His mind whirled as he attempted to come to grips with the enormity of the situation. There has to be a rational explanation! The forest surrounding the meadow appeared like any forest that might exist back on Earth; pine trees, birds singing in the distance, insects buzzing here and there; normality. Nothing strange, except for the little detail that there was no way he could have arrived at such a place by stepping through a door. This was something straight out of one of his books.
The ad said “traveling.” Well, I have traveled. The ad also said that being well read in fantasy novels and experience with role playing games would be a bonus. Thinking of the little creature just encountered, James saw the logic in that as well. Such a background might enable a person to more willingly accept these odd occurrences. Provided of course, that all this was real.
Okay, let’s take this one step at a time. What actually happened to you? You were on the 23rd floor of an office building, stepped through a door and then found yourself in the middle of this meadow talking with an odd looking little creature. Have you lost your mind?
After taking a quick mental check, he decided insanity was not the culprit. But could an insane person tell? No odd thoughts or urges ran through his mind. No hallucinations, unless this meadow and that creature could be considered as such.
He ran his fingers across the grass. Feels normal. He again took in his surroundings. Everything looked and felt quite real. So, if this is real, then what happened? A breeze ruffled his hair which only added to the sense that all was real. He closed his eyes and took deep breath, held it for a second, and then slowly exhaled. Opening them again, he found the meadow unchanged. He didn’t really expect that to change things, but it was what everyone did who got into these sorts of situations.
I’m not in the Twilight Zone. I don’t see Rod Sterling over to the side talking to the viewers. At this point, he would hardly be surprised if he did. Then if this place is not a hallucination, it has to be real!
Holding up the book acquired in the waiting room, he took a much more interested look at it than before. An odd design was embossed on the cover, and the book held only a few pages. Think, James, think! Let’s for the moment consider the possibility that all this is in fact real. What now? You were brought here for some purpose; that goes without saying. Why else would that little creature have been “sent” here to deliver the message? Could this be for your benefit? Probably not; it never is. James reflected on various books read over the last several years. Some dealt with this sort of thing and if memory served, the main character rarely had a fun time of it.
For the sake of argument, let’s suppose this is in fact, a true guidebook on magic. And let’s further suppose that since I was brought here and told to bring it with me, then it stands to reason that I should be able to gain some benefit by the information contained within. Why else would they have bothered? And who exactly are “they?” Realizing some questions would have to wait, he opened the book and reread the first couple paragraphs. Two sentences grabbed his attention:
Rhyme and meter are the most effective forms of spell construction.
Maintain a visualization of the effect you wish to produce.
Sounds easy enough. What the heck, let’s give it a try. Best to keep it simple. He spied a small stick lying on the ground. Concentrating, he created a visualization of the stick rising off the ground. Now for the words…
Little stick that I have found,
Float three feet off the ground.
Mimicking the action of a dozen different wizards from literature and film, he raised his hand toward the stick and spoke the incantation. With the utterance of the first word, an odd sensation developed deep within his body. Sort of like water rising behind a dam. The growing pressure was not an entirely unpleasant feeling. The utterance of each word caused the pressure to build. As soon as the last word was spoken, the dam broke and power surged forth. He could almost see magic flowing from his outstretched hand to the stick, though it was probably just his imagination.
The stick slowly rose. It reached nearly a foot off the ground before he became so excited at the effect that his concentration broke and the stick fell back to the ground with a clatter.
I DID IT!!!!
James ol’ boy, you are one amazing wizard!
Cavorting with jubilation, he raced over and examined the stick which just a moment before had been floating in the air. He hesitantly reached out and touched it. Seeming normal, he picked it up and examined the wood more closely but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Feeling a little cocky, he quickly formulated another set of words, visualized the effect he desired, then tossed the stick into the air yelling,
Stick who once on the ground did lie,
Stay your course there in the sky!
His verse wouldn’t win any poetry contests; but then, at the moment he was more into functionality than artistry. This time he was determined to maintain the visualization. With the utterance of the last word, the power once again surged forth. The stick’s flight came to a sudden halt at eye level. As it floated motionless, James controlled his excitement so as to maintain the visualization and not disrupt the spell.
He came to the stick and grinned while walking around where it hovered. Moving his hand over and under the stick, as a magician might do to prove to his audience the absence of supporting wires, he encountered nothing. He then reached out and placed his index finger upon its wooden surface. The stick moved the barest of a fraction, but otherwise maintained its position. Placing his hand under the stick, he ceased concentrating upon his desire for the stick to remain motionless in the air and it dropped into his hand.
“Yes!”
Quite pleased, he smiled at his success. I could get to like this. Then sadness came over him when he thought of how his grandparents were going to feel when he didn’t come home. I may never make it home. Oh my God! What about Dave? He saw me go through the door. How will he take it? I guess the best he can, that’s all any of us can do.
