FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(This story happens about halfway through the tale of one of my oldest characters, Ardin Kal’moore, a wolf who discovers he has a knack for enchanting items with magic. This story specifically follows Ardin’s mate, Bahn Dragorum, after tragedy befalls the couple. Major spoilers for the eventual story, but this is what I was inspired to write, so here it is. Direct inspiration: Everytime by Brittany Spears)

The dark purple sky crackled with lighting, wind whirling around the barren rocky ground. A man walked among this desolation, searching, seeking. The cruel wind whipped at his draconic wings and tail, the lightning harshly illuminating his black scales. Freezing rain began to pelt him, stinging as it was flung from every angle by the wind. But still he searched.

Bahn Dragorum trudged through this hateful place. He never questioned why he was here or why he thought his love was here. He just knew. They had to get out of this terrible place. Together. He wasn’t leaving until he found… There!

Standing just a few yards away was a wolf. His white fur seemed to glow in the witchlight. Turned away, Bahn could see the tattoos adorning his back, the sigils magically etched there when he’d earned phantom wings of his own. Left wing of the Demon, right wing of the Divine. The dragon knew of no one else ever receiving that honor, that branding, that burden.

Bahn charged forward, maybe this time if he was fast enough- But the furious winds picked up, finally choosing a direction. Away from his beloved. He felt his claws dig into the rocks, his wings tucked tight against his back. It took all his strength to stay upright, and still he felt himself slide backward, clawed feet scraping furrows in the rock below.

“Ardin!” he screamed into the wind. He cried again and again but his love didn’t seem to hear over the deafening wind and rain that was steadily picking up. Yet the wolf seemed unaffected, his fur pristine and dry, unruffled, unbothered. Bahn fell to the ground, began using his clawed hands to pull himself forward, feeling his throat go hoarse from the shouting. “Ardin, please!”

The wolf finally turned to look down at the crawling dragon. Any elation Bahn felt at seeing his lover’s face was broken by the tears streaking from the wolf’s eyes. One green, one blue. The hurt and anguish in those eyes made the hateful wind and freezing rain feel gentle in comparison. No, the dragon thought. Not again. Please not again.

His love gently reached a hand out to him, Bahn’s hand stretching, straining. Only inches away but it may as well have been miles. Ice began pelting him, leaving bruises and bloody marks all along his body. But that was nothing compared to the hurt in Ardin’s mismatched eyes.

“Why won’t you save me?” The shock of his lover’s voice, the pain and recrimination shattered Bahn’s heart anew and ripped him from this awful place.

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Bahn woke with a start and a shout, the thin sheet covering him wrapped around his leg and twisting him in an awkward angle. His breath came in ragged gasps and starts, his eyes streaming fresh tears. His confusion and panic slowly passed into sobs as he curled in on himself and wept. His tail curled around him and his wings enveloped him, hiding him from the world and this empty room. His room. Their room.

Gentle morning light filtered in through the window. Ardin had insisted on the east facing window, using the sun to force them out of bed in the morning, but not bothering them at night. The north wall held their small fireplace and a large wooden desk they shared, cluttered with books and notes, seemingly random knick knacks gathering dust. Bhan hadn’t touched it since… A dresser and door took up much of the western wall, the southern wall occupied by their large bed. A bed much too big for one person, even one who took up as much space as Bahn. All other wallspace was taken by bookshelves. They weren’t completely covered in books, the house had an actual library for most of them, but this room held their favorites and every shelf was full. Mementos of their travels, various artifacts Ardin had enchanted, pictures and gifts from their friends.

Slowly, the dragon untangled himself from his sorrow, then the bedsheets. Try as he may, he couldn’t ignore the world forever. Time passed and took its due. And his body still had needs. The growl of his belly reminded him he hadn’t eaten before bed, not even sure when he last had. He pushed himself from the bed, taking a moment to caress a small painting on the dresser, before leaving the room to ready himself for the day. The painting depicted a laughing Ardin, held from behind by Bahn, kissing the wolf’s neck and flipping off the painter.

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The market square bustled with busy shoppers and vendors shouting their wares. Ardin held tight to his dragon’s arm as they walked between the stalls, scoping out what was for sale. “We should see if Marcel has pomegranates, I think they’re in season,” the wolf said.

Bahn scoffed, his fingers trailing over a bit of fabric. He could get Leena to use this fabric for a scarf. Something to keep Ardin warm once winter hits. “Why? You don’t even like pomegranates.”

“No, that shit stains my fur,” Ardin said, pulling him away, probably knowing his plan. Damn, maybe he could come back for it tomorrow. “But you like them, and they’re good for you. Plus they make a pretty good reagent for spellcasting. They should work well with your shadows.” Bahn rolled his eyes. The wolf was always thinking of how things affected spellwork, what strengthened or weakened the aura, or helped focus different spells.

