“Professors of Kazam College, I have summoned you all here today to discuss a matter of grave importance. As you know, Headmaster Hinckley has been absent for some time. He wrote me recently to tell me that the Dragon Champion of Magestra, Murland Kadabra, has mended the wand of Kazam. He is also in possession of the spell book of the same name.”
Startled voices erupted all at once.
“Murland Kadabra? But how is that possible?” said High Wizard Philips.
“But that means…Zuul has returned,” said another.
Everyone began asking questions at once, and Zorromon raised a staying hand. “Please, please, let me speak!” said Zorromon, enhancing his voice with his wand and pounding the gavel.
A hush fell over the group.
“It is true, Zuul has been reborn, for Hinckley suspected as much, and he went to investigate. But alas, he has not returned. He also suspected that Kazimir the Most High has something to do with Zuul’s return, else he is being held by the Dark Lord. Either way, we must travel to the Twisted Tower.”
“But if Murland has mended the wand, then he must be the one spoken of in Kazam’s prophecy,” said High Wizard Fracco. “He is destined to defeat Zuul. We must seek him out.”
“I have tried,” said Zorromon. “It seems that Kazimir has put powerful wards around the young apprentice. But you are correct. We need to pool our power and find the young man. You are the second ranking wizard here at the college, High Wizard Fracco, and I believe that you should head up that effort. In the meantime, I will need the assistance of those of you most proficient in battle wizardry. Together we must travel to the Twisted Tower and learn what we might.”
***
Hinckley jerked awake with a start, for something was buzzing against his nose hairs. He swatted at his own face and grumbled when one of his thick rings hit the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes angrily and saw the eagle Caw standing beside him, watching him with one beady eye.
“You’re back!” he said, suddenly sobered. “Did you find the moth king?”
“He’s coming,” said Caw, holding out a wing like an open palm. “The gold.”
“What? I don’t have it on me. But it is safe at the College of Kazam.”
“For your sake, I hope you’re joking,” said Caw.
“I have made a deal, and a deal with a wizard is—”
The eagle flew up into Hinckley’s face, battering the weakened wizard with his wings and pulling out beard hairs with his long talons.
“Dammit, get off me!”
Caw gave him one more good smack in the face with his wing. “You screw me on this deal, and I’ll eat your eyes while you watch.”
“Queen’s sake, I’ll have your money. I’m headed back to the college right now,” said Hinckley, rising as he spotted Dustywing coming in low from the south.
Just then, a trapdoor opened, and Kazimir emerged, looking as cocky as ever. Caw flew away, crying, “You better get me my money!”
Hinckley moved to the edge, glancing over, and timed the leap.
“I see that you are still alive,” said Kazimir, glancing at the departing eagle with curiosity. “This is good, for little Zuul is hungry for wizard meat.”
“You will never get away with this, Kazimir. You must see the folly in your ways,” said Hinckley.
The moth was getting closer.
“I apologize, old friend, but I have no time for witty banter right now,” said Kazimir. He reached in his robes and pulled out his wand.
“I beseech you. It is not too late to save your soul,” said Hinckley, trying to buy some time. He glanced over the edge again; the moth was almost in place.
“You bore me, Hinckley. Come, it is time to face your—”
Hinckley leapt from the tower as the moth glided to intercept him. He braced himself for the impact, and to his relief, he had judged the jump perfectly. He landed on the fuzzy back of the moth and gave a cheer, or at least he meant to, but the dust from the moth’s wings and body filled his mouth and blinded him, covering his body and causing him to cough violently.
By the time he had cleared his eyes, he was horrified to see that Dustywing was not heading away from the tower, but back toward it.
“What are you doing?” he screamed.
“Don’t you see it?” said Dustywing dreamily. “The light, it’s glorious.”
Kazimir, always the clever one, had produced a twenty-foot-wide globe of brilliant white light with his wand, which beckoned the moth toward it.
“No, it’s a trap! It’s a trap I tell you, turn around!”
