by J B Drake
Anise frowned. “What wards?”
“Oh, for heavens sake!” the chronodragon snapped. “You mean to tell me you walked all the way through that sitting room and didn’t notice the wards in there? What in the hells do they teach you archmages these days?”
Anise turned to glare at the chronodragon, but it was the chuckle from Maline that truly stoked her ire.
“Now, now, Maline,” Mardaley chided. “You didn’t notice them either, the first time.”
“Never claimed to be no high-and-mighty archmage neither,” Maline shot back.
“Mardaley, if you shatter that boy’s mind,” Anieszirel continued before Anise could draw breath, “I will break you. Do you hear me, storekeeper?”
“You care for him,” Mardaley said.
“You’re damned right I do.”
“Well, so do I. There is a great deal we don’t yet know, and this is the fastest way to answer the biggest question of all.”
“You will hurt him.”
“I will not. All I need is one brief moment of recognition, then I’ll vanish, and you must all act as though I was a figment of his imagination.”
“So, this is his surprise?” Anieszirel sneered.
“Oh! The cake!” Maline exclaimed.
“The what?” the chronodragon asked as she turned to Maline.
“Made cake earlier,” Maline replied, “can make that his surprise.”
“Yes,” Mardaley nodded, then carried his gaze over the others. “I’ll go first, then you all follow with the cake. Give me a few moments’ head start.”
Slowly, one by one, they all nodded. All save Anieszirel.
Mardaley turned to the chronodragon. “Go to him, keep him calm.”
“If you break him…”
“I won’t.”
Anieszirel glared at Mardaley for a spell longer, then faded from view.
Taking a deep breath, Mardaley turned to the others. “To your positions, then.”
“And nobody else is perturbed by this human storekeeper’s advanced command of the arcane?” Anise asked as she rose, her gaze avoiding Mardaley’s as she swept the room.
“Even shopkeepers have past lives, my dear,” Maline sniffed as she rose to fetch the cake, a wide grin upon Mardaley’s lips as Anise fixed Maline with a deathly glare.
“Please!” Tip thought to Anieszirel.
“No! I gave my word, and you may not know this, but a lady’s word is her bond!”
Tip pulled a face. “Not going to tell.”
“Oh, I know that, you’ve proven yourself quite capable of keeping secrets, but this is Mardaley we’re talking about. And Baern. You can’t fool them however hard you try.”
Pouting, Tip sighed as he slumped in his chair. “Fine.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Tip, they’ll be out soon. Maline’s just putting the finishing…”
Just then, the sound of the kitchen door opening reached Tip.
“Quick! Close your eyes!”
With a gasp, Tip did as she’d asked, a chuckle escaping his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Starlight?” said a voice from behind Tip.
Though it was but a single word, its effect on Tip was profound. With eyes wide, the little boy sat ramrod straight as his heart threatened to burst from his chest.
“Tip, are you alright?”
Tip remained unmoving.
“Starlight, is that you?”
Slowly, young Tip turned, rising to his knees upon the chair as he did so. His mouth was agape, the beating of his heart booming in his ears like a war drum. Then, his eyes fell upon the smiling woman standing behind him.
“Mummy…?” he said as tears filled his eyes.
The young woman smiled as she reached out to the little boy. “My darling Starlight! How I’ve missed you!”
Tip smiled. “Mummy.”
“I couldn’t find you in Aldurn,” the young woman said as her smile faded. “I looked for you everywhere. What happened, Starlight? What happened in Aldurn?”
Tip’s smile had also dimmed, replaced by a frown as his features became twisted by such terrible longing and pain.
“Tip, it’s alright,” Anieszirel said. “It’s alright, you hear me? It’s alright. There’s nobody there. It’s just a figment—”
“No,” he mumbled as he lowered his gaze, shaking his head as he did so.
“Tip?”
“No,” he repeated as he closed his eyes.
“There’s nobody there, Tip. Upon my honour, it’s just—”
“No, no, no!” he yelled, smashing his fist against his temple repeatedly as he spoke.
