White Magic

By Scott James Thomas

WHITE MAGIC -- Book 5 of the Black Magic trilogy.

Thirty years have passed since the old world was destroyed but it’s all ancient history to Fable Freeman. Stuck in her small remote hometown, Fable, the daughter of a famous and lazy father, is going nowhere. Her life is pathetic and, being seven feet tall, she has no hope of finding true love.

But her father, and the even more famous Sorceress Nicole, tell her it's time to leave -- that she should go on a daring quest to save the magical community from the evil of scheming physicists.

Embarking on the noble adventure, Fable sees more of the world than she had ever imagined could exist, learns that she is more important than she thought, and heroically swings her righteous sword for good and for an unexpected friend.

Fable’s adventure takes her to Romania, a place where nobody ever comes back from, encountering the handsome Bleu Black the son of Inessa Black. And there, in the domain of the most powerful sorcerer in the world, she finally finds the family she always wanted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott James Thomas
• Release date: Jan 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215989852

Scott James Thomas

Dr. Scott James Thomas has traveled the world as an exploration geophysicist, exploring remote locations in the search for critical minerals for society.He received his bachelors of science in geophysics from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, then his Masters and Doctorate from the University of Arizona in Tucson.He enjoys nature and creating, but since he can't draw, he writes. He favors sci-fi, but mostly his stories revolve around human interactions and life changes. His first novel was the sci-fi trilogy Darkmatter, which was started before E-Books existed. His second was Sakuya Stood In The Road, a fantasy fan-lit piece.Afterward was: Champ, Valkiree, The Elf War, and lately the Black Magic series.Scott currently lives in the Denver suburbs of Colorado.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Fable stood in her tiny kitchen and looked at the food order, a lonely heart was drawn in the bottom corner – her hopes rose, it had been a couple weeks – perhaps it was going to be a good day after all. The table number written in the top corner indicated it came from table four, and so, unable to restrain herself, she stepped to the kitchen door and leaned over to peek into the small dining room. Two men were sitting at table four – they were strangers and the only customers in the place, the usual breakfast crowd had yet to arrive. One man had long blond hair, the other had a thick mop of dark hair – both wore traveling leathers. They looked tough, serious, not the usual type who drew hearts on food orders.

With a bit of a smile—daring a vision of having a baby in her arms—Fable whispered to the order, "It didn’t happen," and the bit of ink that made up the heart fell away to the kitchen floor.

The order was for a plate of steak and eggs, another of pancakes. She pulled a steak from the fridge and merrily slapped it on the grill.

While the steak was frying, Fable once again peeked around the corner at the men – they looked like real men, men who could easily woo some young, dainty maiden like Deb who tended the small bar. And, of course, Deb was there, watching from behind her counter while she busied herself wiping glasses. Fable’s hopes slipped down a level – if either of them was interested in herself, it was just for fun, but that’s how it always was. But maybe, just maybe, someday a little heart might signify something else, that a man saw what she truly was, a woman capable of more than a momentary thrill, that she was someone who could be a caring wife and mother. The diner was doing okay and she long ago decided exactly how a bassinet would tuck into the kitchen, where she could talk to her child all day, tending to its every pain and they would gaze knowingly into each other’s eyes – true companions for life who truly understood.

When the plates for table five were ready, Fable carried them out to the waiting travelers where the men could look her over if they hadn’t already. She could have worn a prettier dress, but she didn’t have many dresses and, with calves like hers, the longer dresses were better. Her dress had long vertical pink and black stripes, pink buttons, a tight collar to hide her neck, and long sleeves to hide her arms – it was as nice as her dresses got. Like all her dresses, it cinched at the waist to show that, although her dimensions were anomalous, she actually had a somewhat youthful figure, if the eyes could pry themselves away from all that was wrong. That was the ultimate reason she had no baby, she was abnormal, only a curiosity for thrill seekers, not someone to take seriously. And no dress could ever hide what she truly was – a nothing.

The two men had already served themselves at Deb’s drink counter and she said, Fourty, setting down the two breakfast plates, which she fixed up especially nice.

They looked reasonably respectable, perhaps around her age, a bit tense and somber, as if what they were doing was their first time, not having the relaxed disposition of frequent players.

The light-haired man, who acted more confidently, reached for his coin purse and discretely said up to her, I’d like to speak to you.

Fable nodded and said, Yeah. You got a room?

The man tilted his head toward the front of the diner and said, Across the street, room one-oh-two.

Fable said, Good. I get off at ten for a half-hour break. I want two hundred, each.

The man nodded, but he wasn’t looking at her, only at his steak.

Fable looked at the men, who were not looking back at her or even smiling. Something was wrong – usually her clientele grinned, or at least nervously glanced around. Was the price too high? Perhaps she was delusional, maybe fifty was all she was worth? Or, when she came too close, had they seen something – realizing just how little of a woman she was, more of something for a traveling show where people paid a coin to see something different, giving the audience a sense they were being educated on the freaks the world harbored in the gloomy corners.

But people came—mostly visitors to Hearts Gate—hearts were drawn, about one a week during the warm summer days and with each heart was another chance that something more than just passing fun would be created. Fable could not even begin to imagine what existence would be like without the hearts, a life with no hope, no one to care for and nothing to live for. It was always there, the great black void of nothingness whose precipice she stood upon, day after day, and then another heart was drawn and she could take a step back, give a smile, and dream of what could be.

She looked at the men – two friends, travelers, rugged, manly, capable. Nobody accidentally found themselves in Burnsville, they had a mission, they had a life, they were adventurers who heard a whisper of the heart game happening at the Burnsville Diner. She would be just another thing to laugh about when they related their adventures to other men in some crowded tavern, each with their mugs of beer, grins, tales of deeds and romantic conquests. Only romance was never in it for her, only a continuing struggle to obtain the true meaning of her life.

She added, Be sure you’re showered.

