The Wizard of Ounces

By

A.E. Pole

Chapter 1: In the Beginning

With a pluck and a whoosh, the first volley of arrows arced through the air. Then, there followed the clink of armor and the thud of flesh and bone. Bob looked to his right. Francis had been struck and fell to the ground. This is it! This is the test, thought Bob, now running toward the enemy line. This is what all that training was for. Another volley of arrows arrived. Bodies once in motion were now slumped over on the bloody ground. Bob continued to race to the line of dull armor standing at attention. Must make it to that line. Must meet the enemy in noble battle, thought Bob between huffs and puffs. Bob, just for a moment, looked to the side. An arrow had snuffed out a comrade in arms. No time to look to see who it was. I must make the line. Another onslaught of arrows came. Hey, those went over my head. I must be passed where they are aiming at!

The fighting raged. Having escaped the archers, wave after wave of swordsmen poured into the frontline of battle, only to be exposed to the polearms of the defending army.

Am I crazy? thought Bob. Get that thought out of your head before you lose it. I must stay focused. Bob’s sword cut deep into an enemy soldier, piercing his body where his armor needed to be repaired. Blood started to seep into the soil. Bob looked for the next body to engage. His ears rang with the clank of metal and the thud of bodies. Everywhere he saw the dull gleam of what peasant soldiers call armor in motion. There! Bob thought. A hole! There is a hole in the enemy line! This is my opportunity. I must complete the mission before it is too late. Where is that package again?

Bob turned. Please don’t anyone hit me in the back! Run! Run as fast as your encumbered legs can carry you! An arrow raced past his ears. A second arrow hit the ground. They see me! I hope they don’t think I am running away.

The cart was now in front of Bob. There it is! The package is still on the cart. I guess everyone waded into battle after all. I hope that doesn’t mean we are losing?

Bob picked up the package and swallowed hard. Now, I have to go back into that battle. I could die. But, we were told we could all die if this package was not delivered. There are things we must do. It is just my turn.

The package was curled up in his arm as Bob raced back toward the battle line. A few scattered arrows fell here and there, none of them close. Their archers must be thinning. They are not taking much aim against me.

There! There is the hole in the line!

And, that is when Bob tripped. “Oof!” A body? Did I just trip over a dead body? Wait! Something has me by the leg? He’s not dead yet!

“Sam! Sam! It is me Bob. Let me go. I can get the package through the line!” Did the grip just get tighter? I don’t think I can get up.

“Sam, you gotta let me go. I have gotta finish the mission. All our families depend on its success. You heard what they told us. We were talking big about it just last night!” Come on, Sam, let me go! “Sam! Let me go!!!”

“Thunk!” Suddenly, an arrow landed close. I can’t talk anymore.

Dagger in Bob’s hand, a hand was removed from his leg. So sorry, Sam, but this is bigger than the two of us.

Now, I have to run with one eye forward and one eye on the ground.

With a huff and a puff, Bob was lost in his thoughts as he ran through the opening in the battle line. I can totally picture some bard writing some funny song describing how this lumbering oaf of a peasant soldier ladened down with my makeshift armor juked and jived through the battlefield but I will leave that to somebody with better words than I.

But, all I want to do is complete the mission. Maybe, even a clever bard couldn’t quite get it right.

On the other side of the line, Bob had the training song go over and over again in his head.

Head to the border

My dear soldier

Turn right at the gate

Stately go to the estate

Of my dear cousin

And receive your reward

The song filled his head and he ran as fast as his legs could carry his armor burdened body. Maybe if I gave up my shield and my helm I could get there faster? My liege’s whole kingdom depends on me! Bob! And then, he saw it in the distance, like a calling from God, it was the spire of St. Bessy, the patron saint of his noble’s cousin’s domain. At this pace, I could arrive within the hour!

The inside of his armor drenched in sweat, panting - no gasping - for sweet breath - he finally reached its gates. The gatekeeper seemed to be expecting him because he said, “What took you so long?”

“We were met by the Army of Xanderiah, and seeing our beloved banner, started slinging arrows. Fortune was mine because I was able to see an opening in the lines and ran the package through. For all I know all has been lost on the battlefield.”

“Well we better get you to the Duke then. He told us to tell you your can claim your reward.”

A guard led Bob to a grand room. I have never seen such a large place, thought Bob. Look at those tapestries! And, colors! How did they make such colors! And, blankets on the floor. I have never seen such fancy before. These nobles really do think differently than us. Must be blessed by God, they are!

“Get on your knees, soldier,” the guard bellowed, “Your reward may depend on your piety and loyalty.”

How long have I been on my knees, thought Bob, they are really beginning to throb and ache. Eh? What’s that sound? A bugle? I hope that is announcing the Duke’s arrival. I don’t know how much longer I can sit like this. I fear my legs are too long to sit in this position. Oh good! The door is opening.

