Prelude to a Hero (Chronicles of a Hero 1) Page 4

Wendell was standing at the bottom of a black well. What was I thinking? Oh, yeah, Stupid. This is just a dream. Dream or not—he didn’t expect all the lights to go out at the bottom of the stairs.

  The torches were fewer and fewer as they reached the end, being stingy with the light and keeping all the warmth for itself. He wrapped his arms around his lean frame, rubbing his arms briskly to warm himself with the friction.

  Wendell wrinkled his nose. It was obvious no one had been to the bottom of the Key in ages. The last dozen steps and railing were entombed in a thick layer of stringy grey. Maybe that’s why the lights dim - so nobody can see housekeeping hasn’t done their job. Stale and musty, it even smelled old. He covered his mouth with his hand as the thick dust stirred with each swish of the High Elder’s robe.

  The High Elder walked slower as he left the steps, thoughtfully turning to face a dark archway underneath the stone staircase.

  Wendell paused on the stairs to admire the pale wood framing the archway. It appeared that a pair of trees had grown from the stone, intwining themselves together as they stretched over the opening in the wall. The delicately small limbs fanning out to embrace the stone, weaving their way into the cracks of the masonry.

  Stepping from the last stair, Wendell suddenly lost himself in the encompassing darkness.

  “Heeeey!” Wendell complained.

  “Shhh!” the High Elder hissed.

  “Don’t shush me. It’s dark. Where’d the lights go?”

  “Shhh!”

  “Whatever,” Wendell sighed.

  “We must pass the sentry,” whispered the High Elder. “Remain still, young Wendell.”

  “I don’t see anything,” he muttered.

  “Be observant, my friend. And be very, very still.”

  Startled, by a sharp crack, Wendell flinched away from the blue sparks and glow emitting from the tip of a long thin wooden staff held in the High Elder’s hand.

  “Cool,” Wendell drawled. “Where’d you get that?”

  The High Elder glared at Wendell. “Shhh!” he insisted.

  Turning back to the black doorway, the High Elder stepped forward, holding out his free hand, palm up. From the tunnel a deep, rumbling growl warned him to stop.

  Not again! Wendell’s stomach sank and he held his breath.

  The High Elder gradually bowed, keeping his hand outstretched. “Dämä Omä, my brother. I come with He who was spoken of. We seek entrance.”

  Squinting, Wendell still couldn’t see anything but he heard something move. It lurked in the shadows. He was grateful the old man was in front of him and resolved to not feel bad if he had to leave his imaginary host in the dust to be eaten by the unknown to save his own skin. Closing his eyes, he silently counted to five then slowly opened them once more, exhaling softly.

  Then he saw it. Sort of. Warped shadows swaying just inside the tunnel. Wendell would catch a sudden blur of movement in his peripheral vision, but it would vanish before he could focus on it. Again, there was a deep rumbling from within the chest of something huge. Something close.

  “Hold perfectly still,” warned the High Elder intensely, “and keep your head down.”

  What is going on?! Run! But the weighty apprehension of uncertainty glued Wendell’s shoes to the ground. Will I be safer behind the elder? Or should I make a run for it? So he was compelled to obey the High Elder. This time.

  Moving through the dust in front of them, a chilling scrape across the stone caused Wendell to raise his eyes just in time to see a massive paw mark, bigger than his chest, press through the grey layer of dust and then another. Only closer. Wendell suddenly had the desperate need to pee. The prints stopped in front of the High Elder, who calmly stepped aside.

  Oh, no, you don’t. Wendell moaned as he sloooowly slid one foot over and then another until he was behind the High Elder again.

  The low growl seemed a little sharper, impatient, this time. Wendell felt the rumble from the floor through his feet, his legs quivered.

  Surprised, the High Elder hissed, “What are you doing!?”

  “It’s my dream and you’re expendable!”

  In one stunning motion, the High Elder spun around, positioning himself directly behind Wendell and pushing him forward, holding him firmly by the shoulders.

  “Hey!…HEY!!” squeaked Wendell struggling.

  “Stay there!”

  Why doesn’t anybody around here LIKE me? Wendell’s entire body convulsed in spasms as he heard the creature coming closer. The scraping stopped in front of him as another paw print appeared just inches from his own shoes. Arching back and turning his head to the side, Wendell squeezed one of his eyes shut. Squinting with the other eye he tried to see what was in front of him. It didn’t help at all. All he could tell was that it was big, hot and invisible.

