by Hunter Blain
“I thought these helped with time,” Magni countered as he touched the crystal hanging from around his neck.
“You are reaching, and it is painfully obvious that you are attempting to redirect from the lesson you have yet to master.”
Magni dropped his hand, wanting to be offended but knowing the perceptive king of Faerie was right.
“Sorry,” the young man said just under his breath as his eyes fell to the ground.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Now please, focus.” Taylor took a step forward to stand next to his student, and stared at the target ahead.
Magni watched the stoic Taylor for a few moments before setting his jaw and turning back to the snarling figure made of shadow. It was a simple spell that Taylor had crafted long ago when training his once vast army to fight the Shadow Court. Now it was used to help the young Magni hone his elemental abilities in Faerie, where his power was dampened.
Magni raised his wand and concentrated on sending his will first to, and then through it. The handful of runes down the tool’s length came to life, glowing the red-orange of elemental fire.
“Focus,” Taylor encouraged as he stared downrange.
Magni’s will built up in the wand like a pressurized air compressor tank, but did not release.
The young man’s teeth pressed harder together as his jaw muscles began to protrude. Tight lips pulled back in a silent snarl as Magni fought against the bottleneck of raw power.
From the corner of his vision, Magni saw Taylor slightly lift his chin right as Ghleann appeared on the range. She was frightened and confused by the sneering monster, which turned its attention to the newcomer.
Magni gasped at seeing the woman he loved be targeted by the beast made of shadows.
“NO!” Ghle cried out as she fell to her backside and tried to scramble away from the quickly approaching monster.
Magni dropped his focus as paralyzing terror gripped his heart, cutting off all coherent thought.
Taylor shifted his face and raised a single eyebrow in curiosity at the young man who was trembling in place, unable to act.
The shadow monster leaped, and time slowed for Magni. The dam of fear burst apart in his mind, sending a violent rush of will through his body. His wand burst to life in a vibrant glow of power as his eyes narrowed, locking onto the beast made from shadows.
A violent torrent of flames the thickness of Magni’s wrist exploded from the tip of the wand and ripped through the air as fast as a bolt of lightning.
The beast caught the attack at his pelvis and was thrown backward as if struck by a speeding train, tumbling end over end as the fire bathed him in furious energy.
There was no scream of pain as the monster was split in two by the flames which seared through its flesh like an acetylene torch through Styrofoam.
The twin sections of the vertically bisected monster slapped wetly to the ground before evaporating into smoke, leaving Ghle alone on the range.
Magni took a step forward, about to run toward his beloved, when a portion of his brain clicked at what had happened. He froze in midstride before returning to a standing position, and he slowly turned to see a smiling Taylor.
“Not cool, man,” Magni muttered, shaking his head as he looked downrange again right as Ghle did a curtsy and disappeared.
“We’ve spent the last two years working on your knowledge, improving your body, and preparing you for what is to come. Now is the time to master elemental magic,” Taylor said, placing a hand on Magni’s shoulder. “Once you are proficient in Faerie, you will be a force to be truly revered while on Midworld.”
“Because I’m not from here, right?”
“Correct. Just as it is more difficult for creatures of Faerie to perform our abilities on Midworld, the same rules apply to you, child.”
“Why is that?”
“You are not of this world, thus the rules of your plane collide with those of ours, and vice versa. Consider it akin to lifting weights, but with the gravity increased.”
“Like in Dragon Ball Z?!” Magni excitedly asked, his fists clenched in the air as if in victory.
“I’m not sure what that is, but sure,” Taylor agreed, letting the young man have his moment before continuing. “If you use the same weight in an environment of increased gravity, then it stands to reason you will become stronger.”
“So when I go home, I’ll be way stronger than here?”
“If you continue down the path I have set forth, then yes.”
“Hey,” Magni began, letting his eyes drift up to the ceiling as he chewed on the inside of his cheek in thought. “How come Depweg can, um, be super strong in Faerie? I mean, he seems to be just as powerful here as he is on Earth...I mean, Midworld.”
“The Lycan virus is of Faerie origins.”
“...huh?” Magni breathed out, letting his jaw hit the ground like a cartoon character.
Taylor responded with an unreadable gaze.
“Does...does Depweg kn-know?”
“Of course. He and I partook in this conversation a short period after his arrival.” Taylor arched an eyebrow as Magni’s jaw managed to defy the already wonky physics of Faerie and continued through the ground. “He seemed much more receptive to this than you.”
“But...but he couldn’t use his powers when we first got to Faerie! Remember? When we were hunting the Shadow dudes with John and the gang?”
“He brought that up as well, only he was able to fill in the missing pieces on his own.”
“I...huh?” Magni asked as he pulled his jaw back into place and wracked his brain, trying to figure out the puzzle.
After a few seconds, Taylor relinquished his hold over Magni’s anxiety, and filled in the missing pieces for him.
“The group was only in for a brief period, and were under the assumption that their abilities would not work while in the Faerie domain. It never occurred to the Lycans to test the theory. Not only that, but their Midworld weaponry was apropos for the intended target. Had they shifted into their wolf forms, they would have been combat ineffective against the beings made of shadow.”
