The extra pair of glasses came in use as the previous ones were found broken, presumably when I stumbled and fell in pursuit to help Ms Lasfield. I could see the world clearly, and yet, I wished not to. How many are there? I thought, squinting my eyes, looking at the fierce glows in the dark that had approached us calmly. ‘Why are they so calm?’ I asked. Their sheer numbers were making me sweat. Blobs of water were floating near my head and over my shoulders.
‘This is unusual,’ said Ms Olsberg. We had yet to engage in combat, and I wondered why we hadn’t yet. One after another, they kept emerging from the shadows. Some were ahead of us, while others had circled around, trapping our retreat. ‘We are sieged.’ I did not want to hear either — these unnerving words and those low growls.
‘Why did the hound not inform us sooner?’ I asked. It was no time for questioning, but I was worried the hound may have betrayed us. I had a suspicion of much enlightenment, but soon I gave away the idea. Traitors are men; dogs do not betray.
Those sneaking eyes soon showed their owner. I caught a glimpse of one, and then two, and then twelve. Wolves? It was a pack of wolves. ‘The hound did not smell them,’ answered Mr Kolm belatedly, looking more stressed than all of us combined. ‘He only saw them. They have no scent.’ That was unheard of, and what is unheard of is often terrifying.
‘There are twelve,’ I said, staying alert of their movements. ‘Three for each of us. Lucky.’ The last part was purely sarcastic. I was mocking myself. I hope no one misunderstood me for a man of pride and pretence. I refrained from pretence, and pride was a luxury I was willing to sell at the right price. The buyer had yet to arrive, but my shop was open.
‘What should we do, Ms Olsberg?’ asked Mr Mason while Mr Kolm and I waited in anticipation. Ms Olsberg, the leader of our little group, was the tail of our formation, while Mr Kolm and Mr Mason were ahead and I in the middle. The frail mage should be in the middle, all of them had agreed. I did not truly feel like risking myself while also feeling the urge to proclaim — with manliness and a chest stretched wide — that I was the most gallant of them all. But I did not; my wish to boast was doused by my impeccable reasoning and will to live. I scoffed. At least, I have a mark of battle; what do you have? Battle-hardened faces and callous hands? Burning oneself may not have been much honourable, but I imagined myself making it a glamourous endeavour in the Mage community — all so I could boast. It was a good dream in a dire situation — worthy of a moron's applause.
‘We fight,’ said the green-eyed woman, once again breaking my delusional reverie. ‘Do not make the first move.’ Her tone had authority and heaviness; nowhere was the usual amiability. I heeded her.
‘How should we fight then?’ I asked, nearly on my last nerve, wary of those fierce teeth and those revving growls. ‘We are outnumbered.’ Brilliant, I; said the most obvious.
Ms Olsberg thought for a moment. Her eyes looked at the hound Mr Kolm had chained, and I wondered if she were demanding heroic sacrifices from the poor beast. I was against it but not above it. ‘Professor,’ she said, and I wondered, Is there a correlation between that hound and me? But she continued, unaware of my questioning gaze that was hiding panic and terror, ‘Could you hold what few you can while we slay them?’
Her question was reasonable, and after a moment, I answered, ‘Yes.’ I was confident, unusually so. My boyish self, my soft voice — the whole of my being was sure. ‘I believe you only require a brief moment?’ I asked.
And a blood-thirsty grin appeared on that proud woman’s face. It was wide, wider than my shoulders could ever wish to be. ‘That is a privilege, Professor.’ I looked at the two men that suddenly seemed relieved. Did I promise the impossible…? I wondered as the woman that was as tall as me spoke, ‘On the count of three then.’ Three what? ‘One.’ Wait, wait, what? ‘Two.’ Wait! Now? You wish it right away? But you said— ‘Three.’ And the woman shot the first shot. The little embers that escaped the metallic gun, drawing a mesmerising line in the air, seemingly like petals, pierced a skull. One wolf was killed. It had died before I could make heads or tails of her words. And while I instinctively began casting my magic, I heard quick footsteps, a curt struggle, and a few groans. Two wolves had died, while in the periphery of my sight, two bloody blades remained. Only nine were left.
My daze broke and I heard the howls and roars. Like me, the pack too had woken up. Their furry bodies — grey, white, and black — rushed towards us. It had been easy so far, but I knew that the element of surprise would aid us no more. ‘Professor!’ I heard someone yell, but I did not pay attention. I had already cast my magic. Little rocks I had spotted in a matter of seconds flew and shot towards the heads of three of the beasts. It was as if they were being attracted towards their eyeballs. I must remember to teach this to the students, I thought in the middle of the turmoil. I cast magic again, and the little blobs of water rushed towards the rest of the wolves that continued towards us. Three of them were hit by the whips made of glimmering, clear streams. When mutual attraction surpasses gravity, Elemental Magic is born.
