance thought to himself, “I hate farming!”  But what else is there to do?

The Sourcerers were a surprise to all.  Beings that existed partially in this world and partially in another, their arrival was unexpected both by us and by the Monitors.

Since the arrival of the Sourcerers some 40-odd years ago, magic made a re-appearance.  What is magic, though, other than misunderstood science?  The Sourcerers preyed on the gullible, the weak, the innocent and the power-hungry.  They had made nebulous promises to the world, and the politicians and populace bought it.  They promised to end all strife and hunger in the world - and did.  They promised an end pollution, poverty, racism, war and all the other problems of the human race - and followed through - but at the price that no one seemed to understand.  They seemed to ask for nothing.  Those that looked at this as the means for achieving the new world order jumped on the bandwagon and shouted down the more cautious, skeptical ones.  Though they had not asked for anything in return, the gifts of the new Sourcerers had, indeed, come with a price.  Part of that price meant that it was now forbidden to manufacture any new technological equipment.  They had halted oil production and banned research into new technologies.  And they had the power to make their decrees stick.  Scientists, engineers or any others who defied them rapidly found out what the consequences were; usually by becoming a psychic lunch for one of the many monsters or demons the Sourcerers controlled. 

Yes, monsters and demons!  It seems silly in this day and age that superstitions could be revived and even encouraged, but they were helped by the fact that monsters and demons did appear.  The Sourcerers delivered on all their promises, though only by creating a world without ambition, want or need.  They had eliminated poverty by making everyone poor.  Hell, thought Lance, they had just about eliminated the need for work!  But people still needed to eat.  The food still had to be produced.  So people like Lance; farmers, they still had a job, though it paid little and provided minimal status.

With nothing to work for; with nothing to want for, education boomed among the older ones in the population.  They took classes in everything from cooking to medicine.  They soon learned that they had little of anything to apply their new-found knowledge; the machines that the Sourcerers provided did all that, and far better than they ever could!  By the time Lance became of age to begin his education, schools had become obsolete.  What good was knowledge if you couldn't use it?  So, Lance's generation became the first to be uneducated.  They also became the seeds of the new superstitions.

Soon, the Sourcerers had insinuated themselves into every political system around the world.  They systematically dismantled every political, religious and social structure until mankind became a homogenous mass again.  They encouraged any "back to the roots" or "back to nature" group that popped up.  Lance’s parents had been a part of this culture.  They were one of the first in the area to discover that an unexpected bonus came into fruition from this retrogression. It seems that, with the lack of stress from learning and working, the mind redeveloped some of the skills of old! 

Education in the esoteric arts and talents was encouraged and, any child showing promise was reported to the Sourcerers.    Lance remembered well when the representatives from the Sourcerers had come around, testing all the children. Sometimes a child was taken away that showed above-average capability.  Lance snorted like a bull at this.  His sister, Gwennie, had been one. Ordinary people were forbidden to practice any but the most basic spells.  Like his sister, though, Lance himself had more than the usual power, but he was careful to keep it hidden.   

Gramps had warned both his grandchildren to do so, but his sister was always more independent.  You couldn't tell her anything.  Because of her bullheadedness, she had paid the price.  No one had seen her since she had gone away.   His parents hadn't wanted her to go, but They had insisted, those minions of the evil-ones.  Up until then, mom and dad had embraced the coming of the Sourcerers, much to the chagrin of Gramps.  They had gone so far as to name their children after legendary folk heroes of old; Lancelot and Guineviere.  They had encouraged and developed any signs of talent in both of their children.  Afterward, however, Gramps had given him a more traditional education in what he termed as the “three R’s;” readin’, ritin’ and ‘rithmetic.  While Lance had an aptitude in each, Gwennie was explosive in the former!  “Magic” was also a challenge for Lance during childhood.  Where he had to become angry or emotionally charged in order to cast a spell and make it work, it seemed effortless to Gwennie.  She could move things with only a thought.  Lance had to concentrate hard or get riled.  When They came for Gwen, Gramps had taken him aside and kept him occupied so that he wouldn’t become disturbed.  It was almost as if Gramps knew what was going to happen.  He remembered a snippet of conversation he had heard as the older man led him away to do his chores. 

