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mialbowy-blog · 7 years

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Wrong Party

It became exceedingly obvious that a mishap in communication had occurred. I was, probably, mostly to blame. Though, I don't know why the noticeboard had social events so close to dungeon raids; maybe, unlike every other town on the continent, they just listed them as 'Raids', so they'd be next to 'Parties'?

Anyway, getting off topic. They were looking for someone capable of magic for a party. I excelled at slight-of-hand and misdirection, the pinnacle of party magic. Match made in heaven—chaotic heaven.

I thought it a little odd that a few burly men and a slender elf were having a party, but minority rights had been a big part of the struggle recently. Ask me, everyone should have the opportunity to hire magicians, for whatever reason. Society wouldn't crumble from a few more coins in my purse.

Sorry, I'm very passionate about my beliefs, always get sidetracked when they come up. So, there I am trundling behind them and we go off into the woods. No problem, don't want to cause a fuss. I get that. But, we start going off the track and so I ask, not so much worried as curious, “Where are we going?”

The leader—the biggest and burliest of the men, easily confused with a bear (no pun intended)—replied, after a hearty laugh, “T' Ol' Gregg's Dungeon.”

I liked to think of myself as knowledgeable about the various social scenes and, well, I did have some notion of certain… niche… scenes. “Oh,” I said, and some of my (not so much concern as intense concentration) must have showed because they all had a hearty chuckle (except the elf, who had more of a giggle.)

“Yer scared? Can turn back if ye are. Wouldn' blame ye.”

“No, no, not scared. Intrigued at the, um, new experience,” I said back.

My response only amused them further, and earned me the nickname 'Lamb', which I hoped referred to my optimism rather than my upcoming slaughter. Though I do confess, I wondered if it was part of their lingo I didn't know about. After all, they did have bears, and lambs were kind of like little bears? But wouldn't I just be a cub instead of a different animal entirely?

Back on the tracks, we went along an increasingly well-trodden path towards a mountain. Made me think about if a dwarf ran the place, and what kind of things they'd have—what with their penchant for metal and leather.

I became aware of the sobering of the others when we came close, though I didn't sense their tension and mistook it for anticipation. In hindsight, they probably did anticipate what was coming in their own way.

Not wanting to disrupt the mood, I followed behind in silence. The elf took the lead, taking us around the base of the mountain, slinking through the tree line. Given what I'd heard happening at some of those kinds of places, I thought it a plausible safety measure, if a bit over the top. After all, who was gonna start a fight with three guys who looked like barbarians or warriors or paladins, and an elf that had a giant bow on his back?

I didn't have long to dwell on that thought before the elf found the back entrance: a narrow crevice between two boulders. My mind wondered if it had been intentional. Inside, the lighting consisted of hissing torches, casting the hallways in quite the ambience. Adding to it were distant moans of pain as well as the occasional scream. I couldn't help but reaffirm that I had milder tastes.

Part of my cluelessness then came about as I kicked a stone by mistake and they rounded on me as one, with fingers pressed to their lips. Well, surprise parties were definitely one of my strengths. Hiding something in plain sight was practically a prerequisite to be a magician in such a competitive industry.

We skulked around a lot more, the elf with his super hearing steering us clear of anyone or anything that might ruin the 'surprise'. Honestly, I started getting sore feet, and the dark paths with patches of acrid smoke left my eyes drooping and watering.

Eventually, the elf really tensed up, and it looked so unusual for him, or for any elf for that matter. Always look like they're water balloons in disguise, elves did, no offence meant. Just the calmness they always had, and it left him.

He motioned us to the corner, and the men had a peek around too, exchanging serious glances.

I asked, as quietly as I could, “What do you want me to do?”

The leader held on to a look of concentration as he took another peak around the corner. “Well, we want t' get the ring off him. Ye got any spells to do tha'?”

Hearing that, it clicked into place that it must be a bachelor party. An old friend getting married, gotta sneak in and steal the ring to keep him from marrying some dragon of a woman. What he was doing in a… niche… place didn't matter to me, I'd hit one of my familiar routines.

