Scott the Sorcerer

A little foray into a world of fantasy silliness.

CHAPTER 1
The pig of hidden talents

The fire crackled, the dim moonlight obscured by clouds casting ghostly shadows across the small camp.  The three knights lay on rough blankets with their heavy plate armour lying in bundles beside them, reflecting the orange glow of the smoking fire.

They had ridden so far across the kingdom that they had seen their third sunset and the time had come to rest.  This thicket, protected by the might of the great forest would serve as home for the night although all three of the veteran knights kept a watchful eye on the ragged brush that surrounded them,

Propped up on one elbow Sir Clive eyed the undergrowth, peering through the shifting shadows and listening intently to the creak of ancient branches.  He drank from the skin of mead that they had opened while they rested a warm sense of comfort drifting through his tired body.  He stroked his cropped brown beard and looked at his comrades with an air of achievement,  “I spy,” he began, “with my little eye, something beginning with T.”

Sir Michael sighed, “A tree?”

“Astounding!”  Sir Clive cried out, “Sir if I did not know better I would say you could read my mind.”

Sir Brenowyn looked pleadingly at Sir Michael, “He really isn’t that good of a Knight Sir Michael, and this is a dark and foreboding forest.  Nobody would miss him.”

Sir Michael smiled calmly, “Do not speak ill of our fellow Knight Sir Brenowyn, for all his ills Sir Clive is a valiant comrade.”

“I spy…” began Sir Clive

“Although his sword has been dull of late.” Added Sir Michael ponderously.

In the distance, the trees rustled.  A sharp crack broke the peace of the thicket, more so that Sir Clive’s games had.  Sir Michael and Sir Brenowyn looked around, searching for some sign of the disturbance.  The calm cool night air seemed to begin to swirl around them, leaves danced in the spiralling wind and the fire flickered in the sharp sustained gust.

Sir Michael’s fingers curled slowly around the hilt of his sword, drawing it slightly from it’s sheath with a grating metal scrape.  A figure, dark, shadowy and willowy moved beneath the cover of the forest.

Sir Michael jumped up with his sword drawn.  “Reveal yourself Stranger” He demanded.

Sir Brenowyn leaped to his feel grasping his mace, already beginning to spin it’s spiked head in anticipation of an attacked.

“No, a tree.” remarked Sir Clive.  Sir Benowyn’s mace swung a little faster.

Hurriedly from the undergrowth the figure of a bent old man limping through the brush, leaning into his bent and crooked staff became visible by the firelight.  Sir Michael held his sword steady, Sir Brenowyn raised his mace to swing a small speed faster, Sir Clive rustled through his satchel as he was sure he had left some sausages in there earlier on.

“Come forth old man.”  Sir Michael demanded.

Sir Brenowyn whispered to his comrade in arms, “Old?”

“What?” Sir Michael snapped, trying to concentrate on the approaching stranger.

“How do you know he’s old?”

“Well he looks old.”

“Still,” Sir Brenowyn shrugged, “would have been polite to find out first.”

“Just concentrate will you?” Sir Michael snapped back. “We could be in mortal danger.”

“From an old man with a pig?”

“Pig? How do you know he has a pig?” Sir Michael darted the question peering a the figure who he could now see led a small animal by a makeshift leash.

“It’s either a pig or a very ugly cat.” Sir Brenowyn suggested.

“I have some of a pig!” Declared Sir Clive slipping a fat sausage onto a sharpened stick.

The shadowy figure limped into the light, revealing him to be an old man with a long dirty brown beard and a bent hat, his robes were muddy and on a length of robe he lead behind him a small fat pig.  “Do not attack!” He cried out, “I mean you no harm.”

“And what of your pig?”  Sir Brenowyn called out.  Sir Michael looked bewilderingly at Brenowyn.

“He means you no harm either.”  The old man called back, “I presume.”

“You presume?”  remarked Brenowyn.

“Well I don’t speak pig do I.”

Michael and Brenowyn  nodded to each other as the old man’s point was fair.  The inner mind of a pig was something of a mystery to most men, and the men to whom it was not a mystery were indeed more terrifying than the old man had presented himself to be thus far.

“Let me and my pig companion rest by your fire a while and I will be on my way.”  He edged forward, with his friend trotting behind him, his pink snout sniffing the warm wood smoked air.