Reaching into his backpack he removed one of the candy bars he had brought along and munched on it while contemplating his next course of action. Savor it while you can. No telling how long it will be before you can get another. Then the reality of his situation sunk in. What am I going to do for food? Shelter? Toilet Paper??? The thought of using leaves didn’t bother him half as much as it had before that one camping trip with his dad oh so long ago. He smiled wistfully at the memory.
Realizing that leaning against the log wasn’t going to improve his situation; he finished the candy bar and then took a really good look around the clearing to determine by which direction he should leave the meadow. Other than the stream, there was naught but trees and more trees. Each direction looked as densely forested as another.
By the position of the sun, it was a little after midday. This surprised him as it had only been mid-morning when he and Dave departed the bus on Commercial Avenue. Maybe time works differently here?
One of the things that little creature had said was “to get your sorry butt to the village of Trendle,” wherever that may be. The forest looked unforgiving, lacking even the most rudimentary type of path. He would have to forge his way through a tangle of underbrush when he left.
Trendle. It would’ve been more helpful if he would have at least told me which way to go! Sighing, he pulled a quarter out of his pocket, Heads- North or South, Tails- East or West. He flipped the coin in the air and let chance be his guide. He grabbed the quarter on its descent, flipped it on the back of his hand and looked. Tails. East or west then. Taking the coin one more time he tossed it up into the air. Heads- East Tails-West. This time he allowed the quarter to fall to the ground and come to rest. Tails. West it is.
Determining where West was by the position of the sun, he shouldered his backpack. A touch of excitement mingled with fear and apprehension. Sure, he had no clue where he was or even if he would ever find his way home. But beneath such a beautiful blue sky on a warm summer da
y, things didn’t seem quite so bad. He had worked magic hadn’t he?
En route across the meadow to the forest’s edge, he spied a sturdy branch lying upon the ground. After removing the smaller twigs and branches, he soon held a stout walking stick. Turning back to the forest, he paused upon reaching the edge. His excitement dimmed as he stood there about to enter an unknown world. What lies beyond these trees? What secrets may be hidden within? Beneficial ones? Or those less so? Taking a deep breath, he pushed a tangle of undergrowth out of the way and entered the forest.
Using the walking stick to clear a path, he forged through a tangle of bushes lining the edge of the clearing only to find more beyond. James had always liked being in the woods, even ones as overgrown as this. Time spent in the outdoors had always brought him a peace that could never be found in a city or around other people. His dad used to take him camping in forests similar to this one when he was little. Good times.
James soon realized that this forest was nothing like the tame camping areas his dad had taken him. For one thing, this one had no paths. The bushes and trees had become an entangled mess, forcing him to push his way through, often with painful results. Walking across the uneven ground soon had his ankles aching. Bleeding from a myriad of scratches and scrapes, his feet protesting, the adventure was soon over and all he wanted to do was go home.
An hour into the forest, a growl from his stomach reminded him that his last meal had been some time ago. Within his backpack still remained a single candy bar. Not wanting to consume the last of his food, he sighed and left it where it was, much to the loud protestations of his stomach.
Time passed as he continued his way through the forest. The sun gradually made its descent toward the horizon. The shadows grew long. In the deepening gloom, his imagination turned the surroundings into a veritable host of frightful beasts. Every sound made him jump, every shadow contained a monster. After the sixth murderous beast bent on his destruction turned out to be an old stump overgrown by a bush, he figured the time had come to find a place to hole up for the night.
But there was no place. All about him was nothing but trees and more trees. Sleeping upon the ground held little interest as he didn’t want to be awakened by a hungry carnivore. He turned his attention to the upper boughs and located a sturdy one forming a crook with the truck that had accessible lower branches. Climbing had never been one of his strengths, and it took several attempts before he made it off the ground. He reached the limb where he would spend his first night in this world and settled into the crook. Leaning his back against the trunk, he tried to get comfortable and failed miserably.
The forest descended into a place of haunting shadows and mysterious noises as the night gradually deepened into darkness. Hungry, scared and exhausted, he clung to the tree. His body hurt from hundreds of scratches received from pushing through obstinate bushes all afternoon. The throbbing from his feet and ankles lent another level to his misery. Shifting position often, he simply couldn’t find any that was comfortable. It was not long before his bottom began to hurt then grow numb, which forced him to continue moving about in a fruitless attempt to alleviate his discomfort.
In the tree scared and alone, the light gradually faded away around him. For the first time he truly knew what it meant to be alone. The intricate canopy of leaves prevented even the smallest glimmer of starlight from filtering through. He sat in the dark, with head resting against the bole of the tree and listened to the sounds of the forest. Off in the distance he heard the passage of some large creature as it made its way through the underbrush. Not long after that, from off in another direction came the sound of two animals fighting. Hoping nothing found him in his perch, he hugged the tree even harder.
I want to go home!
Tears of loneliness and fear rolled down his cheeks. Somehow, though long in coming, he fell asleep.
Howrrrrrrrr!
