Notes: These characters are part
of a much larger story arc that I'm forming, so please let me know if
any of those larger concepts that get mentioned don't get explained
fully enough within this story.
Warnings: adult concepts (nudity, attempted rape, mention of rape and torture)
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"And what is it that you've brought me to see?" Braed knelt beside what appeared to be a pile of rags with bone thin limbs sticking out of it. He could see it was human, and currently in the thrall of Syr's Sleep spell, but what he wasn't sure of was why it was something his companion felt was necessary to bring to his attention. Syr, a four-footed shadow in the murky twilight, moved up beside him and Braed glanced up at the other wizard from where he knelt.
Syr lowered his nose to inspect the rumpled pile of unconscious human, but the move was for show; he already knew what he'd found, and why he's brought Braed to see it. A boy. His mental voice was eager and tight with some suppressed emotion. He offered, as if in explanation of the boy's appearance, He was held by Mendax and has but recently escaped. He slid his eyes to Braed's face to see what he thought of that, his own expression hidden in the canine features of his shifted form.
Braed met Syr's affable yellow eyes. "Mendax?" He let his incredulity show through his voice. "I thought we were apolitical in this war." He wondered whether Syr was intending to either help the boy in his escape or return him to his captors; knowing Syr as he did he would lean toward the former, but either action would have political repercussions.
Syr shook his head and sighed, by which Braed realized that he'd missed the point of this evening's jaunt entirely, but the shifter wizard's long canine jaw parted in an easy grin. Braed, touch him.
Braed sighed. He hated politics, and he was usually the one who had to deal with those who came petitioning Syr for help in whatever conflict they faced that they felt required the powerful wizard's aid, but it was already too late to get out of this. Syr's interest was apparently not political and Braed figured the least he could do was humor the other man; closing his eyes, he reached out with his othersense and brushed the boy's consciousness. Braed's eyes snapped opened in sudden shock and he inhaled so sharply that he fell backwards against Syr's steady body. "By all the gods…" He could hear Syr's mental amusement. "Some warning would have been courteous, Syras." Braed shook his head, hand going to cover his face. "That boy…"
The boy in question stirred, pulled out of the Sleep by the mental brush. He was cognizant of their presence almost instantly and pulled away from them; he gathered his body under him and was poised to run before either of the two men leaning over him fully realized that he was awake. He stayed poised, balanced on the balls of his feet, watching them from eyes opened to mere slits behind unkempt hair that hung in tangles before his face.
None of the three moved; Braed barely dared to breath lest it startle the boy into running. Though… he wondered why he cared. His othersense had felt such amazing magical potential in this boy that it was obvious why he'd been a prisoner of Mendax, and likely a favored prisoner of that magic-obsessed general's pet wizards. But that potential, even had it been full blown ability, was nothing he and Syr needed in their life. They certainly didn't need the complications it would bring. Braed moved, bringing his hand up to scratch an itch on his nose, and the boy vanished into the descending night like a ghost. A soft whine escaped from Syr's throat and he shot an accusing glance at Braed before taking off into the darkness after the boy. Braed sighed; pulling himself to his feet and gathering his staff from where it had fallen, he set off after the pair.
Syras's nose was as good as that of the wolfhound he appeared to be, and he easily followed the boy's scent even though the boy moved almost silently through the darkness. They had left the marshland that followed the road and were headed into deep forest when the boy stopped and turned. He had his back to a tree; his hair was pulled back and his eyes- bright, shining green- watched Syr with warning. Syr stopped, dropping to his haunches to sit and watch in his own turn. He grinned his hound grin and his tongue lolled out good-naturedly but the boy did not seem to be impressed. I treed him, he told Braed, the rush of the chase allowing his pleasure and humor with the situation to seep through when he might have held it back.
I am pleased to hear, was Braed's answer. I am coming.
Syr flicked an ear back toward the direction he'd come; Braed didn't sound pleased... But the boy called his attention and Syr turned it back to him fully. The boy had pulled a knife from somewhere in the rags he wore and was holding it now like someone who knew how to use it. Syr's tail stopped wagging and he stopped grinning as he and the boy locked eyes. He wanted to speak to the boy, but that would require shifting- which would take a moment and lose him the advantage of speed should the boy choose to run. But perhaps with such potential... He reached out with his othersense toward the boy. We mean you no harm, he said, infusing the words with positive thoughts. The boy flinched, so he must have heard, but he only held the knife out toward Syr warningly.
"Gods, Syr, you're not trying to Speak with him? You just met the boy!" Braed's sudden voice drew the boy's attention as the wizard caught up to them. "You can't know if he has any training, never mind that you have no connection."
