FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 4

There was a faint sound teasing at his ear, like a pesky mosquito not swatted away. Hadariel coughed loudly as smoke filled his lungs. His eyes winced as he stumbled away from the billowing dark clouds. That had been the most powerful fireball he had ever thrown. It had practically destroyed his mentor’s training area, wooden dummies and all.

“Hadariel! My boy that was simply wondiferous!” Came the cheerful voice of his master booming from the fog of blackened smoke. With a snap of fingers the lingering cloud vanished into thin air, like it had never been there at all.

“Glad you thought so. Was looking to impress you.”The olive skinned human tried to puff out his chest, look proud of his accomplishment of ash and broken wood scattered around the worn stone floor. His pose was ruined as Hadariel coughed a final bit of smoke out of his lungs, running a hand through his almond hair and ruffling it. He smirked, cheeks flushing as his dark brown eyes fell to the wrinkled face of his mentor.

The elder looking elf was named Cyran Adsatra and instead of a frown he was beaming, his pointed ears were practically wiggling in delight as golden rays from the open windows flowed in to kiss their cheeks with it’s warmth. The much shorter male strode over, warmth and pride reflecting in his eyes that reminded Hadariel of the great sparkling ocean to the west. His arms were across his dark green tunic with brown swirls stitched into the surface to look like a mess of tangled roots. His left hand rose to caress his patchy, grey beard. Like moss growing on an old log. The usual near pristine dark skin was creased and covered in ink from the days exploits. Hadariel had to stifle a laugh as the dark black substance smeared on the man’s hairs.

“Hmmm..Such power on display...and with your natural talent over the years..” The elf smirked. “You would most likely have any pick of any college you could want. They would positively love to have young one.”

Hadariel nodded, his smile dominating his face as he bowed low to the wizened elf. He was glad the man had thought so, he had only been training and practicing for this moment practically all his eighteen years of life. For this was a time in every mage’s life. When they would leave their mentor to travel to one of the great colleges and learn from a new master. It was a way of broadening one's knowledge, and often led to specializations in how one would weave the arcane energies around them. “I will remember everything you taught me, and show them why you’re the best teacher in all of Rothdell.” He rose up, his own smile seemingly spread to the elf’s face. He had heard that elves were usually emotionless in other places around Sethera, or even here within his own country, Cyran had thankfully been one of the exceptions.

“You’re being so formal again. I’ve told you for the thousandth time, you can be relaxed with me!” The elf hobbled over to a bookcase that was lined with books of all sorts. Tomes of all sizes and colors lay dormant on the hardwood surface that was polished to near perfection. Sunlight dazzled off the surface as his mentor ran a finger along the multi colored spines, each one a different shade of brown or grey. They were full of nearly every subject that one could want in a testing area, full of spells in enchantments to spend hours getting lost in. Of course Hadariel had already done that with that batch, and he knew it paled in comparison to the great library that was three levels down in this vast tower. He smirked to himself, taking pride in that he had gleaned every book his master possessed, and could damn near recite most of the spells he had learned by memory alone. His master hovered over a book that spoke of the many uses of dragon's blood, then quickly passing to one of memory charms. The human wrinkled his nose as several motes of dust wafted through the sunlight and tickled at his nose.

“You missed some.” Hadariel rose his hand, swishing away the things with a crackling purple spark of a prestidigitation spell. The dust vanished before his eyes with a soft pop.

“Or was I simply leaving some to test your observation skills?” The elf came to stop, swiveling his head around with a coy smirk. He placed a finger to his temple, rapping it several times. “Wizards who can’t see something staring them in the face are useless, and you don’t want to be useless correct?” The man’s voice devolved into chuckles as he closed his eyes and grabbed the bridge of his slender nose. “DId I ever tell you about the time a friend of mine nearly walked into a boulder cause his nose was too buried in one of his books?”

“Only for the near hundredth time.” Hadariel rolled his eyes, catching himself in a mirror that hung alongside the stone wall. He was well built for someone his age. Thin but not reduced to skin and bones. His hair hung at his shoulders, well kept and swept to the side most of the time. Around his neck rested a small golden amulet with an arcane symbol for power etched onto the surface. It had no magical power but it was something he had always held close. Supposedly it had belonged to his father years ago. His clothes were well kept and near pristine, consisting of the near same tunic his master wore, but the colors were reversed. He reached up to the high coller, adjusting the comfortable linen before making sure his earthen colored pants were seated correctly on him.

“Will you cease your observation of yourself?” Laughed his mentor, grabbing a gnarled wooden cane from the side of the book case. “I swear, you will be undone one day by a mirror if they captivate you so.” The man waved to him as he started to walk towards the far window that practically was the wall with it’s dominating size. The man waved his hands, two clay cups with a light almond colored drink popped into existence, floating around his head in a slow circular fashion. From the cups came a small trickle of steam that rose from the surface like little off white serpents. Hadariel knew from experience this was from the cold of the drink, not the heat. For that was how angel’s kiss was always served, chilled to a near freezing by magic. “Humor me so that we may share one last cup of this delightful tea before you go off to Dukworth.” The man rose a brow, his wrinkly face growing even more so.

