This is the eleventh section of my novel. If you haven’t read the first six, you might want to start here.
Enter Uncle Othin
“Hey old man. How are ya?” Minus answered at his Uncle’s hello.
“Holy shit, Minus? I didn’t think you’d made it out. Where the hell have you been?” Othin was very surprised to hear from his nephew after such a long time.
“Made it out? What do you mean, Uncle?”
“Well, I haven’t heard from you in almost three years. I thought the Mist had taken you.” Othin replied. He spoke slowly, but with a lot of enthusiasm. He came across as the wise grandfather figure, even though he was only 48. Well, he had been 48, three years ago. Minus had not aged a day, but his uncle had not been so lucky.
“Whoa, hang on Uncle O. The Mist is taking people?”
“I’m not sure. People have disappeared. People who could see the Mist. I haven’t been able to really figure out what is happening to them, despite two years of research.” Othin’s voice was soothing and reassuring, despite the context of the conversation.
“Shit, this goes further than I had thought,” Minus replied. He related the events that lead to his disappearance to Othin.
Othin listened, but answered only with “Yes” or “Right.” He was observing and he was thinking.
“Minus, have you contacted Doctor Mancini? This is really his forte. He understands traps and consequences. The bouncer, umm.. Harry? You knew him, yes? Is it possible to contact him, and see where the silver line reaches?”
Minus had not thought of this. Othin was always good for excellent, although odd, advice.
“I also think it may be time to hang from the world tree again. You are certain he said ‘Runes to Swords’ and then ‘Swords to Rope?’ This would indicate the Magician and the Hanged Man, and…. hmm.. the Princess of Swords? I’ll do some research. Be in touch.” And with that Othin hung up the phone.
Minus was more than a little confused. He pulled some small white pills from a box near the desk. Swallowed them with a glass of wine, and laid back down on the sofa bed. He curled up next to Jane, and entered oblivion.
The Cost of Magic
Enter Uncle Othin