by Nick McNeil
Roderick’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed onto the ground.
“Master Bertly, you can’t be serious,” Faythe said.
Devdan raised his voice. “Sir, what madness has overcome you?”
“We never agreed to this,” the twins blurted.
Arguments broke out between the students. They bantered back and forth with Bertly about sticking to the plan. Until an unexpected voice spoke up. “I am rather up for the adventure,” Polly stated.
“Ma’am, you’re serious?” Devdan questioned.
The group’s banter ceased. “Bertly is right,” she explained.
Bertly cocked his head. “I am?”
“Yes, I think we should all consider the legacy we leave behind. Not very many citizens are given the opportunity to become masters, let alone certified masters.” Polly frowned and shook her head. “We shouldn’t settle on mediocrity. We still haven’t even heard Bertly’s plan.”
Bertly’s jaw dropped. “Thank you, Polly.” The Winter Wizard riffled through his travel sack, which Bear appeared to be guarding. Bertly whipped out a thick piece of folded parchment. “Gather around.” He unfolded the paper, revealing the large map his mother had left behind.
“I’ve never seen a map this detailed before,” Faythe mentioned.
“It was my mother’s. She was a traveler and collector. She traveled across all of Pangea looking for every odd or rare trinket she could find. And she found all of them except for one.” Bertly ran his hand across the paper, attempting to flatten the crinkles. “My mother placed an X on every place she visited except for…here.” Bertly pressed his finger onto the map. “This is the only place she has never been, and she left it for me to find.”
Faythe slammed her hand over the map. “I am sorry, Master Bertly, but we are not going on a suicide mission to the Decomposite so you can try to bond with your mother.”
Despite his last run-in with Rotters, Bertly still wanted to go to the Decomposite. He rationalized with himself that the last time was only a fluke; plus, it would take years before the Rotters were any real threat. Even if there were Rotters, Bertly would be ready this time. He had soul-bonded with a legendary creature, he was a master, and he had a powerful crew with him—he had achieved his goals. The next mission was to discover whatever he could about the coming Blight, since the Elders refused to take any action. In addition, maybe if more eyes saw the Rotters, the Elders would have to do something immediately.
“Don’t touch my map.” Bertly slapped Faythe’s hand away. “If you don’t want to come with me, then don’t. But look here.” Bertly rested his finger on the map. “The Leviathan Lake is basically touching the border of the Remnant Forest, and just past the entrance of the forest is the area I have marked. We could go to the Decomposite and the lake in the same day.” Bertly looked up. Despite how much the Winter Wizard wanted to deny it, he did actually want to discover what he could about his mother, and this was his best lead. “Anyone who is too cowardly to join can stay behind while Bear and I find ourselves that hidden treasure.” Bear let out a horrific growl, scaring the nearby drizzle birds out of the trees.
Roderick sat up and rubbed his head. “I’m going wherever Bear is going.”
Faythe sighed and was silent as her eyes studied the map. Bertly felt it odd that he had yet to hear a single word from her brothers. “What is it that we are risking our lives for, exactly?” she asked.
Bertly shrugged. “I have no idea. But this is the last thing she left me.” The Winter Wizard pulled his spell journal from his pocket and handed it to Faythe. “She wasn’t the average human. She created spells that masters at the Academy couldn’t figure out. Which I know is odd, considering she never cast one.”
Faythe flipped through the pages. “This is unbelievable. I’ve never heard of most of these spells; some I didn’t think were possible.”
“Let me take a look at that.” Devdan looked over Faythe’s shoulder. “Bertly, how come you’ve never told us about this before? Some of these spells are incredible.” Polly’s apprentice’s eyes moved side to side as he read off the possibilities: “Changing water temperature, increasing movement speed, healing spells…there is even a spell to change one’s luck.”
“I haven’t been able to work that one out quite yet,” Bertly said with a mournful sigh.
“Healing spells?” Polly asked, intrigued. The petite blonde human snapped her fingers and shifted the ground beneath everyone’s feet, sending the students tumbling to the ground. She picked up the notebook and looked it over.
