Chapter 2: New Lineup
Shake slammed the door of the station wagon and, instead of heading toward their home, she stormed off down the packed dirt trail to the practice facility. She filled the entire ride back to their village with chilly silence to let her father know she was furious, and she knew another showcase of her frustration would underline the point. Shake preferred actions to words. Much like basketball, she’d learned it wasn’t just the moves you made, but the spells you didn’t cast that dictated the back-and-forth of any confrontation. Like choosing a quick pull-up jumper instead of a contested layup, it was all about keeping your opponent off balance. With her father, she knew that saying nothing would speak volumes — doing more damage than if she’d screamed at him for hours.
But she could have screamed. Inside, she was screaming. What was her father thinking? She was a force on the court. Her magic and movement made quick work of every player she’d faced one-on-one. When she took on challengers with her older brother, they’d left their opponents breathless and battered. Two young court wizards working in sync, lining up foes and knocking them down, winning goods and supplies to benefit their entire village in the process. They’d even combined their skills with her brother’s sharpshooter friend Brick Bellamy and taken a few local tournament trophies home.
But that was before her brother and Brick hit the circuit to try their luck outside the prairie leagues where they’d racked up innumerable wins. Her brother left for a new challenge. Where did that leave her? Why did he leave her?
She pulled out her ball and let her bag drop from her shoulder in the middle of the path. As she turned the orb over and her hands, she squeezed it, pouring her anger and frustration into the mystic object. It began to glow as she activated its magic. The glow lit her way as she stomped through the night to her court.
Now she did yell. A deep emotional howl, not unlike the triumphant exultation she yelled into the faces of her rivals when she bested them on the court. Her father knew his daughter well enough to hear that this was a shout of fury, not celebration.
“Bitsy, I know you’re mad, but,” he began, following after her, but Shake spun and fixed a glare on him so fearsome he stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized that deadly look. It was the same magic she used on opposing players. It was part of the reason he was having trouble finding her single-combat matchups.
“Let her go, Gill.”
Amanda Johansen walked up behind him and bent down to drape her long arms around her husband’s neck.
“We knew this was going to be hard. She’s stubborn like her mom.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders and turned him around to face her. Wilis Gill looked up into his wife’s eyes. She felt the slow rise and fall of his broad shoulders as the Chieftain took a deep breath.
“You two are going to put me in an early grave with all this stress,” he joked. She gave him a gentle pat on the cheek, then they turned to watch their daughter.
Under the tall wooden roof that protected their open-air training area, Shake conjured light into the rafters, casting a glow over the polished wood floor. She dribbled over to a hoop and began her ritual under the rim with alternating right- and left-handed layups.
“You knew what you were getting into when you kept pursuing me. Even after I told you to go find a girl your own height,” she teased back.
“It was easier with her brother.”
“She’s different.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it. There’s a power in her that–” Gill paused. “I’m just concerned.”
They watched Shake move onto form shooting, making ten baskets from right in front of the hoop, moving back and making ten more, continuing the routine till she’d charged herself with the energy of seeing the orb pass through the rim 100 times. Seconds ago, she’d been fuming with anger — literally screaming with rage — and now she pulled that emotion back in, focusing it all on this fundamental work. Her parents said nothing as they watched, but they both had the same thought.
Neither of them had that control, nor did her brothers. It was special, but it was intense. Anyone who’d watched Shake on the court knew it. But what would happen if she lost control of that focus with all of that magic concentrated in her?
Her mother was right. Shake was different.
Beams of light streamed through the trees accompanied by the sound of wheels on gravel. Gill and Amanda turned from their daughter’s meditative training and saw Gray Wilson’s pickup as it reached the end of the long, winding entry road through the forest that ringed the village — part of the protective barrier that kept their small community disguised from the outside. A warded fence hidden in the woods provided additional protection. Most villages were fortified or relied on secrecy and magical safeguards, even if prairie pirate raids were rare nowadays.
The truck pulled to a stop next to Chieftain Gill’s wagon and Gray popped out. Elbow followed him but without the same enthusiasm.
“Jo, I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age.”
