A Few Thousand Years
“Mr. Luclin,” said the little boy. He sat among the other children watching the old man closely.
“Yes, Scotty?”
“Will you tell us a story?”
“Of course, of course,” said Christian Luclin. “But I don’t know if I can remember any right now,” he said as he rubbed his bearded chin.
A sigh could be heard across the gathering of children. Christian Luclin was the best storyteller on the block. Children would gather around him at about this time every day looking for a fantastical story of wizards, witches, dragons, and more. The parents thought the old man to be eccentric. He had moved into this apartment complex only ten years before, and most of his friends were children. The blue sparkle in his eyes was reassuring to them, however. So they let their children listen to the stories. It kept them occupied while the parents prepared dinner. He was supposedly a rich man, which made them wonder why he chose this place to live. It was one of the more rundown apartment buildings in the city.
Christian Luclin started to laugh and the children smiled, knowing he was only teasing them.
“Christian Luclin, not having a story to tell? Bah,” he said as he looked around the room to make sure all of the children were paying attention. Other than Bobby, who was secretly picking his nose, the children were all staring at him, waiting patiently.
“It began long ago, as most of my stories do, when Saphrym, a boy who was soon to become a man, was fighting the trees and the squirrels with his wooden sword…”
Saphrym had always been inquisitive and playful, much to the chagrin of his adopted parents. And yes, his parents were adopted by him. Not the other way around. He had crawled his way to them when he was only a toddler. He had knocked on the door, and when it opened, had called the woman standing there, Mama. Lord and Lady Forestwind had taken him in as their own son. According to kingdom law, he could not take the family name, as his bloodline was unknown, but it did not seem to bother him, even as he came closer to his years of manhood.
Saphrym was a smart child. As he grew up, he learned the ways of the court quickly and impressed all of the visitors with his reading skills. Since he loved to entertain, his parents would allow him to read poetry scribed by local bards after dessert was served. He would stand upon an empty apple crate and recite the poem from a scroll. His inflections were always perfect, and the purpose of the poem would be evident by the end of his performance, for those in attendance always cried, laughed, or gasped at just the right moments throughout. Saphrym’s parents were proud of him.
When he wasn’t learning, Saphrym was out in the woods near his home, playing. He loved to pretend the trees were ogres who had come to steal his food, and he would drive them back with a wooden sword the local carpenter had made for him as a toy. The squirrels would be goblins as they skittered away in fear from the mighty cleaving of his weapon. In his mind’s eye, Saphrym was destined to be a warrior clad in silver armor fighting for just causes throughout the land.
Most of the other children had come to call him Saph. It was easier to say and had a playful quality about it. They would often play with him in those woods. The girls would be chained up princesses waiting for rescue, while the boys would be heroes like him, or even evil sorcerers ready to pounce on their prey.
The imagination of the children was a joy to their parents. Sometimes they’d watch from a distance and remember the times when they were younger and played with wooden swords.
“Although wooden swords are still dangerous, and in the times we live in, it’s better to play with foam swords. Right?”
“Yessir,” said the children in response.
The day finally came when Saphrym would become a man by law. His sixteenth birthday, as could only be guessed by his parents, would soon be upon him. He was anxious to finally own a real sword and put on the armor that was promised to him by his father. The land was at peace, which he enjoyed, but the thought of real metal hanging by his side was enticing.
He finished his studies early that night and went to sleep with dreams of his sword driving back a trio of ogres from a frightened family traveling down the road. He smiled in his sleep.
The next morning he awoke to the smell of buttered bread and immediately stood up, got dressed, and headed to the table for breakfast. The keep’s cooks had outdone themselves. There was fresh bread, jellies, jams, roasted pig, and many other dishes waiting for the family at the table.
“We wanted you to get a good start at adulthood, Saphrym,” said the servants as they smiled at his wide eyes looking over the spread.
He smiled back, sat down, and began eating while waiting for his parents to appear. They arrived soon enough and couldn’t help but smile when they saw the jelly smearing his cheeks. He realized what they were looking at and wiped his face quickly. His face was now red, but not from the jelly.
“Good morning, Saphrym,” said Lord Forestwind.
“Good morning, father and mother,” he replied.
Lady Forestwind smiled and nodded to her son.
The morning couldn’t go quickly enough for Saphrym. He was to become a man at noon. He finished his breakfast, excused himself, and went to his room to wait for the ceremony.
“When do we get to the wizards, dragons, and such, Mr. Luclin?” asked Bobby.
“You remind me of Saphrym. Wanting action when there was peace. We’re almost there, though.” All of the children smiled and crowded in a little closer.
