BROTHERS

By Essel Pratt  

Essel Pratt

Pausing before a rusty, yet ornate, wrought iron gateway, an aged wolf named Jakel reminisces as he stares at the once beautiful symbols adorning the scrollwork.  A rough breeze rocks the unfastened entry as it screeches upon non-oiled hinges. Each squall uplifts loose dust from the forgotten entrance, exciting the specks as they travel along the windy waves.  Decaying leaves retreat to dark corners, revealing an unkempt path into the hushed cemetery.  The aged wolf sighs deeply as he strains to stand upon his tired legs, his old bones crackling as he does so, before entering the forgotten graveyard.  

Many memories dwell inside, good and bad.  Out of respect, he bows his head while passing through the entryway.  Embarrassed of his scraggily appearance, he tries to remember the glory days when his fur wasn’t matted and his vigor was rivaled only by the most courageous hero.

Within the gates, overgrown brush and disobedient weeds conquer the once pristine necropolis.  Ground level markers are all but lost within the underbrush and most of the aged headstones have deteriorated under the onslaught of harsh weather and layers of moss. A once magnificent mausoleum now hides in disgrace behind crumbling stone and invasive cat’s claw vines.  

This is the resting place of heroes.  All gave their lives in battle; some did so with a goal to conquer an evil force, yet others wandered here by chance.  Whether intended or not, everyone that slumbers here has perished while battling an evil being and has died with a heroes honor. 

As the lone wolf traverses the unkempt pathways he lowers his head in respect for all the good men, as well as the few women and children that adorn the soil of this sacred land.  Tufts of his matted fur catch on the thorny bushes lining the path, scratching at the dry skin underneath.  Drips of blood escape his lacerations, dropping to the ground in honor of the fallen.  He pays no mind to the wounds as he keeps his pace.  

Somewhere, amidst the bramble, his beloved master rests at peace in the shadow of a beautifully sculpted headstone.  Once a breathtaking bronze, an emerald patina now adorns the towering obelisk.  The tip can be seen protruding beyond the formerly flowering mound at the center of the graveyard.  Keeping it in sight, Jakel continues his pace onward.

Each step sends pain shooting through him as he remembers back to the time his muscles were agile, and his bones were strong.  He thinks back to when his master, no…best friend, Manfred and he traveled the lands searching out evil and hate.  Their bond was strong enough to consider each other as brothers, and they had pledged an oath to one another with a vow to overcome evil and restore the land to peace and prosperity.  

Jakel’s thoughts drift to the days they battled alongside one another.  Together, they were a force to be reckoned with.  Kingdoms were liberated from trolls and witches, towns were rid of soul stealing vampires, and forests were weeded of nefarious fairies and sprites.  No evil was too frightening, and no adversary was out of reach.  They fought it all, no matter the cost as long as the world became a better place.

As he approaches Manfred’s grave, his mind traces his body, recalling the story behind each scar.  Most had happy endings, some were the result of goofing around, and even more were the result of fierce battles while having fun at the enemies’ expense.  But one, a missing portion from his ear, is the most memorable of them all.  That, long ago healed, wound reminded him of the day the apocalypse ended and the magic died… the day he lost his best friend and brother.  

***

Blue and pink clouds intertwined amongst the still night sky.  From time to time, a sliver of the moon’s light darted through the thick canopy as if to announce its presence.  Despite the overcast, their surroundings radiated an eerie glow.  

Their Journey led them from a less than traveled path within a healthy forest out to a dusty trail, lined with decaying cars and a multitude of discarded electronic devices.  Not since the days before the great apocalypse have so many machines been gathered in one place.  

The collection possessed their attention as they grabbed items that were unfamiliar to them, guessing as to their past purpose.  Manfred found an old keyboard mouse and pretended to slay a beast with its whipping cord.  Jakel laughed as the tip cracked in the midst of the stagnant air.  In uncertain times as these, where maleficent beings thrived on magic and the weak, laughing kept their insanity at manageable levels.  

