by Brandon Mull
“We worked fast,” Seth said. “My sister helped.”
The elevator doors slid apart, and Humbuggle led Seth down a short, carpeted hallway. A single door awaited at the end of the hall. Humbuggle opened it with a snap of his fingers, revealing a pristine room where a white pedestal sat upon a red platform. Atop the pedestal rested a multifaceted gemstone the size of a baseball. The crystalline jewel contained scintillating refractions of all conceivable colors.
The sparsely decorated room also housed a few exotic potted plants and a wooden treasure chest that looked like it belonged aboard an old pirate ship. A piece of cubist art hung on one wall, and an impressionistic painting adorned another.
“Are those paintings originals?” Seth asked.
“Only the best,” Humbuggle said. “A Picasso and a Van Gogh. Neither painting is known to the mortal art community. I acquired them directly from the artists, years ago.”
Seth looked at the intricately cut jewel on the pedestal. “The Wizenstone is mine?”
“You have won the stone,” Humbuggle said. “It is yours for the taking.”
Seth had seen others disintegrate when they tried to take the Wizenstone. He knew the transfer of ownership would be more complicated than Humbuggle made it sound.
The treasure chest shuddered, then bounced a little. Seth shuffled a couple of steps away from it.
“What’s in the box?” Seth asked.
“An alternate prize, if you prefer it over the stone,” Humbuggle said.
“Do I have to choose without knowing the contents?” Seth asked.
“No, my boy,” Humbuggle said. “The box contains your memories.”
Seth stared at the dwarf.
“You surrendered them voluntarily,” Humbuggle said. “If you would prefer being united with your memories to claiming the Wizenstone, I am offering the option.”
“What will happen to the Wizenstone if I choose my memories?” Seth asked.
“It would remain in my care,” Humbuggle said. “And I would organize new contests.”
Seth sighed. “Can I think about this for a moment?”
“Outside, the world is burning down,” Humbuggle said. “In here, we have all the time you like.”
Seth went and sat on the red platform near the pedestal. He looked at the dark blade in his hand. He could use it to kill the dwarf. Would he get the Wizenstone and his memories? Would he stop the Games forever? Free all the captive contestants?
Seth stared at Humbuggle.
“You see a third option,” Humbuggle said.
“Maybe,” Seth replied.
“I’m unarmed,” Humbuggle said. “But I’m very powerful.”
“Yeah,” Seth said. “And I’m pretty sure you’re not telling me the whole truth.”
“Tell you what,” Humbuggle said. “I’ll officially give you a third option. If you want to strike me down, I won’t stop you. Few things could kill me, but that blade would do the job. I’ve been at this for a long time, Seth. If you want to slay me and accept what comes, that is also on the table.”
“Do you have a death wish?” Seth asked.
The dwarf looked at the Van Gogh, a sun rising over a field of haystacks. “You know how life can be. I am weary. There are burdens I would like to set down.”
“Can we talk it through?” Seth asked.
“Be my guest,” Humbuggle said.
“Celebrant is after the Wizenstone,” Seth said. “I sacrificed one of our best weapons against the dragons to win it. If I come away without the Wizenstone, we lose a vital talisman and gain nothing. Plus, I leave the door open for Celebrant to get the stone.”
“I hear you,” Humbuggle said.
“If I try to claim the stone, I probably turn to dust,” Seth said.
“You’ve seen it happen to others,” Humbuggle remarked.
Seth studied the dark blade. “And if I . . .”
“Kill me?” Humbuggle finished.
“Yeah, that. Maybe I get my memories back and the Wizenstone. I wouldn’t have to take the Wizenstone to keep it. It would be mine to watch over. How would that even work? You can protect it because you know how to use it. I don’t have a clue.”
“There are no easy answers,” Humbuggle said.
Seth stood up. “What I want most is my memories, but I can’t take them and leave the problem of the Wizenstone unsolved. A bunch of people got me here, and I can’t let them down. And I can’t just kill you. Maybe in a fight, or to protect somebody, but not like this. So I’m going to have to go with the Wizenstone.”
