by Sam Ferguson
“What’s a wylkin?” Linny asked.
Cyrus smiled. He turned to Kyra. “Have you explained to her that I deal in live demonstrations?”
Kyra froze with fear. Would Cyrus actually bring a wylkin into the classroom? She had been so quick to jump to the conclusion that Linny needed a distraction that she had forgotten to think about whether it was appropriate to bring a girl who could barely conjure a spark to any of Cyrus’ lectures. She slowly shook her head.
Cyrus waved the notion off. “No matter, in this case, I cannot perform a live demonstration. A wylkin is a dark creature. A servant of the halls of Hammenfein, in fact. They are despicable creatures that can be quite troublesome.”
“But you said they are dead,” Linny interjected. “How did they die?”
Kyra felt her stomach churn. Fortunately, Cyrus played into the question well, both answering it directly, and concealing Kyra’s involvement.
Cyrus smiled wide. “An accomplished sorceress was able to defeat them.”
Linny nodded. Kyra bit her tongue, hoping that Linny wouldn’t press for the sorceress’ name. To Kyra’s great relief, Linny seemed to be satisfied with the answer given.
“Now then,” Cyrus began, “I will conjure up the image of a wylkin. This will not be real, therefore it cannot harm either of you. Please try and refrain from screaming, if you can.”
Cyrus waved his hand and his desk slid back against the wall. Then, he whispered a few words and pointed his index finger to the space on the floor where the desk had been sitting.
A white light appeared, and then it grew. As it developed, the light took shape and became green. Two feet appeared upon the floor, green and tipped with talons on the long toes. The scaly shins then formed, growing upward to the round, strong knees and then to the massive thighs. The pelvic area and waist developed next, and then sprouted three tails out the back. The tails swayed gently back and forth, with barbed points on the ends. The torso was lean, but extremely muscular. From the waist up, the torso widened to the chest and shoulders. The light then expanded out from the shoulders to show strange, thin upper arms. At the point where the elbow joints formed, there grew long, sabre-like hooks.
Linny gasped and held a hand to her mouth.
Kyra squirmed in her seat. Seeing the wylkin in full detail, she couldn’t help but realize how foolish her attack might have been. Surely, had Leatherback not been around, she would have died.
Out from the shoulders, sets of spikes emerged from the skin. Some were short, others taller and thinner. All of them looked absolutely horrid. The neck formed next, and then the jaw, filled with sharp fangs. The rest of the face appeared nearly humanoid, except for the fact that there was no nose, per se. It was little more than a pair of gaping holes divided by a line of bone, as if she were looking at an uncovered skull. The eyes were narrowly set, shaped like almonds. The brow had a series of bony bumps and protrusions growing out from under the green skin, and a ridge of spikes grew along the middle of the skull.
Cyrus waved his hand and turned the projection of the beast to the side. From this viewpoint, Kyra could see that the spikes grew in a line from the top of the head down to the tails. Smaller, wider spikes that looked like miniature pyramids flanked the row of longer spikes along the spine.
“That’s disgusting,” Linny said.
Kyra was surprised by how calm Linny was upon seeing the beast.
“Disgusting? Perhaps,” Cyrus said. “However, there are creatures yet that would make this one appear as friendly as a kitten.”
Kyra scoffed and Cyrus turned to her.
“I have faced wylkins before,” Cyrus said. “So I know what it takes to kill one. In general, they need to be pierced through the heart or decapitated. Some have an uncanny ability to regenerate limbs or heal minor wounds. Other wylkins have a natural defense against magic, and can seemingly shrug off what would be a fatal spell for a human. Their long hooks can cut a horse’s head clean off; they are that sharp and powerful. Their fangs are obvious weapons, of course, but their tails are just as deadly. The barbs on the ends have been known to rip hunks of meat off of their prey. Worse yet, some wylkins have the ability to wield magical spells of their own.”
“Where do they come from?” Linny asked.