“The light…” said Dustywing.
“It’s a trap!”
“Must, fly, into, the, light,” the moth droned.
“Turn around, and I will give you a light that will burn eternal,” Hinckley promised.
But it was too late. Dustywing swooped down and flew right into the heart of the light. Its warmth surrounded them, and the moth gave an alien, chittering moan. Kazimir hit them both with a bolt of lightning and dismissed the globe of light as Hinckley and Dustywing spiraled, smoldering, to the stone. They both lay twitching on the rooftop of the Twisted Tower. Hinckley’s teeth chattered, and his hand cramped up into a painful claw, but he managed to utter, “Stupid moth.”
Groaning, he watched Kazimir, who was shaking his head and tsk-tsking as he came to kneel beside him. “Well, that was stupid. Now, if you are quite done, we have a dinner date with Zuul, and he is very, very hungry.”
Chapter 5
Rubic’s Triangle
The transdimensional portal changed from streaking lines of plaid to hazy shades of blue, deep red, and orange as Zorromon discontinued the spell. The Twisted Tower came into view at the end of the long tunnel, small at first, but quickly growing larger. Zorromon flew his carpet through the end of the portal with fifteen other wizards following close behind.
“There it is!” he yelled over the howling wind. “All wands report!”
“Wand 6 standing by,” came a voice through the sound crystals in his ears.
“Wand 5 standing by.”
“Wand 4 standing by.”
“Wand 3 standing by…”
The others reported in as well, and Zorromon instructed them to spread out in recon formation. He led the party around the tower, looking for wards, traps, or other defenses, but he saw none. The discovery should have made him confident, but instead it filled him with dread. The lone window glowed with eerie red light, and the wailing voice of a demonic-sounding baby echoed through the air.
Zuul, thought Zorromon, and a shiver passed through him as he remembered his fate.
“Darklings, nine o’clock!” said one of the other wizards.
“Defensive maneuvers!” said Zorromon as dark beams of light shot out of the darklings’ hands and came surging toward them all.
Zorromon pulled on the left corner of his carpet and barrel-rolled, barely missing the dark incantation. He looked back just in time to see High Wizard Harrington and his Pegasus go up in flames.
“Damn you, Kazimir!” Zorromon screamed, seeing the hated wizard standing atop the tower. Also atop the tower, he noticed a frail-looking Hinckley, and he thanked the gods the man was still alive. A quick mental flash of gnashing teeth reminded Zorromon of his fate, and for a moment he faltered, but then the vision made him angry, and anger led to courage. If he was going to die the way he had seen himself do so many years ago, then he was going to go out fighting. He popped the top on a vial that he had kept on him for the last hundred years and swallowed down the bitter concoction with a skeleton’s grin.
As the other wizards moved to engage the darklings, Zorromon steered his carpet toward the Twisted Tower, grabbed ahold of the fringed corners of his carpet, and sent it into a spiraling dive.
Kazimir was ready for him, which Zorromon had expected; however, what he did not anticipate was the spell that erupted from the end of the Most High Wizard’s wand. As Zorromon came swooping down, he created a thick spell
shield in front of him, one that would stop all but the strongest offensive incantations. The shield was strong, but it was not equipped to repel what came at him. Kazimir’s spell shot through the air and disintegrated against the energy shield, but to Zorromon’s disgust and surprise, a skunk suddenly appeared, legs and arms splayed and pointed face hissing. The skunk sprayed, and the stink hit Zorromon’s nose like a garlic fist.
His eyes watered and his nose ran profusely as he tried desperately to breathe in clear air. In his panic, he tried to conjure a spell to be rid of the stink and the skunk, but he fumbled the words, which resulted in a much different result than the one he was expecting. Rather than make the skunk and stink disappear, he conjured a goose, which, upon arriving so suddenly, reacted as any goose might, and went berserk.
