Vegenrage: The Magic User (14 page)

“I think it was meant to be with you. I am an old man who never mastered magic, but I had a good time trying. You take this with you, because otherwise, it will sit here in this chest. Now you have something to put that staff in?” Inglelapse proudly smiles, watching Vegenrage put the staff into the Bag of Holding.

“Inglelapse, thank you very much.”

“Now you go and don’t forget about us here.”

Vegenrage walks into the air and vanishes.

Vegenrage appears back on the rocks overlooking the Crisdor Sea, the Pinegrow Forest to his back and the Strait of Hercon to the north. He takes the form of a large gull able to fly great distances with ease. It is nighttime now with the sun having just set, and Vegenrage takes to the wing, heading over the Elbutan Forest and Highlands. He flies high and easily just soaring, barely flapping his wings at all. Everywhere he goes on this planet seems to be warm and very comfortable. He soars over the Elbutan Forest, heading right for the Wickenfall Forest.

The Elbutan Forest is very thick with large trees and lots of foliage, so he really can’t see the ground except for small spots here and there, and where there are large ponds or small lakes, they have trees growing right to the edge of them. There are long valleys and high hills free of trees, and this is visually very beautiful with colors of green and brown and red, which he can make out in the moonlight.

After nearly four hours of flight, he makes it to the Wickenfall Forest. It’s unmistakable, like a meteorite struck the landscape many thousands of years ago and left a remarkably large hole that has since been overrun by lush large trees. There is a gradual incline growing up from the center to the rim, which surrounds the entire bowl completely covered in tree growth. The bog in the center has tree growth as well, which mostly covers the flat center of the crater.

Vegenrage figures,
Why waste time with the Wickenfall Forest?
And he heads right for the center of Mindsunk Bog. He soars right into the heart of the bog and finds a place where he can land on the ground. He soars down to the ground and transforms to his natural form about ten feet from the ground, ready to make a nice landing on his feet, but something happens. As he transforms to his human form, he is sucked or pulled very rapidly to the ground. This happens very unexpectedly, and Vegenrage makes a much harder landing than he planned for, knocking the wind out of him. He is not hurt too badly and regains his breath quickly.

He stands up to notice the moonlight has vanished and the surroundings are pitch-black. He cannot see a thing; however, he can hear a lot. It is noticeably colder here, and the sound is like large dogs all around him, getting closer to him. He tingles with fear, and a very scary eeriness overcomes his senses. The sounds are getting closer to him, and they sound large and mean. Vegenrage wastes no time and casts an awesome incineration spell. He is such a powerful magic user that all in the use of magic would say “wow” to such great power without him even speaking the spell. A wall of bright orange, blue, and yellow flame extends in a circle from him, over a thousand degrees hot, incinerating everything for twenty yards in a circle around him. The fire creates a great light illuminating the dark bog, but he cannot see beyond the flame to see what is approaching him.

Before the incineration spell has finished its sweep, leveling all the trees and vegetation around him, he yells, “Staff of Light!” and swings his right arm to the ground like he is slamming a spear in the ground. A soft but bright blue light shoots from the ground in the shape of a staff and grows up fifty feet with a ball of white light sitting atop the Staff of Light. This light illuminates all the land around him to the tree line that is still intact, and he looks around with that very serious look that only he possesses when he is focused. There are sparkles of burning debris in the air, floating all around like those that fly above a raging bomb fire. The ground has been swept clean by the fire, leaving raw, singed dirt. There is the smell of burnt wood and flesh in the air, but he can see nothing of what was approaching him.

The trees are burning where his spell finally stopped in a circle some twenty yards from where he stands by his Staff of Light, and this is very cool looking. The staff rises in the center of the burnt earth, with flames burning in a circle at the trees’ edge. Into the trees is darkness, and the sounds start to rise again. The burning trees are pushed over, falling toward Vegenrage but falling far short from him. He can see nothing but the falling trees on fire. Trees farther back in the darkness are ripped from their roots and thrown toward him, getting closer to him but still falling short. Pretty soon, there are logs covering the ground all around Vegenrage, and the snarls and howls grow louder and louder.

