The Patchwork Boy

By Chris Loblaw

Another cosmic mystery has drawn the three high school mages Kean, Mallory and Robert back together.Someone, or something, is snatching unawakened mages from their homes and inflicting untold suffering on them. The 3 friends travel across dimensions looking for a way to find the missing mages, and somehow deal with the painful problems back at home. Family illness, toxic relationships, high school drama, and the fast approaching leap into adulthood are hard enough to handle on their own, without having to save the universe too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Loblaw
• Release date: Apr 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9780986965029

Chris Loblaw

I've been writing stories for over 30 years, starting with a riveting tale of a purple cow jumping into space back in grade 3. The complexity of my storytelling has improved. In addition to the 4 novels in this series, I have written a variety of non-fiction articles for numerous publications, and in the course of that, have interviewed some truly interesting and inspirational people.Most of my non-writing time and effort is devoted to being dad to the best kid in the world. In my spare time, I'm an active civic/political busybody and a volunteer for some of the great organizations trying to make life better.

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The Patchwork Boy

Book 3 of The Spellbound Railway Series

By Chris Loblaw

ISBN: 978-0-9869650-6-7

Copyright 2015 Chris Loblaw, all rights reserved

Cover illustration by Keith Armour, copyright 2015

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Also In The Spellbound Railway Series:

Book 1: WitchKids

Book 2: Kingmaker

Book 4: The Ember and the Knife

All books available at the author’s website, chrisloblaw.com

For Kristen and Max, the center of my universe.

I love you both, fully and completely.

Prologue

Adella gripped the machine handle with her bony fists. A tremble went through her arms and overcame her entire body as she desperately tried to hold on and keep working. Kyle pushed his own lever forward and watched Adella fight to stay upright. He wanted to dash over to her and gently lead her away from the devil’s machine, but the lash kept him in place. If he moved, the clattering, skittering monstrosity haunting the corner of the room would punish him with an electrified wire cable across his back. Worse, it would then give twice as much punishment to Adella, and her fragile frame wouldn’t bear it.

The days were all the same here, in the time after the endless snow started. Years ago, there had been sunlight and green grass in between winters, but a great storm came in with days of lightning and howling wind. As the storm raged the temperature had dropped 30 degrees Celsius in a few hours. When the final blast of wind had died down, the temperature had stayed below freezing. Days of icy hell stretched into months, and then into years. People died by the tens of thousands. Then millions. The snow kept falling. There were so few of them left now, and so little food.

The survivors had all made their way here, to the giant factory that had started to belch smoke into the sky. It had looked like a miracle, to see a massive cloud of dark smoke push upwards into the perpetual snowfall in defiance of the cold. Kyle remembered creeping up past the narrow halo of thin snow cover surrounding the perimeter of the building, to reach the factory, with Adella leaning on his shoulder for support. His heart had leapt in joy when he saw the patch directly in front of the door was bare earth. It was dirt and gravel but there was enough heat coming from within the building to keep that little scrap of land clear of snow. It was the last time that Kyle had felt hope.

The watchdogs had captured Adella and Kyle as they stood looking at the entrance to the factory. These misshapen mechanical beasts looked nothing like dogs or any other natural creature, but the devil called them dogs, so dogs they were. Kyle and Adella had been herded inside the building and led to a makeshift living area filled with other cold lost souls. They had eaten a lukewarm meal of canned food and laid down for a rest when the devil walked in and demanded their attention. The memory of that night was too horrific to consider. Kyle pushed away the panic, the fear, the pain and the madness that the devil had inflicted on them.

With a cry, Adella lost her battle with her fading strength and fell to the ground. Kyle froze in fear as he waited for the reaction from the throne above them. The rusty catwalk above the shop floor widened out into a small square holding area and in the middle of that metal grating was the devil’s seat, an old dentist’s chair that had been modified and rebuilt. The chair slowly rose up into sitting position, revealing the scowl contorting the devil’s face.

Useless animal the devil hissed. Throw the meat into the eye.

Adella pulled herself up onto her elbows and Kyle cried out no she’s alive. Let me take her back to the beds and let her recover. She can work again, I swear my lord.

The devil stood up and leaned over the railing to look more closely at the workers. He scratched at his charred neck with his crooked hands bent into permanent claws by some terrible injury. A rain of dead, black skin sloughed off of the devil and fell down onto Kyle’s upturned face. The burned and rotten smell brought vomit into his mouth. He choked it down and waited for the devil to pass sentence.

Very well. There are few enough of you now that even a damaged one like that is needed. She has one hour to recuperate. After that, if she cannot do her job, she’ll be fed into the fire’s eye.

Kyle scurried to Adella’s side and started dragging her out of the room. Yes my lord, thank you my lord he said as they passed out of the room and into the dingy hallway.

