Vegenrage: The Magic User (24 page)

“We killed Practu, all right, but demons have their ways. He may return.”

They take a minute to catch their breath, and the well in the center of the room starts to transform. It shrinks from top to bottom, like sand blowing in the wind, until it reaches the floor, and the tunnel going down is no more. It is solid earth, and the earth mounds upward with the dirt on top falling to the side until all the earth falls flush to the ground, like being sifted through a screen grate. A circular metal ring is exposed, with the center of the ring empty, exposing rich soil.

They are able to see in the room because there is a light on the ceiling, which looks like a sun, only it is the size of a disco ball and not so bright that they cannot look at it. The light focuses on the exposed soil in the center of the metal ring, and a single very large rose begins to grow. The stem grows about four feet with very sharp thorns and a beautiful rose bloom at the top. The dull-colored metal ring starts to rise from the ground, turning to the right as it grows, and it grows inward, forming a steady funnel until it reaches the rose petals and stops. Four rose petals grow north, south, east, and west, and like hands, they reach over the metal and slap the metal, sticking to it. The petals somehow adhere to the metal and pull the rose apart into four equal parts. The small opening at the top of the metal funnel has a bladelike structure that closes like a circular, spiraling razor blade until it closes completely, severing the rose bloom from the stem.

The four pieces of the rose start to bleed a dark rose-red blood, and there are etchings on the metal, which funnel the rose blood into the center of the funnel. The blood seeps into the very tiny hole in the center of the funnel, and all is quiet and still for about two minutes. The circular razor in the center of the funnel spirals open, and a handheld hammer looking like a handheld sledgehammer rises on a metal platform, and in the center of the platform is a metal nipple sticking up about six inches.

Vegenrage cautiously walks up to the metal structure, which still has a metal ring around the base of the structure, and stands on it. He looks at Farrah. “Well, let’s find out what this is.” He picks up the hammer, and instantly a smile grows on his face. “Logantrance.”

CHAPTER 18
Shenlylith’s Prison

Cloakenstrike, Bastrenboar, and his two surviving fighters find themselves standing on a snowy rock formation. The wind is in their face, and the cold is immeasurable. It is very loud, and Bastrenboar yells to Cloakenstrike, “Where are we?” The air is very thin, and he wears himself out just by yelling that one sentence to Cloakenstrike. The cold is deadly, and they have to do something fast, or they will freeze to death.

“Follow me,” Cloakenstrike yells to the others and draws an imaginary door with his fingers. He extends his arm to Rothglon and pulls him through the door, and he disappears. Then he does the same with Fraborn and Bastrenboar and follows through the door. The four of them find themselves tumbling down a frozen tunnel that slants just steep enough for them to roll down but able to maintain themselves from crashing against the rocks and hurting themselves.

Rothglon slides first into the large cave at the bottom of the entrance, and it is still very cold, but he feels warm since he is out of the wind. He rises to his knees and sees four white furry animals beginning to stand around him. He quickly stands, drawing his sword, and just as he does, the closest Clawbominal slashes at him with its four massive and deadly ivory-colored claws. It slashes upward at him, striking him under his left rib and tearing four huge, deep wounds up his chest to his right shoulder. Rothglon falls to his back, looking at the gravy-colored blood flowing from the deadly wounds this terrible beast has just afflicted to him.

Fraborn sees this as he tumbles down the entrance and draws his sword and jumps at the Clawbominal with his sword, leading the way of his now arrow-like body. He makes a lethal strike as his sword hits the Clawbominal to the left of its head, in the shoulder, and the sword enters through the body of this four-legged creature all the way to the hilt. Fraborn hits the beast with his body and straddles it with both legs, standing up and pulling up on his sword, ripping it up and out of the beast, almost cutting it in half. Its red blood splashes on its white fur and on the snow-covered rocks in great quantity, leaving the signs of a deadly attack.

A Clawbominal to his left stands on its hind legs, slapping its left hand claws deep into Fraborn’s chest and its right hand claws deep into his back, causing great pain and eight deadly stab wounds in him. It opens its mouth, which is not like a cat’s or a dog’s but more like a shark’s razor-sharp teeth that meet and cut like shears. This beast bites huge chunks of flesh and swallows them whole, and Fraborn sees this terrifying sight up close. The beast attempts to bite his right shoulder, but before its teeth make contact, Bastrenboar runs up, sticking his Lavumptom Drawer into the exposed rib cage of the Clawbominal, pulling with both hands up and ripping the Lavumptom sword through the back of the Clawbominal, severing its back, dropping it to the ground in a pool of its blood.

