Blood Jewel Hills

MAGIC ISN'T ALWAYS FAIRY DUST

Boozizi woke up before the sun peered over the hills. The tiny chi-mah-shas chirped loudly from the window, echoing their soothing songs throughout his room. Chi-mah-shas were colorful songbirds with chirps that harmonized eventfully; during mating season their songs were celebratory and soothing like a symphony. Boozizi took a deep breath and stretched. His bones cracked, releasing tension.

The past couple weeks of hunting had been unlucky. Boozizi traveled far and wide, deep within the hills, but no animals. Since Ordovi had become the new “go-to” for supplies and food in the area, Boozizi decided to make a trip to the city.

Boozizi got up from bed and slid on his leather chaps. As he reached for the belt, his corpse-stone dagger dropped. The dagger was a hand-carved piece of primordial art, crafted during the first age of Wawazune. The blade was made from stone discovered in an old volcanic cave that mysteriously disappeared. The handle was made out of bone and said to have come from an extinct creature named Oranja.

Oranja was a monstrous bird with sharp talons and a yellow beak. He was a manifestation of dark energy that instigated war within Blood Jewel Hills during the mythical age of mortals.

The corpse-stone dagger was a prized heirloom from Boozizi's father. It was five generations old and came from a Chitchulan—-a very ancient female wizard that was said to have helped one of Boozizi’s ancestral relatives battle Oranja.

Boozizi made his way outside. The sun-rays had finally managed to peer through the swaying trees. It seemed an ordinary morning, until fog etched its way into the fields behind the booyak stable.

On the edge of the fields, Boozizi caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette in the shape of a man. He was carrying a baby, running hurriedly in and out of the trees, until they both faded into the shadows. When Boozizi finally made it to the stable, the door was propped open. He entered cautiously, looking around to make sure no one had snuck in. He shut the door.

The wind whistled against the windowpane, echoing softly. An eerily silence spoke, as though the stable was an abandoned desolate ghost town. Boozizi reached for the saddle hung on the stable wall. His mind wandered; what could come from such silence.

As Boozizi lifted the saddle, a chazii barn owl abruptly screeched. She flew around the room uncontrollably, side-to-side. Boozizi stood still. He tried to calm the owl. It didn't work. Eventually she perched herself high above on a wooded beam. Her dark mysterious eyes looked downward, gleaming like two yellow moons in a clear midnight sky.

Boozizi put the saddle down slowly and opened the window. He tried nudging the owl in hopes she might fly out, but she only continued to stare. Boozizi approached her.

“Now, I know you don’t like being bothered, but you really need to go.” Boozizi said.

Boozizi grabbed a wooden mask that hung on the pole.

“You may not like this!” Boozizi warned.

The owl’s eyes were hypnotically transfixed on Boozizi. Boozizi stared right back at the owl with the same intensity. Their eyes locked.

Boozizi cautiously placed the mask over his face. He morphed into a manifestation of strangeness and embodied the persona of the mask. He danced awkwardly with thunderous erratic stances and made low-grunted noises. The owl wouldn't move. She sat still staring at Boozizi as her white and beige feathers fluffed out.

Boozizi stepped forward skillfully, making sure not to shift his eyes away. He danced with his knees crouched down and continued to make low-grunted noises. Without warning, Boozizi clapped his hands together.

BAM!

The noise scared the bejesus out of the owl and without any resistance, the owl flew out the window franticly, but not before dropping a tiny object onto the floor. Boozizi picked up the object. It was a shiny red stone shaped like a teardrop.

A tiny wheel of light spun within the stone, blinding Boozizi's eyes. A rush of heat travelled down his spine. He tried to move his hand over his dagger, but wasn’t able to move. His body froze and locked. The room became black, as black as soot. Boozizi looked up.

An old freakish man stood in front of Boozizi, laughing. His body was transparent, his heart transluscent. Boozizi could see the heart pulsate. While the heart pulsated, a resonating rhythm reverberated disruptively within Boozizi’s ears. It was an intense high-frequency vibration, a distinguishable sound, not easily ignored.

The man's eyes were sunken into his sockets as dark shadows and his hair was thin, black, and scraggly. His body was chained to a boulder and in the palm of his hand lie a tiny baby, held by his lanky and skinned fingers. He breathed in deeply and upon exhale, mercilessly blew out a large fireball from his mouth.

The fireball flew wildly and vehemently towards Boozizi. Boozizi stood there terrified, until he rediscovered he could move his body again. Using every ounce of his strength, Boozizi ducked down; the fireball missed his head by five centimeters.

As if a careless child playing with fire, the old man just laughed. He continued to spit fireballs. Boozizi swayed left and right, right and left as the man’s laughter intensified. Eventually, Boozizi pulled his dagger out and in desperation, pierced the old man’s heart.

Hysterically, the baby reached out to Boozizi, and in one loud cry she screamed, “Papa!”

The scream was excruciating as it travelled throughout Boozizi’s body. So intense was the sound, he fell to his knees and dropped the bloody dagger. Instantaneously, the freakish old man and baby turned to ash.

A strong wind blew across the room. The ashes swirled out the window and the old freakish man’s laughter slowly subsided. Everything disappeared. Everything became quiet.

Boozizi picked the dagger up and regained his composure. The morning sun had etched its way through the stable window. A chimahsha bird chirped on the ledge.

He took a deep breath and looked down at his hand. The teardrop stone he picked up earlier was gone and the dagger no longer had blood on the blade instead, it was covered in soot.

© 2021 Jalisa Moonstone