I. Cursed Fields & Warm Suppers
It wasn’t often Hawke got to sit down for a home-cooked meal. Sure, he made magic happen on the road with a fire pit and his trusty iron pot (which now happily had a spot in Vahn’s magic bag), but it was something else when someone cooked for him. Vahn didn’t count. He had heart, but he didn’t know the first thing about cooking and had already wasted much of the stock Hawke had hoarded from the markets they’d passed when Hawke let him try for a change. Too much magic involved. Took days to get the fuzzy tingling in his teeth out.
No, this was far removed from Vahn trying his best (Goddess bless him, he tried). Josie had a confident swagger as she moved about her kitchen, plucking herbs and greens from her stores for the stew simmering atop the quaint stove. Hawke insisted on helping her while Vahn had gone to examine the farming fields she tended with her father. One of the plots simply refused to grow anything this season and looked to be infecting the other fields with whatever was wrong. Vahn could handle that. Sounded magic. Hawke could handle being an ever-willing taste tester for this very beautiful farmer’s daughter.
Josie had red hair in wild curls gathered beneath a dyed kerchief she said she’d done herself with berries she found in autumn. It made a swirl or reds, oranges, and yellows—like fallen leaves—and was definitely pretty on her. She was tall too, almost a match for Hawke, and she had arms and legs roped in muscle. Her face was round with a nose that wrinkled every time Hawke made her laugh (and so far, it was plenty). What made everything complete was the way she noticed Hawke watching her and teased him right back by wiggling her hips.
Alas, he and Vahn were only staying the night. Probably not enough time for a romp, but dreaming of it was nice. House was definitely too small to sneak into at a second glance; there was the kitchen with the hearth, a small living area on the other side, and then the loft where Josie had her things and then the other where her father had his. The hayloft her father had offered for Hawke and Vahn wouldn’t be a good idea either; Vahn would be sleeping there. And Hawke wasn’t really up for sneaking off into the fields tonight.
“Is that your thinking face?” Josie asked and Hawke snapped back to reality. She’d gathered a spoonful to taste and smiled over it as she sipped.
“It might have been.”
“You nose gets these cute wrinkles and your eyes twinkle.”
Hawke bit back a laugh and glanced away, trying to hide the blush working its way across his face. “Better than sticking out my tongue like my ma did.”
Josie chuckled. “I added the spices you shared.” She held out the spoon for Hawke. “What do you think? Blends the flavor well?”
Hawke would rather taste it on her own lips, but the spoon was acceptable. He let her put it to his lips and kept his eyes on her while he tasted. Amazing. Perfect blend of spices dancing on his tongue combined with the earthy taste of everything together. When he made an exaggerated noise, letting her know it was divine, a flush of red bloomed across her cheeks and darkened her freckles.
“It tastes great,” he said and she turned away to hide her smile. “Aw, come on. That was a cute face!” She waved a hand at him, brushing him off. “Think you should stir it a few more times?”
Josie giggled. They both knew she’d probably stirred it enough by now. “Oh, perhaps.” She tilted her head and a few curls escaped to tumble down her forehead. “Maybe you could help me? My arm is plenty tired.” She grinned at him this time, a sparkle in her eyes, and Hawke would have been silly to say no.
Of course, by helping she meant whatever he was doing when he pressed up behind her, put one hand delicately on her hip and the other over her hand to help stir. It wasn’t really about the stirring. He knew that. She knew that.
“Like this, right?” Josie asked softly as she leaned into Hawke.
“Exactly like that.”
And then a low voice cleared itself from the doorway and Hawke disengaged as quickly as possible. He’d been on the bad end of a farmer’s pitchfork enough times to know risking getting caught by being handsy was a bad gamble and he grinned sheepishly at the doorway across the kitchen.
Jerome—her father—stood there, exasperated, and unlike the easy smiles of his daughter, he was a much too stern looking man. Like his daughter, he had red curls, although his stayed close to his scalp and had taken on more of a blond hue with age. Tanned skin weathered from the sun and as covered with freckles like her too. And, once more like his daughter, about as tall as Hawke. Maybe taller. Daunting. A little bit, anyway, but all of it together made him handsome. Although Hawke doubted he’d appreciate the flirting as much as Josie did.
Hawke made a show of revealing that his hands were in no way near Josie’s behind—or any other part of her for that matter—and she stifled a snicker as she continued facing the stove.
