Kelisay lowered her head. “I am at your side,” she offered.
Theophilus nodded to his friends as he held his hand out. “Then let this be our vow and pact now, that we will stand until our duty is done, until the day we can return to this resting place and say with proud hearts to Marin that we have won the day. Together we will fight. Together we will overcome the odds. In this time of pain and uncertainty, it is we who shall stand as the valorous.”
Captain Shael nodded. “Until the end.”
“Until the end,” said Elor.
“Until the end,” said Kelisay.
Theophilus looked at each of his friends in turn. “The end? No friends. For us, this is merely the beginning.”
With a start, Mathias found himself thrust from the book of Crescent Moon and back to his own reality. Mathias discovered he was taking air in great gulps, that sweat lined his forehead and face. Closing the book, Mathias took deep, rhythmic breaths as he wiped his face dry with his sleeve. Looking about, he saw that no one had given him notice, yet he held no idea how long he had been at the park. Slowly calming again, Mathias checked his watch.
Roughly five minutes had passed.
Mathias checked his watch again. Sure enough, there was no mistake. It was almost as if time had stood still for him and the book. He was unable to explain such a thing, still had a hard time accepting it himself. Recovered, Mathias stood and brushed himself off before he placed Crescent Moon in his backpack and resumed his course on the walking trail.
Almost instantly, Mathias was lost in his own thoughts and the adventure he had just witnessed. The whole world seemed to fade away as his focus became only that of Lunaria and its inhabitants. He still didn't understand why the book had revealed itself to him, yet still he was grateful for each time that it did. Each chapter was more vivid than the last and the story only seemed to grow with each passing moment.
The prospect excited and terrified Mathias equally.
Mathias pondered incessantly over his place in all of this. He didn't know if he was some guide, or if he was meant as a conduit or more. What he considered himself was lucky and if that was all he was supposed to be, then that was fine too. Whatever the truth revealed, Mathias would accept it and respect the book with his heart and his actions.
So caught up was Mathias in his thoughts that he did not see the end of a walking cane press firmly against his stomach, stopping him in his tracks. "Not so fast, Mr. Engleborn," said a gruff, familiar voice.
Mathias nearly lost his breath at the impact, yet the minor pain brought his full focus back to the world. There standing before him in a long, faded brown rain jacket and fedora was the librarian Mr. Dackett. The old man fixed his gaze on Mathias through his battered glasses. The librarian's patience was clearly wearing thin as he regarded the young man grimly.
Mathias offered the man a nervous smile. "Well, Mr. Dackett! Fancy seeing you here. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you missed me," he said cheerfully.
"Hardly," said Mr. Dackett as he removed the end of his cane from Mathias's stomach and tapping it against the young man's backpack. "Let's dispense of all pleasantry. You have something that belongs to me," he said sternly.
"I do believe I am all paid up on late fees this month," offered Mathias with a chuckle. "Though I do appreciate your commitment to library policy."
Mr. Dackett poked his stomach again with his cane. "Enough of all that, boy. You know what I am referring to. This collaboration you have going on with Heidi ends now. She's a good girl with an excellent head on her shoulders, and I will not see her standing at the library further sullied by your shenanigans," he said.
"That is a lot funnier word when you say it, sir," offered Mathias.
Mr. Dackett poked him once more. "That's quite enough out of you. I've come to reclaim stolen library property. This obsession you have with that book must stop. Do not make a scene in front of these people," he said. "And for once in all the time I have known you, do the logical thing."
Mathias continued the conversation unperturbed. "You know, you never told me about your unhealthy obsession with the book," he challenged.
Mr. Dackett narrowed his eyes. "This is not about obsession. It is simply the principle of the thing. What you are doing is wrong. I am here to right that wrong and show you that your tomfoolery shall not go rewarded. Now hand that book over. Now."
