Good Ogre (13 page)

“Why is it bound like that?” Megan asked.

“Who cares?” Dwight said. “So long as it can't move, it can't get to us.”

“It looks like it hurts,” Sydney said. She watched as the branches woven around the gracon's body moved and constricted with a life of their own. At the sight of the bound creature Max felt a wave of pity. Nothing deserved
to suffer like that, no matter what it had once been.

“What kind of magic could do something like this?” he asked.

“Shadrus magic,” Puff answered. The fluff dragon strode up to the gracon and considered it. “The magic of the Maelshadow.”

At the mention of the Maelshadow the gracon rolled its head, fighting against the branches that cinched tighter around its neck. It let out a woeful moan.

“That's it—we aren't going to leave it like this,” Megan announced, stepping forward with her staff in her hand.

Dwight spun his axe off his shoulder and hefted it in his hand. “Put it out of its misery, then? I can live with that.”

“What? No way!” Dirk protested. “We don't kill things that can't defend themselves.”

“I have to agree,” Melvin added, looking over at the burning remains of his arrows and sighing. “I was going to try and get those back, you know,” he told the fire kitten.

Moki smiled. “Burning arrows are neat.”

“You want to show pity to a gracon?” Dwight laughed.
“That just goes to show how much you don't know about the way things really work. That monster would tear you in half if you let it.”

“I don't believe that,” Megan argued.

Max agreed. “I think it tried to warn us.”

Dwight laughed again. “Ha! And now you're a gracon whisperer, I suppose?”

“Don't listen to Dwight,” Dirk said. “He doesn't like anything taller than he is. Which is why he hates everything.”

“One more thought,” Puff added. “I think we have to ask ourselves where the stone gracons came from.”

Max motioned toward the black column. “There's some kind of magic coming off that.”

“So you think there's a connection?” Melvin asked.

“I'd say if not then it's a pretty big coincidence,” Puff continued. “A living gracon tied to a magical pillar, and suddenly there are animated stone gracons running around?”

“Oh yeah, total dark-lord move,” Dirk agreed. “The Maelshadow is using the gracon to create magical versions of itself.”

“But the gracon doesn't control the copies,” Megan
offered. “If it did, it'd just use them to get free.”

“So the real gracon doesn't control them, but it does make them come to life,” Max said, thinking it over.

Puff frowned. “Shadric magic is known for using life energies. The gracon here is probably an unwilling captive that the Maelshadow uses to animate the stone guardians.”

“So if we just leave it—” Melvin began.

Dwight finished his thought. “Then we'd likely be running into more of the stone horrors.” Nobody relished the thought of having to fight more gracons—stone or otherwise.

“Well, we're not going to kill it,” Megan insisted again. All eyes turned to Max as they waited for him to decide what to do. It was a horrible choice—the life of Sarah and everyone in the entire town depended on him getting to the portal and closing it in time. Having to battle stone gracons at every turn could slow them, if not stop them altogether. So was the life of one creature more important than the lives of his friends and family? Was it was necessary for him to do something that he normally wouldn't even consider doing? After he mulled the options over, he came to a decision.

“No, we're not going to kill it,” Max announced. But saying that put a pit in the middle of his stomach—he hoped that he hadn't just doomed Sarah.

Dirk noticed the pained expression on Max's face and walked over to his friend and put his arm around his shoulder. “Dude, you made the right call. If you become the thing that you're fighting against, what's the point? Nobody said being the good guys was easy. It's part of being the good guys.”

Max nodded, appreciating his friend's support. Dirk had always been there for him, and likely always would be. “One more thing,” Max said, turning to Dwight. “Cut the gracon down.”

Dwight was ready to protest, but something about the way Max said it made the dwarf stop. Sometimes when Dwight looked at Max he saw the slightly nerdy middle school kid looking for the next comic book. But other times he saw the boy whose blood flowed with that of the most powerful arch-sorcerer who had ever lived, who commanded the Fifteen Prime Spells through a sheer act of will, and who so frightened the most powerful across the three realms that they sought his destruction.
That
was the Max he was seeing now—and when
that
Max told you to do something, you did it.

Dwight silently took his axe and approached the gracon. “Ready yourselves,” the dwarf called back as he took the weapon and began cutting at the barbed restraints. The living branch tightened in response, slithering like a giant constrictor and squeezing its prey. The gracon grunted as the branch tightened around its throat.

