by Marc Johnson
The moment I opened it, a brilliant flash of light blinded me. The magical aura around it disappeared. Swirls of tiny blue stars rushed out, orbiting me as if I were a flame to a moth.
“My dear boy,” Stradus’s voice said from the orbs of light. I jumped back, startled to hear my former master’s voice. “If you’re hearing me then I’m dead.” The voice chuckled. “Don’t be scared and don’t grieve for me. It’s as I’ve foreseen it.” The voice turned serious. “You have a grave quest ahead of you, Hellsfire. I thought I would bestow you with my most cherished possession as a gift.
“Within the second box is a necklace forged from potanium, unbreakable, the strongest metal known to man. Attached to it is a jade hexagram. Its enchantment was cast from the most potent force in the world—love.” The voice stopped and the lights dimmed.
The blue orbs flashed again. “Part of the necklace’s function is to protect, yet there are also abilities it has that not even I am aware of. Like all magic, there is a drawback to it.
“The magic within will only work when the necklace is given to a person for whom you care deeply. It won’t work for you alone. I’ve never had the opportunity to open my heart again and give it to another person.” He sighed and the orbs stopped. A moment later, the lights spun again. “I know it will come in handy for you.” The voice laughed and within the orbs, I imagined seeing Stradus’s old, wrinkled, kind face, smiling.
“There is one last thing, Hellsfire,” he said. “You know, you are not alone in this mountain. Those creatures I warned you about are very ferocious and dangerous. If you’ve not encountered them yet, you must reseal them behind the door you once tried to foolishly breach.”
I nodded. There would be only one place they could be.
“Create the strongest web you can to keep the creatures out, and hurry, before they escape,” he said. “And please be careful.”
The light sped up around me until it became a solid blue barrier that entrapped me. “You’ve looked around my room and have seen the artifacts I’ve collected on my journeys, and the research I‘ve done. I will leave them in your hands, Hellsfire. Some of these are mementos and trinkets of a once young man. Others are powerful tools that can be deadly. I would like for you to keep these things and study them, but if you have no place where you can keep them safe, you may have to destroy them rather than risk letting them fall into the wrong hands. I wish I could have turned them over to the Wizards’ Council for safekeeping, but it seems that the Council, if it still exists, is forever lost to us behind the Great Barrier. So the choice and the burden are yours, my son.”
The disembodied voice turned serious. “When you retrieve the Book of Shazul from Premier, do not look in the book. It’ll…change you. I want you to destroy it, if you can. If not, make sure no one will be able to find it, or give it to Alexandria to safeguard. Something’s wrong with the book. It corrupts people. It changed my best friend, Premier, and I’m positive it has altered others. There’s a reason why Shazul was the mad wizard.
“Your destiny awaits you in Masep, Hellsfire. I have faith you will succeed—you must succeed.”
The wall of light brightened the room with its blue aura.“I will always be watching over you, my son. Good luck, Hellsfire, and don’t forget to bury my ashes in the garden. May the gods walk with you.”
The magical light flew and funneled inside of me, filling me with a warm sensation as it strengthened my essence with Stradus’s. I wheezed from the power that swelled inside.
Stradus must have had a vision of his death and prepared this just in case he died. I wished he was still alive. I could have used his help and advice and we could have retrieved the book together.
The room darkened without his spell. I gawked at the box, wanting to hear more of Stradus. When I realized there would be no more, I crushed the box in my hand and tossed it into a corner. I always knew I had to help people. It was something my mother instilled in me. Now that I had the power, there were far too many people to help, and along with it, a far greater responsibility. In the beginning, I wanted to learn to control my powers and I had. But now I had to do more than that. I had to learn how to not only carry a wizard’s burden, but perform a wizard’s duty.
I tore open the other box. The dull jade necklace sat there, its chain curled into a pile. The metal chain itself looked strong, but the jade hexagram looked frail. I sensed no magic from it. I put the necklace in my purse, knowing exactly who I wanted to give it to—and knowing that Stradus would have known, as well.
