The Wizard Killer - Season One: A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy Serial Read Online Free Page A

do that twice? I’m certain that if I don’t go back for the sword now, I’ll have lost it forever. But the chances of finding food and water along the path back are zero. “GAH!” I scream at the top of my lungs. Instead of relief, I just get a scratched throat. I need to stop being an idiot.
    Grudgingly, I start walking back to find my short sword. Every few steps I stop and rethink what I’m doing, and each time, I give myself a mental kick to keep going.
    It’s afternoon by the time the long line of abandoned and broken levi-cars come into view. I approach carefully, shaking my pistol arm every now and then, as if I had to stop it from nodding off. There’s no sign of the carn. While I believe they’re nocturnal, you never know when one’s decided to pull an all-nighter. Like everyone, I’ve heard stories. Like everyone, I have no idea whether or not they’re true.
    The sight of the levi-cars is even more unnerving in daylight. What looked like fairly straight lines abandoned reasonably peacefully, is far from it. Most are smashed into each other, looking like they were trying to break the line and get around the person ahead of them. Some of the ones in the ditch look like they were desperate to go anywhere, fast. Something must have descended upon them quickly.
    I notice a lot of strange black mounds near the cars, each one about the size of two handfuls of dirt. They start a few yards before the first one, and radiate around them no more than a dozen yards.  
    My curiosity gets the better of me, and I crouch down and examine one. It looks like fused darkly-colored glass beads, but it’s got a strange odor. I stand back up and abandon the idea of finding a stick to poke it with or touching it. With my luck, there’d be a storybook demon inside. I find myself staring up at the sky again. Other than a few dense clouds in the distance, there’s just blue, blue and more blue.
    With a sigh, I start searching the first couple of levis, not sure which one I was in last night. I thought it’d be easy, but memory is a weird thing. After searching my fifth one, I start to feel anxious. “Did that yig take off with my sword? What the yig would a carn want it for, a trophy?”  
    I give myself a slap. “Stop being an idiot. Just keep looking,” I tell myself. Hopefully, this time I’ll listen.
    The sixth levi-car comes with an unexpected surprise. Strapped to the back of it is a damaged, but still sealed, woven traveler’s picnic trunk. It’s a big, brown rectangle of beaten-up beauty.  
    I cry with laughter as I confirm that the magical seal is still intact. Of course, I can’t open it, but fingers crossed, I can get it open the next time magic fails. Seconds have never felt like days so badly in all my life. I keep switching from fantasizing about what’s inside, to trying to brace myself for the massive disappointment I’m sure is lurking inside.
    I try to search around some more for my sword, but like a moth to a flame, I can’t leave the picnic trunk. If I’m more than three steps away, I get panicky that I’ll miss my chance at opening it. The only thing to do is wait. I really hate waiting.
    After what feels like two hours, I start to worry about what’ll happen if the sun goes down, the carn comes back, and magic’s still humming along. I can’t fathom abandoning the trunk. Staring at the blood stains left behind by the carn, I remember they have great memories and will hunt down those that have wronged them. I’m sure I’m high up on that carn’s list of people to revisit soon.  
    I pace back and forth in front of the trunk when it finally dawns on me, I’m an idiot. I can cut the straps and drag that beauty around with me. Provided I find my sword, I should be able to open it when the time comes.
    Glancing up at the sun, I figure I have more than enough time to get safely away. And if magic drops while I’m getting myself organized, I should be okay.  
    With a renewed sense of