Cyrus grinned and shrugged. “Some say they were originally a beast that plagued the night and were hunted nearly to extinction many thousands of years ago. Others claim they are the literal spawn of Hammenfein, the embodiment of wandering spirits that escape from the plane of the dead.”
“No one can escape the plane of the dead,” Kyra said.
Cyrus held up a finger and shook his head. “No, there are creatures that can traverse the plane of the dead. There are also rumors of men who have gone into Hammenfein and escaped. I won’t bore you with the details, but it is possible. Believe me, I have researched it well.”
“So you believe that is where wylkins come from?” Kyra pressed.
“No,” said Cyrus with a shake of his head. “I believe they are creatures summoned by powerful masters. However, I also believe that they are crafty devils in their own right. Perhaps these particular wylkins that were killed last night came from the underdark. There are creatures down there the likes of which would wreak such havoc and chaos upon the Middle Kingdom so as to burn it to stubble in a matter of seconds.”
“The underdark?” Linny asked.
Cyrus nodded. “Tunnels that burrow deep into the core of Terramyr herself,” he replied. “It is known by other names as well, of course. Some call it sub-Terra, and others more familiar with its intricacies name it Iverglendar, the land of the shadow.”
“If there are such terrible monsters down there, then why don’t they come up?” Linny inquired.
Cyrus nodded and smiled. “Some try to, like the wylkins, from time to time. Others cannot, for they cannot abide the light of the sun. Still, most of them are kept in check by other forces. Some of those forces are friendly to those of us that dwell upon the surface, and so they spend their lives in an effort to guard our homes in an ever raging war against the demons of Iverglendar. Another major factor is the reality that the monsters themselves are highly territorial, and fight amongst themselves.”
“Will they ever emerge in force?” Kyra asked.
Cyrus shrugged. “I have studied the material on this matter as much as any other wizard I am aware of. All I can say is that they have not yet been able to do that. However, should that day come, it will be a very red day indeed, and many will suffer and die.” The old wizard let his words hang in the air for a few moments and then he dismissed the image of the wylkin with a wave of his hand.
“Kyra, I had been intending to help you recognize the presence of dark magic, but this is an advanced lesson, and not one I can give to neophytes who have not been properly prepared.”
Kyra glanced to Linny. The younger girl blushed and prepared to leave.
Cyrus cleared his throat and regained the girls’ attention. “Therefore,” he began, “I thought it might be more appropriate if you could practice lower level wards with Linny. Let’s see if we can’t catch her up a bit, and perhaps give her a jump on her upcoming classes. Once Linny has an instructor assigned, I will continue with the lessons we had scheduled,” Cyrus looked to Kyra and nodded, “does that sound fair?”
Kyra nodded back and smiled. “Thank you,” she offered. An idea came to her then and she got up and approached Cyrus. “May I take her to practice in the kitchen?”
Cyrus turned and looked at her curiously. “In the kitchen?” he repeated. “Whatever for? Are the potatoes going to rise up and attack?”
Kyra smiled and whispered softly. “She is quite new to magic. So, I thought it best to start her out slowly. I was going to perhaps throw dough balls at her and have her try to ward those off. That way, if she misses, she doesn’t get hurt.”
“Sounds a bit messy to me, and somewhat unorthodox…” Cyrus stroked his beard and thought for a moment.
>
“It’s how my mother taught me lesser wards when I was young,” Kyra put in.
An understanding of Kyra dawned on Cyrus and a warm smile crossed his lips. He gave a nod of permission, and then motioned for her to go.
“Thank you,” Kyra said as she turned and motioned for Linny to follow her.
The two raced down the halls, both excited for the unconventional lesson ahead of them.
They only stopped when they reached the kitchen. Kyra peered in as she slightly pressed the door open. There were a few cooks milling about preparing lunch. Two were fussing over a large, steaming pot. Another was chopping onions and occasionally wiping his eyes and sniffling. A fourth was mixing something in a large metal bowl. After a few minutes, the cook put the bowl down and set the wooden spoon out to the side. Kyra saw bits of bread dough clinging to the spoon.
