Fanrir gave a yawn and snuggled underneath Antaigne's beard, the familiar's swirling rainbow eyes watched Marcius from between the strands of coarse dwarven facial hair. "So lad, what're thoughts on her?" the wizard prompted Marcius as he absently stroked the animal.
Marcius wrapped his arms behind his head, digging around for an answer. "I think she is the most fantastic creature I have ever seen. My only regret is that I never had a chance to see her sooner."
"Fanrir says you flatter her."
"I was not aware that they were able to speak. Is she as intelligent as a person?" The idea was something that intrigued him.
Again the dwarf's eyes unfocused, "She says that ye should quit while yer ahead!" This brought a snort of laughter from the wizard. "Let me sit ye down and 'splain about the real importance o' familiars te us wizards. Believe not that drivel ye read from books, merely a wives tale we wizards circulate to keep non-users outt've our 'air!"
"Well Master, I'm already sitting down, in case you forgot."
"Bah! Smartass lad, I tell ye! 'Twas' a. . . a. . . figure of speech I think ye humans call it. Anyway, settle down, ye are gettin' a lesson about familiars. The whole truth about 'em."
The wizard refilled his pipe and took a particularly long drag. Blowing out the smoke, the wizard's hands started moving in the familiar archaic motions of spell casting. The smoke began to swirl and coalesce into a human shape as the wizard began to speak.
"The first wizards were humans, as ye no doubt know, but did ye ever wonder how exactly did they learn how to do the complex motions an' stuff ye normally associated with the craft? Original magic was born out o' need; people born with the skills gettin' into danger and calling basic spells ta save themselves and the like. This, as ye know, is known as blood magic, very dangerous and basic, but it got the job done. One day, or so yer legends say, one man with a pet got into danger from wild beasts or monsters. We know not ye type of pet, but we know the person used blood magic involuntarily ter saves himself and his pet. The magic he used had a side effect and became the first familiar spell, very basic and the like. Ye see, familiars are entities from the nether that reside into a vessel when called upon. Ter first familiar taught his master how ter use magic voluntarily. They were different back then than they are now, ‘o course. And thus, magic as we all know it came into bein'. Now the Gods were unhappy about this little discovery 'ere, but that be a story fer another time." As the dwarf spoke, Marcius watched the barely recognizable shapes reenact the ancient story.
The dwarf took another deep puff and continued, "Nowadays, familiars are an important part o' a wizard's repertoire, which is why most wizards ask their familiars ter keep themselves hidden. A wizard without a familiar is a sad wizard indeed."
"What do they bring a wizard, exactly?"
"Aye, good question, always said if ye don't know something, ask! Well, familiars serve as a focus fer a wizard's powers. It's a magnifier fer magical power; a wizard without a familiar is barely able ter do more than a can-trip. Now, magic is an acquired ability, the stronger one's inherent ability, the more ye will get out o' each other. There is one lil' hitch though." Antaigne paused, inviting Marcius to digest the information and pressure him about the apparent snag.
"And that is?"
"Ye have ter give up a part o' yer soul ter support the familiar in this realm," the wizard stated, hands open in a gesture of helplessness. Fanrir gave a sniffle because the action stopped the petting. "The familiar will take on the personality o' the person whom it is bonded ter, so often people don't like what they get. It's an unbiased reflection o' yerself and comes as a shock ter some people."
In all the books he had read, there was never once a mention of souls as being part of the deal for a familiar. He had always thought of them as a benefit, or a positive quirk, of being a wizard.
Lorinia was more forgiving in regards to worship, so he wasn't particularly religious, but this idea put an uncomfortable weight on his stomach. It was his soul, and as with all things of value, he was hesitant to part with it. The part about self reflection didn't bother Marcius. He didn't believe he was a fundamentally bad person.
"What does splitting their soul do to a person? Does it hurt? What if the familiar dies?"
"Ah, goin' fer the throat I see! Well, a familiar be immortal. It only changes after its creation, an' there be no growing. Now if a familiar dies to. . . let's say. . . another wizard, yer soul returns to yeself. But there be a hitch in that solution as well. It's like breakin' a pot. Ye can put it back once and glue it, but it is unable to be broken again lest it be unusable. Once a wizard's familiar dies, he can take no more familiar, the stubborn wizards who do. . . become something less than themselves. Yer soul objects ter being pulled about like a new toy. Now the part about hurtin'. . . well, do ye think tearing yer soul in two would hurt? O' course it does, ye dolt!" The dwarf waved his staff for emphasis.
