Chapter Text
Leather boots crunched through fallen leaves as the village wizard made his way home. His cabin was modest but comfortable; small garden, large stone hearth, and an even larger bed. He was looking forward to that the most.
The day had been particularly long today, though less for the hours and more for the weight of his fatigue. The villagers' requests had been overwhelming today. One thing after another, starting an hour before dawn in a near endless stream of demands for tinctures and charms and protection spells warding against this and that. None of their needs were difficult, but the sheer number of them had left him drained enough to vacate his stall a bit early. It was still hours before sunset, and yet he felt like he had been awake for two days straight.
Everyone in Whitetree wanted to see The Wizard with Two Familiars. Most practitioners of magic could scarcely manage one, given the energy and focus one needed to devote to keeping such a magical being in line. Two? Unthinkable, especially for someone so young.
He appeared seemingly out of nowhere about a year ago and accepting no quarters but the town's most remote and quaint homestead. Even calling it a homestead was a stretch of the term, but it's all they had to offer. They were fortunate that privacy seemed to be his only requirement.
He pulled the hood of his black wool cloak tighter over his head in a futile attempt to block out the chill. It was late in the season now, not cold enough to be dangerous yet but enough to sting where it touched bare skin. The hem of his cloak fluttered behind him as he walked, kicking up the occasional swirl of leaves as he moved swiftly past.
The large wolf at his side padded along silently. It's fur was the color of blood and rusted iron, with eyes like golden amber. Every so often it would catch something on the wind and lift it's large head, sniffing the air with interest.
It wasn't long before cabin slowly came into view. The wolf moved faster, bounding ahead on it's large, powerful paws. The man's pace did not change. His steps were measured, patient, steady. He neared the small clearing just as the wolf began to run impatient circles in front of the low stone wall marking the boundary of the property.
As the two of them passed through the old wooden gate, a winged white form circled low overhead. It cawed once before descending to perch on one of the apple tree's lower branches.
"Did anyone follow us," the man asked the crow.
The snow white crow shook it's head.
"Are you sure? Did you check-"
"Do I look like an amateur?" the bird scoffed in a deep, rumbling voice. It narrowed it's red eyes in annoyance, and one of them seemed to flash slightly brighter than the other. "We're fine."
The door protested loudly as he opened it. It swung wide, hanging slightly crooked on hinges old enough to have been made by his grandfather's grandfather. Stepping through the threshold, something in the air shifted. It was subtle, barely noticeable, just as any good protection charm should be. Considering the number of them that had been placed on this house, it's a wonder his skin didn't tingle. That was the real proof of his skill, not the two companions at his side.
The fireplace was set ablaze with a flick of the man's wrist. This summoned the wolf immediately, bounding toward the plush rug that lay before it. A flash of white streaked past the man's shoulder. It flew tight circles around the cabin.
The wizard sighed as he shut the cabin door, shifting the heavy deadbolt into place. "The dramatics are unnecessary, Sylus," he told the bird as a large leather satchel was set down on the table with a heavy thud.
The crow didn't land so much as it's body stretched to meet the ground. Wings and legs extended and changed shape. Feathers turned into fabric. The sharp beak pulled back into lips on sharp cheekbones, smirking on a human face topped with long, silvery snow white hair and gleaming red eyes.
The man that was once a crow wore white airy, partially unbuttoned shirt under white silk coat, with long tails shaped subtly like wings that fell to the back of his knees. The only part of his attire that wasn't white were his black leather boots and his jewelry, silver with rubies. Much of his clothes were embroidered or painted with subtle spell sigils that allowed them to shift with him.
"But you like it," the man taunted in a voice like rich dark velvet, "Go on, Zayne. Tell me you don't."
The wizard named Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's exhausting,"
"That's not a no."
Zayne sighed as he slid his wool cloak off his shoulders. His own black hair fell across his face in a soft waterfall of bangs, parted slightly on one side to reveal a sharp angular eyebrow and narrow hazel eye. The rest fell down his back in a gold-ringed ponytail. Silver spectacles perched on his nose, connected to a thin delicate chain that curved around the back of his neck. His ears tapered ever so slightly at the tips, just enough to suggest he might have had some elven blood somewhere distantly in his lineage.