While I mused, Ms Olsberg shot in succession. Two of the rushing wolves fell. She has a great eye. Seven remained. Mr Kolm and Mr Mason behead another one together. Six remained. The loud sound of firing did not stop, and the two bullets that left that beautifully crafted revolver pierced one of the wolves in the shoulder and then its head. The poor thing could not even see its slayer as the water had stung and blinded it for mere seconds. Water can be a truly difficult thing, I thought, watching Ms Olsberg reaching for her black coat’s pocket. Eyes become heavy and itch. I felt a little sorry for the poor wolf, ignoring who had left him to such a fate.
‘Reloading,’ said Ms Olsberg. I didn’t think it was necessary to inform us, but my colleagues thought differently. They were trained; they knew better.
‘Five left,’ I said, imitating the woman. No one said anything. I felt a little discouraged but did not complain. I suppose it is obvious. But it was not. I soon heard Ms Olsberg’s voice.
‘No,’ she said. ‘There is one more.’ And only then could I sense a faint outline hiding in the shadows. It was huge. I was brought back to reality. ‘We have to end this quickly.’ We were in a dire situation still.
I heard a scraping sound and found a wolf lunging towards me. It had escaped my rocks and was now aiming for my head with its claws and one horrifying jaw. I heard two distinctive, heavy thumps. Two more dead wolves, I presumed. Mr Kolm and Mr Mason had done a wonderful job. But left me to fend for myself. I was thinking of what dramatical words I shall utter as my death approached, but Ms Olsberg stole that dramatic scene from me. I heard a bang and then a thud. The wolf lay dead on the ground in front of me, its tongue rolling out of its ajar mouth, a hole between its eyes.
‘Be careful, Professor,’ the amazing woman said. If I were a teen, I would have fallen for her head first. But the mature me, simply nodded three times. Thank Goddess Ivory, I did not ruin my underpants. The green-eyed woman had saved both dignity and life. ‘That is that then,’ I heard her say over my internal voice. My internal voice was very manly — lean and young, like some handsome, golden-haired man. I was impressed. You could overwhelm me? Simply marvellous, it said, and I agreed with a nodding head.
Belatedly, I looked around. The last of the wolves had been taken care of. Bloody, dead bodies lay all around us now. It smelled but not too much. It is bearable. I saw the hound, its mouth bloody. Did you fight too? I indeed spotted bite marks on the last beast that fell and two others. One of them had an ear ripped. Cruel thing. I frowned.
‘Be on guard,’ said Ms Olsberg while Mr Kolm kept his eyes on the beast hiding in the shadows of the dark forest. I noticed Mr Mason wiping the blood off his sword. I wondered if it was necessary, considering we may be fighting that thing. But it did not take him long to clean the double-edged, shining sword, leaving one of the dead ones marred with red.
‘Why keep a handkerchief when dead bodies present themselves?’ he said smilingly, spotting my gaze, relieved by the outcome. Smart man, terrifying words, I thought, eyeing the beautiful sword. The aesthetic of these weapons was something to marvel at. Silver and metallic shine adorned with black patterns across the blade. They must have been heavy, but the two men wielded them with ease. Their pommels were shaped like the head of a perched eagle. Beautiful pieces.
I was catching my breath when Mr Kolm bellowed, ‘It is coming!’
I quickly pocketed my flask and brought out another one, waiting in anticipation. Mr Kolm and Mr Mason were standing in front, holding the frontline. Ms Olsberg was holding her revolver, pointing it towards the beast that advanced very slowly. I wondered why she did not shoot, and soon, I understood.
The wolf, or the thing that I presumed to be a wolf, walked out of the shadows, shaking the trees and disturbing the foliage. ‘What is this thing…?’ Mr Mason muttered, and I too, though sound of mind, simply stared at the beast that had come forward to showcase its greatness.
I saw Ms Olsberg’s face turn solemn and I heard the hound whimper. The beast that we had been awaiting was indeed smarter than the rest, but it was also large. Two men placed on top of each other. That was a correct description. It was that tall. Its eyes — full of intelligence, cunning, and gravity — were staring at us with a marvellous light. It looked at each one with dull interest, and each time that stare passed me, I felt an indescribable chill. It was, I understood, the fright of a prey. It was a mighty beast, and all four of us had understood it.
