Vegenrage: The Magic User (10 page)

“Ah, a game of cat and mouse. Of course, you are the mouse, and it is only a matter of time until I have eaten the mouse. A tasty treat you will be, Vegenrage.” Blethstole, with surprising speed, swoops on Vegenrage and grasps him with his right hand and devours Vegenrage with a few bites. Vegenrage appears fifteen feet to the left again. Blethstole laughs. “Oh, you are a confident one.” This time he slowly walks toward Vegenrage. “You are nifty, you are sly, you are a risk taker,” he says, slamming his right paw down on Vegenrage, crushing him to vapor.

Vegenrage appears on Blethstole’s bed. This time Vegenrage throws a fireball of his own at Blethstole, which warms him but has no effect other than to startle Blethstole a little.

“You mock me?” Blethstole says, walking up his bed. “You challenge me. You are daring.” Blethstole shoots six black darts from his mouth, striking Vegenrage, deflating his image, and decaying him to ash. An image of Vegenrage appears behind Blethstole and charges up the golden bed and grabs a scale on his leg and tries to pull it free. Blethstole uses his wing like a flyswatter and flattens Vegenrage’s image.

The real Vegenrage sees his opportunity as Blethstole turns his back to him and stands high and tall on his bed. Vegenrage jumps from his perch and lands between Blethstole’s wings and grabs a scale at the bottom of his neck and pulls it free from Blethstole’s body. Blethstole bucks and flaps his wings down, exerting a great upward force, sending Vegenrage high into the air. Blethstole faces his head upward and exhales his deadly breath attack. Vegenrage is now hovering high up in the air but must concentrate on the breath attack Blethstole is unleashing. The breath comes out of his mouth, a massive thick black cloud, and Vegenrage holds out the Staff of Barrier Breath.

This is a magical scene and incredible looking as Vegenrage speaks the words and the dragon head on the top of the staff opens its mouth. The breath attack from Blethstole, which is massive and unmistakably powerful in force and size, funnels its way to the dragon’s mouth and is consumed by the staff, bathing Blethstole’s lair in a golden light. The staff grows brighter as more and more of the breath is taken in. Blethstole stops his breath attack and looks at Vegenrage, surprised. “Vergraughtu.”

Vegenrage does not linger and flies through the exit into the night air, with Vergraughtu in one hand and a scale from Blethstole in the other. The clouds have thinned, and the moon is now peeking through as Blethstole exits his lair. And what a magnificent view of Blethstole as he flaps his enormous wings, and his silhouette flies through the air of silver-blue moonlight, with long clouds looking like icicles in the sky. Blethstole pursues Vegenrage, raging. “You never wanted my gold at all. You wanted me, and you can’t have me or my gold. Oh, you are masterful, you are challenging, you are Vegenrage, the master magic user, and your head will be my most appreciated treasure.”

Vegenrage is about to show that he is in fact a master magic user as he transforms in midair into Blethstole’s love, Gwithen, the white dragon mare. She extends her wings wide and swoops in a circle to face Blethstole in midair. The two dragons meet, flapping their wings to hover and gaze upon each other. Blethstole is taken by complete surprise and gazes upon his love. Gwithen is truly magnificent, solid white with shiny emerald eyes with golden pupils. Her wings sprout from her back, as do Blethstole’s. She has a more slender appearance, truly feminine and gorgeous. To male dragons, her scent is intoxicating with female hormones, and Blethstole is speechless in his admiration of her beauty.

“Blethstole, I await your return to release me from my sleep, to plant the seed my eggs wait for.” Gwithen swings her massive tail, coming down on Blethstole’s left wing with a crushing blow, sending him falling, twirling to the ground as Vegenrage regains his form and makes a fast getaway.

CHAPTER 8
Cloakenstrike, Erkensharie, and the Treestriders

Bastrenboar is standing in front of a table with three of his leading commanders on the opposite side. The table has a well drawn-out map of the kingdom of Ugoria on it.

