The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

"Mrs. S?" Leo repeated. "What are you doing here?" His brain couldn't process what he was seeing and for a moment he thought he was hallucinating, that his mind had finally snapped it's grasp of reality and was spiraling into madness. Why was his grumpy next door neighbor here in this dungeon of despair, and why was she carrying a ring of keys? "Hmph," said Mrs. S. "I really thought that once you came into your power you'd be able to see through this little disguise." There was a ripple and the illusion dropped away. Leo squinted. It was still Mrs. S but...younger. Still old, but healthier. More solid. Her white hair was braided elegantly around her head like a crown. She wore power like a veil. She opened the cell and gestured him out. "As for why I'm here, I'm rescuing you, of course." "But...who...why..." "Enough stammering. The guards will only be out for a few minutes. We have to be gone by the time they wake up and remember to check on you." "Wait," Leo said. "Can you free him too?" "The skinny little con artist?" She frowned. "I suppose." She found the correct key and Michael stumbled out of his cell and flung himself into Leo's arms. "Tsk tsk," Mrs. S, or whoever she really was, tutted. "No time for all of that. He's really no good for you anyway, Leo." Leo grabbed Michael's hand possessively and dragged him up the stairs behind the old lady. The guards were seemingly awake at their post, but they stared into the distance in a dazed stupor. The doors between them and freedom opened as if by magic as Mrs. S led them unerringly into freedom. Beyond the gates, two horses waited. Leo pulled Michael up behind him, and they rode into the night. They didn't follow the road. They cut across the hills and entered the forest at a gap between the trees. After several hours of hard riding they stopped beside a stream to water the horses and rest. Leo collapsed onto the ground, his breath grown ragged and the now-familiar dimness returning. Michael sat next to him, practically holding him up, and encouraging him to drink in little sips from the water skin Mrs. S gave him. "Answers," Leo said hoarsely. "Thank you for saving my life but..." "I am surprised you don't recognize me, young man," she said severely. Leo looked again. Her face wavered but it did look familiar. Then all at once it rushed back and he gasped. "You," he said. "You...you're the one who..." "I'm the one who cut your binding," the druid said stiffly. She held out her hands. They were white and stiff, scars crisscrossing her fingers and palms and disappearing under her sleeves. "I paid the price, you see, for the labors of that night. I can no longer practice much magic at all, and I stepped down from the council after that work was done. We lost track of you, in the weeks of madness that followed, but I heard the rumors of an exceptionally skilled herbalist and I moved in next door to keep an eye on you. And it's a good thing too," she added, and he recognized the familiar tone of disapproval. "But...why?" Leo said, bewildered. "Well I hardly wanted all my hard work to go to waste. You're not the last of your race on this earth, but you are one of the precious few we have left and we can ill afford to lose any more." "I--I don't understand." "Enough about who I am. Let's talk about who you are." She leaned forward, folding her ruined hands crisply across her knees. "Your name is not Leo. It is Ilyan du Alaise-Corvant and you are at least six hundred years old. Your race has seen the rise and fall of civilizations since the dawn of mankind and you have always been at their side to help and guide and yes, when occasion demanded, fight on their behalf. Because of your long lives you kept no written records and so as your memories began to fade with time, most of your history was lost to all but a few. Your name and role has changed as the world has, but your nature has not. You are incredibly powerful intuitive magic users on a scale humanity cannot hope to achieve, thank goodness. Your extermination would be one of the greatest tragedies in human history; a crime for which we could never atone. That is why the druids fought so hard to save you, although we failed you in the end. And that is one of the reasons I am here now." "And the other reason?" "As the druids once strove to save your race, I have come to humbly ask you to do the same for my brethren." "I see." Leo felt lightheaded. He struggled to his feet. "I need a moment. Thank you." He stood, and stumbled blindly into the woods. ** Michael found him sitting under a tree sometime later. "Are you okay?" he asked. Leo shrugged. "Can I sit with you?" Leo shifted slightly, making room on the ground between the tree roots. Michael settled in next to him, his lanky frame folding cat-like to fill the space perfectly. He didn't say anything. The forest dropped off dramatically to the river's edge, and they had a view of the mist-filled valley beyond. The sun had just finished emerging from the horizon, the last streaks of pink-orange light fading into the more familiar blue of day. The pre-dawn song of birds and insects was fading, giving way to the familiar day-to-day rustle of leaves and occasional crow call. "Do you want to talk about it?" Michael offered. Another shrug. "It's a little overwhelming," Leo said finally, his voice very small. "What does she mean another race?" "Isn't she your grumpy neighbor who called me a degenerate the last time I came to your shop?" Michael asked. Leo laughed in surprise. "Yes," he said. "Yes, she is. Trust me, I'm more shocked than you are." "I'm not surprised by anything anymore," Michael said. "If a wild deer comes up and claims you as a cousin next I'll just wave it off as the way the world is now." Leo buried his face in his knees. "Six hundred years," he said, his voice muffled. "How can I be six hundred years old? I don't feel six hundred. I don't even look six hundred." "You do have a certain grumpy old man personality," Michael offered. "Stop making me laugh," Leo said plaintively. "It hurts." "I'm still worried about that," Michael said. "You still haven't eaten or had a proper rest, or had a doctor look at you. We should really get you to a safe house as quickly as possible. I'm amazed you're still lucid." Michael put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, you don't have to worry about the future of your entire race right now. You just have to focus on the next couple of hours. Can you do that?" Leo nodded. Michael hesitated over his next words. "When this is over," he said slowly, "will you...can we...try again?" Leo lifted his head and looked at him, all the strain and suffering showing in every line of his face. There was dried blood crusted on his neck, and bruises under his eyes, which were red and bloodshot. Ashamed, Michael looked away, blinking back hot tears. Leo stopped him, his fingers catching his chin and turning him back. "I put a tracking spell on you," Leo said. "So when this is over, if you try to leave me again, just know that I'll find you and I'll....turn you into a toad or something." Michael choked back a laugh that threatened to become a sob. "Fair enough." He leaned down to kiss him. He meant to be gentle, but Leo was kissing him back with desperation, his fingers tangling in his hair and dragging him closer, their breaths coming in short bursts until an elderly throat clearing broke the moment. "That's quite enough of that," Mrs. S. the druid said. "We really do need to be getting back on the road." Michael stood sheepishly and reached down to offer Leo a hand. Mrs. S jabbed a bony finger into his shoulder. "If you hurt him again," she said severely, "and I mean if you so much as raise your voice to him, I will turn you into a toad." "Yes ma'am," Michael said. "Hmph," she retorted. "Then let's get going."