3 - I Think That Was Worse Than A Pinch

“What?” the caller muttered, it seemed Kaleepo wasn’t the only one who was a bit out of sorts this late into the night. “Uh, right. Great one! I ask that you deign to bestow the… uh… arcane mysteries of all upon me, so that I might… um… reign terrible power down upon my foes! What manner of creature are you?” It seemed like this kid was some kind of roleplayer like Sam had mentioned. He thought for a minute, and then decided he was drunk enough to play along for a bit. Wouldn’t want to ruin the poor kids' fun, even if it was, like, one in the morning.

“I am a wordsmith by nature.” he spewed, his speech slurring just slightly, as he tumbled over the half-assed story forming in his mind, “A binder of oaths, patron of pacts, and crafter of contracts. A high seat indeed upon the Courts of Law. If you wish my knowledge yours, then a contract must be drawn!” He shouted the last bit, getting perhaps a little too into it. Sam was right, this stuff was fun! “Firstly, child, name yourself!”

The voice on the other end seemed hesitant, perhaps it was both of their first times doing something like this, though the kid seemed too young to have liquid courage on his side like Kaleepo did. “I am c-called Fenn.” he stammered. Or maybe not, his acting was quite good to sound so genuinely terrified.

“Speak, Fenn, and let it be known to me what you desire!” Kaleepo commanded, getting sucked into the role he had created.

“I seek for you to teach me the secrets of the world, of the magic that lies within all, and of how I may twist them against my foes.” he stated, clearly this time. Resolve had filled the place of fear in his voice. “I wish to learn Magic. What is it that you would require from me to make such a thing happen, oh great Kaleepo.”

“Hmm… You speak of magic as though it pervades all of reality in your realm.” he mused, “My home is barren of magic as you see it, so, in exchange for instruction, I would accept a fee paid directly to me of your own magic for my time!” At this point he was starting to get really tired, his volume slipping in and out of obscenely loud, the edges of his speech framed by ill contained giggles and further slurring of words. “Well! It's not exactly a formal contract, but for this I think a spoken accord will serve just fine… Fenn! Will you accept my conditions, and forge a pact with me!”

For a moment Fenn was silent, then he inhaled a deep breath and said, “Yes!”

And then Kaleepo’s entire body burned from within with such fire he was sure it rivaled the sun. The fire grew within him, a building inferno just below his navel shooting jolts of white hot pain through his entire body. Worse still was the chill in his extremities, for the fire had revealed a deep cold he hadn’t noticed before in every place the fire didn’t reach.

Shivering and sweating uncontrollably on the ground, he wished for nothing more than for it to stop, and pressed with every ounce of himself. Much to his surprise, it worked, the fires began to calm. He could shift it, like a muscle, or perhaps a force of will. He pressed down with his will, trying to press and disperse the fire. It was concentrated and raging deep within his belly, but if he pulled it throughout himself he could lessen the flames and warm his icy limbs all at once. It burned to press on it like that, as though there was nowhere for it to go and it had to sear its own path. An idea struck him, so he began pushing the fires in a single direction. It burned as he forced it through a channel that wasn’t there, but then he broke through. His heart beat and blood flowed through him, but the fire came with it now. He had created a path to his heart and now the fire spread through his veins. His extremities warmed and the inferno stilled to a flickering torch light in his gut.

Now sober and wide awake, Kaleepo sat up on the floor. This was either an awful dream, or it was all real, and he was fairly certain people didn’t dream of excruciating pain like that without waking up in a cold sweat or something. ‘If this is real then I’ll be expected to teach this Fenn kid magic! I can’t even do magic!’ he thought, but then, couldn’t he?

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

He looked down at the palm of his hand. The kid had mentioned the secrets of reality, maybe it was a matter of understanding? He tried picturing a candle flame above his palm, pushing a piece of that strange heat in his veins towards it, imagining it like a wick slowly feeding itself to the flame. Suddenly a spark ignited and a small flame flared to life above his palm. He stared in wonder at the fire floating above his palm, he’d just done magic! Real, actual, magic!

He was startled out of his wonder, his flame dissipating as his concentration lapsed, by a noise coming from his phone on the floor a few feet away. He had dropped it when he collapsed, he realized. He picked it up and put it to his ear once more.

=====

“Oh, Great Kaleepo, are you alright?” Fenn cried when he heard a long breath through the crescent shaped piece once more.

“Uh… yeah…” the great one spoke, “Yeah, I’m okay kid.” The Patron of Pacts’ voice seemed duller now, all of the whimsy and cheer gone from his tone. He almost seemed... unsure? But that couldn’t be right, such a grand existence was surely never uncertain of anything! “Um… so where did you want to start, I guess?”

“Oh! Well my village is under attack by spirits of frost, and I need the strength to defeat them or my whole village will surely be killed!” Fenn exclaimed.

“Hmm… that’s pretty rough kid, you got a weapon?” the Great One asked.

“Yes,I have a sword.” he replied.

“And that wasn’t enough huh? Well, did you have anything in particular in mind to fight them?” the being enquired.

“Well, they are weak to fire, or so it would seem. Something of that nature would likely be a great boon in this fight.” Fenn answered.

“Fire? Yeah, I think I can do that.”

=====

“Damnit!” Glen cursed, one of the nasty little spirits had managed to drag a sharp claw across his axe hand before he lit the creature with his torch. Such a wound would affect his grip and slow him down some. The villagers had come together upon where his brother had called for help, and they had managed to hold back the over a hundred spirits from the village by warding them off with torches. They were growing bolder as each minute passed however, and Glen was sure they would be overrun well before the night was done.

Another of the monsters jumped at him only to meet his axe mid leap, and collapse in a heap before him. Looking across the hesitant line they had set in the field, showed him dozens of similar sights. Neighbors and friends fighting for their lives and their homes through the torchlit night. Three of them charged at the baker a ways down the line. He kept one at a distance with his torch, and clobbered another with a rolling pin, but the third took his legs out with a club. It pounced on his downed form and raked its claws across his throat several times before another villager knocked it off of him and lit the bastard up. It was too late for him though, if he was still alive, he wouldn’t be for long. Such a sight would only grow more common as the fight wore on.

A sudden barrage of shrieking cries sounded out among the trees in the far distance. It seemed that Fenn was still fighting so Glen would too. He redoubled his efforts in the hopes of taking enough of the beasts down to thin the horde. He made more aggressive moves, taking glancing strikes from clubs, and cuts from claws, determined to put more of the damn monsters down first, even if he may follow them shortly. ‘No!’ he thought, ‘I won’t die here, and neither will Fenn! We’re both going to make it through this night!’

It was then that rays of sunlight poked through the trees once more, but not those of the rising dawn. This light came from the west, from Fenn. For but a moment Glen worried, if his brother had returned with the rest of the horde on his tail they would surely all die. This was replaced by hope and curiosity when a group of half a dozen spirits near the back exploded into a ball of bright orange fire in an instant.

Fenn finally came into view from around a large tree, looking like a hero from the stories. He held a sword in one hand, a sourceles flame in the other, with an amulet of sunlight resting around his neck. He hadn’t the slightest clue what had happened, but it seemed as though his brother had brought hope along with him like the tide.