The Lost Mage

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to events, places, names, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Amy Difar

All rights reserved.

Chapter One

Wispy clouds drifted across the full moon. A group of dark robed figures stood in a circle, their murmurs barely audible from a distance. The gentle breeze gained in intensity as the chanting of the figures reached a crescendo.

The leader continued to chant in some unknown language, his entreaties to the sky echoed by his followers. With a flourish, he sprinkled his sacred concoction on the small flame in the brazier in front of him. The flames leapt high enough to make him jump back and small streams of light started to shimmer in the lines of the occult symbols drawn within a circle on the ground.

The group moved back to watch in awe as the light grew brighter, seeming to emanate from beneath the ground. The lines of the symbol became actual cracks as the seal began to crumble and break apart. The ground was shaking and the supplicants ran for cover. With a bright flash and a rumbling sound, the drawn symbol exploded, showering the area in dust. Only the clear center of the rune remained intact. As the dust cleared, the supplicants left their cover to gaze in wonder at the lone figure standing in the center of the rune.

The leader of the group stepped forward. “Demon, your masters wish you to step forward and do our bidding.”

The tall, muscular figure’s green eyes narrowed as he looked at the group in astonishment. His long, silver hair blew in the remnants of the breeze. “Kwok?” he said.

“Kwok?” The leader echoed. “Um, yes, Kwok. Is that what we should call you?”

The figure’s eyes narrowed in agitation. “Kyda dane lo-patall?”

“What?” the leader turned to his followers. “Does anyone know what he’s saying?”

“No, don’t you? I thought you spoke the demon language.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. I mean that’s what I used to summon him. But I don’t know what kwok means … or that other thing he said. I think Kwok is his name, though.”

The supplicants all shrugged.

The figure in the circle said a short incantation in his strange tongue. Then he turned toward the group and spoke. “Excussse me. What language isss this you isss speaking to me?”

The group turned and looked at him in astonishment. With relief, the figure realized that his translator spell seemed to have worked.

“Demon, I am your master, Howard. You may call me Master.”

“Massster? What is you speaking about? I have no Massster.”

“Yes, Demon. We have called you forth from hell to do our bidding.”

“Hell? I iss not from Hell. I is from Kwagl.”

“Kwagl? Where the hell is Kwagl?”

“Isss not in Hell. And I isss not demon. I isss Kakdali.”

“Kakdali? What are you talking about?”

“Kakdali, minor wizard, of the elemental mages of Kwagl.”

“Well, great … minor wizard. We have called you forth to do our bidding.”

“I isss not servant. Why would you asssume that I would serve you?” His speech improved as he got used to the feel of the strange language on his tongue.

“Because we did a summoning spell to bring forth a demon from Hell to help us spread anarchy.”

“Have you ever sssumoned a demon before?”

“Well, no, you were our first.”

“But I isss not a demon. And if I wasss, I would do my own bidding, not yours.”

“No, see, as your summoner, you’re bound to me.”

“You’re not my sssumoner.”

“Yes, I am,” Howard said in a petulant voice. He tried for a more commanding tone. “I did a summoning spell to bring you forth from hell and here you are.”

“What you did isss to take me from my meal, not from hell.”

Howard became indignant. “I … I’m sorry, spawn of hell. Are you actually complaining that we interrupted your dinner?” he turned to give his followers an incredulous look.

“Tea, actually. I wasss having tea.”

The followers turned to their leader in agitation. “Is this some kind of joke, Howard? ‘Cause I thought we were summoning a demon, not some dude who was having tea.”

“We did, I mean, that’s what the spell was for.” He turned back toward the strange figure and addressed him in a commanding voice. “Demon Kwok, you will do my bidding.”

“I will not. Sssend me back.” He took a threatening step towards Howard.

Howard took an involuntary step back. “Er … I, that is we, can’t. It was only a way to summon you here. And you’re stuck inside that rune symbol, and unless you agree to do our bidding, we won’t release you.”

“What isss you talking about?” The mage put one foot across the line on the ground.

“No … you can’t do that!” Howard shrieked. He tried to regain his composure and said in an authoritative voice, “You must do my bidding!”

The figure eyed Howard with distaste. “To hells with thisss.” The mage stepped over the rubble of the destroyed runes and walked out of the park and onto the city street, leaving the stunned supplicants behind. Once on the sidewalk, he stopped in fear to stare at the tall buildings and possessed mechanical beasts running on the street.

“Bloody hell.” With a flourish of his long cape, he headed down the street, oblivious to the stares of those he passed.

Chapter Two

The mage stepped off the curb into the path of an oncoming car.

The driver hit the horn.
Honk.

“Honk, beep, toot!” the mage shouted back, attempting to mimic the language of the mechanical beasts as he leapt out of the way.

“Get out of the street, you crazy bastard.”

“I’m no bassstard. I know who my father isss,” the silver-haired man called after the car.

He continued trying to cross the street, making honking noises at all of the passing cars as he darted between them.

When he reached the other side of the street he paused and looked back, dumbfounded that the mechanical beasts had now stopped and were allowing people to cross the street without trying to attack them.

He turned and walked in the opposite direction. He stopped briefly to gape at a streetlight, amazed that the candle inside burned without flickering.

After being jostled by several people passing by, he turned and started walking with the crowd. He left the busy thoroughfare for a quiet side street. About halfway down the block, he sat on the wide steps of a brownstone.

A gray and white alley cat padded lightly up the steps and sat opposite the mage.

Hey,
the cat said.

“Hey yourself,” the mage answered.

The two sat in silence for a minute.

So, you can understand me?

“It would seem ssso,” answered the mage.

Interesting.

“Not really, you sssee I did a spell to let me understand the first few languages spoken to me here because I couldn’t understand what anyone wasss saying.”

Ah
, the cat replied with a knowing nod of his head. Another moment of silence passed.
Hey, do you think you could score me some milk?

“Score?” the mage asked in confusion.

Um, I mean, like, get me some.