A Dead God's Tear(26)

The apprentice wizard pointed at the pile of leaves and underbrush, and a gentle flicker of flame came forth from his finger, expanding to about the size of a large marble. It ignited the dried pile of leaves and underbrush with a gentle sound, like wind rustling leaves, A bit of coaxing later, and the fire was strong enough for Jared to let alone. They now had a roaring flame at their beck and call. He cast a questioning eye at Marcius.

"A simple fire spell, though I had to weaken it unless you enjoy a huge fireball. I think I over did it though?" Marcius explained sheepishly, a huge grin on his face. Jared smiled back. It was the first time he had seen anything resembling his old friend since the blonde swordsman found him. Inwardly he was happy, but he had more pressing things to worry about.

"Now, let me see this Faerril." Marcius gently set the tiny creature nearby the fire, but far enough away to avoid being singed.

Jared gasped; the flickering orange glow of the firelight brought out the intrinsic beauty of the creature, but also revealed the vicious injuries it had sustained. The scales, though muddled by dirt, took on a golden sheen that shifted with the rise and fall of each breath. The underbelly was a softer looking still, a lighter golden color extending from the neck to the base of the tail.

He could see that it didn't have wings like the dragons of legend, a notion that made him question what the nature of the creature exactly was. The sharp eye ridges and even sharper looking spines that traveled the length of the backbone gave it a feral appearance. Laying the creature down on his cloak, his eyes took in the rest of it.

The pseudo dragon was about the size of a large cat, the one muscular arm was bent awkwardly, continuing downward to taper off into a strong hand that ended with wickedly edged claws. Now that he focused, he could see the breathing came out rough and ragged, like a half sigh.

The swordsman worked for a sweat inducing quarter hour. He was hardly an expert healer, but for once he was grateful that his father had insisted on teaching him such things in case of emergencies, though he was not entirely sure how applicable it was to the creature that lay before him.
     
 

     

A quick tear of one of his sleeves and a nearby branch provided a workable makeshift splint, so most of the effort went into making sure he had set the bone correctly.

The little beast was stoic during the time, taking the blonde swordsman's ministrations with little to no complaints. After he was sure he had set the arm right, Jared gently probed the animal's side, and the way the animal drew breath made him worry that something else must have been injured.

The scales were not rough like he expected, but were instead surprisingly soft and yielding to the touch. Yet they still managed to rustle softly when the beast shifted weight. After a few minutes of deliberation, his initial fears were realized. Broken or cracked ribs.

It was a complicated mess, and it was one that his meager training hardly addressed. His father had only taught him how to tend to minor injuries that one might expect on the road, but this was a job for one of the people from the Healer guild. Jared sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to work out what to do. The entire time, he could feel Marcius's stare and his hopes weighing on his back. He didn't want to let his friend down.

"Look, Marc, I think your pet needs help that I'm not qualified to give. I'll do what I can, but we should take him to someone from the Healer guild after this. At best I can only do a temporary fix." His hands trembled as he went to work.

Marcius nodded his affirmation, he understood. It went a long way to relieving some of the pressure Jared felt. "Faerril is my familiar. . . " Marcius corrected. "Please, do what you can," Marcius added, his voice quiet.

Well, that explains a lot, Jared thought to himself. Jared knew familiars were important to wizards, but the exact implication was something he could weasel out of Marcius later. With a mental shrug and a deep steadying breath, he pushed it out of his mind.

It was tedious and straining, several times he thought he might have messed up, but eventually, Jared managed to do what he considered a satisfactory job.

It would suffice till they got back to town. He stood up and stretched, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on his face, glad that the worst was over. Now the only thing that was needed was something to carry the familiar. He figured the blanket that he had in his pack would do well. He stood and started toward the clearing when Marcius's hand stopped him.

"Jared, where are you going?" Marcius's voice came out in a half panic, he was hovering protectively over the creature, which had fallen into a peaceful slumber.

"Going to get my pack, I left it the other side of your Master's clearing. It has a blanket which we can use to carry him as we go back home."

