Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods)

by Leone, Hudson

  There were encyclopedias, world maps, books on anti-magic as well as books so thick that I needed two arms to lift them. Removing some of the books from the higher shelves, I nearly fell over as I realized that I was holding was the Caterwaul’s Journal. I hastily forced the book open to the date of my examinations.

  “November 25th

  After the first night of the examinations, all seems to be looking well for the grading trainees.The first few Ickle-Bits taking the exam have already died out, however one of the sickly looking ones seems to have stumbled into the No Man’s Zone for the night. This is especially irritating for me, as now I’ll be forced to apologize to the mechanics for getting blood on their precious contraptions.

  November 26th

  Second night of examinations, and there’s a large commotion going on between the trainees Preston, and Gregor. At the time, they seemed to be arguing over the dead body of the boy from yesterday, however it became apparent that on closer inspection the boy was still alive. How in the world did he evade the machines I wonder? And what in the world happened to him to put him in such a deep sickness? The blizzard I summoned did nothing to touch him, however this did not concern me. He’s likely to be dead soon anyways.

  If it’s a anti-magical sickness, it is one I have never seen the likes of before. If it is a plague, it is one best left contained in the forest. Was it something to do with what happened in the no man’s zone? I’ll ask the engineers about it, but something tells me that I’m missing a very important piece to this puzzle.”

  This passage went on for a while as well and continued to talk about the general progress of all of the trainees in the forest. Every time the Caterwaul reported a death, he would do so without remorse, or while about the general intelligence of the person dead. I skipped ahead to the next date, taking into account that I had been comatose for two days.

  “November 28th

  The boy’s name is Jacob. Such a common lowly name. I shouldn’t have expected much from him, but he intrigues me nonetheless. Much to my surprise his eyes opened today and shortly after he began to travel with the Preston trainee. The two walked and talked together, although since my telescopics do not pick up sound, I was forced to adjourn my observation until approximately 1:56 PM when my anti-detectors went off. As it turns out, the boy’s a distortion warlock and a powerful one too.

  Surely this is too good to be true: Conveniently surviving his youth as a powerless Ickle-Bit only to reveal a vast wealth of anti-magic seconds before his death. The operators of the no-man's-zone tell me that one of the smaller prototype machines had been decapitaed, spilling its antikoal all over the place, while in turn restoring some of the land back to it’s original state. This has to be more than coincidence I know it.”

  “Antikoal?” I mouthed in confusion. “I thought what I had found was arkoal! It matched the description perfectly too! How in the world could it have been different?”

  “Again, irrelevant,” Umber childed from afar. “Just keep reading.”

  November 30th

  Research into this mystery has gotten me nowhere. I must approach this puzzle from a different angle. I ask myself how he could have done this, and I say he couldn’t have. Therefore someone else must have done it for him.

  Just how many someone’s has Jacob come into contact with? And just how many of those someones are anyones? I think and only one person leaps to mind. My very own professor Wenchenberg. I know of his habits that constantly urge him to spare lives. I know of his constant dedication to the distortion craft, and I know of the sudden tip in Jacob’s abilities. These traits and occurrences fit together nicely however I only still need distinctive evidence that he’s involved.

  Jumping a step ahead, why would the professor help a seemingly random Ickle-Bit? He and I are logical minds, who would do no sort of irrational thing without a rational reason. I think and I strain to put the pieces together. Without a motive, the professor had no reason to help Jacob, however I am convinced that whatever Jacob is doing, he is not doing it alone.

  Jacob knows something that I don’t and I have a means of finding out what. I’ll set up a decoy taborthodox test that I know Jacob will not be able to pass. When he fails, he will be physically required to tell me everything that transpired in the forest, and all will be solved.

  December 1st

  All was not solved. In fact the only thing that ended up happening was me accidentally gifting him a set of armor and a sword. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Gregor decided it would be smart to tie himself into my little plan and try to extract Jacob’s thoughts for me. Most surprisingly, he failed which only added to the confusion of the situation. I know it was not his fault he couldn’t perform his kinetic anti-magic on Jacob, but for what reason I wasn’t sure. Unfortunately I was forced to hold him back from becoming a Sound-Walker Grimlar, else raise suspicion from the other elders that something strange is taking place. But even all of that commotion was trivial to what came next.

  My main concern today was the parcel that King Esterjay had sent to me this morning, detailing the conditions of the Ultimate Knight competition. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the king’s reasoning behind holding the competition is sound. I feel have no choice but to host the competition.

  “Check the desk,” Umber insisted sharply. “We have to find that letter.”

  I walked briskly to the desk and carefully began rearranging papers, fearful that I might make it noticeable someone besides the Caterwaul was in here. Folders, registration forms, quills, ink, clear parchment, nothing of any immediate interest to me. I carefully opened one of the bottom of the drawers and removed a larger than average envelope addressed to the caterwaul in quite possibly the cleanest handwriting I had ever seen. I poured the contents of the parcel onto the desk, to get a better look.

