Gamma Recovers His Staff - 1. Gamma Recovers His Staff

Gamma Recovers His Staff

By Trenton Pennington

 

An old, dusty-blue pickup truck travelled down the road while the sun set in the West. In the driver’s seat a woman with long black hair watched the potholes, turning the wheel whenever a large hole threatened to eat the truck. Sitting beside her was a man with shaggy brown hair, his metal-flecked blue eyes gazing through the world around him.

“We can make another staff, Gamma,” the woman broke the silence, her ocean-blue eyes glancing to her friend.

Gamma closed his eyes and shook his head.

“We could, but it isn’t as easy as that. Kadus was a part of me,” he explained. Gamma looked out from the passenger’s window, watching the trees fall behind them.

Elora kept Gamma in her peripheral vision as she drove them back to camp. She and Gamma had traded with other Outlaws on a nearby beach earlier that day and somehow, in all of the haggling and loading of wares his staff had gone missing. As a Magus Gamma had several idiosyncrasies; one of these was a staff of oak that he had earned from his mentor. Magi were particular about their paraphernalia, and the loss of a stone or stick was something like the loss of a loved one. Even now she could feel his grief, a solid, tangible thing like weighted fog. Elora hoped that N’athir, their friend and mentor, could cheer Gamma. She looked in the rear mirror to check on their wares, making sure the knots held strong. Her father would be pissed if they lost or damaged any of the crates; inside them was enough food to last the tribe through the next month.

Gamma, meanwhile, had half-lidded his eyes, silence emanating from him as he entered into the gnosis state. While she didn’t understand the details, years of being his friend had given her the knowledge of when Gamma was working his Art. She supposed that he was reaching through to the other side of reality in order to find advice.

A smile of knowing on her face, Elora made the turn from the ancient asphalt onto a dirt road heading East, toward their camp grounds. There would be enough light left to unload the crates for Rose. From there the cook and her assistants could stock their kitchen for tomorrow’s breakfast.

Elora felt the contentment of a job well done. She enjoyed the easier jobs like this, they were a nice change from the diplomacy trips she and Gamma often made. Chief Rolling Rock, her father, had come to depend on them and that honor was far better than the glory of thievery she had dreamt of as a teenager. Better to be needed than to plunder other tribes.

Just a few minutes now she thought, glad to be nearing the end of the day.

 

As they pulled into camp Elora saw N’athir and Gregg waiting for them. N’athir, with his moon-silver hair and grey eyes, had always had a sort of sixth sense with his timing. He could be counted upon to be where he was needed.

Gregg smiled at her and Gamma as they drove toward Rose’s concession trailer. He held up a joint to let them know what treat was planned after unloading the provisions.

As they came to a halt Gamma returned from his meditation, blinking as he got his bearings.

“N’athir is ready?” he asked.

“Yep. Walking along behind us now,” Elora replied as she opened her door.

They got out of the truck and began loosening knots on either side of the cargo bed. A few moments later Gregg and N’athir arrived to help with the chore.

“No problems, then?” N’athir asked, taking a crate Elora handed him.

“Only one,” she said, nodding to Gamma for him to speak.

“I’ve lost my staff.”

Gregg’s eyes popped while N’athir simply nodded.

“There isn’t much we can do about it tonight,” N’athir said, carrying the crate to Rose. The cook was standing by her concession trailer and looked with mother-like compassion to Gamma.

“I’m sorry about your staff, Gamma. I know how proud you were when you earned it.”

Gamma shrugged.

“I’ll figure out what to do later,” he said, carrying another crate to the trailer. Chris, one of Rose’s assistants, had stepped out to begin putting provisions away.

“Maybe tomorrow we could go search for another stick?” Gregg asked as he carried a crate past Gamma.

The Magus just shrugged, taking another crate from Elora. At the moment he felt as though he was missing an arm. His staff was a connection to his Art. Without it he felt disempowered. He wondered if those traders had stolen it, but then dismissed the thought. Even if they had it, they could not use it. The power of a Magus’s staff lay in the Magus, not the wood. That was a secret most could not grasp.

At this point all he could do was finish his job and then smoke the Sativa joint with Gregg and Elora. Maybe later that night he and Gregg could fuck and he would forget the loss for just a few moments.