“How did you know?” The word surprised him. He had been considering other options but Dukworth was a cut above the rest. They always turned out the best mages of all of Sethera.

“I..Have my ways.” The elf said with a coy smile, a twinkle in his eyes as he began his stride straight for the window anew. The multicolored glass window suddenly shook itself free from the wall, a loud groan filling the air as stone fell apart and glass shifted and shrunk. Hadariel had been surprised the first time his master’s lair had shaken and screeched as it changed around them. The stone and wood seemingly able to take on whatever his master wanted at the time. From extra study rooms to places to train, nothing seemed to be impossible for this level of magic. He remembered how red his face had gotten, and how his master had laughed for untold minutes at the boys surprise. Though after hundreds if not thousands of times it didn’t phase him anymore than the breeze gently caressing his cheek.

The stone grew outward like a rising monolith, jutting from the tower like a mighty thorn. It formed a platform with a railing made from the glass. A table grew from the stone floor like a weed, along with it two chairs molded into shape before his eyes.

Hadariel slunk over, glancing from the table to the vast city that sprawled out below. The busy place that he called his home, Zarcana, and the beating heart of his great nation of Rothdell. The air smelled of the mountains in the distance, mixed with the salty tang of the sea. It was dry and hot, his mouth already begging him for that drink slowly floating around Cryan’s ears. From the stone laden streets grew trees of rock and wood, buildings of business and pleasure. People busily making their way through the banner clad marketplaces, stopping to fill the air with their chattering sounds as they shopped and went about their business. From the market his eyes drifted higher, to the gleaming buildings painted in silver and golds. Places that the elite spell casters lived, the next caste within their society. He shielded his eyes as the sun caught one building, the brilliant glare stinging his spheres. He shifted his view from those gleaming eyesores to the grand spires that towered above even them.

Like pillars of etched beauty they reached for the very heavens themselves. Artwork of all colors dotted nearly every structure this tall, and reinforced with charms and spells to keep them maintained. It was here the oldest and wisest families of wizards called home, and gazed down to their fellows with pride. Hadariel’s eyes caught a soaring bird with red tipped feathers dancing in the air. It spun around his view, opening its wings into a gently glide as it passed by with a keening cry. It was here his eyes caught the horizon, and the sun shining brightly above the darkened clouds in the distance. Lightning danced across their surfaces to an unknown beat.

Those storms would never reach the city, there were wards and protective measures in place to stop such things, for as he focused on the brilliant flashes he spotted swirling sand below it. He knew that these were no normal thunderstorms, and could leave absolute devastation in their wake. For they were storms of pure magical energy that ripped apart the land in their path. It varried what would happen if one was caught within one such thing. Some storms could chill the very desert, and make ice and snow that would kill a man in a matter of moments. Others would contain such heat that skin would be seared to the bone as the sands below were melted and shifted into glass. Rarily some would twist the landscape into odd shapes, growing rocks or plants were none had any right to exist. He watched it slowly billow out in the horizon, fascinated by their existence. It was just another thing to learn about when he left, as he had found no books to tell him just what they were. Each time he had asked his mentor the man’s eyes would grow clouded, silent, as if he were fighting an inner battle.

“In time you will learn.” Was the best answer that he had gotten over the years, and despite his protests it had to suffice for now. Besides, it only fueled his desire for knowledge, promising adventures to explore the unknown and learn every little secret this world had to hide beneath stone and grass.

“Your tea is getting hot. “I’m going to drink it if you just stand there gazing at the place like a lover.”

Hadariel turned back with a flush face as his master had taken a seat, slurping away at his cool drink.

“The city will still be there in five minutes, even if you stop to drink your tea.” The elf leaned back into his cushioned chair, eyes closing softly as an exhale of bliss left his form.

“You can’t just let me bask in the sights and enjoy myself can you? It could be very well be the last time that I see this place you know!” He laughed, slinking into the chair adorned with glyphs. The moment his bottom touched the dark green cushion he felt a sudden cold strike his spine like lightning. He shivered and gasped, nearly letting out a moan of pleasure as the heat from around them faded away. “Is…” He adjusted himself, crossing his arms on the table as his skin tingled in absolute delight. “This a cooling charm on the cushions?” He leaned back, grabbing his tea with a soft clink. “I’m not staying here you know. You can’t seduce me with such lovely things.”

“Oh drat.” The elf chuckled, not opening his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, looking entirely content to simply stay there. “You found out my masterful plan you wise and powerful mage. Whatever shall I do in the face of such wisdom?”