Bertly stepped over everyone as they were standing up, and pried the notebook out of Polly’s hands. “This is why I know there is something waiting for us in the Decomposite. My mother did not dabble in mundane adventures—she strove for excellence. She wouldn’t bother to go there if it wasn’t worth taking the risk.”
Faythe brushed herself off. “You have convinced me, Master Bertly. However, I think we should grab the shell first, to be sure we complete our quest.”
“I considered that as well. But I think we should get it on the way back. It’ll take a full day and night to go to the lake and the Decomposite, meaning we will arrive tomorrow morning,” Bertly explained. “And I would rather be in the Decomposite during the day than at night.”
“I second that,” Roderick shrieked.
“Fine, the Decom first it is.” The female elf turned her head and marched toward the south, with her brothers by her side.
“The ‘Decom’?” Bertly made a puking gesture behind her back. “I guess we are giving the most wretched place in all of Pangea a cutesy nickname now.”
***
Roderick flicked his quill across the table and slid his chair back. “How could you?” The young elf stood up with his fists cupped. “You knew what was waiting for us on the other side.” Roderick slammed his fists on the table. “You knew and you still took us there.” Spit flew from his mouth as his screams pierced Bertly’s eardrums.
Bertly put out his hands and slowly approached his apprentice. “Roderick, you don’t understand—”
“No, I understand. You cared more about some treasure left behind by your deserting mother than for the well-being of your friends.” Roderick stepped away from his master. “You’re impulsive, Bertly.”
“Why are you just now blowing up about this?” Sweat droplets formed at Bertly’s hairline. “If you could let me explain—”
“You always have an excuse. I’m done listening to you explain.” Roderick turned around and stomped toward the entrance. He swung the door open. “Write your own damn book.”
Bertly jumped back as Roderick slammed the door. He glanced at Bear. “Thanks for helping me out.” The fuzzy creature snarled and looked away. She rested her chin on her arm and went back to rest. “I wouldn’t be on my side either.” Bertly slouched over and fell into the untucked wooden chair that Roderick had left behind. He took a prolonged breath and turned the chair toward the table. The Winter Wizard fixed up the writing station and placed the quill on top of the parchment. Bertly snapped his fingers and the feather stood straight up. “Test. Test.” The feather slid along the paper, writing: Test. Test.
“There we are. It seems it will be left up to us to finish this tale, my furry friend.”
Bear grunted.
The red-eyed human sat up and cracked his neck. “I will check on Roderick soon. There is nothing I can say to ease the loss he’s feeling. Plus, he isn’t going anywhere. I don’t see him climbing down the side of a mountain anytime soon. I’ll let him cool off for a bit out on the porch.”
Bertly cleared his throat and closed his eyes. “I wasn’t looking forward to this part, Bear. But the Blight is here, and besides Cordelia, I’m the only one who knows…everything. If I don’t document this, no one will.”
The wizard’s hairy friend gave no response.
“Ah, then, I suppose it is just the quill and me writing this st
ory.”
***
“Sir, are you sure we have to go through there?” Roderick’s knees shook. “The lake is just two leagues back.”
The group of wizards and witches had paused outside the Remnant Forest. Mist slipped through the gaps between the trees, and scattered howls and screams echoed on the wind. Red sap bled from the cracks of the black trees. The mist was hot, but the air that pushed it was cold. The forest carried a completely different feel than the Decomposite. When Bertly had visited the small town with Alestar, it hadn’t felt so distant from the mainland; however, the Remnant Forest held an entirely different impression.
This mist is quite warm, Bertly thought. And he realized that, for the first time in a very long while, his skin was absorbing the wind and the chill beneath it—he could feel it again, and that feeling stirred other emotions within him, which he felt would be best left ignored.
“Do not be a fool, Roderick. ’Tis but a garden.” Bertly opened his arms as though there were swinging doors before him, and the fog parted. Red eyes, attached to shadowed and formless bodies, lurked in all directions, just beyond the border of the travelers’ vision.
“You’ve thought this through, Master Bertly?” Faythe asked.
