Engulfed in warm scratchy wool, I bumped along as he walk. His leg was hard and his hand would brush me roughly every couple moments. He should hope I don’t cut him.
I was used to it. I went everywhere with him; he couldn’t leave his home without me. I’d saved him in many a dangerous situation. Who did he use to fight off the Guards of Bancook? Me. Who cut the ropes around his neck at Sadar? Me. Who killed the King’s dog before it could bite his throat? You guessed it; me.
Sometimes as I rested on his table at night, watching him sleep, I wondered if I would ever meet the day that I would turn against him. Stab him in the back. Sometimes, he was rough with me. Sometimes, he threw me around, into trees. He threw me against walls. Sometimes, I hated him for it. I gave him all, and this was what I got in return.

We’d been traveling long, we must have reached the wizard Veharai’s mountain, or at least had come close to it by this time.
We were there, at the mouth of the cave that lead to Veharai’s lair. I could smell the wet and feel the dark. It was cold. If I could shudder, I would, for we were about to do the man’s bidding.
I slid as he crept through the passages, winding deep into the mountain. We were approaching the heart; I knew because it suddenly warmed. The wizard lived on a large, flat rock surrounded by a lake of lava. He must have charmed the lava; it cooled for him but devoured anyone who so much as dipped in a toe. If you were unlucky enough to dip even a toe in, down went mortal, toe and all, turned to ash.
The man had reached the lava. His sweat soaked through the fabric of his pants, dripped down my neck. But he still pushed on, determined to reach the lair of the wizard before the sun rose. Veharai’s powers would return at the end of the Red Moon, and he’d have lost his chance. If he failed, he could only hope that a man four thousand years from now would seek out the treacherous spell caster with me in his cloak’s folds.
He crossed the stone bridge that lead to the island. I finally stopped hitting his leg and his hand stopped hitting me as he stopped in front of the great stone castle. A maze of tunnels, a lake of lava, and a giant stone castle all lay in the belly of this mountain. Even I was amazed, and I’d seen a lot of things.
The man began moving again; he must have walked right into the castle. I heard the heavy stone door grate against the rock, heard it close behind us.
I’d been here before. Concealed in the wizard’s robes, about four thousand years ago. Veharai was lucky. Instead of losing his life, he’d only lost me, the only thing that could take his life.
It was good to be home.
I could smell the sweet perfumes of the wizard’s spell room as we drew closer. I could hear the fire crackling and hissing under a pot of some magic potion. I could smell his cat, almost as old as the Veharai himself, perched on the book shelf.
It was good to be home.
I could not, however, hear or smell the necromancer. If the man knew this, if I could warn him, he would be more prepared when Veharai swooped in on him.
He entered the spell room. Circled the cauldron. Turned to the tall, man standing in the doorway, cloaked in a robe of night. The wizard.
I couldn’t see, but I knew his black eyes glared at the man, sneered at the man. Dared the man.
“I never thought,” Veharai hissed, “That you would actually make it all this way.”
The man tensed. Heated with anger. “Here I am you snake.”
There was a beat of silence, then the sorcerer spoke again. “You must be foolish to think you could defeat me in my own home.”
“I am young, but I am not foolish, nor am I alone. The moon, and The Knife of Veharai-yes, your knife, are behind me.”
That cut the warlock almost as deep as I would, but he would not show it.
There was no time for silence. No time for the man’s heart to beat again before Veharai was on him. Before he could draw me, I was knocked from him, sputtered underneath the cauldron, inches from the fire. It hurt. Oh, it hurt.
I saw the man, grappling the wizard, who grappled the man’s throat. Veharai was weak because of the Red Moon, but he was not that weak.
“I gave you all you selfish pig!” the wizard yelled, squeezing harder.
“No!” the man barked as he kicked him away. “You took all!” he reached for me, closed his hand around me. “You killed my family,” he stepped towards the weakened Veharai.
But he was not that weak. He lurched forward, tackled us to the ground. I again jumped from the man’s hand, scattered into the dust. The wizard took the man’s shoulders, smacked his head against the rock. Then he reached for me and wrapped his hand around me.
“You foolish boy,” he pressed me to the man’s throat.
The man’s brown eyes widened, pleaded. “No.”
Veharai leaned close and whispered in his ear, “I made you what you are.” He clenched his fist around me. “And you were a waste.”
And with that, he Wizard plunged me into the man’s throat. Killed him.
Veharai left me there to sulk, alone with my thoughts and the cat.
It was like I was watching the man sleep again. But this time, I had turned against him. I had stabbed him in the back-throat.
He gave me all; I won. And it was very good to be home.