He rose the cup to his lips deciding to play along with the teasing man. “Well it’s a wonder I ever unraveled such a dastardly plot.” He breathed in the sweet chestnut smell that flowed into his nostrils and pulled him closer. It tugged his mind back to long nights within his books embrace, a cup of this brew close at hand. If it was one thing he was going to miss among his things, it was this. He sipped the drink, sighing as the familiar tastes swished along his tongue and radiated down his gullet. He sighed in delight and leaned back even further in his chair, a near perfect reflection of his relaxing master.

They basked in each other’s company, silence lingering in the air as they admired the lofty clouds, a stray bird that darted by, or the whistling of the wind as it blew through their hair. When his drink was finished he rose with a smile, giving the man that had taught him so much a long, heavy bow. He would have loved to stay but there was much to do and prepare. He did have to pack his things after all.

“I take it you want to go?” Cryan set his cup and plate down with a sigh lingering on his breath. “I’ll send word to Dukworth within the hou. Tell them that I recommend not taking it easy on you. Let them admire one of my greatest students to ever grace my halls.

He felt his chest fill with pride as he righted himself, a grin finding his lips. “That would be wonderful. Hopefully they can provide me with a challenge that you seemed unable to do so in all my years here.”

“Watch that tongue boy. I can still rethink my words with them and have you instead cleaning the grounds!”

“You’d never do that.” He rose a finger to call the mage’s bluff. “You’d feel guilty and have your pride tarnished at having produced such an abysmal candidate.”

“Damn..You know me well.” Cryan smiled, the elderly mage bolting up with a speed of a man half his age. The elf wrapped his arms around the teen and pulled him tight.

“Well clearly,” Hadariel groaned, the air practically pushed from his lungs. “You act like your losing a son in these moments.”

“Almost am! I’ve had you here long enough. Watched you come through here wide eyed, didn’t know anything. Now look at you. Tall and proud, and wielding enough talent to send you wherever it is that you turn your sail.” Cryans eyes misted. “I wish you the best of luck Hadariel. “ The elf patted his back, then clasped him on the shoulder and shook his hand.

The human wiped his eyes, accounting it to the dust as he gripped the elves hand firmly. “I’ll be sure to write when I get the chance. Make you jealous with all the spell feats of wonder.

“Of that you can be certain boy. You show them just what you can do.”

With a wave of his hand, Hadariel trotted back to the training room and snatched his wooden glider from the far wall and flung his leather backpack around his shoulders. He grazed his fingers along the smooth wood of the underside of his glider, finding a small indentation and pressing the button with a click. Tiny wings sprouted from the bottom, and large ones out of the top. They were of bright orange, with squiggly lines flowing over the surface like the waters waves. He grabbed the handle firmly on the underside, taking a running start before leaping from the tower with a mighty yell that seemed to pierce the sky.

Wind kissed his cheeks as his whole body felt all tingly. He did a quick spin as he became more adjusted, the artistic tower below him passing in a blur of reds and golds. He caught a current and rose with it, eventually tapering off into a tight spiral descent. He sighed as his eyes scanned the ever grouping people, the sea of flesh and fur below.He pulled his hand away for just a moment, drawing a sigil in the air and uttering a quick spell phrase. With it retracted the air around him grew calmer, and his neck tingled as his hairs began to stand on end. His descent slowed down as he closed his eyes and felt the wind bend and twist around him. With a mere thought he pushed the air against his glider, changing his course so that he glode carefully over a group of gathered people. Little cubs and children ran after him from parents, pointing in rapturous glee as he passed by. He gave warm waves and nods to any that gave him one first, some even calling out his name as he fluttered above their heads and ruffled any loose cloth and banners in his wake.

Teens flying on magically enhanced brooms tried to keep up as he danced above a clearing made for many trees, grass, and flowers within the populated city. They hooted challenges, but failed to keep up as he grinned and sped passed them. He darted above the merchant district next, gazing down to the busy stores that tried their damndest to sell any spell or potion they thought a wizard would need. He spied a mana potion saleswoman, a brown furred gnoll holding up glass bottles filled to the brim with a thick blue substance. He stuck his tongue out as she was soon behind him, remembering how that concoction had almost made him vomit. His mind tried to remind him how having more mana to fuel his spell slots would be nice, but he countered that being hunched over and heaving he wouldn’t be good to anyone.

A loud roar pulled his mind from the foul tasting liquid. He found the culprit soon after, a lion like creature strolling through the streets with great batlike wings folded against it’s back. It’s fur was dark as midnight and it sported a golden collar around its neck engraved with an onyx colored eye on the surface. It’s tail swept behind it, with numerous long thin spines sticking from the hide, looking more like cactus than anything else. The points caught the sun’s rays and made Hadariel shield his eyes from the intense light. He winced as the creature called a manticore rose it’s head, predatory eyes following him through the sky then shifting to the two humanoids walking with it.

They were clad in dark green leathers with magical symbols stitched into the hide, with swords held within scabbards and blue tattoos around their eyes. One was a gnoll with almond fur, rusling the manticore’s head like he was a favored pet. The other was a human, whose eyes never ceased his tracking of the playfully gliding mage. They must have eased the beast for his interest was soon lost, instead the lion like creature set it’s eyes back to the crowds with a final snort.