After a while, Saphrym began to wonder if his parents remembered the ceremony, and decided he’d go find them. As he walked through the halls of the keep, he noticed an eerie silence. His room was far from the main rooms of the keep, so he started walking much faster. He was half expecting his parents to surprise him when he reached the dining room. He was surprised when he made it. His parents were dead.
“Dead! How were they killed?”
“Let him finish and you’ll find out, dummy.”
“Hey! No one here is a dummy!”
“Sorry, Mr. Luclin.”
“You need to tell Tommy you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Bobby said. He turned back towards Christian Luclin. “Well?”
Saphrym’s parents were lying on the floor with very large swords piercing their hearts. It looked like there hadn’t been much of a struggle. The eyes on their faces were wide. It’s as if they had been surprised to find themselves dead.
Saphrym looked around through the tears that were beginning to pool. Servants were scattered on the floor with arrows pin-cushioned through their bodies. He saw the armor he was promised proudly displayed on a nearby table. Next to the armor was a sword with an engraving on its blade. It read “May peace be yours.” Saphrym did not have peace in his heart at this moment. He had anger and fear. He realized the killers may still be around so quickly grabbed the armor and the sword and ran into the kitchen.
Dead bodies were everywhere. Everyone he had cared about had been killed. He put on the armor and hung the sword at his hip. The weight of it felt awkward, but he wouldn’t let that bother him. He wanted to find the killers. He wanted them dead.
He ran around the keep searching for survivors, but found none. He finally made it outside and ran towards the town, towards his friends. He could see tracks leading up to the keep, and then back. They were horse tracks. There were also a few tracks that looked like human feet, but much larger. Saphrym realized they must be ogre tracks. He had never actually seen an ogre, but he had heard enough about them.
Saphrym wished he had never wanted battle when he was younger. He felt as if his thirst for adventure had somehow caused all of this to happen. He finally reached the little town near the keep and found the same scene there. Everyone was dead.
“What’s he gonna do? He has no parents, no friends, and doesn’t even really know how to use a sword yet. What’s he gonna do?”
“You’ll have to listen to find out.”
Saphrym began walking north. He felt like it was as good a direction as any to walk, and was the easier one to follow by day and night. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to leave his home. He couldn’t stand the carnage he saw there. His vengeance and fear were the only things keeping him moving. He chopped through bushes using his sword. It became a pattern in his mind. Chop chop swish. Chop chop swish. After a few hours of travel, he became tired and found a soft plot of ground near a lake to lie down upon. He fell asleep quickly, for his body needed the rest. He woke from nightmares of the scenes of death many times throughout the night. When morning came, he got up and started walking north once more.
He was getting very thirsty and hungry, having not thought about food and water when he left home. He came upon a clearing in the woods. An old man sat in the clearing.
“Come here, boy.”
Saphrym was still full of fear and tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t move.
“I said, come here.”
His legs slowly moved towards the man of their own power. He couldn’t stop them from moving, no matter how hard he tried.
“You are the adopted son of Lord and Lady Forestwind, correct?”
He nodded, not knowing what else to do as his legs moved him closer and closer to the man.
“Let me have a look at you.”
His legs moved him the final steps and then twirled him in position.
“You look strong of mind, but hungry. You’ll do.”
Saphrym was confused and scared. Who was this man? What did he mean?
“I am no warrior. I cannot train you in the art of the sword,” said the old man.
With a wave of the man’s hand, Saphrym’s armor and sword instantly disappeared. His clothing was all that was left.
“You will work for me for a few years. You will gather roots and berries. You will cook and clean. In exchange, I will train you.”
Saphrym was beginning to wonder who this old man thought he was that he could order Saphrym around.
“I’m just an old man. But I have a few tricks that you may want to learn.”
“Are you reading my thoughts?”
“No. I’m reading your body language. Your fear and disdain are plain as the nose on your face. The sight of your loved ones dead is etched in the tear tracks on your cheeks. The crest on the armor you wore told me of your origin. I cannot read thoughts. I can only examine my surroundings.”
Saphrym was curious. As the events of their meeting became evident, he realized he was looking at a wizard. The magic of wizards had only been rumors at his home. Now, here, before him, sat a purveyor of such magics.
“Yes. I am a wizard. We do exist, although our numbers are slowly dwindling. There are but a few of us left. Not enough believers in the craft are left to keep it alive. Most of us haven’t had apprentices in over two hundred years, myself included.”
“Two hundred years? How old was this man, Mr. Luclin?”
Christian Luclin winked as he continued.
“I see the look upon your face, boy. I am well over seven hundred years old. My master was over four thousand years when he finally passed away. Wizards live long lives. The magic that flows through us keeps us alive for long periods of time. Even the term “wizard” means wise old man. And we are. We’ve been alive long enough to see wars come and go and even to see entire civilizations destroyed.”