The blond man simply intoned, Sure, handing Fable coins for the breakfast.

As the morning slowly progressed, Fable found herself looking forward to the discrete rendezvous. Two at once – that had never happened. Perhaps her reputation was spreading, a lover extraordinaire, a head-turning temptress. However, the men had not grinned as most did, no anticipation was on their faces – it tempered her mood as she skimmed the outer layers of despair, as happened when an anticipation was failing to materialize.

The morning crowd faded and she closed the kitchen at ten, as she did every mid-morning. Only this time it was not to make a trip to the market, it was something much more important – to make another stab at gaining something substantial – a renewed purpose. It was a long shot, as always, but to not try was nothing more than throwing herself off the cliff of complete hopelessness. On her way out, she said with some optimism to her bartender, Might be a bit late for lunch.

Deb smiled at her and said, I saw. Good luck.

Thanks, Fable replied with a crooked smile as she stepped out of her diner, which originally had been a bank back in another time and world.

She walked the narrow path through overgrown brush, in what used to be a bank parking lot, then crossed Main Street, skirting around the large oak tree growing in the middle of the street, to the old Carolina Country Inn whose sign had fallen decades ago and was now rotting in the brush. It was a nice early-summer day and there were a few people around, not many. Burnsville was a touristy town and she owned the only diner in it. Nobody dare open a competing diner – there’d be hell to pay. If she ever got a child, she would need the gold.

In the motel’s overgrown parking lot was a pickup with a camper parked in front of the motel room. The truck was a big Dodge Ram 3500, four-wheel drive with a camper on the back – must have been at least thirty years old and had the rust to prove that many of those years were spent outside. It must have belonged to the two travelers – naturally, wearing heavy leathers they weren’t traveling about with Garvice, but nobody flew for long distances. They may have come many miles to try their luck with her, perhaps even as far as Asheville to the southwest, which could be done in one day if they were determined. But if there was anything she saw in them, it was that they had not traveled to Burnsville just for her.

Standing in front of the motel door, Fable tried to build her hopes, this could be the time, either one of the men may see her true self, not just a desperate diner cook. She knocked on the motel door and the blond man from the morning’s breakfast opened it.

Fable smiled and asked, You ready? Only, it didn’t look like they were ready – the man was still fully clothed. Fable frowned and, standing at the doorstep, momentarily thought of her life – it was not what it should be. If there was, or ever had been, any greatness in her, it was so tiny, so weak, that she could not find it anywhere. People told her she was a Blue, but if that was her one fame, it was so pathetic as to be invisible and she truly was nothing. She was a small woman, hard to notice, even harder to take serious. Why would the men not bother to shower first – because they didn’t have to.

Come in, the man said.

Fable stepped in, reflexively ducking through the doorway. Most doors were six-feet-eight-inches high, low enough to give her a hard bump, but twenty years of painful knocks had given her the reflexes to always duck without thinking about it. Now she only got knocked once or twice a week.

She entered the musty motel room, the men were in the same clothing as before, probably unshowered. She sternly said, Look, I have to be back in half an hour.

The dark-haired man, who was sitting at the table said, We have a proposition for you.

Yeah, Fable replied. Look, can we get on with it? I need to freshen up first.

The man said, Sorry, but that’s not what we are here for.

Fable looked at the two men, confused. Neither of them looked romantically inclined. Irritated, Fable snapped, You’re wasting my time.

We need your help, the blond man said.

Yeah? So? Doing what?

We want to go down to Houston.

It wasn’t what she imagined. Fable echoed while in thought, Houston? She looked at the two men who looked serious, but in the wrong way, and said, "Keep saying it and eventually they will believe. The phrase was akin to throwing a bucket of cold water on any conversation, but the encounter was revealed to be only deception and the man was talking strange, as if another deception was in the works. Fable added the customary second part of the phrase, Say that again."

We need your help for something we’re doing in Houston.

Houston? Where’s that?

South and west, Texas.

Texas? Fable asked, then without asking where Texas was, perhaps beyond Asheville, stepped to the door, realizing how badly she had been played. They were talking about a long journey to some far-away place. She didn’t hide her annoyance, her whole morning, her whole day felt completely ruined. She snarled, You’re wasting my time. I have a diner to keep going.

We can pay.

Fable shook her head and said, This isn’t what I came here for. I need to get back. Fable opened the motel door.

It’s for the Blues, the man quickly said.

Fable hesitated, a mission for Blues? What need would a Blue have? It was said she was a Blue, was that why they were here? Could it be something to do with her? But nothing ever happened that had anything to do with her, not outside the world of her diner. Fable turned her head back to ask, What about them?

The Blues, they’re being experimented on. They need help.

Fable stepped back into the room – something was wrong – it wasn’t the complete truth. They weren’t saying much, but now they were hinting at a serious cause, the type of thing people spoke to her father about, but never herself – a petty cook in a petty diner. She asked, In Houston? Was something of importance afoot?

That’s right, the blond man said with a reassuring nod.

How far away is that?

The man said with a shrug, Thousand miles. There’s a reward.

Fable stared, Asheville was fifty miles – Houston was a thousand? The number took its time to sink in and when it did Fable realized the men were truly talking to the wrong person. Fable shook her head at the ridiculous notion, a thousand miles? Nobody traveled that far – unless they were a Cole or some powerful roaming Blue. She had a diner to run. She said, Hire my dad, he could use the coin.

We tried, he said to ask you.

Fable frowned again. If her dad had turned them down then she saw no reason she shouldn’t. But it annoyed her he was interfering with her life.

Look, we came from Washington. We spoke to your cousin, Veronica. She doesn’t want to go. She’s pregnant.

Fable was stunned, Veronica? Pregnant?

So we—

Fable interrupted, Is she married?

I don’t think so.

Are you sure she’s pregnant?

Yes, very.

