Teliko Mageia: Curse of the Frozen Flame

by A. J. Carbonell

  The larger cyclops paused, its awkward head swivelling, sensing something. Jael closed his eyes and reached deep for that well of fiery power within. This time it came easy to him and his lips. “Blazia!” he shouted. A ball of flames hurled through the air towards the monster, and burst in a fiery explosion. The beast roared in pain and rushed at Jael.

  The colossal Gorath was easily twice his height, and the ground shook as it sprinted towards him. “Explosion!” he exclaimed. Loud, magickal energy reverberated and popped. His fists burned with magickal rage, then released, darting over the Gorath and instantly scattered its decapitated limbs. Frekkis watched the cave entrance.

  Jael collected the eyeballs with a hunting knife. He carefully stowed them in his bag, but only after wrapping the bloody, gooey orbs gingerly in leaves. A low rumble grew from deep in the cave. Strange beasts poured out in unison. Frekkis’ fur bristled and rose on her back, the surrounding air charged with static. Four of them, equal and greater in size than the last. They smelled the blood of their fallen, and growled, slowly.

  Jael concealed his magick, and Frekkis too seemed to go still. “Frekkis, to me. Quick,” he whispered.

  Howling, Frekkis charged with unnatural speed towards the beasts. With a quick dash, the wolf pierced through one of the Goraths before the others could respond. They opened their mouths in unison, and a noxious green gas belched out. Jael summoned the flames again, whipping around his body and charring the air and fumes into nothing. He worked quickly, savagely, in coordination with his wolf. Together they ran into the midst of the lumbering monsters, the pair burned and bit until all the Goraths lay fallen in a heap before them.

  Jael fell still for a moment, gathering back his strength. A strange crackling sound alerted Jael to a movement before him. He’d not thought to keep an eye on the fallen Goraths. Now, too late to do anything but watch in astonished wonder, he watched as the injured beasts locked their limbs together. The air charged around them, rippling with thick natural magick, dense healing energy. That was hardly the worst. They glommed into a collective, forming one truly leviathan beast rising before their eyes.

  “It can’t be…” Jael muttered. “The thing’s the size of a mighty oak tree! Frekkis! Look out!” The wolf dodged one huge limb. They weren't prepared for its magickal abilities, and the pair made to retreat. But the three Gorath were stronger and faster than one, an eye looming in each direction. An arm shot out and knocked the wind from Jael, who flew through the air and hit a tree. Blinking black spots from his vision, he could see the giant creature charging towards him. He struggled to breathe. Hideous pain stabbed into his side when he made to move. Broken, he wondered. As the beast loomed nearer, Frekkis appeared above it, white fangs chomping at the eye of the monster facing away from him. It roared, and crashed slowly, a massive topple to the ground.

  Jael summoned every bit of strength he had. Hot currents of air, the energy within–he rose on the blaze. Even through the agony, his lips still knew to form the words. “Blazia!” he blurted. Flames engulfed his body, and he directed that final wind of spirit into his tightly clenched fist. He flew towards the giant, at the last possible minute the ultimate spell word busting out of his mouth. “Explosion!”

  With a mighty blow, he struck the head of the beast.

  It blew apart in a huge fleshy blast, the shockwave catching him and hurling him aside. Jael’s head crashed against the ground, and he tumbled into darkness, energy spent.

  He woke to Frekkis licking his face. Jael pushed her away groggily.

  Far above, the sun now sat in the west. Hours had passed, and Jael dragged his aching body to his knees. The woodland was a disaster. An ebony crater spanned twenty metres and several trees lay dead and burnt on the now blackened forest floor. Pieces of shredded Gorath flesh scattered everywhere, and it was clear by their mangled corpses the three were truly lifeless. Two eyes remained safe, tucked inside his satchel, and Jael went to salvage what he could from the rest.

  Frekkis had torn out one of the eyes, and his own blow had destroyed another. The third eye he found intact in a patch of discordant purple flowers, the blackened head sheltered from the worst of the blaze by the shadow of its own dying corporal form. He breathed a sigh of relief. All of this hadn’t been a loss. He placed the eye with the others in his bag, not bothering to wrap this one up in any of the now flame charred leafage. This time, the hike felt like an eternity. Jael staggered into the inn to collect his reward, then back again to the warm embrace of bed, where once again his distraught sleep was crowded by visions of death and destruction.

