Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign

CHAPTER 7

Breaking and Entering





The Town of Lethwitch

On Southern Grayham





AS SAM WAS FINISHING his flight, George was rushing through the field toward the town of Lethwitch. Dusk was approaching. George stopped, looked back in the direction where he landed on Jason and wondered if the schmuck’s friends had ever picked him up.

George turned to run through the last part of the field and enter the village, but before he could, two men appeared out of thin air in front of him. They seemed foreboding and were blocking his path. One had a bird perched on his shoulder while the other had a serpent wrapped around his neck.

“What the hell?” George blurted. “Where did you cats come from?” He studied their appearance.

To his left, this man was tall and lanky. He had dark hair and wore a brown shirt with black pants. The raven on his shoulder glared at George as he looked at his companion. “I think this is him,” the man surmised. “I love it when they’re confused. That’s typical for humans.”

“You guys have got the wrong guy,” George barked before the other man could respond. “I just got here. There’s no way in hell you’re looking for me.”

Both men ignored George’s question. Unlike his companion, the second man was dressed in dark-blue robes, and gold chains adorned his waist. His hair was also dark and long, and the serpent around his neck had yellow and green scales. Its eyes were pitch black, and they gave George an uneasy feeling as the man spoke to his companion. “I bet he’s hiding it.”

The man with the raven on his shoulder responded. “I think he swallowed it.”

“Swallowed what?” George snapped. “You guys are clearly looking for someone else.”

The second man removed the serpent from his neck and allowed it to wrap itself around his right arm as he scanned George from head to toe. “Perhaps we should open him up and see if it’s inside.”

Rather than listen to another word, George reached into his pocket and pulled out his pistol. “Cut me open?” he jeered. “You must be out of your damn mind.” He pointed the barrel of the gun at the head of the man with the raven and cocked the hammer. “You guys picked the wrong man to screw with.”

The man with the gun in his face laughed. “It thinks it has power. It thinks we fear it.”

George stepped forward and placed the barrel of the gun on the man’s forehead. “You’re not too bright, are you? You’re asking for a hole in your head.”

Before another word could be said, the man on George’s right extended his arm without the snake around it and clenched his fist. Instantly, pain surged through George’s arm that was holding the gun.

Frightened, George tried to pull the trigger, but he was unable to. The harder he fought to squeeze the trigger, the more intense the pain became.

The man with the gun in his face reached up and placed his finger against the end of the pistol. He invoked his magic and grinned as frost traveled up the barrel and onto the handle.

George could feel his skin burn as the frost turned to ice and bit the inside of his hand. Instinctively, he released his grip and the pistol fell to the ground. “Damn it!” he shouted as he pulled his hand close to his body to warm it against his shirt. “What the hell do you guys want?”

The taller of the two men responded, the raven on his shoulder squawking as he did. “What did Jason tell you? Did he tell you about the map?”

George feigned his surprise. “What map? I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Who in the hell’s Jason?”

The man held up his palm in front of George’s face. A ball of energy appeared inside it. The heat cast from the sphere warmed George’s face and the sound it made as it crackled in the stranger’s hand frightened him. “I would not lie to me if I were you, boy,” the man threatened.

Trembling, George stumbled over his words. “I ... I ... ummm, Jason’s over there. He’s on the far side of the field. He was talking gibberish. He’s drunk. I swear, I don’t know anything about a map.”

A wave of force erupted from the man’s palm and knocked George to the ground. “If you’re lying to us, we’ll find you. I suggest you stay away from the Pool of Sorrow. The treasure is ours.”

A moment later, the two men vanished.

Stunned, George looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the confrontation. He was alone. Holy hell, he thought as he looked down at his hand. His skin was still red. Could this magic crap be real after all?

The longer he sat in silence replaying the altercation in his head, the angrier he became. He shook his head. Hell no. Screw those chumps and their damn parlor tricks. They’re no better than my father. With the sun approaching the horizon, he mumbled his next statement. “I’ll be damned if I let a couple punks push me around. We’ll see how tough they are next time we run into each other.”

George stood, dusted himself off and headed into town.

A moment later, Lasidious appeared with the two attackers at his side. He handed each a pouch full of coin. “You can return to Luvelles now. Thank you for your help, gentlemen.”

Both men bowed. “You’re welcome, My Lord.”

Lasidious passed his hand over the tops of their heads, and then they vanished.