“But why does she have to go?” asked mother.  “She’s so young yet!  Please!  Can’t she stay with us a few more years?”

"We can't have any wild, untrained talents roaming around," They had said, "It would lead to chaos!"  Since They were the emissaries of the Sourcerers, they were not to be denied

Lance thought of her and how it had broken his parents.  Momma died shortly after that and Pa just sat in his rocker for days on end, staring down the road where they had taken her away.  Only Gramps had the gumption to keep working, educating his remaining grandchild, both in the art of farming and in other ways as well.  Lance had loved those days and worshipped his Grandfather for his knowledge, his wit and his wisdom.  He smiled sadly and looked off to the family cemetery a mile down the road... Ma, Pa, then Gramps had finally been laid to rest there.  But Lance could still feel and hear Gramps presence here on the farm.

A small noise jolted Lance form his reverie.  Spinning around he spotted a small leg wiggling its way into a pile of hay that he kept for his cattle.

What the hell?    

"YOU! " Lance bellowed, " Who are you?  Come out of there!"  The leg wriggled further into the hay, so Lance shoved his hand into the pile and groped around until he found the small warm ankle of the trespasser and pulled the struggling, shrieking form out of the stack.  Lances' eyes went wide when a pretty young girl, barefoot and in a thin cotton dress, emerged from the pile.  She stared up at him in fright, shivering and almost blue from the cold.

 "What the hell were you doing in there, girl?” he asked, his voice suddenly softening.  He stared at her delicate features a few moments more until he got his wits about him and realized she must be freezing. 

“Here, put this on," he said, shrugging out of his coat and passing it to the young lady.

"Now, what are you doing in my barn, and who are you?" He asked, peering at her in the dim light.  Then, as he lifted the lantern a bit higher, he exclaimed, "Why, you're one of the Jensen girls, ain't ya?"

"Y-y-yes sir," she stuttered, teeth chattering,  "My name is Melinda.  Ma and Pa ain't got no more use for me, so I'm trying to get to Colorado."

"Colorado!  By the Blue Demon's feet, girl!  Colorado is over 800 miles from here!" exclaimed Lance in surprise. "That's at least a two day ride!  No one travels that far these days!"

"I know, but I couldn't stay in this town no more," said Melanie.

“And why might that be?” asked Lance as he put down the fuel container he had just brought in.

The girl hesitated before mumbling, “I don’t like it here no more!”

“The Jensen family’s got a good name round here” stated Lance, “I don’t understand why they wouldn’t have use for a hand in the family!”

“You wouldn’t understand!”

“Oh?” replied Lance, “Try me.”

“You ain’t a girl” she shot back at him.

“No, that I ain’t!” Lance chuckled, “But that still don’t explain why the Jensen family would rid themselves of a marriageable daughter.”

“They didn’t rid themselves of one” she said stubbornly through gritted teath.

“Ya mean they tried to wed you off to a feller you didn’t want?”

"Not quite” she spat.  “The Lord Starben had summoned me to a private audience in his mansion."

Oho! That explains a lot!  thought Lance, Lord Starben, a.k.a. Bucky Stenner,  was one of the locals that the Sourcerers had appointed as an overseer.  Technically, he was supposed to be an advocate of the people, the humans in the community.  Starben was anything but that.  Lance remembered him as a local bully whose parents had never believed him capable of being bad.  Unfortunately, they had found out the hard way when he received his appointment and they disagreed with a decree he had laid down.  They paid with their lives. 

Now, all transactions in the region went through him; all talents in the region were reported to him; all humans in the region were governed through him.  He hadn’t been unnecessarily cruel or corrupt, but he had surrounded himself with demons and minor apprentices of the Sourcerers, hoping (but not possessing the aptitude) to be one himself.   He also developed a penchant for beautiful young women, and all of them were reported to him as well!  Not amazingly, those who were summoned were never seen again.  Because he was cunning and appeared to keep the peace without too much effort, the Sourcerers had given him free reign and ignored his minor transgressions. 

