Chapter 44: Breathless
Douxie stalled his scooter and stared at his charm bracelet for a moment as he read the symbols there. It seemed he was here.
Tilting his head to the west, noting the flashing police lights in the distance, the wizard kicked the kickstand and stared at the house before him. Besides himself, the wizard-in-training couldn't help but mutter, "Yeah, that place is totally haunted."
"What gave it away? The mysterious fog in the area? The flickering lights throughout the neighborhood? The shuttered windows? The dead plants? The gathered crows?" asked Archie as he hopped off the back seat and onto Douxie's shoulder, eyeing the house before him.
"Yes, to all the above, but it's mostly the taste of magic in the area … its rancid," said Douxie with a frown as he placed his helmet on his seat.
Tail twitching, the dragon agreed as he hopped onto the sidewalk, "Yes, it's rancid, rotten even. It smells like something dead has been stalking about."
"You aren't filling me with confidence. I'm not really a fan of … the undead," stated the mage, wondering if he should have brought a flaming sword or something because the undead were, well, super undead. And this thing, if it was the being that had gotten all those kids a few decades ago, it also had power.
"There is a reason it's a banned magic," said the cat, his nose wrinkling as he started down the sidewalk. "Not that that's ever stopped anyone."
Nodding, the wizard-in-training started walking after his familiar, the two of them heading toward the house. Douxie took a moment to glance at the postal box and the name there: Jack Sturges. He stalled for a second, the name striking a chord.
"That name is familiar," he said flicking his charm bracelet while Archie hummed in agreement.
The cat added, "It should. That was the name of the child that got away during the Milk Carton Epidemic."
Stalling in his browsing, Douxie frowned, "Well that can't be a coincidence."
"There are no coincidences when it comes to magic," said the feline-dragon as the two of them started up the path toward the front door, the fog parting from the movement of their feet as they drew closer and closer to the house. Both figures winced as they headed up the steps, each one groaning under Douxie's weight.
"You don't suppose we can come back when it's less haunty?" asked Douxie nervously as he looked down at his familiar, raising his fist to knock on the door. Yet, the second he knocked, the hinges squealed, the door slowly swinging open … showing that the front door hadn't been fully shut to begin with. It had been left open.
"Well, we could," said the cat as he titled his head and tried to sneak a peek inside, "But magic is rarely subtle. I think we should go in."
"It's a straight-up invitation," muttered the wizard-in-training, already deciding that he was going to hate this. Something that wanted you there, was rarely a good omen. Nonetheless, the mage lifted up his wrist so that the blue lights of his bracelet lit up the entrance.
…
Stepping into the aging house, Douxie immediately felt like this place was forbidden to him. The place looked old, like it had remained unchanged for decades and the blue light from his charm bracelet made it feel even more otherworldly. It was like he had stepped into a blue plane, where time was crawling at a slower pace. The chill in the air did not dissuade that feeling either.
Nonetheless, he headed forward, the old photos on the wall giving the illusion that he was being watched. The small shrine with a boy and his bike didn't help to dissuade the feeling of misery in the place. It was like he had stepped into a tomb.
Finally heading out of the entrance hall and into the kitchen, the wizard-in-training found his voice as he stared at a set of bear traps on the kitchen table, "Yeah, there's something wrong with this place."
"Obviously," agreed Archie as he hopped onto the table, his glasses glinting as he eyed the bear traps and the horseshoes there. Then, acting very cat-like, the dragon added, "Let's see what we can scare up."
Then, Douxie realizing what was happening with a look of horror, watched as the dragon batted a horseshoe off the table. The mage made a mad grab for the horseshoe, but it still hit the wood floor with a heavy thud, the very house seemed to reverberate.
The mage gave his companion a look that said, 'Why would you do that?!'
Titling his ears back and forth, as if waiting for a reaction or even the smallest of sounds, they both waited. When nothing happened after a minute or two, the familiar stated, "Just as I thought, there seems to be no one home. Let's see if we can find any clues."
Rolling his eyes, Douxie stood up straight and ran his hand through his hair. He then reached for the light switch since apparently no one was there. The kitchen switch … did nothing.
"Of course," he muttered. "Can't decrease the creep factor even a smidgen, can we?"
Archie snorted in agreement as they headed forward, sniffing at the air while the mage tilted his armband around, trying to get a hit on any magical items.
Surprisingly, as they made their way through the house, they found very few signs of magic. There were a few internet articles about changelings and other magical creatures posted on the office wall, but very little of the research material seemed legitimate. They didn't find one grimoire or actual spell books either. It showed that the occupant believed in magic but had very limited information about the world of the arcane.
