Abscond (The Magician – Chapter Thirteen)

This is the thirteenth chapter of the serialization novel I am working on, The Magician – < click there to read the other chapters if you missed them.

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Abscond

The first few weeks of the new world tour had come and gone uneventfully.  Ignace mostly performed his usual stories, the magical paintings that had made him famous in the old world.  But after a few stops, Lorenzo insisted that he create something unique for this new tour.  While Ignace wanted to defy the director, he knew what would happen should he disobey.  Lacking inclination, he capitulated and detested every picture.

Each stop blended in with the next, creating a monotony that frustrated the magician.  Instead of the trains they used in the old country, the company traveled by buses and rented cars in the new world.  A tractor-trailer rig carried the tools of their trades.  Each stop along the tour was long and daunting, but it was what he had become accustomed to.  And while he still pushed his luck from time to time, he bided his time.  He knew he had to be patient.

Each stop brought them closer to Allium.  Each grueling week brought them closer to what he hoped would eventually be his freedom.

But with that hope also came a fear.  He had turned his back long ago on those he cared about.  He wondered if any of the old wounds had healed and how he was remembered. Would anyone come to his aid?  He did not know.  He could not know.  That nescience made for a precariousness he did not wish to feel, though it washed over him as often as the frustrations did.

He resolved to abscond on his own.  He just needed the courage and the strength he was sure would come from being back in his home city.  But would it be enough to help him break free of the bonds he had put himself into?

After many agonizing weeks of anticipation, they finally arrived in the city he had been born in.  Allium, in all of its glory, looked more vibrant than he remembered.  But the memories of his city did not bode so well with what he saw as they drove through.  

The landscape had changed.  Stores and buildings had disappeared and new ones were in their places.  The familiar sounds and sights and smells were there, but there were also new sounds and sights and scents that he could not place.  He felt like a stranger in this city that he spent so long fantasizing about.  

What was once familiar had become unfamiliar to him and he wasn’t sure whether the changes unnerved him or not.  As he gazed up at the skyscrapers and watched recognizable buildings pass by the bus window, he felt at ease knowing he was back home.  But so much had changed that he felt his heart lodge in his throat.  He tamped down his emotions, but he felt his resolve to escape slip a bit.

He knew he had to do what he had dreamed of doing for so long.  He just did not know how or when he could make his move.  He was sure Lorenzo was watching him with a fervor now.  After all, this was where he had been ensnared.  It would make sense to try to push his luck here where he had once been most comfortable.

But Ignace felt as though he were being stifled with no chance to even think, let alone visualize his escape.  Every waking moment was filled with rehearsals and fittings and promotional events.  Lorenzo insisted he add even more to his act since this was to be his grandest performance as his homecoming.  There was the arduous task of working out what emotions he needed to force himself to feel in order to create the colors and pictures for this new scene.  His entire body ached from the rigor he was coerced into enduring, but he pushed himself nevertheless.  The thought of escape kept him going.

One afternoon, he finally found his chance.  He was enjoying a moment of respite in the opera house, unguarded and alone.  A delivery had been made, one that kept Lorenzo, the guards, and Vitto occupied.  As the men paid no heed to what their star performer was doing, Ignace decided to act.

He slipped out the theater side door onto the one-way street.  He then sauntered along the sidewalk towards the river that forked its way through the heart of the city.  He tried to walk nonchalantly, acting as though he were part of the tourists and city folk who were wandering the busy streets.  The air on his face in this crisp autumn morning felt wonderful and fresh and he exhaled deeply as he continued to walk, stuffing his hands in his pants’ pockets as he put his head down.  

There was an earthiness to the odors that wafted off the river, mixed with a slight scent of fish.  Ignace breathed it in as he delighted in the first few moments of freedom, letting it leave an indelible mark in his memory.  He glanced at the waters as he walked, watching the way the bluish-green waves rippled along with the current.  There were a few boats on the waterways, dinghies, pontoons, water taxis and even a small yacht.  In the past, Ignace would have watched the way they each glided along the water, but today he had to keep moving.

He felt a tug around his neck and knew the magic of the contract was trying to force him to stop.  He pushed against it, using his own unique spells to compel himself along.  He continued to walk, concentrating on his freedom as cars flew by him on the street, the elevated trains ran above his head, and pedestrians jostling him as they hustled by.  

He spotted a transportation center ahead and pushed himself to make it that far.  He knew that if he were to get there, he could disappear into the underground and possibly find someone amongst his old gang of friends who might be willing to help him.  He had to know someone who could free him in this city.  

He had advanced past another building before he began to see the futility in his escape.  He had not thought this out, he realized, disheartened.  He was walking blindly in a city that had changed in twenty-five years from the memories he held.  He was without means of contacting anyone.  He knew even going to the police was hopeless.

He also realized he had the powerful family magic to think of. But that was a magic that had rejected him.

As he continued to walk, not knowing what he was going to do, he saw a suspicious movement ahead of him.  Joseph, the head of Lorenzo’s bodyguards, was there, a frown on his face as he touched his earpiece and said something.  

Ignace turned to return the other way, to find another means of escape.  In doing so, he spotted Vitto and another guard closing in on him from that direction.  Despair welled up in him as he looked across the street to see the last two of Lorenzo’s main guards.

A car pulled up and stopped in the bike lane, the blinking of the hazard lights adding to the already disconcerting cacophony of sound that threatened to overwhelm the magician.  Lorenzo himself climbed out of the passenger side and opened the back door of the dark sedan.

“Get in,” he commanded, pressing firmly to the medallion as the men closed in on their position.

Ignace looked about quickly as dizziness began to set in, calculating his chances as his means of escape were cut off.  He raised a hand to cast a spell, but the magic Lorenzo had long cast to ensnare him caused him to cry out in pain instead.  Try as he might, he could not use his magic to defend himself against his captors.  But he was determined to try again.

“Don’t even think about it, Godding,” Lorenzo snarled as Ignace began to raise his hand once more.  “Get. In.”

Joseph had reached the pair, still standing off as traffic rushed past the car in one lane.  They were blocking the second lane and the amount of angry beeps and even shouts of profanities were making Ignace anxious.  He could not fight the magic and the men with all of these distractions around him.  He groaned in defeat.

Vitto had reached them as well and the men fairly manhandled the performer into the car.  As the door slammed shut, the child-lock engaged to keep him from fleeing again, Ignace let out a silent curse as Lorenzo stared at him for a moment before moving to climb back into the front seat.

He had been foiled again.  He already regretted it, even as he enjoyed making Lorenzo remain on edge.  He sat, mutely watching as the scenery flew by, not even daring to move a muscle as he fought back the tears disappointment threatened to bring to his eyes.

There would be hell to pay later.

Click here for the next chapter – Recompense

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction written by K. S. Wood, and thus is copyrighted 2023. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.  All rights reserved.

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