Less than perfect wizard

An old wizard sat stooped over a scrying glass, his long white beard tucked out of the way as he peered in on a scene he was not meant to see.

The image in the glass showed clearly in the dark room, and the wizard cast a spell on it so that he could hear what was being said in the meeting five leagues away.

There were four people at this meeting, four very important people, all of whom the wizard had met at on point or another. Two of them were human, the other two were elves, and they were discussing what to do about the upcoming battle.

“We’re ridiculously outnumbered,” One of the humans was saying, “Their army is a hundred times the size of ours!”

An elf, slightly tipsy by the looks of him, replied in a slurred voice, “But we’ve got mashic! They couldn’t casht a spell shtrong enough to damash a teapot!”

Another elf looked at his comrade disdainfully, “And our magic isn’t much better! We’ve lost all our mages-”

“Not quite,” the other human cut in, “there’s still that wizard…”

The elf scoffed, “Him? Oh yes, he’s real help!”

“He’s the most powerful wizard in ten thousand years!”

The wizard bent over the scrying glass smiled slightly, but with a slightly anxious look on his face. Bending closer he continued to listen in on them.

“And what use is that if he doesn’t turn up to the battle?” the elf roared, “Oh yes, that’s really going to scare the enemy, ‘We have the most powerful wizard in existence! At the moment he’s probably hiding in his wardrobe, but I’m sure he’ll blow you up if you attack us, really he will’… terrifying that!”

The drunk elf snorted, “Well obvioushly, somebody ish going to have to pershwuade him to fight for ush!”

The first human tapped his foot impatiently, “I agree, but the problem is, how do we persuade him? He’s our only chance but it’s a poor one. He’s hardly battle worthy. And even if we get him there our problems won’t be over; what about those battle nerves of his, eh? We can’t afford to let them interfere at a crucial moment.”

“It’s worth a try,” the other human replied heavily, “We don’t stand a chance otherwise, and it won’t cost us much to try.”

The meeting broke up and the image in the scrying glass clouded up and then went blank. The wizard stood up, cursing softly.

“So they’re coming to get me are they? Well they can’t make me go to war if they can’t find me.”


Knocking heavily on the door the whole group knew it was useless. If the old wizard hadn’t answered yet, he knew why they were there; and if he knew that he would never answer the door.

“It’s no use,” one of the humans, whose name was Balgen, said, “We’re just going to have to break the door down.”

He raised his axe and cleanly cut the door off its hinges. “Someone guard the door so he doesn’t escape,” he ordered, moving on down the gloomy hall.

The other human and the still drunk elf followed him, so the second elf planted his feet firmly in the doorway and got ready to catch a fleeing wizard.

The other three reached the bottom of the stair and paused. Balgen surveyed the gently swaying elf beside him, “Leot, I think you had better search the ground floor. We’ll search the rest of the building.”

Nodding the elf tottered off, opening doors along the passage and peering into the rooms beyond.

After a seconds hesitation the humans set off up the stairwell, watching out carefully for any sign of the wizard.

“No doubt he’ll have hidden himself somehow,” Balgen murmured, “Remember to check everything, in cupboards, wardrobes, under chairs and tables… even if it looks too small for him-”

“Then he could have shrunken himself, I know,” his companion cut in impatiently, “You go check the tower, I’ll do these floors.”

Balgen nodded his agreement and set off further up the stairs. The other human, Norin, started looking around the room nearest to him, listening intently for any sound that might give the wizard away.

He searched cupboards, checked under tables, behind the curtains; everywhere he looked clouds of dust rose up, but there was no sign of the wizard.

“The problem with this place,” Norin muttered, “Is it’s too cluttered. There are a million and one places to hide in this place, even without the use of magic. Mind you, you’d probably suffocate on dust in half of ‘em.”

To his surprise an indignant voice replied from a bookcase, “Well I never! First they break in, invading my home and messing up my furniture, and then they have the nerve to insult my home and insinuate that I don’t clean it properly!” then as Norin turned to face the bookcase there was a soft, “Oops!”

With a grim smile Norin dragged the bookcase away, revealing a thin old wizard hiding in a dusty alcove. “So there you are Meran! No doubt from the way you were hiding, you know why I’m here?”

Meran glared at him, “I know why you’re here alright, and you’re wasting you’re time! If you think I’m going to go risking my life out on some battlefield… totally absurd… I’m no warrior and you know it!”

“I know you’re the only chance we’ve got!” Norin retorted, “You’re perfectly capable of ensuring us victory, and without you we don’t stand a chance! Would you condemn thousands of men to death because you’re too cowardly to help? Could you live with that on your conscience?”

Meran sighed, “Even if I wanted to help you know I couldn’t. battle nerves aren’t something you choose to get you know, they just happen. You put an army in front of me and I’ll be too nervous to give one of them a nosebleed!”

