Read Magician Interrupted Online
Authors: S. V. Brown
Tags: #scifi, #humor, #fantasy, #science fiction, #space marine
Magician Interrupted
Career Interrupted Series
Copyright 2016 S. V. Brown
Smashwords Edition
V1
For the jarheads
Warning: This story is politically improper
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold, re-spelled or given away to
other people or magical animals. If you would like to share this
book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for
each recipient. Do not magically copy it. If you’re reading this
book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use
only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and
purchase your own copy or you may turn into a toad.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
author.
Paris, the Magician.
(and Path, the cat)
Notes
This awesome work has been proofread by an elderly
magician. The author emphasizes that any mistakes found are due to
a few changes in spells and additions made after the proofing
potion was applied and before a decent cup of tea.
Please Read
Thank you for reading this fantasy slash science
fiction slash military slash comedy. It contains characters, and
cats, who represent
all
walks of life and echoes many issues
that are currently found on Earth today. If you haven’t read
this—I’ll cast a spell on you. So there.
Oorah!
Spell Two – Rabbit on a Stick Act
Spell Three – Rats in a Hat Act
Spell Four – Transformation Act
Spell Seven – Defying Gravity Act
Paris hated life.
He wanted a new job but he had no credits to
go to school. Everything he did was supposed to be for free. He was
supposed to just accept his life. Well, screw that! He wanted to
get off world but he couldn’t get permission to leave the village,
let alone the planet. He wanted a girlfriend but most girls shied
away from him when they saw or found out he was a magician. In most
worlds being a magician would be cool but here it was as if he
walked around with a big sign “I’m a nerd” on his head. Life
sucked. He threw a stone and listened as it bounced down the canyon
until he couldn’t hear it anymore.
Around him the trees stirred with a chilly
wind that swept down the mountains from the west. He pulled his
nerdy cloak around his bony shoulders and hunched down. Hopefully
no one would know he was missing. His predecessor told him how
important his position was blah, blah, blah. He had to be
respectful to the magistrate and his preening purring daughter. He
had to respect those younger and those older. That just left his
own age. But he had no age. He was ageless. To make things worse
everything about him was average. No one average got to do fun
stuff. The problem was he was a part of a very small community and
an even smaller magicians’ conclave.
While he was in a venting mood he resented
the need for a Trinity. As the Spell Caster he had a vast supply of
wealth within his mind to give the beautiful and usually dignified
O'rah, the Magnifier. “His Magnifier” or would be if she wasn’t so
insanely stupid. She alone could magnify his spells to be directed
on a path of useful magnitude. He had vied for her affections only
to discover, embarrassingly, that she had already promised herself
to the weak link of the Trinity, Gareth, the Binder. After
twenty-seven years he was still trying to purge his embarrassing
public offer of marriage out of his mind. O'rah and Gareth hadn't
told him of their growing romance, which had been years in the
making, and for that reason he had considered himself betrayed. The
Binder! What did Gareth have that Paris didn't have? A big
willy?
Her words still burned in his mind. “Oh,
Paris. How could you not know we were in love and smitten with each
other?”
Hormones. Yes, Paris blamed his hormones.
They’d created some kind of blinker that only
allowed him to see what he wanted to see. Somehow in his mind, even
bringing the years before his humiliation to light, O’rah was
always on her own. Next to her was a smudgy spot that had been
Gareth, insignificant, a pesky fly. But he had to face it now,
Gareth was more than just a smudge or a fly, he was O’rah’s devoted
husband. They’d married in secret.
Because Paris was ageless he actually moved
back and forward in years, and he’d gone backwards, too close to
puberty. That was his excuse anyway for falling for the insane
magician. And she wasn’t that good looking now he thought about it.
The good news was he could use his age thing to his advantage, and
with his blinkers off and building O’rah up as some evil tyrant
helped too.
A few months after that proposal episode,
during which the three had bickered relentlessly, there'd been
another incident. He still remembered the deafening silence that
had fallen over thousands of people. It had followed Paris’s little
vocal and mental outburst, at another public address. During the
supposed happy celebration—a first anniversary for O’rat and the
prat—O'rah had slapped his face in a moment of anger and screamed
at him like a banshee after he, being slightly drunk, had slurred
if the Binder needed a minder to meet all the needs of the High and
Mighty Magnifier that he, Paris, had a few good spells on how to
maintain an erection for his supposed big willy.
Gareth had heard and tackled him to the
ground and they had a friendly little brawl with O'rah throwing
things at them in anger and unfortunately knocking a guest
unconscious. It had been more embarrassing because Gareth had
yelled out, ‘I do not! I mean I do not need help to…”
“Shut up,” O’rah had hissed before she fell
into a drunken slumber snoring so loudly she’d woken the person
she’d knocked unconscious. Paris had cast a spell on her and she
magnified her own snores making the ground tremble that caused
everyone to run away.
Paris winced, the memory burning too brightly
in his mind. Yes, it was then he knew he had to leave. He conjured
up a pseudo wind to try and blow out the flame of humiliation. The
Trinity, once the elite of the elite, was an embarrassment to the
Assembly and those they protected. He slid his head in his bony
hands. You'd think short lived, challenged people would forget a
little incident like that. Unfortunately, reporters, who seemed to
have the same disease where ever he went, would broadcast the happy
celebration now and then on vision. Many considered vision to be a
boon to the community but he considered it to be a pain in the
proverbial. The Assembly had spoken to them severely after that
reminding them about presenting a united front to the community.