It was not long before George realized that he stood out like a sore thumb. Anyone he tried to speak with would have nothing to do with him because of his appearance. The people just stared and walked away when he approached.

The men of the town were rugged and wore leather clothing for the most part. Some wore softer-looking clothes and were made of a material that George had never seen. The women had better taste. They wore long dresses that had the essence of an old-world style.

He smiled. At least the women feel it’s important to accent their curves. This place is like some kind of renaissance Beverly Hillbillies’ town. How funny is that? This place would be great for a TV pilot.

George looked down at his hand. It was still red. A moment later, he lifted his arm and sniffed. Holy balls, I smell! I freaking reek. I must look like a bum to these people. He noticed a tear on the right leg of his pants. Must have happened when I landed on Jason. Poor bastard.

His shirt, pants, belt, wallet and cuff links (all Gucci) were out of step with the town’s fashion. His shoes, not meant for sprinting through fields, looked like garesh, and they were scuffed from his rugged run.

George pulled the rip on his pant leg apart and uncovered a good-sized bruise on his thigh. He figured his adrenaline had been the reason he had not noticed the pain until now.

Releasing the fabric, he whispered, “If I don’t figure out a way to blend in, no one will speak to me.”

George studied his surroundings as he walked through the town. After another hour or so, he found a solution to his problem. From an alleyway, he watched as one of the town merchants locked the front doors of his store for the night. The older man shook the lock to double-check it and then made his way down the street.

George looked at the sign above the door. Hmmm, I can read the writing. Maybe I’m not so far from home after all. The Old Mercantile, eh? Let’s let things get a little darker around here, and I’ll pay the joint a visit.

George knew dusk was not the best series of moments in which to perform a robbery. He would need to wait until it was dark before he circled to the back of the store.

He had noticed some stables down the road. While passing, he had seen a piece of iron laying on the ground with a sharp point on one end. He hurried to retrieve it, wanting to make it back to this spot to keep scouting for the right moment to make his move.

This would not be the first robbery in George’s life. His high school had been his mark on four occasions, his foster dad’s home twice, and the recreational center near his mother’s home had been his target on a dozen different occasions when he was 15. He loved to go swimming at midnight, and he was only 16 when he was caught robbing a local bar to steal beer for his friends.

This place is ripe for the picking. There’s no security in any of these buildings, and with my experience, I can rip this joint off without breaking a sweat. Maybe I won’t need to sell my watch after all.

The buildings of the town were built with a combination of shaped stones and wood. The windows were not made of glass and if the store had been open, he could have jumped through them. Large, heavy wooden doors had been lowered over the top of the openings to cover the holes, and iron hasps were used to hold them closed. The roofs were covered with a unique style of wooden shingles which appeared to lock together, but without climbing up, he would not be able to tell how. There were no streetlights or electricity, and many of the town’s children were lighting torches placed in various locations since the sun and the freaky-looking purple and orange moons were about to set. The roads were made of cobblestone and had been well-maintained to keep vegetation from growing between them.

This standard of living was far beneath George’s personal requirements. How could these people live like this? It doesn’t look like there’s electricity, and I doubt there’s hot water. He grinned. I wonder where they take a dump.

Chimneys ... hmpf. I bet there’s not a heater inside any of these places. George chuckled. It’s like I’ve gone back in time. This place is kind of barbaric. Maybe I’ll even run into a few genuine barbarians one of these days.

When the right moment arrived, George circled to the back of the mercantile within the shadows cast by torchlight and prepared to enter. As it turned out, he did not have to use the iron bar. The door was not secured. When he tugged at the lock, it popped open. He slipped inside with a smirk and shut the door behind him. You’ve got to be kidding me. These people are idiots. Holy freaking hell, it’s dark in here.

George activated the light on his watch to get an idea of his surroundings. He crept through the darkness and stood in front of what he thought to be the store owner’s cash drawer. The thief popped it open, triggered the light on his Rolex again and then looked inside. He saw nothing. Nothing, that is, except a small piece of twine that most anyone else would have ignored. Taking a closer look, he reached in and tugged. The false bottom of the drawer lifted. Beneath was a stash of coins. Bingo! My lucky day.

It was dark, but from what he could see, the coins looked as if they were made of various metals. On further inspection, he noticed there were words engraved on each. They had unique shapes and sizes, and they varied in weight.





