Good Ogre

by Platte F. Clark

“Don’t let it touch you!” Wayne shouted, stepping away.

  The sound of thunder exploded around them as a lightning bolt tore through the ceiling of the old gymnasium. The blast sent Max and his friends tumbling as bits of tile and insulation fell with the rain. They scrambled to their feet, standing knee-deep in the sable fog flowing like a river from the mouth of the portal.

  “It touched us,” Dirk said, looking from the black fog back to Wayne. “It’s not going to be good, is it?”

  “No,” Wayne answered.

  Above them the storm raged as black and gray clouds bubbled to life; lightning danced between them, followed by a shrill screech as if the very sky was being torn apart. The wind and rain broke more pieces of the ceiling off, but this time the chunks of roof flew upward, joining a cyclone of flying debris. Max looked up through the rain and wind and saw, to his horror, a twisting tornado taking shape.

  “Run!” Sarah yelled, pulling Max and dragging him toward the exit. Dirk quickly followed, and the three scrambled toward the door. Wayne hesitated, however, looking at the portal and then back at Max.

  “Hurry, Wayne!” Max cried back to him. Wayne considered the mass of black swirling around him, then turned and ran after the others. The group sprinted down the stairwell, up to their waists now in the fog, before darting down a side hallway and to a set of double doors that led outside. They flew through, but were nearly swept off their feet by a gust of wind that hit with the force of a boxer’s punch.

  “Look!” Dirk cried. Above them the storm continued to rage, the clouds not only stretching across the sky, but also down. Madison was being walled in.

  A shudder traveled down Max’s spine as a nearby wall exploded. He felt chunks of brick pelt him along his back and side. As one, the group took off across the schoolyard, dodging debris and rain that moved like bullets in the ferocious winds. But there was something else going on—something more terrible than the storm. Max turned around in time to see the school grow. The rows of neatly packed red bricks broke apart as large gray stones erupted into place around them. Then the whole structure rose from the ground, the stones coming to the surface like the roots of an obnoxious weed pulled from the earth. The building twisted on itself, rising like a tower—and at its top, a tornado whipped about and stretched to connect with the dark clouds above.

  The humming in Max’s ears returned, and with it a new pain exploded in his head, causing him to ­stumble forward. The others stopped to help him as the black fog spilled from the former school’s misshapen windows, pouring to the ground and surging like a wave. There was something in the fog—something that was dark and menacing and surged with the power of dark magic. Max could actually feel it. He looked at his friends, and they stared back at him, their faces flushed and eyes growing distant. The magic was affecting them—it was changing them!

  Max reached out with his mind and found the Codex in his backpack. He’d long since committed the names of the Prime Spells to memory—spells so powerful that all other magic was drawn from them. He felt his own mind begin to drift, the spell slipping away. He was beginning to change too.

  “Panoply!” he shouted, and the Prime Spell came roaring to him. It flowed through Max and his friends, pushing the black magic away and surrounding them in a kind of bubble. Panoply—to cover and protect. But using the Codex in the human realm took nearly all the strength Max had. He collapsed, barely able to hold the spell together. Wayne reached down and scooped him up in his arms.

  “What’s happening?” Sarah exclaimed. “Something was inside of me.”

  “Hurry, get us inside,” Max said, his voice barely audible over the storm. “It’s going to change things. It’s going to change everything.”

  They put Max down in the back room of the Dragon’s Den, where Dwight kept an extra cot. Max fought to keep hold of the spell he’d cast, pushing it outward as far as he could. He thought the protective bubble encircled the Dragon’s Den, but it was hard to tell. He could feel it weaken the farther he stretched it. He concentrated on the building, willing the spell to leave his control and attach itself to the brick and mortar outside. He could feel the connection between the Prime Spell and the Codex—the magic would have to sustain itself. “Don’t leave the building, no matter what,” Max whispered. The Prime Spell had taken everything from him, and he felt his body shutting down. The others were gathered around him, watching with worried expressions, the sound of the storm muffled by the magic Max had put into place.