“That’s what we want,” Kyra said.
Linny tapped on Kyra’s shoulder and edged forward. “Allow me,” she said as she hunkered down and slipped in through the doorway. She crawled on all fours, stopping behind a large table where the cook cutting the onions suddenly gave in to a fit of sneezes and had to walk away from the table. Linny looked back to Kyra and offered a wink, then she shot off through the kitchen like a mouse, quiet and fast.
She yanked the bowl of dough down and scurried back to the doorway.
The two of them were running back through the halls long before any of the cooks knew the dough was missing. They ran all the way back to their room. Kyra took the bowl of dough in hand and smiled. There was still the pang of sadness that accompanied the memory of her mother throwing bits of dough at her, but it was lessened by Linny’s presence.
She took a small amount, rolled it into a ball and then turned to Linny.
“What do I do?” Linny asked.
Kyra pointed to the clothing trunk. “First, get your wand out. We know you need a little bit of help.”
Linny nodded. “Right!” She moved to the trunk and retrieved her wand.
Kyra then decided it was best to demonstrate the technique. “Here, you take this ball and throw it at me when I tell you.” Linny took the dough and cocked her arm back, waiting for the command. Kyra steadied herself and turned to face Linny fully. She then tried to recall the rhyme her mother had taught her to remember the words of the spell. “All right, the word you want to remember for this spell is ‘damwiu,’ got it?”
“Dom-wee-ooo,” Linny repeated slowly, enunciating each syllable.
“This is another reason my mother used dough to teach me. The word is spelled D-A-M-W-I-U, and you can remember it by saying the phrase, ‘dough at me, ward I use,’ it’s a pneumonic device.”
“Dough at me, ward I use,” Linny said. “Damwiu.” She nodded. “I say it out loud?”
“Or you can focus on the word,” Kyra replied. “Throw it.”
Linny launched the dough. A second later it splatted against an invisible wall in front of Kyra. The dough flattened and then began to peel off, rolling off backward and then plopping on the floor.
“Like that,” Kyra said. “Now, ready your wand.”
Kyra took a bit of dough and lobbed it in an underhand toss.
“DAMWIU!” Linny shouted as she flicked her wand. The dough plopped onto her shoulder. Linny grimaced and brushed the dough away with her hand. “Again,” she said determinedly. Kyra tossed another ball of dough. This one smacked Linny in the cheek.
Kyra giggled softly and Linny gave a toothy grin. The younger girl then grabbed the gob of dough and hurled it back. Kyra had not been paying attention, so it struck her in the forehead. Kyra’s mouth fell open and then curled upward into a large smile.
“That’s it,” she said, “no more playing nicely.” Kyra grabbed a huge handful and slowly moved it into position to throw, all the while Linny was shaking her head and waving her wand. Kyra heaved the glob into the air. Linny shrieked and pointed her wand at it while she scrunched her face and turned away.
To Kyra’s amazement, a blue bolt of fire leapt out from the wand and struck the dough, splattering the ball into smaller gobs that fell all around the room, showering both of the girls in the process.
Linny looked as shocked as Kyra.
“What was that?” Kyra asked.
Linny shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought of the flame we were trying to cast earlier and… I guess it worked.”
Kyra nodded approvingly. “Excellent!” she said. “Come, let’s keep trying the wards. I bet you will get it quickly enough. Kyra shaped five small balls out of the dough, laying each one on her bed until she was ready to start throwing. The first two smacked Linny in the arms. The third bounced off of something that looked like a blue shield upon impact and the two girls shrieked with delight.
“You got it!” Kyra shouted.
“I did it!” Linny squealed at the same time.
Kyra threw the last two dough balls. One bounced away and the last one got through before the ward went up. They continued until all of the dough was spent and there was a thorough mess in the room, then they sat upon their beds, laughing and trying to pull all of the bits of dough up from the walls, floor, and their clothes so they could place them back in the bowl.
