The Archimage Wars: Wizard of Abal

The Archimage Wars:

Diabolical Book 1

Wizard of Abal

by

Philip Blood

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Version 1.1

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PUBLISHED BY:

Philip Blood on Smashwords

The Archimage Wars: Wizard of
Abal

Copyright © 2016 by Philip
Blood

All rights reserved. Without limiting
the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
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(electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise)
without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner
and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
short quotes of other Authors, Movies, Writers or Composers works
are within the bounds of the Fair Use Act.

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* * * * *

Dedication:

I’d like to dedicate this book to a
special group who are my cousins and/or good friends. They have
supported my writing habit, spent countless hours listening to me
read parts of the books, or let me talk about my stories
incessantly. I’m obsessed and they tolerate me. So this one is for
Todd, Cathy, Luke, Melissa, Alicia, Lauren and Libby. I love you
guys!

* * * * *

Wizard of Abal

* * * * *

Chapter One

All the old paintings on
the tombs

They do the sand dance
don't you know

-The Bangles

If there's one thing I hate it is
being woken up early, particularly by a wrinkly skinned little
bastard with a bad case of body odor. The rancid runt was rocking
me back and forth by the upper arm for all he was worth. Now let me
tell you, being shaken awake is not a good thing when your head is
pounding so badly you already feel as if someone is driving a
railroad spike into your forehead.

“
Stop it,” I croaked. I am
fairly sure I am not a frog, but my voice sure sounded like one at
this point, all dry, deep and raspy. I attempted to pull my arm
away from the persistent pygmy but he had a firm grip and used it
to shake me again.

The growl which issued from my cracked
lips was truly something out of legend, but the gamy gnome only
increased his insistent tugging.

Much to my stomach’s dismay, he leaned
his loathsome face in close and spoke. “Master, awake! One of the
others has sensed your hiding place! We have little time to
escape!”

Though his body odor was unbelievably
foul, it was fine perfume compared to his breath. Where his shaking
had not roused me fully, one whiff of that fetid odor caused me to
roll away from the awful stench. Unfortunately, this maneuver took
me off the four feet high, hard stone slab upon which I’d awoken,
and onto the stone floor in an undignified tumble.

I scrambled to my feet and faced him
across the rough stone slab. “You hold on right there!” I called,
holding up a warding hand like a cross against an approaching
vampire. The gears of my brain were beginning to turn so I finally
looked around at my surroundings. I was in some sort of beige stone
chamber, with no obvious exits or furnishings besides the wide
stone table.

Now fully awake my eyes focused and I
got a better look at the short sniveling sneak who had shaken me
awake. He had a protruding nose which would have made Cyrano proud.
His large proboscis stuck out like a pickle from smack dab in the
middle of a face which had wrinkles crisscrossing wrinkles. He had
somewhat yellowed and overly long teeth. He hunched over further
reducing his height, but even standing upright I doubt he would top
five feet, yet his arms and shoulders were thick with
muscle.

I held up three fingers to make my
next points. “I want to know three things: Who are you? Who are
these 'others' who have discovered me? And where did you get that
horrid breath?”

He simpered at me bowing his head a
few times without taking his beady black eyes from mine, then spoke
in a deep gravelly voice, “I am Pox, master. Don’t you remember
your most esteemed servant, Pox? I’m not sure who has discovered
you, a Hentan or a Bakemono perhaps, but I promise you I am not
mistaken; they come for you even now.”

Being upright did nothing to halt the
man with the hammer and spike who was still working on my forehead,
if anything he was getting more persistent; it was the headache of
all headaches. I had a hell of a time trying to think around the
pounding waves of pain. “They come for me, to do what?”

“
To end you, Master, don’t
you remember?” Pox asked with an inquisitive tilt of his disgusting
head.

This is when I realized the truth was
I did not know the truth. Now that I thought about it, I knew very
little. I rubbed at my temples with the pads of my thumbs, perhaps
trying to physically push some memory back into place. It didn't
work. After taking a deep breath I answered him. “No, I don’t
remember anything. For starters, do you know my name?”

He grinned a toothy smile which I
suppose he meant to be friendly, but it looked a little too feral
for my tastes. “Of course Master, and soon the Worlds will know
your name again! However, we dare not utter it now... not with the
others so close! We wouldn’t want them to feel your shadow; already
they are closing swiftly enough, and you do not have your
protections back yet.”

