A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (2 page)

 The human stared at the elf-like creature.“AHH!” . . . and
jumped away; tripping over his chair in the process. This sent Tasio into a fit
of laughter and he rolled in midair. “Who . . . what are you?”

Tasio regained his composure and bowed. “I am the Trickster
Tasio and I am here to help you.”

Eric stopped trying to get up and stared. “Help me?”

“Yes, help you.”

“With my report?”

“And other things.”

“I'm dreaming, it's the only possible—” Tasio flicked his
forehead. “Ow!”

“Feel that?”

“Yes!”

“Then you're not dreaming.”

Eric glared at the smiling trickster. “Then I've had a
mental breakdown!”

Tasio put a hand to his chin. “That one is harder to prove
you wrong on.”

Eric looked skeptical. “You said you were a trickster, so is
this a trick?”

“Rest assured, your life will be better once I have helped
you.” His obnoxious grin was hardly convincing. “If you need reassurance,
here's my resume.” Tasio reached into his mouth and pulled out a small scroll.
It was so old, the paper was yellow and frayed. The edges were torn and the
metal clasp holding it together was red with rust.

“This is a list of all the people I've helped.” He removed
the seal and let the paper roll out. The list fell to the floor and raced
across the room. Then, in complete defiance of the laws of gravity, it rolled
up the wall, across the ceiling, down the other wall, and back to the floor.
Eric's mouth fell open as it created another line. The process repeated until
the north and south walls were covered in ancient, moldy papyrus. The scroll
stopped in the center of the room, where, under its own power, it turned to the
east wall and continued rolling. “Where do you want to start?”

Eric shook his head. “There's no way you've helped all these
people.”

Tasio placed the back of his right hand to his forehead. “Oh
no! Someone found out my secret!” He made a dagger out of his left hand. “With
this, I atone for my lie!” He stabbed himself and collapsed on the floor.
Eric's eyes widened and he rushed to Tasio's sprawled out body.

“I'm sorry! Don't die!”

Tasio's body sprang like a mechanical trap. “Kidding!”  

Eric screamed and grabbed his heart. “Are you trying to give
me a heart attack?!”

“No, of course not. I'm here to help you, remember?” Tasio
smiled at Eric's anger. “You see, I'm immortal. I've been alive for a zillion
years.” He leaped and sat crossed legged in midair with his hands in his lap. “Would
you like to see my resume or not?” Eric looked at the papyrus that was
currently his carpet and wallpaper. Suddenly, his head started throbbing.

“I don't have time! I have to do this report!”

Tasio floated to Eric's desk and speed typed for one minute.
Then he printed a pile of neatly collected papers with the title “Eric's Report”
on top. “Now, do you have time?”

Eric shrugged. “I guess so.” Tasio's face lit up like a
light.

“Wonderful!” He dove into the ancient scroll and pulled out
the very beginning. “Okay! Here is where humans were first starting out; they
had to eat meat raw and were cold in the winter, so I gave them fire . . .Here's
where humans wanted to settle down so I showed them crop domestication . . .When
humans wanted to go from here to there quicker, I showed them the wheel . . .Oh,
here's a good one! The Great Vowel Shift . . . that was a lot of fun . . .”
Eric's eyes grew heavy. The stress of his day was catching up to him and
Tasio's list went on and on and on and—

“WAKE UP!” The poor human was scared out of ten year’s
growth. Tasio lay back, laughing and pointing at Eric. “You make the funniest
face when startled.”

Eric gave the floating trickster a nasty look.

“Now, let's see your case.” Tasio reached behind his waist
and pulled out a second scroll. “Eric Watley, twenty-one years old, grunt for
Hanson Enterprise. Vital Stats: Intelligence—bottom of the class. Strength—defeated
by milk jugs. Speed—outrun by turtles. Confidence—huh?” Tasio scanned the page,
and then the other side. “The stat isn't listed. There's just an 'N/A' thing
where it should be.” Eric dropped his head, knowing it to be true. If there was
one thing his older brother, his parents, and his coworkers all agreed on was
the fact that he was spineless.

 “Eric Watley, you have the lowest stats of anyone I have
ever helped. Oh wait, here we go . . . it says you are comparable to a rock.”

Eric perked up. “A rock? Like I'm tough and enduring?”