  When Jael and Frekkis returned to the pub at dawn, the marketplace could be described as calm. Early bird drunks huddled in the corner around a bowl of smoddled Swamp Eggs and didn’t cast an eye at him and his sleek companion. Earlier birds had taken yesterday’s job postings. Only one remained. Bereft of options, Jael tore down the Helico parchment.

  From what Jael recalled, the Helico was an extraordinary Mysto, a magickal orb that served as a container for pure magick. He found the barkeep, declined the barky spiced eggs of the morning, and showed the man the poster. “Is this the only job remaining?”

  “Aye,” said the barkeep. “This one’s for a wealthy client, the Eris family. They live in the south-east district, on second and Riverwood atop the hill on the edge of the city. You’ll see it. It’s the only estate on the hill.”

  “Thanks,” said Jael, and headed out to rouse them, Frekkis at his heels.

  As the barkeep had described, atop the small hill rising towards the corner borders of Almodea lay a mansion. The roof was gilt with bronze and green stones, and finely sculpted bushes in abstract designs rowed the side open to the city, providing a slight shield of privacy. Jael and Frekkis made their way up the path to the main door, three heads higher and more ornate than the average squat Almodean doorways. The family’s butler opened the door.

  “Good day,” Jael greeted. “Jael is the name. I believe there is a family ordeal I can assist with.”

  The butler bowed slightly and let them both in without a word, gesturing him to sit on a padded bench just off of the main entrance hallway. Though Jael craned his head, he didn’t catch a glimpse of whatever luxuries were contained beyond the further curtains, steps and marble curves. The client descended the stairs and offered a hand in welcome.

  “Good day, young man. I am Anthony Eris. Inquisitive about the job posting, I presume?” Anthony was a slim, well-to-do man with blond locks and a short beard.

  “I am indeed, sir,” Jael answered.

  “Very well. The task is this, my friend–retrieve the Helico, the mysto handed by my ancestors to me. It has been stolen by thieves. The group goes by the name Tiger Paw. They are thieving, violent bandits who raid towns and villages. I heard that their base lies north of here, just beyond the Lazule River. Please, find the Helico and deliver it back to me, and you shall have your reward.”

  “You can count on me, sir. You’ll have your Helico.”

  After leaving the mansion, Jael and Frekkis headed back downtown to the market to stock up with healing magick. While skilled healers were hard to find, there were spell casters who could imbue a mysto with healing properties. Not all mystos were rare and expensive like the Helico. One imbued with healing magick could be easily purchased and needed only to be broken to free the magick contained within. It was a temporary solution but worked wonders in the heat of battle.

  Following rumours from townsfolk scared by earlier sightings of the Tiger Paw gang, they spent two days in search of their enemies. No bridges lined the raging current of the Lazule River, and Jael held hope they were on the same side. Finally, they tracked them to a small camp as expected, along the Lazule River, the secluded flicker of fire giving away the position. He stalked along the riverside, scanning for any signs of the bandit’s crossing. Sure enough, the distant camp materialized into a clear encampment on the far side of the tributary. No bridge though.

  If the Tiger Paw ga
ng used magick to cross, then he would follow. Luckily he had learned Rokka, an incantation that focused his energy into forming heat currents, enabling levitation. Jael cast Blazia at his feet. Hoping the noise wouldn’t carry he yelled, “Rokka!”

  The blast didn’t resound, smothered by the furious, rapid stream. He rose above the white water on his heat wave, and Frekkis followed. She jumped it easily.

  Only a few meters away, hidden by massive rocks, they saw shapes of the bandits around their fire. Jael snuck up and onto a large rock, observing from above. A shoddy old wooden fence surrounded the encampment where the rocks did not, fronted by a solid wood gate. Nineteen outlaws, all dressed in leather and fur armour, drinking thick green bark-liquor. He’d learned from the rumours the Tiger Paw band was led by a mage, Hornhawl. Reputed to use transformation magick that allowed him to grow spikes from his body, he was a powerful mage. The disfigured bodies of his many victims spoke of his robust cruelty. He spent two hours watching, waiting, allowing the alcohol to dull their senses.

