The Dubious Tale of the Winter Wizard

by Nick McNeil

  Bertly glanced up at the white monster, and he saw his father getting to his feet behind the tiger.

  “Bertly, kokos hate being wet!” Polly exclaimed.

  Bertly, already bent over from trying to pick up his sword, dropped to his knees and punched his fists into the ground. The blanket of snow covering the ground turned into water. The tiger picked up its pace and charged in Bertly’s direction. The Winter Wizard turned his palms face up and lifted them above his head, sending the water full force at the tiger. The splash drenched the creature, but it kept charging. Roderick stepped out in front of Polly and clapped his hands. The body of water covering the tiger turned to ice.

  Bertly jerked his head back and saw Roderick with his hands clasped together. Bertly looked back at the white tiger. Its body was covered in ice, and the beast looked as though it were frozen in time.

  “Roderick, was that you?” Bertly experienced an alien sensation; his anxiety had turned into pride. He felt triumphant, even though he was not the one to slay the beast.

  “Ever since we left the Eternal Cave, I have been trying to figure out how you made that waterfall freeze.” The way Roderick puckered his lips together as he spoke indicated to Bertly that he was trying to hold back a smile. “Sir.”

  “I truly am a great master.” The corners of Bertly’s mouth turned up. “Just being around me can teach one how to slay a sabretooth.”

  Devdan shuffled on the ground and attempted to help himself up.

  “Come on, guys! Now is our chance to get away,” Polly yelled.

  Bertly grabbed the warblade from the ground. He clenched the grip and bent his knees, readying himself to strike; however, his blade didn’t extend from the hilt. Bertly glared at the grip. He shook it in an attempt to extract the blade. “It’s not working.”

  “That’s fine. Help your father and let’s go,” Polly stressed.

  Edfrid emerged from around the back of the sabretooth tiger and walked along the side of it. His shoulders were slouched, and a menacing glare was glued to his face as he dragged his war hammer across the ground. The weight of the heavy head left behind a trail as it was lugged across the dirt. Edfrid stopped to examine the head of the white tiger and turned his attention to its eyes. Edfrid stuck his hand into the open mouth of the sabretooth and gripped its upper jaw. Bertly heard the ice around the creature’s face start to crack as his father yanked and ripped the upper jaw from the beast’s skull cavity. Polly jumped back and yelped.

  Edfrid turned and walked away without saying a word. After a couple of steps, he stopped and tossed the sabretooth’s teeth to Bertly. Edfrid clutched his hammer with both fists and let out a monstrous roar. He heaved the hammer above his head, turned, and plowed it straight into the tiger’s cranium, knocking its head clean off. “Let’s go.” Blood poured from the opening where the animal’s neck had been attached to its head. “The entrance isn’t far from here.” Edfrid snatched the tiger’s teeth as he walked past Bertly.

  ***

  The group was silent from that moment on—most were injured, and all were exhausted. The sun was starting to set, and the well-lit mountains were casting their long shadows over Noskar. The temperature was quickly dropping, or perhaps the peppers were wearing off. Bertly assumed it was a bit of both. Edfrid led the group through the labyrinth of crevices with his war hammer slung over his shoulder. Devdan followed just behind Polly, who was the only one thus far unscathed by their journey, yet she seemed the most distraught. Bertly knew she was mad about the sabretooth being killed, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He didn’t understand why she was upset; if the creature had gotten its way, they would’ve all been supper.

  “I am freezing, sir.” Roderick’s teeth were chattering. “Can I have some of those peppers?”

  Bertly shook his head. “Sorry, little apprentice, we need the rest for the trip back.”

  Edfrid led the group through a narrow passage. Bertly had to shuffle his body horizontally just to fit. Above, the mountains were closed off, and the group squeezed into a tiny mountain hole. On the other side, the pathway opened back up; however, very little light came through the top. They were not in a cave, but they weren’t on an open road, either.

  “Can I have a blanket, then?” Roderick asked.

  “They have limited use, Roderick,” Bertly replied. “They will hardly last us through tonight.”

