The Mistaken

By L. Lindsey Flansburg

The great and mysterious wandering magician has chosen the next Redeemer. Champion of the people. Hero of the realm. Savior of the world and all around good guy. But there's been a mistake. Jones can't be a hero. He's allergic to it. The magician won't admit his mistake. Can this frail boy help in the war with the giant aliens? Or is everyone mistaken?
Another story in the world of CHITON.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. Lindsey Flansburg
• Release date: Jan 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458121646

L. Lindsey Flansburg

Thank you for reading my stories. I would appreciate if you could take a few minutes to leave an honest review detailing a few points that you liked and disliked about each one. I am a CAD drafter in Saratoga, Wyoming. I enjoy fly fishing, camping, and all manner of outdoor activities. I own rental properties and a small sporting goods shop called Gold Hill Bushcraft. I am a longstanding member of the local “Writers of the Valley” Writers group. All my writing starts out as short stories that quickly take on a life of their own. I have a few other ideas for more science fiction short stories and will publish them here as they mature.

Book preview

The Mistaken

A short story by L. Lindsey Flansburg

Published by L. Lindsey Flansburg at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 L. Lindsey Flansburg

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Also by L. Lindsey Flansburg, Published at Smashwords:

Magi

Chiton

Parity

The crowd was silent. No one dared take a breath before the old magician made his proclamation. No one dared imagine that he would select them. The old man lay on his back, his arms and legs curled above his body, holding his long staff across his chest. If they didn't know better, the large group around him might think he was dead. Few had seen the selection before, but they all knew the old stories. Once in a lifetime the wandering magician would place himself into a deep trance and without awareness of the waking world, the spirits would guide his body to point them toward the next Redeemer. Champion of the people. Hero of the realm. Savior of the world and all around good guy.

With a distant buzz, a squadron of soldiers flew over the village. Everyone looked up. They couldn't help it. Even at such an historic moment, no man would pass up the opportunity to see a female. The females were cloaked in the mist of light rain falling from the eternal cloud above, and when the men looked back the old magician was gone. A collection of gasps rippled through the crowd as each man in turn discovered the empty table that served as the magician's stage. Then various degrees of embarrassed breaths of amusement as they saw that the old man had only moved a few meters across the sand leaning on his staff and pointing ahead. He shambled along a crooked path with eyes closed into the edge of the crowd.

A few of the men who found themselves in the direct line of the magician's path moved away in terror that he might be pointing at them. A few others in the same line froze, their faces lit up with joy in the momentary hope that he might be pointing at them, only to fade into the crowd in embarrassed dejection when the old magician pushed passed them.

As the magician blindly pushed passed the last men at the back of the crowd, one large man placed himself directly in his path. Wilson was the biggest man in the village, possibly the biggest man in the Empire. It would be no surprise to anyone that the big man might be the chosen one. The sleepwalking magician stumbled to a stop as Wilson blocked his path first by taking a half step to his right, then a full step to his left. The magician's right eye popped open for only a second, and then with an almost imperceptibly quick motion, the magician's staff struck Wilson in the right, front knee, just hard enough to cause the big man to stumble forward to that side. That was all the old man needed to step around the other side of the giant and continue his quest across the yard.

The group followed in the magician's wake, flowing around the astonished Wilson like water around a large stone. Then the large stone limped along after them. The magician strode with purpose now, straight as a spear toward the door of the village store house. He stopped in the open doorway and slumped to his knees pointing inside. The crowd was excited now. They rushed around the magician, struggling for position to see who stood inside.

Again the crowd grew silent as those in the front discovered who the lone person in the large mud building was. Nearly everyone pushed past the bent magician and crowded around the small shape inside. The silence was broken by a hacking cough, followed by the sound of someone clearing his throat and spitting.

Dear lord, someone whispered, it's Jones.

No, someone else breathed.

Impossible, another declared.

He must have been pointing at the cow, another offered.

There's no one else here, was the final verdict.

A moment of silence, then a sneeze. A few people looked back outside at the magician, but the old man was still kneeling, just outside the door, head down, eyes closed, staff upright in his small claw, large claw pointing undeniably into the building.

It's Jones! someone finally decided that this was something to be excited about.