“Isn’t there a spell for cleaning this mess up?” Linny asked.
Kyra shook her head. “My mother never taught me that one,” she said, still laughing. “We usually just made messes.”
It took them a couple of hours to clean all of the dough and place it into the bowl. By that time, lunch had been prepared and the two went down to eat. As they slurped their soup in silence, they couldn’t help but blush or giggle any time someone asked for bread and the cooks had to apologize that there was none, which then led into a tirade by said cook as she returned to the kitchen, fussing all the way about the missing bread. After lunch, Linny got up and said she was finally going to unpack.
She thanked Kyra for listening to her, and for showing her some more magic, then she left.
Kyra watched her go, this time confident that the younger girl was not going to break down into tears and curl up on the bed. Kyra left and walked outside.
She glanced over her back a few times, ensuring the priests hadn’t somehow seen her. None of them had been at lunch that day, so she wasn’t sure where they were. Once she made it to the rocky nest where she had first found Leatherback’s egg, she opened her portal and stepped through to the aspen wood.
She found the dragon sitting and listening to Njar play his panpipes. The satyr merely waved with his free hand and continued playing while Leatherback purred and swayed his tail in the air behind him. Kyra moved in to her usual spot and petted Leatherback just behind the jaw as she slid down and leaned back into the large animal.
The panpipe music was melodic and sweet. Kyra couldn’t help but nearly be carried away into sleep as she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the moment. She let go of all thoughts and allowed the music to penetrate her soul.
When it was finished, Njar slipped down from the boulder he sat upon and moved to sit cross-legged in front of Kyra. Leatherback arched his neck around and placed his head off to the side of them both, still purring with his eyes closed.
“I must admit,” Njar said, “I am more than a little surprised by our friend here. He seems to be strong enough to resist the taint so far. None of it has permeated his being, and more than that, he has the sweet disposition of his mother.”
“You said you would show me about the beasts today,” Kyra reminded Njar.
The satyr nodded. “Yes, but after the priests have finished with their examinations,” he replied. Njar looked to the sun and nodded. “I should go. I will return later today.” The satyr rose to his feet and opened his portal to Viverandon. He waved farewell and then stepped through. The magical doorway closed behind him, leaving no trace of him in the aspen wood.
“Priests come,” Leatherback said as his eyes opened lazily.
Kyra waited, trying to put on a confident face, b
ut her heart was pounding in her chest. She knew they would know what she had done. They would read it somehow, in her aura, like they always did. There was no secret that was safe from their magic.
It wasn’t long before the three priests entered the grove, the youngest one holding aside a large bush that had grown over their usual path into the grove as the older two priests entered.
Kyra thought it strange that they had never offered their names to her. No, it was more than strange. It was hypocritical, she realized. They could read her inner most thoughts and feelings, but she was not even allowed to know their names. Not even Headmaster Herion had told her.
That was why she had made up her own names for them. First there was Dumbly, he was the taller of the two priest who were clearly older than their third companion. Dumbly was so named because he never seemed to speak. Occasionally he would clear his throat or make other noises, but he hadn’t spoken more than two or three words since Kyra had met him in the Headmaster’s office. The other older priest, who was a bit shorter than Dumbly, was named Glumly. He always appeared to be frowning, even when he was delivering good news about Leatherback’s state. The younger priest, who appeared to be in charge, still seemed friendly enough, but it wasn’t the same kind of warmth she had felt from him before. So, as she had seen a large wart on the back of his hand, she dubbed him Warty.
The three priests approached, hands tucked into their sleeves in front of their waists and their gray eyes scanning about.
“We are here to see him,” Warty said with a smile.
Leatherback puffed some smoke from his nostrils.
Kyra nodded and got up to her feet. She moved away, as she had always been instructed to do before.
Glumly walked by her and placed his hands on Leatherback’s side. Dumbly did likewise. Warty, however, stayed with Kyra. He turned to face her and smiled.
“What have you been up to lately?” he asked.