Not surprising, but it was making Douxie wonder why there was a magical miasma here to begin with. Obviously, the occupant had happened upon something that finally did have magic … or it had always been there, and something had finally woken it up. Lingering possessions and traveling curses were a thing after all.
"Only one door remains," said the mage as they exited the attached garage, the car still strangely there as they headed to a door with far too many locks on it.
"It's the basement, isn't it?" asked Archie before flicking his tail and adjusting his glasses, "Almost predictable."
"Magic is rarely subtle," tried to joke Douxie as he snapped his fingers and opened all the locks with a flash of blue magic, "Age before beauty."
The cat rolled his eyes, but stepped in first, his ability to see in the dark much better than the mage's even with his glasses. Douxie, probably knowing it was useless, tried to click on the light switch. Unsurprisingly, it didn't turn on.
Sighing in defeat, the mage headed down the old stairs, peaking around the corner when they finally got to the bottom. Immediately, he noticed that the entire area was covered in mist and a thin film of frost. This room was likely the origin of the magical burst the sensory stones had informed them about.
Walking across the floor, listening to the frost crunch underfoot as his breath turned white, Douxie summoned a floating light source and started to look around. This had to be the source, but magic was not natural to this area. So why was it here?
The answer came quickly enough as the blue light-orb floated above a black pool of water towards the back of the basement. The mage frowned at this, knowing all too well that water was the element between planes.
Flicking through the spells on his charm bracelet, the mage quickly summoned a coin from thin air. The young man then grabbed the coin right from the air before flicking it into the water like it was some kind of demented wishing well.
Immediately, there was a blue flicker on the surface of the water and then the water started to clear, leaving a clear pool behind. At first, nothing seemed wrong until there was a strange colored ripple on the surface. The color did not match Douxie's at all.
Archie flicked his ears at this reaction, humming, "A portal between planes defiantly formed here."
"One sure did," agreed the mage as he stared at the water for a moment. Then, when it seemed safe, he leaned down and plucked something from the pool. He had to rinse the mud off it, the item having been there for some time already, but it looked like a green gemstone cut into a square. It seemed a bit too valuable to just be down here in the mud.
The cat arched at this, grousing, "Did you just touch that with your bare hands?! Douxie! You know better. It could be cursed!"
"It probably once was," replied the man as he lifted it up to the magical light source, frowning deeply as he stared at the cracks there, "But it's cracked now. Whatever power it contained ... has moved on."
Pocketing the stone, deciding to perform some tests on it later, Douxie reached in once more and pulled out his coin, wondering what magical symbol would form there.
Archie flicked his tail in irritation, muttering, "It seems to have moved on, you mean. Either way, it was obviously an anchor, but the water was what ultimately gave whatever it was an easy way through the planes. Can you at least tell what realm it came through?"
Rubbing the coin with his thumb and wiping some of the black grime off, the mage sighed as an evil eye appeared with a black iris staring up at him.
"It's from the shadow realm," he muttered.
Humming, the cat-dragon groused, "That's not good."
"No, it is not," replied Douxie.
…
Claire sighed as she leaned on the windowsill of her room, the night air coming to greet her with a cool breeze. She closed her eyes in thankfulness, surprised by how much this house arrest was really bothering her. It had only been a few days, not even a full week, and she already felt madness nipping at her. She doubted the rest of the Creepslayerz were doing much better … but at least they all were doing better than Jim.
"Poor Jim. One would think having magic would be cool, but being stuck down in Trollmarket has to suck," she said aloud to herself, her one earbud going silent for a moment as it started the next song on her list. "Though … I should ask Toby how one knows they have magic? Given this house arrest, maybe being babysat by trolls and learning wouldn't be so bad."
Frowning at the thought yet still daydreaming about the magical underground city because it really was amazing, the girl perked up as she saw something shift under a streetlamp outside.
For a second, she thought it was nothing since a tree stood nearby and that the wind might have just disturbed the branches. Yet, leaning in, her mind dwelling on goblins, the girl watched the streetlamp flicker again like the bulb was about to burn out.
Staring harder, the hair slowly rising on the back of her neck for some reason, the girl watched the bulb flicker one more time and then seemingly out of nowhere, there was a figure standing there in the dulled light.
The girl reeled back in surprise, a little creeped out by the sudden appearance of a person, especially since the figure was dressed … oddly. It looked like a woman in a white dress, her skirt having been dragged through the mud. The bottom was almost black. And she couldn't make out a face because there was a sheet or veil over it, a strange crown keeping it in place.