Lance thought for a moment.  If she had been summoned, they were obviously going to be looking for her.  He couldn't leave her out here, not dressed like that!  She was going to freeze if she stayed, but where could he put her?  How would he get her there without her being seen?  He looked up, smiled and snapped his fingers as an idea came to him!

"I'm going to take you into the house to get warm," he said, looking back down at the girl." And you can have some breakfast as well.  But you can't just walk in.  Someone might notice you!"  He pulled down an old travel chest that had been his grandmothers.  It was empty now and had been home to some mice.  It would do to sneak her inside, hidden from prying eyes.  "Get inside here and don't speak until I open this up.  Once inside, I'll cook you a warm meal and you can eat it while you tell me how you planned to make it all the way to Colorado."

*****

Lance got her into the house without much of a problem using a slight spell that made heavy loads light.  He wasn’t really expecting trouble because of the darkness, but you could never tell!  Once he had her inside, he opened the chest and let her out.  Melinda stood shaking by the fire while he searched for some warm and hopefully female, clothing.  Gathering it up, he brought her into one of the old rooms and let her pick what she felt would fit her.  After a little thought, she picked up a sweater and long skirt, then told Lance to leave the room while she changed.  When she emerged, Lance quickly realized what it was that she wore, causing a tear to come to his eye and he had to turn away lest she see it.  To get his mind off the subject, he threw himself into making an exceptional dinner.

Melanie bordered on rudeness as she gobbled down the warm meal almost without chewing.  Second helpings slowed her down a bit, but he didn’t mind.  Lance smiled as she asked for a third helping and then ate that a little more slowly and was more mindful of her manners.  She drank more of the mulled wine he gave her.  Finally, she pushed herself away from the table.

“That’s the best meal I’ve eaten since I left home!”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, two, three days maybe…”

“That long?” he cried, incredulous!  No wonder the girl ate like a starved waif!  “Hmmm, if you ain’t et in that amount of time, how long has it been since you’ve had a bath?” 

She looked at him uncertainly.  He remembered that his house had better upkeep than most.

“The water is hot.  There is a solar water heater on the roof for the shower and the fire also heats up a boiler,” he explained.  “Now, go take a bath and then we can talk.”

She squealed with delight and headed off to the back of the house.  After a moment, he heard a scream.  Running back to the bath, he found her cowering in a corner.

“What is it?”

“There!”  She said, pointing into the darkness of the hallway, “There is a demon in there!”

“What?!” exclaimed Lance, picking up one of many weapons scattered and hidden throughout the house.

He raised the charmed club high above his head and then flicked on the switch. An enormous figure raced towards him!  Melinda screamed and then fainted.  Lance brought the club down and dropped it.  The figure raised up on its hind legs…

And began to lick him as he chuckled…

“Artimus, you rascally bitch you!” he said affectionately.  “Tis only my trusty companion,” Lance called over his shoulder while fending off the happy licks his dog was bestowing upon him.

“ Artemis, my dear girl,” he said scruffing the dogs neck with his rough, stubby fingers, “meet Melinda.” Looking down, he saw the prone figure of the girl and nearly panicked… He picked her up and carried her to the bed.  Running into the bath, he got out some smelling salts and waived them under her nose.  Soon she was shaking her head to get away from the pungent smell.

“Who!  Wha-!” she said, groggily, “Lance!  Oh LANCE!”   Melinda threw her arms around him, shaking. “Did you kill it!?  Did you get the demon?” 

Lance began to laugh and Melinda pulled away from him.

“Just WHAT is so funny?!” she snapped at him, almost at the point of tears.

“That there is the demon you saw, missy” he said, pointing to the prone form of the large half-Mastiff, half-just-a-damn-large-dog lying on the rug at the other end of the room.  It rested its head on one massive paw and looked forlornly at its master, expecting a rebuke.  Getting none, she raised her head and began to pant in a friendly manner, her tongue lolling to one side of her mouth.

