A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

Published 2012
by Brian Wilkerson

Copyright © Brian Wilkerson 2009

ISBN: 978-0-9883066-0-8

Cover Design and Illustration: Travis Pennington

Map Design and Illustration: Brenna Albert

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
and

incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,

living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act

of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed or

transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a
database or

retrieval system, without the prior written permission of
the

publisher (I.E. the author)

Dedication

To my Mom
and Dad, for enduring the roughest and ugliest draft. Without you this book
would never have seen the light of day.

To T.O.M.
of Toonami for “building a better cartoon show” and inspiring me when was I
young.

To Henry
Henz, for sparing me a horrific embarrassment by telling me to do one more
revision.

T.O.M. and Toonami are
registered trademarks of Cartoon Network. No infringement is intended by the
author. He merely wishes to thank them for the programing block.

Chapter 1
Here
to Help

 The sun shone on a neighborhood that was thriving with
activity. Teens played basketball in a driveway, a child drew a chalk picture,
their parents applauded, and a man taught his son to ride a bike.

“Thanks for taking time off to teach me!”

The man ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. “You're much
more important to me than work. Now I have to run an errand for your mother.
I'll be back by dinner.”

The man ran down the street while his son did another lap.
He ducked behind a house and leaned against the wall. “You are no longer in
need of help,” he smirked. “
Son
.”

The man snapped his fingers and his form began to melt and
shift. Where a short human once stood, there was now a tall, elfin creature.
Long golden-brown hair fell around his shoulders with two strands around his
face, where purple eyes shined with mischief. The elf-like creature looked down
on his outfit and frowned.

“This will not do. Not at all. Mortal fashion sense has
diminished over the centuries.” He snapped his fingers again and his clothing
warped into stylized Renaissance under a traveler's cloak.

He waved at someone.

“Hello! I am Tasio the Trickster, at your service.” He made
an elegant bow. “Trickster by race, mind you; I'm actually a helpful guy.” The
Trickster took flight and soared over the pedaling boy. “That boy for example; his
father's too busy to teach him. He called for help and I appeared, cleverly
disguised as his father, of course.”

 His gaze locked on an apartment building and the women
inside. One of them talked nonstop while the other grimaced.
I wish she
would shut up.

“I'm finely in-tuned to human suffering.” The Trickster
snapped his fingers and the first woman suddenly stopped talking. Her mouth
moved, but no words came out. Her friend called a doctor and they discovered
she had laryngitis.

At the other end of town, a man rushed to a fleeing bus.
I
wish I could catch this bus!
Tasio snapped his fingers. The bus's front
tire sprang a leak and lurched to a stop, thus buying the man enough time to
catch up.

“There are many ways I could have helped that boy.” The
Trickster’s eyes gained a malevolent gleam. “I could have arranged for his
father's company to shut down. Then he would have all the time in world.” The
malevolence returned to mischief. “But I'm not that kind of trickster. If you
don't believe me, then stay and watch.”

 Tasio alighted on a skyscraper and phased to the room
below. A big old man shouted over his desk at a meek little guy. The old man
was bald except for an enormous mustache and bushy eyebrows, as if his hair had
retreated from his head to his face. His suit was covered with military medals.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Private Eric?” the man
bellowed. “Every solider has a role in the success of any mission! The unit is
doomed unless everyone plays their part!”

 The guy had short red hair and wore a suit that came out of
the bargain bin. All he did was nod and say, “Yes, General Hanson” at every
scolding.

 Tasio patted him on the head. “What do you think? Does he
need my help?”

“And you'd better have that report ready by tomorrow!”

“Yes sir,” Eric mumbled, head still down.

“I can't hear you!” Hanson bellowed.

Eric stood up, saluted, and shouted, “Yes sir!”

“That's more like it! Dismissed!” Hanson saluted and Eric
marched out the office.

Tasio was in a mock salute. “Hanson used to be a general.”
The Trickster phased through the wall where Eric was slouching and gave him
bunny ears. “Eric here is a private.”

I won't finish in time . . .
Eric shuffled to the
elevator and lazily pushed the button. Tasio followed him in.
I'll lose this
job . . .The unemployment clerk's gonna glare at me again . . .

The doors parted to reveal a handsome man leaning casually
against the far wall. “So, Private Eric returns from another battle with the
General. Are you KIA yet?”  The lame military puns continued impacting as Eric
advanced in the other direction. They had little effect, as they were the same
ones from yesterday. He turned a corner and his mood suddenly improved.  

