The Dubious Tale of the Winter Wizard

by Nick McNeil

  Bertly pointed to the map. “What are these chest symbols?”

  “Ahh.” Edfrid folded his hands and rested them on his stomach. “You see, all that traveling we did, it wasn’t for nothing…we were searching for lost treasure.”

  Bertly’s eyes sparkled and he leaned in closer to his father.

  “We traveled all over. It started in Noskar, and it wasn’t before long we found ourselves in Eplium.”

  “How long did you travel for?” Bertly asked.

  “Hmm…at least ten years.” Edfrid rubbed away the small snowflakes that had built up in his beard. Bertly felt an excitement emerging within him. This was one of the very few times his father had opened up to Bertly about his mother.

  Bertly looked back down at his mother’s map. “Remarkable. You must have seen everything.”

  Edfrid slouched over and held Bertly’s shoulder. “You could explore this world for a hundred lifetimes, and I don’t think you’d discover half of what Pangea has to offer.”

  “What’s this location in the Decomposite?” Bertly pressed his finger against the map. “It’s the only chest that isn’t crossed off.”

  “It’s the only place I never allowed her to go.” Edfrid let go of Bertly’s shoulder and took a deep breath. “We agreed we would travel to every spot on that map before we had children. When the time came, and that place was the last on our map, I couldn’t do it.” Edfrid sat up straight. “I didn’t want to throw away our lives in the Decomposite on our last trip. I wanted to have you.”

  Bertly wanted to respond to his father, but he didn’t know how. He knew his father loved him, but he’d never understood how much Edfrid had truly wanted to be a father.

  “If I had gone on that trip…” Edfrid closed his eyes. “I don’t think she would have left us.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for this,” Bertly said, knowing old emotions were resurfacing for his father, but he couldn’t restrain his curiosity. “Do you think that is where she went?”

  Edfrid nodded.

  Bertly became flooded with emotion; he was confused, frustrated, and excited all at the same time. “I always thought she had passed away.”

  “No…I don’t know where she is now.” Edfrid’s bottom lip quivered. “I always thought she’d come back. You know, after she went to the Decomposite and found what she was looking for.”

  Bertly’s head ached. He rubbed his temples so he could attempt to think clearly. “Why are you telling me this now? Why are you giving me this map now?”

  Edfrid looked at Bertly and shook his head. “What was a ten-year-old going to do with a map leading to the Decomposite?” He sighed. “There is never a good time with this stuff.”

  Bertly pressed his lips and lifted his head. “Thank you.” He bent the map back into its already creased folds and tucked it into the cover of his journal. “I’m glad you told me.”

  Edfrid smiled without showing his teeth and closed his eyes. “I think it’s time to get some rest.” He slouched onto his side. “Goodnight, Bertly. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Bertly leaned back and rested his head against Roderick’s travel sack. “Goodnight, Father.” Bertly snapped his fingers, adding oxygen to the campfire. The flames grew and left a warm glow over the sleeping group.

  Bertly couldn’t tell the difference between his frustration and excitement. He rested his head against Roderick’s bag and stared at the stars. He knew, logically, he should be mad at his mother; however, he couldn’t help but empathize with why she might have left. Bertly could never imagine settling down forever; he also felt the pull to travel all of Noskar. He wondered how much of his mother was a part of him. Did she also share his desire for glory? Maybe traits and emotions he never understood about himself could be explained if he met her.

  One question he could not get off his mind was, were the map and journal related? The notebook! He’d completely forgotten to ask his father about the spells written inside. He propped himself up and peered at his father. Edfrid was snoring softly with his mouth half open. Bertly would have to wait for another time to ask him.

  He rested his head once more. The stars had faded, and what had been a black, midnight sky was now a blue blanket over the earth. The morning sun hadn’t yet peeked over the hilltops, but Bertly could feel it warming his skin. The first drizzle bird rang out its lovely morning song. Bertly had lost track of his thoughts and let the entire night slip away from him.

  Polly stretched her arms and legs as far as seemed possible. She let out a big sigh and rubbed her eyes. “Morning, Bertly,” she said mid yawn. “How did you sleep?”

