The Wizard and the Fox Chapter 4
A wizard fights fate for his foxy wife.
The Wizard and the Fox A /hmofa/ SpecialBy Magnus
Chapter 4 - Truth and Hope
Roland sat and gazed out at the sprawling swathe of earth that was laid out before him. High up on the tallest mountain, he could see everything. The sky was vast, painted purple by the setting of the sun and the land below was like a sea of green, broken only by the isolated points of light where mankind resided. Behind him were many more mountains, a jagged forest of snow-capped peaks that were yet to be conquered by the wizard and his wife.
Yes… his wife. He looked next to him and there Oleander was. He smiled. She smiled back, no words needed be spoken to communicate volumes between the two of them. She batted her eyes at him a few times, tilted her head slightly to the side and with a sultry smile she asked “Are you truly sure about this?"
“I…" Rowan furrowed his brow in confusion, unsure of what she was referring to or why she would ask him such a thing. Realization dawned on him in an instant. That was not Oleander. It was not his wife. All of the small details were off. The way she moved, the light behind her eyes, this was but a shade that wore her face. “No!" he said, scrambling to get away as fast as possible. He tripped, slamming to the ground gracelessly “No, no, no. Not now, you demon! Be gone from here!"
When the wizard looked back, no one was to be found. He was alone on the mountain. He pulled himself up and frantically searched around. Jet, where was his horse? He needed to find safety. He needed to run and hide. Jet, Jet, Jet, where are you?
When Rowan went searching across the rocky face of the mountain, he found no horse, only the creature that pretended to be his wife. She stood in the middle of the path, blocking the way with the smile of a crazed murderer. “What's wrong?" she asked in a voice that sounded somewhere between concerned and amused “You used to enjoy our time together."
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He whirled around to run the other way but only found himself facing the shade again. No matter which way he turned he always ended up facing the same stretch of road. “Leave me alone!"
Rowan blinked, and in a moment it no longer wore her face. It was the beast's true form, a woman with perfectly smooth skin as white as the driven snow and deep, raven purple hair that flowed gracefully on an unfelt wind and seemed to stretch into infinity. Her eyes were sunken black voids and in them he could see the glimmer of a thousand tiny lights, souls from beyond the veil, or perhaps stars in a galaxy? She wore a black dress that clung tightly to her hips and seemed to steal the ambient light from around her like a hungry void. Her entire form appeared to wash into the background, like water running over wet paint, yet no matter how much it distorted she still held the same shape.
Morgaine, the goddess of exchange, balance, and contracts stood before him.
“Please, Rowan, I only want to talk." She said with fake dismay. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper yet seemed to echo throughout the entire mountain range and dug into his mind like fishhooks.
“I already know what you want!" Rowan screamed so hard at her that his voice cracked. “And the answer is no! She has nothing to do with you!"
“She has everything to do with me. Don't forget who you belong to." Morgaine warned. She slowly approached the wizard and walked lazy circles around him, eyeing Rowan up. He wanted to get away but he couldn't move his legs, he couldn't run. His body would not heed his will.
“I belong to no one, you whore!" He snapped. “You hold my contract, no more, no less."
“Bold claims for a man with such palpable terror." She said in a very satisfied voice. “You used not to fear me, remember? I still cherish the memory, the wonder in your eyes, all the questions you asked, you were like an excited child. Why can't we go back to that?"
“Because back then I understood little about you." Rowan said through gritted teeth. “I had not understood the true extent of your greed." Speaking was becoming more and more difficult by the moment. Her presence was like being dragged to the deepest depths of the ocean, being slowly crushed to death by the weight of the sea.
“Pity." Morgaine said, finishing her final circle. She gently caressed the face of the wizard, her touch burned like a branding iron. “You may not love me anymore, but I will have what I want sooner or later."