His own clothes were also expertly tailored, off white and muted blue robes with accents in faded gold. They were just as rich and expensive as Sylus's once but they had become road worn, stained and sun faded, as he did not have the benefit of being able to shape shift to protect them while traveling. He had tried to keep them clean and mended but there was only so much one could do without proper facilities, even with magic.
As Sylus fell into the cabin's only armchair, he stole a glance at the wolf. He rolled his eyes watching the large red furred beast roll around on it's back, tongue lolling out of it's jaws as it savored the blissful heat of the fire.
"We're home now, Valko. You can drop the act."
"What act?" the wolf asked, "S'nice. I don't feel like-"
"Please," Sylus groaned, "You smell like wet dog."
The wolf twisted and rolled onto it's side, it's body rapidly stretching and elongating. A heartbeat later a man was in it's place, glaring at Sylus through a messy mop of shoulder length blood rust hair. He supported himself on one elbow, the muscles of his arm tense and clearly visible due to his sleeveless black linen tunic. All of his clothing was fairly plain in fact. Simple greenish blue wool slacks were held in place with a rough leather belt and tucked into knee high leather boots capped with iron at the toes. He had other iron adornments as well, including a chain around his neck, bracers at his wrist, a thick ring in his right ear and a band around his left upper arm. They were working men's clothes, much more suited for trouncing around in the forests than attending court. If one looked close enough, they would see more runes in the metal, leather and fabric of his attire as well, similar to those that were embroidered into Sylus's clothing.
"Fuck you," Valko growled. He turned his amber eyes to Zayne. "Next time we're out, can I eat him?"
Sylus cackled. "Promises promises, puppy."
"Please, Zayne?"
The wizard sighed again. "No."
If the cabin felt bigger on the inside than it did on the outside, that wasn't simply a trick of the light. Significant spacial manipulation spells required rare components, but Zayne had at least managed to give himself and his companions a bit more space than the mundane structure would have allowed. There was enough room for a table with three chairs, a simple but effective kitchen fed by water from a natural spring outside, armchair and floor pillows, and fireplace big enough for a pair of small cauldrons. The upstairs loft had enough space for a bookshelf, a desk, and a single large bed. There was an outhouse and washing area in the backyard, though at this time of the year Zayne preferred to do his bathing at the bathhouse in the village. Heating his own water on the hearth simply took too long, and using magic to do so felt like a waste of components.
Valko stood up abruptly and began wandering toward the kitchen. "So when's dinner? I'm hungry."
"Didn't you eat a dead rabbit or something on the way home," Sylus yawned.
"Ugh, no? I just chewed on it a little, but it tasted weird." Valko began digging through the large closet currently acting as their pantry. Before he had fully pulled out a narrow slab of dried pork, Zayne's hand was already grabbing his wrist.
"Valko, no. Put that back."
"But I'm hungry," the wolf man complained, "Come on, I haven't had meat in days. Didn't the villagers give you enough to last well into next spring?"
The local farmers had in fact long since picked their fields clean of anything worth harvesting that season, preserving and pickling and storing everything they could for the coming winter. Animals had been slaughtered too, dried into leather-hard strips or preserved in salt to last until spring. They'd been generous with Zayne of course, knowing that his own personal home garden was good for growing herbs for potions and little else. Both his pantry and root cellar had been stocked with more than enough food for one person.
They had no reason to believe that likely wasn't enough. This was not, however, their problem to solve.
"They gave me enough to last that long," Zayne corrected politely, "They didn't account for the two of you. Now put that back. We have to make our stores last."
A whimper that was neither fully canine nor human bubbled up from Valko's throat, but he gave no real resistance as Zayne slid the meat out his fingers and returned it to it's place in the pantry. With an apologetic kiss on Valko's knuckle, Zayne murmured "I'm sorry. Next time I am in town I will ask if anyone has a chicken they can spare. For now, we will have to make do with vegetable soup again tonight."
There was a low chuckle from Sylus. "If you want meat, you can always go kill it yourself."
"Zayne already said I can't eat you."