  “I slept great.” Bertly thought about mentioning the fact that he hadn’t fallen asleep, but he didn’t want to explain what had kept him up all night. “Our blankets worked perfectly.”

  Bertly sat up and quickly scanned the campsite. The fire was out, but the coals were still red and smoking. Devdan and Edfrid were both shuffling around in their beds, so Bertly assumed they would be up soon. He glanced at Roderick, whose face was pressed flat into the ground, with a stream of drool running down the side of his mouth. Bertly leaned over and scooped up a ball of snow that hadn’t been melted by the fire. He hovered the snowball over Roderick’s head. He looked at Polly and pressed his pointer finger against his lips. Bertly dropped the ball of ice.

  Roderick jolted out of his bed and smacked the snow off his face. “Sweet Cordelia!” he screamed.

  Bertly and Polly burst into laughter. “Rise and shine, little apprentice.”

  ***

  Bertly stood at the base of the mountains, distributing peppers to his traveling companions. He took a prolonged breath of the crisp Noskar air. The sun was peeking just over the hilltops—it was that fleeting moment where the entire landscape was perfectly balanced between night and day. A soft blanket of snow covered the sharp, gray mountain peaks. Bertly could tell by how low the snow fell on the hills that winter was in full season.

  The group hiked through the trails that had developed naturally through the dips and inclines. Though the mountain slopes were not very steep, they were covered in snow, which made them much more difficult to traverse.

  Bertly marched to the front of the group, ahead of his father. He reached his hand out and clenched his fist. “Why did I not think of this before?” The snow slowing their path had turned into water. “Now we will have a clear path.”

  “Wait a minute, Bertly.” Polly spoke out. “That water could turn into ice. It may be better to turn it into steam instead.”

  Bertly rolled his eyes and then turned toward Polly. “If that will make you happy.” He knew Polly’s presumption was correct. The colder it got, the faster the water would freeze, if it did not freeze instantly. “Just so you know, it takes a lot more energy to turn snow into steam than to turn it into water.” Bertly whipped back around and then clapped his hands. Several hundred paces of snow turned into a thick mist, leaving behind a clear path wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Bertly gasped—out of breath. He had to inhale quick gulps of air in rapid succession to regain his composure. He was not overwhelmed, but the spell had taken some stamina from him.

  “Don’t worry, Bertly.” Polly placed her hand on his shoulder. “I can trade off with you.”

  Bertly turned to her and bobbed his head. His pride wanted to clear the path by himself, but he needed to save some energy for when they arrived at the Dragon’s Crypt.

  The group followed Edfrid through canals and crevices as Bertly and Polly traded the responsibility of transforming the snow into steam.

  “This isn’t so bad.” Roderick beamed. “There are hardly any hills at all.”

  The group was traveling through channels in between the mountains. The walls beside them were a few times taller than Bertly. Above them, on top of the walls, was flat land. The tops of the stone walls rotated between flat trails and steep mountain slopes. The channel’s width was inconsistent, ranging from
single-file accommodation to wide enough for the whole group to walk side by side. There were several twists and turns, enough to disorient even the best navigator.

  “In all honesty, the hike to Dragon’s Crypt is not physically demanding,” Bertly replied. “The only thing preventing most from finding it—” he stuck his nose in the air “—is they don’t know where it is.”

  Roderick rubbed his chin. “Interesting…” He glanced up. “And what about the monsters, sir?”

  Bertly and Polly chuckled. “I may have been exaggerating a bit about the…quantity of monsters.” Bertly shrugged. “Mind you.” He raised his voice and stuck his finger high in the air. “All the creatures I’ve mentioned do exist here in the mountains.” Bertly lowered his hand and shook his head. “And run-ins are by no means a rare occurrence.”

  “How often do humans really get attacked in these parts?” Devdan asked.

  Polly gave an unconcerned wave. “Oh, when we were younger, we heard a few stories that may have been true.”

  “Such as?” Devdan prodded.

  Polly rolled her head back and grinned. “Some people may or may not have been…eaten.”

  “Eaten?” Roderick shrieked.