Hadariel grinned as he watched the three depart with careful strides through the busy people. They were called eldritch warriors, the chosen guards of Rothdell. Where some countries like Lumara or Drenedar had simple guards with spears and shields, his nation had something a tad different and vastly more effective than the standard rank and file.

Though the eldritch warriors did wield spells, swords and shields. They also carried something the others could not. They wielded destruction magic most of all, tossing around fire, earth, water, or even bolts of ice to snare their foes. While they didn’t truly grasp the mastery a wizard could enjoy to enchantments or illusions some had a flicker for such talents to at least pull off said task. He gave the stern looking guards a wave, getting nothing but a glare with narrowed eyes in response. He shrugged and left them in the dust.

He winced as a gust suddenly brought dirt to his eyes, making him long for his goggles he had apparently left back at his mentors. Something he told himself would be yet another reason to return at some point. He tilted his glider as his eyes misted, following the streets below like a road as he rounded an ornate building covered in painted art. It showed the history of his people, taming magic to do their will and rising this glorious city from the desert. It had been a testament his master had said, that through their ingenuity that they could build somewhere anywhere. No matter how fierce the winds howled, nor how scathing the heat became. The pictures of vast landscapes contained animals and humanoid figures that moved around with the semblance of life. A flock of painted birds flew along the surface as he neared, as if adding him to their flight without a word.

Pleasure found voice from him as his bellowing cry echoed through the air, His skin tingled from the winds caress, his heart pounding in his chest as he did a quick barrel roll, nearly gliding into the tops of those massed on the ground. He was free for lack of a better word, and that fact brought him untold warmth as those below glanced up to see the happy mage. Though as he rounded the next corner, all that good cheer died away as it was filled with people of a different sort, a stark contrast to what lay behind him.

They wore ragged looking clothing in dark browns or greys. While most others had pristine like clothing, there's had been in shambles, patchworked, belts that looked close to bursting. The multirace hoard of people looked as though a shower had never graced their skin or fur as they marched towards the city gates. On the edge of this mass of groaning but otherwise silent collection of people were eldritch warriors clad in black and gold, a sign of the office calling itself the task masters.

Hadariel scowled as his eyes lingered on the dirt covered knees and scratched up faces of these people. They were called the untouchables, and they inhabited every corner of their empire. They were without families that held power or magic to call their own, and were used for manual labor or indentured servitude at best. His lips curled into a sneer, staring at the whips the taskmasters held within their hands as they rode large white horses clad in the same black barding as their armor. The men and women's fierce eyes glared down, looking for any to fall out of line, Hadariel almost expected they were hoping one would do this.

The young mage growled as his stomach nagged at him. His mother had told him how to respect the less fortunate, to help those without magic instead of treating them like slaves or cattle. His anger rose as he thought to how some of the upper wizards, even some in the council of magi considered magic to be the next evolution in mortal life. That those without it were somehow lesser people, and the way of the old world.

When I’m an older master mage...I’ll free those people.

The words he told his mother the day he had been enlightened of their plight. They still surfaced in his mind and shouted to him, guiding his hands as he glided passed a banner and out of view. Wherever that group was heading he pictured it wasn’t pleasant, and he prayed for their safety to the goddess Paladine. The god he figured would listen to such pleas.

He swept low, then rising towards the middle level, narrowly missing a forming viranda from the structure’s gleaming stone. Several shouts followed in his wake, calling after him as an upset looking elf with dark skin shook his fist and shot daggers from his eyes. The mage rolled his eyes, flowing with the current in a spiral, climbing higher and higher until he graced the lofty tops of the city once more. He passed the central tower that stood among the rest, like a tree in the middle of a field it watched over the rest like a silent guardian. It’s gleaming red gemmed top gleamed with an eerie glow, one that could be seen for miles when the sun had set below the horizon. He circled around it, drawing the eyes of several more guards that had poked their heads out of open windows that darted the thing like little islands on a sea of art. He closed his eyes as he righted himself, basking in the bone warming rays from the sun above. It spread through him like a spring’s day, filling every corner of his being with delightful heat. For a brief fraction of a moment he realized why gryphons and dragons loved flying so much. Though he couldn’t even enjoy this before his mind nagged at him once more.

You got stuff to do. His mind whispered to him, fighting back the tickling of his skin from a blissful breeze. With a smirk he scanned the city below to spy the landmark that was close to his home. It was a small guard tower with a hanging blue banner that flowed all the way to the ground. He tilted his glider, entering a descending spiral as the winds battered against his face. He unfolded his glider, picking up speed as he entered a freefall, something that he had done plenty of times. He closed his eyes, savoring the whistling of the wind that whipped by his ears and ruffled his hair. He shouted as he passed the safe line, a section of flags that fluttered among the golden stone. He unfolded his glider, suddenly catching the wind and rising with a sudden rush. His stomach lurched as his descent was reversed and he rose like the tide. When he finally righted himself he took a calming breath, and flew back to his mother’s house.

