The Sage

The Sage

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley” recounted the storyteller, as the crowd gathered to hear his famous tales and fables of forgotten battles, unexpected villains, and heroes the world never acknowledged. His favorite part of the day, as he sat beneath the town square clock in the center of the plaza, amid a myriad of small stores and restaurants, was how the children would gather around him in a semicircle and look up to him like the father figure he always portrayed. His microphone was tucked under the collar of his wool sweater, and amplified speakers by his side, so no tourist or spectator would miss the remarkable stories told by the sage.

The sage, as he was called, had a charismatic approach to storytelling. He infused antiquated verbiage, where oftentimes, the older crowds would simply laugh it off, with contemporary diction, that would make the younger generations smile.

Venerably, he attained this name by the people who so admired him. But little did they know that this name was given to him a very long time ago.

“Not only were there dragons but all types of races walked and lived together. The community did not see each other as different but as one family. And truth be told, do not listen to the stories of elves and their heroic deeds. Elves in my time were mean tempered and cared nothing for the races outside of their own.”

The amount of likes he received from YouTubers and TikTokers was staggering. He was regarded as one of the greatest storytellers to be alive. To look at him was to second guess his age. His pulpous, wrinkly hands and deformed fingertips, that tightly gripped the cedar walking stick, which supported his broad, hunched body, contradicted his appearance as his muscle arms protruded through his wool sweater.

People lined up to take a selfie with him. Even the store employees would run outside to catch a glimpse of him. He didn’t mind. He preferred people who were happy and enjoyed themselves.

He would go into details of how originally elves were not from the Valley but had travelled across the seas to look for kingdoms to take as their own.

One sunny day a group of teenagers pushed their way through the crowd and teased the sage about his silly stories. The sage put his Stetson cap aside, which he used to collect donations, and watched as the situation unfolded.

“You idiots” screamed the ringleader John, as he taunted the old man and some of the onlookers. “You guys believe this crap? These are stories we hear on the internet.”

He took out a vape from his pocket, inhaled, walked up to the sage, and blew smoke to his face.

One of the men in the crowd burst forward to subdue the young perpetrator, but the old man lifted his hand to reassure him that everything was all right.

John’s girlfriend Crystal stepped in to continue the harassment.

“Look at this old fool.”

There was a gold ring on the middle finger of the old man’s left hand. It had an emblem of a black wolf howling on a red background. John reluctantly proceeded to make jokes after he noticed that the ring caught his attention.

“Go on old man. What else were there? We want to hear some more.”

The sage drew in a puff of air and slowly decompressed his chest as he continued. “In my time there were dragons…ogres… fairies… and de….”

Sporadic, sarcastic bursts of laughter echoed down the tiny roads of the plaza. Bruce clutched his chest and bent backwards, with a wide-open mouth, at an attempt to embarrass the sage.

“Can you believe this guy?” retorted Crystal. All the while Penny, Crystal’s best friend stood in the background, arms across her chest, silent in those moments.

Her friends had decided to play a cruel joke on someone that day. They were hoping to raise their views on their streaming accounts. And even though Penny decided against it, she still tagged along so as not to seem disloyal.

“Are you on something old man? John pursed his lips and pinched his thumb and index fingers together to his mouth, to suggest the sage smoked too much and made-up stories from his delusional mind.

He twisted his ring around on his finger and stared at his walking stick, as he scrutinized the certainty of the disdain their attitudes displayed. It was an all too familiar sight he witnessed many times before.

“Ignorance can only get you so far young man. However, to think invincibility, covered with ignorance and youth, is a surety for life, can become a deadly trait. This is the warning I am giving you, my son.”

“I’m not your son old man.”

The sun overhead shone from a bright yellow to a crimson hue and clouds descended to form accumulated masses. The spectators diligently dispersed from the coming storm.

Tommy, who observed the entire situation decided it was time to go. “Let’s get out of here guys. I don’t like this. We got enough views.”

The old man stared into John’s eyes for what seemed a long time. He contemplated the situation for a moment. Looked up at the sky and took a deep breath.

His brows creased, while the corners of his lips meticulously raised and hid the soft, sly smile among his wrinkled cheeks.

Furious, the same man who tried to intervene the first time briskly jumped towards Bruce but was met with an iPhone pointed at him.

“Do you want to go to jail? Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you touch me. We have the right to do whatever the hell we want. Now back off.”

The man raised his palms up and went back to the crowd.

The same threats were imposed upon the rest of the spectators.

Crystal and Bruce pointed their iPhone cameras and threatened to show their faces to the police if they came near them.

“We can post this on YouTube and TikTok. Imagine how much money we can make” proclaimed John.

“That’s right! If you touch us this video is going straight to the police.”

The sage intervened and proposed a solution. “You could stay and listen to his tales if they stopped the ruckus and behaved themselves or suffer the consequences.”

“Listen to this old croaker. We’re not doing anything you say, old man. Look at him” reclaimed Crystal. “Just an old man with nothing to do but to waste people’s time. Why don’t you just get lost and die. Look there’s a bridge over there. Walk over there and die.”

Tommy put his hands in his pockets and lowered his head. He dared not to raise his eyes. The guilt had already set on him.

Many witnesses had given up on the situation. Some began to walk away. Others cursed the teenagers for their belligerent behavior and dispersed with the rest.

“Not again” whispered the sage under his breath. “It seems that the young of every generation must always comply with the forces of nature. And they never learn until the harsh consequences are forced upon them. How many times must I do this?”

“What was that you said old man? I didn’t hear you” retorted John.

