The labyrinthine layout of the streets in my home realm was a puzzle with no discernible solution. Their whimsical twists and turns defied the logic of any conventional city planning. Without vehicles to navigate these cobbled paths, it seemed obvious to reshape them into more pedestrian-friendly routes or at least create connections between disparate parts of town. But alas, the town's planners had their own enigmatic "better" ideas. Our current route necessitated a lengthy detour to the street's end to access the "creek" shortcut—an unofficial path that snaked between the homes, much like a dried-up creek bed. It was made by everyone using it to cut between the houses instead of walking all the way around them.
The hour was getting late, and the sensible part of me knew we should take the longer, safer route. Upsetting the dryads was no trivial matter, but the thought of my father's looming displeasure was an even more formidable deterrent.
We arrived at the ornate gate that served as a threshold to the Dryad Woods, a segregated neighborhood born out of necessity. The dryads had little use for houses. The towering trees stood guard, their interlocking branches forming a canopy that dimmed the "celestial light" from above, casting capricious shadows that swayed to the silent music of the dryads' nocturnal whispers.
"Here goes nothing," I murmured, my voice barely a thread of sound. Jake and Julie huddled close behind, Julie's eyes reflecting the forest's mystery.
With a practiced flick, my wand appeared in my hand. A surge of mana directed into the appropriate spell disk conjured a light spell, producing a narrow beam that cleaved the darkness. Julie's delight contrasted sharply with Jake's nonchalance. "Cool!" she gasped, whereas Jake, unimpressed, quipped, "I got a flashlight that can do that."
Jake's words pricked my pride. I was going to show off a bit. I concentrated on the weave of mana and the stubborn spell disk. I pulled the grimoire for the spell from my pocket.
Jake laughed and said, "Nerd!"
I ignored him, and, flipping one-handed to the light section, I examined the circles that were embedded into the wand. Using the reference, I saw my mistakes.
With a final few adjustments, I charged the spell up and activated it. A dome of golden light bloomed around us, six meters in all directions. The light came from a floating disk above our heads. Some of the dryads grumbled but didn't do anything further.
I shot Jake a look, one eyebrow arched in silent challenge. "How about that?"
His smirk carried the faintest trace of genuine admiration before his usual veneer of humor snapped back into place. "I have a different one for that," he said.
The forest seemed to constrict around us, the shadows growing more formidable as they juxtaposed with our sphere of safety and light. We trod the trail with care, the silhouettes of slumbering dryads lining our path, their gnarled roots at the edge of the path and like the dormant limbs of night sentries.
Julie's whisper sliced through the thick quiet, her words tinged with wonder yet laced with trepidation. "It feels like the trees are watching us."
I could only offer a smile, trying to reassure her. "They probably are," I said softly. "These are the rooted dryads." The very idea that we walked among a vigil of ancient beings seemed to chill Jake and Julie into silence. They must not have realized where we were walking earlier.
The trail narrowed, the towering guardians of the forest standing close but not crossing the border of the path. Without warning, Jake's hand pressed gently against Julie's back, guiding her protectively ahead. His whisper was a sharp intonation that cleaved the stillness. "Someone's watching us."
I shrugged, trying to squash the growing unease that Jake's words stirred within as much as dismissing his words. "It's probably one of the dryads, vexed by our light," I suggested, trying to inject some logic into the fear. "We're nearing the edge of their territory anyway. Let's just keep going."
I caught Jake's eye as Julie obediently stepped forward, his expression tight. He shook his head, the motion minimal, only visible near. Unfortunately, it still betrayed his anxiety, ratcheting it up in me. "No, it's something else. The hair on my neck is standing..." His eyes scoured the darkness beyond our light, alert for any sign of the watcher he sensed.
Internally, I chided myself for not being better acquainted with my new wand's capabilities. The night vision spell would have been invaluable now to dispel Jake's fears—and my own blossoming dread. If only I could illuminate the unseen and reveal there was nothing to fear. If only...
"Speed up, but don't run," Jake instructed under his breath, his voice barely above a breath.
