Private Tales Hexed

[Lysander]

Leander blinked at the birds. Crows? Ravens? Rooks? No, not rooks, their beaks were jet black. The birds had a sleekness to them. Ravens instead of crows then. His gaze was brought to Baise, realizing that he could communicate with the birds. How useful, Lysander thought, to have a aerial view of a town and also spies.

He also thought it to be strange. Not Baise’s ability to commune with the raven named Fabrice, and apparently Tiberius who was either the other raven or a third yet to be seen by Lysander, but rather that Baise was strange. Another trick he carried about openly.

What trick would he have up his sleeve?

“We are close to Vel Anir.” Lysander said cooly. But Vel Anir sent Dreadlords, not witch hunters. He was supposed that this village would still harbor prejudice towards elves. He supposed hate couldn’t disappear within a generation or two. His hands were at his waist and he leaned back, looking down the road and then to where he would take them next.

“Hide the birds, they could be mistaken for familiars.” Unfortunately they couldn’t hide Jude. Maybe it had been foolish of him to show these two the misfortune of this town. “Where is the witch hunter located? We’ll need to avoid them.” For now.

Baise

 

[Baise]

"Did you hear that?"

Caw!

"Yes my familiar. Now shoo and don't get yourself into trouble," Baise said.

He turned his attention to Jude.

"We will need to avoid them. They've gone to the church. You can guess who might have reached out to them. It won't be long until they find out there are outsiders who have been heard discussing the strange matters."

Baise turned to look at Lysander. His eyes had changed colour again. They were the later summer's storm, dark and foreboding. Heavy with purpose.

"If they threaten Jude. You will stay out of my way," Baise said.

That look was gone in an instant. His eyes a verdent spring meadow.

"Come on Jude, let's get on to the next site."

 

[Lysander]

Leander raised a brow and stared Baise down. He couldn’t help it, it was habit to stare in ones eyes and see if he could unnerve them. There was a part of him that didn’t enjoy having some eccentric mage from Elbion telling him what to do. He figured it was the Dreadlord in him that didn’t like it. Maybe it was just that even after all this time, he still didn’t like being told what to do, no matter how strong or wise or decorated a person may be.

“Right.” He said and then he led them to the second place where magic had gone wrong. It wasn’t far from the melting house and was perhaps more shocking than the house. The tree was in the middle of the road, leaves a verdant green that competed with the vibrancy of emeralds. The trunk was twisted and gnarled as if it had always been there, but if one looked closely they could clearly a see a face.

Two eyes, a nose, a open mouth— even details like their eyebrows or an old acne scar or the indent underneath their eyes.

“This is it.” Lysander said, unmoved by the outstretched branches that were hands and gnarled fingers, of the way the chest was crafted as if the man who became a tree still wanted to say more.

Baise

 

[Baise]

Leander raised a brow and stared Baise down. He couldn’t help it, it was habit to stare in ones eyes and see if he could unnerve them.

Baise was the first to break eye contact. The storm clouds were gone and he flashed a knowing smile as he turned away.

He could see why the man took it as a challenge to his pride. Baise hadn't meant it to be like that. Even as he smiled and walked with an easy gait, he silently chastised himself for letting his emotions get the better of him.

"Haunting," said Baise. For the first time he looked slightly unnerved.

"Can I climb it?"

"No Jude, I think this time stay back."

There was something in his tone that had the young boy sit on a rock a short distance from the tree.

"Tell me," Baise said, as if he was about to ask about the tree. "Why did you decide to come here and follow these stories?"

 

[Lysander]

“I was ordered to.” Lysander said with little in those words, much less his face. His attire didn’t have any outward appearance of being to a dreadlord, although the quality of his light leathers could perhaps be ascertained to Vel Anir. On the border of Vel Anir and the Falwood, it wasn’t necessarily strange to see Anirians from Central Vel Anir milling about.

“I’m a Second Level Dreadlord.” Lysander explained, but it truly did little to answer Baise’s question. In truth, Lysander was avoiding it. There was a pause and Lysander turned his cold blue eyes to the tree. His fingers on his left hand twitched as if he were playing piano, his thumb being the key and his four fingers moving across his imaginary keyboard.

