III. Dealings of a Magic Voice
The last person Hawke had told about his deal with King Elwick was Trice. It’d made sense at the time—she was not as agreeable about constantly being on the move as Vahn—and afterward, she’d tried to find a way to get Hawke out of the deal. Even with all her connections and prowess for research, however, she was stumped and then made sure they stayed ahead of Elwick. She’d never had the misfortune of being caught. She’d kept them one step ahead and never had to confront him. When they parted ways, part of Hawke was glad that for her sake, she’d never have to be caught by Elwick and Hawke had made himself believe the fear of getting someone else involved in his mess would never come up again. He never thought he’d make another attachment where it mattered.
But then here was Vahn. Now patiently sitting in front of him in the hayloft, expecting answers. There was nowhere for Hawke to run as dawn light stretched across the village and in through the window. The nerves wouldn’t have been so bad if Vahn watched him like he wanted to dissect Hawke—his something to be solved look—but this wasn’t that.
Vahn was worried.
Josie was fine. Slept through the whole thing and Hawke had to leave her and Jerome with a million questions when Vahn hobbled back and wanted to talk. Vahn was sitting on the floor now with tea Josie had handed off before they’d isolated themselves. Vahn watched Hawke pace and waited.
Lies. The truth. Saying fuck it and running as fast as he could without giving anything. All three flitted through Hawke’s thoughts because this was never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to get caught. Especially not when his getting caught meant someone else that meant something to him did too. He’d promised himself and now here he was. So close to getting caught.
Plan one. “We get the fuck out of here,” Hawke tried, hopeful.
“No.” Vahn frowned. “I bargained for three days. We… I should do what I can to protect the village and find out what he’s after.” Vahn took a sip of the tea—some mix of black tea with cardamom and cinnamon—and then patted the spot in front of him. “Sit, Hawke. I don’t think he’s after you.”
Hawke hesitated. Leave it to Vahn to piece it together.
“He smelled you on me, I’m sure,” Vahn explained. “But he was more concerned with this gift—the piece of himself, he called it.” He peered down at his wrist. Where the skin was red and bruised beneath the bangles. Hawke hadn’t noticed that before. He dropped down finally and gently took Vahn’s hand to look.
“What happened?”
Vahn shrugged. “He knew how the bangles worked.”
Shit. If Elwick knew that, Vahn stood no chance against him. Hawke tried to think of how to convince Vahn it was a super bad idea to stay, but the magician was getting fidgety. Like he hadn’t told Hawke everything. Hawke raised his eyebrows.
“What else happened?”
Vahn’s face scrunched. Settling the mug down, he pressed his fingers to a spot on the crook of his neck near his shirt collar. “What spell would he have put here?”
Hawke pinched the bridge of his nose. The same lips had cast the spell there too on Hawke and of course, Elwick would do the same to Vahn. “You dispelled it, right?”
“Yes,” Vahn said as though it was obvious. “I do not generally let people spell me without me knowing what exactly they’re doing.”
“Something to make you more malleable,” Hawke said slowly.
It made it so easy to give in and do whatever Elwick wanted for a time. Until the honeymoon period ended, Elwick growing bored, and then just as quickly as he’d been enthralled, Hawke had been on his own. He covered his mouth, swallowing the revulsion churning in his stomach, and gazed out the window. Still time to run. He could make it with a three-day head start, he was sure. Everything was still ready—his bag and lute.
“Hawke,” Vahn said softly and tilted his head to catch Hawke’s gaze. “Please, tell me everything you know about King Elwick. I am not running.”
Vahn stared at Hawke so earnestly, some of the flight fizzled. Even if it was smart—the correct thing to do to make sure he lived to see past these three days—Hawke couldn’t run, not with the way those eyes watched him. Vahn believed he could save the village. He’d stay, even if it meant Elwick doing who knew what to him. Hawke wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened.
Sighing, Hawke settled his things beside Vahn’s and sat in front of the magician, cross-legged. Might as well get comfortable. The words stuck in his throat, panic still winding around his heart, and he ran both hands through his hair, hanging his head low. Deep breath. In and out. In and out. Until the words pieced themselves back together.
“Like I said: he is King Elwick of the Wild,” Hawke said quietly, some fear deep in the pit of his stomach keeping him traitorously so. “Legend down here says he was once one of the Great Kings before the Floating World was raised into the sky. Although, opinion’s mixed about exactly when he appeared. The same legend says he was born of Wild Magic, but… I don’t buy that. No one knows what he is now. What he was before and how Wild Magic bends to him when it doesn’t bend to anyone else quite the same. Nothing about him rightly makes sense.”