  Finally, he came to a plan. He explained quietly to the wolf what he desired. She understood and dashed off silently into the dark. For a few minutes, all was still; the only noise was the boisterous laughter and gruesome tales from the camp. Only a second or two before Jael would have begun to worry, there was a commotion at the gate. A scratching sound.

  The guard puzzled and went to investigate. With a quick slash, Frekkis dealt a deep cut through the guard’s chest, slaying him without warning.

  Another bandit was deliberately lured and eliminated in the same manner. The rest noticed their absentees and armed to explore. Before he’d time to whistle for his wolf to return, Frekkis conjured her magickal spell: Full Swift! With intense speed, the wolf dashed through the gate. Jael swore, hopped from the rock.

  This was not part of the plan.

  It took thirty seconds to run to the fence. Thirty seconds accompanied by a symphony of screams and snarls. Jael prayed for the safety of his companion, simultaneously charging fireballs in both hands. He bypassed the open gate. The scene beyond was carnage. A bandit’s neck left bleeding lifeless. Three more bandits lay dead, the rest in a protective circle, the wolf running at immense speed around them, howling. Jael rushed to Frekkis’ aid with a flurry of Explosion spells. Frekkis picked off one straggler, and then another. Jael continued to shoot infernal rays of heat at the bandits, felling three more while they fled for safety. Lowly bandits were no match for the duo. With no protection spells against Jael’s magick, it was a massacre.

  The bloodshed preyed upon Jael’s mind, and it weakened him. He remained sturdy on his feet, however, and beside him stood the wolf that had done most of the damage. Slick, bloody, eyes glowing in the fire of the burning corpses–she had also come into possession of a mangled hand. Jael studied the remains and observed none were short a hand. A blood trail lay to a hut in the south-east encampment, and he followed it carefully. Just before they reached the hut, the door exploded off of its hinges. Spiked objects and shrapnel flew out, narrowly missing Jael’s head. As he thought. Most of the bandits were easily annihilated. Their leader was still alive.

  “Come out, Hornhawl! We have you surrounded!”

  Strained laughter echoed from inside the hut. “Not bad! For a young man like you to overthrow my men! Not to mention your brute. That’s a real monster you have there.”

  “Where have you concealed the Helico? Hand it over and I’ll leave you unscathed!”

  “Unscathed! Hah! You’ll be reattaching my bloody hand, then, will you? I take it that old geezer sent you to fetch it. That old man never learns,” Hornhawl exclaimed bitterly.

  “Give it to me, or I’ll take it from you,” Jael threatened.

  “Is that right! I reckon I’d even beat you one-handed, you little scamp.”

  Jael plunged his fist into his pocket and withdrew a mysto. Just as a healing spell could be contained within a mysto, this one enclosed a magick spell to restore a mage’s magickal stamina. He threw it at the ground and felt power rise within himself, his esoteric exhaustion fading into memory.

  The sound of the shattering glass was enough to summon Hornhawl, who finally exited the hut. Three-inch-long metallic spikes protruded from his body. The spikes wore an unusual lack of sheen in the sunlight. His transformation magick could summon the unnatural, but those spikes were no replacement for a hand. “Where is it, eh?” Hornhawl sneered. “Where’s the thing that took my hand?”

  “Frekkis is resting,” Jael said simply. “She’s had a bustling evening.” He eyed the bandit. Tall, bearded, stout, with murder in his dark eyes, and fists covered in spikes.

  A pause. Each man waited, eyeing the other. Waiting to see who’d move. Suddenly, Jael attacked, charging in with Rokka and moving in for an Explosion spell. Hornhawl evaded, and flung spikes from his palm, piercing Jael’s arm and chest. Jael gasped in pain. As the bandit moved in for the kill, Jael burnt through his magickal energy, blasted heat from his whole body, throwing his attacker back. Hornhawl’s spikes grew even longer. He ran again at Jael, who dodged precariously. Hornhawl turned, and charged once more, like a mad bull!

  Hornhawl’s spikes made him impossible to touch. Jael cast Blazia at the wooden fence surrounding the camp. The flames roared up high. He stepped back into the flames, masking his body with Kappe Flam. It shielded him from the heat, igniting his body. Camouflaged in the flames, Hornhawl could only roar, flinging spikes at random into the fire.