Fraborn falls to the ground, mortally wounded, and Bastrenboar sees another Clawbominal that has jumped from the other side of the cave right at him. He points his sword, ready to impale the beast, when it stops frozen in midair. Bastrenboar looks to his right to see Cloakenstrike has caught the animal with his magic, and he imitates grabbing it with his left hand and turns his hand downward, breaking its neck, and he lets its limp dead body fall to the ground. There is another Clawbominal that runs away through another passageway that leads out of the cave. Cloakenstrike hurries to the aid of Rothglon, who is in shock and dying. The three humanor have taken the magical elixirs, but they only protect them against elven attacks and do not protect them from the attacks of the Clawbominals. Likewise, the armor they wear has been specially designed to protect them from elven attacks. Cloakenstrike kneels by Rothglon and chants magical words that work quickly, and the wounds on Rothglon begin to heal. Bastrenboar kneels by Fraborn, and Fraborn grabs his hand.

“I fought as bravely as I could, Bastrenboar.”

“Quiet, Fraborn, you made me proud, and you will continue to. Just relax, you are going to be all right. Just hang in there and be calm.”

Cloakenstrike finishes his chanting, and the wounds on Rothglon have healed, and he looks at the magic user, still very weak from loss of blood but knowing he will live, and says, “Thank you.”

“You rest now. I will be right here,” says Cloakenstrike, and he moves to aid Fraborn. Cloakenstrike kneels beside Fraborn and chants, magically healing the wounds as Fraborn watches. He sits up, much more mobile and active than Rothglon because he has not lost as much blood, and thanks Cloakenstrike.

“No problem, Rothglon,” he says, helping him to his feet.

“Cloakenstrike, we have to do something about this cold,” says Bastrenboar. “It is too cold for us here.”

They are out of the wind and the elements outside, but it is very cold and they are not properly dressed to survive this cold. Their breath hangs heavy in the air as they breathe and talk, and Rothglon lies shivering in the snow and with the ice blowing into his hands.

“Cloakenstrike, we have to do something about this cold before we freeze.”

They are all shivering and shaking, moving around, trying to keep warm. The cave they are in has the opening they entered through leading upward and out to the mountain face, and there is another passageway presumably leading out of the cave as well. The back of the cave is rounded, and there is Clawbominal hair all around. There is nothing here but rock ice and snow, and Cloakenstrike has the three humanors move to the side of the cave where they entered. He casts flames from his hands after chanting and heats the back of the cave, melting the ice and snow and heating all the rocks. All the moisture is now steam creating a short-lived sauna. He turns and casts a barrier covering the entire entrance where they entered to block the cold wind that flows through the cave. This provides enough warmth for them to warm up and take the chills out of their bones. They wait until the rocks have cooled down enough for them to move to the back of the cave and figure out what is going on.

“Cloakenstrike, what are those animals?” Fraborn asks, pointing at the dead catlike creatures.

“They are dinner,” he says with a grin. “If I am correct, they are Clawbominals. That would mean we are in the Krasbeil Mountain Range.”

Fraborn gets up and walks over to the Clawbominal that he ripped his sword through and grabs a piece of its thick fur coat and begins to pull it away from its body. He pulls the entire fur skin from the animal, exposing its red flesh, and looks to Cloakenstrike. “A little fire and dinner is served.”

There is no wood here, and nothing to burn, so Cloakenstrike has Fraborn stand behind him as he blasts the animal with flames from his hands, cooking it and providing them with lean, healthy nourishment. After cooking the beast, each grab a leg and begin chewing on their meal. They sit comfortably in the back of the cave, warm and filling their bellies.

“Cloakenstrike, how did we get way up in the Krasbeil Mountains?”

“The Snow Gold Trinket was protected by Shenlylith. It must have been her magic that teleported us here. That was a brilliant play by Trialani.”

“So what do we do now?”

“I was trying to send us back to Hunoria with my Dimension Door, but we fell into this cave. There must be more of Shenlylith’s magic at work here.”

“Well, do you know how to overcome this magic?”

“I will soon.” Cloakenstrike stands up and heats the rest of the cave with his flames, creating a sauna again. Then he sits to the front of the three humanors and pulls from his Bag of Holding a precious small white-gold book. He holds it in his hands and begins to chant magical words in a language the humanors do not understand. A table grows out from under the book, and the book flips open about halfway.

“Cloakenstrike, what are you doing?”

“I am trying to get some answers.”

From the book grows Oriapow, and he greets Cloakenstrike by saying, “How can I help thy master?”

The humanors watch, excited and curious.

“Oriapow, what do you know of the Snow Gold Trinket, and is it protected by Shenlylith?”

“The Snow Gold Trinket is the magical life force of the Ugorian elves. It is carried by the true master of Ugorian magic. The trinket itself and the bearer of the trinket are protected by Shenlylith, the ancient snow elf.”

“So the master of Ugorian magic is its king? King Trialani?”

“Yes.”

“You had told me that only someone imbued with the Ugorian magic, such as Bastrenboar, could hold and use the power of the Snow Gold Trinket.”

