Wandmaker

by Ed Masessa

  “What is that word, hubris?” he finally asked.

  “False pride,” Coralis mumbled. “I can tell you, I’m not proud of it now. I had become bitter and cynical. And my ego would not allow me to admit that a mere apprentice could accomplish what thousands of talented Wandmakers before him had failed to do.”

  “You said he came to you with a warning. Was it something he saw with the Urania Wand?”

  A grave and ominous undercurrent crept into Coralis’s voice. “Exactly that. He saw the bad moon on the rise. He used an odd phrase—called it the mother of all bad moons. He told me he foresaw Dai She, that malignant son of Malachai, causing massive destruction by channeling the power of the bad moon. Had I believed him and given him adequate training in reading the visions sent by the wand, we would not be barreling blindly ahead. And I wouldn’t be forced to jeopardize—well.” Coralis broke off, as if the thought was too terrible to voice, and he looked guiltily to Brianna, who continued to doze.

  Henry didn’t know how to react to this. To finally meet the man he revered, only to find he was as flawed as any human could be—and to know that Coralis’s flaws had put him and his sister in danger—left him confused and somewhat … angry? “Didn’t he tell you anything useful?” he snapped. “You know, like how Dai She plans to do it? Or what kind of destruction? Or how we can stop it?”

  Coralis scowled. Henry immediately knew he had reacted poorly and braced for the Wand Master’s reply, yet Coralis surprised him.

  “Fair enough,” Coralis said with a growl. “I made a few mistakes and am paying the price for them. But, for your sake, I will not make them again. And with that in mind, let us resume your training, beginning with some filing in that astrology drawer.”

  Coralis slipped back into the voice with musical tones that mesmerized Henry, who listened with rapt attention. But in the back of his mind, he realized Coralis never answered his questions. And he wondered: Did that mean Coralis didn’t know the answers?

  Or was he afraid to share them?

  Some time later, they retired to the dining car, where a meal of surprisingly good lasagna awaited them. Afterward they ventured to the observation car, where Henry and Brianna were treated to a panoramic view of the countryside. Minutes later, the train rumbled over a long bridge that crossed the mighty Mississippi River. Barges carrying coal downstream mixed with sailboats dotted with their ant-sized occupants. As they sped past Fort Madison, Iowa, the terrain changed from flat fields to rolling hills.

  Inside the car, an Amish family of six sat together in silence while a troop of Boy Scouts raucously played cards. In one corner, a woman sat alone, taking pictures and sketching in a pad. Opposite her, a man in his early twenties with his cap on backward listened to his iPod while playing solitaire with a deck of cards.

  It was hard for Henry to believe that so many people went about their daily lives never suspecting the evil that was about to erupt. But then, up until very recently, he had been one of them. His carefree life had been interrupted by events beyond his control.

  Coralis caught Henry staring and nodded knowingly. “This is how it has always been,” he said softly. “This is why we do what we do. Every day, in other countries, soldiers fight to protect this way of life, and for the most part the average person never gives them a second thought.

  “You are a Wandbearer now, Henry. A soldier in a different kind of war. No one will know who you are or what you will do to protect them. But it is good for you to remember these many faces. You are forevermore charged with protecting them.”

  Henry thought he should be scared stiff. But Coralis’s words filled him with pride.

  Dai She paced impatiently outside the front door of the small shack. “What’s taking you so long?” he shouted.

  Another minute went by before Markhor emerged holding a dangerous-looking dagger, upon which several small scorpions were impaled. “You asked if it was safe.” He held the dagger close to Dai She. Two of the arthropods squirmed and thrust their venom-filled tails forward.

  But Dai She did not flinch. “Ah, Centruroides suffusus. Fine specimens! They’ll make a nice treat for Viktor once we roast them.” He turned to the vulture squatting on the ground next to him. “And you deserve a treat for being such a good boy,” he said, patting the bird on his bald head.

