Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  "Ask the wand," said Vilma. So John pulled out the wand, and sure enough, it sent out a beam of light, which veered a little right and then seemed to bend back, as if pulled by a magnet without settling anywhere in particular, and then returning to its source.

  "What does that mean?" asked Joceley. "It seems undecided."

  "I don't know," said John, troubled. "I'll try again." He thrust the wand before him and tried to urge it mentally to show them the way. Once more, it set off in the same direction, only to bend, deflect and disappear back into the wand again.

  "There's some kind of force stopping it," said Vilma.

  "So what do we do?" asked Todd. "Do you want Zak and me to explore a bit and see what we can find?"

  John was puzzled, and alarmed. The wand had never failed him before. "Just let me think a bit," he said. The group stood around in silence feeling helpless and then Ethan spoke.

  "Think about k'tchang, Wandmaster. One move at a time. Maybe if you move forward one step in the direction the wand sets out to show, and then ask it again, it will be able to work its way move by move." John grinned.

  "Let's give it a try," he said. Pace by pace John covered the ground, the remainder of the group tagging on behind, until the beam from the wand gave one last leap and disappeared between two tree trunks.

  "k'tchang," grinned Ethan, and John slapped him on the back and said, "No wonder you always win!"

  "Zak and Todd, lead us off through that gap and let us know if we should follow," said John, and the rest of the group crowded around the opening as the two disappeared. In a short space of time, Zak's head poked back through the gap and motioned them to follow, making the sign for silence at the same time.

  "What now?" whispered Joceley to Maylene, who shrugged her shoulders in ignorance.

  "Shhhhh!" came Zak's voice, and his arms gesticulated wildly as he glared at her.

  Vilma was unbundled in order to be able to squeeze between the two tree trunks, and they followed on as quietly as they could. Soon they came to a crossroads, and their way ahead was now to the right, as the wand had directed before they set out. At each side of the path they needed to follow sat two tall, sleeping figures. Both had two-headed axes in their embrace. They were not exactly giants, but their proportions were all wrong, being about a man-and-a-half in size. And they would have won no beauty contests either, having piggy eyes and bulbous ears and noses, with narrow chins and long pointed teeth, which did not allow them to close their mouths, resulting in streams of drool coursing down their chins as they snored with rasping breaths. Todd, who had remained close by but concealed in the shrubbery, now emerged and looked at John, questioning with his eyes. John shrugged, looked around at the others for inspiration and got none; only Vilma moved, and she held up her hand as if to stop time, obviously thinking hard. She motioned for them to follow her back along the path by which they had come, and when they were far enough away, she whispered.

  "I have heard tell of these beasts, they are called ‘Lumbs', but I have never seen one before; they are another of the abominations of Ataxios. They have a lot of brawn but very little brain, so we have to use ours. Our Wandmaster must get through, so we'll send him through as fast as his legs can run, with Zak and Todd and immediately behind, the rest of us will charge, making enough noise to wake the dead. I'm betting they will come after the noise makers."

  "That's a cheering thought," hissed Maylene sarcastically.

  "I don't like it," disagreed John. "Some of us can get really hurt here."

  "This is not a game, Wandmaster, and we are not here on a pleasure trip. Time is pressing and we must get through. Are there any better ideas?" There was no reply from the group. "OK, let's do it before we have time to think about it," whispered Gilladen, "Draw your swords, Guardians – Quietly!"

  They edged their way back to the crossroads, and at a sign from Gilladen, the first three made their move.

  Zak, John and Todd set off at the fastest pace they could manage, and flew past the two sleeping guards. It was not unexpected when the two 'bookends' awoke at the point where John passed their station. What was a surprise was how quickly they were on their feet and after their quarry, and how swift they were. Immediately after John, Zak and Todd, the rest of the group charged, howling, yelling and crashing along, so that they couldn't be ignored, but the two lumbs hardly spared them a backward glance; their attention was firmly riveted on the Wandmaster, as if they had been programmed to his signal and no other.