  “Do not worry, boy,” Edfrid added. “We will be there any—” He paused as he turned the corner. “Second.” They came to a dead end.

  Nestled between the foothills rested a statue that someone had carved into the shape of a dragon’s head. The stone figure was delicately crafted, with each scale finely detailed. The eyes were larger than dinner plates, and the top of its head was higher than a cottage roof. The mouth of the dragon was carved wide open, revealing an entrance to the inside of the mountains. A thick layer of steam bellowed from the mouth of the cave. Bertly could feel the heat on his face.

  Bertly walked toward the entryway. “Elves,” he exclaimed as he walked toward the mouth of the dragon. As he turned back around, he caught a glimpse of Polly. “And, Polly… I present to you—” Bertly stood in the entrance of the cave and held his hands in the air “—the Dragon’s Crypt.”

  Roderick’s body trembled. “S-sir, can I w-wait outside?” he stuttered.

  “You always have that great attitude, Roderick.” Bertly clapped his hands. “I love it.” He whipped around and stared down the throat of the stone dragon. The steam rolled out in abundance, making a blanket so thick Bertly couldn’t see the tips of his fingers when he stuck his arm out. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the warm mist fill his lungs. Bertly took a moment to gather his thoughts as he adjusted to the humid air.

  Edfrid walked up to Bertly and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”

  Bertly looked to his father and nodded. Without unsheathing it, Bertly clenched the grip of his warblade and marched into the mouth of the dragon—his body vanishing as the intense steam consumed him.

  XVII

  Bertly stood just beyond the dragon’s mouth and examined the crypt as he waited for the others to catch up. The air was humid, but the steam was much less cumbersome than it was at the entrance. Bat droppings covered the ground, adding a heavy odor that carried through the haze. When he closed his eyes, he could hear water droplets splashing in the puddles scattered across the floor.

  “Cozy,” Polly teased.

  “What’s that smell?” Roderick squinted as he used his shirt to cover his nose and mouth.

  “Dragon scales, my apprentice.” Bertly took a deep breath. “Breathe it in. He is so close I can almost taste it.”

  “I think it’s the bat dung, sir.” Roderick gagged. He tilted his chin upward and met Bertly’s eyes with a pathetic look on his face. “I don’t think it’s dragon scales.”

  “I was speaking metaphorically, Roderick.” Bertly grunted and clenched his jaw. “We do not have time for your nonsense.” He pointed down the pathway. “Onward!” he yelled.

  Bertly led his companions through the steamy passageways of the Dragon’s Crypt. Torches along the walls were already lit, exposing remnants of old camps. The broken pottery and cobwebs were signs the dungeon had been long abandoned. There were pieces of broken armor and miscellaneous weapons dispersed throughout the cave.

  “I wonder how the torches manage to stay lit considering the air is so damp?” Polly questioned.

  “Dragon’s flame, obviously.” Bertly kicked a metal helmet across the ground as he walked. “A small mist isn’t going to put that out.”

  Polly walked up to Bertly and clutched his cloak. Water squeezed out from the cloth and dripped onto the floor. “Pretty wet for a small mist.”

  Bertly rolled his eyes and continued to lead his father and friends deeper into the crypt. Farther ahead was a single pathway that coiled like a snake, and its twists and turns le
d directly down into the darkness. Bertly came to a stop and peered into the cave’s depths. The torches’ intensity had dissipated, but there was still enough light to illuminate the empty metal cages that hung from the walls.

  Devdan cleared his throat. “So, are we also going to find a mound of hidden treasure when we stumble upon this dragon?”

  “Dragons do not have a means by which they can hide treasure, Devdan.” Bertly pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes. “Everyone knows that is just a myth.” He let out a long breath. “He is down there. If you don’t want to come, you can wait here.” He snapped his fingers. “Lightus.” A small glowing orb appeared and lit the path ahead. Bertly adjusted his scabbard and marched headfirst along the trail. “Roderick, you’d better be following me,” he snapped.

  The group climbed deeper into the dungeon’s passages, and the farther they went, the more they noticed that many pathways had either collapsed or led to dead ends. The explorers’ pace slowed, and Bertly could tell the others were growing tired. They would need to set up camp somewhere in the caves—and soon.