“You will." Rowan said, staring fire into her cold, black eyes. “But not yet. You can have every last scrap of me when I finally expire, but my life is my own, so keep your filthy claws off of her. If anything befalls Oleander, I swear to all the gods above and below, I'll sunder the contract and pledge my soul to another."
“The other gods don't look kindly on betrayers." Morgaine shot back in a curt tone.
“They're not exactly fans of you either." Rowan hissed at her with a savage, hateful look.
Morgaine pulled away her hand and threw her head back to give a hearty laugh like the cackling of starving dogs. “You live dangerously, my child! Very well, if you will not abandon the beastgirl then so be it, you know the consequences of displeasing me. You are mine, and mine alone. No mortal girl will come between us, I will see to it."
Rowan gave an exhausted sign. “Yes, yes, do as you will, but you are still bound by your word. You can do no more but throw shadows at us!"
Morgaine gritted her teeth, pearly white and jagged like a shark's “I am done with you, be gone from here."
Rowan woke up in a cold sweat, coughing and gasping for air like some one had been strangling him.
He hadn't noticed at first that Oleander was hanging over him, her face wet with tears. His eyes darted in every direction, trying desperately to take stock of his situation. They were in the room Rowan rented, the faintest traces of dawn were beginning to brighten the sky outside. He was safe and sound in the world of the waking. Rowan rubbed his face and let out a slow, labored breath. “Fuck."
Immediately he was pulled by Oleander into a hug that nearly squeezed the life out of him. She fought back her sobs, muttering almost incomprehensibly.
“I thought you'd never wake from your night terrors!" she moaned, he squeezed her back just as tight. “I shook you and slapped you and you wouldn't go back to normal you bastard!"
“It's okay, it's okay," he breathed, “I'll be okay."
“You were screaming in your sleep!" She cried “How could that be okay? Do you even know how scared I was?!"
“Shh, shhh." He stroked the back of her hair. “It's over now."
Rowan let her go and she gave him a bit of breathing room, sitting at the edge of her bed. Rowan did a double-take as he realized she was still naked, having been roused from her sleep in the middle of the night, but it was not the time to deliberate over that. He rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and leaned his back against the wall. “I suppose you're wondering what that was."
“You think?!" She crossed her arms and looked out the window, refusing to make eye contact with him. She was shaking.
“I…" Rowan had to force the words. “That happens sometimes. One of the many perks of being a wizard."
“Magic, that's it?!" She had to force herself not to shout and wake the rest of the town up. “Is everything that's wrong with you always because of magic?"
“Yes, just about." Rowan didn't have the energy to put anything delicately. He would have rather just gone back to sleep and had their discussion at a later date.
Oleander sighed. “First I find out you're an old man, then I find out you scream in your sleep sometimes. Honestly, what am I to do with you?"
“Tie me up and throw me in a river, I suppose." He joked weakly.
The fox wasn't having any of it. She glared razor-sharp daggers at him. “I want to know, right now, any secrets you still have. I am tired of surprises. I want you to lay it all out right here before me and the gods."
“Amendment to that request," Rowan said, slinking back under the covers and laying his head on the pillow “how about when the sun comes up. And please don't ask me to lay anything before the gods, I've had quite enough of that."
“Fine." She huffed. “But I will keep you to your word."
“I promise, I'll tell you all that I can as soon as we set off."
Rowan regretted ever giving his word to anyone on heaven or earth.
“Well, how about now?"
The sun had barely peeked it's face from behind the horizon when they had cleared Quinnsburg and started out on the roads. It was around the same time most of the merchants set out to peddle their trinkets elsewhere, so they passed several other men with their carts and horses, waving at the wizard and bellowing out their greetings.The roads would be lively for some time, but Rowan decided it was the best time to have what he hoped to be the last argument over his wizarding.
“Yes, I suppose here will do." Rowan muttered. How to tell her? What to tell her? The wizard mulled over everything that would be prudent for her to hear before he just blurts it out like he had done with his age. She was a sharp woman, sharper than many he had ever met, he could not keep anything from her for long.