What can this flask do…? I thought, petrified. The night was dark and scarlet, like the blood of men as Ivory created it. The skies too had turned an endless abyss of red shade. I felt it turn darker with each breath. And all the while, the giant wolf kept approaching, lightly placing one paw in front of the other. It was majestic and its eyes reminded me of that. Is it all for nought—
‘Get hold of yourselves!’ shouted Ms Olsberg, jerking us awake from our petrified state. I too was reminded that everything was more than fine. We are alive yet, I told myself. No need to fear. Lile Dew, you shall return to find your student awake. Do not be afraid. And I was not afraid — no more. I had strength and I had will. I was not lost yet; I was not dead.
‘Yes, mam!’ replied the other two in a very professional fashion. I scoffed a little. What was I afraid of?
‘The beast is smart,’ said Ms Olsberg, watching the giant that was observing us. ‘It terrified us, intentionally. The fear, the petrification — I can tell it was all his doing. His eyes, they hold something of arcane, and it knows it.’ Her words made me aware of it. Indeed, the glowing of its eyes was not natural. Even now, in light, they glowed. ‘It is a beast of the dark.’ In magical terms, it is called a mutated beast. An evolved living. A thing that was blessed by mana — an Arcane beast.
‘It affected our minds,’ I whispered, admiring the beast. And as if it understood that its ploy was shredded by the impressive woman, it lunged at us.
‘Scatter!’ yelled Ms Olsberg, pulling me alongside her. The large, magnificent wolf had landed on the ground where we stood not moments ago. Its claws were digging into the soil while its pure white fur left a glow in the air.
Glamorous, I thought while my left hand extended, gesturing to hold the large thing. The ground that it had dug its claws into emerged in the form of two arms and held its front legs in place. I had emptied the second flask there, making the ground softer. Baffled, it looked down while dodging the rocks that flew towards its head. It did not even look at the attack, as if mocking me, telling me it had seen it beforehand. Smart or instinctive? I wondered, and now I was very interested in finding out. And Ms Olsberg seemed to agree. Watching its red eyes, she yelled, ‘Bleed it!’
Those orders meant to preserve our strength, to not tire ourselves in search of an optimal hit but rather to cut it little by little. It is said, in Marcus’s Sacrifice, that this is how he slayed the giants of Frugtál. One cut at a time.
The extra pair of glasses came in use as the previous ones were found broken, presumably when I stumbled and fell in pursuit to help Ms Lasfield. I could see the world clearly, and yet, I wished not to. How many are there? I thought, squinting my eyes, looking at the fierce glows in the dark that had approached us calmly. ‘Why are they so calm?’ I asked. Their sheer numbers were making me sweat. Blobs of water were floating near my head and over my shoulders.
‘This is unusual,’ said Ms Olsberg. We had yet to engage in combat, and I wondered why we hadn’t yet. One after another, they kept emerging from the shadows. Some were ahead of us, while others had circled around, trapping our retreat. ‘We are sieged.’ I did not want to hear either — these unnerving words and those low growls.
‘Why did the hound not inform us sooner?’ I asked. It was no time for questioning, but I was worried the hound may have betrayed us. I had a suspicion of much enlightenment, but soon I gave away the idea. Traitors are men; dogs do not betray.
Those sneaking eyes soon showed their owner. I caught a glimpse of one, and then two, and then twelve. Wolves? It was a pack of wolves. ‘The hound did not smell them,’ answered Mr Kolm belatedly, looking more stressed than all of us combined. ‘He only saw them. They have no scent.’ That was unheard of, and what is unheard of is often terrifying.
‘There are twelve,’ I said, staying alert of their movements. ‘Three for each of us. Lucky.’ The last part was purely sarcastic. I was mocking myself. I hope no one misunderstood me for a man of pride and pretence. I refrained from pretence, and pride was a luxury I was willing to sell at the right price. The buyer had yet to arrive, but my shop was open.
‘What should we do, Ms Olsberg?’ asked Mr Mason while Mr Kolm and I waited in anticipation. Ms Olsberg, the leader of our little group, was the tail of our formation, while Mr Kolm and Mr Mason were ahead and I in the middle. The frail mage should be in the middle, all of them had agreed. I did not truly feel like risking myself while also feeling the urge to proclaim — with manliness and a chest stretched wide — that I was the most gallant of them all. But I did not; my wish to boast was doused by my impeccable reasoning and will to live. I scoffed. At least, I have a mark of battle; what do you have? Battle-hardened faces and callous hands? Burning oneself may not have been much honourable, but I imagined myself making it a glamourous endeavour in the Mage community — all so I could boast. It was a good dream in a dire situation — worthy of a moron's applause.