Their size and shape must have something to do with their value. Oh, well, looks like I’m gonna have to take them all. What a bunch of suckers. Who would leave something like this unsecured? Good for me, I think. You’re the man, George. You’re the man.

Cleaning the store owner out, he took one Jervaise, seven Owain and over 50 Helmep, and then put them into a small, leather pouch that he grabbed off one of the shelves. He removed his old clothes and put on some tan leathers. After fumbling around, he found a pair of wool socks. Boots were next. He found a pair that looked to be his size and tried them on. A perfect fit. How can people wear this crap? I hate leather. I’m going to need to find something better when I can.

Seeing the backpacks near the rear door, he headed for them and dumped the contents of Jason’s pack inside one. Next, he balled up his old clothes and shoved them in. Before throwing it across his shoulder, he stuffed one of his old socks inside the smaller pouch he had filled with the coins and then placed it inside the wadded-up clothes. That should keep them from rattling.

George reached for a belt that was hanging from a row of nails on the back wall. He was about to put it on when he heard two voices. His heart raced as he tiptoed to the far side of the door and put his back against the wall. He could smell smoke. The men were nearby, and their tobacco carried with it a powerful aroma and an even better high as it made its way to his nose through the cracks in the door.

His thoughts ran wild. Not again. My luck sucks crap lately.

He reached in his pocket to retrieve his pistol. Come on, George, think! The gun would make too much noise, and it would give you away. Putting the gun back in his pocket, he looked down at the strap in his other hand. The belt. Yeah, the belt.

He stretched it out. This thing’s useless. He frowned. Why didn’t I take karate when I had the chance? Because I was lazy, that’s why. They’re gonna kick the trash out of me when they find me.

He leaned over and peeked through one of the cracks in the door. Oh hell ... what if they find the money? They’re gonna rip me in half.

“Jonathan Walker Smith!” a lady’s voice called out.

“What?” the man shouted back and then muttered to his friend. “That woman will never leave me alone.”

“They’re all the same,” the other voice responded. “My old heel is always yelling at me to do something as well.”

“Jonathan Smith, get in here and beat these kids! They won’t listen!” the lady yelled again.

“Be right there!” he shouted back in his most charming voice and then added so only his friend could hear, “You old bat ... can you blame them for ignoring you?” He nudged his friend. “If only there was an elixir to shut them up.”

“We could always pray to Bassorine to take our hearing,” the other man replied. “We should pray tonight.”

Both men laughed before they headed their separate ways.

George stood still against the wall and waited for his heart to slow down. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he made sure everything inside the store was in order. He managed a weak smile as he secured the lock. A good thief always covers his tracks. I still need to take karate, though. He headed into the night.

George made his way through town to an inn he had seen earlier in the day. He took the backpack and rubbed it in the dirt so it didn’t look so new. He also added a little character to his shirt and pants before he entered. Once inside, he watched the people move about, but now, no one turned a head to take notice. He sighed with relief.

The ale that people were ordering cost one Helmep. He listened as a man ordered a room and handed the registrar behind the desk one Owain. It was not long before he figured out that one Owain coin was worth four Helmep. Once he felt he understood the finances of the transactions, he walked to the desk and waited for the woman to acknowledge him.

“What do you want?” the lady snapped, not looking up from her logbook. “I’m not going to take anymore lip from you Cottle boys. I’ve had enough of your comments about how my dress fits my bosom. That whole city is full of undesirables. Don’t any of you know how to treat a lady?”

George took a step back from the verbal assault and thought a moment before he reapproached. “Miss, I’m not from Cottle, and although you’re beautiful, I would not have the nerve to say something that wasn’t a welcomed advance. I’m sorry you’ve been mistreated. Some men just don’t realize that if it wasn’t for good women, there wouldn’t be any good men. But I do.”

The lady stopped writing and looked up. She took note of George’s deep-blue eyes, brown hair, and unblemished skin. They captured her fancy. The registrar’s face beamed with satisfaction as she pushed her long, blonde hair behind her ears and looked him over from head to toe with her blue eyes. His thin, athletic build was pleasing, and she liked everything she saw.

“Well now ... a man who understands how to treat a lady. How can I help you, honey?” she asked while adjusting her bosom to a more ample and visible position—the same bosom she had just complained about other men noticing.

George smiled. “Well, Miss, I just came in from out of town, and I was jumped on my way here.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “Jumped?”

“Yeah,” George nodded, “by thieves.”