“Well we won’t know for sure until we get you to a battle, will we? And I’d rather go to war unsure of whether you’ll beat your nerves than sure that we’re all going to die! At least come on down and talk with us about it?”

Scowling Meran replied, “Alright then, since I know full well that even if I convince you I’m not going every fool one of you will come and pester me in turn. May as well disappoint you all at once!”

They emerged onto the staircase, Norin yelling up it, “I’ve found him Balgen!” before proceeding downstairs. Once they reached the hall Meran stopped, looking angrily at his wrecked front door.

Waving the elf away from it he muttered a quiet incantation under his breathe and the door flew back into its frame, mended perfectly.

They gathered in the wizard’s living room, where Leot was snoozing quietly on the floor. Before any of them had a chance to say anything Meran had started up, “Now I want you to get this stupid idea out of your head right now, because there’s no way you’re getting me to this battle! I-”

The elf cut in quickly, “You won’t have to fight Meran.”

The two humans stared at him in shock. Even Leot raised his head and stared in bleary confusion at him. “What are you talking about, he won’t have to fight?” Balgen demanded, “It’s the only way we can possibly win, Gindar!”

Shaking his head the elf smiled, “I’ve just had another idea, when he repaired that door. Meran, can you do spells to strengthen materials? Say, to make a shield unbreakable?”

Frowning the wizard replied, “Of course. Done that to all my glasses and plates; shame I never thought to do it to the door.”

Gindar smiled and turned to others, “You see? Even if he doesn’t actually fight, he could still help give us a chance. If he cast spells on our armour and weapons at least we’d have a bit of an advantage. Maybe you could put spells on our arrows so that they will all find their targets?”

Meran nodded, rather depressed that they had found a use for him after all.

Norin saw the nod and beamed, “So it’s settled then? You come with us to fight, and even if you can’t actually do it when it come down to it you can help strengthen our army and hang around to heal anyone left alive at the end.”

The wizard looked terrified, and glanced hopelessly from one to the other of them. Finally he sighed, “Alright then. I’ll come; but you’re not getting me on that battlefield.”


After three days of travelling through steadily deteriorating weather the four of them were starting to appreciate Meran’s ability with magic more and more. When they had started out it had been sunny, but clouds had soon appeared and it started to rain.

The warriors were used to travelling through bad weather, but didn’t like it any more for all that. They were pleasantly surprised then, when Meran muttered one or two words and the rain parted, falling all around the party but never on them. Lighting a fire each evening, too, was made much easier, and they enjoyed roaring bonfires that sprang suddenly out of nothing and required no firewood to keep them burning.

Meran was still adamant that he wouldn’t fight, but he had mentioned a few other things he could do to help the army without actually being there.

“I can bottle fire,” he told them, “It would only cause a very small explosion when thrown, but it would be enough to distract whoever you’re fighting.”

They were discussing ideas like these as they sat around the fire at the end of the third day, trying to think of ways to balance out the terrifyingly uneven odds.

“Is there any way you could fight for us at a bit of a distance?” Norin asked, “Far enough away that you aren’t in danger, but still damaging them. Remember they have no mages of their own to retaliate against you.”

“Yes, orcs always were somewhat lacking in magic,” Meran mused, “I could perhaps work something with the weather, but it would be imprecise. Whilst the two armies are distinctly separate I could get a few lightning bolts to strike them, but it’s hard to aim from a distance, so if the two armies get very mixed up I’ll have to stop.”

“How will you see when that happens?” Leot asked grumpily. His supply of whisky had already run out, and consequently he was in a thoroughly bad mood.

Meran ignored the elf’s tone and waved the question away lightly, “Oh I’ll scry the battle, it’s easy enough. But the point is I’ll only be able to vaguely direct the bolts, so if you go and get all mixed up I can’t help you.”

“Could you if you were right there?” Balgen demanded.

“Makes no difference if I could or not.” Meran replied shortly, “I won’t be there.”

Balgen scowled and muttered something about ‘selfish old cowards’ which Meran studiously ignored.

“Well we’ll see about that,” Norin looked at the wizard seriously, “You know if we lose this battle the orcs will sweep over the entire land and there will be nowhere for you to hide? You can’t avoid fighting forever; we’re at war and you’re a powerful mage. Besides, there are orcs creeping all over the place now, we may meet some small parties before we even reach the battle ground.”

Meran looked alarmed at that, but Norin’s words were proved true a few days later.

They were passing through a marshy bog at the time, concentrating too much on where they were putting their feet to notice the orcs creeping up on them.

It was Meran who saw them first, less concerned with the treacherous ground than the others, thanks to his magic, he was able to look around him fairly often.

Nevertheless, the orcs were quite close when he spotted them, and alerted the others by letting out a strangled scream.

Aware that their cover had been blown the orcs charged forward in attack, straight at the five of them. Hardier and less concerned about splashing through mud, the bad ground did not hinder them as much as the humans and elves.

