Chronicles of a Royal Pet- Heroes Collide

by Ian Rodgers

  “The Restoration spell!” Celbrem gasped as he watched the third Chosen One slump on the couch, snores emanating from him. “I thought it’d been lost when the Five Spire Cathedral was destroyed by the World Rebellion! Did Shyla teach you it?”

  “No. And you wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you who I got the spell from,” Dora said with a shake of her head.

  “Try me,” Celbrem snorted imperiously.

  “Yeah, it can’t be any weirder than accidentally creating a Spirit of Knowledge by eating an Ink Ooze while it was attached to a magical book sorting artifact,” I added. Celbrem and Dora both shot me incredulous looks, before the latter gave in with a chuckle.

  “Gods, I suppose you’re right. We’ve all seen and experienced ridiculous things, haven’t we?” Dora laughed with a shake of her head. “Fine. I got the Restoration spell from none other than Vord the Unliving as a reward for killing a wayward apprentice of his.”

  The Silent Storm sputtered in disbelief and I bounced erratically in shock.

  “The most powerful lich in the world gave it to you?!” I almost screamed.

  “Told you it was hard to believe,” the half-orc smirked in amusement.

  “That unholy, charred worm!” Celbrem spat. “Should have guessed he’d want it. He’d always been interested in Divine matters and godly artifacts. Hence why he stole the First Hammer from Karz Thang and the dwarves four hundred years ago, taking advantage of the chaos caused by the War of Fallen Gods. Well, that, and revenge for when the dwarves defeated him back when he was mortal, thousands of years ago.”

  A serious expression crossed the Grand Elf’s face. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Grandor the truth about where you got the spell, and from whom.”

  “Well, I suppose being a dwarf would mean he’d have a grudge,” I mused, but Celbrem shook his head.

  “It’s more serious than that. Grandor Gemgrind is a cousin to the Hammerhand Clan, who were the ancestral guardians of the First Hammer. Being one of the few blood relatives who survived Vord’s attack on the shrine, he is bound by mystical oaths to kill anyone associated with Vord the Lich and to take back the First Hammer if possible.”

  Dora gulped nervously, and nodded. “I, uh, I’ll be sure to be very careful.”

  An awkward silence descended upon the room, the mood dampened by the information Celbrem had dropped on us. Suddenly, the unconscious body on the couch twitched behind Dora. No else seemed to notice, but I certainly did. One of the benefits of having perfect 360-degree vision!

  “I remember everything!” the former amnesiac suddenly shouted, bolting to his feet. Dora responded to the abrupt wake-up by letting out a shrill shriek, and then spinning around and punching him right in the face.

  He fell backwards right back onto the couch, unconscious, his nose bleeding from where the Healer had planted her fist.

  “Umm, oops?” she apologized, staring at the person she’d knocked out in a single blow. Celbrem shook his head with a sigh, and muttered, almost too low to hear,

  “By the gods, she’s just like Shyla!”

  As for myself, I was too busy rolling around on the floor laughing. Boy, would I have some funny stories to tell to Rosa and Tara when I saw them again!

  Chapter 7: Test of Silence

  “I’m really sorry about that,” Dora apologized, fidgeting nervously from foot to foot as the brunet gingerly touched his nose. It’d healed shortly after Dora had bopped him in the face, but there was a tingle of phantom pains in it, a side effect of the injury being healed while he was not conscious, according to the Healer in the room.

  “It’s no problem at all,” the young man said, laughing off the apology. “It’s not the first time I’ve had a woman punch me. First time they hit me square in the nose and rendered me unconscious, perhaps, but not the first act of fist-based violence I’ve been subjected to from a female.”

  “…Wordy fellow, ain’t cha?” Dora replied, unable to formulate a better answer.

  He shrugged. “I guess it’s a side effect of spending two years traveling with a princess. Her vocabulary rubbed off on me.”

  A grin split his face and he held out his hand for a shake. “Anyways, hello there! My name is Gaelin Arcros, and I’m apparently the Chosen One known as the Paladin of Nia. Bit of a last-minute discovery, on my part. I’d suspected, but I’d had it confirmed during a fight with the World Rebellion before I fell into the portal that dragged me here.”

