"Why Me!" by Imelda Weijers

Why Me! Why Me!

   Calliaris was a quiet place with quiet people, living quiet little lives in their quiet little homes. Nothing much ever happened there. The townsfolk were content just going about their daily chores. From time to time travellers would arrive staying at the "Empty Purse" the town’s only inn, just enjoying the peace and quiet.
   It was on a nice, warm, spring afternoon that an unusually large group of both townsfolk and travellers gathered on the square outside the “Empty Purse”. The chairs that Gluin, the innkeeper, always put outside on warm days like this weren’t enough to seat everyone, so half the crowd just sat on the ground. They roughly formed a half circle, with one man at its centre. He looked kind of sad that man. His face was lined with worry and his brown hair was dusted with grey, making him appear older than he really was. He looked tired too, sitting on a bench, leaning on his staff.
   The people gathered around him were silent, holding their breath, waiting for the man to speak. He sipped his drink, this sad, tired man, placed his cup on the table behind him, took a deep breath and started to tell his tale...

   Why me?
   A simple question really. I bet you’ve asked it yourself more than once in your life. I know I have. I did so just a week ago, when Elvaine...
   No wait, I should start at the beginning of this story. I don’t know if you’ll believe this fantastic tale or not, but I will tell it anyway.
   You see, I’m a wizard. Not a great one like Mutamion of the Morning Star or Zashentar the Grey, but I can safely say, without boasting, that I’m more powerful than the tricksters you might see at carnivals.
Wouldn’t it be something? If years from now people would remember me as Ardon the Great, or Ardon the Wise? But I fear that if they remember me at all, it will be as Ardon the Fool. I know you will, after I finish telling you what happened.

   My wife Elvaine and I, we live about an hour’s ride outside this town in a nice cosy cottage, with a vegetable garden, two apple trees (my Elvaine bakes the best apple pies you’ve ever tasted), a few chickens, a cow and a horse.
   Yes, I’m married. I know that’s rather unusual, for a wizard I mean. I never planned to marry, it just, you know, kind of happened.
   Elvaine worked as my housekeeper from the day I came to live in the cottage. Cooking, and cleaning, doing the laundry, those sorts of things. It took us three years to realise we had fallen in love on the first day we met.
   She’s a kind-hearted woman, my Elvaine (and a wonderful cook). For years we lived our happy, peaceful little lives in our cottage. Until the day I learned to fly.
   If you’re a wizard like me, you know how hard it is to learn that spell. It took me long enough. But I can assure you; it is well worth the time and trouble.
   Ah, to fly, to soar through the sky, like a bird, to see the world from high above. I don’t think there are words to describe the feeling you get when you’re floating on nothing but air. It’s... magical.

   I should have seen the signs. I should have notice Elvaine getting quieter the more often I showed her my new skills (or should I say showed off?). The ready smile that used to curl her lips, it wasn’t there as often as it had been before. I can hardly remember the last time I saw it.
   Like I said, I should have seen the signs, but, as you’ve probably guessed, I didn’t. Or maybe I did, but chose to ignore them. It doesn’t really matter now, does it? Anyway, by the time I did notice the changes it was too late. The green monster we all know as Jealousy had driven a wedge between us. We hardly spoke to each other anymore. And when Elvaine did speak, she only irritated me. Like that time only a week ago, when she opened the door to my study, or as I like to call it, my Sanctuary.