“What are thieves?” she questioned, her head cocked.

The registrar’s response caught George off guard. “Ummm, you know, people that take your things and run off with them?”

A look of understanding appeared on the woman’s face. “Ohhhh, you mean you were ransacked by mishandlers? That’s terrible!”

“Yeah, mishandlers,” George replied without missing a beat. “How silly of me. I misspoke. Anyway ... I shouted since that was all I could do. They knocked me to the ground and then ran off. They didn’t even take anything.”

The woman leaned over the counter. “Were you hurt?”

George reached for his lower back and winced, thinking, Let’s see what I can get out of this chick. Maybe she’ll feel sorry for me. “I wasn’t hurt that badly, but I’m still a bit shaken. My back aches, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to get a room for the night. Oh, and if you have some food and water, I’d be much obliged.” He winced again and then groaned for effect.

As he had hoped, the woman was eager to help. She flipped through the logbook. “Let me see what I have available.” After a moment or two, she frowned. “Drat ... I’m afraid the only room I have isn’t the best one we offer. The bed is dreadful, and it isn’t worth the coin if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes and nodded in the direction of a woman who was standing on the far side of the room at the end of a bar surrounded by patrons. “That’s my mother. She’s the owner of this establishment. She’s also the one who is too cheap to replace the bed.”

George chuckled as he studied the decor of the room. Welcome to the wild, wild west, Georgie-boy, he thought. A moment later, her turned to face the registrar. “Your mother looks like a nice lady. We should give her the benefit of the doubt, don’t you think? I’m sure she does everything she can to make sure everyone’s stay is enjoyable.”

The woman reached down and closed her logbook. “My mother would like you. I’ll tell her you spoke up for her.”

“You do that.” George tapped the top of the counter. “How about that bed? I need to get some rest. I’ll make do with whatever you’ve got.” George grabbed his back, winced again and then groaned as he pulled his backpack off his shoulder. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that. That room isn’t worth it. Like I said, the bed is dreadful. How about I make up for it and have some food brought up to you? I could even have some hot water brought up so you could soak that back of yours in.”

“That’s very kind of you,” the manipulator responded. “You don’t have to do that.” George was pleased as he put the final touches on his deception. “I don’t mind paying.”

“Nonsense, honey. What would you like to eat? We have boar on the menu, hunted locally, and if you have more exotic taste, sea turtles from the Ocean of Utopia.”

The liar’s stomach did not like the idea of either, but figured he would try the boar since it sounded like the lesser of two culinary evils. “I’ll try the boar, I suppose. Do you have any bread you could add to it?”

“Of course, honey,” she smiled. “You head on up, and I’ll bring it to you as soon as it’s prepared.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” With that, George took the key to his room, paid three Helmep for the food and turned to head up the stairs.

“Oh, and one more thing, honey,” the lady said with a big smile. “My name is Athena.”

“Nice to meet you, Athena.”

“Perhaps you can tell me what a ‘lifesaver’ is when I bring up your food. It sounds like a good thing.”

“I’ll do just that,” George responded. “Thank you.” He climbed up two of the steps, stopped and turned to face Athena. “Oh, and I think you know you look great in that dress.” He winked.

A smile stretched across Athena’s face as she responded. “Get out of here, silly.”

As George headed up the stairs, he congratulated himself on a nice deception. As he turned the key and opened the door, he thought about how he had liked Athena’s soft hair and her natural beauty. Something about her had captured his fancy, but he could not pinpoint what it was. It was not like she was drop dead gorgeous or anything.

Tossing his backpack on the bed, he continued to ponder. Other than what Athena had already done for him, there was no need to manipulate her further. He would be nice when she brought up his meal and not try to take advantage of her. He would only see if he could steal a kiss and send her away smiling.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he shook his head. He did not know why he would stop at only a kiss, but he did know something about Athena was intriguing, and for whatever reason, this something commanded his respect.

It was only a short while before Athena knocked at the door. She brought the plate of boar in and instructed the help to dump the hot water into the bathing tub. Once finished, she motioned for them to leave and then faced George. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked. “Perhaps keep you company while you eat?”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” George responded. “Grab a seat and make yourself at home.”

While asking questions about the town, George found out that Athena also believed magic was real. Granted, she had never seen it used, but she vouched for its existence, and she knew of the mage Jason had told him about. She even knew where the mage lived and boasted about how his brother had been given the honor of traveling to some world she called Luvelles to study what, apparently, all magic users called “the arts.”

