V. Flight of Wild Magic
Once again, Hawke hated the plan Vahn cooked up. Being bait was not and never going to be what he signed up for and the itch to run was as stark as ever. The moral, good part of himself, however, still wouldn’t let him leave. Besides, Vahn was right. Hawke would be the best distraction the village had on such short notice and once on the chase again, Elwick would forget all about everyone here.
The way it always worked in the past was Elwick would get close, sometimes almost catching Hawke unaware (not in the past few years at least), and Hawke would run. Elwick would find himself distracted with wherever Hawke had been, chasing the feeling of being alive, and wouldn’t emerge again for some time. It stood to reason the opposite would be true: he was so fixated on feeling alive right now, a distraction of the Hawke variety would drag him back to their chase.
The thrill was always what Elwick yearned for. Be it chasing Hawke or another fancy. Yet, if Hawke was ever truly caught, Elwick wouldn’t let him go simply to chase him again. It’d be the end of their game for good.
And so, perfect bait Hawke, was not running already like he should have.
Jerome was showing him the horse tasked with the impossible: outrunning King Elwick of the Wild. Sturdy thing with strong muscles and a docile temperament. Jerome was clearly proud of it and he was the most animated Hawke saw him as Jerome told him about how easily the horse could go to the city and back, as fast as the wind. It was a soft black with a carefully maintained white mane and tail.
“His name’s Arod,” Jerome said as the horse happily ate the apple Hawke offered him. Jerome’s excitement waned as he watched Arod and Hawke’s stomach twisted. There was a real chance of losing the horse.
“You don’t want to part with him,” Hawke spelled out.
“Aye, but he’s your best chance at running.”
“Why does it matter so much to you?” Hawke asked and Jerome raised his eyebrows, confused. “Could just let us lead Elwick away. He’ll probably forget all about Josie once he has me.”
Jerome stayed quiet as his gaze drew over Arod. The horse flicked his ears in response, watching Jerome right back. Finally, Jerome sighed and crossed his arms. There was a sad smile on his lips, one Hawke hadn’t been expecting.
“Josie hasn’t smiled so much in years,” he said. “Figured I owed it to her and you that you got out of this mess alive. All this ain’t even your fault and you’re putting yourself on the line. You could have run by now.”
Hawke frowned. “We probably won’t be back,” he continued. It was the life of a wanderer, after all. He could count the places he’d revisited on one hand. Not a lot because there was no telling if he’d run into Elwick on a return.
“I know,” Jerome said. “But she’ll smile thinking of the ways you flirted with her. I don’t want that soured with your deaths, so giving you the best chance you’ll get is what I can do.”
At least if they got away, Josie could smile at the memory. Two troublemakers rolling into town, messing with a king who should have been a fable, and then leaving just as fast. Almost had the beginnings of a song. Hawke couldn’t help the lopsided smile spreading across his lips.
Jerome cleared his throat, warmth locked away, and he took a simple map from his vest. It laid out the surrounding land and even into Ramvale. There was a spot circled just inside the city and Jerome pointed at it.
“Give Arod to this stable just inside. The gal there knows him and will get him calmed and back to me.” He folded the map and handed it to Hawke before he gazed out into the hazy distance where the city loomed. “City should be more warded against magic, might be safe to hunker down behind the walls for a bit.”
“Not for long.” Hawke slid the map into his shirt. “There are always cracks. Elwick can slide his way through after a time.” It happened all the time, but not quite to the ramifications fields and villages dealt with once he’d blown through them. “We’ll keep leading him away.”
Jerome patted him on the back. “You do that, then.”
Once in Ramvale, Hawke had to focus on staying ahead and on the move until he couldn’t hear the magic heralding Elwick’s arrival. It was his life—had been for years—but therein lied an ache he’d never get rid of. He’d been doing so well not obsessing over it, but that safety was gone now. If he’d listened harder, if they’d just gone to Ramvale, they could have avoided all this.
Then again, Elwick would have taken all the young women if they hadn’t. Razed the fields until he found the ring on his own. Maybe it was better this way. Even if Hawke was bait. At least he was well versed in running.