This newest puzzling statement coupled
with my headache and confusion brought me to one conclusion; I
really wanted to smack the little grinning bastard. Since the stone
table was still between us I settled for yelling at him, “Listen,
Pox, I had better start getting some answers quickly or...” I
paused in my ranting since I really did not know what to threaten
him with. “...or you’ll regret it!” I finished, rather
lamely.

He nodded, bobbing his long nose up
and down as if the threat counted for something. “As you will,
Master, but can we leave this place first before they come? I
promise the answers will be forthcoming when you have reached a
safer hideaway.”

“
Just tell me this, when
you say they come to end me do you mean they are out to kill me?”
Now you would think this was a fairly straightforward question
answered with either yes, or no; it just goes to prove you should
never think.

Pox shook his head vehemently, “Oh no,
Master, they intend far worse than just your simple death, I’m
sure.”

My headache pounded with renewed
effort.

Pox pulled out a bundle of clothes and
pushed them across the stone table to me; there was a set of dark
sunglasses and a digital camera on top.

“
Quickly Master, put on
this disguise and we will try to slip out of here before they find
you.”

I hesitated a moment, but then decided
it wouldn't hurt to assume he was telling the truth, at least until
such time as I did not have some unknown assailants about to...
well, assail me. I pulled off my tan hooded robe and began to put
on the clothes before me while shaking my head slightly in
bewilderment. No matter how hard I searched the musty corners of my
brain I had no memory of how I had gotten here, or who I was, or
who was out to... what is worse than killing you? Well, whatever it
was I had a feeling I didn’t want it happening to me.

I buckled the thin black belt and
realized I was dressed as the quintessential tourist. Anyone
looking at me would see a six foot one white male in decent looking
shape, about 200 lb., black hair, wearing a flowery button up short
sleeve shirt, plaid Bermuda shorts, white socks, Reebok athletic
shoes, a pair of black sunglasses and a camera hanging down from my
neck. All I needed was a droopy little hat to look completely
ridiculous.

“
Here is your hat, Master,”
the reeking runt added, pushing a hideous circular hat of the
tourist persuasion my way. I couldn’t help but check for embedded
fishing lures in the brim, surprisingly it was
unadorned.

“
Oh joy,” I answered dryly,
but reluctantly put on the dumpy hat. One of Pox's statements was
still bothering me. OK, several actually, but one thing, in
particular, had my attention, my continued health. I decided asking
for clarification was important enough to risk another confusing
answer from Pox.

“
What is worse than death?”
I asked, speaking to his back.

This is because he currently faced
away from me. He had his big pointed ear pressed up against one of
the beige stones which served as the walls of the
chamber.

“
They will end your line,
and bring your soul back as a puppet to do their will,” he
answered, then pushed a small stone in the wall which moved in a
fraction of an inch. Almost instantly I felt a vibration in the
stone floor and saw light stream into the chamber as a large stone
cranked upwards making an opening in one of the walls. Just outside
another stone passage ran to the left and right.

“
End my line,” I muttered,
and then added, “what line?”

“
No time, Master, we can
discuss your line when you are safe.”

Pox scampered over to the gas lantern
which had been illuminating our chamber and shut it off. In the
passage outside I could see glowing lights mounted along the
walls.

“
Quickly, Master, you must
go before someone comes and senses you!”

I sighed, and thought, Didn’t he mean
‘see me’? But I went ahead and walked out of the chamber into the
hall.

“
Your bus ticket and room
reservation are in your pocket. Summon me when you reach the
Novotel Luxor Hotel. Your room is under the name written on the
reservation. Take the north passage.”

I reached into my front pockets and
found a piece of paper in the right one. I pulled it out and
finally found my first name, Nick. It rang no bells in my
head.

Right, then I heard the heavy grating
sound of the stone lowering back into place. I looked up and found
myself alone in the hallway, and Pox was gone. I ducked under the
slowly lowering stone back into the original chamber, but it was
now empty and there was no sign of Pox anywhere. I ducked back out
under the half closed stone into the hallway.

I cannot say I was unhappy to be rid
of the noxious midget, but then again now I was completely alone.
Just my empty skull and me, and a fine pair we made. Well, there
was only one thing to do... find out what should be up there and
put it back! First order of business, where was I?