Zelspar and the Magicians

by Cheryl Rush Cowperthwait

  “I will be happy to bring out your ancestor’s book, Yuri. Let me go to fetch it. It’s hidden, you know,” she said. “Safe and sound.” She pulled on her shoes and made her way to the basement. Deep inside the basement was a concealed wall that, when sprung, opened into the cavern which ran through the mountain. Inside the cavern was a secret vault in which only the Teller of the Tales knew how to gain entry.

  Around the gold-plated vault embedded into the mountain were stones which occasionally extended out from the cavern’s wall only slightly more than other stones.

  Mixed into the rock gravel next to that particular wall were different shaped stones. One had to find all of the stones and place them in the correct shape and order onto the jutting stones. It was an archaic combination lock system. It would be most difficult for anyone, even if they stumbled into the cavern to figure out how to open it. Yet she worried about the vault itself - to stand out as it did, covered in thick layers of gold. I should think anyone would chisel away at the gold for its own value and be lured twice as much to get the vault open, she thought. She had spoken to the last Teller of Tales about her concerns but was told all must remain as it is. Why? Never was she told.

  She let out a soft chuckle, thinking, to find the right stones, one would need to have shoes like mine. Her shoes contained a special magnet hidden in the sole of her left shoe. By lightly grazing the gravel on the caverns floor, it attracted the correct pebbles which acted as the tumblers for the combination lock. The pebbles themselves were discreet, having the same look and feel as the others. Only on these particular pebbles did one side bear the shapes that fit into the rocks.

  Her left foot grazed across the scattered rocks until she snagged the first one. She set it upon the correct stone. She continued her actions until she found and placed twelve, then thirteen, and finally the fourteenth stone. One needed to memorize the proper placements, because some of the pebbles had an extra rounded side which could mistakenly be put into the wrong rock. Fortunately for her, this was one of the last things a new Teller of the Tales was taught after being given her territory to watch over.

  She heard the final click and the vault opened. She reached into the back and retrieved the heavy bag that held the Book of Zelspar. Placing it on the floor, she closed up the vault and removed the pebbles, then placed them at different intervals along and under the gravel. Clutching the bag to her chest, she made her way back into the house.

  In the large living room, she sat and let the chair cushion her body. With a tilt of her head, she looked at Yuri. He was fast asleep, his snout sending up lazy tendrils of smoke. She fought back a giggle, as she did not want to wake him from his needed sleep.

  Instead, she slowly rose and looked out the window. The first light of day started to break across the sky. The night always seemed to disappear quicker than the day. Silently, she crept up the stairs and shuffled across the old wooden floor. She immediately went to retrieve a small pocket knife from her wardrobe. Nimble fingers inserted the knife blade into a gap next to the fourth board from the wall which her headboard rested against. The board groaned until it was freed. There she placed the Book of Zelspar into her own hidden safe to keep overnight. Perhaps tomorrow night we will read first and fly later, she thought. A soft smile spread across her face.

  She pulled the heavy brocade draperies closed, then yawned and shuffled her way to her bed. A rocking chair held her night clothes. She changed into them and crawled between the silken sheets. With a quick tug, the capacious down cover rested against her chin as she nestled her head against her pillow and found sleep instantly.

  The sun streamed its afternoon rays through the lead-paned windows. Ms. Lenonne slipped down into the basement to return the Book of Zelspar into its place and retrieved the History of Dragons.

  Before returning upstairs, she silently slipped back along the tunnel to ensure Yuri was tucked into his lair. His closed lids were encrusted with sleep. A warm smile spread from her heart to her face. A better friend would be difficult to find, even if she searched a lifetime.

  Once upstairs, she secured the basement door and slipped the chain with the skeleton key over her head where it always rested inside her blouse, next to the special necklace she always wore.

  Soon the young ones will be here, she thought. Who would return today? She had hoped to find one who would be like her, hanging onto each and every word - eyes bright with the possibilities of things uncommon. Oh, they all listened, for who doesn’t enjoy hearing stories of Dragons? The thought caused a well of merriment to bubble up and out of her lips. The thing is, she looked for the extraordinary listener. The glazed over eyes, the dreamy smiles, the rebellious spirit. Not the typical rebellious spirit, but the spirit that has not been chained down by sensibilities or practicalities. Surely, there is one left, she thought.

  A blanket resting over one arm and the book in the other, she walked down to the shade of the towering English oak tree. Its leaves already showed hints of the end of summer with the fading of green to yellow. She checked her watch. Still plenty of time to fetch the platter of cookies and pitcher of lemonade. Her eyes twinkled.

  By the time she fluffed the blanket and set the refreshments on the twin tree stumps, the listeners began to make their way up the hill. Today the air seemed charged and full of possibilities.

  The first to arrive was Noel, his jet-black hair fell over his eyes. His hand brushed his hair to the side. He glanced almost shyly at Ms. L. and offered up his sketchbook. “I drew some dragons. You know, from the way you described them. Thought you’d like to see them.”

  Ms. L. took in a gulp of air. What a privilege, she thought as her eyes sparkled their appreciation.