Kyle hefted Adella up off the ground and put her arm around his shoulders. They struggled down the hall until they reached the entryway to the living quarters. Adella put out her arm and pressed against the doorframe to keep them from entering the room. She took a heaving breath to fill her lungs as much as she could.

No, Kyle. Outside.

Kyle looked at Adella with a confused look on his face.

You just need a bit of rest. I’ll get you some warm water and you’ll have your strength back.

My strength is gone, Kyle. I’m dying. I want to die. Our world is dead and I wish to join it.

Oh no, no, don’t say that Kyle protested, but he saw the truth in her words. Adella was skin and bones, and her every breath was a battle to get enough oxygen into her lungs. The tremors hadn’t stopped with her collapse, only lessened temporarily.

Kyle, my love, take me outside so I can sleep. I don’t want to go into the fire. It’s worse than dying in there, you’ve seen what happens to those who pass through the fire’s eye. There is an evil that hates everything about our humanity on the other side, and it delights in torturing our minds and our souls.

Kyle brushed away the tears that ran down his cheek and nodded. He turned away from the living quarters’ door and they made their way down through the side exit. One step away from the factory, the cold of the never-ending winter pounced upon them. The wind pushed Kyle back but he leaned forward and continued.

Where now, Adella?

Away. Into.The.Deep.Snow she gasped.

Kyle pulled Adella off of the flatter path between two wind breaks, and into the massive snowdrift piled up in the middle of ring of dead trees. Every step was a struggle as they sank deeper and deeper into the cold snow. When Kyle could no longer move forward, he lovingly picked Adella up in his arms and kissed her forehead.

Goodnight my love. Rest now he murmured as his tears fell on her cheek. She raised her head one last time to return his kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing became fast and shallow. Kyle gently knelt down and lay Adella into the snow, and then he closed his own eyes.

Chapter 1

Mallory kicked at the jagged clump of ice poking out from the edge of the sidewalk. The clump broke off and thunked onto the concrete in front of her. She pulled her leg back and kicked at it with her full force. She missed the fullest part of the piece of ice and her foot skittered off the top, sending her off-balance and pitching forward. She teetered at the brink of losing her balance, and a ball of magical energy sprang into her hands reflexively.

In that split second of indecision, where Mallory was torn between casting a spell to stay upright and paying the karmic cost, or just letting nature run its course, gravity stepped in and made the decision for her. Mallory fell face-first into the slushy snow beside the sidewalk and cried out. After a moment of lying in the cold, wet snow, she rolled over and groaned.

Perfect. Just perfect. Thanks, life.

She had a mental list of the things that had gone wrong over the last 20 months, and she tacked this slip and fall onto that already impressive list. A year and 8 months ago Mallory and her best friend Kean had survived a battle with an unnatural beast from the rift between realities, a creature that was karmic backlash made manifest.

We didn’t survive, we kicked its ass she grumbled to herself.

And that was supposed to have been the end of it. Mallory, her friends Kean and Robert, and their mentor Heisenberg had all thought that it was the final step in reversing the damage that had been done when the 3-part spell had torn a hole in their reality and brought a magical artifact into their world. The rift was now closed. The bad guys had vanished and were probably vaporized into a million bits of dust, and the demonic-looking backlash beast was blasted into the atmosphere in a cloud of scalding steam. But it didn’t feel over. And it certainly didn’t feel like a victory.

Mallory stood up and brushed off the snow and salt from her jeans. She pulled out her mitten from her pocket and wiped off the melting slush from her face. The chunks of salt in the slush scratched her cheek.

Typical she said.

Mallory crammed the mitten back into her pocket and found a crumpled piece of cardboard wedged underneath it. She pulled it out and straightened it to see what the mysterious lump could be. When she was her dad’s smiling face looking back at her, now creased with a crisscross of paper wrinkles, she felt a swell of sadness come over her. It was a campaign leaflet from the last election.

The election had looked tough before it was called, but it had turned ugly and mean in a way that no one had predicted. In the photo of her dad, she can see the hints of the illness that crept up upon him in the first few days of campaigning. He had been stubborn and secretive about the strange bug crawling around in his intestines that was making him feverish and tired all the time, but eventually it was apparent that something was wrong. Mallory glared at the picture and shouted.

You should have quit the race and checked yourself into the hospital, you jerk.

Instead of taking care of himself, he had pushed and pushed until election night, when he had passed out on the way home from the consolation party.

It had been touch and go for a week. A steady stream of doctors had been consulted in the search for a diagnosis of his mystery illness. They fought to keep the symptoms under control and buy him enough time. Finally, a specialist in digestive tract illnesses had found the cause tucked away deep within his intestinal tract. Treatment went well, and her dad was out of the hospital 2 weeks later. They were still on the long road to recovery, but the family now had all the time in the world. It was small consolation, but losing the election had given her dad lots of time to recuperate and rest.