“I supposed I should say this;" He began “I am a wizard, I can invoke power and that power has a price."
“I am aware of that." Oleander responded with a groan “Tell me something that you haven't before."
“I'm getting there, woman." the wizard grumbled. Unsurprisingly, he was a touch cranky due to a lack of good sleep. “Do you remember what I told you about Morgaine back in the woods?"
“That she owned your soul, correct? That's why you can get spells from her?"
“Precisely," Rowan nodded “In order to become a true wizard and freely make offerings to Morgaine in exchange for spells, one must form a contract. This contract is made with the goddess herself. Face-to-face."
“One revelation after another." Oleander lamented, she idly scratched the back of Cinnamon's neck as they rode the path side-by-side “Of gods-damned-course you've met a goddess."
Rowan went on, unfazed at her complaints “Yes, said contract merely formalizes your relationship with her. But for normal wizards, that does not come at the price of your soul. These are the outer-circle wizards and they are lucky bastards. Most of them never hear a whisper of her voice ever again and go on with their life in merriment. I, however, have taken it one step further. I am a wizard of the inner-circle."
“What," Oleander snorted, “did you bed your goddess, too? Get in her inner-circle? Trade your soul for some divine merriment?"
The wizard looked at Oleander with a searing glare from under the brim of his hat that could have melted stone. She shrunk away from him, regretting her choice of words." Do not joke about that." He said in a dead calm voice. “In my younger years in the pursuit of expanding my favor toward her I made a second, far more binding pact. I… how do I put this? Everyone's is different."
She glanced at him again, still reeling a bit from his ire. “Different how?"
“Just…" Rowan's mind wandered to far deeper, darker places for a moment. “Just different. I've seen a man who traded his eyes to be able to see into the past. I've seen a man trade his voice to understand every language ever spoken or written. I've even seen a man who traded his memories away to her just so he didn't have to bear them anymore."
“And what did you trade?"
“Morgaine, hide me from the sight of men."
In an instant, Rowan and even Jet disappeared entirely from sight. Oleander gasped, covering her mouth and stopping her own mount. In a brief moment of stillness, she could hear the hooves of a horse clop along. She could even see the horseshoe prints materialize in the dirt one after another. He was truly and completely invisible. Oleander blinked and there the wizard and his steed were there again, slightly ahead of her on the road like nothing had happened. She spurred Cinnamon to catch up.
“I can hide myself from sight in an instant." he explained, rather redundantly considering his demonstration. “No long incantations or reagents needed. I ask, and she answers without fail. In exchange, I give her the sight I can take from men. My soul is chained to her like a hound on a leash. The goddess can see through my eyes, she feels what I feel, hears what I hear. Always and forever. Even in the most godless places under the sun. Even now."
“That's-" Oleander hung her head, processing the revelation. “That's terrifying. I always knew the gods were watching, just… not that closely.
“And what's worse yet," Rowan laughed, though it was not out of mirth in the slightest “I think she's taken with me. I don't just have her favor, I have her love, as twisted and selfish as it is. And when I die, she will be the one to take my soul to her realm to keep me for eternity."
What Oleander saw next made her heart ache. The look in the wizard's eyes betrayed his long years. His were normally bright, mirthful, with a spark of fierce intellect in them. At that moment Oleander saw complete despair. The only other time she had seen such deep depths of sadness were in the eyes of her grandfather when he finally realized that he laid on his deathbed.
“I bit off more than I can chew." Rowan's voice was empty, weary, it was the voice of a man tired of it all. He looked ahead, sparing Oleander his dreadful gaze. “I wish I never made that contract. I wish I had stayed a mere scribe's apprentice. I wish I could have lived and died like any other man. It may be too late for me, but I don't think I've lost hope. If I had I probably wouldn't be here. There just might be a way out. For the last few years I've been thinking perhaps if another god gains claim over me, they can save me from Morgaine. But it's not really a matter of whether or not it can be done, the real question is whether or not I will be any better off. Would I just trade one afterlife as a trophy for another? I just don't know."