Startled awake, teeth chattering from the cold, James was hit with the realization that he hadn’t been having a bad dream after all. Another howl brought him fully awake. Off in the distance came the sound of a wolf pack on the hunt. With every howl, the fear that he might be found caused him to grip the tree even tighter. Face pressed tightly against the bark, his eyes darted to and fro in an attempt to pierce the shadows of the forest and see those that hunt the night. All the while he silently prayed to remain undetected.
The darkness of the night was alleviated somewhat by slivers of moonlight that had somehow managed to breach the thick forest canopy sporadically in the distance. The sparse rays gave the forest an aura of ghostly light. Perched in his tree, James remained still and quiet while he listened to the hunting pack.
Minutes passed and it was soon apparent that the hunt was taking them toward his tree. Fear such as he has never known sprung to life within him. Suddenly their cries altered, and became more intense, large bodies crashing through the underbrush straight toward his tree. A moment later, three dark shadows raced through the darkness not far below his feet.
“Get away! Help Me!”
Cries of terror from off in the distance split the night. They’re not after me! Relief at not being their target was followed quickly by shame at being glad it was someone else. For a fleeting moment he considered doing something to help, perhaps shouting for the man to climb a tree. But fear stilled his tongue. He did not want to die.
Off in the distance, he caught sight of the man racing through a patch of moonlight. Hot on his heels, two wolves followed a split-second later
Tears streamed down his cheeks as the man’s fearful cries for help sounded once more. A bloodcurdling scream; then the night turned deathly silent. James shook with fear and shame; fear that he might be next, shamed by his own cowardice.
There was nothing I could do! Had I gone to help, I would have been torn to shreds as well. Getting little comfort from such selfish reasoning, he pressed his face against the bole of the tree and tried to think of home as he attempted to shut out the sound of the wolves. Sometime later, he heard the wolves howl as they raced off through the forest. As the woods grew quiet once more, he tried to keep his imagination from replaying the scene of the man’s grisly death. Sleep, when it did come, was filled with dreams of moonlight and wolves.
The morning sun woke a very tired, cold and sore James. The events of the night before showed him that to remain in the forest would mean his death. I gotta get out of here. No more pussyfooting around, I have to cover ground before night comes!
Making sure the forest floor held no menacing predators, he made his way from the tree. He then took care of his morning business, realizing that plant leaves were not a good substitute. His mind then turned to food, or rather his lack thereof.
Nearby stood a bush bearing little pink berries. In his starved state, they looked delicious. Walking over, he picked one. Holding it between his fingers, the thought occurred that the berry may very well be poisonous. He contemplated his chances of survival if it was; they weren’t good, but the growling of his stomach could not be denied. Figuring one wouldn’t kill him, he put it in his mouth and bit into the firm flesh of the berry just hard enough to squirt forth a small measure of its tart juice. Not very ripe but not entirely unpleasant either. Chewing it slowly, he waited to see if there would be any unpleasant reactions. When none materialized, he swallowed.
Picking several more of the riper ones, he wrapped them in a leaf before putting them in his backpack. If he didn’t get sick in an hour or two then he would eat the rest.
Recalling the events of the night before, he wondered if the man killed by the wolves might have something that may be of use. James grabbed his walking stick and headed in that direction, not looking forward to what he would find. It wasn’t long before he came to a scene out of an old slasher movie. Bones littered the ground; blood was everywhere. The man’s clothing had been shredded.
Horror took hold of James as his gaze fell upon the remains of the poor guy’s jacket. The letters H-A-V-E-S… were
still discernable across the remaining portion of the jacket’s back. It looked very much like a letterman’s jacket from his high school. Using the end of his walking stick he turned the torso over. Stitched in gold lettering upon the left breast was the name “Randle.”
His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. “Oh, Seth.” Shrieking, he cried, “There was nothing I could do!” Guilt and shame at his weakness last night left him shaking and wracked with sobs. I should have done something! Would the knowledge that it was Seth being pursued by wolves made any difference? Ashamedly, he realized it wouldn’t. Coward!
“Though there was nothing I could do for you last night, there is something I can do for you now.” With that, James grabbed a rock and dug a hole, a grave for his former classmate. It took him some time since the ground was firmly packed, but he excavated a cavity large enough. He then set about the grisly task of gathering Seth’s scattered remains and laid them in the grave. When the job was complete, James covered Seth with dirt then made a cairn of stones. Tying two sticks together with vines for a makeshift cross, he hammered it into the ground with a stone at the head of the cairn.
Taking a moment, he said a few parting words before picking up his backpack and walking stick. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to settle his shaky nerves, he set out once more westward. Hopefully, he would come across this Trendle before the wolves picked up his scent. The woods no longer brought him peace as they had yesterday. Wariness and dread filled him today.
As he forged through the unyielding brush, James thought about what it meant that Seth had been in this world too. Could he have gone to the interview just as James had? And if so, were there others? Thinking back to the newscast the night before taking that fateful trip to Commercial Ave, he realized there could be at least one other person that had passed through the door marked “Private;” a girl. Could there be still more?
