We Was Wizards - Chapter 6
We Was Wizards is a comedic fantasy set in a universe where roughly 80% of the population can use magic, and the other 20% cannot. To catch up on the story so far, see the previous chapters below:
https://steemit.com/fiction/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-1-novella
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-2
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-3
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-4
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-5
"What?" I asked, not realizin' I was still holdin' on to Demarcus's hand. He repeated his statement, but louder and more annunciated as he pulled away. "Greetings Hound."
"Yeah, that cheap-ass chain he's wearing has a low-level tongues spell on it. He can speak our language, but only the literal meaning of his words," Explained the fat sage, "You'll get used to it."
"Okay," I replied, not really interested in meetin' any of these fools. "So, Matthew, I assume you know about the dude in the scroll." I stated more than I asked.
"Yeah. The old sorcerer. We all know about his plan to teach a nigga magic." He replied.
"Ok great," I told him, feignin' enthusiasm, "I just need you niggas to teach me The Truth, or whatever, and then I can go learn magic."
Every single one of those mufuckas, includin' Rufus, gave a shocked gasp at exactly the same time and then huddled together, like they had practiced it beforehand or some shit. They started to whisper amongst themselves, but the only thing I could make out was "The Truth". I wouldn't be surprised if they were just makin' noises and occasionally whisperin' that phrase to sound mysterious.
This time it was Rufus who spoke up. "Before you can learn The Truth, young apprentice, you must first complete the three trials and become a sage".
I could feel my lips curlin' into a frown. "I knew this was some kind of scam!" I paused for emphasis. "Just tell me The Truth so I can go learn magic. It's not like that dead nigga's gonna know we didn't follow protocol."
"It's not that simple, young blood," spoke some lanky dude in a bright orange robe—with no runes or pockets or nothin'. I think his name was Bill, and I'm pretty sure he was just wearin' a bathrobe. "We can't just tell you The Truth. You have to learn it."
"This is some bullshit." I growled, gettin' frustrated. "Alright fine, niggas, what are these three trials so we can get this over with?" I demanded.
Matthew pushed his wide ass to the front of the group. He was in performance mode; gesturin' and talkin' all dramatic--really emotin'. His voice was even more song-like than usual and his eyelashes were doin' double duty.
"We must prepare the ritual," he began, "Return tomorrow at the hour of--".
"No," I interrupted, "Fuck that. I ain't got a car, and I'm not taking a god damned bus halfway across town so you dumb niggas can play pretend. Give me the first task. I'll call Rufus when I'm done."
The fat nigga's toothy smile melted into a pout and his basketball head visibly deflated. "Well, uh..." he stammered, lookin' around the room for support. It was subtle, but Rufus nodded to him.
"I guess that's fine," he conceded. "Your task is to help someone overcome a personal obstacle. You--".
It was Rufus who interrupted him this time, takin' the rest of the wind out of his sails. "No," the old sage declared, "Daniel's too smart for that nonsense. He'll just help an old lady cross the street or something and he won't learn a thing." He stepped forward and turned to face me. "You have to help Tyrese overcome a personal obstacle. And he gets to choose what it is."
"That ain't fair!" I protested. "Why do I gotta play on hard mode? Besides, that mufucka will probably tell me he needs some new kicks or somethin'. I ain't got three hundred dollars."
"Like I said, Daniel." he explained. I couldn't tell if he was bein' genuine or if he was just tryin' to butter me up. "You're too smart. You need a challenge or you're not going to learn anything."
"Fine." I sighed and made for the door.
"Young man," Rufus continued, his voice reachin' it's characteristic level of glib. "There's one more thing."
I turned around as two of them hauled in this chest. Like a fuckin' pirate's chest made out of cheap, rottin' wood. As they opened the lid, I recoiled in horror. "No." I whispered breathlessly. "You can't!"
They reached into the box and pulled out a length of dark, red cloth, embroidered with stupid fuckin' gold stars and half-moons and whatnot. Rufus started cacklin', until his emphysema caught up with him and it turned into more of a wheeze.
Even between coughs you could still make out the smugness in his voice.
"Take your robe, Daniel."