Holy crap, he thought. Everybody is on happy grass around here. Where in the hell am I anyway? She’s talking about another world as if it’s right around the corner. He played with the scruff on his chin as Athena continued to talk. Huh ... with this many people believing in magic, maybe there’s something to it. It sounds like Jason wasn’t as drunk as I thought he was. Athena has no reason to lie to me.

After Athena described how to get to the mage’s home, George redirected the conversation. Through subtle questioning about the coins he had on his person, he came to a full understanding of their value. By the way Athena spoke, it sounded as if he would have enough coin to purchase everything he needed to take a little trip without selling his Rolex.

As the moments passed, George explored his unexpected attraction for Athena. He asked her to turn around while he undressed and kept himself covered with a towel until he was in the tub. Something about this woman demanded respect, and it was obvious she liked him. The kiss he planned on giving her did not seem appropriate and would need to wait.

George wanted to ask about the two colorful planets in the sky, but determined this level of ignorance would not serve a purpose. “Thank you for the wonderful evening, Athena. I hope you won’t be upset if I excuse myself to get some sleep. I’m exhausted.”

Athena’s voice was soft, “Everything is well, honey. All I wanted was to make sure someone took care of you after your run-in with bad luck. Mishandlers are terrible people. All criminals belong on Dragonia.”

Dragonia? he thought. George was dying to ask more questions, but he did not want his ignorance to ruin their conversation. He leaned forward, placed his cheek against hers and whispered, “I wish women where I’m from were as sweet and as beautiful as you.”

The manipulator was surprised at how genuine his compliment had sounded. He actually believed what he was saying. “I’m sorry, Athena, but I’m so tired. If I don’t get some sleep, I’m gonna fall apart. Will you eat with me in the morning?”

“I would like that. See you in the morning then?”

“In the morning. I look forward to it.” George hated to admit it, but he really liked this woman, and resisting his feelings was not going to work. The way she treated him and the soothing sound of her voice when she called him “honey” made him feel special.

As soon as the door shut, he mumbled, “What are you doing, George? You’re not the kind of guy to get involved. You don’t have time for all that emotional crap.” He turned, walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “But damn it, she’s so much better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He watched the flame of the lamp flicker and smiled as his head hit the pillow. “Man, Athena’s a classy lady. What to do? What to do?”

Sam and Shalee popped into George’s head—not because he cared about their well-being, but more because he remembered the statue they had walked around inside the building they woke up in. The bronze man had held a staff in his hand. “Was that guy magical, too? I wonder if his staff turned things to stone.” He smirked. “Maybe it backfired, and he turned himself to stone, and that’s why he was standing there.”

After a while, he grumbled, “Dang ... I’ve got to know. I’ve got to find out if what Jason was spouting off about is the truth.”

As he sat up to blow out the lamp, the last thing he remembered thinking was how his daughter, Abbie, would freak out about how dark the room was now that the light had been extinguished.





In the morning, Athena was there to eat with George. She had kept her word, and the liar had kept his. Her sweet smile was inviting, and he enjoyed watching her over breakfast. He longed to be near her. Her hair, body, soft-blue eyes, and the way she blushed when complimented beckoned for him to stay.

He wished this moment would last forever. However, he was also anxious to get going. Jason had said that there were others searching for the map, and now that he had the moments to think it through, he believed this to be the case. The two guys who attacked him had mentioned something about the map. He needed to get to this Pool of Sorrow before everyone else if he was going to be the one who found the map and secured the treasure.

Once they finished eating, he held her hand and walked outside. George gave Athena a kiss goodbye, and for the first series of moments in his life, he enjoyed a kiss without attaching it to a game or con. This kiss, to his surprise, was real and full of passion—yet it was also sweet and tender. When he pulled away to leave, he saw the longing to know him in her eyes. He wanted to know her just as much.

I can’t leave now, he thought. What’s another couple hours? He smiled and took Athena back into the inn and found a table. Spending valuable moments he did not have, George experienced his first act of unselfishness. He lost sight of himself in a genuine conversation as the morning succumbed to the Peak.

Before he left, George assured Athena he would be back. The funny thing was, he meant what he said—another first. He had no desire to lie to this woman. He believed he would be back to see her. The same woman whose affections he had manipulated to get a room the night before had found a crack in his armor. She had stolen a tiny piece of his manipulative heart, and for the moment, turned him into a decent human being. He smiled both on the inside and on the out as he held her hand for as long as he could before letting it go. George was saddened when Athena turned to go inside for work.

