Dark Magic
Ferro fumbled with his spear, alone in the watch. Everyone else had gone off to drink tonight, which is why they weren’t responding to his warning cries. In the road, approaching him steadily, was a hooded figure. The night made it difficult to see exactly what they were wearing, but the occasional flicker of light from his torch clearly showed runes sewn into the robe.
A witch…or wizard. Probably the latter judging by the height.
Ferro shook in his boots. It was not a good thing to encounter either one when alone. They could turn him into a whole manner of unnatural things, or break his mind and make him a slave. This was war, no matter how calm it seemed here. True, he was a hundred miles from the fighting, guarding supplies with a company of ne’er-do-wells, but war was war, and it never did well to let his guard down.
The figure continued to approach despite his warnings, and the alarm continued to fail being raised. Ferro was against the wizard all by himself. Those were bad odds. His palms were beginning to sweat. It was strange that he wasn’t dead yet. Any wizard worth their salt could have killed him from five miles away, or further if they knew his name.
“This is your last warning,” Ferro said in halting breath. “Ferro of the Guard orders you to halt.” That was a mistake. The approaching wizard had no way of knowing his name, and now he had given it out for free. He was going to spend the rest of his days as a donkey, he just knew it.
“Shh.” The hooded figure raised a finger to their lips and tried to quiet him. “Listen Ferro.” The guard flinched. “I’ve had a bit too much to drink today and my head is killing me. Please don’t yell.”
The spear in his hand nearly slid out, it was so wet. His knees were knocking together. “Halt,” he whispered, as if being polite to a mage would spare his life. It wouldn’t, there were far too many stories about wizards and witches, and if even a tenth of them were true, he was a goner.
The wizard was upon him now, gently guiding the spear away with their hands. Ferro raised the torch. The wizard shied away. He couldn’t see their face, but they were still making the shushing noise.
“Could you extinguish your torch; bright light is terrible for me right now.” The wizard’s hand that was not on the spear tried to wave off the light. Ferro clung to the torch tighter.
“No,” he said in meek defiance. No one would ever hear his story, but the gods would know how he stood up to a wizard with only a spear and a torch.
The hooded figure sighed. “I didn’t want to do this,” they said. Ferro winced, expecting death to come for him in that moment. The wizard waved a hand and the light went out. Night fell over them. Ferro made a squeak. Hopefully the gods wouldn’t see that.
“There,” said the wizard. “Dark magic.”
Michael Frutig 