The Spark

by Taylor Gibson

  We ran for miles toward the northern cliff, but Draäm steadily followed us, despite his limp. Those jungles that I had been to in my unforgettable nightmare were not far. As we delved farther away from home, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was actually like in that old terrain of vegetation. The spells Draäm shot out at us all missed, because of his lack of sight. He hadn’t any sixth sense to take advantage of, and that was shameful for being the so-called ‘assassin’ or ‘Right Fist of Jobik’ that he claimed to be.

  The wizard and I continued our retreat for a few miles until the cliff wall leading to Matta Shimbib was fully visible in the distance. We knew right away that it was time to face him again, only this time, Äbaka and I intended on killing the would-be assassin. It was time to put an end to all this madness in which we had been caught up in on such a meaningful night. This party crasher was going to have a lot to answer for. My forefather stopped all of a sudden and put up a large wall-ward to block Draäm from getting to us, while he called out to another realm.

  “Draäm, I will not let you harm Sui! It is time, Anima! Come hither and make this vile creature whither in the eternal dimension of hell! Make him suffer your fell spell and lock him into the pit, where he will never see light again. His death shall be by you, Anima! Come! Come finish Draäm!”

  Before I could make a move against the golem, who shattered the magick façade, I was stopped in my tracks by a monstrous summoning. Out of the sky, I heard a terrible scream from a beast so mighty, that the land began to shake as it approached from the night sky in a spinning fashion with thunder and lightning embracing its body. To see the alarm in the eyes of the assassin who had been sent to kill me was very satisfying. Like seeing the villain meeting his doom in an illustrated novella, the feeling was splendid and invigorating. Anima was a great giant with a massive wingspan that extended nearly fifty feet across! The massive being was a powerful, legendary summon that had just as much fame and praise as my forefather had in his prime. The only difference between the two of them was size. None had ever seen Anima and forgotten his fangs, bright-yellow eyes, pallid skin, and the shimmering, jagged armor in which he was concealed. Anima’s weapons were his broad wings and his compelling magick, which very few opponents had overcome in the past. This was the first time I ever got to witness the monster’s abilities in action, and as I saw what it could do, I hoped I never would again. Even an evil assassin like Draäm, who was under Jobik’s thumb, didn’t deserve this, but it seemed to be the only way we could best him, after all our previous failures.

  I had to run a great distance so I wouldn’t get caught in the middle. There were explosions, sonic booms, flames, torrents, earthquakes, thunderstorms, and lesser summoned beasts; ruin was everywhere when Anima was on the plains of Crosscc that night. I had no idea how my forefather could handle a monster of such malice and cruelty. Unable to do anything but observe the mutilation of the stone-man, I sat in the grass, paralyzed by what I was witnessing. It would have driven most mortals mad, but I remained resilient. In the midst of all the destruction and chaos Äbaka had brought forth, I realized that my hands were blistered and bruised quite a bit, from slashing Soba into pure stone so many times. The hilt had rubbed against my hands and fingers far too roughly, despite the augment. I saw that Draäm had been completely stripped of his flesh, and all that remained was his skeleton.

  The would-be assassin was dead, and I was safe, along with the rest of Rïdeneer. Anima launched itself back into the darkness of the night sky, leaving Äbaka out of breath and broken to the core. When I saw he was panting on his knees, I immediately jumped over the hills and ran to his aid. His energy was completely diminished like a dandelion whose white fuzz has been blown away by pursed lips. I kneeled down to comfort him, giving him verbal support and thanks for saving the many lives of Rïdoranna.

  “Stay with me, Forefather; just hold it together until we get back home. Thank you so much for protecting me. I need to reward you some way. Dinner? Does dinner sound good to you, Forefather? Forefather?”

  He coughed and wearily looked up at me with half-opened, sunken eyes, his skeletal body trembling, and his hair and beard soaked with hot sweat as he heavily panted.

  “Sui, just your perseverance to defend yourself was enough for me to say that I barely did anything at all. Hell, Anima did nothing compared to your bravery and faith tonight. You never showed fear or distraction, and that is what a true mage holds to in the face of Jobik’s allies. Intelligence, willpower, bravery, faith, and hope; these are what make you strong. So I am proud to call you my student, and even prouder that you are my descendant.”

  With a tear running down my smile, I rubbed his hairy cheek and kissed his sweaty forehead. For a man so old, he was extremely modest. He was a kind soul, understanding things most could not, and I believe that is where I got my inordinately pleasant nature. This moment of love between my forefather and I was a memory I would never forget as long as I live. The old wizard fell asleep in my arms. Breathing softer and more soothingly, he peacefully slept with a large smile on his worn face. I stayed there with him for a few minutes just to get a bit of rest myself.

  As soon as I was about to get up, fastening my sword behind my back so I could carry my forefather home, George came running up to me in a maniacal panic.

  “Sui, Sui! What on Imga I were those lights? Your dad ordered us to-”

  Suddenly, a humungous monster burst straight out of the ground, flinging fragments of metal, rotten wood, and ancient stone. It was a giant, white, zombified, fire-breathing monster!