I took one last look around my former master’s messy room and smiled as I remembered him. I gathered the bag with the urn and staff, leaving the room. There would be time to rummage through his belongings later. First, I needed to seal the door and trap those creatures.
“Did you find anything, lad?” Jastillian asked, pushing off from where he was leaning against the wall.
“None of you heard anything?” I said, staring at the elves with their extreme hearing. They shook their heads no.
“We tried,” Demay said, his ears twitching.
Prastian nudged him.
“I mean, no, we didn’t hear anything,” Demay said. “We didn’t even hear any of those supposed creatures down the tunnels.”
A small smile passed over my face. It had been a spell for my ears alone. “Let’s go. There’s not much more to explore, but first we must go to the library so I can find the spell I need to create a web to contain those creatures.”
I took point this time, and we moved silently through the halls. The hallway branched off and we ventured down the right-hand tunnel. After careful inspection of my old room and the exercise room, we found nothing. We finally arrived at the library.
The library was oddly dark. The torches I had lit were out. I started to step through the door when Behast seized my arm. He shook his head. The elves all had their ears pointed forward, hearing something. Demay pointed at the deep grooves clawed into the open door.
Jastillian pushed me out of the way and peered into the darkness, using his superior eyesight. His cheeks flexed. He couldn’t see anything either. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows.
I understood. My friends braced their weapons. Jastillian and Behast were poised to strike anything that came leaping out. Prastian and Demay ached to loose their arrows.
I summoned my magic and ignited the torches inside. The library lit up. Our eyes and ears scanned the area. From the doorway, there seemed to be nothing unusual.
“Maybe they were once here, then left,” I said.
“No, we heard something,” Behast said.
“What did you hear?”
“A slight hissing sound, but I can’t hear it now.”
We crept into the room and the library’s musty smell hit us. It emanated from the ancient books Stradus had collected throughout the years in his travels. He even brought a few with him when he came from Southern Shala. Shelves upon shelves lined the walls. There was a small reading table with a couple of candles on it, where I had spent hours reading books on faraway lands, history, and spells. It was a spell book that I needed now.
I was about to tell my friends what book I required when a loud hissing noise reverberated through my ears. Something collapsed from the ceiling behind me. I thought it was the mountain falling apart, but when I turned, a ferocious creature hissed at me.
The ebony-skinned creature was the size of a dwarf. Its ridged skin was like that of a reptile. Its small eyes were shut, but its big nostrils flared in my direction. It had knife-edged teeth and claws. The thing leapt at me before I could react, claws aiming for my throat.
An arrow spun and lodged in its throat. The creature flew and crashed against the wall, dark red blood coating it. Before any of us could react, four more beasts dropped from the ceiling and attacked.
In one swift move, Jastillian smashed his axe’s hilt into one, stunning it, before swinging his axe into a side stroke, severing the thing’s head. Prastian spun to the sid
e, dodging the creature’s razor-like claws. He saw an opening and sliced through the creature’s tough skin with his sword. Behast wasn’t quick enough to dodge the claws. His left forearm got ripped open in a huge gash. Behast used the moment to run his sword through the creature’s gut with his right arm, impaling it.
Demay had no time to draw his sword before another creature sank its claws into the elf. He was the one who had shot the arrow into the first creature. I conjured my fire and hurled a fireball towards the creature on Demay. It caught the creature in its mouth, incinerating its face.
All the creatures fighting us were dead. We scouted the ceiling, thankfully seeing no more of them.
“Are you all right?” Prastian asked Behast.
Behast grunted as he tried to staunch the bleeding. “I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.”
“Nonsense.” Prastian tore a piece of his tunic off and bound the wound. Dark green blood soaked through it. “This won’t be enough.”
“There should still be supplies in the storage room,” I said. “I’ll go back and get them.”