Fable felt flush, she looked at the men then wiped her face, turning to look at a wall. Veronica had found a man willing to get her pregnant. In ten years of intense trying, doing it with any man who had the inkling, Fable had never found anyone willing to get her pregnant. Many wanted to go through the motions, but it was always just for some personal conquest, a game. She even gained a not-so-elegant reputation for her efforts – everyone far and wide knew that if they drew a little heart on their order at Fable’s Diner, she’d make time. But every man always would say the spell, at just the critical point, to make their seed useless – one of the more annoying spells. Yet her sister, Veronica, who was equally cursed with oversized bone and muscle, had managed to get pregnant.

Fable asked, in more of a demand, Who?

What?

Who got her pregnant?

The blond man stared for a second then said, I don’t know.

Fable snapped, Did she pay to have it done?

I don’t know.

Didn’t you even ask!

No!

Fable looked angrily down at the men. They were six feet tall, but she still towered over them. They had gone silent, staring up at her, almost backed against the wall – not even the slightest bit interested in touching her.

She gritted her teeth, turned and stomped out of the motel room, then marched back across the street to the restaurant, where she was going to stay for the rest of her lonely and miserable life.

Fable felt the crushing weight of time, she was thirty and every cell of her being reminded her of it. Time was flowing and all she ever accomplished was to get her diner running. She looked at her diner tucked in the trees, it was all that had become of her. The possibilities seemed so limited, she was going to die unwed and childless.

Her brothers, who she never saw, were more than she, adventuring about. Having a couple extra hundred pounds of muscle was great for guys, but nobody wanted to be around a giant woman.

She saw two boys running down the street, heading for the river. The river was full of fish that the boys could pull some out with a spell, which they might bring by the diner looking for a milligram or two for the catch – if they got lucky enough to land good-sized trout.

That was all she was, a diner owner who nobody would remember. Most of her customers were travelers who came singing their song of joining the School or seeking the Great Sorceress Nicole for a favor, which rarely worked out well. But for her the future was only a blackness, one that ate at her gut, sinking her lower into familiar realms of despair.

She walked into the diner, Deb, seeing her return way too soon and wearing a frown, was smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Fable simply slunk into her kitchen and started to get ready for the lunch crowd, as she did every damn day of her life.

Chapter 2

With an annoyed mindset, the next afternoon during her post-lunch break, Fable flew up Cole Mountain to the Cursed Sorceress, a tavern situated on a ridge high up the mountain. The mountain used to be called Mt. Mitchell but was renamed decades ago. Burnsville was nestled in a valley at the base of Cole Mountain, the tavern, her destination, was near the top, close to the castle.

Once upon a time, the Cursed Sorceress Tavern was a park restaurant for tourists who wanted to stand upon a mountaintop – although still a restaurant, the tourists were not there for the sake of a mountain. The tavern was the last place on the road a traveler could find shelter before Hearts Gate Castle so it did decent business, not only from the regular Burnsville crowd but also those on Hearts Gate business. Pilgrims, or anyone who had business in the castle, usually found the place to be convenient for getting drunk before—or after—visiting the castle. For some, the tavern teased a dare to linger where prudence advised otherwise. In Fable’s mind, the tavern up the hill was now only a cave where her worthless father hid.

The old parking lot, like the road to it, was mostly gone, replaced by the encroaching forest that relentlessly ripped at the old asphalt. Already pines were growing tightly around the pub, partly obscuring the roof. It was like Burnsville—and the whole world—slowly being consumed – every year what once had been was a bit less recognizable and more just rotting curiosities. Fable could hardly imagine the old world, it was just something old people talked about.

Fable barged into the Cursed Sorceress – the tavern was dim, the windows long since boarded up. She was well familiar with it, having spent plenty of her teen evenings wasting time there. It was also where her dad spent most every day of his life lurking in the establishment’s shadows – if he wasn’t out on some stupid sojourn to go fishing.

Fable quickly caught sight of her father’s eyes in the gloomiest corner of the gloomy haunt – as usual, he had a mug in one hand and Alder on his lap. There was a piano playing and the place was moderately busy with ten other customers sitting at the tables. Two Coles, dressed in white robes, were at the bar – by their very presence alone they were keeping everyone else away from the bar and at the tables.

Of course, her father’s blue eyes immediately caught sight of her. He had the decency to quickly shoo Alder, the floozy, away before Fable sat at the table across from him, where she proceeded to glare at his confused face.

Acting innocent, her father asked, Fable? What brings you here?

Fable dispensed with pleasantries, leaned over the table, and hissed, I heard Veronica’s pregnant!

Oh, really? her father replied then took a drink from his mug.

Fable frowned, her father didn’t seem interested, as if her struggle for a child held no more interest to him than a future excuse to have a beer. She demanded, Don’t you even care?

Her dad set down his mug and said with a sigh, Of course I care.

Do you know how she did it?

Her dad looked away and shrugged. Usual way, I suppose?

Fable leaned back and looked around, the faces in the pub turned away as if hiding how enthralled they had been by a naughty show. She and her dad always earned extra looks from strangers, both together they could sell tickets.

Ignoring the strangers, she called over to the bartender, Bran, bring a measure .

Bran nodded from behind the bar.

Fable turned back to her dad, the great guard of Hearts Gate. He still had biceps that could choke a horse but hadn’t had a haircut in months – it was starting to brush his shoulders. He was pushing into his sixties, but it was hard to tell apart from his long hair that was growing gray, and he now wore a more dignified look. His slow aging was promising, perhaps she’d be endowed with longevity as well. Perhaps her biological clock wasn’t ticking as fast as other women’s. But then her eyes didn’t glow, not that anyone could see, and it was a rare night that she could feel the Moon Goddess.

Alder, the floozy barmaid, who couldn’t have weighed more than one of Fable’s legs, put a large ceramic mug on the table for her. Fable took a couple gulps, wiped the foam off her face, leaned back, looked at the blue glow from her father’s eyes, easily seen in the dim light, and said, I had a couple of visitors yesterday.