"What the f- "
The girl didn't even get to finish that thought when suddenly her phone beeped, causing her to look down. It was the Creepslayerz chat, an important message popping up on the screen.
Jim was back on the surface!
Gasping in surprise, overcome with joy that Jim had gotten out, the girl quickly recalled the strange figure and glanced back at the tree and street lamp. There was no one there … not that that made her feel any better.
…
Draal found himself slipping out of Vendel's workshop, Kanjigar still discussing the issue of Seer Jim with Aaarrrgghh and Blinky. Personally, Draal felt a bit guilty for not defending Jim's character more like Blinky had been, the two of them got along pretty well when sparring, but at the same time … he looked down at his right hand, noting the faint tremor that ran through it.
Looking around, afraid someone would see this moment of weakness, Draal found himself moving into a nearby alley. It was a tight fit and his broad shoulders nearly scraped the two neighboring buildings. Generally, like most larger trolls, he kept to the main thoroughfares of Trollmarket, but … he wanted to hide. He knew it was cowardly to do so, to flee like vermin, but he honestly felt like a waste of space. Since the seer appeared he had had his butt handed to him several times. He was Draal the Deadly! He was supposed to be one of Trollmarket's best warriors yet here he was … getting his head smashed in by Bular and being thrown out of windows by Angor Rot.
He really wouldn't have lasted as the Trollhunter, would he?
He was fated to be a disgrace … and to become a cripple.
Draal felt his two hearts skip a beat, the thought burrowing under his skin like an infestation. Privately, the blue troll had hoped that his fear of the future would pass, like water under a bridge. He personally thought he'd just accept it and then he would go back to normal as if the seer hadn't said anything life-altering, but he was wrong. The truth was chipping away at him.
In fact, he was treating his right arm like it was already damaged, held close to his chest. Then there was that breathless incident he had, his hearts nearly beating out of his chest. A few trolls had even started to notice his odd behavior, asking after his health and if he had had his fill of crystals lately. Vendel had even checked him over with Jim. He had waved off their concern, stating it was nothing, even though his dread was growing worse and worse, mantras of cripple and unworthy echoing in his head.
Trolls had few diseases, given their magical nature, so the whole experience was terrifying.
With those thoughts weighing down his mind, Draal's breathing suddenly picked up and his two hearts started fluttering oddly in his chest. It was happening again. It felt like something inside of him was giving out and he couldn't get enough air.
"Keep it together, Draal. You're not a cripple yet. Keep it together. You must uphold the pride of your line," whispered Draal to himself as he stumbled deeper into the isolated alley, far from anyone's sight, leaning against one of the walls as his right hand shook.
If anything, his little pep talk made it worse and now he was gasping for breath like his throat was closing up. He was going to die here, wasn't he? By suffocation no less? He was going die a most inglorious death, found probably days letter curled up against a wall. He was going to die a joke, a failure!
With his breathing so heavy, Draal didn't hear the shifting of stone or the soft singing of magical armor until it was finally upon him, Kanjigar the Courageous sliding down from one of the building's roofs and down into the alley, the whole area lighting up with the glow of his armor.
The irritated expression on Kanjigar's face was unmistakable. After all, Draal had snuck out of Vendel's workshop when the Trollhunter had turned his back. It was obvious that the two of them were to speak when he was done with Blinky, but here he was … hunting his son down again.
Sighing, the elder troll groused, "I know you think yourself quick-footed, my son, but slinking into a tight alleyway will only slow you down. Taking the rooves would have been a better choice if you really wanted to get any notable distance from me."
"In fact," continued the elder troll as he placed a hand on his son's arm, forcing him to turn towards him and actually speak with him, "I think we've both had enough of this game. I have noticed that you've been ignoring me these last few days and are slipping in your duties. It is best that we speak so that our minds are clear and ready for more pressing matters."
Yet, any irritation Kanjigar might have felt was quickly gone as his son turned towards him, the younger troll looking pale as he choked out, "F-f-father … p-ppplease, cannn it n-not wait?"
Draal winced at the sound of his own voice as well as the horrified look covering his father's face. The younger troll knew he probably looked terrible, his spines faded and pale from the stress. Why couldn't he keep it together? He just had to suck it up.
Gloved hand coming forward, the warm light of the Trollhunter's armor lighting up Draal's pathetic disposition, Kanjigar cupped his son's head as he asked, "Draal, are you alright? Your breathing seems labored and your body is unbalanced. Are you ill?"
The teal troll tried to wave it off, tried to say he was fine, but his breathing was getting worse, and spots were starting to take up his vision. Before he knew it, he was losing his feet and his sire was suddenly keeping him upright.
