by Rahul Sharma
The wind and thunder were having something of a contest to see who was louder. Lightning streaked across the sky ever so often, like a faulty lamp. Rain rushed down with such force that everyone had to move bent-double.
Most of the shops had closed down for the night. A few lamps burned in some of the houses’ upper storeys. Eventually, these lights went off as well. The row of shacks stood like wooden soldiers against the storm, creaking ominously.
Across the street, the little fires of the colony had been reduced to embers. Nobody roamed around the tents- they were all snuggled up in their little tents, which waved wildly like flags. These tents remained earthbound only by a few tiny pegs.
All of a sudden, one of these pegs gave way and the tent held down by it was blown airborne by the strong wind. With an eerie motion, the tent floated across the sky, leaving its inmates covering on the ground. There was a bright flash of lightning, and the airborne tent caught fire. The following crack of thunder drowned out the despaired cries of the villagers. The burning piece of canvas flew off into the distance.
It is at this point that my story actually begins.
There was a second flash of lightning. This bolt flew down from the heavens and struck the tarmac at one end of 23rd Market Street- towards the forest. There was an accompanying crack, which was barely heard over the wind. Once the flash of light had gone, there was a man standing on the place where it struck the earth.
He had a wide forehead and determined black eyes. His long white hair flew wildly about his face in the wind. His silver beard obscured the bottom half of his face. He wore a cloak of dull brown, which hid his tall body. This man looked like the personification of wisdom, experience and courage. His eyes were narrowed and his lips moved, but he did not utter a sound.
His narrowed eyes scanned his surroundings as he continued to chant soundlessly. There was a sudden flash of white light on the roof of one of the wooden houses. The old man’s muscular face twitched briefly in a smile. He called out, in a voice louder than one would expect him to have, “Show yourself!!”
From the roof of the house, a figure dropped onto the street. Further observation showed that this was a feeble, elderly man-older than the silver haired man. His skin was yellow; his gnarled fingers gripped a walking stick tightly. He was bent double and his small, beady eyes were shadowed by his large, dome like, bald head. Apparently, this old man had leapt nimbly on to the street from the roof.
The bearded old man noticed this flaw too, for he called out, “You can’t fool me Rufus!”
Rufus looked at the speaker through his tiny eyes for a few seconds. He shrugged his scrawny shoulders and called out in a feeble voice, “Well, it was worth a try!” Then, with unusual agility, Rufus twisted and turned. With a few loud popping cracks, the weak old man turned into an olive skinned youth with shoulder length yellow hair and a red tunic. He twirled his wooden staff and transformed it into a long, beautiful sword, which he sheathed. With one final movement, he rose up to his full height- a little taller than the old man- and strode down the street towards him with authority.
The old man smiled and held out his arms, “Rufus, my student, its been such a long time...” he smiled. Rufus, however, was in no mood to smile. His blue eyes burned with excitement and his voice poorly hid his eagerness. He didn’t even bother about the raging storm. He just strode up to his master and asked in a low voice, “Well, have you brought it?”
It was visible that the old man did not want the topic to come up so soon, for his warm smile faltered. This momentary change in his expression was enough for Rufus to understand. Rufus’ face expressed doubt, anxiety and anger, all in a second. He let out a loud, harsh cry. With a wave of his hand and a flash of purple light, Rufus’ old teacher was thrown off his feet and hurled down the road, towards the countryside.
“Jerome you foolish old man, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH IT!?” Rufus’ voice rose louder with every syllable. His anger was clearly visible on his face. He strode up to the old man, who had quickly got back onto his feet. All traces of warmth and kindness had vanished from old Jerome’s face. “I destroyed it Rufus”, he said simply.
Blank shock played on Rufus’ young face. His knees buckled and he crashed onto the wet tarmac. He shivered involuntarily out of shock and cold from the pouring rain. He babbled a few nonsensical words in his shock. Finally, he was able to string together three words, “How…dare….you!!”