Oh?

Said you sent ‘em my way.

Ah. Right. Might have.

What makes you think I want to go to Texas?

Fable’s dad simply shrugged, as if having no opinion or answer for her.

What’s Mort doing? Fable asked.

Her dad perked up and he said, Oh, he’s down in Charlotte, trying to farm. Got a letter from him the other day.

Fable looked at her dad, he was always closer to his sons than his daughters. Yeah, whatever. He get married yet?

Her dad shook his head while asking, What for?

Fable rolled her eyes while sarcastically replying in a bit of a loud voice, To start a family maybe!

Her dad took another swig of his mug, as if not noticing her issues, then asked, How about you? Ever think you might want to settle down?

Fable glared at her dad. Under the table, she put her hand on the hilt of a knife tucked in her belt. She was one of the few who had managed to draw his blood and now he was all the older and she all the stronger.

The man hesitated, as if sensing danger, lowered his beer while returning her eye contact, then after a few tense seconds, turned to look away. He said, Them two guys, well they seemed nice. Could hold their liquor. Thought you might find one of them, well, worthwhile?

Fable scowled, You thought I’d like them?

Well, you know, a nice trip and what all. A long trip is good for getting to know someone. You’re mother and me, that’s how we—

Fable hit the table with her available fist, making the table jump, and said, Just shut up!

Her dad went silent.

Fable hissed, You have no right to talk about Mom!

Her dad held up his hands, Okay, fine. I won’t. But she’d tell you the same thing.

What’s that?

Her dad relaxed and said, You don’t find love with one-night stands.

Fable smirked at her father while leaning back, taking another deep drink of beer then wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.

Her father said, Fable, you’re beautiful. There’s plenty of men who can appreciate a good strong woman.

Fable sneered at the meaningless words while looking at her mostly gone mug of beer, and said, Yeah, well they don’t seem to be making it to Burnsville.

Clint and Kwan did.

Fable hesitated – she hadn’t bothered to know the names of the two men. She smirked and said, They’re not interested in me. She looked up and said, In case you never noticed, the only men interested in big-boned women are little boys looking for a mommy figure.

Roy Freeman held out a hand and said, Fable, the world is a big place. Keep looking. It wouldn’t hurt to travel around.

I travel.

I don’t mean to Tennessee.

Like where?

How about to Washington? You could meet Veronica. You’d be like sisters.

We are sisters, Fable intoned.

Barely.

So, you going to see her? Fable asked.

Who?

Veronica!

What for?

She’s pregnant!

I hardly think that’s with the trip, her dad said, taking another drink of his beer.

Fable exclaimed, That news could be months old! She might already have a child! You might be a grandfather. I might be an Aunt!

Her dad pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He said, Perhaps a boy?

Fable looked her dad in the eyes until he asked, What’s the matter?

Fable silently sneered, lifted her mug, and asked, Aren’t you even curious as to who the father is? Maybe you have a son-in-law. You know, another drinking buddy.

Her dad tilted his head and said, Perhaps.

Fable sighed and easily finished her beer in one gulp. She stood and pulled ten mils from her purse, tossing the two coins on the table. She said, Been nice seeing ya, Dad.

No problem. Going back?

Think I’ll stop by and see Sorceress Nicole.

Suit yourself. She was in a pissy mood this morning.

Oh? What for? Fable asked.

She got word that some girl was killed.

A Cole?

Don’t know. That’s all I heard.

Fable said, Well, see ya later.

Her dad lifted his mug. Later.

Chapter 3

Leaving the Cursed Sorceress, Fable looked at the bright sky, it was a warm, early-summer day and her eyes landed on the tall castle that was just visible over the trees further up the hill – there was time before the dinner routine would force her down the mountain. Besides, a trip to the castle was usually interesting, certainly more than her kitchen. Lingering around the diner was a good way to watch time pass – the best she could hope for was that the village boys would sell her some fish so she could fancy up the plates for her clients who had no idea what it took to keep a kitchen going seven days a week, forever.

Speaking to her father had proved to be worthless, as expected. He only cared for his sons. She wondered if it was he who clued the two travelers about the heart game on the order. Unlikely – half the town knew – the two men could have heard it from anyone, perhaps Deb. Her father probably didn’t know enough about her life to truly care.

Fable found herself looking forward to visiting the castle. To some, it was the ominous residence of the scariest person on the planet but for her it was home. She grew up in the castle, moving out when she turned fifteen to live in the town by herself, but it was still there for her. It was full of women who knew who and what they were, wearing bright robes that were always perfect.

Perhaps the sorceress could help her mood more than her worthless father – the sorceress always had time for her. It was only another couple kilometers further up the hill from the tavern to Hearts Gate on the pinnacle of Cole Mountain, the castle completely covering the peak of the mountain in tall grey stone.

Fable followed the old road, which ran along the ridge from the tavern to the castle. Roots had so heaved the asphalt that a full-sized vehicle would have trouble traversing it. However, most people just flew to the castle gates, unless delivering a load of new furniture or robes.

The sheer walls of the castle towered two hundred feet over the ground and Fable knew the labyrinth of damp chambers and passageways extended much further than that down into the rock.

She politely landed at the front thick wooden doors, which were twenty feet tall and were partly opened, just enough to allow passage. There was only one guard, but inside the place was swarming with Coles, probably a couple dozen or more. The castle needed no guard, it was the home of the great sorceress who nobody dare challenge and hope to live. The number of dead was in the millions, but that was before Fable was born – it was only stories too odd to take seriously. She knew what a million was, a thousand thousands—and it was millions, plural—it was only crazy things people said, how could there even be that many people to kill? But it brought Fable to a pause to think of what it had been like, back during the Black Judgment when the world burned. The world was huge and had been around for so long – certainly the Black Judgment was only one little flame in all the vastness of what had been.

