To Forge a Legend

That summer day in the small town of Westfield was a warm and muggy day by any standards.  The clouds hung lazy and sparse in the large azure sky as flocks of bird fluttered and sung in the air.  The constant sounds of motorized vehicles roared from the amazingly hot black street of the highway which cut directly through the farming town.  Vast and beautiful fields of fruits and vegetables dotted the farmlands that stretched for miles away from the small cluster of buildings which represented town square.  It was in here, within a building that acted as both City Hall and the Public Library, where a young Southerner from Florida was browsing the racks of books for sale.

The room where the racks of books for sale was placed outside the closed wooden doors which lead to the normally quite and cool public library.  The floor was a fashioned with a blue zigzag designed tiles that was hidden under stands and a slightly damaged brown rug which stretched  down the massive hall.  The walls and ceiling were a bleach white color which partially hurt the eyes of those who visited the buildings and had not grown accustomed to it.  Constant chatter and bickering in foreign and domestic languages echoed down the lightly populated hall giving the disguise of appearing packed, though that could also be because many of the people talking were just a few notches away from screaming due to joy, anger, disappointment or another emotion which did not register in the young man's mind.

Wayward, a local farm hand and Martial Arts disciple, had his arms folded over his broad chest as his dull blue eyes scanned through the different styles of books that laid upon the four white racks that stood before him, his black and grey hat shading his eyes from the blinding light from the florescent bulbs overhead as  the hypnotic and bass thumping music playing through his headphones drowned out most of the unwanted sounds that echoed in the sanitized hallway.  He had recently finished working hard at the local farm and was given the rest of the day to do what he pleased, which he had hoped to use the computers to access some online spells to see if he could find any, but the library today was closing soon and he didn't really have much time to browse the web for the spells he was looking for, which would of taken him several hours to locate an actual arcane spell that wasn't blocked or erased.  So as a second best choice, Wayward had decided to find some action or fantasy book for sale so he could take it home and read while he relaxed.

After searching for several minutes and running his eyes over the books countless times, he decided to grab one of the unknown fantasy books which didn't acclaim to be New York Times #1 book of the year or something like that.  The book had decent reviews on the back and had a pretty eye catching cover so he decided to try it out, before he spotted the book that was hidden behind it.  The mysterious white leather book almost blended in with the wall behind it, lacking any symbol or text to identify what it was exactly and it seemed to be fresh off the press without any finger prints of even a hint of dirt on the flawless white cover.  Without realizing it, Wayward had replaced the novice written fantasy book with the flawless white one and walked into the library to purchase it.  He hadn't realized he had bought the nameless book until he pulled it out an hour later to read during his walk home.

A sense of irritation and unusual amusement began to flow to the surface of his head as he looked at the flawless book.  He had mentally convinced himself that he might as well examine the context of the book instead, seeing as the library was closed by now.  When he flipped the cover over to see the title of the book, his eyebrow unintentionally perked upward when he spotted a blank page, unaware the wind had suddenly picked up and blew against his back towards his small trailer.  Wayward thumbed through the pages once at a time and the sense of anger at paying for an empty book began to boil past the sense of amusement, his eyes narrowing as he flipped faster and faster through the pages in an attempt to find something, anything, written within the clean pages of the beautiful white book.

Before he could reach halfway through the book, however, he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.  "Yo, Wayward!" The deep, British hinted voice called from behind the farmhand.  Wayward closed the book upon turning around to greet his slightly shorter, stockier friend who's skin glistened in the muggy summer day.  His brown hair was buzzed to hug tightly against his head to keep him from getting too hot during this time of the year and his brown eyes gleamed with enthusiastic life as he jogged over to the now waiting Wayward.  "Hey Patrick, how ya'll doin'?"  Wayward's voice was higher than Patrick's, but not by much and was more cold than the enthusiastic friend, which normally sent chills down the unwary spines of people.

"Just got out of work.  But what are you doing out of work so early?  Don't old man Johnson normally work your tail to the bone until sunset?" Patrick asked with a gentle chuckle.  The artist's voice had the unnatural ability to always lift the mood of people around him without much effort.  The younger convenient store clerk's gentle laugh helped in washing away Wayward's rising anger rather quickly because of their unbreakable bond and Patrick's talent and lifting almost any atmosphere.

Patrick and Wayward weren't actually blood brothers, nor were they step-brothers, their brotherhood was that of two wandering souls who had spent a great deal of time together and created a dependable and trusting relationship that has kept the two from going insane for the past five years of being alone.  Both having come from the South, Florida more specifically, they hadn't met until they became biological lab partners in high school were Wayward complimented the Japanese Cartoon drawing Patrick had sketched upon his own folder.  That was several years ago in a slightly larger town, but now their bond only strengthened with Wayward acting as the older, combat oriented brother and Patrick filling in the role of the younger, enthusiastic brother.

