Chapter Three
Braveheart was trapped in a vortex of fears, memories; every harsh word he ever spoken, every evil deed was replayed before his eyes over and over until he had lost track of time and himself completely. The forest did not contain what many had suspected. There were not dragons, or towering bears or anything outside the norm, other than the wizard.
Long ago Wizards used their "wizardry" as their profession, they would set up in a booth or shop on market day just like the seamstresses and butchers they would have a list of potions and spells the people could purchase, all went well for wizards in that time. But as people were not in later days as intellectually competent as they once were they soon took to blaming the wizards for the bad things that happened to them as well as the good. Soon the wizards were hated so much that they couldn't travel the streets or buy or sell anything, some of them were killed but most of them disappeared, proving in the eyes of the people their guilt.
This of course occurred farther back than any remember other than the Wizards, most of them throughout the years died off but there was one spell which was considered the holy grail of spells that had the power to give its speaker the life of a immortal. Most wizards never found it of course but our Wizard of the forest, in particular did.
But like with most spells there are certain side affects you don't know about until long after you've spoke the words, for the spell only promised long life, the spell said nothing of it being happy. The Wizard of the forest was a very young boy when the people came against the Wizards, he and his mother and father escaped to the forest for it was the most likely place to keep hidden without having to travel over seas. He had a happy life there with his parents, his father taught him every spell and recipe he knew and in time the boy grew even more powerful than his father. The boy's mother died, nearly thirty years after they had entered the forest and his father, heart broken soon followed. The boy, now a man of thirty-four was left all alone beneath the sky of leaves.
He grew so afraid of death he vowed to find the spell that would give him eternal life, thinking it would also make him become like the gods themselves, a golden shining figure the people would look up to. Once he spoke the spell he often traveled out of the woods daring the people to bask in his glory, but they only waved their pitchforks and snarled curses, eventually he grew tired of the people and withdrew into the forest never leaving, and after a time he became to the people a horrible legend.
His only consolation was tormenting those who drew near his forest as he called it, and it was true he did make a whole army disappear, for disappear they did, to where he knew not, preferably their own private island in hell, he would mutter to himself. He did of course kill the all those brave men, they all came riding in so valiantly, they made him sick, so he reduced them to puddles within moments, he did let a few escape mostly because he like the idea of being talked about throughout the land.
The wizard smiled down at Braveheart writhing in his imagined pain,
"This one is a worm," he thought," not worth killing."
He tormented him to the brink of his sanity and then let him go. Braveheart's crazed eyes stared up at him wide eyed and terrified, in no way comprehending his surroundings.
"Get out." The wizard screeched. Braveheart got to his feet running in a random direction.
"Oh, no, He's going the wrong way." The Wizard said to no one in particular, then laughing darkly he disappeared among the trees.