Elements of Glory: The Princess of Nothing
Part I: Alone | Chapter One: Aragam Spendal

’You best be careful, you dim-witted spine… I mean swine! I’m a Wasgician! I could turn you into three different toads and give you to a Wysgic to make as a stew!’

-Aragam Spendal all bravado, trying to warn off some thugs

OTHER-REALM

WEST OF THE WERAL BOARDER

It was afternoon. Rain was pouring down on a thick green forest west of the Weral Kingdom. Through the woodland and the pouring rain, a Wasgician, dressed in blue robes – with a tall blue hat on top of his head – trudged bleakly. Behind him, walking dutifully, being led by the reigns, was a tall majestic black horse.

Aragam Spendal wasn’t happy. In fact he was grumbling and complaining to himself as he thought of how unfairly his life was treating him presently. He thought, miserably, that someone had once told him things got easier as you grew up. But Aragam was thirty now, and ‘things’ didn’t seem any easier! In fact, he decided, the older he got, they just seemed to get harder! He wondered if it was his bad luck, or if the Heaven Lord just disliked him so much that He continued making things harder and harder.

Aragam didn’t know which idea comforted him more.

Neither, he supposed.

Today was probably the hardest day Aragam had seen in all his days – he was prone to exaggeration. It was raining. He didn’t mind the rain, but he didn’t like being out in it all day, soaked from the top of his pointed hat, to the soles of his boots. His blue clothes and cloak clung to him, and he shivered as he moved through forest, becoming more and more drenched by the rain that cascaded off of the trees and undergrowth.

The horse that Aragam was leading through the woods didn’t seem to mind the rain, which only befouled his mood all the more. From time to time the black steed would whinny happily and shake its head, drenching Aragam more deeply. He figured, if he was a really proficient Wasgician, he could use his Gemgic to create a shield and keep the rain off of him.

Aragam, however, wasn’t a very good Wasgician. He had worked long and hard, and trained under some of the best Wasgicians in all of the known Kingdoms – and even some in unknown realms! But through it all, he hadn’t been able to master Gemgic powers like they could. Aragam couldn’t count the times he’d heard it said: ’You’re good, boy… you’re just missing... something.’

Aragam had no idea what he was missing, but he wished he could replace it, so that he wouldn’t have to take jobs like this, just to get by.

’A true Wasgician, one with true power,’ Aragam lamented to himself, ’would not be stuck trudging through the forest with a cheeky horse who likes to shake its wet mane all over me!’

The horse snorted as if it had understood, and shook again. Aragam grumbled something particularly nasty under his breath – that he knew he shouldn’t say, but felt, as he was an adult now, no one had the right to tell him what he could and couldn’t say it. Life didn’t get easier as you grew up, Aragam could attest to that, but at least you got to say what you wanted.

Most of the time.

’You’re a fine lad, a fine Wasgician… for small things, Aragam,’ the Wasgician grumbled to himself, saying over what other teachers had told him, ’you do have a gift, but you’re missing... something. You don’t have that... something. If only you could capture that... something.’

Aragam stopped dead in his tracks and looked up to the rainy heavens. ’For the love of life, please, cut me a break and give me that something!’

There was a rumble of thunder, as if a heavenly retort.

Aragam watched the sky a little longer, sniffed, wiped rain out of his face, and started trudging on again. After a bit, he entered a small clearing. The grass seemed especially green here, and the trees surrounding the clear were extra thick and extra tall – like living pillars – all perfectly arrayed.

Aragam dug into a wet pocked of his blue robes, and pulled out a sopping map. He checked it, and looked around the clearing.

‘Well,’ he sighed, ’this is it. This is the pick up spot that Grulem sent us to, horse.’

The horse looked around the clearing, tossed its head, and snorted in an unimpressed way.

‘Yeah, nothing special is it,’ Aragam agreed, ’and our contact isn’t even here. You’d think, if you we’re going to have a meeting out in the middle of a rainy forest you’d be-’

Someone dropped out of the sky, landing directly in front of Aragam with a bow in hand and an arrow fully drawn back. The silver tip of the arrow was pointed right at Aragam’s left eye. The face of the man glaring at him was blue, filled with menace.

To Aragam’s right, a man in a long black trench coat appeared. He had a wide-brimmed hat on his head, and in his hand was a musket that he pressed up against Aragam’s skull. The man, though his face was hard and gruff, looked younger than Aragam.

‘You’re the Wasgician, Aragam?’ the man with the musket growled.

‘Yes,’ Aragam replied. The word came out as a high, squeaking, sound. Aragam, going red in the face, had to say it again for clarification, when both the blue-skinned man and the man with the musket exchanged confused looks.

‘Grulem sent you?’ the man with the musket demanded.

‘Yes,’ Aragam agreed, forcing his voice to be deep this time, but over compensating. It was too deep.

The man with the musket pulled it away from Aragam’s head, and the blue-skinned Tyrim lowered his bow. The pointed ears that stuck out the side of his head twitched a little.

The Tyrim had long black hair. His eyes were purple, and he wore silver and grey armour, with a sword on one hip.