“No,” Behast said. “We don’t have time for this. There could be others.”
“There are,” Jastillian said. “They travel in packs.” He glanced at the open doorway. “The others are sure to have heard these. Those piercing screams were a signal.”
“What are they?” Demay asked. “I’ve never seen or heard of anything like them before.”
Jastillian bent over one. He opened the creature’s mouth and peered inside, running his fingers over its razor-like teeth. Jastillian held up a thin, strong arm and inspected the thing’s hands. Its claws had retracted.
“These things,” Jastillian said, kicking its body, “are a terrible secret my people have guarded since the time of the War of the Wizards. We call them leshii, meaning mountain dwellers. They reside deep in mountains, caves, and underground.”
“Why have your people kept them a secret?” I asked.
“Remember when I told you how Eostar had a hand in convincing the dwarves to join Shala? Not all of the dwarves heeded his words. Some left, digging deeper into the mountains. Too deep. My uncle once said the dwarves changed because of the secrets they found; others believed it was their greed that did them in, and there were those who believed corrupted earth magic did it. Yet no one knows for sure.
“Time passed and we tried to make peace with those that left, but when we arrived to greet them they were no longer the same.”
“Why didn’t you warn others?”
“We’ve kept an eye on the places where the leshii dwelled and have exterminated a great many of them. We didn‘t know they were here. That doesn’t matter now. The leshii are dead to us and we’ve vowed to smear their blood on our axes. Down to the last drop.”
One leshii twitched. It sniffed, and although its eyes were closed, it gazed directly at Jastillian. “Traitorrr,” it said in a whisper.
“What did you call me?” Jastillian shouted. He roared and raised his ancient and mighty axe. Bringing it down, he chopped the leshii’s head off.
Prastian’s ears pricked up. “I hear something. I managed to stop the bleeding for Behast, but we better hurry.” He turned to me. “Hellsfire, how long will it take you to perform the spell?”
“Not long, but I’ll need to find the book, then prepare the spell.”
He nodded. “Jastillian and I will guard the door in case more of these leshii come.”
I told them what book I needed, and then Demay, Behast, and I dispersed to search for it. We hurriedly read the titles on the spines of the books. Demay found the book and rushed it to me. I sat down and flipped through to find the correct spell. Everyone stood guard. The web required a potion and incantation to make it work. I reread to make sure everything was right, and practiced the motions with my hands while repeating the words.
After memorizing it, we backtracked and then took the left tunnel, heading to the garden. On our way, we investigated the practice room, the latrine, the storage room, and the spring, this time searching the roof of the caves. Thankfully, we didn’t find any more creatures.
There was one final room to go to—the garden. After that, I could seal up the doorway and we could finally scrounge for something to help us while we were in the Wastelands. That, along with the binding potion, was the purpose of coming here. Everything else was secondary, even laying Stradus to rest. And I still had to tell my friends about the soul-binding spell Krystal had given me.
But when I opened the door, I stopped, shocked. Every plant in the garden was dead.
CHAPTER 4
The exotic and wondrous plants Stradus had collected and cultivated over the years were no longer what they were. They had lost their color and life. Brown decay had set in, leaves withered and fallen, and the once soft ground was now cracked and brittle.
The garden had been Stradus’s pride and joy, as if it were his child. He used to spend countless hours and years in his garden—growing, cultivating, and tending to the plants with his delicate touch. I kicked the hard ground, remembering the times when I would listen to him talk about the foreign lands he had traveled to obtain the seeds and bulbs of these exotic plants.
I reached out and a brown, dried leaf crumpled under my touch. I needed to make a potion to construct a stronger web. How was I going to do so without the garden? Without Stradus, the whole mountain was falling apart.
“I thought you said this was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen?” Demay asked.
I sighed and said, “It was. Once.”