“Thank you for getting the groceries,” Rose told them after the last crate was unloaded. “I made some cookies as a thank you,” she said, pulling a gallon bag from her counter just inside the door. Elora smiled as she took the bag.

“You’re welcome, Rose, and thank you for the cookies!”

Rose smiled as they waved goodnight. N’athir took his leave while Gregg, Elora, and Gamma walked to the camper Elora slept in.

“I wonder what’s for breakfast tomorrow,” Gregg mused while they walked in the dark light of gloaming. Elora giggled at this while he brought out the joint from his pocket.

“What?” he asked her.

“All you think about is food,” she smiled at him.

“Yeah. I stay stoned. Occupational hazard,” his teeth were white when he smiled at Gamma in the evening. The smiled faded quickly when Gamma didn’t return it.

“You’re taking this really hard,” he said to his friend, “would you smile if I promised to help you find a new stick tomorrow?”

A sigh flew from the Magus as he looked away; memories of receiving the staff rose in his mind. He and N’athir had gone into the wilderness to complete his training, and the process of finding, crafting, and consecrating Kadus had been the mark of his mastery. To lose his staff was almost like saying he had lost the mastery of his Art. How could they understand? It wasn’t as simple as replacing Kadus; he had to invoke meaning into the process. Easier said than it was done.

Gamma’s blue-metal eyes met Gregg’s muddy brown. Through his inner hurt he could feel Gregg’s worry for him. Though the handyman couldn’t understand the feelings of a Magus, he could care. That counted for a lot in this world, and it behooved Gamma to stay humble, to be a source of positivity every chance he had.

From the bottom of his being Gamma screwed up the strength to smile, to relieve Elora and Gregg of the worry that was solely his.

“I’ll be okay, you guys. Sorry I’ve been so down this evening.”

Elora and Gregg returned the smile.

“We understand, Gamma,” Elora said, “being a Magus is important to you. Tomorrow the three of us will find a new staff for you!”

“Yeah!” Gregg chimed in, holding the joint while he searched his pockets for a light. After a few moments he looked to his friends.

“Do either of you have a lighter?” he asked.

Elora shook her head as Gamma took the Sativa cigarette and blew on the end, the paper sparking to life as he drew a hit and passed it to Elora.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a drag as they approached her camper. She passed the joint to Gregg and fished her keys from her pocket.

“Okay boys, what are we playing tonight? Poker? Dominoes?”

“How about gin rummy?” Gamma suggested.

“Yeah, it’s been a while since we played that!” Gregg agreed, passing the sativa to Gamma.

“Sounds good! Let’s go!” Elora said as they went inside to play cards.

 

Gamma had meant to go straight to N’athir’s camper after he said goodnight to Gregg and Elora. He was tired and ready to dream for a few hours to forget about losing Kadus.

As he walked from Elora’s camper he was distracted by a glimmer of light from the edge of the nearby forest. Curious, Gamma made his way toward the glimmering only to find nobody there. There was no sign that anyone had stood where he was and he would have thought nothing more of it had he not sighted another glimmer deeper in the forest.

Gamma stared into the darkness for a few moments, letting his senses play outward to feel for another presence. Although there seemed to be only the trees and nocturnal creatures, he caught sight of the glimmer once more. He hesitated a moment. Part of him thought to tell N’athir, to get another Magus to help him. Another part thought of his missing staff and the lack of proof it showed.

I can handle this, he thought, a will-o-wisp of subdued light floating around his hand. The pale light was bright as the full moon and cast the darkness aside well enough for Gamma to see a few yards ahead. From beyond the reach of the will-o-wisp came the glimmering, teasing him forward.

Gamma shook his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, stepping toward the sparkling enigma. Whatever it was, he could handle it.

 

The next morning Elora sat in her father’s camper, the rich smell of coffee filling the air while Chief Rolling Rock made his bed. When he turned back to his daughter he saw Elora laying face down on the table.

“Long night?” he chuckled as he set sugar and creamer on the table.

“We were up till midnight playing cards,” she answered, getting up to pour coffee for them when there was enough coffee brewed to prepare two mugs.