  “Dragon!” George screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing at the flightless zombie dragon. It turned its shriveled head our way and looked straight at us with a pair of black, glossy, dead eyes. It remained silent and motionless for a few seconds, giving us chills when we met its horrid gaze. The undead dragon suddenly roared as loud as thunder, shaking the ground with its stomping talons and crawling wings, covered with rotting maggot holes and putrid, puss-filled soars. As we found ourselves in a whole new battle against this undead colossus, it was apparent that we weren’t going back home anytime soon.

  Chapter 5

  Battle: an event not meant for all, and an activity meant for none. Only the faithful will prevail, but there is not enough faith in life for battle to win a man anything.

  ~Unknown Entry

  On a distant world, there are battles raging for the good of the Fancore and of life as a whole. The deadliest of warriors and barbarians are the notorious hordes of jaqae invading countless worlds while their master gradually rejuvenates his power to make his final move toward obliterating existence. Some of these worlds in which these fowl creatures invade survive to ward off these malevolent intruders. Others, however, aren’t so fortunate.

  A planet nearest to the twelve Imgas called Salidiah Pulse had been overrun by the forces of evil while the events on Imga I involving Sui, George, and the undead dragon were transpiring. On a small island, a castle at the base of a stretched mountain range, served as a school for mages. The battle had just begun when the jaqae ripped through the valiant mages protecting the draw bridge, killing them with varieties of horrendous weapons forged from Hell. They had been under siege for days when the walls were finally broken down and floods of blood thirsty jaqae tore down the lives of many teachers and students, young and old. To the jaqae, it was all fun and games; they laughed like hyenas and roared like wild bears in a seemingly endless blood bath.

  The guardians of the castle were minotaurs with thick, stout armor, gigantic battle axes and large septum nose rings with different carvings in the metal to distinguish individuals. Aside from staffs and staves, swords of elvish and dwarvish origin embodied the mage’s armory. The robed men and woman cut down jaqae and blasted them away with spells and charms. A vast majority of students, over twenty thousand, wound up dead or critically injured, followed by a slow demise. Those who survived were few and rapidly dep
leting until it became clear that there was no hope for the protection of the castle. Without a chance for the mages to prevent them from taking the castle, the jaqae had won dominion over the stronghold.

  After counting the remaining survivors, the old and wise Archmage found that there were only eleven. They fell back through the mountains until the Archmage finally made a magick rune holding the power to instantly travel through time and space. Searching for assistance, the eleven sorcerers went to Imga I on the outskirts of Rïdeneer. This was, of course, bad timing with Draäm’s attack, which crashed the party earlier that night. Soon the mages reached the Ozborn residence, where they knew the master wizard Äbaka lived. The eldest mage knocked upon the wooden door patiently, despite the panicked state of his students and teachers. They were completely ignorant of the whole situation involving Sui and the thunger assassin as they met a man with a bushy black beard.

  ***

  You never can be too careful when answering a door between you and a group of strangers these days.

  ~Jon Vaam Ozborn

  My wife was sleeping soundly in our bed while Molli Su anxiously insisted on helping me with the healing process. At about the hundredth time she implored, I gave in and taught her how to mix the pain relieving potion ingredients at the alchemy table. In the midst of my work, I heard a knock at the door, hoping it was the rest of my family. To my surprise, there stood a bunch of strangers wearing strange clothes on my porch. I was done in, fatigued by the battle, but I had to treat my wife. These foreigners were distracting me from my work.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Excuse us, but I am a friend of Äbaka’s,” said the old man in the front, clearly offended by my tone, “These are my students behind me. If you don’t mind me asking, is Äbaka present by any chance?”

  “No, he’s out there protecting my daughter and her- wh- why do you wish to see him?”

  “There has been an invasion in our school on the world of Salidiah Pulse. Jaqae have killed so many of our fellow mages and we require the help of a master in sorcery such as Greenbeard.”

  “Greenbeard?”

  “That’s just what I like to call him.”

  “Go out into the Crosscc plains.” I told them, pointing north, “I saw a series of explosions out there. We have been attacked as well.”

  “My heavens, child, is everyone here alright?”

  “As far as I know, but I can’t say for sure. My daughter and her dearest are fighting off a thunger as we speak. The wizard should be with them as well.” I looked behind me and saw Molli holding her mother’s necklace. “Look,” I added, turning back to the strangers, “nothing would please me more than to come with you and help, but I’m presently busy watching over my wife and younger daughter.”

  With a nod, the old man sent his followers to Crosscc. He turned again to me and concluded his visit. “I understand, child. We shall leave at once. Just be weary of who you let in your house. Jobik has followers in many forms. I suggest the most restrained caution.”

  “Yes sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife needs me.”

