The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “Stop it,” Justan said.

  “I’m trying!” the imp said, waving his arms frantically, but the ball kept rolling. It cut down another tree. “You need to believe it’s going to stop.”

  “What does my belief have to do with it?” Justan said, his eyes widening in panic. “It’s going to hit the Scralag!”

  The moment those words escaped his mouth, Justan stumbled. A flood of memories poured into his mind. He saw the day in the strategy test when Benjo had shoved him down the rocky hill. He saw the Scralag tracing a symbol on his chest. He remembered Master Coal telling him that the Scralag was inside of him. He saw it pull itself free from his chest and freeze the bandham.

  He turned to the imp. “You lied to me.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” it asked, its eyes still watching the ball roll towards the injured ice elemental.

  Justan grabbed its shoulder. “Who are you?”

  “I-I told you. I’m-.”

  “Your Willum’s imp, aren’t you?” Justan accused.

  “You should be focusing on that fire,” the imp said as the fireball melted through another tree. It was coming close. The Scralag lifted a weak arm towards it.

  “How did you get here? What are you doing in this place?” Justan demanded.

  The imp watched the fireball’s inexorable roll with a grimace. “You’ve been unconscious a long time. Everyone’s worried. The wizards can’t wake you. Your bonded can’t reach you. Wizard Locksher had this idea that since I inhabit a world within the axe, I might be able to enter the world you had entered.”

  “So I’m in the Scralag’s place,” Justan surmised. “I’m inside the ice rune.”

  “Yes! Or what’s left of it,” the imp said. “Will you stop that damned ball! If that creature is destroyed, we might cease to exist along with it!”

  “The fireball is nothing,” Justan said.

  The fireball touched the Scralag’s outstretched claws and froze solid. The Scralag shoved the ball away and struggled to sit up, more golden magic seeping from its injury. The ball of ice rolled into a tree, shattering on impact.

  “How did you get here?” Justan demanded.

  “It was everyone,” the imp said. Somehow it didn’t look relieved that the Scralag was alive. It watched with alarm as the Scralag stood. “They formed a circle. Fist held your hand and that Malaroo girl’s and she and Willum grabbed your rogue horse. Then Tolivar and Willum grasped my axe and Tolivar grabbed your other hand. Ho, it was all really quite touching.

  “Then Tolivar did something and shoved me into this place and the only way I knew how to find you was the line of spirit magic leading to you.” It swallowed. “That thing is coming this way, you know.”

  “I see,” Justan said, and he could. He could see them all now in his mind. His friends were all there waiting for him. The silvery cord that connected him to this place was dim, but he saw that too. It stretched off into the clouds high above.

  “Can you, um, call your monster off?” the imp asked.

  Justan heard the creak of a door. He turned and saw a small cabin at the edge of the grove. He was pretty sure it hadn’t been there before. It was made of ice logs, as if it were built out of the trees in the grove.

  The door to the shack stood open and a bearded man wearing a blue and gold robe leaned out, gesturing to him. A warm glow poured out from behind the man and the interior of the shack looked inviting.

  Justan walked towards the shack, somehow sure that he needed to speak with the man. The imp shuffled along beside him. The man in the shack gestured insistently, his expression urgent. The Scralag came towards them on its long legs and stretched out an arm. A frozen rope of ice shot from its palm. The imp yelped as the rope wrapped around its waist.

  “Call it off!” the imp growled and the skin of its face flushed a deep red. It grabbed the rope in one clawed fist and a stream of fire crawled up the rope towards the Scralag’s hands. “I don’t know that I can fight it in this place!”

  Justan reached the door and the robed man withdrew inside. Justan looked back at the imp. Its skin had turned entirely red now and the rich clothing it had worn was gone, replaced by a fiery armor adorned with golden spikes. The flames had climbed to the Scralag’s hand and steam burst from its palm. The Scralag smiled.

  “Sir Edge!” the imp yelled. Its voice had grown deeper, more throaty. “I was sent here to help you!”