Syr turned to grin at the other man; Braed might not enjoy shifting the way Syr did but he was quick enough as a human- probably from all the practice he got running after Syr. He has such strong potential, Syras defended his actions, I thought it wouldn't matter.
Braed rolled his eyes to express his opinion of that, and turned to the boy. The boy just watched them warily, the knife held before him. He's picked a perfect place to stand from his flight; his flanks were well guarded by a high embankment and the only way to sneak up on him would require climbing the tree, which could not be done silently in the late autumn should one wish to try it at all. Braed turned back to his companion and pulled his cloak from his shoulders to drop it around Syr. "Here, make yourself useful and help me talk to him." He'd seen Syr shift many times so he turned back to the boy, but found their quarry staring at Syr in fascination. He heard the other man's pained grunt, which meant that he'd completed the process; when he was tired the Shift tended to go less smoothly but Syr was always deadly silent during the process of shifting.
"We do not intend to hurt you," Braed said to the boy and the boy's wary eyes slid to him. "Tell me what we should call you."
He had not asked for the boy's name, and he could see that registering on the boy's face. Names were information; information was power. Still, there was no answer, and the boy shifted his attention back to Syr. "Stay out of his head Syr," Braed warned. "I think Mendax had more use for him than the obvious."
Syr, clothed only in Braed's long cloak, moved up beside him and nodded. "I know you've dealt with men, with wizards, before," he addressed the boy, "but I can promise you we are different."
The boy didn't believe him, and Braed snorted in disbelief as well. "How can you say such a thing?" Syr turned to him in indignant anger, but Braed caught him by the arm to still him and said to the boy, "If you were imprisoned by Mendax then you have no reason to trust anything you see or hear. That is something I can understand. Even without that, you have no reason to trust us. We do not intend to hurt you. Please, tell me what we should call you and we will stop chasing you." Syr moved to protest, but Braed gripped his arm tighter.
The boy's eyes darted between them. "Ren," he said softly, then he turned and scrambled between the embankment and the tree and slipped away in the darkness.
Syr jumped instinctively to follow, but Braed's hand on his arm stopped him. "I promised we wouldn't chase," he reminded Syr.
"I did not!" Syr growled back, pulling his arm from Braed's grip, but he didn't chase. "Who gave you such authority, to promise for me? We cannot leave him, Braed. He is a magnet for evil men that way. They will feel his potential, even if they do not know how to touch it themselves, and they will use him the way Mendax tried." He turned, in a fury of passion, back to Braed to find the man staring intently at his palm, fingers curled clawlike around it. "Are you even listening to me?" he demanded, but he stopped and looked at Braed again, a slow smile spreading over his face. He waited, now patient, until Braed had finished with the spell and turned to him.
"You're getting rusty, old man," Braed teased him. "Doing everything the hard way."
Syr glowered at him. "I taught you that spell."
"That's what I mean." Braed scrutinized the palm of his hand. "He's running west by southwest. He won't meet with many towns on that route. I wonder if he chose it consciously?"
Syr shook his head. "With that much locked inside of him he's not thinking consciously. He won't know why he does what he does, but the power will drive him toward other wizards." He frowned. "Or possibly just powerful men, even if they aren't magical. But they will be drawn together."
Braed nodded. The power leaking out of the boy was what had first drawn the attention of Syras, a powerful wizard if there ever was one. Braed knew as far as power went he had little himself when compared to other wizards; but he'd had an excellent teacher and knew how best to use what he had. "I set the spell with a time relayed warning. If he runs into trouble we'll know, and before it happens."
Syr's eyes on him were warm with approval. "I am getting rusty," he confessed, reaching up with a hand to touch Braed's face. "I'd forgotten that you could do that."
Braed grinned. "A simple twist on an old spell. Remember who's the brains of this outfit." He leaned forward and touched his lips to Syr's.
"As if I could ever forget," Syr murmured, opening his mouth and leaning into the kiss. He slipped his hands around Braed's waist and pulled the other man against him, deepening the kiss as he did so.
Braed chuckled and pulled away. "You need to find some clothing or shift back before we start after the boy."
Syr leaned in to steal another kiss before he pulled the cloak off and handed it back to Braed. He stretched, hands over his head, before he dropped to the ground. His form rippled, and the shaggy wolfhound that now stood in his place grunted once in discomfort before raising a head to shove it under Braed's waiting hand. Syr wagged his tail and walked beside Braed as the human started off after the boy. Braed's spell could keep track of Ren, but with so little to work on as a name that was probably not real it was limited by distance; never mind that if they weren't close enough when they needed to be, the advantages of the spell would be less than worthless.