Another knowing chuckle from the Chief. “That’s always fun.”

“Yeah, we wanted to cheer up Gamma. He lost his staff yesterday.”

Rolling Rock nodded as he added sugar and cream to his coffee. N’athir had told him when they had parted last night.

“We’re going staff hunting today,” she continued, doctoring her coffee after her father.

“It seems like a good day to do that. Sunny with a cool breeze. I almost want to go with you, but other plans have been made.”

Elora smiled at her father. Those “other plans” included Rose, she guessed. Rolling Rock and Rose had been chatting a lot over the past month, and a few days ago she had joined father and daughter in their morning coffee ritual.

There was a rapping on the camper door and before Rock could say “come in” N’athir had entered, heading straight for a mug in the cabinet.

“Good morning, N’athir. Why don’t you have some coffee with us.”

“Only to be polite,” N’athir replied as he sat down with a half-mug of coffee. As he added cream and sugar he spoke.

“Gamma never came home last night.”

Elora’s eyes rolled.

“He and Gregg left together. They may have shared a tent last night.”

“Oh, are they an item now?” Rolling Rock asked. The young Magus was like a son to him now, after seven years of friendship with his daughter and best friend, N’athir. His welfare was something of a priority to the Chief.

“Er…kind of..,” Elora said, not up to explaining the complexity of life to her father this early in the morning. Gamma didn’t do relationships like other people, and even though Gregg liked Gamma, he wasn’t ready to be an old-fashioned “item” at twenty-three.

She took another sip of coffee while N’athir gazed out of the window at the camp, watching as it slowly roused for breakfast. People stretched in the morning sun, some washing their faces with wet rags while others put on shirts and shoes.

At length the silver-haired Dhijob shook his head.

“Gregg is here. Gamma isn’t. I think he doesn’t want to be found.”

“What do you mean?” Elora asked, ocean eyes meeting granite-grey.

“He has cloaked his Essence. I can’t find him,” the Dhijob replied calmly, sipping his coffee.

Elora huffed a sigh.

“Seriously, he needs to quit being such a tough guy. Gregg and I said we’d go with him, yet he just leaves without considering that we’re with him.”

N’athir nodded at her.

“I would expect a Magus to have better sense than to go out alone,” Rolling Rock said to his friend.

“If it were as simple as that,” N’athir replied, “the Arts are merely tools. It is the responsibility of the person to develop himself. Would you expect the gun to teach the shooter how to aim?”

Rolling Rock smiled and nodded.

“Well put. I forget myself sometimes.”

“You grow old,” his friend smirked. Rock chuckled and drank his coffee.

Elora looked out from the camper, watching people leave their tents and walk toward Rose’s trailer for breakfast. Gregg would be among the first ones there, bleary eyed and smiling in the happiness that only food would bring him.

Why didn’t Gamma wait for them? Was losing a staff that big of a deal that it required immediate action?

She looked to N’athir.

“Is it bad if a Magus loses a tool?”

“That depends on the Magus. Some take it personally, others are unfazed.”

“I guess we know which side Gamma falls on,” she muttered. She drained the rest of her coffee and put it in the sink.

“Can you tell which way he went?” she asked the pale Dhijob. He closed his eyes for a moment, then pointed West.

“That way. He travelled that way before he masked his trail.”

Elora gave him a smile.

“Thank you. Gregg and I will find him.”

“I’m coming with you,” N’athir said, getting to his feet, “you will need one to find one. Remember, Gamma is Dhijobain as well as human.”

Elora nodded and looked to her father.

“Hope you and Rose have fun today!”

Rock grinned.

“I’m sure we will. Ya’ll be careful out there.”

 

The glimmering had led Gamma for several miles through the dark forest of the morning. Staying just out of the will-o-wisp’s light the sparks had marked a route to the rock on the side of the cliff where he and…

Gamma stopped. Someone was standing in the dark.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

The Magus cast his light toward the stranger but saw only the rock.

“Follow the signs,” the voice spoke again, another glimmering spark in the distance.