"There's plenty of game out in the woods that you love so much," Sylus waved dismissively toward a nearby window. "Go on then. At least you can satisfy your desires with a dead deer."
Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to bruise at this rate. "The local tavern sells wine, Sylus. You know that. I'm sure they would trade some to me if I asked."
"I'm not drinking that swill."
"They have mead too. It's quite nice."
"Far too sweet," Sylus groaned, "Makes sense why you'd like it."
Zayne took a step toward him. "Is alcohol really all that necessary?"
"Maybe not, but it makes things less dull." Sylus glared at the fire like it offended him. "But what should I expect when we're forced to hide like vermin in the middle of nowhere? Vermin don't deserve luxuries, after all."
Ahh, Zayne thought. There it is.
"I'm sorry, Sylus. I'm doing the best I can."
Zayne was tired, in his bones and in his heart. He wanted to be angry at the red eyed crow, but he couldn't bring himself to find the fury. He knew the real reason for the man's frustration, and it wasn't wine. It was the reason all of them were out here, isolated in this backwater village in the middle of nowhere.
Everything had been simpler once. Comfortable. Routine. Safe. Zayne had ascended through the Snowcrest College of Magic faster than anyone had before him, easily earning him a court wizard position for a wealthy baron just before he turned 18. He had met Valko first, then Sylus, and eventually the three of them formed a bond that seemed to transcend even the most verbose bard's descriptions of both friendship and romance. They had been happy and comfortable with their lives for many years. Most importantly, they had been accepted for who and what they were.
That was before the King had made his sudden pronouncement a little over a year ago following the sudden death of his queen. Royal criers were sent to every major city in the kingdom declaring that all shapeshifters were devious, dangerous creatures "to be put to death without hesitation or mercy." Friends turned on friends, and neighbors began reporting on people they had lived beside for years. Entire families vanished overnight, though whether they fled or were taken, it was difficult to know for sure.
Zayne had known that there had always been a prejudice against shifters just below the surface, though most people knew better than to speak their bigotry aloud. The king's pronouncement had emboldened them, even turning previously assumed noble and charitable people into supporters of this hunt. All it took was one call to the King's Watch or to the Templars of the Everlight and the unfortunate man or woman would be systematically hunted and destroyed. It was no longer safe anywhere.
The baron at least had been sympathetic enough toward Zayne that his companions were quietly offered exile rather than imprisonment and eventual execution. Zayne had made the deceptively simple choice to go with them, sacrificing his wealth and position for the two most dear to him.
They left in the dead of night with only what they could carry. This was more than most might manage, given Zayne's enchantment skills, but most of their possessions still had to be left behind. The three of them had traveled for weeks, avoiding high traveled roads to move on foot or ride the occasional hay cart.
Eventually they arrived at the most remote village they could find in the farthest corner of the kingdom under the guise that they were not, in fact, a wizard and two men who could shapeshift, but a wizard and his two familiars. A believable enough ruse, though the act of it had strained their patience over time.
They had hoped to simply wait things out, believing this decree would be challenged and reversed by the dukes and duchesses of the region. However, as the months rolled by and the initial shock of it turned into silent acceptance, any hope they might've had of returning to something resembling their former lives faded like the stars at dawnbreak.
Zayne crossed the room and knelt before Sylus. "I'm trying my best," he said again, softer this time. "You know that. Please…"
Sylus scoffed and averted his eyes. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"You know what I mean." His brows pinched in focus and frustration. "Like I'm some fragile thing you need to protect."
"I didn't say that."
"I'm not weak."
"I never said you were."
Sylus didn't move as Zayne slowly shifted closer, placing a hand on one cheek and a gentle kiss on the other. There was a slight twitch at the corner of the red eyed man's mouth, as if he were wrestling with some decision privately with himself. Eventually a decision was made. His head turned just enough for his lips to meet Zayne's before the other man could pull away.
Zayne didn't think Sylus was weak, not at all. Neither of his companions were. They were hunted purely for what they were, and their survival over this past year had been a testament to their strength and resilience.
It was all Zayne could do to hold himself to their standard, desperately trying to keep himself together for their sake. Most days it took nearly everything he had just to maintain his composure. The last thing he wanted to do was break. He wasn't the one in danger after all. He could return to a life of luxury any time he desired.
