A Piece of The Auld World

Transcription:

This time on The Misadventures of Wee Kevin. We got a whole lot of shite to dig into here, so listen up ye shower of bastards cos I've got another tale that'll knock your knickers clean off. If you've been following these stories, you'll ken there are two heroes, and I use that word looser than Magran's dentures. Just got back from helping some wizard collect his fancy herbs, got themselves some magical creatures out of it too, though if you ask me, they got the rough end of that bargain being stuck with these two nuggets. Now, you might think, after all that palaver with the wizard, these two wallies might take a break, maybe have a quiet pint, count their blessings that they're still breathing, but if you thought that, you don't know Kevin and Lance worth a damn. These two have been thick as thieves since primary school, when they both got caught trying to convince the dinner lady that a Mars bar counted as one of your five a day. The morning mist was rolling through the ancient forest like smoke from a dodgy kebab shop, when our two heroes came stumbling through the undergrowth. The trees were older than dirt itself, their branches reaching toward each other like old friends at a reunion, twisted up like they'd been caught in the middle of a massive highland dance-off. The whole forest had this air about it, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Or maybe it was just horrified at the sight of these two egypts trampling through its sacred grounds. For fuck's sake, Lance! Kevin called out, his lanky frame towering slightly over his mate as they picked their way through the woods. He was hopping about like he was playing the world's worst game of hopscotch, trying to dodge the mud puddles. His new trainers, bought with his last twenty quid from Sports Direct, were already looking like they'd been through a bog snorkelling competition. My new trainers are absolutely fucked! These were meant to last till Christmas! Lance, following close behind, as he always did since they were wee, was squinting at his phone like it might suddenly start speaking ancient wisdom. His raven familiar, perched on his shoulder like the ghost of hangovers past, was watching proceedings with the kind of disdain usually reserved for English tourists asking for directions to the nearest waitrose. The GPS says we're... somewhere in Scotland. Lance turned the phone sideways, as if that might somehow improve their situation. Look, there's a blue dot and everything! The raven let out a sound that would have made a banshee shit herself, somewhere between a death rattle and the noise you make when you realise the last train's been cancelled. Its eyes, black as a coal miner's lungs, seemed to be fixed on something in the distance, something the two wallies couldn't see but could feel in their bones. Oh aye, somewhere in Scotland, that's pure helpful that is, Kevin muttered, just as his fox familiar came bounding past, its magical aura flickering like the light in the old forge after someone's failed to pay the lessee bill. The wee thing had been acting strange all morning, leading them deeper into the woods with the kind of determination usually reserved for finding the last chippy open after closing time. The fox stopped suddenly, its ears perked up like it had heard someone mention free drinks. It turned its head toward them, and if a fox could look exasperated, this one was doing its best impression. Its tail was swishing back and forth, sending little sparks of magic into the misty air like a faulty plug socket. What's got into that mental beast? Kevin asked, reaching down to scratch behind the fox's ears, the one sure way to get it to settle down since they'd become bonded. Ever since we got these talismans, that fox has been dragging me into more trouble than that time we tried to deep fry a Mars bar in your da's garage. The fox let out a sound somewhere between a bark and a sigh. If you've ever heard your mam when you tell her you've lost your house keys again, you'll know the exact noise. It bounded forward a few steps, then looked back at them with an expression that clearly said, will you get a bloody move on? It happened just as Kevin opened his gob to complain again, which, let's be honest, was about every thirty seconds. His foot caught on something, and down he went like a sack of tatties after last orders. Lance reached out to catch him, but ended up getting pulled down too, both of them landing in a heap of limbs and curses. Ya fuckin'. But the curse died in Kevin's throat as he saw what he'd tripped over. There, half buried in moss and looking older than their combined bar tabs, was a shield. The white surface was peeking through years of forest grime, with a red line cutting across it like a wound. It had the kind of presence that made your teeth itch and your bones hum. The sort of thing that screamed ancient magic louder than a drunk uncle at a wedding. Lance, Kevin whispered, actually serious for once in his miserable life. Are ye seeing this? The raven let out a sound like ancient stones grinding together, and both their talismans started humming with the kind of energy you usually only feel after twelve espressos and a red bull chaser. The air around them got thick with magic, like treacle but less tasty, and more likely tae tarn ye and tae a toad. Well, well, well, came a voice from above, followed by the sound of several branches breaking and a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. Shame so shallowly came tumbling down from his perch, somehow managing to land on his feet while keeping his whisky bottle upright, a feat of magic more impressive than anything they'd seen so far. The leprechaun straightened his waistcoat, which was covered in more patches than a crock made by a blind seamstress, and fixed them with a look that could have curdled milk. If it ain't the two biggest eejits this side of the Highland line, finding something they absolutely shouldn't. The fox familiar was circling the shield now, its tail swishing with nervous energy. The raven had gone dead silent, which was somehow worse than its usual cryptic mutterance. Even the forest seemed to be holding its breath, waiting to see what these two roasters would do next. Shame us, Lance started, his voice shakier than a newborn lamb. What in the absolute fuck have we just found? The leprechaun took a long pool from his bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and fixed them with a look that was somehow both drunk and deadly serious. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, had gone as hard as granite. Lads, he said, you've just gone and found yourselves a piece of the old world, and if you've any sense in those thick heads of yours, which I deeply doubt, you'll leave it right where it is. Kevin and Lance looked at each other, years of friendship letting them read each other's minds without a word. Then they both looked back at the shield, grinning like a pair of cats that had just found an unguarded fish shop. Shame us took another swig from his bottle, then added with a weary sigh. But seeing as how ye two are about as sensible as a chocolate teapot, I might as well tell you what you're in for. To be continued, ye bloody numpties.