After jumping for a third time at the loud cry of a nearby bird, James came to the conclusion that he was going to need more than a walking stick if the wolves should return. Judging by his slow rate of progress through the forest, it was unlikely that he would break free before night came again, and he might not remain unmolested.
He thought about his walking stick, and how it was in many ways like a spear, he got an idea. Pausing for a moment, he opened the book on magic and made sure he understood what he must do. First, he formed a visualization of his desired outcome, and then put the words together. He leaned his walking stick against the side of a tree, took three steps back and said:
As straight and true as a spear can be,
Filled with the strength of an old oak tree.
Make it sharp, to penetrate steel,
And perfectly balanced for user to feel.
With the last word came the surge of power from deep within. He watched as the walking stick slowly changed, and became the mirror image of his visualization. Its surface smoothed, the end on the ground was rounded off while the other end came to a very fine point. When the spell ran its course, where the walking stick had been, now stood a dark brown spear.
James waited a moment to ensure nothing else might happen, such as the spear exploding or something equally unpleasant. When nothing did, he stepped forward and tested the sharpened tip with his finger. He jerked his hand back as a drop of blood welled out. Sharp, I hardly even gave it any pressure. Feeling somewhat better for having a weapon, he took the spear and once again set off toward the west.
What about armor, magical shields, spells of protection? As handy as having those would be, James simply didn’t wish to push his luck as far as magic went. I’m new at this. Keep it “Simple Stupid.” Besides, he hadn’t the faintest idea how to create something like that. He didn’t know enough about how to make a suit of armor, so how could he create one with magic?
As a Dungeon Master, he had forever stymied his players when they had attempted to use wish rings. When they wished for a million gold pieces, they would receive a million gold pieces fused together, usually in a very remote locale. If they wished for a suit of +100 plate armor, they would receive it. But when the armor was two feet thick and weighed a ton, it didn’t do much good.
No, he figured to come at this magic business slowly, gradually growing in proficiency over time. He only hoped this world would allow him such a luxury.
Late in the morning, he came upon a small clearing. He paused at the edge and spied several rabbits. His stomach had been grumbling for the past hour. Those berries hadn’t done much to satiate his hunger. As he gazed upon the rabbits, a memory of when his father had once caught and cooked a rabbit during one of their camping trips made it even worse.
Knowing that his skill rating with a spear was probably somewhere near zero, he came up with a spell to help his aim. As he held his spear and prepared to throw, he quietly said:
Spear of mine please strike true,
Strike the rabbit and go right through.
As the last syllable was spoken, he took aim at the nearest rabbit, drew back his arm and threw. When the spear left his hand, he again felt the surge of power. The spear flew unerringly through the air to impale the rabbit. True to the words of the spell, the tip of the spear passed completely through the rabbit and embedded itself deep in the ground. The attack caused rabbits to scatter in all directions. In no time, the clearing was deserted save for the lone, dead rabbit.
Yeah, Baby!
Excited, James ran to the rabbit, and watched as it kicked in its death throes. It took some doing to pull his spear from the ground. Next time, he may have to alter his wording to have the spear only kill the rabbit, not pass all the way through. But what’s the difference, he had done it!
Once the spear came free, he turned his attention to the rabbit. Gazing at it, he suddenly realized he hadn’t a clue what to do now. His only experience with this sort of thing was during the one camping trip in which his dad had caught and skinned one. Didn’t dad use his knife to remove the skin? James wished he had spent more time watching and less time skipping rocks on the water.
The only thing he had that could be considered sharp was the spear which would be of little use in skinning a rabbit. Looking around the clearing, he spied a hand-sized stone. Striking it against a larger one, the smaller stone split in two. One half had a semi-sharp edge; it should work.
Very carefully he used the rock to slice off the head and feet. Feeling slightly nauseated, James took the rock and slowly peeled off the skin. The rock was definitely not the best tool for the job but he eventually had a rabbit ready for the spit.
His blood soaked hands reminded him of Seth, and a shudder ran through him, his gorge rising. Steady boy, don’t let the past rattle you. You did the best you could for him.
Placing the carcass on a layer of leaves, James used dirt to rid his hands of much of the blood before gathering kindling. After clearing a site for the fire, he stacked the wood together then placed bits of dried moss beneath.
Moss I placed under the wood
Ignite so I can cook my food.
Hokey though his wording was, they proved effective. The moss began to smoke, then burst into flame. He kneeled and gently blew on the flickering flame, coaxing it higher until the kindling caught. Satisfied that the fire would continue on its own, he gathered several sticks to create a makeshift spit.
Once it was set and the fat from the rabbit began dripping into the fire, he relaxed against a tree trunk. Every once in a while, the far off cry of a wolf echoed through the trees. His fear of being discovered spiked each time. He definitely did not wish to spend another night in the trees, but what choice did he have?
The wolves were remarkably like the ones he would find in a forest back home. In fact, all the animals he had seen so far had been very Earth-like. If it wasn’t for the little creature and the fact that he could do magic, he might very well have been back home on a campout.
