"I said no already!" Visere whipped around, eyes furious. He shot the girl opposite him a menacing glare. "I told you, I'm not going to die!"
There was a wooden table between the man and the girl, who was on a plush leather chair, and looked a little too comfortable. She sighed and took a breath. "You have to, Vis!"
"Look, Therese, I have everything planned out. I have a whole group of Sorcerers from both kingdoms. I have a huge political influence, more than enough money, and an army at my disposal. Who's going to kill me?"
"You'll get killed before you get the money and army."
"I already have them."
The girl called Therese quickly backtracked. "I mean, before you get to them."
Visere's eyes flashed. "I thought you wanted this," he said accusingly, standing up. His intimidating figure was towering over her. "I thought it was your idea to have a four-way battle! To frame two innocents! Why do you want me dead now, at the crux of things?"
"I don't want you dead!" snapped Therese. "There are certain ... sarcifices ... which need to be made. You'll just have to be one of them."
"Why?"
"Why? For God's sake, Visere! You're evil! You're the villain! Villains have to die!"
"So this is for the sake of the plot?"
"Everything is for the sake of the plot!"
"Therese--"
"Stop calling me Therese!" The girl cut across him. "I'm your Authoress! I feel like you're insulting me every time you call me Therese."
"Therese stems from Authoress," Visere explained innocently. "I can't exactly go around calling you Thoress."
"Then explain why it sounds insulting."
Visere smiled playfully. "Obviously I'm degrading your title of Authoress into a name which can be given to any lowly character."
"Obviously." The Authoress smiled painfully. She thought that she should pull this back on track. "But I am the Authoress, and I move the plot. Without the plot, the book is nothing! Nothing, you hear me?"
"Aren't I your favourite?" Visere complained. "Don't I get a chance to live? Can't the evil guys win, for once?"
"Well, I planned that until my Muse came up with another idea," mused the Authoress. "Besides, that wasn't High Fantasy enough. That was running away and Eragon-y."
"I can't believe this," said Visere icily. "You're throwing me away because you have to let your main character win?"
The Authoress gave him a nervous smile. "Yes?"
Visere was silent for a moment. Then his lips curved into a vicious smile. "I understand," he said, turning around. He began marching out of the room. "I understand completely."
"Where are you going?" cried the Authoress. The door from which he entered vanished just before his hands touched it.
"Why Therese," said Visere pleasantly, "haven't you realized already? I'm going to kill your precious main character!" He clicked his fingers, and vanished from the room.
Showing posts with label magician. Show all posts
Showing posts with label magician. Show all posts
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Visére
Visére wasn't a person with a good sense of justice. He didn't struggle with morality. He never wondered whether his actions were for the greater good. He only ever wondered about a few things, and one of them was himself. The other was how much money he had. The third was how long he was going to survive for.
So even he surprised himself when he volunteered to become a spy. Yes, he would be pleasing his own lure of danger. Yes, there would be enough money for him to spend the rest of his life. But no, he wasn't going to survive very long. Not at all. Definitely not if he was caught.
Persuading a young, naive, arrogant sorcerer to become a spy was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn't foresee the reaction. If Klyte said no--and he had every reason to say no--then Visére was dead by morning. On the off chance Klyte agreed, Visére could still be killed later. Klyte could double-cross him. He could be killed in battle. He could be assassinated.
On the other hand, if he didn't get killed, he would spend the rest of his life in the palace, servants flocking to do his bidding. He would be in the greatest honour of the king. That is, unless the king backstabbed him. Visére frowned. That was possible. What use would he be when the war was over, when they had won? The king would have no need for a spy; especially someone who was so good at hiding secrets.
Visére made up his mind, and nodded to himself. Oh, he would play along being a spy for now. But when the time came, he will take his own section of the army, hopefully allied with Klyte's sorcerers, and forge a new empire for himself.
Oh yes, and then Klyte would have to die.
So even he surprised himself when he volunteered to become a spy. Yes, he would be pleasing his own lure of danger. Yes, there would be enough money for him to spend the rest of his life. But no, he wasn't going to survive very long. Not at all. Definitely not if he was caught.