The sage meticulously raised his head. The clouds gathered in a maelstrom formation. The winds became heavier, as the young crew had difficulty moving, as if an invisible force held them in position.

He turned towards them, and they saw his eyes intrepidly lit like the solar flares of the sun. And with a direct fury he raised his stick and struck the cobble stones, accompanied by a thunderous noise, beneath his feet.

All around them a sea of white light gradually encompassed the hapless members and created a translucent barrier from which they could see the spectators but were incapable of being helped as they shouted dramatically into the soundless void.

After countless attempts to move from their spots the teenagers were overwhelmed and let out shrieks of terror. The screams of terror went unheard. Their vision became inundated with white flashes.

The lights dissipated and after their sight fazed back to normal, they were awe struck by the environment they were in.

Rolling hills covered the area as far as the eyes could see. The sky dazzled in blue oceanic scenery. Small patches of groves contradicted the parent trees beside them. The air was different. Robust. Full of cool whisps. Bruce coughed. Crystal gagged and gagged until she could no longer hold it in.

They spread into a diamond shaped formation and looked around. There were rolling hills, spread throughout the landscape. The trees were thick, full of life. Small trickles of water passed by their feet as Bruce noticed he was standing in mud.

Penny’s chest heaved up and down. Her breathing became rapid and shallow.

“What’s going on? Help me. I’m stuck in this mud” yelled Bruce. He felt a slight shake in his legs and then he began to descend. “Hey” he screamed. “Help me!”

“It’s quicksand, Bruce, don’t move!” John went to find a branch to try and reach Bruce. Instead, he took a long, thin tree trunk that needed the others to help him lift it.

Bruce panicked more and more and was sinking faster.

They threw the young tree across the quicksand, which almost hit Bruce. He grabbed on to it and straddled the tree trunk. Then he slowly crawled towards the crew.

Before they could set their bearings, a huge figure approached Tommy from behind.

“Step aside” exclaimed the menacing figure and was brushed aside by massive shoulders.

He fell to the ground and saw the huge figure walk past him with many bags strapped to his back.

“What are you?”

The figure turned and looked at Tommy. His face was several dimensions larger than a normal human being: Each hand of his held five sacks. And each bag was slightly bigger than Tommy.

As the giant peered at Tommy, he told him in a deep, soft voice that it was not safe to remain there. That he and his friends should move north with the rest of the group.

Penny tapped Crystal on the shoulder and pointed to many distinct creatures walking in a straight formation.

It was a caravan of refugees that fled the Valley. Their homes were raided by a terrible horde.

The raiders had a dragon as a weapon. It bore a silver chain around its neck imprinted with glowing caricatures along its sides.

“What’s going on?” replied Penny.

Followed by a succession of different races, buffaloes pulled wagons, full of clothes, chairs, ladders, and children. They either clung to the sides of the wagons or were immersed in all their carry-ons, as desperate measures were taken to leave as quickly as possible.

Women wailed under their distressed hoods. As they marched down the road, a sharp aquiline nosed creature stared at Crystal. She jumped, startled, her hands clasped around her breasts, mouth open.

A wrinkly faced humanoid walked alongside the fairy, who carried the goblin’s child on his shoulders.

The child played with the fairy’s pointy ears. Crystal was amazed, wiped the still lingering vomit at the curves of her mouth and managed a smile under her wide-eyed gaze.

“Bruce, remember the movie with the elves and the dwarves?”

“I am not an elf, you silly girl. I am a fairy. The elves are the ones who ran us out of our homes and nearly destroyed my people.”

“Enough” murmured the goblin. “It is obvious that they are outsiders and do not know what they have gotten themselves into. Perhaps we can get answers from The Amity of the Wolf.”

“Those monks wouldn’t help a fly out of a frog’s mouth.”

“That’s not true. You know first-hand how much they have helped my people, your people, and all the rest. They do have limits, you know. Now, let’s continue before we’re caught and slaughtered in the middle of this fiasco. I do not want to end up as worm food.”

Penny was already on the floor. The shock was too much for her delicate spirit.

The goblin kneeled beside her, and Tommy thought he would hurt her.

“Get away from her” he yelled.

“It is okay. I know medicine. She is not bleeding. She is breathing just fine. Your friend here has only fainted.”

Bewildered, Tommy stared at the goblin. “How do you know how to speak English?”

“Me. How could you not? That is the only language we speak here. Now, raise her head.” He obliged the goblin’s orders.

He tapped Penny’s cheeks to try and wake her up. Slowly, she opened her eyes and tried to take in the atmosphere around her.

She focused on Tommy.

“Tommy, I had a strange dream. I dreamt that we were in another place with strange creatures.”

“Strange creatures?” The goblin was not too happy at being called a ‘creature’. “You’re the ones with strange attire, and strange accents, and strange behaviors.”

Penny turned towards the voice who spoke to her. Saw the yellow horizontal pupils and fainted once again.

“Your friend does faint a lot. Is that normal?”

“Only when we see strange things. Who are you?”

“My name is Raug. I am the medicine man of my people. And you?”

“Tommy.”

“What kind of a name is Tommy?”

“What kind of a name is Raug?”

Raug considered the gesture and understood the significance of it. Immediately, they shook hands.

The melee of people gathered in praise and chants as a figure on horseback approached the teenagers, dressed in a black gambeson and a red sleeveless surcoat, with a broad sword on his side.

John recognized the image of the black wolf on the knight’s red surcoat. It was the same picture that resembled the emblem on the old man’s ring.

As he peered into the eyes of the horsed stranger, John recognized the familiar features, of the now young and vibrant, charismatic, strong, muscular-armed, old man, who told the story of dragons, ogres, fairies, and de….