Authors: Christopher Greyson
Dean woke up as the smell of breakfast floated through the air. He rolled over. Panadur waited for him on the porch.
“Good morning, Panadur. And what dreaded task do you have in mind for me today? A slight jog through a lion park while covered in barbeque sauce? A walk over some hot coals with gas cans strapped to my butt?” Dean laughed, his body surprisingly not that sore from his ordeal the day before.
“Oh, nothing that easy. I want you to hunt a bear.” Panadur smiled.
“Is that all?” Dean mockingly shrugged.
“With a fork.” Panadur’s smile vanished.
Dean’s laughter faded as Panadur’s face grew sterner.
“Seriously?” Dean’s mouth opened.
Panadur roared with laughter.
“Ha-ha.” Dean wobbled his head back and forth. “Knowing you, that’s something you could ask me to do.”
“What I really thought we’d do today is pack a lunch and ride the horses to a little pond I know. Do you want to go fishing?”
“That sounds great.” Dean leaped from the porch and raced toward the barn. He slid to a stop and looked back at Panadur. “Really? Just fish? No bears?”
“No bears. You saddle the horses, and I’ll get the rest of the things.” Panadur went into the cottage, humming a little tune.
They rode away from the cottage and down a little trail. At the end was a wide, flat field with a large stone in its center. The huge stone was about five feet wide and twelve feet high. It loomed above him, even on horseback.
“That’s a weird looking rock.” Dean pointed at the stone. “It’s smack in the middle of the field.”
“It’s a Middle Stone.”
“That’s an original name.” Dean chuckled. “Good thing it wasn’t over a little bit. Then it’d be a slightly-to-the-right stone.”
Panadur sighed and clicked his tongue. The horses trotted forward. They rode to a sunlit pond with deep, clear blue water, which was perfectly calm. Not a ripple marred its smooth surface. Panadur showed Dean how to cut a small sapling for his pole. He picked one that was not so large it wouldn’t bend nor so small that it would snap. He showed him how to use the ring from a knot of hard wood as a hook and how to split the branches of a willow tree to use for line. Then, with their bait in the water, the two sat back against a large elm tree, whose branches bathed them in shade, and they fished. They spent the day quietly fishing, telling each other stories, and enjoying each other’s company.
****
The next morning Panadur walked out on the porch and stretched. The sun was just breaking over the treetops, but as its rays drove away the shadows, the darkness shimmered for a moment. Panadur’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the bases of the trees for several minutes before he turned and walked back into the cabin.
Dean rolled over and felt something cold and hard next to his hand. As he opened his eyes, he saw an old sword lying next to him. “A sword? Am I ready to fight with a sword?” He picked up the weapon and swung it around as he looked eagerly at Panadur.
“Yes, the time has come for you to use a real sword.” Panadur smiled from the doorway as he twirled a large silver sword in his hands. “Let us begin.”
They walked into the morning sun and turned to face each other. Dean realized the weight of the real sword was very close to the weight of the large stick Panadur had him use.
“The first thing you should know about a real sword is that you must always take care of it. A sword becomes part of a warrior. The two become forged together in the fires of battle until they’re inseparable.”
They circled each other, testing blows ringing like struck crystal in the crisp morning air. Then they moved in. Each time one swung, the other’s sword seemed to be already there to fend off the blow. Long they fought, neither seeming to get the upper hand until Dean parried a blow from Panadur and followed through by flinging Panadur’s sword from his hand.
“Very good!” Panadur burst into a broad grin. “You’ve learned very well.”
“Hey . . . like they say, I had a great teacher.” Dean awkwardly smiled.
Panadur patted Dean on the back. “I think it’s because I had a lot to work with. You’re an excellent student.”
Dean smiled ear to ear as he went to retrieve Panadur’s sword while Panadur walked toward the cottage. Dean picked up the sword and wiped it down. He held the sword at arm’s length and looked down the blade. A shadow swept over him. His skin ran cold, and he trembled. When he looked up at the clear blue sky, he raised an eyebrow. “That’s weird.”
As Panadur’s foot landed on the bottom step, it seemed unable to hold his weight and he pitched forward onto the porch.
“Panadur!” Dean rushed to his side.
“I’m all right, Dean.” Panadur tried to rise but fell back.
“It’s okay. I’ll take you inside.” Dean helped Panadur to his feet.
“I think I’d better lie down for a little while,” Panadur whispered.