  Bertly glanced toward his father, who had a habit of always chiming in when there was mention of missing mountain people. He noticed his father had his war hammer drawn from the satchel on his back. Bertly slipped away from the group and walked ahead a couple of steps next to Edfrid. “You’re too quiet,” he noted.

  “Aye,” Edfrid replied. “We’re being followed.” He clenched his hammer tighter.

  Bertly kept his voice low. “How can you tell?”

  Edfrid motioned his head to the right. “On the cliff above us, about three dozen paces behind us, snow keeps falling off the ledge. It hasn’t happened on the right side; neither is it happening in front of us.”

  The feeling of being stalked left an unsettled, nervous churning in Bertly’s stomach. “Any clue what it is?” He did his best to keep his composure.

  Edfrid shook his head. “I haven’t been able to get a look at it. Whatever it is—” he glanced back “—it’s confident jumping down from a high vantage point.” He looked at Bertly. “That rules out bears and wolves, and it’s too bright out for a mountain bat. Only other thing that would hunt us down would be a large koko.”

  “A lion or sabretooth tiger, then,” Bertly added.

  “Pray to Cordelia for a sabretooth. At least they hunt solo sometimes.” Edfrid gestured for Bertly to drop back. “Go talk with your friends, and let them know what’s going on. It’s getting closer.”

  Bertly acknowledged his father and slowed his pace, blending back into the group behind him. Bertly crept to Roderick and wrapped his hand around Roderick’s mouth. Roderick grabbed Bertly’s wrist, pulling on it and trying to break free. Despite Roderick’s efforts, Bertly’s hand stayed firmly clasped over his mouth. “Listen very closely,” Bertly said. “We are being followed.” Roderick’s scream was muffled by Bertly’s hand. “We aren’t sure what it is yet, most likely a lion or sabretooth.”

  Roderick let out another muffled screech.

  Devdan drew his sword.

  “It’s a good thing we have the Clash Tournament champion with us,” Polly whispered as she slipped on a red glove.

  Bertly clenched his jaw and drew his warblade. He wasn’t sure what was worse: being hunted by a deadly predator, or the possibility of Devdan being the one to slay it.

  “What is that glove for, ma’am?” Devdan asked.

  Polly wiggled her fingers. “Bertly’s master gave it to me. It allows me to cast spells at several times their normal strength.” Polly sighed. “The only issue is it is only strong enough for a couple of spells before needing to be recharged.”

  Devdan’s eyes widened.

  “Roderick, I don’t know when it’ll be, but when I say run, you run.” Bertly let go of Roderick’s mouth. “Do not look back—just run. Let me know you understand.”

  “I understand, sirrrabretooth!” Roderick’s body shook as he let out an unbearable scream.

  Peeking its head just over the cliff was a beefy white sabretooth tiger. Its fangs were as long as Bertly’s forearms, and its body would be big enough for several people to ride on. It discharged an echoing roar just before it leaped off the edge and toward the group of travelers.

  Polly faced the fanged tiger and clapped her hands, ensuring that a wall of ice formed just where the tiger was about to step, causing it to ram face-first into the ice barrier.

  “Hurry!” Edfrid shouted.

  Devdan grabbed Roderick and threw him over his shoulder as the group raced behind Edfrid. They sprinted through tight canals, scraping their arms and shoulders against areas that were too narrow, but they had no time to worry about injuries. The group trailed close behind Bertly’s father. Every hundred paces there was a new fork in the road, and like a salmon swimming upriver, Edfrid knew exactly where to go. The snow and ice made Bertly slip nearly every other step, and each time he rounded a corner, he feared they would hit a dead end.

  “Why does it want to kill us?” Roderick’s voice fluctuated in tone and depth as he bounced on Devdan’s shoulder.

  “It doesn’t want to just kill us.” Edfrid plowed through the snow, leaving a trail behind for the students to follow. “It wants to eat us.”

  “Hibernation is soon,” Polly cried.

  The cold air dried Bertly’s throat as he inhaled faster and faster. Each bump and scrape made every step harder. Bertly’s pants and cloak were tattered. He feared the group would make a turn and hit a long straightaway. The twists and turns were the only thing keeping the white tiger from catching them. The long-furred beast relentlessly chased them, thrashing its body into the walls and corners of every narrow turn.