Mallory slipped the leaflet back into her pocket and checked her watch. Puck drop was in 10 minutes, so she started shuffling as quickly and safely as she could down the slick sidewalk towards the William James Community Arena.

Mallory made it through the glass front doors covered in condensation and ran up the stairs to the seats above the home team benches. The loudspeaker crackled to life and the arena announcer told the small crowd that it was time to rise for the singing of the national anthem. Mallory pulled off her big, woolly winter hat and watched the players standing on the ice as ‘O Canada’ rang out in the arena.

Mallory scanned the line of players from Cartier Secondary School and spotted Kean. He was near the end of the line on the right, standing tall and proud, towering above most of his teammates. She couldn’t see his face but she was sure that he was softly singing the national anthem. He did that at every game.

The anthem came to an end and Mallory sat down at the edge of the team supporters in the stands. It was the regular crowd of parents, friends and girlfriends in attendance. Mallory wondered if there would always be a vacant girlfriend seat for Kean. He should have one by now, based on the frequency that his name comes up in conversation between the girls at school. Mallory had even spent some time considering the possibility that Kean was gay, and he was afraid to bring a boyfriend to the games. The attitude towards same sex partners had gotten better, but the hockey rink was still a difficult place to be open about your sexuality.

And he’s very close with his teammates she said under her breath, and her own words brought her to a sudden realization.

Mallory realized that she was speculating about her friend’s life in a way that was intrusive and full of assumptions. She had no say in who he loves, and her only aim should be to support him until he finds someone who makes him happy. Mallory shook her head and shouted a loud go get ‘em, Cougars! as the puck dropped.

The first period of the game was a battle between the two evenly matched teams. Kean’s team was slow to get into the game and the opposing St. Mike’s Knights made them pay for their sluggish start.

2 quick goals against put the Cougars in a hard spot. The next shift after the second goal, Kean jumped off the bench and barrelled down the ice into the biggest Knights player, a bruiser named Bower. The boards around the rink shook and rattled from the force of the collision. Bower was stuck in place by the massive body check, unable to move until the shock of the clean but devastating hit fully registered. While Bower stood stunned, Kean stole the puck from between his feet.

Kean cut across the ice from right to left, turned his body and snapped a wrist shot at the surprised goalie. The goal light lit up and the scoreboard recorded the Cougars first goal. Kean skated back to the bench and quickly got off the ice to let the next line on. Keep at ‘em, boys he shouted as his teammates congratulated him for the goal. Kean accepted their friendly shoulder and helmet taps with a small smile, but his eyes stayed fixed on the ice. Mallory followed the direction of Kean’s stare and saw Bower skating off to his bench slowly with his face twisted in an angry snarl. Bower had the look of a sore loser written across his face.

The cougars pulled even with an ugly power play goal right before the buzzer to end the 1st period, and the players skated off the ice. The ice rink attendants came out during the intermission and cleaned the ice surface, skating slowly with snow shovels in front of them to clear the rink snow. Mallory’s phone rang out the distinct ringtone of old modem noises and electronic beeps and boops that meant Robert was calling her.

That ringtone is terrible, Robert. And it’s sadistic of you to make me use it.

I’m not making you-that’s just the noise that comes along when I signal hop to a cellphone. I’m trying to find a way to suppress it. If it’s any consolation, that’s the same noise I hear when I walk around places with a lot of electronic communication devices.

Do people even use those old phone line modems anymore? Who would keep something so slow and unreliable?

There are old businesses that barely ever use their internet connection, aging point of sale systems that connect to a decrepit central computer once a day, and some folks who are just so cheap that they don’t mind waiting half an hour for their email to download. So who’s winning?

Tie score, but Kean’s team has the momentum. Our guy got the first goal, by the way. He’s going straight to the big leagues!

He better pass his calculus midterm first, or his mom won’t let him go anywhere. Any active users in the arena?

Ug. I didn’t check, because there won’t be one. I know we all agreed to be vigilant guardians of the mysterious magical forces, but I seriously doubt we’re going to find any new ones just popping up at the hockey game. The ones we know about are it, Robert. No mini-mages are waiting in the wings to be discovered. There was one big burst of magic and magicians, and the burst is now over.

Mallory, you don’t know that. Heisenberg seems to have something he’s working on. In a world that is constantly changing, a world full of a species that survives by its adaptability, why would you be so sure that things will go back to normal?

Whatever. How’s school going for you? Going stir-crazy yet?

No, my mom makes sure that I spend at least a half hour of physical exercise every day out of the house, and I go on little field trips every couple of weeks. Both were conditions of the independent study program. I’m very glad that I can choose to stay in my signal proof study room when I need peace and quiet.

Still can’t block out the electronic buzzing, huh?