“Starlight, stop!” the young woman said as she rushed forth, a hand reaching for Tip’s fist. “You’re—”
“You died!” Tip shrieked as the woman came within reach of him.
Stunned the woman stood rigid as she stared at the shrieking child.
“Saw you die,” Tip continued as he backed away from her. “You died! You died!”
Just then, the kitchen door flew open and the others rushed in.
“How did I die, Starlight?” the young woman asked, oblivious of the others, her gaze one of burning intensity. “How did I die?”
“No!” Tip cried, springing away from the chair as if it was on fire. “No! Go away! Leave me alone!”
“Mardaley, enough,” Anise warned.
“No, wait,” Baern replied. “If we know how his mother died, we may know how to help him.”
“Tell me, Starlight,” the woman continued, oblivious still of the others, “how did I die?”
“Go away!” Tip pleaded, his tears breaking free as he backed away from the woman.
“Stop!” Marshalla yelled.
“Tell me,” the woman pleaded.
“No, don’t want to remember!” the boy cried.
Tip was now against the far wall, his back pressed hard upon it as tears streamed down his face.
“You must, my little darling,” the woman continued, “you must! Tell me, please!”
“Go away!” Tip wailed. “Don’t want to remember, go away! Please don’t make me remember.” As he wailed, the little boy slid down the wall to the floor, then proceeded to place his head between his hands and his elbows upon his raised knees.
The woman moved round the chair towards the cowering boy, but Anieszirel’s astral form swam into being before her, stopping her dead in her tracks.
“Enough,” the chronodragon warned, her eyes ablaze.
The woman stared from the seething chronodragon to the crying little boy.
“I love you, Starlight,” she said at last.
“I said enough, damn it!” Anieszirel barked as she took a menacing step forward.
“I had to know,” the woman replied as she stared at the seething chronodragon.
“You had to know, did you?” Anieszirel snarled as she took another step forward. “Did you? I warned you, storekeeper, I warned you. If you br—”
“I had to know, Anieszirel,” the woman muttered, her face long. “I know the price was high, but it was for his own good.”
Taking another step forward, the chronodragon seemed ready to lash out at the woman, to cut her low where she stood, but before she could do anything, Tip spoke up, his words chilling the hearts of all present.
“Killed my mummy,” he said.
“What?” Marshalla and Anieszirel exclaimed in unison.
“No!” Anise and Baern whispered as one.
“Tip, no…” Maline added.
“My mummy’s dead,” Tip continued, his gaze revisiting a scene buried deep within his mind. Then, he turned to the young woman.
“You left me, Mummy. You left me and ran away. He was the only one who stayed. He said you was going to come back and hurt me.”
“What has this child seen?” Anise whispered.
“Didn’t mean to hurt you, Mummy,” Tip continued, oblivious to the others in the room, his tears running free still as he rocked back and fort
h. “Didn’t mean to. But you was going to hurt me. Sorry Mummy, really sorry.”
The young woman smiled. “That’s alright, my darling.”
Shaking his head, young Tip stared at the floor as his rocking became more pronounced.
“Killed my mummy,” he said, words he repeated under his breath again, and again, and again.
“You broke him,” Marshalla spat. “Happy now?”
“For what it’s worth, Marsha, I—” Mardaley began as dispelled his illusion.
“Everyone out!” Anieszirel barked, the suddenness of her words startling the others. Her eyes were upon the child as she spoke. “Now!”
“Why?” Baern demanded. “What is it?”
Anieszirel turned to face them, and what fear they felt multiplied a thousandfold the moment they saw the terror in her eyes.
“He comes,” was all she said.
Spinning to face the child, her arms extended by her side, the chronodragon cast a spell upon them all.
“Who comes?” Anise asked.
Before Anieszirel could speak, a vileness filled the air, one that smelt of death and decay and felt like pain and sorrow. As the vileness embraced them, all save Anieszirel cowered beneath it’s defiling weight, till, one by one, their eyes fell upon the child. He’d stopped rocking, and was staring at them.
