AS SOON AS Traphis entered the Nomadic Room, he expected to be instantly transported. Instead, he found himself standing in a still, motionless, and empty room just like the one he had trained in. Like the training room, this one had no windows, chairs, or desks, just a flat, bare floor with smooth, empty walls. No lights, no books, nothing. Only open space dully lit by Falin’s staff.
Traphis inhaled the stale smell of timber and imagined himself in the midst of a dead forest.
“Please shut the door,” Falin said.
Traphis looked around as if Falin had addressed someone else.
“Go ahead,” Falin said, motioning with the tip of his glowing staff.
Traphis walked over to the door and gave it a push. It swung shut with a clunk. As soon as it did, the light in Falin’s staff went out.
Darkness filled the room and weightlessness overtook him as if the floor had disappeared below. He reached out, grasping for the door, but nothing was there. A fierce wind rushed past his ears and tousled his hair. A taste, bitter and unfamiliar, entered his mouth. There was no substance, only flavor. Horrid flavor, as if fire had become food. He cried out to Falin, but there was no reply.
And then light entered his vision, forcing his eyes shut. When he finally opened them again, bark from a tree stared back at him. A tree? He took a few steps back, tripped, and then fell onto his haunches. A branch stuck out from underneath his heel, but that wasn’t all. Dirt, plants, rocks, everything he’d expect to see in a forest; it was all there before his eyes.
The ground was cool against his hands as he lifted himself back to his feet. When he turned, Falin stood only a few paces behind.
“Where are we?” Traphis asked.
“At the border,” Falin said.
“The border?”
“Between Eskaron and Ronum.”
“The room brought us here?”
“Being a wizard has its advantages.” The old wizard smiled, but there was sadness in his face. He motioned for Traphis to come closer and then the boy understood why.
Trees, bushes, plants, and other greenery were overturned, trampled, and uprooted. In the midst were several bodies spread across the ground—lying motionless.
Traphis’ voice betrayed his horror. “What happened to them?” There was nothing but destruction, death, and slaughter. He could hardly believe his eyes.
“Tyron happened, Traphis,” Falin said. “The man who sought to destroy your father is now seeking to destroy our kingdom. These tracks were left by wolvarks.” The old wizard bent over and spread his fingers across one of the footprints. “It looks like there are close to fifty of them. Do you remember the man from yesterday?”
“The one who was wounded?”
“Yes. He came from a group of Ronum who resisted the rule of Tyron. They tracked the wolvarks to the border, but were spotted by a magic user. As you can see, he is all that is left of them.”
“He’s still alive?” Traphis remembered his earlier mission. How he and his friends failed to track the man down.
“Alas,” Falin said. “He is not long from joining his comrades.” He approached one of the bodies. “This man was one of us. A wizard,” he said.
The outfit looked like one from the WC. Blue robes, pointed hat, and leather sandals. Yet these observations only furthered the unsettling sensation in Traphis’ gut.
“Baskas,” Falin said, as if echoing a former thought. “He was once my apprentice and one of the most honorable men I knew, but young, too young . . .”
Bile rose to Traphis’ throat and he struggled to choke it down. Falin’s apprentice?
“A nekrin was among the wolvarks,” Falin continued. “Tyron would not have sent them alone; not without someone to command them. Otherwise his goal could not be accomplished.”
Traphis turned away from the dead wizard. He continued the conversation if only to distract himself from the scene. “What goal?” he asked.
“I wish I knew for certain.” Falin reached down, took Baskas’ hand, and removed something from the man’s finger. “Fifty wolvarks and a nekrin will cause a great deal of damage, but not enough to gain a kingdom.”
“Can’t the Committee do anything to stop them?” Traphis tried to act as if he didn’t already know their thoughts on the matter.
“That is why we are here. Baskas has one final act to perform. Come, I wish to give you something.”
Traphis stumbled over to Falin and tried not to look at the dead body, but failed. The youthful face of Baskas glared up at him with hollow eyes, and then he pictured his own face—pale and lifeless, lying dead on the ground.
A bird flew overhead, squawked, and then disappeared into the distance. A gust of wind rushed through the trampled forest and nestled against the edge of Baskas’ hat. Falin reached out and placed a cool, silver object into Traphis’ hand.
“I want you to have this,” Falin said. “It is part of your next lesson.”
Traphis rolled the object on his palm and inspected it. The circular band easily fit around his middle finger. “But, doesn’t this belong to Baskas?” he asked.
“As you can see, he will no longer have need of it.”
“But doesn’t it contain his signature?” Sunlight gleamed against the ring’s smooth oval surface.
“No,” Falin said. “All rings are the same. The signature comes from the wizard. The ring only helps to form it.”
