by N.D. Bailey
The night air was crisp as the second night of festivities got under way. The sound of folk music mingled with the boisterous noise of laughter as the people of Shalahem danced frolicsome to the music. Others continued to indulge themselves in the delicacies while still others engaged in social intercourse. Nuvatian, Cozbi, Nimri and Windsor sat atop a stone wall, watching the dancing and conversing among themselves.
All of a sudden, an array of luminous blue lights sprang from the edge of the forest, gathered around a circle of children, and spiraled up from the ground, rotating like a tornado decorated with lights. Then a group of red, yellow and green lights did the same, creating a resplendent iridescent work of art in the night sky. Synchronized to the music, the clusters of red, green, yellow, and blue lights created images of a dog, a flower, a whale, and lastly, a dragon. All eyes looked up, especially the wide-eyes of the children, who were in awe of the fantastic pictures in the sky. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the lights scattered out in every direction, some falling to the ground. A burst of orange-yellow fire shot up into the sky, as another small flame began to fall toward the ground, right into the center of the mass of people.
“Uuuhhooo!” whimpered the culprit with a reprehensible look on his face. With wide eyes, everyone began to run in every direction. The fire shot to the ground and, to the good fortunes of the instigator, the flame landed in the fire pit where some men had been trying to ignite the fire to roast a pig. Much obliged, the men nodded their heads with approval and then laughed, pleased that they now had fire.
Out of the darkness emerged a rather odd-looking fellow wearing a purple wizard’s hat and a purple cloth around his head. Two colored braids hung down the right side of his head—one green, the other purple. Braids and beads also hung randomly throughout his hair. His brown staff, riding boots, and riding pants added a touch of earthy tone, neutralizing his love for purple. It was Navi, the wizard.
A rather quirky character, some might call him ‘hip’—a wizard for the new generation. His short stubby brown beard gave him a rugged look, belying his youth. And to his offbeat character, he walked with a sort of bounce to his step as though he had springs in his shoes. However quirky some might perceive him, he was a man of integrity, respected as well as one who had been a prophetic voice in the land for some years. Many young ladies found him a rather handsome man; even so, he was a confirmed bachelor, ever on the prowl for a good woman, just for now.
“Good to see ya, mate,” Nuvatian addressed the young wizard.
“You too, crony,” replied Navi in a sharp Sayirian accent.
Windsor broke into their pleasantries with a growl. “How many times do I have to tell you not to use wizardry for entatainment?” He tapped his crooked staff on the ground.
“Until your last breath,” Navi answered lightheartedly.
“Apparently so. Do you really think it is appropriate to use the lightnin’ bugs for entatainment? You change their color just for pleasure; not to mention, you make them sickly dizzy from spinnin’ them like that.” Just as Windsor said this, a green lightning firebug fell right where they all sat, flapping around in a drunken stupor.
“Don’t be such a rigor. Even God delights in the joy on children’s faces.”
“Yes, well, your little flash of fire you shot out at the end could have injahed someone,” Windsor argued.
“I had everything undah control,” Navi said, pointing to the fire pit. “They couldn’t light the fire, so I thought I would help them out a bit,” he laughed, as he twitched his upper lip—an idiosyncrasy he had when he was not telling the truth in its entirety, or when someone was annoying him.
“Huh! I call it luck,” Windsor said.
Navi turned his attention to the children that were looking toward him and still laughing with the excitement of the lightning bugs. Windsor crossed his eyes with candid irritation and then sighed in disgust, showing his aggravation.
“Remembah when you tried to help me catch Mr. Vern’s cat and you accidently scorched its tail?” asked Nimri, laughing. Cozbi and Nuvatian, recalling the event, added to his snickering. Nimri began imitating the cat’s terrorized facial expressions, provoking even more laughter. Navi jerked his head to the side, desperately gesturing to Nimri to be quiet, but the young knight continued to rattle on about the disastrous cat story. Windsor cocked his head, set his piercing eyes upon Navi and grunted in disapproval. Navi looked away, pretending not to see his mentor’s chastising eye. Then Navi gave Nimri his own stern eye, still trying to convince him to shut up.
Ignoring Navi, Nimri rattled on between the chortles. “When it finally ran off, its tail was still singed clean of all hair! Now, every time it sees Navi or me it runs away as fast as it can! Its tail still doesn’t have any hair.” Nimri concluded, his belly aching with laughter.
“Thanks… scamp!” whispered Navi, with obvious annoyance.
“Oops,” Nimri said offering canned laughter as an option. Meanwhile, Nuvatian and Cozbi were attempting to curb their own laughter, but the more they tried the harder it was to keep a lid on it.
Windsor had listened to the tale with growing agitation. “You must not abuse the call and gifts you have been given! They should be treated with respect.”
Ignoring Windsor, Cozbi chimed in, exposing another of Navi’s pranks. “Remembah the time you were tryin’ to impress that gihl?—oh, what was her name? Anyway, whatevah it was, you were on top of the wall practicin’ your sword-forms with an imaginary opponent, and you…” Cozbi told the story through broken speech and bursts of snorting laughter. Navi was again trying to silence him without using physical restraints. “You grabbed your staff and shot out a burst of powah that knocked you down and made you fall off the wall. When you finally sat up your hat was crushed and you were covered in mud. Needless to say you failed to impress the gihl. She was laughing as hahd at you as I was!”
The entire group was in stitches again, except for Windsor, who only smirked through his stony and wrinkled face. Navi alone found no comedy in Cozbi’s version of humor. “I was not tryin’ to impress her,” he protested. “You’re laughin’ and I almost broke my neck in an honest session of practice.”
“Honest session of practice,” said Nimri. “Yeah, right!”
Enjoying the belly-aching laughter at Navi’s expense, Nuvatian picked up the round, telling more stories of Navi’s humiliating moments.
“One time when Navi and I were outside a pub there was this gihl he had a crush on and this bully was teasin’ her.” He had no more luck telling the story without amusing himself than Cozbi had. “Navi decided he would play hero so he stretched out his staff and sent a whirl of mud intended for the face of the bully but the bully moved and it smacked the gihl covering her completely in mud. The gihl walked ova to Navi and slapped him as hard as she could!” Nuvatian roared with laughter, the others joining in.