He and his dad had gone camping several times. There were some of his best memories of his pare
nts. They would go up around Yosemite and backpack, do the nature thing. His dad would catch fish and they would have a fish fry. When they returned home they would tell his mom about all the fish they had caught, both real and imagined. She would then say how proud she was of her little man.
What would dad say if he could see me now? I’m starting a bit rough but I have food and a weapon, as well as my health; I’m managing.
“You’re doing fine, Son,” his dad would say.
“I wish you were here with me, Dad. I don’t remember all that you tried to teach me. I sure miss you.”
“You’re alive, James, be happy. You’re in a bad situation but you’re making the best of it. I taught you self-reliance and I’m mighty proud of you.” His father stood there with a smile, the smile he always wore when James did something he especially liked.
With a tear in his eye James walked over to his father and gave him a hug. His father returned the hug warmly.
Crash!
Startled out of his daydream, James found the spit that once held his lunch burning in the fire, while his dinner ran away in the mouth of what looked like a small dog. Stupid, daydreaming fool! Lurching to his feet, he raced after. Running under bushes and around trees, the dog quickly out-paced him and was gone, along with his lunch.
“Damn!”
Returning to his fire, James took his spear and looked around the clearing for more rabbits or an acceptable substitute. Nothing! His yell and chasing the dog had scared everything away. No use sitting around here! Using his foot, he put out the fire, covering it with dirt. Grabbing his backpack, he stalked off with self-deprecating recriminations running through his mind, and a fierce growl in his belly.
No more than half an hour went by before he found, killed and began roasting another small animal. Not sure exactly what it was, it looked like a squirrel but the size of a small cat. This time he kept his wits about him and remained alert for any scavengers who might happen by.
The aroma of roasting meat made his stomach cramp. Impatient for the meat to be done, he removed it from the fire when it had cooked “enough.” Taking the meat to a nearby tree, he sat with his back against the trunk and proceeded to eat.
As he bit into the roasted meat, the juices ran down his chin. Never has anything tasted so good. Of course, I’ve never been this hungry before in my life. Wonder what grandma would do with this if she was here? Thinking of his grandmother’s cooking brought back the feeling of homesickness.
It seemed like he had just started when he stripped the last of the meat from the bone. He felt much better once he had something more substantial than berries in his stomach. A nearby stream provided the opportunity to cleanse his hands and face, as well as a much needed drink. He also washed the blood off his “skinning” stone and placed it in his backpack. More than likely, he would need it again.
Refreshed, he grabbed his backpack and spear and set out once more in search of Trendle. If it wasn’t for the possibility of meeting the same fate as Seth, he would be enjoying himself.
The nearby stream flowed in the general direction so he decided to follow. There was less of a chance of being turned around if he used it as a guide. Also, it might eventually lead to civilization. Streams lead to rivers, rivers to lakes and ponds. And where there was water, there were usually people.
Berry bushes lined the streambed and each held numerous berries. After eating a dozen or so he gathered a number of the ripest ones and wrapped them in a leaf before placing them in his backpack.
The rest of the afternoon proceeded in a manner similar to the morning; forging through inhospitable undergrowth bent on barring his way at all cost, relieved only by all too infrequent clearings. He did encounter one meadow that was rather extensive boasting two fair sized pools. Both were crystal clear, and in the afternoon sun, he could clearly see their bounty of dark-green fish with twin red stripes near the tail.
An hour before nightfall, the land began a more downward slope that ended at an abrupt drop. The stream flowed over the edge to cascade down the uneven surface in the guise of a small waterfall to form a small pond thirty feet below. An area to the right of the water would make an ideal campsite. With the wall of the drop at its back and flanked by the pond on one side and a large fallen tree on the other, it would provide a modicum of shelter through the night.
He first tossed his spear to the clearing below, then worked his way down the side of the drop. Once at the bottom, he rested his pack against the backdrop and gathered wood for the fire. After collecting a sufficient quantity, he took his spear and set out in search of game. It wasn’t long before another rabbit met its end. Back at camp, he used his skinning stone and prepped it for the fire.
Using the same spell as before, he soon had the fire burning merrily and placed the rabbit upon the spit. Sitting there with the waterfall sprinkling into the pond twenty feet away, he listened to the fat pop and crackle as drips fell into the fire. He felt good. Another day without mishap. He was getting the hang of this world, the magic hadn’t been too difficult, at least not the simple spells he had attempted.
Turning the rabbit occasionally for an even cook, he relaxed and enjoyed the peaceful interlude. The aroma from the meat was wonderful. He got up and walked over to the pond. It was a clear, sparkling blue. Kneeling at the edge, he took a good long drink. The water was so pure and crisp that he doubted there could be anything like it back home.
With the sun descending below the treetops, night was fast approaching. Returning to the spit, he checked the rabbit and saw that it was not quite ready. He grabbed his backpack and removed the berries gathered earlier. He unwrapped them and popped three in his mouth; he then set the others aside to have with the rabbit.