They could not help but to laugh at humanity’s dependence on these fragile machines and how one massive explosion destroyed all that their ancestors had tried to accomplish with them.  They pondered how the humans coped once the dust had settled, as the land renewed itself over time, ushering forth a new age as the devolution caused by these rotting machines was finally unhindered.  How they managed to adjust as magic returned to, and gained control of, the land as the people healed, forcing them to rely less on their mechanical crutches.  Most of all they wondered about the interaction between man and beast, as they became vocal equals in the world, and how they learned to rely on one another as something other than just pet and master.

Throughout the discussion, they continued down the decrepit path unaware of their destination.  Their loud voices and guffawing laughs echoed amongst the silence of the landfill.  It wasn’t until a sudden drop in temperature bit at their skin that they became much more aware of their surroundings.  

They had reached the end of the trail.  Before them spanned a field of gray grasses dotted with a few large boulders.  The concentration of magic within this area was astronomical; they could feel the power surge through their pores as though a million beating drums silently pounded simultaneously all around them.  It was uncomfortable, yet mesmerizing. 

Jakel cautioned Manfred to take it slow.  His sensitive nose smelled an evil that they had not yet faced, and worried that his human brother would carelessly jump into action.  The time for play was over.  

Their feet crushed the dying grasses underneath each step, crunching sounds echoed around them.  Each stride took them deeper into the coldness; Jakel kept close to Manfred using his fur to warm his friend’s flesh.

About 200 paces in, the cold dispersed.  The pair stopped and surveyed their surroundings.  Set into the ground upon a small heap before them was a circular stone embellished with what appeared to be a cryptic seal.  The drumming pulsations around them seemed to originate from within.  Jakel placed his left paw upon the stone.  Searing pain bit through his flesh as the cold frostbit his exposed pad.  He let out a yelp, and licked his paw until it had warmed.  While doing so, he looked up at Manfred and noticed fear in his eyes.  Jakel had never seen such an expression garnish his usually carefree face.  

Both warriors took a few steps away from the seal, fearing the evil inside would draw them inward.  As they retreated, an aqua blue light radiated from the spot.  Within the glow, the figure of an old man materialized.  He stood there, staring at the heroes without moving a single muscle, as though frozen in place.  His body sourced the entirety of magic in this substantial area around them.  Their bodies shivered, not from the cold, but fear.

With caution, they retreated behind a nearby boulder to monitor the demonic wizard before them.  As they moved, his eyes followed.  Manfred looked down at Jakel and stroked his silky fur as though to tell him it would be okay.  Jakel looked up at Manfred, and whispered, “This is it”, hinting that it would be their final battle.  Both of their hearts pounded as they waited for the magician to make the first move.

As he stood there, the magician’s aura rapidly radiated with various shades of iridescent blue waves.   Their motions becoming more chaotic as every moment passed, eventually the aura consumed him within their pulsating swarms.  A slight buzzing sound could be heard just before the aura exploded through the field, obliterating the grasses and crumbling the boulders.  

Covered in rock dust, Jakel and Manfred were protected from the blast by the boulder they hid behind.  With their unobstructed view, the wizard was in plain site before them.  They had no plan of attack and nowhere to go.  Manfred looked down at his wolf breed brother, giving a look of readiness.  Grasping his sheathed blade by the hilt, he darted towards their nemesis.  Attempting to delay his friend’s approach, Jakel bit at his pant leg, tearing a whole in the fabric.

He watched as Manfred lunged at the wizard, only to be stopped in his tracks by an invisible wall.  The impact knocked him hard to the ground, immobilizing him.  Before Jakel could jump into action, the wizard spoke, “You dare attempt to challenge me, Asatru?”  He waved his hands in figure eight pattern, sending Manfred soaring through the air and slamming backwards into Jakel.  

Both had heard the name Asatru in their travels.  He was the Lord of Magic.  All magic in the land originated from his existence as a result of its slow seepage from his crypt.  Jakel’s paw on the stone must have disrupted the frozen seal, releasing him from the tomb.  They had no choice but to defeat him, this is what they had journeyed for all their lives.  

Before lunging head first into the fire, Manfred waited patiently for Asatru to make the next move.  Jakel stood by his side, ready to cover him when needed.  Both feared their death, but feared the darkness that would overcome the world if they failed even more so.  