He leaned heavily against Dean as Dean helped him into the cottage. Dean led Panadur to his room and walked him over to a bed in the corner. The room was filled with volumes of books. Lots of odd objects lay on the shelves that circled the room.
“Do you need a doctor or something?” Dean searched Panadur’s pale face.
“No. A doctor will not help me, Dean. I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. You’re just sick, that’s all. Old people get sick, then they get better,” Dean said. “Hey, you didn’t even yell at me for calling you old.” Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Dean, I must tell you some things before I die.”
“You’re not dying!”
“Dean, listen,” Panadur demanded. His voice was weak but stern. “That other world I talked about is real. The evil there has spread to this world, and I’m too weak to stop it. My power is fading. Your time has arrived.”
“Panadur . . . sure. It’s okay.” Dean tried to comfort the old man.
“Don’t try to humor me . . . listen,” Panadur snapped, half rising. “I’m sorry, Dean, but please, listen. I have one last story to tell you. A story that’s true. In that other world, there were three brothers. All of whom became wizards. They were Carimus, Volsur, and Panadur. Yes, Dean, me.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “We were bonded by more than kinship. We fought evil. We were very good at it too. For a time our world was more or less peaceful. The wicked things still existed, but they were driven to hide in the dark places or fled to the Barren Lands.
“We decided to settle down—except Volsur. Volsur loved adventure—not for the sake of adventure like Carimus and I both thought—but for the spoils it brought. He soon came to love money, fame, and power, becoming greedy and always wanting more. Without my brother and me with him, Volsur went unchecked. He now fought both good and evil, favoring whichever would give the greatest spoils. This lust quickly blackened his heart and twisted his power for evil. My brother and I banished him to the Barren Lands, but we didn’t have the heart to kill him. We knew nothing of him for years, but during that time his power grew quickly, and people rushed to join him. Others gave in to his will. His evil started to spread throughout my world until it had crept into the hearts of all. My brother’s and my love for Volsur had blinded us from the truth until it was too late. Volsur is pure evil now. Only someone pure will be able to destroy him. So my brother and I started our quest to find someone who is pure of heart.
“Carimus and I searched our whole world but Volsur’s evil had crept so far and so deep it lived in everyone’s heart. There are still good people in my world, but they’re slowly being twisted by this evil. It was then that I traveled to this world, to continue my search. Long have I searched here, too, through many lands, but I could find no one truly pure of heart. The evil one’s power has spread into your world, too. But my search is now over. I found you. You’re the one who’s pure of heart.”
“But I’m not pure of heart,” Dean whispered and looked at the floor.
“You are.” Panadur grabbed Dean’s hand. “Now that you know me, do you think those three men in the alley could have really bested me in a fight? I was testing you. You passed. You knew you couldn’t win, but you were willing to fight to try to help an old man you didn’t know. You must believe in yourself, Dean. You must believe me. Dean, you have to go to my world and defeat Volsur. Find Carimus. He will aid you. Go to the stone in the field before the house. The Middle Stone. It’s a gateway to my world.”
Panadur groaned, and his eyes flickered.
“A gateway? How do I use it?”
“Believe. Run straight into it. I’ve set it up. It’ll open for you and you alone. Use all of your training, Dean. I wish I could teach you more, but there’s no time. What I’ve taught you, you must use to survive. You have to live. You must kill Volsur, or all is lost. You must believe.”
Dean held Panadur’s hand and fought back tears. After a few moments, Panadur continued. “The horses: let them go free. Dean, I want you to have my sword, for you’re like my son. I’m very proud of you, my son. I love you.”
“Panadur . . . you’re going to be okay.” Dean leaned over to hold the man who now looked so frail. “I love you, too.”
Panadur’s eyes closed as Dean held him, and he smiled. A last twinkle in his eye turned into a tear that rolled down his cheek. Dean folded Panadur’s arms across his chest. He bowed his head for a moment as tears flowed freely down his face. He laid a sheet over Panadur’s body before he walked out and stood next to the tree, weeping silently for a long time.
As he walked back into the house, the sun had started to set and had turned the sky golden. After he gathered his things and straightened the house, he walked out onto the porch. The sound of the lock clicking shut behind him echoed in his ears. He sat down on the steps and put his head in his hands.
Now what do I do? Now I really have no place to go.
The sound of a whinny from the stable interrupted his thoughts. He rose and walked to the barn. He tied the gates to the horses stables open and filled their troughs. As he came out into the yard, he stood, trying to take everything in. He wanted to remember everything as it was right now, for he never wanted to forget. Somehow, he knew he wouldn’t.