Vahn was nodding. “I see that,” he murmured, eyes narrowed. “I’ve never heard of such a phenomenon, though. Even High Magicians are separate from their magic with a clear divide. He has no such thing.”
“Figured High Magicians were different.” Hawke dropped his hands into his lap and looked at the ceiling beams. “As I’m sure you saw, magic is like an extension of him. And he also bends himself to it—it’s how he disappears. He’s alive, but at the same time something beyond alive. Immortal. He’s obsessed with anything that makes him feel alive. I think he’s forgotten how it once felt.” One of the reasons he was drawn to musicians. A lively voice echoing through the halls of taverns and town squares. “He enjoys festivals. Harvests, solstices, anything where humanity is celebrating their lives or the passage of time. He wants to partake in the same feelings.”
Music had fluttered through Hawke’s head uninvited back then. He’d listened to it for days as it followed him alone on the road. After a time, he’d strummed his lute to play with it, learning its melody by heart. It made him not feel alone as he’d been. The press of Elwick’s fingers leading his own had been warm. Chased away loneliness Hawke never wanted again.
Hawke shook it away. Got him in trouble once, but never again.
“When he tires of the revelry or whoever he’s courting, he strips anyone he’s snared in his magic of all they were. Their names. Their faces. Their very selves and devours it all. Some of the people in his hunt made deals. Others just gave in to his charms. No one knows what they’re giving up until it’s too late. The warriors and huntsmen you saw are parts of himself fashioned from magic.”
Vahn should have looked afraid. He’d promise a monster the impossible. Yet, he wasn’t. Soft curiosity bloomed in his features and he hardly veiled it with concern.
“You made a deal with him,” Vahn said.
It was obvious. Hawke felt his throat idly. “At the time, I was new to the world. I thought it was a gig I could weasel my way out of.” It’d been what he’d done so many times before then. One more wouldn’t have hurt, but then came the ramifications all too late. He shut his eyes tight and ignored the sensation curling in his throat. “I’ve been running for seven years, Vahn. I thought I was still ahead of him.”
Vahn’s eyes went wide. “He’s the wind,” he whispered. “The wind you’re always listening to, isn’t he?”
The twinkle of magic was so loud now. Mocking him because he’d missed it since rolling into town. “Yes,” Hawke breathed. “The rings on his staff specifically. I can always hear them; except I don’t know why I didn’t notice him here.” He glanced downward, frustrated with himself more than anything else. “How did he find me so fast? How—”
“He’s not after you,” Vahn said softly. He’d come closer, leaving his mug behind, and touched one of Hawke’s hands. “We just happened across him.”
“Shit luck,” Hawke whispered. “Once you give him what he wants—whatever it is—he’s going to catch me if I stay here.”
Vahn tilted his head in thought, studying Hawke. “What did he give you?”
Hawke tapped his throat. Magic sung as he did so, twisting around his tongue as though ready to lie and charm like it always was. “He gave me his voice.” The sad look crossing Vahn’s face mirrored the one Trice had given him after learning the same. “Don’t get me wrong, I was a fine singer without it, but he thought this would help me more.”
How naïve he’d been seven years ago. He couldn’t even remember what his real voice sounded like now, but before Elwick, he’d managed to make something of it with songs and stories. But then he noticed people always eventually grew bored. Elwick latched onto that doubt. Sank his teeth so deeply, the doubt became a hemorrhaging wound. Hawke wanted to keep telling stories, keep everyone interested in what he had to say, and Elwick gave him all that and more.
“He told me that after I’d told a thousand stories, he’d come for me so I could regale him forevermore with the same tales.” Hawke laughed darkly and covered his mouth. “Those stories dried up fast when lies counted. I was lucky when he first came to collect me. I was at a tavern when he appeared and he was distracted with how everyone else was enthralled with the voice he gave me. I skipped town and kept running.”
A pang of guilt admitting his cowardice aloud made Hawke grimace. That town was gone now because of Hawke’s inaction, he was sure. For a time, he couldn’t get the faces of those he’d doomed to Elwick’s rage out of his head. They were fuzzy, now. Years dead and gone, empty shells in Elwick’s court.
“Ah.” Vahn didn’t look as shocked as Trice did. Hawke wasn’t sure he’d even understood what Hawke had done to those people. Maybe it was better that way. Vahn looked like he wanted to feel Hawke’s throat anew now that he knew exactly what was going on with it. “Does he have your voice?”