We complied, our pace quickening, the rustle of our footsteps on the forest floor a whispering echo to the frantic beating of my heart. Our orb of light, once a haven, now seemed to beat in time with our steps, a pulse of visibility that could be drawing unwanted attention as much as warding off the unseen.
With each hastened step, the sensation of being watched grew more pronounced. The feeling gnawed at the edges of my reason, Jake's paranoia seeping into me like a chilling mist. It was a malign watchfulness—eyes unseen, intentions unknown. And as the darkness pressed in, the imagined whispers of the forest grew louder around us.
I had to admit—Jake might be right.
A guttural growl halted us, rooted in our steps. The sound was so out of place that it froze the very air. "Hey, mundane! What are you doing here?" The words were a cold slap. Anger bloomed in my chest, hot and fierce. Whirling around, the source of the jeer, Jake and I saw floating glowing eyes just beyond our bubble of light.
With a chorus of cackles that made my blood run cold, I slowly and deliberately stepped into our circle of light. It was a motley crew of teenage hooligans. I was pretty sure these were the very ones Dad warned me about, the thorns of our local school's side.
The Ork, bristling with the brute arrogance of a male who hit puberty, bared his tusks. The Giganias, his height rivaling Jake and me, loomed behind him. A pair of Sayters and an Elf, no taller than Julie, flanked them, completing the group. "What did you say?" I barked back, my voice harsh with fury, but hushed enough to not disrupt the dryads.
The Ork's sneer widened in a mocking gesture, showing off his tusks. "Not you, teacher's pet," he spat, disdain dripping from every syllable. "I'm talking about that mundane who had the nerve to shove me. A magicless blunder, a stain on the arcane, a disgrace to any and every spellcaster, ever!"
Jake whispered through the standoff, "Keep walking backward, facing them." I nodded, channeling mana into a new light spell and lobbing it further into the air to hover higher, giving us a bigger space.
The Ork was relentless, taking an exaggerated step forward. "That little light show won't save you," he taunted. "When your mundane pal shoved me, it wasn't just disrespect—it was a declaration. He's less than the dirt beneath our boots, a laughable attempt at existence in a world ruled by magic."
His words were a barrage of poison, each one intended to wound. "You think that wand makes you something special?" he jeered. "It's a crutch, a joke—just like the fool who wields it."
The Giganias chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. "Yeah, strut around with your spells and tricks. In the end, you're just another mundane-lover, playing hero."
The Sayters joined in the sinister chorus. "What's the matter, scared of the dark? Or is it us you fear?"
The Elf, with a smirk sharp as a blade, added, "Why don't you scurry back to your mundane hovel? Leave the realm of magic for those who deserve it."
My heart thundered in my chest, a drumbeat of rage and dread. "Enough!" The word exploded from me, a defiant roar. "We're leaving, and you'd do well to do the same."
Their laughter was a cacophony of scorn, the sound echoing among the trees as if the forest itself mocked us. We retreated, each step measured, my mind racing with spells I'd need if words were supplemented by wands.
They shouldn't have anything powerful, but it still might hurt. And I had 2 who couldn't defend themselves.
The Giganias brandished his wands with a sense of showmanship, one in each massive hand, his cackle booming like thunder through the tense air. Even from this distance, I could tell they were homemade. "We're gonna mess you up, and there's naught you can do to shield your mundane pet. Better scamper off," he taunted, his voice a gravelly promise of violence.
The Ork and Sayters were equally menacing as they drew their homemade wands—crude and potentially unpredictable in their magic. The danger was real; these weren't mere threats. Their wands cobbled together with more enthusiasm than skill, could unleash anything they got their hands on.
"Your friend's a dead weight," the Ork sneered, aiming his disdain like a weapon. "Should've ditched the deadwood."
"Shut it!" I retorted, my voice a blade of ice. Fear for my family's safety was a fire in my veins, but I couldn't let it consume me—not now. But I was limited in my defense.
A quick glance back over my shoulder revealed we were still at least ten meters from the intersection. The Sayters, with their spry legs, would easily overtake us. They'd revel in tripping Julie, maybe even lash out at Jake.