Mathias continued to look at Mr. Dackett with amused eyes before sighing and removing his pack from his back. "Very well, Mr. Dackett. I thought we would have a breakthrough today and you would finally come clean, but alas, you still choose to be difficult beyond all measure," he said. Procuring the book, he handed it slowly to Mr. Dackett. The aged librarian snatched it quickly, placing it inside his coat as he looked about the park suspiciously.
"You have shown reason at long last. It is good to see that young minds can still be reached despite adversity," said Mr. Dackett.
Mathias shrugged. "So, I assume we are done here then? Unless of course you want to go grab some coffee while you finally spill the beans. That offer still stands," he said.
Mr. Dackett placed his cane tip again upon the ground. "No, we are done here. This will be the last time you get your hands on this book," he claimed.
Mathias offered him a grin before turning to head home. "I somehow doubt that, Mr. Dackett," he said before waving. "I'll be seeing you, as always."
"Your warning is noted!" barked the librarian before turning back toward the direction of the library.
Straightening his coat, Mr. Dackett walked confidently, satisfied with his bit of detective work. He had been suspicious of Heidi since the first instance of her aiding Mathias and had kept a watchful eye on her since. Realizing she was heading to the park and that the book had been taken once more, the librarian had prepared to be in wait for Mathias on his journey home. When he had not shown, Mr Dackett decided to search him out. Much to his joy and satisfaction, he had found Mathias with his head in the clouds. It had made catching him in the act ultimately more gratifying. Smiling to himself, the old man pressed on.
Yet his smile faded quickly as a lingering thought rested upon him. His victory had been an easy one. Mathias had put up no fight at all which was simply out of character for the young man. Mr. Dackett found him troublesome yes, but he also knew that Mathias was no fool. Stopping his walk, Mr. Dackett procured the book in his possession to examine it. Instantly he realized that it too was a clean, smooth, printed cover resting around an imposter book. Mr. Dackett clenched to it angrily, the revelation hitting him now fully.
"Mathias!" he screamed.
From the other side of the park, Mathias Engleborn smiled deeply, chalking the encounter as another victory. With the real Crescent Moon safely in his possession, the young man found himself energetically homeward bound.
Secrets in the Dark
With patience, Norrex the Deathshade sat leisurely as he waited for his most faithful of servants. The mood at Fireborn Citadel had been grim from the day’s events. Production of valuable armor, weaponry, and battle elixirs had been abruptly halted, and retaliatory efforts were also stymied. These were not bits of news Norrex wished to convey to his master. The pantheryn had no desire to reveal their efforts in Moreg’s name had been slowed drastically by nothing more than a burdensome weed.
Norrex had spent the evening listening to damages wrought and casualty reports. When his patience had ended, the golden-furred pantheryn revealed his might and fury equally, using his magic to cast out the goblin’s commander. No words were needed after that. The act, coupled with the burning rage held in Norrex’s emerald eyes, had compelled all other minions to depart. Norrex welcomed the silence and solitude as he poured himself a drink and waited.
After some time though, the patience of Norrex faded. Dobah was not only capable and devoted, but the orc was always punctual. His tardiness now made Norrex wonder if his old friend was lost to the cause. And so Norrex pondered his next move before c
ontacting Moreg, weighing all the avenues of recent setbacks in hopes to conjure things into his favor. But he had to admit to himself at the deepest of levels that things did not look good.
Some commotion outside of the throne room drew Norrex’s attention. Sitting upright, the pantheryn finished the contents of his goblet, Norrex placed it to his side as he joined his hands together to rest them under his nose. He waited in silence then, for he could already feel the presence of the orc shaman, though still he was not encouraged the pain and frustration he also felt emanating in the hallway.
The doors before Norrex opened swiftly as Dobah was allowed entrance without question. The orc looked completely spent, as if he had fought a war entirely alone. His red robes were tattered and dirty. Scrapes and cuts covered Dobah and his damaged gear. In his hand, Dobah’s scepter was broken and useless, yet the orc still clung to it proudly. He looked at Norrex with grimness, as if his tongue held words he longed not to share.
Limping to his master, Dobah fell to one knee and lowered his head. “I have returned at last, master,” he said.