  Bertly’s mind wandered until he caught a glimpse of a green light in the distance. He gripped Devdan’s shoulder and shook him, all the while pointing at the bright green spot. “Check that out.”

  “What do you suppose it is?” Devdan asked.

  Edfrid took the lead. “Let’s find out.”

  They stumbled upon a small indentation that appeared to have once served as a room. An altar was placed in the center and was covered in green, glowing runes. The area was packed with empty sacks and crates, which Bertly kicked to the side as he walked toward the glowing altar.

  Devdan pried open a wooden crate. “It’s empty.”

  “So is this one,” Edfrid added.

  “What do you suppose these are?” Bertly asked. His first instinct was to swipe the runes right off the altar; however, the last time he’d snatched something, it didn’t go over so well for him, so he naturally had second thoughts.

  “They’re glowing crystals, sir,” Roderick replied.

  “They’re runes, Roderick,” Bertly snapped.

  Roderick scratched his head. “What’s the difference?”

  “It means they’re enchanted,” Polly responded. “Humans used to use them to bring life to cities and towns.” Polly’s eyes glowed and a smile stretched across her face. “These are beyond rare. Only the old capital has these now.” She stood next to Bertly, who was trying to touch them as gently as possible.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” Roderick shook his head. “I don’t understand. How will that add life to a city? Does it make plants grow or something?”

  “No, no.” Polly chuckled. “How do I explain this?” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Here is an example. Old mill owners used to use runes to make their water mills turn without having any running water.”

  “Outstanding,” Roderick replied.

  “That is almost hard to believe,” Devdan added.

  Bertly turned around. “Oh, believe it, Roderick.” He stepped down and held the runes out in his hand. “When Cordelia was alive, old Noskar was a place like you have never imagined.” Bertly continued toward Roderick and Devdan. “We used runes to make carriages run on their own.”

  The elf’s eyes grew.

  “People used these to start campfires, to make ladles turn on their own, to keep their cottages warm during the winter.” Their jaws dropped and Bertly stepped closer. “We will use these to bring that prestige back to Noskar.” Bertly looked to his father. “And we will start with Stonebank.”

  “Warm a cottage during winter,” Edfrid mumbled. “Bertly, the vapor is thinning.”

  “So it is.” Bertly put his hand out and looked around. “These runes must have been creating the steam.” Bertly opened his travel sack and placed the runes inside. “A great way to ward off intruders.”

  Roderick gulped. “Sir, does this mean there isn’t a dragon?”

  “Of course not.” Bertly ruffled Roderick’s hair. “It just means we have to travel a bit farther.”

  ***

  The travelers voyaged onward. They dragged their feet and carried on without conversation. Bertly’s feet were sore and throbbing; he wanted to somehow stick them in a bucket of ice and hot water at the same time. His neck and lower backed ached from all the hiking. The voyagers navigated farther in the crypt’s shadows until they arrived at a wide and hollow room. Small holes and burrowed paths were etched into the walls.

  Roderick’s knees started to shake. “What do you suppose lives in those?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Bertly countered.

  Roderick looked to the ceiling and peered at the adjacent walls. “On second thought, I think I will pass.”

  “Do you see the way out, Bertly?” Edfrid asked. “I don’t want to be in here for very long.”

  There was a rustling noise in the distance, and when Bertly was able to concentrate on the noise, it appeared to be getting louder. He knew what was coming and it was getting closer. His breath quickened and his heart raced. Bertly surveyed the nearby walls, but he couldn’t find any openings.

  “What’s that?” Devdan pointed. “In the distance?”

  Diagonally from the group, on the other side of the immense room, was a single trail.

  “What’s that sound?” Roderick asked. The rustling echoed throughout the chamber and was now loud enough that everyone was able to detect it.

  “Let’s go.” Edfrid sprinted toward the pathway. Loud screeches filled the room.

  “Sweet Cordelia.” Devdan drew his sword. “What is that?”

