The Mage's War: Chapter One PART 1

**This novel has longer chapters. Vocal's word count restricts me from publishing the full first chapter due to its length. The second part of chapter 1 is also available on my page.**

PROLOGUE

Life is a war best fought using the compassion and understanding within our hearts rather than the violence within our minds.

Every day is a different battle versus ourselves, versus the world, versus disease, heartache, starvation, homelessness, loneliness, betrayal, purpose, and boredom. Some battles are victorious, others great losses. No matter the outcome, never stop fighting for your life. Never stop fighting for a better world. Fight back against the awfulness of this world with all the loveliness in your heart.

Never give up. Keep fighting on.

*********

I open my mind, becoming aware of the world around me. There is an old man whose hands and eyes glow with a soft purple light. His pale skin is wrinkled and freckled, and his long white hair flows like a misty waterfall down his back. He wears a silk robe-style gray jumpsuit, long-sleeved and loose-fitting. It is rimmed and sashed in a soft violet. Behind him stands a young boy, no more than ten years with long black hair braided into numerous strands that frame a face of dark complexion. His bright blue eyes stand out like two pools glistening in an afternoon sun. His tiny body is adorned with a very loose-fitting robe, identical to the old man’s.

The room we’re in is tiny, large enough for a wide desk that takes up the entirety of the front wall (where I rest), and floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with old books take up the other two walls. The back wall, where the boy stands, frames a large old wooden door with iron laced throughout it and a rounded handle hanging low.

“Master, are you sure this is the right thing to do? Observance without interference?” The boy asks.

“Of course, my dear boy. Their path is their own. Whether they choose to obliterate or help one another is their choice alone. We are here to observe and to learn from their mistakes.” The old man says. He turns his head to examine me. “Oh? Are you awake?”

I shudder a little, trying to give this man an answer.

The old man smiles at me; the purple glow fades from his eyes and hands, and instead of the purple light, I find some wise brown eyes examining me.

The boy shifts his feet. “But… Master, if they do obliterate each other… Won’t it be our fault, too, for not doing anything? We know everything about the witches and everything about the casters… We know what’s happening… We know all their secrets… We can stop this war right now!”

The old man runs his fingers over me and turns me over. Without looking, he responds: “They are not at war yet, child, and should they choose to go to war, it is their choice. We know all their secrets, but we have no reason to change the course of history. If this is how things were meant to be, it is how they were meant to be. There is little we can do to change that. Even if we were to tell the secrets we know to both sides, little would change. The opposing side has forever hurt many on each side. Revenge and anger are powerful motivators, blinding people from even the most blatant truths. This is the destiny they have chosen; who are we to stop it?”

The boy is angry; his blue eyes are hurt.

The old man chuckles and removes his fingers from my body. “Hello, and good morning. You seem to be healthy. Your name is Clementia, and I am your master. My name is Menelaus. Do you know why you were created?”

I look through my memories and find something there: I am to observe two groups of people: the witches who dwell in the Witching Realm and the casters and humans who reside in the Realm of the Magi. Their thoughts, actions, and emotions are mine to record. Before me, dozens of others have done the same and reported back to our master, who had gifted them life. Their lives lasted four years each, and after that, my master laid them down to sleep.

My master reads my mind and smiles. “Good, I see your mind is working well. This job you’ve inherited from your sisters is the most important. We are records of the lives being affected by the second master. There is no higher purpose or job one could have than to record the stories of those who do not have a chance to record their sorrow… and maybe we can change his mind after all.”

I know this, and I understand; my body ruffles up with excitement at the task I have been given.

Master Menelaus smiles and gives me an affectionate pat.

“Master…” The boy interrupts, and he taps his feet. “I’m… lost. I don’t want to sit back and watch; I want to help!”

My master smiles. He turns to the boy and rests his wrinkled fingers on his tiny shoulder. “I know you do. You have a heavy heart, large and proud. As you age, your wisdom will grow. While lost now, you will soon understand. Give today time to think about what I’ve said. You’re too young and impressionable to go to war. What would a tiny little thing like you do in a warzone?”