Hawke felt his throat, feeling the magic stirring within, and noticed Vahn and Josie returning from the venture they’d gone off for. It was something magic—Hawke heard it on the wind clearly—but he had no idea what it was. Vahn looked more and more ragged the longer the day wore on, his cheeks pale and eyes tired, and Josie was faring no better as she wiped sweat from her brow.
“What’d you two do?” he asked as they approached.
“Sorcery,” Vahn said with a tired chuckle and it got a smile out of Josie. “Lines of protective magic.” He faced the road and pointed with a trembling finger. Hawke saw nothing but the summer haze, but the soft whisper of magic continued farther out. “We follow the road, running over the white chalk lines Josie and I drew, and each one will renew protective magic over us. If Elwick has caught up to us, it should help throw him off. Hopefully exhausting him in the process.”
Before they were exhausted.
“Hopefully,” Hawke repeated.
Vahn’s jaw tightened. “Hopefully we lose him before we run out of magic.” He smiled at Josie. “You holding up okay? I may need more help soon.”
Josie nodded with renewed energy. “I’m just a little hungry. Lunch should be done about now if you all wanted to head in.” She smiled at everyone, hopeful. “Dad and I made sure to prep lots.”
Hawke grinned. “Wouldn’t miss maybe my last meal.”
Josie gave him a pity chuckle and touched his arm before she turned to head for the house. Jerome led Arod toward the farm where he had a trough set up for the horse and once Arod was set up, followed his daughter inside. Hawke watched them go before he turned to join them—eating was better than fretting—but he noticed Vahn veering off toward town. Hawke stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re running yourself ragged here. Come eat.”
Vahn swallowed and brushed his hair back. “I know, I know. I just wanted to check the wards one last time.” He tried moving past Hawke, but Hawke took his wrist this time.
“One evening isn’t enough to weaken them,” Hawke whispered. “Not with someone of your caliber. Rest. We have time, so we should use it before we’re running.”
A soft sigh escaped Vahn’s lips as he stared at the village going about its daily routine. Hardly the wiser for what could still descend on them if Hawke and Vahn failed. Jerome had sent a neighbor’s son to tell everyone to stay in tonight. Made up some reason about it being divined to be a bad night. Hawke was glad superstition was alive and well in places like this. That should keep them mostly safe.
“You’re right,” Vahn said. “My legs are starting to shake anyway. Perhaps food is good.”
After they’d filled themselves with food, Hawke and Vahn returned to the hayloft for a nap. Hawke knew he fell asleep, at least. The way the sun sparkled inside from the windows and danced across his skin made it so easy. He only wished it had been night time so Vahn could have felt as recharged as Hawke did upon waking.
It was late afternoon when he finally roused. The sunlight had turned harsh outside as it spilled gold across the village.
Vahn must have already woken up. He was gone and so were their bags. The only thing he’d left for Hawke was his lute and it had been gently placed beside Hawke. Frustrated, Hawke ran his hands down his face. Someone could have woken him up. Vahn was the one that needed more rest.
Still, he appreciated the time alone with his lute. Let him get his head on straight.
Strumming it would help calm him. Even if his fingers trembled attempting to do so. His heartbeat spiked, thinking of if tomorrow would actually happen, and whatever song he plucked wasn’t drowning it out. He was afraid in ways he hadn’t been in years.
He tried exhaling it and focused on the movement of his fingers across the lute. It was useless to dwell. What happened would happen. Duality of living to see tomorrow or accepting death when it came. Dwelling changed none of that, so he wouldn’t.
Playing his lute wasn’t helping. He got up, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out.
Jerome had Arod back on the road in front of their house, suited for travel. The saddle was secure, exquisitely made with careful stitching, and he’d already attached Hawke’s bag to one side and Vahn’s to the other. Jerome helped him settle the lute safely there too and Hawke gave Arod a hearty pat on the back.
“Seen Vahn lately?” Hawke asked.
“Been with Josie. Doing something with cards.” Jerome nodded toward their half-opened door. “In there if you want to check in on them. Almost time for us to hole up, I figure.” He gazed out toward the setting sun and Hawke’s stomach twisted again. Definitely setting. Soon it’d be twilight and Elwick would arrive promptly.