  Gill, who was the swiftest of stride, managed to gain on the thundering footsteps of the pursuers, and he lashed out at the huge hamstring of the nearest. His sword cut deeply and the first of the two guards tumbled to the ground, mighty axe flailing and chopping wildly. Ethan, Joceley and Maylene were soon on him, and his axe hand was unceremoniously hacked off as Maylene swung at it with all her might. Joceley and Ethan plunged their swords simultaneously into the muscular chest, and brought an end to things. Ahead of them, the other lumb was now coming up fast behind John and his companions, Gilladen having been left behind. In the tailing group, Mandrik and Honeth were still on their feet, and Vilma screamed to them to find speed. They ran after the heavy figure of the second lumb for all they were worth. John, Zak and Todd suddenly heard the sound of running water before them and as they followed the pathway, they came to a rickety rope bridge over a river. They had nowhere else to run, so they had two choices, stand and fight, or cross. Zak manhandled John onto the bridge and screamed at him "Cross the bridge, Wandmaster! Cross now!" He shoved John hard in the small of his back and then turned to face the drooling, axe wielding lumb before him. Mandrik and Honeth reached the scene, and the four guardians formed a circle around the lumbering figure.

  "Run!" called Zak again, and John saw the logic of it though he wanted to stand and fight beside his guardians, and besides, he had the wand – surely it could defeat this beast?

  "Hell!" he shouted, and heeding Zak's panicked demand, he decided to run first and use the wand from the other side of the bridge, and he turned his back on his protectors and set off across the bridge, which swung and lurched at his hurried footsteps. It was a long way down into the crashing water, and John was no lover of heights. "Hell!" he yelled again as he heard sounds of fighting from behind him. He tried to look back over his shoulder, but his head was spinning, and his stomach churning from the swaying of the bridge, and he almost fell. Gritting his teeth, he decided to get across as fast as he could. Throwing caution to the wind, he hurtled across the slippery planks held by rope, which spread across the ravine.

  The all-seeing orb of Ataxios was aglow in the darkness of the subterranean temple of Athrak, and Jazlyn watched as the scenes rushed one on top of the other. In the black, inky darkness, the orb emitted a pale eerie light, and the cold made her shiver, but not only the cold. She saw the Akryd careering down the rocky slopes of the plain, the sniffers and the many lo's and spindlies as they approached her guardian comrades. Fear gripped her heart, and the tethers around her wrists bit into her flesh as she endured the high-pitched maniacal laughter of her host. She watched John on the bridge, and then the scene shifted once again and she saw the body fall. It dropped like a stone into the ravine, and then the orb went dark and stopped showing the images in its evil slide show. Sickness and despair gripped her heart, and she tried to seek comfort in the eyes of her companions, but the darkness was too deep and she felt totally defeated.

  Into her head came Tyloren's voice. "Don't despair. Things are not always as they appear. I still feel him."

  A mental knife cut into both their minds, black and painful, and sliced them apart. Into Tyloren's mind came the certain knowledge that this time he would not escape, and into Jazlyn's that John, the Wandmaster was dead, having plunged into a swift running river in some ravine. Everything was lost. Weak with lack of food and now despair, Jazlyn's head flopped to her chest and she dropped to the floor in a faint, tendrils of darkness coursing over her body.

  Mahoo, L
enora and Loman had been separated from their two companions and bundled into a holding cave sopme distance away, removed of their weapons and provisions, by two bulky lo's. Loman had great difficulty in controlling his lo-self and fortunately, was still in possession of his cloak. The devoted Lenora was trying to calm both, while Mahoo had withdrawn into a state of silence and concentration.

  "Flies in a spider web," said Lenora, shaking her head. "Oh, my poor children!" and the tears burnt her eyes and made her nose run. As she wiped away the moisture, Loman came a little to his senses.

  "We're not done for yet, Lenora. Both of us have escaped from this hellhole in the past. We can do it again. We'll get home, we will!"

  He emphasized the ‘will' as if it would somehow make it true. The cold, black, clammy darkness closed in on them and their distant memories of past containment there came back like a slap on the face. Seeing his wife so despondent made him angry and he glared at the opening of the cave and the two lo's barring the exit.