The answers must have shown their results on Marcius's face, because once again Antaigne's brow furrowed and he leaned over, the front legs of his chair touching the ground for the first time since he sat down. "I ask ye once more lad, be ye serious about bein' a wizard?"
"What do I have to do, Master?" Marcius mentally kicked himself for his voice shaking on the question. He didn't want to seem like someone who was easily frightened. He then shifted his weight, leaning forward into a position he hoped seemed confident, instead of betraying the nervousness that tightened his chest. Was he that easy to read?
Antaigne chuckled and stroked his beard. "Well, I have most o' the ingredients necessary, at least the rare ingredients. Ye will gather the mundane ingredients an' the host as well. I already gave yer dad a list. Just ask him fer it."
"Anything else?"
"Aye lad, there be firewood ta chop, common herbs that are around these parts ta gather, as well as a few things ta get from yer town. It will be good training fer ye ta gather 'em. Then ye need an animal, preferably small, that will receive the familiar spirit. After receiving the spirit, it'll change gradually over time, usually as a reflection o' yerself." Antaigne pulled a mug seemingly out of nowhere, already full with what Marcius guessed was ale, and began drinking.
For being as untypical of a dwarf as he was, some habits die hard. It still amazed Marcius how someone could manage smoking and drinking at the same time. "Now, I say that ye get back ter your home an' get the host and some things that're more easily gotten' over there. I give ye three days ter be back here. Also, it would be a good time ter deliver the information ter yer father. He expects it anyway."
"Can I use Ruby for my familiar?"
"Aye, I thought you would ask that question. Ye can use that horse o' yers. But like all things magic, there be more there than the surface. Ye lose the. . . essence. . . o' the horse; it gets pulled out by the host from ter nether. So the end result is a whole 'nother creature, if ye catch me breeze. Also, a big animal isn't the wisest idea, if ye be followin'. Familiars are a weak point as well as a strong point fer a wizard. A wizard's biggest enemy is 'nother wizard, and killing a familiar is a good way ter start. Unless ye are like that ghoul lover o' a leader who runs the Academy, run'in 'round with that drake familiar o' his; I would recommend keeping yer familiar small an' hidden." Antaigne took another swig of the brew and leaned back on the chair, resting the mug on his belly.
Marcius waited a few more minutes for Antaigne to continue, but when he didn't, Marcius decided to take a closer look. The dwarf's eyes were closed under the wizard hat and a very faint snore could be heard sneaking forth from under the wide brim.
Shaking his head at dwarven manners, Marcius decided to head back home to do the tasks the dwarf had given him. The trip would give him time to think. He shouldered his pack. Keeping clear of the magical wards that Antaigne used to protect his house, Marcius gently closed the door and unfettered Ruby from the railing.
"Just you and me now, old friend," Marcius patted the horse and received a loving push in return. He saddled up and rode back up the path that led in the general direction towards Rhensford.
He traveled until it was too dark to see, before necessity dictated rest for both him and Ruby. Marcius didn't have much experience camping and had not come prepared for it, but he eventually managed to get a few hours of sleep along the edge of the forest. The sun was high above him when he finally hit the outskirts of Rhensford. He mulled over Antaigne's proposition the entire way.
It was point of no return. Either he accepted it, or denied it. If he said yes, he'd live the life of a wizard, and if he didn't, well, he'd be his father. Marcius couldn't imagine managing a trading company. It felt too mundane, too ordinary.
He always felt as if he was destined for greater things beyond what other people took for granted. Magic was an easy choice. It was a catalyst for change and power. Great things, good and bad, went hand in hand with being a wizard.
Still, what if he turned out to be no good at it? His Master had said that magic was like muscle. It had to be trained, honed, and constantly worked at. But that also meant everybody had different amounts of raw material to work with. What if his great destiny was to be nothing more than a glorified court magician, barely able to do more than a few parlor tricks?