Finally, Vegenrage gets a glimpse of what is making the noise, and it’s not good. These are eight–foot-tall Lycans, very muscular and strong, with very large heads, powerful biting jaws, and strong arms, legs, and claws to make them most formidable. They are deep black in color, blending in very well with the dark surroundings, making them very tough to see. They charge Vegenrage in huge numbers from all points around him. He has never had it in him to run from anything, and he uses his magic in an amazingly brutal and offensive way. He creates magical Blades of Sharpness that extend from his fingers. He can extend one magical blade at a time or up to eight at a time, and what powerful magic this is.

The Lycans probably threw out the logs so that when they charged Vegenrage, they would be coming at him from different heights and different perspectives, making it harder for him to judge and see their movements. This doesn’t bother Vegenrage at all. The first one he sees, he swings his arm over his shoulder and down, slicing the beast in half. Then he swings his left hand to his left side with all four fingers extended, slicing at least a half dozen Lycans, dismembering their bodies at the legs, hips, torso, and neck.

The trees are being sliced as well. Vegenrage joins his thumbs together and spins in a circle, pointing his fingers out, slicing Lycans at all points in their bodies. The trees are being sliced right through and falling shorter and shorter to the ground. Vegenrage is able to move his hands wherever he needs to slice the closest Lycans, and this is not even fair. Lycans are falling apart all over around Vegenrage. Heads, legs, arms, chests, and feet are covering the ground. Vegenrage shows his physical ability by switching to single-arm swings. He swings his right arm, slicing a Lycan in half, then switches to his left hand. He swings both arms together in a downward motion to his left side then to his right side. He points his hands in front of his body and then swings them outward, one to his left and one to his right. He turns and swings both hands to his left and then to his right.

He is killing Lycans by the dozens and dozens, and they just keep coming. Vegenrage decides to show his cocky side and stands motionless with his hands hung at his side until the Lycans get within ten feet of him and casts another incineration spell just like the one he cast before killing at least one hundred Lycans and clearing the ground of all the sliced-up logs and Lycan corpses. Again the air is filled with sparkling, burning debris, and Vegenrage looks on as yet another ring of fire surrounds his turf, only this time, the smell of burnt flesh is strong in the air.

He can hear the breathing and angry Lycans hiding in the blackness. Their instinct is very strong, almost uncontrollable, to charge at Vegenrage, but after so much carnage and all the evidence gone, they are able to reason they are no match here and retreat. They move very silently through the bog, and Vegenrage watches and listens as the forest grows silent around him. He stands there for a few moments, anticipating another attack, but none comes. He looks around quietly and moves very slowly, standing in the glow of his Staff of Light. He looks serious, slowly scanning the edge of the circle with his eyes. He can feel the darkness and the chill in the air here, and the sense that this is not a nice place is very obvious.

Vegenrage is an extension of Robert. Vegenrage is the dream that Robert dreamed of. Robert was by no means an evil person. He was not even mean, but at times, when he was antagonized or pushed into defensive postures, he was brutal and decisive. He was a hardworking man, always bored with life, and loved the evil portrayed in movies, because there was nothing real there. It was all fiction and fantasy, and this was his escape from the boredom of life and its daily boring routine. Now here in the Wickenfall Forest, with the magical essence of his being tingling with the presence of danger, Vegenrage feels right at home. He loves the unknown and challenges it with confidence. Fear motivates him and heightens his senses to their maximum awareness. For whatever reason, Vegenrage loves this situation he is in and can’t wait to see what shows itself next.

CHAPTER 11
Cloakenstrike Holds the Octagemerwell

Cloakenstrike is floating in the center of vanquished King Estine’s throne room. He is turning in a circle, looking around the room. Surprisingly, there are no hallways leading in or out, but of course, they are there. He just has to find them. His body is turning without him moving his legs or hands, like he is on a turntable. He slowly falls to the floor and inspects the burnt surroundings. The only visible entrance or exit is the one he created with the Vullumptom Ax. He casts a barrier spell on the opening, sealing it with an invisible Barrier of Force so nothing can enter. He waves his hands, chanting, and the floor beneath him clears of debris and charcoal, revealing the beauty of the wood.