Jerome heaved a mighty sigh. “Rufus, I had too. You have no idea what you had discovered!! It is a secret unknown to the world and it is best left so! No! Listen to me!” he added urgently as Rufus managed to pull himself to his feet, looking livid. Rufus brought down his hand, which was about to curse his master yet again, and rested it on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
“If the information got out,” Jerome continued, staring intently at his pupil, “the power hungry would find the pendant, put it on, and havoc would ensue. The entire Slewynic war would repeat itself!”
It was at this point that a roar of thunder echoed across the skies, as though it wanted to remind the two wizards of its existence. As the rain intensified and the thunder subsided, Rufus gave a snort of laughter as he said, “Yea right! I know the truth you old fool! You want the credit for MY discovery.” Rufus drew his sword in one fluid motion and pointed it at his old master. The metal blade flashed menacingly, and a multi colour beam of light shot out of its tip.
Jerome reacted within a nanosecond. With a swift and well phrased spell, the sheet of rain immediately in front of him froze into a solid shield of ice and hovered on the spot. Rufus’ spell was reflected towards the village, setting fire to about four tents. (I must add that it is at this point that the destruction of the colony begins)
“Credit?” scoffed Jerome, “I don’t need credit, you foolish boy!! I’m trying to save the world from the reign of a mad wizard!!” the cries of the panicked people reached their ears. For a moment, both teacher and pupil turned to gaze at the primitive people running around the fire blazing deep inside the colony.
“Lord Slewyn was a great man. He tried to rid the world of its evils. He was a genius.” Rufus said softly, turning back to look at his teacher.
Jerome’s head snapped back towards Rufus, his face hardening with shock and outrage, “Great man? RID the world of evils? GENIUS?!? Boy, you better check your facts!! This man assassinated the greatest king in history and imposed his regime of evil. He CREATED evil! As for your opinion of him being a genius, he was mentally abnormal, it was a proven fact.”
Rufus listened to the whole thing. “And how do YOU know all this? Did mommy tell you?” he asked, his sarcastic tone of voice indicating his rapidly dwindling respect for his teacher.
Jerome did not react to his student’s sarcasm. In fact, an odd smile twisted across his face. “NO Rufus, mommy didn’t tell me,” he said quietly, “I know because Slewyn was my brother.”
It was now Rufus’ turn to scoff. “Brother?!” he asked incredulously, “for your kind information lord Slewyn lived over a thousand years ago!!”
There was a slight twinkle in Jerome’s eyes as he said, “There is a lot one can do with magic if they know how to…” But his smile did not last for long, as Rufus quietly spoke again. “So you don’t have ANYTHING?” Jerome shook his head sadly. Rufus finally accepted the fact with a small nod, heaving a sigh. Twelve years of research, all gone, destroyed by the man he trusted.
Suddenly a twinkle of hope emerged. He still had…….
A similar thought must have struck Jerome, as he suddenly called out in a warm voice, as though trying to forget their argument, “So where have you been for the last year and a half my friend?”
A small smile twitched on the edges of Rufus’ lips. “Do you know why I set this mess,” he indicated the colony, inside which the fire was spreading fast “as our meeting point?”
Jerome looked at the colony of tents, flapping in the wind, oblivious to the sound of its screaming residents.
“Slewyn’s castle. It stood right here, didn’t it?”