  Markhor turned away and rolled his eyes. “This is all I found, but there is still a chance more are hidden.”

  On the outside, the shack was unimpressive, made up of dry-rotted wood planks in various stages of decay that hardly seemed capable of holding together. Two of its four sides contained a single window, filthy beyond cleaning. The entire structure was only about four by four meters, with no rear door—although someone with a dry sense of humor had painted one.

  Dai She roughly brushed past Markhor to enter the shack. Inside wasn’t much better, but at least the gaps and holes in the wood provided some ventilation. Two rusted, steel-framed cots, one beneath each window, looked more like gurneys in a morgue than beds for sleeping. Wooden crates ranging from completely intact to totally demolished were scattered around the single open room.

  “Where is the restroom?” Dai She asked. It had been a long ride over many miles of washboard dirt roads that jolted, bounced, and rattled his innards. His bladder was at the bursting point.

  The door was still wide open, and Markhor pointed into the distance. “I believe it might be that somewhat dubious structure out there.” And while he wanted to be able to laugh at Dai She’s discomfort, his need to use it was just as urgent.

  The two men groaned and trudged up the incline, neither looking forward to what awaited them inside.

  Years of traveling to remote corners of the world had taught Markhor how to prepare for extended stays in inhospitable environs. He unloaded supplies from the car, which included packs of food with extended shelf life—survival food that was meant for the avid explorer.

  Dai She didn’t appreciate the foresight. “Blech! What kind of drivel is this? Viktor eats better from the roadside.”

  Markhor chewed a strip of teriyaki-flavored beef jerky thoughtfully before answering. “It might not taste like much, but it contains everything you need to live for a long time.”

  Dai She snorted. He waved a chubby hand at the room. “Why do you think anyone would have abandoned such a decadent mansion?”

  “I’m not sure it’s been abandoned. The door was closed when we arrived, and it opened freely, meaning someone’s been using it. The crates that are still intact are positioned with the open ends down, which indicates they might be used as seats. The mattresses, while thin and stained, don’t show signs of dry rot. And … ” He looked upward. “There are no cobwebs.”

  Dai She, who was sitting on a cot, shifted uncomfortably. As he followed Markhor’s explanation, he became mad at himself for not observing the obvious. “Then why are we here? What if the owners return? No doubt they will be armed.”

  Markhor opened the door and peered into the darkness. A gentle desert breeze curled inside and cooled the shack. Gazing upward at the awe-inspiring display of stars, he said, “I’m playing the odds. This terrain has been rougher than I anticipated and has slowed our progress. We need a place to stay for the night, and whoever uses this place doesn’t live here. I figure the odds at seventy-thirty in our favor that we will get a good night’s sleep and be on our way in the morning, and no one will ever know we’ve been here.”

  He walked outside and Dai She called after him. “Where are you going?”

  He poked his head in quickly, startling Dai She. “To feed our falcon friend. I think it’s best that we keep him alive.”

  The sound of a car motor didn’t wake them. It was the sound of breaking glass. Dai She rolled off his cot, falling with a loud thump. Just as he hit the floor, a rough hand clamped down over his mouth before he could cry out.

  “Quiet!” Markhor whispered roughly, his mouth pressed close to Dai She’s ear. “We have company.” He released his
hand slowly as the wild look in Dai She’s eyes returned to normal.

  “Who is it?”

  “Vandals, from the sound of it. They’re having a bit of fun with our car. It will be only a matter of minutes before they work up the courage to barge in here.” Markhor quickly crossed the room and gathered the few items they had brought in with them.

  “Where are you going? There’s no way out of here!” Dai She’s voice rose to a hoarse whisper. “This is all your fault! You and your odds. You got us into this!”

  Markhor spun on his heels and leveled a glare that stopped Dai She in midrant. His eyes glowed red with a fury that shone in the darkness like fiery embers of coal. He quickly got his temper in check. Dai She thought he was in charge and Markhor had to keep it that way, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. “I know. And I will get us out of it. Now drag that mattress over to the doorway and get behind the door.”