“No. It means you're dull, don't move unless pushed, and
aren't likely to change throughout your life.” Tasio patted Eric's head as the
human cowered again. “But a master sculptor like me can help you become a fine
work of art.” Tasio put the scroll away. “Now, you should get some sleep
because I will help you first thing tomorrow. Off you go.” Tasio scooted Eric
to bed and tucked him in.

An alarm clock rang and Eric slammed it off. Rubbing his
eyes, he sat up. No sign of Tasio or the papyrus wallpaper.

Must have been a dream.
He rolled out of bed and
changed from his T-shirt and boxers to his pitiful business suit.
Of course,
it was a dream. A dream brought on by stress.
He walked to the bathroom to
brush his teeth.
An elf appears out of nowhere and says he'll help me. It's
ridiculous.
He grabbed his briefcase and opened the door to the kitchen.
The sight that greeted him drove all thoughts of “dream” from his mind, and
made him drop both jaw and briefcase.

 There stood Tasio at the stove, in a frilly pink apron. He
was even humming a little tune and swaying to the beat. The Trickster must have
realized he was being watched as he spun and beamed.

“Morning, honey! Sleep well?” Eric blinked, then blinked
again. He rubbed his eyes and pinched himself. Tasio was still there and he was
still wearing a pink apron.

“I think I'm still sleeping.” Tasio carried a frying pan
filled with waffles, eggs, and fruit to the table and placed it next to a glass
of milk.

“Now, dear, we went over that last night. Must we discuss it
again?”

Eric walked straight to the couch and shook Oliver awake.
Never once did his eyes leave Tasio. The moocher groaned and rolled over. Eric
continued shaking until he woke up. “What's up, pal?”

Eric pointed at Tasio and asked, “Do you see a golden-haired
elf wearing a pink apron?” Oliver looked at Tasio, who waved, then back at
Eric.

“ . . .no.”

“But he's right there!” Eric grabbed Tasio's arm and shook
it. “You don't see him?!”

“Eric, there's nothing there.” Tasio made funny faces.

“He's making funny faces right in front of you!” Oliver's
hand passed through Tasio.

“Eric . . . maybe you should see somebody,” Oliver said,
getting more unnerved by the second. “You've been under a lot of stress lately.”

“You got a boogy in your left nostril,” Tasio observed. “Tell
'em, Eric.” Eric relayed the message and Oliver found that he indeed did have a
boogy.

“Is this some kind of imaginary friend? You know, to avoid
acknowledging that you were staring at my nose?”

Tasio jumped on Oliver's head, perched on his shoulders, and
made a big show of checking the man's hair for bugs. He ate one and celebrated
by beating his chest and hollering.

“NO!” Eric shouted. “Look! He's on top of you! Tell me you
see him!”

Oliver slowly backed out of Eric's apartment, into his own,
and locked the door. Tasio phased back in and pouted.

“How rude. That was a fabulous imitation. The least he could
have done was notice.”

Eric groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Why can't he see you?”

“Because he didn't ask for help; you did. No one can see me
or hear me but you. Now eat your breakfast. It's the most important meal of the
day, you know.”

Eric picked up a fork and poked the eggs. “Is this stuff
going to improve my life?”

“Yes.” Eric shoveled it all into his mouth, swallowed, and
choked. Tasio slapped his back until it came back out. “You shouldn't eat it
all at once; it's bad for digestion.”

“Digestion?” Eric asked. “I thought it was magic.”

“Magic? How come?”

“You said it would improve my life!”

“A balanced breakfast can improve anyone's life.”

 Eric rubbed his forehead once more. He really didn't need
this today. Medicine would never fix a headache ache like the one feeding him
right now.

“So when are you going to help me?”

“I am right now. Eat up.”

It was pretty good; Eric hadn't eaten food like this since
he was young.
Maybe having Tasio here won't be so bad . . .

 
“By the way . . . when does that place open?”

Eric looked down at his watch. “I'M LATE!” He ran out the
door and Tasio hovered after him.

“I suppose this would be a bad time to tell you that I
adjusted your alarm clock?”

“You
what
!?”

“You weren't getting enough sleep.” Tasio protested. “Really,
I'm surprised you haven't burned out yet.“

Eric dashed through the hall and slammed into the elevator.
He pressed the button, but the numbers changed at a snail's pace. Tasio lounged
in midair and inspected his nails.