  “You’re tough, imp. And it’s weakened. You can help me best by holding it off for awhile.” Justan narrowed his eyes. “And by the way, convincing me that I was a woman? Not funny!”

  He walked inside the cabin and shut the door behind him.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The cabin was a small but tidy place. It contained a single room with a bed, a small table, and two chairs that stood next to a warm fireplace. The robed man eased into one of the chairs and gestured for Justan to take the other. As Justan sat, he realized that his body had returned to its true form. He now wore his common traveling clothes and trail-worn boots.

  The man sitting across from him looked to be middle aged, with thick brown hair streaked with gray and an odd beard that stretched across his chin but did not cover his lips. He held a steaming tea cup in his hands and he was smiling at Justan fondly. Justan’s spirit sight showed a silvery cord of magic connecting his chest to the man.

  “I’m Sir Edge,” Justan said. It sounded strange to use his new name, but it was the proper way.

  The man chuckled and when he spoke his voice sounded somehow familiar, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me but it has been so long since I’ve spoken with anyone that I’m still gathering my thoughts. You see, it is hard to keep hold of one’s self in this place.”

  “I’ve noticed. Are you the wizard that turned into the Scralag?” Justan asked.

  “I suppose I am.” The man blinked thoughtfully. “Yes. Now that I think about it, that is what you have been calling the elemental, so that makes complete sense. Thank you for reminding me.”

  “So . . .” Justan ran a hand through his hair. “Wow, I have so many questions for you, I don’t know where to start.”

  “Our time together is likely limited. I can feel the elemental gaining in strength as we speak. I may not be able to hold my thoughts together for long, so why not begin with the most important questions,” the man said. He took a long sip of his tea.

  Justan’s mind whirred. What was most important? “What happened back on the battlefield? Why am I here?”

  The man swallowed his tea and nodded. “Ah, well that is the most immediate concern I suppose. The elemental’s connection tying this place to your body was torn when you were wounded. The elemental had to turn all its focus on keeping you alive. That arrow had pierced right through your heart, you know. When that happened, your own magic raged out of control. It was quite impressive, by the way.”

  “That magic, the ice pouring from my chest, shooting from my swords, you’re saying that was mine?” Justan was so stunned by the possibility that the fact he’d been shot through the heart didn’t faze him.

  “Oh, yes, you are very powerful, but you should know that by now,” the man said.

  “I . . . that’s what the wizards told me, but I haven’t been able to do anything with it. I can’t make so much as a single snowball with my magic. I can only act defensively.”

  The man pursed his lips. “That is likely my fault. Well, the elemental’s fault. Well, our fault, I suppose. It takes most of your magic for me to maintain this place.”

  “This?” Justan grew angry at the thought of his power being wasted to create the endless maze and the grove of icy trees. “You used my magic to make this place?”

  The man winced. “Well, we had no choice. When you bonded with us, we were trapped there in the hills. We were tied to my old bones, you see. We couldn’t leave the place without simply ceasing to exist. But the event of the bonding brought me a rare moment of clarity. I made the rune on your chest and created a realm wher
e we could stay.”

  Justan grit his teeth. “I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

  “If we hadn’t come with you, the bond would have been for nothing,” the man explained. “We had no choice and once we were with you it was difficult to stay there. We had to siphon your magic in order to make this place stable. The elemental’s power is hard to contain.”

  “Why not use the Scralag’s power to maintain this place then? And if my power is so reduced, why am I able to use it for things like shield spells?”

  The man took another slow sip of his steaming tea and closed his eyes, savoring the moment before he swallowed. “Sorry, it’s just that I so rarely have the presence of mind to make tea. As for your questions, both of them have a similar answer. Our power has a specific purpose. We are saving it for when it is needed. Until then, we do our best to protect you when you need us. You are a warrior. You don’t need your elemental magic to fight.”

  “What right do you have to decide how I use my magic?” Justan demanded. “We are bonded. You should have told me that you needed it. If you had just spoken with me, we could have worked something out.”