“Can you do the spell or finish the potion without it?” Jastillian asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. I can do a weaker version of the spell, but they’ll be able to break through if enough force is applied. The potion won’t work. All the ingredients have to be fresh.”
“I hear...whispering,” Demay said.
Jastillian growled. “They come.”
“Behast, stay here and guard Hellsfire,” Prastian said. “We’ll kill those in the tunnel and buy you time to make your potion.”
“I can fight,” Behast said, gripping his sword until his lime-green skin became even lighter.
“I know you can, but Hellsfire will need protection if a few manage to slip by.”
Behast nodded and stood by the door. The other three vanished from the garden and into the hall.
I hurried, rushing from plant to flower, pushing my hands through the withered plants to find one or two that weren’t completely dead. I dug up dried, dead roots. Most of the plants and flowers were so brittle, they disintegrated at my touch. I blew at the dust- sized plant particles in my hand, knowing it was useless to cook a potion with them.
I ran to the workbench, hoping that either Stradus or I had cut and left a few plants before we left. There were empty flasks, a grinding stone and pestle, but no plants. I slammed my hand on the bench, causing everything to jump, and said, “Gods damn it!” Of course, nothing would be out. Stradus wouldn’t have left a mess and he would have made a point for me not to either.
One of the leshii’s screeches broke through the door. I jerked up and stared at the doorway. Behast’s feet etched furrows into the ground as he strained to go with the others and fight with them.
“You think they’re all right?” I asked.
“Are you done yet?”
I snapped. “I can’t do it without healthy plants.”
“Whatever you need to do, you better hurry. From the sounds of things, they need our help.”
Behast was right. We—no—I needed to do something. I was a wizard. I had all this power at my hand, yet I couldn’t do anything. My inner fire flowed out of my hand, smothering it. Maybe it was best we grab what we could and leave now. We would have to come back with an army to clear out the White Mountain, and I would have to create the potion with ingredients elsewhere, if I could. Some of these plants were exceedingly rare. At one point, Stradus had known Sharald, the ruler of
the elves. Maybe I could find the plants there.
I dashed to leave the room and help the others, but when I crossed the middle of the room, I stopped. Stradus’s voice echoed through my mind. I don’t know if it was memories or the orbs of magic, but it was clear as ice as sharp as a noble’s tongue. He had told me to bury his ashes here, right now, despite all that was happening. I was going to do so now. There might not be another chance.
I set the bag down and ran to grab a shovel. The ground broke apart as I thrust the shovel into it.
“We don’t have time for this,” Behast said.
“Yes, we do. I’m fulfilling a promise.” Our eyes met. “And I always keep my promises.”
Behast grunted and kept his eyes on the doorway. I dug, flinging dirt everywhere, not caring where it went or even if bits of dirt struck my face. If this was Stradus’s last wish, I was going to give it to him. When I finished, I took the urn and staff from the bag. I poured the ashes into the hole and then set the broken staff into it. I stared at the now clear globe on top of the staff. It used to swirl, filling with mana, when Stradus had it. The staff was carved into a snake and I once saw it come alive when Stradus fought Premier. It would move no longer. I heaped dry dirt into the hole before patting it down as best as I could.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish I could have buried you in your wondrous garden instead of this dead place. One day I’ll use the knowledge you’ve given me and create my own garden in memory of you.” I smacked my hands free of the dirt and said to Behast, “Let’s go.”
I focused on calling my magic to rise to the surface, drawing in the incredible power I was sure I was going to need to fight the leshii. But the place wasn’t through with me yet. The earth bellowed as though a mob of leshii thundered down on us, demanding blood. But it wasn’t leshii.
It was the garden.
Dead plants trembled and swayed. The dirt underneath my feet shifted and heaved as the whole room began to shake. I thought the ceiling was going to cave in, but it held firm.
Wisps of green mana swirled from the hole I had dug. It spread into the ground, sealing and erasing the cracks in the earth. Turquoise mana moistened and softened the ground with its water-based magic.