He entered a bank and circled the nearly twenty foot tower with a small blue flag added to the onyx capped roof. It fluttered away in the wind, almost as if the cloth was greeting him back home. These streets were less crowded than the ones near the marketplace, only people here and there walking along. The cobblestone wasn’t as wide, just enough room to fit a decent sized wagon long ways. When he spied his mother’s house he chuckled, a dark grey stone a sore thumb in comparison to the greens and browns that dotted every other house. Three windows in the shape of crescent moons were at uneven levels, with one oval door with a dull steel handle at the base. Flowers and vines hung from the awning like little serpents, some even spreading to the building’s walls and growing there.

Hadariel landed in a space without people, his boots gently touching the stone as his body shifted with a bump. He refolded the glider with a click as memories of his home and mother’s love wound their way round his heart and tugged firmly. He strode over with a near bounce in his step mind already jumping ahead to the things he wanted to pack. There was his potion ingredients, several books, some robes, perhaps an empty wand or two so he could practice making them. Shapes and sensations swirled around as thousands of ideas bombarded him all at once. He had to stop and shake his head, forcing the voices to fade away as he reached out and grabbed hold of the metal handle.

It was cool to the touch, and thankfully it recognized his hands. The last few times the thing had malfunctioned and shocked him for not uttering the guest password of all things. He pushed firmly, the door opening without the slightest of sound. Mother might have been ecentric in her ways of crafting potions and her shop might have been an organized mess, but her home had always been neat and orderly it was her domain after all, and the door wasn’t allowed to make a sound without her say so.

“Mother, I’m home!” He called out, taking a step inside the well lit entryway as smells of potion ingredients wafted along the air and wrapped around his head. There wasn’t much in the first room, a bookcase filled with tomes, a desk in one corner with neatly stacked books and paper, a quill and ink bottle rested beside a closed yellow book cover. Unlit candles dotted the many tables, the desk, and some were even placed at sections of the wall not covered with pictures he or his mother had drawn. Those bore the same enchantment as the ones outside, so that the creative creations of theirs could move and wander between the frames. Even the scribbles he drew as a young child found their way across the magical expanse.

Silence greeted him from the seemingly empty home, as warmth from the sun flowed through a window to tease at his skin. “Hello?” He placed the glider by the door as he shut it softly, not wanting to rattle any of the empty potion bottles that rested on a shelf that were shoulder height on the far wall. “Hmmmm.” He grumbled, padding his way through the familiar surroundings, stepping over a maroon rug placed before an empty fireplace. He rubbed his chin as he passed, still catching a whiff of the blackened soot from within. Perhaps she was taking a nap in her room? Even though it was close to the middle of the day it was possible. She often worked herself to the bone to maintain this and her supply shop. It wasn’t like he had a father to help them. He stopped at a painting along the wall, one of his late father a beaming smile of pride lingering in his emerald eyes. The drawing’s man brushed his almond hair from his eyes, giving the mage a quick wave. Hadariel looked away with a sigh, the man had died when he was just a small boy. He pushed away the memory from his mind as the voice of his father whispered inside of his head that he loved him.

With the first room inspected he moved onwards to the door to the next, quietly placing a hand to the wood and slowly cracking it open like it was made of brittle glass and any misstep would shatter it. He poked in his head to see what he had expected to be there, the kitchen. It shared the fireplace with the previous room, a metal pot held suspended over the inert fireplace. Another table stood atop a dark green rub, all worn and scratched from years of use. It even had a small scorch mark splattered on the surface from when he had been experimenting with gargoyle flakes. He eyed a lone box of wood with an engraving of a symbol for cooling. Within were meats, milks, drinks that many other countries struggled to keep cool without magic. He stepped in slowly as a slight tingle went up his spine, eyes staring at the dark grey pots and pans that hung on nails from the walls. The sensation spread to the base of his skull, the heat around him vanishing. He rose a brow, carefully bending down to look beneath the table looking for something out of place. He just knew something was missing in here. He could just feel it, it was right on the tip of his tongue he had just had to find it. He stood back up, crossing his arms firmly against his chest when he noticed that the paintings on the wall opposite of him were all wide eyed and pointing behind him.

Instinct took over as he stepped forward harshly, spinning round quick as a flash and dropping into a well practiced combat stance. His feet were firmly planted against the stone floor, while his hands held out as if he were to start boxing.

Nothing was there.

He felt foolishness lap at his cheeks as blood started to rush to them and warm him. His eyes darted back and forth at the empty doorwa.He sighed when it became clear he had stood there in tense anticipation too long with his muscles ready to spring. “Nice try guys, thanks for the practical-” He turned around, only to be sent flying forwards as an invisible force sent him sprawling. He flung his hands out to catch himself but the air did that first.

