Sorcerer from Another World

A celebration like this modern earth would have been a sorry affair. For the sorry people of Ferisdarm it was a grand celebration. They knew their gleeful moments could very well be their last experience of joy. 

A final amusement to laugh in the face of death; resisting the encroaching darkness.  

I caught their happiness. I bore a grin wide and mad as theirs. Desperate to have fun I allowed myself to dance with Iris. She guided me through the moves and failed miserably knowing only slightly more than my total ignorance.

I tried to take a break and talk more among the locals. Learning names, habits and views I could only know by spending time among the locals. A particularly attractive woman was slightly creepily pawing at my arm. To my relief, Iris dragged me and we joined the dancing again. 

I was clumsy, and Iris got better with each dance. The lights and people blurred and all I could see was her. Her warm smile brighter to my eyes than the noon day sun. Bards sang with the playing of strings and pipes rising up to harmonise with the dancing pairs. Sons and mothers, fathers and daughters, couples, friends, lovers and more joined to dash away the day. 

I tried to follow Iris' lead to not embarrass myself too greatly. So, we flirted and danced until we were breathless. 

A space opened itself up when we went to rest. It was wonderful to feast and talk among happy people. For a moment, they seemed to be forgetting the doom that waited outside the fort.

It just happened to be near our own bard Geoff. The young man who had followed me straight into the worst of it. I made sure that was known. I gave him all the verification I could with as much personal modesty I could summon. Modesty was, in my humble opinion, a vast resource that I found easy to show.

“To Nat the Skewer. Legendary warrior who slew a hundred undead with one hand, and saved Skor the Scourge and this humble bard with the other. May you never forget her name!” Geoff praised. 

“Nat the Skewer!” Skor raised a tankard to her name. 

I raised the tankard I had in my hand. “Nat the Skewer!” I joined in. Following my call the rest of the crowd shouted her name. 

“May we all share her courage.” I added quietly.

Quiet, but loud enough for the message to carry and spread.  

“It is Galen’s courage you should share!” said a familiar voice filled with righteous anger. “It was Galen who saved Ferisdarm. He led our fine warriors using the weapons we forged!” Shamus screamed. 

The drunk blacksmith pushed his way through and shoved Geoff the bard. I put myself between The blacksmith and Skor who had raised an axe.

I was stuck in a moment of Déjà vu. Some people don’t learn. 

“I was honoured. The best among noble smiths. It was with my blade Galen slew the troll. We may never be sung in song, but without us the warriors would be nothing. Now you all stare with mocking glares. No one drinks with Shamus. You have forgotten us…but I remember!”

The crowd was angrily denouncing the blacksmith. Not for lies, but for his violence. Shamus was rather unlucky. But ruining a warrior’s glorious celebration, attacking someone far weaker than himself and spoiling a happy mood turned the crowd against him. 

“You have fallen for his spells and trickery. All of you are lost!”

A warrior, with short raven hair and spiked armour, drew her blade to his throat, “No one insults the Sorcerer. You insult him, you insult the warriors who fought at his side to protect Ferisdarm. Your actions shame us all!

He snarled, “If he is so great then your sister would still be alive.”

She would have killed him, if I hadn’t softened her steel.

“No. Don’t let him win.” I warned her.

Galen walked into the scene with Rebecca and Meredith at his side. They were dressed up here for the celebration.

“What is going on here? Is this not meant to be a celebration!” Meredith called out with the anger and command of a senior soldier. 

“I am showing these fools the crows that fester within our walls” Shamus answered with far too great a boldness. Not even having the decency to stay silent in the face of authority.

Meredith moved to speak again, but Galen raised a hand. She was silent. Galen calmly gazed through the crowd and nodded to himself. Rebecca whispered something in his ear. 

He looked and walked over to his uncle and clasped his hands with his. 

“Uncle, you have had enough. The Sorcerer's aid was invaluable. You would be dead without him. Go home and sleep it off.” Galen told him bluntly. 

Shamus opened his mouth to speak. No words fell out. He beheld Galen’s expression. The anger seemed to leave him. The furious frowning tension slacked and the irate old man became placid. I saw a stranger who bore a similar face to Shamus.

It could have been a twin or some other family member. The difference was too stark. Yet, it was the same man. I frowned, not bothered by the old man’s antics, but by his change. It suggested something. I wasn’t sure what.   

Bomdall popped out from the shadows of the crowd. “Let me, Chieftain. I have a herbal mix that will mellow the old smith out. These are trying times, a little relaxation will do him good.” The druid said with a sickly sweet smile. 

Galen gave him a short nod, “Thank you, Bomdall.”

Bomdall spoke a few quiet words to Shamus. Then he took Shamus by the arm and escorted him out. The smith let himself be taken away with one last baleful glance in my direction. 

I stared holes into the back of Bomdall. He had finally done something helpful and it made me all the more suspicious of him. Suspicious of what I had no idea. I didn’t understand the goals of these ‘elites’. Not really. I had little understanding of politics back home and even less knowledge of politics here. 

I understood enough about bullies to know that two of the people I had clashed with were now walking away together whispering in hushed, angry tones. 

I wanted to talk things through. Be peaceful and kind. Yet, the only thing that had worked on Shamus was a show of violence. Bomdall considered him because of the destruction he had wrecked onto the Unseelie outside the walls of Ferisdarm. 

You would think they would be smart enough to then make me an ally. But, no for their own reasons I am the enemy. It was chilling to realise that I could kill them both with ease, further that I was vital enough to the defence of this backwater fort that everyone would have to accept my act of tyranny. 

Just because I could does not mean I should. It would be morally wrong to just kill people who annoy me. Neither of them were real threats anyway. I was the most powerful person in the room now.