The man with the musket wore leather all over. Aside from his musket, he had a sword too.

The musket-man reached into his coat and pulled out a pure white crystal sphere that wasn’t much bigger than a throwing ball. He held onto it for a moment. Then he tentatively handed it over to Aragam, who took it, looked at it, and then back at the musket-man in confusion.

’This is a most important orb,’ the musket-man said soberly. ’Grulem thought our enemies wouldn’t expect an inept Wasgician to be protecting it. Hopefully it will keep them off the trail until you can get it to Grulem.’

‘Lovely sentiment,’ Aragam grumbled.

‘Which way did you come here by?’ the Tyrim demanded of Aragam, his voice cool.

‘I edged the bottom of the Weral Kingdom, by the Nasor River,’ Aragam responded, feeling very uncomfortable. He didn’t mind admitting he was intimidated by these men.

’Do not go back that way,’ the musket man ordered.

‘Why?’ Aragam asked.

’Do not ask why, only do,’ the Tyrim commanded.

Aragam didn’t argue. ’Which way should I go then?’ he asked.

’Cross to the Beryit Kingdom through the Weral Kingdom,’ the Musket man ordered.

Aragam thought for a moment that he’d heard wrong – but due to the fact that he had excellent hearing, he knew he’d heard absolutely right. ’Are you insane?’ the Wasgician scoffed. ’No one goes through there!’

‘People go through there all the time,’ the Tyrim countered. ‘Just don’t be caught in the forests at night, yes?’

Aragam blinked. ‘It’s a day’s ride across the narrowest tip of the Weral Kingdom. How am I supposed to make that with the amount of day that’s left?’

‘Ride to the border today,’ the musket-man said. ‘Then, tomorrow morning, take your journey. You should easily make it across and-’

Suddenly a black ball of light, leading an inky tail, cut into the clearing and hit the musket-man in the side, breaking through his jacket, his leather clothes, and then his skin. He cried out and dropped to one knee, as vibrant red blood started to pour from his wound. He fired his musket in the direction the attack had come from, as more evil light sailed toward them.

‘GO!’ the musket man roared at Aragam. ’GO! GO! GO!’

Without thinking, Aragam leapt onto the back of his horse, drove his heels into its side, and galloped off into the woods, away from the attack. Behind him he heard monstrous screeches and roars, and the sound of the musket-man’s weapon firing again.

Soon the sounds of the battle were drowned out by the rain, and the galloping of Aragam’s horse. The Wasgician felt tingly all over. His heart was hammering loudly in his chest. He was scared, and worried for the intimidating men he’d just been talking to.

He was also very worried for himself.

The attackers had likely seen him. They would be coming after him no doubt! Aragam glanced down at the crystal sphere he was still gripping in one hand. He wondered what he was holding, and what he’d gotten himself into.

And for only one hundred pieces of gold, too!

‘Hang onto that thing,’ a voice said, startling Aragam.

’What?’ the Wasgician gasped, looking around.

‘Down here,’ the voice said, ‘you’re on my back.’

Aragam, wide-eyed, looked down at his black horse – the one Grulem had ordered him to take along on this job. ‘I’m going insane,’ Aragam told himself. ’A horse is talking to me?’

’I’m not a horse,’ the horse said in an indignant tone.

’Oh,’ Aragam replied with an angry edge to his voice. ’You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier! You just let me talk to myself on our whole journey!’

’My orders were only to reveal myself if it was necessary,’ the horse explained. ’Now it’s necessary.’

’Oh, well that seems to be an understatement, horse!’ Aragam shouted.

’I’m not a horse!’ the horse shot back.

‘Excuse me,’ Aragam barked in exasperation. ‘Then what in the blazes are you?’

‘I’m a Stryth,’ the horse retorted, ‘and it’s my job to help you protect what you’re carrying.’

‘Which is?’ Aragam asked grimly.

’Doesn’t matter what it is. I never ask questions like that,’ the Stryth replied. He turned sharply, galloping harder into the woods.

‘Where in the blazes are you heading?’ Aragam demanded as wet branches slapped him in the face.

’The one place I hope our enemies won’t follow,’ the Stryth responded.

’Oh no!’ Aragam cried, understanding immediately what the creature was suggesting. ’No, no, no, noooo!’ Aragam shouted. ‘Not into the Kingdom of Weral. Are you out of your equine mind?’

’I’m not a horse!’ the Stryth shouted over the silver bit in its mouth.

‘I DON’T REALLY CARE YOU WACKO!’ Aragam bellowed. ‘WE CAN’T GO INTO THE WERAL KINGDOM AND BE THERE AFTER SUNSET!’

’Well, we’re going to have to face whatever monsters are in there, because as bad as they are, I assure you it’s nothing compared to what’s after us. Trust me.’

’Trust you? Trust you!’ Aragam exclaimed.

The Stryth snorted. ’Fine, don’t trust me, just hang on.’

It was all the Aragam could do, as the Stryth ran ever faster toward the dreaded borders of the Weral Kingdom.