Anthology - The Search For Magic

As he headed back into his tent, Brudas inspected the bracelet. The relic remained intact, even down to the loose stone. It was the black stones that interested him now, for Brudas realized he had not seen the first ghost until he touched one of them. For some reason, the spell surrounding the stones must enable the bracelet’s wearer to see the dead.

“You did this to me,” Brudas muttered at the black gems. “Let us see what happens if I remove you entirely, eh?”

The Bozak drew a dagger and pried at the loosest of the pair. To his surprise, it took him far more effort than he expected to break the stone free. It seemed almost as if the stone did not want to be cut from its mounting, but at last it popped out, falling to the ground at the draconian’s feet.

Glancing around, Brudas thought that the ghosts already looked less distinct. Better yet, their voices had faded to whispers. Eagerly, he went to work on the second stone.

Freeing this one proved more troublesome, but Brudas put such manic effort into it that eventually the second gem flew high into the air, landing some distance from the first. As the final stone dropped, the ghosts vanished.

Brudas listened closely, but the only sounds he heard now were those of the swamp creatures and the wind.

He slumped for a moment, exhausted. “Free…”

Then, pulling himself together, the Bozak tossed the bracelet on the table, roaring, “Drek! Get in here!”

A moment later, the rather disgruntled Baaz entered. Drek immediately saluted, but otherwise said nothing. Brudas realized that he had summoned the fool from his evening meal, but there were more important matters than filling a Baaz’s cavernous stomach.

The tall, slim draconian pointed at the stones. “Take those and throw them into the swamp as far as you can, Drek! And be certain to follow through with my command, because if I find you’ve disobeyed and kept them for yourself, you know what I’ll do to you.”

Shuddering, the Baaz scooped up the gems and rushed from the tent. As a safety precaution, Brudas stepped out of the entrance to watch. Drek stood at the edge of the water, his feet half-sunken into the soft mud. With a throw that put Brudas’s own to shame, the Baaz hurled both tiny stones far into the swamp.

The Bozak exhaled in relief. He had escaped the ghosts. An Aurak could not have been more clever, Brudas thought with some pride.

A sudden exhaustion overtook Brudas and he recalled that he had not rested much the prior night. Now, with no more dead, hungry eyes or mournful, demanding voices to haunt him, the draconian could at last get some peaceful slumber.

“Drek!”

The Baaz, only steps away from his supper, turned back to his superior. “Yesss, Massster Brudasss?”

“I’m going to sleep. See to it that I’m not disturbed by anything, understood?”

“Yesss, sssir.”

Brudas reentered the tent. How appealing his cot looked! How wonderful the thought of deep, undisturbed sleep sounded!

He dozed off almost the very moment he settled into the cot.

At first, the draconian slept well and deeply, but then something disturbed his rest. Nothing he could at first identify, but it was a gnawing, creeping feeling. Brudas tossed about, clawing his way closer and closer to consciousness, until-

With a scream, he tumbled from the cot. A shiver came over the Bozak as he glanced down at his hands, which still twitched.

“No-o-o,” he whispered, reptilian eyes glancing about. “No!”

With much trepidation, he concentrated on a simple spell of levitation. For his target, he chose the bracelet, which still lay atop the table. Brudas had cast this spell a thousand times. Casting it successfully should have been child’s play.

Yet, when the draconian tried to complete his spell, nothing happened.

He had been a fool! By damaging the bracelet, he had destroyed its ability to show him the dead, yet that did not mean that they had left. They still surrounded him… and likely in greater numbers than before. He imagined hundreds, perhaps even thousands at this point, numbers that chilled even the hardened Bozak to the core.

Thousands of ghosts swarming about him, hungering for his magic, silently urging him to activate it for them…

The tent rippled in the night wind, causing Brudas to start. From somewhere far off, or maybe right next to him whispering in his ears, came a moaning sound. Even though he could not see them, the draconian knew that the pleading, demanding dead encircled him… and that they waited for their opportunity.

“I’ve got nothing for you!” he snapped at the wind. “Nothing for you at all!” The anxious Bozak whirled about. “Find yourself another mage from which to leech! I’ll not cassst any more ssspells! You’ll sssuck no more magic through me!”

But the wind seemed to mock him. The ever-growing legion of wraiths swirled invisibly around him, silently watching him.

All around him. Unseen, but everywhere.

Brudas hissed. He imagined the clawing hands, the hollow eyes. The Bozak began pawing at his elegant robe, the one he wore in order to better emulate the Auraks. He tried to peel away the grasping fingers. Sharp talons ripped fabric, and yet still Brudas felt the ghostly presence. He looked around, saw the bracelet. Grasping it, Brudas rubbed his hand across the skull design, trying to find some way to unlock the power.

Nothing. Brudas’s gaze fixed on the two empty spaces where the stones had been mounted. Had he, by ripping them free, ruined any hope of using the artifact?

“Fool! I’ve been a fool!” Brudas swung the bracelet about in wild anger and frustration. His hand smashed against the oil lamp, sending it flying against the tent wall. The oil and fire spread across the fabric, quickly turning into an inferno. Brudas backed away, only to discover that the hem and sleeve of his robe were afire.

He turned, trying to douse the spreading flames. In desperation, the draconian began to cast a spell, one that should have been able to quell any ordinary fire. However, as the last words left his mouth, Brudas again experienced the unsettling sensation of feeling the magic drained away from his very lips.

In that terrible moment, dark, maddening thoughts flew into his mind. Had the ghosts planned this, too? Had they led him into this desperate situation so he would be forced to try magic-which they would then swoop upon, unseen vultures hungry for even the tiniest morsel of his power?

“No!” the Bozak shouted at the air, heedless of the fire consuming his garments. “I know what you intend! I’ll not be your puppet! I’ll be free of you somehow-free of all of you!”

The flames now covered his robe and burned his scaly hide. Brudas tried rolling on the ground, then, in desperation, he dashed out of the burning tent, startling Drek and the others, who had come to stop the fire.

Brudas ran past them toward the swamp. In his agonized mind, he saw only the water, and as the three Baaz watched, their superior ran headlong into the swamp, ignorant of its many perils. Brudas waded farther and farther out into the muck.

With each step he made less progress, sinking deeper. Still he pushed on. His shoulders and arms were ablaze. He took a breath and plunged underwater to kill the fire.

As his head went under, the Bozak caught sight of something in the mud-two tiny objects gleaming. Two tiny black stones.

Struggling to hold his breath, Brudas reached for the precious stones, but they were too far away. He managed another step and, his lungs straining, tried once more to grab them.

Brudas’s hand plunged into the mud and seized the stones. A slight shock ran through him and suddenly, all around the Bozak, floated the legions of dead.

Terrified, Brudas opened his mouth to shout, forgetting for the moment that he, unlike the hungering spectres, needed air to breathe.