He made for the small living room that he had seen on his way in. Jert was sitting in one of three puffy plump chairs, which to Peter’s eyes looked very comfortable.

“Ah, that’s a good fit,” he said as saw the boy enter. “The clothes belonged to our son.”

“Where is he?” asked Peter keenly.

“He’s dead,” said Jert gravely. “He left the farm for the Wiz-Wit city, Cayer-Huld, to join the Ves-guards and was killed in battle.

“I’m so sorry,” said Peter sombrely.

“I find it’s good to think of him. Besides, we were very proud that he had decided to join the Ves-guards.”

“So your son was a -”

“A Wizard, yes he got it from me,” said the farmer. “You see, I was once a Ves-guard myself, and I have seen my fair share of war. Or should I say that I’ve seen too much. And after the battle of Kealhal, I went into early retirement and set up this farm.”

“So your son followed in your foot steps and became a Wizard?”

“Yes,” said the farmer’s wife, who peered round the corner. “In fact, we encouraged it, although I myself am not particularly fond of magic. We thought it best that Tiore know both sides of his heritage. It was only fair, after all.

“And if you’re ready to eat, dinner’s ready,” the woman added. “You are hungry, aren’t you, Peuer?”

“Yeah, and it’s Peter.”

“Oh, I am sorry. It’s such a strange name. Well, the dinner’s ready, so hurry before it gets cold.”

“It’s a Normal name,” said Jert when they sat down, “which means he’s from the Normal world, Earth. Am I right? You mentioned it earlier.”

“Would you like a drink?” asked Huri, as though her husband had said nothing.

“Yes, please,” replied Peter politely while taking a look about. The dining room was just as modest and quaint as the rest of the house.

“I am right, aren’t I?” asked the farmer again.

“I’m afraid we only have Taljun juice. Will that be all right?”

“Please, Huri, don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to the boy,” said Jert, obviously irritated by his wife butting in.

“You’re not talking to him, Jert; you’re interrogating the poor lad. It’s not polite.”

“It’s okay. I came out of nowhere, and you were good enough to take me in. You have a right to ask questions,” said Peter happily.

In truth, Peter had no idea why he was so happy. He thought it had started shortly after he took his first look around. He was amazed at how good this new world made him feel. At last he had finally felt as though a great weight had been lifted off of his chest. He felt like he had found the place where he truly belonged.

“So do you have a last name your people usually do?” said the farmer.

“My last name is Stark, and they’re not my people, not anymore,” said Peter coldly.

“Stark?” repeated the former Wizard. “You’re not a relation of the Wizard-Elf King Jastark, his Normal name was -”

“John Stark, he was my dad,” said the boy just as he lifted his tankard to take a swig of the juice the farmer’s wife had just set down for him. But when he did this, the sleeves of the too-short shirt that Huri had given him pulled back to reveal Peter’s wrists. The farmer saw marks on his right arm, marks that Peter did not even know about. Like his father, one of the marks was a star and the other was of the moon, though the marks on Peter’s arm were a little different. The star was not a four-point star, but an eight-point star. The moon was full instead of half, and Peter had one other mark, which the Dragdani called the Dragons eye.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Drago?” said the Wizard. “Ohmigods!”

Peter and Huri both observed that the man suddenly looked as if he had been hit in the face with a shovel.

“Is there something wrong, Jert?” asked his wife anxiously.

The Wizard got up and grabbed his wife by the arm, which caused her to drop a couple of roast spuds onto the table. The farmer was a small, very thin man, and his wife was even smaller than him, though she had a considerably larger waistline. So he struggled to stop her from stumbling and hurting herself.

“What has gotten into you, Jert?” asked the woman.

“Huri, I thought I knew him from somewhere. He’s the Wizard King, and he’s sitting in our dining room about to eat from our table, and you ask me if there’s something wrong, my love. No, everything is great. Things have never been better,” the Wizard laughed. “I think I know what that light in the sky must have been. It was him Phazing into our world. How high was the light?”