Wayward placed the white book back into the bag he had drawn it from and decided he shouldn't try to read while speaking to Patrick, that would obviously of been a rude act towards his closest friend.  "The old man had something to deal with and decided to let me off early to do my own thing."  The Martial Artist sighed as he placed his hands into his pockets and began walking, Patrick matching his stride as Wayward filled his friend in on his day at the library.  By the end of his story, Patrick had already started to laugh at Wayward's mistake, amused that the magic addicted Martial Artist could mistake a fantasy book which was nicely detailed and had actual color and words on it for a blank, white book with nothing on, nor in it.

"Didn't you at least look through the book before paying for it?" Patrick said after his fit of laughter, placing his hands behind his head as he walked without a care in the world with his friend who was still heading towards their home.

"I didn't know I was buying it until it was too late, you know how little I pay attention inside that double building!"  Wayward snapped back with slight irritation which quickly faded away.  "Besides, at least now I have something to transfer the spells from my old note book onto.  That poor thing was quite literally falling apart, I've had it since before we met in high school, remember?"  The young Martial Artist's voice held a note of joy as he reminded his friend.

"Duh, of course I remember."  Patrick said with a gentle shove against Wayward.  "After we spent the night you cast that good luck spell on me so I didn't flunk my Algebra test."  That same Algebra test which had he had scored a perfect score on a week later.  Before he met Wayward, Patrick wasn't a believer of the supernatural and thought magic was a mere optical illusion done by skilled biologist and chemists.  However, the week before his test had made the young artist worried since he had not done very good in the course in the past and was told if he failed this test he would fail the class, which means his mother wouldn't fail in tanning his hide five shades a brighter red!

"I still have that spell, you know?"  Wayward chimed in with a sly sideways smile towards Patrick.  "But I just haven't had the need to cast it lately, seeing as we have been having a really decent luck streak as of late."  Patrick let out a simple nod as he said "Oh yeah, we both got a job, a home to rest our heads and are making enough cash to survive with a little extra on the side."  Wayward looked over to his artistic friend as he added "And living in such a small town, we don't really need a car, so our bills are ridiculously small."

"Though our food bill ain't, huh Jaba?" Patrick said as he lightly slapped Wayward on the back with a playful tone in his voice.  "Seriously, I swear you eat about as much as a horse sometimes!"  With that comment, the two brothers laughed together and made their way to their small teal colored trailer.

The home wasn't really big, but it was enough for the two young men to live comfortably together where they would alternate daily between who got the couch and who go the single bedroom.  When one had the day off but the other worked, they would need to sleep in the grass green hide-a-bed while the other slept on the twin sized bed, though Wayward often found himself sleeping on the floor many nights due to their rough past of lacking proper beds for so long.  Tonight, Patrick had the couch since Wayward still needed to get up in the morning, though something kept the young spell caster up.  A sense was poking at the back of his head, a feeling of desire, of needing to do something, but what he did not know.

He was roused from his thoughts when he heard the sound of vibration cause his nightstand to shake lightly and a faint golden light suddenly envelope the strange white book he had bought today brightening the dark room and bringing shape to the black void that surrounded the book, defining the dark green carpet and swirling brown wood paneling that decorated the otherwise plane room.  When Wayward attempted focus his vision upon the source of the light, he found himself subconscious reaching to open the book to discover words had begun to appear upon the pages as if someone was writing the words down.

Wayward's eyes widen even more at what the words needed to say...

"To whoever is reading this, I need your help, please!  My name is of little concern, but our world is in trouble, monsters have begun to swarm our home and we are being slaughtered to the last of our soldiers.  This book is a two way communication tome infused with magic so that whoever is reading this can see the words I am writing.  We are running out of time, if anything can understand what these words are saying, please do something!  Let me know you'er there!"

Wayward's thoughts pondered at the amazement of the words that appeared upon the pages.  Had to be some kind of Divination magic or possibly Transmutation?  It mattered little to the young warrior; this writing was rather sloppy, but it appeared to be serious trouble.  Wayward's hand lightly held his chin lightly as he momentarily thought of what was happening and was actually only minimally impressed by the magic.  This could possibly be serious and whoever is writing this is in serious danger.  If so, then he is wasting time and should quickly respond to see how he could help.  A knight's duty was to protect the innocent after all, right?