"Obviously you are not," said Kanjigar, grunting as he forced most of Draal's weight onto on shoulder, "Come, let's get to a clearing with more air. You can sit down and breathe. Mimic my breathing if it helps."
The younger troll wanted to pull away, to say he was fine, but, ever the obedient son, he did as he was asked. He didn't notice it at first, so focused on his father performing a breathing exercise next to him, but slowly his hearts started to calm down as he matched his father's breaths. And though his breathing was still shaky and far from ideal, the tightness in his chest started to loosen.
Finally, getting to a small clearing near one of the many cave streams, Kanjigar had them both sit down at the water's banks, little cavefish seemingly waiting for the two trolls to put their feet in so they could nibble at them.
Draal stared at the small darting creatures for a moment, hating how patiently his father was sitting there next to him, the older troll staring out at the water as if trapped in his own thoughts.
Finally, the silence seeming unwilling to leave unless forced, Draal turned his head towards his sire, swallowing before he muttered, "I'm sorry ... if I ... frightened you, father. I … just couldn't breathe."
The older troll turned to look at his offspring, shaking his head slightly as he spoke, "It is nothing you need to apologize for Draal. However, I am concerned that this has happened before. Is this why you have been ignoring me?"
Draal closed his eyes and tried to think of an excuse for his weakness as his right hand became a fist, but when he didn't respond, Kanjigar sighed sadly and continued speaking, "You are very proud, my son, but as I have recently learned myself, there is no shame in getting help. Soldier's Heart is not an uncommon ailment in warriors … especially if their skills have recently been tested."
The younger troll winced at that, recalling his recent losses.
Kanjigar, if he noticed the tightening of Draal's form, said nothing of it as he continued speaking, "I, myself, had a few bouts of it when I first became Trollhunter, especially since I felt insufficient for the role. The first time it happened, I thought my hearts were about to explode and that all the air in the world had fled from me. That was how Aaarrrgghh had found me, wheezing and shaking. He gave no judgment. Instead, he said he understood and took me to Blinky to have some teeee. They both were good friends and helped me improve my sense of self after that. In time, my confidence returned, and I understood my worth. After all, I had something to protect."
And with that, he placed a hand on Draal's shoulder, offering a warm yet comforting smile.
Draal, despite himself, tried to return the smile though he was obviously still shaken.
Taking in a few more deep breaths, his breathing catching but nearly back to normal, Draal gathered the courage to speak. He knew this was coming, that he'd have to confess his failings sooner or later, but it still hurt to say out loud, "Thank you, father. I am glad to know my … breathless moment ... is not unheard of, but it is the coming future that I fear … and these last few weeks have shaken my … composure rather badly."
Kanjigar frowned at this, his hands folding together before he nodded in understanding, "I take it the seer said something."
Swallowing twice, his words feeling sour on his tongue, Draal finally spoke, "Yes, I recently found out why I wasn't chosen to be the Trollhunter … in his future. The seer let me know that it was because I was … damaged goods."
The pained look that covered Kanjigar's face could have toppled mountains. Draal wanted to stop there, but it was out in the air now, like thistle seeds contaminating a farmer's field. There was no taking it back. It was best to just get it over with.
Swallowing sharply, hating how his hearts were acting odd again, Draal looked down at his right hand, stating softly, "I had wanted to know why I wasn't destined to be the next Trollhunter. Why I was unable to follow in your stead. I had wanted to know who I was competing against, why I wasn't good enough, and what I had to change to be worthy."
The words were spilling out now, like water over a flood plain after a heavy rain. He wanted to drown the world with the truth. Yet, somehow, he managed to keep Jim's admittance of a human Trollhunter to himself, but everything else was free game.
"The seer told me … that I am to be a cripple," finally choked out Draal, his right hand shaking something terrible. "I'm weak and barely useful enough to be the companion to the future Trollhunter. I am … meant for nothing, a born failure."
Quickly standing up, careless of water getting into his boots, Kanjigar stepped up to his son and placed his forehead against his creation's, the older troll trying to comfort his son as Draal started to wheeze again, trying to bow his head away as he felt tears gathering in his eyes. He felt so pathetic ... a disgrace even.
"Shhh, Draal. Come now my son, no need for panic," tried to comfort the blue troll, one of his hands taking Draal's shaking right hand into one of his own and squeezing it in reassurance. "Please breathe with me. The seer's words are not yet decided, there is no need to fear, and you certainly are not a failure. You are invaluable."