“It was very high.”

“Which means he must have fallen from a great height.”

“You say he’s the King of the whole Wiz-Wit world?” asked Huri, thinking that perhaps she had heard him wrong.

“Yes.”

“Omigods!” said the woman.

“Yes, I know. That’s what I said.”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t think we have anything that would be fit for a King to eat. I mean, what do Kings like to eat?”

The farmer shook his head. “I don’t know. We could always ask,” he suggested.

“Don’t worry, I’m not King yet,” said Peter, who could hear them both clearly with his new enhanced hearing. “Whatever you have is fine.”

“Listen to the poor dear. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He must have struck his head hard when he hit the ground,” said Huri fretfully.

“I think he knows what he’s saying,” said the Wizard rolling his eyes.

But despite her husband’s objections, Huri went straight out the door and over to their neighbours to see if she could borrow a good piece of meat or at least the best they had. When she returned twenty minutes later, she wasted no time in cooking the fresh Buthwut, which was a big hairy beast that smelt like a large lump of dung. Other than that, Peter was sure that the thing would be all right.

It was not long before they were ready to eat. The farmer’s wife had cooked the creature nicely, and it smelt fantastic. Huri also put out some other dishes and, like the meat, Peter had never seen nor tasted them, though was more than willing to try them. Except for the pudding that unfortunately smelt of smelly, cheesy feet. When he was offered a piece of the offending dessert, he respectfully declined. He claimed that he was full after the dinner.

“Are you sure? Trust me when I say that you don’t know what you’re missing,” said Huri.

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t take any more. If I do, I think I’m going to burst.”

“Well, at least you’ve had your fill, my lord,” said Jert.

“You don’t have to call me that,” said Peter. “I’m not the King just yet.”

“Oh, but you became my lord as soon as those marks showed up on your arm. You became the King of the Wiz-Wit world.”

“What marks?” Peter looked to see what the man was on about, for as far as he knew, he had no marks of any kind.

“You have had those all your life, but the marks of a Wizard-Elf only show when their powers are released.”

“So, what now?” Peter asked.

“Now we need to see Euol.”

“What’s a Euol?”

“Euol is the owner the tavern in town,” said Jert. “He also belonged to the Ves-guards, and he was the one that I left the city of Cayer-Huld with. He was also liaison to your father before his untimely death.”

“When are we going?” asked the boy, sounding more enthusiastic after the mention of his father.

“As soon as you’re ready.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I’ll be back in a day,” the farmer said to his wife affectionately.

“If you think that I’m waiting for you here by myself bored out of my skull while you go down the pub, you’re sadly mistaken,” said Huri. “Besides, I need to buy another Buthwut for the one we borrowed.”

“Fine then, we’ll all go. Get whatever you need.”

“All I need is money to buy the meat.”

The farmer reluctantly put his hand in his pocket and brought out five Hiwwerts. “Here that should cover it.”

“Well, actually, I want to get a few other things.”

Again he reached into his pocket, and again took out five Hiwwert’s. “There, is that enough?”

“We’ll see,” said his wife.

The Wizard went for the bookcase where he lifted a small rectangle box. He opened it and took out his old wand.

“Are you expecting trouble, husband?”

“In this world at such a time, it would be irresponsible not to take precautions,” replied the farmer.

“I don’t know what you mean, Jert?”

“Lord Drago is the King of my world. Therefore, the Dark one will try anything to stop him from reaching our city,” said the farmer.

“Jert, you will destroy us if you mention him here,” said the women fearfully as she cowered slightly at the thought of that evil coming to their happy home.

“And as I said, taking my wand is only a precaution and nothing more.”

The truth is, Huri never really liked the supernatural, though she did not care that Jert was a Wizard. She still would not stop him from using magic, for in fact, he had used magic to help them start the farm.