“Just the thing,” I said, smiling. I had an excellent smile. Part of the job required a very convincing smile, because it made people relax. I guessed it reassured them, because they nodded and moved out the way for me.

Though I couldn't see their faces as I strode around the corner, I'm sure they had an expression of horror.

The room looked rather ornate, opulent even. Fine rugs and golden details—candlestick-holders, goblets, crown—as well as short men dressed in metal armour that certainly resembled guards made it seem… almost like a royal chamber, of sorts.

But I'd hit my stride and nothing could topple me. Part of being a magician meant looking confident and no one stopped confident looking people, because I made it all the way to what could, conceivably, be called a throne, without so much as a twitch from any of the occupants.

“Good day,” I said, bowing slightly. “May I shake your hand?” I asked, while reaching out to shake it anyway.

Green, cold, and slightly scaly, it definitely didn't resemble any hand I'd shaken before. Fortunately, instinct didn't care about any of that and went through the steps. I gestured at the lady, who was also green, and looked scaly, and asked, “Is this your bride-to-be?” while taking my other hand back, subtly sliding the ring off. “Stunning, a rare find indeed,” I added, really flourishing my gesture. “I'm in awe!”

The ring slipped off the end of his finger, rolling down my fingers and into my palm as I closed it.

Then, I realised that, somewhere along the line, I had gotten something wrong, because the ring pulsed with a kind of arcane power. I'd held magic items before; every magician struggling to make ends meet thinks about a little charisma-boosting amulet or something. The ring, though, took not only the biscuit, but the jar along with it.

If the man noticed, and he almost definitely did, his stupor lingered from my sheer stupidity.

So, I went on with the show. “I'm afraid your friends confided in me that, in their eyes, you can do better,” I said, gesturing back at the corner where the four of them consisted only of heads around a corner. “So, they hired me to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

I showed him the ring, holding it between my thumb and index finger, before dropping it into my palm and flicking it down my sleeve, then showing him my empty hand.

“That is, unless your love can overcome my magic,” I said, showing off an excellent grin.

A flick of my wrist brought the ring back up and I palmed it into my other hand while doing general gesturing. Small secret: if a magician is gesturing, it's probably to move something from one hand to the other.

With another flourish, I flicked the ring up and caught it with my thumb and forefinger again, showing it off in the other hand. One of the guards moved their pike under their arm and clapped. I usually got a better applause than that, but I had to work with what I had.

I spun it into the air, looking like a little golden ball, and as it fell down I clapped around it, and it was once more in my sleeves. After showing off my empty hands, I flicked again to bring it back up onto my palm, and showed off a few intricate back-and-forths between my two hands.

Nearing the end of my routine, it suddenly occurred to me that I'd have to improvise the ending. Thinking faster than ever, I extracted a coin from my pocket during a bow and kept it hidden in my palm.

“Now, for my second to last trick,” I said, once more approaching the man. “Your hand?” I asked, though still grabbing it anyway. I held it out and open, and put the ring down on it. “If your love is true, then no magic can take this from you,” I said, slowly curling his fingers around it, and raised a hand to go with some weird chanting as well as distract him while I switched the ring with the similar-feeling coin.

I stepped back, and pretended to cast some bogus spell, acting as though pulling on his hand. At the least, I did a good job because his hand jerked towards me—all thanks to his belief. Taking another step back, I rubbed my hands together and took a breath and did the same, really overacting. Another handy skill for magicians, that.

One more time, and then I half-collapsed, breathing heavily. “Truly, my magic is no match for your love,” I said. “Show us, show us that you have kept a hold of your love.”

Everyone looked at his hand, the fingers unfurling, and I shot up and ran.

The men and elf stared at me as I barrelled around the corner. “Run!” I said, half sliding and half falling into the far wall.

For a day's work, it paid rather well.

Written in response to the prompt:

Black mages use the dark arts. Necromancers raise the dead. And you? You're a magician mage, trained in the more entertaining fields of magic. You never told your adventuring party about your specialication...

Found here

#short story #comedy #fantasy

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