The Wizard’s Lair

By Ricky Hall

Too many tasks at once irritate Alaric, particularly when under siege. Something has taken hold of the mind of man and elf alike, driving them to the destructive path of war. When he came to be in this realm he saw it unfold, from the first battle 357 years ago, until now. With pockets of an unsettling peace here and there it seemed that there was at least a semblance of balance, but not lately. Alaric rushes to his inner sanctum, to the furthest depths of his cozy home in the cave and awakens his massive orb of light. He appears to have company, a gigantic army of men in fact, unwelcomed, with less than desirable intentions. He doesn’t have time for this. He’s trying to locate a particular elf, one who has gotten the attention of anyone of formidable influence in the Kingdom. With the odds against him this elf was able to wipe out nearly an entire fighting force singlehandedly. A seemingly impossible feat, making him a dangerous enemy, and a godsend of an ally. It’s a power that Alaric can use, which is why he must find him, and also is why these pesky soldiers cause him to harumph as he puffs on his favorite wooden pipe.

​If his brothers hadn’t ventured to other realms to seek out their own purposes these creatures wouldn’t dare encroach  on his land, but wizards have been disposed of before, enough to give any mortal confidence against one, and so now he has to deal with this, this silly, frivolous task of war.

​“When will they learn, when will they learn,” he grumbles to himself as he observes them from his orb, stone faced men covered in elves’ blood. They must have stopped by on the elf folk from the nearest town of Falklar, a few miles away, and by the looks of the soldiers it was a slaughter. Such darkness, he can’t dwell on it or he won’t be able to see to his task. He snatches up his heavy six-foot tall oak staff, and waltzes to the opening, puffing on his pipe all the way. Even though they know that he’s a powerful entity, the soldiers are still surprised by his boldness as he casually stands before them. He has a bit of a slouch, a confrontational gaze as he takes them all in; plumes of smoke escaping from his nostrils. “I didn’t expect company!” he says in his shrill voice, “I’m afraid I don’t have many chairs for seating.”

The men are unamused, a voice calls out in the distance, “Are you the Great Wizard Alaric?” he asks. His men part a path for him, a handsome bloke with wavy brunette hair.

​“I am Alaric.” He confirms whilst pointing his pipe at the man, “but to my greatness or my wizardness even, I leave that to be determined by other company.”​

​The young man smirks, “So you deny that you’re a wizard?”

​“My denial, or lack thereof my boy, is determinate of your purpose here.”

​“Boy?” he sneers agitated, “I am Henry Varus the fourth, leader of the 1st Legion, Commander of the Legendary Ghostplatoon. I’ve shed blood throughout these lands, man and elf alike. I’ve crumbled empires, broken emperors, and took what I desired. My accolades are not that of a boy.”

​“Perhaps,” Alaric nods, “but it’s not particularly mature, let’s say, to bring up your accolades to an old man who could not begin to care. Your warmongering does not impress me. Again, if I may ask more boldly, what is your purpose here?” his gentle face turns ever more serious as he puffs upon his pipe once more.

​Henry Varus sighs, letting his offense subside, “Wizards can be powerful allies. Our new affront against the elves is to be our final one. This world cannot be shared.”

​“And you wish for me to aid in this extermination?”

​“A harsh phrasing, yet accurate.”

​He shakes his head, “Mister Varus I don’t know what precedes my reputation, but I’m no killer. I’ve never had an issue with the Elf folk, nor humans for that matter. To ask me to engage in slaughter for slaughter’s sake…that goes against all that I am.”

​“Hm,” he strokes upon his fine mustache, “Neutrality isn’t neutrality wizard, it’s cowardice, and in the presence of certain company it infers that a side has been chosen regardless.”

​Alaric smiles and shrugs, “I stand where I stand Commander Varus, Leader of Ghosts.” He teases.

​Henry’s brow furrows to the wizard’s nonchalant reply, but quickly he puts on a smile, “Then there is no more to say. Apologies for taking up your time. I know it’s a precious thing.”

“That it is,” he nods to this put-on display of civility, but he’s no fool. He’s ready for what’s next as Henry disappears into his sea of soldiers. A loud shriek of “LOOSE!” and the swarm of arrows to follow are of no surprise. Countless hundreds burrow toward Alaric at feverish speeds. He smirks at the sight, lifts up his long heavy oak staff, and is instantly shielded by a blue barrier, deflecting the arrows with ease.

He sneers with a grin, “Child’s play,” he mutters, “what else have you got?” he has time. His search for the great elf warrior can wait while he shows these children a thing or two. Ground forces prepare to charge him. Let them come, he smiles big, which is an off putting sight to these killers of man and elf. They make their approach, weapons wielded, battle cries blaring with each thump of their iron sabatons. Alaric chants an incantation, and in moments releases a ball of fire in their path. The troops shriek in agony as flames wash over them, incinerating those in the forefront, and burning badly those behind them. In an instant over a hundred of the five hundred men have been slain, a foolish tactic used against the Great Wizard Alaric, master of the fire element. The men are now rightly intimidated, all but Henry, who saw this coming. It’s a good display to verify the old man’s skill. Alaric is as powerful as his reputation states, but now it’s time to show him that the race of man too, has teeth. He sits brashly on his horse next to his sorcerer, a man in an all black cloak who looks like death itself.

​“Do it.” Henry orders. He nods and grumbles to himself his own incantation. The sky appears to turn black. Alaric is immediately startled by this dark presence. 

​“Such Devilry!” he gasps whilst witnessing the darkening of the once blue sky with an ominous series of clouds. Red lightning strikes at Alaric with a mighty boom. He only has seconds to defend and is nearly obliterated as his barrier is just barely able to surround him. The Earth quakes, knocking everyone in the vicinity of the wizard back. The energy of it vibrates through everyone’s frame, and just as quickly as the dark cloud arrives, it dissipates, leaving behind a large crater of destruction in its wake. The front opening of Alaric cave has been disintegrated. He stands in front of it weakly, clasping desperately to his staff. It took everything in his being to stave off that attack…that is magic he has only heard of, magic thought to be long lost…the humans have it? Tis a trying day indeed. 

The ominous aura of darkness surrounds him. With that powerful casting the cloaked sorcerer can no longer hide himself. He and Alaric are locked in on one another. Alaric raises a brow. This is no normal man. Is he a man at all? He hasn’t time to quell his curiosity, he is far too compromised, but he’s not out of this. He will not die here. The fate of the world is too grave. He shuts his eyes and concentrates. With a renewed burst of energy he shouts, “ARIELLE!!!” causing the land to rumble ever so gently. With rapid speed at its beck and call, a winged, curl horned beast dashes out of what is left of the cave opening, allowing its master to climb upon him before blasting a wave of fire at the legion of troops. He takes off with a grunt, leaving charred men in his wake. Henry Varus simply watches as the two fly off, ordering his sorcerer to stand down.

“We’ll give the old geezer time to think hm?” he nods, “just think, think of how powerful we’ll be with an ally like that? Unstoppable. Not even the nuisance of an elf could stop us.” He grins at the thought with sinister intent, his ambition ever growing. For now Alaric the great fire wizard must retreat and recoup, figure out the next stage of this, and find a way to put an end to this horrible dark influence that has infested mankind. If not the world itself will come to ruin, and not that of another dark age, but the end of existence itself.