The eighteen Assemblers had been very adamant and had ignored their
innocent looking, stormy faces as well as excuses and bruises. And
so, on cue, for more than three hundred years they switched on
their smiles when in the presence of the community. But deep within
their underground pit home tensions had been at a premium. Two
apprentices had already left, and under threat from O'rah, dared
not explain to the Assembly the real reason which caused their
hurried departure. One remained though, Harro. Paris was impatient
for his apprentice to finish his training and pushed him hard,
perhaps unwisely. Harro was no Paris, and although the accusations
that he was a little mindless and careless were harsh, he did get
the job done ... after a fashion.
A little nagging thought crossed Paris’s mind
that maybe, through Harro, he was taking revenge on the two
conspirators, just as he had been doing over the years when
supplying spells. The spells were always doable, always just enough
to get the job done and he was careful not to bring disrepute upon
their heads but they were devised cleverly to make O'rah and Gareth
work a lot harder. O’rah worked more to magnify and Gareth worked
harder to mind the spell—making sure it did its job by remaining
bound to the thing or person.
He grinned to himself.
Paris got up and shook his cloak sending
little stones rattling down the rocky cliff face. He only just
noticed the light rain as he turned into the wind. Annoyed now he
patted his shoulder feeling the damp brown cloth. Idiot! What did
he care? He was leaving. Now the decision was made he felt so much
better. First, he had to get home and organize a few things, then
he had to get to the spaceport. There were always freighters
waiting for the large containers to be lifted off with food for the
city worlds. He could hide in one of those since he had no money
and he wouldn’t starve. Some fruits had enough moisture so only
toileting would be a problem. And entertainment. He began to list
things he’d need. And his destination? Suddenly he didn’t care.
Paris hurried down the path back to the village.
“Paris!”
He turned at the familiar voice. A woodsman
stepped through the thick understory, with his axe casually resting
on his shoulder. Dark pants and light top was the extent of
Martin’s closet. The silly smile was still pasted on his face but
he didn’t resent Martin’s happiness. Newly married he’d just found
out his wife was pregnant.
“Where are you going to in such a rush?”
Paris glanced around. He trusted his best
friend with everything. While most best friends grew up together
and grew old together, Martin, as a toddler, used to follow him
around until eventually their ages were roughly in sync. “I’m
leaving,” he blurted out.
The smile on Martin’s face died away. “I knew
it.”
“You didn’t tell Ingrid did you?”
“No!” Martin dropped his axe and walked over
pulling him in for a bear hug. Unlike Paris Martin wasn’t average.
Good looking, muscular and a nice guy, Martin always attracted the
girls. For years Paris hoped for sloppy seconds, as in he’d be the
sloppy seconds, but mostly the girls just drifted off if they
couldn’t win Martin over.
“I’m going to miss you.”
Paris didn’t know whether to be happy or
annoyed over Martin’s easy acceptance. When Martin drew away he saw
tears but his friend quickly strode back to his axe and lifting
it—like it was heavier now.
“You deserve some happiness, Paris.” With
that Martin left but then he stopped and turned. “Hey, what are you
going to do?”
Paris shrugged. “Don’t know. What do women
like?”
“Men in uniform. Try the space marines. There
are signs up everywhere in the towns.” With that Martin smiled and
disappeared into the woods and understory.
Paris tried to imagine himself in a space
marine uniform. He felt odious thinking Martin was happy to get rid
of him. But Martin was the nice guy while he was bitter, and had
the narky thoughts. Paris stomped down the path, his legs feeling
heavier with each step, not wanting to leave Martin now. No more
bar nights, no more trying to capture the attention of Martin’s
rejected women, but then since Ingrid won Martin’s heart Paris
didn’t even have that opportunity. Sitting with Martin and Ingrid
at the tavern and being the fifth wheel hadn’t been fun. Gradually
Martin managed to convince Ingrid to leave them alone.
Paris pushed through the grief, remembering
the years with his friend and saw the large village down the hill.
It sat in a hollow surrounded by hills and forests. The main street
spiraled out from the center and smaller alleys offered shortcuts.
Even with a population of over three thousand it felt suffocating
to him. He ran down and headed for the center ignoring all those
who watched him rush by. A stone archway glowed and opened for him
revealing the dark spiral stairs that lead to the pit. He raced
down, excitement filling him. Paris threw his cloak onto the
lounge, and not onto the rack that O’rah always insisted on them
using. Once he reached the bottom pit he ran down one of the
corridors to his bedroom.
What a dive.
He kicked his narrow,
hard bed and searched through the small, wooden chest. Pulling out
top after top he found the least nerdy looking one. The pants were
more difficult. He only had two pair. Bright red or the dirty blue
ones he was currently wearing. Not wanting to be laughed off the
first space station he might want to visit in his off time, he
didn’t want to be kicked off either mistaken for a vagabond. He
considered his options and considered his almost empty bag.