The Dubious Tale of the Winter Wizard

by Nick McNeil

  Mother inhaled and took her time before replying. “Bishop is marching through the Remnant Forest as we speak. He and his armies will be at Eplium before the next nightfall.”

  “What does this mean? What do we do?” Bertly tapped his foot and a flush crept over his face. “How many of them?”

  “It is hard to estimate,” Mother replied. “But it is safe to say the elves are in serious danger, and it is no shock that Bishop would attack Eplium first.”

  “Because it is closest to the Decomposite?” Bertly guessed.

  “No, because Rotters can only come from elves. He is trying to grow his army when his numbers are strongest, and this is his best shot at wiping out the world’s largest army while also increasing his.” Mother pushed her bottle to the side. “This is how he took over the first time. He must be stopped. Here and now. We have a second chance at this.”

  The Winter Wizard felt nauseous. He had trained in combat his entire life, yet he had never dreamed of a war. “I thought we were all doomed anyway?”

  “That was before you convinced me of who you truly are.” Mother pushed Bertly’s belongings across the table, inches from his body. “Cordelia’s belongings call to you. I can’t help but believe that you really are playing a bigger role in all of this.”

  Bertly hesitated to grab his items. “Why do you care about Pangea now?”

  “I don’t.” The woman grabbed a bottle of wine and slid it inside Bertly’s backpack. “But this may be our last chance at ending the Blight once and for all…and returning the Decomposite to what it once was.” Mother grabbed the wizard by the arm and urged him in the direction of the exit. “I have sent my guard to retrieve your apprentice. He will be waiting for you downstairs.”

  “What about my other friends, the dwarves?” Bertly stressed. “I can’t leave without them, I’ve known them almost half of my life.”

  “You still owe me one hundred fights, Master Bertly.” Mother chuckled.

  Bertly panicked; he couldn’t think of a plan quick enough to convince Mother to change her mind.

  “Consider this to be…leverage. To ensure you come back,” she continued. “Now, if you take any longer, I will change my mind about the generosity I have shown you.”

  Bertly threw his knapsack over his shoulder and left her office. He couldn’t help but feel wary, as though it were some sort of trap. The wizard paused after his first step out the door. “Wait, how will I get to Eplium on time?”

  “Polly and your father are headed here at this very moment,” Mother replied.

  The Winter Wizard turned around. “They are?”

  “Polly and Bear reached the Academy safely. They have told the Elders of what has happened, and the school is acting promptly. The school’s teachers and master students are already on their way to Eplium. As for your ride, they are on the back of a gryphon and are nearly here.” Mother bit her finger and frowned. The woman grunted and fell back into her throne. “Such a shame. You all really would have made excellent additions to the Zoo.”

  Bertly opened his mouth, but Mother cut him off before he could get any words out. “You speak too much, young wizard. It will be your downfall one day. Now go!” she shouted. “And don’t forget, now that I have met you, I can see you whenever I like.”

  XXIII

  Roman wedged himself between Roderick and Bertly, with a hand on each of their shoulders. They stood just on the outskirts of the village surrounding the colosseum. The Winter Wizard heard the chants of the crowd echo throughout the town.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Orin and Orîn,” Roderick whimpered.

  “Me neither,” Bertly replied. “But I’m not sure our fate is any better.”

  “Where is your father?” Roman’s deep voice rumbled as he spoke. A thick, overcast sky spread over the Decomposite so that not even the sun could poke through. “I thought gryphons were supposed to be the fastest creatures in Pangea.”

  Bertly glared in offense. “Gryphons aren’t shippers.”

  “Maybe they should have sent one of those.” The tone in the guard’s voice didn’t change.

  Bertly grunted. “I can’t tell if you’re attempting to have a personality or if you’re always this serious.” The wizard squinted and could make out a small shadow growing larger in the distance—it crept in their direction.

  “Unless it’s a dragon, I assume this is your ride,” Roman said monotonously.

  “Ah, you are trying to be funny.” Bertly gave the guard a soft bump. “You aren’t so bad, Roman. Maybe we are distant relatives after all.”