“Artemis!  Come!”  The dog jerked her large frame up from the floor and pranced over to her master’s side.  She licked at him once and then turned to sniff the newcomer.  Seeing that she was no threat, Artemis licked her hand and then the girls face.  Melinda squealed, not out of fear, but out of delight this time.

“She’s beautiful!”

“That she is!” Lance agreed.  “Now, are you going to take that bath?”

“Um, sure!” replied Melinda, “I guess…”

Lance realized that he was being asked nicely to leave so that she could prepare, so he got up with a chuckle and headed for the door.  When he reached it, he turned around to say something, but stopped in his tracks.  She had already pulled off the sweater and was undoing the front of her blouse.  All he could do was stand there and stare.  She was obviously not wearing anything underneath and had just about unbuttoned it completely when she looked up. 

“HEY, you!” she said, smiling and pulling the material of her dress together quickly.  Lance turned a deep crimson and quickly turned away, closing the door behind him.  Frustrated and angry with himself, yet not knowing why, he walked outside and vented on a pile of firewood.

*****

Lance woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs.  He looked at the alarm clock with sleepy eyes.  5:15 am!  What the--? 

 “Momma?” he called out.  It took him a moment to lose his confusion.  The girl!   He thought to himself, Of course!

He showered, shaved and dressed himself in clean clothing before coming out to breakfast.  She had laid out the table with a checkered cloth and the good china and dinnerware.  A plastic rose was stuck in a vase and she was already soaking the pots and pans from cooking.

She took some lids from bowls on the stove and piled his plate high with flapjacks, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast and then poured his coffee.

Lance took a deep breath and closed his eyes, giving up a silent prayer of thanks.  His momma smiled back at him.  He smiled at her and stifled a small sob, bowed his head and then opened his eyes.  She was staring at him.

“You alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Fine.” He said, smiling.  “It’s just been a long time since…  since anyone has done this for me.”

“Why, thank you!  I’ll take that as a compliment!  Now,” she said, pointing to the food, “Eat up, mister!”

He ate breakfast in an unhurried manner, savoring the moment.  He stole looks at her as he ate.  And noticed that she did the same…

*****

Lance went out to the barn to milk the cows while Melinda finished up the dishes.  He poured the milk into containers for delivery and began to walk out toward the cart.  His eye ran across the fields, only half harvested of their corn and soy.  He scanned the vast amount of work he had ahead of him when his eyes saw something strange.  Greenish lightening struck again and again to the south!  He loaded the milk containers onto the wagon and, instead of hitching up the horse, he walked toward the house.

“Where is your pa’s farm located?” he asked Melanie as calmly as he could.

“About eight miles south of here.  Why?” she replied.

“Damn!” Lance said, half to himself.

“What’s wrong” she asked in a soft, scared voice.

“Finish the dishes and put them away!” he ordered, ripping the plastic flower out of the vase and tossing it under the sink. 

“HEY!” she cried.

“Just DO IT!” he bellowed!  She jumped, but began to hurriedly put the items away when she saw the look on his face.

He wadded up the tablecloth and threw it in with his dirty clothes.  He stared silently out the south window at the distant cloud of dust that was headed his way.  Softly he added, “Then pack up the clothes you want and get into the trunk again.” 

She looked at him and then looked out the window.  She cried out in horror at the lightening that was continually striking in the direction of her home.  The only time lightening was that color was when magic was involved. 

*****

"When somebody thats bigger than you tries to pick a fight with ya, pick up an equalizer!"

“What’s an equalizer?” I was foolish enough to ask.

“It’s something that makes the fight equal.  You know… a rock, a brick, a 2x4…”

            - a short Naval Petty Officer from Philadelphia, talking to a young Seaman Apprentice that needed some street smarts…

Wordlessly Melanie climbed into the chest and Lance closed the lid.  Bending over and flipping the latch closed, Lance ran his hands along the wood, muttering that same small spell that he had worked out for himself  the day before to reduce the weight of heavy items. 

It was a small spell,  he said to himself, it should go unnoticed.

 Hefting the now lightweight chest in his arms, Lance started out for the wagon at the entrance to the fields at the far edge of the yard..