  “My dear boy, that is a well reasoned argument and you are absolutely correct. That is what we should have done. However, intelligence is an infrequent visitor to our mind. Believe me, I haven’t thought this clearly in over a century. We were unable to communicate to you in any way you would have understood. Our normal state is so cold and vicious, I felt it best to wall up the bond for your protection.”

  Justan digested what the man had said for a moment. While he did so, the man lifted his cup to sip from it again, but the liquid was gone. He looked into the cup sadly.

  “It looks like our time is running out a bit quicker than I intended. The elemental has almost recovered and your imp friend is fading. We can only speak for a few more minutes.”

  “Then why didn’t you speak to me sooner?” Justan asked. “Why put me in that maze for so long?”

  “We didn’t put you in there,” the man said. “We were busy keeping you alive and then, keeping ourselves alive. I didn’t even know you were stuck in here until your imp friend arrived,” the man frowned and set the empty cup aside. “Why were you in there so long anyway? It is a fairly simple maze I made to keep the elemental preoccupied. Just a few left turns and you’re out.”

  Justan covered his face with his hands. “Alright. Alright. So what do I need to know?” There was just so much. “Okay, what is your name?”

  “I don’t remember,” the man said. He laughed. “Oh, that’s terrible. I can’t even recall my own name.”

  “Well, you were obviously a powerful frost wizard. That’s a rare talent, right?”

  “Runs in the family,” the man said, then shrugged. “I’m sorry that’s all I can give you.”

  “Um . . . what about your purpose? You told me that you were holding your magic for a purpose, right?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I would have passed on to the next life like most people, but instead I hung around and turned into this thing. But I can’t remember what my purpose was. I just . . .” The man’s eyes widened and he pounded a fist into his hand. “Ah! The book! The book I gave you has everything you need to know. I can’t believe I almost forgot about it.” He lifted his hand in front of his face and frowned. The man’s nails had darkened to black. “This explains it. Our time is just about up, I’m afraid.”

  “But the book is unreadable!” Justan said. “We’ve tried everything.”

  “No, you have all you need. There is a nasty little spell on it, I agree, but you have the key. I was worried when you gave the book to that wizard, but he brought it back to you.”

  “No, we don’t have the key. Locksher found your spectacles with the hole in them, but whatever goes in the hole is missing. He looked all over and couldn’t find it!” Justan said.

  The man’s eyes were glazing over, the pupils turning red. “I don’t . . . no, you have it. You’ve always had it. I left it for you. You have all you need . . . all you need.” He shook his head and blinked. His eyes were all red now. He stumbled over and opened the door. “You must go. Go to your friend. I am afraid we have damaged him. He is . . .”

  Justan grasped the man’s shoulders and shook him. “Hey! Don’t join with the Scralag yet. Listen to me! I’m bonded to you. You have to listen!”

  “The elemental is me,” the man said hollowly.

  “No. Look!” Justan pointed to the cord of spirit magic flowing from his chest to the man’s. “See the bond? The elemental has been outside this cabin the whole time, but this bond has always been here. I am connected to you, not your magic that’s turned into that thing.”

  The man frowned and blinked some more. The redness faded from his eyes. “I-I.”

  “Listen!” Justan said. “I’ve been thinking about our bond, wondering why it happened in the first place. What was the mutual need? What did we gain from each other?” Justan grasped the sides of the man’s face, willing him to stay coherent. “I believe that I needed my bond with you to increase the strength of my magic. Now you needed me to get free of those hills, but I think there’s more. I think what you’ve gotten from me is the ability to think again. You don’t seem to remember anything from the day before we bonded, but you seem to be aware of everything I went through since then.”

  The man swallowed and gave a brief nod. His eyes were normal now, but frost had begun to crust over his hair. “That is possible.”

  “Then focus! When I am gone, you need to gain ground with the Scralag. Take control. I can’t have your unmanageable power inside me like a bear trap waiting to spring at any second. I will need to speak with you again. You must gain control!”