  Roman released Bertly’s shoulder. “Why would you say that?”

  “Mother didn’t tell you?” Bertly flexed his arms. “Believe it or not, I come from mammoth blood, too.”

  “You don’t say.” Roman’s voice almost projected in a higher pitch.

  “Look.” Roderick pointed. “It’s them.”

  Clia pierced the clouds, flapping her wings as though she were being chased by a fleet of dragons. Bertly couldn’t see Polly’s face behind his father, but he knew she was there from her blond hair blowing in the wind. Clia landed on the ground far from gracefully. Her large talons dragged for several feet, ripping up the ground in her attempt to slow down. Before she came to a full stop, Edfrid leaped off her back and drew his war hammer. He gave a loud battle cry and charged straight for Roman.

  “Wait.” Bertly jumped in front of his father before he could swing his hammer. “They’re letting us go.”

  “They’re what?” Edfrid let the head of his hammer fall to the ground.

  “They’ve released Roderick and me, and they’re letting us go with you to Eplium,” Bertly responded.

  “They captured you, only to let you go?” Edfrid winced and tilted his head back. “How do you know about Eplium?”

  Before the Winter Wizard could respond, a large creature tackled him to the ground. “Clia!” Bertly cheered as he spat feathers out of his mouth. “I missed you, girl. Staying out of trouble?”

  Clia looked around, distracted and oblivious to the question.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Where are Devdan and the twins?” Polly circled around Edfrid. Bertly could see that, by the look in his friend’s eyes and the worry in her voice, she already knew the answer to her question.

  “I’m sorry, Polly. But Devdan…” Although the Winter Wizard wanted to avoid it, he did his best to maintain eye contact. “Shortly after you left, they—”

  “I prepared myself for that answer,” Polly cut him off. “Part of me was hoping that in some reality, he found a way out. But after everything they did…” Polly’s eyes watered, and Bertly saw she was struggling to hold back tears. “I didn’t expect anything less. On the whole way home with Bear, I kept picturing over and over what they would do to him once I got away.”

  Bertly grabbed Polly’s hand. “He saved our lives.” He held her fist between his palms, fully encompassed but gentle, as though he’d caught a butterfly and was trying to keep it from flying away. “If it weren’t for Dev, none of us would be here. Including the twins.”

  “They’re safe?” Bertly heard a sense of joy lift the grief of Polly’s tone.

  “I am hesitant to use the word safe.” Bertly gave a pitiful smile. “But they are alive, and we can still save them.”

  “We don’t have much time,” Edfrid urged. “We need to get to Eplium. We saw the Rotter army on our way here. They may arrive at the elven kingdom before we do.”

  “Get me out of here,” Roderick cried as he attempted to mount Clia. The gryphon stared at the small elf struggling to climb up. Her feathers slipped between his fingers and his hands could hardly reach more than halfway up her body. “I’ve had it with this wretched place.”

  ***

  The flames from the candles turned to smoke as the last bits of wick became ash. The rising sun pierced the cracks of the cabin, filling it with light. The words continu
ed to flow through Bertly’s mind, but they struggled to appear on the paper. Using his quill felt like pushing a hefty stone, so he allowed it to drop to its side.

  Bertly stood up and walked toward the front door of the room. “I think I am going to check on our little elf.”

  Bear grumbled in response, not bothering to move a muscle.

  The wizard cracked open the door and peeked his head around the corner with caution. Bertly’s apprentice sat on the deck, staring out into the open. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this amazing view,” Roderick muttered.

  “You know, it’s much prettier after the morning time.” Bertly sat next to Roderick and looked over the thick rolling fog. “Every morning, a fog just like this spools over Stonebank. It’s how the town looks so green despite it never raining there. The best part comes afterward, once the fog has cleared; it always smells like a thunderstorm has just passed.” Bertly took a deep breath. “Ah, not yet. I was hoping I could take it in one last time before we left. Who knows when we will be back.”

