The Wand of Aboud (Prompt 30)

Hank recovered the wand from the pile of garbage. He had been searching for discarded scraps of food to satisfy his empty, moaning stomach when his eyes fell on this polished piece of stick. As soon as his hands touched the wand, it vibrated violently, shaking him up as well. Hank tried his best to grip the wand in his fist but it set itself free and floated midair, emitting sparks of yellow and red light. For a time, Hank felt he was dreaming. The wand was floating, unhindered, unsupported. The sparks being discharged were creating a picture, a painting right in front of him, on nothing but thin air. His eyes saw, but his mind did not believe. He rubbed his frightfully. He pinched himself to awaken from this weird nightmare. Nothing happened. 

Soon it would be dawn and the people of this small town at the edge of Freia, would start to go about their chores. Hank, a ragpicker, would be mercilessly thrashed if found roaming the streets. People looked down upon ragpickers like him. They didn’t want to bother themselves with the enormous amounts of waste they throw out. Nobody liked his smell or his muddy, ragged attire. The life of a ragpicker was one of loneliness. He was an untouchable.

The wand fell down on Hank’s feet, which aroused him from his introspection. The wand’s freshly drawn art displayed graphically in front of him over the pile of stinking garbage. It was not a painting, he noticed. It was a map. He could make out the oddly shaped city of Freia and near to it, in the small town of Ruia, was a small blot. His location was marked. A black line started from this blot, all the way to the mountains of Tamad, at the edge of the continent. There in bold letters was an inscripted message.

‘Return the wand to Aboud. 

Find Him. Save Him.’

The message was most definitely not meant for him. But was this really Aboud’s wand? The strongest of mages who ever walked this barren earth. The kind and gentle spirit who brought about happiness and pleasures across the continent. Or so Hank had heard.

Hank didn’t know anything about magic or mages. He was only a ragpicker. He had heard stories, of course, of Aboud the Great and Aboud the Enlightened. He had only been a kid when Aboud had been dethroned by a coup by his most favoured of queens. 

The legend said that he had been beheaded and the continent had mourned. He remembered the story well, since his family was the one leading the protest in Ghirna against the evil queen and were brutally murdered. He had alone survived, running from the attackers, hiding in the gutters. His fate over the last twenty years had thrown him from one city to another, from one town to the other. And here now, he thought he had the chance to redeem his past, his family by returning the wand to Aboud, the Great.

Without further ado, Hank retrieved the wand. As he did so, the map vanished. He had been expecting another one of its jerks, but this time it complied with his touch. He hid the wand underneath his brown shirt which was torn and full of slits. He managed to place the wand against his waistband where it snuggled comfortably. Exhaling deeply, Hank made his way out of the town, excited and afraid of what lay ahead.

The journey would have been comfortable if he had money for food and boarding. Instead he ate what he could find on the sides of the road and drank from streams along the way. He stayed away from travelling on the king’s road, fearful of getting picked on by other travellers. He travelled along the fringes of the highway. Only when it was dark would he tread on the main road. He ignored cities and instead slept under trees or in a farm on the outskirts.

On one such lonely night, under the crescent moon and a starless night, Hank had trouble sleeping. His muscles were in pain after a long walk and his feet were itching with blisters. He had lost his shoes along the way and was walking barefoot. After tossing about a little, he gave up on sleep. He was unsure of whether to continue on, in the dark or stay put till dawn. Trying to distract himself from his pain, Hank pulled out the wand. 

Although he had never seen a mage at work Hank was pretty sure a wand was to be held like a sword or any other weapon. You just point the wand, utter the spell and boom, watch the magic happen. Unconsciously, he tried to enact the image in his head. As he twisted the wand in his hand, a loud blasting sound escaped from the tip of the wand, along with sprinkles of lightning. Hank dropped the wand and looked around to check if someone had heard him. Was anyone approaching? No one was nearby. The sound and light show had ended as soon as Hank had released the wand. Muttering off his misfortune and the difficulty of this endeavour, Hank stood up and started to walk.

Never again, throughout his journey did Hank touch the wand again. As he neared the mountains, Hank kept to the main road. There were hardly any travellers around. The mountains were haunted. There wasn’t a village or a town near to them. People stayed away from Tamad. And yet, Hank walked towards them. The villagers and townspeople looked at him oddly as he passed them. Everyone guessed he was going to the mountains, but no one stopped him. Apparently, the reputation of a ragpicker was the same across the continent. 

He reached the base of the mountains of Tamad, as the sun was setting. The sky was filled with embers of orange and pink. Desperate to end this tryst, Hank started to climb up the mountain. As the darkness engulfed the surroundings, it was getting harder for Hank to see. He crashed against sharp rocks and damaged his feet further. If he could see, Hank would have noticed he was bleeding. The excitement of meeting Aboud and the satisfaction of ending his journey kept him going. Tired and puffing, Hank looked up to see how far the peak was. He noticed a small firelight. It was probably emanating from a cave since Hank couldn’t see the source. Hank panicked at first but then realised that no one except Aboud would have the courage to reside in a mountain famous for murderous ghosts and evil spirits.

Hank climbed towards the light, anxious to meet Aboud. Nearing the light, Hank grunted with content, as his eyes outlined the hidden cave. Standing outside, he called out Aboud’s name a few times, but no one answered. Unsure of what to do next, he entered the cave.

The cave was well lit. There were small smouldering fires along the path. Hank kept following the path and came to the end of the cave. He saw a cookpot simmering upon a raging fire. There was a stirrer, stirring the contents of the pot independently. It was rotating on its own. Hank neared the cookpot and held the stirrer. 

There was a loud explosion and a man materialised in front of Hank. He was wearing a pointy grey hat and was covered in grey tunic. Hank jerked back with shock and fell backwards. He pulled out the wand and was pointing it at the old man, trying to scare him off.

‘There now.’ The man said. ‘Don’t do anything regretful.’ He had his hands raised in defence.

‘Wh..Wh..Who are you? Hank stuttered.

‘The question is who are you and how did you find me?’ The man relaxed his hands, and perched down on his heels.

‘Aren’t you Aboud?’

The old man smiled. ‘Oh, I see it now! Jaws, come to papa.’

The moment he said that, the wand slipped out of Hank’s grip and flew towards the old man.

As soon as the old man gathered the wand, a wave of visible energy swept through him.

‘Oh, I haven’t felt this strong in ages.’ The old man said, standing up.

Hank was amazed to see it. He started to get up but realising he was in company of a mage, knelt down in subservience, submitting himself to the mage’s command.

‘The wand tells me things, Hank. You may stand up. I am in your debt. You have saved me from a disgraceful existence. Please stand up.’

Hank stood up hesitantly. He remained slightly hunched lest Aboud take slight.

‘Tell me Hank. How can I thank you for your service to me?’ Aboud asked. His voice reverberated in the cave.

Hank shook his head. Just about then, his face turned thoughtful. ‘The continent is in a terrible bind. It needs fixing, my lord.’

Aboud smiled. ‘Always the humble ragpicker.’ 

Hank looked up at Aboud in awe. How did he know?

Aboud waved his wand around. ‘Let’s fix it then, shall we? And maybe later on, we will get to you.’ The wand started to emanate light. Hank was thankful to his fate. He was heading into yet another adventure.