“Tip…?” Marshalla began.
“No,” Anieszirel shook her head. “Him.”
It was his eyes that were the most startling, devoid of any light or life. Two soulless caverns of blackness, staring up at them. But as unnerving as those eyes seemed, the dread each one felt as they stared deep within them was far worse.
Then, the boy smiled.
“A courage boon,” he said as he turned to Anieszirel. “Clever.”
“So, this is the other Tip?” Anise asked.
“Other Tip?” the boy frowned.
Falling silent, the Archmage looked from child to storekeeper and back.
“Oh, please, girl,” the little boy smirked, “you must elaborate.”
Anise stared at Mardaley once more before replying.
“We thought you…that Tip…”
The more Anise floundered, the more the boy’s smirk grew.
“The boy’s mind is fractured,” Baern said, coming to Anise’s aid. “You’re nothing more than a construct from that fracture.”
The little boy laughed. Such an innocent, sweet laugh, one whose purity only served to unnerved them all the more.
“I assure you,” the little boy replied at last, “I am most definitely real.”
“So, who are you, then?” Anise demanded.
Smiling, the boy rose.
“Not a who,” Mardaley replied. “A what.”
“Ha!” the boy exclaimed. “You’re one to talk. Care to tell them who you are? Who you truly are, I mean.”
Mardaley held his peace as the others cast furtive glances at the frowning storekeeper. All save Marshalla, whose eyes were fixed upon the boy.
“I think not,” the boy said, his smile widening. “Though if I’m honest, I was expecting something a bit…more. Your reputation precedes you, so you can imagine my surprise when I realised you’re…you. To find you here, minding a store, and see you this weak and pathetic, that was heartbreaking. Though I suppose it’s to be expected; reputations do have a way of gaining a life of their own after a time.”
“Mardaley, what’s he speaking of?” Anise demanded.
“You needn’t worry,” the young boy said before Mardaley could draw breath. “I have no interest in destroying your little illusion here. Rather, I find it quite charming, all these mortals hanging about you so much, yet knowing so little of you and the lives you’ve ruined.”
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Mardaley replied. “You know so much of me, yet I know so little of you.”
Grinning, the boy bowed. “My condolences.”
“Will you not share your name with us?”
The boy laughed once more.
“Tell you what,” the boy said. “You tell them your name, your true name, and I shall tell them mine. How does that sound?”
Mardaley smiled at this. “You’re afraid. And you call me pathetic.”
The boy’s gaze darkened as a cold smile parted his lips.
“You’re goading me,” he said, the coldness of his words chilling the air. “Is that wise?”
“You’re the Summoner, aren’t you?” Marshalla spoke up at last, the quivering of her words drawing all eyes to her.
“The what?” Maline asked, but Marshalla heard not one word uttered by her friend.
“You killed Corwil, and all the others, didn’t you? It was you! Gods, it was you!”
“Killed who?” Maline pressed, placing a calming hand upon Marshalla’s shoulder. “Who’s Corwil?”
But Marshalla brushed her hand off. Her eyes were wide now, all blood drained from her face.
“It was you all this time. All this time, I thought…I thought…and the vision…it was you. All this time.”
“Marshalla, what are you talking about?” Anieszirel asked.
It was as if Marshalla was on a different plane to them all.
“All the lies, all the…you were here. The whole time. All that we sacrificed…you were in Tip the whole time?”
Grinning, the boy clapped.
“Amazing!” he exclaimed. “Though I do admit, it was rather entertaining watching you take so many measures to hide Tip from me, yet I was right beside you all along.”
An evil smile replaced the boy’s grin. “Shall I tell you how Corwil died? Would you like to know? Would you like to hear how he screamed?”
Marshalla stared, stunned into silence.