The boy looks at the ground, thinking.

My Master turns his attention back to me. “Your journey, Clementia, will require no small amount of magic.” His fingers glow with enchanting white light, dancing across the front of my body in intricate, exotic patterns. I can feel the transfer of his magic to me as it laces through and carves into my flesh. “This magic I gift you will not recharge over time; it is finite. It must last you for the next four years.”

He says so, yet I have enough to complete my mission. Then, my master begins carving runes that will allow me to fly. I ruffle up with pleasure.

“Now, now, Clementia, calm yourself. I’m almost done.” His voice is like a coddling father.

I can’t wait. Today is my very first day of life, my birthday, in a way. My mind is empty, but I’m excited to fill it with all the many things I will see in the fantastic realms of magic.

“Remember, Clementia: as I told the boy, we are observers. You may not use your powers to interfere. Be sure to pay extra attention to the casters.”

He next says so quietly that even I, with my enhanced listening abilities, struggle to understand: “Show him what he fails to see. Now…” My master’s hands stop glowing, and the burning heat against my flesh ceases. Then, he lifts me high into the air. I again ruffle with anticipation. “Soar high! Fulfill your mission and return to me after four years!”

He throws me in the air, and I fly. It’s the most incredible feeling in the world, the wind whistling past, the ground growing smaller and smaller as I move up and up and up.

“Clementia!” His voice calls, so far below.

I have forgotten my mission, and my master is not happy. I fly back down to him and find not anger but a smile across his kind face.

“Have fun out in the world, and don’t forget to turn yourself invisible before you leave.” He tells me; he gives me one last affectionate pat as I float before him.

With a surge of magic energy, I do as he asks and turn my body invisible. Then, like the very wind, I soar away, faster, and faster and faster… to the world of the casters, I travel.

CHAPTER 1: Erick Mak

“I wan'… to be loved.”

On the surface, there is nothing special about Erick Mak. He is a tall, grungy fellow who wears patched-up clothes because he can’t afford new ones. His messy, salt-and-pepper hair falls in his wild green eyes, and his trembling hands are always occupied with something. Now in his early forties, he shouldn’t be working the way he does, in a warehouse where his aching bones grow achier every day… but without that source of income, he would have no way to pay off his childhood credit card debt, and no money to fuel his drinking obsession.

Erick can remember a quarter of a century ago; he was an excited youth ready to tackle the world. Nobody taught him that the world could punch back: debt, credit cards, more debt, more loans… and even more debt. Stress led to experimentation, which led to an obsession with alcohol. Day by day, drink by drink, one year progressed into the next, and one day… Erick Mak woke up, and he was forty-three years old. No wife, no children… no chance of retirement. Awaiting him at home is a liquor flask tucked under his pillow and the wine bottle beside his mattress.

That bottle is the last one before he gets paid three days from now. He’ll have to visit his “friend” down the road, who steals extra booze for Erick. They’re always cheap little drinks no one will miss; they’ll do so long as they remove his loneliness.

He can’t remember anything special about that day… and yet it was special, nonetheless.

He throws a box after stubbing his toe. Hopping on one foot, his wild green eyes wide and pained, she walks by.

She’s an interesting young girl with bright eyes and long golden hair tied up in an elegant, braided bun. Several wisteria flowers hang from her bun like a tiny purple veil. Her face is small and doe-like, her body slim and fit. She greets everyone she passes with a gentle smile, wearing a simple violet blouse and black skirt. Then, she walks in front of Erick, and their eyes meet.

Her eyes are golden—their unusual color thieves Erick’s breath.

For the longest second of Erick’s life, nothing happens. He expects a sneer, a cry of disgust, an insult; his palms sweat.

Then, the girl’s eyes glow with excitement.

Of all the things she could’ve responded with… she looks at him with excitement.

“Hello!” she exclaims, putting her dainty hand out.

