Grandfather's Cabin

Hank Stahl woke up unsure of where he was. He had a pounding headache like he drank too much but hadn’t been drinking. He stood up and looked around groggily, knowing that he was last in his bed but wasn’t any longer. His head finally stopped hurting enough for him to orient himself with his surroundings. Somehow, he was near his Great-grandfather Dale, or Pappy, as he was commonly called’s cabin in Southwood, Iowa. It was a place he hadn’t been to in ages. After his father and grandfather had a falling out, they only went there on rare special occasions when he was a child, and even then, things were tense and awkward. After Pappy died, there was no reason to go anymore and he hadn’t been back since...until now.

Desperate for answers as to why he was there, he walked up to the rickety, old porch and took a step. Each step creaked more than the last, but the timeworn deck held his weight. He approached the solid oak door, fashioned from the ancient tree that once stood where the cabin was built. He turned the knob and opened it, stepping into the darkness. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him.

Slowly, candles placed around the entire cabin began to light themselves. A flame roared to life in the fireplace and started to roast some sort of meat Hank didn’t recognize on a spit over it. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but also couldn’t stop staring at the strange sights unfolding before him.

His trance was broken by a voice that shouldn’t exist, that of the long-dead Pappy, “The time has come, boy, for you to learn the ancient ways of our family.”

He hoped there would be more explanation than that, but a small part of him was afraid to ask, he did manage to squeak out, “Uh, do what now?”

“I wanted to stay just a voice and be all mysterious.’ Said Pappy, now in corporeal form stepping out of the shadows. He looked just as he did the last time Hank saw him in his coffin. He was tall, balding, with horn-rimmed glassed and a large potbelly. Hank could never remember him smiling and even in death he seemed constantly irritated, ‘But here you go being a dumbass just like your daddy and making me have to explain things slowly. It is tradition that youngest child born after the death of the last mage, me, partakes in the ritual of becoming a family mage. Now that you’re old enough, you, my boy, are the next in line to inherit this blood right.”

Hank took a step back pressing his body against the closed door. His deceased relative standing before him was pushing him towards thinking everything was a dream. “I don’t think any of this Harry Potter magic stuff is right for me.” He said defiantly.

Pappy scowled, a typical expression for him and said, “It doesn’t matter if you believe it, you are born to it, and it is born to you. You can learn to harness life or death, let the magic that lives within this world live within you. You can use it and allow it to use you. You can feed from all that nature gives you and in return you will offer yourself to its longevity.”

Hank rolled his eyes to himself. He still didn’t think anything was real, but he would play along for a little bit. With a sign of resignment, he said, “I suppose if you put it that way, I don’t really have a choice. What do I have to do?”

A black, leatherbound book appeared suddenly on a pedestal in the middle of the room. “When the book opens, the ritual begins.” Pappy said pointing at the book.

Hank was vaguely intrigued. He slowly walked towards the book and reached for the clasp. Then, just as he was about to lay his fingers on the ornate buckle, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. He turned to his great-grandfather in confusion. “What happened, Pappy? Did I do something wrong already?”

Grand Pappy laughed a hearty laugh that made his plentiful belly jiggle. “No, no, foolish child,’ He said tears starting to form in his eyes from laughter. ‘You kids just want everything handed to you. You think everything will be easy. That’s not how this works. In order to claim your birth right, you must first pass three trials. The Trial of Fire, The Trial of Ice and The Trial of Blood.”

Even more confused than before, Hank asked, “Why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?”

Pappy chortled again then, wiping tears in his eyes said, “Because you should have seen the look on your face when the book poofed away. It was priceless. I wish I had a photographer here that could have captured that look, it would have made eternity a lot more enjoyable.”

Hank growled in frustration, “Mom and dad always said you were a bitter, old bastard. Now I see how right they were.’ Any interest he had had about magic real or fake was officially gone. Angerly, he snarled, ‘I don’t need any of this. I’ve got a life to get back to.” He then turned to leave and walked out of the now open door.

He only got a few steps away before Grand Pappy’s booming voice called out, “Did your daddy ever tell you about your great-great-uncle Rob? No, of course he didn’t. He wanted to keep the Stahl side of you hidden deep down. He wanted to hide your true potential behind your fancy doodads and whatsits. I will tell you this now, kiddo, if you stay, you will know power greater than you could ever imagine.”

Hank slowly spun to look at his great-grandfather then said, “That is the difference between me and you, old man, I don’t desire power. But, just out of curiosity, who is Rob?”