By the time the rabbit was fully cooked and the outer skin a dark brown, shadows fully enveloped the campsite. He took the rabbit off the spit and settled down to eat with a gusto only starvation could provide.
Once satiated, James discarded the carcass far from the camp to prevent it from drawing predators. On the way back, he gathered more wood, having no wish to freeze through another night. With the sun down, a chill crept into the air. Keeping a fire going all night would bring him comfort and hopefully safety from curious animals.
Stoking the fire, he settled down to sleep. Lying on his back and wishing for a blanket, he stared at the night sky and watched as it deepened and the stars came out. Events of the past two days played through his mind. It would be hard to credit the truth of it all if he hadn’t lived through it. What happened to Seth now seemed like a bad dream, one from which there would be no awakening.
Magic was real. He wondered how much he dared attempt. In the role-playing world, magic was fraught with dangers, especially for those unschooled in its use. The book on magic gave very little actual instruction in how to work it; mainly just theory and suggestions.
He grinned about the little ditties he threw together for his spells. How simple and unimaginative they were. Not at all like the flowing, poetry variety of spells found in his books. But they had worked, hadn’t they? And wasn’t that all that really matters? The book hadn’t said anything about increasing the effectiveness of a spell by upgrading the wording used.
A wooden spoon is just as effective when eating soup as a silver one.
Not sure exactly where he had heard that little piece of home-spun advice, but it certainly fit the situation.
Sleeping near the fire provided him with a sense of security he lacked the night before. The soft sounds of the waterfall commingled with the fire’s crackle and pop eventually lulled him to sleep.
He woke shivering several times during the night and put more wood on the fire to keep warm. The coming of dawn found him frozen and his fire dead. Chilled to the bone, teeth chattering and breath misting in the morning air, he stirred the coals and discovered a few embers still aglow. The addition of small twigs and moss sparked a flame. After adding several larger pieces, James soon basked in the fire’s warmth.
Clouds rolled in during the night. It looked like rain might be in the offing. James was less than happy since rain would only add to the discomfort. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground left him with a sore body and a crick in his neck. The few remaining berries made an inadequate breakfast. What he wouldn’t give right now for his bed back home and his grandmother’s pancakes and bacon. Sighing, he popped the last berry in his mouth and stood. With a final glance to the cloud-filled sky above, a sigh, he then set about continuing his quest for Trendle. His backpack over his shoulder; he made due with the spear as a walking stick. He left the pond and waterfall behind to follow the stream as it made its way through the trees.
James encountered more of the berry bushes throughout the morning. It was fortunate that they grew in such abundance. As the day progressed, breaks in the forest canopy allowed glimpses of the gathering clouds. Near mid-day, thunder rumbled off in the distance. Shortly afterward, another stream joined the one he followed, increasing its width and depth.
When the grumbling of his stomach told him it was lunchtime, he took a break at a small clearing at water’s edge. After making a fire, he waded into the stream with his spear, this time looking for a fish to fry. Using a variation on his hunting spell, James soon had a large fish impaled upon the end of his spear. Pleased, he returned to camp and in no time had it roasting over the fire.
The forest continuously grew darker and darker as the thunder crashed ever closer. Unless I want to walk in a downpour I better find shelter. When the fish was ready James ate it quickly, though this time he saved half for later. He wrapped what was left in a leaf before putting it in his backpack. After extinguishing the fire, he set a quick pace downstream looking for shelter to wait out the storm.
He came to an area where the trees thinned out somewhat. He spied a ridgeline off to the south, a little over a hundred yards away. There looked to be an opening at the base of the ridge that might be a cave.
As he moved toward the promise of shelter, a drop of rain landed upon the tip of his nose; more soon followed. Hurrying quickly, he sped his way through the trees, hoping to beat the rain. Just as he entered the clearing before the cave, there was a brilliant flash of lightning followed instantly by a thunderous crack and the heavens were unleashed. Torrential rain pelted him the last few feet before he gained the shelter of the cave. Relieved at not being at the mercy of the elements, he turned about and glanced to the rain coming down in what his grandma always called a “gully washer.”
The cave was dark but the intermittent flashes of lightning revealed how it extended deeper into the hillside. Relief turned to wariness as his imagination filled the shadows of the cave’s farthest recesses with carnivorous beasts. He gripped his spear and moved closer to the mouth of the cave.
It’s just your imagination working overtime, James ol’ boy. What you need is a fire to dispel the shadows and put your mind at ease.
The thought of sitting all night in the dark was not something he wanted to contemplate. A glance to the torrential downpour that still hammered the earth made it clear that any firewood would be soaked and unusable.
Maybe a spell to make a glowing orb?
Working out the spell didn’t take very long as spell formulation was becoming easier. Concentrating to maintain the visualization, he said:
Glowing orb to dispel the night
Bright as a hundred watt light.
From you no heat need I feel
Go and travel as I will.
With the last word, he stretched out his hand and a glowing orb, cool and firm to the touch, formed on his hand. He smiled in satisfaction and placed the orb on a nearby stone. Unlike his previous spells, after the initial surge of power, there remained a very slight draining of power. Guess the orb needs a continual source of power, like a light bulb, in order to keep working.