However, something didn't fit right with him at the moment;  Was it just coincidence he had located the book instead of another individual?  What if someone who didn't practice the Arcane Arts had stumbled upon this book?  Why was a book, possibly so power as to send messages to unknown distances or even planes of reality, of been left undetected within the library of a farming town of Westfield?  As many questions that rose up in Wayward's mind, the thought of if the power magical item was active an a world where magic was literally being drained from the world.  The fact this book excised should of raised a red flag, but for some reason, he found himself reaching over to the drawer of the nightstand, retrieved the pen that sat upon his dream journal and wrote back a reply within the book.

"If what you say is true, then I need to to explain to me as best as you can, how I am supposed to be able to help you?"

The book began to glow as Wayward finished writing the sentence and in even sloppier writing than before, the words began to appear and show steps that involved ingredients, an incantation as well as instructions which would require time for Wayward to accomplish.  After reading several sentences of the new spell, the young martial artist became revitalized with excitement in the simple fact that he was about to learn a new spell.  It appears he was able to find something after all, it just took some time to do.

It took Wayward less than a few seconds to get up and head through to the kitchen, past the living room where Patrick was relaxing on the couch watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and enjoying the Grand wedding episode during Princess Cadance's solo.  The living room was not much larger than the bedroom, but instead had teal walls and a brown carpet that gave the room a more modern feel.  A large Televison set stood next to the sliding glass door which lead to their front porch, a stone floored patio with only a single wooden table and two chairs.  Leaning on the wall with the door that lead to the bathroom (which past that lead to the bedroom) was a small wooden computer table which had a rather nice black desktop computer that held a pink stylized symbol that held a red lightning bolt on the top, an orange apple on the upper right, a purple diamond on the upper left, a pink balloon on the lower left, a yellow butterfly on the lower right and finally a pink sparkle in the center on top of an intricate and beautiful golden badge as the background.  A pale yellow couch sat opposite of the TV where Patrick was relaxing before having his friend toss the pristine book Wayward had bought earlier that day at him.

   Thankful for his quick reflexes, Patrick just barely caught the book when Wayward tossed it at him as he passed through the living room into the small kitchen which held not only cooking herbs, but a large cabinet also held very rare and unique ingredients Wayward had received from his mother and grand mother.  As Patrick heard his friend rummage through the cabinet that held his herbs and spices inside the kitchen, he decided to pause the recorded episode with a single press of a black button with a blue "X" on it, causing the show to freeze before he opened the book to look through the pages, curious as to why his friend was acting the way he was.  At first with a neutral expression, Patrick's eyes slowly rose in surprise when he spotted the dialog and instructions at the back of the book, able to discern Wayward's neat and clean writing compared to the sloppy, rushed writing of the book.

"Hah, very funny dude."  Patrick had started as he stood up from the couch.  Wayward and him have had a few incidents where the young magician would act surprised and tricked Patrick in taking his medicine by mixing in harmless objects that only made the medicine slightly less grottoes.  Before the convenience store clerk could take a step forward to meet his friend in their small kitchen, he felt the book vibrate suddenly dropped the tome in shock.  If it was possible for the rising musician's eyes to widen anymore than they had, then they certainly did when glowing words began to appear upon the pages before him.

"Please, you must hurry!  The spell must be cast when the moon is full and at it's highest point in the sky!"

It had taken Patrick several moments for Patrick's eyes to return to their normal size as well as the voice of Wayward.  "Patrick, I need you to read out the portions and the instructions.  I have my hands a bit full here and your help would be greatly appreciated!"  After realizing he was dumbfounded by the sudden magic that he had just witnessed first hand, Patrick quickly picked up the book and looked through the instructions, reading them out word-for-word so that Wayward would not accidental mess up the concoction.  For a few minutes, Patrick's voice, the constant bubbling of water and the occasional sound of Wayward dropping something within the water were the only sounds that filled the trailer.

After a while, however, Patrick did eventually speak up.  "Alright, now we need to take the pot outside and let it soak up the moon's rays.  But dude, are you sure we should be doing this?"  The artist's voice held an obvious note of caution as he watched Wayward walk into the living room carrying a large pot that he assumed held the outcome of the concoction that the book requested them to make.  Wayward gave his friend a soft smile as he nodded slowly, his voice holding the adventurous and slightly excited tone that made Patrick’s stomach slightly knot up after hearing it.  “It’s a new spell, dude!  With any luck it could open a plethora of new knowledge!”  The last time Wayward had used that voice the two of them ended up getting into a pretty mean brawl that forced both of them to take three weeks off from work to recover.

