The Return of Zombom

     Zombom chose the latter. Never mind that it would be a long trek back to Meridell through the underwater cave.

     * * *

     Meadowsend was an aptly named tavern on the edge of a small village close to Meriwoods Forest, southwest of Meridell. It received considerable traffic from travellers entering and exiting the kingdom, campers and adventurers, even bandits and mercenaries. Almost every night, it was loud and rowdy with many songs and stories within its walls, whether from the customers or from the staff.

     One of Meadowsend’s customers was a pink Aisha clad in a dark grey coat over her blue and black robes. While swishing around the last of the Grog Light in her mug, the silver earrings in her second pair of ears tinkled gently. She sat primly at the counter, watching a green Vandagyre wiping down the surface and wincing at a missed syrup spill. Then she decided to focus on the Elephante playing an upbeat tune on the ancient organ next to the empty stage – he seemed to be a red Elephante, at first glance, but the red of his skin was different. Darker.

     “Heh, do you have a request for Zomri?” the Vandagyre asked her. “I mean, he’s always been nice about taking requests whenever he can. I’m sure he can’t refuse one from his…you said you were friends?”

     “I guess you could say that,” the Aisha answered softly, sipping her grog. “We’ve met. A few times.”

     The Vandagyre raised his eyebrows as he put his rag away, wiped his wings on his apron, and began rearranging some bottles. “Well, you can just walk up to him then, this song should be winding down.” Sure enough, the Elephante’s notes reached a rousing crescendo before ending on a bright, perfect glissando that caused many of the tavern’s patrons to stand up, clap, and cheer. Zomri stood and bowed grandly, waving to his adoring public.

     As he glanced across the tavern’s dining hall, his eyes rested on the pink Aisha, who smiled at him. Zomri’s flamboyant manner seemed to crack ever so slightly, like a piece of ice tapped just at the right spot and with the right force. But he immediately slipped back into the mood, spreading his arms and welcoming several Neopoints tossed into the little cauldron next to his organ.

     “Thank you, thank you!” Zomri proclaimed. “I would love to regale you all with another song, but I’m afraid my fingers need a little break…and I can’t keep my friend waiting!”

     He swept an arm at the Aisha, whose expression had changed from a smile to something unfathomable.

     * * *

     Night fell, revealing Kreludor in its waning crescent phase. A few stars here and there dotted the night sky as Zomri and the Aisha took a walk away from Meadowsend, entering the outskirts that separated the village from the woods. They turned away from the beaten path and plunged into a copse, the sounds of their footsteps warning any inquisitive petpets away.

     “So,” the Halloween Elephante began, “were you able to confirm that the faerie circle in this part of Meriwoods is still alive with magic, Kayem?”

     The Aisha turned her nose up proudly. “Of course. It hasn’t been used ever since the Wingshadows tried to halt their own prophecy that spelt Terask’s doom, but clairvoyant dark faeries can leave a strong magical residue – so strong, that villagers are still warned away from this place.”

     “Good. I’ve waited long enough, prepared all the necessary spells with nothing but the scraps and leftover drinks from Meadowsend…”

     Kayem stopped at a circle of purple, green, and black mushrooms. The grass within and surrounding the circle had long since wilted away, leaving nothing but stones, brown leaves, and bare soil. It was easy to see where the trees went from green and full of life, to dying, to dead, as they grew closer to the mushrooms. Zomri sniffed, his trunk twitching; Kayem dug into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a folded gilded page that was probably torn from a very important, very expensive book.

     “Here,” she said, opening the page to a picture of the same faerie circle. “The Wingshadow Circle. There’s a theory that since the Wingshadows failed, the power they gathered is still here.”

     Zomri stared into the circle before gazing up at the night sky, reciting four lines softly but sardonically.

     ”O Faerieland, Faerieland, hard shall you fall,

     “'Til a warrior from Meridell answers your call.

     “O Terask, Terask, long may you rule,

     “'Til you are toppled by a young Blumaroo.”

     Then he extended his arm into the circle. A chill raced down from the base of his neck all the way down to his tail, and it crackled like static electricity. Instead of wincing, he gave Kayem a crooked, excited grin.

     “I intend to test that theory,” he told her. “Gaining what power the Wingshadow faeries left?” Zomri threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Kayem, the possibilities are endless! Why stop at revenge? Meridell could be mine – no, ours!”

     Kayem smiled again, the same smile she had given Zomri back at the tavern, only deadlier.

     “You can keep all of Meridell,” she said smoothly. “All I ask is that you take me as your student once again.” The Aisha sighed pensively, folded the book page neatly and tucked it back into her robes. “Let me learn from you, like old times. Before…before Ramtor…”

     “Ramtor is in the past,” said the Halloween Elephante dismissively. “This time, I am my own master. I don’t need Ramtor, or even Adelan.” He straightened up, holding his head high. “I will exact my revenge…and bring Meridell to its knees, at last! I should have everything I need by the new moon.”

