#the roof caved in long ago but someone's hung up a thick tarp in its place.

[apologeticaugur]

i'm not a person i'm just wearing skin fabric i've pulled over my skeleton

[roadtripwarrior]

The Last Wizard

Gregorboc Stonehandle hobbled his old bones up to the side out of the mountain as fast as they would allow him. The cold air nipped his red nose and frost hung from his bristled gray mustache. Snow was beginning to fall. He approached a large door carved directly into the mountain. Tattered in ancient markings. He tapped it three times with his walking stick and it opened. Pulling his cloak tightly around his ears, he hurried inside.

The wind hollowed behind him and the doors swung shut. Dark and damp, the old man could hardly see his own nose. Striking a match and he found a torch mounted on the wall and made his way deeper into the cave. Muttering to himself quietly as he walked, checking each corner to make sure nothing unruly had made this place it’s home. Finally, after what felt like hours, he came to a small room, different from all the others. It had paved stone walls and was filled with water up to the ankles. In the center was a pedestal and on that pedestal sat a book. Removing his shoes he dipped his aching feet into the water, lifting his robes and walking towards the book. It was a brown, ordinary looking book. With a leather cover that had been worn. Touching it filled his body with warmth.

Drums began to sound, further down the cavern. He spun and peered into the dark to see what was coming, but it had stopped. He stared into the black for a long time, quickly he took the book and fled the mountain. Outside it was blizzarding now and the sun had all but faded. He hurried through the snow and back to his home. The wind and the snow was so thick that he could not hear the sound of drums that followed behind him.

Months later, when the snow had thawed and the flowers began to blooms once more, I got a letter that my brother, Gregorboc Stonehandle, had died. Since I was the only remaining member of our family I received his inheritance. I decided to take a small wagon and a young girl from the village with me to his cottage. “I didn’t know you had a brother, Abe.” She said to me as our wagon trotted along the dirt road, towards the mountain. “What, did you think that Wizards just fell out of the sky? Of course I had a brother. I had several brothers at one point. Twenty-eight to be exact! All wizards. All gone now... ” I trailed off and become lost in thought as I remembered them. There was a silence for a moment, Elda looked at her feet as they swayed off the back of wagon. “There’s is a myth that Wizards are born out of stone. Lighting stricks and it splits open for them to walk onto the earth. Or the one that says when they are born they pop out of their mum’s, immediately sprawling white whiskers and pointy hats!” She teased, trying to change the mood.

Her name was Elda Rashmoor. Red hair, freckles. A young thing, but strong. With hips and shoulders as large as the ox’s carrying the wagon. “Hogwash!” I exclaimed. “What woman could bear a fully grown man? We’d have to be born from giants if that was the case. And what’s wrong with pointy hats? Loads of people wear pointy hats!”  Running my fingers across the brim of my own. Elda laughed.

“Why did you bring me out here with you anyway?” She asked. “Couldn’t you have gotten one of the Copper boys to come with you instead?” “The Copper boys! Those holigans don’t know the rear side of an ass!” I grumbled. Thinking about their scrawny faces and rat noses. “I couldn’t stand a few hours with those boys let alone a day’s whole trip. Anyway, didn’t you beat them both at weight tossing and arm wrestling a few weeks ago? I heard you even gave Ol’ Davie a good wallop when he got handies one night.” Elda glowed, “Yes, I did infact. I’ve beaten every boy in town at wrestling at this point. Arm or full body.” “Excellent! Because I’ll need someone to lift my brothers things into the wagon, and I’ll trust no weasly Copper boy to do so!” Elda sighed. “Couldn’t you just use magic or something to do it though?” “Magic bends the very fabric of our world!” I exclaimed. “I can’t and shan’t be using it for such trivial things. That’s a wizard's way.” Removing my pipe from my robe and placing it to my lips, I snapped my fingers and in an instant a flame was created around the brim of the bowl. I began puffing the smoke into my mouth. Elda smiled. “No such trivial things, huh?”

