by Nick McNeil
Polly accepted Bertly’s offer and slipped the scaled cloak around her shoulders. They waited, yet the cloak remained gray. “Am I doing it wrong?” Polly asked.
“Huh.” Bertly scratched behind his ear.
“Son,” Edfrid interposed, “try it on again.”
Polly handed the cloak to the Winter Wizard and he slung it on once again. It turned red. “Try this.” Bertly grabbed the handle of his warblade and handed it over. The blade extended upon his touch, and the elven guards lunged forward. “Oh, calm your leaves,” Bertly taunted.
Polly accepted the weapon; however, right when Bertly let go, the blade retracted.
“I don’t think Cordelia’s belongings call to Polly,” Edfrid followed up. “I think they’re only meant for you, Bertly.”
“But how is that so?” Polly’s sounded irritated, an emotion Bertly never heard coming from the soft-spoken human. “We are both humans, both with red eyes. I don’t understand the difference.”
“Sir, please excuse me. I do not mean to speak out of line,” Ayce intruded. “But we must head to the outpost promptly. The longer we wait, the more enemies will come between us and the outpost.”
“I am afraid my soldier is right. This is a matter to be settled another time.” Madeline gave a nonverbal cue to one of her guards, and they quickly left the room. “My guard is retrieving Polly a set of light armor. She will be ready to engage Bishop soon, but for now, Bertly, you must go.”
“You heard the queen.” Edfrid grabbed Roderick by his arms and heaved him over his shoulder. “Let’s go make a mess.”
Bertly felt a small hand on his shoulder. He turned, and Polly stood close, with her chest nearly pressed against him. “I’ve spent nearly every day with you for the last seven years, Bertly of Stonebank. I don’t know what I would do without you anymore. I think I know you better than myself.” Polly brushed her fingers through the Winter Wizard’s long and dark hair. “I know you’d never let anything happen to me. That’s why I’m not afraid to face Bishop. I know that no matter what happens, you’re going to come rushing in to save the day.”
Bertly couldn’t respond as a rush of emotions flooded his body. He suddenly couldn’t fathom the thought of letting Polly face Bishop alone. Feelings of self-doubt ate at him; losing his best friend meant more than losing the war.
“Bertly!” Edfrid shouted. “We need to go.”
Bertly’s thoughts and actions were out of sync; what he felt and could speak were two different things. “Polly.” One word was all he could muster.
“Go,” Polly urged. “You need to save the world.”
“I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with, but I’m glad you never gave up on me. You could have been friends with anyone at the Academy, yet you stuck with me. You’re better than me in nearly every way, Polly. I’m sorry I was too arrogant to ever see it before.” The wizard’s legs moved without his mind thinking, and without a chance to see Polly’s reaction, he rushed off toward his father. Roderick found his own two feet and followed in pursuit.
***
“There is a secret entrance and exit to the city. We should be able to circle around the Rotters without being detected. As long as they haven’t broken past the front line, of course.” Ayce’s tone and demeanor were confident. His voice never cracked or trembled, and his eyes always made contact. “I suspect the outpost will have at least one surprise for us. Stay on your toes.”
Ayce was leading Bertly, Edfrid, and Roderick through a secret passage under the city. The only light source showing inside the passageways was Bertly’s lightus spell. The tunnels were foul, cold, and infested with elf mice. Their pointed ears were typically cute enough to make up for their long naked tails, but having them run up his leg every other step made Bertly reconsider his love for them.
“When I thought about visiting Eplium, this isn’t what I had in mind,” Bertly groaned.
“Have you considered getting some kokos?” Edfrid asked. “I haven’t seen a single rat at my house since I adopted Oats.”
“They’re actually mice,” Roderick corrected.
Edfrid rolled his eyes. “Is there a difference?”
“Yes,” Ayce and Roderick both quickly reacted.
Bertly put his hands together. “Please tell me that light up there is our exit.” For the first time since entering, sunlight peeked through the inside of the stone tunnels.
“Today is your lucky day, Master Bertly,” Ayce replied.