Rufus nodded. He took a step toward Jerome as he slipped his hand into his cloak. A smile played on his lips as he slowly pulled out a thin black rope. His grin widened as he watched Jerome’s expression go from curiosity to comprehension to shock to horror. By the time Rufus had drawn out the necklace completely, he was laughing- a wild evil laugh. The necklace was nothing but a thin black rope with a large, amber amulet. On the amulet was a large, intricate rune, shaped like an S
“No…no…it can’t be” Jerome whispered, awestruck, “I hid it so well! No one would be able to find it…”
“Lord Slewyn knew. He knew what you were going to do and where you were going to hide it.” Rufus said with a psychotic grin “He left signs everywhere for loyal followers like me. And now…”
Rufus made to put on the necklace, his eyes glinting maliciously. Suddenly, Jerome uttered a spell with a harsh cry. A bolt of green light shot towards Rufus and hit the pendant. Instead of shattering, however, the pendant absorbed the light and began to spin rapidly, shining brightly. Then, with a loud blast, the spell shot out of the amulet, towards the sea of tents. Within seconds, there was another fire, which joined the first to create a deadly flame, unhindered by the pouring rain, and killed many people.
At this point you must be wondering how come none of the residents of the wooden houses heard or saw the epic battle between teacher and student. This was simply because Rufus had effectively shielded their houses from all light and sound from that direction. The other question that might plague your mind is, why didn’t any of the residents of the little colony attack the two wizards? Frankly- they were not smart enough to.
With a single victorious movement, Rufus donned the necklace. Several things happened at once.
The raging storm intensified to its maximum extent. The thunder gave its loudest roar and the lightning was as bright as day. The rain beat the two wizards like hammers and flails. The wind began to howl like it was being tortured.
Among all this, Rufus began to transform. The pendant was absorbed into his chest. His broad shoulders became narrower as he shot up several inches. His yellow hair turned blood red as though a bucket of paint was overturned on the top of his head. His hair lengthened until it reached his elbows. His eyes turned from honey brown to sickly yellow. His handsome crimson tunic turned jet black. But the most disturbing change was his skin. Rufus’ skin turned from a rich olive tone to white. It was not a normal white; mind you, not egg white or porcelain white but a pale, almost colourless white. It was a white associated with death. Ten seconds after Rufus’ put on the cursed necklace, Jerome stood aghast, staring at his younger brother after exactly one thousand two hundred and eighty three years.
Slweyn flexed his long white fingers, cherishing his return to life. He then slowly looked at his surroundings, observing- The shacks, the brother, the burning village. He tenderly held out a hand and felt the heavy rain pound on it.
His foul yellow eyes settled on his brother. He cocked his head, “Hello big brother!!” he said, his voice young and clear, “fancy seeing you still here...!”
“Yes Slewyn, I stayed. Just to protect the world from your return.”
“Well you failed then, didn’t you? Why I-”
Slewyn’s retort was cut short as his gaze fell on the burning village again. His expression of soft curiosity changed into one of inhuman rage. His yellow eyes narrowed and his entire visage radiated anger. “What happened to my castle?” he asked, his voice venomous.
“I took the pleasure of mowing it down myself after I trapped you” smirked his brother.
Slewyn snarled. Then he shrugged. Without a word, he turned to face the tents, raising his hand up to the heavens, preparing for a massive spell. As Slewyn opened his mouth, Jerome charged.
With the agility and precision of a cat Jerome threw himself at his sibling. But Slewyn had already created a hard, transparent barrier around himself. Jerome collided with the wall of hard air and toppled onto the ground, causing no hindrance to his brother who had started murmuring under his breath.
By the time Jerome had broken Slewyn’s barrier, the damage had been done. It took only twelve seconds for the entire settlement- including fires, people and tents- to vanish. Once the blinding bright red light subsided, the ground in front of the wooden shacks lay untouched. All traces of habitation upon it were gone. The ground lay untouched and new.
Jerome could only gasp. “No…” he mumbled, words failing him.
Slewyn gazed at his creation with an expression of smugness, casting a sideways glance at his devastated older brother. He smiled and said, “I will come back to rebuild my castle. But first, I must do some catching up with the age. I must find out the policies and systems of this age. But,” he continued, smiling wickedly at his brother, “before I do ANYTHING else, I must kill you!!”