Bertly slapped Bear on the rear. “I promise our fuzzy friend here will be the scariest thing we encounter.”
“Then why are all of you wearing armor?” the woman elf asked, twisting her mouth.
“They were gifts from my father.” Bertly laughed nervously. “It would be rude not to put the equipment to use.” The Winter Wizard motioned forward. “Let’s not waste any more time. Onward.”
Bertly and his spirit animal led the pack into the eerie forest. Bear slashed through the vines and thick bushes that blocked their path. The ground was covered in small animal bones, and each step that was made left behind a small crunching noise. Ebony-colored dirt covered the ground beneath the white, fractured bones.
“Sir, what are these?” Roderick asked. “They look so cute.”
Bertly looked back and saw his apprentice reaching toward a bush full of berries. “Don’t touch those!” he screamed as his apprentice poked the tiny fruit.
Roderick screamed. “It bit me.”
“Yes, Roderick.” Bertly tapped his foot. “Those are snapping berries.”
“Snapping berries?” Devdan asked.
“Yes—berries that snap.” Bertly groaned. “I do not know how else to phrase it.”
“These will be useful indeed,” the twins cheered. Each of them reached into their travel sacks and pulled out glass jars. They snapped the small fruits at the base of the branches to avoid the sharp bites of the fruit, and stuffed the berries into their containers.
“Are there any other attacking foods we should be aware of, Master Bertly?” Faythe questioned just before leaning toward her brothers to whisper in their ears.
“Bertly,” Polly intruded, “you forget not everyone is from Noskar. Most places in Pangea don’t have living botany.”
Bertly rolled his eyes. “Well, I can show them the elf-eating watermelons when we get back.”
“Elf-eating watermelons?” Roderick shrieked. Bertly’s apprentice looked at Polly. “Is he being serious?”
“Of course not, Roderick,” Polly assured him. “Bertly knows watermelons only grow during the summertime. You’ll have to wait until they’re in season.”
“Shh.” Bertly motioned.
“What do you mean wait until they’re in—” The Winter Wizard placed his hand over Roderick’s mouth.
“I think I hear something,” Bertly whispered. “People talking.” The voices of others grew louder. Bertly could almost make out their conversation, but due to the thick fog, he couldn’t see them anywhere. The group stopped making small talk and crouched low to the ground. Polly’s dragon lay at her feet wrapped in a ball. The Winter Wizard remained standing.
“Get down, or you’ll get us all seen,” Faythe snapped.
Bertly’s expression faded and his jaw dropped. “Are you not aware of the mammoth-sized bear next to us?” He tried his best to yell and whisper at the same time. “I am not sure we can do much hiding.”
“Well, what do-do-do we have over he-here?” a high-pitched voice asked.
A deeper voice chimed in, “It looks like a few Panheads and their walking rug.”
“Look at those ears,” a woman’s voice said. “Those will fetch us a nice price.”
“Let’s not be too hasty now,” Bertly replied. The wizard’s heart knocked at his chest with nearly painful force. His voice trembled just enough for it to be audible, and his mouth was dry. He tried to remain confident. “I am giving you all the opportunity to walk away.”
“O-o-o-opportunity?” the high-sounding stutterer screamed. “He-he-he said o-opportunity.” Emerging from the fog was a man with X-shaped scars across his eyes. His white pupils matched his hair. Standing beside him was a young-looking girl with tan skin and dark black hair, who looked to the ground as her hands shook. “I-I-I-I don’t think you’re one-one to be-be making com-com-compromises.” His head twitched and flinched like a startled bird. The deranged man clapped his hands. “B-b-boys and g-girls, m-m-meet your new f-friends.”
Emerging from the fog were countless men and women in dirty, tattered clothes. Each bore distinguishable scars and boldly displayed trophies of their victims. Some had severed heads tied to their waists, dangling like accessories to their belts, and others had finger, toe, and elf-ear necklaces securely knotted about their necks.
Bear dug her front claws into the ground and lunged forward. She roared with enough force to create a draft of wind. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” the Winter Wizard demanded.