What a nerd, he thought fondly, a grin splitting his muzzle. His eyes trailed down the wolf’s frame, settling on his backside. But a nerd with a cute butt. He quickened his step to catch up to Ardin, wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling into his neck, forcing the busy shoppers to walk around them. “We can use the juice to stain some sigils into that pretty fur,” he murmured, nipping at his lover’s neck. “Maybe some arrows on that ass to help me find my way to your secret treasure.”

A comment that once might have earned him a slap or a telling off now elicited a giggle and blush. Ardin stroked a paw along Bahn’s jaw. “Like you need help with that.” He laughed and squirmed in the dragon's grasp. “If you haven't memorized that route by now, there’s no hope for you.”

Bahn gently swayed his wolf back and forth, nuzzling and nipping at an ear. “Maybe I need reminding.” One clawed hand slowly trailed down the wolf’s exposed belly. He was wearing that outfit the dragon really liked, a long blue stretch of fabric that wrapped around and crossed over his chest but then draped in two tails over his back, leaving much of his fur open for viewing. And touching. He used to hate having his stomach exposed, up until just before-

“Don’t think about that,” Ardin commanded. And Bahn obeyed, ignoring the thought completely. The wolf writhed under his touch in a way that made him eager to finish their shopping and rush home. The pretty pink rising under his fur on his face was enticing. “Bahn… People are staring…” he whimpered. He’d deny it but Bahn knew his wolf had a bit of exhibitionist in him.

Bahn clicked his jaws in mock irritation, but relented. He was right, people were starting to stare, giving him odd looks. Besides, they hadn’t even found breakfast yet and delicious as the wolf looked, he needed actual sustenance to quiet his rebellious stomach.

After much meandering, the pair found the stall they were looking for, though they’d been unable to resist the smell of one vendor's pastries. The market spaces were first come, first claimed, and by law they were cleared out at nightfall. No one was allowed to claim a permanent space, or hold one for someone else, so finding the same stall day after day could be a chore. Bahn wasn’t sure why it was set up that way, smarter people than him had implemented those rules. Maybe it had to do with how everytime he came looking for something specific, he always ended up buying one or two things he happened across while looking.

The dragon walked up to Marcel’s Exotic Fruits and herbs, a bolt of bright green cloth slung over one shoulder, Ardin’s paw in the other, hand holding being the wolf’s stipulation for allowing him to buy the fabric. It’s my own damn money. If I wanna spend it on him, that’s my business… Whatever, he thought with a blush. He didn’t used to be one for holding hands, especially in public, but… He just needed to be touching the wolf at all times. That’s just how it was now.

“Hey! Master Dragon! What can Marcel get for you today?” The portly badger shouted, even though Bahn was less than five feet away. He gestured to one of the many crates displaying fruit by his stall. Bananas, apples, oranges, and several fruits he had never seen before, some he debuted were even edible. And right in the center crate, “We got fresh pomegranates, just came in today!”

“You were right babe, just in time,” Bahn said, picking up one of the bright red fruits and holding it out to Ardin. The wolf simply looked at him with a slightly exasperated expression, not taking the fruit. “Do you want it or not?” Bahn asked, a pit growing in his stomach. He had the basket, why wasn’t he taking the fruit?

“Sir?” Marcel asked, sounding confused. He looked to the dragon, then to the space where Ardin was, not quite looking at him. “Who are you speaking to?”

The world cracked and something in Bahn’s chest along with it. The sky was darker, the air heavier, everything slightly tilted as vertigo flooded the dragon’s mind. Ardin wasn’t wearing that revealing outfit anymore -why would he, he only wears that thing for ceremonies and at home- instead wearing his battle garb. Spellweave cloth and thick leather covering vulnerable spots, quick spell wands and emergency enchantment gear on his belt and leg holsters, that hungry sword strapped to his back. His gorgeous white fur caked in dust and blood, tears having long dug furrows through the filth under his eyes.

“You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen?” Ardin asked, betrayal burning in his eyes. Bahn stumbled back, knocking into other shoppers, tumbling into another stall, and falling backward into their wares. The angry wolf advanced on him, fists clenched. “You’re just going to abandon me? Like everyone else?! Why won’t you save me?!” Ardin shouted, cracks erupting around his eyes, red light pouring from behind, from his angry jaws. Concerned people gathered around the dragon, he could barely hear someone asking if he was okay. The world faded, all but his wolf, his beloved screaming recriminations at him, sharp pain building in his head, felt himself hyperventilating, until his eyes rolled back and everything went dark.