Erick sets his foot on the ground. He wants to respond, but he no longer trusts acts of kindness.

If Erick’s mistrusting eyes put the girl off, she doesn’t show it.

“My name is Ebony, but you can call me Ebbie; everyone else does.” And she pushes her hand closer to Erick.

He backs away. “Lil’ light gal like you? With a name like Ebony?”

Her laugh is joyous and carefree. “Yes! Ebony Eyre is my name!”

Erick fakes a smile, his yellowed teeth flashing on his dirty face. “It’s a naice name…” Then, he’s back to work. He sighs as Ebbie’s heels click on the concrete. They disappear beneath a cacophony of truck horns and screeching machinery.

Ebbie Eyre doesn’t disappear from Erick’s mind; her joyous naivety makes Erick feel like a youth again without any care. He wants to feel that again, carefree. The alcohol quit giving it to him long ago.

He searches for her day after day, hoping she’ll come back… but as one day drags into the next, his hope of seeing her fades. Erick questions his boss about her; a stern woman, she gives Erick that sharp warning glare as she shouts: “You’d best stay away from that little girl. And don’t let me catch you asking about her again!”

And then follows that familiar slump. Like every day before, Erick goes to work, goes home, and drinks himself into a stupor.

Payday comes and leaves. He again can’t pay his water bill; he has too much wine to buy and too many credit card bills to get extensions on. Erick suffers another week of showering in the rain and washing his clothes in the nearby river.

Before he knew it, a month slipped past. February snow covers the drive; that brief little blossom of happiness is crushed beneath the weight of his world.

The bus is running late today. As the frigid wind and icy snow slash through the holes in his ragged clothes, Erick considers skipping work.

He should’ve stayed home.

Erick boards the bus; it stalls up a hill, slows, and breaks down. Frozen to his bones, shaking and shivering in his growing age, Erick hobbles the last few miles to work. He walks through the concrete building.

Standing near the door is a familiar figure. She has a golden bun with a wreath of white poppies, a petite figure, a black skirt, and a lime-green blouse.

As if sensing he’s there, Ebbie Eyre turns, her cheeks curl into a wide grin. “Hey, it’s you!” And again, she puts her dainty hand out.

Erick looks down at her hand and hesitates for a moment. Then, he takes her hand in his. For a dainty girl, she has a firm grip.

“What’s your name? You didn’t tell me last time…”

“Erick.”

Her eyes light up. “Hey! Our names are similar; that’s cool!”

“Yeah…” A smile spreads across Erick’s cheeks. “Yeah, it is…”

“I’ve got to deal with some politic-type things, but maybe I’ll catch up with you in a bit?” She waves with a smile and follows some agitated businessmen.

Every footstep outside the truck, every soft voice calling out, draws his attention. He looks for her, his heart thumping.

I’ll catch up with you in a bit.

The break horn sounds like a whale’s song in the distance. Erick sits down on the dirty concrete.

“Hey!” A little voice calls. Ebbie walks toward him with a casual wave.

He’s about to stand up, but she plops down on the filthy ground.

They sit together for a minute, stealing glances and smiling. At last, she speaks. “What do you like to do, Erick?”

Drinking wine comes to mind, but to say something so crass to her… surely she would despise him. He wracks his brain for something, anything that he likes to do.

And a memory comes to him from long ago.

“I laike… watchin’ movies.” He says, though, he hasn’t seen one in many years.

“Oh?” She tips her chin; an eyebrow raises in challenge. “What kinds of movies do you watch?”

A bright screen appears before his mind’s eye, a muscled man in a tight suit battling a villain in dark robes. A familiar warmth climbs within him, nostalgia and excitement wrapped into one neat bundle. A restrained smile flicks on the edges of his mouth, and he says: “Superhero movies.”

“Interesting!” Ebbie claps her hands together. “Do you like the age-old epic battle between good and evil? Or maybe it’s the instantaneous gratification you feel from seeing the world change because of one person’s actions?”