“So I can enter the WC with this? I can unlock the doors?”
“Not yet. First you must master your signature, and then it must be recorded into the archives.”
“How can I use it then?”
“It will take time for you to learn, but first, there is one thing I ask of you.” Falin’s tone was weary, but purposeful.
Traphis looked blankly at him.
“Do not show anyone that you possess the ring,” Falin continued. “Train in private and keep it tucked away at all times.”
“But—”
“I have my reasons,” Falin interrupted. “When you are alone, establish a connection and channel the energy into the ring.”
Traphis wanted to ask more questions, but he sensed that Falin was becoming somber and mournful. Removing the ring, he stuffed it into the inside pocket of his leather vest.
“What do we do now?”
“We bury the dead. They deserve better, but this is all the time we have.”
Traphis scanned the bodies and counted at least ten. Even if he had a shovel, he knew it would take more than a day to dig that many graves.
As if sensing his apprentice’s objection, Falin said, “I will show you.”
The old wizard stood up, walked over to one of the bodies, pointed his staff at the ground, and closed his eyes. The ground shook and out of it came roots as thick as a man’s arm. They sprouted from the earth, slithering like snakes, and proceeded to push the dirt aside. Once a sizable hole had been formed, the roots gently wrapped around the body, lifted it, and pulled it into the hole. As if filling a glass with water, dirt came from underneath until the body was completely covered.
“How . . .” Traphis tried to compile his words. “How did you? How can I?”
“I am able to command plant life. You are able to command fire. One day you may find a way to help in such matters, but for now, I will carry this burden.”
Falin approached each body and buried them one at a time. After every instance, he said a few words, though the language was unfamiliar to Traphis. It sounded like a soft prayer, not totally unlike the ones he said with his mother. Or rather, the ones he used to say. It just occurred to him that he had not said a single prayer since being away from her. This knowledge would have made her unhappy, but what she didn’t know couldn’t cause her any distress.
Once Falin had finished with the last Ronum, Traphis asked, “What about him?” while pointing to the body of Baskas.
“He will come with us and be buried like a proper wizard.” In less time than it took Traphis to move out of the way, Falin motioned his staff toward Baskas and lifted him into the air. The process was elegantly executed, yet disturbingly observed.
The dead wizard’s hat fell to the ground. With apprehension, Traphis placed it back on his head.
“Thank you, Traphis,” Falin said. “Now let us see if we can give Baskas one last mission.”
* * *
Traphis and Falin returned to the place where they arrived at the forest. The old wizard put his ring against a tree in the same manner as he did to the door of the Nomadic Room.
With a twist, Falin removed his hand to reveal a symbol etched into the bark. A similar clicking noise sounded as Falin motioned for Traphis to enter.
“But there’s no door,” Traphis said.
“There is a door.”
“Where?”
“You are looking at it.” Falin readjusted his staff and moved the body of Baskas closer to the tree.
“The tree?” Traphis asked. “But there’s no opening.”
“Put your hand against the bark.”
Traphis walked over, reached out, and watched his fingers disappear. He instantly pulled away, jumped backward, and shrieked. “It tried to eat my hand.”
“Time is of the essence. It will not bite you. Please, proceed.”
Gathering all his courage, Traphis closed his eyes, blindly stepped forward, and thrust out his hand. When he felt nothing, he opened his eyes only to find that half his arm was missing. The urge to turn and run was just as strong as before, but he knew he must go forward. Taking a deep breath, he pushed onward. His bicep disappeared before his eyes. It became obvious that the tree was unnatural. With his remaining strength, he pressed harder until all but his head was visible.
If Skinny Jack could see me now, Traphis thought, and then he pictured the smiling face that would surely have followed. But to Traphis, this was no laughing matter.
There was a slight nudge to the back of his head, and then all light disappeared. He felt the weight lift from his feet as the air turned cool. The taste of smoke came to him like before. Pressure forced against his scalp and the hair on his head brushed up against his shoulders—whipping like blades of grass. The sensation was different from before. The closest he could determine was that instead of falling downward, he was falling upward. As if that was even possible.
And then the pressure desisted with a halt. He felt himself standing on what seemed to be solid ground. Moments later, light illuminated an empty room as Falin appeared with the body of Baskas hovering at his side.
“You may proceed,” Falin said.
For the first time, Traphis realized that the door to the room was already open. He wondered if that happened when Falin pressed the ring against the tree, or when they reentered the room, but he decided to keep his questions to himself.
Taking the lead with Falin close behind, a sensation of pride lingered as Traphis navigated the hallway with success. It wasn’t until they reached the lighted area that Falin went ahead.