“My dear, there is nothing trivial about allowing an old man his pleasures. Now then, looks like we’re here.”  The wagon came to a halt in front of an old cottage. Its wood had all but rotted. The window frames and front door hung wide open. Part of the roof had almost caved in. “Hmm, seems my brother was taking good care of the place.” I stepped down from the carriage. Leaning on my staff and puffing on my pipe as I approached. Elda hopped of the back of the wagon and walked behind me. The place was mostly empty. Bed in the corner, few barrels of Brandy, and several bookshelfs all filled with tomes and knick-knacks.

“Well then,” Elda said rubbing her pinky finger into her ear. “Seems I won’t be having to do much work afterall.” “There should be some old family heirlooms in the cellar. Go and have a look will you and bring up what you can.” Elda nodded and headed downstairs. I spent sometime searching the place, looking at all the old books that sat lined with dust. Some of them mine, at one point. Running my fingers along the brim of my favorite, titled “Ashmire Goes to Heaven and Hates it.” I chuckled remembering the first time I read it, skipping lessons from our mother to go hide out in the woods. Reading it day after day. I turned back to the desk and began looking over Gregorbocs notes, thumbing through pages that lay out on his desk.Trying to find some clue as is to what he was up to before he died. When the doctors found the body they found no evidence of malpractice. They pinned up to old age.

Stroking my beard as I read. Finding nothing of value aside from the standard journal entries, a mathematical equations to evaluate the measurement of a ‘good time’, and a few poems about birds. Which were actually pretty decent. I slid open the largest drawer of the desk. Inside sat a brown, leather book. It’s cover was worn and it bared no title. I found myself unable take my eyes off it. The whole room seemed to have become deathly quiet. I reached slowly for the book and picked it up. It filled me up with warmth, warmer than the spring. Warmer than I had felt in many years. I Stared at it for a long time, slowly making my fingers way to its edge. I was just about to open it when Elda shouted. “Hey, Abe! You want these old boxes of robes? They look quite comfortable, if not a bit dirty.” “Hmm? Oh yes, please…” I looked back at the book. Wanting to place it back down in the drawer, close it, and leaving it here to rot. But I couldn’t shake an unbearable weight that felt the book was left here for me to find. I placed it into my robe and went back to helping Elda manage my brothers things.

We loaded up all the things into the wagon that were of some value, sentimental or otherwise, and then made camp just outside the cottage. Using the old fire pit out front for warmth. I sat smoking my pipe as Elda roasted a few lizards with mushrooms for supper. She looked at me oddly while she cooked. “You doing alright there, Abe? You been a bit quiet since we started loading the wagon.” I raised my eyebrows to her. “Oh, I suppose I’m just… reminiscing about my brother.” I lied, forcing a feeble smile. She nodded and went back to the cooking. I puffed awhile longer, staring into the fire. It’s flame crackled in the night. It wasn’t the only noise I could hear. Somewhere, far off, I could hear the faint beating of drums.

Supper was concluded and the fire reduced to embers. Stars swepped the sky. The absence of the moon made it so dark one thought they might be locked in a cavern somewhere. Elda had put up a tarp around the roof of the wagon and quickly fell asleep inside. I stayed watch. It didn’t feel right to sleep. The drumming had stopped but I knew something was still there. I waited for it. Puffing on my pipe. An owl hooted nearby once in awhile.  Looking up I could see its glowing eyes looking down at me. It’s presence brought me some comfort and my own eyes grew heavy. The gentle grasp of sleep just began to wrap its fingers around my mind when I heard it again. The drums. They were closer now. Very close, and growing louder. I gripped my staff tightly and waited. It was all around me now. But I could see nothing beyond the trees. It was right in front of me now. No, it was closer than that. It was playing in my mind, unrelentingly banging away at my brain. I could hardly stand it, pressing my fingers to my brow and wincing hard, feeling I was about to go mad when finally it stopped. All that beated now was my heart beat. Then it appeared, or maybe it was always there. A dark figure among the trees not far off from me. It was no larger than the child, with eyes like white orbs. Glistening. Lifeless. I swallowed hard. There was a sudden blood curdling scream, coming from the wagon. I turned around and saw that Elda had been raised and was hanging in the air like a doll. Shrieking. Eyes rolled back.

