At the End

by David Ley

There were more stairs every year. At least, that’s how it felt. The old man in black robes wiped the sweat off his brow as he squinted upwards at the sky. The midday sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, beating down from the top of the mountain, a yellow ball balanced atop a giant finger. As he climbed up the rough steps cut into the mountainside, the old man came upon a small pool of water. Setting down his heavy picnic basket, he flopped down next to the pool for a rest.

He looked down at his reflection in the water, frowning. Eleanor had always said that he would grow into a silver fox, and gazing at his own face staring back at him, he certainly felt like a fox. Mangy, dishevelled, and looking like he’d just crawled out of a bin. This wouldn’t do. He scooped up a handful of water and splashed his face with it, gasping as the cold water hit his skin. He then used his fingers and tried to comb his long white hair into something a little more presentable. He looked back at his reflection. Better. Not great, but better.

He rummaged in the pockets of his robes and drew out a silver pocket watch. He flicked it open and checked the time. Less than an hour left until the eclipse. He considered using a little magic to get to the peak quicker, then dismissed the thought. The more power that he could save for the spell, the better. Besides, he was more than halfway up already. The old man replaced the watch, picked up the picnic basket and resumed his trudge up the stone steps.

The higher he got, the more treacherous the climb. The mountain winds nipped at his hands and his face, and sent his robes billowing out behind him. There was snow blowing in his eyes and forming piles on the steps, up to his ankles in places. He was grateful when he saw the steps levelling up into a plateau above him. He put on an extra burst of speed, looking forward to another rest and getting a fire going.

As he struggled up the last of the steps onto the plateau, he was greeted by the sight of four young people sitting on the rocks. At the sight of the old man, they all leaped up to their feet and stared at him. They were all heavily armed.

“Oh, hello there!” The old man gave them a cheery wave, “I’m terribly sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here.”

One of them, a young man with two-toned red and blue hair, stepped forward to confront him. He wore blue armour gilded with gold, and at his side was a longsword with an incredibly elaborate and impractical-looking handle in the shape of a dragon.

“So,” he spoke, solemnly, “we meet at last, Xathanous.”

The old man wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Oh, must you use that name? Some silly newspaper or some such called me that a long time ago. You can just call me Derek.”

“Very well...Derek,” the young man paused. “No, that feels wrong. Xanathous!” He pointed at Derek rather dramatically. “Before you stands the Heroes of Symbaria. We have travelled great distances and battled many evils to stand before you today!”

“You don’t say?” Derek beamed at them. “Fans, are you? Well, you’re welcome to join me at the peak. I would love a bit of company.” He squinted up at the sky, “We’re a little early, but we can climb up to the top and set the picnic up.” He gestured with the basket, “I’ve brought sandwiches.”

A beam of energy lanced over to him and knocked the basket out of his hand.

“Yowch!” he yelped and stuck his burning fingers in his mouth. “Alright,” he mumbled around them, “I’ve got other things as well. Cakes, fruit...”

“The old man wants to mock us.” The young man who had shot him grinned and twirled his staff, which was slightly smoking. He wore long red robes trimmed with white, complete with a hood and a cape. He pointed the staff at Derek again. “Don’t seek to distract us with these inanities, Dark Wizard.”

Derek removed the fingers from his mouth and frowned at the man with the staff.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t quite follow...”

“Stop playing dumb,” interrupted the only woman of the group. She had bright pink hair and was dressed in a way that probably would have made Eleanor tut-tut and offer her one of her knitted pullovers. “At year’s end, at world’s end, when darkness does through midday rend, the veils break, the earth shall shake, and all who live shall cease to wake,” she recited.

Derek gave her a little clap, “A lovely bit of poetry, my dear. Did you write that?”

“It’s not poetry, it’s a prophesy,” she snapped. “Words passed down by my people through generations. It tells of the coming of the Dark Wizard, and the coming of end of days, here at World’s End.”

“World’s End?” Derek frowned in confusion. “This was the Isle of Kyono back when I lived here. Have they changed the name?” He shook his head, “That name doesn’t even make any sense. The world’s a globe, it doesn’t have an end,” he shrugged. “Regardless, I don’t see what your ‘prophesy’ has to do with me?”

“On New Year’s Eve, the boundaries between this world and the next are at their weakest.” The fourth member of their group was tall, dressed entirely in black and wore a skull mask on his face. He might have been vaguely intimidating if his voice wasn’t a rasp that sounded like he was trying to speak through a throatful of marbles. “Before the New Year dawns and the world rejuvenates, and with the solar eclipse plunging the world into darkness, this day is the prime opportunity for you to break though the veil.”

Derek gave him a guilty little smile, “Well, it seems you’ve studied up on your cosmic magic. Alright, you’re found me out. But there’s nothing to worry about...”