  As he was being sniffed it occurred to him that spending time with Dax didn’t seem too terrible anymore. The intermittent bursts of hot air were humid, leaving his head and face feeling damp.

  With a mild bump that nearly knocked Wendell over, the huge prints in the dust moved to the side of the tunnel and small hanging oil lamps down the center flickered to life.

  “Thank you, brother,” the High Elder smiled. “You have honored your covenant. May peace reign with you until your path ends.”

  Erupting in a deafening roar, the Key exploded with dust and cobwebs. The floor trembled beneath their feet and both men cringed against the wall, covering their faces with hands and arms. The sound of heavy wing fall was rising up the stairs, creating a vortex of air that whipped through the Key, pulling at them. The dust, pebbles, and cobwebs around them were sucked straight up the center of the tower. Moments later, in the distance, another roar. Then it was gone.

  Smiling up at Wendell, the High Elder coughed and gestured towards the tunnel brightly. “We are free to proceed.”

  “Wha…wha…..what in heavens name…?”

  The High Elder brushed the falling dust from Wendell’s shoulders as he stared and pointed upward. “Heaven, indeed. Dragons. A beautiful and noble story for another time. We must move on. Quickly now,” he said softly, guiding Wendell into the tunnel.

  Wendell hesitated, looking around. Whoa, invisible dragons? The lamp light cast a soft glow on ornate glass mosaics along the inner walls. They were so life-like and each compellingly beautiful. Why hide pictures like this, down here? The picture was broken into three distinct scenes. To his left was a scene of warfare and destruction caused by an immense black dragon. It’s head reared back spitting flame as awful green creatures laid waste to villages, people and castles.

  To the right was a scene of armies slaying dragons as the black serpent watched from afar, its red eyes mirroring the carnage were ablaze with anger and vengeance. Light from the lamps shimmered across the surface, creating the illusion of the smoke rising and the grass bending in the wind.

  The ceiling displayed a peaceful scene, however. There were beautiful, fair skinned beings dressed in flowing robes. Twelve beings were paired, holding hands and walking through a tall, shimmering silver forest. But Wendell’s eyes were drawn to one female alone, on her knees, in a distant grove weeping. He couldn’t explain why his heart ached for the lovely woman in the grove. Finding it hard to breathe, he swallowed. He had an impulse to comfort her and lifted his hand to stroke her hair.

  “What is all this? These scenes?” he asked.

  The High Elder followed Wendell’s gaze to the woman. “That, my young friend, is a tragedy no heart should bear. They are the Verrdrä. Legends tell of Dragons so noble and loving that they were granted the ability to enjoy the blessings of humanity. Seven Lords and Seven Ladies.”

  “Was that one of them back there?” whispered Wendell, looking back down the tunnel.

  “A Verrdrä? No. That was an Elävoimä. It has been here for generations, watching over this entrance.”

  “You mean it just sat down here? Waiting?” Incredible. Wendell could not imagine what kind of treasure or pr
omise that deserved that devotion.

  “Yes. Waiting for today. Waiting for you.”

  “And what if…I wasn’t…?”

  “Then your last moments would have been…unfortunate.” The High Elder gave Wendell a sideways glance, an almost indistinguishable smirk on his face.

  “Right,” Wendell gulped softly. “Good to know.”

  As they stepped from the tunnel the light in the lamps quickly dimmed leaving them in heavy shadows. I think someone has an issue about paying the power bill in this place.

  Waving his hands outward the High Elder ignited the black fire pots in front of them.

  Suddenly, two glowing red eyes opened in front of him, glaring through a giant, onyx dragon that leaned down into the center of the foyer with menacing white teeth exposed in a silent roar. “EEEaaagh!” jumped Wendell.

  His eyes followed the curvature of the broad neck to the shoulders where its enormous wings reached out enveloping the entire chamber. After making a full turn around the room, Wendell looked up to meet the glowing eyes within the dragon sculpture. What would you tell me if you could talk? he wondered. Would you send me running for my life…or would you welcome me to my destiny? Or doom?

  Its powerful body guarded two doors at the top of seven wide steps. Climbing each step, Wendell’s resolve weakened and shrank in his chest. But even the turning in his stomach egged him on. He imagined walking the pirates plank dreading when he reached the top that he would have to jump to his death.