“He burned it up for the spell.”
The memory was still too vivid. Elwick’s mouth on his so completely to draw Hawke’s voice free. The way Elwick had smiled igniting it on his own lips. Multicolor flames shimmering against the black. Then, how hot Elwick’s voice had burned going in. His hunger in the way he held Hawke still by his throat. The burn of his lips and teeth.
Hawke shook his head and pushed the memory down.
“It’s probably why I can’t rise a spell. It’s not my voice.”
Vahn nodded. At least something made sense. “If he catches you then, you’ll turn into one of his court?”
Hawke shuddered. “Exactly. Everything I am will be gone.” It frightened him more than death did, honestly. Having everything he was stripped and devoured until he was empty inside, just a puppet pulled by Elwick’s strings to never die.
They lapsed into silence and Hawke listened to it. The door to the house had opened so softly while Vahn had spoken and he thought he’d heard Josie’s footsteps, but they’d stopped at some point. Chickens clucked further off at another farmstead. The village was awake now, the night but a confusing nightmare as they moved on with their lives. Hawke wondered if Vahn planned to tell the village. They’d have to start somewhere, though, and Hawke was sure Josie was already trying to eavesdrop to learn for herself.
“Don’t tell the village,” Hawke decided.
Vahn nodded and pulled his magic book into his lap. “Not my plan. They’ll panic.” A few pages filled with spells and diagrams at his touch until he kept turning the pages, searching for something. “I’m sure there’s a way we can save you.”
“Seven years and Trice tried for the two we were together.” Hawke turned and brought his lute to his lap for something to hold onto. The strings beneath his fingers were soothing, even if he didn’t pluck them. Vahn sadly peered up at him and Hawke chuckled. “You just want to dissect me still.”
Vahn’s face went red. “Hawke—”
“I think it’s cute,” Hawke admitted and Vahn’s expression softened. “I really do. Right now, though?” He dropped his voice. “We get the fuck outta here.”
Vahn sighed and eyed Hawke dubiously. Worth a shot.
“No,” he repeated. “I got the village three days. We’ll find out what he’s searching for and fortify the town so he can’t renege. There has to be a way.” Vahn stopped his book on a spell with diagrams too complex for Hawke to follow. Circles and some kind of enchanted script. “I will understand if you leave. I can catch up at the next town, if you prefer.”
“He’ll eat you—”
“Evidently no, or he would have.” Vahn held up his wrist and the bangle slid down with a soft trill, revealing how red his skin had become beneath it. “I was defenseless, Hawke—at his complete mercy—but he saw more pleasure in making an agreement with me than anything else he could have done right then and there.”
“And you think you’ll be safe when he’s bored of you?” The question came out angrier than Hawke intended, but it was too late to take back.
“I’ll be better equipped to handle him when he does.” Vahn dropped his hand. “I’m serious, though. You can leave. I’ll understand.”
An out without any guilt attached to it. Right there for Hawke to just take and not look back, except the smallest part of him that was still an honorable man refused. He sighed. “I’m not leaving you here to face him alone, Vahn.”
The way Vahn smiled made Hawke believe he’d made the first decent choice in his life. Even if the rest of him screamed at him to take the damn out and run. Nope. He’d made his decision. He’d stay because of that shy smile of a man who believed in him right there.
“I’ve a plan.” Vahn drew his finger down the spine of his book and a ribbon appeared as bookmark. He closed his book and settled it in his lap. “I’ll need Josie’s help and your voice. Think we should let her in and tell her everything now?”
Hawke smirked. “We should,” he raised his voice. “I’m sure she’s right outside.”
There was a soft gasp and Josie hurried away from the farm’s doors. Hawke hardly hid his snicker and he and Vahn headed down to fill her and Jerome in. They’d need all the help they could get.
☉
The plan Vahn cobbled together was deceptively simple and Josie quickly volunteered herself and her father to help. It was their village, after all. Hawke and Jerome were tasked with asking those in town about anything… weird. Everyone agreed mentioning King Elwick directly might cause someone to clamp down on the secret (or worse, not take the question seriously). Jerome explained that in these parts, the Wild Hunt was often used as a bedtime story to scare kids into staying in bed. Hawke fought against scoffing. If only that was all it was, but it made sense. No one believed in legends until they were literally at their door. Chances were, anyone who’d tangled with King Elwick ceased living shortly after.