“Uh… um…” Erick stutters; her golden eyes pierce into his mind like a predator.

“Ooh! Or is it because you want someone to come and save you?”

“I uh… the action is excitin’.”

Erick and Ebbie stare at each other; sweat pushes down his neck.

“Oh.” She presses her palms together. “That’s wonderful!”

Human. She talks to him like he’s…

The horn sounds a second time. Erick lowers his head, preparing himself for the rest of his miserable life.

But Ebbie has something else in mind. She stands up, helps Erick to his feet, and asks him: “Will you wait for me this time?”

“Wait for ya?”

“You looked surprised to see me today.” She flashes him a beautiful smile. “Wait for me this time. I’ll be back!”

And wait for her, he does; he’s at work every day, waiting to see his unique little friend. This time, he doesn’t care how long it takes. His feelings of loneliness disappear, and his alcohol consumption slims. He doesn’t even have to visit his “friend” for illegal booze. Each day, he thinks about conversations he wants to have with Ebbie. He wonders what she thinks of how the sun casts crystals through the snow and if she likes the sound of the rain. Even standing at the bus stop in awful weather, he can’t help but smile.

On the surface, there is nothing special about Erick Mak. He never would have guessed he is anything more than a filthy, washed-up old man.

Nothing warns him that today is going to be different.

He is hard at work, scanning barcodes and loading packages into freight trucks when ice floods his veins. Erick steps out of the freight truck. A shiver rolls down his spine. Everyone else in the building is in the same position they were in moments before.

They are all frozen in time.

Erick walks up to one of the workers and pokes the man. Beneath Erick’s filthy hands, the man feels like a statue.

Erick has never believed in fictitious things; he is a simple man who believes in what he can see. After today, he wonders if he can ever trust his eyes again.

He turns toward the nearest door leading outside and tries to open it.

The door, too, feels like a statue. It refuses to open.

Erick’s breathing quickens. He rushes toward the nearest bay door, left open for trucks. Through the bay door, Erick sees raindrops frozen in place. They, too, feel like stones and refuse to move, no matter how much Erick pushes on them. Farther in the distance, Erick can see cars move to and fro, unphased by whatever spell has been cast on the warehouse. A bird chirps and twirls in the rain, then flies toward the bay door. Once within five feet of the building, it stops moving mid-flight. It, too, seems to be frozen in time.

Whot in the hell…

“ERICK!”

He jumps at the vocal intrusion; every hair on his body feels like it’s been struck by lightning. Turning, he sees her.

Ebbie.

She sprints down the hall with a bloody wooden stake; she clutches it with white knuckles.

Panting, she grabs his arm.

“Ebbie… Whot’s…?”

“I’ll explain later… We have to leave, Erick, now. You’re in danger here.” Ebbie pulls on the older man’s arms, but he stands his ground.

“Woah, woah, woah, lil’ lady… No’un’s gonna ‘urt me; it’d be a waste of effort. I’m notin’ special…”

Those final three words have plagued Erick’s mind since Ebony Eyre first entered this building and walked up to him.

Ebbie looks like she’s been slapped. He opens his mouth to apologize but is interrupted.

“Erick…” Ebbie whispers. “You are special. You’re special in ways you haven’t realized yet… You are part of our family, and it’s time you came home.”

For a moment, his heart stops. Ebbie uses words Erick hasn’t thought about in years… special, family, home… Things he’s always wanted but could never have.

“Now, come on!” She again pulls him along.

“Lis’n ‘ere, Ebbie, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can!” Her shrill voice cuts through the ominous silence. “You have to! You need to trust me, Erick Mak! I told you I can’t explain now, but trust me for the next few moments, and I promise… I can help you.”

Her golden eyes are pleading… but he can’t leave his life behind.

Ebbie takes a step back, motioning with her hand. “Please… Don’t be afraid.”

Like magic, that feeling leaves him. Taking a brave step forward, he places his dirty hand in her dainty one.