“Lushantor, take your army through the Mogle Lands and enter the Creshian Forest here. It’s going to be a long run through the forest, and then you and your men will be at the southern gate of Ugoria.” Bastrenboar points out the path for Lushantor and his army to take to Ugoria on the map. “Gripzon, take your men up the Gwipps River and exit the Ugoria highlands. Follow this path to the north rim of the Ugorian Kingdom and attack the north wall.” Bastrenboar points out the route on the map for Gripzon to see and also gives him a personal map to make sure he and his men follow this exact route to avoid detection of the elves. “Rowgen, you and your men have the most dangerous and difficult route to Ugoria. You will have to travel through the Ugorian Forest and assault the eastern tip of the Ugorian Kingdom. This forest is thick with Ugorian elves and defended fiercely. We all know this, and we will have special mechanisms in place to allow safe passage for you and your men, allowing you to pass undetected. Rowgen, you and your one hundred men are the most specialized fighters we have, and we cannot afford to lose any of you. Meet with your men and gather them three days from now to meet with myself and Cloakenstrike in the training area. We have special instructions for you. Men, we assault the Ugorian Kingdom one week from today. Cloakenstrike will return in a day or two, and we will devise the campaign that will finally fell the elven king who ordered our creation. The creation that will be his undoing. Lushantor, Gripzon, Rowgen, gather with your men and prepare. Our time to dominate and destroy the elves is close now. Prepare and wait for further instruction.”

The three commanders leave the tent, and Bastrenboar looks over the map of Ugoria, nodding and smiling. The day he has been waiting for centuries is close, and he can’t wait.

Cloakenstrike appears in a damp forest. The air is thick with moisture, and the smell of rain and vegetation is powerful. The air is warm, and the night sky is misty, shining reflected moonlight all around, giving off odd and spooky shadows. He walks about fifty feet and encounters a tall, concrete wall reaching high into the night sky. He looks up as the vines growing in the trees and on the ground start to move in his direction. They twirl, unwinding from the trees high up, and pull down the trees, forming long ropes of vine in all different thickness. They head toward Cloakenstrike, who is studying the wall before him, and increase in speed as they approach him. Very quickly they wrap around him and tie him from head to toe and start to crush his body like a large constricting snake would do. Cloakenstrike looks at his arms tied to his sides and his legs, which are bound together.

“You guys waste no time, do you?” He chants, “Firing Flaming Stromgengen Umfen Glangour!” His entire body goes up in an incredibly hot flaming fire, burning the vines to ash in seconds. He turns to face the forest, still in flames as more vines attempt to shackle him and end up ash as the fire quickly burns them. Cloakenstrike starts to levitate straight up alongside the wall, and the vines grow at him from the trees, trying to ensnare him, but the fire is much too hot and the vines all burn up. Nearly to the top of the wall and out of reach of the vines, Cloakenstrike loses his flame and chants a spell, becoming invisible. He floats up and over the wall to see the elves on the ground, hustling to the entrance, as somehow they have been alerted to the presence of possible danger outside their stronghold. Elven bowelves are running along the top of the wall that Cloakenstrike has just cleared, looking for the disturbance, and they quickly spot the burnt forest outside their castle wall. The elves shout instructions to the elves on the ground, alerting them to the area of the disturbance.

Cloakenstrike is a very powerful magic user himself and has cast powerful magic on himself, concealing him from the elves—a very impressive accomplishment. Whatever he is up to, he has planned it well and has the magical savvy to continue on undetected so far. There is a large courtyard below with paved walkways and neatly trimmed grass. There is not a castle or stronghold as you might think in here. Instead, the land creeps downward into a very large gully many miles wide, and there is a canopy of trees that rise some fifty feet higher than the courtyard itself, and the walkways lead down into the gully. Cloakenstrike floats through the air, down into the growth of trees, which is thick; but as the gully goes down, the night is illuminated by lanterns hanging from the trees, giving off a beautiful starlight glow, making the evening soft and comfortably bright. The trees grow tall and thick with leaves at the higher levels, making visibility to the ground from the air unattainable; however, below the leaves, the wooded area is clear and well kept. The ground is easily traversed between the large trees and is very beautiful indeed. Cloakenstrike moves lower into this amazing natural wonderland the Erkensharie elves make home. A large group of well-armed elves makes their way up through the trees, heading toward the entrance, and Cloakenstrike can hear them talk in their native tongue.