A frightening prospect Hawke hoped despite belief to change.
Hawke used his honeyed, magic voice to keep people complacent, even when asked odd questions and pairing that with Jerome’s reputation in town, people were eager to talk to them.
While he and Jerome were busy with that, Vahn and Josie were tasked with enchanting each house and building against Wild Magic. There was no way to stop it completely, but dulling its effects would keep anyone from being enchanted out of their beds. At most, they’d have a very peculiar dream, but stay safely inside.
At least, that’s how Vahn put it when he drew up the glyphs and sigils and showed everyone. Even after an hour spent explaining, Hawke couldn’t tell anyone how it worked, but Vahn was confident and after that hour, so was Josie. Two spell casters were better than one—especially since the town absolutely adored one and Hawke was sure they’d do anything for Josie—and while Vahn laid the groundwork by carving the symbols into doorways and underneath windowsills, Josie would further augment it. Since she lived in the village, the Wild Magic inert there would happily spark by her hand.
The first day ended with half the town taken care of, but no closer to finding an answer about any gift or who might have had dalliances with Elwick. No one noticed anything odd. No one claimed to have been sneaking away at night (Hawke was proud he managed to ask this with tact and no doors had been slammed in his face for the insinuation). Jerome was pretty sure no one was lying, but that worried Hawke all the more. It meant perhaps Elwick met someone on the road and simply followed them here. Chances of finding the gift if that was the case was incredibly slim and the village was doomed.
He didn’t tell Jerome this and swallowed it down. There had to be a reason Elwick fixated on the village enough to specifically draw out all the young women.
Evening came, and by then, Jerome and Josie had returned to their farm to prep dinner and tomorrow’s daily work. The field Vahn had put a spell on was still dead and Vahn attempted another incantation in the gems they’d buried. By the end, he was tight-lipped. Dinner was a quiet affair with Jerome and Josie and afterward, Hawke was so exhausted, he fell right asleep once he and Vahn retired to the hayloft.
The second day was much like the first. Vahn became frazzled and agitated with the field—a first for him—and Hawke was tired of finding no answers. Josie and Vahn finished the wards throughout town by afternoon and Hawke had finished with everyone willing to talk to him. No one mentioned anything weird beyond the night the young woman awoke confused outside at dawn. The day ended with Vahn skipping supper to retire early and Hawke stayed up late with Josie and Jerome over tea.
“The wards should work,” Josie said idly as though to smother the silence. The kitchen had grown dark as the sun set outside. “They feel strong.”
“But for how long?” Jerome asked quietly. “What happens after?”
Hawke frowned and glanced between them. Vahn had promised them the impossible and now doubt was taking hold. Josie sipped her tea, eyes downcast at the table, and Jerome sighed as he ran his hand over his curls.
“One more day,” Jerome whispered. “I’ll ask around again. Maybe someone will come clean if we’re a little more honest.”
Josie’s expression tightened, but she didn’t look up. Hawke sipped his tea and watched her. He’d done enough traveling to know there were words left unsaid right there in that expression. He waited, hoping she’d speak on her own, but then the expression faded. She finished her tea and headed back to the leftover food. She busied herself with filling up a plate and set it in front of Hawke. Rosemary biscuits and a hearty gravy spread over top.
“Can you take this to Vahn?” she asked, hopeful. “I was famished coming home and he’s been doing way more magic than me. He’s probably hungry.”
“I will. Thank you.” Hawke smiled at her.
She hesitated before she turned away. Yep. She had a secret. Or, more likely, she was masking fear. If they didn’t find Elwick’s gift and return it, her village and everyone in it—her included—was doomed.
He should have run. They were no closer to the truth of the matter with one day left and now he cared. Short of collecting everyone again and asking them straight up who had been seeking out King Elwick, he had no other idea of what to do. He only hoped time alone had given Vahn some idea. Else they were screwed.
When Hawke climbed into the loft with the plate, he found Vahn bent over his magic book on one leg with his notebook on the other. His lamp cast a soft orange glow across the loft and highlighted just how tired he was. Hawke settled the plate beside him and Vahn glanced up.
“Don’t go to sleep hungry,” Hawke said and settled on his bundle of blankets.
Vahn picked off a piece of biscuit and scooped up some gravy. He idly chewed it as he drew his gaze over his books again. “I’m missing something. I know I am.” He turned a page and Hawke glanced at the notebook. Vahn had compiled a list of the young women he’d seen and if Hawke had talked to them. All of them had check marks next to their names and where they lived.