Off they go.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold this…” She whispers, leading him down one of the concrete halls. “I’m not used… to putting out this much magic for such a long time…”

“Hold… Are yew doin’ all this?”

Ebbie nods; she pants like she’s run a mile. “It’s what’s keeping you alive right now.”

Her words send chills throughout Erick’s aging body. “Whot’s comin’ fer me?”

“A vampire… A demon from the witching realm.”

The bloody wooden spike in Ebbie’s hand catches a sudden light, gleaming like hellfire.

Erick swallows. “Whot’s somethin’ like that comin’ fer me fer?”

“I told you, Erick… You’re special, like me, like our family.”

“'re we… related?”

Ebbie gives a slight laugh. “Not by blood, but blood maketh not a family.”

Ebbie stops; she looks around. “I think we’ve put enough distance between us and that monster… I think I have enough time…” Sweat rolls down her face. Sound returns to the building: truck horns blaring, belts moving, men and women shouting. They are sounds Erick has come to know well.

They’re in a little corner of the building now, behind a structure pillar. Erick has hidden in this very spot many times to avoid work.

From a large pocket on the side of her skirt, Ebbie whips out a device that looks like a tiny tablet with gears around the outside of the screen. Erick watches over her shoulder as she turns some dials and gears. The screen flashes, and the device is awake. Ebbie then swipes the screen to the left, and a form comes up titled: “Travel.” She taps a drop-down menu with strange names, like “Mortal Realm” and “Realm of the Magi.” She selects the second option; below, she fills three boxes with numbers. There is a box labeled “reason for travel;” in that box, Ebbie types: “Bringing Erick Mak home.” Then she hits a button labeled: “Send request.”

“Wot yew requestin’?”

Ebbie straightens like a board, chest up, shoulders back; she snaps: “Shh! Did you hear that?”

Erick listens, but nothing abnormal comes to his ancient ears.

“It sounded like…?” She stops speaking. Leaping backward with a cry, she pushes Erick to the ground. There is a hissing, like cloth sliding across metal. From the ceiling drops a tall man with a gnarled, pale face and long jet-black hair. He wears a concealing black cloak that trails along the ground. With its hungry crimson eyes, the creature straightens up taller and looks down the bridge of its hooked, witch-like nose at Erick Mak.

A pang of terror runs through Erick’s body, like he, too, has been turned to stone. He crawls away like a crab, Ebbie’s hand blocking the space between him and the creature.

The vampire slides under her arm, lunging for his throat.

I’m dead…

Ebbie screams… and the vampire stops. Erick feels its tooth against his neck, mere nanoseconds from breaking skin. It feels stone-like. He scrambles like a frightened animal.

“Sorry, Guild Master, but we can’t wait…” Ebbie whispers. “Erick, I’m going to open a portal home! When I do, I want you to run through it!”

He stares at her from the ground, torn between leaving his friend and running for his life.

“Don’t worry…” She tells him as if reading his thoughts. “It’s a vampire. It won’t be able to hurt me… But I must unfreeze time to create a portal. Get through the portal before the vampire can come after you. I can’t focus on fighting it while also focusing on keeping you alive.” Ebbie’s shoulders sag. With a single deep breath, her jaw sets. “Stand up.”

He struggles to his feet.

“Ready?”

He swallows, shaking his head.

“Too bad…” Time resumes. She spins on her heels, her fingers raking through the air behind her. Reality seems to tear like her fingers are breaking apart the air itself; colors smear together in a circular wash, connecting the torn filaments of reality.

A portal.

Ebbie has summoned a portal from thin air.

On the other side of the portal, the colors reform, creating a landscape of dark brown rocks bathed in some strange orange light. A colossal dome structure of stone rises from the flat land like a mole; two skinny tunnels curve toward him from the domed building, like the fangs of a spider. Two iron doors rest at the front of these fang-like tunnels, all colors of rainbow light spilling through crisscrossing cracks. Above, an orange sky stretches on forever with thin-looking crimson clouds. They appear, ripple, and fade like a hand trailing across the surface of a lake.