Bertly smirked. “I am not sure I would call it that, but I appreciate the optimism.”
“Sir, what can we expect to find beyond those walls?” Roderick asked, his face pale and voice shaky.
“Nothing worse than the Decomposite,” Bertly reassured him. Though he guessed it probably wasn’t all that reassuring.
An outline shaped into a perfect circle was carved into the side of the stone underpasses. If light hadn’t been peeping through, Bertly would never have guessed there were any markings on the normally smooth surface. Ayce pushed against the circular door, and the wall shoved outward. The clunk of small rocks hitting the floor echoed throughout the passageways as the stone door and wall ground against one another. When the seal between the entrance and wall broke, noises from the battle cascaded in.
Standing outside the hidden entrance, waiting, was Bertly’s furry friend. “Bear!” he shouted.
She let out a loud growl and pranced toward him.
The Winter Wizard leaped, dove straight into the fuzzy animal, and squeezed her tight. “Soul-bonding is something else, Bear. I haven’t felt whole since we separated.”
She gave a soft snarl in agreement.
“The outpost is just beyond those trees.” Ayce had to raise his voice to talk over the metal clanging and soldiers yelling. He seemed indifferent toward Bertly and Bear’s reunion. The battle cries and anguished screams overpowered all other sounds. “Bertly, you go first. I will cover the four of you as you cross the field.” The strong elf pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked his bow quicker than most could draw a dagger. “Be ready. They are most likely waiting for our reinforcements to arrive. Surely, they know we are going to try to set off the explosion at all costs. I don’t expect there to be many of them. I doubt they want to draw attention to the fact that they overtook the outpost. I do believe that means the soldiers they do have will be much stronger than normal.” Ayce drew his bow and stepped back. “I will be right behind you.”
Between the group and the next set of trees was an open area with a clear view of the battlefield. Edfrid took charge and sprinted across the field, and Bear followed close behind. Before Roderick had a chance to hesitate, Bertly grabbed him by the back of his belt loop and charged ahead. Roderick bounced up and down, hunched forward as his feet hung just above the ground. Bertly examined the massacre that was taking place as he caught up with his father and Bear, hoping no additional Rotters had caught sight of where they were headed. Out of the corner of his eye, something in the sky grabbed Bertly’s attention.
Polly and Clia were closing in on Bishop. Bertly froze. He wished he had taken Clia’s whistle back so he could call her to him now. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the right thing. Maybe he should have been with Polly; surely his father and Ayce could have escorted another wizard.
Bear stood on the other side of the field and let out a monstrous roar, one that Bertly needed to—but hoped the Rotters did not—hear. Bertly shook his head and ran toward the forest across the way. He looked over his shoulder to see if Ayce needed help crossing the field. To his surprise, the elf was no more than a handful of paces behind them. Ayce moved at a stunning speed. The Winter Wizard dropped his apprentice onto his own feet and drew his sword. Cordelia’s blade burst out, appearing more exuberant than ever before. Bertly wondered if perhaps Cordelia’s dragon cloak and the warblade working in tandem strengthened the abilities of both items.
“It is right there, in
that small cottage,” Ayce informed him.
“You built a headquarters inside that garbage?” Bertly smacked his hand against his forehead. Just across from him and his escorts was a small shack. The wooden planks holding it together were filled with cracks and holes—more of the roof was missing than intact.
“We built it underground. The cottage is a diversion,” Ayce replied. “I’m surprised there aren’t any Rotters outside. Based on Queen Madeline’s reaction, it appeared they were swarming the place. Or maybe she noticed none of our guards were left.” The elf crouched down and proceeded to approach the cottage. There wasn’t a Rotter in sight. The group reached the front door.
“Let me take the lead.” The warden of Stonebank held his war hammer above his head and kicked down the wooden door. His powerful thrust took out the door and half of the wall to which it was attached. Inside, the room was nothing but dust, cobwebs, and an old rug laid out in the center of the floor.