None of them were lying, Hawke was sure about it.
“One more day,” Hawke said.
“I know.”
“Are you scared?”
Vahn smiled crookedly and didn’t look up. “Not as I should be, to be honest. I’m a little… excited, actually.”
Hawke chuckled. “Dangerous,” he teased and Vahn laughed. “Though I guess magicians would be thrill seekers, huh?”
“A kind way to put it. My professors also called my lack of fear dangerous.” Vahn finally looked up at Hawke. “He won’t take you. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” Hawke murmured. “We made a choice. We’ll both live it—whatever happens.”
☉
The morning of the third day arrived after a night of restless sleep. Cold wind fluttered through the farm, pushing out the summer air Hawke had become accustomed to and the skies were overcast. Fitting, somehow. Vahn was already up and out of the loft, empty plate left behind. Hawke flopped back into his blankets and stared at the ceiling. Last day.
If he ran now, he might get out narrowly, but he’d promised Vahn. Besides, the time for running was long gone.
Josie was making breakfast. Its aroma wafted out of the opened windows. Also, coffee. As Hawke dressed and came down, he made sure to take a deep breath of it before he went out to find Vahn. They’d both need breakfast for whatever the plan was for today.
He found Vahn in front of the field they’d come here to save. Still dead. Vahn’s shoulders were tense and his gaze sharp as he watched it. Hawke stepped up beside him and Vahn released a long sigh.
“Still pretty dead, huh?” Hawke said.
“It doesn’t matter, I suppose.” Vahn drew his arms together in thought. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes. “Hm.”
Good sound. “What’s up?”
Vahn gazed past Hawke. Two more farmsteads stood not far down the road. Both good friends of Jerome and easiest to talk to the first day. The farthest one had daughters aplenty whereas the other had a single son. Vahn’s lips moved with his thoughts, but he didn’t say anything. All at once, he stopped and looked up at Hawke.
“Josie wasn’t grabbed,” Vahn said.
“Yeah, we figured she slept through it.”
“But that’s the thing. They were all sleeping through it. How come Josie didn’t rise like the others?” Vahn studied Jerome’s house. Unassuming, it stood there as it had when they arrived. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Without explaining anything, Vahn headed for it, strides quick and purposeful. Hawke followed him over, curious, and Vahn stopped at the doorway. He drew his fingers along the threshold where he and Josie had carved runes. The magic sung softly at Vahn’s fingertips, a blend of Vahn and Josie, but as Vahn pressed harder, there was a quieter sound. Hawke gasped.
“Wait,” he said and looked closer. Softened symbols sat below Vahn’s newly carved ones. “There were symbols here before you guys got to it?”
“I didn’t notice it before,” Vahn whispered. “Josie was so quick to start and I wanted to keep up.” He pressed his fingers into the wood and breathed in. “Oh, wild Time, I beseech you: show to me that which has passed.”
Vahn’s hand glimmered and the affect jolted through Vahn until his spine stood straight. His eyes grew wide, tracking what must have been in the past. He pulled his fingers away after a time and exhaled.
“She put them up a month ago. Alone. It’s a simpler version of what I came up with, but a similar affect…” He gazed back at the dead field. “How long did Jerome say the field was dead?”
“It died a month ago,” Hawke whispered.
The door opened and Josie jumped with a shout, almost dropping the two plates and mugs she’d been carrying.
“Oh, hello there!” She chuckled and turned to let them through. “I was about to bring you breakfast. Did you want to come in?”
“It was you,” Vahn said and Josie’s stilled so fast, he had to be right. “You were seeing Elwick, weren’t you?”
Josie’s eyes grew wide and she glanced between Hawke and Vahn. Trapped. Panicked. Hawke thought for sure she’d throw everything at them and run, but she stayed still. Movement came from inside and Hawke saw Jerome standing up from the table inside.
“Josie?” he asked quietly.
“He gave you a gift,” Vahn continued, steady. “And you buried it in the field, didn’t you? That’s why it died. It was meant for you, wasn’t it?”
Decay. Hawke glanced back. A mortal woman would have been too alive for Elwick to hold onto for long. If he decayed her body enough and pushed Wild Magic into her, then he’d have a partner, living forever under his whims, until he grew bored.
“Ah, shit,” Hawke hissed.
Josie’s shoulders dropped. “Yes,” she whispered. “He… He gave me a ring and I panicked and buried it and never went back. I didn’t think he’d ever find me.”
🙡🙢
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