  “I certainly would, Noel. I appreciate you sharing your drawings with me.” She took the sketchbook, sat, and flipped the book open. She gasped in surprise. Her eyes widened as she looked at the image. It could have been her own Yuri! True, this drawing encapsulated the signs of age. The yellowing of the scales, scars from battles showing up on the wings, and the bushy eyebrows, grown long with age. She was flabbergasted.

  “Noel, this is extraordinary!”

  A slow flush spread across his face as he offered her a half smile. “You really think so?”

  “I most certainly do,” she answered. “You have a wonderful talent.” Her curls shook as she spoke. “You drew this by listening to my words?”

  He shifted from foot to foot. “Umm, yeah. Didn’t I get it right?”

  “Oh, my yes, Noel. It is as if he could fly off of the paper. You made Zelspar come alive with all your attention to the fine details. You have shown your work to your parents, I hope?”

  “Yeah, but they’re my parents, they are supposed to like my stuff.” He rubbed the side of his ear, not meeting her gaze. “I don’t show my drawings to others, you know, because they might not like it.”

  “Well, I can tell you this for certain, you have a true talent. I’m very fortunate that you allowed me to look at your drawings. I hope you will always continue sketching. It’s a gift. Most people have a very difficult time trying to see pictures from words. To see this, Noel, it takes my breath away.”

  His chestnut brown eyes gleamed for a moment before he kicked at the grass and scrunched up his face. “Yeah, but you can’t make money doing that,” he sputtered, pointing at the likeness of Zelspar.

  “Who says so?” retorted Ms. Lenonne, a bit taken aback.

  “I dunno,” he said. He hunched his shoulders self-consciously.

  Ms. L. decided not to push her thoughts onto him, he already looked uncomfortable. “It means a lot to me that you shared your art with me. Because that is what you showed me - art. You, my young friend, are an artist. Plain and simple.” She closed the sketchbook and handed it back to him, her smile as warm as the late summer day.

  He grinned and took his book, grabbed a few cookies, and settled back on the far corner of the blanket.

  Ms. Lenonne watched as the legs of youth spun up the
hill, the children laughing as the came. She picked out all the regular attendees. Oh good! she thought, they’ve all returned. She waited as they all found their refreshments and seats and exchanged ‘hellos’ to her and each other. She couldn’t help but beam. Moments like this one is what kept her heartbeat young.

  Forrest picked up the little brown bear from Sandy’s lap and made it dance on her head, causing her to laugh and swat at his hand. She enjoyed their liveliness for a moment before she waved her hands to quiet all the energy running wild.

  “Does anyone remember where I left off?” Ms. L. asked, mostly pretending to find the correct page in the book.

  “You left off at the good part,” answered Forrest. “Right when Zelspar left with the Magicians so they could track down that Flegmorr.”

  “How right you are, Forrest.” She removed one finger from the book and opened the doors of their imaginations by beginning to read. “Here it is. Now, if you recall, Zelspar set out with Perthorn and Kiel, the Master Magician and his aspiring apprentice. Their goal, or quest, you might say,” she said, “was to find that most loved Magician, Flegmorr.”

  “What?” Sandy erupted in shock.

  Ms. L. chuckled. “Ah, good. Everyone is paying attention. Here we go.”

  She slipped on her spectacles and ran her finger down mid page.

  “Tyrianua had set out early to wait at the first marker they had placed along the route to the portal.”

  Chapter 15

  Sigrunn informed Zelspar how to identify the markers and in moments he and his companions took flight. A gentle breeze rose up to add lift to his pearlescent white wings when he remembered they had not used their Invisibility Magic.

  “Quickly! Use the Invisibility Magic,” Zelspar called, “we don’t know where Flegmorr is.”

  In less than a wing beat, they had vanished from the sky. Zelspar grumbled at himself. He could not afford any more slip ups. None of them could. His jaws ground together at the mistake.

  He combed the ground below for Tyrianua and the markers left for Flegmorr. He felt like he had swallowed a belly full of bees that buzzed in his gut, trying to get out. He should have been anxious in regard to the destined meeting, but he was not. He was eager to find Flegmorr and felt anxious to be rid of him.

  By the time the sun moved high overhead, Zelspar caught a glimpse of Tyrianua. He leaped and turned in tight circles across the rocky ground. The crown of his head dipped down as he adjusted his wings to descend. The whoosh of the air hit Perthorn broadly in his face as Kiel reached up just in time to catch Perthorn’s dislodged hat. Kiel shook his head and thought it would have been a better design to have designed a rounded hat rather than one so pointy.

  Dust sailed in the wind as Zelspar made his landing and drew close to Tyrianua.

  “Did you spot our marker?” Tyrianua asked, shaking the dust from his fur.

  “By all that is Dragon, how could I with you leaping in the air and spinning circles on the ground?” Zelspar snapped.

  The black wolf with white patches stepped aside to give a clear view. Behind him stood a small tower of stones collected and grouped together, far different than the rest of the rock-strewn landscape.