A stifled sob escaped Draal at those words. The younger being wanted to hide his face away and deny his father's claim, but Kanjigar just kept talking soothingly, refusing to let go. "And how can you not see how valuable you are? My son trains the future Trollhunter. Honestly, I couldn't be prouder."
A full-on sob escaped the warrior this time, Draal giving in and leaning his whole weight onto his sire as he choked out, "I am afraid … I do not wish to be crippled. I do not want to fail."
Gripping the back of Draal's head tightly, a deep rumble escaped Kanjigar as he tried to comfort his only child. "Failure is not meant to be feared, my son. It is meant to be learned from, something to be overcome. As for your arm, that has not yet come to part. The seer gave you a warning so it's still possible to change it … And, even if we cannot, who doesn't want a metal arm?
Draal hated the laugh-sob that escaped him at the last comment, the younger troll trying to wipe away tears.
And so, the moment dragged out for a few minutes, Kanjigar whispering softly to him like he was a whelp. Draal didn't push the comfort away and gripped his father's hand gladly, accepting the attention. It was only after he had calmed down somewhat that Kanjigar stood up straight, smiling calmly down at his creation.
"I am glad that you got that off your chest, Draal," finally said the older troll. "I have been worried that it was something I had done. I feared I did something to push you away again."
Wiping a paw down his face again, trying to make sure there weren't any tears left, Draal softly choked out, "I know … and I am sorry. I will try to be more … forthcoming … in the future."
Nodding, Kanjigar motioned for them to head back towards the alley but stalled, making Draal stop as well. The Trollhunter seemed to dwell on it for a second as if deciding if it was worth saying or not, but finally, he asked, "Did the seer happen to reveal who the next Trollhunter was meant to be? Who you would train?"
Draal, at first surprised, stood there, shell-shocked. Part of him wanted to do as he was asked, but … he had promised to keep it to himself. So, releasing a long down-out breath, Draal frowned and shook his head, stating simply, "I cannot say father … it is the seer's truth and not mine to give."
Humming, unhappy but unwilling to force it either, Kanjigar rolled his neck before stating, "It was worth a try. Now, come, let us go have some of Blinky's teeee and then we should get some rest. We must brave the surface tomorrow."
"The surface?" mimicked Draal, wondering if they were going to go after Seer Jim despite Vendel's worries.
Nodding, the older troll explained, "Yes, I want to see if we can at least find Jim's location to make sure he's safe. Then, we still have a fetch to, well, fetch. Plus, who else would keep Bular socialized? If I hadn't been around for these last few decades exchanging quips with him, I am quite certain he would have lost the ability to speak in complete sentences.
Despite himself, at first surprised his father made a joke, Draal laughed.
…
Angor Rot stumbled into his den, the shadow portal a good foot off the ground and acting up. He turned and glared at the portal for a moment before dissipating it. He couldn't believe how much that magical backlash had messed with his form and magic. The shadow staff was being particularly temperamental like it didn't quite recognize him.
Throwing the staff onto his makeshift table, a stone slab made of concrete blocks, Angor Rot headed to his nest which was little more than a gravel pit covered by furs and old fabric. He sat down with a hiss, his sides aching and his whole form strangely lagging.
What had that little fool done to his spell?!
Hissing in pain again, Angor Rot pulled his hand away from his side, blackish goo coming back. The old gods … was he bleeding?
The assassin didn't even get to question this when suddenly the same black liquid started to dribble from his nose, making him wipe it with the back of his hand. It was at this point that he noticed a faint light coming from the palm he had cut while trying to curse Jim.
Opening his palm, he could see a faintly glowing spell circle on his hand. It almost looked like the one he had placed on Jim's back, but how had it ingrained itself into his flesh?!
Glaring at the soft blue glow, he couldn't help but note the faintest traces of purple magic. The old witch from the Sink Hole! Had she set up a magic trap for him?!
Despite himself, the troll roared in rage and turned toward one of the old brick walls in his sewer den, punching his fist through the wall.
He just wanted to get out from under that Morgana's gaze, especially since he feels it in his chest, that she is gathering power again. Instead of pressing her gaze onto the seer so that he might find a way to steal back at least his soul and free himself from her service, he now has another set of eyes on him!
Raging, the troll started ripping apart his den, screams full of hatred echoing down the sewers. What had that witch done to him?!
XXX
Paw07: That angsty Draal scene has been in my files forever. I'm glad I finally got to throw it out because I adore some father-son bonding.
Daouix's setting himself up to be a horror movie victim and Claire isn't far behind.
And Angor Rot … poor babe. It's unfortunate that he's a favorite of mine because my muse can be a mean little thing. ◥(ฅº￦ºฅ)◤