“This is true; however, you now can hold it as well.”

“So why, when Bastrenboar held the trinket, were we transported here? And where are we exactly?”

“Only Bastrenboar could’ve held and obtained the trinket’s power and secrets because he personally has been imbued with the Ugorian magic from Arglon. He has the knowledge to speak the language and extend its magic. The trinket can also be presented to another of the bearer’s choice. Of course, the owner of the Octagemerwell can hold it as well.”

“So why, when he held the trinket were we sent here? King Trialani said he gave it to us freely.”

“This was a trick by King Trialani to get you out of his kingdom and prepare for your possible return for the Snow Gold Trinket.”

“So what must we do to enable Bastrenboar to hold and own the Snow Gold Trinket?”

“You must eliminate its protector, Shenlylith, and/or the current king of Ugoria, whom the trinket will always protect. By killing either, Bastrenboar can hold the Snow Gold Trinket. Of course, killing Shenlylith will destroy the magical power of the Snow Gold Trinket and killing the king of Ugoria will render the Snow Gold Trinkets magic useless until another king has been named.”

“Why did you not tell me this before?”

“You only asked who could hold the Snow Gold Trinket, and I answered.”

“So Bastrenboar can never hold the Snow Gold Trinket and command its power?”

“Yes, he can. He has to be named king of Ugoria, and he can harness the full power of the Snow Gold Trinket, or he or anyone can have the Snow Gold Trinket as long as the king of Ugoria presents it to them. However, they cannot summon its magic unless they are king of Ugoria.”

“So where are we now? And why is my magic limited?”

“You are very high up in the Krasbeil Mountains in Shenlylith’s frozen prison. You have your magical abilities. However, your teleport spells are reflected, meaning you can use them, but you do not go where you want to go. You bounce around Shenlylith’s prison from one life-threatening area to another.”

“Oh great,” the humanors say, putting their hands on their heads.

“So where is Shenlylith, and how do we destroy her?”

“Shenlylith is the mist in the clouds. She is the snow on the mountain and the ice on the rocks.”

“There has to be a way to destroy her. There has to be a way out of this prison.”

“She only takes form when protecting the Snow Gold Trinket, and this is the only time she can be destroyed, by melting her with fire. The only way out of this prison you are in is by walking. You cannot transport out by magic. If you can walk off the mountain, you can simply walk away. Once at the base of the mountain, your full magical abilities will return, but I can tell you this: no one of any race has ever survived the journey to the bottom of the mountain. Of course, very few have ever been banished to this prison, but it so far has been a tomb for the hundred or so prisoners sent here. Your magic is strong, and once you figure out how to overcome the cold, making it off the mountain should be within your magical ability to accomplish. But beware the predators of the mountain.”

“Cloakenstrike, behind you.” Rothglon points behind him.

They look to see the fourth Clawbominal has come back to inspect its home. It is carefully approaching from the outside where it retreated and peeking around a rock to see that the intruders have taken shelter in its home and its three siblings have died. Cloakenstrike stands and grabs hold of the final surviving Clawbominal with his magic and breaks its neck as he did the previous one. This breaks his concentration with Oriapow, and he shrinks back into his book. It closes, and the table shrinks into the book.

Cloakenstrike turns, picks up the golden white book, and returns it into his Bag of Holding. Cloakenstrike tells them “Wait here” while he inspects the tunnel the Clawbominal came from. He heads down the tunnel, and it gets very cold as he reaches the entrance to the mountain. He walks out and is met with the strong, cold wind. He looks around to see he is high on a mountain, and everywhere he can see is just one mountain after another. They can’t simply journey to the bottom of the mountain they are on. They have to traverse many mountains by walking down one mountain and then up and over the next, and there is no telling how many mountains there are between them and freedom. Not only that, without a map to guide them, they do not know which way to go.

Cloakenstrike can see why no one has ever escaped this prison where all you have to do is walk out to gain freedom. He heads back down the tunnel, casting another barrier over the entrance, blocking the frigid cold from blowing in. He drags the dead Clawbominal to his companions and instructs that they use the fur of them to make warm clothing, and they begin this task as they are all cold. Cloakenstrike heats the entrances with his hand-thrown fire and creates a sauna, warming them again. He pulls a vial from his Bag of Holding and gives it to Rothglon to help him regain his strength along with two daggers for them to use in the skinning of the Clawbominal. They work on the animals, and Cloakenstrike uses his magic to enlarge and make warmer the clothing they make, saving them from the frigid cold. This has taken them a few hours, and they, in humanor fashion, work swiftly, focused on their task. Now that they have clothing, Cloakenstrike cooks another Clawbominal, and they rest, eating again, building their strength, and talk about how they will find a way out of the Krasbeil Mountains.