“Enough talk!” Two-toned Hair pulled out his sword, which glowed with an odd golden light. “We won’t suffer you to plunge this world into chaos, villain!” He jumped towards Derek, blade flashing in a golden blur towards him. Derek casually raised his hand and caught the blade between his fingers. There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Young man,” Derek said, severely, “I don’t know how things are done in your country, but here at World’s End, we respect our elders.”

The blast from his hands sent Two-Toned flying across the plateau and landing in an undignified heap in a snow bank. Quick as a snake, Derek turned and caught the bolt of lightning sent at him by Hooded Mage. The bolt flowed from one palm to the other and then was re-directed into Skull-Face who was charging him, sending the tall man rocketing away. Derek stamped on the ground and Hooded Mage sunk up to his neck in the ground with a curse.

Pink-Hair, who had been muttering an incantation, slammed her hand on the ground and Derek suddenly found himself hoisted into the air. Dangling upside down, he stared into the eyes of a snow-golem, an eight foot tall behemoth made of snow and anger, which held him aloft by his ankles. Derek whistled in approval.

“That’s a very nifty trick for a girl your age. Well done!”

“Don’t patronise me!” Pink-Hair shouted angrily. The golem made to bite Derek’s head off, and he burst into flames. The behemoth melted into water around him and he dropped back to the ground. He waved his arms in a circle, gathering the water into a whirlpool which he flung towards Pink-Hair. She shrieked as she got swept up in the spinning tower of water.

Derek swept his arm toward Skull-Face, who was charging him again, catching the masked man up in the whirlpool as well. By this time, Two-Toned had dislodged himself from the snow bank. Derek sent the whirlpool over to him, but he rolled out of the way. He swung his sword into the ground, sending a blast which cut through the earth and sped towards Derek. The old man used a gust of wind to blow himself out of way in the nick of time, straight into the arms of the Hooded Mage, who had managed to unearth himself. The younger mage held Derek in an arm lock and grinned down at him.

“Nighty-night, old man.” Yellow sparks of electricity coursed down from the young mage’s hands, traveling up and down Derek’s body. The old man grimaced for a moment, then relaxed.

“Not bad, young’un. But if you really want to take on a fellow wizard, you’ve got to put some welly into it. Like this.”

The sparks turned emerald green and zipped back into the young mage’s hands, blasting him away with a yelp of pain. Two-Toned ran towards him, sword held aloft, but Derek stamped on the ground again, causing a boulder to erupt under the young swordsman’s feet. He went flying through the air in a graceful arc, landing directly into the whirlpool with his two friends still spinning around inside.

“Bullseye!” laughed Derek. He glanced at the sky and his laughter quickly died. There was a thin shadow covering the sun, and as he watched, it grew thicker.

I’ve wasted a lot of time, he thought, and a lot of magic. He waved his hand as the whirlpool fell apart, sending the three occupants crashing to the grounds in a sodden heap.

“I must dash, I’m afraid.” Derek gathered the winds about him and sent himself hurtling upwards towards the peak. As he flew upwards he felt a tug on his leg. Glancing down, he saw that Skull-Face had managed to attach a rope to his ankle and was hanging onto the end of it like a large angry spider. Derek whipped up his hands and a strong gust tore the young man off of the line.

“Points for tenacity,” Derek shouted over the roaring winds, “but I’m afraid I don’t have time to humor you anymore.” He flung out his hand and Skull-Face was sent flying down onto the mountain peak. Derek clapped and a crevice opened in the rock, snatching the young man like a pincer and holding him half-buried, legs waving futilely in the air.

Derek landed next to him and calmly walked past him up the slope. At the very top of the mountain stood an altar of stone, covered in strange symbols and runes. Surrounding the alter were six torches on poles, which burst into flames as Derek approached, giving him a bit of light as the moon finished enveloping the sun, covering the mountain in darkness.

Derek breathed a sigh of relief.

“Just in time.” He went to press his hand on the altar.

Suddenly, a shadowy tendril wrapped around his chest. “No!” he shouted as he was yanked away from the altar. He twist his head around. Hooded Mage had followed him, the tendril protruding from his back as he muttered incantations. Another two sprouted out and wrapped around Derek’s arms.

“Let me go!” Derek yelled, struggling. “Please! I don’t have time for this!”

“Good to know!” the Hooded Mage shouted back, “You can stay there until the sun comes back and the others get here.”

Derek shook his head.

“Well, I tried asking nicely.” An explosion of light suddenly erupted from Derek’s hands, disintegrating the shadows. Hooded Mage yelped and covered his eyes, blinded.

Derek dropped and with a wave of his hand flew back over to the altar, landing on top of it with a yelp of pain. He twisted awkwardly and slammed his hand down upon it. There was a blast of air, extinguishing the torches, sending both Derek and the Hooded Mage tumbling head over heels as a shockwave rippled down the whole mountain, sending up an unearthly rumble. There was a brilliant explosion of blue light from the altar, then, as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. There was darkness and stillness and a coppery tang in the air.