He paused for a moment thinking about the Half-World. Normally he only went there to hide or work an Art, yet N’athir had told him once that it was a relatively safe way for a Magus to travel. Given that someone or something was luring him, it made sense to play safely. Right hand reaching skyward, pulling his left hand to his navel, Gamma spoke:

“Pure possibility.”

The color began to drain from the indigo sky, the reds and browns of the rocks and dirt of the cliff’s edge fading from view to leave only shades of grey. Once the colors were gone completely Gamma saw a trail of glimmerings locked in time, leading from the rock by which he stood deeper into the forest toward the river and its waterfall.

A smirk came to his face. This was the most fun he had had in a while, and he intended to see it through. Setting out once again Gamma made his way toward whatever danger awaited him.

 

Gregg led the way, brown eyes scanning the undergrowth of the forest. Behind him walked Elora and N’athir, she carrying her gun while the Dhijob at-oned with the world around them.

“Gamma!” the ocean-eyed woman called her friend. As expected, there was no answer. What was it about his staff that enchanted him so?

“We all despise losing what we find,” N’athir spoke; he reached out and rested his hand on a pine tree. Gregg stared at him, unsure of what to think. Elora, more accustomed to the mutterings of those versed in the Arts, shrugged and took a swig from her water canteen. An hour had gone by and still no Gamma. Gregg and the Magus had parted ways shortly after leaving Elora’s camper, so the handyman was dead near-useless. She had brought him along after considering that a crowd of three was better at searching for missing people.

“He’s closer than we think,” N’athir spoke, returning from his communion with reality, “the trees are unsure of how to name his exact place.”

“Could he be in the Half-World?” Elora asked, recalling all those times they had hidden in the grey world of possibility.

N’athir nodded. “It’s possible.”

He looked to Gregg.

“You and Elora stay on this side. I’m going to the Half-World.”

Gregg nodded, though he had no idea of what the Dhijob said. His world was built of Sativa smoke and hard work. The world of the Magi, built on subtlety and wordlessness, was always just out of reach for him.

“If we need you?” he asked N’athir.

The Dhijob looked to Elora, giving her the rare gift of a smile.

“Do you remember the bond?”

From the depths of her blue eyes shone her connection with the Dhijob. Wordless, she touched her chest, right above her heart.

“How could I forget?”

N’athir nodded, face once again the masque of distance and silence.

“You always were the perfect student. That door is always open to you.”

Elora smiled and shook her head.

“I learned from you that open doors needn’t always be entered.”

Another warm smile from the normally stone-cold face.

“Enough sentiment. We have a friend to find,” N’athir spoke, nodding to the others as he faded from view. Elora watched where he had stood for a few moments, then turned to face Gregg.

“Right. Now, Gregg, what do you see in your mind?”

“What?”

“Just answer.”

He thought a moment.

“The rock where Gamma and I… played cards last week.”

“Lead on,” Elora smirked. They walked a few paces before Gregg spoke again.

“Why should we go there?” he asked, feeling as though Elora was messing with his head.

“Simple. It’s where you feel led to go. There is at least a resting place there.”

“I guess so,” he said, still feeling like Elora knew they had had sex there. Was this a magick she knew from Gamma? Or was she just able to read him that easily?

Doesn’t matter he thought to himself, Gamma may be there.

 

In the grey world around him N’athir watched the shadows move with the currents of Essence. This was possibility, a space where the answer to every question was “perhaps”. If Gamma had travelled this realm the Dhijob could find the trail.

He traced the sigil he used as a focus into the air around him, speaking clearly and firmly:

“Sift the possibilities, sort the maybe, show me the path of the one I seek.”

A breeze played through N’athir’s hair as the Essences streaked color through the grey forest to lead him toward his pupil. Gamma had walked through this place, though he felt the distance of time lengthening.

As N’athir walked Gamma’s history, he thought over why the young Magus had left without a word. He had always been a quieter type, keen on staying out of the way, but after seven years Gamma had become more immersed in Tribal life. He had always told his friends and mentor where he was going when he wandered the Wilds, even when he neglected to tell them his reasons. To leave without a word was now out of character for the Magus.

Through the echoes of trees N’athir walked, the color evanescent around the edges of the past.

He could hide this if he wanted N’athir thought to himself. Either he wanted to be found or he had been in a hurry. Whichever it was, they would find their friend. His story had several chapters left.

 

Gamma had reached the river’s edge after nearly an hour of walking the Half-World. The will-o-wisp draping light around his hand let him see the grey current rushing toward the edge where it would cease to be a river and become a waterfall. He could hear a muted roar as the sound of the water reached from the Middle World of the day to day into the world of possibility where he stood.

He took time to sit on a nearby rock and rest. The glimmering trail ended here, and behind him he saw the signs slowly fading out. With a sweeping gesture the Magus cast a line of his Essence along his path, just in case N’athir should have to come find him.

As he sat listening to the river, letting his sense play out to find where to go next, he was surprised by a voice from behind him.

“Rent, we are, from space and time!”

There was a solid, frozen edge to the atmosphere while Gamma stood to his feet. Around him he felt a Weft closing off from the flow of time, a stranger with long silver hair facing him a few yards away.

Gamma settled his sight on the stranger to find a young man about his age and height, the pale skin reminding him of the Dhijob N’athir. He felt his gut sink when he realized that the stick the stranger held was none either than his own staff, Kadus.

The stranger stepped closer, smiling as a cat might upon finding a mouse stuck in a corner. Gamma saw as he neared that the eyes that stared at him were his own, blue flecked with streaks of metal-grey.

“Hello, Gamma. I’ve been waiting for you.”

 

“He isn’t here,” Gregg said when they reached the rock. Elora said nothing as she climbed on top of the stone. She looked around them at the rolling canopy of the forest. Sunlight reflected off the glazed greenery.

She wasn’t a Magus like N’athir or Gamma, but that didn’t mean she was ignorant of the Arts. There was something about this place that stood out in her mind, as though someone had seen much more than trees from her vantage point. Without words, she knew Gamma had been here.

She felt water rushing down her skin, saw the rain course from the tops of the mountain toward the valleys below.

“He’s gone to a lower place,” she said at last.

“Down the cliff?” Gregg asked, looking over the side of the bluff. His face was a shade paler for a moment, afraid of sighting the mangled body of his friend at the bottom, among the eroded rocks.

Brown eyes saw only chips and chunks of earth, some green fighting for existence on the sheared bluff face. He breathed a sigh of relief as his color returned.

“Follow the water,” Elora said, thinking of the river and its drop, the waterfall a few miles to the Northwest. She jumped off the rock and began hiking, hoping that she was doing the Art properly. It felt right, it felt like it was outside of herself.

In the end, she could only trust and hope that her friendship was strong enough.

 

Dhijobain are well-known for their tenacity; once they have a goal they continue with it to completion, or at least until hell freezes over.

N’athir had come to his first real tough spot. The path he had been following stopped, the color fading into the grey space that surrounded him. It was this place from which Gamma had slipped out of the Half-World, so the Dhijob did the same, color flooding the earth and trees around him. Nearby was the roar of water leaping over rock, the sound of a river pouring from a cliff.

As he walked to the waterfall he felt a twist in his bowels; cold fear like the fear of a stranger in foreign cities permeated the rocks and the trees. Through the Essence of paranoia N’athir kenned the young Magus. He felt the warping of reality from the Other Side, a sure sign that Arts were being worked nearby, perhaps even as close as behind the veil of the Half-World.

N’athir made to enter the Half-World again, then paused. A vision of the future flowed through his mind, a smile playing on his lips as he broke a branch from an oak tree he had met before that day. He pulled his knife from his pocket and whittled off the twigs and frayed end, a rough hewn staff emerging into the world.

“He must learn to accept the present. That is why he fights his past. The shadow stole his Kadus,” N’athir spoke aloud to no one in particular.

Moving to the bank of the river, N’athir took a seat on a rock that jutted over the water. He held the staff across his lap, muttering prayers and invoking the only Essence that could help his protégé. The warm threads of his Art wound the stick, magick weaving through every aspect of the new staff.

Voices from afar roused N’athir from his reverie, Elora and Gregg nearing his watch.

“It’s N’athir!” Gregg’s voice called back to Elora. Their footsteps hastened them to N’athir’s side.

“No sign of him?” Elora asked the Dhijob once they came into sight.

