The Wizard

Voices in the Dark

The creaking wheels of an old wagon approached. Mevner leaned against a tree trunk not far past the edge of the woods and looked out towards the road to see blurry orange torchlight. Three shadowed figures walked alongside a small two-wheeled cart pulled by a mule that stopped before the bridge. Mevner rolled as quietly as he could to the ground on the far side of the tree.  

"Well, what do we have here?" said a nasally voice. 

"He's seen better days," mocked one in a higher pitch. 

"This is a fine sword." A deep gruff voice loomed over the others.

"I wouldn't touch that if I was you." The nasally one had a point.

"Why? He ain't using it."

"Look at him," stated nasal. "He looks like he's been there for a year and it's only been five nights since we came through. Where was he last time? And look how he's burned. That's magic that is." 

"I ain't afraid of magic." 

"I am," said high pitch. 

Mevner took a chance and looked. The littlest one climbed up on the wagon. The medium sized one cautiously examined the body on the ground. The big one reached for the sword, grabbed it with one hand, and couldn't pull it free. Then he tried two hands. 

"It's heavy. I'll tell you that." And he ripped it from the ground. 

The master's skull fell from the blade and shattered on the road. The big guy kicked what was left of his body and it turned to dust. Then he threw the sword in the back of the wagon. 

"That iron will fetch a pretty penny from the blacksmith."  

The big one looked around and Mevner buried his face in the ground. 

"Did you hear something?"

"I didn't hear nothing," said nasal. "I told you that's a cursed death, that one, and that sword's probably cursed too. I don't want no part of it."

The big one grabbed a torch off the wagon and held it high. He took a few steps toward the woods.

"Good, more money for me." 

Mevner covered his ring which was reflecting the orange light in its band. He didn't dare look. In his helpless state, they'd kill him for sure. Just for his clothes, never mind a magic ring. He held his breath and didn't move a muscle. 

"And what's this over here?" The big one walked closer. 

Mevner heard him stop. He leaned over and grabbed a satchel off the ground, lost on the crawl towards the forest. Mevner's only thought was that his body's drag marks were surely visible, even by firelight. 

"It must be our lucky night, boys." 

"What now?" asked the high pitched little one. 

"A bag of goodies." He began rifling through it. "Let's see, a nice snack. A book, bah. And a crossbow." 

"I want that!" demanded nasal.

Mevner heard them, not two yards away, tugging and grabbing at his weapon. The big one must have let go.

"Very nice. Very nice indeed. Elvish I bet. Look at the fine craftsmanship." 

"Let's get out of here before someone comes looking for it," suggested the little one from the cart. 

He whipped the donkey, who nayed and started moving toward the rope bridge. 

"Ok, Ok. We can have a little drink while we cross." The big one walked away drinking from a bottle of wine found in the bag. "Here, what do you make of this?" 

"Oh, yes, yes. See I told you it was magic. This here is a magic book. Just look at the runes. Very important symbols. This musta been that dead fella's bag." The nasally one flipped through the pages.

"Maybe we can sell that too. We're gonna be rich after tonight!" The big guy took another swig as the cart started across the planks of the bridge. 

Mevner looked up to blurrily watch them walk single file away with everything he had. His master turned to ash and the murder weapon to be sold for scrap. Orange torchlight shrunk to the other side of the canyon and darkness returned in silence. Clouds had covered the moon and saved Mevner's miserable life. 

With the fear of being helplessly murdered fading away, the pain of his injuries returned to his central focus. He crawled deeper into the woods. It felt like a hundred miles but he hoped to have made it at least one. 

The moon came out again and its filtered glow cast shadows through the trees. He came to a small creek and dragged his whole body into the cool soothing water. Submerging his face, he flushed his eyes and drank his fill of the trickling moonlit stream. 

He pulled himself out the other side, hopefully hiding his scent from the wolves, and succumbed to sleep on a bed of spongy moss at the base of an old twisted oak.