  “Jellik, or Jelly, whichever,” I said, extending a tendril for him to shake. After only a brief pause of confusion he took and gave it a firm, friendly pump.

  “Yes, I remember hearing your introduction. Weird how utterly unimpressed I was when we first met. I mean, I’m shocked to meet a talking Ooze now, but I still recall how ‘normal’ it felt to meet you. And Dora, come to think of it,” Gaelin said, glancing from me to the half-orc.

  “Must be due to our Chosen One status. I know I felt the same way when I ran headlong into Dora for the first time,” I said.

  “Perhaps our magical essences react to each other, influencing us on a subconscious level,” Dora hypothesized. “We seemed familiar when we first met because our magics are so similar.”

  “Possible,” I mused. “There are studies about sympathetic magic that are, besides being quite fascinating, very informative about how twins recognize each other even if they’ve been separated because of the unconscious soul resonance of their magic…”

  “Hey, uh, sorry to burst any bubbles, but I can’t follow any of that,” Gaelin claimed, wincing as he did so. “And it might just be the restored memories, or the punch to the head, but I’ve got a raging migraine going on right now. And all this magical technical talk isn’t helping.”

  “Uh-oh, I’d better take a look,” Dora said, placing her right hand on his forehead, the palm glowing white for a brief moment. She frowned as she examined him.

  “Definitely some pressure up there… more magical than physical I think… perhaps I used too much magic in restoring your memories. And two naps one after the other – one of which was magically induced – probably didn’t help.”

  “Any advice?” Gaelin asked nervously.

  “Sleep,” Celbrem declared firmly, speaking up for the first time since the brunet had awoken. “All three of you have been sleepless for too long. For you, Mr. Arcros, sleep will help you stabilize the excess magic Miss Dora put inside of you. For you two, you’ve been in Luminoth for a long time, and although you might not feel tired due to the plane’s lingering effects, you both need rest to recover now that you’re no longer being saturated in its healing light.”

  “Is it going to be a magically induced sleep?” Dora asked slowly, glancing out the window of the hut which showed a lovely morning that was too bright for conventional methods of slumber.

  “No, that won’t help you recover properly. Sleep spells only go so far in helping recovery. What I’m going to do is this!” With a flourish of his hands, Celbrem threw open the front door and grabbed me, Dora, and Gaelin telekinetically. We were then dragged outside and floated through the air.

  For a moment we panicked as Celbrem, mad elf that he was, levitated us over and across a huge open space.

  “How are you doing this?!” Gaelin squawked in surprise.

  “Your armor is merely magic resistant, young man. Any mage capable of casting Level Eight or higher spells can easily affect you and your equipment,” Celbrem explained smugly.

  He didn’t leave us hanging for long, thankfully, and quickly deposited us in the shade of a single tree that dotted a sunny little island. The rest of the ground was covered in fluffy and soft grass, identical to the kind he himself had on his lawn.

  “This is a tiny spot I like to visit and relax on,” Celbrem announced. “It’s close to my property, so most monsters and entities avoid it carefully so as not to disturb me. But that’s not all!”

  He pointed to the apple bearing tree, and then at the grass. “The tree is a special breed,
same as the grass. The former is known as a Fragrant Apple Tree, the leaves, bark, fruits and blossoms carrying a heady fruit scent year-round. And the latter is called Green Sky, a special kind of grass so soft and lovely it’s used as bedding material for many natives in Aerum. Enjoy your nap under the cool shade!”

  “And when you wake up, I’ll begin teaching… yes, yes I will!” Celbrem began to laugh maniacally, a fact which worried me. But I could bring myself to do anything about my concerns, as the soft grass, warm sunlight, and distant hum of a tune that sounded dreadfully familiar lulled me to sleep. Dora, Gaelin, and I blacked out very quickly.

  ~(o)~

  I wasn’t sure when it was that I awoke. Nor for how long I’d slept. As it was, I woke up when I rolled over and hit a root while sleeping, at which point I was jolted awake.