‘We fight,’ said the green-eyed woman, once again breaking my delusional reverie. ‘Do not make the first move.’ Her tone had authority and heaviness; nowhere was the usual amiability. I heeded her.
‘How should we fight then?’ I asked, nearly on my last nerve, wary of those fierce teeth and those revving growls. ‘We are outnumbered.’ Brilliant, I; said the most obvious.
Ms Olsberg thought for a moment. Her eyes looked at the hound Mr Kolm had chained, and I wondered if she were demanding heroic sacrifices from the poor beast. I was against it but not above it. ‘Professor,’ she said, and I wondered, Is there a correlation between that hound and me? But she continued, unaware of my questioning gaze that was hiding panic and terror, ‘Could you hold what few you can while we slay them?’
Her question was reasonable, and after a moment, I answered, ‘Yes.’ I was confident, unusually so. My boyish self, my soft voice — the whole of my being was sure. ‘I believe you only require a brief moment?’ I asked.
And a blood-thirsty grin appeared on that proud woman’s face. It was wide, wider than my shoulders could ever wish to be. ‘That is a privilege, Professor.’ I looked at the two men that suddenly seemed relieved. Did I promise the impossible…? I wondered as the woman that was as tall as me spoke, ‘On the count of three then.’ Three what? ‘One.’ Wait, wait, what? ‘Two.’ Wait! Now? You wish it right away? But you said— ‘Three.’ And the woman shot the first shot. The little embers that escaped the metallic gun, drawing a mesmerising line in the air, seemingly like petals, pierced a skull. One wolf was killed. It had died before I could make heads or tails of her words. And while I instinctively began casting my magic, I heard quick footsteps, a curt struggle, and a few groans. Two wolves had died, while in the periphery of my sight, two bloody blades remained. Only nine were left.
My daze broke and I heard the howls and roars. Like me, the pack too had woken up. Their furry bodies — grey, white, and black — rushed towards us. It had been easy so far, but I knew that the element of surprise would aid us no more. ‘Professor!’ I heard someone yell, but I did not pay attention. I had already cast my magic. Little rocks I had spotted in a matter of seconds flew and shot towards the heads of three of the beasts. It was as if they were being attracted towards their eyeballs. I must remember to teach this to the students, I thought in the middle of the turmoil. I cast magic again, and the little blobs of water rushed towards the rest of the wolves that continued towards us. Three of them were hit by the whips made of glimmering, clear streams. When mutual attraction surpasses gravity, Elemental Magic is born.
While I mused, Ms Olsberg shot in succession. Two of the rushing wolves fell. She has a great eye. Seven remained. Mr Kolm and Mr Mason behead another one together. Six remained. The loud sound of firing did not stop, and the two bullets that left that beautifully crafted revolver pierced one of the wolves in the shoulder and then its head. The poor thing could not even see its slayer as the water had stung and blinded it for mere seconds. Water can be a truly difficult thing, I thought, watching Ms Olsberg reaching for her black coat’s pocket. Eyes become heavy and itch. I felt a little sorry for the poor wolf, ignoring who had left him to such a fate.
‘Reloading,’ said Ms Olsberg. I didn’t think it was necessary to inform us, but my colleagues thought differently. They were trained; they knew better.
‘Five left,’ I said, imitating the woman. No one said anything. I felt a little discouraged but did not complain. I suppose it is obvious. But it was not. I soon heard Ms Olsberg’s voice.
‘No,’ she said. ‘There is one more.’ And only then could I sense a faint outline hiding in the shadows. It was huge. I was brought back to reality. ‘We have to end this quickly.’ We were in a dire situation still.
I heard a scraping sound and found a wolf lunging towards me. It had escaped my rocks and was now aiming for my head with its claws and one horrifying jaw. I heard two distinctive, heavy thumps. Two more dead wolves, I presumed. Mr Kolm and Mr Mason had done a wonderful job. But left me to fend for myself. I was thinking of what dramatical words I shall utter as my death approached, but Ms Olsberg stole that dramatic scene from me. I heard a bang and then a thud. The wolf lay dead on the ground in front of me, its tongue rolling out of its ajar mouth, a hole between its eyes.
‘Be careful, Professor,’ the amazing woman said. If I were a teen, I would have fallen for her head first. But the mature me, simply nodded three times. Thank Goddess Ivory, I did not ruin my underpants. The green-eyed woman had saved both dignity and life. ‘That is that then,’ I heard her say over my internal voice. My internal voice was very manly — lean and young, like some handsome, golden-haired man. I was impressed. You could overwhelm me? Simply marvellous, it said, and I agreed with a nodding head.