After a few moments, George decided that standing on the steps of the inn would get him nowhere. He turned back to the business at hand. He had shopping to do and would need to take the moments necessary to buy a sword, dagger, knife, rope, water pouches, torches, and food for his journey.

After reaching the home of the mage, George realized he was now believing in most of what Jason had said. Athena’s confirmation about magic saw to that. He was nervous. He had no clue what to expect. He knew nothing of the magical arts or how he could manipulate the conversation. Just play this one safe, Georgie-boy. That’s what’s best for this situation.

Prior to knocking, he took a quick calculation of what was left of his coin. He now had one Jervaise, which was worth four Owain and three Owain worth 12 Helmep. He also had 33 Helmep, which was this world’s least valuable currency. By his calculation, the total value of his coins was 61 Helmep. He hoped that was enough.

George knocked on the door. A tall, thin man answered, wearing a long, bluish-gray robe. His matted beard and his stained mustache from seasons of pipe smoking told George he was old. He was also ugly, and his hygiene was atrocious.

“What can I do for you?” the scraggly, old mage asked, his breath stinging the inside of George’s nose even from where he stood.

George choked down his desire to say something rude. “I was told to seek your help. I need a spell to deal with a beast. Oh, and if you have one, I could use a spell to trap some food.”

“So you’re going to the Cave of Sorrow, eh?” the mage replied.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

The mage did not answer his question. “Come in, boy. You can call me, Morre. My brother just left, or you could’ve met him as well.”

Damn, I wonder how he knows where I’m going. This beast must be real if he figured it out like that, George thought. As he walked past Morre to enter the establishment, the desire to vomit rushed through him as the stench of the mage’s odor clubbed him upside the head. This guy is a pig. Take a damn bath for hell’s sake.

George struggled to think beyond the stench. He swallowed and then forced a smile. “My name’s George. I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but maybe I can meet your brother on some other occasion.” I bet he’s just as disgusting as you are, he thought.

Morre nodded. “Perhaps on some other occasion then. However, if you’re going into the Cave of Sorrow, you may never get the chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can give you a spell to protect your mind, but—”

“Hold on. I never said anything about protecting my mind.”

Morre frowned at the rudeness of George’s interruption, but continued without answering his query. “I have a pair of scrolls prepared, but I don’t have the supplies to make another.”

It annoyed George that the mage knew more about his situation than he should have. “Two spells should be fine.”

Morre nodded and led George to the far side of his library. “I think I have a few snare scrolls as well. You can read from the scroll after planning where you’ll trap the beast. The spell sets an invisible snare that will hold him in place for a significant series of moments. But don’t worry, you’ll be immune to the affected area. This should allow you to make your actions look natural while luring the beast into bondage.”

“I never thought of that,” George replied. “Sounds like a plan.” He counted the snare scrolls Morre was holding. “I’ll take all three of those.”

Morre scribbled some calculations, and after a moment, he arrived at a number that was intentionally overpriced. “That will be four Jervaise.”

George did the math and realized he did not have enough to buy everything. “Damn ... I’m three Helmep short. Morre, is there room for negotiation? Maybe I could do a favor to make up the difference.”

The mage thought a moment and turned to George with an idea. “I’ll sell you the scrolls for the coin you have on you if you’ll deliver a message to a friend of mine who lives in Siren’s Song. I use the word ‘friend’ loosely. He’s a large ball of energy called a wisp ... a Wisp of Song. If you can find him, and I assure you he’s difficult to find, please give him this sealed envelope. Inside is the information he desires.”

“A wisp? Huh! Never heard of that before.”

Morre smiled, exposing his collection of heavily neglected teeth.

Seeing the mounds of plaque, George’s jaw tightened in order to keep a straight face as Morre responded. “The wisp is my special ‘friend.’ He’s all-knowing when it comes to matters of magic. He’ll be pleased to receive my message, and he’ll reward you by providing an answer to any question you ask of him. But I must warn you, make sure your question is specific and clear.

“Interesting,” George uttered, unsure of what to think. “I tell you what. I can deliver the envelope once I’m done going to the cave ... if that’s okay with you.”

Morre nodded. “That’s not what I would prefer, but that should be acceptable. It’ll save me from traveling the distance.”