Fable, turned to the castle guard, Vivian, who looked the same as always, for as long as Fable could remember, like a wolf. She wore a thick fighting dress but not white like a normal Cole, instead it was a rich blue with a tight bodice and big black buttons. The guard was only there to direct visitors or turn them away, the spear was just for show, perhaps intimidation.

The only real guard was her father, who spent his days in the tavern down the road trying to get drunk – and he wasn’t exactly there to guard the castle. He seemed so puny compared to the sorceress, it never made sense in her mind just what his mission actually was.

Vivian, the old guard, stepped up with her spear and greeted her with a wolf lisp, Fable. What brings you here?

Fable looked down at the furry guard. Long ago the guard had been cursed into the form of a wolf, or more accurately, half-wolf. Fable sighed, even the wolf-woman was married, her husband was a Brazilian and the tailor in Burnsville.

Fable said, I was in the neighborhood.

Vivian nodded and said, She’s in the upper arboretum.

Fable returned the nod and walked through the open portal, entering the castle. The main entrance opened into a long stone hall with holes perforating the walls and ceiling so archers could shoot at invaders. However, in the thirty years since the castle was built, nobody had ever tried to invade it. The defenses, like the whole medieval castle style, were just for looks – there were no archers. Having a wolf stand guard was probably also for looks, but Fable was smart enough to never mention it.

Along the walls at regular intervals were flickering torches that never produced smoke, which made sense since it was almost a certainty that nothing was being burnt by the torches. The torches, like everything, were part of the sorceress, her essence seeping through the stone. The torchlight left the castle interior only weakly lit, which was certainly also by design.

The grand hallway opened into a vast chamber in the center of the castle, the main throne area. A large open fire was burning in the center fire pit, the smoke from its natural flames drifting up hundreds of feet, past the levels of balconies in the great atrium to finally exit through large vents high in the castle. The castle had dormitories for a hundred students, reading chambers, dining halls, kitchens and staircases by the score. Its thick stone walls were riddled with secret passages, which nobody could know in their entirety. The catacombs under the castle were far more complex, a place where Fable, as a child, could go to play and lose herself, literally on occasion.

The throne room was crowned with a relaxing area up on the dais. Instead of a traditional throne, there was a large bed of sorts where Sorceress Nicole could lie on pillows with her closer Coles, greeting visitors. However, the throne room was empty as expected – Vivian had said Sorceress Nicole was in the upper greenhouse and the students had no reason to hang around the throne room – they had important things to do.

Fable saw a white-cloaked Cole walk from one side room to another, looking at her as she did so. As always, the massive castle had the feel of being empty, but that was never the case – it was the very heart of the Coles. Some Coles, such as Vivian, were regulars at the castle, but recruits were always coming and going, always in their white priestess robes. Plenty of stairs led to the upper levels but were rarely used. Instead, the hollow central portion of the castle, the giant atrium, allowed passage to simply fly to any level.

Fable looked up into the towering atrium, lit by hundreds of torches that looked like stars in the night sky, and said, "Garvice wants to fly." She flew from the throne-room floor to the top level where she walked along a broad main corridor to the upper arboretum – a spacious, glass-covered greenhouse perched upon the top of the castle. The first spirit she had seen in a while crossed her path, the black mist drifting through the walls.

Unlike the interior of the castle, the greenhouse was bright and warm, almost friendly. It was spacious, covering acres of the castle roof, large enough to contain a small orchard of fruit trees as well as dozens of lush beds of vegetables. The plants always did well , providing the castle with most of the food it needed. The spirits were numerous, but not so bad.

The Great Sorceress Nicole rarely sat in a chair, preferring raised platforms covered with mattresses, blankets and pillows. There was such a platform in the center of the greenhouse and upon it was Sorceress Nicole, along with a young Cole. The scene was typical, reminding Fable of her father, although the sorceress was more discrete.

The high sorceress saw her, smiled broadly and called with a hand gesture, Fable, come. What brings you here?

Fable, walking toward the platform while ignoring the black shapes that she was well used to, began, I’ve come for a spell.

Oh, for what? the greatest sorceress in the world asked her.

One to counter that stupid ‘Not Her’ spell .

Sorceress Nicole laughed, Sorry, I don’t have that one. Come, sit with me.

Fable did as asked, sitting on the cushions but not very close. Like her father, Sorceress Nicole looked younger than she was. But still, she had no desire to entertain the sorceress like she envisioned some of the Coles did, such as the Cole that was sitting with her now. There might be a spell to enhance a woman’s libido, perhaps several, but Fable knew the sorceress would never try it on her, not with her dad always hanging around.

Fable looked around at the lush vegetation, then said into the air, Dad says a girl was killed.

Sorceress Nicole’s smile weakened and she darkly said, Murdered.

A Cole? Fable asked.

No, one of Bleu’s mistresses .

Fable looked away, only seeing black mists flying through the garden plants. Bulgaria – that’s where Bleu Black lived with his mother. Fable also knew Coles were there, they sent messages back to Hearts Gate through a network of radios. The Coles were everywhere, there was no corner of the planet that didn’t have at least an outpost. Tens of thousands of Coles blanketed the world, they were the de facto global government bringing peace and civilization where otherwise there would be none. Hearts Gate was the center of that civilization.

Fable asked, Murdered?

Sorceress Nicole said, She was the third this year.

By who?

The sorceress nearly screeched, By Bleu! That twerp’s experimenting with them.

Bleu, Fable whispered, the name alone tingling her nerves. Even though he lived on the other side of the world, everyone knew of Bleu – perhaps the one sorcerer that was even more powerful than Sorceress Nicole. But no, the great sorceress was surely even more mighty than Inessa Black herself. Fable only had to look around to see the spirits that came to her, like none other – that was might, unadulterated power like what was required to bring civilization from the flames of the Mavrikris. Inessa Black was a destroyer – everyone knew that.