  “Do you think I will ever return home?” Roderick asked.

  “Yes, Roderick, I do.” The Winter Wizard put his arm around his young apprentice. “And I will be the one to bring you back home myself because I have to meet the people who raised this ab-so-lutely ridiculous excuse for an elf.” Bertly put Roderick in a headlock. “Now come back inside and help me finish this story. My hand is killing me.”

  “We both know there is a better chance of Bear writing that novel than you.”

  The master’s jaw dropped, and his eyebrows narrowed.

  Roderick continued, “Cast your writing spell and let’s enjoy the view one last time. I actually quite enjoy the fog. We don’t have it in Eplium.”

  Bertly smiled. “Sure.”

  ***

  “Let me get this straight,” Edfrid asserted. “Cordelia didn’t actually end the first Blight? She only…stalled it?” He tugged on his beard. “More or less meaning this is still the first Blight, not the start of the second one?”

  “On a very technical level, yes, I suppose so,” Bertly replied.

  The air was clear and the clouds from the Decomposite were behind them. Bertly, his father, Polly, and Roderick flew on the back of Clia, with their eyes set on Eplium and the Rotter army. The Winter Wizard couldn’t tell if she was tired or nervous about what waited for the group at their destination, but he could tell Clia was in no hurry. Her wings flapped and the wind blew against their faces, but Bertly had been on enough flights to know she was holding back.

  “And to be clear, the elves, dwarves, and giants may have known this all along?” Edfrid asked.

  “Considering the Academy chose to leave out several historical details regarding the Blight, and considering Bablanca, Eplium, and Eskos don’t teach any of this, yes.”

  “What about Noskar?” Roderick followed up.

  “We do not have an education system in Noskar, Roderick. It is up to one’s parents to teach the children all they need to know.” Bertly was amused by his father’s and apprentice’s questions; however, he couldn’t take his eyes off the horizon—in search of Bishop’s army.

  “How do you know this Mother lady is telling the truth?” Edfrid grumbled. “She could be lying to you.”

  “It wouldn’t make sense for her to let me go if she were lying. Not to mention, she told the truth about some things I already knew to be true.” Bertly lost focus on the foreground. “I don’t know how, but I knew she was being honest.”

  “And just so there is no confusion, are you or are you not the reincarnation of Cordelia?” Roderick smiled with apparent optimism.

  “Not exactly, I just possess similar powers,” Bertly explained. “But based on the stories, she seemed much more powerful than I ever will be.”

  “What about me?” Polly asked, her voice so quiet, she sounded reluctant to ask.

  “Right.” Bertly’s voice grew louder and his posture perked up. “In fact, Mother even asked about you, Polly. When we are on land, you must try out my warblade and cloak. But wait, I almost forgot to ask you.” The wizard twisted his body awkwardly so he could make eye contact with Polly. It hadn’t been long, yet Bertly missed being around his blonde companion. “What did the Academy say when you got there?”

  Polly looked confused. “It was peculiar, I expected them to be at least…surprised.” She hesitated. “They knew exactly what to do, as though they already had a plan in motion. They didn’t even care that some of the students died. The Elders dispersed and ran out of the room. Only my master stayed behind.” Polly’s tone shifted, and her temper built. “When I told Master Dova you were kidnapped, she knew exactly where to find you. So I called your father with Clia’s whistle, and we came straight here. We originally had a plan to sneak in and break you out, but you were already waiting for us.”

  “Did they say what their plan was?” Bertly questioned.

  Polly’s head pointed down and she raised her eyebrows to look up. “The Elders left the room frantically, but…I snuck around afterward and eavesdropped.”

  “Attagirl, Polly,” Edfrid hollered.

  Bertly clapped. “I can see I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

  Polly giggled, and her cheeks turned red. “They said they were headed to Eplium. But they were worried. The giants never answered their original call, whatever that means, and the dwarves’ army won’t arrive in time—”

  “Dwarves are rather slow travelers,” Bertly interrupted.