A wicked grin crossed Pappy’s face. “Many years ago, back in the old country.’ he began, ‘My uncle Rob was a small man, the runt of the litter, kind of like you. Using the abilities that he had, that you will have, he conquered his enemies and brought terror to those who opposed him. He-”

Hank cut Pappy off, “I’m going to stop you right now. I don’t care about conquering anybody. I just want to get back home.”

He backed away from his great-grandfather, careful not to take his eyes off the crazy old man. He should have paid attention to where he was going, however, as he accidently stepped into a firepit.

Pappy laughed once again and bellowed, “The Trial of Fire has begun!”

Hank tried to correct his mistake, but it was too late. “Wait! No! I didn’t mean to!’ He called out, ‘I don’t want any of this.”

The old man snickered sickly, “And I didn’t want my only grandson to marry a jezebel, so life is full of disappointment. And that is about to take your head off.”

His great-grandfather’s warning was the only thing that saved Hank from a large flaming rock golem taking a swing at his cranium. “Good luck, boy, try tapping into your capabilities, see what happens…You know, before you die.” Pappy sat on the porch in a rocking chair watching as if he were an audience member watching a football game.

Hank leapt back to avoid another swing from the creature. He promptly tripped over a rock and had to roll out the way of a flaming stomp. He stood and faced the golem. Blood dripped into his eyes from a cut on his forehead. Half blinded, he didn’t see the golem’s fist until it was inches from his face. Somehow, Hank’s own hand shot up and caught the fist before it made contact. He was shocked that the fire didn’t burn him. With the blood in his eyes he couldn’t see that his hands had turned to stone, but he felt them. Using this newfound ability, he went on the offensive and started to punch back on the golem, pummeling the creature into submission. When the golem was flat on the ground, it crumbled into embers.

“There you go, my boy,’ called Grand Pappy from his chair, ‘You beat that thing down with Stonehands. I can’t tell you how many enemies uncle Rob vanquished with that technique.”

“B-B-But I don’t want to vanquish anybody.” Hank stammered shaken from the adrenaline rush of a near-death experience.

“It’s alright.’ Grand Pappy said in a moment of what seemed like compassion, ‘Come inside and eat something. You’ll feel a lot better.” Pappy led him in the cabin and to the meat still roasting over the fire. He cut off a sizzling chunk and offered Hank a bite on a fork.

He didn’t quite trust his great-grandfather, but he had to admit, it smelled delicious. “Thanks, old man.” He said taking the fork and putting the food in his mouth. Only after the meat passed his lips did he realize he made a mistake. It was so cold it made his entire body hurt.

With a wry smile, Pappy said, “Welcome to The Trial of Ice.”

Hank felt horrible. His entire body felt so cold he worried that he was going to get hypothermia right there in the cabin. With anger in his eyes, he took one step towards Pappy, but passed out before he could do anything he might regret. When he woke up this time, he was on a massive frozen lake surrounded by swirling snow. The cabin was nowhere to be seen and the only thought going through Hank’s mind was ‘That old bastard.’

He didn’t have long to curse his great-grandfather. He may not have spent much time outdoors, but he knew that he wouldn’t last long in the snow without shelter of some kind. The blizzard-like conditions around him made it difficult to see anything so he closed his eyes and relied on an innate sense of direction to travel in his closest approximation of north.

After only fifteen minutes he realized that he wouldn’t be able to make it any further. It was too cold, he had no food, no water, and he was certainly not dressed for a snowstorm. Downtrodden, he decided he was done and could no longer go on. He laid down in the snow and let the flakes drift over him. As he closed his eyes and readied himself for darkness to take him, Hank felt a mysterious heat emanating from his rapidly beating heart. It began to spread down his middle to his legs then out to his arms and feet. Lastly, his head felt like it was wrapped in a warm towel and he was no longer cold. The snow was still falling, but he found that it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Feeling suddenly energized, he stood up and started to jog. Soon, he saw a small log house in the distance. To his disappointment, it wasn’t Pappy’s, but he thought he might be able to find help there.

He walked onto the porch and politely knocked on the front door. If not for the heat inside his body keeping him nice and toasty and thereby deadening the sounds of the blizzard, he wouldn’t have heard the gun cocking from the other side of the door. He managed to dive to the side just in time to avoid having his head blown off.

“I’m not here to hurt you,’ He shouted, hoping whoever was inside could understand him over the storm, ‘I was just passing through. If you don’t shoot at me again, I’ll leave!”

