A Wizard Fights Alone

We weren’t ready for this! If this wasn’t the epitome of irony, then I don’t know what was. All of us wanted adventure so badly, but neither of us understood how deadly it could become. Everything rested on my shoulders. What could go wrong? Besides everything? If I didn’t do something, my friends would die.

Shara lay on the ground, her breathing shallow and her head bleeding from an orc club. She still clutched the holy symbol from the goddess who failed to answer her prayers for protection. Kynan wasn’t doing well either. He may have had the build of a man born with a sword in his hands, but his strength did nothing to save him. His sword lay a few feet away as he lay face down in the dirt.

Is this how my entire party goes out? No big quest, just a few orcs and their leader? Who was I kidding? The few orcs were down, possibly dead, and my entire party was down as well. Zane propped himself up against a tree, an arrow shaft sticking out from his chest. The color of his skin drained from his face. There were only four of us.

Now it was only me and the orc shaman that stood on the other side of the clearing, panting like a tired horse, its drool, like poison, fell to the ground to only snap and sizzle when it hit. Its right must’ve had over a dozen piercings and its tusks protruded out of its lower jaw were yellow and stained from a lack of hygiene and poor diet.

It slashed its etched scimitar at me. No way I’m getting close to that. I don’t know how to fight closeup. This is what spending too much time in the library does to you. I gripped my spear and concentrated. The magic that ran through my veins rushed through my body.

Come on, Goren, you can do this! It’s all up to me and it’s hard to get oneself siked up when your opponent can slice you in half within seconds. It didn’t matter, as I had one chance to get this spell off before the strike came. Orcs were fast. They’ve proved that to my friend. The rest of the orcs were dead, at least I hoped, but this one, a shaman, proved resilient and hard to kill.

It flicked its tongue at me. I instantly got a visual of the monster feasting on my roasted flesh and shivered. I may be a simple mage, but my magic is strong. As long as I get this spell off, I can win this.

The magic burned inside me like a fire, and the words of the spell formed on my lips. A battle cry ripped into the air as the orc shaman rushed me, its blade raised high for a maximum killing blow. I held out a hand and let the words of elven magic flow from my half-elven lips. They sounded both right and wrong as I spoke them.

“Deladaris, vel pare. Agus litarum, hafgardun.”

The orc brought his sword down as I released my spell. Small bolts of electricity shot from my hands, sending the orc soaring to the edge of the clearing. I rushed over with my spear and slammed the tip into the chest of the orc.

I cringed as the smell of burnt flesh and the creature’s natural stench reached my nose. I gagged and prayed not to vomit. It clutched at my spear and pointed directly at me, its words gurgling in its blood-soaked breath.

Death came fast as I dug the spear in more and watched the life vanish from its eyes. I did it. Thank the gods. Now, I needed to help the others. Hopefully, my luck hadn’t run out and I could help them before death came for them.

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