  “Dude, what did you do?” Dirk asked.

  “I opened the door,” Max admitted. “He was waiting on the other side.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A NEW WORLD

  MAX WALKED INTO THE MAIN room of the Dragon’s Den, rubbing his eyes and trying to ignore the pounding in his head. He found Dwight standing by the counter and asked, “Do you have an aspirin or something?”

  His friends had been pressed against the windows, and they turned at the sound of his voice. He’d lost track of time, and outside a kind of gray light pushed through the windows. He caught sight of the storm clouds in the distance, gripping the sky like a vise.

  “Max, you’re awake,” Sarah said, her voice tight.

  Dwight wandered off to find something for Max’s headache as Puff padded to his side. “I’m glad you’re okay,” the fluff dragon said, looking up at him. “Whatever magic you used to protect us worked.”

  For the briefest of moments Max had hoped it had all been a bad dream. He knew better, of course. His nightmares usually involved being chased by vegetables. “Is everyone okay?” he managed to ask.

  “Dude,” Dirk replied, but then his voice trailed off. Max frowned—his friend wasn’t usually at a loss for words. He walked toward the window as the memories from the day before fell into place: getting the portal from Wayne . . . opening the doorway to another world . . . the black fog . . . fighting against the magic that had tried to change him.

  Max reached the window and stared outside in silence. Madison’s Main Street was gone, and in its place a dirt path wound through brown weeds and dead grass. There were a number of tall black trees, with long branches that drooped to the ground and ran in tangles before rising again and growing into the next. Everywhere a gray haze hung in the air, and Max could barely make out the building where the town library used to stand. And beyond that were the beginnings of some kind of footbridge. He could hear the wind blowing through the window, carrying with it a kind of gurgling sound. Water, maybe . . . although it sounded more like hot cereal bubbling on a stovetop. Overhead the dark storm blanketed the sky, slowly churning as flashes of lightning danced across its surface. Everything had changed, and Madison looked more like an online game would than the town he’d grown up in.

  Dwight brought Max a couple of pills and a glass of water, and he threw them back and drained the glass, not realizing how thirsty he’d been. “Thanks,” Max said, handing the glass back to the dwarf. Dwight nodded and then motioned outside.

  “The storm’s messing with everything—no TV or Internet, and all the phones are down. Not even the blasted radio is getting through. Whole town’s been cut off.”

  “What town?” Sarah asked, an uncharacteristic chill in her voice. “That’s not Madison out there. Not anymore.” Her words stung, and Max felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was his fault—all of it. And not in the way their first adventure had started—that had been an accident. This he’d done on purpose. It didn’t matter that he’d had good intentions; he’d ignored his friends and opened the portal despite their warnings.

  It took a second before Max realized something else had changed. He rubbed his eyes and stared at Sarah—she was dressed in leather armor. He’d seen her like that before, but never in the Techrus. This time her armor was black with gold trim, and had a leaflike pattern on the front and shoulders. Beneath it she wore a mesh of tiny woven rings, with a floor-length white cloak draped
around her shoulders. It nearly covered the sword hanging from the leather belt around her hips.

  “Er,” he began, “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Good of you to notice. We were kind of waiting for you to tell us.”

  “Us . . . ?” Max began, then turned and saw the ­others.

  “Yeah,” Dirk said, stepping forward with a frown. He wore a colorful tunic with large, quarter-sized buttons. The tunic’s sleeves were of the puffy might-have-belonged-to-a-pirate variety, cut high so the cuffs of an even puffier might-have-belonged-to-a-pirate-masquerading-as-a-clown undershirt poked out from the bottom. Purple tights—Max had to blink several times to confirm—yes, Dirk was also wearing purple tights that disappeared into knee-high and entirely far too pointy boots. A thin belt was tied high around Dirk’s waist, and a red satchel hung from his shoulder. And if that wasn’t enough, he was also carrying a lute.

  “Wow,” Max said. He’d seen Dirk dressed as an elf, but this was something else entirely. “Did you know you’re carrying a lute?”