Ayce walked over to the rug and pulled the corner, folding it over onto itself. Underneath was a latch, which the elf lifted, exposing a ladder leading into a dark hole. “Humans first.” He grinned.
“I don’t think you are going to fit down this one, Bear.” Bertly nuzzled his companion on the snout. “I hate to leave you behind so soon, but I will be right back.”
Bear stood over the hole.
“I swear I will be right back. After this, the battle is far from over. I need you still, but for right now, I need you to wait here.” Bertly didn’t have time to explain Eplium’s plan to his spirit animal, nor would she have understood him if he did. Fortunately, she did understand his heart and feelings.
Bear stepped to the side, and the Winter Wizard climbed down the ladder and into the dark pit. As he neared the bottom, the pit became brighter and brighter. The tunnels were well lit and filled with life. Alchemy stations and workbenches were wedged in every open corner. Shelving units were filled with elixirs and ingredients. Books were piled high on the corners of all the desks and study tables. The Winter Wizard could only imagine the information held within each one. Buckets on the ground were filled with colorful runes, crystals Bertly knew to be rare and valuable.
“Sir, what kind of potions and enchanted items could we create in here?” Roderick asked. His eyes were wide with amazement.
“You wizards and your magic,” Edfrid mocked.
“Maybe the queen will let you play down here after the battle,” Ayce hollered from down the hall. “Let’s go. The incantation room is at the end of this corridor.”
Bertly, his father, and his apprentice followed the elf. Edfrid walked next to his son and whispered, “Don’t you find it rather suspicious that no one is down here? Considering the explosion never went off, you’d think there would be signs of a battle.”
The Winter Wizard and his father rounded the corner and entered the room Ayce was calling them from. “You mean like those dead bodies.” Bertly covered his mouth and nose. Several bloody corpses were stacked in a pile and covered in some sort of liquid. Stab wounds and arrows filled their dismembered bodies. Bertly would have been surprised if even the deceased’s loved ones could’ve identified their bodies. The elves were indistinguishable from one another due to the amount of skin that had been slashed and cut from them.
Ayce stood in front of the bodies, silent. “Just over there are the chemicals.” The confident elf’s voice shook. His bow touched the ground and his shoulders drooped. The brave elf looked no more courageous than Roderick.
“Stay here, Roderick, and keep watch at the back door. Make sure we aren’t about to get trapped in here,” Bertly commanded.
“Understood, sir.”
Edfrid and his son paced around the pile of carcasses with caution. They tiptoed with their weapons drawn and ready to strike. At the end of the room was a tall silhouette standing in front of a half pipe filled with liquid. The piping spread in several directions, and Bertly couldn’t tell exactly where each pipe headed, as they all eventually disappeared into the walls.
The silhouette moaned and growled. The dark outline had broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. The creature stood at least two heads taller than the wizard. It stepped into the light. The man had dark, frizzy hair and its jaw was well defined. Its chest and stomach had scars covering the entire surface, some so deep it looked as though full chunks of flesh were missing. The beast took another step forward. Bertly looked deeply into its eyes and gasped aloud.
It was Alestar.
XXV
It might have been Alestar’s frame, though Bertly couldn’t recognize the soul behind the eyes. A piece of the young wizard felt hollow just looking at his lifeless master. “What have they done to you?” Bertly cried.
“Who is this?” Edfrid probed. Roderick and Ayce remained still as they watched the scene unfold.
“My master, or at least it used to be.” A sudden chill swept through Bertly’s body. “I saw him die.” He felt dizzy, as though he’d stood up too quick.
“Bertly, I need you with me right now.” Edfrid stepped in front of his son. “Tell me how to defeat him.”
“We can’t.” Bertly dropped his warblade and pressed his hands into his eyes until all he saw were sparkles and random colors. “I’ve moved past this. He’s supposed to be dead.”
Edfrid put up his guard and prepared to strike. “Bertly, if you care about your master, then he needs you right now. You need to end this. Free him.”