Persuading a young, naive, arrogant sorcerer to become a spy was the last thing he wanted to do. He couldn't foresee the reaction. If Klyte said no--and he had every reason to say no--then Visére was dead by morning. On the off chance Klyte agreed, Visére could still be killed later. Klyte could double-cross him. He could be killed in battle. He could be assassinated.
On the other hand, if he didn't get killed, he would spend the rest of his life in the palace, servants flocking to do his bidding. He would be in the greatest honour of the king. That is, unless the king backstabbed him. Visére frowned. That was possible. What use would he be when the war was over, when they had won? The king would have no need for a spy; especially someone who was so good at hiding secrets.
Visére made up his mind, and nodded to himself. Oh, he would play along being a spy for now. But when the time came, he will take his own section of the army, hopefully allied with Klyte's sorcerers, and forge a new empire for himself.
Oh yes, and then Klyte would have to die.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Magician
Just entertaining an idea. If it works, I might do it for Camp NaNoWriMo
--
"Come one, come all! Come see the boy magician!"
The cry came from a man with a megaphone, standing in the middle of a large crowd of people. As he shouted, some passersby curiously joined the crowd, some residents poked their heads out of their windows, craning their necks to have a look at this phenomenon. The crowd grew larger, and the man kept shouting. He had a rather round, red face and a squashed nose, and tufts of hair which made him resemble a tomato.
The crowd was gathered around a small boy, short for his age of seven and a half. He was juggling four rubber balls, and every so often the crowd would toss another one for him to juggle. When the ball count reached ten or so, the boy would toss them up high into the air and clap three times. The balls would vanish in a flash, the crowd would cheer, and the cycle would begin again.
Eventually they tired of this trick, and went on to the next one. The young boy jumped up, did a flip in the air, and the ground beneath his feet suddenly turned a different colour, as if a large blob of paint had been thrown against it. He flicked something in the air, and a circle of blue materialised twenty feet from where he was standing. He blew a kiss towards a girl in the crowd, and her clothes turned a stunning shade of pink.
The crowd cheered. It was Sunday afternoon, and the markets were packed. They needed some good entertainment, and this kid could certainly do that.
"Make way! Make way for the princess!"
Apparently it wasn't only the peasants who wanted entertainment. The crowd quickly shuffled out of the way as an elaborate horse-drawn carriage came into view. The chauffeur, clad in all black with a top hat and a whip, pulled on the reins. The two horses came to a stop. The man slid down gracefully and opened the carriage door, pulling down a flight of stairs as he did so. One dainty slipper appeared, then another, and then the body of a small girl no older than eight, with her dark hair braided and clipped to keep it out of her eyes.
"That's him, your highness," said the chauffeur, bowing low.
The princess eyed the young magician up and down, before scoffing. "He's dirty. And he's ugly. You brought me all the way out here to see him?"
"Oh, but your highness," replied the chauffeur stiffly, "he can do amazing tricks with his magic." He turned towards the boy and nodded quickly. "Show the princess! Go on!"
The magician stood there, bright eyes phrasing an unasked question. The princess rolled her eyes. "He's a mute. He can't say or do anything. He's useless. Come on, we're going back. Besides, I don't believe in magic. I'll have you fired for this."
"No! Wait, princess!" cried the poor chauffeur, but she had already boarded the carriage. With a resigned sigh, he gave the young magician a small smile and climbed up into his seat, and whipped the horses into movement.
The carriage turned and began moving off. The confused magician, still standing there, watched it move for a few seconds, then clapped his hands twice. The horse-drawn carriage vanished without a sound. The princess shrieked as she fell backwards onto the unpaved road, then got up, dusted herself, and began to sniff quite pitifully.
"Your highness!" gasped the chauffeur, who was more than surprised at this turn of events. "Are you quite alright?"
"What happened?" demanded the princess. "Where's the carriage? Where are my horses? Who did this?" She turned around and caught the smallest of smile tugging at the magician's mouth. "You!" she shrieked, pointing a finger in a most unladylike fashion. "You...you... you're hired! You're my personal magician now! Okay? Now come on, come back to the castle with me."
The young magician frowned.
The princess clicked her tongue impatiently. "Is he deaf, too?" she asked her chauffeur, who shrugged helplessly.