  “It is only going to be the elves and the masters of the Academy fighting this battle. They said Eplium has built a protective wall, except they think it could fall. They have another line of defense, but they didn’t say what.”

  “How many masters does the Academy have? Certainly not many,” Edfrid said with a frown.

  “My best guess would be about five hundred in total. I doubt they will send all of them, if any at all.” While the conversation was serious, Bertly couldn’t help but feel happy. He’d missed his flights with Clia, and even more so, he’d missed being with his father. “You must consider, if a substantial number of masters were lost, the Academy could potentially shut down. Ending a generation of magicians.”

  “Should we be concerned about that?” Roderick shrieked. The small elf’s hand wobbled as he pointed to the ground.

  Bertly had let his guard down. A gray mass covered the surface of Pangea. With skinless horsemen scattered throughout, a Rotter army spanning the width of a city marched in unison toward Eplium. The Rotters were equipped with armor and bore weapons in hand. The Winter Wizard felt it again, the same agony he’d felt the last time he encountered a skinless horseman. Oddly, his companions didn’t seem to experience the same life-extracting force he was.

  “Which one do you suppose he is? Bishop?” Edfrid sounded more eager than afraid.

  “Maybe that one?” Roderick cried. This time, Roderick pointed parallel to Clia. “How am I the only one noticing any of this?” The elf’s voice trembled.

  Casting its shadow over a score of Rotters hovered an eerie black dragon. It had holes in its wings and portions of scales missing from its body. Exposed flesh and black dripping blood oozed from the uncovered areas. Its spine poked through its skin, and resting between two vertebrae was its hooded rider. “Bishop.” The word slipped from Bertly’s lips. “What do you suppose he looks like?” Bertly could hardly tell given the Rotter leader was a few hundred yards away.

  “Let’s not stick around to find out!” Roderick yelled.

  “I actually agree with the little elf this time,” Edfrid said. The army spread wide enough that Rotters stood on the ground beneath them.

  The creature turned and faced Bertly. Bishop locked onto him as though he’d known the wizard and his companions were flying by the entire time. The hood covered his face, forming nothing but a black shadow where his head would be. Bertly felt Clia’s feathers grip him as she tore through the sky—he knew she
had been holding back.

  “Look, it’s Eplium’s Lost Tree!” Roderick shouted.

  “Lost?” Bertly cracked. “Quite an ironic nickname for the largest tree in Pangea, wouldn’t you say?”

  Bertly’s apprentice rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

  “This isn’t good.” Edfrid’s normally sturdy voice had a hint of concern behind it. “The Rotters are no more than a few hours from Eplium.”

  Clia closed in on the elven city. A community of treehouses rested high above a grassy floor. It was intertwined by rope and wooden bridges, along with a canopy formed from tree branches. Protecting the city was a stone wall—built with more focus on its width than height. The gray, calloused wall added a feeling of gloom to the naturally beautiful city. Nestled in the center shined the golden bark of the Lost Tree—a natural topiary with branches that reached for the clouds and spanned wider than a castle.

  “You know, they say every leaf can grow into its own tree,” Roderick didn’t hesitate to share.

  Bertly chuckled. For the first time, he actually enjoyed his apprentice’s mistimed optimism. “I almost forgot this is your home, Roderick. I really wish we could be visiting on better terms.”

  “Me too, sir.” Bertly’s apprentice looked back at the Rotter horde. “Maybe after the battle, we can visit my parents.”

  Bertly lifted an eyebrow. “To think, there are two elves responsible for this degenerate.”

  “Roderick, where should I land Clia?” Edfrid asked.

  “Uh, the Elders and the king are most likely at the Throne Hall. That is where all the important meetings are held. It’s at the top of the City’s Tree,” Roderick replied.

  Openings in the bark exposed the inner workings of the grand tree—and it appeared to be hollow. There were several floors and stories, each with distinct communities, ranging from living quarters and dining areas to elves at card tables and soldiers preparing for battle. Thousands of elves hustled about inside the tree, all seeming to have a task at hand or no worry in the world.