Hawke didn’t mind the man’s exasperation—from what he’d gathered, Josie was Jerome’s only child and together they made their little farm work with the coalition they had out this way with the others. Someone whisking Josie away suddenly would not be good for the whole operation. Jerome was the respectable sort, at least. The village certainly thought so when they eagerly sent Hawke and Vahn this way when they asked for a place to stay. And, as it so happened, Jerome needed help in the magical variety.
“I’m going to check on Vahn, then,” Hawke said and Jerome slowly nodded.
“You do that.” Jerome sat at the table with a sigh and took off the wide-brimmed hat he’d been wearing. “I don’t know half of what he was on about, but he seemed excited to help. I assume you helped Josie the same?”
“That’s Vahn for you.” Hawke hurried around the table instead of lying—somehow, he just knew Jerome would be able to see through him—and Josie picked her head up.
“Supper will be done soon! We also have some honey bread to share too, if you like.” She gave him such a bright smile, he couldn’t resist flashing one back to her. “Drag your little friend in soon so we can all eat!”
“Can’t wait!” Hawke was warmed to find Jerome smiling fondly at his daughter as he exited. She sounded excited for company. A far cry from the quiet woman she’d been when they first rolled in. What a difference a few hours made. Hawke couldn’t help it; his charming personality helped bring people out of their shell.
Rammer Village was small and mainly clustered around a town square where a large tree grew out of the center. A bakery, a butcher’s shop, and a textile shop were the main draws and served all facets the coalition of farms provided. The rest was farmland everyone worked on. Up north was Ramvale, the city it provided for. Over the flatlands, Hawke could see it in the evening summer haze. Not a far walk by no means. He and Vahn could have made the trek and made it by nightfall if they’d skipped Rammer Village outright, but quaint villages were always nice to visit. Had hidden gems all the time, like Josie.
The evening sun was bowing out of the sky, a brilliant orange against the hazy clouds on the horizon, and the village was settling in for the night. Someone had already lit the lamps along the roadside with tiny flames that would burn out come morning. As Hawke followed them toward the dead field Vahn must have still been working on, soft trills echoed off the field fences. A very small charm, but Vahn had been enamored with it when they arrived. Something about Solar Magic utilizing the sun to help power the Air Spell to do something-something if wildlife drew too close. Hawke honestly did not catch most of what Vahn said as he practically vibrated studying it. All Hawke knew was it protected the fields.
The dead and barren ground they’d agreed to help (somehow) had grown beyond the posts meant to contain it. Already decayed a few healthy crops around it too, the stalks turned ashen and gray. Josie had no idea and neither did Jerome nor anyone in the entire village. The only thing Ramvale suggested was bringing a knowledgeable magician from the next city over, but the village didn’t have that kind of money. So, Jerome and Josie were glad Vahn had happened by and was eager to help.
According to Josie, ever since summer began about a month ago, the field had died overnight. It might have been too late in the season to make up for what was lost, especially with how dead the soil felt, but preventing whatever had happened to it from going any farther was what Jerome wanted. The farmer coalition out here relied on each other and if all of Jerome’s fields suddenly dried up, they’d be in dire straits.
Bent low to the ground, Vahn’s toes just barely touched the dead plot as he kept his head bowed over the notebook splayed in his lap. Thankfully, he still wore his cardigan and kept the sun off bare shoulders. The past week, the sun had grown harsh, and given how fair Vahn’s skin was, Hawke insisted he at least try not to get sunburned. Vahn had mumbled something about the Floating World had protections woven into the cities to prevent that, but put on the cardigan without much fuss beyond complaining he was hot.
Right now, bent over his notebook, he was unaware of the world around him. Infuriating sometimes, but more and more endearing by the day because it was a genuine interest in the little things that made him so. Honestly, Hawke could have watched him think and find some joy in it. Except dinner awaited and Hawke was hungry.
Hawke stepped up beside him, waited to be noticed, but Vahn went on working. Soft words tumbled from his lips that sounded like a spell given the way the air twinkled in response. In front of him, his new dice floated and turned over and over again from an unseen hand. Vahn must have been on to something, but Hawke had no idea on his own. He bent beside Vahn and nudged him.
“I think I have a spell,” Vahn began without looking up. Hawke glanced at the dirt at Vahn’s feet; complex runes and sigils had been drawn there. They were a match for the ones glowing on the dice as they moved upon the air.
The magic they made sounded exactly like Jake’s smokey voice and Hawke hated it. Annoying, smooth-talking bandit. Hawke rested his chin on his palm and watched the dice.
“Really?” He reached for one of the dice out of curiosity, but Vahn’s hand shot out to stop him without looking. Figures. Hawke retrieved his hand and Vahn went right back to writing. “You going to tell me about it?”