  Along with two sheets of official looking paper was a small thin wooden box which I set to once side. I tenderly picked up the papers and began to read.

  “My dearest Caterwaul.

  My apologies for not writing to you sooner, however the kingdom of Zaphris is indeed quite a large place. You will no doubt understand that I am quite preoccupied.

  Contrary to what you currently believe, the dragon Orthunus is growing steadily stronger. The small box included provides evidence to say this as well. Open it and you will find a small fracture of a dragon’s bone. The scholars tell me that Orthunus is coming out of his dormant state, and will become an exceptionally dangerous corrupted king. When a dragon rises out of his dormancy, I am told that the bones of other dragons will begin to vibrate very slightly. Since Orthonus is the dragon who has been dormant for the longest time, we have reason to believe that he will soon wake.

  Corrupted kings, while exceptionally rare, are often times the end of a mortal man’s kingdom. As you are well aware, Zaphris was founded after the; Beezokodny was ravaged by the corrupted king Bynk. There’s every reason to believe Orthonus will do the same to our beloved kingdom.

  But despite this, I do not ask for an army. I myself do not wish to risk the lives of my men already plotting war to the west. In much the same way, I understand that your elders are also quite precious. My nobles harass me. They demand that I take some form of action, otherwise I risk revolt and treason. I ask for a single Grimlar trainee to seek out Orthonus. I know such a boy will be killed by him should he be found, but it’s the least I can do to prevent my nobles and scribes from turning against me. In many ways the trainee we send out will be a scapegoat scout. If all goes well, the trainee should be able to at least find out where the dragon resides before he is killed.

  I know I have suggested you do this before, however now there is definite proof. Please do this Caterwaul. Our reign is at stake.”

  Acting without emotion, I carefully removed the small piece of maple coloured bone from within the box and set it down onto the table. Back and forth it quivered, rattling slightly as it made repeated contact with the desk. It was such a small insignificant
little thing. No longer with a proper purpose and no longer in a proper home. It was worthless, yet it continued to move. “Just like me,” I thought suddenly.

  I sank to my knees and began to weep with uncontrollably. I was Jacob Ofpacis. A bastard boy born from bad decisions and crime. I was a boy who shouldn’t have survived, but instead found himself living in the worst of pains. Could any good ever come from that? Through pride, I called myself a hero and worst of all, a friend. But I was not born into any of that. Could I honestly be any more now that I truly understood my place in the world?

  “You survived,” Umber said simply.

  “What does surviving matter?” I thought to myself almost manaicly. “Why does just surviving matter when there’s so much more to be and so much more to do?”

  Umber stayed silent as I continued to sob.

  It was strange crying through the professor’s body. The sobs felt somehow more reassuring now that I was hearing him along with me. Each and every tear that leaked out, I could be assured was a tear almost shared by Professor Wenchenberg.

  “Just being alive is the first step,” Umber said eventually. “You can’t run without first learning to walk, without first learning to crawl and without first living. Even if you achieve nothing today, you learn from it, and do more the next day. You think your parents were worthless in society. That may be true, but they protected you didn’t they? Your father realized his mistakes and sought out to protect you!”

  I sniffed loudly, still unsettled. “B-but...” I stammered. “This quest the professor wants me to do is just an excuse for the king to calm his nobles.” I brought my hands to my head and shook wildly. “It’s like the exams. I’m not expected to survive.”

  “Since when has that ever stopped you?” Umber asked, chuckling. “Mortal, in the short month I’ve known you, I’ve learned that I can’t ever doubt a human’s desire to keep on living.”

  I stared at Umber for a moment before he sighed and floated a little closer.

  “You used a word before,” he continued quietly. “Some kind of word that meant bravery and all that nonsense.”

  “Hero?” I asked, surprised that Umber had remembered

  “If you say so,” The spirit replied carelessly. “The point is, you have every opportunity to bounce back from this setback because you’re stupid, stubborn and still breathing.

  “I’m a hero too,” I whispered, hiccuping back my last remaining tears.

  “Same thing,” Umber grumbled. “Now do you feel better? Can we get on with our plan?”

  I nodded. As I reopened the drawer to place the parcel back, I noticed something which caused me to pause. Inside, were four jade labels, engraved with bold golden lettering.

  “Library Entrance :: Caterwaul’s Office

  Top floor Corridor Entrance :: Caterwaul’s Office

  School Courtyard Entrance :: Caterwaul’s Office

  Second floor Corridor Entrance :: Caterwaul’s Office”

  Why would the Caterwaul want all of these labels?” I asked grabbing up the one that read ‘Library entrance.’ “It’s not like it honestly-” but before I had time to finish my thought, the jade in my hand suddenly flew out of my grip and vanished into thin air altogether. I blinked forcefully, trying to understand what had just happened.

  A resounding clatter caused me to look back into the drawer and gawk. A different label had been dropped in from an unseen source, this one reading: “Central plaza entrance to office of Caterwaul.”