“Good luck,” Humbuggle said.
Seth walked over to the pedestal. He remembered how the black stone that held the Unforgiving Blade had served as a window into true darkness—by contrast the jewel before him gleamed like a window into realms of light. The longer he stared, the more deeply absorbed he became.
Seth blinked his eyes and shook his head to clear it. This beautiful jewel of light had been corrupted and used for evil. He raised the Unforgiving Blade high and brought it down on the Wizenstone. The long knife cleaved through the stone and cut halfway down the white pedestal. A blazing flash of pain raced up Seth’s arm to his shoulder, and he lost hold of the knife as the separate halves of the Wizenstone fell from the pedestal to the red platform, inner light extinguished. Seth’s sword arm hung limply at his side, completely numb. With his left hand, he withdrew the Unforgiving Blade from the cloven pedestal.
“You destroyed the Wizenstone,” Humbuggle said slowly.
Seth inspected both sides of the Unforgiving Blade. “The knife survived it.”
“I admit I had hoped for this,” Humbuggle said, as if in shock. “But I hardly believe it.”
Looking closely at the demon dwarf, Seth noticed he looked more haggard than before, with deeper creases in his skin and more gray in his forked beard. “You wanted me to destroy the Wizenstone?”
“I had to keep the hope secret,” Humbuggle said. “Quiet embers in my heart, simmering beneath conscious thought.”
“Secret from who?” Seth asked.
“From the Wizenstone, my boy.” Humbuggle rubbed his hands together. “My bargain with the stone was struck long ago, after Graulas failed to master it. Graulas was much more powerful than I and significantly stronger. I knew if his might failed, mine could never be sufficient. So instead I made an arrangement. I became the servant of the stone.”
“You could hear it?” Seth asked. “Talk to it?”
“Anyone could,” Humbuggle said, “if they knew how to speak, and how to listen.”
“The Wizenstone controlled you?” Seth asked.
“Not entirely,” Humbuggle said. “But in most ways that really matter. It was pure pleasure at first. Being the servant of the stone came with enormous privileges. As part of the agreement, I ran contests in which others could try to win the stone. Graulas may have been more powerful, but I have yet to meet anyone more clever than I am. I devised Games that nobody could win. And if somebody did win, the only real option would be to take my place as the servant of the stone, because none are strong enough to wield it for long.”
“If I had killed you, I would have had to replace you,” Seth said.
“Or to step aside and let somebody else replace me,” Humbuggle said. “Perhaps Celebrant. One with enough power could handle the Wizenstone for a time, but it would eventually destroy them. The vast majority would dissolve to ashes on contact. Only by letting the stone wield me have I survived.”
“And now I have freed you,” Seth said.
“Exactly,” Humbuggle said. “I set up the final Game with the Unforgiving Blade so there would be a hidden option of destroying the stone—a secret choice that I had to hide from myself and therefore from the stone controlling me. That part was not so hard. I learned self-deceit long ago. Most of us do. What I needed was somebody who might see and actually exercise the option. A champion who could win the Games, but who would do so without having ownership of the Wizenstone as
their primary motive.”
“You set me up for this,” Seth said.
“I’m always laying plans,” Humbuggle said. “I could not know what you would do. I only felt sure it would be interesting.”
“You couldn’t destroy the stone yourself?” Seth said.
“No,” Humbuggle said. “That would have violated my arrangement with the stone. You did what I needed.”
“How many times have I met you before?” Seth asked.
“Some of them you don’t remember,” Humbuggle said. “At Stormguard Castle I appeared to you as myself, and also as a lad named Augie, and as an old man named Pietro, modeled after one of the Sleeping Giants here at Titan Valley.”
“You appeared as a giant?” Seth asked.
“A scaled-down version,” Humbuggle said. “Human sized. I have also appeared to you in three forms here at Titan Valley. Can you guess who?”
Seth thought about it. “The hag?”