As Jerome finished seeing to the horse, Hawke ducked back inside in search of Vahn. The kitchen smelled like their last meal—hearty potato and cheese stew inside bread bowls Josie had gotten from the bakery in town—but also the tart incense Vahn sometimes burned. It floated off his cards and they lay splayed on the table as he and Josie looked them over. There were three in a row, face up. Vahn looked perturbed and Josie confused. Vahn glanced up, seeing Hawke, and gathered them too quickly for Hawke to figure out what it showed. He stashed them away in the pouch attached to his sash and stood.
Looked more well rested, at least. Definitely more formidable, wearing what Hawke liked to call magician regalia. Black and gold tunic that swept down past his thighs. He neglected buttoning the sleeves back on, leaving his arms bare, and even had the front unbuttoned a bit. The sash around his waist was its vibrant yellow and Hawke bet held knives inside like Hawke had shown him. Hawke felt underdressed, like a scruffy bard that had just rolled into town, in comparison.
“You look battle ready,” Hawke said, trying for levity.
Vahn smirked. “And you look like you rolled out of bed.”
Hawke rolled his eyes and as he went to at least fix his hair, Josie had come over to do it herself. Her fingers were gentle, but sure, tousling it just right. As intimate as they were going to get, but Hawke didn’t mind it none. It was sweet of her. She smiled, one that crinkled the corners of her eyes, and kissed him on the cheek.
“For luck,” she said and retreated to do the same to Vahn. “Thank you both so much. I’m going to pack you some food I put aside. More bread and cheese, but it’s something.”
She slipped out with the small care package wrapped in a pink cloth and as her voice murmured with Jerome’s, Hawke gazed back to Vahn. There was a distant look to his face of thinking too hard.
“Cards that bad?”
Vahn wouldn’t look at him straight. “Cards are never good or bad…” When he finally peered up at Hawke, it was with a guilty look. Definitely bad cards. “It served its purpose. Are you ready?”
“No.” Hawke smirked. “Though the horse is. Gotta count for something, right?”
The notion made Vahn smile again, but Hawke hesitated all the same. For what reason, he wasn’t sure, except the sudden desire to be honest. There, right there where it had no business being in Josie’s kitchen of all places. Except being honest—admitting to anything flitting undesired through his thoughts—meant he believed they’d die. Thinking like that would kill them. So, instead, he locked it away. Vahn broke the silent stalemate; he passed Hawke and touched his hand so briefly, Hawke wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.
“Time to be bait,” Vahn said, ruining the soft moment so succinctly, Hawke couldn’t help the laugh barking out of his throat. Vahn grinned smugly and Hawke followed him outside.
Arod was as ready as a horse could be. Everything was secure and in its place. Josie was giving him gentle pats, whispering to him, as Jerome checked everything once more. Vahn waited until he was noticed, but they only looked over when he exhaled. Vahn flashed the ring in his hand. It shimmered brightly in the evening sun, the power oscillating through the amber gem. The melody within strained against its confines, some mix of Vahn and Josie overriding what was Elwick within.
“This is it,” Vahn said. “You two need to stay inside. No matter what, lock your doors and keep them locked until morning. Don’t even look outside.”
Josie came over and hugged them both, arms tight, and left with another big exhale. Goodbyes were too final and Hawke was glad she didn’t try to put words to it. Jerome came next and shook both their hands, as wordless as his daughter until he reached the door.
“Good luck and Goddess help you.”
Hawke wasn’t the praying sort and he wondered if now would be a good time to start. Nah. She’d see it as what it was: a desperate man in over his head, begging to be dragged out of his bullshit. He sighed instead, running his hand through his hair, and peered at the horse. Vahn hurried around him and pressed his forehead to Arod’s, holding the horse’s head still.
Before Hawke could ask what he was doing, a soft incantation fluttered from Vahn’s lips. Hawke didn’t catch the words, but the air rippled across the horse—something calming and cool against the setting sun. Vahn parted, smiling, and gave Arod an affectionate pat as he flicked his ears.
“Good boy,” Vahn said and came back around. He shook out his arms and faced the village. The sun had gone behind the buildings. Not much time left at all.