Unfortunately, Patrick knew it was pointless to try and convince his friend otherwise.  So, he did the only sensible thing two friends with a brother-like bond do in a situation like this; go along for the ride.  Patrick opened the sliding glass door that lead to the front porch and followed Wayward out into the front lawn where the moon was almost hanging perfectly overhead.  The look on Wayward’s face made Patrick smile in empathic amusement.  The young magic practitioner only showed such enthralled attention whenever he discovered a spell that actually worked and, seeing as this came from what once was a blank book now having content via magic that might or might not of come from this very plane of existence, gave Wayward an incredible desire to draw as much knowledge as he could from this source.

When Patrick’s eyes gazed up at the moon, now looming just inches from its highest point, he suddenly remembered the last part of the message that appeared after Wayward had tossed him the book.  “Oh, dude, we need to hurry!”  Wayward gave his friend a look of minor confusion at what Patrick was saying.  “We only have till midnight to finish the spell, you need to-“Wayward suddenly interrupted Patrick as he said “We need to do the incantation.  As confident as I am in my magical ability, I’m going to need you to help balance out the power and let me keep some of my energy in case we do end up in trouble.”

“W-Wait, trouble?” Patrick’s voice raised in pitch, not due to the fact Wayward wanted him to practice some of his bibidy-bobidy-boo stuff, but by the possibility of being dropped into a hostile area where he could actually get hurt.  “Dude, I am not into getting wacked by anyone or anything, for that matter.  Why do you even want to jump into what possibly could be trouble?”  Patrick partially knew why already, but he wanted to hear it from Wayward first.

“Two reasons, really.” Wayward started, looking up towards the moon.  “But I’ll tell you those later, dudes.  We are running out of time fast if what you said is accurate.  Mind giving me a hand?” Patrick gave his friend a surprised look; this was like, practically the worst time to do something like this!  “But…But I…But you…But we…” His voice kept stopping as his mind was constantly restarted to find the right answers.  Eventually he mustered out his only excuse “But…Ponies!” He had said ponies an octave higher than his usual voice as he motions his arms towards the house to exaggerate his desire to return to his show.

“I’ll buy you all five seasons on DVD and pay for a weekend for you to stay at the next Bronycon when it comes up, alright?” Oh, that was just blackmailing now!  Patrick shoved both of his hands under his armpits as he stuck out his lower lip in frustration at the offer, pouting at the unfair deal.  Taking that motion as a yes, Wayward smiled a bit more as he gave an excited nod.  “Alright, now, you remember how I usually cast my spells?”  The pouting younger friend nodded slowly before taking a deep breath with Wayward and taking the position his friend normally did when he concentrated an incantation on him.

With feet shoulder length apart and arms outstretched in front of him over the pot, Patrick made sure the bottom of his hands and his thumbs touched as his other fingers fanned and stretched outward.  Wayward assumed the same stance as he looked down at the pot with a stern look, his brow furrowed as he asked “You know the incantation?” Patrick’s shoulder’s slumped with an exasperated expression, his eyes looking at Wayward with slight irritation.  “Yes, I totally remembered an incantation I only took a single look at and can recite it by heart.” Sarcasim was completely obvious in his voice, but Wayward only chuckled lightly as he nodded.  “Alright, I’ll recite it first since it is actually easy to remember, for me anyway.”  That’s because you’re used to this stuff, Patrick thought as he returned to his position.

Wayward took a deep breath as he returned to his focused expression returned, concentrating solely on the energy from his body and focusing it into the palms of his hands, the young man began to speak with a deep voice that appeared unexpected from the usually calm and happy individual.

“Two as one, one as two.

Show us the path and be it true.

One as two, two as one

As our will, so be it done.”

Simple enough, Patrick thought as he took a deep breath and began reciting the simple words with Wayward several times.  After approximately the fifth time they had chanted the incantation, the moon reached its peak and the local church began to play a tune, announcing to the people it had officially became midnight.  Patrick and Wayward glanced at each other, both showing more signs of fatigue than they previously showed, before looking down at the pot and noticed that the contents had begun to turn into mist and surround them.  Wayward looked around and nodded slowly as he took a deep breath, attempting to relax so that the spell could take its effect where Patrick was a little less…awake about the situation.

The moment the fine blue fog reached the already exhausted musician’s face, he felt his mind begin to fog up even more as he heard a calming female voice echo in his head, commanding him to relax.  He had done just that and more, falling flat on his face and beginning to snore lightly before he had made contact with the floor.  Wayward, however, remained awake for as long as he could before his vision blurred and a brilliant flash of white light engulfed his vision, slipping him into unconsciousness.