“And what god do you think would have you?" Oleander asked slowly, picking apart the wizard's words in her head. “I don't know many of them myself."
“Actually," Rowan said “these recent days, I was thinking of yours."
Oleander furrowed her brow “Lupus?"
Rowan nodded. “God of the wilds, patron of the beastmen. It wasn't just curiosity that drove me all the way to the edge of mankind's domain. He is a fair god, he may be of beasts but he does not scorn man. I have met hunters with his blessing, they were at perfect peace with themselves, living off of the bounty of nature. I want that for myself more than anything."
Oleander fell silent, electing to ride on toward her home forest for a pregnant moment, mulling over her next question, listening to the steps of their horses. She looked up to the big, beautiful sky and asked “Do you think you can win?"
“I used not to." He answered immediately. “But recently I found quite some motivation to fight."
“And what motivation could that be?"
Rowan pretended to consider his words for a moment before shooting her a sly look. “Oh, it's just a little smaller than I am, something with luscious fur and eyes like the sun itself."
Oleander was puzzled for a split second but then grinned from ear to ear. She looked at the wizard and saw all traces of despair had disappeared in an instant. His face was as bright as ever, like a child without a care for anything in the world. “You know you don't have to flirt that hard."
“You enjoy it."
“I do."
Rowan reveled in the dopey smile on his face before composing himself and adding “Oh, right, you still wanted to know everything, correct?"
Oleander shrugged. “ I did ask for it."
“I've killed men." He said with a very even voice “If we keep going like this I may have to again."
Oleander took a deep breath. “That, I figured. That's the least shocking, really."
“And the nightmares," he went on “they were a message from Morgaine. She would visit me in the dreamlands from time to time. They used to be pleasant dreams, you know. When I was ignorant, when I was still faithful."
Oleander gripped the reins tightly. All of Rowan's warnings before they rode off were not mere exaggerations. She recalled his words on the night they met 'Don't thank me, curse my name for dragging you into this life.' It wasn't a joke, it was truly how he felt. She wondered if he was right to feel that way. Finally, she asked “Did you ever love her like she loved you?"
The question was like a smack upside the head. Rowan desperately wanted to lie. He looked away, biting his lip hoping it would aid him in keeping composure. It helped a little. He was a man of his word, so he answered “I thought I did, for a while. I looked forward to her visits, I showered her with praise and adoration like a simpering puppy. But I was mistaken. I never loved her." The wizard looked down at his palm contemplatively, remembering all of the spells they had brought him and gave a small, wistful smile. “What I really loved was magic. I still do. Even Morgaine cannot take that away from me. As long as I am bound, so too is she."
Oleander saw his strength in him as plain as day. She watched the wizard clench his fist, almost lost in thought before finally shaking himself from his trance and giving her a resolute gaze . She returned a warm smile, leaning over to punch him gently in the shoulder. “We can get through this," she said “we have to. There's still much more of the world to see, I'm not going to let some fussy divinity stop me."
“Hmm, I'll drink to that." Rowan punctuated his statement by fishing a wine skin out of Jet's saddlebags and undoing the cork.
Olander scoffed, yet still kept her grin. “Already? Honestly, it isn't even midday!"
“There are few luxuries in life sweeter than a sip of red on the road!" Rowan declared dramatically. “I'll have no nagging wife deny me that pleasure!"
“Oh, so I'm your wife now?" Oleander purred. “And here I was thinking you'd treat me like your sister forever."
“I never had a sister." Rowan said before taking a big gulp. “I wouldn't know how to treat you like one if I wanted to."
She rolled her eyes. “Can you not give me a straight response on the matter?"
Rowan pursed his lips, thinking. “Hmm. Yes. No? Perhaps. Tis a difficult question to answer."