“It's killing him!” Max cried. Dwight tried to hurry, but the branch began wrapping itself even tighter around the gracon's neck. Max hurried and opened the
Codex
, looking for a spell that would free the creature. The names of the Prime Spells unconsciously rolled through his head:
Fixity—to hold fast and unchanging.
Maybe he could stop the branches with that?

Suddenly a blue light filled the room. Max looked up to see Megan, her long white robe flowing behind her, swinging her glowing staff at the living branch. There was a shriek that filled the air as it connected; then the whole of the branch twitched violently and began to shrivel. The gracon took a deep breath as the branch relaxed and fell loose, finally twisting upon itself and shrinking until it disappeared altogether. The gracon fell forward,
dropping to its knees and falling on its two great fists.

The others jumped back and watched as the gracon, its back and chest heaving, remained still. Max let his mind drift into the
Codex
—if the gracon attacked, he needed to be ready. But instead of coming at them, the gracon carefully lowered itself into a sitting position. “I am free,” it said, its voice gravelly and heavy.

“Mighty creature of the underworld, I am Melvin—” Melvin started, but Dwight elbowed him in the side.

“Oh, just give it up already,” the dwarf grumbled.

“What are your intentions?” Puff demanded, doing his best to sound like he had when he was a fierce and magnificent dragon. He was fairly certain that being challenged by a giant mop in a spiked collar was somewhat less intimidating. “And before you answer, know that the one who freed you carries the
Codex of Infinite Knowability
and is the very blood of the World Sunderer himself!”

The gracon slowly turned its great head, and Max couldn't help but notice just how sharp the large horns looked. The two of them locked eyes.

“I see,” the beast rumbled.

“So I ask again, what are your intentions?” Puff pressed.

“Fear not, children of men. I have not the strength nor desire to see your end. I have long been embraced by the Tree of Abysmal Suffering, and my wounds run too deep.”

Megan stepped forward, eager to help. “Allow me to heal you—”

The gracon raised its hand, stopping her. “Such magic and I are . . . incompatible.” Megan nodded, stepping back.

Max broke his connection with the
Codex
and addressed the gracon. “Make your way back to the Shadrus, then. And do not harm any mortal on this world or else I will come and find you.”

“And dude,” Dirk said to the gracon, “when a white-haired wizard threatens you, you better know they mean business.” Max frowned, not thinking the white-hair ­reference was necessary.

“Freedom for restraint—an acceptable bargain,” the gracon announced. “Now leave me to my thoughts, for I have much to consider.”

“Is there any more help you can offer us, friend gracon?” Melvin asked.

“Only this: I know naught of this spire's design, save
that we are at the bottom. If you seek to close the rift between the realms, you must journey to the top.”

Sydney fluttered over to the gracon. “Thank you, uh—”

“Peaches.”

“Peaches . . . ?” Dirk asked, suddenly confused. “We just had this totally awesome encounter with a Shadrus boss-type monster named
Peaches
?”

“It's a very impressive name in Gracon,” the creature replied.

“I like peaches,” Moki said, smiling to the group. “Both kinds.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

SPIDERS AND MENTORS

M
AY AND HIS FRIENDS LEFT
the gracon and made their way from the basement. They found a door at the far end of the room that opened onto a narrow staircase, and took the steps in single file. Candles burned everywhere, their dripping wax leaving long trails along the stone walls and making it unnecessary for Moki and Megan to light the way. They had only traveled a few feet when Puff asked, “Just how old was this school of yours?”

“Not old,” Max answered. They spoke in hushed tones as they continued to climb. “Why?”

“The webs.”

Max took a closer look along the winding staircase. There
were
a lot of spiderwebs along the walls. And with
each step the webbing seemed to grow thicker. Max had a sudden flashback to the mechanical spiders that had chased him into the old cement factory when he'd first used the
Codex
. A shiver ran up his spine—spiders kind of freaked him out.

The staircase continued to turn until they found themselves face to face with a large door beneath a carving of a giant spider, its legs spanning the width of the hallway. The door itself was framed by the spider's two giant mandibles, each ending in a sharp claw.

“If you put a giant spider above your door, doesn't it basically mean go away?” Sydney asked. Max thought it was a reasonable observation.