“Yes, Esmira,” Humbuggle said. “I wanted to point you toward the Diviner. Who else?”
“Not Virgil,” Seth said.
“The satyr is authentic,” Humbuggle said. “But I sent you to him.”
“Wait, you were Dante?” Seth asked.
“I’d show you,” Humbuggle said. “But without the Wizenstone, I can’t transform like that anymore. I hoped you would collect the memories of the Dragon Slayer.”
“You manipulated me,” Seth said.
Humbuggle shrugged. “I provided introductions. I was also the gladiator Per, who guided you toward Merek back when he was Fenrick.”
“Would you have really let me kill you just now?” Seth asked.
Humbuggle nodded. “I wanted this to end hundreds of years ago. I accepted death as a viable escape. I’ve been a slave to the Wizenstone far too long. But I couldn’t deliberately die, any more than I could purposely sabotage the stone. I could only set the right person on a course and hope they would destroy it.”
“Are your powers gone?” Seth asked.
“So much is gone,” Humbuggle said. “Many aspects of Humburgh were sustained by the power of the Wizenstone, along with the protections hiding this treasury.”
“The pocket dimensions!” Seth exclaimed.
“The pocket dimensions are designed to unravel slowly in the event that the sustaining power of the Wizenstone is lost. Those dimensions are collapsing, including the island with the arena, but the people there will be thrown free.”
“What about the gladiators?” Seth asked.
“All of the combatants will be freed,” Humbuggle said. “Some have been there for eons. Most will lack their memories. Those memories will also be roaming free.”
“What will happen to this place?” Seth asked.
“My treasury does not rely on the Wizenstone for structural or electrical support,” Humbuggle said. “But the spells hiding it have dissipated, and the magical defenses are down. This treasure house is now vulnerable.”
“Don’t you have any power of your own?” Seth asked.
Humbuggle looked down at his hands, flexing them. Seth had not noticed so many liver spots before. “The absence of the stone is aging me. I’m not sure how far it will go. I haven’t relied on my own power for so long that it has atrophied. I can do some basic things. Disappear, for example. It will take time to regain my former skills.”
The treasure box shook, then hopped twice.
“Your memories are restless,” Humbuggle said.
“I can still claim them?” Seth checked.
“Yours for the taking,” Humbuggle said. “Consider it a gratuity for services rendered.”
“All my senses tell me that I shouldn’t trust you,” Seth said.
Humbuggle shrugged. “You’ve been deceived by demons in the past. Even without your memories, your instincts are admirably tuned. Whether or not you trust me, for now I am willing to speak the truth.”
“You could have picked a lot of people,” Seth said. “Why me?”
Humbuggle smiled. “I have lived an extremely long time, and I have met many individuals. They come in so many varieties, but there are patterns. Almost all of those willing to risk their lives to win the Wizenstone are the sort who would wreak havoc with its power after they obtained it. By their nature, the Games recruit contestants who should never wield tremendous power. You can witness the same principle in your world as candidates aspire to high political offices.”
“I get what you mean,” Seth said.
“I’ll share a secret,” Humbuggle said. “Demons do not like it mentioned, but being a demon is not a natural heritage. Nobody is born a demon. Did you know that?”
“Don’t demons have children?” Seth asked.
“Less frequently than you might suppose, but yes, some do,” Humbuggle said. “And the babies are not demons. They must be trained. They can choose to become demons. But not one demon started out the way they ended up. They grow monstrous over time. Any thinking being can qualify. It’s why there is so much variety among demonkind.”
“You used to be a normal dwarf?” Seth asked.
Humbuggle nodded and tugged on his beard. “Long ago, once upon a time, I was a mere dwarf. Like all demons, I gradually evolved into the role. It worked for me. Did it make me happy? I have never met a happy demon. But powerful? Very few could compete with me in my prime.”
“Would you go back?” Seth asked. “To being a regular dwarf, I mean.”
Humbuggle’s eyes grew almost wistful, and he looked again upon the painting of the sunrise. “If such a thing were possible? Maybe, Seth. Maybe I would. But it would be like cramming an oak tree back into an acorn. I have become something else.”
