Unlucky?Player - Chapter 177

“Pappous! Pappous! Grandfather ….grand ..” his voice came to a stuttering halt as he felt

rough hands grip his robes from behind, yanking him out of the purple ivy-covered

foxhole. Rixhard gripped him and watched with an emotion mixed with amusement and

irritation, as the scrawny 8-year-old thrashed around trying to free himself. The other

students gathered around to watch the little one who would find genius ways to hide

from almost all the teachers at the School of Ankar.

Ankar was a sweet harmless little village tucked away in the wilderness surrounding it.

The village was full of blacksmiths and bakers now which was once home to a few

famous mages. At the very heart of the village stood the School of Ankar, which

belonged to the famous mage Ankaros and his wife Maya. Little to no knowledge was

known about what happened to them or where they disappeared to, except for a few

statues and paintings and some scattered bonds of paper which willed the prized

residential property to the next mage hailing from the village. It was over 700 years and

to date, no noteworthy mage appeared on the scene.

The house of Ankar was now a moderately decent school, which taught over 100

students every year. Vivien the principal patron of the school was fond of her students

and allowed them all sorts of liberties, knowing well that most of them barely made it

out of the village into the real world outside… if they ever made it past the woods….

Vivien stood by the window in her chamber, looking out at the happenings outside. The

child was being hoisted up by the horrible Rixhard (the physical education teacher) and

dragged back into the school, the boy screamed for his grandfather, the caretaker who

lived in a little hut by the school entrance). Basile ran out to save his grandchild, as the

other students laughed and taunted him.

“Now let go Rixhard, I have him here. Let go” he beseeched. Rixhard threw the kid on the

ground and spat at him, muttering curses about cowardice and losers, walking away

with the students who chose to walk and trample the kid before running back into the

school. Vivien rushed out to help them, “Why don’t you stand up for yourself? Why

can’t you for once say something? Basile help him up. Oh, how they roughed him

through!”

“Thanaa…nk you madddam, i.i…im okkk,” stuttered the child, tears streaming down his

sweet mud-streaked face. Vivien looked at his calf-like brown eyes for the millionth

time and wondered to herself, could this child truly be the one? Were the prophecies

wrong? Basile and her attempts to channel the child and his talents were failing

miserably, as they watched him grow weaker and more self-conscious as the days

passed by.

The boy quickly got up, wiped his bleeding arm on his robes, hugged his grandfather, and dashed away into the woods adjoining the school. Seeing that Basile was about to go after him, Vivien said “Let him go, he needs to be on his own. Sigh! Basile do you remember how he came to live with us?” she smilingly asked him.

Nine years ago, Basile had lost his only son in an accident; a rouge bull freed itself from

its cart and rushed into the village injuring many, and killed Basile’s young son and his

pregnant wife, who were in its way. Three hours later the bull was hunted and killed by

a pack of hunters. Basile’s world was destroyed, he wept every day at the graves of the

young couple, on the banks of river Voidomata. Vivien, his daughter-in-law’s mother

also joined him, to comfort and mourn for their joint loss. It was on a solitary day, that

their peaceful routine of sitting by the river was disturbed by birds, who suddenly let

out loud screeches, the climate changed abruptly and the usually tranquil river

Voidomata started flowing violently.

Just as they were about to rush back to safety, Basile saw a strange sight. A river raft

with a round basket floated right up to them. The basket had a purple cloth covering the

contents and a letter. Vivien reached out to the letter and opened it, it had just three

words scrawled across, “PROPHECY MAGE LOCKET”. Basile let out a shout and almost

fell into the river as he uncovered the contents of the basket. A beautiful child lay curled

up, fast asleep, with dark hair that flew around his angelic face. In his hand, he gripped a

chain with a locket. Basile and Vivien fell in love with the child instantly and decided to

adopt him. Vivien to keep an eye on his education, if anything the letter hinted that the

child would be a famous mage, so she wanted to be at his side to help him and protect

him until he reached his potential. Basile took the role of the child’s guardian, mentor, and loving grandfather.