Syr glanced up at Braed's face. Do you think Mendax will send people for Ren? It was in his mind but he didn't thought-send it: Or would they just be dealing with the regular power hungry crazies?
Braed's face hardened. He thought a moment. "Riddien will come," he said finally.
Syr's lip curled in a silent snarl. Riddien has thrown in with Mendax? He hadn't known that; true he didn't pay much attention to politics, but the allegiances of such a powerful wizard were worth keeping an eye on, if only to know when you were likely to run into him.
Braed's fingers tightened in the thick fur of Syr's ruff. "I think. I… The boy- Ren- he has a scar, on his arm."
Syras paused mentally. I saw it. Braed had a similar scar, a small ragged triangle on the inside of his arm. He'd never spoken about it but Syr knew it was from his own time as a prisoner. He leaned heavily against the other wizard's legs and looked up at him worriedly.
Braed looked down at him and smiled. "I'm fine."
Don't lie to me Braedan Sm'hie. Syras turned his eyes back to the path before him but there was a deep growl rising up within him. Let Riddien come. I have unfinished business with him besides.
He heard Braed's breath catch, but the man's hand on his shoulder only tightened its fingers further for a moment before resting lightly again. It was perhaps a candlemark later, walking in the darkness, before Braed spoke. "He already has a line in the boy. Ren," he corrected himself. "He can use that to fuel his power against us."
Syr shook his head, the gesture almost invisible, dark fur in the inky night. If he had full access to that power, Ren never would have escaped. He may have a line in the boy, but it's not all the way in.
Braed nodded. That made sense; it was only his fear of Riddien that had blocked him from seeing it first. Still… "There is no duplicitous plan I would not put past him." It was a silly thing to say, to think- a thought born of his fears- but Syras paused and turned to look at Braed's face.
The wizard's hound face was thoughtful. I will remember that. It does not do to underestimate an enemy, no matter how much I despise him.
Braed smiled, but the expression instantly fled as a dark feeling contracted in his abdomen. He groaned, his vision going black as he stumbled against Syras' body, the hound standing firmly beside him.
Where? Syr asked instantly; no time to waste on pointless questions of "what" or "how."
Braed drew his hand up and, invoking it with a murmur, he examined the spell. "Not far. When you get to the road, head south; turn east on the next road you find. He is there."
He expected the hound to leap long legged into the night but Syr paused. Are you alright? He nosed Braed's face. I won't go ahead without you, this last said with conviction.
Braed gritted his teeth. Of all the times for Syras to worry about him. "Go," he answered emphatically. "If you don't get there in time, they'll take Ren. Go," he said again, pushing Syras' shoulder so that the hound stumbled away from him. With a displeased growl, Syr turned and bounded away.
After a moment's gathering, Braed stood and ran into the night after Syr's departing form. He wasn't as fast as a shifted Syras but he was faster than most humans and he hoped he could arrive in time to assist. His spell told him that Ren was about to be attacked, but it didn't say who the attacker was.
-~-
Syras whipped through the darkness, his speed aided by a slight touch of magic as he flew toward where Ren waited. His paws barely hit the ground before they were airborne again; he saw the eastern road Braed had mentioned and his claws grappled in the dirt of the road as he tried to turn his body in time. Once on that road he slowed; he was close now and he listened. He wondered if he'd manage to arrive before the attack happened but he heard, suddenly and loud to his othersense, the quick, smothered sound of a gasp of pain and he smelled, strong to his canine nose, the quick spike of Ren's fear. A growl was building in his throat as he crept toward the sound and the source of the smell.
Syr had crawled under the building nearest him which appeared to be a tavern, following the touch of his othersense that said this was the way. He crawled toward the back, following the scent now, but froze as Ren made another soft noise of pain almost right above his head. It was followed by a cruel chuckle in a man's heavy voice. "You're a pretty one; Riddien's gonna regret sending me here while he saw to his own business. Come here boy- if you're good it won't hurt. Much."
Syr felt his lips curling away from his teeth in an automatic response to the man's leering tone as he tried to puzzle through the man's words. Riddien was in the area, but not here? Where was he? What could draw his attention even more fully than the level of power Ren offered? A man would have to be blind to turn his back on that kind of power; blind and deaf to magic, or obsessed entirely with some other thing... And with a sudden, sharp clarity that cut him so deeply he thought he would die, Syras knew where Riddien was going. Braed... Dammit, he'd left Braed, who wasn't expecting an attack, who wasn't a match for Riddien in any case... Syras was frozen, torn between the helpless boy above him and the love he held for the man who was now the quarry of the most fearsome wizard Syras had ever seen. He could not help them both- could he even make such a choice? Was it even a choice- would he even be in time to help Braed?