“Ooooohhhh,” Magni drawled, catching on. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Quite.”
“So...what’s next?” Magni asked after a few seconds of silence.
“We continue your training.”
11
John - Fortress of Solitaire
I dreamed, and what I dreamed inserted a sense of dread into the stream of my consciousness, like a virus entering a host. Eventually, that one tiny virus would replicate to encompass every cell in the body it invaded.
Darkness surrounded me. It was so thick that I could taste it. There was a pressure on my ears, as if the void was attempting to push into my skull. My footsteps echoed off the floor with a pulse of dim, white light, like a pebble thrown into a still body of water. I could hear the light squeak of my Fae coat as I lifted a hand to rub down my face in an unconscious tic of anxiety. My hand rustled my beard before leaving my face and falling back at my side.
Purple eyes danced all around, yearning to find something in this land of absolute nothingness. Even the sky was inky black with not even the memory of a star’s twinkle in sight.
A pillar of white light sprang to life somewhere in the distance. Even with how far away it was, it strained my sensitive eyes to peer at.
With no other recourse, I took a single step forward and almost slammed headfirst into the pillar as it rushed to me. Or maybe I rushed to it.
The brilliant light exploded outward to either side, bathing half of the observable nothing in a wash of white while the other side—my side—remained in the shadows.
A man with a wide back stood facing away from me. I recognized him immediately, only he was clothed entirely in ivory which was in direct contrast to my ebony outfit.
“Depweg?” my voice echoed as it faded back to deafening silence.
My best friend turned, and he was suddenly standing in the dark
ness. Wide, confused eyes shot all around as my brain struggled with the realization that we had switched places. I stood in the light, a dark blemish on the pristine half, while Depweg was a beacon of light in the darkness.
“Wha...what does it mean?” I breathlessly asked as I patted my own body, searching for any hidden clues.
Depweg said only two unsure words in response.
“I’m scared.”
Then he vanished, swallowed by the dark as if the shadows were a hungry leviathan wrapping its prey in unseen tentacles before consuming my friend.
“DEPWEG!” I cried out with a reaching hand, grasping at empty air that still had a faint sense of warmth where he had just been.
To throw lemon-infused salt water on my emotional wound, the abyss whispered in my ear, “I’m scared,” in Depweg’s voice.
I was left alone in the dark, the light having died away like hitting a dimmer switch, my hope diminishing with it.
Dropping my hand to my side, I let the fear swell and rise from my core, filling every inch of my being like water in a John-shaped cup.
The ground rumbled beneath my feet, causing me to stagger as a horrific tunnel ripped the fabric of my dreamscape open like a knife into exposed, supple flesh.
Instinctually, I knew what was happening even before my conscious mind put together the heavy realization of what I was looking at.
The gates of Hell yawned open, and countless eye sockets spilled roiling flames as an army of demons stared at me.
A large horn blared—akin to a whale’s mournful cry—and the dreamscape around me erupted into hellfire with a violent, deafening explosion.
12
Tiny Tim yelped in surprise as I jerked awake, flailing my arms. My little puppy buddy jumped to the ground with his tail between his legs as I awkwardly rolled out of my oversized beanbag chair. Landing on my hands and knees, my chest sucked in gasping breaths as my lips quivered. Though I was staring at the floor between my hands, I saw nothing...nothing but the flames of Hell eating my world.
My hands twitched and my fingers slowly curled into white-knuckled fists, my nails scratching the dark hardwood that resided on the second floor.
Tim took a few, tentative steps toward me with his head low and eyes worried, as if he thought he was the reason for my being upset. Locking eyes with my little buddy, my heart melted and hope renewed, like the bright sun evaporating the dark clouds after a nasty storm.
Unclenching my fists—which was difficult to do—I reached out with my right hand and lightly glided two of my fingers from head to tail, melting Tiny Tim’s trepidation as quickly as he’d dissolved my fear and anger.
I gently rolled onto my back and patted my chest twice, signaling the increasingly excited puppy that it was cuddle time. After two quick tail wags, Tim did a tiny leap onto my chest and began kissing the skin of my face, avoiding the thick beard. I brought my hands up and began lovingly scratching my awesome puppy from head to tail, letting myself feel an overwhelming sense of fortune at having him by my side again.
Locke’s men had killed my little buddy going on fifteen years ago. Then, through the hubris of an ancient Shadow goddess, Tim had been revived with the sole purpose of crushing my spirits and giving something the chance to turn me to the dark side (insert heavy, mechanical breathing).
Foolish Lolth. All she had done was piss me off. But now, I had my buddy back, though he was starting to get older. I could tell by the fur around his head that he was tiptoeing toward his twilight years, and it made me love him that much harder.
Tim stopped his barrage of puppy licks, perhaps sensing a change in me, and I took the opportunity to give his little black nose a quick kiss. To my surprise, Tim was quicker than I had anticipated and licked my lips.
“Eeehhh-hew-hew-hewwwwww,” I playful mocked like Ernest P. Worrell before wiping my lips with the back of one hand.
Tiny Tim wasn’t going to be with me forever, and I had to cherish the time I had left with him.
