Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign - By Phillip Jones Page 0,60

that.”

“Wonderful ... then all you’ll need to do is give the wisp the envelope as agreed.”

“Nice. Maybe I’ll take on another task and get a second reward while I’m there.”

Morre chuckled. “Don’t be silly. The journey to fulfill the wisp’s assignments involve great danger.” The mage paused. “In almost every case, the adventurer never completes their task. They fail to return from their attempt.”

“Damn, that sucks. So what will the wisp give me for the envelope?”

Morre frowned. “Have you not been paying attention? I told you to ask the wisp a question. You’ll receive a truthful answer.” The mage reached behind his back and picked at his backside. He sniffed his hand as he continued. “But if that’s not enough, you could always choose to tempt fate and perform a second deed of service if you’re insistent on magnifying the reward.”

“I don’t know that I care to tempt fate,” George responded. “You said this wisp spoke in song. Can you tell me more about that?”

“He will use song to communicate with your mind. That’s all you need to know.” The expression on Morre’s face turned serious. “When you ask your question, keep it simple.”

“For sure. I have no desire to mess this up. Besides, I already know what my question will be.” George rubbed his hands together in excitement.

Morre reached down and scratched at his crotch. “I’m sure your question will change before you find an audience with the sphere.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Anyway ... I’ll get your envelope to the wisp. You can count on that.”

After paying out all of his coin and gathering his gear, George said, “I got to get going. I have a trek ahead of me, and I need to arrive at my destination before someone else. Could you please show me on the map where Siren’s Song is?”

Morre pointed to Siren’s Song and then showed George the quickest path to the Pool of Sorrow. He waved goodbye, shut the door and watched out the window with a chuckle as George hurried down the street. Then he turned and walked into his library where the goddess, Celestria, appeared.

“Hello,” Morre said, not in the least surprised at the sudden appearance of the goddess as he morphed into Lasidious to kiss his lover’s voluptuous lips. “My portion of the plan has been set in motion. What about yours?”

“Oh, my love,” Celestria oozed. “You are my sweet devil-god.” She cupped his head in her hands and kissed him again, “You are a wickedly adorable man. I’ve missed you. Everything is proceeding as planned.”

Lasidious smiled and then moved to the entryway where he knelt to place a paper scroll and a pouch on the floor. With that, the gods vanished and returned to their home on Ancients Sovereign.

Soon after the gods took their leave, the door of the mage’s home opened and the real Morre walked in, his natural, nasty-smelling odor following him. As he stepped over the threshold, he noticed the scroll and the small leather pouch filled with coins. Bending to pick them up, he let out a huge, juicy fart that wafted through the home like a poisonous cloud. He waved his hand to clear the air, grunting his own disapproval of the stench. The smell reminded him of the helping of sea turtle he had eaten the night before. A moment later, he redirected his attention back to the note:

Dear Morre,

Please forgive the intrusion on your home, but I assure you it was necessary.

I want to thank you for the scrolls. I’ve compensated you beyond their value since I took them without your knowledge.

I wish I didn’t have to leave before meeting you. I’ve heard so many good things.

Again, I’m sorry, and I hope to one day apologize to you and your brother in person.

Sincerely,

George Nailer

Morre scratched his backside and farted again. He grinned as the forced explosion warmed his hand. With the same hand he reached up and picked a piece of the previous night’s sea turtle out of his teeth and then headed into town toward the local vault. With each bounding step down the front stairway, an additional, moist note of flatulence was released.

Fellow soul ... I wonder if the

vegetation wilted as Morre passed?

How rank was that guy?

Ohhh, to be a fly on the wall.

CHAPTER 8

The Truth be Told

SAM WOKE FROM A great night’s sleep after having a delicious supper, compliments of Mosley. They stayed at the village’s best inn and Sam was grateful for the wolf’s company. He admired the beast while