He sits down and reaches into his Bag of Holding, pulling out a very delicate, beautiful object. It is about four inches in length and three inches in width and about two inches high, made out of solid white gold. The object is in the shape of a book that is opened halfway, and you can tell it is very delicate by how carefully Cloakenstrike is handling it. He holds it in the palms of both hands and chants magical words in the Erkensharie language. After he chants his spell, he leans forward and very gently sets the object on the floor in front of him. The white gold begins to expand, and table legs grow from each corner of the book. As the legs grow, a table grows onto the legs, and it grows about three feet wide by two feet tall, all made out of solid white gold. The book grows to the size of a normal book and lies open on the table.

Cloakenstrike chants another spell, and the figure of an elf grows from the center of the open book. The figure is actually Oriapow. Oriapow is the father of modern Erkensharie elven magic, and the fact that Cloakenstrike has him trapped in this book and under his control is amazing. The elves of Erkensharie never knew what happened to Oriapow. He was just gone one day, and the fact that he did not die left his magical essence intact, but no one could track him down. The elves suspected foul play, but finding him has always eluded them. Cloakenstrike has created a magical item out of pure solid white gold and trapped Oriapow within it to serve him. Oriapow grows from the book to his belt line and is proportional to the size of the book.

He bows. “How may I serve the master?”

“I need to find the Octagemerwell. Where is it, and how do I safely steal it?”

“King Estine and Shandorn have passed, so has passed all the protective magic surrounding the Octagemerwell. It sits high on the tallest branch of the Great Erken tree. The Octagemerwell is the greatest magical object of all the elves, and its magic binds it to the top of the Great Erken tree. It is at the top of this tree, and all you have to do is sever the branch it is on, and it is yours.”

“Thank you, Oriapow, return to your home now.”

Oriapow shrinks back into the book and is gone. The best way to explain how Oriapow lives is a lot like a genie in a bottle. The magical item is tiny, but inside it is a home that Oriapow lives in. He cannot escape this prison but it is very comfortable, and inside it he always plans and plots his escape, with no success to this point. When Oriapow is summoned by Cloakenstrike and appears from the book, he is completely under Cloakenstrike’s charm and freely answers any questions Cloakenstrike may have. He can also cast all his magic but only upon Cloakenstrike’s command. Cloakenstrike puts his hands on both sides of the magical table and chants. The table shrinks and Cloakenstrike’s hands come together as the table shrinks until only the golden white book sits in the palms of his hands. He very carefully puts the Oriapow Genie Book back in his Bag of Holding. Before Cloakenstrike is able to stand, the magical barrier that he cast on the entrance shatters like a large window, and all the pieces of the barrier dissipate before hitting the ground. Logantrance levitates in through the entrance and lowers to the ground, standing in front of Cloakenstrike.

Cloakenstrike quickly stands. “I knew I would see you again, Logantrance.”

Without a word and without hesitation, Logantrance opens the palms of his hands, which are at his hips, faces them toward Cloakenstrike, and two magnificent lightning bolts shoot from the center of his palms and hit Cloakenstrike dead center of his chest. Of course, the lightning bolts are directed right back at Logantrance, and they are deflected from Logantrance, hitting either side of the room and setting the throne room on fire yet again.

Cloakenstrike raises his hands to either side of his body and chants, extinguishing the flames. The room has filled with smoke, and the two magic users have just enough oxygen to breathe and remain calm, coughing from the smoke.

“Logantrance, your magic has no effect on me.”

“Nor yours on me, Cloakenstrike.”

“You don’t have the magical strength or the physical strength to stop me, Logantrance, and without the help of your teacher, well, you are no match for me.”

“We will see about that.” Logantrance levitates back out the entrance, chanting a spell, and when he exits the tree, a rush of flowing water rises up from the earth and enters the tree through the entrance. This is a fast-flowing water swirling in the throne room and filling it fast.