"Why?" Jared stared at Marcius dumbfounded. Sometimes his friend was so oblivious to situations.

"Marcius," Jared started patiently, speaking slowly like a parent to a child, "We can't stay here, we have little food, and whatever or whoever did this could return. And your familiar needs help that I can't give. We must go back to town."

"But. . . " Marcius glanced nervously back to the clearing, as if torn. Finally, Jared understood. It was so simple and perhaps a bit infantile.

"Look, Marc. Your master is gone. There is no point in clinging to something just because it is comfortable to you. Let's go back and we can decide what to do from there, ok?" He said it as soothingly as possible, but made sure to enforce that he wouldn't take any contradictory answer.

Marcius nodded half-heartedly, not looking totally convinced. Jared warily let his friend there, watching over the sleeping familiar, and hurriedly made his way back to get his pack, the events that had just occurred at the forefront of his mind.

Finding the brown backpack where he left it, he slung it over his shoulder and headed back to rejoin the brown haired apprentice. Suddenly a commotion from the forest stole his attention. Marcius came bursting out, barely managing to keep himself upright as he stumbled out of the thick underbrush that outlined the forest. He had a wild look to his features, as if he had just seen a ghost. Jared inwardly cursed his luck as he sprinted the remaining distance.

"Jared!" Marcius shouted as the blonde swordsman arrived. "I know what happened!"

"Wait!" he shouted right back, grabbing Marcius's arms in an attempt to calm the apprentice down. "What are you talking about?!"

"Faerril showed me what happened!" Marcius seemed between elation and tears, as if he was confused with which emotion was appropriate. Jared decided to forget the obvious follow up question on exactly how the little creature managed to show his master the events that transpired.

It was probably magic anyway, far beyond his league to comprehend. Also, in his haste, somehow Marcius had forgotten his familiar. Jared ignored the strong habit to roll his eyes at the lack of forethought his friend displayed at times, it really wasn't appropriate considering what had just happened. Instead, he sat Marcius down on a grassy patch below a nearby tree, hoping it might calm him. Taking out the blanket, he entered the forest and brought the familiar out to the clearing to join them.

"Alright, Marcius," Jared said as he laid the dragon-like familiar carefully at the apprentice's feet, "Tell me what happened." He wanted to hurry back home and sort things out there, but his curiosity needed to be satisfied. He joined Marcius, resting his back against the tree as he stared at his friend expectantly.



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"Master, why does everything you teach me seem to be about fighting other wizards?" Marcius said in the half whine of someone not expecting a real answer, but was complaining nonetheless.

Antaigne, for the entire morning, had been drilling into his young apprentice the importance and difficulty of quick cast spells. Like a snake coiled and ready to strike, a quick cast spell could be called upon in a moment's notice, completely bypassing most counter spell attempts.

The only problem, as Marcius had found as he practiced, was holding the energy and form of the spell. It was like trying hold a portcullis up and be nonchalant about it. The worst part was that it the more complicated the spell was, the more difficult it was to make it quick cast.

The spell Marcius was practicing could barely be considered more than a simple can-trip. Antaigne assured him it would get better as he got used to it, and eventually he would be able to hold the spell in the back of his mind for days on end. Marcius didn't really see that happening anytime soon, however.

"It be quite simple, ye smart ass lad," Antaigne said gruffly, brushing a imaginary fleck of dust off the black robes he decided to wear this day. "Live by ye sword, ye will die by ye sword. Trust me when I say that ye be in our world now, it be best fer ye to take precautions."

Marcius nodded, chastened, he went back to his practice.

It was a hot day, but inside the cottage it was cool and comfortable, another testimony to the now obvious enchantments put forth by the dwarf. Nether sight had opened up so much for Marcius. When he tapped into it, he could see the gentle swirl of magic the permeated the air, the very fiber of the building and the world around him.

Many nights he stayed awake far longer than he should have, just watching the entrancing ballet of energy play out in front of him. Words could not express how happy he was at this moment, exploring territory he had never even imagined. He often wondered what he must have done to be blessed like this.