by G Sauvé
All eyes turn to me. It’s apparent I’m supposed to give a speech, but I’m entirely unprepared. Under normal circumstances, I would crumble under the pressure, but that isn’t an option. Kara and Jonn’s survival may well depend on whether or not I can convince the queen to help me defeat Avalon.
“My queen,” I say, bowing low. “I seek your aid. As my friend has already said, my companions are in grave danger. They will perish unless I succeed in rescuing them.”
I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts. Queen Korri takes advantage of this to interject.
“Why should we help? Our city is on the brink of destruction. We can’t afford to spare a single korrigan unless it’s for a good cause.”
“It is for a good cause,” I protest. I desperately want to explain why it’s so important Kara and Jonn survive, but I know it will only decrease my chances of success. I need to keep things simple. “My friends are being held captive by the woman who has claimed your beloved mountain as her own. By helping us you will not only be saving my companions’ lives, but you will also be ridding yourself of this woman.”
There’s a moment of silence as the queen considers my proposition.
“We care not about the outside world,” she says. “This woman you speak of is of no consequence to us. She and her acolytes will perish when the volcano erupts.”
“Won’t Korrigania also be destroyed?” I ask. “By evacuating now and helping me, you could save innocent lives and ensure the continued wellbeing of all lava korrigans.”
The queen doesn’t agree with my logic. In fact, she seems quite upset by it.
“No!” she says. “We will not abandon our city. We will fight until the very end, even if it means the death of all korrigans.”
I expect Korri’s parents to react poorly to their queen’s bold claim, but they seem just as willing to lay down their lives for their city. Korri is the only one who doesn’t share their sense of patriotism.
“I’m sorry,” he says moments after the queen has returned to her previous activities—ordering the lava korrigans about in a desperate attempt at saving their doomed city.
“It’s okay,” I say. To be honest, I never expected to receive aid from the queen. If what my older self said is true, the only way to rescue my friends is to accept my destiny and learn to take my shifting ability to the next level. Right now I have no idea how I will do either of those things, but I better figure it out soon, or else Jonn and Kara will perish along with all the lava korrigans when the volcano erupts.
Memory 84
I ’m not going,” says Korri.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “You can’t stay here.”
Korri’s shoulders sag.
“I must,” he says. “I abandoned my people once. I can’t do it again.”
“What about me?” I demand. The confidence that once inhabited me is gone. “I can’t save Jonn and Kara alone.”
“Yes,” says Korri. “You can.”
He sounds so sure I actually believe him.
“How do you know?”
“I may not be a hero, but I know one when I see one. And you, my friend, are a true hero.”
Just when I think I have him figured out, Korri goes and does something like this. It just goes to prove you don’t have to be big to have a big heart.
“No,” I say. “You’re the hero. You’ll save your people, and they’ll tell your tale for generations to come.”
Korri beams. I can’t tell if he believes me or not, but if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Korri has made the right decision. His place is with the korrigans, even if that means perishing at their side.
“I should get going,” I say after a moment of silence.
“Yeah,” agrees Korri. “I’ll show you the way.”
After a quick farewell, Korri and I leave Mr. and Mrs. Korri behind. The small korrigan leads me to the opposite side of the city. There we find another narrow stone road that stretches as far as the eye can see before vanishing into a shimmering wall of heat.
“Here,” says Korri, handing me a rolled up parchment. I take it and carefully unroll it. It’s a map, with a clear set of instructions. With it, I should have no trouble reaching the summit of the Mountain of Fire. Hopefully, I can make it in time.
“Thanks,” I say as I carefully slide the map into the small travelling pack Korri has provided. The journey to the summit should only last a few hours, but I have enough supplies for a few days. It’s better to be prepared than regretful.
“You’re welcome,” says the small korrigan, fighting back tears. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I say as I drop to my knees. I begin to transform moments after my hand lands on his shoulder. Within seconds, I have replicated the korrigan’s appearance. I’m now ready to tackle the intense heat that will mark the first leg of my journey. But there’s something I must to do first.
“It’s been an honour knowing you, my friend,” I say, my hand still on his shoulder. I’m not sure if either of us will survive the next few hours, but the odds of us seeing each other again are slim. Very slim.
“The honour was all mine,” responds Korri as he places a hand on my shoulder. We stay that way for a moment before I finally pull away.
“Goodbye,” says Korri.
“Goodbye,” I reply. Moments later, I’m on my way.
Memory 85
I walk in near-total darkness. The light of the torch I hold is all that stands between me and oblivion. My footsteps echo throughout the stone tunnel that has been my only friend for the past few hours. The travel pack Korri gave me is slung over my shoulder. Every so often I retrieve the map it contains, wondering if perhaps I took a wrong turn. According to it, this tunnel should have ended long ago.
“Maybe I should go back,” I say to no one in particular. My voice sounds high-pitched and whiny.
There’s a moment of silence before I remember what my older self said.
As long as I believe in myself, everything will be fine.