Cloakenstrike is swept up by the water and carried in its flow, as do all loose objects and debris in the room. Logantrance plans to suffocate Cloakenstrike in the water, but Cloakenstrike manages to retrieve his Vullumptom Ax and hacks a hole on the other side of the throne room, allowing the water and himself to escape. Cloakenstrike jumps from the hole he just made in the tree and falls about twenty feet to the ground. He quickly regains his stance after tumbling a little to have a net thrown over him and pulling him off his feet on his back, captured in it. The net is a very thin black magical rope held at two sides by Tunull and Whenshade. A small group of heavily armed elves quickly surround Cloakenstrike and put very sharp bladed spears to his body. As Cloakenstrike struggles to regain his stance, the two magic users pull on the net, keeping him back or facedown on the ground.

Logantrance walks around from the other side of the tree. “Well done, Tunull we have him.”

Cloakenstrike laughs. “You cannot hold me,” and he chants a spell. He is trying to slice through the net with a magical Blade of Sharpness, which he intends to follow through the elven warriors surrounding him. He quickly realizes he is in a Net of Magic Absorption, so any magical spell Cloakenstrike casts is absorbed by the net, and the only effect is making the net stronger. He can cast no magic of any kind, and if he does, the net will absorb it.

“Well done, Tunull,” says Cloakenstrike.

One of the elven warriors speaks up, “Let us kill him now. We need not waste any more time with this trash.”

“No, Elkwar, we need to question him. He has many secrets we need to know about and information we should know about.”

Cloakenstrike reaches into his Bag of Holding and pulls out a Rimsharben. This is a massive four-legged beast similar to a Bison with much lower, smaller hind legs but very powerful. The front legs stand some five feet, and the head is a massive fortress of skull and bone. It has no horns, just a thick skull used for ramming predators. The Rimsharben was captured by Cloakenstrike on the planet Kronton and has developed its ramming abilities to ward of its main predator, the Grizenlorm. Its defense is mainly thick bone strucure giving it size, power, and strength. As the Rimsharben is released and grows to its natural seven feet height and same length, it tears the net and runs through the elven warriors. This startles everyone, and Tunull and Whenshade fall back as the net tears. Cloakenstrike jumps to his feet, takes a step chanting, and vanishes.

Whenshade looks to Logantrance. “We can follow him before his portal closes completely.”

“No, Whenshade, he is too powerful. We would surely walk into an ambush set for us. No, we must be content for now. He is gone, and we have our lives.”

Tunull stands up and approaches Logantrance. “Cloakenstrike was surely after the Octagemerwell. We must not allow him to have it. No one here knows the location of the Octagemerwell, and we have no way to protect it. If Cloakenstrike had something to do with the disappearance of Oriapow, he may know how to locate it.”

“Tunull, no one knows how to locate the Octagemerwell. King Estine, Tenzon, and Shandorn were the only ones who knew the whereabouts of the Octagemerwell, and Cloakenstrike has killed them all.” Logantrance looks at all the elves. “I fear there is nothing we can do. Cloakenstrike may obtain the Octagemerwell.”

Cloakenstrike appears high just above the Great Erken tree and is out of sight and sound of the group below. He floats around, looking for the Octagemerwell, and sure enough, there it is, sitting on a single branch that grows straight up from the center trunk of the tree. The branch grows up and forms a bowl grown to perfect size and shape of the Octagemerwell.

The Octagemerwell sits in the bowl, which covers exactly half of the incredible gem. Cloakenstrike floats down to the base of the branch and grabs the branch with his left hand and casts a magical Blade of Sharpness and severs the branch from the tree. This sends incredible magical shock waves throughout all the realms, and all powerful magic users know that a great transfer of magical energy has just happened.

Cloakenstrike slowly carefully lowers the branch hand by hand until he reaches the Octagemerwell and tips the branch until if falls into his left hand. He immediately discards the branch, and with both hands, Cloakenstrike holds the Octagemerwell. He gazes at the Octagemerwell in his hands. A beautiful green glow silhouettes his face as he looks at the magnificent magical green emerald. A huge smile consumes his face as he lifts the jewel up and down in his hands. He is very surprised at the significant weight of this very solid emerald. It is perfectly formed to the octagon shape it is named after. Cloakenstrike gazes at it for minutes then puts it in his Bag of Holding. He chants magical words and jumps from the tree into the air and vanishes.