Elemental Courage

by M. W. McDonald

  Elemental Courage

  By: M.W. McDonald

  This book is dedicated to the people who inspire me, the people who doubted me, and the people who support me to this day.

  Without you, this book could never be. Thank you.

  Prologue

  Life can be seen as an ever-growing collection of five elements: earth, fire, shadow or darkness, wind, and water. They bind together, and are present, in every person, every breath, every atom and every object. The most explicit representation of these forces coexisting in the world as a whole is an age-old marker in the human blood called Gaia Pollen. This attribute was born from a flower that thrived thousands upon thousands of years ago on a southern continent our age now calls Antarctica. Then: It was more temperately located near to South America. It was a lush landscape where a tribal people lived. The Gaia flowers were harvested for their brilliant colors: petals that bore every color the human eye could see; shimmering hues of reds, blues, greens, and yellows all combined through one kaleidoscopic plant. It was the perfect image of balance in nature. As the winds blew the pollen of this flower spread itself across their homeland and the peoples that lived within its borders. It became a part of who they were as humans—a part of their souls.

  This bore unique side-effects; the pollen had a tendency to attach itself to every cell in the body and allow its bearer to attune themselves to an element of which they were most comfortable. A great age of elemental reasoning took hold over the tribal lands, fostering an era of tremendous growth and prosperity. They were a wise people; they separated themselves from their more primal human counterparts by erecting a veil—a border of sorts—through the use of their elemental powers. From their side of the curtain, they bore witness to the rise and fall of the dinosaurs, the comings and goings of terrifying evils and noble heroes, and the rise, fall and rebirth of humanity. These tribal people were afforded the right to be untouched by time. Thousands of years could pass by, unnoticed to someone who has crossed the veil. Yet all this was made possible by one tiny yet beautiful blossom. The flower now no longer exists. It was harvested into extinction, but once the pollen is in your blood it is in your DNA, and you pass along the characteristics of the bloom from generation to generation.

  Most people are blissfully unaware of the elements that surround every aspect of their lives. Others find out by accident, and other still are purely bred into the knowledge of the existence of these forces by age-old instructors or family traditions. Whether it’s by accident or the purest of purposes those that can feel the elements are called Shamans. These individuals can beckon the forces in their blood, exerting their will to control a particular school of elemental magic. A Shaman is limited to interaction with one school of magical study by the ever-hidden laws of nature seemingly because the human body loses its ability to function when it’s torn between two or more elemental focuses. The most powerful Shamans infused their life force to empower their conjurations and elemental visions. In turn, it made them more powerful-- however they were limited by the extent of their own life force– these Shamans were known as Enchanters.

  There is a constant struggle between these forces and when the balance is thrown off, a child is born that can beckon to all elements to unite them for a higher purpose. The child’s birth causes a ripple in fate; a rolling of energy that spans and tugs at the minds of every shaman and the hidden struggles intensify. This child will come to be known as the Archmage. The most considerable powers of the current age of man will vie for position to claim the child as their own to tip the balance.

  The last Archmage was born over five thousand years ago now. The path she took and the choices she made led her to be the most destructive force the world had ever known. She tore the lands apart and only by the combined efforts of the most potent Enchanters of their respective elements were they able to seal her away. She is locked in the depths of time and ancient memory, sealed inside a giant pulsing Ruby. These Enchanters gave their lives for the cause; every bit of their life force was used to seal this woman away. She should have been destroyed, but death itself seemed to fear her. Her name was Khorynn, and with her powers locked away, she waits. Every minute, day and year that passes fuels her desire for a glorious retribution that will bathe the Earth in fire and death.

  Now almost five thousand years to the day, the powers that be are preparing for the next child to come of age, another Archmage for the fates to twist and tear apart. The ripples of energy created with the child’s birth buffeted the minds of every shaman, at every corner of the globe. It is only a matter of time before the twisted talons of fate gouge the life from this soul. Will this child be their savior: the ultimate destroyer of evil, or will the child be an evil unlike anything ever seen?

  1

  William sat on the edge of his school’s football field. One leg tucked underneath his tall frame as he settled back into his arms and tilted his head into the breeze he felt approaching through the nearby tree-line. The fresh air filled his nose and lungs bringing with it the scent of damp earth and rain.

  “Smells like a storm is coming,” he thought to himself. His bright blue eyes surveyed the horizon and confirmed his suspicion by darkening as if by command. William had always been an excellent judge of the weather, but somehow this felt…a bit different. An odd pressure seemed to be coming from his chest as if to ward off the clouds that were growing ever more ominous in the distance. Ever since he turned 18, a week ago now, he had become afraid of the weather. For 17 years, his body had very few problems with it, but now it felt as if it meant to attack him but was always just out of reach.

  “That’s weird I must be going crazy,” William said under his breath as he slowly stood up and zipped his gray hoodie. William had just graduated three days ago. While the memories of high school life rushed back to him, he was happy to have survived, and he was now ready to move on to more exciting things. William stuffed his hands into his pockets and began walking. He traced his path back towards the bleachers and ultimately the parking lot. His mind was too preoccupied with his strange portents of dread to realize he was being followed.