Both of them laughed together as the forest drew nearer and nearer.
For nearly a fortnight they forged ahead down the twisting road. Gallwood was the very definition of peace and quiet. It was unsuited for banitry to take refuge in for very long and few truly dangerous creatures stalked it's shaded halls, most of them only coming down from Unicorn Range in the winter to hunt for food. The only creatures that crossed their path were deer, squirrels, and the occasional fox that Rowan would point to and ask if it was one of Oleander's cousins. He never tired of the joke, even after the fifth time. The foxgirl suspected it would be just as funny to him (and only him) on the sixth and seventh time.
By then, the road became a routine. Up at dawn, camp at dusk. Breakfast of hardtack, lunch of salted meat and crumbly cheese, and for dinner they dined on whatever Rowan could catch and kill along the way. He would often bemoan his subpar hunting skills before producing a piece of charcoal from his pocket and blasting some poor woodland creature with a lightning bolt and a quick chant, which they would then roast on a spit. She chided him about how he would always prattle about how magic isn't to be used lightly, yet still used it to handle problems that could be solved with a crossbow. He retorted with a counterargument that starving to death on the road due to mismanaging supplies wasn't a very light subject.
Oftentimes when they would tire of Rowan's stories the two of them played simple games to pass the time, like competing on who could count more boulders on their side of the road or who could come up with the most foul and offensive joke. Rowan came to realize, when he tried to play one with words and letters, that Oleander was completely and utterly illiterate. It should have come as no surprise considering her upbringing but with how well-spoken the woman was he merely assumed it of her. The wizard was quite adamant that he would absolutely not have an illiterate companion and started putting together a lesson plan as they rode and set it into motion that very night. Oleander moaned that being able to read and write was a needless luxury but still took fairly well to the lessons. Her handwriting was atrocious at first but Rowan hoped she merely needed time and practice.
After their walk through the woods, they caught the first glimpses of the mountains looming over the land, occasionally visible through thin gaps in the foliage. On the ground the Springtime sun warmed the land to a pleasant temperature but the peaks of Unicorn Range were still capped with a layer of snow that would only disappear in the summer. Oleander seldom saw the mountains but they never failed to awe her, almost every time Rowan looked her way she was craning her neck trying to get a better look through the roof of Gallwood. To celebrate, Rowan had them make camp early as they were quite close to the most convenient entrance to the mountain range. Gunnar's Gate, it was called, the beginning of an immaculately smooth road carved out by the dwarves to facilitate trade with the kingdoms of men to the west. It led to a small cluster of independent fortresses but did not cross all the way across the mountains as the dwarves had no interests on the other side of the range. Rowan silently wondered if they would also encounter any of the wolfmen tribes. While the squatty bearded men may have ruled beneath the mountains, it was the wolfmen that ruled its surface, an ancient agreement between the two peoples that has held true since time immemorial.
Once they chose a spot to make camp, Rowan started by relieving Jet of his burdensome saddle as Oleander dug a pit for their fire. He noted that the traveling clothes he procured for her fit quite well. She wore a durable undyed cotton shirt and pants held together with carved wooden buttons under a sturdy leather poncho. He had also given her one of his embroidered grey hooded cloaks and while the garb was technically only permitted to be worn by fully fledged wizards of the Iris, there would certainly be no one around to give him an earful for it.
“Have you ever seen a dwarf before?" Rowan asked out of the blue, not looking back from his task.
Oleander took a moment to think on the question and answered “No, not that I can remember. Sometimes when I was little, I would think I saw them all the time. My father would tell me that if I acted up or wandered too far away, a bunch of dwarves would burst from the ground and drag me away to work in the mines deep underground. He said they're alway below us, listening to our footsteps."
Rowan gave a half smile as he finished up with Jet and let him go off to graze. “He was half right, they could very well be below us right now. According to most accounts, dwarves have their own labyrinth of secret roads that stretch all the way to the sea and connect every one of their fortresses, though it is one of the things I've yet to see for myself."