"Ah, princess," said the tomato-faced man who had been shouting earlier. "The boy's not deaf, your highness. Perhaps he has some questions he would like to ask."
"Go on then," she said. "Ask!"
The boy made a series of hand signs. The man translated. "What right do you have to order everyone around?"
The princess looked furious. "I'm the princess!"
"Why are you the princess?"
"What do you mean why? I'm the daughter of the king and queen!"
The magician made another few signs. "Why is the king the king?" translated the man, feeling as if he was about to be beheaded very soon.
"Because ... because ... his father was king!" the girl spluttered. "And his father's father was the king! And so was his father! And his, and his, and his!"
"How did the first king start, then?"
"Well, well..." The eight-year-old princess struggled for an answer. "The king was a leader!" she said triumphantly. "Someone who was a good ruler. He was chosen by everyone!"
"Then why aren't the other kings chosen by everyone as well?"
"Because the other kings were good rulers too!"
The young magician made another few hand signals. The translator stared at him in shock, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, your highness, I cannot translate."
"Don't you understand what he's saying?" asked the princess.
"Of course I do. It's just ... a little ... I do not want to die, princess."
"Translate!" the girl ordered.
The man paled. "Very well, your highness. He says that you would not become a very good ruler, if you were going to be queen." But the magician didn't stop there, he kept going. "He also says that he doesn't like you, and that you have a wonderful servant and should treat him better, and that if he were king, all servants in the land would be set free."
"Beheaded!" cried the chauffeur. "This boy is to be beheaded at sundown tomorrow!"
"No!" snapped the princess. She turned to the boy. "Come to the palace. If you have any more questions, my father will answer them. He is the king; he knows everything! And you," she added to the translator. "You come too."
She made to walk off, but then suddenly stopped. "Where is my carriage, boy?"
The magician smiled, and waved a careless hand. The carriage, together with the horses, materialised in front of him. He stepped up onto the stairs and disappeared into the carriage.
"What!" spluttered the princess. "That's my carriage! You can't ride in it! It's only for the princess!"
The boy poked his head out of the window and smiled at her, then the horses began to move.
The chauffeur's mouth dropped open. "But those horses are specifically trained to only listen to royal chauffeurs! He cannot make them move!"
The horses picked up speed, trotting right past the princess and her servant. The boy stuck his hand out of the window, and flicked at the air. Colourful paint splattered onto the wall of a nearby house. The horses sprang into a gallop, and carried the boy towards the castle.
The princess, the chauffeur and the translator could only gape after him. The translator walked over to the paint-splattered wall, and read the sentence that was written there.
I am a magician. I can do anything.
--
"Come one, come all! Come see the boy magician!"
The cry came from a man with a megaphone, standing in the middle of a large crowd of people. As he shouted, some passersby curiously joined the crowd, some residents poked their heads out of their windows, craning their necks to have a look at this phenomenon. The crowd grew larger, and the man kept shouting. He had a rather round, red face and a squashed nose, and tufts of hair which made him resemble a tomato.
The crowd was gathered around a small boy, short for his age of seven and a half. He was juggling four rubber balls, and every so often the crowd would toss another one for him to juggle. When the ball count reached ten or so, the boy would toss them up high into the air and clap three times. The balls would vanish in a flash, the crowd would cheer, and the cycle would begin again.
Eventually they tired of this trick, and went on to the next one. The young boy jumped up, did a flip in the air, and the ground beneath his feet suddenly turned a different colour, as if a large blob of paint had been thrown against it. He flicked something in the air, and a circle of blue materialised twenty feet from where he was standing. He blew a kiss towards a girl in the crowd, and her clothes turned a stunning shade of pink.
The crowd cheered. It was Sunday afternoon, and the markets were packed. They needed some good entertainment, and this kid could certainly do that.
"Make way! Make way for the princess!"
Apparently it wasn't only the peasants who wanted entertainment. The crowd quickly shuffled out of the way as an elaborate horse-drawn carriage came into view. The chauffeur, clad in all black with a top hat and a whip, pulled on the reins. The two horses came to a stop. The man slid down gracefully and opened the carriage door, pulling down a flight of stairs as he did so. One dainty slipper appeared, then another, and then the body of a small girl no older than eight, with her dark hair braided and clipped to keep it out of her eyes.