Norrex inspected his claws before responding. “I trust that your plan did not carry out as you expected?” he asked.
Dobah shook his head bitterly, not looking up at Norrex. “No, master, it did not. The weed is as crafty as you claimed,” he offered.
“Yes,” mused Norrex. “But that is why you had to face him, was it not? It was pride.”
“Perhaps it was,” said Dobah indifferently.
Norrex stood and approached Dobah. The orc kept his head lowered as the pantheryn clasped his hands behind his back and circled him. “This does place us all in a precarious position, Dobah. You have failed me, and in turn that means I have failed our master. And this failure is not to be tolerated at any level. So tell me, old friend, what should I do with you?”
Dobah looked up then. “Master, I have only failed myself. I have yet to fail you,” he replied.
Norrex came to a stop in front of Dobah. “What do you mean?”
Dobah held out his free hand as he strained. “I did succumb to my pride. I did wish to bring you glory by defeating your enemies, and I did choose to face them alone. But never did I forget my true objective. Forgive the time it took, but I had to sift through a cave in to gather what you required of me,” he said. Soon, two magical, glowing orbs rose, hovering over the orc’s palm. One’s contents held a green liquid and the other one was black.
A slow, ominous smile rose to the face of Norrex. “Is it true then? A pure heart’s blood? One chosen of Mardas and the light?”
Dobah shook his head, offering the faintest of smiles. “No, my master. Two,” he replied.
Norrex approached, placing a hand on Dobah’s shoulder. “This changes everything, old friend. Not only have we completed our task, but we have gone above and beyond it. The other setbacks mean nothing because of this. I am quite pleased. Moreg shall be pleased as well,” he said before he took the orbs into his hand. “Now stand, Dobah. Tend to yourself. You have earned your rest. Despite any failings, you have done very well. Soon the next step in our plan shall be underway and we will be one step closer to absolute victory under the banner of Moreg,” he said before he held out his hand holding the orbs. “This is our future. This is what matters. Now we can begin the ritual and savor in the reward brought onto us!”
“As you command,” said Dobah as he returned to his feet. “For glory. For Moreg.”
“Through him, all is possible,” said Norrex as he nodded to the shaman.
Norrex watched Dobah depart before turning and gazing intently upon the magic that held droplets of the blood of his enemies. What he held in his hands was worth more than the entire contents of the citadel, worth more than all the wealth and power they had accumulated. What he held was the next chapter in the expansion of truth and darkness. Not even Dobah, wise as he was, knew just how potent and important the acquisition was, something that Norrex would keep from him until the time was right. For now, they had exactly what they needed.
“Theophilus Thistle,” whispered Norrex. “As much as I loathe you, for the moment you have my thanks. For whether you realize it or not, you have given me everything I need to end you and bolster my master. Soon you and your friends will fall, and I will stand over the ashes of all you hold dear in this world. And you will know that it is I, Norrex, who crushed you in the name of Moreg.”
At this, Norrex could no longer contain himself. A dark and sinister laughter filled the Fireborn Citadel before stretching out for miles and chilling even the bravest of hearts that heard it.
Part Three
Enough is Enough
Fueled by anger wrought by the end of patience, Mr. Dackett walked decidedly toward his destination. Above him, the skies were as turbulent as his mood as swarming clouds threatened rain. Mr. Dackett gauged these skies, adjusting his battered glasses. He scowled at the dismal weather and foreshadowing scent of precipitation, offering nature a grim warning should it choose to cross the gruff librarian on this day.
A swift wind rushed Mr. Dackett then. Pulling his rain jacket closed, the old man fumbled in one of his pockets, procuring a small parchment of paper with an address scrawled in his shaky handwriting. A feral smile pierced the sternness of his features, looking almost alien in its presence. He was close now to his quarry, and today he would have his day of revenge and end the reign of his tormentor once and for all.
