The Beguiled Sorcerer VIII

Wolfrie did not find it strange for the man to cry over the old woman many had cried during the funeral. Wolfrie had met all of Solomon’s friend, knew his family lineage by heart, recognized those who were his foes, but this one was not familiar with. Wolfrie inquisitive to any one who presented themselves to Solomon. Especially since he barely had visitors since the old woman died.

“Did you know, mother?” said Wolfrie.

“I did,” the man stood up. “Did you say you were, Solomon?”

“Yes, I did,” said Wolfrie. “What is your name?”

“Solomon,” said the man.

“Yes, I believe that is what I said,” said Wolfrie.

“I am the real Solomon,” said the man.

“You can’t be,” defied Wolfrie.

“Are you challenging me to a duel,” bellowed the man.

“I-I, well, why?” Wolfrie was affright.

“There could only be one Solomon,” said the man. “You say you are Solomon, yet I am the real Solomon. A duel will reveal the real Solomon.”

“There is no point in getting rough,” said Wolfrie.

“I will see you tomorrow at six,” the man was serious. “I expect you will be there.” The man vanished before Wolfrie’s eyes. What was Wolfrie going to do? He didn’t want to fight, he would lose, everyone would know, and the whole charade would be exposed. Wolfrie couldn’t let it happen. He rushed back to the fortress and browsed through all the books for something he could use. He practiced with the wand, used potions and even thought of ways to avoid the duel. Wolfrie was in trouble. Maybe he could reason with the man, but how do you reason with a sorcerer?

to be continued…