Zorromon fought to see beyond the flailing goose and spraying skunk. He finally got a spell right, and made both creatures disappear, but too late. The carpet careened into one of the spires, breaking Zorromon’s leg and sending him tumbling to the hard stone peak of the tower.
To his credit, he acted swiftly once he had landed. Even as Kazimir let loose a spell directed at him, Zorromon bellowed the words for one of his own. This spell, however, was not aimed at Kazimir, but at Hinckley.
Kazimir’s spell took hold of Zorromon and lifted him into the air. At the same time, Zorromon’s spell hit Hinckley and immediately whooshed him to the College of Kazam.
Kazimir glanced over his shoulder and came back with a dangerous scowl. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, almost in a whisper, and with a jerk of his wrist, he slammed Zorromon against the wall.
Zorromon hit hard, breaking a few ribs, but he only laughed.
Kazimir’s eyes became alight with rage, and he hit Zorromon with a spell meant to deal incredible pain. The headmaster of Abra Tower was no novice, however, and had spent a year in his youth studying the art of pain and tolerance. Again, he laughed.
“You fool. Even now, as your true prize gets away, you let your ego dictate your actions,” said Zorromon.
Kazimir looked to where Hinckley had been.
“Yes, I have sent him to a place that you cannot reach, a place that no one can penetrate. You have failed,” Zorromon taunted.
Kazimir’s eyes went wide, and grudgingly, it seemed, he released Zorromon and whooshed himself away.
Zorromon lay there, laughing, for it wasn’t the only trick that he had up his sleeve. Just as in his dreams, the trap door opened, and the old hag climbed up to the circular rooftop. In her arms, cradled in a black swath, was the image of his nightmares, the Dark Lord Zuul reborn.
“Come, dark one, taste the flesh of the wizard that you so crave. Come! Feast on my bones.”
The hag let the baby down, and like a hungry badger, little Zuul ambled across the stone in a flash and bit deeply into his neck.
The empty vial fell out of his robes, and Zorromon thought of the poison coursing through his veins.
And he smiled.
***
Hinckley was whooshed to his office in the College of Kazam and was instantly greeted by half a dozen wizards. They took him up without a word and carried him out into the hall. Gingerly, they put him down on a wheeled bed.
“It is alright, Headmaster, you are safe now,” said High Wizard Fracco, Professor of Patterns and Puzzles.
“But, you do not understand, Kazimir—”
“We understand. Zorromon has told us to prepare. Let’s just hope the trap will hold him.”
“Trap? Hold who?”
Fracco grinned his easy grin. “You’ll see.”
***
Kazimir flew through the portal in the wake of Zorromon’s whooshing spell and, as expected, he was met by the thick web of spells protecting Kazam College. He easily destroyed them all, utilizing his subconscious and creating a hundred independently thinking minds that unraveled the intricate patterns in seconds. He suddenly appeared in the middle of Hinckley’s office, and immediately he knew that something was wrong.
“That son of a witch Zorromon got me,” he said with a laugh as he took in the incredible dome of spells surrounding him. They were engrained into the walls, the furniture, the carpet, even the very air.
A mirage of Hinckley appeared before him, grinning.
Kazimir sat down on the patterned carpet and crossed his legs beneath his robes. “Do not assume that this is checkmate, my old friend.”
“I assume nothing,” said Hinckley. “But I will sleep well tonight knowing that you are not loose in the world. You know what this is…”
Kazimir glanced around. “Yes, Rubic’s Triangle. Very clever of Zorromon, I must say. But you must know that I was the first to solve this puzzle…a hundred years ago.”
“Of course, that is taught to every second year in the land. It is also taught that it took you three weeks to do so.”
“I wager that I can do it in a week this time,” said Kazimir.
“I believe that you can. But I also believe that it gives me enough time to reach young Murland and warn him.”
Kazimir’s grin disappeared.
Hinckley’s, on the other hand, grew.
“Why don’t you lot of cowards just try and kill me?” said Kazimir, knowing that more were listening in.