  “Mountain bats!” Bertly shouted. “Now, let’s get out of here.” The students took off and ran to catch up to Edfrid.

  Pouring in from the holes were bats the size of small children. Some crept along the walls while others flew straight at various members of the group, seemingly without distraction. Shark-tooth-like fangs lined the entirety of their faces. The bats’ gray, furless wings spanned nearly the full width of the passageway.

  Neither Devdan nor Bertly’s father were carrying Roderick. Bertly looked back out of pure instinct, and trailing several dozen paces behind the group was Roderick—panting and moving his feet as though bricks were attached. Closing in on Roderick from all angles were a half-dozen mountain bats.

  Bertly slipped as he attempted to turn around faster than his body was able to handle, but he regained his footing and hurried to catch up with his apprentice. He was only a few steps from Roderick, but a hungry bat also hovered mere feet from the elf, with its enormous mouth wide and ready to ensnare its prey. The bald and eyeless creature swooped to grasp Roderick with its sharp talons. As Bertly drew his warblade and leaped into the air, he could see strands of drool running between the bat’s teeth, the manic look in its eyes, and time felt as though it had slowed dramatically.

  While airborne, Bertly managed to puncture the bat with his sword, driving it through the side of the creature’s head—the point of the blade emerged through its opposing ear. The bat dropped Roderick to the ground, and Bertly landed beside his apprentice.

  Bertly grabbed Roderick by the collar and threw him over his shoulder. As he sprinted, he truly felt the muscle mass he’d gained from the Eternal Cave; it felt as though his feet and legs moved without any effort or even input from him.

  Bertly’s father and the others stood at the passage’s exit, gesturing for him to run quicker. Bertly hollered and took off even faster, kicking up rubble and dust behind him—pelting Roderick right in the face, Bertly hoped. Without putting on the brakes, he rushed through the exit, almost knocking over both Devdan and his father.

  Bertly looked back to ensure he’d escaped the mountain bats, but even the quickest of glances revealed that he hadn’t come close. A dense cloud of leathery, flapping wings rushed toward him and the others. Polly slipped on her glove as she stepped back into the cave. With a single snap of her thin fin
gers, an eruption of fire filled the room. The on-and-off screeches of the cave bats turned into a constant howl as the fire scathed the beasts. The dark cloud was set ablaze, and scores of bats dropped to the floor. As the bats fell in rapid succession, Polly threw her head back and her knees buckled, straining under the weight of her magic—Edfrid snatched her before she hit the ground.

  “Come, boy, take her from me.” Edfrid held Polly out. “That stopped them, but only for now.” Devdan rushed over and took Polly from Bertly’s father. With his hammer, Edfrid slammed the side of the entryway, causing the frame to collapse. “It’ll be a little rough, but we should be able to open it back up on our way out.” Edfrid holstered his war hammer. “But for now, it should keep those things off our tails.”

  Bertly and Edfrid glanced over at their group. Devdan held an unconscious Polly, and next to Bertly was a traumatized Roderick.

  “Let’s set up a small camp and let everyone rest for a little while,” Edfrid said. “I think we could all use some rest.”

  ***

  Bertly sat propped against a cave wall near the group’s modest-sized campfire. His clothes were almost dry now that the steam had died down. Polly, Devdan, and Roderick were fast asleep, which left Edfrid and Bertly as the only travelers alert, once again. Edfrid sat across from Bertly on top of a stone. He was tinkering with something, but through the dim light of the campfire, Bertly couldn’t see very well what it was.

  “What are you working on?” Bertly asked.

  “I am making something for your little apprentice. He did well today,” Edfrid replied.

  Bertly chuckled and raised his eyebrows. “You’re making something?”

  Edfrid muttered to himself, fumbled with the item in his hands, and held up something that resembled a necklace. “I used the sabre’s teeth.” He poked the fangs, which were attached to a string. He’d bored holes in the incisors of the beast and had strung them through with a bit of leather. “I shaved the big ones down a little. Didn’t want to break the little man’s neck.” He smirked. “Not to mention, they would have hung to his belt loops.” Edfrid and Bertly shared a chuckle.