“Hey, Eric,” said a woman passing by. “What's up?”

“Emily! I'm . . . uh . . . I'm writing a Reguffin. Report! I
meant report! H-hanson wants me to wr-write a report on the company's newest
acquisition.”

 Tasio danced like a little kid watching puppies. “Aw! Would
you listen to that stutter? See how his cheeks color?”

 The wimp navigated the cubicles on his way to the exit. Not
because they were a maze, but because he had to avoid his coworkers. If he
didn't, he would bump into them, which would cause a scene, which would draw
more attention to him, which would make it even more painfully obvious how
useless he was. So he had to be aware of everyone moving in the pathway; behind
him, in front, and to both sides. They never noticed him, so he had to get out
of their way.

Tasio made a great heaving sigh. “See what I see have to
work with?” He spoke with the frustration of someone holding a ketchup bottle
over a burger. “Now if only he would
ask
.”

Eric trudged out of the building, but he picked up his pace
when he saw his car being towed. “Hey, that's my car!” He tripped over his own
feet and stumbled on the pavement.

“Sorry, but the computer said you missed the last payment. I
gotta do my job.” The tow truck driver turned on the radio and drove off.

 Eric lay flat and groaned. “Well, at least things can't get
any worse.”

Tasio grinned. “Ohhh, you shouldn't have said that.”

 A clap of thunder greeted Eric's words. With rain falling
on him like the waste of mocking birds, he walked down the street. It continued
until he reached his apartment and stepped through the front door, where it
abruptly stopped. Dripping water, he passed the front desk. There, a man was
leaning back and reading a newspaper. When he heard the sloshing, he dropped
it.

“Eric! You're soaking wet!”

“I know.”

“What happened to your car?”

“It was impounded.”

The man pounded on the desk. “You made your last payment! I
saw you do it.”

“Apparently, something went wrong.”

The man grabbed his coat. “That does it! I'm giving those
grease monkeys a piece of my mind.”

“You don't need to do that,” Eric said quietly.

“Eric,
you
need to stand up for yourself! Or this
will keep happening.”

“I know . . .”

Eric walked to the elevator thinking,
I wish I could be
confident like Alex.
Tasio chuckled. It was the excitement any bottle
holder feels bubbling up when the ketchup finally sags down.

The elevator dinged and Eric stepped off. He groaned when he
saw his door open. Inside the kitchen/living room, a man with the frame of an
orangutan sat on his couch, watching TV. On the cushion to his left was a carton
of milk and on the cushion to his right was a bowl of nachos.

“Oliver, what are you doing here?”

“Watching my soaps.”

“Why are you watching them
here?
” Oliver grabbed a
handful of nachos and stuffed them in his mouth, dropping crumbs. Eric said nothing.
They'll brush right off . . .

“I'm recordin' the game on my TV,” Oliver said while chewing
and dropping more crumbs.

Eric sighed. “Oliver, I've had a bad day. Do you mind
leaving?”

Oliver took a swig from the carton and some of it splashed
on the couch. Still, Eric said nothing. There were plenty of stains on his
couch already; what was one more?

“Now? But it's just getting good! See, Gregory just slept
with Patricia without knowing she's his sister and Stephanie walked in on them
and got jealous because
she
wants to be in bed with Gregory but won't
admit it. After the commercial, there's going to be a catfight!”

Tasio shook with chuckles.

Oliver picked his nose. “I'll leave as soon as my soap's
over.“

Eric trudged to the only other room in his apartment, his
bedroom. He changed out of his wet clothes and sat at his desk. Every so often,
Oliver would laugh or cry or turn up the volume and Eric would lose his train
of thought.
It's so hard to focus with Oliver here . . . I hope the soap
ends soon.

 Night fell as Eric continued working. He didn't hear the
TV, but he heard snoring instead.
Oliver must have fallen asleep . . . I
can't ask him to leave now
.
That would be rude.
The snoring
disrupted his focus even more. Eric dropped his head on the keyboard.

“I need help . . . someone help me.”

Ecstasy appeared on Tasio's face. It grew wider and wider
and wider until it split his face. The ketchup had finally left the safety of
the bottle and splatted on his burger. Now he could eat it! With a cry of happiness,
he threw up his arms and shouted, “YES! Finally!” He spun on the desk and
tapped his new friend on the head. “Hello!”