  “You will find similar markers along your path. If the top of the marker is only a rock, your course continues in a straight line, but if the top has a branch or stick, look to the direction it is pointing. That will be your new direction. When you reach a marker, land and take the marker down. Leave some clue that Perthorn had traveled the very same way. It needn’t be much. A scrap of clothing is best because it will capture his attention quickly and will still carry a signature of magic on it,” Tyrianua explained. “It would heighten Flegmorr’s interest if, on occasion, he were to find blood on a rag.”

  Perthorn’s eyes popped wide open. “Blood? I’m to cut myself to lead that slime to me?”

  “A small wound, a knife prick on a finger or palm. It would lead him to believe you are injured and perhaps you are staggering along, lost on your path,” he suggested.

  Perthorn thought over his suggestion as he pulled down on his mustache. He rolled his eyes to the sky and let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose I could do what you’ve suggested, but I am not keen on freely giving my blood to Flegmorr. He should have to work for it!”

  Tyrianua kept his gaze firm. “And he shall. Make no doubt about it, he wants your blood, then your book and finally, your title. Your goal should be in giving up as little as possible and holding on to as much as you can.”

  Perthorn slapped his hat against his dust laden robe. He muttered something under his breath which made Tyrianua’s ears flatten. The wolf answered with a short growl, which was all it took to remind Perthorn the gravity of the matter at hand.

  Zelspar asked, “This marker has a rock on top and so our heading should continue straight, correct?”

  “Exactly. You will follow that direction for three markers before you find a marker with a branch which points to the south. Keep watch. The markers will come closer together as the course alters. The last marker will be at the edge of a forest on a land mass which extends out into the great waters. You will need to venture into the forest to find the portal.”

  “Are you following us?” asked Zelspar.

  “No. I’ll return to Sigrunn. The two of us will lead Flegmorr to the first marker and make sure his heading is true. If you have left your traces at all the places we marked, he will find his way to you.”

  “Do we wait until we see him to take the portal?” Perthorn asked.

  “No. Once you have found it, take it immediately. As we have explained to you, this world is devoid of life forms. This includes plants which would help in camouflaging your location. Use the time to set up your fortress. Do whatever you can to protect yourselves.”

  Tyrianua turned to Zelspar. “Allow Perthorn and Kiel to engage in battle with Flegmorr. It is only after Flegmorr’s first attack, may you assist. Sigrunn shared as much Magic with you as you could hold. Use whatever you can to aid the battle, but you may not attack Flegmorr directly - not unless he attacks you.”

  “By all that is Dragon! You have seen what he can do, and I personally have felt his attacks. I am not going to stand idly by as he obliterates me,” Zelspar said.

  “Zelspar, I am sure you will not be standing idly by at any given point. You will be rapidly using your Magic to protect and to aid your companions in battle. Flegmorr will, more than likely, become enraged at your interference. Once he does, he will turn his attention to you. Use that moment as your greatest opportunity to defeat Flegmorr. The Magic is inside of you. Everything you must know to defeat him; every possible attack can be fought against. You will not have time to think about what Magic to use. You must react! Trust what has been given,” said Tyrianua. He then added, “It is the only path to success.”

  A distraught Perthorn asked, “But, what if…”

  Abruptly, the wolf god answered. “There will be no time for what ifs or second guessing. The only thing which remains is what will be. React. Respond. One chance only.”

  Kiel gulped, his nerves rising to the surface.

  Perthorn glanced his way, offering a feeble attempt at a smile. “Stand behind me where you can see what is happening. You are well trained and will know what to do when the time comes. Just as I have faith in Zelspar, I have faith in you. I have been offered a glance into your Future,” Perthorn said. He extended his arm to sweep over Zelspar and himself. “As I have glimpsed all of our Futures. Surely, our Book of Days would not lie.”

  “It is up to us, all of us, to claim that future.” Zelspar gave Perthorn a wink and Kiel a slap on the shoulder, gently mind you, because even old Dragons can pack a wallop. “If you have no more advice, we will head out.” With all the strength and courage, he could muster he said, “To our Future, Magicians.” It was enough, Perthorn and Kiel repeated it with a dash more bravado than appeared on their faces.

  With their Invisibility Magic in full check, Pertho
rn and Kiel climbed upon Zelspar’s back and tightened the vine around their waists. This kept them secured to the great White Dragon as he ran and caught hold of the stream of wind. A few pumps of his wings pushed the air under and behind him as he surged forward.

  Perthorn closed his eyes tight, a habit he had formed anytime they left the ground. His knuckles turned white and his fingers latched onto the vine with the full extent of his grip. Kiel, on the other hand, leaned past Perthorn’s shoulders to catch the wind in his face and watch the ground disappear beneath them. As with every flight, a small grin started on his lips and spread until all of his teeth were fully exposed in a smile. His dark hair flew behind him, and for that moment the fears he would face in the near future were forgotten. For now, for him, it was only the Dragon and riders and the sky. It was a feeling he wished he would always know.

  The sun dipped lower behind them when they came across their first marker since leaving Tyrianau. After landing, they tossed the rocks aside, and Perthorn planted a torn strip from his tunic. They headed towards the next marker.