“I’m not here for the Dreaming Man. But I think he’s a clue to the man I do actually want. He’s avoided Vel Anir for centuries. The Republic wants him back.” More importantly, to Lysander it seemed that they just wanted him away while they figured out what to do with Kalix.

“You’re here to help.” A statement. “I am just here to figure out where to go next.”

Baise

 

[Baise]

"A second level Dreadlord, I wonder if that is one rung from the top or one from the bottom," Baise replied.

There was a familiar note in the magic here. It was not distinctly fae in nature. It didn't have that same sense of trickery and illusion. It wasn't the blunt, textbook style of magic human's usually called upon. It felt instinctive, it felt like a twist of the natural order.

Dreaming man, he thought to himself. Did you learn some of their ways to twist reality?

"And how do you feel about your mission?" Baise asked as he walked around the tree. "Your wanted man has done something terrible to be chased for so long?"

 

[Lysander]

“Two from the top,” Lysander said, and then with a rare, wry smile, added, “and two from the bottom. I like balance.” He was certain the moment he came back with the wolf’s head, the Republic might consider finally moving him up to a First Level. The Dreadlord scratched at his cheek, watching Baise walk around the tree.

“This man is special.” Lysander said. “He’s lived for centuries. He knows things. Many things about Vel Anir.” Things not written in history books, things forgotten by many, many people. “Many things about Arethil.” The man wasn’t immortal, that much was made very clear to Lysander. If he was harmed significantly, however, he’d die. His supposed immortality only lasted for as long as his wellbeing was intact.

There was a surprised shout and then a scream from a woman. A man hollered before a cacophony of surprise erupted from behind a house. Lysander watched people begin to run away, pushing and shoving. Behind them was a pig. A very, very large pig. The size of a house, wearing a crown of flowers the size of a man. The pig was pink and black, it’s snout wiggling about. It snorted and more people screamed.

“A interesting dream.” Lysander said. “A giant pig. I wonder if he was hungry.”

Baise

 

[Baise]

“This man is special.” Lysander said. “He’s lived for centuries. He knows things. Many things about Vel Anir.” Things not written in history books, things forgotten by many, many people. “Many things about Arethil.”

"He sounds like he was be fascinating to talk to," Baise said.

The man didn't need Baise to talk about the ages of some of the people he had learned from during his time with the Fae. Baise also thought he was showing immense control to avoid any kind of joke about Lysander's positions.

“A interesting dream.” Lysander said. “A giant pig. I wonder if he was hungry.”

"Caw!"

"Yes, Tiberius, we have seen it. Thank you."

"Jude...we're not going to be playing with the big pig," Baise said. "Would you go and play in the trees for a little while."

The boy skipped away. One raven flapping after him.

"No need to hurt it unless it is," Baise said to Lysander. "I'm more worried about meeting this witch hunter right now..."

Baise started to stroll towards the pig. Now he would get a sense of the magic first hand.

 

[Lysander]

Lysander was two steps behind Baise as they went towards the pig. For how much shouting and screaming there had been, the pig was, at the very least, docile. It’s large snout was busy snuffling the tops of buildings and every time it did take a step, it was clear that it wasn’t trying to step on anything that was living.

Regardless, Lysander couldn’t help but think how useful a giant pig could be if there was armor strapped to it. It would make a good battering ram.

The pig’s black beady eyes looked at the approaching men and it’s ears seem to flap at their approach but there was nothing else. Lysander felt it to be rather anticlimactic. Had he really wanted it to charge at them?

“What do you think?” Lysander peered past the pig then looked over his shoulder. Just as Baise had suggested, the witch hunter might be the bigger threat. And this pig would easily be seen from high ground. He glanced in the direction of the church, on top the hill. Surely the witch hunter had to be aware of this giant pig.

Baise

 

[Baise]

"Have you ever been around pigs? They will eat almost anything. I suggest we get people away from it."

Baise sighed as he considered what they could do after that.

"The magic has permanence," he explained. "Which means that no simple nullification dispel will undo it. I could attempt to revert this."

"However, I suspect the witch hunter will come down and find an outsider babbling in tongues around the magic pig. This will lead to them trying to silence me with sword, ace, fire or the larges pair of pliers he can fit between my teeth."