The Winter Wizard’s skin turned clammy, but he knew what he had to do. He tightened his fists and pulled the oxygen from around Alestar. Bertly’s master stood uninterrupted. The beast leaned forward and let out a debilitating shriek. This was confirmation—the Rotters were, in fact, more than decomposing, but actually dead, for they did not need air to live.
Alestar reached out, and Bertly felt something grab ahold of him from the inside, though nothing physical touched him. His master waved his arm, and Bertly flew through the air as though he were being pulled by a fishing line. When his master swung up, Bertly flew up. When he swayed to the right, Bertly’s body unwillingly hurled to the right. Alestar smashed Bertly’s back into the ceiling, then his face and chest into the ground.
An arrow penetrated the dead giant’s skull, then another rammed through his heart. Bertly peered over as Ayce loaded another arrow. Alestar roared; the elf’s attacks seemed to have made him angrier more than they caused him any harm.
Edfrid charged forward and connected his war hammer to the side of Alestar’s head, snapping the giant’s neck and spinning his head around. The giant Rotter dropped to the ground, and the crack of his neck echoed through the halls.
The Winter Wizard lay on the ground as blood dripped from a cut above his eyebrow.
“Are you okay?” his father asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Bertly picked himself up and grabbed his warblade. “I wish he had taught me that one.”
Alestar rolled over onto his back and lifted his shoulders off the ground. To Bertly and Edfrid’s collective horror, the creature grabbed his own head and twisted his broken neck, snapping it back into place. He stood up.
“I’ll just have to knock his head clean off this time.” Edfrid charged for Alestar.
“No, wait!” Bertly wailed.
Alestar reached for his side and pulled out a knife. With his free hand, the giant bent his arm and aimed the knife. Edfrid paused. Alestar threw his dagger straight into Edfrid. As the knife drove into his father’s sternum, the warden’s war hammer fell onto the ground, and Edfrid dropped to his knees.
Every feeling but hatred became foreign to Bertly. An anger consumed him that he had never conceived possible. His soul overflowed with rage. The stones and gravel on the ground levitated. Bertly imagined Alestar’s arms and legs snapping in a dozen different places. And they did. He pictured Alestar’s head twisting around in circles until it tore off his shoulders. And it happened. The giant’s limp body tumbled to the floor, a
nd his head rolled to Bertly’s feet.
The Winter Wizard felt as though he had just woken up. His anger had subsided, but delirium was present. He didn’t remember trying to do anything; it had all simply happened. Bertly and Ayce rushed to Edfrid’s aid. Bertly ran in front of his father and crouched next to him. Edfrid’s head drooped so that his chin touched his chest.
“Please, I can’t lose you yet.” Bertly rested his forehead against his father.
Edfrid coughed. “Do you really think one measly eating utensil can take me out?” The mammoth-blooded human rose to his feet. “I am the warden of Stonebank, the protector of Noskar.” He ripped the dagger from his chest. “It’ll take a lot more than that.” He paused and tossed the knife. It clattered as it hit the floor. “Before I stop fighting.”
“You aren’t going to like this,” Bertly said. He then placed his hand against the gash in Edfrid’s chest and used his fire spell, cauterizing the wound. Edfrid clenched his jaw. The young wizard wrapped his arms around his father. “Please don’t try to be a hero next time.”
Edfrid hugged his son. “I can’t make any promises.”
After the shock of nearly losing his father had faded, the pain of another tragedy settled in. Bertly laid to rest the master he thought he’d lost nearly a year ago. The misery the human thought he had forgotten returned. Alestar had taught Bertly everything he knew. If it were not for him, Bertly might never have lived up to the reputation of the Winter Wizard. Bertly knew Alestar wouldn’t want him to be burdened with his loss, but to instead pass along his master’s legacy.
Roderick walked next to his master. “Sir, I know I am not one for good timing, but you should probably cast that spell.”
Bertly acknowledged that his apprentice was correct. The wizard approached the pipes full of liquid and placed his hands inside the chemicals. He used a magic similar to enchanting in order to combine the elements. The two distinct substances molded into a single color. Bertly placed his hand under the pipe and ignited a fire spell.