  Suffering a quiver of intimidation, he stared heavily at the doors in front of him. Each had inlaid a singular carved eye, larger than himself. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, sweat making his palms clammy. Curiosity of what the ‘treasure’ might be overpowered any internal warnings.

  The High Elder placed his hands on the doors, opening them with seemingly little effort and Wendell, expecting an exaggerated, ear-splitting creak, was surprised they moved in a boring, muffled silence.

  Casually placing his hands back into the folds of his sleeves, the High Elder crossed the threshold into another dark room. Wendell, hard on the High Elder’s heels, followed him around the door.

  FWOOOOSH!

  Wendell nearly jumped out of his pants as a searing flame burst from the wall, stinging his face. Widened eyes looked quickly to the High Elder who, unfazed, was leaving him behind.

  FWOOOOSH!

  He jumped again.

  As the High Elder passed each torch in the circular room it would burst to life with a lusty thrust of flames that would subside into a reasonable torch light. Overly sensitive by the day’s compilation of stresses, Wendell couldn’t help flinching each time, to the amusement of his guide.

  The High Elder kept Wendell in the corner of his eye while allowing each surge of strength from the ancient magic to fill his mind and heart. It is almost here, the moment he had waited for all his life. “Halt. If you would be so kind as to stand right there, young Wendell.” His voice boomed with authority.

  Wendell stumbled to a stop by the doors. Looking down to see what was so important about that particular spot, he was overwhelmed with a sudden vertigo. The floor was moving, his eyes couldn’t focus and he reached out, hoping to lean on the wall, but it was farther away than he expected. Dizzily, Wendell stumbled again, the floor jumping up to meet each of his steps sooner than he expected or tricking his eyes by floating away altogether. Tripping over his own feet, tangled in his arms and legs, Wendell flung himself around, collapsing with a thud against the door frame and sank to the floor.

  That headache was making a vicious come back. Wendell rubbed his eyes trying to focus. Looking around he realized that all those jagged pieces and colors in the floor created an optical illusion. Ok, I’m not nuts….I DO know how to walk. What sick person thought that design would be a good idea?

  Sighing in patient exasperation, the High Elder moved to offer him a hand. “This will do.”

  Turning his back to Wendell, his undaunted heart was still pounding with excitement as he began the ritual movements. Pulling the hood over his head and rolling back the sleeves on his robe, the High Elder bowed his head reverently and stepped down into the very center of the chamber. Crafted with a thousand more fragments of crystal and stone, the steps and floor were crafted into an enormous living eye. The round, wet pupil witnessing all that transpires within the chamber.

  Chanting in some unintelligible language, the High Elder began slowly waving and weaving his bare blue arms. The eye beneath his feet radiated a deep blue light. Seeping along the cracks of crystal the colored light rose like smoke, swirling itself around the body of the High Elder as he chanted. Wendell listened closely, to the strange guttural sound, wanting to laugh at first. He was soon mesmerized.

  A ghostly echo of voices pulsed through the walls joined the chant and filling the room around them. Wendell did a double-take, making sure they were still alone.

  The High Elder, beginning to sway, spread his feet in a wider stance and slowly raised his hands upward. Blue light continued to seep through the great eye, massaging the High Elder as it rolled up his robe, around his waist and up his arms until it reached his hands. The light gathered around his fingers, slowly rotating into a sphere between his palms. As the edge of his hood fell back Wendell saw that the High Elder was not observing the light, but looking past it.

  Wendell followed the High Elder’s gaze. “Whoa,” he quietly gasped in awe at the twelve monstrous but delicately carved hands, far above their heads. At first, Wendell believed them to be real. They seemed so aged, gentle and strong, like his father’s, as they reached out to cradle something, to hold it securely and protect it.

  “Aläshä et Veyomä!” the High Elder shouted and the blue light sprang from his palms into the air and struck the stone hands with such force the floor and walls trembled.

  After a quiet moment, a glorious, white light grew pulsing to life, rays escaping through the gaps between fingers and hands.

  “WOAH!” Wendell gasped again, louder this time.

  “Behold,” a thundering voice, not at first recognized as the High Elders, pierced Wendell clear through, “the glorious Ithäri!”

  The rumble of stone vibrated in the walls. The hands unfolded, gently withdrawing from one another, carefully lowering and releasing their treasure without ever touching it.