  "Take off my cloak, Lenora!" She shook her head and hissed at him softly, "You may lose control."

  "That's what I'm hoping."

  "No, it's too dangerous! We should wait!"

  "For what? Think Lenora! There are only two guards!"

  "But we have no weapons," she pleaded.

  "We'll take theirs." said Loman simply.

  Mahoo, who was deep in thought in the depths of the cave, was suddenly aroused by the whispering going on between the other two and came to join them. He caught the gist and nodded.

  "I can create a diversion," he said "with a little crystal magic!"

  Loman looked to Lenora "We have to do it now! We don't know how this will develop. There could be another 10 lo's outside this cave in minutes!"

  "Ok, let's do it!" Lenora finally agreed, and the three quickly hatched some kind of plan. Mahoo removed two golden coloured crystals from his pouch and held them in his hand, chanting to them and humming softly.

  The two lo's outside the cave mouth were following orders. They were not to move from their post and not to allow the prisoners to escape. That was it. As they guarded the cave entrance, suddenly a warm glow began to emanate from within, growing brighter and brighter till they couldn't help but notice it. Their lo heads turned and peered into the cave, and then at each other, and they communicated their unease in clicks and whines. The cave appeared....empty. Mahoo, Loman and Lenora had pressed themselves up against the wall just inside the cave entrance, out of sight. The unexplained brightness of the cave unsettled the two guards and they chittered, shifting from one heavy foot to the other and they peered in with puzzlement. The first lo took a step into the cave, sword raised, and in a swift practised move, Lenora swept Loman's heavy cloak over the lo head of the guard, completely blinding him and throwing him off balance. The sword in his hand was not idle, thrashing blindly, and would have caught Lenora if she weren't so used to handling Loman. As it was, her husband was soon able to wrench the blade from the lo's hand and with no compunction at all, he struck a fatal blow to the beast, bringing it to its knees in a pool of blood. Now, with a sword in his hand Loman, still wearing his lo guard uniform stood face to face with the second lo, who entered the cave emitting loud whines and clicks of alarm. Others would soon come if he wasn't silenced. Loman launched his attack, and the other lo guard defended. He was strong and well-drilled, but Loman was fighting for his life and his family, and the battle was fierce. Lenora let out sharp shrieks or fear as the fight progressed, but there was nothing she could do to help her husband. They had no other weapons. Besides which, in the semi-darkness of the cave, it was not always easy to distinguish Loman from the guard. In a flurry of activity, a slashing blow took the lo-head off the shoulders of one of the two, and while the still sentient body writhed on the floor, the second raised its head and emitted a high-pitched screech of triumph. Mahoo and Lenora sucked in air as they had been holding their breath in anxious terror. The sword arm dropped, the tip ringing on the hard stone floor, and Loman struggled to raise his human head, forcing the agitated beast between his shoulder-blades back.

  "Loman!" cried Lenora, "Oh, Loman, thank the bright crystals!"

  "The cloak!" croaked Loman, as the lo head on his shoulders thrashed around, agitated and excited. In a trice, it was covered once more in its shroud and the three companions took a moment to breathe again in relief.

  "Come," whispered Mahoo. "We have to leave this place and head to the crystal trove again. Our quest is not complete". Before quitting the cave, Lenora bent and prised the sword out of the hand of the dead lo. She wanted to be armed. As they hurried back along the passage, Lenora and Loman talked in hushed whispers.

  Mahoo, in a restrained voice said "Quiet, please. I am trying to feel who is around and reach Tyloren……but there is a block……. A void all around him……. As though he has vanished."

  "What about the young woman, Jazlyn?" asked Lenora anxiously

  "In a dark place too, but of the mind….. Her body is too weak to resist the invasion of her thoughts, and she is being filled with dreadful visions and fears. Torment holds her in its grip and she succumbs……Tyloren cannot aid her. Here, you two, lend me your strength and I will try to support her."

  "What shall we do, Mahoo?"

  "Just think of Jazlyn with warmth, and let me direct our efforts. It will help if you close your eyes and try to concentrate on her."