Fable felt a chill, the world nearly perished by forces that still swirled as if biding their time. Her dad spoke of how the universe was once poised to destroy everything, and that ultimately nothing was forever. Perhaps that was why he hid in the shadows, feeling that the struggle to survive was a fool's folly. But he was tainted – the truth was that nothing ever changed, the old world slowly rotted – trees would rip through her diner and nobody would care.

Fable looked at Sorceress Nicole, she was at least fifty and had never married. But unlike herself, the sorceress had three daughters, youngsters running around the castle, perhaps hiding in the dungeons like she used to do. Sorceress Nicole turned to her and Fable looked away.

The sorceress asked, Why did you come here?

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Fable looked down at her hands, hesitated, then said, Dad says I should travel.

Travel? Where to?

Fable sighed and explained, Two men came into town. They want my help in Texas.

What’s in Texas?

They said someone’s experimenting with Blues down there, perhaps killing them. Someplace called Hutson.

Sorceress Nicole let out a laugh, Houston. And that’s nonsense. Nobody’s killing Blues.

They said they’re being experimented on. I saw no lie.

Sorceress Nicole turned away, looking off into the distance of the spacious arboretum and its wealth of plants. But Fable didn’t think the sorceress was looking at the tomatoes.

What’s wrong? Fable asked.

Sorceress Nicole still looking away said, Physicists. That’s what’s wrong.

Oh?

Sorceress Nicole turned to Fable and said, There are too many physicists .

Are they bad?

Sorceress Nicole was wearing a frown and emotionally said, How long will it be before they have all of E-Space mapped out? How long until spells become antiquated by their machines?

Fable shook her head, not even coming close to knowing what was troubling the great sorceress.

Seeing Fable struggle, the sorceress asked, Don’t they teach science in school anymore?

Fable shrugged and replied, Possibly. I might have missed that day.

Sorceress Nicole mused with a smile, Well, that says something for either the Burnsville education system or your dad. The latter I suspect.

Fable said, Dad says I should go to … Houston. He thinks I might find a man.

Sorceress Nicole laughed again, Maybe he wants a grandchild.

But I can’t go. He doesn’t understand – I have to keep the restaurant going.

Sorceress Nicole waved a dismissive hand and said, Don’t be a prisoner.

Fable looked at the sorceress, who seemed to be taking her father’s side, not comforting her, telling her how important she was to the town. Fable finally asked, So you think I should go?

Sorceress Nicole sighed and said, Fable, you’ve tried everything else. See the world. Nobody’s going to steal your restaurant. And if they do, so what. Look at yourself – you can be anything you want.

A Blue?

Sorceress Nicole shrugged and easily said, Go see Inessa.

No thanks, Fable quickly said. She’d kill me before I got close.

Ha. She wouldn’t dare. Fable, you can’t hide in your restaurant forever.

What Fable wanted to say was that even Texas was too far. Europe! She didn’t even know where that was – on the other side of the whole entire planet. Nobody could just go to Europe, especially her. All she said was, I’m not hiding. I just don’t feel like going to Europe.

The sorceress casually said, While there – you could kill Bleu.

Fable was shocked by the request. She exclaimed, I couldn’t! Bleu? Bleu Black? What can I do against him? He’s like the most powerful sorcerer in the world!

Grinning, Sorceress Nicole said, Use your imagination.

Fable stared at the sorceress, not knowing what to think. Sorceress Nicole’s grin spread mischievously – it was only a silly joke. Fable eventually turned away and said, I should go.

Just as Fable was standing, the great sorceress said, If you’re going to save Blues, I have a spell for you.

Oh? Fable said, turning back. A spell? Just for her?

Sorceress Nicole rose from her cushions and stepped to a table that had many large books on it. They were grimoires, containing thousands of spells. She opened one and flipped through it, then said, It goes, There’s never one around.

Fable asked, It’s for finding men?

Sorceress Nicole closed the book, stepped back to the cushions, and said, Blues. It finds Blues. Keep it a secret.

Fable’s head momentarily spun, a secret spell? Could the Great One have actually given her a secret spell? She looked around, nobody was there that she could see, just the sorceress and her humored scribe. Fable whispered, "There’s never one around." Suddenly she could sense Sorceress Nicole with more than her eyes, her father was where she had left him, in the tavern down the road. There was a weaker sensation of three within the castle, the daughters of the sorceress, and she thought she could feel the Moon Goddess, but she wasn’t sure. There were many mind-altering spells – this one was no different, knowing what you didn’t a moment earlier.

As Fable explored her new perception, Sorceress Nicole said, It might help you along the way. Maybe not.

Fable turned to the sorceress, who was smiling back at her. Fable knew that she had just been given a mission. She was no Cole, not even close. But the Ni’Cole herself was expecting her to go all the way to Texas to help the two strangers save Blues. It seemed too profound to take seriously. Yet there was the sorceress, expecting something of her, perhaps to be a warrior like her father. The spell was proof – something was expected of her – but it was a waste, she was too small and the world too large.

Fable asked, hoping to find a reason not to go, But what of my diner? I would have to find a cook to take over for me.

Go anyway, Sorceress Nicole said, settling back on the cushions. Sell the diner.

The conversation had become much more serious than intended. Sell the diner? Go on a mission to rescue Blues? Was this truly happening? She had been given a spell, a secret spell just for the explicit purpose of fulfilling an impossible mission!

Fable looked down at the young twenty-something priestess, who was ready to write down any new spell Sorceress Nicole conjured. The girl was casually reclining against the plethora of pillows, she was a Cole, a student of the sorceress, who was likely a far better choice to send on a rescue mission – not a cook.