“Stand back,” Dwight said. He carefully poked at the stone spider with his axe. The density of spiderweb had markedly increased, hanging in thick sheets over the door and around the walls and ceiling.

“Seems to be stone,” Megan said. “But that didn't stop the gracons.”

Dirk poked at the spiderweb with Glenn. “Stone spiders don't make real webs.”

“Could be a trap,” Melvin suggested. “You know,
open the door and the spider comes to life—that sort of thing.”

And then Megan began reciting a poem from memory:

“
Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,

“
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;

The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,

And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there.”

“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,

For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again.
”

“
That
is super-creepy,” Dirk said. “Thanks for sharing.”

“I had to memorize it for a class,” Megan replied. “It seemed . . . relevant.”

“It's not like we have much choice in the matter,” Puff said.

Suddenly a mass of swirling lights formed in front of Max and Dwight. They retreated several steps and Max opened the
Codex
, readying himself for an attack. But the
lights took on a form he recognized, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Bellstro!” Dirk exclaimed.

The old wizard hovered slightly above the stone steps, glowing with an otherworldly light. “It is I!” he announced.

“You know this spirit?” Melvin asked.

“He's like our mentor,” Dirk offered, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world to say.

“I have come to give you wisdom and counsel from beyond the grave,” Bellstro continued. “Soon you will face a gracon! But not all is as it seems—”

“We know,” Max said. “We've already been through that part.” He was hesitant to interrupt the old wizard, but time was of the essence.

“You have? Oh, well . . . good. I mean, you survived that without my advice? Weird.”

“I'm sure it would have been easier with your help,” Puff suggested, addressing his old friend.

“Haven't I warned you about rushing headlong into things without the proper mentoring to guide you along? We all have jobs to do, you know. The mentor's job is just as important as the hero's.”

“You have,” Max replied. “And I know. Sorry about that. We're just in a hurry.”

The glowing wizard frowned. “I wonder if I should tell you about the floating islands of ice?” Bellstro stroked his long white beard as he thought it over.

“I don't like ice,” Moki added. “Especially ice puppies.”

“We don't have time for your babbling, wizard,” Dwight grumbled, dropping his axe to his side.

Melvin said, “If you have any boons to share concerning spiders, O great spirit, we who walk the mortal realm would be glad to hear it.”

Dirk rolled his eyes. “Elves don't talk like that, you know. I've met
real
elves.”

Bellstro nodded, ignoring Dirk. He liked the way the funny-looking elf addressed him. “Spiders, eh? Yes, I remember reading something about them in my mentoring packet. Now let me think—”

“You get a mentoring packet?” Megan asked, slightly confused.

“Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I know everything about everything, young lady.”

“You were saying something about spiders?” Max urged, trying to get his spectral mentor back on track.

“Ah yes,” Bellstro exclaimed, suddenly remembering. “The Giant Tarantula of Transmogrification! A nasty creature that one.” The wizard noticed the giant stone spider perched over the doorway. “Looks just like that, in fact. Now that's an interesting coincidence.”

“Just what do these tarantulas do?” Megan asked.

“Well, obviously they bite, don't they, dear?” Bellstro said, pointing to one of the stone spider's claws to drive the point home.

“And there's one of
those
inside?” Sydney asked, not liking the thought of that very much.

“The important thing is
not
the spider,” Bellstro said, looking at Max. “It's the spider's
web
. They're not all the same, you know. I mean, they are, more or less, but they aren't. You get my point.”

Max didn't.

“Okay, fine,” Dwight grumbled. “There's a giant spider with its more-or-less web behind the door. Max, you prepare some fireballs and we'll roast that thing and be done with it.” The dwarf looked down at Moki. “You can join in if you want.”

Moki nodded. “Spiders are gross.”

Bellstro frowned at Dwight. “You have ears but you
don't hear. Stubborn, thick-headed dwarfs, the whole lot of you!” The wizard began to fade, waving his hands in the air. More lights, like tiny fireflies, swarmed around him, before he and the lights disappeared.

“We should totally get experience points for that,” Dirk announced.

Melvin scratched his ear. “You have a very odd mentor.”

“He was a great and powerful wizard once,” Max said. “I think he's kind of new at the whole mentoring thing.”

Dirk motioned to the spider door. “So let's hurry and take this thing out!”

“You seem awfully enthusiastic,” Puff said to Dirk.