  ‘Ugh, boy, what a… huh?’ I paused. Something was wrong.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I wondered. I looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the ominous feeling that’d overcome me shortly after waking. First, I took stock of my surroundings.

  Dora was nearby, curled up on the grass, snoozing quietly. A breeze blew some of her straw blonde hair about, flicking her ponytail into her face. She sneezed quietly and the length of hair flopped back away from her face. This process repeated itself a few more times as I watched.

  Next to her was Gaelin. I wasn’t sure about the guy quite yet. He seemed friendly, and from how quickly he’d warmed up to me, he was used to chatting and being around non-humans. Although that was a little odd, given he had a distinctly Partaevian last name.

  I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, so after watching him lie on his back and snore and drool for a bit, I looked away and peered at the rest of the tiny island we’d been dropped onto.

  ‘Nothing appears to be out of place… grass is still green, tree is still fruit bearing and smelling quite delicious… boy am I glad I figured out how to smell while learning to use other senses,’ I mused to myself. ‘Hang on… before we went to sleep, Celbrem’s house was visible! Where’d it go?!’

  Frantically I hopped up, looking around wildly for any sight of the feather roofed hut, but it was gone! None of the other islands or floating rock formation looked similar either. In fact…

  ‘The air reeks of rain and lightning,’ I realized, as both my mundane and magical senses tried to locate something, anything, to tell me where we were. ‘And the clouds are huge and dark. This is a new region in Aerum!’

  I bounced over to Dora and began to shake her shoulders vigorously. As I did so, I noticed that there was a wooden broom lying next to her. Weird, but I had more important things to worry about.

  ‘Wake up!’ I cried, only to stop mid-shake as realization hit me. ‘Uh-oh.’

  Yawning soundlessly, Dora sat up, one hand rubbing her eyes. She opened her mouth to ask me something, but no words came out. Frowning, an expression of surprise crossed her face. She looked at me in dawning horror, and I bobbed up and down.

  ‘Someone’s muted us!’ I shouted indignantly, only the words never came out of me.

  I rolled over to Gaelin and shook him awake next. As he rose, he too experienced a brief moment of shock and fear over losing his voice.

  Just as we were about to panic completely, Celbrem popped into existence underneath the apple tree.

  “Why, hello there, my unexpected students. I see you’ve woken up and discovered you can’t talk anymore,” the Grand Elf said with an amused smirk. Dora growled at him and lunged, trying to grab his robe and shake some answers out of him, only for her hands to pass right through his body.

  “Don’t bother trying to strangle me or shake me, Miss Dora. This is merely an Astral Projection. Now, allow me to explain what’s happening,” he said, ignoring the dark looks we were giving him.

  “Do you know why my nickname is the Silent Storm?” he asked, and we looked at each other, confused by the question.

  “It’s because, when I was but a child, I was a genius at spellcasting,” Celbrem bragged. “By my second decade of life, I could cast spells up to Level Three wordlessly. No need for a lengthy incantation, or even saying their name. Just flick my wrist and boom! Fireball to the face!”

  He cackled madly for a bit before coughing. “Anyways! In this training exercise, I’m going to be forcing you three to learn to cast every single spell you know wordlessly. Why? Because when you fight the Void, or any truly powerful enemy, you won’t have time to chant, or wave a staff around. Hells, you’ll barely have time to make hand gestures! Using magic and spells without incantations is vital to your success in the future!”

  “To that end, I’ve cursed all three of you with the Mute hex! It’s only a Level Four spell, but with my power and genius fueling it, even an S-ranked mage would have trouble dispelling it!” Celbrem said cheerfully. “You won’t be able to make a sound with your mouths, but you can still cast spells. If you know how to do so silently, you won’t be killed or horribly maimed!”

  ‘What?! Where in the Aether did you leave us?!’ I tried to shout. Celbrem only chuckled at my violently jiggling body.

  “After you three fell asleep, I teleported the entire island into the path of the Eternal Storm!” Celbrem proudly declared.

  ‘WHAT?!’ all three of us shouted. I think. I couldn’t hear what Dora and Gaelin had uttered in response. Judging from the former’s twitching left eye, it might have actually been a much more volatile swear.

