JACK - ANTHOLOGY OF A YOUNG WIZARD 7: HISTORY AND HIS STORY

You do not listen to me anymore. I am your friend, Stephen. You can't let his ilk be seen here. What are people going to think? How are you ever going to have people staying here when there's the devil's child here? asks Arcus. But we need the money, says Stephen. Yes, but not his money. You are just going to bring even more hate on you if they found out you are harboring a wizard, says Arcus. Fine, please keep your voice low. He'll hear you, Stephen replies. Ah, let him hear me. I'm not afraid of his devilish tricks. So please, Stephen, listen to me. I am your friend and want your best. It's why I come here to help you, says Arcus. I thought you came here for backgammon and booze, says Stephen jokingly. I thought you knew me better, says Arcus. I was just jesting. You don't have to leave, says Stephen. See you next time, says Arcus. Excuse me, says someone. Welcome, father. How can I help? asks Stephen. Father? A priest, here? I ask myself as I change into my night gown. I need a room for the night. I'll be leaving in the morning. I won't be bothering you too much, says the Priest. Of course. We do have a room free for you, says Stephen. Here, this should be enough for the night, says the Priest. You're too kind. As just it happened we also have a wizard staying here tonight. Who knew God would bring you here tonight, says Stephen. Funny. Very funny, says the Priest. It was not a joke, says Stephen. I understand. Good night, says the Priest in a hurry. Such a weird fellow, says Stephen. Weird indeed, I think to myself as I put myself to bed.

Go to London, my boy. It is the most populated place and you'll see all sorts of people. You'll learn a lot, says Master. But how will that help with my magic? I ask him. Oh dear, do not worry. You're a wizard after all. You can do a little bit of everything, says the Master. Why aren't we wizards specialized like the others? I ask. Because someone has to pass the knowledge down throughout history. If sorcerers die out in flames, we'll have to preach the magic of fire to the next generation and grow a new batch of sorcerers. That's why we learn a bit of magic from witches, a bit from druids, magicians, mages, warlocks, necromancers, sorcerers, witches and enchantresses. If one is hunted down and burnt to the ground, we can rebuild it. And I taught you everything I knew to teach. If you want to learn more, you'll have to get out there and find them and learn from them. But to do that, you must learn to live in reality, boy. You've lived an easy life until today and there's much more out there than what you just witnessed here, says Master. But it does not have any sense for me to do that. We are persecuted, hunted in some places and burned at stake. Why would I want to adventure out there? I ask. Because that's how you'll learn. It is our punishment for the greed we had in our hearts brought us here, boy. If we want that to change we need to atone for our greed and learn to be responsible for our powers and judgement. Now sleep, tomorrow you'll have a long journey ahead of you, says Master.

What a weird dream to have a part of yesterday replay in my head like that. It seems London did get under my skin, I tell myself as I wake up with a hunger in my belly. What will I have for breakfast today? I'll have some of that sausage I made before I left, some bread and an apple for some sweetness. Good thing I can travel light and conjure these things up from Master's home, I tell myself as I get dressed. Ah, it seems I was in time to have them cooked, hope Master won't be too annoyed with me for doing this, I once more tell myself proudly. Already leaving? Stephen asks. Yes. Thank you for letting me stay here, says the Priest. Won't you stay for breakfast? Stephen asks. I'm afraid I have to leave quite urgently, says the Priest. I hear footsteps nearing my door. I hear Stephen knocking. Morning, would you like some breakfast? asks Stephen. No, thank you. I am already in the middle of it, I respond. Oh, enjoy. Sorry to bother. Maybe Arcus will join me, says Stephen as he leaves. What is with people here? They seems all to be so miserable, I think to myself as I finish eating. The door to the inn opens. Morning Stephen, did you hear? asks Arcus. Just in time. Come join me for breakfast and tell me what should I have heard, says Stephen. Do you know your friend, Thomas Scot? He rents rooms by the tower, says Arcus. Yes? What happened? asks Stephen. Well, a servant to a priest was found dead in one of his rooms, says Arcus. Really? Do we know him? asks Stephen. We do, know who he was servant to, Richard de Tonge, the Priest that used to come here before the incident. I think the Sheriff will come by here to ask us about him, says Arcus. Oh no, I exclaim as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