“N’athir shook his head.

“I know where he is, but until he calls to us, we won’t find him.”

“Could you vague that up a little more? I think I almost understood what you said,” Gregg smarted off to the Magus.

N’athir simply shook his head.

“I’ve done what I must. We will wait here until he calls to us.”

“That’s stupid, N’athir! He could be hurt somewhere! We need to keep looking for him!” Gregg said.

“He is right here, Gregg. Can you feel him, Elora?”

The black-haired woman closed her eyes, feeling for Gamma’s Essence as she would N’athir’s. After a few moments the darkness behind her eyelids showed her friend before her, some dark silhouette engulfing him.

“He’s here! But, why can’t we see him?”

N’athir was silent a moment, watching the water flow past them.

“Have I ever told you about doorways?” he asked her at length.

“No,” she answered him, “but Gamma said they were useful a few times. What does that have to do with him though?”

“Doorways, beaches, and waterfalls are the same thing: a portal to a different view. I suspect that our friend went hunting for Kadus and found the thief.”

Elora fell silent. She sat beside N’athir to wait while Gregg gawked.

“You Magi never make sense, you know that? Just sitting around, waiting. This is stressing me out,” he mumbled, taking a joint out of his pocket and searching for his lighter. A few seconds of searching his pockets turned up empty.

“Damn it,” he groaned.

“I’ll light it for you if you sit down and shut up,” the Dhijob spoke.

Sneering, Gregg sat down and handed the joint to N’athir. The Magus put the Sativa to his lips and drew deeply, the joint sparking and coming to a slow, even burn. He handed it to Gregg, now impressed, who took it quietly.

The three sat there, watching the rushing water for several minutes before N’athir spoke.

“Nice day today.”

 

Gamma’s blue-metal eyes beheld their exact copy, the world around him drained of color save for his own and that of his doppelganger. At that moment the Magus realized that he was completely alone, that none knew where he was.

The good news was that he had found his missing staff. The not-so-good news was that his strange alter ego had used it to trap him in this Weft between realities. For all intents and purposes Gamma was a prisoner in the Half-World.

“Have you figured out who I am?” the pale skinned double asked. Gamma was silent, refusing to give any power to this strange twin. He had followed his doppelganger all night through the forest, thinking it to be another Magus. Now as the apparition held Kadus right before him, Gamma realized something deeper was happening.

“Come on, it’s rude to be so quiet.”

Blue-metal eyes gazed at themselves.

“Talk to me, please,” the pale one asked, whining like a six year old. Still no reply from the Magus.

“You’re always like this, never talking to me. I can’t believe you don’t know who I am. That really hurts,” the doppelganger said, nearing Gamma, staff in hand. Those eyes, Gamma’s eyes, looked at Kadus from someone else’s body.

“I could send you away, just like you do to me when I won’t cooperate.”

Gamma looked to the double, to Kadus. It was important to recognize this person. That much was apparent from the fact that he held Gamma’s staff. The young Magus recognized something else as well—those eyes. His eyes. Somehow, though the other was lighter skinned and longer haired, this doppelganger was a part of him. Apart from him it stood, powerful enough in its own right.

Was it possible that this was the part of him he had abandoned so long ago, before he left his mother’s tribe? Was this the dark place in which he buried his hurt?

It seemed crazy; no one had ever spoken about a Magus divorcing a part of himself, but with half of his heritage coming from the modified people known as the Dhijobain, wasn’t it possible that his abilities were deeper than others?

N’athir had thought so. How often had he challenged his young charge? Gamma had learned so much more than he thought possible because of the distance, vast and profound, between N’athir and himself.

At last a chuckle came from Gamma’s throat.

“Don’t lecture me about being rude. You trapped me here and still lack the decency to introduce yourself.”

The double smile.

“That’s the Gamma I know and love! So glad you made it!”

The Magus glared at his double, silence arriving while he waited for a name, a title, anything that would explain who or what this person was. Gamma was fairly certain he wasn’t the creation of some other Magus; the Essence was familiar, like something one remembers from a half-forgotten dream.

