City of Saints

By Ben Stiebel

Wizarding history is full of brilliant and mighty figures. Jim and Merl are not among them. When Jim manages to summon a powerful demon he cannot control, it falls to Merl to contain the demon's evil before it destroys the city. But allies quickly turn to enemies and Merl discovers that there is more behind the success of the summoning than he knew: something more powerful and more sinister.
Merl and his friends, a dwarf, a witchdoctor, and a few others must unravel a tangle of fickle alliances, incompetent friends, and devious plots to save their city. Merl just might become a great wizard, if he lives through it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ben Stiebel
• Release date: Apr 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458089618

Book preview

Stiebel 223

City of Saints

By Ben Stiebel

Published by Ben Stiebel at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Ben Stiebel

Bluegreen flames spiraled, pooled, and flowed in strange currents and eddies above and around the circle of hooded figures. The fire gave off little light and no heat, but some of those in the circle still flinched as the ghostly flames passed.

One of the figures stepped into the center of the circle. His hood fell back to reveal a thin faced framed in long, dirty hair and a scraggly beard. He raised his arms and cried Behold, Astrobol, demon prince of Cartheen!

The flames rushed together and formed a shimmering globe in the center of the circle, forcing the speaker to take a few steps back. The orb revolved and glimpses of fiery landscapes and misshapen animals and people flickered on its surface. The spinning halted and the orb focused on something made of eyes and teeth and tentacles. The mouths and eyes and limbs followed no pattern, yet it all fit and worked together, like the creation of an insane but brilliant engineer. Dozens of eyes looked out of the globe; the demon watched those who watched it.

The scraggly man began to chant in a language not native to any of the peoples of Earth. The rest of the circle picked up the chant, supporting their leader. Floorboards creaked and plaster dust fell from the ceiling as the globe expanded, growing from a mere viewing station into a doorway. The chanting reached a fever pitch and the chant leader cried, Come forth Astrobol! The globe burst with a pop and a faint breeze came from every part of the room as the portal collapsed, leaving a momentary vacuum.

Darkness followed. Someone lit a cigarette in the dark while someone else turned on a lamp. Demon prince not taking visitors today? the man with the cigarette asked. He pushed his hood back, shook his mane of blonde hair, and scratched his red sideburns.

Do not mock me! the man in the center yelled. I am a wizard of enormous . . .

You are a wizard with the magical talent of a turnip, the blonde replied, then lamely added, like the rest of us.

The rest of the cabal muttered what may have been assent and began removing their black hooded robes. Strangely, their appearance remained uniform as they all wore T-shirts and jeans. Anyone want a soda? a pale woman with waist-long blonde hair asked. Several of the wizards followed her into the small kitchen of the apartment.

We need a real tabernacle, the scraggly man said.

It wouldn’t make any difference, Jim, the blonde man replied. We could have Stonehenge all to ourselves and we still couldn’t pull a rabbit out of a hat. We need a master wizard and some real grimoires. He gesture to a pile of paperback books sitting on a coffee table that had been pushed to a corner of the room. This stuff from the library just isn’t gonna cut it.

How do you know so much about what it takes to be a real wizard, Merlin? Jim huffed.

Don’t call me ‘Merlin’, the blonde answered, loudly enough to attract the attention of all present.

Sorry, Merl, Jim replied.

Merl cringed. His given name would not have been so unfortunate if he had taken up a hobby like golf or stamp collecting. But being named after the greatest wizard in history was a bit of a burden for an aspiring mage who had yet to master the Pick a card, any card trick. He stuffed his robe in a black gym bag. I’ll be at the coffee shop, he said to no one in particular and walked out.

Merl paused at the top of the stairs. His long hair, strange sideburns, and slender, almost emaciated, build suited a wizard and his glasses made him look academic and learned if not necessarily wise. But his T-shirt, jeans, and well-worn canvas shoes did not exactly say master wizard. He shook his head. That was the problem with his entire cabal; too fixated on black robes and occult jewelry to spend the time to learn to cast a decent spell. Merl walked down the steps and out into the warm summer night.

A group of young men in baggy clothing and sideways baseball caps stood on the street corner, talking loudly. To the ordinary eye they were the ruffians who infest bad neighborhoods everywhere; the unfortunate victims of a society that provided them neither education nor opportunity, or a bunch of worthless troublemakers who refused to make anything of their lives, depending on the viewer’s attitude. To the eye of a wizard, even one as untalented as Merl, they were goblins disguised as normal residents of the slums where their criminal ways would go unnoticed. The sight did not surprise Merl. The city, Saint Louis, was home to goblins, dwarves, vampires, ogres, and a host of other fantastic creatures, many of whom did not even bother with disguises. Half abandoned and horribly corrupt, Saint Louis made a perfect home for such creatures. Parts of the city were so desolate that the monsters could have opened a portal to Hell without anyone knowing, or knowing the difference.

You got a cigarette? one of the goblins asked.

No, Merl replied as he lit a cigarette.

You ain’t got a cigarette!? the goblin growled.