What did he have to fear… besides losing them?
He never once regretted leaving with them. If put in the same position again, he would choose this over a meaningless life of wealth every time. Shared exile was preferable to predictable, comfortable loneliness.
He wasn't taking care of them. He might even be their biggest liability. Surely they would be safer without him drawing attention to them. Repaying them for allowing him to remain in their lives was the least he could do.
Zayne didn't say any of this out loud. He was too tired, and the words felt too clumsy and heavy in his throat. Instead he simply kissed Sylus once more before standing up, brushing a bit of dust from his robe.
"We should start dinner before the hour grows too late. Would one of you mind fetching water for me?"
The three of them set about fixing themselves a meager meal. Water was collected, vegetables were chopped, and herbs were gathered from the garden. Zayne even relented and allowed a small amount of salted beef to be added to the broth, only just enough to add some salt and savory flavor to the meal. Among the stores the villagers had provided was a disappointingly large amount of carrots, which Zayne personally despised. Blessedly, Valko was more than content to crunch on a few of them to stave off his hunger while the soup boiled on the hearth.
Zayne had been given two small loaves of bread that day, each one scarcely larger than his hand. They selected the larger of the pair to slice into pieces for dipping. It was strange to consider bread a luxury, but as it was with so many things they were at the whims of the villagers and whatever they happened to have to barter with on any given day. It had been nearly a month since Zayne had tasted cheese. Pastries were out of the question entirely. Gods, how he missed those little sweet cakes the baron's chef used to make…
A small bottle of apple cider was brought out from the cellar. It was the last one from their first attempt at brewing anything from the tree out front. It was sour and slightly bitter, but decently drinkable when heated and mixed with spring water, herbs and a bit of honey… or a lot of honey, in Zayne's case. Sylus complained about the disappointingly low alcohol content, but he drank it all the same.
Sunset was just arriving on the horizon as the three of them finished the last of their supper. "So…" Valko began, "Do you think the twins will come by your stall again tomorrow?"
Sylus chuckled over his mug of cider. "Why, hoping for more belly rubs?"
"You're just jealous they like me more than you."
"Hardly," Sylus sniffed.
Valko lifted his bowl to his lips, drinking down the last of his broth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I heard one of them last week say your red eyes were spooky."
"Did they now?" Sylus smirked, glancing away with the same nonchalance he adopted whenever he wanted people to know that something didn't bother him. "Cute. Which one was it? It was Luke, wasn't it? Maybe I'll put on a little show for him next time."
"Sylus, no," Zayne ordered.
"Relax sweetie, it'd just be a bit of fun. Don't be so uptight."
Just as Valko opened his mouth to say something, he was interrupted by a loud series of knocks at the door.
A voice quickly followed. "H'llo? Is anyone home? I don't mean to bother, I just need directions!"
All three men froze. A heartbeat later, Zayne rose from the table. "One moment please," he called out to the voice on the other side of the door. He quickly gathered their empty bowls and mugs, shuttling them off into the kitchen. Behind him, a white crow perched on the back of an armchair and a rusty furred wolf lounged in front of the fireplace.
As he crossed the cabin, he did a series of checks of the wards on the house with a few practiced gestures. Everything was in place and as they should be. He slid the bolt aside and with one last bracing breath, he pulled the door open the scant few inches required to greet their intruder.
The man before him could scarcely be called a man, though his height indicated that he must have been well on his way at least. Youthful in the face, with curly brown hair and wide brown eyes. His attire was mostly hidden under a thick wool cloak, but what little Zayne could see was a road-worn mix of brown and pale blue, with the winged star sash of the royal messenger's guild. He stared at Zayne with a mixture of nervousness and gratitude.
"Yes?" Zayne inquired coldly, "Can I help you?"
"Sorry to bother you sir. I was on my way to the town of Whitetree and I seem to have gotten a bit turned around." His hands gripped the strap of his messenger satchel like he was trying to strangle it. "Do you think you can help me? I don't want to get caught in these woods after sundown, you see. Could be things skulking about in the dark…"
"Ahh, I see. Whitetree isn't far, barely half a mile that way. All you need to do is…"
"I have an important message I need to deliver," the young man babbled, "From the Duke. Apparently there's a wizard in Whitetree."