  “Hey, Sticks! I’m talking to you man!” William’s hatred for his childhood nickname jarred him out of his reverie. He was always tall and lanky, growing up his legs and arms looked like twigs. He had filled out since then, but unfortunately, the cruel nickname was now his to bear. He glanced over his shoulder for the source of the comment. What he saw should have worried him, but an odd sense of calm washed over him instead. Everything around him seemed to quiet like someone was watching a movie and turned the volume dial of life down to watch the good part. He was being followed by Tony Vallik, a current “third times the charm” senior at his high school. Tony’s usual lackeys were in tow; every single one of them a stereotype or cliché waiting to be pointed out. They had been accused of everything from theft to robbery, acts of physical violence and vandalism. For some reason the authorities could never make the charges stick; it was more than likely because Tony’s father was the sheriff in their parts and his son could do no wrong. People who actually knew these guys had already learned that these were not people you wanted to get caught alone with. William thought it was best to keep walking. Tony was never worth the time. After a quick second glance, he noticed that there was a new face amongst the offenders, and he carried a weapon of some kind that he could barely make out. Scarcely, but it was there. Walking away wasn’t going to be an option apparently. He could try and run, but more than likely he wouldn’t be able to get away. William turned to face the music.

  “Yeah Tony, what do you want?” William spoke measuredly as he turned around slowly. Tony’s lackeys were quick to surround him in a loose circle.

  “Oh? Nothing
man, just some money I feel you owe me that I need to collect, that’s all.” William was clearly not intimidated by Tony; he had dealt with all of them before on numerous occasions as had most students. All of them but the fresh face he saw today. The new guy had a very distinct feel to him, sharp features with loose baggy clothing tied at the waist with a simple braided cord allowing for efficient movement. If William didn’t know better, he would have said this guy was out of a Kung Fu movie-definitely out of place with a high school crowd. Right down to the wrapped sandals he was wearing. The stranger was shorter than William, roughly 5’7” to his 6’1” frame. He was far more sleek and muscular though. His muscles seemed to vibrate with the tension of restraint, like a giant cat before it pounced. He had the aura of a jungle predator. William caught his gaze and held it.

  “And why do I owe you money?” William asked, still holding the other man’s gaze.

  “It’s more of a down payment, think of it as paying for scar prevention.” Tony chuckled a bit. William sighed heavily; his eyes never broke from the new guy. He noticed his eyes were very dark, almost black and seemed to shine with hatred and malice and the dullness of death all at once.

  “I see you’re getting acquainted with our new man Takashi. We were just showing him the ropes so to speak.” Tony laughed making a swooping motion with his right arm to encompass the entirety of the school grounds. “He is something else. He fights like one of those guys from that crouching tiger movie.” Tony made clumsy hand gestures apparently trying to convey some sort of karate move. “Give them some room boys, make sure he doesn’t run. I want to watch Tak’ wear him out. Don’t worry Sticks you can still pay me after.” Tony stepped back taking a better observation spot.

  William only broke his gaze when he saw the handle of the weapon at the other man’s side. Takashi had stepped back to really size William up, flexing his legs before dipping low into a squat. He adjusted his stance and William saw it more clearly then. A sword of pure black hung at Takashi’s side. It was so utterly black that it seemed to create an illusion of near invisibility by creating and blending into its own shadow.

  “Since when do you or your boys carry swords?” William asked seriously.

  “What swordsman? we use our fists to get what we want.” Tony was quick to exaggerate his macho bravado.

  “Bullshit, your new guy here has a sword hanging from his side, I’m not blind.”

  For the first time, Takashi showed emotion other than seething hatred: It was stone-cold shock.

  “You can see it can’t you?” Takashi asked quietly. William lowered his hands; they were inadequate protection from a sword.

  “Yeah, I can see it.”

  Takashi lowered his head and his body shuddered as if he was sobbing. He threw back his head and started laughing. In between his bursts of laughter, he managed to say a few things.

  “No wonder… No wonder you lost… Shaman… He’s a Shaman!” his laughter picked up again. “I bet you couldn’t even hit him.” His laughter and tone mocked Tony. Tony moved forward and swung at Takashi in a rage. Takashi vanished from where he was standing and appeared some 15 feet away.

  “If you can’t hit me through my shadow step, there is no chance you will be hurting him,” Takashi said as he walked away. His back was to Tony and he waved the senior off like an insect he had grown bored with.

  Tony was red with rage at the disrespect and confusion as to what he just saw. He launched himself at the nearest thing to quell that anger: William.

  “I’ll tear him apart myself!” Tony yelled as he swung his big fist hard and true, plowing right into William’s jaw. William braced himself for the pain that was sure to follow, but there was none. Tony, on the other hand, howled in pain and anger as he shattered some bones in his hand. William was shocked at the response, but quickly gathered himself and shot the other boys around him an icy stare, anxious to avoid any unnecessary fighting. They tripped over themselves running out of eyesight. William turned again to confront Takashi who was walking away from the scuffle, hands on his sides as laughter was splitting him in two. He kept repeating:

  “Shaman, shaman, shaman…” His tone grew to a higher pitch with each repeated word.