They passed by several trainees whose mouths hung open when noticing the body floating in the air. Murmurs spread across the halls, and soon there was no way to keep it a secret.
This didn’t seem to bother Falin. In fact, Traphis began to wonder if that was part of the plan.
When they reached a large door in the hallway, Falin opened it with his ring, nodded to Traphis, and then proceeded in.
Once in the room, Falin place the body of Baskas on a thin, flat bed. The smell of sweat and mold permeated the air.
With high ceilings, the space was vast. Rows of beds stretched from one side of the room to the other. In the center stood a single large table with several magical looking items placed on top.
On a different bed, only a few paces away, a man lay. His dark hair spilled over the edges of the bed as if trying to hold onto life by escaping its host’s dying body. A pale white face with streams of sweat glistened in the light. His eyes were shut tight as if in an endless sleep.
“Is he . . .” Traphis asked.
“No, Traphis.” Falin said. “He is not dead. Not yet.”
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Traphis asked. “The visitor from yesterday.”
“Unfortunately, the wolvarks made their cuts deep.”
“Can’t we heal him?”
“This one is too far gone.”
Traphis gazed at the figure’s chest, which rose and fell at slow intervals. A low, raspy breath came from his tightly shut lips. The skin on his chest appeared to be untouched, unharmed, but Traphis knew that damage had been done.
With caution, he crept closer, moving as if he were backing away from a predator, only instead of withdrawing, he drew near.
A spasm of coughing from the man gave Traphis a jolt, but he didn’t have time to react. The next moment the man’s dull, empty eyes looked up at him. There was a delay of comprehension, but soon the man’s complexion stiffened as if noticing Traphis for the first time.
“It is you,” he said with his voice low and shaky. “I have found you, at last.”
* * *
Traphis took several steps back. He had never seen this man before yesterday, so how was it that he recognized Traphis?
“I have been searching,” the man said. “We have been following. For many nights. A warning.” A procession of coughs followed. A deep breath and he spoke again. “A dream. In a vision. The voice, the one that sounds like distant waters, she spoke to me, showed me my mission. Who you are. I must protect. I must help. I . . . we have all failed. But you are here. You are safe.”
“Protect from what?” Falin gave Traphis a start as he spoke directly behind him.
The man did not look up at Falin. His eyes were set on Traphis as if he would vanish from sight. “From him. From the dreaded one. We followed in hopes of finding you. Discovered we were. Killed are my comrades. One wizard saw and helped. Let me escape to find you. To warn you.”
Falin spoke up again. “What is your message?”
A pale, shaking hand reached out toward Traphis. “For you,” he said. “They are coming for you.” His arm suddenly went limp and dropped to the ground. Moments later the life in the man’s eyes faded, and his last words were barely audible. “My mission is done. Now I can go . . .”
“I don’t understand,” Traphis said. “What did he mean? What just happened?”
Falin reached over and covered the man’s body with a blanket. “Things are happening which are beyond our understanding,” he said. Then, looking at the man, Falin shut his eyes and spoke in a peculiar tongue. When he had finished, he stood, looked down one last time and said, “Your work is indeed done, go now in peace and join your comrades for the new journey that awaits you.”
Traphis shook. This was not what he expected a wizard’s life to be like. It didn’t feel real at all. He imagined himself sitting down in his old room, reading one of his storybooks. One in which he could turn the pages and skip ahead to the happy ending. But there were no pages, and he dared not think of the ending. Had this man’s death been for nothing? Was he simply delusional? There was no way he could have been talking about Traphis. A nobody since birth whose highest aim was to put on a good magical show. No, there was no way. No one would want to see him. No one would care. He was just a moarock.
Falin turned toward Traphis and said, “Fear not; you are protected. I am sure there are many questions you have, and I would welcome them, but we must hurry. Head to the meeting room and I will gather the Committee. Go now.”
When Traphis entered the meeting room, he sat down at one of the chairs and rested his arms against the table. He wasn’t sure whether he should stand or sit, but when the others entered the room they sat beside him, so he remained where he was.
The number of attendants was much smaller than before; Traphis guessed it had something to do with the immediacy of the meeting. Their faces appeared tired and groggy as if they had been awakened from sleep, and for the first time he realized how late in the day it must have been.
After Falin entered the room, he shut the door behind him. Clamoring voices blended like the rushing of many waters; the earlier silence quickly became a distant memory. Some wizards shouted, others talked to their neighbors, and the rest muttered to themselves as if in a daze.