“Don’t worry, buddy,” I said as I lightly scratched at his little fur cheeks. “I won’t let the world end. You’re going to live a long, full puppy life. I promise.”
As if in answer, Tim yipped once, his tail wagging so much I thought he might get thrown off my chest if I didn’t keep ahold of his wittle face.
A lightsaber sounded in the empty air, startling me, and I rolled my eyes as I brought my phone up.
“We’re ready. Hurry up and get here,” read the text from Warden Broadway.
“KK,” I responded back before closing the phone. “Alright, buddy, I gotta get to work. Daddy’s got some bad guys that need kill’n so the debil duddint hab an army on Earth. Yes, he does. He does need to kill.” Though my message was dark, my voice registered in the typical parent-to-child cute talk that all animal moms and dads use.
Seeing my opportunity, I quickly moved to kiss just under Tim’s chin, and the little bastard licked my open eyeball.
“Oh-ho-ho-hooo, gross!” I playfully moaned as I rolled to the side and gently set Tim on the ground before rubbing at my eye.
My alarm clock sounded, startling me, and I brought my phone up again to shut it off.
“Locke?” I called out loudly as I stepped out of the theater room. After a few moments of silence, I repeated, “Locke? Ya home?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I opened my phone, selected my teleporting app, and chose the pin that Hayley had selected as my landing zone.
“See ya soon, little buddy,” I said to Tim, who was sitting a few feet behind me with his head tilted to one side.
Then I executed the program, leaving my friend behind.
13
Locke - The In-Between
Though he had been with the Council for nearly two years, even considering the fact that there was a desperate need for members, Locke understood he was moving up the ranks slower than most because of his previous relationship with Hecate. After witnessing the Elders’ exchange with one another, it was clear to Locke that he was receiving some of the overspill because of his loyalties to his former master.
“Elder Tafoya,” Locke began.
“Please, call me Bennah.”
“Very well. Bennah...may I ask you about the dynamic of the High Council?”
Bennah, who was barely five feet and fluffy about the midsection, turned to look up at the taller-than-most Locke, and stifled a short chuckle.
As Locke looked into her eyes, searching for meaning behind the snort, his gaze latched onto the gray streak running down her black hair which was as wide as her eyebrow.
Bennah shifted her bifocal glasses to search Locke’s face, apparently trying to determine how much the clever man might have guessed. There was knowledge in his expression forged from years of experience.
“Hecate walks a fine line with some of the High Council. But she is quite good at what she does. Even her skeptics can admit that.”
“Like Elder Gryff and Elder Carlyon.”
“Perceptive, I see,” Bennah the Brown Cloak praised.
Locke carried forward, deflecting the compliment.
“The Red Cloak I get. But why does Elder Carlyon dislike Hecate?”
“Perhaps that is a question better suited for someone else. For now, it is time to continue your training, young apprentice.”
Bennah the Brown Cloak knocked thrice upon a large wooden door which would have been at home in a large castle during the middle ages.
“Remember what I said about subtlety.” Bennah winked as she lowered her bifocals to hang around her neck, affixed with a small chain.
The heavy door creaked open as Elder Scymanky, the Green Cloak, peered nervously from around the thick wooden panel.
“Ye-yes? Oh. Is it time already? I-I-I must have gotten lost in my research.”
“Hopefully you found something of interest,” Bennah encouraged.
“Hmm? Oh...ye-yes. Come in. Come in,” Elder Scymanky insisted, opening the door wider and then turning to step into her cham
bers.
Bennah entered after, with Locke bringing up the rear.
“Oh, close the door, won’t you?” Elder Scymanky asked.
Without a word, Locke nodded once and turned to shut the big door. Just as it was almost closed, movement caught Locke’s eye from down the hall. He debated on opening it again, standing still for a few seconds.
“Locke? Are you coming?” Bennah asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Locke answered, turning to the two women who were standing by a table with an old tome open. There were several pieces of parchment with notes on them scattered seemingly erratically around the table, accompanied by a sleek, thin MacBook which stood out like a gaudy, modern house built in a neighborhood of homes old enough to not have ductwork for air-conditioning.
Locke approached the table, easily seeing over the five-foot Bennah and five-seven Elder Scymanky.
“What do you think, Amy?” Bennah asked the Green Cloak.
“It-it-it pairs with the prophecy,” Elder Amy Scymanky said, pointing to a paragraph of old text, and then gesturing toward her laptop. The screen showed a translating software with several tabs open behind it. The open windows reflected the table in their chaotic placement, but Locke guessed Amy knew exactly where everything was, despite the apparent anarchy.
“Here.” Amy pointed to a section after the one she had just been referring to in the ancient tome. “When those who hear the whispers of our mind have fallen, a key will be forged to open the doorway to eternity.”
“Hmm,” Bennah pondered, replacing her glasses atop her nose.
“What does it mean?” Locke asked after enough silence had filled the space between the ticks of the clock hanging on the wall. The young wizard briefly wondered the laws of time while in the In-Between.
“As of this moment, we can only speculate,” Bennah answered wearily. “The High Council must deliberate.”