  In a state of complete exhaustion and despair, Jazlyn drifted, scenes of death and mutilation streaming through her unconscious, dragging her further and further into blackness and sucking her into the desire to die, not to exist, to cease in order not to feel. Ataxios pushed images of John in torturous pain and the throes of death incessantly into her head. Then she saw her own body, ripped and bloody, heard her own screams, saw the Akryd approaching and felt herself being held down while the huge belly forced its larva into her back between her shoulder blades. She wanted to scream but was mute, speechless with horror ……and then in the turmoil of visions, a chink of light shone through. Like a moonbeam, it found her, and she leaped in hope towards it, and as she did, it widened, and contained sound – voices of calm and warmth – and she sheltered in them, knowing for just an instant that here was hope, and that the darkness could be defeated – and her torment was not real. And hope brought her back – to the reality, which was almost as bad as the illusion, but not quite. Now she knew she should not – would not give up until Ataxios took her life. She closed her eyes again, but this time she was not alone, and she was contained in a place of light in the midst of darkness, and she slept, seeking comfort there – in the light where evil had no power.

  When she next opened her eyes, she found she was lying on what felt like a hard, cold slab of stone and her limbs would not move. She was bound tightly, this time with some real material, like rope but smoother, her feet together and her arms pinned to her sides. She could just lift her head a little, and tried to look around her into the gloom. At the side of her was the crystal trove of Athrak, imprisoned light-givers in the inky black. She could feel them rather than see them, and she realized that she was lying on the altar beside them. She heard movement and suddenly a hideous face peered down into hers, so close that she could smell the rancid breath. Terror swept through her and her voice escaped her throat in a strangled scream as Ataxios trailed a clawed finger down her face to her throat.

  "Wandmaster's little friend," he cackled, "Oh what will he do when he has to choose between the crystals of Athrak and the little treasure lying right beside it, I wonder?" Jazlyn felt her flesh creep and struggled to hold on to her sanity as he probed her mind and once again filled it with gory images of death and suffering, both hers and John's. But her reason had not deserted her completely and she realized that if she was bait for the Wandmaster, then that Wandmaster must still be alive! It gave her hope and resolution.

  The tiny light in her anguish still flickered like a candle flame as Mahoo, Lenora and Loman tried to reach her, and
she clung to it like a drowning man to a plank of wood in a black sea, knowing it was not going to be enough. 'Where is Tyloren,' she wondered. She had no sense of him at all.

  Ataxios cackled softly as he caught her unvoiced question. "The little priest is back in the Dark Box, and this time he will die there. He will not escape me a second time! Nobody will escape me; not you, not your Wandmaster, not anyone, and when I have him under my control, he will give me the trove in Wandguard too. It will all be so easy, once my beautiful Akryd has made him one of her children!" Ataxios sighed to himself happily and drew more visions of the future he foresaw, giving Jazlyn a terrifying preview in her head, but once again Ataxios had confirmed that John was still alive, and the images she was seeing became less real and less threatening. She clung to hope.

  The bridge had swung wildly and John had lost his footing more than once. He clung to the ropes and cursed, straining to hear that was happening behind him over the sounds of the crashing waters below. He needed to reach the opposite bank, but it was further away than it looked due to the difficulty of his passage. When he was almost across, he felt the bridge shudder heavily. Unsure what had caused it, he made one last effort, and as he got to the end, powered himself at firm land, rolling roughly into the dust, and pulled himself to his feet. Panting hard, hands on his thighs in an attempt to stand upright, he saw the giant form of the lumb thundering across after him. There was no sign of the guardians, and John was devastated at the thought that he had left them to their fate and fled. He drew his wand from its sheath and pointed it at the approaching form. Anger raged within him and charged out of the point of the wand a bolt of flaming fury. It struck the body full in the chest, and lifted it off its feet, throwing it up and sideways. The bridge acted like a well-elasticated catapult, launching the beast decisively over the side, into free-fall down into the chasm and into oblivion. John stood and watched as it flailed its mighty arms all the way down to the raging river, where it was engulfed in the white foaming water.