   “Did you find anything?” she asked.
   Irritated, I flung the quill I was holding back in the inkwell, closed my eyes and sighed. I was very grateful my back was turned to the door, so she couldn’t see my face. I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and was just about to answer her when she spoke again.
   “Well? Did you?”
   You should have heard that tone of voice. Raucous and demanding, it sent a shiver of disgust down my spine. I slowly turned around to face her and with the last remnant of self-control, I managed to put something that could pass as a smile on my face.
   “No, dear,” I answered, “I haven’t found anything new yet.”
   You should have seen the look on Elvaine’s face. Knowing what was about to come, I reacted quickly, picking up a piece of parchment I had been working on, covered with arcane symbols, the ink still wet.
   “Look,” I said. “I’ve been summarising everything I’ve found so far.”
   Then I started to explain some of the symbols, knowing very well that she wouldn’t understand a word I was saying. I had to restrain myself from bursting into laughter. Summarising indeed. I had spent most of the afternoon doodling and scribbling some random patterns and symbols, daydreaming about the time when life was still nice and simple and asking myself why all this happening to me. Without pausing, I went on and on, the words cascading from my mouth. Finally I said: “And this part I read in the theories of Narcillicus. Now where did I put that book?” I turned around, pretending to search for the book, giving Elvaine an opportunity to interrupt.
   “Yes, well, this is all very interesting dear,” she said, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to explain all this some other time. I just came in to let you know dinner will be ready in half an hour.”
   Yeah right, I thought, knowing she had come in to check up on me. But I didn’t dare to speak those words aloud. Instead, I faked a look of disappointment and said: “Oh, are you sure?” She just nodded and quickly left the room.

   But I’m jumping ahead of things.
   You see, to understand what caused the changes in my Elvaine, you have to know that she wanted to learn how to fly too. And being the loving husband that I am, I promised her I would find a way. But the problem was, Elvaine does not have any magical powers of her own. If learning the spell that’s lets you fly is hard (trust me, it is), finding a spell to give the ability to fly to someone else is near impossible. I should know, I still haven’t found one.
   Now, if you are a wizard, like me, you might suggest telekinesis. I thought about that too. In fact, that was the first thing that came to mind. And yes, I even tried it a few times. It worked, in a way. But not the way Elvaine wanted it. She wanted to fly by herself, wanted to be able to change speed or direction without having to shout things like: “I want to go left now. Take me up a little higher. No, no, no, not that high!” I think you get the picture. No, telekinesis wasn’t it.
   So I started to do some serious researching. I consulted every wizard I could get in touch with, picked up every book, every scrap of parchment on the subject I could find. At first, she only asked how things were progressing once a week. But after a month or two it became twice a week. And after another month, it got even worse. When she started to nag me about it more than twice a day, I tried to get away from her as much as I could, locking myself away in my room most of the time.

   Right, back to my Sanctuary and half an hour left until dinner. A thought struck me at that point. Do you believe that the unconscious mind can sometimes find a way to send a message to the conscious one? Not that it matters much, but it might help if you understand that I do. Like I said, I had spent most of the afternoon doodling and scribbling. Could there be a message hidden somewhere between all those seemingly random symbols?
   To find out, I picked up the parchment and studied the patterns. Nothing. Well, not exactly, there were some very interesting things on it, but nothing that would help me find a way to make Elvaine fly. At least, that’s what I thought. There was something there, but I didn’t see it while consciously staring at it. It wasn’t until Elvaine called that dinner was ready. I left the parchment lying on my desk and got up. Just before leaving the room I took one last glance at it. And then I saw. From a distance, at a different angle, the overall pattern of the doodles looked like...
   Wings!

   Elvaine wings? Then she could fly all by herself, whenever she wanted. Well, I didn’t tell her about this new approach though. I feared she would complain that all those months I had already spent researching had been for nothing. And what if she didn’t want to have wings? I mean, women can be a bit peculiar about how they look, and my Elvaine is no exception. So I decided to find and learn the spell first, then one day just give her wings and see what happened.
   Finding the spell wasn’t hard. I must have read over it hundreds of times. Learning it was an entirely different matter. You need to concentrate to learn a spell. But with Elvaine bursting into my Sanctuary to ask how I was doing at least once every hour (oh alright, I’m exaggerating), concentrating was almost impossible.
   I needed to get out of the house.