  “Not only that, but right now, the infamous Eternal Storm is passing through the Harpy Islands! Which are inhabited by, you guessed it, vicious, territorial, flesh-hungry half-bird, half-women creatures! Oh, and additional stuff, like griffons, Dagger Quills, and other nasty flying monsters,” the legendary hero said. “Escape the storm – which will be arriving in a few short minutes – and the harpies, and you will hopefully have survived and learned how to cast magic without needing to speak! Have fun!”

  The image of Celbrem then vanished. Only for it to reappear a few seconds later.

  “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot! Miss Dora, since you don’t know any flying spells, or have a magical artifact like Mr. Arcros does, I’m lending you that broom over there,” the Astral Projection added, pointing to the wooden broom lying on the ground near Dora’s feet. “It’s a Witch’s Staff, a kind of flying tool used by certain types of female magic users in other dimensions. Ta-ta!”

  And with a jaunty wave, the magical image of him disappeared for good this time. Gaelin mouthed some words I were fairly certain only things sailors were allowed to say, and Dora stomped her right foot angrily a few times to vent her frustration before bending down to pick up the broom-like staff the Silent Storm had left her.

  ‘It doesn’t look much like a broom,’ I noted as Dora examined it, turning the object over in her hands. Indeed, what broom has two brass handles up near the top, a flattened and molded midsection not unlike a saddle, and possessed tube-like protrusions jutting out of where the bristles should have been?

  But it was magical, no doubt about it. I could see the Wind Element enchantments all over the Witch’s Staff. Some I recognized, even if they were foreign. After all, there are only so many ways a person can emulate flight with magic. But a few, especially around the tubes, were unfamiliar.

  ‘Something to do with thrust? Air compression and expulsion?’ I mused, trying to decipher the intricate knot that the spell work resembled with my unique magical vision.

  Dora tried to say something, but frowned as she recalled that such an act was pointless, and scowled at where Celbrem’s Astral Projection had been. She then jabbed the broom into the grass and began to scrape words out in the dirt.

  WHAT DO NOW? She asked us, and I made a shrugging motion. Gaelin tapped his chin before poking the ground with his halberd.

  WIND STRONG, he wrote out, jabbing a finger at the sky behind us. Turning, I saw that the sky was now completely dark, the sun vanished behind a thick ceiling of storm clouds. And far off in th
e distance, past the bleak spire of rock floating about, I could see a wall of wind approaching us.

  ‘So that’s what a tornado looks like if it can’t touch the ground,’ I mused in interest. Without anything to touch down on and form a funnel upon, the seething winds had looped in on themselves, creating a gargantuan sphere of wrathful wind that was bearing down on us as we stared. It was so large, we couldn’t even see where it began or ended! It took up the entire horizon!

  CRAP! Dora wrote out as we saw a small island, no more than a dozen feet across, get sucked into what could only be the Eternal Storm Celbrem had mentioned. Before our eyes the tiny chunk of earth was torn to shreds by the violent gale force winds, reduced to dust that was scattered across the surface of the storm.

  Wasting no time, Dora immediately mounted the odd staff, knuckles turning an even paler shade of green as she gripped the handles tightly. It was not easy trying to figure the Witch’s Staff out. More than once she faceplanted into the ground because she got thrown off when she stopped too abruptly, or fell off when the broom-staff rolled over in the air.

  AT LEAST THE GRASS IS SOFT! I signed out after wincing at her latest collision with the tree. Gaelin watched me enviously use numerous tendrils to write out the words I wanted to say in the air, twisting my squishy limbs into the letters I wanted. Sort of like sign language, but more direct.

  She flipped me a rude hand gesture. I didn’t take it seriously. After all, I was more worried about the approaching wall of weathery doom that was looming over us.

  Something smacked into me, and I wobbled indignantly. But then I got a good look at what had struck me. ‘Hail?’

  Chunks of ice and rock were starting to fly through the air as the Eternal Storm approached, and I could hear the crackling BOOM! of thunder and the ominous flashes of lightning that were rapidly becoming the only source of light for us.