The pair, unsure of their adversary’s strength, waited for him to react.  Asatru peered at the heroes, annoyed at their presence and decided to end the confrontation quickly.  He raised his arms high above his head.  Electric blue bolts of energy jumped from his elongated fingers, concentrating in the empty space between.  It took a few moments for the power to focus into an intense ball of power.  The light within flickered just before the magician threw it towards the heroes.  Instinctively they jumped away from the blast, saving them from their demise.  

Each lay opposite the impact, and jumped quickly to their feet.  A quick glance let the other know that they were okay.  The sheer power he had summoned enlightened them to the severity of the situation.  They knew that they would need to act fast if they were to have a chance.  Both focused their attention back on the evil before them.

Jakel jumped to action before Asatru could summon another blast.  He ran full speed and lunged at the wizard, causing him to stumble backwards in an attempt to regain his footing.  Manfred was close behind.  His blade stuck in the sheath, so he also lunged at Asatru, this time knocking him to the ground.  

With the wizard lying helpless, the heroes reacted quickly.  Manfred finally unsheathed his sword and pounced upon Asatru’s chest.  He raised his blade high into the air, expecting to plunge it deep into his heart.  The magician reacted by raising his arm to summon another blast upon Manfred.  Jakel plunged his teeth deep into Asatru’s flesh, causing the focusing energy to explode outward.  

Both heroes were thrust away from Asatru as the force of the blast dispersed into the air, unfocused.  Their bodies rolled atop the ground until they came to rest.  Dazed, they struggled to regain their footing.  As their composure returned, Asatru once again summoned another concentrated ball of energy above his head.  With nowhere to hide, and exhaustion creeping up on them, they had to act fast.

Knowing it would take a few moments for the power to reach its full potential, Manfred jumped into action.  He sprinted forward, sword drawn, and lunged at the magician once again.  His blade sliced deep into Asatru’s right arm, spilling frigid blue blood from his veins.  The electrical summon nullified as Asatru grabbed at his injured arm.  Blood poured from the gash, as it splashed to the ground and formed an icy puddle.  As the ice enveloped them, Manfred felt the chill infiltrate his shoes and slowly consume his flesh from his toes upward.  

Jakel was quick to aid his friend.  He ran to Manfred’s side, back feet propelling him through the air, aiming to knock his brother free from the wizard’s grip.  Mid jump, Asatru grabbed Jakel by the ear.  Without loosening his grip he flung him to the side.  The force was so strong, and the grip so tight, that a large chunk of his ear remained in the wizard’s hand as he propelled to the ground many feet away.  A loud yelp escaped his lips as his ribcage shattered upon impact.  

Manfred heard the pain escape his friend and did the only thing he could.  With the ice quickly solidifying his body, he used his still malleable arm and plunged his sword deeply into Asatru’s heart.  The impact erupted into a flash freeze that consumed them both.  Jakel could only watch as his lifelong friend became one with the evil wizard atop the mound that once held Asatru within his crypt.  

His body battered and broken, he stood despite the pain.  The stabbing sting of his ribs forced him to approach the mound slowly.  He noticed a drastic change in temperature as the once horrifying clouds dispersed and allowed the fresh morning sun’s rays to spread warmth over the land.  The fresh heat was quickly melting the icy prison that held the two together.  As it did so, Asatru’s body was returning to its pure magical form, swirling beautifully above their heads as his black heart fell to the ground, and quickly decayed into dust.  Manfred’s icy flesh also melted, leaving only his stripped bones to fall into a pile at the bottom of the mound.  

As he approached the mound, Jakel smelled the beautiful aroma of flowers.  He clawed his way to the top, and found that the melting ice had ushered forth a bed of daffodils where the seal once stood guard.  

Atop the mound, he stared down at Manfred’s skeletal remains.  Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.  Although victorious, the loss of his friend was crushing, he could think of nothing else but to give Manfred a proper burial.  He surveyed the area and noticed a spot on which the sun’s rays shined extra bright.  It would be a perfect resting place, he thought.  

His tattered body hindered the process of digging the hole where his friend’s body would remain at rest for all eternity, nevertheless he remained persistent.  It took a couple of days until he was satisfied with the depth.  Each day, the swirling magical swarm above him seemed to dim just a little.  