“I still don’t understand why you picked me,” Seth said. “Except that I wasn’t after the Wizenstone.”
“I chose you because you have real power,” Humbuggle said.
“Because I’m a shadow charmer?” Seth asked.
Humbuggle chuckled. “That was a gift from Graulas. Useful, I suppose, but ultimately insignificant. Real power, lasting power, comes from knowing who you are.”
Seth laughed. “But I lost my memories.”
“Exactly,” Humbuggle said. “And without them, you might have regrown in a totally new way. Except you didn’t, even in the Under Realm with Ronodin to guide you. We like to imagine our identities are fixed, while in reality so many adjust like chameleons to fit the circumstances around them. We tend to develop based on how we are nurtured and to go where we are directed. Even rebellion is a reaction to what we are taught, and it follows its own predictable patterns. But there are also individuals with a deep sense of self that refuses to be denied. They hear an inner voice that overrides tampering. This rare individual will grow to a similar outcome no matter the influences. I can’t explain how this innate compass originates, but I recognize that you have it.”
“Why were you looking for that quality?” Seth asked.
“Because a person like that can see possibilities others cannot,” Humbuggle said. “This task required a certain caliber of character. Somebody with the inner strength to enact what most would consider unthinkable.”
“You saw that in me?” Seth asked.
“I made an educated guess,” Humbuggle said. “Even without your memories, you resisted focused attempts to lead you down alternate paths. It gave me hope you might be who I needed.”
The treasure chest rattled.
“Should I open it?” Seth asked.
“If you wish,” Humbuggle said. “Don’t forget, you won the Wizenstone. Even without the stone’s magic, the value of the gem is high.”
Seth collected the two halves of the Wizenstone and placed them in his satchel. They no longer emitted the same inner light, but they remained beautiful.
Seth faced the treasure chest. Using his power, he willed it to unlock, and the lid flew open. Seth sensed a presence emerge, much like the presence he had perceived in the cottage whom he had named Reggie.
Who loc
ked me up? the presence asked. What am I? Where am I?
“It’s all right,” Seth said. “I’m here. I hear you.”
Did you imprison me? the presence asked angrily.
“No,” Seth said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
What took you so long? the presence asked.
“You weren’t easy to find,” Seth said.
Do I know you? the presence asked.
“You’re part of me,” Seth said. “You’re my memories. I lost you.”
I’m part of you? the presence asked. Don’t you mean you’re part of me?
“That too,” Seth said.
I have wings? the presence asked.
“Not when I lost you,” Seth said. “We have wings now.”
What should I do? the presence asked.
Seth spread his arms wide. “Come back to me. Become one with me again. It sounds weird but it will feel right. I saw a friend go through this.”
You do seem familiar, the presence said. We are one.
Seth felt the presence flow into him. His whole body tingled, especially in his chest, and his physical strength left him. He sat down hard, the Unforgiving Blade falling from his grasp to clatter against the floor.
Immediately Seth knew what had happened to his memories. He knew his memories had escaped the place where Humbuggle had first stored them, but then Humbuggle had recaptured the memories and kept them in a chest. The time spent in the chest blurred together but was consistently uncomfortable, frustrating, and scary.
He really was Seth Sorenson! Kendra really was his sister! He knew Knox and Tess and Newel and Doren! He remembered his parents and his grandparents! He remembered his old school and discovering Fablehaven and slaying Graulas! The more he thought, the more he found that all his memories were there. It was just a matter of catching up.
Wait. Did he really just abandon his sister on Beacon Hill, besieged by dragons? The deepening realization sickened him. To make matters worse, he had destroyed the weapon that would have given them the best chance for survival. He had known that cutting the Harp would leave them in a compromised position. But he hadn’t understood who he was risking. Kendra was likely fighting for her life at this very moment! What if she died because he left her behind? He could only hope that she might somehow survive with help from Merek and Raxtus.