Balgen quickly raised his axe, whilst Norin and Gindar drew their swords and Leot knocked an arrow in his bow. The four of them were ready to fight in an instant; not so Meran. He stared at the oncoming orcs for a moment, frozen with fear, then let out a whimper. All around him the mud and filth flew through the air, before collapsing all around him, leaving him as a large pillar of mud.

One of the orcs went to drive his sword into the pillar, but to his surprise, it bounced off the mud as if it had hit steel.

Within minutes the four warriors had dispatched of the orc party, but it took them some while to convince Meran to leave his mud prison. Eventually the mud slopped away to reveal a bedraggled Meran, covered in varying colours of slime. Wringing his beard out grumpily, the wizard stepped out of the mound of filth.

“I knew it was a bad idea to come with you… Should have guessed something like this would happen…”

Gindar was furious. “You could have wiped those orcs out in a second! And what did you do? Hide behind a load of mud and leave us to deal with it!”

Meran glared at him, “I’ve told you before I get nerves! Do you really think I wanted to be covered in mud? I froze alright, and it was the only thing I could think of! Yes it would have been better if I’d killed them all in a second, but I can’t do it! Jumping out on me like that… didn’t give me a chance to think…”

“Enemies don’t.” Leot told him shortly. “They just attack.”


They met orc raiding parties more and more frequently after that. The only good thing about it was the Meran seemed to be improving. By the seventh attack he was actually killing the orcs that came near him; it took him a while, he cast spells that were dangerously vague, and his companions had to take cover more than once, but he was getting there.

“Just don’t do that poison spell again! Next time we might not live long enough for you to cure us!” Gindar was still impatient with the wizard. They all knew he was capable of killing a handful of orcs with a snap of his fingers, yet he persisted in screaming and using useless spells half of the time; not to mention that his aim was appalling when he was threatened.


However, he continued to improve and was fairly competent with small number of orcs by the time they reached the main army.

The orc army was still miles away, so Meran spent his time casting spells on armour and weapons for the army.

Moral had been low when they arrived, but it increased steadily as Meran came up with more and more spells to perform on them and their equipment.

“Don’t shoot these arrows until the battle,” he told one young archer, “I’ve enchanted them to that the next time to shoot them they will burst into flames; that should upset the orcs a bit.”

He still wasn’t promising to turn up at the battle, but he was heard to say that he would consider it. Mostly though, he was making plans on how to attack from a safe distance.


When they had been there for a full week the orc army was spotted. Word went around the camp that they would attack at dawn, and the whole army became tense and anxious.

When Meran noticed the change in atmosphere around him and heard that the battle drew close, he slipped off quietly. When the perturbed soldiers realised he was gone their hopes sank even lower.


The two armies faced each other shortly after dawn, the orc army dwarfing the other. When they charged forward their sheer numbers allowed them to cut through the humans and elves before them.

At the back elven archers loosed enchanted arrows constantly; all flew further than normal, some burst in flames, others rained small explosives down on the orc army below. Even so it was clear that the humans and elves were going to lose unless Meran appeared.

Lightning bolts stuck further back in the orc army, testament to the fact that Meran had not abandoned them completely, but still a poor substitute for having him there in person.

As the battle raged on the two armies disintegrated and became mixed up, small groups fighting everywhere rather than one huge force against another. As he had predicted, Meran was unable to cast anything accurate enough at a distance once this happened. The lightning bolts became less frequent, and eventually stopped.

Without even this hindrance the orc army pushed forward more and more effectively, slaughtering all who got in the way.


Back in a small grove of tree several miles away Meran was fretfully watching the destruction occur. He was caught in a dilemma the like of which he had never before faced; he knew he could tip the battle in their favour if he turned up and fought, but fear clawed at his insides. Not just fear of death at the hands of an orc, but fear of arriving there and freezing, unable to think of a single spell.

But watching the devastation in his scrying glass he knew he couldn’t just sit there either. Terrified he knew he had no choice but to try and fight; he just prayed that his nerves wouldn’t get in the way.

Mounting his horse swiftly he rode towards the battle, a tiny scrying mirror in his hand so he could see how it was going on the way.


The humans and elves had almost given the battle up as lost when a knot of orcs suddenly burst into flame. Cheering, they turned to see who had caused it, hardly daring to believe that Meran was there and fighting after all.

At first they couldn’t see him, only more flashes as orcs burst into flame or were struck by lightning.

Weapons laying useless on the floor, clutched by the dead hands of the fallen, jumped into the air and started to fight unaided. Orcs ran in terror from the swords and axes fighting without owners; there was no way to attack a sword without a person on the end of it.

As the orcs retreated and the confusion receded people began to spot the wizard, stood in a clearing with a mixture of terror and determination on his face as he drove back the orcs.

A cheer broke from the remaining humans and elves and they began to retreat behind Meran, seeing that their weapons were fighting by themselves. Finally the scales had tipped in their favour, and it looked like they were going to win after all.