With the orb’s illumination filling the cave, he noticed many bones lying scattered across the floor. Must be the lair of a predator, or used to be. Not feeling secure until ensuring that he was definitely alone, he took the orb and held it aloft as he moved deeper within the cave. It didn’t extend much farther and the end was soon reached.
Aside from a collection of bones twice that of what had been encountered near the entrance, it was deserted. From the lack of animal musk and no fresh kills, James deduced that the cave hadn’t seen an occupant for some time.
Feeling better, he returned to the front of the cave and concentrated on the orb, dimming its light so it was not quite so bright. Reaching into his backpack, he took the fish left over from lunch and sat by the cave’s entrance. Pulling out the book taken from the waiting room, he read more as he ate. A lot of what it said made sense. It wasn’t a textbook on magic, just an overview to get started.
By the time he was done eating, daylight had faded. Behind the clouds, the sun was nearing the treetops. Yawning, he realized just how tired he was. Replacing the book within his backpack, he made ready for sleep.
One of the things mentioned in the book was how it took a mage’s concentration to keep a spell active. It occurred to him that when he fell asleep, the orb would very likely go out. Not wanting to wake to complete darkness, he worked on a spell that would enable the orb to continue glowing all night, even while he was asleep. Coming up with the words, he concentrated on his desired effect and then cast his spell.
Glowing orb,
Soothing light,
Maintain thyself,
‘Till morning’s light.
With the final word, he again felt the surge of power, but this time it felt as if he was being sucked dry. Unable to halt the outpouring of power, he felt a tremendous amount pouring from him, the effect of which left him greatly weakened. Gasping as his knees buckled, he dropped to the floor and panted heavily until the spell ran its course. Dots danced before his eyes as he fought to retain consciousness.
The battle was touch and go for a few anxious moments, but he managed to refrain from passing out. Lying on the cave floor with barely the strength to keep his heart beating, he came to the realization that there may be a limit to what he could do with magic.
The orb sat on the rock next to him, still glowing, unchanged. The constant, minute draining of power felt earlier was now gone and the orb no longer required his concentration to keep going. Happy that he managed the spell but not about the effect on him, he realized he would need to be more careful in what he attempted before it killed him.
His strength slowly returned, and when he felt able, crawled to his backpack. He pulled it beneath his head and finally gave in to the weakness.
Awakening in the middle of the night, it took some time before he became aware as to what awakened him. When his eyes finally focused, dread overcame him as he realized that he was no longer alone in the cave. A wolf had entered and stood not three feet away, sniffing the glowing orb. Visions of meeting the same fate as Seth brought panic. Hoping to scare the wolf away, James concentrated and said very softly:
Orb of soft soothing light
Flash to brilliance bright.
The orb flashed momentarily into a brilliantly, blinding light. At the same time, James sat up and let out a savage, primal scream as he waved his arms wildly. The wolf jumped two feet off the ground, turned and raced out of the cave with a yelp. That spell, so soon after weakening him earlier, left him light headed and dizzy.
Using his spear to steady himself, he managed to get to his feet and look out into the night. There in the rain he found a dozen pair of glowing eyes staring back at him. Using what little strength he had left, he held his spear aloft and yelled at the wolves, but they failed to react.
Now what? He leaned upon the spear for support. You’re in a pickle for sure. Still drained from the earlier spell, he didn’t feel like he could afford to do much magic. Can’t make myself any weaker or I won’t be able to defend myself should that become necessary. Thinking for a second, he reached down for a small stone, and as he prepared to throw, said,
Little stone, little stone
With speed of a bullet
Hit that wolf’s hide
And go right through it.
With the last word he threw the stone at a pair of eyes. There was a crack in the air as the stone shot forward in a sudden burst of speed. A loud, sickening thud along with the sound of snapping bones told the tale as a pair of glowing eyes vanished. The rest of the pack broke their immobility. Yelping and howling, they fled into the night.
Dots danced before his eyes; James sat and rested his head on his knees, panting. Too much. No way can I do any more. If the wolves came back tonight he would be a dead man for he had nothing left. Remaining awake turned out to be an exercise in futility. He was simply too exhausted. Trusting to fate, he lay down with head on backpack and quickly passed out. Sometime in early morning, the rain stopped, and when the first rays of sunlight entered the cave, the glowing orb vanished.
A rustling near his head startled him awake and he sat up quickly, fearful that the wolves had returned. He discovered instead a small dog similar to the one that had made off with his dinner earlier. The animal looked straight at him, still and unmoving.
“Boo!” James cried loudly frightening the dog, and caused it to run from the cave.
His head felt like it was about to crack open and he was quite shaky. Using his spear for support, he climbed to his feet and shouldered his backpack. At the mouth of the cave, James searched for any indication that the wolves were still in the area. It was with much relief that he found the clearing vacant. He did, however, see the one he killed and the hole in its chest where the stone had struck. To his utter shock, the back half of the wolf had been blown away by the force of the impact. Sorrow for the wolf came over him even though he knew the wolf, if given a chance, would have had him for a late night snack. Keeping an eye open for any of its pack-mates, he made his way back toward the stream and continued westward.