“In all honesty, though, my dear,” the boy continued. “I’m rather disappointed in you. Not only did I let my hounds spare you back at the manor, but I also took personal care of your friend Brass. And yet you show no gratitude. None whatsoever.”
“Who’s Brass?” Mardaley asked.
“That is a question for our dear Marshalla,” the boy replied.
Shaking her head, Marshalla stepped forward. “What’s your name?”
The little boy chuckled. “The little mouse tries to roar.”
“Tell me your name!” Marshalla yelled. “After everything we endured, after everything we’ve suffered, you can at least give me that!”
The little boy stared at her, but kept his peace.
“Tell me your name!” Marshalla shrieked as tears brimmed in her eyes.
The boy remained silent, his smile a biting taunt.
“Please,” Marshalla continued. “Can’t you at least give me that?”
The boy stared at her a moment longer, then his smile grew till a large delicious grin parted his lips.
“No,” he said at last.
“Why?” Marshalla screamed.
“Because watching you suffer is such fun.”
With one long heart-felt shriek, the young elven girl made to fly to the boy, to vent her rage and pain upon him. But before she could take even a single step, her dear Maline had her in her arms, holding her close and hugging her for all she was worth. In the silence that followed, all watched as Marshalla’s whole body quivered as she sobbed in Maline’s arms.
“Well, entertaining though this is,” the boy said after a spell, walking over to the sofa nearby. “I must now focus my efforts on healing our young friend here.”
“Why?” Anise asked. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Your antics earlier have shattered his mind beyond imagining,” the boy continued as he lay down. “I must now clean up the mess you’ve made in here.”
“How long’ll that take?”
“Well, the last time his mind was this badly damaged, it took roughly three months to fully heal him.”
“Three months?” Baern exclaimed. “He needs to be back in the Tower tonight!”
Rising to sit, the boy stared at Baern, his eyes boring into the Magister. “You
do not want this child wandering your precious Tower with his mind in the state it is now. That will end badly for everyone.”
Then, he swept his gaze over the others. “While I’ve so enjoyed our chat, it’s time for it to end. You will leave me now. Tip shall awake when he is whole, and not before. And when he does, best not mention our little conversation, or me for that matter. We wouldn’t want to reopen old wounds, now, would we?”
And with that, the little boy lay down, closed his eyes, and was still.
An Unbearable Truth
With his mind pounding against his skull, Magister Meadowview slowly closed the kitchen door behind him. Resting upon its handle, he took a deep breath, then let it out slowly as his grip upon the door’s handle tightened. They’d gone seeking answers, and they’d found them. Dear gods, they found them.
Rising off the handle, the Magister cast an eye over those in the kitchen with him. They were all gazing into the ether, their faces pale and drawn. He needed no help from the arcane to discern what thoughts filled their heads. Then, as his eyes fell upon his dear friend Mardaley, sitting stooped in his chair, Baern paused. Never had he seen the man look so haggard.
“Mardaley,” he said.
His words drew the attention of all within the kitchen, save he whose attention Baern craved.
“Mardaley,” he repeated.
The elderly storekeeper’s eyes remained fixed upon something unseen.
“Mardaley, what we just see in there?” Maline asked. “What that thing in Tip?”
But again Mardaley did not respond.
“It’s clearly a demon of some kind,” Anise spoke up. “Agril must’ve bitten off more than he could chew. His experiments must’ve failed, the result of which is that fell creature lodged in Tip.”
“But what is it, though?” Maline pressed.
Anise shook her head and shrugged. “Hells if I know. I will tell you this, though, that is one demon we cannot take lightly.”
Maline frowned. “What you mean?”
“Mardaley’s wards in there, I took a good look at them. Potent, every single one. But for all their strength, were it not for Anieszirel’s courage boon, staring into that demon’s eyes would’ve been the most terrifying thing you’d have ever endured, Maline.”
“That’s because he didn’t cast a spell,” Mardaley replied, turning to face them at last. “The fear from his eyes is akin to the venom of a viper. It’s ingrained in his nature.”