“You could take the stairs, you know.” Eric rushed to the
stairs, ran down several flights, and stumbled the rest of the way. He was
almost to the front door when Tasio spoke up again “Oh, and Eric, I do believe
you forgot your briefcase.” Eric groaned before running back to the stairs and
taking them two at a time to get back to his floor. Huffing and puffing, he
reached his apartment and grabbed his briefcase. He ran back to the elevator,
which still hadn't arrived, and reluctantly took the stairs. By the time he was
in the lobby, the elevator dinged.

“A little help?”

Tasio blinked. “With what?”

“Getting to work!”

“Oh, right!” Tasio snapped his fingers and light flared.

When his eyes recovered, Eric was no longer in his apartment
lobby, but he wasn't at Hanson Enterprises either. This area was so cold he
shivered, and so quiet he could hear himself breathing. An overhead light
clicked on and he realized he was in a tunnel of rock. The smell of iron, dirt,
and sulfur mixed with the chill air.
It looks like a quarry . . . Why did—

Dust arose in a great cloud. “Who are you?”

A tall man walked out of the dust. He wore a dark mantle
whose hem seemed to ebb and flow as the overhead lights swayed. It looked like
he was wearing
darkness
itself.
“Um . . . uh... I . . . I’m . . .”

“Where'd you come from?” His eyes narrowed. “You don't look
like one of us.”

If I tell him a trickster zapped me here, he'll think I'm
crazy.
“I . . . My superior and I were checking the safety standards of the
mine and I got separated from him.” Mantleman stared. Then his expression
softened into a mixture of curiosity and pity.

“That makes sense. If you go down this tunnel, you'll find
the elevator.” He lifted his arm and the mantle moved with it like the skin of
a bat's wing. Through the dust, Eric could see a red light. “It's about to shut
down for the day. You should hurry.” The arm disappeared beneath the mantle.

“Th-thanks.” Eric couldn't stand bothering someone, and
asking about an exit made him feel even more embarrassed. The echo of drills
reached his ears with the sounds of far-off talking.

“You're welcome. I will tell the others you're here.” He
re-entered the dust cloud and disappeared. Seconds later, the dust settled and
Eric could see the red light clearly.

Who the heck was that? He didn't look like a miner . . .And
where's Tasio? He's supposed to be helping me . . ..
The lamps went out,
plunging Eric in total darkness. He stopped; afraid to move an inch. There was
nothing but darkness as far as the eye could see. It was like being in a void.
His pulse quickened and his mind swam. Thoughts deserted him and he felt like
screaming. The only thing that stopped him was the fear he wouldn't hear
himself.

 
It doesn't matter if the lights are on or off. The
tunnel is straight so I can't get lost.
With that calming thought, his
pulse slowed, his panic subsided, and he walked confidently through the
darkness. He walked so long his legs ached, yet the red light loomed in the
distance. Added to his earlier hustle, it took a toll on him. The noises of the
mine melted into something resembling a voice.

You should rest
, it whispered in his ear.
Take a
load off. You'll feel better.
Whispers surrounded him and caressed him, gently
urging him. Eric's eyes drooped.
There's no shame in resting. Lie down and
regain your strength.
He leaned against a wall and slid down it.
Yes,
rest . . . rest  . . .rest . . .forever . . .

 The . . .the elevators . . .
They . . .close soon
. . .
His
eyes shot open.
I need to hurry!
He got up and
walked a little faster. The whispers vanished and were replaced by the normal
sounds of the mine. The lamps flickered on and Eric bumped into the elevator.
The car was just coming down and when it opened, it was empty.
Why did it
come down if no one's in it?
He stepped in regardless and the doors closed
behind him. The elevator ascended without his action.

Inside the elevator, the air was hot and moist and soon he
was sweating. By the time the elevator stopped, he'd taken off his jacket and
tied it around his waist. The doors parted and he discovered the reason for the
increase in heat: the elevator opened into the mouth of an active volcano.

The lava churned and swirled like a lake and spouts of fire
and steam shot up at odd intervals. The smell of sulfur was far stronger here
and combined with a dozen others. The immense heat was a smothering physical
force. After he recovered from the initial shock, he saw that there was more
here than rock and lava. Along the rim was a steel tower extending into a
bridge that ended in a balcony, overlooking the mouth.