  I shut the door behind me and went on about my business, checking Sellina’s fever which changed rapidly. Her heart beat was stable, but the pain was apparent as she moaned and squinted in her sleep. The red nettle’s leaves, decorating in the bedroom window, began to whither in the night. I could only pray that it wasn’t a sign that my wife would whither as well. Molli Su continued to make the potions as I continued regulating Sellina’s temperature. The clocks kept ticking and putting me on the brink of losing myself in stress. If not for the assistance of my darling daughter, I surely would have.

  ***

  There’s birth, death, rebirth, and then there’s a thing practiced by necromancers: undeath.

  ~Sui Bane Ozborn

  The monster rose from the ground, stinking of death and decay, much worse than anything I had ever inhaled before. For some odd reason, seeing this dragon gave me a sense of déjà vu surrealism. The amulet on my breast began to shimmer with a golden magickal radiance while I stood before the colossal, zombified tyrant. Unable to fly, the dragon stood above us, without making a single move. It appeared to be staring down at the amulet. I gripped my blade tighter, despite the blisters, not sure what was about to happen. The beast’s pasty eyes glared at it with such inquiry and bizarre fascination, that it became especially easy for George to make a move while it was distracted.

  When the mesmerized dragon least expected it, George plunged his daggers straight into its right ankle, forcing it to roar in pain. As soon as I saw the shredded wings unfurl, I thought it would take flight, but when it turned to George, the maws of the beast oozed with muck, and the webbing of the wings crumbled apart like old paper. Claws the size of Soba reached out to strike George with a horrifying sweep, but thanks to his agile moves, he was able to dodge it and keep the blood flowing within his body, instead of on the ground. He took a few good jabs at the dragon’s jaw, causing the dust and dry blood to fall out like dry clay powder. The horror stories of zombies and draugrs, which my forefather told me about when I was a little girl, seemed like child’s tales until I actually faced this undead behemoth.

  The monster leaped forward to throw its rank body at George, but he quickly rolled out of the way. The dragon continued to target him for breaking its concentration on my lustrous amulet, which was still glowing for some reason. As I joined in to help George with the raging horror, I couldn’t help wonder why the amulet was glowing. It intrigued me as much as it did the dragon.

  Because the dragon was focusing intently on George, ripping apart its decaying flesh piece by flimsy piece was pure simplicity until there was not much left of it but a few bones, strips of greenish-brown flesh, and useless organs dangling from between the ribcage. Without warning, the foul beast roared demonically, breathing fire at us, disintegrating all its rotten teeth and shriveling its forked tongue to ash. The dragon was still animated, despite gradually falling apart with each aggressive movement.

  Cringing and squirming like the maggots within its belly, the reanimated corpse relentlessly tried to bite us with its toothless gums. I did my best to protect George from being trampled while also looking out for myself. I leaped forward on top of the dragon’s snout and cut at the tip of its nose. The beast only became more belligerent, trying to buck me off. I held on as tightly as I could until the monster finally got its gummy jaws around George’s arm; sinking one of its few, partially remaining sword-like fangs through his flesh. With the horrid stench filling my nose, I couldn’t bear another minute of being around this thing. I could hear George cursing under his breath, ready to unleash dozens of offensive spells that might slay the tyrant.

  I continued to block its attacks and countered the fatal thrashes of its claws by simply cutting at its talons when I had a clear shot. The beast moaned like a wild troll and shrieked like a buzzard, which had probably once chewed at its grizzly flesh. During my training, I spent many days learning to cast spells and charms that were related to altering necromancy, so this zombie was just like any other monster, as far as I could tell. I slashed and swung Soba across the dragon’s corpse nearly a thousand times, but it still stood far above the ground and recklessly continued to tear at me and George. Its bones were nearly indestructible, so taking it down wasn’t going to be simple.

  I grew tired of pointlessly swinging my blade. In an attempt to counter a lunging snap of the dragon’s jaw, I leaped to the side and split the beast’s neck in two, beheading it and learning yet another lesson. Undead dragons, or zombies all together, could only be physically killed by decapitation. The disgusting tyrant was down at last.

  George held his hand firmly on his arm where he had been bitten. I went over to him to see what I could do to mend his grievous wound, which was bleeding puss and blood.

  “Here,” I said, “I can ease the pain for you. Or I can t
ry at least.”

  “No, Sui. Go to your forefather over there. He needs your support more than I do.”

  I looked over to where the wizard had passed out, only to find his depression in the grass. The old man was gone without a trace. My parents couldn’t have taken him back home because they would have stopped to assist us with the dragon. Considering the condition he was in, he surely wouldn’t have been capable of supporting his own weight. Someone else had to have carried him off; hopefully, it was a friend at home and not another one of Jobik’s allies. Either way, George’s wound was deep and beginning to swell around the gashed flesh turning pale like the light of the infinite moon. It was time we headed home to see if my mother was well enough to heal us. And perhaps we would find Äbaka there, awaiting our return.

  “Äbaka’s gone,” I told George, “he probably made it home while we were fighting. Come on, we need to head back to Rïdeneer. My mother will heal you.”

  “You’ll have to carry me. My legs- I feel as though I’m- rotting.”