Elazar the Magician

Prologue

The Forest of Shadows was an apt name for the ancient forest surrounding the base of Mount Vadaka. Its huge trees had black, peeling bark, and gnarled branches that formed dense canopies of blood-red leaves high above. So dense that little light found its way to the forest floor. This meager illumination cast the forest in a bloody hue, as if warning anyone who dared enter the forest of what dreadful things might befall them.

A warning that Tyrus's best friend Magnus had refused to heed, insisting that they both brave the fringes of the Forest of Shadows to find one of the Six Magic Mushrooms that were rumored to grow within. Legend had it that each of the Six would give whoever ate them magical powers — and Magnus was dead-set on becoming a magician like his hero Elazar.

They'd trudged through the periphery of the forest for nearly three hours before finally finding what appeared to be one of the fabled mushrooms. It was large — the size of Magnus's fist — and a vivid, eye-watering yellow, with bright orange spots. Tyrus had taken one look at it and concluded it was poisonous. Magnus had taken the same look and concluded it was magical.

"It's obviously one of the Six," Magnus insisted, crouching over it. He was fourteen, the same age as Tyrus, but shorter and stockier, with a mop of dark curls and the expression of someone who had already made up his mind about everything.

"It's obviously going to kill you," Tyrus countered.

"Then I'll die a wizard." Magnus produced a small knife from his belt and began to cut the mushroom free of the ground.

"I'm not explaining to your mother that you died eating a mushroom in the Forest of Shadows."

"Tell her I died heroically." Magnus held up the mushroom, examining it from every angle. "In battle. Against something impressive. A dragon."

"There are no dragons."

"She doesn't know that." He wrapped the mushroom in a cloth and tucked it carefully into his pack. "I'm not going to eat it here. I'm going to study it first. Maybe take it to old Sera in the village — she knows every plant in the region."

Tyrus felt some of his anxiety ease. "That's — actually sensible."

"I have my moments." Magnus grinned. Then he tilted his head back, gazing up at the canopy of blood-red leaves far above, and the dark shape of Mount Vadaka's peak visible beyond. "Do you think he's up there right now? Elazar?"

Tyrus followed his gaze. The mountain was immense — it dominated the horizon from every direction in the valley. Its upper third was perpetually wreathed in cloud. No one from the village had climbed it in living memory.

"I think he's a story," Tyrus said.

"He's not a story. He's real. My grandfather met him."

"Your grandfather also claimed he once arm-wrestled a bear."

"He did arm-wrestle a bear. The bear won, but that's not the point." Magnus turned away from the mountain, scanning the ground around them. "Come on. Let's see if there are any more."

"Absolutely not," Tyrus said. "We've been in here for three hours. If we're not back before dark, my father will — "

A sound stopped him. Low and resonant, coming from somewhere deeper in the trees. Not an animal sound — something else entirely. A hum, almost. Or the distant echo of something very large moving through the undergrowth.

Both boys went perfectly still.

The sound didn't come again. But the forest, which had been quietly alive with small noises — wind through branches, distant birdsong — had gone completely silent.

"Okay," Magnus said, very quietly. "We can come back tomorrow."

"Okay," Magnus reluctantly agreed.

With that, they made their way toward the tree line, exiting the Forest of Shadows. But the shadow of dark, angry thunderclouds forming just below the peak of Mount Vadaka followed them as they rushed back to the village of Chesselhurst, the low rumble of thunder echoing ominously over the land.

By the time Tyrus parted ways with Magnus and made it to his modest home at the eastern edge of Chesselhurst, the storm was nearly upon him. He made his way up the wooden steps to the narrow building, opening the door and stepping into the kitchen. He saw Dad there by the stove, dressed in his usual gray overalls, attending to a steaming pan. Dad was freakishly tall, his head almost touching the ceiling, but was slender like Tyrus. Unlike Tyrus, he kept his hair short, barely more than an inch, on account of being the village clockmaker. Long hairs and gears didn't mix.

"Hi Dad," Tyrus greeted.

"Hey Ty," Dad replied with a smile. "Wash your hands — dinner's almost ready. How was your day?"

Tyrus glanced toward the window, where the first drops of rain had begun to streak the glass. Beyond, the dark silhouette of the Forest of Shadows was barely visible in the gathering dusk. Somewhere in that forest, something had gone quiet at the wrong moment.

"Interesting," Tyrus said at last.