  “HOLY FREAKIN’ COW!” Wendell burst, his mouth dropping open while he ran flapping, and leaping to the High Elder’s side.

  Within arms reach was the source of light filling the chamber, sparkling and shimmering to drown out the torches. It was a diamond bigger than Wendell’s closed fist.

  Looking excitedly to the High Elder for permission first, he stepped forward and quickly flicked his hand out over and under the diamond. No strings.

  “It’s yours,” said the High Elder.

  “It’s what?” replied Wendell, not taking his eyes off the diamond.

  “The Gem. It belongs to you and you alone.”

  Wendell blinked. Hard. His fingers twitched and trembled as he reached out towards the floating babe magnet. “Mine? You’re serious? I know you said ‘treasure’, but I was expecting a stamp collection or something. Not this!”

  The High Elder smiled. “You now behold the greatest gift a mortal could receive. All you have to do is accept the gift.”

  “SwEET!” squealed Wendell, snatching it out of the air. It was HUGE! Even in his wildest imaginings Wendell never dreamed a diamond this size existed and the blue guy said it was all his. Surprisingly, the gem was warm to the touch and heavier than he expected. He rubbed its surface as he brought it to his cheek. This wasn’t a bad dream after all! In fact, this was the kind of dream you want to have and never wake up from.

  The High Elder raised an eyebrow, “Ahem.”

  “My presssciousss,” Wendell whispered, a stupid, goofy grin creeping across his face. Bringing his shoulders forward, he curled his body around the Gem, squeezing it tight to his chest, completely i
gnoring the High Elder.

  Wendell couldn’t believe his luck. He looked at it, caressing, hugging, planning. The Supermodel Magnet. Oh, yes! Who needs ‘the Plan’? They will want to talk to me now! His mind raced. There’s a diamond bigger than any woman’s fantasy in the palm of my hand. Man, oh, man! I can buy anything I want with this thing! Car, boat, house, anything I can imagine at the shopping mall back home! Heck—I can buy the shopping mall! Vivid thoughts of supermodel girlfriends teased his mind. Oh, yeah—I’m the man!

  “Wendell, do you accept the gift?”

  Wendell paused. Why did that sound like a loaded question? His gut ached like the words had punched him. It’s that feeling, again. Something is about to happen. After a moments consideration, he glanced up. “What’s the catch?” he asked.

  “Catch?” responded the High Elder. “There’s no catch, my young friend…you just have to be willing to accept the gift.” Yet, something in his too innocent tone, whispered something else to Wendell.

  “There’s always a catch. Something you want. Something I have to give. There has to be something.”

  “The gem is not mine to bargain with,” he sounded offended at the idea. “It belongs to you and you alone.” The High Elder reassured him. “My only duty, at this time, is to make sure you receive what is rightfully yours, no more. Do you accept the gift?”

  Wendell snorted. “Are you joking?!” he laughed, glancing down at the gem gripped in his white-knuckled fingers. “Look buddy—if you’re willing to give me this thing, of COURSE I want it! Look at the SIZE of it!! I hang this around my neck and BA-BLING!! I’ll be the envy of every gold toothed rapper alive.”

  The High Elder shook his head. “No, you do not understand. You must, by the magical law which binds the Gem, actually say that you ‘accept the gift’. That is what will allow it to leave this chamber and go with you.”

  Wendell tossed the Gem back and forth in between his hands like a softball. “Okay.” Then waving the Gem at the elder, “I… accept…the gift,” his voice dripping in sarcasm.

  Before the last tone left his lips, the Ithäri pulled itself from Wendell’s hands. Hovering in front of him, he watched the pulsing begin to mimic his own heartbeat. Hey, get back here. Raising a hand to take it back, the gem started to spin and Wendell shied away. With each step back, the gem drew closer, like a synchronized magnet. Worried, he looked to the High Elder, who just smiled, a rascally-triumphant smile that would haunt Wendell for years, every time he closed his eyes.

  Rooted to the floor by an incomprehensible dread, Wendell lowered his eyes. A myriad of emotions paraded through his thoughts. Yearning for the things he wished he’d done, regret for not making more of his life, ashamed as he relived the moments that embarrassed Evan, or his parents. Standing here in this cold chamber, buried deep in the earth, with a blue stranger and bizarre, unexplainable things happening, Wendell was mentally spent, emotionally naked and utterly exposed.