Looking back, I noticed glows of red and orange from the tips of the wands of the hooligans. Some sparks crackled in their hands, making the hooligans glance down from us at their wands. But that didn't stop them from firing magic missiles at me. I stumbled, mana bleeding away as my bracelet's defense spell sprang to life, a whirling shield of energy growing in front of me.
"Julie, stay behind, John!" Jake's command was a sharp crack in the night air. He was poised, fists up, embodying defiance.
The barrage of magic missiles, glowing with malice, sliced through the dark, homing in on us. "Here goes nothing," I breathed deeply and focused on my shield. These missiles weren't the stuff of masters, but their number might be dangerous. I willed the shield stronger, feeding it mana, feeling the tug of energy from my core.
The first salvo collided with our magical barrier, a shower of sparks upon impact. Each hit was a hammer to my arm, a drain on my manna. But the shield held, for now. We had to move—fast. I backed away, keeping my friends within the protective embrace of the spell, my mind racing with contingencies.
"Stay close," I urged them, every word a push against the rising tide of panic. "Just a little further."
Now was not the moment for self-congratulation; survival hinged on anticipating their next move. The initial onslaught had been aimed squarely at me, a calculated effort to eliminate the magical threat first. The little jerks knew I was dangerous to them if I chose to wipe them out. With their strategy thwarted, it was a safe bet they wouldn't repeat the same tactic. My bracelet's shield pulsed just a large enough area to cover me, leaving Jake exposed.
Acting on instinct, I found the right spell in the wand and summoned a second barrier to shelter Jake. The spell materialized in the nick of time as the adversaries redirected their assault, their missiles now seeking him out. Each thud against the hastily conjured shield siphoned my mana, sapping my strength and leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake.
"Jake, we've got to make a run for it!" I slurred out; my voice was raw, edged with the fear of our precarious situation, and smothered with exhaustion.
His pained grunt was the only admission that a missile struck him. "Too late," he gasped through clenched teeth, and I saw his leg buckle. I didn't have a good position and failed to protect him. Instinctively, I shifted the shield, covering his shuffled retreat, as we kept backing away from the hooligans.
Then, chaos erupted among our assailants—an explosion of magic gone awry, a blinding flash that turned night into day for a brief second. Through squinted eyes, I saw the Giganias, two of his hands a mangled mess, howls of agony splitting the silence. The Ork's command was guttural, "Suck it up," but panic had crept into his voice.
As the hooligans discarded their wands, the attack on the shields ended, ebbing the bleeding of mana from me. I guessed that the others didn't want to join the Giganias in getting their hands mangled.
"We don't need wands to fuck you up!" their leader snarled, advancing with fists raised.
"No, but you need courage," I shot back, forcing my fear to transform into a mask of confidence. The non-destructive spells in my arsenal were limited, and without sufficient mana, a sleep spell potent enough to subdue them was beyond my capabilities right now. I needed to buy time to think.
"Stay close to me," I instructed Julie and Jake, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "We're not done yet."
Jake stumbled next to me, but Julie and I held him up. He was dragging one leg a bit. It must be numb. I switched the shield I held in front of him to the dispel spell and drained the numbing effect on his leg, giving him full motion again. The jerks were stepping forward, quickly closing the distance between us.
"Jake, we have to bolt!" My voice was hoarse with exertion and edged with panic, yet he could only muster a pained acknowledgment as a stray missile found its mark. I cursed under my breath, repositioning the shield to cover his staggered form.
An explosion erupted from the group of hooligans, sending bright, magical light into the air as the mana gasified and dispersed. Howls of pain reached my ears as the Giganias nursed two of his bloodied hands. The Ork snarled at him, "Suck it up."
The remaining hooligans ignored the injured Giganias, and rushed forward, putting their wands away. "We don't need magic to rip you to shreds," one of them spat.
My mind raced through options, desperately searching for a solution. I didn't want to hurt them, but I couldn't let them hurt Jake or Julie. Non-destructive spells wouldn't work if they had even the smallest amount of defensive training, and I didn't have enough mana left to overpower their defenses with a powerful enough sleep spell.
Thankfully, the Giganias stayed back, nursing his damaged hands. But the other four sprinted forward in the blink of an eye when they were 2 meters away, closing the distance in a second.