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The wind buffeted the dragon relentlessly as he tried to reach his love. He was again surrounded by that barren rocky wasteland, deep purple lightning striking the ground and sending shards of rock to beat at him and cut his skin, shards of sleet and ice doing the same. All the while the wolf screamed at him, choking back sobs of his own.

“How could you leave me there?! You left me to die, abandoned me! After everything we’ve been through?! Do you really hate me that much?! Why aren’t you doing everything you can to reach me?!”

Something snapped in Bahn. He wiped at a bloody gash on his face, used the blood to draw quick sigils in the air. Power rippled through him, around him, the blood enhancing his casting, the casting enhancing his physical prowess. His Shadows heeded his call, ripping up from the ground to block the wind, fight back against the sleet and rain. He gained a step. Another. He reached desperately for his lover, the shadows whirling around him. “Ardin, please! Take my hand!” They were so close, he should be able to feel the wolf’s body heat. But the dead have no body heat. No warmth. The spectre just glared back at him, baleful eyes cutting into his soul.

The hateful realm responded, lightning striking the ground beneath him, the rocks he stood on crumbled beneath him, falling away into nothingness. He fell, but his eyes stayed locked on Ardin’s. One blue. One green. No love or even pity reflected there. Just betrayal. And disappointment. A final whisper reached Bahn, in the way of dreams, as he fell into darkness. “Why won’t you save me?”

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The dragon woke with a gasp, eyes darting around his room. Their room. Chaos lay everywhere, the bedsheet and pillows shredded, feathers and fabric mixed with knocked over bookshelves, mementos littering the ground, and tendrils of shadow smoke slowly fading away. He’d been casting in his sleep.

Fuck this, he thought, furious. The dreams had been getting worse since that day at the market. And that dream spectre of his beloved was right. He wasn’t doing everything he could. There was one thing he hadn’t tried. He threw himself out of bed, ignoring the mess for now, and stomped his way to the library.

They had both been students at Orleans Arcane University. While Bahn had gone due to pressure from his family and a need to learn to control his Shadow Touch, Ardin had gone for a love of the craft. And their library showed it. Dozens upon dozens of shelves filled with books on arcane craft and spellwork, auric reading and summoning theory lined the walls. There was a large space in the center dedicated to circle work, the ground almost perfectly flat, just pitted enough to allow chalk lines. A decent sized alcove was devoted to Ardin’s enchantment work, several unfinished projects waiting for the craftsman’s return.

A locked chest beneath a window was Bahn’s target, but the lock was ignored. The dragon ran his hands along the sides, feeling for the magically hidden latches. Finding them, he clicked them free and lifted the chest, aided by hydraulics their friend Crane had added, revealing a hidden space beneath. Sure the chest was filled with important and expensive reagents, but the real treasure was hidden here. Things the pair had found that might be a danger in the wrong hands. Writings on mental manipulation, amulets that call on dangerously powerful and uncontrollable entities. It previously held that hungry sword, but it kept escaping. But Bahn knew what he was looking for, as he pulled a thick old tome from its depths.

He dropped the tome on the reading desk with a thud and plopped himself down in the chair, flipping through scanning for the spell he was looking for and any pertinent passages. He may not have been one of the top students at the university, but five years at a school for the arcane taught you to be thorough with research. This was stupid, no doubt, but he needed it to succeed. He couldn’t live like this anymore.

As he read, his mind returned to times past. Focusing so hard on something else, his defenses against memories better left buried weakened. There was a price to pay for attending Orleans Arcane University. Every year spent there must be matched with a year serving in their military. Being the scion of a prominent and wealthy family, Bahn was guaranteed a cushy desk job, giving orders from afar, as if he were too valuable to waste on the front lines or even guard duty. Ardin had had no such buffer. In fact, his father having been a convicted felon fleeing his charges, the wolf was destined for the front, despite his obvious promise as an arcanist and enchanter. And Bahn was not letting him go alone.

Images and scenes flashed through his mind. Explosions and spells ripping holes in casters not quick enough with their shields, bodies bursting from errant spells and traps left by retreating forces, both friendly and enemy. In some ways, the screams of the dying were worse. No time to help them while dodging errant magic and summoned beasts. Keeping his wolf safe had been his only concern. It had to be. There was no room for anything else.

A hidden alcove during a lull in the assaults. A confession. A ring. Tears in their eyes and a smile over both their muzzles. An answer. A kiss. Making love one last time. Waking to an empty bedroll. The wolf had probably used their lovemaking to wear him out, so he could sneak away. Idiot. He was such an idiot for falling for it. If he’d been more aware, less of a fucking rake, if he’d just been awake. Of course the wolf would sneak off on some suicide mission. He should have known better. He…

Sobs wracked the dragon as he shook from his weeping. His arms wrapped around his head as he tried to shut out the world, the guilt and loss too much to bear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please. Ardin, please. I’m sorry.” Bahn lost himself to sorrow for a time, his tears staining the forbidden tome, dotting the page with the answers he sought. A ring dangled from a thin chain around his neck, the small gemstone catching and glimmering in the light.