“I’d rather see your guts on the ground, mongrel!” Shouted the voice from inside. It was a familiar voice and a familiar insult, one he hadn’t heard in a long time, but still hurt as much as it did when he was a child.

“Keith? Is that you?” Hank asked cautiously.

“Yes. Now hold still so I can put another hole in your mongrel head!” Yelled the vicious bully from Hank’s elementary school days back in the city. He pressed his back against the wall and began to hyperventilate in fear. But soon his fear turned to rage and the heat from his body started to radiate outward. It got so hot it started to melt the ice under the house. Hank quickly backed away and couldn’t help a small smile as Keith screamed while his house sunk to the bottom.

A blink later and he was back in Pappy’s cabin being helped off the ground. “Way to go, child!’ The old-timer praised, ‘Not only did you access Inner Warmth, but you turned that into Irradiating Flame with little effort. You have no idea how proud I am of you. Now you can survive in any temperature, and set enemies close to you ablaze.”

The last thing Hank wanted was for Pappy to be proud of him. He didn’t want these abilities. He didn’t want to continue these trials. All he wanted to do was go home. “I started the first trial by accident.’ He said with growing fury, ‘And you tricked me into doing the second. Until you let me go home, I’m just going to sit down and not do anything. That way I have no chance of starting the third.”

Pappy took off his glasses and gently cleaned them on a cloth. “Don’t you see, foolish boy. The Trial of Blood has already begun.” He used them to point to the cut on Hank’s forehead.

“B-B-But I got this during the first trial. Why would it matter now?” Hank stammered with his, now typical, mix of confusion and anger.

Pappy shrugged and made a grunting sound that resembled “I don’t know”. He then dove as quick as his large frame would allow into another room and slammed the door.

Hank was about to chase after the old man until he felt a trickle of blood ooze from the wound and roll down the side of his face. A drop fell to the ground and splashed onto the wooden floor. He wiped the line of blood with his hand and it came away a crimson smear. There was much more blood than he expected. Another drop fell to the ground from the still flowing injury. Then another fell then another, soon a steady rain of blood was running off his face. He didn’t know how he had that much blood in his body. The wound was gushing so much that the room was starting to fill up with blood. In his head he knew this shouldn’t be possible, but all this blood was coming from his head, so he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

Shortly thereafter, he was struggling to breath as he was nearly drowning in a blood-filled room. He kicked his way to a small air pocket near the ceiling and had just taken a deep breath when he was pulled under by something. Hank opened his eyes, finding he could somehow see. He looked around for what had pulled him but didn’t see anything at first. Then it appeared. Of all the unbelievable things that had happened, an under-blood hammerhead shark had to be the most unbelievable. The beast flicked its tail and charged at Hank mouth open wide.

Hank tried to turn and swim away, but he was nowhere near as good a swimmer shark. It clamped onto his right foot and bit down hard. He screamed, expelling all the air he had in his lungs. He tried to get up to the air pocket, but it was pulling him down. He felt himself drowning. His chest got tight as his lungs yearned for oxygen. ‘Well, this sucks.’ He thought as the world went black.

Hank’s eyes snapped open. He was still surrounded by a sea of red. A giant shark was still gnawing on his foot. Yet he felt nothing, not even the need to breath. His first thought was that he was dead and he was somehow trapped in his deceased body. Then he realized he was able to move. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small knife and stabbed the shark in the middle of its hammerhead. It released its grip on him and quickly swam away.

The blood level in the house started to drop and disappear until there wasn’t a drop to be seen anywhere. Even the cut on his forehead had healed and there was nothing on his foot where the shark had bit him. Pappy burst through the door he had hid behind and shouted, “In all my years I never would have guessed that a progeny of mine would be the first to master Essence of the Undying in a hundred years!’ He added quietly, but not quietly enough, ‘And a half-breed at that.”

Hank was done. He was furious that he had been put through Hell and his great-grandfather was making jokes. “I’m finished here, old man. Tell me how to get back right now or I’ll use some of my new powers on your sorry old ass.”

Pappy laughed, “Go ahead and try, boy. I’ve been dead for years it won’t do you any good. Or you can calm down and I can show you how to use those powers to bring me back then together we can take back what we lost years ago.”

Hank didn’t have to think about the offer very long. Without saying anything, he used Stonehands to punch down the front door and leave. His great-grandfather yelled for him to come back, but as Hank walked away into the sunshine, the cabin and the old man’s words faded away the Trials having been completed. The warm embrace of his pillow and blankets took their place and he was left wondering if it was all a dream.