Gamma thought a bit longer, looking to the grey river as it spilled over the edge toward the lower ground. This other man, so much a mirror to the Magus, spoke as thought they were long-time friends.

“Remember Rumi?”

His breath caught in his throat. Rumi had been Gamma’s best friend while growing up. They came from the same tribe, they had shared so much together, from first fishing trips and making camps to those ember-passion kisses and embraces in the forest. Rumi, now a far-off memory, had been his first love. For this other man to know this would mean he had been there, that Gamma’s gut had been right when it remembered those dark places.

“You’re that voice I talked to when I hurt, when my heart was broken,” Gamma said, recognizing his shadow for what it was.

“My name is Howl.”

Gamma nodded, glancing at those hands that held Kadus. The knuckles were white from the strength of Howl’s grip. He could feel the heat building up in his body, the force of years of buried pain being brought back to life as the doppelganger recounted every sorrow, every insult, every injury.

“I’m tired of your method, Gamma. I’m tired of holding all your hurt!”

He nodded at Howl, the intensity of emotion bringing back the memory of all those hurts.

“We could have had Rumi! We didn’t have to leave!” Howl spoke, the specter of the young love floating past them in the grey light of the Half-World. For a moment Gamma almost reached out and touched him, then he remembered where he was.

“So what do you want? You took Kadus, you hold me prisoner in this Weft of memory, you raise the ghosts of every bump and bruise of life, and for what?”

A smirk flitted on Howl’s lips.

“What do you do every time someone hurts you?”

Gamma’s eyebrows knitted together a moment, mind wading from heated memory to memory as he tried to pin down how and who he was. He thought of the loss of Kadus, the despair he had felt at the loss of the symbol of his power. He thought of that loneliness, so deep and isolated, that he had to fend off from time to time. He thought of how he had buried his hurt so that he could smile for Gregg and Elora.

“Exactly,” Howl said, “you isolate. You break those bonds with those around you and then bury those feelings with me.”

Gamma looked into his own steel-flecked blue eyes. He got it now; Howl was angry at him. Disgusted at always being used. Wouldn’t he feel the same way if he had to always remember every little hurt?

“I’m tired of it, Gamma. You let Rumi leave without us, you wouldn’t fight for N’athir, and every time we get hurt you run away from the very people who could make it better! I’m tired of it! I want to be free Gamma! I want to be free of your self-imposed tyranny!”

Howl lifted Kadus, pointing it toward the Magus.

“I know everything you know, every trick, every Weaving. I’m burying you today, Gamma. Sending you where you belong so that I can be happy!”

Around them the Weft grew dark, only the barest sparks of light reaching them from places far outside. Gamma felt the Weft rumble as Howl began his Weaving.

“This one, so quick to discard, may he be discarded! May he be buried as I have been! Send him to the Deep!”

As the sigils for binding glowed to life around them, Gamma chuckled, softly at first, then louder as the enchanting light grew stronger. Gamma raised his hand, the Weaving around him pausing in mid-air.

“You forgot something that’s kind of important, Howl.”

“What?”

Gamma reached forward, drawing Howl close to him in embrace.

“We have friends.”

 

“This is so boring,” Gregg said, standing to his feet and stretching after an hour of being seated.

“And that’s why you never come with us on missions. You bore too easily,” Elora said, watching the river while she held the staff N’athir had made. The Dhijob had been silent so far, mentally travelling to wherever it was that he went.

Elora was worried. Gamma tended to be a loner, yes, but he had never been one to leave without any words. What had been so important that he hadn’t woke her up to tag along? It was almost insulting, really.

She was just about to gripe about it when a wind swept up the river from the waterfall. N’athir turned to speak to her but she had thrown the staff as soon as she had felt it. Gamma had called to them, wherever he was. He had needed them, and now she did what she knew to do.

As the current carried the stick over the edge of the fall, Elora whispered, “Gamma, come back safely.”

 

“We are the same person, Howl,” Gamma said, drawing the other man into his arms. He held the doppelganger close, feeling as the heated pain coursed through him, feeling the loss of Rumi all over again. He could feel the cold fear of realizing Kadus was gone, the fear of losing everything he had worked so hard for.