He walked down the little path and looked back one last time. A sad smile crossed his lips. He was leaving the first place that had ever felt like a home. He traveled down the path until it came to the field with the large stone in its center—the Middle Stone. He walked across the grass in the darkening day. The stone loomed above him, more than twice his height. He stood and glared at the rock. Slowly, he walked forward and placed his hand against the surface.
“Panadur, I wish the other world of yours wasn’t a dream. I wish I could go there. I’m sorry.”
As his fingers slowly slipped away from the cold surface, he turned and walked back toward the path. The sun turned a golden red and streams of amber split through the darkening clouds. Dean could still see part of the cottage through the trees.
Believe in me.
Panadur’s words echoed in Dean’s ears.
Believe in me.
Dean stopped. All his life, he had wanted someone who would value him. Someone who cared. He had found that. As he stared at the dirt at his feet, he realized he didn’t believe in the old man who had faith in him. He wasn’t even trying to believe in him.
“I owe him more than that,” Dean whispered. “If I can do anything for him, I can be the one who believes in him.”
Dean turned and marched back to the stone. He stopped and stood before the rock, Panadur’s sword clutched in his hand.
He pressed against the rock and it stood as motionless as before. Dean rapped firmly on the face of the unmoving stone with the hilt of the sword.
Nothing happened.
He sheathed his sword and walked backward away from it.
Run straight into it.
Dean rolled his shoulders and exhaled as he remembered what Panadur said.
“I’m out of my mind. This is going to kill me.”
With a battle cry that rang through the field, Dean raced at the stone as fast as he could. His legs crushed the grass beneath his feet as he ran faster and faster. His sneakers pushed into the ground, and his arms pulled at the air. He gritted his teeth, and then he jumped straight into the stone’s face.
Darkness swept over him, and he fell into the void . . .
As the sun rose, Han, the little Elvana, went out the door of his small cottage with a wooden rake in his hands. He was in his teens and stood average height for an Elvana, just under four feet. He was thin with the sharp distinct features of the Elves. His dark brown hair came around his pointed ears, and his clear blue eyes gazed upon the morning that seemed to have become a shadow of the night. Gray clouds swirled overhead but the air was completely still. As he walked, he looked out on his dead crops. All of the plants were yellow or brown, if they had not already turned black and crumpled. The ground was dry, cracked, and crunched as he walked over the arid field.
“Curse this year and everything to do with it,” Han yelled at the sky as he raised his rake and shook it in defiance. “How can I hope to grow so much as a weed this year? First the late frosts and then the heavy rains washed all the seeds away. Now nothing but dry.” He kicked the ground and a cloud of dust swirled up.
He leaned his rake against the split-rail fence and rubbed his face. The neighborhood calico cat darted out of the bushes and rushed over to him, rubbing against his legs. “I don’t have anything for you today, Lilly. Besides,” he reached down and scratched behind her neck, “you’ve probably eaten better than I have.” He put his head in his hands and looked across his ruined field. “It’s all Volsur’s fault. I don’t care what they say about him, I know he’s evil to the core. I’d give anything to go and grab his big neck and make him stop this. Ha! Me go and kill the Dark Lord. An Elvana. It’s hopeless. Now I’m going to have to go work for the seller.”
Lilly meowed loudly.
“What other choice do I have besides dying here?” Han looked up at the sky once more. “Why?” he screamed at the gray clouds. “Why will no one even try?”
A great crash behind him broke the Elvana from his thoughts. When he spun around, he saw an enormous hole in his roof where none had been before. He picked up his rake and raced back toward his cottage, anger welling up inside him.
****
As Dean spun through the darkness, he could see light ahead. Slowly, he made out the form of a roof as it rushed up to meet him. He closed his eyes and thrust his hands over his face. He slammed through the roof and smashed into something that crushed from the impact.
Dust and pieces of wood covered him. He coughed twice and shook his head. Dean sat up and tried to focus his eyes. A small door across from him slowly swung open, and a little creature with something in its hands stood, wide-eyed, in the doorway.
“I’m Hanillingsly Elvenroot, at your service, O Great Being from the Heavens!” The Elvana’s voice cracked as he bowed as low as he could.
“I’m not from the heavens.” Dean chuckled as his own eyes widened.
“You fell from the sky into my home. Why have you come?”
Dean tried to raise himself off whatever he had crushed. “Sorry. I’m just here to find a guy. Volsur.”
The Elvana’s eyes became even bigger. “Are you here to stop Volsur?”
“Stop him? Yeah. I’m here to stop him.”
