He sits alone in an a field; totally empty save for the grass. No one knows his story, nor do they care. He sits there waiting, perhaps, for something; even he doesn't know what. He'll know when it comes. He is in a meditative state, and yet, in some far off realm, he is active as can be. Battling evil sorcerers, slaying dragons, and vaporizing aliens seeking to destroy the world can be hard work for a 10 year old boy. He barely notices the grass brushing by his legs as the cool wind blows it, for all he knows is his far away land of fantasy....so real to him.....
An apprentice sits in his teacher's chair. He has fantasies of controlling the winds, moving the waves, guiding the stars. The hard leather spell book rests gently on his lap, for he dare not damage such an old and fragile piece of writing. All of a sudden, without warning or knowledge of what is happening, the boy gets a feeling. A feeling of imbalance in the universe, which must be attended to. But where is this lad's teacher? Sleeping, of course, as he always does at this time. The boy, well disciplined by the harsh magician, dare not wake him, but what of the feeling? It must be tended to. With a small gesture and a whisper of some intelligible word, the boy is gone, whisked away to the origin of this sensation.
He is now atop a large hill, almost resembling a mountain. Alone, except for a strange long-bearded man before him. So far undiscovered, the young wizard hides behind a stone jutting from the face of the mammoth mound. This man, old in appearance, but surprisingly nimble and dexterous, conjures images of wonder and beauty, and then those of death. "Who is he? What can it mean?" the boy thinks to himself. The dancing images, fluttering and swaying and dancing are entrancing, hypnotic, and the boy soon succumbs to slumber.....
The breaking of the new day brings the crisp smell of dew to his brain and aches to his bones from sleeping on a stone all night. In the corner of his eye, the boy still sees images floating around the old man. These are less dancing and more pulsating. Almost alive with energy, they glow and shimmer brighter than the recently risen sun. The boy catches himself mid-gasp as he remembers his book. Lying upon the rock, it may have gotten wet from the dew, or been discovered by the odd man. He snatches it up, and, curious about the man's actions, flips through it. Spells for everything one could imagine were revealed in this book. Tales of the ages rest upon its pages....as do the answers to this boy's questions. The most used section of the book, obviously, seeing the worn pages and creased binding, seems to reveal most about the man's doings. The boy gasps again at the enormity of the evil being done.
The man, belying the frail innocence his age, is working a spell drawn from pure wickedness. As the book reveals, a demon from the deepest hell is being conjured here upon this peaceful hilltop. For what reason, the boy could not know. Revenge, maybe? Or perhaps just out of bitterness.....or evil.... Somehow this evil enchanter must be stopped.....but how? The boy frantically leafs through the pages of the book. The text hard to read, the words so hard to make out, how could he stop this summoning when it is already in the latter stages? If only his older, wiser teacher were there! But he knew the old sage was still napping, recovering from some simple spell cast days ago. Here is something.....but could he, a lowly apprentice, do it in time?
It is almost time. The demon is starting to reveal its evil form, and all the boy can do is pray to the gods he was not too late. The demon's evil face....its gnarled horns....its fearsome claws....they are all taking shape. There is no time left; it is coming. The monster's massive body takes form. Muscles the likes of which the boy had never seen takes shape before his eyes. Teeth the size of a human's leg bone slowly form with blood stains over the ivory white. The eyes glow red as the embers of Hades. The demon is full in form...and by the snorting and gasping breath of the brute, the boy guesses it is alive. This is the moment when the boy is tested more than he has ever been before. He stands and gestures and whispers his magic songs. The sorcerer, sensing magic being used close to him, turns in awe at what the boy is doing. Light and energy and that which the soul is made of flies in bursts from the boy, enshrouding the demon. In its cocoon, the beast is given new instructions. As he watches, the evil conjurer is betrayed by his hideously glorious pet. A portal, opened by the now exhausted boy appears and circles the beast with its "master", taking them both to the hell the devil came from. The young diviner, kept up only by his will for good, seals the portal, hoping never to see the demon or its evil summoner again.
"Good work, my boy!" says a gruff voice behind the now collapsed boy. "You have proved yourself most worthy."
"Why....whatever do you mean, sir?" the boy says, perplexed and attempting to catch his breath.
"My time here is over. I must go now, to where I'm not sure, but you must keep things in balance. You can do it; you've done it here. You are ready."
"Yes sir, of course," the boy says, now trembling. "But how will I know?"
The man gives his young apprentice a warm smile. "You'll know, my lad....you'll know."
With that, the old wizard evaporates into nothingness....or everythingness, whatever it is that lies between, and the boy stands there, in the exact spot of his recent triumph. He gains a new awareness. He is now the force of the winds. He is now the movement of the waves. And he is the guidance of the stars.