In that moment, Howl struggling against his embrace, Gamma remembered his friends, their offer to help him find a new staff. He smiled as their faces came to mind, a sense of nearness filling him. He was not alone; he had friends who had his back.

In his arms Howl fought the hug. The doppelganger wrestled against the acceptance in Gamma’s heart, the warmth of understanding that threatened to pacify and reconcile.

“I refuse to be defeated!” he roared through Gamma’s chest.

“That’s good,” Gamma smiled, “because we’ve just won.”

There was a snapping crack throughout the Weft as the sigils of light, once paused, now began to fade from view as the possession of that magical space was ceded to Gamma. He shut his eyes for a few moments, Howl struggling against his acceptance, until at last the wriggling stopped. As he opened his eyes he found a new staff in his hands, the Essence of N’athir heavy in it as he raised it skyward.

The color returned to the world around him as he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.

“Hey! It’s Gamma!” Gregg’s voice carried to his ears.

Before he could turn around both Elora and Gregg had tackled him in a bear hug, N’athir a passive observer to the homecoming.

“Hey,” Gamma chuckled, “I’m back.”

 

That night, after Gregg and Elora had finally decided they were tired enough to sleep, Gamma made his way to the edge of the camp where N’athir kept his pop-up camper. The lanterns had, for the most part, been dimmed across the migrant town of tents and makeshift mobile homes. The veil had fallen, dark and dazzled with stars; night had arrived once again.

Gamma smiled to himself when he realized the passage of time had counted a full day without sleep. He had inadvertently set up a chance to do some magick, if he cared to exhaust what smidgeon of vitality he had left.

The pale-cream Dhijob was waiting for him when Gamma arrived. As usual there sat a masque of distance on N’athir’s face. Years of living together had given Gamma the subtlety needed to divine his mentor’s mood.

“Yes, I should have told you when I left. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“What did you find?” N’athir asked as he motioned to the lawn chairs he kept for company.

“My shadow. He calls himself Howl.”

N’athir pulled a pipe from his pocket and began to draw on the stem. From the bowl came an evening-orange ember, the spicy green smoke of the Sativa reaching Gamma’s nose.

“You’ve been around Gregg,” the Magus said to the Dhijob.

“I needed it for my nerves. I think I understand Rolling Rock a bit more after today.”

Gamma nodded, passing on his chance to toke with N’athir. All of this time he had thought of N’athir as just a mentor, just the man who had been his advocate before he himself had become a man. He had been a friend, yes, but through the wall he could feel something else in the Dhijob’s Essence now, a new edge to N’athir’s aura.

“That’s why you wouldn’t have me…,” Gamma said aloud, “you see me as your son.”

Silver-haired N’athir nodded in the darkness.

The Magus thought to his staves; both had been carved by N’athir. He could feel the power of knowing one had been important to another, the way one feels after advising someone about the future, albeit in a deeper way that was nothing like counseling at all.

“I accepted Howl.”

N’athir nodded, understanding in those eyes that reflected the Sativa cherry. To accept the Shadow was a mark of deeper mastery. His young protégé was fast reaching the edge of his human heritage, soon to dive deeply into the Dhijobaines world to which his father had bound him when he had known his mother.

“And you’ve found something else,” he said to his charge.

Gamma nodded.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I feel like I’m closer to you guys. It’s as if the Essence that connects us flows more easily now.”

He looked to the sky, to the planets that wandered the black sphere above them. He knew that by accepting Howl he would feel emotions more clearly, that he would have to flow with them rather than send them to the Shadow to hold. Somehow, he was okay with that. Gamma knew already that the heart was a powerful force, a source of Art and understanding. As a Magus he would move through its domain and learn from the territory.

Howl must be honored. To refuse him was to refuse himself, to willingly cut himself from his friends and.. well, family now. Seven years’ distance had cost him Rumi, yes, but it had brought him his family. It had brought N’athir a son. Howl would always be there to remind him of what truly was valuable now.

The Magus smiled as his mentor finished the bowl and they watched the stars, just as they had done for years now. As he hovered on the edge of dreaming Gamma realized that a Magus’s power came not from within but rather from the strength of life well-lived.

With this warm knowing he slipped over the edge into the dreaming his mind craved.