“Where can I find this wisp?”

“The wisp makes its home within the mist below Griffin Falls. There is a hidden pool called Siren’s Song. The water from the falls spreads a thick vapor across a vast area. It’s there the wisp hides. Since the gods have protected the area, the wisp isn’t an aggressive creature. You can approach without fear.”

“What else?” George urged.

“The sphere uses song to communicate with those who are willing to perform an act of service. This envelope is the result of my assignment, and the wisp will offer a reward for the information sealed inside.”

George smirked. “So you’re just going to give it to me? Don’t I owe you coin ... not the other way around? Why would you give me your reward?”

“I’m tired. I don’t wish to journey to the wisp’s home. Three Helmep is not a fair trade. You may have the reward for saving my moments.”

George nodded. “Okay ... I’ll buy that.”

“Wonderful ... then all you’ll need to do is give the wisp the envelope as agreed.”

“Nice. Maybe I’ll take on another task and get a second reward while I’m there.”

Morre chuckled. “Don’t be silly. The journey to fulfill the wisp’s assignments involve great danger.” The mage paused. “In almost every case, the adventurer never completes their task. They fail to return from their attempt.”

“Damn, that sucks. So what will the wisp give me for the envelope?”

Morre frowned. “Have you not been paying attention? I told you to ask the wisp a question. You’ll receive a truthful answer.” The mage reached behind his back and picked at his backside. He sniffed his hand as he continued. “But if that’s not enough, you could always choose to tempt fate and perform a second deed of service if you’re insistent on magnifying the reward.”

“I don’t know that I care to tempt fate,” George responded. “You said this wisp spoke in song. Can you tell me more about that?”

“He will use song to communicate with your mind. That’s all you need to know.” The expression on Morre’s face turned serious. “When you ask your question, keep it simple.”

“For sure. I have no desire to mess this up. Besides, I already know what my question will be.” George rubbed his hands together in excitement.

Morre reached down and scratched at his crotch. “I’m sure your question will change before you find an audience with the sphere.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway ... I’ll get your envelope to the wisp. You can count on that.”

After paying out all of his coin and gathering his gear, George said, “I got to get going. I have a trek ahead of me, and I need to arrive at my destination before someone else. Could you please show me on the map where Siren’s Song is?”

Morre pointed to Siren’s Song and then showed George the quickest path to the Pool of Sorrow. He waved goodbye, shut the door and watched out the window with a chuckle as George hurried down the street. Then he turned and walked into his library where the goddess, Celestria, appeared.

“Hello,” Morre said, not in the least surprised at the sudden appearance of the goddess as he morphed into Lasidious to kiss his lover’s voluptuous lips. “My portion of the plan has been set in motion. What about yours?”

“Oh, my love,” Celestria oozed. “You are my sweet devil-god.” She cupped his head in her hands and kissed him again, “You are a wickedly adorable man. I’ve missed you. Everything is proceeding as planned.”

Lasidious smiled and then moved to the entryway where he knelt to place a paper scroll and a pouch on the floor. With that, the gods vanished and returned to their home on Ancients Sovereign.

Soon after the gods took their leave, the door of the mage’s home opened and the real Morre walked in, his natural, nasty-smelling odor following him. As he stepped over the threshold, he noticed the scroll and the small leather pouch filled with coins. Bending to pick them up, he let out a huge, juicy fart that wafted through the home like a poisonous cloud. He waved his hand to clear the air, grunting his own disapproval of the stench. The smell reminded him of the helping of sea turtle he had eaten the night before. A moment later, he redirected his attention back to the note:


Dear Morre,

Please forgive the intrusion on your home, but I assure you it was necessary.

I want to thank you for the scrolls. I’ve compensated you beyond their value since I took them without your knowledge.

I wish I didn’t have to leave before meeting you. I’ve heard so many good things.

Again, I’m sorry, and I hope to one day apologize to you and your brother in person.

Sincerely,

George Nailer

Morre scratched his backside and farted again. He grinned as the forced explosion warmed his hand. With the same hand he reached up and picked a piece of the previous night’s sea turtle out of his teeth and then headed into town toward the local vault. With each bounding step down the front stairway, an additional, moist note of flatulence was released.

Fellow soul ... I wonder if the

vegetation wilted as Morre passed?

How rank was that guy?

Ohhh, to be a fly on the wall.