     “On Halloween,” Kayem remarked.

     Zomri’s grin widened. “Even better! Coming back from nothing on Halloween is perfect!”

     “But you said you should have everything you need by then. Does this mean…you still need something for your spells? From Brightvale’s libraries again?”

     “No, no, your job is done here, Kayem. If you truly want to become my apprentice once more…return here on Halloween, if you promise your absolute loyalty to me.”

     The pink Aisha lowered her head. “It shall be done…Master.”

     * * *

     Zombom expected to finally step out of the underwater cave and back into Meridell’s forests, but when he put his foot outside the cave, he was suddenly transported into Meridell Castle. A few dizzy seconds later, he was standing in front of Ramtor, sitting on the throne that was once King Skarl’s.

     “M-Master…” The Elephante stumbled backward, his stomach sinking fast. He clutched his chest, feeling his heart race.

     Ramtor stood up, rapping his staff against the floor. “Zombom. I gave you one job. One job, to prove yourself worthy of my tutelage.”

     “I raised the bridge over White River!” Zombom cried. “Just like you asked me!”

     “But did it stay raised?” The blue Bruce scowled and approached the wizard, who continued backing away. “Were you able to seal Northern Meridell away from the rest of the kingdom? No! Instead, you let a mere peasant defeat you!” In his rage, Ramtor slammed his staff again, and a fountain of sparks arced from the floor with a popping crackle.

     “He was – “

     “Supposed to be no match for you,” said Ramtor smoothly, gesturing with his weapon. Zombom fell silent. “Lord Terask will not be pleased. The Wingshadows will not be pleased. And I…I am not pleased.” With a flourish of his flowing robe sleeves, he raised his staff and pointed it to the Halloween Elephante.

     Zombom gasped, finding his voice again.

     “Master, please!”

     He tried to raise his hands, gabble any spell that would pop into his head, but it was too late. A blinding white flash exploded from Ramtor’s staff all around Zombom, and it seemed to sap away all of the Halloween Elephante’s strength, causing him to collapse at Ramtor’s feet.

     “You are unworthy of my power,” the Bruce hissed, and Zombom was once again in the forest, just outside the mouth of a cave.

     * * *

     Halloween was in full swing. Meridell was certainly no Haunted Woods, but it was just as fascinated with the otherworldly and the spooky. Meadowsend was adorned in orange and black streamers, and carved pumpkins greeted its customers. Inside, the smells of pumpkin pie, coffee, and chocolate permeated the premises. True to form, Zomri was playing a set of songs for Neopians, whether in costume or not, who had moved the tables and chairs to create a makeshift dance floor.

     “Say, where’s your friend?” the green Vandagyre, who was wearing a black mask and a dapper suit, asked after Zomri had finished another tune, and most of the customers scurried back to the buffet table and the drinks. “What’s her name? The pink Aisha?”

     “She’ll be a little late, Armand,” the Elephante replied, shrugging. “She has gotten really busy with her research.”

     “Well, the night is still young, she still has a lot of time,” said Armand, chuckling as he poured himself some pumpkin juice. “We sure had a good harvest this year, huh? Quality pumpkins for the kitchen and for our doorstep!”

     Zomri glanced out the window. The night was still young, but the sun had set a while ago, the purple and blue streaks in the sky having long since fled to give way to a blanket of pure black.

     “You should take a break,” Armand said as he poured another glass for Zomri. “You deserve it.”

     After taking one look at the juice, the Halloween Elephante sighed, and smiled, taking the glass. “Hmm, yes, I think I could use a break. Maybe a walk. You should come with me.”

     * * *

     Night had fallen over the Meridell countryside; Zombom had waited until the activity in White River slowed down and eventually stopped as shops began to close. He made his way toward one house in the heart of the city, close to the wizards’ guild. Standing before its door, he raised his fist and knocked three times.

     Out of the door emerged a red Eyrie in a green dress and a shawl, who gasped in shock.

     “No…” Surprise and uncertainty and nervousness chased each other across her face. Glancing outside, she quickly ushered him into her house. “Zombom? Everyone thought you were dead!”

     “First of all, I faked my death,” he rasped as he looked around and made his way toward the crackling fireplace at the end of Adelan’s living room, staggering along the way. Despite his woebegone state, he managed a smile. “You know me, Adelan. I don’t go down easily.”

     “True, I suppose.” Adelan folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want, Zombom? I warned you about dabbling in arcane magic. I warned you about associating with Ramtor.”

     Zombom’s smile vanished like a candle blown out.

     “You have nothing to worry about. Ramtor took my magic away.” The Elephante took a deep breath and sighed. “Forgive me, Adelan. I was foolish to trust him.”

     The Eyrie glowered at him.

     “You placed our city in danger and separated families and friends. You betrayed the White River Order of Wizardry, and you betrayed me,” she said, the pained note in that last word striking a chord within Zombom’s soul. She groaned and shook her head. “Are you truly sorry, Zombom? Or are you only sorry because you failed?”