Michael and Brenowyn lowered their guard and invited the old man to sit with them.  Sir Clive’s sausages crackled in the fire and he eyed the pig as it came closer to their circle.  Was it right to eat sausages in front of pig he wondered.  What if the pig took offence.  He made a note to ask it later on.

The old man bent himself down to sit by the warmth of the fire.

“What name to you go by?” Asked Brenowyn, reluctantly putting his mace down, still weary of the pig and cautious of what dark thoughts it may be thinking as it gnawed on a cabbage the old man had produced from his knapsack.

“I am Luciferous the Magnificent.”

“The farmer?” Clive perked up.

“The sorcerer.” Luciferous barked back.

“I heard you were a farmer, raising pigs and chickens on the Mount of Eternal Damnation.”  Brain sniffed, taking a bite out of a nearly burnt sausage.

“It is true that I raise pigs and chickens, but I am a sorcerer nonetheless Sir Knight.” Luciferous snorted.

“Erm…” Michael leaned closer to the fire. “Why would a sorcerer raise pigs and chickens?”

Luciferous sighed, “Because there are men who have grown to believe that the life of a sorcerer is glamorous and mystical.  I mean by my demonstration of will that sorcery is hard work and not as simple as it looks.”

“By branching out into livestock?” remarked Brenowyn.

Luciferous growled, “By showing that it takes will and determination to follow the path of sorcery.  I am a powerful and dark sorcerer.”

“Muddy perhaps, I wouldn’t say dark.” Clive chewed on his sausage further, still weary of the pigs intentions towards him.  Could he be in danger then the cabbage and suffered it’s wrath?

“Sir Clive speaks the truth.” Sir Michael frowned.  “Are you sure that you are not Luciferous the Farmer and placing a deception upon us?”

“Am I sure?”  The old man coughed, lighting his pipe, “What kind of a farmer would be called Luciferous?”

“You speak wisely Luciferous, your story is indeed proof of your sorcery.” Sir Michael announced.

Brenowyn and Clive peered searchingly at Sir Michael.  “We would like to see you perform an act of sorcery.” Sir Clive said through his sausage filled mouth, “Simply saying you are who you say you are does not make you really who you say you are as you could be someone other than you really are.”

“An astute point.” Luciferous nodded.  “BEHOLD!  The might of my magic and the power of dark sorcery!”  He clasped his hands together letting out a sharp clap, like a distant thunderstorm.  Above the small group, the clouds parted and the wind began to scream through the trees.  The knights began to edge away from the fire as its flames danced higher into the air, the dead burning branches within its flames cracking and sparking as the fires intensity grew.

Luciferous muttered some words to himself beneath the wind as the Knights stood away from the circle of magic, the dark forces brewing in the air.

The wind howled and leaves shook from the trees, “What have you done?” Yelled Sir Michael above the wind to Sir Clive.  “What have you brought upon us?”

Suddenly the wind stopped.  The moonlight shone and the flames dropped to a lull fiery glow.  The Knights edged cautiously forward as Luciferous the Magnificent held his hands solemnly together.

The pig, sitting next to him jumped up.  Onto it’s back legs.  Shifting from foot to foot as its trotters tapped against the forest floor.  It’s spun around and continued to jump from foot to foot.

“A dancing pig?” Brenowyn said with an air of disappointment.  “Self proclaimed Sorcerer of darkness from the Mount of Eternal Damnation and you show us your might with a dancing pig?”

Sir Clive, somewhat bemused, was copying the pig jumping from foot to foot and spinning around.

“Well what do you expect at short notice.  I can do a squirrel if you can find one?”  Luciferous offered.

Sir Brenowyn eyed his mace wantingly.

“Perhaps we should get some rest, it will be dawn soon,.  And I believe that we have had enough of  this buffoonery for one evening.  We must ride at dawn.”

The group settled down, Sir Clive still dancing with the pig, Luciferous somewhat disgruntled at his camp’s lack of disbelief at his dark and powerful sorcerery and Sir Brenowyn still considering the many uses for his mace.

“Good night” Said Sir Clive

“Good night” Said Sir Michael

“Good night” Said Sir Brenowyn

“I can do horses too if you prefer.” Luciferous offered meekly.

They all sighed.