The words should be comforting, but they’re not. What if Old Will was wrong? What if my actions have caused the future he came from to change? What if Kara and Jonn are already dead? What if all I’m doing now is dooming myself along with them?
“Stop being so pessimistic,” says a voice behind me.
My heart leaps into my throat as I stumble forward. There’s nowhere for me to run, so I turn around and lift my torch, revealing the cloaked stranger who stands before me.
It’s him. The man who taught me to control my shifting. Without him, I would still be a complete mess, terrified at the thought of anyone touching me. I’m grateful for all he’s done, yet I can’t help being a little suspicious.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you I would return to help you master your full potential,” he says. “That time has come.”
I’m conflicted. On the one hand, the fact that my mysterious mentor appeared just as I was beginning to despair is rather suspicious. On the other hand, I’m incredibly grateful for his presence as it proves the timeline has not been altered—Will 2.0 warned me about this encounter. This, in turn, means Jonn and Kara are still alive, and I may yet be able to rescue them. When moments before I was on the verge of total despair, I’m now filled with hope and courage.
“I’m ready to learn,” I say.
“Very well,” says the hooded man. “Have a seat.”
I place my travel pack on the stone floor and prop the torch up against it. I then drop to the ground and cross my legs. My master takes a seat across from me. I can catch glimpses of his face, but never with enough clarity to determine what he looks like.
“Replicating humanoids is easy,” says the hooded figure. “It’s time for you to duplicate something a little more complex.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe this will help,” says the man as his hand emerges from the folds of his cloak. Nestled in the open palm is a small animal.
&nbs
p; It’s a lizard. The tiny creature measures a measly ten centimetres in length and is covered in green scales. Its tail is curled into a neat spiral, and its bright eyes are fixed on me.
“What’s with the lizard?” I ask, eyeing it suspiciously. I’m not afraid of it, merely perplexed by its presence.
“He’s your next test,” says my mentor. “Your final test.”
“I don’t…” I begin, but my voice trails off when the truth dawns on me.
“Oh my god!” I gasp. “Are you saying you want me to… to…”
“Become it? Yes. That’s precisely what I expect you to do.”
“I can’t. Can I?”
“You are limited only by your beliefs. Believe in yourself, and you can accomplish anything.”
That’s not exactly the answer I was looking for, but it will have to do.
“Okay,” I say. “Tell me what to do.”
“Close your eyes.”
I do as told.
“Open your hand.”
I outstretch my arm and uncurl my fingers. Moments later, something cold and scaly slithers onto my palm. It skitters around for a moment before growing still.
“Picture the lizard in your mind’s eye,” urges my mentor. “Focus on every detail until you have a clear image of it.”
I focus on the memory of the lizard. Its scales were so tiny, its eyes so bright. Its tail was narrow and long. Its paws were frail and its fingers minuscule. Its mouth was but a slit, yet I can easily picture the rosiness that lies within.
“I’m ready,” I try to say once I have a clear mental image, but all that comes out is a raspy whisper. I open my eyes and come face to face with a giant monster.
It’s the lizard; only instead of being the size of a mouse, it’s as huge as an adult crocodile. Its eyes are the size of soccer balls, and its massive mouth is lined with sharp teeth. Its legs are big enough to crush a full-grown korrigan, and its tail could easily strangle a dozen men.
My first instinct is to run away, but such a thought evaporates when I realize it’s not the lizard that’s big, but rather me who’s small.
“You did it,” bellows my mentor, his voice so powerful it makes the ground shake. At first, I don’t understand what he means, but then I look down at myself.
Four legs. Green scales. A long tail. There’s no doubt about it. I’m a lizard.
I can’t believe I did it. But more than that, I can’t believe how easy it was. I didn’t even have to try. I just focused on the lizard, and I became it. It’s incredible, but also a little scary.
I zip across the stone floor, thoroughly enjoying the incredible speed that comes with my new body. But even better is the fact that I can now scale walls. In mere seconds, I have reached the roof of the tunnel. I glance down, expecting to be assaulted by dizziness and nausea, but I feel nothing. Not only am I capable of things a normal human could only dream of, but I’m no longer afraid of heights.
It’s an incredible feeling, and one I take full advantage of until my mentor grows tired of watching me climb walls.
“That’s enough,” he says. “To shift back, you must focus on your human body.”
The last thing I want to do is reclaim my human form, but I know time is limited and every moment I waste scurrying about is a moment lost. Still, it’s with a sense of disappointment that I go back to being Will Save, scrawny fifteen-year-old.
“That was amazing,” I say once I have regained the power of speech.
My mentor nods but says nothing.
“Can I shift into any animal I touch?” I ask.
“Yes, but keep in mind your powers are still growing. In time you shall be able to shift into any humanoid or animal you have ever come into contact with. But that will take time and practice. For now, you can only replicate the appearance of the last living being you touched.”
“How long?” I ask. “How long before I can master my powers?”
“It will take months. Maybe even years,” admits my teacher. “All I know is that I have taught you all I can. The rest is up to you.”
The hooded figure stands and walks away.