“Shastenbree, how did the Tronglebire make it through the forest to our walls? They have never dared venture this close to us.”

“I do not know, Kwerston, but we are about to give them a welcome they will not like.”

The twenty or so elves make their way to the entrance, and the guards open the very large slender doors. The guards give instructions to the whereabouts of the intruders, and the fighters make their way out as the doors close behind them. Cloakenstrike makes his way deeper into the elven homeland and starts to pass the homes built into the trees.

This is a magical place. The trees are so wide around that the elves have carved steps that wind up and around the trees to homes that they have carved right into the trees. The homes are all lit by magical starlight lanterns, and the homes are large enough to house two to four inhabitants comfortably.

Cloakenstrike ventures deeper, and more and more elves are becoming visible, aware of the disturbance outside their gate. Pretty soon, all the trees are housing elven families, and somehow this use of the trees benefits the trees in some way, because they are all tall, strong, and healthy. As Cloakenstrike moves deeper in, the trees become larger and thicker, where the homes are more secure, not completely open like the ones he has passed so far. Apparently, the deeper he travels in this land, the higher the status of individuals living here. It just makes sense as the trees get wider, stronger, and taller, and the homes built into them are more elaborate and fortified.

The land has steadily fallen deeper as he travels into the Erkensharie homeland. The trees at the center of Erkensharie must be the oldest, because a view above the trees shows they are all the same height, but the trees in the center have grown much taller than the trees to the outside, because the land slopes down to the center of the Erkensharie homeland. You would think that this land would flood a lot because the land is actually a large natural bowl, and it extends for tens and tens of miles, making this a very large natural wonderland. The land does not flood because the trees absorb and drink exorbitant amounts of water to sustain their incredibly long and successful life. It is so beautiful how the homes are built right into the trees and how the grass is so well kept, allowing for walking in any direction throughout all the trees.

There are no branches from the trees that are now over one hundred feet in the air, and then very high up the trees, there is like an explosion of branches, leaves, and buds, blocking out the sky from above. The trees have no bark, so you would think. They are smooth and look like they have been sanded a very light brown color, like a two by four that has been milled. This is the natural evolution of this rare Erken tree. The bark is actually a very soft coat of wood that absorbs moisture on contact like a sponge, and the water filters up the tree to the leaves and buds that actually produce a sucking mechanism in the tree, and it’s very fascinating.

As Cloakenstrike moves deeper, the homes in the trees start to thin out and the forest becomes more natural, without the elves and their manipulation of the trees. The neatly trimmed grass ends abruptly, and the true grass length and form takes shape—a tangled web of grass and thick insect life waiting for warm-blooded nutrition, making walking here very cumbersome and irritating. Cloakenstrike stops at this point and flies up to a high branch and rests, becoming visible.

This is where the challenge begins
. He chants magical spells in various languages and reaches into his Bag of Holding and pulls out a pendant hanging from a necklace made of small vine. There is no knot in the vine or any clasp of any kind. It is one continuous loop, just large enough to fit over his neck. The pendant is a small leaf with a small stick bug sitting on the leaf. The stick bug has four wings on its back, like a dragonfly. It has four stick legs to the back, two extending from either side of its body, which look like toothpicks, and the body is like a log, only very tiny. To the front of the bug are two legs, which extend from the front, and it has a snakelike head, which grows from the body, with very large eyes. From the top of the head grows a horn about two inches and very sharp.

He puts the necklace over his head, and it rests nicely just below his neckline. He chants a spell, and the stick bug on the pendant moves. Its body lies flush with the leaf, and it turns its head to the right side, laying its head flush with the leaf, like it is going to sleep.