  “Duh,” the lute replied, and Max recognized the voice.

  “Glenn?”

  “How many other talking objects do you know?”

  Max scratched his head—it sounded like Glenn, the Legendary Dagger of Motivation, but the Glenn he knew probably didn’t have banjos as relatives.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Dirk said with a frown. “Glenn is now this stupid musical instrument thing.”

  “A lute,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, a lute,” Dirk repeated, not liking the sound of the word in his mouth.

  “Well, at least I’m not dressed like a walking parrot,” the lute replied. Max frowned—Glenn was usually more encouraging.

  “What’s going on exactly?” Max asked.

  “Dude, I’ll tell you what’s going on: I’m a stinking bard!” And now that Dirk said it, Max could see that his best friend did look very much like the musical minstrels they’d seen (but never ever played) as online characters. “I keep wanting to sing—seriously, it’s driving me crazy.”

  Max looked at Dwight—he seemed his same old self. The dwarf shrugged. “What can I say, still handsome as ever.”

  “And I haven’t changed either,” Puff said from his spot near the counter.

  “Best guess is that it has something to do with that black fog,” Sarah announced. “I think it’s the reason the town has been transformed.”

  “Yeah, look at me,” Dirk complained. “I’m wearing tights. Do you know how long it takes to undress just so I can go to the bathroom?”

  “But I still feel the same,” Max said.

  “I don’t think you’ve looked close enough,” Glenn replied.

  Max glowered, looking down at his clothes. Unless he’d somehow slipped into someone’s nightshirt, things had gone horribly wrong. He ran over to the mirror on the far wall as the others trailed behind him. Max saw his reflection staring back at him; he was dressed in a long blue robe with a sparkling sash tied around his waist. A sash? Real men don’t wear sashes! Slung over Max’s shoulder was a white leather satchel, and he could feel the weight of the Codex of Infinite Knowability inside. But what really shocked him was his hair—usually a thick mop of brown, it had turned nearly white and grown to reach his shoulders. “I’m old! And a hippie!”

  “Wizards don’t age like normal people,” Dirk announced, walking over and joining Max’s reflection in the mirror. They looked like two characters out of their role-playing games.

  “Is it Halloween already?” Glenn asked. “Let me guess your costumes: nursing-home grandpa and deranged clown. You two will be getting lots of candy for sure.”

  “Dirk says I’m a paladin,” Sarah added, ignoring Glenn. “Whatever that is.”

  Dirk nodded in agreement. “Only paladins can pull off wearing white cloaks.”

  “But how?” Max asked. “And why?”

  “We were in the fog,” Sarah answered. “We all felt it doing something to us, but then you stopped it.”

  Max moved away from the mirror, not liking the whole white-hair-and-blue-robes look. “I felt something magical start to take hold. It felt dark and old. And powerful. The only thing I could think of was to grab a Prime Spell. I guess it was strong enough to work.”

  “And good thing you did,” Puff said. “I’ve heard of such magic before. It would have changed you into something monstrous. Now it’s just changed you into something . . . else. Although Dirk could still be considered monstrous, I suppose.”

  “Wait, where’s Wayne?” Max asked, suddenly remembering him.

  “He’s upstairs sleeping,” Dwight said, “with the others.”

  “Others . . . ?”

  “Melvin, Megan, and Sydney,” Sarah answered. “They came back after the storm started.”

  “Then they came under the protection of the spell,” Max said. “Before I passed out, I was able to attach it to the building.”

  “I think I know what’s going on,” Dwight said. He retrieved his Dwarven Book of Lore from under the counter and dropped it with a thud. After climbing onto his stool, he began flipping the pages. The others gathered around. “Here it is—the Cataclysm.”

  “Things that start with ‘cat’ are not to be trusted,” Dirk informed them. “Cataracts, catapults, catsup, ­catalogs—”

  “Finished?” Dwight asked. “Or do you have more prattling to do?”

  Dirk frowned but remained quiet.