Slowly, as the sun began to re-emerge and light seeped back down upon the peak, Derek was revealed, back on his feet, black robes flapping in the breeze. And standing next to him, semi-transparent and glowing with an odd ethereal light, was a woman around Derek’s age. She smiled at him fondly.

“Hello, D. You’ve taken a while this year, haven’t you?”

“Apologies, my love. I had a bit of a... kerfuffle.” The Hooded Mage was struggling to untangle himself from his robes. Derek bent down to help him as the woman blinked at him.

“Who’s this? Have you brought some friends?”

“Well...In a manner of speaking...”

“XATHANOUS!” Two-Toned and Pink-Hair were staggering up to the peak. Two-Toned waved his sword at him wearily, “Don’t think you’ve won yet, you old snake!” They then spotted the woman and paused. She waved at them cheerily.

“Hello dears! I’m Eleanor. Are you friends of my husband?”

Two-Toned lowered his sword, the wind rather taken out of his sails, “I...I mean, we...”

“We just had a small misunderstanding, my love,” Derek pulled Hooded Mage to his feet and brushed the dirt off his robes as the young man blinked, his sight slowly returning,

“The solar eclipse had these youngsters a little spooked, thinking I might be up to something nefarious.”

“Derek!” Eleanor was aghast, “Have you been fighting these children?”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight.” Derek held out his hand and the staff zipped over to him.

He caught it and handed it back to its owner, who took it back gingerly.

“No, neither would I,” Hooded Mage muttered. “That was a massacre.”

“Oh, cheer up,” said Derek, giving him a playful thump on the arm, “I’ve been doing magic since your father was just a glint in his father’s eyes. You’ll get there.”

“Hold on a moment!” Two-Toned shouted, recovering his gusto, “What the hell is going on here?”

Derek held a hand out to the ghostly woman, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce my wife, Eleanor.”

Eleanor bobbed a quick curtsy.

Pink-Hair looked back and forth between them in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s really rather simple. My wife passed away some years ago, and every New Year’s Eve, when the boundaries break down, I bring her here to visit. Just for a few hours, you know.”

“B-but...” Pink-Hair said, “The prophesy...”

“Yes, well, it was worded rather vaguely, my dear,” Derek said, gently. “I think those sorts of prophesies can apply to a lot of things, depending on how you interpret them. I’m not so sure it applies to me, though.”

“Right,” Pink-Hair glanced at Two-Toned as he just stood there looking flabbergasted, “This...this is a little embarrassing, then. We thought you were going to end the world.”

Eleanor stifled a giggle as Derek shook his head ruefully, “Why would I do that? All my things are here, and I can’t be house-hunting at my age.”

Pink-Hair looked at the ground in embarrassment, “Well, in that case, I’m very sorry for trying to kill you.”

Derek waved a hand casually, “Not to worry. These things happen, my dear.”

“Since we’re done fighting,” Hooded Mage put in, “could you dig him up?” He gestured to where Skull-Face was still half buried in the rock.

“What? Oh, of course, apologies.” Derek stamped his foot and Skull-Face sprang out of the ground like a plucked flower. He pulled off his mask, revealing a chubby freckled face as he coughed and spat dirt out of his mouth onto the ground. Eleanor clapped her hands together cheerfully.

“Now that’s all settled, why don’t you young ones go and set up the picnic? I’d like a moment with my husband.”

Pink-Hair scuffed her foot in the ground, “That’s kind of you, ma’am, but we wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense. My Derek always packs far too much food anyway. Go on, we’ll join you in a moment.” Pink-Hair nodded and led a stunned Two-Toned away by the arm, while Hooded Mage half dragged, half carried Skull-Face, who was still spluttering. When they were out of sight down the peak, Eleanor turned to her husband, hands on her hips.

“Well,” she said severely, “seems you’ve had quite an eventful day.”

Derek gave her a sheepish smile, “Would it help if I told you that they started it?”

She smiled back and held out her arms, “Come here, you silly old badger.”

Derek wrapped her in a hug. They stayed there, enjoying the embrace for a few quiet moments.

“This feels different than usual. More solid,” she murmured against his chest.

“The eclipse gave the spell a little extra ‘oomph’ this year. We’ll have a few more hours than usual.” She looked up at him and smiled sadly.

“It won’t be enough.”

“Eternity wouldn’t be enough.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be getting that any day now.”

“How dare you!” he exclaimed, “I’m in the prime of my life, I’ll have you know. Go ask those young’uns if you don’t believe me.” She laughed and kissed his cheek.

“Happy Anniversary, old man.”

“Happy Anniversary,” He bent to kiss her.

The End