  “THIS SOUL IS GOOD.

  WE ACCEPT THE HOST.”

  The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. It clearly resonated in Wendell’s ears, reverberating in his bones and deeper. It called to his soul.

  “Woah! It talks?!” squeaked Wendell, stumbling away from the Gem, away from the High Elder. Reeling, he shouted at his feet to Run!…but somehow, in his heart, he knew it was too late.

  A hot wave coursed through his body and he was suddenly dizzy, his legs losing their strength. His stomach rolled, launching a growing urge to vomit while all his other organs developed wills of their own. Each organ shifting, pinching, stretching, and compressing. Something was pushing its way up Wendell’s throat, I can’t breathe! and he doubled over in pain.

  What’s going…on?? What’s happening to me?!? His skin tingled as he became aware of each and every hair on the surface of his body. Every throbbing beat of his racing heart echoing through his skull was mirrored in the pulsing Gem. The flesh of his chest burning.

  “ARRRGH!” he screamed. His hands went to his shirt, frantically scratching, tearing. His temples pounded as it got harder to breathe. His heart ached as it labored intensely. His ribcage was expanding as his organs pushed against them. The veins in his neck and head bulged as a surge of pain bombarded his body and he wailed in agony.

  Tears stung Wendell’s eyes. “WHAT’S HAPPENING? HELP ME…PLEASE!” reaching out for the High Elder.

  But the High Elder was gone. The light grew brighter now, the pulsing rhythm keeping pace with his erratic heartbeat. Distracted by a disconcerting sensation, Wendell looked down at his feet. He was rising off the floor. He looked up to see the gentle hands palm down, fingers spread wide. A stone cage.

  At last, from the corner of his eye, Wendell found the High Elder. He was standing next to the doors to the chamber, arms folded in his robes, the horrible smile still on his face.

  “Wait!” screamed Wendell to him. “I’ve changed my mind—I don’t want it anymore! Did you hear me!? I DON’T WANT THE GEM!!”

  The High Elder just stood there, like a smiling stone statue.

  “Please, sir!” cried Wendell, his eyes blood red barely containing the internal pressure. His arms and legs seized so forcefully he felt his bones would snap. He wanted the dream to end…NOW! Squeaky and high-pitched, Wendell pleaded, “PLEASE!!”

  “I would not change this even if I could, my Lord Wendell,” came the High Elders voice. “You have accepted the gift that will change all our lives forever.”

  “By the way,” the High Elder added, holding up a finger. “The next few moments may ‘sting’ a little.”

  Rings of light materialized, binding his wrists and ankles, constricting his chest and making it impossible to breathe.

  Wake up, Wendell. Wake up!! he screamed.

  Incensed, fueled by lies, malicious abuse, confinement, and the High Elder’s apathy, “LET ME GO!!” Wendell bellowed with his last breath, pulling, stretching and exerting every fiber of his being to get free.

  The rings of light held fast. What did I do to deserve this?? Wendell inwardly sobbed. Why can’t I wake up?

  The gem had repositioned itself. It was tilted…the pointy end aimed at him and still spinning. Spinning like a drill bit. Faster and faster. Squinting, he tried to focus through the pulsing light.

  And then it was gone.

  Wendell didn’t have a chance to react. Blood sprayed in front of his face. Ribs snapped as it passed through his shirt, the flesh in his chest, and forced its way through his bones. The world around him began to slow and suddenly he was free.

  Fleetingly, his eyes flickered back and forth across the room – trying to find someone to help. His body shook with unspeakable pain. His blood, warm and sticky, covered his hands. Mesmerized by the deep nightmarish red, he just stared. Wendell couldn’t feel his heart beating, just an echo of pounding in his head. A thin whispered sigh escaped his lips. He felt cold, a hollow chill crawling from his heart through each organ, every vein, and fading in his fingers and toes.

  The dude in the dress killed me with the Gem from hell.

  Weary, he let his head roll back.

  I’m so sorry, mom—I never should have left home.

  Suddenly, Wendell realized with a refreshing clarity and disbelief, the terror of his new found truth.

  This was not a dream.

  …and then he fell.

  CHAPTER 5

  HELL

  Is there a Hell?

  If you’ve ever been in a no-win situation, you might agree that there is. Sometimes our only choice in life is to endure. And though it may be Hell, it’s also the true test of one’s character.