“I don't really think they can dig all the way to the sea!" Oleander said as she struggled to remove a very large rock lodged in the dirt that would be their fire pit “I can barely get this damn hole dug!"
Rowan laughed merrily while he stooped down to help her. “I believe it. They are quite a patient and persistent people. It is said that even if something takes a thousand years their kind can see it through as the task is passed from generation to generation."
“You sound like you admire them quite a lot." The rock finally came loose and Oleander ended up falling on her behind with how much force she was exerting. With the pit done, she got up and shook the dirt and fallen leaves from her tail.
“I do." he admitted “Plus their baked goods are to die for."
She shot the wizard an incredulous look. “Baked goods? Nothing of their endless vaults of gold and gems or their immaculate armor made of the gods' blood, but pastries?"
“Aye," Rowan nodded quite seriously “they take their sweets and their ale quite seriously, you know. I've met a baker that's been working his craft for over a hundred years. I paid a whole six silvers for a tart and it was worth every coin."
The foxgirl tittered. “Six silvers? I'd never known you for a sweet tooth!"
Rowan frowned, somewhat miffed “Life is far too short to deny oneself their moments of indulgence from time to time."
Olander put her hands on her hips and smirked at him. That damnable smirk. “Oh don't you prattle at me about short lives, old man!"
The wizard sputtered “And don't you- ah… Oh fiddle faddle, judge me all you wish, woman, but be sure not to forget who feeds you!"
The two of them went on with the building of their camp, still teasing each other back and forth. Once all was complete, they sat down together and continued Oleander's reading lessons until daylight left them. He had carried little reading material to aid in teaching and what he did bring was a tad too advanced for her. Once they had tired of that, Rowan prepared the carcasses of a pair of hares he zapped a few hours prior, their soft brown fur charred and blackened by mage lightning. Luckily they still had plenty of black pepper to cover up the coppery flavor brought about by Rowan's obscene hunting methods.
With their bellies full, they once more laid down for the night. With another horse to bear the load, Rowan saw fit to carry a fair few more luxurious camping implements such as a spacious bedroll lined with deer fur sized for two “as an apology for the mishap at the inn". He personally saw little need for such comforts but chose to take it along anyway out of the consideration that Oleander had not been accustomed to life on the road for over forty years straight like he was. Plus the mountains above still held on to the winter air like a greedy miser grips his coinpurse. It would get cold, quite cold, and sharing in one another's warmth was the key to a comfortable journey. At least, that's what he told her anyway.
For a while the wizard and the fox laid awake in each other's arms, both not yet ready to drift off. They had tired themselves with conversation for the day and all that was left to do was silently cuddle and listen to the eternal singing of the crickets and the soft rustling of the wind through the leaves. Oleander murmured confused as Rowan shifted a little lower. He almost disappeared into the bedroll and put his head on her chest. “What are you up to?" she said through a sigh.
“Shhh, just listening." He murmured.
“To what?"
“Your heartbeat."
She elected not to respond. What was to be said? That damned wizard had an infuriating habit of being stingy with physical affection, she wouldn't spoil that rare moment for anything. Oleander gently ran her fingers through his long, slightly greasy hair. She liked his hair, it was a darker red than her own fur and she adored how it barely brushed his shoulders when he moved his head. She always thought that he shouldn't be hiding it under that silly hat of his but she'd probably never convince him to take it off.
She didn't know how long they stayed like that. The passage of time was a mere fog as their minds floated in the ethereal state between waking and dreaming. It was far too warm and cozy, neither of them would be able to move from that position even if they wanted to. It was there that they would fall asleep together like every night since they met. They were getting used to each other finally. Just before she was taken by sleep, Oleander wondered just how long it would be before they truly and fully connected. But that question would only be answered by time. In that moment, she only cared for the present.