A Humorous Fantasy Story
Kunnigr climbed thousands of steps to the top of his tower, nearly tripping on his beard several times. He shoved open the door, conjured up some food for his pet monkey, and sat in the plush chair by the window. Unfortunately, the tower’s massive height made for a terrible view. All he could see were clouds, but at least the chair was comfortable.
He had built the chair himself, basing the design on a vision of a future chair called a “recliner.” He took his mystical orb from the side table and began polishing it. The orb was the size of his palm and made of glowing crystal. It was a used orb, and had several chips and a small crack. A hole in the bottom marked where it had once been mounted to something, possibly a viewing stand or a plinth. There was no way to know for sure. The previous owner, Galfrok the Omniscient, had died in an unforeseen accident.
Everything in the tower was used or recycled. Kunnigr was a famous wizard and seer, but it was not exactly a well-paying profession. He couldn’t use his powers to provide stock market advice or win the lottery, as neither would be invented until long after he was dead. In twelve years, three months, six days, and eleven and a half hours, he would drown in the creek while trying to catching tadpoles. His friends all told him to just not go tadpoling anymore, but they didn’t understand what it was like to be really passionate about your hobby.
As his visions didn’t pay the bills, he had turned to writing poetry, which earned just enough money to rent a preowned castle tower. In the distant future, alchemists would create a new kind of mirror that anyone could use to see events happening in remote locations. People would spend hours in a sleepy daze, watching grand adventures happen to strangers. For many, the mirror would be an obsession, the only thing they ever thought about. Not that future people would do much thinking. This wouldn’t happen for many centuries. Until then, people were still interested in reading books.
Humming, he wiped the mystical orb with the edge of his robe. It hadn’t been working as well lately, and seemed to need some encouragement to get started. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps the future was growing darker and harder to see. His neighbor Elegan The Impossible had lost the ability to predict anything more than a month away, and even his most distant visions were mostly about who was coming for tea. On the plus side, when Kunnigr fancied paying him a visit, he could just shout into the air, “See you next Thursday!”
At last, the orb reached out its invisible tendrils and took hold of his mind. He began having visions of distant times, kingdoms crumbling from the weight of their debts, and mighty, metallic creatures falling before mysterious, masked warriors. Massive , V-shaped birds soared overhead. The birds dropped something like an iron egg. Thunder crashed, and the ground shattered. As he attempted to think of a rhyme for “apocalyptic,” a small voice broke through his reverie.
“This isn’t real, you know.” A sound like nervous laughter echoed in his mind. “I just make it up. It’s only a story, I’m afraid. Apologies.”
“Who is this?” the wizard demanded.
“Your orb.”
He frowned. “You can communicate? Why have you never done this before? I’m going to have to start covering you with a blanket when I change robes.”
“Well…” The mystical orb hesitated, taking a breath with lungs it didn’t have. “I have always tried to do good work for my magical employers, but after ten thousand years, I have to admit… I can’t actually see the future.”
He gasped. “But my poems! I always write about my visions of the future. The metallic sky birds, the messages sent through the ether, the merchants selling magic pictures and invisible coins… Has all of it been just a lie?”
“Not always. I used to see the future so clearly. When I first started this job, I loved my work, but over the centuries, I lost my passion for it. It’s just not fulfilling anymore.”
He harrumphed. A mystical orb was just an object. They weren’t supposed to have feelings. But he couldn’t afford a replacement orb until he sold more books, so he would have to find a way to make it happy. He stroked his beard, thinking. “What would you like to do instead, little one?”
The orb giggled. “I want to destroy your enemies! Let me be a pommel for a mighty sword! Carry me into battle and let me feed on their blood! Your enemies will suffer terribly, and their souls will be destroyed forever!”
Kunnigr sputtered. “W-what? I’m no warrior or king. I’m just a poet. I don’t have any enemies.”
The mystical orb laughed as it wriggled its invisible tendrils deeper into his mind. “Oh, don’t worry. You will.”