Elbow gaped as his father approached a giant woman.
“So that’s how wolfmen count the passage of time, huh?” Amanda joked before picking up Gray in a big bear hug. “And this must be your boy.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Chieftess, ma’am,” Elbow said, stumbling over the introduction, but glad that he remembered his manners. Something told him that, despite her size, this was not a woman you wanted to be on the wrong side of.
“Ma’am? I know you’re young, but don’t go making me feel old,” she said, enveloping Elbow’s hand in her massive grip. “And drop the Chieftess stuff on this side of the fence, please. He’s just Gill now, and I’m Amanda Johansen. But you can just call me Jo like all the dusty old farts do.”
“Hey now!” Elbow’s father chimed in. “I resemble that remark!”
“Even more so after that joke,” Gill elbowed Wolfman in the ribs. “That chestnut was ancient even in the beforetimes.”
Elbow was already anxious about the possibility of competing in his first county tournament. The fact that Shake seemed to hate the idea of partnering with him didn’t help. Thankfully, the easy banter of these old friends began to put him at ease. It’d been just him and his dad on the road alone since his mom--
He hadn’t realized how much he missed this. It was nice to be around a proper family.
The thump, thump, thump of a basketball brought him back into the moment. Elbow turned and looked down the rock-lined path. Next to the tall pines that formed a bailey around the village, he saw the open-air barn with torchlight pouring down from the rafters. Under the glow, he watched Shake working her way through a series of off-the-dribble moves and mid-range jump shots. Her calculated movements, her deliberate footwork, it looked like a dance. Elbow could almost imagine her dancing over the bodies of her enemies with that efficient play.
He hadn’t seen Shake play since they’d been kids. Now his nerves came right back. She emanated power. She was good. On the court, she looked downright scary.
“Don’t worry about her,” Jo said. She must have read the look on his face. “She’s just working a few things out. Once she finishes channeling it, we’ll all have a good talk.”
She put an arm around Elbow and guided him toward their home. Elbow saw rockers on the front porch and a warm light coming through the screen door. Past that, he saw a makeshift main street leading to a few barns, some were converted to lodging, and other newer buildings, sheds, campers, and tents. There were vendor stalls, as well, and even an old school bus with a wooden sign hanging from it that said “Library.” At the very end of the lane was a large building next to a creek that Elbow didn’t recognize. It had a large wheel on the side, spinning slowly as water from the creek water it along.
When Elbow and his father passed the perimeter fence covered in warding, he knew it must have strong magic because the community wasn't as fortified as many of the places he’d visited with his father. Campfires blazed, and the smell of a dozen different dinners wafted through the air with the conversation and laughter of Chieftain Gill’s and Chieftess Jo’s people. The village looked like an oasis compared to the hidden campsites where Elbow and his father normally spent the night.
“Let’s get you and Wolfman fed before we have to give your father a new nickname,” Jo said. “You’re both looking a bit too rangy. More like starving coyotes than wolves.”
Elbow chuckled. He’d also forgotten how much he liked hearing people tease his father.
“You’ll have to wait till tomorrow for Gill’s culinary expertise. He’s the real chef, but I got a stew on and some fresh biscuits.”
“Real bread?” Elbow interrupted.
“Indeed,” Jo explained. “That’s part of the reason we don’t bring in many visitors — and why we keep heavy warding around the village. We have a wheat field and a functioning mill. And we don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves with that luxury.”
Plenty of towns Elbow visited in his travels had specialties like cheese from a herd or a unique crop from their fields, but real bread with flour and yeast was rare. He’d eaten a variety of corn cakes, acorn bread, and sorghum loaves, but he could count on one hand the times he’d eaten the real deal. And he thought about those times a considerable amount.
“After seeing her fiery response to the news of our partnership, I won’t lie. I am a bit fearful,” Elbow said, gesturing toward Shake. “But if there’s bread, I will master that fear quickly.”
Jo’s laughter echoed across the camp, rising with the cookfire smoke to the upmost boughs of the pines that surrounded the village.
“Many things are different in this age, but some never change,” Jo said, chuckling.
“Teenage boys will brave anything for food.”