Belatedly, I looked around. The last of the wolves had been taken care of. Bloody, dead bodies lay all around us now. It smelled but not too much. It is bearable. I saw the hound, its mouth bloody. Did you fight too? I indeed spotted bite marks on the last beast that fell and two others. One of them had an ear ripped. Cruel thing. I frowned.
‘Be on guard,’ said Ms Olsberg while Mr Kolm kept his eyes on the beast hiding in the shadows of the dark forest. I noticed Mr Mason wiping the blood off his sword. I wondered if it was necessary, considering we may be fighting that thing. But it did not take him long to clean the double-edged, shining sword, leaving one of the dead ones marred with red.
‘Why keep a handkerchief when dead bodies present themselves?’ he said smilingly, spotting my gaze, relieved by the outcome. Smart man, terrifying words, I thought, eyeing the beautiful sword. The aesthetic of these weapons was something to marvel at. Silver and metallic shine adorned with black patterns across the blade. They must have been heavy, but the two men wielded them with ease. Their pommels were shaped like the head of a perched eagle. Beautiful pieces.
I was catching my breath when Mr Kolm bellowed, ‘It is coming!’
I quickly pocketed my flask and brought out another one, waiting in anticipation. Mr Kolm and Mr Mason were standing in front, holding the frontline. Ms Olsberg was holding her revolver, pointing it towards the beast that advanced very slowly. I wondered why she did not shoot, and soon, I understood.
The wolf, or the thing that I presumed to be a wolf, walked out of the shadows, shaking the trees and disturbing the foliage. ‘What is this thing…?’ Mr Mason muttered, and I too, though sound of mind, simply stared at the beast that had come forward to showcase its greatness.
I saw Ms Olsberg’s face turn solemn and I heard the hound whimper. The beast that we had been awaiting was indeed smarter than the rest, but it was also large. Two men placed on top of each other. That was a correct description. It was that tall. Its eyes — full of intelligence, cunning, and gravity — were staring at us with a marvellous light. It looked at each one with dull interest, and each time that stare passed me, I felt an indescribable chill. It was, I understood, the fright of a prey. It was a mighty beast, and all four of us had understood it.
What can this flask do…? I thought, petrified. The night was dark and scarlet, like the blood of men as Ivory created it. The skies too had turned an endless abyss of red shade. I felt it turn darker with each breath. And all the while, the giant wolf kept approaching, lightly placing one paw in front of the other. It was majestic and its eyes reminded me of that. Is it all for nought—
‘Get hold of yourselves!’ shouted Ms Olsberg, jerking us awake from our petrified state. I too was reminded that everything was more than fine. We are alive yet, I told myself. No need to fear. Lile Dew, you shall return to find your student awake. Do not be afraid. And I was not afraid — no more. I had strength and I had will. I was not lost yet; I was not dead.
‘Yes, mam!’ replied the other two in a very professional fashion. I scoffed a little. What was I afraid of?
‘The beast is smart,’ said Ms Olsberg, watching the giant that was observing us. ‘It terrified us, intentionally. The fear, the petrification — I can tell it was all his doing. His eyes, they hold something of arcane, and it knows it.’ Her words made me aware of it. Indeed, the glowing of its eyes was not natural. Even now, in light, they glowed. ‘It is a beast of the dark.’ In magical terms, it is called a mutated beast. An evolved living. A thing that was blessed by mana — an Arcane beast.
‘It affected our minds,’ I whispered, admiring the beast. And as if it understood that its ploy was shredded by the impressive woman, it lunged at us.
‘Scatter!’ yelled Ms Olsberg, pulling me alongside her. The large, magnificent wolf had landed on the ground where we stood not moments ago. Its claws were digging into the soil while its pure white fur left a glow in the air.
Glamorous, I thought while my left hand extended, gesturing to hold the large thing. The ground that it had dug its claws into emerged in the form of two arms and held its front legs in place. I had emptied the second flask there, making the ground softer. Baffled, it looked down while dodging the rocks that flew towards its head. It did not even look at the attack, as if mocking me, telling me it had seen it beforehand. Smart or instinctive? I wondered, and now I was very interested in finding out. And Ms Olsberg seemed to agree. Watching its red eyes, she yelled, ‘Bleed it!’
Those orders meant to preserve our strength, to not tire ourselves in search of an optimal hit but rather to cut it little by little. It is said, in Marcus’s Sacrifice, that this is how he slayed the giants of Frugtál. One cut at a time.