Jerome backed away rapidly, his expression one of horror not for the first time this evening. With high speed, Slewyn hurled a dazzling white ball of energy at his brother. A second before it hit him; Jerome launched himself into the air. The ball of energy exploded beneath him, but Jerome continued to rise rapidly against the force of the rain, unscathed. With one last look at his brother, Jerome flew off towards the distant forest. Jerome knew that he was no match for his newly reborn bother,
Slewyn made no attempt to follow or catch Jerome; he merely watched the fleeing figure. He could deal with his pesky brother later. Slewyn watched the distant speck of Jerome until he could no longer discern him. The sun was beginning to rise now, and the storm had dissipated. There was only a light drizzle, but Slewyn didn’t care. He had business to attend to. He had a throne to reclaim.
That was a week ago. I do not dare reveal my identity in fear of my life. Slewyn has come back amongst us, ready to overthrow the government yet again. It is going to be a bad time for the magical and the non magical alike. I am sure that somewhere, Jerome is mustering resistance against his brother.
May the Gods watch over us.
~~~
Memoirs
They are going to come for me. I’m sure of it.
I’m growing old, my faculties are weakening, but my hopes burn on. I have built a shelter near the sea and spend the cold nights inside. I am sure that they will come for me. They will come looking for me-their hero, the pioneer.
I spend the clear evenings gazing up at the skies, waiting for them. The other days, I wander around and try to improve my lifestyle. I have found leaves that I can weave into a blanket, I have found tasteless berries that keep me form dying and I have found caves that lead to nowhere.
But I still haven’t found another living being.
The forests of yellow trees and red grass are silent. Wind is a rarity. The “ocean” has no waves and has sweet water. Sometimes I wonder how I’ve managed to survive fifteen years in this beautiful wasteland, but those thoughts are drowned out in confidence. Confidence that they will come for me.
Fifteen years. It has been fifteen years now, and yet, I remember it like it was this morning. Idle life gives you few memories. I can recall every single detail of that day as though the events have just ended.
It was a big day for the people. There was music, singing and celebration. The best astronaut on the planet was leaving on the largest mission ever. Oh! What would my fans have said if they had known that their hero was never coming back?
They loved me, those wonderful commoners, and I am sure that they are coming to get me. After all, how can they survive without me?
There were ten of us when we boarded the shuttle. Me and nine assistants. Launch was perfect and we were on course. Travel was faster than the speed of light and we covered more distance than any other space expedition. After a good year on that shuttle, we reached our destination. The planet looked beautiful from above. She was not very big-smaller than our earth, but she had cloudless skies and pristine seas of the brightest blue. Yellow and red forests dominate
d the plains and mountains. Greyish brown sands divided the forests and the seas. It was a brilliant planet. A planet of peace and silence.
Little did we know that the first sound she would hear was the roar of a crashing spacecraft.
It must have looked spectacular. A grey, sleek craft slicing through the thin air, heading towards a clear field of red. And, all at once, the explosion. The spacecraft burst like a fat grape, spewing out debris into the pure skies.
I was lucky. Having been at the controls at that point, I was the furthest away from the rear engine, which exploded. The explosion ripped through the frontal glass panels into the skies of the planet. I landed in the sea, and eventually made my way to shore. Shards of glass and scraps of metal were all that remained of the spacecraft. There were no remnants of my assistants.
Ever since that day I have been waiting. Waiting for my fans to take me back. Waiting for that grand welcome they will give their hero when he returns home.
Home. I barely remember my home. I remember it was a large structure around which my admirers used to gather, eager to catch a glimpse of the man they admired. Me. I haven’t seen fire in years. Rain is just a vague memory. The sound of a dog barking or a child crying would be welcome. I can bless the child.
Sometimes I talk to myself. I remind myself that they are coming for me. I remember all the things people used to tell me and I tell myself those things. I tell myself how amazing I am and how the people loved me. I assure myself that they still do.
I don’t live a life of luxury anymore. This planet has been like a vacation in isolation. A simple, sustainable life. I don’t need luxuries, I just need food and water to keep me alive.