  The man nodded again and pulled Justan’s hands from his head. His black fingernails had become claws. “I will try. You are quite a remarkable boy, you know. Your grandfather would be so proud. Now go. Help your friend!”

  Justan looked back and saw the imp lying on the ground. It was naked and its skin was a pasty white again. He ran two steps towards the imp before he realized what the man had said. “My grandfather?” He looked back but the man was gone. The cabin stood empty and standing in front of it was the Scralag, the hole in its chest was closed and looked as if it had been stitched together with golden thread.

  He ran to the imp and knelt beside it. Its chest rose and fell slowly, but there was a hole in its belly. Wisps of gold were leaking out.

  “Are you okay, imp?” Justan asked. He put his hands out over the wound and focused, but his magic wouldn’t do anything. He could sense the wound but couldn’t interact with it.

  The imp coughed and scowled at him. “You jerk! You selfish son of a wizardess! I come to help you. Me! Helping a human and you leave me to die!”

  “You may have come to help. But you lied to me,” Justan said. “Aren’t you supposed to always tell the truth?”

  “This is your place, not mine. Only your rules apply.” It laughed, then winced in pain. “Ho-ho, it was funny when you thought you were a girl, though. Ha-what a good girl you made, too. Nice proportions! At least I had one good joke before I died.”

  “You make it hard to regret leaving you to fight without me,” Justan said. Still, the imp was right. It had come to help and it was Willum’s axe. He couldn’t let it die. “What did the Scralag do to you?”

  “Ho, the stupid thing tore the air magic right out of me! Used it to seal its own wound. Now I’m the one in trouble.” It clutched at the hole in its belly. “My air magic helps bind me to the axe. Without it, I’ll die. I’ll pass on to wherever imps go. I don’t know where that is. Maybe it’s nowhere. Then the axe will just be an axe.”

  “If you had enough air magic, could you repair yourself?” Justan asked.

  The imp snorted. “Maybe, but it would take a lot. I could repair it on my own if Willum went out and killed enough things, but ha! There’s no time.”

  “Can you take my magic? I’m s
trong in air,” Justan suggested.

  It shook its head weakly. “No. Yours is all tied up in this place. You couldn’t give it to me without tearing this place apart.”

  “Then we need to get you out of here,” Justan said.

  “Yeah? How?”

  “Just hold on while I do it.” Justan reached into the bond and found the strand of spirit magic connecting him to this place. He pushed his mind through it until he found the barrier that blocked the Scralag from the rest of the bond. He picked the barrier apart strand by strand, until he could push through.

  He sensed his bonded again. Fist and Gwyrtha were close by, Deathclaw far away. They called out to him, but he couldn’t speak with them yet. He sensed Tolivar holding his hand, maintaining the imp’s connection. He reached out to Tolivar and pulled the man through.

  Tolivar appeared next to them in the Scralag’s world. He looked down at the wounded imp, then back at Justan. “Are you okay, Sir Edge?”

  “Ho-ho, ignore the imp. Of course he’s okay!” the imp said weakly. “Now listen, Tambaloor, Tolivan, whatever your name is now, tell Willum I did what he wanted. Now it’s his fault I’m dying. He owes me. He owes me a . . .” the imps voice faded and his head lolled to the side.

  “Take him back please,” Justan said.

  Tolivar nodded and reached down to grasp the imp’s arm. They disappeared.

  Justan took one last look at the Scralag. It blinked its beady red eyes and reached an arm out towards him. Justan heard a single word.

  Go.

  Justan eyes opened to the view of tight clusters of icicles hanging from a stone ceiling.

  “Justan!” Fist exclaimed.

  He sat up. He was in a bed in a large stone room. His friends and mother were gathered around him, all of them wearing heavy winter coats. Icicles hung everywhere and the walls and floor were covered in a thick coat of frost.

  Jhonate hurled herself across the bed and threw her arms around him. Her scent filled his nose and he felt a little dizzy as his mother joined her, clutching him too. Everyone began talking at once, both aloud and through the bond, asking him questions.