“All epic stories have giant spiders in them. It's like a rule or something.”

Megan thought it over. “I think he might be right.”

Max flipped through the
Codex
looking for a fireball spell. He'd had some luck with level three Spontaneous Combustion, but he wasn't sure that was big enough for a giant tarantula. He flipped a few more pages and stopped. “Here's a level twenty-nine spell of Creature Conflagration. Says it's the first component in weaving together the mighty inferno chain.”

“Fine, but let's avoid doing anything with the word
inferno
in it,” Dwight cautioned. He'd been on the hunting grounds when Max had turned the entire sky into a firestorm, and besides nearly being engulfed in drops of liquid fire, he'd had his beard singed in three places.

Max nodded and began reading the spell, feeling the magic build around him. He looked at Moki, who smiled and produced a flame on the end of his tail. “Moki and I will go in first,” Max announced. “Hopefully we'll catch it by surprise.”

“And if there's a beautiful elf princess caught in a web or something, try not to burn her,” Melvin suggested.

Dwight put his hand on the door. “Why in the world would there be an elf princess in there?”

Melvin shrugged. “A guy can hope, can't he?”

“Just for the record,” Dirk said, “
my
girlfriend is an actual princess.”

Max ignored his friend and concentrated on the spell. He looked up and nodded. “I'm ready.”

Wayne was escorted through the Malaspire by one of the hooded servants. Their faces were lost in the shadows of
their black cowls, with only the occasional strands of long, ghostly white hair any evidence of something within. It was strange to think that he served the same master as they. As he continued to climb it occurred to him that he was still thinking of himself in terms of his human name, despite what he had said to Sarah.

They stopped at the doorway that led to what had once been the school gymnasium. The creature that stood before the door had been a human once—the school's janitor, in fact. But now it was something else. The former custodian opened the door and ushered Wayne and the servants of the Lord of Shadows through. Wayne noticed that the thing carried a mop over its shoulder, but the thick strands of coarse cloth seemed to move of their own accord.

“You like 'em, eh?” the unholy and largely toothless janitor hissed to Wayne.

“Sorry, are you talking to me?” Wayne asked.

“Saw you looking at my pretty. Thought you'd like to know her name.”

“Oh. Sure. Very nice mop.”

“Not nice—and not no mop, neither.”

“Great,” Wayne said, wanting to get through the door.

The creature raised a bucket he was holding in his other hand. “And this here is my secret weapon.”

Wayne looked over the bucket's edge. “Looks like the Maelshadow spared no expense getting you set up.”

“Ha!” the creature spat. “Made these myself, I did.”

“Well, good luck with all of that,” Wayne said, slipping through the door and shutting it behind him. He hurried and caught up with the cowled servants as they stood before the tear between the realms. Outside, Wayne could hear the rain pelting the roof, interrupted by the blasts of rolling thunder. The two servants lifted their hands—each a pallid form of tautly stretched skin over skeletal bones—and pointed at the vortex in the air. Wayne looked up at the twisting hole and swallowed, knowing what was being asked of him. To stand before the Maelshadow required that he cross into the umbraverse.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, only that the harrowing journey to the Maelshadow's throne was not something he wanted to repeat. The throne itself was twisted and chaotic, forged from some unknown
metal that seemed to have exploded from the ground and then frozen into place. Suddenly there was a sense of something moving, and Wayne realized that the Maelshadow had been within the folds of shadows that fell about the throne's jagged features. “The good ogre,” the Maelshadow intoned. Wayne felt the voice reverberate around the stone columns of the temple as he dropped to his knee.

“That name does not fit you anymore. Rise.”

Wayne stood but kept his eyes lowered. He supposed his parents would be proud if they could see him like this, standing before the Lord of Shadows and doing his bidding. But the thought felt empty as he considered the long journey that had taken him from his home, through the lives of Max and his human friends, to where he now stood.

“Your amulet glows black,” the Maelshadow continued. Wayne looked down at the Amulet of Alignment hanging around his neck. “It is as I promised it would be, is it not?”

To be evil was the goal of every ogre. It meant everything. So why did Wayne have to be born so different?
Why do I feel like an impostor?
He gathered his wits and addressed
the ruler of the Shadrus: “It is as you've ­promised.”

“But not completely black, I see. Curious. Such an act of betrayal, and yet . . .”