Merl looked the creature in its bug eyes. The wizard’s glare promised death if the goblin bothered him. It was a glare that said I’ll beat you up, take your wallet, and steal your girlfriend if you mess with me. Merl had no way to back up the silent threat, but the goblin did step back out of his way when he said No again.

Merl crossed the street and picked up his pace a little, lest the goblins discover their courage. The next block was exceptionally short, housing only a long forgotten planter and the next street was Gravois, a major thoroughfare. Naturally the light was red and traffic was heavy. Merl pressed the crosswalk button impatiently and pointedly did not look at the goblins a dozen or so yards behind him. The sound of approaching footsteps made him shudder. He turned and saw Lauren, the pale woman who had hosted the cabal. She had grown up in this, one of the city’s worst neighborhoods and moved swiftly and confidently along the darkened street. The goblins all looked at her but none made a move toward her. Merl knew that she had grown up poor, but the hardships of her childhood had not stopped her from growing into a beautiful woman with captivating blue eyes and the figure of a model.

If you don’t go home now, Merl said, half those losers’ll still be in your apartment tomorrow morning.

Why did you go off on Jim? Lauren asked through clenched teeth. The light changed and Merl started to cross. He was a little alarmed to find Lauren keeping pace with him. Well? she pressed.

Look, Merl said soothingly, Jim’s a nice guy, but his spells never work. He doesn’t have a job or a car. If he’s gonna be a great wizard he needs to start by conjuring up some money. That’s pretty much true of the rest of us, too.

Got a cigarette? Lauren asked.

Sure, Merl replied as he pulled his pack out. I bet yours’ll be magically gone by the time you get home.

Lauren glared, but thanked him as he handed her a cigarette. She patted her pockets. Got a light?

Merl cupped his hand under her cigarette. A tiny pillar of fire appeared in his palm. Lauren puffed a few times and Merl pulled his hand back, shaking it vigorously to extinguish the flame that had started to redden his skin.

You did that without casting a spell, Lauren said.

Yes. Merl tossed the cigarette that he had been smoking into the street and lit another with the same trick.

That’s psionics. Do you know how rare that is?

Yeah, yeah. Merl waved his hand dismissively. So I can cast without chanting. It’s not like I can do any real magic, with or without a chant. That was a cantrip, a parlor trick.

Lauren shook her head and turned, walking back the way she had come.

Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Merl asked her back.

No, she replied angrily.

Merl shrugged and resumed his course. He had crossed Gravois, which meant that he was out of the truly terrifying part of South Saint Louis, but he was still a few blocks east of Grand Boulevard, which meant that he was still not in the best of neighborhoods. It was a clear, warm night and about half the porches Merl passed were occupied by people talking, smoking, and drinking alcoholic beverages from forty ounce cans and twist top containers. He sighed, but perked up when the door to one of the houses opened and a dwarf walked out. The dwarf stood nearly five and a half feet tall, making him a giant among dwarves. He did not carry an axe, or wear a helmet, or any armor. Even the traditional dwarven beard had been trimmed down to a scruffy goatee.

S’up, Rowan, Merl said.

Oi, Rowan called back. You headin’ to the coffee shop?

That’s a question? Mel thought but said, Yeah, you wanna come with?

Rowan came down the porch steps to walk next to the wizard. What’chou been up to?

Just headin’ back from Lauren’s, Merl replied.

Playing Dungeons and Dragons again?

Yep. Merl had always thought of that as a cover story. Now he wondered if there my not be more truth to it than he really wanted to admit.

The dwarf shook his bald head. I just can’t get into it.

Merl smiled. His friend did not know of his magical hobbies. Merl was not even sure that Rowan knew that Rowan was a dwarf. The city was home to all kinds of monsters and half breeds and many did not know their own heritage. Rowan could pass for a rather short, stocky human easily enough. It was certainly possible that his parents had chosen not to burden him with the knowledge of abandoned mines and forges long since gone cold.

It made little difference. Saint Louis was a city of secret identities, from the gay men pretending to be straight to the straight women pretending to be gay, to the vampires pretending to be human to the humans pretending to be vampires. No one in the city was without secrets, though most were poorly kept.

*

Jim looked over the sigils and runic inscriptions that adorned the walls of his shabby apartment. He did not know what most of the mystical symbols meant or what they did, but he was sure that they were all quite powerful. Following the lines of runes to the stack of books heaped against the wall, he smiled. The secondhand paperbacks stacked there possessed a wealth of arcane knowledge that Jim could learn and wield to make himself a wizard of immense power, or so he believed.

For all of his faith in his magical books and markings, Jim had to wonder if Merlin did not have a point. The members of the cabal could all work a few minor spells; Merlin’s were the best, though he gave himself the least credit. None of the aspiring mages could do anything meaningful. Jim could summon fire, ice, and electricity, but not enough to hurt an enemy. He could contact a few other planes of existence but he could not open portals to them. It had almost worked at the circle. A little more concentration and a little less distraction might just do the trick.