"That's him, your highness," said the chauffeur, bowing low.
The princess eyed the young magician up and down, before scoffing. "He's dirty. And he's ugly. You brought me all the way out here to see him?"
"Oh, but your highness," replied the chauffeur stiffly, "he can do amazing tricks with his magic." He turned towards the boy and nodded quickly. "Show the princess! Go on!"
The magician stood there, bright eyes phrasing an unasked question. The princess rolled her eyes. "He's a mute. He can't say or do anything. He's useless. Come on, we're going back. Besides, I don't believe in magic. I'll have you fired for this."
"No! Wait, princess!" cried the poor chauffeur, but she had already boarded the carriage. With a resigned sigh, he gave the young magician a small smile and climbed up into his seat, and whipped the horses into movement.
The carriage turned and began moving off. The confused magician, still standing there, watched it move for a few seconds, then clapped his hands twice. The horse-drawn carriage vanished without a sound. The princess shrieked as she fell backwards onto the unpaved road, then got up, dusted herself, and began to sniff quite pitifully.
"Your highness!" gasped the chauffeur, who was more than surprised at this turn of events. "Are you quite alright?"
"What happened?" demanded the princess. "Where's the carriage? Where are my horses? Who did this?" She turned around and caught the smallest of smile tugging at the magician's mouth. "You!" she shrieked, pointing a finger in a most unladylike fashion. "You...you... you're hired! You're my personal magician now! Okay? Now come on, come back to the castle with me."
The young magician frowned.
The princess clicked her tongue impatiently. "Is he deaf, too?" she asked her chauffeur, who shrugged helplessly.
"Ah, princess," said the tomato-faced man who had been shouting earlier. "The boy's not deaf, your highness. Perhaps he has some questions he would like to ask."
"Go on then," she said. "Ask!"
The boy made a series of hand signs. The man translated. "What right do you have to order everyone around?"
The princess looked furious. "I'm the princess!"
"Why are you the princess?"
"What do you mean why? I'm the daughter of the king and queen!"
The magician made another few signs. "Why is the king the king?" translated the man, feeling as if he was about to be beheaded very soon.
"Because ... because ... his father was king!" the girl spluttered. "And his father's father was the king! And so was his father! And his, and his, and his!"
"How did the first king start, then?"
"Well, well..." The eight-year-old princess struggled for an answer. "The king was a leader!" she said triumphantly. "Someone who was a good ruler. He was chosen by everyone!"
"Then why aren't the other kings chosen by everyone as well?"
"Because the other kings were good rulers too!"
The young magician made another few hand signals. The translator stared at him in shock, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, your highness, I cannot translate."
"Don't you understand what he's saying?" asked the princess.
"Of course I do. It's just ... a little ... I do not want to die, princess."
"Translate!" the girl ordered.
The man paled. "Very well, your highness. He says that you would not become a very good ruler, if you were going to be queen." But the magician didn't stop there, he kept going. "He also says that he doesn't like you, and that you have a wonderful servant and should treat him better, and that if he were king, all servants in the land would be set free."
"Beheaded!" cried the chauffeur. "This boy is to be beheaded at sundown tomorrow!"
"No!" snapped the princess. She turned to the boy. "Come to the palace. If you have any more questions, my father will answer them. He is the king; he knows everything! And you," she added to the translator. "You come too."
She made to walk off, but then suddenly stopped. "Where is my carriage, boy?"
The magician smiled, and waved a careless hand. The carriage, together with the horses, materialised in front of him. He stepped up onto the stairs and disappeared into the carriage.
"What!" spluttered the princess. "That's my carriage! You can't ride in it! It's only for the princess!"
The boy poked his head out of the window and smiled at her, then the horses began to move.
The chauffeur's mouth dropped open. "But those horses are specifically trained to only listen to royal chauffeurs! He cannot make them move!"
The horses picked up speed, trotting right past the princess and her servant. The boy stuck his hand out of the window, and flicked at the air. Colourful paint splattered onto the wall of a nearby house. The horses sprang into a gallop, and carried the boy towards the castle.
The princess, the chauffeur and the translator could only gape after him. The translator walked over to the paint-splattered wall, and read the sentence that was written there.
I am a magician. I can do anything.
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