  “That was the sign on the office door as we walked in,” I concluded warily. I paused, and glared at Umber with a serious expression. “You don’t think the entire office has just been moved to another location do you?”

  “It’s entirely possible it didn’t move at all.” Umber said less than certainly. “After all, the sights outside of the window haven’t changed.” I examined the entire concentration camp from the single sheet of glass and had to agree with Umber: It was exactly the same as before. Despite all logical thoughts that said nothing could have happened, I had to check. I slowly stepped up to the door leading out of the office and gently nudged it open to a dark cold enclosure that was most certainly not the way I had come beforehand.

  Chapter thirteen

  Visitors Touching the Books

  I’ll hurt the world,

  But I won’t be the first.

  Unseen, unheard.

  I am hunger, I am thirst.

  I slowly slid into a room with rows and rows of towering bookshelves which shot twisted shadows along the vague and ominous light present. “So that’s how the Caterwaul travels across the camp so quickly!” I exclaimed quietly. “He uses his office to jump from one place to another as if were a passageway of sorts.”

  Umber made a noise that suggested agreement before diverting his attention to the surroundings.

  Through a large stone circular staircase dominating the center of the library, I could see that the entire area stretched upwards for another two floors. While the setting was delightful, the atmosphere was anything but pleasant. The freezing dry air stung the back of my throat as I absorbed what I could through shuddering breaths. The stench of parchment, while often times a comfort to me, seemed to cut into my nostrils this particular night. I shivered quietly and pulled my robes tighter, surprised to see my breath condense before me. The Library was closed, that much was obvious but why was it so cold?

  I shuffled to the nearest shelf and tried to determine the structure of how the books were organized. “All alphabetical,” I whispered to myself. “If I want book on mythical beasts I need to go to the next floor up.

  Taking brisk steps, I slowly advanced to the stairwell and stopped suddenly. For one peculiar moment, it almost seemed like I was hearing another pair of footsteps emitting from the lone reaches of the darkness. “It was just an echo,” I assured myself quietly. I tapped my foot lightly on the first step of the staircase and slowly lifted myself up. I brought myself to the second step, trying very hard to keep my composure free of fear. “Free of fear, free of company,” I hoped, quietly rubbing the cold off of me. “Completely and utterly alone.”

  As soon as I had said this, a distant sourceless sound began to ring out from somewhere in the room. Although it was faint, there was no mistaking the soft noise of dirty fabric being dragged across grainy wooden floor. The door of the Caterwaul’s office suddenly creaked shut of its own accord, however before I had time to realize what was going on, I was quickly enveloped into inky darkness.

  I blinked a little to adjust to the change in lighting and blindly continued to hustle up the stairs. A mistimed step caused me to lurch to the handrail and let out a sharp gasp. The sound of the shifting fabric suddenly stopped as I quickly regained my footing. I shivered dynamically and rubbed my imobile old fingers together to restore some of the warmth they previously had in the Caterwaul’s office. From what little I could see, the second floor appeared much more congested than the first, with the furnishings acting as narrow maze like corridors. I slowly advanced to a row of shelves and found myself immediately encased in a small narrow passage crammed full of nothing but the heavy spines of dark books.

  Quietly creeping around an intersection, I was disturbed to see a thin layer of fog swimming down the hallway, similar to how a freezing river flows. I decided it was in my best intentions not to follow this and instead turned to the left. Every movement sped up. The pounding sounds of my heart echoed out through my opened mouthed breaths, yet I didn’t dare make a sound louder than anything involuntary. I reluctantly pried my attention from my fears to examine a few of the books on the shelves. Magical creatures, why, where, and how to fight them” by Vermit Dungbop was what I was looking for, however it became apparent fairly quickly that I was still in the wrong section of the library. Tearing apart the silence was a sudden sound of many papers being shredded violently. I stifled a gasp and pressed myself up against the bookshelf, holding everything I had in terrified silence.

  “I am no
t alone,” I thought to myself with an unnatural lack of sense. I clenched my quivering fists, and slowly pressed my eyes through a small gap in the bookshelves, where for two far too long minutes I saw nothing at all. But from around the corner came the fog. And settled deep within this fog was a man.

  Scraggly, but beardless, his face was illuminated only by the pale icy mist that seemed to emit a sinister lifeless glow. He turned slowly, allowing me to observe in revolt his deep set scars which were laced and locked and tied together with bits of twine. From my resting place, I could see that he was missing a bloodshot eye. The thing was panting with heavy effort. His lungs caught on every slimy breath he took, causing him to choke every couple of seconds. With a surprising amount of effort the creature ripped books from their ledges and tore out pages in mindless outrage before throwing the empty carcasses to one side and walking on. The books seemed perfectly oblivious to this and instead quietly reassembled themselves as their enchantments mended them and placed them back in their rightful shelves. Continuing to stumble down the passageway, the thing began to speak to itself in a grating voice.