Fable took a step backward, away from the Great Sorceress Nicole, the pinnacle of the Coles—the Ni’Cole. Fable gave a little bow to the sorceress and turned away, could she refuse? Did she have a choice? She should never have left her diner.

Fable spoke the flying words and flew from the garden and swooped down the atrium and out the great portal, shooting fast past Vivian and soaring out over the forest. Once out in the open, away from the sultry confines, Fable said, "There’s never one around," feeling the sorceress behind her and the sorcerer at the tavern. The Ni’Cole was not the source of every single spell, but easily most of them. Fable thought of her dad, the man of steel, who even found a spell on occasion, although his were nothing like those that the Great Sorceress plucked from the netherworld. His best was when he heard the words to blow foam off a beer – it only worked on freshly served beers that you intended to drink, and with the trigger phrase ‘this is going to be good’. It was easier just to blow the foam off, but her dad liked saying it, like it was another son, showing it to anyone he could.

Now she had a secret spell to add to her own grimoire, and an impossible task to use it for. Now all she needed was a Blue to save. Fable renewed the Garvice spell by stepping on top of the tavern as she passed, probably making the roof creek and a spider fall in Alder’s lap.

Chapter 4

From the mighty stones of Hearts Gate, Fable swooped over the treetops in the chilly afternoon sun, down the mountain toward the tiny community of Burnsville. As she flew, she rolled onto her back, facing the deep blue of infinity, and said, There’s never one around. She was rewarded with a sensation of the Moon Goddess, which was right where the faint crescent of the moon magically hung in the bright blue sky. The goddess was there – Fable never felt the goddess so strong. The warm sensation filled her with a sense that she was part of something much larger than herself, as if the Moon Goddess was different from all the other magic in the world – a warm summer breeze, a dancing flame, or the flavor of fresh trout. The sorceress, self-entombed in her cold stones, must surely also feel the warmth of magic so much more than herself. But the sorceress, like her father, had become jaded, taking for granted or bored with the touch of the goddess.

The dreamy flight of basking in the moonlight ended all too soon and Fable landed outside her little Burnsville Diner and, stepping over a large root, entered through the back door. The root blocking the doorway was from an elm that was growing at one corner of her diner. The building was already securely embedded by the tree’s tenacious trunk. It was the way Burnsville was, slowly merging with the trees that grew through the old pavement, sidewalks and right up through the old houses. Some of the trees were spell-protected – most weren’t. The one pushing on the corner of her diner was on its own without any protection, so she could trim it back as needed but it was insistent.

The vines were getting out of control again and the moss growing over the north side of the diner would have to be scraped off the siding.

The kitchen was small, hardly wider than the span of her arms, and the measly sitting area only had five tables, but it was enough for Burnsville and for her – it was her place in life. A mission to Texas? To save Blues? Blues didn’t need to be saved.

She turned on her stove to get ready for the dinner crowd. Besides, there was nobody who would mind her diner while she was away. Fable laughed, sell it? Who would buy it? Although having a small bar, the diner was not popular with the evening drinking crowd – only a few regulars gave Deb business. Every evening the old men would sit at the tables and play cards or dominos as they talked about the old days. The younger crowd preferred the Cursed Sorceress tavern on Cole Mountain. That’s the way it was, that was the way it would always be. She was no warrior, she was not her dad who people respectfully called Sheriff, even when someone a fraction his age was sitting on his leg.

Fable had a small house down the street but spent most of her time at the diner, which she opened at six in the morning and closed whenever the domino-slinging crowd left in the evening – seven days a week. It was a long schedule but there was time after lunch to leave for a couple of hours and, of course, the nights were usually hers—alone—unless someone drew a heart on their menu.

Everyone knew – she was Burnsville’s most well-known prostitute. It had started years ago as a half-joke—her bartender offering it as a way to meet more men—and it had never ended. There was no way her father couldn’t know, but he never said anything. But that’s how her dad was, hardly there, ever.

Thirty! Fable tightly gripped a towel as she wiped the coffee table. She said, "Trenton the iceman was here," to the tray of water in the bottom of the refrigerator, then angrily slammed it back into place. Her life was half over and what did she have to show for it? She should have been married long ago, but that was impossible – nobody wanted to marry a seven-foot, three-hundred-pound woman.

She turned off her stove—it was too early—and marched out of the diner and, full of annoyance, walked to the market. She said, "There’s never one around." Two Blues – there were two – there were always two and that was the way it always had been all her life.

She got to the market and pursued the available products, hardly seeing them. Texas! That stranger said it was a thousand miles! A thousand!

Fable shook her head and tried to focus on reality – she had a diner to run. The menu was flexible, varying by what she could procure for the day or week – most of her meat came from a rancher from Asheville. There were local ranchers, but they rarely put their meat on the open market. The Asheville rancher came once a week, on Tuesday, and she competed with the local grocer and the Cursed Sorceress for the best pieces, which she rarely could afford. Her diner was mostly hidden by the overgrowth, the customers were mostly locals, and half came just because Deb would smile at them when serving drinks.

Damn – Fable was back at her restaurant, not having bought anything at the market. How could anyone ever save a Blue? Was the sorceress serious? Was the spell to find a Blue a joke? Was it a secret at all?

Deb was gone and Fable looked at the tables and chairs. They were easy to keep clean but she needed two new chairs from the warehouse. The community warehouse was where people stacked things salvaged from old haunts before the leaking roofs collapsed altogether. And replacing chairs was an important part of keeping a business going, the hard stuff needed for survival, because if the diner failed she would have nothing – it was her life, and not having a life was not an option. Would she be crawling back to the castle, hoping for handouts from the lush gardens, or would she be trying to catch fish to sell on the street for a coin or two? She could go back to the sawmill where she worked for a small handful of years, but going backward was just another form of begging to survive, a completely hollow existence without any hope to dream of, nothing to live for.