\A violent wind spawned in the kitchen, it rattled pots and pans in a loud clanging orchestra, tore pictures from the wall, but it caught his fall. Without help from himself he was lifted off his feet and placed within one of the chairs that groaned beneath the sudden weight. Fear tugged at his mind as he tried to blink away the utter shock lingering within his bones. His eyes widened as were nothing had been, were now three humanoids in black leather armor.

Each had a golden eye engraved onto their chests, billowing dark green cloaks coming to a stop as the wind died around them. Two wore masks that rose up like a gryphon’s crown feathers with the one in the center bearing a blackened hood. The hooded human rose his hand, gesturing to the two gnolls on either side of him. His fingers were covered with ruby rings with gold bands. “Make sure the place is clear.” The man hissed, it was calm and cool, but carried with it the weight of a dragon.

“As you say.” his companions replied in unison. The warriors strode passed Hadariel without a care. He noted as their cloaks brushed his chair that both of them bore no weapons.

“Having a fine day Hadariel?” The hooded man grinned, bright white teeth glinting in the light. He pulled out the other chair with a scrape and lifted his hood to show off his short blackened hair.

“H-How do you know my name?” Hadariel stuttered, as he tried to regain his senses. These intruders bore the same type of armor as the guards outside, and had the arcane mark of the high council of mages. Though despite them not being crooks or criminals the man’s smile still send shivers down his spine something awful. “And why are you in my home?” He turned his head as the others opened the other door, practically slamming it against the wall and rattling the pots once more. “Hey! She could be-”

“Your attention should be on me boy.” The stranger slammed his hand on the table loudly enough to make the boy jump in surprise.

Hadariel’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the piercing blue eyes of his intruder. “And whom do you think you're supposed to be? You wear the colors of the taskmasters but don’t seem to have their symbols or whips.”

“Ah good.” The man folded his hands across the table with a lingering chuckle. “You pay attention.” He unfolded his hands and rose a finger, “Let me answer your questions dutifully and in the order you presented them. We have done our research on you Hadariel, and would have had you much sooner if previous events had not happened.” The man looked around at his surroundings, a smile tugging at his lips. “And you were here all this time.” He muttered, “Utterly fascinating.”

The teen coughed into his fist, the man’s face twisting into a sneer as eyes trained back to him.

“The why, is because we were searching for you.”

Questions bubbled to the surface of his mind as he sat transfixed by the man’s gaze. It pierced his skin, went through the marrow of his bones, part of him suspected it could even see his soul.”Well, we’ve been here the entire time, don’t know what you mean by the other stuff.” He rubbed his head as it began to ache, like a hand had taken hold of his skull and squeezed.

The man’s smile turned sweet, yet despite the appearance of warmth it did little to comfort him. If anything it made it more concerned. “Have you ever heard of the magisters?”

“Magisters?” Hadariel rose a brow, nearly turning as the sound of shattering glass sounded out from behind him. He fought the urge and met the man’s eyes instead. “Never heard of them to be honest.”

“Precisely.” The man shot back, snapping his finger, his words lingering in the air. “You’re not supposed to. That’s the point. What you do need to know is that you’re coming with us this evening.”

“But I was going to get set for Dukworth! Just talk to my master he can tell you!” Pleas poured from his mouth about his work, how much he had studied, and the grueling hours he had spent in preparation for this day. Yet despite all of this, the man’s now stern gaze didn’t shift. Like a steel bulwark against the wind he held firm.

“You will not be going to that place, despite the high level of that college.” He sighed, drumming his fingers across the table with a withering glance. “If only this had been done earlier, you wouldn’t have these aspirations.” He clicked his tongue, “You’ll be coming with us.”

“And if you’re going to just kidnap me, why even have this chat at all? Why not enchant me? Why not even just kill me?” He stood up, slamming his palms against the table as through his anger he found courage. He had not worked so hard to have everything unwravel and fall apart, not when he was so close.

The man’s eyes shifted to his own, a heavy exhale passing through his lips. The blue pools filled with a maliciousness that made Hadariel’s skin crawl. “I suggest you sit back down before you end up getting hurt boy.” He hissed.

Hadariel’s courage wavered, like a torch before a mighty wind.There was a coldness within that man’s eyes. Something he had not seen before, even when looking to the taskmasters that looked to their slaves. This was something else, something horrifying, and his hair stood on end as the man’s gaze seemed to ice the very air.

“And why we decided to have this chat instead of those dreadfully impolite methods? I’d rather talk to you in the face before snatching you up. Much more civil about this sort of thing. I also wanted to get to know you a little better, there is so much time to catch up after all!”

He found himself sitting back down as that coldness passed between the pair. “You act as though this is a simple chat we’re having. That you’re not about to take me from my home.”

“But it is a simple chat.”

“Nothing here sir! The mother’s out!” Shouted the gnoll guard from before, it made Hadariel sigh in relief, at least she wasn’t here.

