Foul Weather

Hendrick had been the most extraordinary wizard ever to walk the halls of Avalon. One day, after a tough battle against dark forces, the wizard sat down in his study and stared out the window until sunrise.

“I am sorry, my King, but I no longer have the will to be the court wizard. I will leave this day and retire with my dearest friends in Folksburywoods,” said Hendrick. Then, with only a small satchel over his shoulder, the wizard left the castle.

Many at court felt the great magician needed a break and would return someday. He did not. Instead, he found a small, out-of-the-way hilltop and built a fine home like his grandfather.

Mornings were spent visiting old friends, shopping at the market, or sipping the wise woman’s herbal tea while engaged in thoughtful conversation. Hendrick had finally come home, and he was happy.

With few exceptions, Hendrick did not perform magic. He preferred to spend hours cooking or washing his dirty socks while listening to the sounds of nature.

Content to spend the remainder of his days living simply, the great magician was riled when Mörken and his Troth attacked and later by the warlock’s attack. With the necromancer’s arrival and the Dark One’s return, Hendrick had enough.

Word came to Hendrick of the World Destroyer’s coming through the efforts of the necromancer and the Dark One.

“Such evil shall not pass this way,” cried the wizard upon hearing the news.

Gathering his robe, staff, and hat, Avalon’s greatest sorcerer marched out upon the gangway and recited an incantation, bringing forth a giant flaming fireball that shot through the air.

“Fire and foul weather shall rain down upon you. He who brings worlds to an end shall not entire this or any other realm while I live,” shouted Hendrick.

The sky blazed as hundreds of fireballs flew from the Wizard’s staff and headed toward Mörken’s forces.

Countless Ratlings perished that night. The rest ran back to their underground dwellings, where they remained, refusing to come out.

While the necromancer could fend off the majority of fireballs, some made it through to decimate his dwelling, sending him fleeing to Mörken’s fortress.

“Please, my Lord Mörken, mercy on a loyal servant,” pleaded the dark sorcerer.

“Your value to me is over. Leave, or I shall end you here and now,” retorted the Dark One disdainfully.

The man crawled away into the burning forest to meet a fate that all who serve Hell face.

“So Hendrick dares to chanllenge me. Perhaps he can stop the Ratlings and the World Destroyer, but I still have enough power to decimate this entire forest,” spat the Dark One.

After unleashing the firestorm, the wizard returned to his study, succumbing to exhaustion and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The twins revealed the following morning that the conflagration had destroyed the necromancer and the Ratlings. “The Dark One still holds his fortress,” remarked Fern.

“Then we shall relieve him of it promptly. Please fetch the wise woman and that fleabag of a cat. It’s time to open the door and invite the Elementals to a feast of Mörken stew,” said Hendrick with a wry smile.

The twins rushed out, leaving the old wizard to contemplate his next move.

“I’d hoped I was done with magic, but perhaps there is still a need for me. It’s time to finish this,” remarked the wizard, who stood, put on his hat, grabbed his staff, and strolled out the door.