The night went and the sun rose over the kingdom and by the time the dew had begun to breathe itself back into the air, three knights were packing their camp up.  The morning air smelt cold, but fresh.  The cool dawn breeze had given way to the warmth of the sun had become a thinly veiled mist washing the blanket of sleep from the knights.

They packed their horses up and put out the fire that had kept them warm throughout the night, though it was only smouldering the last thing they needed was a forest fire left in their trail.  Sir Michael awoke their unexpected companion from the night before.

“Luciferous?” He nudged the old man.

The old man groaned and stirred.

“Luciferous the magnificent pig dancing sorcerer farmer, man?” Sir Michael nudged him again.

The old man grunted a waking snore.

Brenowyn rolled his eyes. “HOGS ARE LOOSE!” He yelled sharply.

The old man sat up right and scrambled to his feet.  “What?  What’s happened?”

Brenowyn smiled, “See, he’s a farmer.”

“Do not jest with me sir Knight, I assure you I am not.” Luciferous scowled, retying his pig.

“Are too.” Brenowyn retorted.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Enough!” Snapped Sir Michael.  “You’re not a farmer you’re a magnificent sorcerer but we are leaving camp and I did not want to leave you in the forest for the bears to find.”

“Can you make bears dance?” Sir Clive enquired hopefully, he had so longed to see a dancing bear since his sisters wedding when his cousin had become rather drunk and danced naked on the table.  The image of a bear was quite fitting and he wondered if a real bear would be better or worse.  Although he suspected that a real bear would have a better use for cake than his cousin had.

Luciferous threw Sir Clive a grimace.  “Sir Michael, to where are you destined on your travels?  For I am travelling to Little Big bridge, a village to the east of here.  I would appreciate your guardianship if your journey should take you the same.”

“No bears then huh?” said Clive, disappointed.

Sir Michael ascended his mount.  “We travel to the Castle of Nettik beyond the eastern desert, we will accompany you on your way.”

The Sorcerer cocked his head and peered at the Knights.  “And what would three knights such as yourselves seek from there.”

“We are to embark upon a quest at the behest of the Princess of Nettik.”  Sir Brenowyn proudly stated.

“And what quest would that be?”

Sir Clive looked quizzically at this comrades, “We’re not sure yet.  But we’re Knights, taking on quests is sort of what we do.”

“I see, “ the old man’s eyes electric with thought. “And would you have need of a powerful sorcerer on this quest of yours?”

“We might,” Sir Michael nodded with a smile, “that we might.”

“Do you know of any?”  Sir Brenowyn asked with a face of concern.

“I, am Luciferous the Magnificent, do not dare to underestimate my powers!” He warned as he sat atop his pig, his knees tucked in to hold his robe off the forest floor.

“Bit of a mouthful don’t you think?  If you’re going to travel with us surely we could find something shorter?  Farmer Luc perhaps?” Sir Brenowyn smiled.

“Defiance!”  Luciferous barked!  He kicked his pig and it took off into the air, high above the forest floor swooping and looping as it ascended.

The three knights looked in awe.  “Well I’ll be…” Sir Michael gasped.

“Yeah yeah,” sighed Sir Clive, “but what use is he if he can only do pig magic?”

Brenowyn and Michael stared at Clive for a moment.  They rode on with a sigh.  “Come Sir Clive.  We should be going as our sorcerer friend has taken to the sky upon his, erm, steed.”

They travelled a short distance into the wood at a slow trot.  They had not travelled two hundred yards before behind them came a scream of “Yaaaaarrrrggghhhh!!”  Followed by a dull rustling thud and a pained “Oink!”

Sir Brenowyn sighed, “I’ll go get him then.”  He turned his horse around and cantered back to the clearing.

“It’s not even good pig magic.” Sir Clive remarked.

Sir Brenowyn peered down from his horse at the somewhat more bent than before looking sorcerer.  The old man looked up, pained but awake at the Knight.  “Luciferous the Magnificent eh?”  Brenowyn smiled.

The old man smiled weakly.  “How do you feel about Scott?”

Author's Note

This is only a drafted excerpt from a larger project. Mainly intended to be a fun distraction rather than anything serious.

Reviews

[Unwelcomeguest]

I liked that, I really really liked that. Most certainly the type of work that the term lol was invented for. Just a few spelling errors throughout and once or twice a sentence that didn't entirely make sense but other than that I can find no faults in your style or abundant humour. Well done