A sudden clatter of hooves brought him spinning around to face the riders entering his yard at a gallop.

As the riders pulled up around him, Lance set the chest on the ground. 

The riders were dressed all in black and scarlet livery...Lord Starben’s colors.

One, the leader, wore the crimson gryphon symbol of a minor lordling. one who was allowed to wield some small magics.

"We ride in search of a runaway girl." stated the leader of the riders. "You will turn her over to us NOW"

"What girl?" said Lance. "There is only me here, my dog and my cattle."

"Search the buildings!" ordered the lordling.

Lance sat down on the chest and waited., casually scratching the ears of his mastiff who had come up to him.

Lance glanced down at Artemis and smiled.  Like Lance, she was far more than she seemed.

Artemis was staring intently at the lordlings mount, hackles bristling at her shoulderblades.

Lance looked up and saw the glowing red eyes of the horse staring fixedly at the chest.

Oh, shit! was all he had time to think when the horse, or rather demon in horse form, spoke to its master.

"There is something in that chest, it is bespelled."

Lance thought fast, "it is a minor lifting spell," said Lance. "No more than is allowed by law. I use it when I need to carry heavy things around here."

"You look strong enough to carry a box that big without help." replied the lordling. "Open it."

"I crave pardon milord" quavered Lance, "But ever since I fell from the hayloft two summers ago, my leg has not been strong.  I am the only one left on the farm and there is much work.  I am but one man, and with a bad leg to boot!"  Lance was rubbing the calf of his tight leg as he spoke, working loose the bindings on the knife he carried there.

"Open it!" repeated the lordling, his hand drifting to his sword. "Or you will never have to worry about that leg again."

Dipping his fingers into the top of his boot, Lance plucked a throwing knife out and straightening, hurled the razor sharp blade hilt deep into the lordlings eye.

As the lordling died his mount began to shift its shape.

Summoning all the power and rage that had been building for years, Lance directed his anger into a bolt that struck the demon in the midst of its transformation, the only time the demons were vulnerable to magic.  The incubus screamed in pain and fury as it was blasted into the nothingness from whence it had been summoned.  The noise of the scuffle alerted those that had gone to search the buildings.  The Lordlings men burst from the barn.  They looked at the body and the odd colored smoke where the demon had once stood and quickly assessed the situation.  Pulling out their swords, they attempted to avenge their master.   They had, however, forgotten Artemis, as they were all wearing bespelled armor.  Because of the magic surrounding them, they did not notice that Artemis was not a normal dog. 

That was a fatal mistake.

Artemis leaped full on the breast of the first man out the door, her fangs easily ripping through the luckless fighters armor to rip out his throat.  Then she turned rending and tearing on the others.   Ordinary weapons simply bounced off the dogs brown hide, and often as not, the unlucky owner of said weapon found himself looking at the jaws of the enraged werehound, but only briefly, very briefly.  Lance was not idle, either.  Almost without a thought, he sent the chest zooming into the house, and plunged into the battle.  Most of the party was quickly dispatched, being nothing more than a bunch of hooligans dressed in armor and meant to intimidate more than actually fight.  Their skills were no match for an enraged and strong bull of a man who had some of the ways of magic about him as well.

 The last fighter had a rapier with a glowing blade, and fenced madly, yet skillfully with it.  He barely managed to keep Artemis at bay.  The enchanted sword did damage when it hit, unlike its more mundane fellows.  With every new blooding, Artemis grew more furious. 

Though the last fighter was a good swordsman, he was unused to fights.  Most of the folk were cowed by the mean looks and sneering of his fellows.  Unprepared and out of practice, he forgot to watch his back, and Lance took the opportunity of that inattention to sink the blade of a captured sword into the man’s neck from behind.

In a massive leap, the dog hurled past the faltering magic sword and quickly finished the job.

A brief silence ensued at the end of the battle.  Artemis licked her bloody muzzle and looked up at Lance.

"Don't you think you had better let that young lady out of the chest?" she asked Lance, "I don't think that she is too happy in there"