More scribbling absorbed into the page. Dark ink in loops of Vahn’s messy handwriting. Though they faded too quickly for Hawke to even begin to read them, Vahn tracked every word with how fast his lips moved, incanting words too quiet to hear.
“I’m merging Rune and Time Magic,” Vahn explained after another set of complex symbols. “And then combining it with the Wild Magic latent in the field. The runes help me pin it down, but it’s rather complex.”
Hawke hummed. “Makes sense,” he said. “What will it do?”
Vahn’s face scrunched in the cute way it did when he didn’t quite know how to explain it so others would understand. Hawke bet he’d tried to tell Jerome all about it earlier, but the farmer had only managed a blank stare in return. Not that Hawke was going to be any different. A little sigh escaped Vahn’s lips.
“The runes will work like they did at the shrine,” Vahn explained and glanced at Hawke. “They peek into the past to bring it to the present.”
Hawke nodded. “I get that part,” he said.
“Time Magic will facilitate the field to grow to match the other crops, following how it worked in the past.” Vahn pointed his pen at the dead field. “The Wild Magic is potent enough so I don’t have to sit here and cast it continually. I just need to focus it to create a cycle and it’ll do it on its own. Although… it’s been wiggly today. Not sure why.”
Wiggly. Hawke lifted his gaze and tried to catch it. Nope. Sounded normal to him. He nodded anyway. The dice finished their tumble and plopped to the ground at Vahn’s feet. Both landed with a single dot facing up. Still fuzzy whenever Hawke looked at them and magic softened the corners. Hawke braved poking one. Vahn didn’t stop him this time.
“Glad you found a use for these,” Hawke teased and Vahn rolled his eyes. “Been staring at them every night since that shrine.”
“The runes are still fuzzy to me and the field’s not as agreeable as the shrine...” Vahn closed his notebook and picked up the four quartz stones that had been balancing on his knees. “I need to be able to correctly see what they want me to see. Wish Jake had taught me more about them. They’re actually rather difficult on my own.”
Hawke snorted. “Next time, talk magic, then sex.”
Vahn laughed and pushed Hawke. “Do shut up about that!” he said, but smiled too brightly to have cared much. “I wish we had, at least then I could endure this relentless teasing of yours!”
Given how much Vahn teased Hawke, he was glad he could dish it out now. Seeing him flustered was cute.
“Well?” Hawke said, going back to business and waved a hand over the field. “What do you need to do? I’m guessing the quartz is for something? Josie said supper’s almost done and I’m sure you’re famished, so let’s get to it.”
Vahn held up one of the quartzes. Marble sized. “These house the spell I was working on.” He dropped two into Hawke’s palm and the magic within kissed his hand with a little hum. “I need them in cardinal directions around the field. Fingertip deep like a seed and then cover them with dirt. I’ll take north and east; you take south and west.”
Vahn was off for his sides before Hawke had time to parse a question. Eager and brilliant as always. Hawke couldn’t help but watch him go. Might have also admired his ass a little too much as he bent over to bury the east quartz. Hawke huffed, trying not to make how much he liked staring at a magician’s cute ass obvious, and busied himself with burying the south quartz. Not the time. Although, at this point, Hawke wondered if Vahn was doing it on purpose.
Magicians.
The dirt covered the quartz like a seed and Wild Magic whispered up like a sigh, entwined with another spell resembling Vahn’s own voice. The two mixed together and reminded Hawke of the world going by. Interesting. Must have been Time Magic. Hawke headed toward the western point and did the same. As he straightened and stretched his back, Vahn had returned to the path with his wand in hand. With sure flicks of his wrist, a tremble worked its way through the field, allowing magic to suffuse through it. Little murmurs goading something within to grow like it had once before.
“There.” Vahn dropped his arms and nodded. “If it works, we’ll see evidence by morning.” He slid his wand back into his cardigan and smiled up at Hawke. “So… supper, you said? I am incredibly famished.”
Hawke grinned. “Tastes great. I helped!”
“Did you now?” Vahn teased as they started back for the little thatched roof house past the farm building they’d be sleeping in.
Sturdy and made of magically enhanced wood, the farm building had nothing incredibly unique about it except its emptiness. Josie said they only filled it if there was a harvest to store inside, no animals to speak of except a horse another farm stabled for them. Not too bad. At least it wouldn’t smell too bad.
“I was not flirting the entire time, I’ll have you know,” Hawke insisted.
Vahn’s eyes crinkled with a hidden smile. Didn’t believe Hawke one bit and Hawke didn’t blame him.