There was no one else in the cluttered apartment, no distractions. Jim grinned and began to chant. He raised his arms and red flames swirled out from his fingertips to form a spinning globe a few feet in front of him. Kortos, Jim cried, I call to you!

The globe stopped its spinning and a man-shaped figure formed in the flames. It looked out of the globe with bright yellow eyes and bunched its clawed hands into fists. The muscles in its arms and chest rippled and bulged as it threw back its head and let out a roar that set Jim’s ears to ringing. The globe grew. Floorboards creaked and plaster cracked as reality compressed. Jim was obliged to step back as the diameter of the globe passed seven feet, but he did not lose his focus this time and the rhythm and tone of his chant remained unchanged. Giddiness gripped him. Such power! He could wield such power! Jim has summoned a mighty demon, a being of power and evil incarnate, the collective terror of many generations coalesced into one being. How frustrating that there was no one else around to witness his triumph. But maybe that was it. Maybe all Jim needed was to work without an audience. These ruminations almost made him loose the thread of his chant, but he got control of himself and finished in perfect cadence. A massive black foot stepped through, followed by the burly, bat-winged form of the rest of the demon.

The demon towered over Jim as it surveyed the apartment. To Jim’s eyes colors suddenly became brighter, the edges fell away from objects, and he saw faint emanations from the sigils on the walls and from his own hands. The brightest light came from the demon Kortos.

The portal collapsed and the demon leaned forward to look the wizard in the eye. Why have you summoned me? Kortos demanded. His face resembled that of a human but its breath reeked of sulfur, rot, and death. His booming voice sounded of iron gates closing, of death blows on a battlefield, of damnation, final and complete.

Jim’s senses reeled and he found that he needed to go to the bathroom, right now. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered reading that in moments of intense terror the body will try to evacuate the bladder, bowels, and stomach to throw off its scent and to lighten the load in rapid fight or flight. Jim wondered if his sanity was not being jettisoned along with everything else.

Why have you summoned me? Kortos repeated.

Jim stammered and the demon gave him a one handed shove. Jim had always wanted to fly, and fly he did. His experience in aviation ended when his back struck the wall, cracking the plaster, and he collapsed in a heap.

I have no master on this plane! Kortos roared. I will be the master. When I see you next you will bow to me. Kortos pulled the front door open and walked out. Jim watched him go and wondered what he had released onto the world. He also wondered when his vision would return to normal.

*

A group of pale young men and women dressed in black sat at the table just inside the door at Coffee on Grand. All of them, including the men, wore black lipstick and eyeliner and one of them had a plastic set of fangs that made him lisp badly. A group of ordinary looking people played a game in which they pretended that they were vampires at the next table. Merl saw a real vampire wearing a T-shirt and khakis sitting on the other side of the room, reading a book on Buddhism. It was a thick academic text that would take forever to get through, but the vampires did not seem to mind. He had time.

After Rowan and Merl got their coffee, Rowan sat down with the vampire and launched into a discussion on economics while Merl chuckled and walked to another booth. A bald black man wearing an Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt looked up from his newspaper.

S’up, Merl.

Hey, Dawn. Do you mind if I sit?

Dawn gestured to the seat opposite. How’d the summoning go?

Pfft, Merl replied as he tossed his cigarette pack on the table. We got a look at something nasty before the portal collapsed.

You dudes need to slow down, Dawn said. He leaned forward and continued. When I started studying voodoo I spent a year messing around with herbs and roots before Madame Nzinga let me try to cast a spell, and that was a cantrip.

Witchdoctors did not use the same kind of magic as wizards, Merl knew. Still, he suspected that Papa Dawn knew more about arcane magic than all of the members of the cabal put together. How do we slow down? We don’t use roots and herbs to cast our spells.

So you open a portal and summon a demon. What if the sigils are drawn wrong?

Merl lit a cigarette, mostly to avoid eye contact. Some of the books the cabal used had mentioned sigils, but no one in the group had ever been able to figure out exactly what they did or how to use them.

My point is that you dudes don’t know what you’re doing, Dawn continued. If you keep acting like master wizards, you’re gonna get hurt real bad.

Merl nodded. You’re right. A few moments of silence passed before Merl said, So how was Ozzfest?

Oh, it was awesome, Dawn replied. Merl sat and pretended to listen while Dawn talked about the bands he had seen and the women that he had met, but the Merl’s thoughts were on the cabal and its failures. He stayed until Dawn had finished talking and bade the witchdoctor goodnight.

Merl walked out of the coffee shop and onto Grand Boulevard, a rather pretentiously named strip of bars, cafes, and small shops. He walked around the large building that housed the coffee shop and a few novelty stores as well as a few dozen apartments, including his own. The security door was propped opened with a phone book, as it usually was, so Merl went up the steps to his apartment without stopping.

When Merl walked in he found a troll sitting on the couch, watching television. S’up, Bru.

Hey, the troll replied, not looking away from the TV. Bru did not know that he was troll. This was common, as trolls generally did