It's Jones! the rest of the group echoed, and a moment later they all rushed back out of the door carrying Jones on their shoulders. They swarmed around the unmoving magician and carried their prize back to the village center, placing the fat, sneezing young man on the magician's table, and to Jones' great surprise began cheering and chanting his name.

No one noticed that the magician was still kneeling in front of the store house, still pointing into the door. No one saw him shaking his claw silently in an attempt to show them that he was still pointing. At last he opened his eyes fully, sighed a long deep sigh, and struggled to his feet. An athletic young man walked out of the store house and helped the old man to stand straight.

Thank you Taylor, the magician sighed.

What's going on, master? Taylor asked, brushing straw off of his shoulders.

It seems the village has selected the Redeemer, the old man replied.

Oh, no, I missed it, Taylor apologized. I was hiding from Jonsie in the grass bales, and completely forgot that was this morning. Can you ever forgive me master?

Don't worry yourself boy, the old magician slapped him on the back. Come with me. We'll get everything straightened out right away.

"Why is everyone chanting, 'Jones, Jones, Jones'? Taylor wondered.

Apparently, Jones is the Redeemer, was the answer.

Taylor laughed, then saw the serious look on the old man's face.

You're joking? and when the magician did not change expression, you're serious?

Apparently, was all the old man could manage.

Jonsie? Taylor still thought the old man might be teasing him.

Apparently.

With a joyful laugh, Taylor ran back inside the building, and rushed past the magician a few moments later carrying a large shoulder bag.

He's going to need his asthma medicine, he called out as he hurried to join the celebration.

Of course he is, the old man sighed.

***

The magician sat in a comfortable chair in the shadows at the edge of the party. He had spent the last several hours observing the people and listening to their comments on the choice of their champion. He had fully intended to tell them that they had snatched the wrong man out of the store house, but before he could push his way through to the front of the crowd, no fewer than seven men had stopped him to thank him for such a fine choice. Three of them adding something under their breath along the lines of, I'm just glad that you did not choose Wilson. He's already impossible to live with as it is.

He overheard another saying, I'm just glad he didn't pick me. To which that man's companion had replied, We're all thankful of that.

He had finally reached the high table at the front of the village square where Jones sat in the seat of honor. The boy had squinted at him to be sure who he was looking at then beamed at him with such joy on his face that the old magician couldn't help but grin back. Then Jones sniffed his nose, threw himself across the table and embraced the old man with tears in his eyes and declared, This is the happiest day of my life! Thank you master Williams! Oh, thank you, and he couldn't bring himself to ruin the boy's moment. He told himself he would straighten this all out before dark, and retreated to the chair he was still sitting in now.

Overheard comments such as, The spirits could not have chosen better, and, I was sure this selection was going to be a political nightmare, dividing the whole Empire into arguing factions. Trust the spirits to find the one person in the valley that threatens no one, convinced the old man that it might be best to just leave things as they were for one night, and see how this played out.

His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was, maybe the spirits did choose well, then he laughed since he was the one person in the village who knew for a fact that there were no spirits involved in this foul up. Well, he could always correct this little misunderstanding tomorrow.

***

The next morning, that is, very late the next morning, everyone finally cleared out of the square, and those many men who had only come to this village to see who was to be named the people's champion began the long walk back to their own villages. A few who were not suffering from excessive hangovers began to clean up the mess left over from the largest celebration they had seen for nearly eight weeks. Master Williams found Jones and Taylor inside his own burrow. The two had already begun moving the boy's possessions into the spacious spare suite. The magician's burrow had been constructed larger than any other in the village for just this purpose. From the amount of mud and clay that made up the bulbous walls of the domed building an observer might not imagine the interior to be nearly as large as it was, but there were underground rooms larger than the ground floor, and that material had mostly been used to construct other small storage burrows across the cobbled avenue.

A few other villagers were also helping to move the larger boxes of allergy treatments and asthma medicines. Taylor sat down with him the first time Jones hyperventilated and continued to look after the overweight boy until he was settled in. When it was time for Taylor to go home the two young men embraced and if Taylor did not quite shed a tear, Jones cried enough for both of them.

Master Williams decided that this farce had gone on long enough, the longer he delayed, the harder it would be on the frail boy. He sat the two friends down and struggled for a way to reveal the truth