“Scared?” Hawke asked.
“Are you?”
“Hands haven’t stopped shaking since I woke up.”
How quickly Vahn snatched Hawke’s hand made him jump, but Vahn only redoubled his efforts to hold it and squeezed. His hand was steady, clasping so firmly around Hawke’s.
“Believe in me,” Vahn said.
“I do.”
More than he should.
The village was shuttered tight as evening fast approached. Hawke and Vahn waited near the tree in the center since it was the last place Vahn had seen King Elwick. Chances were, he’d return there too.
Magic softly sung along the breeze, the rings against Elwick’s staff so clear now with how quiet everything else was, and it created music with the lingering notes Vahn and Josie had left as wards along doorways.
The sun finally left the sky, allowing twilight to bloom across the land, and the rings became louder. A spell danced through the village as hoofbeats raced across the very air itself. Then came the echoes of lies that once were, memories twinkling after the steads leading them. The ghostly sheen descended, twisting through the air like a gossamer shroud, and with it came shells of ghosts trying to recapture their very selves. Warriors upon ghostly steads appeared next, each of them lacking a face but were much more well-formed than the shells. Magic made them up entirely, all bent to Elwick’s will for protection and a show of strength. Their weapons gleamed like prisms, reflecting off the ghostly sheen.
And then, Elwick came. As a shimmer through the air; as the ghost of a breath blowing through the village as a contented sigh; as himself walking out of nothing. Hawke’s knees buckled; the man hadn’t changed one bit. Still the same handsome face. Still the same tilt to his smile, forging an innocence there that never was, and Hawke would not be tricked again. The hunger was so obvious now, eating away the softness Hawke had found himself lost in until it tore his voice from his throat and forced in another.
Hawke shook his head, wiping the old memories from his thoughts, but the action drew Elwick’s eyes right to him. Time felt like it stalled as realization worked its way across Elwick’s face.
Warmth and familiarity of seeing an old friend bloomed across the king’s features, welling an aching desire to be such again so deep in Hawke’s stomach, he was glad when Vahn cleared his throat. The sound broke the spell and let time flow once more.
Distraction, exactly like Vahn wanted. Once Elwick had his ring back, Hawke was next and he’d forget all about the village. The fire of the potential chase was bright in Elwick’s eyes, even as he drew them to Vahn and the ring.
Vahn brandished the dainty thing, letting the spectral haze catch on the amber gem. “Found your ring,” he said and kept his voice steady.
Elwick smiled at Vahn, like a mentor to a student. “That you have, my little magician Vahn.” He purred Vahn’s name and Hawke caught the way Vahn shivered in response. “A shame you did not find the maiden I’d fashioned it for.”
Vahn shrugged. “Yes, a shame. Although, all of them look alike to you, don’t they? It’s why you had to pull out all the young women.”
Elwick hummed, raising his gaze, and settled it on Hawke. “Perhaps, but I see you’ve found me a much better gift than a flighty maiden. I do recognize this one. My dear Hawke, the years have been kind to you.”
As if Elwick knew how many years it’d been. Hawke tightened his jaw.
“Yes, I thought you’d be happy seeing him tonight,” Vahn conversed.
Elwick’s gaze shot to Vahn so sharply, he must have suspected something. He narrowed his eyes and waved his hand over his staff. It finally disappeared, ringing out a soft twinkle as it did so. He held out the newly freed hand. “The ring, so our agreement may be finished.”
And so Elwick could have reason to devour Vahn. It was in his eyes. All the hunger for magic—bangles or no, he’d make it happen. Then he’d come after Hawke.
“You know,” Vahn continued as though his life wasn’t in danger as Elwick’s gaze roved over his body like he was deciding where he’d start. “It’s interesting.” Vahn looked to the ring and so did Elwick. “The ring was made from pieces of pure Wild Magic. It’s exquisite and not something I could ever hope to replicate on my own.”
Elwick lifted his brows and straightened his back like he was preening. “Not many can from the world up high where you live without all this. It’s untamable.” He breathed the word and the breeze tickled Hawke’s skin, flushing it with goosebumps.
