Brian Pratt - The unsuspecting mage

Orb of soft soothing light

Flash to brilliance bright.

The orb flashes momentarily into a brilliantly, blinding light. At the same time, James sits up and lets out a savage, primal scream as he waves his arms wildly. The wolf jumps two feet off the ground, turns and races out of the cave with a yelp. That spell, so soon after weakening himself earlier, leaves him light headed and dizzy.

Using his spear to steady himself, he manages to get to his feet and looks out into the night. There in the rain he finds a dozen pair of glowing eyes staring back at him. Using what little strength he has left, he holds his spear aloft and yells at the wolves, but they fail to react.

Now what? He leans upon the spear for support. You’re in a pickle for sure. Still drained from the earlier spell, he doesn’t feel like he can afford to do much magic. Can’t make myself any weaker or I won’t be able to defend myself should that become necessary. Thinking for a second, he reaches down for a small stone, and as he prepares to throw, says,

Little stone, little stone

With speed of a bullet

Hit that wolf’s hide

And go right through it.

With the last word he throws the stone at a pair of eyes. There is a crack in the air as the stone shoots forward in a sudden burst of speed. A loud, sickening thud along with the sound of snapping bones tells the tale and a pair of glowing eyes vanish. The rest of the pack break out of their immobility. Yelping and howling, they flee into the night.

Dots dancing before his eyes; James sits and rests his head on his knees, panting. Too much. No way can I do any more. If the wolves come back tonight he’s a dead man for he has nothing left. Remaining awake turns out to be an exercise in futility. He’s simply too exhausted. Trusting to fate, he lies down with head on backpack and quickly passes out. Sometime in early morning, the rain stops, and when the first rays of sunlight enters the cave, the glowing orb vanishes.

A rustling near his head startles him awake and he sits up quickly, fearful that the wolves had returned. He discovers instead a small dog similar to the one that had made off with his dinner earlier. The animal is looking straight at him, still and unmoving.

“Boo!” James cries loudly frightening the dog, causing it to run from the cave.

His head feels like it’s about to crack open and he’s shaky. Using his spear to aid him, he climbs to his feet and shoulders his backpack. At the mouth of the cave, James searches for any indication that the wolves are still in the area. It is with much relief that he looks out and finds the clearing before the cave vacant. He does, however, see the one he killed and the hole in its chest where the stone had struck. To his utter shock, the back half of the wolf had been blown away by the force of the impact. Sorrow for the wolf comes over him even though he knows the wolf, if given a chance, would have had him for a late night snack. Keeping an eye open for any of its pack-mates, he makes his way back toward the stream and continues following it westward.

The rains of the night before have swollen the stream. Its water rushes pell-mell over rocks in its bed. More berry bushes provide a morning snack as well as sufficient quantities to resupply his pack. His strength slowly returns throughout the morning and by noon, the headache and shaking go away.

He continues following the streambed. Sometime after noon, motion from downstream brings him to an abrupt halt. A shiver courses down his spine upon spying a wolf standing amidst the trees, watching him. He bends over and picks up several stones, placing all but one in his pocket. Looking back toward where the wolf had stood, he readies to throw the stone, but the wolf is gone.

For the next several hours, wolves can be seen amidst the trees, pacing him along his side of the stream. Every time he pauses to try and take one out with a stone as he had the night before, the wolves melt back into the forest. Their intermittent howls were a force of fear as he quickened his pace through the forest.

By this time, the stream has swollen to twice its size; several tributaries having joined with it. The stream was becoming more of a river, having a width in places exceeding twenty feet.

James encounters another large tributary cutting across his path. Standing upon a grassy knoll on the far side, a wolf stands motionless as it stares him down. Reaching into his pocket, James takes a stone and cocks his arm back to throw. Forming a visualization of the stone striking the wolf with great force, he repeats the incantation used back at the cave and throws.

Before the stone flies from his hand, the wolf lets out with a spine-chilling howl. Several answering howls erupt from out of the trees all around him and break his concentration resulting in the ruination of the spell. Without the power of magic behind it, the stone flies wide and lands in a bush several feet wide of the mark. Wolves burst from behind bushes and trees.

James turns and flees toward the river. Their growls and snarls give swift speed to his flight. The wolves close fast and his flight is cut short as he is forced to turn toward them, spear held out before him. Swinging the weapon to and fro, he is momentarily successful at keeping the wolves at bay.

“Back!” he shouts, fear tingeing his voice with hysteria.

Doing his best to ward off their attacks, he backs up slowly until his feet enter the coolness of the water’s edge. A wolf darts in and only a quick thrust of the spear prevented the animal from sinking its jaws into his leg. Over a dozen wolves are arrayed before him along the shoreline. For the moment they appear content to merely watch as he backs farther into the river. The coldness of the water and the terror of being torn apart keep him from being able to formulate any spells.

Two steps, three, he slowly puts distance between himself and the wolves. At step number four, as if by some unseen signal, the wolves rush him en masse. He lays about with his spear, using it like a quarterstaff. For a time he manages to strike the onrushing wolves with the broadside of the spear, even managing to stab a few; but they are beginning to wear him down. He still has not fully recovered from the night before.

With his footing becoming treacherous as his legs slowly lose feeling due to the coldness of the water, he slips on a loose stone under the water. Having to thrust his spear into the riverbed to remain upright he’s unable to maintain his defense.

Seeing its chance, one wolf rushes in and nips him on the leg, tearing a three inch long gash along just below the knee. Blood flows freely from the wound and the pain is intense. James is certain this will soon be his end.

He regains his balance and thrusts with his spear at the wolf that bit him, driving it back. His swings become ever increasingly slower and less powerful. Never having been what one would call athletic, his arms quickly lose the endurance to continue wielding the heavy spear.

A large wolf leaps for his throat and James brings the spear around just in time, piercing the wolf’s chest. Though dead, the wolf’s momentum carries it forward and slams square into James, knocking him backward into the water. The wolf’s dead weight settles upon him and nearly prevents him from raising his head above the water.

In panicked desperation, he struggles to remove the wolf but it’s far too heavy for him to move in his weakened state. Three more wolves enter the water and move in to finish it. Barely able to keep his head above water, James struggles to remove his spear from the dead wolf. As the spear comes free, a growl draws his attention to a wolf less than a foot away. Even as he swings the spear point toward the wolf, he knows it will be too late. The wolf leaps…