The Flying Sorcerers

Sure enough, a terrible thing happened.

Try as we could to hurry, the seas rose up and sealed off the island. It took eleven days.

It would have taken us only a few hours to cross by way of the Neck, an ever-narrowing strip of land, but somehow, we just couldn’t get the women organized. The confusion in the camp was terrible. It took six days just to get the tents down, and then it was so late we had to put them back up again so we could get to sleep. After all, the red sun was high in the sky and it was night.

Gortik and his advisors came up to see us on the second day. They stood about and fretted, urging us constantly to hurry faster.

“But we are already hurrying as fast as we can. As you see, our women are so stupid, they cannot keep two orders in their heads at the same time.”

“It is a wonder you made it this far.” murmured Gortik.

“Yes, isn’t it?” I chimed brightly, and scurried off.

Thereafter, Gortik came up every day to fret and moan and worry over the delay of our departure. Finally, though, we were on our way. Gortik and his advisors were only too happy to act as our guides.

It took us five days to cross the island.

We arrived at the Neck just in time to see the seas crash over its peak. Gortik sighed, a sound of despair. I sighed too.

He looked at me, “Lant, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your people wanted to stay here.” He shook his head. “But that’s impossible; no people could be as stupid and confused as yours.”

I had to agree with him.

He said, “Well, let us turn back. Apparently, you are going to be with us throughout the season.”

I nodded. Reluctantly, I gave the order. “Turn back, turn back! It is too late to cross the neck. We must go back to our old camp!”

We were settled in again on the Heights of Idiocy well before nightfall.