  Dai She mumbled something about heavy lifting but did as he was told, listening carefully to Markhor in the pitch-darkness. “They won’t be subtle. When they storm in here we will need to react quickly. We don’t know how many there are or what kind of weapons they have, but we have darkness on our side. You will need to close your eyes. I will flash-blind them with my wand, which you will be able to see through your eyelids. The mattress should cause them to stumble.

  “As soon as you see the flash, use your wand to slam the door closed so hard it will burst off the hinges. That should take out whoever is waiting on the outside.” It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all he could come up with until they could see what numbers they were up against.

  The car thumping ended and hushed whispers took its place as the partyers gathered their mob courage. Seconds later, as Markhor predicted, the door burst open and two large thugs fell forward, landing heavily—one on the mattress, one on the floor next to him.

  Before they could gather their wits, Markhor blazed the power of full sunlight directly into their eyes, making them shriek in pain. As he was instructed, Dai She let loose the full fury of a repelling spell through his wand that sent the door viciously in the opposite direction—with unintended but fierce results. The second intruder had not fallen completely into the room, and the force of the door broke both of his legs below the knee. Everything happened so quickly that it took a moment to register.

  And when it did, the chaos began.

  Blood-curdling screams erupted from both the victim and the remaining two people outside—both women—who were hit by the splintering fragments of the door. Markhor advanced to the doorway, using a spell that gave the illusion of a large animal. He growled with the ferocity of a caged lion.

  “Chupacabra!” one of the women screamed in terror. She painfully yanked a large wedge of wood from her thigh and hobbled quickly toward the off-road buggy, her partner right on her heels.

  Markhor let the illusion vanish as the taillights faded into the distance. He turned to the wimpering, wounded man and roughly dragged him to the center of the room, bringing forth another agonizing scream.

  Dai She stepped clear of his hiding spot. Moonlight illuminated the frightening duo as the men scrambled desperately to get away. The last night of a waxing moon was clear of clouds and they raised their arms in unison, allowing their auras to absorb the full force of evil moonbeams. They began to glow as brightly as the moon overhead, feeling the power surge within them.

  “We don’t appreciate uninvited guests.” Markhor’s voice dripped with venom. He looked back at the battered car, a wicked smile creasing his face. “Perhaps we should teach these hooligans a lesson.”

  And the screaming began anew.

  And the only one who heard it was bound and hanging from the outer back wall in a burlap sack. Several hours later, shivering uncontrollably, Randall heard the unmerciful end.

  Markhor had urged Dai She to get back on the road as soon as possible, just in case more people showed up. Shortly after midnight, they resumed their journey. The car rumbled and moaned, but it ran. The battering at the hands of the unfortunate vandals only served to make it look more ominous as it fought the rock-strewn roads that resembled horse-drawn paths.

  Inside the car, the air was tense with a darkness that mirrored its exterior. The two occupants glowered in silent reflection of the evening’s events. Neither felt any remorse. If anything, they felt slightly giddy with power, having absorbed an abundance of moonbeams.

  Dai She concentrated on one of the myriad spider cracks in the splintered windshield. He focused, making it lengthen millimeter by millimeter. He pushed it upward, where it connected with another and another.

  “Stop that.” Markhor had been watching, his heightened senses aware of every subtle use of energy. He was acutely aware of the increase in Dai She’s power—as well as his own. But the level of Dai She’s cruelty far surpassed anything Markhor would have done. Interfering would have been a sign of weakness, something he could not afford. He angrily slammed shut the image in his head and snapped at Dai She. “I still have to be able to see where I’m going.”

  Dai She bristled. He turned his attention to the rear window, snapped his stubby fingers, and watched it explode into tiny fragments that glittered like diamonds in the road.

  Markhor jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, wiping the smirk off Dai She’s face as he banged his head on the passenger window.