  “The Cataclysm is what happens when a realm is touched by the umbraverse,” Dwight continued. “It has the power to change everything in its path, drawing upon whatever magic caused the doorway to open.”

  “And that would be the Shadric Portal,” Sarah said, doing her best not to look at Max. “Black magic.”

  Max scratched his head. “So you’re saying that the black fog was the umbraverse taking over our world?”

  “Not so much taking over but transforming. Turning the Techrus into a shadow realm, like the Shadrus.”

  “If this is indeed a Cataclysm, the storm outside will continue to grow,” Puff warned. “It will slowly build until it has the strength to surge outward again, transforming more of the Techrus each time. Eventually it will grow large enough to encircle the world.”

  Dwight scratched at his beard. “This is the doing of the Maelshadow, I’m sure of it.”

  “What does that mean for the rest of the town?” Sarah asked. “What about our families?”

  “The Cataclysm will change them, too,” Dwight answered. “If not for Max’s spell you would have suffered the same fate. And Puff is right—the transformation still happened, only it was robbed of its dark magic.”

  “So we became what . . . ? Characters?” Sarah asked. “I don’t get it.”

  “Me either,” Dwight admitted. “Maybe you became what the Codex wanted you to become. Or maybe you became whatever it was that Max was dreaming about while he slept. Magic is tricky business.”

  “Dude!” Dirk exclaimed, swatting Max on the back of the head. “Why are you dreaming about me being a bard?”

  “I didn’t!” Max said. “Did I?”

  “Guys, we have to figure out what happened to our families,” Sarah said, trying to get them back on track. She turned to Max. “And Max, you have to find a way to fix all of this.” She didn’t need to say because it’s your fault. He had no idea how to stop a Cataclysm or what it meant to deal with Shadric magic, the umbraverse, or the Maelshadow. He just knew he had to do something about it.

  “Sarah, everyone, look . . . I’m sorry,” Max said. “I didn’t listen to you, and I should have.” No one said anything, but Max knew his friends would forgive him eventually. Unless something terrible had happened to their families—he knew Sarah would never get over it, and it would be the end of their friendship. The thought of that was almost too much to bear.
“Is there anything else we know about this Cataclysm?” Max asked, his voice wavering a little.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” Dwight said. “I have a few more books in the back.”

  “I remember something, actually,” Puff said, searching his dragon-aged memories. “First the Cataclysm changes the substance of a thing. Later it changes its essence. Remember the one is not necessarily the other.”

  Dirk scratched his head. “Huh?”

  Sarah stepped in. “I think Puff is suggesting the changes aren’t permanent—at least not yet. Actually it’s a notion that goes back to Aristotle.”

  “Yeah, I was just going to say that,” Dirk said.

  “You wouldn’t know Aristotle if the Lyceum fell on your head,” Glenn replied.

  Dirk frowned. “That’s not true—it’s like my favorite band.”

  “Maybe we should be getting ready to leave?” Max interjected.

  “Good idea,” Dirk replied, reaching for Glenn. “And I think a packing-stuff-up montage song would do nicely here—”

  “No!” everyone shouted at once.

  It wasn’t long before the others woke. Like Max and his friends, they’d been changed by the storm, but Max’s spell had altered the course of their transformation. Megan had become a priestess healer in a long white robe, while Sydney was a pixie about the size of Dwight, and with wings! Melvin had become an elf with a quiver of arrows and a longbow (Dirk immediately felt a wave of elf envy at the sight of him). Wayne had appeared dressed in chain mail and carrying a heavy shield and axe.

  They gathered at the front of the store and Max explained everything that had happened, which included going into his own history as well. They listened as he talked about the robot-fueled future that featured televised hunts and arena-style combat, the meeting with the dragon king Obsikar, and the perilous journey back in time to the Magrus to return the Codex to the Wizard’s Tower and defeat Rezormoor Dreadbringer. Dirk interjected his own commentary along the way, including his bringing an online character to life and the fact that Princess the Unicorn and her wizard had decided to stay in Madison (and she totally had a crush on him). The others took it all in without any real problems, which must have come from years of LARP training.