A Scripta

Grim looked up from his iPad to see a man in a big red truck come driving into the gated area of the warehouse in Kings Row. This was a huge, long abandoned warehouse, with smoke stacks to one side and large barn doors on the other. There were many doors in between, and loading docks, ramps, pulleys - all sorts of trappings of a typical werehouse.

Grim had found the phone number after searching through the town hall records. The taxes were up to date, but the place hadn’t been utilized in eight years. The owner tried selling it two or three times, but because of the economy nobody seemed interested. It was officially off the market. Grim expressed an interest to see inside.

The man got out of the truck. He was a big, beer-bellied man, bald and a salt-and-pepper beard. “You Mike?”

“Yes, sir. You’re Luke.”

He nodded, shook Grim’s hand firmly. “So you want to buy this place?”

“Yes, I need the room.”

“It’s a mess."

“I can see that.”

Luke undid the padlock on the doors and shoved them aside. Grim immediately was assaulted by the smell of decay in all forms. Wood, rust, flesh. Luke gave him a flashlight. He walked through it, scanning all around. The place was a disaster.

“It’s 47,250 square feet. The furnace probably doesn’t work. Some of the doors are rusted shut.”

A bird flew up in the rafters. “How about the roof?”

“Dunno, haven’t looked up there in years.”

Grim looked disappointed. The price on this place three years ago was just about what was left in his bank account from all his work in Nerva. He would be broke if he bought it. But it wouldn’t be for just him and Lue. Grim sort of wanted to create an artist’s loft for mages, sorcerers, summoners, and other magic users, where they would all learn from each other, and work with each other, show each other their skills. They couldn’t be part of some Order, or a coven, or a group, or anything else. They would pass their knowledge among each other. No secrets.

And not only mages, but maybe fighters as well. It would be, he hoped, like an Academy, where everyone would bring their knowledge and they’d all learn together.

However, this was so utopian and far, far, FAR down the pike, that he didn’t even think it would be a reality. He also didn’t know if he would need to do it – maybe Havens would wake up. Maybe Jack would get some nuts, and the technomancers go away. Maybe pigs would fly too. He did have a rune for that. He wished he had a rune to solve Havens’ problems.

He certainly didn’t want to lose the connection with Havens. He still remembered what it looked like before Rusty improved it, he had such good memories there. He wanted to help with the Sealers. And he knew that there were some people there who were against the technomancers, but who didn’t have a loud enough voice. He was moving out, but not abandoning them, not by a long shot.

They wandered through the warehouse, and tripped over a few bodies of birds and rats. He crunched on syringes, and saw some places where it looked like people had squatted. Rain leaked through the roof in places, eating away at the metal floor. He couldn’t visualize the potential of the place – he didn’t have that kind of artist’s eye. Rusty should have come with him, he would have a better idea.

However, Grim needed to perform the true litmus test. At the old Havens, when it was first in King’s Row, it had been chosen for its convenience. Grim hadn’t used ley lines then. The new Havens also didn’t have ley lines, and Grim had “drill” for them and bring the energy to the surface like an oil drill, so he could have quicker access to it. Now that Grim used ley lines – and other mages would too – he needed to see if there was a power source.

He felt something, but he didn’t open his senses fully to gauge it. He handed the flashlight to Luke. “Give me a second?”

“Sure…?”

Grim took a few steps forward, and stood with his palms out. He didn’t even try, but he felt something already. He looked slightly confused – it shouldn’t be drumming that hard. Then, he opened himself up.

He wasn’t ready for the rush – it felt like cold water and hot lava both at the same time. It filled him and overflowed him; he closed his fists immediately and collapsed to the floor. He put his hands down on the floor, and he couldn’t ground – the power was right there at the surface.

He looked around frantically. He got up and ran to a metal beam, and wrapped his arms around it. The energy came out from him, into the metal beams, and suddenly, the area was enveloped in bright light, as the beams crackled. Some broke and fell to the floor below, shattering into rust. The light arced to the roof, brightening it for a moment, before it all faded.

“What the fuck was that?!”

Grim, panting, slid down the beam and sat on the floor. “How…how much, again?”