Zayne raised an eyebrow. "A wizard?"
"Yes! A wizard who commands two familiars! Would you believe it? He'd have to be mighty powerful to do that." He continued his anxious assault on his satchel strap as he continued to ramble, "Anyway, the message is for him, and I'm supposed to deliver it directly into his hands before sunset tomorrow, or else-"
"In that case," Zayne murmured, quietly extending his hand through the gap in the door, "I suppose you should hand it over then."
The messenger stared slack-jawed at Zayne. His eyes darted down to the offered palm and back up again. "What… you? You're the wizard? I mean no offense sir, but you don't look a day over twenty five."
"twenty seven, actually."
"And you're saying you're a wizard powerful enough to be able to summon and control two familiars? Impossible."
Zayne sighed and opened the door further. In a roundabout way, the lad was entirely correct. It also wasn't the first time someone had doubted his word upon first meeting. He was well aware that looks could be deceiving, and had obviously used that to his and his companions' advantage more times than he could count. Still, the matter of Zayne's age did make things frustrating at times. Clearly, a demonstration was in order.
He called out one word into the cabin behind him: "Come."
He extended his arm to allow the overly large white crow to perch on his arm. The wolf pushed it's large head under his other hand, twitching it's ears slightly at the stunned messenger.
The young man's eyes darted between his animal shaped companions. "Oh… OH! I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't realize…"
"It's quite alright. This isn't the first time this has happened," Zayne assured him, "May I ask your name?"
"Jeremiah, sir," the man said, bowing low. He dug into his satchel and pulled out a small flat parcel, sealed with a purple wax stamp. He handed it to Zayne with another bow. "Here you are, sir. Again, apologies for the confusion, I didn't mean any offense, truly."
"None taken."
The messenger Jeremiah still needed a place to stay, so Zayne took a few moments directing him to Whitetree. His own path to the village was well traveled at this point with trees clearly marked at regular intervals, easy enough to follow. Zayne had little food left to offer the man, but he sent him on his way with a small mug of cider and the last crust of bread. "Please give the mug to the tavern keeper when you get there, and tell them it's one of mine," Zayne instructed. "I will collect it next time I am in town."
Jeremiah thanked him again and apologized twice more before leaving, jogging down the path and quickly disappearing from view. Zayne closed the door and locked it again, though it took another two minutes before his body released the tension he had been holding.
Sylus hopped into the air, twirling dramatically before shifting back into his humanoid form. He plucked the parcel from Zayne's fingers. "A message from a duke? How interesting…"
"Don't open it, Sylus." Zayne warned, "We don't know what's inside."
"Exactly. Exciting, isn't it? Most exciting thing that's happened since we got here, to be honest."
Zayne's hand shot out and reclaimed the message. "If someone knows we're here, they could know about the two of you. This might even contain a trap spell that would paralyze the three of us the moment the seal is broken."
"You think they'd trust something that dangerous to a teenager parading as a man?" Sylus cocked his head. "I doubt it."
"It could also be a summons for the two of you, or an order to turn you both in. The King's Watch or the Templars could be on their way already. We would have to run again."
Sylus's lips curled into a deadly smile, and for just a moment his right eye seemed to glow brighter. "Let them come. I'm done running."
Valko, still in his wolf form, hung his head with a low growl. "I'm not running either. I like it here."
"You would," Sylus huffed.
"Enough," Zayne commanded. He didn't yell. He didn't need to. His voice carried through the cabin like an avalanche, with enough force to cause the walls to vibrate.
After placing the letter on the table, he pulled a small nub of white chalk out of his pocket. He quickly drew a circle of runes around it, hummed a few words with practiced precision and gestured in the air above it with his hand. The chalk lines began to glow, first a brilliant white before fading to a dull blue, indicating that there was in fact nothing even remotely magical about the parcel.
"See?" Sylus quipped over his shoulder, "You worry too much."