After a few more steps, however, he slowed, and eyed Hawke up and down, looking pensive. “Is something wrong?” he asked quietly.
Hawke paused. “Hm?” He shook his head. “No? Why do you ask?”
Vahn watched him for another moment before he hummed, shrugging, and continued on. Hawke stayed still, confused, and felt his throat. Nope. Magic hadn’t done anything weird. Hadn’t used it in a few days and he definitely hadn’t let it work when he flirted with Josie. Not his style.
Nothing was off. He swallowed, a sudden thought striking him, and he hurried after Vahn. “Hey!” He laughed as Vahn quickened his pace. “Hey! You just want first dibs on that honey bread! Get back here!”
☉
Vahn indeed got first dibs on the honey bread, the little sneak, and somehow, also captured Josie’s attention. She’d given Hawke so many smiles as she and Jerome served supper, and even playfully brushed her legs up against his under the table, but then Vahn started explaining magic, and Hawke was doomed. There was just something so earnest and cute when Vahn went on and on about his spells and how they worked, people ate it up. Like Josie now. She watched him with wide eyes over her mug like he was telling her some epic ballad he’d personally seen. It probably helped she was a little Hedge Witch herself. Magic sung off her fingertips as easily as the wind moved. Maybe she hoped to learn something.
Jerome, meanwhile, sat back watching them, content, as he sipped from his mug. Of course he was. Vahn was harmless. Hawke tried making conversation with the man instead, but as Josie was bubbly, he was tight-lipped. Such was life. Jerome at least shared what he drank. Sure, the first gulp went down wrong with such a strong taste, Hawke ended up coughing until Jerome gave his back a few strong pats. Second taste was smoother—Hawke was ready for it this time—and soon it warmed him up from the inside.
Evening went on, something cozy and peaceful, as Vahn and Josie talked themselves out. They continued until it grew late and the hearth became the only light making them bright.
When Vahn finally ran out of words and Josie ran out of space on the notepad Vahn had dug out for her, Jerome shuffled everyone off to sleep. Josie could barely stifle a yawn as she cleaned up the kitchen, but still spared Hawke a final cute smile before Jerome led Hawke and Vahn outside to the farm’s hayloft.
Not quite how Hawke wanted the evening to go, but not bad all things considered. Delicious food. Full belly. A little buzz. All good things. He and Vahn took turns washing up in the outdoor privy—a far cry from the comforts of an inn room—and by the time Hawke had finished, Vahn had made the hayloft cozy. Blankets aplenty from his magic bag, pillows covered the scratchy hay, and he’d even set a little magic lamp beside them. The place even smelled like an incense Vahn must have burned up already. Something tart, but relaxing.
“Food was good,” Vahn said, laying leaned up against pillows with his blanket spread across him. He had his magic book floating above him. One of these days, it was going to land on his face.
“She learned from the best.” Hawke stretched out on top of his blanket and drew his hands behind his head. Too warm to go underneath for now.
Vahn snorted and idly turned the page of his book. Hawke nudged his arm.
“Aw, don’t make that face,” Hawke teased. “I’ll teach you if you promise no magic.”
“I’ll think about it.” Vahn smiled as he considered the page. More nonsense to Hawke, but it had the image of bread on it. Hawke hoped he wasn’t planning on making bread—magic was bound to mix badly with the yeast—and he groped for a new conversation to distract the magician.
“W-What was your original hair color?” he asked and Vahn peered at him, confused. Hawke flapped his hand at Vahn’s blue hair. “Before this. Magic changed it, right?”
Vahn ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh.” He chuckled and pulled his book down against his chest. “Red, actually. A lot like Josie’s.”
Should have figured as much. There was just something about red-heads. Hawke rested against his pillow as Vahn faced him, eyebrows raised.
“Why?” Vahn rolled over closer and grinned before Hawke could push him off. “Do you like red hair?” He laughed as Hawke turned away. He did not have to answer that verbally. Not one bit. Even if imagining Vahn with red hair was actually rather endearing. “I think I had freckles like her too, but magic sort of took those away.”
“Really?” Hawke glanced back at Vahn. Cheeks free of any mark. “That’s a shame.”
“I thought so too.” Vahn tilted his head back and stared at the wooden beams above them. “I don’t remember my eyes though.”
“Red eyes look nice,” Hawke said quickly, hearing the sadness behind Vahn’s words. The magician smiled gently and turned his head away. “Fits you.”
“I suppose.”
They went quiet, but Hawke had made Vahn smile again. Good, he wouldn’t be dwelling. Hawke lay back against his pillows and blankets and listened to the wind outside. Nothing out of the ordinary. Could have fallen asleep right then, but then an idea weaseled its way into Hawke’s thoughts.