“Whot is that place?”

“Sanctuary, home… You need to go, Erick.”

She widens her stance, her eyes never leaving the vampire. It writhes and wiggles, looking between Erick and the created portal.

Erick’s old heart pounds, his head racing. “How dew I know yer not sendin’ me to my death?”

“You don’t.”

Erick opens his mouth to speak.

The vampire lunges toward him, its clawed fingers reaching.

Ebbie moves, positioning herself between Erick and the vampire. She holds the wooden spike toward the beast. The creature is forced to stop its attack, backtrack, and reevaluate the situation.

“You don’t know if I’m telling the truth or not. I could send you to a horrible fate and painful death.”

Erick frowns.

“All you know is that a stranger opened a portal to a strange world and prevented some threat from getting to you. That’s it. From that, you must decide for yourself what the best action is. But I can promise you… I haven’t lied to you about anything, and I can promise on the other side of that portal is clean running water, no debt collectors, a well-paying job, friends and family, and a large wine cellar.”

“How’d yew know-”

“Erick!”

The vampire lunges to Ebbie’s other side, aiming for the open portal. A flickering light appears in Ebbie’s left hand.

Fire.

In her hand, she holds fire.

Ebbie looks over her shoulder, the light from the flames flickering off the layer of sweat dripping from her face. “Don’t be afraid.”

These three simple words spoken by a stranger somehow give Erick the courage he needs to make his decision.

With a breath through his cracked lips and yellowed teeth, he steps through the portal, feeling warm stones beneath his broken shoes. Then, Ebbie shouts.

Erick watches this tiny girl fight off a towering demon.

She is brilliant.

Wielding fire in one hand and the stake in the other, she punches, kicks, and twirls around. She guards her home portal with all her might.

Her attacker is adept, dodging and diving, maneuvering and slithering. The vampire attempts to round past her through the portal but is stopped by a fiery roundhouse kick to the stomach. Fangs out, it rushes toward Ebbie’s throat.

All he finds is the wooden stake as Ebbie thrusts it forward.

It has no time to dodge; the wood pierces its stomach. Ice moves down the wood, erupting in the vampire’s stomach. It spreads like wildfire up to his face and down to his toes.

Ebbie lets go of the vampire-ice sculpture, stepping backward onto the rocky terrain.

The ice shudders as the vampire breaks free. In the next second, Ebbie’s fingers smear the colors of the warehouse together, leaving beast and building behind.

Ebbie’s body trembles and shakes. Her breathing is ragged and uneven.

Erick thinks the fight is over…

He is wrong.

Ebbie’s device beeps. She pulls it out, and on the screen, the word “APPROVED” appears in green, followed by a message that reads, “Congratulations on a successful mission, Ebony.”

Then, the portal re-opens, and on the other side, ripping the wooden stake out of its stomach, is the vampire. Blood pours like a tiny waterfall from the wound; it moves far slower than before.

Ebbie lets out a loud sigh. “Thanks, Agamemnon, you’re a little late!”

The vampire shambles toward the portal with one hand on its dark stomach wound.

Ebbie lifts her hands toward the monster again, trembling. Then, she cringes, grinding her teeth together. Her hands spark like a fire trying to light… but they don’t burn like before.

“Damn, come on, come on!” She cries.

Nothing.

Ebbie switches tactics and points the tiny tablet at the open portal. She hits a button labeled “close portal.”

“Come on… Come on, you stupid thing, hurry up…” Ebbie pushes again and again. The vampire crawls through the portal, the upper portion of its body leaning through.

The portal shrinks faster and faster. The vampire is too slow to move out of the way, and the portal slices through its midsection. Half of it remains in the warehouse… and the other half writhes on the ground. It cries, like a child lost in a dark forest, and disintegrates into blackened ash.

Silence.

Ebbie gasps for air, and Erick’s heart beats like a hummingbird's wings. She collapses to her knees and then falls to her hands.