  “I get it,” Markhor said while grinding his teeth. “You’re feeling happy with yourself. You had a good night. But unless you plan on walking the next thirty miles, I suggest you flex your muscles in another direction.”

  He expected Dai She to throw another of his tantrums, but was surprised when he calmly grinned in response. “What is it you think happened back there? Do you think I enjoyed torturing those miserable lowlifes?”

  Markhor sensed where this was going and remained silent.

  “You think you are a Wand Master. That one day, history will revere the deeds of the infamous Markhor.” The grin spread to a malevolent sneer. “You are nothing compared to me. My power is without limits! Last night was to give you a taste of what true power can do. And … to give you ample warning. Don’t mess with me, Markhor.

  “Do you think I missed the significance of your name? The snake eater? Ha! I am a snake unlike any other. I will strike without warning or mercy at those who oppose me. I will strangle all who step into my path. And I will crush the life out of you if you dare to get in my way.”

  The two glared at each other. Seconds ticked by and the silence grew until Markhor shifted gears and pulled the car back onto the road.

  Markhor was growing weary of his irritating traveling companion. He glanced again at his image in the rearview mirror. His connection with young Henry was strong—built on a foundation of love, no doubt. Perhaps it was time to have a little fun. No father should be denied the opportunity to play games with his son. Even if those games contained a certain element of … danger.

  A test, then. Something scary with a bit of a bite to it.

  Are you ready, young Henry?

  The train arrived in Kansas City almost two hours late due to mechanical delays. The conductor announced repairs would take about thirty minutes, which gave them time to stretch their legs and get some fresh air before resuming their trip to Winslow, Arizona. It was just past midnight and Henry should have been tired, but sitting for hours on a train being tutored made him antsy. He jumped from the train and sprinted the length of the platform, then back to Coralis.

  “Is that all?” the Wand Master asked.

  Henry seized the moment and sprinted again, returning breathless and sweaty. “Okay, that felt good.” He smiled.

  “As will a hot bath someday.” Coralis led them to a row of vending machines, where Henry selected several candy bars and a large plastic bottle of soda, and a granola bar for Brianna. Coralis settled for a mix of nuts and dried fruits. No one seemed to take notice of Brianna, who was perched in the upper pocket of Coralis’s trench coa
t.

  The twenty ounces of soda Henry consumed in record time ran right through his kidneys.

  “Come back straightaway, Henry. You don’t want the train to leave without you,” Coralis teased.

  Henry turned to him, belched loudly, then ran off before Coralis could yell at him. He followed the restroom signs and jogged to the station waiting area, only to find it blocked off for maintenance. Seeing no other signs, he quickly exited the far side of the building.

  The urge to pee now had his feet dancing and his legs flapping. He couldn’t hold it too much longer, but there was still no sign of a restroom. He hurried down a dimly lit sidewalk past several restaurants and shops. Finally, he spotted what he was desperately seeking. As he crashed through the door and it closed behind him, a sinister figure went to work …

  Theodore Burnhardt had once had a promising career ahead of him. As the youngest-ever assistant curator at the Chicago Field Museum, he had been well on his way to fulfilling his dream of taking over the top spot. And if he could somehow get his boss to retire early, the job would be his before he turned thirty.

  So he put a little something extra in the boss’s soy latte. Nothing fatal. Just a blend of rare herbs that had an adverse reaction on ligaments and joints.

  Unfortunately, the boss intercepted a shipment of one of the herbs and put two and two together. Which left Theodore in financial ruin following a crippling lawsuit. He was lucky he didn’t go to jail.

  Fortunately for him, there was only one source where those rare herbs could be purchased—and it was one that the Scorax kept a close eye on. Within a week, Theodore had been recruited as the organization’s newest member, willing and ambitious.

  The Scorax influence spread far and wide. And through it, they were able to place people in positions that one day might become useful. Which was how Theodore, despite his sketchy résumé, was handed the job of director of the Science Center at Union Station in Kansas City. The same Union Station where Henry’s train was now parked.