“I apologize for the abruptness of this meeting,” Falin said. He had to say this several times before being heard above the noise. “It is true that we had agreed to meet at a later time, and many of you did not expect it to be on this same day. However, a new development has occurred that needs to be urgently addressed, I would like—”
“What is going on here?” The door swung open so hard that it hit the sides of the inner walls. Jabool stomped into the room with a look that reminded Traphis of an angry tara bird. As soon as Jabool saw him sitting at the table, his expression was one of puzzlement, then realization, and finally rage.
As if having prepared for this in advance, Falin spoke up. “He is here as my witness.”
“But he’s not even a wizard let alone a Purple Class. I thought this meeting was for Committee members only.”
“Let him speak.” An old man sitting at the head of the table glanced through eyebrows so bushy that they nearly covered his pupils.
Jabool opened and closed his mouth several times, but evidently decided to let the words dissipate before taking shape. He shuffled over to the table and took one of the remaining seats.
The silence that followed was more frightful than the loudness from before. Once again, Traphis felt the accusatory eyes of the elder wizards glaring at him. Thankfully, Falin came to his rescue.
“We visited the border—” Falin’s words were cut short as Jabool jumped to his feet.
“I thought we agreed not to investigate the site!” Jabool’s pointed nose turned red. “What if Baskas was a traitor and you allowed him back into our fortress?”
“Sit down,” the old, bushy eyebrow man said. The authority in his tone even frightened Traphis.
An audible noise of distaste came from Jabool’s mouth before he once again took his seat.
“As I was saying,” Falin said. “We investigated the border at door 226; the entry point of our guest.”
Traphis heard a low rumble from Jabool that sounded something like intruder.
Falin folded his hands and continued. “I fear that my suspicions were correct. There were several Ronum casualties, and only moments ago our guest joined in their passing.”
A snort sounded from Jabool, but he said nothing.
Traphis wanted to walk over and kick the man in the shin; men were gone, better men than him, and he was mocking their deaths.
“I counted nearly fifty wolvarks,” Falin said, “and at least one nekrin.”
At this, several members of the Committee murmured amongst themselves, and Traphis began to wonder how anything ever got accomplished in these meetings.
“That is not all,” Falin said. “Baskas was there as well.”
“Where is he then?” Jabool asked, accusingly.
“He is with our guest in the sanatorium.”
The old man spoke this time, “What is his condition?”
Falin lowered his head. “He has also passed from this world.”
Several gasps sounded from the wizards.
“This is a great loss,” the old man said. “But to none more than you, Falin. You have our sympathy, yet we also rejoice in the new life which Baskas has embarked upon.”
Falin did not answer. Even Jabool stayed silent.
“Do you have anything else to report?” the bushy eyebrow man asked.
“Before our guest died,” Falin said. “He told us that the enemy is searching for something. I do not think Tyron plans a direct attack with so few troops, but anyone that comes across their path will surely suffer.” There was a pause, and then Falin said, “Traphis, please tell them what you saw.”
Heat welled up on his forehead. Traphis had no idea that Falin expected him to speak openly to the Committee. His heart pounded with all eyes on him. They were waiting. Waiting for him to say something.
“Aaah . . .” He paused to cough. “Yes, I saw these things. I mean. I saw the dead Ronum and the forest was destroyed. A large number of footprints.” He stretched out his arms to demonstrate. “The body of Baskas, and then we came back here and that mysterious man told me . . .” He hesitated and wiped sweat from his brow. For some reason it seemed like a bad idea to mention that the man claimed the enemy was coming for him, so he improvised. “He said the enemy is after something.”
Falin smiled at Traphis.
“Preposterous,” Jabool said.
“This news is indeed troubling,” the old man said. “Since Jabool does not believe the word of Falin and this boy, I will send him along with several others to investigate. Once this has been accomplished, we will meet again and discuss the matter further.”
Both Falin and Jabool started to speak, but the old man interrupted. “This is my final word. We all know your wishes on this matter, Falin, but I am not yet ready to start a war. It will take time to prepare, and there will be great casualties, therefore I do not lightly accept this path.”
Falin bowed his head and said, “It is as you wish.”
Silence was all that came from Jabool. Traphis couldn’t help but smile at the wizard’s discomfort. He knew that going to the border was probably the last thing Jabool wanted to do. The old man with bushy eyebrows seemed to have authority above the others, even Falin. Something to consider for the future.
“If there is nothing else,” the old man said, “I suggest we return to our sleep. Tomorrow we will prepare the funeral of Baskas. That is all.”
Jabool was the first to leave. And leave he did—as fast as a bounding learcat. The rest of the Committee slowly made their way out the door with much grumbling and yawning. Traphis pushed his chair back and proceeded to stand, but the old man spoke.
“Before you go,” he said. “I wish to speak to you and Falin alone.”
Traphis sat back down; heart pounding once again.