There were three people in her life, Deb, her employee who worked for tips from the bar, her father and the Sorceress Nicole. But neither her father nor the sorceress ever came in to have a cup of coffee and a steak breakfast, although she always hoped her father would. Everyone else was just acquaintances.

Deb was the closest thing she had to a friend. If she were to ever leave the diner for a while, it would be Deb who would have to take over, although Deb wasn’t much of a cook, Fable wasn’t even sure where she lived.

But not much had changed in the years since she started her diner. It was the same tables, same stoves, same elm, pots and pans. And she was still alone and childless – and in a year that would never change and through all the long dreary years to come. The Moon Goddess may be looking down upon her, but apparently, the goddess had more favorable subjects than her.

Looking around the diner, Fable realized it was her coffin. When she finally died, her corpse could be laid out on the floor and a sign could be posted warning people of the life that had started decomposing long before her last breath. She could leave for a while – what did it matter? People took vacations, sojourns and walkabouts. The roof was in good condition and everything worked. She even had several thousand mils saved up. Houston was a thousand miles away – it would take at least a week to get there and hell, another week or two to get back, assuming it could be driven. Three weeks, three weeks to perform some mission, and then what? Perhaps, like her father, she could talk of the subtle nuances of the adventure for the rest of her life.

But the sorceress said she should sell the diner, see the world, go to Europe and kill Bleu Black. Fable let out a laugh and tried to calm herself, wiping her eyes with an arm. She was no sheriff. Her dad had traveled the world, but not her. It was impossible. The sorceress was either joking or didn’t know the limitations of normal people.

But even a thousand miles – never had she considered such a journey, apart from once, when she was a baby – born in South America at a Cole outpost. Her mother had died and as an infant was brought back to Burnsville. But thirty years ago the roads were in better condition. The world was just too large!

Fable looked out the window, the big Dodge truck with a camper was still in the parking lot for the motel, but why was she even looking – it was silly to even think about it. The continued presence of the two men indicated they were spending their evenings at the Cursed Sorceress – it wasn’t too late, she could go with them.

Fable huffed and turned from the window and walked into her little kitchen and opened the refrigerator, she could use some more meat from the market. She slammed the fridge door shut. Texas – it was what her father and Sorceress Nicole thought she should do.

But just to leave, without fully knowing why, made little sense. What could she do? Blues didn’t need saving! It was clear what the men wanted, muscle. They wanted her to flex her arms to intimidate someone. She never had, not since she was a small child out on the playground – it had not gone over well. She was no warrior.

But a stray remembrance flitted through her, making her smile – she actually did have a sword and a Xena outfit somewhere in the far back of a closet. They were things her father gifted fifteen years ago, before she knew they would never be part of her life. She didn’t know who Xena was, apparently some warrior woman who wore overly short leather dresses. She hadn’t seriously thought of it in years – it was just a stupid birthday present that her father once gave her, that’s all.

She stepped out of the diner to look at the motel across the street and to look at the old dodge pickup. All she had to do was walk over and say ‘okay’. But not even warriors worked for free, especially if she was going to have to leave the diner. She needed a price – five hundred each day. More if they wanted to shake the sheets, although that was unlikely.

They were in room one-oh-two – she could see the door. Just as she was looking at the motel door, wondering if it would be as simple as to start walking, the motel door opened. Deb emerged, turned back to look in the motel room, and with a smile, waved in a cute way to the unseen occupants.

Fable gritted her teeth and quickly stepped back to hide in the diner.

The dinner crowd was only a few regulars – the two strangers never showed, which was fine with Fable. No doubt Deb had a good time with them. No strangers, no mission – her life was back to normal.

After the last customer left, Fable was making sure her kitchen was ready for the morning and Deb said, They’re leaving in the morning.

Although it was obvious who was leaving, Fable asked, Oh? Who? not looking up at Deb, who she had hardly spoken to for hours.

Clint, Kwan.

So?

They told me to tell you that they’re leaving in the morning.

So what? Fable scowled.

So that’s it.

Fable shrugged. The men were leaving in the morning. She had till then to decide if she should go with them, which she was not.

Chapter 5

That evening Fable went home and sat alone for a few minutes with absolutely nothing to do. She could do laundry, clean the carpet, or walk around to see what normal people who were part of families did in the evenings. Mothers were with their babies, fathers were with sons, children laughed, teens were adventuring with their friends, and she just sat looking at a wall. Go and see the world – that was what people said. Clint and Kwan were not friends, why see the world with someone who didn’t care? But what if it had been a friend – a man who truly wanted to be with her, not for what she wasn’t but simply because he too wanted a friend. Fable turned from the wall – it was a dream too distant to even look toward.

She sighed deeply, wondering where she had made the wrong turn. There never had been a time when seeing the world was on the menu. Only once, on her fifteenth birthday, when she had touched seven feet, her father had given her the costume of some warrior. Fable turned her head to the closet, where in its dusty innards lay the ill-conceived gift. Had it been just for fun, for play and games? Or had it been real? Was her father hoping for something, sending her a message – go see the world?

Fable slowly rose and walked to the closet. The white leather garment did not take long to find, her life had few things in it. She held up the old Xena costume, a dress with an attached skirt made from vertical strips of stout leather that were riveted to the waist. It was primarily white leather with molded breast cups and shoulder coverings – sturdy brass rings and rivets held the entire thing together. Even the accompanying sword was there in the back of the closet. It had been so exciting to have a real sword, but of course, it had only been a joke gift from her dad, given after she had said she was moving out of the castle and to her own house in town. She already had a job at the butcher’s by then, never attending Burnsville’s small high school.

The day after her birthday she had to go back to the job she had. Back then, after grade school, it was the butcher shop where she worked cutting up cows, pigs, elk and the occasional bear. Later she helped at the sawmill, then she opened her diner with the few hundred mils she had saved.

Sitting on her bed, Fable felt the weight of the sword, it was what her father called a broadsword – it was big, suitable for her stature,