“Wait!” I say, but he has already vanished into the darkness.
I’m alone. In the past, this would have left me feeling sad and depressed, but I now feel invigorated. With this new trick up my sleeve, sneaking into Avalon’s tower will be easy. I still need to come up with a plan, but I’m growing more confident with each passing second.
“You better watch out, Avalon,” I say. “I’m coming for you.”
Memory 86
M y confidence is at an all-time high. Not only is the future my older self spoke of unchanged, but I also mastered my shifting, which means rescuing my friends should be a piece of cake. My optimism increases even further when I reach the intersection I believed lost mere minutes after parting ways with my hooded mentor.
My good humour diminishes when I encounter a cave-in, but my new ability allows me to bypass the rubble with ease. Getting my torch and travel pack through is slightly more complicated—my clothes become a part of me when I shift, but everything else remains unaffected—but I manage it with little difficulty. Mere minutes after reaching the cave-in, I’m on my way once more.
Was that what my older self meant when he said I would have to master my shifting in order to save my friends?
Without my new talent, I never would have made it past the cave-in, and my friends’ fate would be sealed. The further I progress, the more my future self’s enigmatic words make sense. Perhaps I truly am a hero.
The trek through the Mountain of Fire stretches on for an indefinable amount of time. Has it been minutes? Hours? Days? I can’t tell. Nor does it matter. All I can do is follow the instructions included on Korri’s map and hope my friends are still alive by the time I reach them.
The next landmark I encounter is the Celestial Cave. It’s beautiful but perplexing.
A starry night sky. That’s what I see when I look up. But how can that be? I’m deep underground. Aren’t I?
The sense of confusion persists until I notice the walls are equally alive with glowing dots. Curious, I approach the nearest one and soon uncover the truth.
They’re not stars. They’re glowworms. Millions upon millions of glowworms. Some are tiny, no bigger than a gnat. Others are as big as my balled up fist. They shed such light the entire cavern is bathed in a soft white glow. But they’re not the only things that shine.
The vast lake that lies nearby glows with even more brilliance than the worms. Entranced by such beauty, I stumble forward, determined to explain the odd phenomenon. It’s not until I reach the shoreline and it starts raining that I finally understand the true nature of the glowing liquid.
“Oh no,” I groan. “It’s poop!”
I’m afraid to look up, but I can’t resist. One quick look is enough to confirm my suspicions. Like the glowworms producing them, the excrements vary in size and brilliance. The only things they have in common is their lack of odour and taste—please don’t ask how I know this.
I should be repulsed, but the truth is I’m not. After the first few minutes, I’m drenched, and one more drop no longer makes a difference. Still, I’m looking forward to putting all this crap behind me.
I retrieve the map Korri gave me and examine it. There should be a rowboat nearby, but all I see are glowing boulders. I walk the shoreline in both directions but find nothing. I’m just about to give up when I finally find it.
The rowboat was flipped upside down, thus tricking me into believing it was another poop-covered boulder. I passed by it three times before finally recognizing it for what it truly is. While nearly fatal to my progression, it will ensure I begin my journey across the lake in an excrement-free environment.
Rowing in and of itself is hard, but the vicious nature of the worm excrement makes the process even more difficult. Before long, I’m covered in sweat—and worm poop—and desperate for the journey to end. Unfortunately, I have only crossed a fracti
on of the distance I need to cover.
I keep rowing. And rowing. And rowing. The going is slow, but at least I’m getting one hell of a workout. Not to mention the fact that the gelatinous nature of the worm excrement keeps me from tipping over. The ground could shake, and I would still be safe. Of course, no sooner has the thought occurred to me than it becomes a reality.
“Oh no!” I groan as the once calm surface of the lake becomes agitated. Waves crash upon my tiny vessel, splashing me with poop. I’m not afraid of tipping, though the thought of taking a dip is too horrifying to ignore. Unfortunately, the odds of me going for a swim grow exponentially when the intensity of the earthquake shatters the ceiling.
Stone fragments rain down around me. Some glow, some don’t. Most land at a safe distance, but a few splash down dangerously close to my boat. It doesn’t take long before I’m drenched in worm poop from head to toe. But that’s not what worries me. The true cause for my trembling limbs is the knowledge that one hit is all it will take to sink my boat. While I’m a decent swimmer, there’s no way I can reach the edge of the lake, especially not with such a dense liquid working against me.
I close my eyes and wait out the storm. Against all odds, not a single stone fragment hits the rowboat. I guess it pays to accept your destiny.
“Phew!” I sigh once the last few fragments have splashed down. “That was close.”
Unfortunately, I have very little time to rejoice as an ear-splitting shriek suddenly fills the air. I’m not sure what kind of creature is capable of making such a horrific noise, but whatever it is, it’s angry. And close.
Memory 87
A blood-curdling shriek fills the air. Dread creeps up my spine like a spider up its web. My hands grip the oars tightly, turning my knuckles white. My breathing is short and shallow, and my heart races within my ribcage. My eyes dart from side to side, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Only the wailing of the unknown creature.