The clash was immediate and visceral as the hooligans collided with the remnants of our defenses. Their punches, fueled by malice, rapidly depleted the energy of the barrier. Jake, however, proved to be unexpectedly formidable. With fluidity, he grappled with the two Sayters that had skirted my shields, landing a solid punch and a swift kick that sent them reeling and crumpling to the ground.
"Nice reflexes, Jake!" I managed to call out, a swell of gratitude and respect cutting through the tension.
He only nodded, a grim set scowl to his mouth, his focus unwavering.
The Ork's roar cut through the night, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. His minions were down – some by their own misfired magic, others by Jake's decisive action. The Elf had vanished into the shadows after the sayters went down, leaving the Ork to contend with us alone. He swiveled back and forth like a predator, but each time he lunged, the shield thwarted him, absorbing the blows that came harder and faster.
My vision began to waver, the edges dimming as my mana reserves plummeted. Sweat trailed into my eyes, stinging and blurring my sight. Jake's arm was a band of steel around my waist, wrapping my hand with the wand around his own neck, holding me steady. Julie's presence at my back was a constant pressure, her fear palpable.
"Jake," I gasped, the words barely a whisper, "the shield's failing."
"Hold on, John," he replied, his voice laced with resolve despite the evident strain. "We're not out of this yet."
The Ork, undeterred, continued his assault on the barrier, each hit a thunderous declaration of his intent. I felt the spells weave fraying, the shield flickering like a dying flame under the relentless attack.
In my mind, I begged the shield to stay solid with the last drops of my mana. I dragged my feet, just trying to stay upright and in front of Julie.
The Ork's next blow was a maelstrom of force, and as the shield shuddered, I braced for the impact as the fist was aimed at my face, closing my eyes, ready for the damage. My mind swimming in exhaustion as I dry heaved.
The light spell flickered and dimmed, a clear sign that my mana was nearly depleted. The shield spell that I'd been desperately maintaining was gone. Why hadn't I heeded my father's advice more earnestly? His words echoed in my mind, a reminder of my neglect in combat training. I had always leaned towards defense, but never offense, and in this dire moment, my shortcomings...oh well.
In the midst of the growing gloom, I forced my eyes open, refusing to succumb to the fatigue that threatened to close them. The Ork teen looked up at me; his tusks were bared in a grotesque grin, and a thick drop of saliva hung precariously, reflecting the last vestiges of my light. His arm cocked back, muscles tensing for a blow that promised to be devastating.
But before the Ork's clenched fist could descend upon my face, a blur of motion vaulted over our heads. Jake, Julie, and I could only watch in stunned silence as an unseen force snatched the Ork mid-leap, pulling him abruptly backward into the dark. The Ork's snarl turned into a yelp of surprise, and he vanished from our sight.
Jake's grip on me tightened, his protective stance unwavering as he whispered, "Stay behind me," his voice a low growl, reverberating with a mix of fear and determination.
From the shadows, a dim orb of light emerged, casting an eerie glow over the chaos. My vision, clouded by exhaustion and fear, sharpened just enough to recognize the figure of Mr. Weavelin. Our unexpected savior moved with precision, his webs of restraint enshrouding the hooligans, their gleaming threads visible in the orb's light. The Ork, caught in the silken trap, struggled vainly as the webbing constricted with his every motion. At the very edge of the light, the young Elf sat on the ground crying, webs on his feet and hands.
"Enough!" Mr. Weavelin's command resonated through the clearing, a stern declaration of control over the tumult.
The Ork's defiant roar dissolved into a whimper of self-preservation. "We were just walking home when we were attacked by the teacher's kid!" His voice trembled with a blend of pain and deceit.
"That's not how it happened!" I protested, my voice feeble yet fierce with conviction. "They ambushed us. They were going to—" a dry heave cutting me off.
"Is this true?" Mr. Weavelin's eyes, sharp and discerning, swept over us, seeking the truth.
I turned to look at Jake, whose face was etched with a silent fear that had not been there before, his eyes fixed on Mr. Weavelin with a vulnerability I had never seen. Behind us, Julie's voice, small and weak, barely rose above a whisper, "Yes, sir. It's true."