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully block it out. It’s everywhere, and it’s constant. Every device that can connect to a network is perpetually sending out requests for connection, even if it’s already connected to one. Most days I can handle it. I have a set of headphones that I’ve modified to block out most of the background chatter, but if I wear them too long, I get freaked out. It reminds me of the helmet that lunatic made.

Mallory had a memory flash of their strange friend Sterling lying helpless on the concrete floor with that terrible helmet bombarding his sight and hearing, and she felt a sob boiling its way up from deep within her. She choked back this powerful sadness and changed the subject.

Yeah I scanned the audience, Robert, and there’s no magic here, other than the expected sources. No strange actives or sleepers. Got one guy on the Knights that looks like he wishes he could shoot deadly magical bolts out of his eyes, but wishes are for fishes and he can’t swim.

Okay. Tell Kean I’m cheering for him. I just tapped into the camera at the end of the rink so I can see the scoreboard. It’s not a moving one, though, so I can’t follow play-by-play.

I’ll pass that along, and if things get spicy I’ll call you. Your mom doing okay?

Some days yes, some days no. She’s doing the best that she can, and we’re working together to get through things. How’s your dad?

Same thing, pretty much. But thanks for asking. Talk to you later, Robbo.

The second period was much slower than the first, bogged down by penalties and game interruptions. Mallory moved down to the row of seats directly behind the bench to listen to the team chatter for entertainment. Bower kept trying to put himself in a place to get a shot at Kean, but Kean managed to always be somewhere else.

Near the end of the second, Bower came off the bench looking like he had decided it was time to get revenge. The coach of the Knights caught the mean look in Bower’s eye and sent his own captain out to slip in front of Bower and divert him from his attack. Mallory heard the Knights captain say he’s not worth it, he’s a floater. You’re more valuable on the ice as he and Bower skated past the Cougars bench. Kean stayed in the faceoff circle in the opponent’s end of the rink without acknowledging the insult, but Mallory could see a twitch go through his body.

She counted the deep, purposeful breaths Kean took, one, two, three, before he turned his head and looked at his team’s bench. There were mutters from the players about going at the Knights captain and Bower to teach them some respect. They were all angry that their friend and captain was being badmouthed in front of them. Kean took 3 big strides over to his own bench, and as he glided pass he tapped on the boards with his stick and shouted come on, boys, let’s get ‘er done. Skate your lane and stay focused. Let’s go! The bench settled down immediately and Kean went back to the faceoff circle.

The puck dropped. Kean hunched down and dug the puck out, passing it back to his defenseman at the point. Kean skated hard for the net and parked himself just outside the crease. The defenseman wound up and sent a blistering slap shot just wide of the net. The puck bounced off the end boards and Kean intercepted it and poked it past the left leg of the goalie to give his team the lead. The small crowd of fans erupted in an excited cheer as the buzzer sounded to end the second.

Mallory left the seats to find a cup of hot chocolate and to avoid the temptation to talk with Kean during the game. Even though it was intermission, his head was still entirely in the game, and she would risk distracting him if she struck up a conversation with him as the team went down to the locker room.

The tiny concession stand was open but vacant. Mallory poured her own hot chocolate, threw a generous handful of tiny marshmallows on top of it, and left a dollar on the counter before heading back to the stands.

Back in her seat, Mallory blew on her drink and made a list of the never-ending work she had to somehow get done before the end of the semester. The projects, assignments, and essays all due before December 20th were driving her crazy, all on top of working part-time at the movie theatre in the mall. She wished she could find a way to quit it all without making anyone angry, including herself. Mallory wanted to do a good job on her schoolwork. She needed those marks to ensure a place in whatever university she was going to end up in. Last year, she had been convinced that she’d want to go to Western, but now it seemed too close and too connected to her hometown. Mallory closed her eyes and thought about leaving for an exotic school in some faraway place.

Maybe Singapore? she asked herself.

The game broke wide open in the third. The Cougars found their legs and the speed of the game rushed past the Knights defense. By the last 5 minutes of play, the game was all but decided, and Kean’s team played defensively with a 3 goal lead until the clock ran out. Mallory jumped up and cheered as the final buzzer went. The Cougars skated back to centre ice and lined up for the traditional post-game handshake. At the visiting team’s bench, there was a lack of movement. Mallory moved around the arena to get a closer look at them.

The Knights didn’t look like a group that wanted to shake hands with the team that just beat them. Bower still looked like he had murder on his mind. The Knights shuffled around their bench and avoided eye contact with the Cougar players until the Knight’s coach started hollering at them.

What’s wrong with you? You want to top off a terrible performance by pouting and insulting the game you say you love? Get out there!

Bower spoke up, fueled by the kind of poorly informed courage that only hurt pride and a temper can get you.

"There’s no rule that