The Nemesis, The Wizard and The Waterfall. Book One. by Albert Benson

  Chapter Six

  The minutes passed, the armour was still trying to walk, and Worlyn was still on his back. The movement had become almost hypnotic. He was sure the gods had returned, he’d seen all kinds of lights, of movement, but had heard nothing, except Muppy whining in pain, then silence and gloom. He wished Elijah would wake and help him, but, the thought powered into his mind, maybe this was a punishment of the gods, to be imprisoned in this armour for eternity, stuck on his back, the armour trying to walk, moaning and groaning continuously. Oh yes, this was typical of the gods and their weird sense of humour and justice, condemn someone to be stuck on their back indefinitely. He’d would just waste away because the gods wouldn’t let him die, or no, they’d keep him alive, being able to feel the agonies of thirst, or hunger, of starvation, of loneliness, of helplessness, of despair. Worlyn made a list of all the miseries the gods would put him through.

  Elijah woke to the feeling he was on fire, his face, his hands, all the front of his body was burning. He cried out, screaming in pain.

  ‘Elijah, Elijah.’

  Then two separate movements caught his eye, Worlyn, inside the suit of armour, his arms and legs slowly moving up and down, like he was trying to walk, a ridiculous parody. And Muppy, still over in the corner, licking her side and whining in pain. He painfully stood, every muscle, every joint was hurting, sharp pains stabbed all over his body. He looked at the back of his hands; they were covered with deep pitted, pus filled burns that were smoking wispy yellowish clouds. He looked down at his body, his blood red stained clothing had scores of burn holes, and beneath the holes his skin was pock-marked with pus filled burns. The venom of the Twanguine.

  ‘Elijah, Elijah, get me out of this bloofy armour.’

  Elijah began stripping off his smoking bloodstained clothes. All the front of his body was covered in fuming burns. ‘Worlyn, I’m burning!’ he screamed in agony.

  ‘Elijah, quick, get me out of this armour, but be careful the gloves want to strangle you.’

  He staggered to Worlyn and collapsed on his knees next to Worlyn’s head, and with shaking hands yanked off both gloves and then the helmet.

  Worlyn turned his head to look at Elijah, ‘Thank you.’ He noticed the smoking burn marks, saw the agony etched deep into Elijah’s face. ‘The Twanguine’s venom, it’s still burning into your skin, we must get to the waterfall. Quick, get me out of the armour.’

  Elijah was crying with pain as he yanked off the breastplate, then the leg and thigh plates, and rolled onto his back, yelling in agony.

  Worlyn stood, grabbed hold of Elijah’s wrists and yanked him up, twisted around before Elijah collapsed and draped his arms over his shoulders, stooped and grabbed Elijah’s thighs and hoisted him onto his back. ‘Hold tight.’

  ‘Muppy, she’s in pain.’

  Worlyn staggered to her and picked her up in one hand, she yelped as he drew her close to his body and cradled her with one arm. He ran to the door, suddenly remembering that the door wouldn’t open. He prayed the spell had been lifted when the gods went. He grabbed the handle, ‘Yes,’ he shouted as the door opened and ran into the corridor.’ Twinkle flew down and landed on his shoulder, nearly unbalancing him.

  ‘The scimitars,’ Elijah hoarsely whispered.

  ‘We’ll get them later, we’ve got to get to the waterfall.’

  Worlyn was pounding along the darkened corridors, he could feel Elijah’s head bouncing on his back, could feel the burning heat coming through his robes, then sharp burning pains, the venom on Elijah was burning through, now burning through Worlyn’s robe into his back. Muppy had gone limp and his arm was beginning to burn where it was in contact with Muppy’s scorching fur.

  ‘Am I going to die?’

  ‘No,’ Worlyn answered, taking a great lungful of air, ‘now shut up.’

  Elijah’s voice was almost inaudible, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Quiet,’ Worlyn panted.

  ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  A lump of constricting emotion powered into Worlyn’s throat, and tears were streaming down his face. He swallowed, ‘Not far now, hold on, not far.’

  ‘You’re a great wizard.’

  Worlyn grunted, his tears now a flood, running faster.

  ‘It’s been a privilege meeting and knowing you.’

  Worlyn felt Elijah go limp, and leaning forward to counterbalance Elijah from falling. Twinkle was unbalanced, flew off and began circling around Worlyn’s head.

  The door to the waterfall was straight ahead. Worlyn ran at it, gave it a kick, the door sprung open and he ran through, running straight into the blue lake, splashing into the blue waters until he was waist deep, then flipped Elijah off his back and dipped the drooping Muppy in. Elijah limply splashed into the water then gently bobbed to the surface, head down. Worlyn completely submerged himself hoping to wash off the twanguine’s venom. Twinkle landed on a partly submerged stone and began taking gulps of water.

  Worlyn right-handedly grabbed Elijah under his armpits and with the other scooped Muppy to him, and began dragging them towards the waterfall, occasionally stooping so that both their heads went under the blue waters, washing away the venom.

  They reached the waterfall where he laid Muppy on a large flat boulder being splashed by the waterfall. Holding Elijah in his left arm, he gently splashed water over Elijah’s badly burned face, sweeping his singed hair out of his eyes. Suddenly, fear cursed through him like a bolt of lightning, Elijah wasn’t breathing, his face was deathly white. Worlyn pressed his lips close to Elijah’s and gently blew. ‘Breathe.’ He blew again, more forcefully, ‘Breathe.’

  But Elijah didn’t breathe.’

  Worlyn closed his eyes and began summoning all the magic he could, bringing it into his heart, then directing it into his lungs, and gently blowing into Elijah’s mouth and nostrils, ‘Breathe.’

  Still, nothing happened. Elijah was now blue.

  Again Worlyn tried, concentrating, convoking magic to his heart, gathering it, focussing it, directing it to his lungs, and blew, ‘Breathe.’

  Nothing, Elijah was dead.

  ‘ESME,’ Worlyn shouted to the great ceiling and his voice reverberated around the enormous cavern, ‘BEARBERT.’ He was sobbing, ‘You can’t let him die, you can’t.’

  Worlyn looked around, hoping to see bright lights, but there was nothing, no lights, no gods, not even a eunicon, no sign of life whatsoever.

  He cradled Elijah in his arms, hugging him tightly and decided to try one more time. He concentrated, drawing on the magic of the waterfall, mentally bringing it to him, willing the magic into his heart, feeling the power surge through him, then he grasped and pinched Elijah’s nose and held his chin and opened his mouth. He clamped his lips over Elijah’s and blew as hard as he could. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Elijah’s chest rise. Then Elijah coughed, spluttered and began breathing. Worlyn watched him intently, watched his chest falling up and down as Elijah was breathing deeply.

  Worlyn was crying, laughing and sobbing at the same time, ‘You’re alive, you’re alive.’

  Elijah’s eyes remained shut, but his breathing was now regular and colour was coming back to his skin.

  Worlyn dragged Elijah out of the waterfall but left him half submerged by the shoreline, then went to Muppy. Again, he summoned Magic from the waterfall, into his heart, into his lungs, took hold of Muppy’s head, clamped his lips upon hers and blew as hard as he could. Muppy breathed instantly, coughing and baulking, opening her eyes and looking pityingly at Worlyn.

  ‘I hope no one ever finds out I kissed a dog. I’ll never live it down.’

  Chapter Seven