The problem with any communication is definition.
If your not in the same book…how can you ever be on the same page?
Wendell ran through the Great Hall, leaping over benches and banging against tables in a near frenzy.
I’m coming! he shouted in his mind. Hang on, I’m almost there!!
He rounded the corner to dash through the kitchen and slammed into a wooden crate, lying prone in the middle of the floor. His thin body flipped over the crate and onto the stone. Alhannah nearly ran into Wendell as he jumped up, and angrily kicked the obstacle out of the way.
“What is that smell?!!” she squeaked, slapping a hand over her mouth. Wendell turned his head into the crook of his elbow, gagging.
The kitchen was a mess from the quake. Pots and pans lay everywhere, even a table was over turned…
Wendell gasped as he saw smoke rising off the cooks body. The fat man hung half way out of the hearth, legs still burning in the fire, his head crushed and hidden under an overturned table.
How could something like that happen—
“Wendell,” Alhannah whispered, tugging on his hand. She pointed. “Look.”
Four young ladies in servant attire lay frozen upon the ground. Their faces were contorted expressions of fear, skin pale as snow…without eyes, without tongues.
Wendell dry heaved. His mind raced with thoughts from his dreams.
A scream echoed from the hallways below.
It was a voice he recognized.
Wendell pushing past the gnome and down the side hallway. Whipped passed cringing servants, he jumped down the stairwell, Alhannah on his heels.
Not positive where the sound came from, he ran back towards his cell.
Lili screamed again.
Wendell skidded to a halt.
There were three halls to choose from.
No, no, no!
“What’s wrong?” Alhannah breathed, gasping for air.
Wendell snatched a torch from the wall and knelt down where the hallways met. Footsteps in the dust and dirt led down each of the three passageways. There was no way to tell which direction to go. However, it wasn’t likely the thief would stay at the cell—so he could count out one of the hallways.
“Take that hall, Alhannah,” he said quietly, pointing into the shadows.
“No way,” she argued, “I’m watching your back.”
“There’s no time!” he snapped, then more composed, “You have to trust me on this, Alhannah. I need your help or the fight outside will be the least of our worries!” He stared at her without blinking, “That’s Lili screaming, and she’s going to die if we don’t help her.”
Alhannah rolled her eyes, grabbed the torch from Wendell and raced off into the darkness.
“Stay alert!” she snapped, but Wendell wasn’t listening.
He was already running in the opposite direction.
That is, until he saw it…next to an open cellar door.
A shelf to his right, two wooden crates and three full gunny sacks.
He gulped, probably grain.
On the bottom shelf was a pile of someones forgotten laundry.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP! Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Ithari pulsed, giving off a faint glow. A purple glow that pulled him silently down the hall until he reached a “T” in the passageway.
Wendell carefully pulled his leather tunic over the gem and crept forward.
In one corner, dressed in a fur vest, Lili held the Lanthya shard. Wendell caught a glimpse of the bright glow between her fingers, just before she dropped it into her bag.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP! Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
“Wendell, where are you?!” Alhannah called out, her voice echoing from far away.
From the opposite corner crept a black robe, arms outstretched. Wendell’s eyes were immediately drawn to the floor. Insects fled, scattering across the stones…not from under the robe, but away from it.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP! Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Wendell looked up. Two torches, above Lili, just like he’d dreamed.
This is it, he convinced himself. He knew what had to happen next.
I am the host of the Ithari…no, I AM THE HERO…and I CAN COMMAND FIRE!
Wendell gripped the air in front of him. Obey me! he commanded silently, focusing on the torches.
But nothing happened.
He waved his hands in the air, squinting, focusing, but nothing happened.
“WENDELL!” Alhannah called out again. Her voice was getting closer.
Lili whimpered as clawed hands, white as snow, appeared from the sleeves of the robe. They made their own clawing motions in the air.
…and the fire from the torches flared.
“It will be mine!” the creature hissed.
No. Wendell gulped.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
This…can’t be right.
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
Wendell realized a discouraging truth in that moment.
The moment when the fire leapt from the sconces, flame expanded and swirled, splitting to form giant fingers.
Wendell realized that he was simply…Wendell.
Nothing more.
He stood there, numb. No fear. No anger. No regret.
All Wendell felt…was sadness.
Please. Not this, he pleaded. I can’t fail. Not again. His hand went to his chest, fingers caressing the Ithari. I’m sorry I let you down. I didn’t mean to. But other people shouldn’t pay for my lack of…whatever you feel I lack.
Tears swelled, but Wendell blinked them away without notice.
Maybe I can’t be what you want me to be…but I can help one person.
…and he lunged in front of Lili.
The black robe clapped its hands together, the burning extensions of its will snatching Wendell’s body, holding him fast.
Wendell screamed. White light exploded from Ithari.
It filled the room with a blinding intensity.
The mägo reeled back, stumbling against the opposite wall…and into another torch. The oily cloth of its robe ignited.
The creature let out its own high-pitched screech.
Alhannah sprinted into view and immediately pummeled the mägo with her torch. It waved its deformed hands, but the gnome set the creature fully ablaze. Wobbling and stumbling, it scraped along the wall, saliva dripping from its mouth, eyestalks quivered in agony.
“SORCERER!” Alhannah yelled.
It snapped its head about as the gnome let the sword fly. Her blade tumbled through the air, its finely folded steel glinting in the light of the fire. With a sickening thud, it sunk into the Tauku’s skull, sliding up to the hilt. As if lacking the oxygen to burn, the magical flames along the stone sputtered and died out.
The mägo crumpled over.
Wendell’s screams clawed at stone and ear. His whole being was a battlefield of magic. The Ithari, a beacon shining from his chest, tried to preserve him, sending ripples of light across his flesh, while the flames consumed what it had already latched onto.
Lili struggled to her feet, and screamed at Alhannah, “Help him!”
His body spasmed and flipped about. As the gem flickered and dimmed, the flames created by incantation reached out—setting the floor and walls, anything he touched, ablaze.
Pulling her vest from her shoulders, Lili ran at him.
Alhannah launched herself at the girls knees, knocking Lili to the ground.
“No!” she cried, “It’s magical flame—it’ll consume you!”
“Get off me!” Lili screamed frantically, “He’s dying!”
Alhannah grabbed the girls wrists and pinned her fast. The warrior gnome winced with each wail of pain Wendell made.
“I know,” she whispered to herself. “I know.”