That should take care of the small ones, now to deal with the midsized ones, something with a little more bite
. He reaches into his Bag of Holding and pulls out an eight-inch wand, very thin and very fragile looking. He holds the wand, which is very simple, just a piece of wood, but very powerful in this instance indeed—the Wand of Splintering. He holds the wand out in front of him facing forward and releases it. The wand levitates about mid-chest high, and he holds out his arms in front of him, palms down. “I summon the Wand of Splintering.” The wand separates into two identical wands and move to the top of Cloakenstrike’s forearms and rest on them. The wands start to grow small stems from the sides, which weave together around Cloakenstrike’s forearms, forming very thin but sturdy wristbands covering both of his forearms. He punches his left hand with his right fist a couple of times then his right hand with his left fist a couple of times.
The big ones will be a little tougher, but I always have fire
.

Cloakenstrike leaves his perch and flies through the trees midway between the thick growth on the ground and where the branches start to grow from the trees. There are no lanterns lighting the woods here, but the soft starlight from all the lanterns in the village where the elves live cast light, very dim but just enough so that the night is not completely dark. He is flying much faster now than he was through the village, very alert and ready for danger. The grass below him starts to chime with the sound of buzzing wings as swarms of young Treestriders ascent to meet him. They are tiny, only a couple of inches in length, but have numbers on their sides. They charge the intruder with the horn on their head, ready to impale their target. They fly fast and straight for him, horn first, and make impact; however, they do not make contact with Cloakenstrike’s body. About an inch before hitting Cloakenstrike, a protective barrier around his body acts like a gelatin, allowing the horn of the young Treestriders to enter flush with its head, and then the gelatin snips shut like sharp pliers, cutting of the horn and consuming it, making the gelatin stronger and thicker.

The Treestriders fall to the ground, dying from blood loss and the exposure of their brain. This is sheer amazement as swarms of Treestriders in the thousands attack and lose their horns, falling in such great numbers that the night air is blackened with the falling Treestriders. It’s like they are not aware there is any threat and attack him in greater and greater numbers, dying faster and faster as Cloakenstrike’s barrier grows bigger and stronger the whole time. This is a testament to the ability of this most powerful magic user and his ability to adapt and create magic of his own. Cloakenstrike created the Treestrider Absorption Pendant, and it is the only one of its kind in existence. He also adapted the Wand of Splintering for his needs here, which he is about to test very soon.

The Treestriders attacking Cloakenstrike now are very young and have two more stages of growth before they become adult Treestriders. They live in the young stage for up to three years. There is an amazing harmony in this elven-controlled forest. The young Treestriders remain in their first stage of life for up to three years and only go into metamorphosis to reach the second stage of their life if there is need for them; if not, they die. The young Treestriders feed on the nutrient-rich water in the grasses lining the floor of the forest, which sees a lot of rainfall, and instinctively attack any unknown living creature in the forest with the exception of the Erkensharie elves.

The Treestriders protect the forest from all unwanted intruders to maintain the unique balance of the forest here. They are really the guardians of the forest. The Treestriders attack any intruder in the forest by simply bombarding the being with their relatively small horn, which alone would not do much damage, but the constant bombardment of thousands and thousands of them is like being shredded by thousands and thousands of cuts until the creature dies of blood loss. This in turn is a nutrient-rich blood food that the Treestriders consume most eagerly. When there is need of more, Treestriders in the second phase of their life, the Erken Tree, or Trees, will exude a thick, rich sap just below the branch line of the tree or trees high up, which attracts the young Treestriders, and they flock to the rich sap. This is a first come, first served basis, and there is great competition in being the first Treestrider on the sap, because once there, the sap encompasses the young Treestrider, and once in the rich sap, the metamorphosis begins. Once the drops of sap hit the ground, the Treestriders begin their dueling to see who will get there first. They try to knock each other out of the air by flying into each other, and once on the tree near the sap, they duel with the horns on their heads, sometimes to the death, because without this sap, they cannot reach the next stage of their development and will die anyway.