     “Of course not! I never should have disobeyed you…”

     Adelan turned away from him and pointed to her door.

     “I can’t forgive you. I can’t trust you anymore. Now leave, before the rest of White River finds out you’re here.”

     * * *

     “Zomri? Zomri, where are we going?” the green Vandagyre asked, his voice beginning to rise in panic. “Isn’t this where they say the faerie circle is?”

     But the Halloween Elephante, with a satchel slung over one shoulder, didn’t answer and kept walking without looking back at his companion. Armand glanced this way and that nervously, tempted to just fly away, yet drawn by a morbid sense of curiosity to see the cursed faerie circle. It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the patch of mushrooms, the dead and dying trees, the dry grass. Armand felt as though he didn’t belong here and was better off running back to Meadowsend. He reached out to tug at his colleague’s sleeve.

     “Okay, we saw it, can we go now?”

     “It’s Halloween, Armand,” said Zomri, with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Isn’t inspecting mysterious faerie circles part of the fun?”

     “Especially when the faerie circle is confirmed to be a Wingshadow faerie circle.”

     Armand flinched visibly at the sound of the name and saw a pink Aisha emerge from behind a tree casually, hands behind her back.

     “You’re just in time, Kayem.” Zomri nodded with approval.

     “I-In time for what?” the Vandagyre asked.

     “In time for the best Halloween I’ll ever have.” Then the Elephante opened his satchel and scattered its contents – various herbs and shattered glass and vials of juice and other small items – into the middle of the circle. As he did so, Kayem revealed what was in her hands – an ancient scroll which she unrolled slowly and deliberately before handing it to Zomri.

     “What’s that?” was Armand’s next question, which Zomri answered by reciting the contents of the scroll.

     ”By blessings of field and vine,

     “Faerie’s magic is now mine.

     “O circle, grant my request,

     “Great power at my behest.

     “Forces of nature, show me

     “The sorcerer that I will be.

     “Unstoppable and strong,

     “Thus begins my song!”

     Armand had begun to back away slowly until he was only a few steps away from finding the path back to the inn. But as he passed a large oak tree, he halted when he saw a jewelled dagger quivering a mere inch from his neck, the blade buried in the trunk after being thrown from Kayem’s hand. The blade exploded into multicoloured, sparkling ribbons that immediately bound the Vandagyre to the tree, giving him a front-row seat for what would happen next.

     “Now, the time has come…for the return of Zombom!”

     “Z-Zombom?” Armand exclaimed. Before he could figure out what to do about who he thought was his tavern pianist and the knife-throwing Aisha, the ground under his feet began to shake, and he could see the dead grass and trees surrounding the faerie circle come back to life against the dark light that emanated from the mushrooms. He belatedly noticed that Zombom was now in the middle of them, arms upraised, bathed in the foreboding glow and laughing uproariously. But perhaps more unnerving was the way Kayem watched the scene – impassively, with a satisfied smile on her face.

     “The power Ramtor gave me was nothing compared to this!” the Elephante cried. “This is true power! And now, it’s mine!”

     “One last step,” said Kayem, her ear stalks quivering ever so slightly.

     Zombom lowered his arms and looked at his scroll again before meeting Armand’s eyes. “Armand, thank you for providing me with a home and a place to stay…but I’m afraid I must ask you for one more favour.”

     “W-W-What do you mean?” Armand’s beak chattered with fright. “W-What are you g-going to do?”

     In response, Zombom continued reading the scroll, grinning as he extended a hand toward the hapless Vandagyre.

     ”O faerie circle, accept my offering,

     “A kind, pure soul, for your taking!”

     The shimmering ribbons binding Armand to the tree suddenly came undone, but before he could flee, a huge wave of purple light broke from within the faerie circle and roared over him and everything else around him. All he could do was scream as the terrible glow engulfed him, and when the light dissipated, the area within and around the faerie circle was in bloom once more, leaving only a stone statue of a Vandagyre and the ribbons that had bound him to the tree strewn all over the ground like remnants from the Day of Giving.

     Breathing hard, Zombom stepped out from the circle. Energy crackled at his fingertips, and his smile was one of exhilaration. Thrill. He chuckled as he looked at Kayem, who looked quite pleased with herself and unfazed by Armand’s fate.

     “Oh, how I missed having this kind of power. Power neither Ramtor nor Adelan could give me. This time…I have the Wingshadow magic at my disposal! I can have anything…I can do anything!” The Halloween Elephante fired a bolt and fried the nearest tree, reducing its leaves to ash and its trunk to a smoking husk.

     “What shall we do now, Master?”

     Zombom gazed up into the sky and laughed aloud before pointing to the direction of Meridell Castle.

     “Let Meridell know that I have returned,” he said. “Most of all, let its champion, Sir Rohane of Trestin, know that I have returned for my revenge!”

     The End.