The rains had swollen the stream. Its water rushed pell-mell over rocks in its bed. More berry bushes provided a morning snack as well as sufficient quantities to resupply his pack. His strength slowly returned throughout the morning and by noon, the headache and shaking had vanished.
He continued to follow the streambed. Sometime after noon, motion from downstream brought him to an abrupt halt. A shiver coursed down his spine upon spying a wolf standing amidst the trees, watching him. He bent over and picked up several stones, placing all but one in his pocket. Looking back toward where the wolf stood, he readied to throw the stone, but the wolf was gone.
For the next several hours, wolves could be seen amidst the trees, pacing him along his side of the stream. Every time he paused to take one out with a stone, the wolves melted back into the forest. Their intermittent howls were a force of fear and he quickened his pace.
By this time, the stream had swollen to twice its size; several tributaries having joined with it. The stream was now more of a river, with a width in places that exceeded twenty feet.
James encountered another large tributary cutting across his path. Standing upon a grassy knoll on the far side, a wolf stared James down. Reaching into his pocket, James took a stone and cocked his arm back to throw. Forming a visualization of the stone striking the wolf with great force, he repeated the incantation used back at the cave and threw.
Before the stone flew from his hand, the wolf let out a spine-chilling howl. Several answering howls erupted from the trees all around and broke his concentration resulting in the ruination of the spell. Without the power of magic behind it, the stone flew wide and landed in a bush several feet wide of the mark. Wolves burst from behind bushes and trees.
James turned and fled toward the river. Their growls and snarls gave swift speed to his flight. The wolves closed fast and his flight was cut short as he was forced to turn toward them, spear held out. Swinging the weapon to and fro, he was momentarily successful at keeping the wolves at bay.
“Back!” he shouted, fear tingeing his voice with hysteria.
Doing his best to ward off their attacks, he backed slowly until his feet entered the coolness of the water’s edge. A wolf darted in and only a quick thrust of the spear prevented the animal from sinking its jaws into his leg. Over a dozen wolves were arrayed before him along the shoreline. For the moment they appeared content to merely watch as he backed farther into the river. The coldness of the water and the terror of being torn apart kept him from maintaining the calm needed to formulate spells.
Two steps, three, he slowly put distance between himself and the wolves. At step number four, as if by some unseen signal, the wolves rushed him en masse. He spun with his spear, using it like a quarterstaff. For a time he managed to strike the onrushing wolves with the broadside of the spear. He managed to stab a few; but they were beginning to wear him down. He still had not fully recovered from the night before.
With his legs slowly losing feeling due to the coldness of the water, his footing became treacherous. He slipped on a loose stone under the water. Having to thrust his spear into the riverbed to remain upright he was unable to maintain his defense.
Seeing its chance, one wolf rushed in and nipped him on the leg, tearing a three inch long gash just below the knee. Blood flowed freely from the wound and the pain was intense. With the wolves now smelling blood, James was certain this would soon be his end.
He regained his balance and thrust with his spear at the wolf that bit him, driving it back. His swings became ever increasingly slower and less powerful. Never having been athletic, his arms quickly lost the endurance to wield the heavy spear.
A large wolf leapt for his throat and James brought the spear around just in time, piercing the wolf’s chest. Though dead, the wolf’s momentum carried it forward and slammed square into James, knocking him backward into the water. The wolf’s dead weight settled upon him and nearly prevented him from raising his head above the water.
In panicked desperation, he struggled to remove the wolf but it was far too heavy for him to move in his weakened state. Three more wolves entered the water and moved in to finish him. Barely able to keep his head above water, James struggled to remove his spear from the dead wolf. As the spear came free, a growl drew his attention to a wolf less than a foot away. Even as he swung the spear point toward the wolf, he knew it would be too late. The wolf leaped…
Thwock!
An arrow took the wolf in the side. Mortally wounded, the beast thrashed in the water.
Looking over his shoulder, James stared across the stream in disbelief to where a man stood with bow in hand. Another arrow grazed the side of a second wolf that had been coming in for the attack.
“Come on. Move! Stay there and you’re going to die.”
With the prospect of surviving this ordeal once again a reality, renewed strength filled his limbs. Taking hold of the wolf pressing him into the water, he gave out with a mighty groan and the carcass came free. As the dead animal sank beneath the surface, James used the spear to aid in gaining his feet.
A wolf’s painful cry heralded another arrow having found its mark as he waded through the water toward the far side. His wounded leg only made traversing the slippery, rock-filled bed more difficult. Though progress was slow, James reached the shallows just as his leg gave out altogether.
Letting fly another arrow, the man put an arm under James’ shoulder and helped walk him from the river.
James gave his benefactor a weak “Thanks” before collapsing into unconsciousness.
Chapter Three
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