  William figured them to be the words of a lunatic and quickly crossed the lot, made sure that he could not see Takashi any longer and got into his car and drove home.

  That single word echoed in his mind: Shaman.

  2

  Dyaina sat on a burgundy sofa, looking over her shoulder and out of the bay window of her home. She absent-mindedly fidgeted with her brilliant blue sapphire pendant as she brooded over the worsening weather conditions. She wasn’t a worrier by nature, but today something told her to wait here for her son. He was late.

  The almost electric pressure in the air, the altitude of the clouds…All of it was wrong. She gripped her pendant tighter staring at the sky blaming it for her son’s tardiness. She was about to sputter out a curse when she heard the metallic grind of the garage opener just before she saw her son’s car pull into the drive.

  “Oh thank god,” Dyaina said. She finally released the tension and worry from her body as her son stepped through the door that connected the garage to the rest of the house. William seemed to be thinking pretty hard about something important as he closed the door with resigned purpose.

  “Hey, are you ok?” She said, enunciating each word very carefully, the worry returning to her body.

  “Yeah,” William paused a moment. “At least I think I am.”

  Her mother’s instincts took over immediately, looking him over for any bite marks, gunshot wounds or bruising. William brushed her hands away quickly.

  “Stop, I’m fine I’m not hurt.” He marched to his room hoping to find a quiet refuge to think. His mother followed closely behind him intent on finding out just what was bothering him. William stopped at the door, his hand on the doorknob.

  “Mom, what is a shaman?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder to see the blood drain from his mother’s face.

  “I…I don’t know.” She stammered, caught off guard by a question she couldn’t possibly have expected. She had carefully groomed his life to not have to encounter this problem.

  “You are lying to me!” William snapped.

  “No, I’m not-“ William cut her off.

  “I know I’m different, I can feel it. I have been seeing and feeling some strange things recently.” He paused, recollecting his encounter with Tony’s goons and Takashi. “And after today--“ This time it was his mother’s turn to cut him off.

  “Just what happened today?” She asked seriously, her subconscious almost afraid of the answer.

  “I was nearly in a fight today.” Dyaina was listening intently now.

  “With a man who carried a sword.” He finished carefully, trying his best not to sound crazy as he turned to face his mother. He was surprised to see the look of someone who believed him with all of her soul.

  “What did the sword look like?” She asked, realizing that as soon as she asked the question that she had given herself away now. William looked at her a moment, he realized her sapphire eyes were almost glowing they seemed so bright. He took a moment transfixed by her eyes and then answered.

  “It was black, like black-black, I can’t honestly think of a better way to describe it than black. It felt like the blackness was going to swallow me up, and apparently, only I could see it.” William said the last part sarcastically.

  “WHAT?!” Dyaina was almost frantic. He saw them now, her eyes were glowing brighter, her pupils being overtaken by an azure glow. Her eyes were violent whirlpools of bright blue.

  “Mom, your eyes--,“ She waved him off, there was no time to explain.

  “When?” Dyaina asked. She repeated herself quickly. “Answer me! When did you see this sword, William Vrastal?!” His mother was not the shouting type, but the ferocity in her voice combined with the use of his full name forced him to now realize the gravity of the situation.


  “A-About an hour ago…Maybe a little less.” The storm outside was coming to a head now as bands of rain were unleashed and began their relentless assault on the windows of their home. The wind started to take on an ethereal howl that caught both of their attention. Dyaina walked briskly--almost ran to her room with William close behind. She mumbled a few words to herself and with a flick of her wrist the walls of the room shredded like wrapping paper. The debris hung in the air as if time were standing still.

  “What the F-“ he started to exclaim when Dyaina cut him off.

  “Watch your language in my house young man!” She stood in front of him holding a smallish brown bag, the size of his fist, cinched with a golden rope. Her hair was floating as if untouched by the laws of gravity, and the debris seemed to push away from her out of respect. Her body radiated an aura of crackling blue energy, and her eyes were glowing brighter. She quickly pulled out two ornately crafted bracelets and a red pendant of the same style as her blue one. She came back into the living room at a brisk pace and handed William the red necklace. William noticed the bracelets.

  “What are those?” He asked.

  “There isn’t time to explain, put that pendant on quickly!” She slid her hands through the bracelets faceted with what looked like sapphires and other brilliant blue gems embedded in ornate metal inlays that he guessed were platinum. The gems erupted in a multitude of azure hues that lit the room. The storm outside picked up as if sensing her urgency. William looked dumbfounded.

  “Put on the pendant William, NOW!” At that very instant the storm outside conjured a full maelstrom of rain, electricity and howling winds. Massive spiraling funnel clouds stabbed the ground savagely and barreled down on Dyaina’s home.

  “That’s not natural,” William said, staring at the funnel clouds, reeling backward.