He meant the world to the child. The boy grew up into a scrawny, sweet, and wilful child, who showed potential to become something great, but he had a stutter which would make him very conscious and shy.

Eight years had passed, yet Basile and Vivien had barely seen anything remarkable

about the child. Yes he could produce some kind of magic, a small greenish light from his

hands if he tried, he could start small bursts of fire, enough to keep the warmth in their

cold hut, but never anything beyond that.

Vivien was worried, “Basile what if we made a mistake? Maybe he isn’t the one. Are we

pushing him too hard? My heart bleeds to see the others beat him and make fun of him. I

don’t want to interfere, but how will he reach his potential if he doesn’t find his inner

fire?” she said as they walked back into the school.

Basile turned around and looked towards the woods, he could now see, the little boy

sitting on a hill, his favorite spot, watching the sun go down, as he did every day. ”

There is something about him… He is different Vivien. He was meant for something

bigger. Bigger than this village, bigger than the kingdom. I can feel it when he is asleep.

He has an aura that glows around him. He needs something, someone… maybe a spark

to ignite what is already within him.” Basile looked fondly at the little silhouette, as he

walked back slowly into his hut.

The little boy watched his granddad from a distance, he sighed and shrugged,” I’m ok

Pappous.. I’m always o..okk!” he muttered to himself. He reached deep into his pockets

and drew out a tiny box. Inside was a dragonfly, wing torn and barely alive. It was an

unusual species that had a long slim body, with tiny feet and hands, two razor-sharp

wings, one wing was damaged as it caught onto a branch that grew in the foxhole. The

child was trying to save the dragonfly when he was hoisted out by his teacher. As he

gently opened the box the dragonfly tried to fly out, half flying, half crawling with its

incredibly tiny feet like structures. “What are you? A fly, a misc, a dragon, a bird,” he

laughed and laid it down on the rock.

With a deep breath, eyes closed, the child concentrated on his surroundings and the creature in front of him who needed his help. He focused all his energy and felt his little palms become hot, a green aura emanated from his hands and shot at the dragonfly. A sparkle of dust and green haze purplish fumes surrounded the box for almost half a minute. The boy opened his eyes and looked

at his hands in horror… Did he murder the creature? he panicked and backed away onto

a rock, the dragonfly was nowhere to be seen, the box lay empty.

The air stood absolutely still, not a single bird or branch made any noise except for the

loud heartbeat of the child. Suddenly a creature the size of a sparrow flew towards him.

It nuzzled against his cheek and tried to flap all around him making a fuss. “Stop! Hey…

it..i..its..y..y..you !” he exclaimed in shock. His magic not only healed the dragonfly but also

enhanced its size into a healthy little monster that had razor-sharp teeth, tiny sharp

claws, and a tail that was smoking. “Oh my god! I did itttt….oh my .. wait let me get my

granddad. Wait here…” he tried to hold the dragonfly but the merry creature was high

on its newfound size and energy and it took off high into the skies.

The boy was disappointed and excited at the same time; he wished somebody could

witness what he had just done. ‘Damn,’ he thought to himself, as he leaned back onto the

rock and looked at the dragonfly fly up, against the setting sun, it looked huge, like a

full-fledged dragon. ”I’m sure we will meet again” he smiled to himself.

“Wow mate! That was incredible!” said someone who was not in sight. Frightened by

the sudden interruption, he stood up and looked around. He couldn’t see anyone but

heard the rustling of branches as the noise grew louder.

He didn’t wait to see who it was and ran down towards the village at full speed. His

heart raced and beat like a drum against his chest. Someone saw him cast a spell. Someone who was not from the village. Someone who sounded very cheerful and friendly. But he couldn’t risk being caught by anyone. He needed his grandfather now.

He screeched in front of the hut and started banging the door. “Open up Pappous, open!

Hurry.. grannnn grannddadd..! Open” he pounded on. Basile opened the door, standing

in an apron with a cooking ladle in one hand.

“Calm down, what’s the rush …why are you running child” the little one pushed past his grandfather and ran into his room shutting the door behind him. Granddad ran to the door and asked him,” child what has happened? You are worrying me. Please come open the door Damianos!”