  A stray spike pierced him. Jael intensified the flames. The bandit lord finally spotted him in the flames and transformed his hand (and stumpy remains) into two large spikes. He readied to strike. “I see the spike isn’t so mangled as your hand!” Jael taunted, and Hornhawl jumped high, aiming to deliver a final blow.

  “Pillar Flare!” shouted Jael. A large pillar of writhing flame erupted from the burning ground, striking the bandit lord and engulfing him in its searing whip of flame. He waited a moment and extinguished the pillar. Not only because his magickal energy was waning. Jael wanted information. The task that’d driven him here, to this manic bloodlust The Helico. Burns wrapped Hornhawl’s torso, and the corpulent man writhed in pain.

  “Where is the Helico?!” Jael demanded.

  “To hell with you, boy!” he screamed. He couldn’t maintain his transformative magick under torturous conditions.

  “I will not press again. Where is the Helico?”

  “If you kill me, you’ll never find it. Only I know this territory. Just me,” Hornhawl taunted.

  “It is as you say,” said Jael coldly. He pressed his hand to the bandit’s shredded wrist, squeezing the stump and applying weak heat magick.

  The bandit wept in pain, and surrendered, his eyes going limp and fearful. “All right, all right! The Helico is… powerful. Very powerful. If you use that mysto, you would be able to summon the legendary Bakunawa. I still have not figured out how to activate it.” He still spat out his words, but with muted vitriol now controlled by the staunch fear of pain. “The Bakunawa is a winged sea serpent. Very ancient. It is known as the moon-eater because it was believed the Bakunawa caused eclipses in the ancient times.”

  Sheer anger drove Jael’s words. “I don’t care what this Bakunawa is. What’s important is I bring the unusual mysto back to Anthony. Now tell me where it is, or I will burn you to a flaming crisp, bandit!”

  When the bandit did not reply, Jael burnt his wrist again.

  Hornhawl growled. “It’s in my vault! It’s in my vault!” “Where is your vault?!” Jael asked.

  “It’s under my personal board, beside my bed.”

  Jael gestured for Frekkis to stand guard. “She will kill you if you move. So stay where you are.” He kicked aside the fallen bandit at the entrance to the scant hut of the bandit lord. His mattress was wrapped in stained grey linen, bits of hay poking out, and a thick black bear pelt lay shoved to the corner, unmade. The vault was little more than a small chest sitting on its side, the hinges more easily broke
n than the lock. But inside, he saw, astonished, a picture perfect, scenic view of the Helico sitting on a maroon velvet cushion. It gleamed bright, violet and white hues shimmering throughout its golden form.

  Pinned up on the wall there was a parchment list, and he pulled it off to inspect further. Names of villages throughout the Kingdom of Bristal, some crossed out and others marked with dots, as if to prioritize them. Among the crossed-out names was the name Sanhera. “Sanhera…” he murmured.

  Quickly he went out to ask the bandit lord about the list. Hornhawl wrinkled up his nose. “It’s the list of targets we have been given by our leader.”

  “What about this Sanhera?”

  “It’s none of your business, kid. I gave you what you asked for. Leave me be,” Hornhawl replied, nursing his stumpy hand. Jael knocked him out with a vicious kick to the face, and abandoned him, charred and broken. He headed back to Almodea. The name still haunted him. Sanhera. Sanhera. Why was that name so mundane, so familiar?

  The rest of the trip back to Almodea was uneventful. Jael and Frekkis returned to the Eris family mansion with the Helico wrapped and stowed in Jael’s bag. They presented Anthony with the artefact and informed him of the extermination of the Tiger Paw bandits.

  “Thank you, young mage. You have done me a great service, not to mention the townsfolk terrorised by the criminals. You are powerful indeed.” Anthony handed over a stiff new leather purse containing the reward. Jael gladly accepted with a polite half-bow. Exhausted from the day, and magick stamina depleted, his mind was a fog. They went to the inn to stay for the night, for a hearty meal and a long, thankfully restful sleep.

  Dawn came, and they set off to the market to buy the expensive map of the region of Bristal. Jael was proud to put down the ludicrous fee demanded for the highly detailed map.

  “That map is magickal. You can see a small mysto at the middle of the map. This mysto is extraordinary; it will not break when you use it. Just utter the spell Mappa and the map will reveal itself to you.”