Something was tickling insistently at the back of his mind and, with a flicker of annoyance, Syras finally turned mentally toward the sensation. The touch was unfamiliar- he would have recognized Braed's elegant mental fingers instantly- and if it was Riddien ready to gloat, he swore… But as Syr turned his othersense toward the uncertain touch he realized it was, wonder of wonders, Ren. Their brief contact earlier had opened a pathway and even though he had no training in how to use it Ren, like a man throwing himself bodily against a door found he could get a foot in the jamb and keep it from fully closing, had discovered that throwing as much power as he could at something let him force his way into making part of it happen. This was relayed to Syr in a hurried, unorganized, blurt of thoughts before Ren did the one thing he had been trained to do. He opened himself, his power, and threw it to Syras.
Syr wasn't sure if it was the sudden desperate faith in the gesture or the sheer weight of the power itself that sent him sprawling flat in the dirt. The power flowed through him with a bright vigor and he shifted with barely a thought and not a trace of discomfort. He touched a hand to the floor of the room above him and it disappeared; he rose up into the room- he saw the man who'd spoken leaning over a bed shoved against the far wall of the small room, and Ren under the man twisting in revulsion and fear. Syr walked toward them, a strange sense of otherness surrounding him as he reached out and grasped the man by the back of his shirt and threw him across the room, smashing into the opposite wall. He heard the crack of bones breaking- it was a wonder the wall itself had held- but he didn't care. He had eyes only for Ren as the boy skittered back across the bed, away from him.
"Ren," he said, and he felt the power rolling through him, flowing out through his words and into the room around him. He could command others with this power; he could call this boy to him and take him without force. He held out a hand to Ren, wondering at the fear in the boy's eyes. What was there to be afraid of? Syras was a good man, a fair man, and he would be a fair master…
He had the distinct impression of Braed's staff hitting him between the ears. He stumbled, falling against the bed and to his knees, gasping for breath. What madness had he been thinking? He met Ren's fearful eyes and understood what it was the boy had to be so fearful about. Even more than the sheer power itself, there was something about it, about Ren himself, that begged to be abused. "I'm sorry," he managed to say, and he let the power flow back through him, back down the channel Ren had opened, returning it.
Ren stared at him with incredulous eyes as Syras tried to push himself to his feet in sudden exhaustion. "He was right," Ren murmured, sliding across the bed toward Syras to touch the man's face. "He said you wouldn't hurt me. You said you weren't like other men."
Syr smiled wearily. "I thank you for the loan of your power, and advise you that you find someone to teach you how to use it- and quickly. As for myself I have someone I need to protect." His smile fell. "If it's not already too late. Excuse me." He pushed himself up from beside the bed and turned toward the door, stopping when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned back to meet Ren's eyes.
The boy's bright green eyes met his own shifty yellow ones with a strong determined gaze. "Take it back," Ren said, and Syras could feel the channel opening again.
He stepped back mentally and shook his head as he said, "I can't. I… It almost consumed me last time. You can't trust me to return it a second."
Ren watched him closely. "I don't. I trust him." And he closed his eyes and reached- reached through Syras- for Braed.
-~-
Braed knew the moment his feet touched the road that he'd made a mistake. He shouldn't have sent Syr on ahead, he shouldn't have given a damn about the poor lost child in the first place, he shouldn't have taken any of the steps that had lead him to this moment. The moment his foot touched the road and he looked up to see the figure standing there waiting for him, he knew. "Riddien," he hissed, and he tried to brace himself, tried to muster what control he could, even faced with this- an opponent he knew he could not win against, the appearance of whom still froze him with fear.
Riddien smiled, a slow expression full of malice. "Look what I found here on this dark, country road. A little bird I lost, long ago." His eyes flashed. "Hello Sm'hie."
Braed felt himself shiver, the single full-body shudder turning into an all over shaking that he couldn't seem to stop. No, no, no, seemed to be all his brain could think, and a small plea- Syras, oh, gods please, Syras… though he wasn't even sure what it was he pleaded for.
Riddien stepped toward him, reaching out to take hold of him, but Braed shocked both of them by raising his staff between them and throwing Riddien back with a sudden expulsion of magical energy. Riddien bared his teeth and approached again, with power this time- a power that stole Braed's breath from his throat and sent him to his knees before he had time to think about fighting back.
He went lax in Riddien's grip as the stronger wizard's hands cupped his face, his mind falling back over a thousand memories he wished he could forget. Riddien pulled him up and Braed shivered again as the dark wizard's lips touched his ear. "What are you thinking of, my little bird? Are you thinking of me inside of you, hmmm?"
