First Job (Chronicles of the Moonshine Wizard)

Cover Photography by:
Phillip Drayer Duncan

Inne
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Illustration by:
Tammy Hawkins

Book Design and layout by
:
Phillip Drayer Duncan

Copyright©2013 Phillip
Drayer Duncan

All Rights Reserved.

This publication may not be reproduced in any way or by any means without expressed permission from the copyright holder.

This book is a work of fiction. All of the events and characters are made up.

For information about the author and copyright holder…

PhillipDrayerDuncan.com

This story
of the Moonshine Wizard takes place approximately four years before the events in the novel, A Fist of Thorns.

A Chronicle of the Moonshine Wizard

First Job

by

Phillip
Drayer Duncan

His hands shook with nervous excitement. This was the first time that the bounty hunters had agreed to allow him to come on a hunt. The Boss had given him specific instructions to stay in the back and not get in the way. Bert had every intention
of doing just that. He had been through rigorous combat training, but he was smart enough to know that it wouldn't amount to much when faced with the real thing. Despite the fact that he was a wizard, his small amount of power couldn't match up to the actual combat experience of the human bounty hunters.

             
The old abandoned farm house sat alone in the middle of the woods. It was miles from anything a person might consider civilized. As the breeze swayed the tall grass around the house, it groaned painfully. The old gray boards cried, as though they would give out and cause the whole house to come crashing to the ground. Every window was boarded up, allowing absolutely no daylight to creep inside. Only the doors remained uncovered. It was quite obvious that no human had lived there for a very long time.

             
“Looks like a perfect place for the target to hide.” said the female voice of Rogue.

             
Rogue was the second in command of the nameless band of bounty hunters. She was cold, calculating, and stunningly attractive. She was short and skinny, but packed some serious mean, as Bert had learned. She wore full combat fatigues that hid her figure, and her hair was cut in short pile of various reds, blacks, and blondes. Her eyes were covered with dark sunglasses, and on her hip was the giant .44 mag hand cannon she always carried.

             
“Looks like a perfect place for several to hide.” said the Boss, while looking the house over carefully, “I want everyone on their toes.”

             
If the Boss had a different name, Bert apparently hadn’t earned the right to know it yet. Bert guessed he was fifty something. His steel gray hair, cropped short in a military style made Bert think grizzled veteran, like you only hear about in the movies. He was tall, broad shouldered and his face hosted faded battle scars and a set of terrifying eyes. He demanded respect, and didn’t accept any mistakes. His team was fiercely loyal to him.

The bounty hunters took jobs hunting supernatural creatures that didn't follow the laws of the Hand of Magic. The Hand of Ma
gic is the ruling body of all things supernatural, and they enforce their laws with an iron fist. Bert's official training had been done through the Hand. It was the only way. Practicing magic outside of their approval was a quick way to get in a lot of trouble.

             
The Boss turned to Bert, and said, “Waylon. I want you to bring up the rear. Stay right behind Rogue and myself. I don't want you trying to do anything stupid.”

             
Bert nodded. He wondered idly if the Boss, Rogue, or anyone else on the team would ever call him Bert like his friends did. Probably not, he figured. None of them seemed to like him much. In fact, other than the Boss and Rogue, he didn't know the names of anyone else on the team. They wouldn't even speak to him. It probably had something to do with the fact they made a living hunting people like him that didn't follow the rules.

             
The Boss gave some quick hand gestures to the other three guys, and they started moving around to the back of the house. They were all decked out in full combat gear, and bearing combat shotguns or assault rifles. Bert felt a little under dressed and way under gunned.

             
Bert was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt. It was his everyday attire. Compared to the people around him, he didn't look like he belonged at all. He was only twenty two, average height, and a little overweight. The overweight part was mostly a direct result of spending too much of his free time drinking beer and his home crafted moonshine.

             
As he started following Rogue and the Boss toward the house, he thought about his weapons. His staff was what he used to perform the small amount of magic that he was capable of. Having the ability to perform a few minor spells was probably the only reason that the Boss had agreed to hire him. Unfortunately he was young and not that powerful, and what he did have came with a handicap. Modern devices and electronics didn't work well with magic users. Anything with electric currents, or small parts and springs wouldn't last long in his hands. Magic energy had a static quality that tended to upset the natural state of things. This meant that instead of a high capacity assault rifle or semi-automatic hand guns, Bert was stuck with his old single shot .410 and his cowboy style .357 magnum  six gun.

             
He pulled the staff from his back.

             
“Aw c'mon man.” said a sarcastic voice inside his mind, “You aren't going to include me?”