“I knew you were from the Heavens. You’re here to stop Volsur!” The Elvana leaped into the air. “What may I do to help you, O Great Being from the Heavens?” He bowed low again.
“Stop that. Don’t call me O Great Being from the Heavens. My name’s Dean.” He finally managed to get off what he guessed had been a bed. “Well, Hanillingsly, do you mind if I call you something a little shorter than that?”
“Oh, yes, O Great—I mean, Dean.” The Elvana blushed. “My friends call me Han. Not implying that you
are
my friend. I don’t mean that you’re not my friend either. What I mean is—”
“Whoa. Slow down. I know what you mean. Are you a leprechaun? No. No, you’re too big. An Elf? No. You’re too small. You’re an Elvana, right?”
“Yes, I’m an Elvana.” A puzzled look crossed his face.
“Good. I knew it. Where am I anyway?” He looked around the little cottage. Besides the bed, the only other furniture in the room was a small plain wooden table and chairs, and a little wooden bureau of some type. Two colorful paintings of summer fields hung on the walls.
“You’re in the Lallamine Valley.” Han’s puzzled look grew until it suddenly vanished. “Oh, that’s why you don’t know what I am or where you are. You’re from the Heavens!” he exclaimed as he again leaped into the air.
“Listen, I’m not from the Heavens, okay? I’m from another . . . planet? I guess. That sounds weird. I’m just from another place, and I’m here to stop Volsur.”
“You’re going to stop Volsur? Please let me accompany you on your quest,” Han begged.
“I don’t know. Panadur didn’t say anything about getting help,” Dean said, almost to himself.
“Panadur the Wizard? You know Panadur?” Han’s face filled with awe.
“I knew him. He’s dead.”
Han sat down right on the floor. “That’s very sad news. I’m sorry.” He drew a circle on the floor. “But, you’ll need help to get to Volsur. More help than me, too. The road is very long and very dangerous. Evil creatures roam freely, even in the daylight.” Han closed his eyes. After only a moment, they snapped back open. “If you want to go, I’m not going to let you go alone.” The Elvana stood up and squared his shoulders.
“Panadur never said anything about getting help. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I can get hurt staying here. Besides, if I stay here, I’ll starve to death.”
Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know how to get there?”
“I have no idea how to get there,” Dean muttered. “I don’t know where there is. I don’t even know where here is.” Dean exhaled and brushed back his hair. “I need your help, but it could be really dangerous.”
“I can help. I’m not afraid.” Han stuck his chin out.
Dean paced back and forth in the little cabin. Finally, he looked back to Han, who seemed ready to burst with anticipation. “All right, you can come with me.”
“Great. When do we leave?” Han ran to the little bureau.
“I don’t know. What time is it?” Dean laughed as he realized he was looking for a clock.
“It’s morning. If I pack now, I can be ready in no time.” Han took some clothes and threw them hurriedly into a large burlap sack.
“Okay. What should we take?” Dean walked over to look out the door.
“Do you have anything besides the clothes on your back?” Han asked in disbelief as he stopped packing.
“Oh, man. I didn’t bring anything.” Dean’s hands dug into the pockets of his leather jacket and pulled out thirty-four cents and the roll of hundred dollar bills Panadur had given him over his weeks there. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a lighter and a couple scraps of paper. “I don’t believe this.”
“They didn’t prepare you well in the Heavens . . . no offense. My cousin Falivan, who works here but has gone to the seller, is rather large. His clothes might serve as short pants for you for the time being.” Han opened another drawer. “What are those?” he asked, amazed as he stopped and stared, transfixed, at the objects in Dean’s hands.
“Thirty-four cents, a roll of bills, and a lighter.” Dean smiled sarcastically as he lit the lighter and Han gasped, nearly falling over.
“You’re a wizard,” Han whispered. His eyes grew even larger.
“No, it’s just a lighter. Everyone has one where I come from.” Dean laughed.
“That’s because you’re from the Heavens,” Han exclaimed, and Dean laughed harder.
“Your cousin is in the basement?” Dean looked for the way down.
“No, he’s at the seller.” Han’s face scrunched up. “As in the opposite of buyer. The seller is one of Volsur’s men. There’s one in every part of the realm now. He’s the only one with any goods now. He’s the only one that is really selling anything. Many Elvana have had to trade their land to him when their crops stopped growing. After he gets the land, the soil becomes good once more, and the previous owner is forced to work his own land and live off Volsur’s scraps.” Han spat with hate in his voice and a look in his eyes that almost scared Dean.