“I’m not sure that anyone exists who can,” said Hinckley matter-of-factly. “I always used to be jealous of that fact, but then I got to thinking of immortality, and what a curse it would be. In the end, I suppose that it will be you who kills yourself. What a pity.”
“Keep talking, Hink Dink,” said Kazimir.
Hinckley acted as though he had been taken aback. “I have never thought highly of you, but reverting to schoolyard insults?” He clucked his tongue and shook his head.
The mirage of Hinckley disappeared, and Kazimir mentally chastised himself for giving in to emotion. Even at his age, it seemed that the childish ego still remained. Well, he could remedy that later, for now there was Rubic’s Triangle to worry about.
He closed his eyes, split his subconscious into hundreds of separate minds, and went to work on unraveling the ever evolving and shifting spell.
Chapter 6
Is That a Wand in Your Pocket?
The Iron Fist maneuvered through the ice flows, which were becoming thicker the farther they ventured north. Some were small, while others towered high above the deck, thick and wide.
“I don’t like this,” said McArgh as she stood at the helm watching the ship creep around a large iceberg.
“I’m sorry to put you through so much trouble,” said Murland, who held his bowl in two hands, watching the wooden coin.
“We’ll make it up to you,” said Caressa, “I promise.”
McArgh raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and looked her up and down. “Is that right?”
Murland felt his cheeks turning red and avoided looking at the randy captain.
Caressa laughed. “You always have your mind in the gutter, don’t you? Even here in the middle of an ice—”
The ship clipped the side of the iceberg, and McArgh began swearing up a storm. “Godsdammit, Judy, be careful.”
“It was either that or hit the one on the other side!” the pirate yelled back. “We cannot continue through this ice. It is suicide.”
“Can’t you do something about this ice?” McArgh asked Ravenwing as the sorceress came up from below deck.
The black-haired woman smirked at Murland. The look gave him the chills—he didn’t like the strange sorceress. Not only was she a rogue, but she had a dark air about her.
“What exactly would you like me to do about it?” Ravenwing asked lazily.
McArgh just stared, waiting.
“The ship will be fine. The wards that I have on the hull will protect it,” said Ravenwing.
“Very well, but if we get stuck, I’m depending on you to get the ship out of the ice.”
“Piece of cake,” said Ravenwing. She took an interest in Murland then, glancing at the deep p
ocket where he kept his wand. “Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” she asked, grinning devilishly from behind black bangs.
“Uhh…”
“May I ask where it came from? It gives off such a…strange energy.”
“It’s, uhh, I got it from my headmaster.”
Her eyes lingered on his pocket and slowly made their way up Murland’s body. He felt naked beneath that heavy gaze, and for all he knew, she could see right through his robes. Her eyes found his, and that devilish smile returned. “You’re not like other wizards that I’ve met.”
He thought that she meant he wasn’t very good at his craft, and again, she smiled, as though she could read his thoughts.
“You seem much more…fun.”
“Heh, thanks?” said Murland, glancing at Caressa, who looked to be getting red around the ears.
“You are young, and surely you feel in over your head. If you would like, I can show you a thing or two…about magic.”
“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” he said. But when he saw how Caressa’s nostrils flared, he stammered, “Er, well, yeah. Maybe later.” And not knowing what else to do, he turned on his heel and headed below deck.
“Can you believe that woman?” said Caressa, hot on his heels.
“She gives me the creeps,” said Murland as they came to the companions’ quarters.
“She does?” said Caressa, smiling.
Murland laughed. “Um, yeah. She’s a dark sorceress, after all. What, you think I’m into her or something?”
“No.”
“Hah, you’re jealous!”
“Of her? Are you mad?”
Murland kissed her, smiling. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
She slapped him playfully on the arm, and behind them, someone made a gagging sound.
“Get a room!” said Wendel as he lay on his hammock rolling his eyes.
The Legend of Drak'Noir: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 3) Page 5