             
And there’s the sword, whose name is Sharp. A straight, mid-length, double-edged blade. It’s ebony hilt is covered in battle scene carvings that flow into a dragon’s head on the pommel. It came into his possession (or he came into its possession, Bert wasn’t clear about that yet) just after completing his wizard training. Turns out the thing is alive, sort of. Either way, they share a telepathic link and can speak mind to mind. They made a deal. The sword offers advice and help when needed, and apparently sarcastic remarks whenever it feels like. In turn, Bert isn’t allowed to tell anyone that it happens to be more than a simple inanimate object. Bert didn’t trust Sharp, and was reluctant to use him.

             
“Quiet.” he said to the sword silently, “I'll grab you if I need you.”

             
“Pfft.” replied Sharp, “You always need me.”

             
“Shut up.” he replied.

             
“Oh, well, excuse me sir.” retorted the sword, “Somebody’s a little on edge about their first big hunt.”

             
They were coming up to the door, and Bert chose to ignore him. He needed to focus on what was going on.

             
They were there to take down a rogue vampire. Vampires weren't allowed to take human lives, and the Hand of Magic enforced this law with the same fervor they enforced every other law with. There were blood banks, and other options for vampires to survive. Attacking a human was strictly forbidden, but this vampire didn't get the memo or simply didn't care. Either way, the Hand of Magic was paying the bounty hunters to bring him in.

             
Rogue placed her back against the wall beside the door and waited for the Boss's order. The Boss hefted his large pistol grip twelve gauge pump and pointed the barrel at the door. Bert stood behind them dumbly holding his staff in one hand and his .410 in the other.

             
He didn't know how much good the .410 would even do against a vampire, but it at least had some knock back power. He just had cheap store bought buck shot, nothing special. He had heard about a dwarf in Eureka Springs that specialized in making rounds to fight supernatural creatures. He had been meaning to look into that, and was now wishing he had.

             
The Boss touched his small ear piece. The whole team had them except for Bert. It was how they communicated. He wasn't sure if it was because he was new, or because they knew that his magical energy would probably zap it. Regardless of why he didn't have one, he was left in the dark unless they specifically wanted him to know something.

             
The Boss gave a light nod to Rogue and her hand wrapped around the door handle. She moved it slightly and nodded back. He whispered something into his communicator and gave Rogue another nod. She jerked the handle and swung the door wide open. The Boss stepped forward with his shotgun barrel leading the way. Rogue stepped in behind him with her giant revolver and held it over his shoulder. There was a crash from the back side of the house, and Bert knew that the others were in the house as well. Bert was the last in, standing awkwardly behind Rogue and the Boss making sure not to cross their lines of fire.

             
The Boss pulled a small round light from his belt and stuck it against the wall. It flickered to life, allowing them to see into the room. The Boss waved at him to close the door. Bert complied and stared at the dimly lit living room.

             
The inside of the house didn't look any better than the outside. The walls were gray and dust covered. There were holes all over the walls, and where there wasn’t, only yellow stained dry wall remained. They were in a living room with sparse ancient furniture, disregarded relics from the many years it had obviously been since the house was livable. Ancient wooden plank floors creaked with each step they took, making it impossible to move in stealth.

             
The Boss held up his hand, and they stopped. The house was disturbingly quiet. There was the occasional creaking groan as the wind picked up, but that was it. Bert would have expected to see some kind of wildlife having made its home in the abandoned house. There wasn't even the sound of a cricket's chirp however. That, he understood, was a sign that it was likely not as abandoned as it appeared.

             
Bert shifted his weight, the floor creaked beneath him. Both Rogue and the Boss shot him an angry glance. He mouthed sorry, and the Boss went back to looking around them. Rogue shook her head at him.

             
Bert stared at the darkness of the entryways that lead deeper into the house. The house had looked pretty large from the outside, but the pitch black of the inside made it seem massive. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The darkness was so thick; Bert felt it would crawl out and embrace them all as it swallowed them whole.

             
A light smacking sound, followed by more light, pulled him from his dark thoughts. The Boss was moving forward with his shotgun out in front of him. The light on the shotgun lead the way. Rogue was only a step behind him, still holding her weapon over his shoulder and using her free hand to pull lights from his belt to smack on the walls. She would switch between the ones on her own belt and his, ensuring that the numbers didn't dwindle on either. As more lights went up, the shadows were pushed back into a blue ambiance.

             
Bert realized that he was falling behind so he began marching forward to catch up. The floor was loud and terrifying, and he feared that he would either fall through or be scolded for making too much noise. Neither happened, and he fell in behind Rogue.

             
Bert felt useless, and that only inspired the fear creeping up his spine. He called a protection spell over himself. It was enough to hold back a few bullets or light magical spells. He would have liked to have been able to extend it over his teammates, but he still lacked the power to efficiently cover others. He also feared that it might cause their small lights to break, leaving them lost in the darkness.