Sorcerer from Another World

Bryette walked into the house, “We’re celebrating!” She raised her arms in cheer. “Umbra told me to say that everyone in town is invited.”

Bryette seemed to expect immediate cheer and looked at us as we awkwardly looked at each other. Checking what our agreed reaction was through a series of shared subtle glances.  

Iris pursed her lips, “Is it really the time for one?”

Morgana shrugged, “We could all die tonight not as some philosophers question….”

“I know.” Iris sighed. 

“...a very real danger.” Morgana finished.

Bryette glanced between the two lovers, “I don’t think it was planned, mistress. Umbra said how a celebration would be nice. It just spread. Everyone is overjoyed about the slaying this morning.” She tried to explain. 

“As they should be.” Iris said smugly, her face flushed with pride. 

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her taking in my achievements as my own. It meant we were close, but it was also fucking horrible. Too many brave warriors had died. Our position seemed to be the same. The enemy were coming and the folks of Ferisdarm were outmatched and outnumbered. 

Optimism and hope was in the air. I didn’t catch it. The malevolence of the Undead Yewam was fresh in my thoughts. The exertion to kill it once and for all still lingered in my bones. I needed to become stronger. 

I did share in Iris’ joy. Maybe it would be nice to share in Ferisdarm’s joy as well? 

“As well as your repelling of the attack while the Sorcerer and Galen were away.”

“Meredith did well leading the warriors, we only stepped in to deal with the trolls.” Morgana commented lightly. 

“There was an attack?”

“A trifle, now that you have enchanted us.” Iris said, kissing my cheek. 

“Everyone is bringing their finest meats and ales.” Bryette added with a rather hopefully upbeat bounce to her voice. “I think the people want to see and celebrate their saviours. The bards are already gathering crowds with their songs.”

“I’m exhausted.” I said honestly. 

“It’s the last of their stock.” Bryette pleaded. She turned to Morgana. “Mistress, surely you understand?”

Thinking of the world wars back home I said, “All the more reason it should be rationed.”

“There is no need to preserve it. The Unseelie won’t engage in a prolonged siege. They will bring the fort walls down, and fill the moat with their bodies before they have the patience to wait for us all to starve.” Morgana said grimly then noting our pale faces she put on a smile. “Let them enjoy this victory. It is most likely their first all season.”

“He’s tired.” Iris pointed out. 

Morgana rubbed her temples, “Fine, I’ll be along shortly.” She glanced at me and shrugged. What can I do? She seemed to say.  

I placed my cup down, “I’ll go, but only to show face. I’m not hanging around all day.” I said grumpily. 

Iris placed a hand on my shoulder, “Are you sure?”

I took her hand in mine, “Will you come? A quick visit?” I stared into her bright, chestnut eyes pleading for her not to leave me alone out there. 

She smiled back warm as the first days of summer, “Gladly.”

“We can check on Samyia if we get the chance.”

Iris looked down and let out a deep sigh before meeting my eyes again, “I would like that.”

Morgana interrupted, “Bryette, I want two warriors on them at all times.”

Bryette bowed dutifully, “I will get them right away.” She ducked out the door.

“Damain take your staff at least. I want one of your symbols on you at all times. And don’t worry about the warriors, they are there to announce your presence and show off our strength.” 

I called my staff to hand, “Will you be long?”

She smiled, “I won’t. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Iris blew a kiss, “I make no promises.”

I winked at Morgana, “See you soon.”

Then, Iris and I walked out and strolled towards the heart of the celebration announced by bright lights and fevered noise. I kept an eye out for Umbra, but didn’t see her despite the fact she seemed influential in making this event happen. 

The warriors were out in force. Weapons at the ready, and padded with armour it was unclear if they were there to protect or to pacify the people. I decided on the former when I watched a ponytailed warrior roll back her shoulders and join in on an arm wrestling contest. 

The rest of the warriors cycled between guard duty and joining in on the fun. Some of them even looked alive for brief joyful moments joining in on the celebrations, before they switched back to their wary watch. Grim stone-faced warriors, I could tell now they were afraid. I knew because when the first one spotted me they looked hopeful for a bright brief moment.

He drew his axe and raised it high, “The Saviour of Ferisdarm! 

Many of the warriors copied the salute, and the crowd of civilians cheered in response. 

It seemed that I no longer had any anonymity. Strange what a curse it had been back in modern earth. Under the mass of humanity I had been no one and everyone. Here, in this dream-like place. I was a hero. It made me want to curl up and hide in a hole. 

In contrast to my emotions, a wide smile spread across my face and I waved back. 

“I simply helped out.” I heard myself say humbly. 

I think on a warrior such humility would have been shameful. I was a sorcerer. Whose powers were unmatched. I had no need for boasting, nor as any expected. None could challenge me to combat and live. They all knew it. So, they reacted with even louder cheers and more profuse gratitude with every modest reply I made. 

Iris also looked distinctly uncomfortable under all the attention. A wild brat who was more familiar with trees than crowds of people. I made sure to snake my arm around her waist and hold her close. My ulterior motive was of secondary importance, but immensely satisfying to press her near. 

“Stay close.” I whispered in her ear. “I wouldn’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

She blushed and glued herself to me. There was a smug satisfaction, a purring of pride when she attached herself to me. It was not the pride of ownership. She was not my property. She wanted, listened, desired and needed me. For a lonely man such as myself it was pure ecstasy.  

Rationing was a tactic for a people who can endure a siege. If the Unseelie broke down the walls of Ferisdarm they were dead. The people grasped for joy. Celebrating all the harder in anticipation of their grim fate. Dreaming of hope. Kisses were exchanged between lovers and hugs between rivals. Dancing spread like wildfire through a thicket.

Mead flowed from wrenched open caskets, hastily assembled stalls were stocked with only slightly aged food stuffs like cheeses, vegetables and meats. A fat pig sizzling on a skewer, steam rose over cauldrons and apples freshly picked by braver folk wandering out of the fort were passed around freely.

I took a bite of the roasted pig. Trying not to choke, I gulped down a tankard thrusted into my grasp. My head swam. I did not sober up. I let the alcohol take me and loosen the tension I held close. Close as a knife pressing on my heart.

Dizzy with ease and pretending (fooling myself) to be ‘smashed’. Faking intoxication, I hand fed Iris some tarty cheese and felt the tickle of her plump lips as she licked my fingers clean. I ran my fingers along her teeth and caressed her tongue. I pulled the tip out between my fingers. 

I let go. She panted, her ample chest rising and falling heavily, her face flushed from the experience.  Her eyes screamed ‘fuck me’. At least I hoped they did. She certainly looked aroused. We were, however, in the middle of a crowd of dozens.

I wasn’t that drunk.