Clenching my staff I rose. “Release her, demon!” Casting my voice as deep as it would go and raising my rod to threaten the thing. It didn’t react. I stamped my staff hard against the wagon and a blast of light shot forth. The thing began to fade in its wake and Elda was released. Dropping back into the wagon with a thud. She didn’t move. I cast forth another ray of light. Beaming so bright I had to squint my own eyes. When the light dispersed the figure was gone. Rushing quickly to the back of the wagon, I placed my hand on her chest and felt she was still breathing. Peering back into the night, I could feel no presence. Burning heat was now searing into my skin. I ripped the book from my cloak and tossed it to the floor of the wagon. It scorched the wood and began to cool. I took one of Gregorboc’s old robes and covered Elda with it. Whispering a spell under my breathe to keep her well. Short of breathe and very tired, I slouched against the side of the wagon and waited for the sun to rise.

Pink and purple hueys of light found there way into the forest. Day had come. Elda still lay sleeping, as though nothing had happened. I reached for the book with my staff and pulled it towards me. Tapping it with my fingers quickly to make sure it was cool now, before lifting it up and beginning to read.

The first several pages were sprawled with signatures. All of them belonging to the Stonehandle family name. Each one of my brothers, starting from oldest to the youngest. Gregorboc’s was the last one signed. The following pages were all letters from one brother to the next, starting at the top of the list. The final letter was addressed to me from Gregorboc. It read;

;“Dearest Abe,

How are you? Been some time. Bit of a silly question to ask how you’re is doing when one is dead and won’t be receiving a reply for some time, ha! Unless you find a way to communicate with the deceased, like Brother Nobbie did, and we all know how that turned out… Anyway. Hope you’re well! On to business. This book is a part of our family. A part of the wizarding culture we have established in these lands. When our great great great grandfather, Richenstein the Rickety, first learned the ways of magic, it was at a cost you see. Just as when life was brought into this world so was death. Dark magic was unleashed, and our family has spent our whole lives trying to cover it up. It wasn’t until our own father that we learned that only way to close pandora's proverbial box, was to put everything back inside. That includes our own magic. Funny that we’ve been fighting our enemies with the very tool they use to destroy! Ironic, isn’t it? Now, as you know. You’re the youngest brother. The one always getting lost in thought and staring off at butterflies. We certainly liked to tease you about that one in the day. Called you “Abe the Ablivous!” hoo ho! What fun. Moving on. You’ve come to the age, and appropriate measure of magical wisdom that it is your turn to sign your name. When you sign your name in this book, you’ll be signing off you namesake. All the spells and enchantments you learned in your life will funnel its wisdom and the pages will be rewritten, as they once were, before our great great great Grandfather took them out. You’ll be an ordinary old man. And the darkness that plagues this land will be locked away for good. I’m sorry if this is hard to read. It took me very long to come to terms with it myself and I have paid the price. Usually we do this differently, there is a rite, and some songs we’d sing for you, but I got greedy. Researching several ways to find a way around this. Hoping for some way for you and I to stay this way. But it was in vain. And now the darkness grows at my doorstep, to which, I cannot escape. You have a chance however. At the back of the book lies a map that will take you to a tomb. Sign your name, and leave the book there for ever. Along with all the magic left in the world. But do it quickly, I’m sure as you’ve learned by now, I was not the only thing that wished not to give up our power. Don’t try to follow my research. I’ve destroyed it and you’d only be wasting your time and more importantly, your life.

With much love,

Your brother,

-Gregorboc Stonehandle”

The letter was concluded with a P.S. ordering me to please return several overdue library books. I closed the book and stroked my mustache. “Lose all my powers.” Somber thoughts washed over me as I imagined the life without them. No more magic. No more villagers seeking aid for things such as ravenous boils and angry garden vegetables.