Once the hole was adequate, Jakel grabbed Manfred’s bones within his jaws and one by one dropped them into the grave.  His heart felt like it was ripped apart with each fragment he moved.  He left the skull for last, rolling it with his nose to its final resting place.  As it balanced, shaking on the edge before joining the rest of the body, Jakel pursed his dog lips and gently placed a kiss on Manfred’s skull.  Tears spilled from his eyes the entire time he replaced the dirt back into the hole.  

With the grave filled, and no more tears left to cry, Jakel rested on top of the fresh burial plot.  Exhausted he closed his eyes and slept for three days straight.  While sleeping, the magical aura above burst into action.  A small form broke off from the mass and shot directly into the head portion of Manfred’s plot.  From the ground, a magnificent obelisk grave marker emerged.  Engraved upon its base was the story of how Manfred and his wolf breed companion saved the world form the evil incarnation of magic.

With Manfred’s grave properly marked, a large mass of the magic shot into the surrounding soil, where many more warriors had fallen while attempting to overcome the demonic magical being’s advances.  Their markers may not have been as fantastic as Manfred’s, but each told the story of the warrior resting beneath.  When only a sliver of magic danced above him, Jakel woke from his slumber.

His eyes still foggy with sleep, Jakel looked around at the new monuments that had erected during his slumber.  The marker towering above put his mind at peace.  He knew his friend was resting serenely amongst the other warriors that surrounded him.  Jakel was proud of his brother for the sacrifice he had so selfishly offered, but still heartbroken that he had lost his only friend.  

He heard a rumbling and jumped to his feet.  Forgetting about the broken ribs he forced back a yelp as he cringed in pain.  The remaining magic worked itself into frenzy.  A single droplet of the iridescent aura fell from the sky onto his face.  Warmth rushed through his body as the aching ceased and his wounds healed.  He bowed his head to the power that bestowed health upon him, just as the remaining aura gathered upon an empty plot of earth.  

From that spot, a magnificent mausoleum manifested from the soil.  Carved into the plaque above the doorway were the words, “To the souls forgotten and lost in battle”.  With the erection of the bodiless crypt, the magic had vanished.  Not just the magic within this beautiful cemetery, but all magic in the world.      

Feeling empty, Jakel kneeled on his front paws to whisper, “I love you brother”, but no words escaped…only a soft howl.  The magic had also left his body.  Without speech, he would not be able to share his tale with the world; instead he was just simple wolf without a master.  Not knowing what was left for him; he walked towards the ornate wrought iron entry, in search of his next mission.  As he did so, a splinter of Manfred’s sword shined in the sunlight.  He picked it up with his teeth, where he carried it against his gums in memory of his best friend.

***

Many years have passed since he has been here.  Although the marker has tarnished and the unkempt land has overgrown, it still feels like only yesterday he fought here by his human brother’s side.  The pain in his heart never fully resided, yet being here now made it less raw.  

For a long time he has wandered aimlessly, searching the world for even the slightest hint of magical in hopes of destroying it so others will not have to suffer the same fate as his brother. His travels have taken him to distant lands where he had found only sleight of hand and optical illusions.  Despite the unmapped courses, somehow his journeys have brought him back here… and he couldn’t be happier to be reunited.  

Slowly he wipes the leaves and debris from atop the grave, revealing the compacted dirt floor below; the grass had long ago died off.  Poking from the dirt, he noticed an object sparkle.  Digging a shallow hole with his paws, he found another sliver of Manfred’s sword.  Reuniting it with the first shard that he has carried around for so long, he places it into his mouth.  Hoping to find more, he digs deeper into the earth until fatigue overwhelms him.  The hole is now rather deep.  Being this close to Manfred comforts him so he closes his eyes and twists his body into a comfortable position.  His wounds have stopped bleeding, and his muscles are relaxed.  The pain he had felt has diminished to nothingness as his last breathe exhales from his lungs.  

From within the mausoleum a tiny spec of light floats towards his body.  It circles a few times and whips up a brisk wind.  The last remaining speck of magic ascends into his body, softening his matted fur back to its youthful appearance.  For a moment his body radiates as it did in his prime, while the winds push the loose dirt back into the hole and bury him with his brother.  Finally reunited, both brothers can rest in peace.

Essel Pratt
Email: esselpratt@esselpratt.com