Turning the block, Mr. Dackett found his steps quickened. Though he loathed being trifled with, the very thought of overdue victory drew strength to his old limbs. His enemy had been a crafty one indeed, more so than Mr. Dackett had wanted to give him credit for. But now there was nowhere to run. Now he would corner him in his home and reclaim what was rightfully his.
Soon, he would have Crescent Moon once more.
Mr. Dackett prepared for the inevitable. Surely the parents of his tormentor would think him mad. It was only a book after all. But as a lifelong librarian and keeper of books, Mr. Dackett would remind them that the situation was not about the book, but rather the principle of the thing. He had requested the book not to leave the library, and yet time and time again their son had defied such wishes. Rules were rules, and rules were meant to be followed, even by youthful exuberance that would not be denied.
Instead of the inevitable judgments from the Engleborns, Mr. Dackett focused on his prey. Surely the look on the young man’s face as he realized defeat would be enough to justify the journey and ridicule. Mr. Dackett had been made to look foolish more than once in this battle. But he was ready to end the war once and for all. Today was his day. Today was the day he put an end to foolishness at last.
Distracted by thoughts of victory, Mr. Dackett almost breezed by the house of his enemy. Stopping abruptly, Mr. Dackett cursed himself as he caught his breath and rechecked the address. Sure enough, this was the place. Instantly the whimsical home of blue siding and white shudders made him grunt. It was a happy household of sorts, a home perfect for his sworn enemy. Mr. Dackett gazed upon the abode angrily as he girded himself for the battle ahead. Drawing a long breath, he pressed forward.
Making his way up the few stairs and onto the wrap-around porch, Mr. Dackett pressed the doorbell and was greeted by a jolly jingle that made him groan. Gripping to his walking cane, the old librarian could hear voices inside as footsteps approached the door. At its unlocking, Mr. Dackett brushed off the smile brewing on his face. There would be time for gloating later. For now, he focused himself upon his agenda.
Casually the door opened, revealing a gentle face of beauty, blue eyes, and blonde hair gently bound in a ponytail. The woman at the door recognized the librarian immediately and offered a polite smile. “Mr. Dackett, what a pleasant surprise! How are you?”
Mr. Dackett offered a curt nod, reminding himself that Mrs. Engleborn was not the target of his frustrations. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Engleborn. I am well, thank you,” he said with a lesser amount of his usual sternness. “And you
rself?”
Sarah Engleborn looked at Mr. Dackett as if she were trying to piece a puzzle together. “I’m fine, thanks. What can I do for you today?”
Mr. Dackett looked over his shoulder as an etch of thunder rippled through the sky. His grim gaze then returned to the mother of his foe. “I do not wish to intrude, but I was wondering if I could come in for a moment. I have a matter I would like to discuss with you and your family,” he said.
Mrs. Engleborn’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Where are my manners? Do come in, please,” she said as she opened the door further.
Mr. Dackett nodded as he entered the home of the Engleborns. Instantly his nostrils were filled with the decadence of cookies baking in the oven. Through that he could smell fresh coffee and his lips craved both. The house was warm and cheery, just as he expected it to be, yet too quiet for the home of his nemesis, and that unnerved him slightly. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Engleborn,” said Mr. Dackett.
“Thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Engleborn as she pointed to the librarian. “May I take your coat?”
Mr. Dackett waved away the offer. “No, thank you. I will not take up too much of your time. I just wished to stop by and address a small matter than needs remedied,” he said as he kept his composure and steadied his breathing. “It has to do with your son.”
Mrs. Engleborn smiled. “I thought that it might. You two have an interesting relationship. He seems to enjoy it so,” she replied.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Dackett as he looked about. His eyes set upon a family picture and then to the boy between his parents. The wild brown hair and undeniable grin made the old man suppress a grunt. “I am afraid that the enjoyment is one-sided, and I am forced to address a serious matter regarding the boy.”
Mrs. Engleborn’s brow furrowed as her smile faded. “What do you mean? Has Matty done something to you?” she asked.
The Adventures of Theophilus Thistle Page 26