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Bahn sat, legs crossed in the casting space. The book lay open before him as he dragged chalk across the floor. He’d already had most of the necessary items and the rest were fairly simple to get, with the connections he had. A complex diagram surrounded him, taking up most of the space, some bits branching beyond, various objects of power laid at key focal points. Crystal to help align the mana flow, bit’s of Ardin’s work still containing his mana- he’d be pissed that the spell would burn them up as fuel- a drop of Bahn’s blood at each connection point. A slurry of pomegranate juice and other herbs making a separate diagram overlaying and under the chalk, weaving the two diagrams together. This was easily the most complicated spell the dragon had ever done, but he’d double, triple, and quadruple checked to make sure it was right. It had to work, he couldn’t afford to half ass this. Not this. He was even wearing his ceremonial garb, a match for the market spectre, though a deep purple instead of sky blue. Ardin had loved the way purple looked next to his obsidian black scales.

Bahn slowly stood and surveyed his work, looking over every line, every sigil. It had to be perfect. After minutes of scrutinizing his own work, he finally deemed it so. There was nothing he could do to improve the spellwork. Nothing that wouldn’t take years more study. And he couldn’t wait anymore. The midnight hour drew near, the perfect time of power for this, and Ardin’s birthday. There couldn’t be a better time. He’d be thirty now, if… He steeled himself and summoned his shadows, using one to close the book on forbidden necromantic rites.

Shadow smoke rose amongst the diagrams, undulating and shifting around and mixing the mana in prescribed patterns. A chant began to flow from him, days of practicing the words of power so he wouldn’t stumble over a single syllable paid off as he didn’t need to even think of the words anymore. He’d turned it into a bit of a song, his shadows responded better when there was music. He just had to focus on the intent, let the rest flow through the diagram, molded into shape by the residual mana and proper placement of tools and foci. Purple witchlight burned Ardin’s enchantments, pulling his mana free and using it to summon his spirit from the beyond. The wolf’s mana began coalescing into a ball of light just before the dragon, the different complex colors of his aura visible within the circle.

Seemingly drawn from nothing, the ball of light grew, beginning to take shape. It’s working! Don’t fuck it up now, dumbass! Focus! Bahn’s chanting rose in power and force, putting more of his energy into the working. The light grew, no longer a ball, but taking shape as it spread, as if filling a container from the center. Noticeable arms, legs, tail, and head. Night and Shadow, he could see individual fur in the light. It was working!

The light fuzzed, the image becoming less distinct, bits of light escaping. No! Quickly, Bhan used his claws to slash furrows into his arms, adding more blood and power to the casting. He could worry about it later, this had to work! It was his third attempt and the castings were taking a toll on his body and soul. And he didn’t have any more items with Ardin’s mana left. This had to work.

Dragon blood splattered the floor and the figure solidified. Wings began sprouting from its back. Ardin’s wings! The figure seemed to gain awareness, slowly looking around, eyes focusing on Bahn. One blue. One green. They looked… confused? A paw lifted, reached out to the dragon, looking for contact. Bahn lifted his hand, now shouting the words of power to pull his lover through, back to the land of the living. He reached out with his bloody hand. He’d done it! It worked!

“I know you,” the spectre murmured.

The light burst, exploding over the room, and the figure was gone. A wave of force knocked all the foci away, shattered several crystals, marred every line and sigil of the diagrams. Bahn collapsed to the floor, completely spent, arm still outstretched. No… He’d failed. A scream ripped its way through him, guttural loss and pain made manifest. He felt his throat tear at the force of it and didn’t care. He’d been right there. So close. He’d felt the heat of him.

Two feathers flitted down through the air. One a pure white, the other a solid black. They caught each other, entwined, and laid to rest in Bahn’s outstretched hand. Gentle light played over the cuts in his arm, the wound slowly mending.

It had failed. He had failed. How? Everything had been perfect, the words hadn’t stumbled, everything had been right. The only way it could have failed was if the soul was trapped, and then it wouldn’t have manifested at all. Unless…

Bahn’s eyes widened as it dawned on him. The heat of him. The dead have no body heat. Even had the spell worked, he’d have had no body heat, no heartbeat. You couldn’t summon the spirits of the living, the physical body would pull it back. The dragon’s hand closed over the feathers, warm in his palm. That had to be it. Had to be. Nothing else fit, nothing else made any bit of sense. Ardin was still alive.

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