   The best time to approach my Elvaine when you need to ask her something you know she won’t like, is right after dinner. So one evening, after finishing our meal (which was, as usual, perfect), I looked at her and said: “Dear?”
   She scowled at that, but I pretended not to see.
   “Dear,” I repeated, “I have to go to the ‘Duck or Clunk’ tomorrow.”
   The look she gave me, it was… indescribable.
   If you’re not from around these parts, you probably don’t know about the ‘Duck or Clunk’. It’s the inn here, right behind me. I know the official name of the place is the “Empty Purse”, but if you’ve been inside, you know why we locals use a different name. And if you haven’t, all you need to know is that it was build for dwarves, not ‘tall people’.
   Anyway, before Elvaine could protest, I started to explain why I had to go to the inn. No, explain is the wrong word. It wasn’t an explanation really it was a blatant lie.
   “I got a message from Ludalf,” I told her. “He says he has some new information and wants me to meet him at the inn to tell me all about it.”
   “A message?” she asked. “When? I didn’t see a messenger all day.”
   “Of course you didn’t,” I answered, irritated. “It was a magical message.” I could tell she had trouble believing me, and that irritated me more than anything else.
   Isn’t that odd? You know you are telling a lie, but you get angry when they don’t believe you.
   I think I lost my temper then. “Do you want to fly or not?” I yelled at her. “Then stop nagging me!” For a while, she actually did.
   I went to town early that next morning. I sat right here, at this very table for a long time, just enjoying the peace and quiet I missed so much. Then I went inside, opened the books I had taken with me and started to do what I came here to do. I started to study the spell. Without Elvaine nagging me, I learned it in only a few hours. Can you imagine that? All those months I wasted when the answer lay in such a simple spell? It made me feel so stupid, but at the same time I was ecstatic. I was finally able to make Elvaine fly. But then I remembered she might not like this solution. So I opened my books again and started to look for a spell to undo the magic of the first. All the excitement I had felt turned into disappointment the moment I found one. It would take me months, if not years, to learn it.

   And then I heard a voice, Elvaine’s voice. I couldn’t believe she had walked all the way to town to check up on me.
   “What are you doing?” she asked.
   “What does it look like I’m doing?” I asked in return.
   “Where’s Ludalf?” she went on.
   “You just missed him.” I lied.
   That was a mistake. She nearly exploded when I said that. You see, she had already spoken to Gluin, and he had told her I had been sitting here all alone, with my nose in my books, all day. She started to yell at me, I started to yell at her. She accused me of not loving her enough (can you believe the nerve), I told her no one could love the terrible nag she had become. It was awful.
   “There!” I cried out. “You want to fly? I’ll show you how to fly! You, you, you... vixen!”    It’s never wise to cast a spell when you’re angry. It’s even worse when you’re in a rage. And trust me, I was in a rage.
   I didn’t know what I was doing; I didn’t care what I was doing. All the pent-up anger, all the pent-up frustration, it sought a way out at that moment and it found one. Through my magic!
   I felt the energy leave my body, stronger, more powerful than ever before. There was a bright flash of light, temporarily blinding me. And then a scream, a terrible, terrible scream, I nearly panicked.
   What had I done?
   What had I done?

   The storyteller paused, placing his hand over his eyes. It was obvious to his listeners that he was emotionally distraught. No one moved, no one spoke, everyone waited for him to continue.
   Suddenly, the silence was violently broken. A terrible scream, a sound that set everyone’s teeth on edge. A moment later, a small fox came around the corner of the ‘Duck or Clunk’.
   Everyone gasped. Protruding from the vixen’s shoulders, neatly folded against her back, was a set of wings.
   She raised up, her front paws resting against the table for balance, and started to yap at the wizard. He gently patted her head and sighed, then spoke to the vixen in a soft voice.
   “Yes my dear, it’s time to go home.”
   As the man and the vixen walked away, the perplexed audience could hear him mutter.