“Say…” Hawke said. “You mentioned silencing bubbles before…”
“Nope.”
“Hey! I haven’t even asked anything!”
“A silencing bubble will get you and Josie into trouble.” Vahn rolled over and slid his book into his bag. A cold puff exited as the bag accepted it and Vahn pulled the blanket over his shoulder. Hawke groaned loudly in protest and Vahn laughed. “I’m helping you make good decisions!”
“Fine.” Hawke huffed, but honestly, Vahn was right. That house wasn’t large enough for much privacy, even with a silencing spell. Just as well. He was happy he’d made Josie smile.
He closed his eyes, content, and listened to the way the wind rattled the building as it blew through the field. Stronger than it had been in weeks, but not altogether distracting. It mixed with the soft trickle of Vahn’s magic upon their blankets and pillows. Both exuded gentle warmth—not enough to be a problem, but just enough to lull anyone to sleep. Much better than nights without traveling with Vahn, that was for sure.
Hawke exhaled, content, and fuzzy sleep led him under.
The dream would have been nice—it featured both Josie and Vahn—and Hawke fully wanted to lean into it because it would have made up for the lack of anything more physical, but then it felt like something was crawling up his skin. The tantalizing images of Josie and Vahn waned, leaving Hawke alone in the dark. He grimaced, skin flushing with goosebumps as it continued over him. Maybe the hay had bugs. Made sense. Maybe they should have just slept in Vahn’s tent on the road. Never had bugs there. Might have been a magic reason.
Hawke wiped a hand down one arm, but the feeling only intensified. Little soft touches up and down. The wind howled louder beyond the touch, knocking against the wooden walls, and the whole place shuddered beneath Hawke.
Finally, he opened his eyes and someone loomed above him. Not Vahn. Not even Josie.
A faceless figure with a blindfold wrapped around their eyes and a scarf tied tight around their skull to hide any personal traits. Skin buffed free of everything; all smooth and impersonal. Limbs had been pulled long and spindly, like whoever made the thing couldn’t remember quite what a person looked like.
This was wrong. It couldn’t be here. Not now.
Hawke threw his arm out, holding his breath, and the body went flying like a wisp of air. Another body rose beside him, its mouth moving in a silent scream. Hawke ripped the knife from his pants. The body instantly rolled back, dodging the strike as the knife came down, and magic sung in the air, making it shimmer.
“Hawke!” a voice called—too distant—and the body gripped his wrist to stop the next strike. Hawke threw his weight against it instead, sending them both tumbling.
The blankets and pillows went everywhere, the hay did little to cushion the smack against the floorboards, and the body threw itself over Hawke. His head hit the floor hard, spotting his vision, and before he knew it, the body was straddling his waist—one hand tight on his wrist to stop the knife.
No. Not like this. He had to—
“Hawke!”
The veil in the room parted. The faceless body melted and Vahn was there, tightly keeping Hawke pinned. One hand was at his face, magic softly caressing the skin, and the other had an ironclad grip on Hawke’s wrist to keep the knife out of the way.
“Shit!” Hawke breathed out ragged gasps. Cold sweat clung to his skin and he shot his gaze over the room for the first body. Not there. It had gone out with the wind like they always did once acknowledged, only leaving an afterimage in its wake that had pulled itself over Vahn. Same tricks over and over again; Hawke should have known better by now. His pulse thundered and he tried listening past it for the signs he’d missed.
It couldn’t be this. His throat tingled, like a hand crawled through it, and he rubbed his own hand down it to calm himself. Vahn dropped his hand to it too, hoping to help if Hawke had to guess, but nothing could help him now. Not when magic sung so loud and clear through the air.
“Hawke?” Vahn said it softer. His fingers felt nice on Hawke’s throat, a soothing gesture sliding underneath Hawke’s frantic hand. He still hadn’t moved off Hawke and he was out of breath from the tumble.
Shit. Hawke had tried stabbing him.
“Y-You were muttering. Tossing and turning. Then you panicked. There was a magic veil on your eyes. I got it. Hawke? Are you—”
“No, I’m not—Vahn we have to—” Hawke stopped and there it was.
Golden rings hitting a staff. The sound echoing toward them. It oscillated, creating a sheen upon the breeze trickling inside, and made the air itself like a prism. A literal song seen with the naked eye. Vahn picked his head up, eyes wide, and Hawke gripped his hand.
“What is that?” Vahn asked.
“It’s… it’s the Wild Hunt,” Hawke whispered.
🙡🙢