“No more adventures.” I found myself saying aloud, realizing that Elda had woken from her slumber. She must have heard me because she immediately began questioning me what I meant, asking what the book was and why I lied last night, and why she had bruises on her back. How annoyingly curious youth can be. Begrudgingly, I explained everything to her. She had a way of getting me to share things I found myself rather not wanting to share.

She insisted on coming with. To take me to the mountain where the tomb was. “You’ll need someone to watch your back incase that thing comes back, and you’ll also need someone to carry your rickety old ass back to town.” She teased once more.

“I’m losing my powers, not my legs or my will to live! I can walk just fine thank you.” Of course, there was no turning her down. We had a quick breakfast of stewed eggs and potatoes. Then feed the ox and walked off a path that lead into the woods behind Gregorbocs empty house. Leaving the wagon and the ox at the house as the road was to narrow. Elda, who apparently had snuck a sword into the wagon when I wasn’t looking, lead the way. If the mood and coming end of our journey had been different, I might have been happy to be on an adventure again. It had been sometime.

After a few hours of hiking, we came to the mountain noted on the map. Before us sat a door with ancient carvings driven into its side. The book noted how to open it, so I approached and tapped it three times in three separate places with my staff before it slowly opened. Elda took the torch that was laying on the floor by the door and we entered.

It was dark. So dark I could hardly see my own nose. We paced our way slowly through the darkness. Keeping a sharp ear out for the sound of drums, or anything else that might try to stop us. Finally coming to a stone paved room, filled with water to my ankles. Elda stopped near the water and stared at it.

“I feel that it wouldn’t be right if I touched this water… Only magical folk should…” Her voice was a bit weaker than usual. I looked to her curiously. She smiled, her freckles and fiery hair made even redder by the light of the flame. “Call it a hunch.”

Slowly squatting down and removing my shoes, one by one, and setting them aside. I dipped my feet in. It chilled my very bone and moved around my feet in peculiar ways, almost as if it was watching me. Slowly I made my way to the pedestal that sat in the middle of the chamber. The closer I got, the closer the beating of the drums found its way back into my mind, approaching my very soul. Louder and angrier with each step, piercing my skull. I began to find it hard to breathe and almost fell over, leaning heavily on my staff to catch my breath. Elda called to me, but I could not hear what she said because something else was speaking to me now. It told me not to do it. It told me of the terrible things that would happen if I did. It told me it would eat her and me and the Copper boys and everyone else in the village if I did not stop. It’s pounding grew so painful I thought I might die.

Reaching the pedestal I slowly removed the book from my robe and placed it down, leaning heavily against it. It told me how horrible my life would be if I signed my name. How mundane and clammering each rotting day would be. It asked if I wanted that, wanted to rot while the world forgot who I was. Slowly I removed my pen from my pocket, opened the book and scrawled my name in sloppy ink and with it the voices stopped. Closing the book with a sigh, I felt my vision begin to blur. Water splashed as Elda sprinted towards me, and then I fell.

I awoke days later in Eldas house. The familiar pelts of animals lined the walls. A few covered my body keeping all the heat under them. I rubbed the wrinkles on my head and looked about. Elda was sitting by the fire, cooking something. I called to her, and she smiled. I remembered what had happened before, we spoke about it. She told me she heard the voice to, it had her gripping her sword blade, demanding to cut me down. She almost did, but somehow she found the strength to fight back.

“What are you going to do now?” She asked, retrieving my pipe for me from my robes that had been laid to dry by the fire. Handing me them along with a matchbox. I stared at the matchbox for a long time. Then stared out the window.

Silence hung for a long time. Broken only by the birds chirping just out the window, and the gentle breeze of spring days pressing against it. I took a deep sigh “I’d like to see the Red Desert again… Maybe visit Rogue Port as well.” I said fumbling with the match on the matchbox.. She took the match from me and lit it with one quick stroke, holding the flame up the brim of the bowl as I puffed.  “I’d like to come with you.” She said, smiling. “Wouldn’t be right letting a feeble old man wander the lands by himself.” I smiled back, finding no need to argue.