“Fine. I’ll accept that you’re going to take me here from my home, but I want some answers from you first. Since after all you’re being all polite and gentleman like as it were.”

“Naturally.” The man smiled, folding his hands gently across the table. “Ask away my boy.”

“Why do you need me anyway? I figure that’s why you didn’t kill me. Otherwise you might have come in with spells flying, or stabbed me in the back when you were invisible.”

“Yes that would be an excellent observation you’ve made. Well it is true that we don’t need you alive specifically, but someone like you.” The man leaned back in his chair, resettling his weight. “Not to say you’re not important, cause you are. Though I can’t go too much into details I’m afraid. Perhaps years ago when it was still small and we could have taught you how to shield your mind perhaps, but not now. Something terrible might happen if we tell you.”

“Wonderfully. Isn’t that a tad coincidental. You can’t tell me? What’s going to happen will my head explode out of sheer amazement?”

“Something like that I suppose.”

Hadariel sighed, “So what happens to my mother then when you’ve taken me?” He eyed behind the man’s head, already trying to picture a way to escape. He just had to keep the man talking, let him think he had the complete upper hand in the situation.

“She lives here without any more cares to trouble her. She thinks her son ran away or something or was killed in a back alley. Whatever her mind wants to concoct.”

“Wait...So this wouldn’t be a temporary thing? You’re going to keep me forever?”

“More or less.” The man chuckled, “You are far too dangerous to be left out here with the others.”

“Well why am I so dangerous? Because I’m the best student my teacher saw in years?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps it’s because I’m eighteen, or that I don’t like the taskmasters? What makes me...practically an apprentice magician so dangerous to the likes of everyone?”

“I can’t tell you that...Just yet. Perhaps after we’ve had years of training, and your mind is cleared we can attempt. But not now.”

“Then what good was this talk! You’ve told me next to nothing to convince me to go with you!”

“My name is Armaros. We are the magisters.” He gestured out with wide arms. “That is more than most people get to learn about us. You’re coming with us, and how rough we are depends totally on the level of your resistance.”

“What are you going to do if I resist? You just admitted to needed me alive.” Hadariel leaned back in his chair with a smile, folding his hands behind his head. “Sounds like I can start making demands if I so choose. Especially if you need me so badly.”

“Hello?” A familiar voice came from the front door. It was as strong as a dragon and as caring as a gryphon’s caress. One that could settle your nerves in the fiercest of storms. “Saw the glider Hadariel, I know you’re here!”

His blood froze, his mother was here. His eyes met Armaros’ for a brief second, they warned him to not even try. How could he resist calling to his mother? Warn her of these magisters. He pushed back his fear and defied the man with a blazing fire. “Mom! The magisters are here!” He shouted out, making Armaros’ face twist into a scow as he shot up from his seat, throwing the chair with a clatter.

“So be it boy I-” He started to say, a vein popping from his forehead before the table leapt at him.

The wooden thing twisted and formed into an amorphous shape, wrapping around the surprised magister like a sea creature from the deep. It pulled his arms close against his body, squeezing tight and making him shout out his fury as his face turned a bright red. Hadariel stood shocked, frozen as he watched the man topple over to the floor groaning in pain. How long had their table been able to do that?

“What are you standing around for?” His mother shouted, practically leaping into the room with her arms raised. Her braided blonde hair flopped behind her back, beads of all various colors intertwined with the strands. Her fierce amber eyes locked onto the man, a smile coming to her pencil thin lips at his pained struggles.

“Get the witch!” Came a shout from the two guards from before as twin bolts of fire shot forth from the doorway.

His mother reacted with the skilled grace of a duelist. She spun to avoid one, the flames striking a painting on the wall and bursting it to cinders. The other she uttered a word, catching the spell and tossing it back where it came. In a fluid motion she ran a finger down her dark grey blouse and stopping when she grazed her black studded belt. “Get them my pretties.” She laughed, as the chairs came to life.

Hadariel fell to the floor as the wooden furniture that had been holding him slipped free of his bottom and leaped like an animal onto a guard that emerged into the kitchen wielding a sword and shield of pure flames. The gnoll let out a surprised cry as he was wrapped up like Armaros, his weapons blinking out of existence.

The other guard was ready when the other chair leaped for her. She lashed down with a whip of electricity, slicing clean through the chair like a warm knife through butter. The skilled woman side stepped a ray of intense cold his mother flung from her fingertips and sliced her companion free with her next attack.

He shook his head, blinking away the shock and indecision as he held his hands out. They came to life with little sparks of blue light as he traced a sigil in the air. He finished it with a smile as his mother traded spells with the pair of magisters, the blue light flowed out from his fingertips to wrap around the first gnoll. The blue magical tendrils caressing his fur and locked his arm, but it wasn’t to be. The spell faltered and broke apart just as the table holding Armaros shattered into pieces.