  “We need to figure something out,” Bertly said, panting. “It can run for much longer in the snow than we can.”

  “There isn’t anywhere to take cover,” Devdan puffed. Bertly was impressed with Devdan’s physical ability. He knew he was the school champion, but still, outrunning a sabretooth tiger with another person over your shoulder was no small task.

  “Aye,” Edfrid replied. “Then we make a stand.” Edfrid came to a screeching halt, planted one foot into the ground, and pivoted his body swiftly around. He shoved the still-running teenagers behind him and drew his war hammer. “Stay behind me.” Edfrid stood with his hammer in hand and his knees slightly bent. Bertly could hear the stretch in the leather from his father tightening his grip.

  The sabretooth stopped chasing them and came to a standoff with Edfrid, looking hunger-mad in the eyes. The tiger licked its chops as drool fell from its mouth. It paced the pathway side to side; its shoulder blades stuck out past the top of its head with each step it took. The tiger roared and Edfrid returned with his loudest battle cry.

  The two charged each other full force. The tiger leaped toward Edfrid with its claws protracted and mouth wide open. Edfrid braced his body and shoved the shaft of his war hammer horizontally into the tiger’s mouth. The sabretooth whipped its head around, trying to rip the hammer from Edfrid’s hands, but the warden of Stonebank didn’t give. Edfrid pushed forward, swinging his hammer to the side, slamming the tiger into the wall. He pressed its skull against the stone and grinded its face down the side of the canal. The tiger snarled and fell onto its side. Edfrid leaped toward the beast, but before he could make contact, the animal rolled fully onto its back and kicked him with both of its hind legs, sending Edfrid flying through the air and slamming onto the ground.

  Bertly took off without hesitation. Devdan dropped Roderick to the ground and bolted toward the tiger, only half a step behind him.

  “Wait!” Polly reached out and grabbed Devdan’s shoulder, but he broke free on his first stride. The tiger sprang to its feet, glared at Bertly, then raced to Edfrid.

  While Devdan sprinted, Polly stuck out her arm and grunted. She formed a
fist and tucked it into her chest. A spear made from stone shot from the side of the mountain, knocking the tiger onto its side. The beast did a barrel roll, getting snow all over its face and in its fur. The sabretooth turned its attention to Devdan, who was sprinting at it full force. He leaped in the air and stabbed his sword into the shoulder of the beast. The tiger wobbled back and stared Devdan in the eyes, blood dripping from its side. Bertly stood, waiting for his moment to strike with the warblade, but he didn’t want Devdan to become collateral damage.

  “You’re lucky I missed.” Devdan pulled a dagger from his boot. “I was aiming for your neck.” He shuffled to the side and lunged forward, with the tip of his knife heading straight for the side of the sabretooth’s head. Just before the moment of contact, the tiger threw its body into Devdan, knocking him to the ground. Devdan’s dagger stuck into the side of the beast, yet it reacted as though it had only a splinter in its side, not a blade. The tiger pressed its paws down on Devdan’s chest, crushing him into the ground, causing him to groan.

  Bertly saw his opening: he throttled the grip of Cordelia’s warblade and struck his arms forward. The tiger looked up and glared at Bertly as the mammoth-ice blade protracted from the handle. The white beast hurled Devdan’s body to the side as it attempted to evade the extending warblade. The sabretooth’s reflexes lived up to Bertly’s expectations—a blade that had plowed through an army of Rotters left no more than a flesh wound on the white-furred brute. The tiger regained balance without hesitation and stomped on the ice blade, smashing it against the ground. The force of the creature’s pounce ripped the warblade from Bertly’s hands and pinned it against the snowy ground. As the sword left Bertly’s hands and hit the ground, the ice blade retreated into the grip.

  “Bertly, melt the snow and splash him!” Polly screamed.

  Bertly didn’t understand why she was asking this of him. If she thought the snow being melted would cause the tiger to slip, she was mistaken.

  “Now,” she emphasized.