And if you liked the short story and want to support the blog and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO

JACK - ANTHOLOGY OF A YOUNG WIZARD 6: DREAMS OR NIGHTMARES

Boy, wait a bit, the Sheriff calls to me. What is it? I ask. The Judge wants to talk to you, says the Sheriff. As I make my way towards him all manner of thoughts rush through my head. Listen here, lad, says the Judge squinting at me. Be wary of what you say or do here in London. We got a keen sense of trouble and we quickly burn anything that is foreign or strange to our noses. Your master probably told you what happened last time a wizard was here. I am not telling you this out of compassion towards your kind, I am telling you this as a warning. I do not wish to see you in my court again if you do not want me to live up to my name, says the Judge as he turns to leave. What’s his name? I ask the Sheriff. It’s Stephen Gravesend, says the Sheriff. Stephen Gravesend, I repeat with shivers going down my spine in terror. Listen, is there an Inn around here? I need some lodging, I ask the Sheriff. There is down the street from the pub we came from, says the Sheriff. Thank you, I tell him as I leave. Just as I get out of the court Richard approaches me. Listen, I am truly sorry for what I said and done. Can you find it in your cold devil heart to forgive me? he asks. No. You must jest, otherwise you wouldn’t simply say what you just said, I brush him off and leave. I was right about your cold dead heart, shouts Richard after me.

As I walk down the dark streets of London, I remind myself to make a bit of light to carry in the palm of my hand. I just hope the Inn won’t be a deadly one, because this start of the journey really isn’t what I thought it would be. And if there’s a lesson to learn here, I don’t really want to learn it, I tell myself as I see the light to the inn. Welcome, welcome in the dead of the night, says the Innkeeper. Thank you, do you have a free room for the night? I ask. They always have free rooms since that one woman died by the bridge, says a man with his back turned towards me. Oh, it is you., the wizard. Not even hours here in London, and you’re already of fame in this part of town, says the Innkeeper. You are not considering letting him stay here after that last one? asks the man angrily. Calm down, Arcus. The man was freed by the notorious Gravesend. Sorry for my friend here, he is a bit in a mood. My name is Stephen, don’t worry not like the judge, I am Stephen of Lynn. My name sounds nicer and it is fun since I am also an Innkeeper. And this is Arcus of Rikelinge, I know, strange name. But he is good company. We do have a free room, as long as you promise not to entice women with your magic, says Stephen with a nervous laugh. Do not worry, magic does not work that way, I try to reassure him. Sure it doesn’t, says Arcus. Do not be intimidated by him, Stephen tells me. Do you want to know the story of the woman that killed herself for a wizard? asks Arcus.

No, not really, I respond. It was the 25th of December a year ago, when Johanna of Charing, a beautiful woman, was found dead. She drowned between the Tower of London and the Hospital of St. Kathrine in the parish of St. Botolph. That beautiful woman was found blue to her face, her skin now slimy and her beauty of a body now round and pudgy from puss and water. The story goes that the jury had found Laurence the Poulter, who had spent the previous night here with her. That night I was here too. It was just me and him the whole night. At some point we started hearing strange noises, a strange language we have not heard before until that night. And we should know. Before his father died and left him the inn, we roamed Europe. So we know some French, some Latin, but we never heard the tongue he spoke. That night before long, we saw her leave this place without any expression on her visage. Like, like… he bewitched her or put her under a spell. And since she died, we keep hearing strange noises in the attic of this inn and rumors spread and soon no one came here no more. All because of that wizard and his tongue, says Arcus. But that Laurence was acquitted after they looked at her body and found it had no wounds on her. Here’s your key, says Stephen. What a fascinating story, I have yet to see a ghost with my own eyes. From what Master told me, they are very rare as they usually travel to the other side unless they die of natural causes and have regrets left. Now excuse me while I go have nightmares of the stories you told, I tell Arcus as I take my leave to go get some sleep. Close that door well if you wanna wake up tomorrow, says Arcus. Well, fuck… I tell myself as I go up the stairs…

And if you liked the short story and want to support the blog and keep the short stories free, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO