The Truth of a Mad Magician
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The Truth of a Mad Magician Unknown author
The Truth of a Mad Magician The sun was still shining as I regained consciousness. Carefully, very carefully, I stood up. I might have expected something like this to happen again. It usually did, if fate wanted it so. Fate. Not a word I had been very fond of as of late. I had been fragile from birth, or so I was told. Even the slightest surprise would cause me to lose consciousness. In any event, it didn't matter much anymore. I decided it would be better if I examined my surroundings more closely. I was without a doubt in close vicinity to a town. Even from where I was standing, I could hear the townspeople haggle at the market square. I could hear guards harassing unsuspecting travellers. Even though the sun was still shining, it was both cold and humid. Not that it mattered. Not to me, anyway. "Is everything well, son?" It was an elderly man, dragging a cart filled with hay behind him, a dog trotting by his side, gave me what seemed a brief curious sniff. So he was a farmer. The old rags he was wearing indicated his lack of wealth, brown, patched clothing and well worn shoes. Yes, a farmer, no doubt. "Yes, yes. What do you care?" I was surprised at my own arrogance. I hadn't meant it like that. His once kind face filled up with resent. Farmers thought little of my kind, I knew that. "I… I didn't mean it like that.", though I wasn't sure I meant it, and the farmer's
expression softened only slightly as I said it. "What business do you have here? This is a trader's den; no place people like you would care to visit." "People like me?" I asked. Before I knew it, I had taken not only one, but two steps closer to the man. He backed off a little. "What do you mean, people like me?" He seemed slightly disoriented, as if he wasn't quite sure why I was asking. "You people. You wealthy folks." His tone went from polite to slightly wavering, with what must have been the local accent become clearer. "You crave for our taxes, living your lives without lifting a finger for us." As if I had never lifted a finger. This man was clearly insane; I had struggled more in life than any farmer would ever think possible. Which reminded me of my current state; I had yet to discover where I was, nor my reasons for being here.
I was now standing in the middle of a road, seeing how I had stepped towards the man a moment ago. I tried to remember why I had lost consciousness outside a town. "Where am I?" I said to myself, scratching my head. I had a bad habit of doing that, talking to myself while scratching my head. "Why don't you spend some of that money on a map, hmm?" Money? I didn't have any money. The thing about me being wealthy was also a recent discovery. I took a closer look at my own clothing. Expensive—looking robes, not very different from the ones they use at magic academies. Indeed, I wouldn't blame the farmer for mistaking me for one of those people. The robe didn't have any pockets, which meant I couldn't possibly be carrying anything. It was dyed blue, with gold stitching and silvery ornaments. I liked it. "I don't have any money," I said. "I don't remember ever having had money." "Sure doesn't look that way" he said with even more resent in his voice now than before, picking up his cart. I knew he had mistaken my words, but I didn't have the mind to correct him. Instead I turned my back on the farmer and headed towards the town gates. They were closer than I thought; I could actually see them from where I stood.
Two guards were on duty outside the gates. Although in truth, these two looked more like a couple of boys playing with swords. They examined me closely, before clearly stating I had no business around here, and that I should immediately go back where I came from. I took offence from this, and without thinking stretched my arm out to face the two guards and a bolt of lightning shot from my finger tips, throwing them, screaming, high up into the air, for them to plummet down to the ground a few feet in front of me. I inspected my own hands with approval. So, I was a magician. I didn't know whether the shock or the fall had done more damage to the two men, but when I checked them, I knew they were both dead. Only then did I notice that people were gathering around the two bodies, exchanging terrified looks and words of comfort. A mother was crying. A father was shouting, asking if anyone had seen who the murderer was. A couple of fingers pointed at me. What a troublesome business. "I assure you, it was merely an act of pity. Mayhap they are in a better place now." Again, my own words surprised me. This was very unlike me, I thought. Although it probably wasn't. No, on second thought, it felt good; this was right. Three of the men ran up to me with rugged looking swords and axes, apparently one of them had been the father of one of the young men I'd killed. Well, I thought, why not add a few more bodies to the pile, and see what other spells I was capable of.
The crowd around filled with screams and yells of anger and fear as I stepped over the corpses of the three older men, the crowd had withdrawn a fair way back, cowering in fear. This was fascinating; to think that I, a fragile man with little memory of his past and a fragile body, had caused this much fear and havoc so soon. I admit, I felt it was a truly magnificent feeling. And that is how I became a mad magician, or so I've been told. I believe I was mad long before this happened, but that is but mere speculation. I would tell you when, where and why if I knew, but I have been wandering this world for years without knowing so myself.