A bugler stepped through the door first. This was followed by the Duke’s personal bodyguard. One, two, three, maybe a dozen, thought Bob. And then, a young lady walked in. She’s so beautiful! Her skin is so clean! Then, and lastly, a man passed through the door. He must be the Duke, he has a fancy hat on! All the important people have fancy hats!

The lady who took baths took the seat on the right, and the man in the fancy hat sat in the seat on the left. They were sturdy wooden chairs. Do they have cushions? Thought Bob, I’ve heard about such things in tales but never before had I thought I would see such things with my own two eyes.

“You may stand, come forward, and kiss my ring,” said the man with the fancy hat.

Bob did as he was told.

“You have a package from my cousin?”

Bob was about to speak when a guard hit him with a club from behind. Hey now, thought Bob, at least it did not hurt, I guess it was just to get my attention. That is the way it is in the army. They know we are not smart enough to understand words.

Bob got down on one knee and presented the box to the man in the fancy hat, the Duke, Bob’s liege’s cousin.

The Duke opened up the box and pulled out a bag. He put his gloved hand into it and pulled something out.

Bob blinked his eyes. Was that a sandwich?

Bob started to mumble something.

A guard hit Bob. But, the Duke put up his hand and the guard stopped.

“I want to thank you soldier. You have been brave, even capable, please speak.”

Bob looked down. He mustered his bravery. But, his head was still kind of blank. “Is that a sandwich?”

“This is not just any sandwich. This is two slices of bread lightly toasted with butter. A thin slice of salted meat is then placed on top. And, it is garnished with shredded green vegetable and a round slice of red vegetable. It is delish.”

“We engaged the enemy sir. Their arrows tormented us. Their swords decapitated many. The worst were the polearms. My friends became kebabs.”

“I am really quite sorry to hear that. But, I guess you and the survivors will just have to make more babies to replace the soldiers my dear cousin has lost. That should be fun, don’t you think?”

“Umm…yes, sir.”

“See, as my dear father said, the spoils always go to the survivors.”

“Sir, I am sorry, I know I don’t speak well, but I was told I would receive a reward.”

“Of course, brave soldier, would you like a bite?”

“Sir, a bite?”

“It really is a fantastic sandwich. You won’t find any more better.”

“It is okay, sir, I don’t want a bite.”

“You are wise, good soldier, it would probably ruin the rest of your life having tasted such pleasures just once, and then never being able to satisfy them again. I will certainly say a good word about you to my cousin.”

“Bob, sir.”

“Bob? What kind of gibberish is that?”

“Name, sir. My name is Bob.”

“Bob what?”

“Just Bob.”

“You have no other name?”

“No, sir, just Bob.”

“What a pity? Oh well.”

What a pity? What does that mean?

Bob could see the young lady of the bath whisper something to the Duke.

“Well, Bob, my daughter has a suggestion. We will now call you Bob the Brave, or just Bob Brave. What do you think?”

“Sir, as you say.”

“Good. Then, it is decided. And, what a reward? A name! I am really far too generous.”

Bob walked out the Duke’s stronghold gates as Bob Brave. He began his walk to the border, putting one foot in front of the other on the cobbled walkway, lost in his thoughts, shivering, till the cobbles ended and the dirt path and the woods that lined it started.

The sun set and the dusk descended on the path. The tweeting song of birds became more clear. There was a rustling sound. And, then a half-orc on either side of the trail stepped into the path.

“Stand or fight?” said the one on the right in a deep voice.

Bob put his hand on his sword. He felt all his muscles tighten. Something wet appeared on his forehead. Am I sweating?

“Hand over your money and you will not be harmed, human.”

Bob did what his training told him to do. Pull his sword. Except he didn’t. His hand was still on the hilt, but his arm didn’t work. He tried again. But, again his hand, well gripped on the hilt, didn’t move. Sigh.

“What is your answer? Your money or your life, human?”

I don’t think I can fight. I have lost my will for it. All my life I craved a moniker like Brave, and now I can’t fight.

“You can have what is left of my armor, and my sword. It is all I have left of value. I am sure you will find it useful, or you may sell it for scrap. Either way, please take it in exchange for my life.”

I guess that is what money is for: to save your life from thieves.

“We are good Orcs. We gave you our word that we would save your life if you offered up your money. And, we will keep our word. Strip human. Leave it all in a pile and walk away.”

Orcs? I would swear they were half-orcs.

Bob did as he was told. He dropped his sword and commenced with removing his armor. It took nearly an hour, but soon there was a pile on the path, and Bob and his rags, placed strategically, started the trek home.

I am going to have to find a new way to make a living.

When he got back into town, he saw a handwritten note on a tree.

Looking for mates to play in me band

Go to the Red Rooster

Order a Lager

Entreat the Publican

I need to make a coin just to get a job. But, at least it is a plan. I need a plan.