“Well, if your cousin won’t mind, it’d be great if I can borrow his clothes. What about food?” Dean attempted to change the subject.
“I have some food we can take and enough supplies, but I’m afraid we’ll have to walk because I don’t have any horses.” Han’s look was a mix of disappointment and embarrassment.
“It’ll be good exercise.” Dean smiled. “Do you have any money?” He put the change and money roll back in his pocket.
“They really didn’t prepare you well. I only have a little money, but I’ll bring it. I also have to leave a note for my family. I don’t want to tell them I’m leaving because they’d try to talk me out of going.” Han moved to the table.
“Family? Wait a minute . . . I don’t know if I should let you go,” Dean almost shouted with panic.
“I have five brothers and four sisters who can take care of my parents. My family can hold on but not much longer. If I am going to help them, the best way is by going with you. Besides, I don’t have any place to sleep. I don’t have a bed anymore—you crushed it.” Han grinned from pointed ear to pointed ear.
“I need to find Carimus.”
Han’s arms went out. “I don’t know where to look for a famous wizard.”
“Who would?”
“Who would know where a wizard is?” Han closed his eyes and tapped his foot.
“Would the Kilacouqua?”
“You know the Elves?” Han’s mouth fell open.
“No. Panadur said he and Carimus helped them.”
“That’s a great idea. We’ll go right through their lands. If anyone knows where Carimus is, they do.”
The two packed for their long journey. Dean took the cousin’s pants but wore his jeans. The cousin’s pants would fit around his waist, but they’d come down to right below his knees. After Han made a quick lunch, they set off down the dirt road to the north, the road that would lead them to Volsur.
As they walked, they passed farms that looked the same as Han’s. Nothing grew in the dry, dark soil. They saw half-starved animals and Elvanas who looked only slightly better off. Han explained that his farm was on the edge of the valley; soon they would be out of it and in the foothills of the Haraden Mountains.
Soon the pine trees loomed over them. Dean and Han talked like old friends long departed. If Han was typical, Elvanas talked almost nonstop about everything. He spoke of how more and more Elvanas were being forced to sell their farms. Then he told of the evil creatures, like the Krulgs and Varlugs, who now walked by day. He recounted the battles of the different people of his world: the Dwarves, Elves, and Humans fighting with Krulgs and other foul folks . . . and among themselves. None of the creatures except the wicked ones worked together; all the others seemed to be concerned with only protecting themselves. Dean spoke little of his world, instead trying to find out all he could about the world he was now in. As night approached, the darkness grew deeper, and the two decided to camp just off the road.
They put two Elvana sleeping mats together for Dean, and placed them beneath a large elm tree for shelter from the light rain that had begun to fall. The companions had a small supper without a fire, for Han constantly referred to the evil creatures lurking anywhere, and neither wanted to chance the light attracting one.
“This darn rain.” Han pulled his sleeping mat tighter around himself.
Lightning streaked across the sky far away, and thunder rumbled into the valley.
Dean rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. “The lightning crackled like a witch cackling as she stirs her billowing cauldron that bubbles and boils over. The foul fluid falls like black rain, hissing as it touches the burning city with a fire no water can quench. The liquid seeps into every crack and crevice, in search of all the grime, and sweeps it to the surface. Her laughter causes the wind to stir the filth from the swirling puddles until it rises like a black fog, embracing in its evil grasp all that it touches.”
“That’s creepy.” Han made a face as if he’d eaten a bug.
“I wrote it,” Dean said. “Before I met Panadur.”
“You write?”
“Sometimes. Just poems and stuff.”
“It’s good. But eerie.” Han shuddered and rolled over.
“Thanks, I guess. Goodnight, Han,” Dean whispered.
“Goodnight, Dean.”
Dean slowly fell asleep, listening to the sounds of the storm slowly spread across the land.
****
The night passed without incident, and the two awoke to continue on their way. This new day was even grayer than the day before. The ashen clouds seemed to hold back the wind, for not a leaf rustled in the still air.
“Where exactly are we going, Han?” Dean asked a couple hours into their hike.
“Well, the quickest way to Volsur’s city, Naviak—that’s what he named it; it used to be called Arieot—well, the quickest way is to head north by the Horns of the Warriors.” At Dean’s puzzled look, Han explained, “The Horns are peaks that sound like many horns when the wind blows through them. Some say the wind does not make the horns blow, but the sound is the last dying breaths of all the dead warriors.” Han looked ominously at Dean.