The group of bandits dove back as the man with white eyes stepped forward and stood in place—unfazed. “You’ve g-g-got that f-f-fun attitude about you. I-I-I love it.” The man licked his lips. “She’s g-g-going to m-m-make a wonderful c-c-coat.”
The group of barbarians drew their weapons, which were not the swords and axes typical of more industrialized city-dwellers; these men and women held spiked whips, sticks adorned with several dangling knives, and metal torches. Despite the array of sadistic weapons, the one Bertly feared most was what the man with X’s for eyes held: nothing.
“Say hello to Cordelia for me.” Bertly drew his sword and swiped it to the right, gutting the men standing next to him. The Winter Wizard looked back, and as he feared, the bandits had already wedged between him and his companions.
Devdan leaped to his feet and pounded in a bandit’s temple with the knob of his sword. He quickly sidestepped and with two hands slid the tip of his sword through the jugular of the woman lunging toward him. In one swoop, he slipped the blade through the back of her neck and sliced the man behind her.
Polly grabbed Bertly’s apprentice by the collar and pulled him in close. She pounded her fists into the ground, causing the bone-strewn dirt to shake. The ground rose and the dirt continued to impact and shape itself until it turned into a stone barrier around Polly and Roderick—Dreki lay at their feet.
Orin and Orîn skated between enemies like fish through water. Orin used an axe while Orîn handled the frozen crossbow he had worked on with his brother and Bertly, back in Alestar’s old classroom. Orîn fired off iced arrows, freezing enemies in their place. Orin would instantly swoop in and slash the throat or gut of the frozen thief. It was a ballet that could only be performed by individuals who, while individuals, were inextricably connected to one another.
Bear pounced and landed on top of several soldiers. She crushed the chest cavities of a few of them with her claws and ripped out the jugulars of the rest with her sharp teeth. Bertly shuffled next to Bear while keeping within striking distance of the stuttering man. Bear adjusted her attention to focus on him as well.
“Th-th-think about your n-n-next m-move.” The white-haired bandit licked his lips. The man was skinny and stood with bad postu
re. His hands looked too large for his body because they dangled from such lanky wrists.
“I am assuming you know magic. Because it doesn’t look like you could lift a sword,” Bertly stated. “I’d best warn you…” The Winter Wizard planted his foot and draped his warblade to the ground with one arm. “I can do both.” With his open hand, he made a fist. The vines of nearby trees spun and swirled outward and wrapped themselves around the limbs of the white-eyed man. Bertly turned his wrist, and the vines retracted back into the trees, suspending the man in midair. “You should have taken my offer.”
“Oh no, oh-oh no, oh no. We-we-we are just g-g-getting started.” The bandit leader laughed hysterically.
Bertly heard screams and armor clashing. He couldn’t make out what was happening behind him. Small explosions were set off, and he prayed to Cordelia that the sounds came from the twins. The Winter Wizard grasped his warblade so that every knuckle strained, and he lunged forward. Cordelia’s blade extended until it froze just one inch from the man’s heart. Bertly tried to push forward, but his arms had frozen. He attempted to step forward, but his body wouldn’t budge.
The vines loosened and dropped the man. The moment before he crashed to the ground, he stopped falling and paused, floating in the air. “Th-th-that blade isn’t y-y-yours.” The man with the X-shaped scars across his eyes gently placed his feet on the soil and glared into Bertly’s eyes. “W-w-where did you get that?”
Bertly looked down without moving his head because his neck had been restrained, and he was unable to shift it even the slightest bit. The little girl with black hair stood just in front of him, her pointer finger touching his kneecap. She pushed with her index finger and Bertly collapsed to the ground. He was paralyzed. He couldn’t even manage a deep breath because it would require his chest to move. The wizard could only let the smallest amounts of oxygen through his nose, and he felt as though he were suffocating. Bear leaped out and pressed her front paw into the man’s body, restraining him against the bone-covered dirt.
“Th-th-think twice, p-p-puppy. M-m-my slave c-c-can snap your little f-friend’s n-n-neck with a f-f-f-flick of the wrist.” The man blinked over and over. Bear released the white-haired man.