“You tamed it,” Vahn said. “So, it’s not untamable. Unless you call this something else?”
“I am magic,” Elwick whispered, power surging through his voice. The hunt behind him grew restless. “I am untamable. The whisper among the wind, the way it carries your spells forth, and the power latent in the darkest night. You cannot hope to comprehend what I am with your bindings and body so frail and mortal.”
Vahn nodded. “Ah, I understand.” He smiled and Hawke wished he understood what they were talking about. Vahn gripped the ring in his palm. “Here: catch!”
With more finesse than Hawke thought Vahn capable of, the magician flicked the ring straight up into the air. It spun high, the gem growing brighter and brighter with each turn, and as Elwick watched it with wide eyes growing vibrant, Vahn drew his hand through the air. A circle of light followed it, burned into the air itself.
“Light! I order you to burst!”
The mix of Vahn’s and Josie’s magic did just that and Hawke was a dumbass for staring at it like a fish. The light was so bright, like night had turned to day, and Elwick howled—in pain, something Hawke didn’t even know was possible.
Hawke was knocked out of staring as a wind spell threw Vahn into Hawke. Even as his vision continued to be spotted with white, Hawke took it as his cue and ran, Vahn’s wrist tight in his grip. Elwick’s howl quickly became part of the wind, dragging magic through it until it screeched on its own. Hawke dared not look back. All he’d see was the hunt surging after him, throwing themselves at the cause of Elwick’s raging ire.
Hawke’s vision cleared in sight of the horse, as calm as could be even as the ground rumbled. He vaulted atop it like he was back home again when he did the feat daily. Vahn’s magic ghosting across him and the horse might have helped. It tingled pleasantly down Hawke’s legs, warming him up and he yanked Vahn up into the saddle behind him. The earth underneath them warbled, bits and pieces breaking apart as magic tore it in two, and Hawke slapped the reins.
“Go!” he and Vahn shouted.
The horse bolted forward faster than Hawke was ready for, like whatever had kept it calm snapped with the word. The spell—it must have been—dispersed across the horse, soft touches snaking into its limbs, and while Hawke wanted to know exactly what it was going to do to the horse, he kept his eyes trained forward. Whatever it was doing didn’t matter if they were caught and he urged the horse as fast as it could go.
No matter how fast the horse went, magic moved faster. The air rippled in front of them, dragging streaks of too many colors to name past them like fingers ripped through the sky. The world lurched with every new streak, as though Elwick and his magic pulled the world closer with every burst. Streaks soon became ribbons, spiraling past them like lightning.
No longer able to resist, Hawke looked back.
Elwick was the wind itself, his hair and cloaks streaks behind him of whites, blacks, and grays, and the entire hunt was a ghostly stampede growing farther and farther away. Elwick’s eyes were wide, his handsome face screwed up in a deranged scowl, and from his lips magic roared. It was a screeching fit of despair roiled into anger so profound, it made the road quake. The sound itself engulfed the night sky, melting it into its ribbons and streaks until Hawke had no idea where anything was. Elwick dragged himself closer, one hand at a time, nails digging through reality as it split it beneath his fingertips. In return, reality sped and slipped by, leaving Hawke bare to magic.
And then Elwick’s fingers dragged through his hair. Within that touch, the king was upon them, a shadow engulfing the horse and its riders. Pain moored Hawke back to reality, thankfully, slotting the sky and road back into place even as he was wrenched backwards, but the horse continued on the straight path. Elwick was relentless; the magic sharpened against Hawke, digging itself deeper like it sought to pry Hawke’s skin from his bones.
Fuck! Hawke squeezed his eyes shut and pushed himself away from Elwick. He couldn’t outrun literal magic—Elwick was beyond human rules. He made his own and reality bent to them. Hawke’s vision began to darken, his hearing muffled as sound became distant and wrong, and the thought of giving in to let Vahn get away took root.
Elwick’s fingers gripped his very soul—Hawke was sure of it—and the invading pressure pulled it to pieces. The soul he’d damned without thinking. The soul he wanted beyond reason to keep safe here and now.
