We Was Wizards is a comedic fantasy set in a universe where roughly 80% of the population can use magic, and the other 20% cannot. To catch up on the story so far, see the previous chapters below:
https://steemit.com/fiction/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-1-novella
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-2
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-3
4
“Not yet, at any rate.” The ancient sorcerer continued “If you did not realize that you could even perform magic until this moment, then you have clearly not undergone the necessary mental conditioning.” He said with a sneer.
“Mental conditionin’?” I repeated.
“Before power comes wisdom, young master. But fear not, we have scholars who can teach you—venerated monks who carry our secret knowledge through the generations…”
At first, this seemed like an excitin’ prospect. But then he hit me.
“…They are known as sages.” He finished.
“What?” I exclaimed, “Like that dumb nigga Rufus? Is you serious?”
“Hmm...” he scratched his beard and thought for a while. “Such disrespect for your elders. Nevertheless, I fear that if I do not take this opportunity, I may never find a pupil. You will return to your own time. Seek out the council. Learn The Truth, and then you will be ready to learn magic.”
“Okay… but I have some questions first! Who are you?” I started to ask. Suddenly, I was back in the barber shop. No flash, no special effects or nothin’, just back.
For just a second, Rufus looked weird. Like, he had an outline, the same color as uh… that vision? Dream? Whatever the fuck that scroll did. But it was taller than him, and as soon as I blinked, it was gone.
“Old man, what the fuck was that?” I asked as soon as I got my bearings. Rufus looked a little shook up, too.
“Daniel, did you meet the sorcerer? Did he teach you magic?” he asked, ignorin’ my question.
“No, Nigga, I was gone for like two minutes.” I said, shaking my head.
Uncharacteristically, Rufus started to explain.
“Actually, you weren’t gone at all. You were right here in this barber shop. This scroll contains the memory of an ancient mage—a prince. He was worried that his traditions wouldn’t survive the coming war, so he stored a part of himself in the scroll and hid it away for future generations. When I read it, his memory took over my body and used it to project his thoughts onto you.” He said, matter-of-factly.
“Uh huh,” I replied, all casual, because apparently this the type of shit we supposed to be cool with. Using illegal—like, felony illegal, like, go to prison for the rest of your life illegal—scrolls to be summoning sorcerers from the past. “And how exactly did you get your hands on this scroll?”
He tried to put his hand on my shoulder again, but I swatted it away. “Son, there are sages everywhere. Some, like me, are out in the open, and working toward the good of the community. But most of us are blending in, working menial jobs for mages and staying informed. A janitor at the great library uptown snuck this out by sticking it down his pants.”
“Mhmm. And he brought it to you because? And hey, wait a minute! When did you learn how to read magic?” Since any form of stored magic is illegal for anyone who ain’t a mage, it’s also illegal for niggas to learn how to read magic. And it is locked down—you can’t find that shit anywhere. Even real criminals, like the niggas on Tor doing human trafficking, actual mercenaries and whatnot—even they don’t fuck with it.
“I uh…” I knew he was thinkin’ of a lie. I could tell, because if he was about to tell the truth, then he would have been all smug about it. And, if he already had a lie ready, there would be a dumb ass grin on his face.
To my surprise, he frowned and admitted “I can’t… the glasses are magic, too.”