Mr. Weavelin's gaze lingered on us a moment longer as if weighing our words. It would resolved with truth, eventually. But Mr. Weavelin couldn't show favoritism either.
Mr. Weavelin's brow was furrowed above his many black eyes as the Ork teen spun his deceitful tale. "We were just walking home! We are innocent. We were just trying to get home before minor curfew!" the Ork blustered, feigning innocence.
I could see the momentary hesitation in Mr. Weavelin's eyes as he regarded me and Jake. Before he could reply, a rustling from the nearby tree drew our collective gaze.
"You've got to be kidding me," the Dryad grumbled as she emerged from her tree, her voice gruff with annoyance. "Let's cut through the nightshade, shall we? These three," she jabbed a twiggy finger in our direction, "were minding their own, shining their light in everyone's eyes when those five idiots over there pounced. Caused quite a ruckus. Now, my forest has rules, and I'm enforcing them."
Mr. Weavelin straightened, relief washing over his face as he turned to us for confirmation. "Is that true?"
"Yes, sir," I said, my voice steadier now, bolstered by the Dryad's intervention. "We were just heading home."
The Dryad scoffed at the Ork's statements, walking up to him on the ground and knelt. "Quiet walks don't involve magic missiles, you buffoon." She rose and walked in a stumbling gate to us, pointing her scraggly finger. "You lot disturbed everyone with your light spells. I demand light duty for disturbing the peace. Show up for cleanup as payment." She whirled on Mr. Weavelin. "You. Constable. Deal with the paperwork." She then turned her glare to the cowering gang. "As for you, your nose and assault and magic missiles flying every which way will have you picking up litter for weeks. And don't even get me started on underage spellcasting and illegal wands! Your parents will get an ear full from me when I get around to it."
With a wave of her hand, she motioned to Mr. Weavelin, "Off to the constabulary with you. And quick about it before I lose my temper. Now I'm going home and going back to bed."
She walked up to the tree she emerged from, grumbling. Without breaking her gangly stride, she stepped into the tree and disappeared, her voice trailing off as the branches and leaves creaked with irritation.
Mr. Weavelin nodded. He raised his wand, sending a flare into the sky to signal for backup. As he dragged the Elf and Giganous towards the Sayters and Ork crying on the ground, he motioned to us with a leg. "You three, go on. I'll handle this. And I'll bring your summons to Zepher's house. You are staying there, right?"
I nodded. He waved a hand.
As we turned to leave, I stumbled, the world spinning as my mana levels bottomed out and the adrenaline drip stopped. Jake kept me upright and did not let me hit the ground. Julie hovered close, her concern palpable.
As we made our way back, various Dryad's grumpy muttering about 'noisy youngsters' followed us.
"Hey, how do we get to your house? I'm assuming GPS doesn't work in here?" Jake asked, looking up and down the street as we reached the intersection. "Wow, this really is a small town."
I groaned, still leaning on him.
The intersection was quiet as we passed the other gates of the Dryad forest. Jake's voice cut through the calm. "How do we get to your house? I'm assuming GPS doesn't work in here?"
He surveyed the houses on the street. "Wow, this really is a small town," he murmured.
I groaned in response, trying to get my bearings. "Told you. Across that small path, three streets down, then a left. You'll see the house." Every step was an effort, my feet dragging as if made of lead.
Julie was unusually quiet, and a sidelong glance revealed her trembling hands, her eyes wide with unspoken fears. "Sorry, Julie," I managed to say, my voice hoarse. "I promise this is an exception, not the rule."
She nodded, a brave smile on her lips.
We didn't make it far before a sudden white blur cut through the darkness, landing with a silent grace that startled us all. Julie's shriek pierced the night, and Jake, in a protective reflex, released me to raise his fists. I stumbled, trying hard not to fall over.
"Wait," I rasped out, recognizing the creature's distinct form. "It's my mom's familiar." The white and grey Owlcat fixed its gaze upon me. "Mom sent you to find us?" I asked.
It nodded once solemnly and turned toward the direction of our house.
A lump formed in my throat. "We're in trouble, aren't we?" The Owlcat's silence was answer enough.