"And you don't worry enough," Zayne shot back. He plucked the stiff brown envelope from the table and carefully inspected the seal. He was familiar with all of the major houses in the kingdom, so he recognized the unicorn sigil immediately.
"It's from the Duke of Linkonshire," Zayne murmured. His hand went back into his pocket, trading the chalk for a small black handled knife. He pulled it from it's small leather scabbard, carefully sliding the dull end of the blade under the wax seal so as to not accidentally cut the parcel's contents. Once the seal had been broken, he sheathed the blade and returned it to his pocket.
Valko appeared at his side, having reclaimed his human form. "Well? What does he want? Have they sent the guard?"
Zayne carefully unfolded the letter, reading it slowly while his companions inspected it over his shoulder.
TO THE WIZARD OF WHITETREE
It has come to my attention that you possess magical skill and talent well beyond your years and of which is no doubt wasted on the village of Whitetree. I would like to humbly request an audience to discuss hiring you as an instructor and tutor for my daughter, Marquess Cienna. You will be provided ample compensation for your time and trouble, as well as lodgings and anything else you may require.
Should this be of interest to you, you may present this missive at my castle as proof of my invitation. I eagerly await your arrival.
Respectfully,
Duke Joseph of Linkonshire
He read the letter a second time, and then a third. He had heard of Duke Joseph, though he knew little else about his lineage. He had no idea how old this child may be, though it mattered very little. Zayne had no quarrel with children and in fact had grown quite fond of the youths in the village, and they of him. However, he had little interest in leaving their remote village and risking the safety of Valko and Sylus in order to teach beginner magic to a child that very well might not even want to learn it in the first place.
This choice didn't just affect him though. It affected all of them. He couldn't possibly make this decision solely by himself. He placed the letter down on the table and turned to his partners. "Well? What do you both think?"
Valko spoke up first. "I don't know. Could be a good family, and I've heard Linkonshire is nice. Old growth forest, rolling hills, lots of fish in the river and great hunting." He shrugged. "Still, we'd be leaving these people behind. They've come to rely on us, you know? I'd feel bad just abandoning them."
"They got along fine before we got here, they'll manage just as well without us." Sylus picked the letter back up, holding it delicately in his fingers as his eyes scanned the page. "'Ample compensation for you time and trouble,' it says, 'and anything else you may require.' I'm not sure why this is even a consideration."
"We had similar under our old barony," Zayne reminded him, "And we had to walk away from that."
"Because they already knew us there. This Duke doesn't know you, nor will he. You know how protective royals are with the identities of their court magicians, lest someone else tries to poach them. I doubt anything about us ever left the barony." Sylus tapped the paper with one finger. "He doesn't even address you by name."
"Then how did he learn about me?"
Sylus shrugged. "Traveling trader? One of the bards that occasionally pass through? Who knows. What matters is that this could be our ticket out of this place. We can reclaim something resembling our old lives." His hands gripped Zayne's shoulders, ruby red eyes staring intently into Zayne's green ones. "Aren't you tired of this, Zayne? Living in a filthy hovel in the woods, begging for scraps and eating watery stew every night with nothing to look forward to the next day except more of the same?"
Zayne took several slow, carefully metered breaths. To say he was tired would have been an understatement. He was exhausted, in every piece of his body and in his soul. He had never been more tired than he had been this last year.
He didn't dislike the work he did for the village, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn't entirely needed. Sylus wasn't wrong. His talents were wasted here. Most of the things the villagers asked him to do were all fairly trivial and borderline unnecessary, and pretty much all of it could have been accomplished by non-magical means. The town's apothecary was surprisingly sophisticated considering Whitetree's relative isolation, and Zayne regretted how much the town's reliance on his potions had caused their business to dwindle. Even his protection charms were more often than not used to guard against things that could just as easily been held off by a simple iron lock.
It couldn't hurt to pay this duke a visit, would it? All he had asked for was an audience after all. Even if Zayne had no intentions of taking him up on his offer, he should at least make an appearance. Ignoring an invitation from a duke could easily be taken as an insult, and royals often did not take kindly to being insulted, even by a wizard.
"Alright. We will make travel arrangements in the morning," Zayne said finally, "Let us see what Duke Joseph has to offer."