Saphrym couldn’t believe it. Most men died by the time they were fifty. This man said it was possible to live thousands of years.
“You will come to understand everything. But first, I need you to pick some of those yellow berries on that bush over there.” The old man pointed at a bush a few feet away.
“What magic do those berries hold?” Saphrym asked.
“None, boy. They make a good soup.” The old man finally smiled, and Saphrym couldn’t help but join him.
As Saphrym walked over and started picking the berries, his feelings of fear and vengeance began to disappear. He couldn’t let that happen. After the man trained him, he planned on getting his revenge. His face tensed up with the thought.
“You will not know revenge, boy. Training of a wizard takes many years. The people who killed your parents won’t even be alive when I am done training you, so you can remove any of those thoughts now.”
“So you can read my thoughts?”
“No. I just understand the situation. Anytime something causes a mass death, we wizards can sense it. I watched the battle. Your family was dead before I was able to attune to the location. No one really stood a chance. I know you want revenge. That look on your face now shows me that. But being a wizard is a much larger picture than a revenge plot. You will swing entire wars in the favor of different kingdoms. You will see the coming of new advances in military techniques. You will watch as the oceans erode the shorelines.” He paused and looked even closer at Saphrym. “You, boy, will even know the end of wizards, for when you finally die, so will the last of our kind. Unless you can spark the interest of an apprentice who does not believe in magic.”
“Is that why there’s no wizards now, Mr. Luclin? Because we don’t believe in magic anymore?”
“It’s possible, Bobby. Very possible.”
For the first hundred years, Saphrym did nothing but menial chores around the wizard’s tower. He swept the floors, cooked the yellow-berry soup, and watched over the fireplace late at night when the old man needed light to read. He felt as if he’d grow bored with such tasks, but he never did. He was able to take his time with any task, because he had many years ahead of him, and it altered his sense of time from what it was so many years before. He still looked like the boy he once was, but was finally growing a whisker of a beard.
“I’m sorry. I’ve completely forgotten introductions over all of this time. My name is Altemicus and yours is Saphrym. Correct?”
“Yes. It’s funny how it never occurred to me to ask your name.”
“Names are unimportant. Names are labels. Labels aren’t needed for someone you know well. And in our seclusion, you never truly needed a name to call me by, as there was no other to address.”
“True enough.”
“So we only need names for people to tell the difference between who’s talking to who?”
“That’s the way Altemicus believes, Bobby.” Christian smiled at the boy’s interest in this particular part of the story.
Saphrym trained for two hundred years under Altemicus.
“You have learned everything I can teach you. Do you still seek revenge?”
“Not really. I wish such a thing had never happened to my parents, but they would have already been dead by now anyway.”
“Wait? We’re not gonna get to hear about him killing the bad guys? You just skipped two hundred years!”
“That’s not the point, Nate. His story is saying we all will die and that in the long term, revenge would not change that. It would just be more death.”
Christian smiled at Bobby.
“Very true. They would be dead already.”
“So what am I to do with my new powers?”
“That’s up to you. I would recommend traveling the world and getting to know as much about it as possible. Should be easy to do with your powers. But I ask a favor of you, one that is passed down from wizard to wizard.”
“What is that?”
“Use your magic only to make small changes where necessary. Don’t disrupt the minds and thoughts of other human beings, but make sure children are well-educated. Let them make their own decisions, but provide help when it’s needed. And, finally, find an apprentice.”
“But you said I would be the last of the wizards.”
“No. I said there were not enough believers, and that you would need to find that spark of interest among the nonbelievers to finally find one who you can pass the gift to. If you search diligently, you will find one.”
“I will do what you ask.” Altemicus placed a medallion around Saphrym’s neck, signifying a bond that could not be broken.
Over the next few thousand years, Saphrym became one of the wisest wizards ever known. He mourned the death of his teacher. He watched wars come and go. He also found that there truly were no believers left in the world. He did make sure to educate children as he went through life. He would also make changes where necessary to make sure mankind did not destroy itself. And he would constantly look for an apprentice.
“That’s it for the day. Your parents are probably ready to feed you.”
“Does Saphrym still exist?”
“No one knows.”
“Well, that was boring.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not as much action as I like, but interesting.”
Christian smiled at the children as they left his apartment. After a few moments, he sensed a disturbance and fondled a medallion around his neck. Bobby came running into his apartment crying.
“Mr. Luclin. My parents are dead. They were shot while we were listening to your story. Please, help me!” Bobby’s face dripped with anger and fear.
“Come here, boy.”
Bobby found that he couldn’t control his legs.