The horse jumped, jostling reality back into focus, and new magic beat back the wild. A bright flash, a distinct strum vibrating through the air, and Elwick let go with a cry. The reprieve let Hawke breathe. Gather himself enough so he could brace for the next attack. And it came. Over and over again, Elwick dragged himself back, a flying phantom rippling in and out of tears he made in reality.
Each time he managed to hold Hawke again, the world slipped away faster. Then, it all went dark, final, and cold as the wind thrust through his entire being. Elwick’s magic chased after it, tormenting every piece of him no matter how hard he tried to push it away. It created barbs, sticking through his skin in every way it could. It was so cold, it burned. Finally, blood bubbled up Hawke’s throat. Warm and coppery. Fingers plucked at the voice within, forcing it upward to rip free once and for all.
Until Vahn’s arms tightened around him, fingers digging into his chest. The weight of Vahn was an anchor. Whatever spell Vahn whispered, the ghost of his lips at the crook of Hawke’s neck, raced fire and warmth through Hawke. It dispelled the hold and plucked all the barbs free. Hawke opened his eyes wide, gasping, as Vahn’s spell rushed down his throat to override the wild. The spell left Hawke just as quickly and sung through the air as lightning, splitting the Wild Magic growing around them.
Elwick roared again, pain and anguish as pieces of himself were blasted off. The skin of his hands ribboned, blood splattering across the air, and the hunt raging behind them melted to aid Elwick. But Vahn’s magic went for them too, splitting them down the middle. Elwick screamed and finally let go of Hawke as his hands rebuilt.
It wasn’t because they’d won; it was because Elwick had a more dangerous target.
“Stay on course!” Vahn shouted as his fingers dug in deeper. He cried out in pain and his weight was jerked backward, but he remained in the saddle.
“Vahn—”
Vahn pressed himself tighter to Hawke’s back. “I’ll be fine! Focus!”
He cried out again, his voice cracking as though Elwick split in two, and another hum escaped into the sky. Another spell, but instead of anything physical Hawke could see, it silenced the entire plain around them. Hawke heard only his rattled heart pounding against his chest and his labored breathing. In the second it took for everything else to return, Elwick screamed. It was long and painful, echoing across the field as though it was the only sound the world had ever made. Then, all at once, it was gone. His magic ceased and the entire hunt went with it. The fields returned, no holes in reality tearing them asunder, and the night sky shimmered above with its veil of stars as the two moons continued their cycle.
“The fuck?” Hawke breathed.
Magic was gone. All of it. In its absence, a chill colder than Elwick pushed through the air. Even all of Vahn’s spells were gone. The horse rode under its own power. Hawke felt none of Vahn’s spells’ gentle touches—it was just not there.
Vahn’s grip slipped. Hawke snapped one arm back, gathering it around Vahn, and kept him in the saddle.
“Vahn?!” Hawke shouted, too frightened to stop the horse.
“I’m fine,” Vahn breathed, hardly heard above the hoofbeats. “It… It was merely a lot. D-Don’t stop. There’s still a chance… h-he’ll regather his strength and catch up.”
Safer to keep moving. Vahn dropped a hand to the horse’s side and a weak spell reignited upon a whispered word. It rejuvenated the energy around them and the city was fast approaching.
“Keep talking to me,” Hawke said, panicked. “Please. What did you even do to him?”
“Sorcery.” A tired laugh bubbled from Vahn’s lips. He felt like a wisp behind Hawke. Too light to still be there, but his arm was still in Hawke’s grip. “It took more of me than I surmised it would.”
“Took what?!”
Vahn didn’t answer. Hawke was tempted to stop, but Vahn’s warning rang too loud in his head. Elwick might catch up. Couldn’t risk that for both their sakes. He urged the horse faster and listened for anything gaining on them.
“You better be alive back there, Vahn!” Hawke shouted. “I couldn’t live with myself if you did yourself in for me like that!”
Ghosting across the air, Hawke heard an answer. Elwick’s laughter. Panic wound itself back into his chest, expecting a resurgence of the old king, but his voice grew quieter and quieter as the horse raced on, until it was nothing more than a whisper among the breeze.
Because Vahn had won.
🙡🙢
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