Braed shuddered, closing his eyes and trying to pull away. "Syras," he whispered, desperately, aware of Riddien's sudden snarl and the painful tightening of the dark wizard's fingers like bars around his face as they lifted him and threw him hard, tossing his body away down the road like a broken toy.
Pain pulled at him, physical and mental, remembered and now real as he pushed himself up on his knees. Crouched in the road, he was pretty sure his ribs were only bruised and even where his skin was cut and torn on the rough gravel of the road the bleeding would stop. He was shaking again- or still- and he cursed softly, cursed himself, his weakness, and cried again for Syras, wanting only the other man's warmth, his presence, and no longer hoping to be saved.
Riddien was coming toward him again, down the road, when between them there was a sudden glow of energy, a concentration of such power that Braed had to look away before he was blinded. When he looked back, Syras was standing there- human Syras, his dark hair a filthy mess over his shoulders as if he'd been rolling in mud, and naked as the day he'd been born. Ren was crouched before him, Syras holding him rather violently by the shoulders, and he was looking up at the shifter wizard with a mingled gaze of hope and fear. Braed breathed in, feeling the movement painfully stretch his bruised ribs but almost not caring in his shocked realization. Syras has Transported here, with Ren's power. He knew Syras had knowledge of the Transport spell, but it was one he hadn't used in recent memory; the power required for it was enormous. Riddien roared in anger at being twice thwarted- he recognized Ren under Syr's thrall- and he moved to attack.
As much stronger as Riddien was than Braed, that's how much stronger Syr, with Ren's aid, was than Riddien. On his own Syr was almost equally matched to the dark wizard, Braed thought he remembered his companion saying once, but now… It was a battle that was over before the first blow had been thought of. Syras turned with lambent eyes toward Riddien as the dark wizard attacked and Riddien stopped, held in that gaze, held frozen in agony as Syras slowly pulled his body apart into pieces no larger than a grain of rice and scattered them about the road.
The night was quiet afterward, the only sound being Syr's labored breathing. Braed pushed himself shakily to his feet, leaning on the staff he'd gathered from where it had fallen. "Syr," he called, approaching the shifter wizard even more slowly than his bruised bones should account for. Syras did not appear to hear him; he was gazing down at Ren with such a look of possessive longing that Braed felt a spike of jealousy.
Ren's eyes darted to meet Braed's. "Call him again," he murmured, wetting his lips in nervous fear.
Braed looked at Syr again, noticing the intense concentration of his obsessive gaze. "Syras," he called, his voice more demanding this time, and Syr did turn to look at him but there was no recognition in his eyes. Braed gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the staff. "Syras Dan'tega," he hissed, "stop being an idiot." He swung the staff as best as his aching ribs would allow, and smacked Syr full across the shoulders with it.
Syras stumbled, blinked, and shuddered. He released Ren as if the boy's skin burned him and wrapped his arms around himself. "Syr," Braed called again, collapsing more than kneeling beside the other man and laying a hand on his arm.
Syr shivered at the touch but reached to cover Braed's hand with his own. "I…" He looked at Ren. "I don't think I can do that again."
Ren smiled, a slight upturn of the lips. "It worked." He moved to a more comfortable seat than where he knelt and wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered in the night air.
Braed pulled his cloak off and tossed it around Ren as he wrapped his own arms around Syras' shoulders; neither of his companions wore anything better than rags and he should probably get them out of the cold night- not that it was doing his own bruised body any good either. "Come on then," he spared a reluctant but entirely blameless glance for the gore strewn road. "We should leave this place." He rubbed Syr's shoulder. "Shift back. I think it will help you."
Syr shook his head. "I… I'm not sure it will." He shivered and sighed. "Alright."
Ren watched him as he shifted easily into the wolfhound form he frequented. "I want to do that," the boy said with a sudden intense hunger, and Syr turned to eye him.
Syr sighed. I told him to find himself a teacher, to show him how to control his power.
Braed smiled, stroking his hand down Syr's back. "So Ren, will you come with us?"
Ren eyes him speculatively. "If I can learn how to do that, then yes."
Braed laughed, the sound strange, but welcome, in the still night. "That and much more."
Ren stood clutching Braed's long cloak around himself, and nodded. "You are strong, and you are…" He searched for a word. "True," he settled on finally. "I want you to teach me how to stop men from taking things from me."
Braed's expression grew softer, recognizing the pain in this boy's past; he felt Syr lean against his leg and he smiled as he looked down to meet those familiar yellow eyes. "Yes, I think that is something we can help you with."
-~-~-