“You brought this on yourselves you two!” The man roared, leaping to his feet moments before getting slammed back into the wall by a gust of wind.

“Come on!” His mother yelled, desperation in her voice as a wall of stone rose from the floor, blocking off the two magisters with an angry, muffled yell. She grabbed Hadariel’s hand, pulling him towards the other room.

“But what about-” He stuttered, heart pounding in his chest. “We’re will we go?”

“We lost them once before...We’ll do it again.” His mother grumbled, throwing open the front door with a slam. “We just got to find a new place, settle down. They really aren't good at finding me.”

“Think again!” Armaros shouted as Hadariel’s mother found stone wrapping around her legs. She stumbled and fell, the ground seemingly coming alive as it shaped and warped around her body to bind arms and legs.

Hadariel spun round, focusing on his fireball from earlier that day. How the magic had made him feel during that moment. The spine tingling that made it more powerful. With fire in his eyes he drew the symbol, blackened flames springing from his hands like water. He smirked as he saw a knowing fear suddenly appear in Armaro’s eyes. He shouted out his spell for all to hear, losing a blackened ball of flames towards the magister. It soared through the air, sucking in all the light as if the air seemed to reject it’s presence. The magister blinked out of existence with a hand to his head, the sphere of fire instead hitting the door of his mother’s house. It struck the wood and exploded out in a violent onyx explosion that shook the very ground. The vines melted away, the flowers turned to ash, the door splintered with a crack. Screams sounded out from the two guards as they must have come rushing, only to meet a grisly end from the powerful spell. People screamed and ran as debris flew every which way, and Hadariel was knocked to his ass from the shear force.

“Run!” His mother screamed, the stone still binding her tight.

“I just have to…get you free.” He scrambled over, tugging on the stone that wouldn’t budge. He held up a hand, feeling the magical energy still present on the ground. All he had to do was focus on a different spell, one that would disable this enchantment.

“He’s still around!”

“Yea but we can escape together.” He pressed his finger to the stone, the magic word passing his lips, but before he could finish he felt the spell cutoff short again, just like in the house.

“As I said..You’re coming with us.” Armaros hissed, appearing out of thin air with his hands raised. The man’s face was brimming with anger, flames pouring from his eyes. He slashed out with a palm, the air igniting in his wake with purple energy.

Nerves stung as Hadariel leaped back, nearly stumbling as he focused on preventing the spell from effecting him.

“Just go!” His mother shouted as Armaros stepped over her prone body, his hands already weaving another attack in the blink of an eye.

He fought instinct screaming in his ear, activating his glider and leaping into the air. He looked away with a stretched heart as he summoned forth some air with a mere thought, rising him above the street to an angered roar from his attacker. His mind scrambled to figure out where to go where he’d be safe. His mentor? Surely the man would be able to help him escape. Perhaps he would even know a thing or two about these magisters, and they could help him get his mother back from their clutches. He set his course for that as he rose higher, but his blood turned to ice as he heard his mother scream.

“Get back here boy!” Armaros shouted in a terrible fury. He had risen his mother’s head just enough to expose her neck and had a blade placed right to it. Blood ran down the blackened metal like rain, droplets starting to pool on the stone below. “Submit to capture or she dies!”

All at once his plan shattered, he felt cast out into an empty void as ice wrapped around him. He looked to her wavering eyes, and his heart throbbed. How could he leave her to die? He asked himself moments before the man started counting down. His mind fought with his heart with each passing second, like a raging storm within him. “Don’t hurt her!’ He screamed, banking low and landing with his arms raised. “You can have me, just don’t kill her!” He tossed his glider to the ground with a clatter. He watched his mother’s eyes fall. As if she was disappointed in his choice. Let her be disappointed though, he’d much rather have her alive to do so.

“Excellent.” Armaros sneered, gesturing to Hadariel with his neck. “Restrain the boy.”

Two figures appeared from the crowd of onlookers, clad in the same armor and hood Armaros bore. The humans held out onyx colored manacles and a collar engraved with magical runes along its surface. They clapped the manacles on with a clang, binding Hadariel’s hands around his back. He winced as they snapped on the collar.The metal felt piercing cold, like it was freezing him from the inside out. His legs wobbled, his knees buckled, and he fell flat on his face to the ground.

“You might have to get used to the bindings.Can’t be too careful I suppose.” Armaros sighed in relief, “Now get some for the mother too, she’s coming with us.”

“Why sir?” Asked one of the guards. “We have the boy, why not leave her here?”

“Because, I think we found an excellent motivation for him later.” The magister strode over, blurring as Hadariel’s vision wavered. Armaros crouched down, lifting the mage’s chin with a rough hand. “This could have gone much differently boy if you’d just accepted this. The pain you feel, that bitter sting? That’s your fault this day.”

“Gah..go..to…” Words drifted from him, as the world begin to spin before his eyes. He heard the man say something, but it sounded like a muffled cry. He felt his head hit the ground moments before blackness took him.