"Or..."

And it was clear that he was offering a choice.

"...we try and followed the magic whilst it might be strong enough to leave a trace."

 

[Lysander]

Lysander’s mother hadn’t been rich enough to own pigs. No one in his backwater village had owned a pig. Lysander hadn’t seen one until he and his brother, and the other freshly made initiates, had gotten close to the city. He hadn’t liked the way it looked, like a long hairless dog with a protruding belly. He had enjoyed the sounds it made.

Getting people away from it would be an easy task, at least with Lysander’s magical abilities.

“If you can follow the trail,” Lysander said, reaching out a hand and pulling a curious boy out of the way to avoid an unfortunate accident, “then you don’t need to worry about being attacked. I had no idea you could be useful. Your protection is practically guaranteed. I can move the pig along with us but that would lead the witch hunter to us. We should contain him first.”

With the issue being how. Unfortunately there wasn’t a fence big enough to do so. “Or we can kill it.” The natural dreadlord response to any problem or threat.

Baise

 

[Baise]

"Interesting," Baise said.

He did not clarify what he found interesting.

"I think that we should avoid violence if we can. At least in public," Baise added with a hard edge to his tone.

There was a little more steel in the man than there might have appeared at first. Baise was well learned and softly spoken, but he had survived in some of the most dangerous places on Arethil.

"The church will only summon another or something or someone worse. Can you send the pig off into the woods and far away. Two problems, one solution."

 

[Lysander]

“I can push it into the woods.” Lysander clarified. “But maybe pulling it will be better.” It was all he could do with his magic, pushing and pulling. It was far more useful than it sounded, these basic actions made way for civilization.

It helped to use his hands to focus his magic and the force he needed to execute this. He pushed the pig back on a little, testing out the pig’s weight. It was heavy. By the natural laws of nature this pig shouldn’t have been able to walk given it’s size. Magic had to be at play, only that could explain the bending of reality so well.

Another push, more forceful and accurate. The pig was surprised and squealed this time.

“I don’t want to damage anything.” He looked to Baise. “Can your familiars map out the best route?”

Baise

 

[Baise]

"Hah, familiars, did you hear that?"

"Caw!"

"They think of us as their humans," Baise replied. Not that Jude was.

One of the ravens was flying high. Tiberius had eyes on Jude, but also could map out a route. Baise pointed at one on the corner of a house at the raven that had cawed at them.

"Follow Vaspien there," Baise said. Vaspien took off and circled.

Lysander gave the enormous swine a serious shove. It was rather simple but effective. The kind of magic he imagined a battle mage would value.

The third raven was in the air between them and the church.

Baise closed his eyes.

"I'm going to see if I can trace this," he explained quietly.

 

[Lysander]

Lysander looked at Baise and then one of the birds. They weren’t familiars? Then that meant they were regular animals, which was worse. Well as long as they could follow orders and carry out their job. Following after the bird that was called Vaspien (Lysander was unable to tell them apart) Lysander continued to push the pig back.

With each push, the pig did seemed to get more irritated, making more nose and shaking it’s head so that it’s large ears would make a wind that blew over Lysander. The dreadlord held his ground using force to continue the process, not letting the pig get out of bounds even if it went to the left or right. He followed Valerian, glancing up at the sky every now and then and impressed that the bird managed to lead him so meticulously that the pig was unable to cause any damage.

The moment they were out of the town, Lysander did one last final push that was so great, the pig squealed as it flew through the air into the woods. When he went back to Baise’s side, sweat covered his brow.

“So.” He was breathing heavily but not so much of a Neanderthal that he did it through his mouth. “Were you able to trace it?”

Baise

 

[Baise]

"I was," Baise said.

He looked over Lysander's shoulder at the broken foliage that marked the pig's flight. Baise gave a small nod of appreciation for the direct nature of magic.

"Let's go."

---

Drip...drip...drip

When Witchfinder Hakes leaned forwards the wax would slowly fall upon the boiled leather of his pauldron.

Upon each shoulder were mounted three wax candles. He kept them burning at all times. A reminded that with every second the sin of the world burned away that which was pure and clean.

He took up, away from the oversized hoofmark in the mud.

"You say two outsiders were here, looking at the creature?"

The two young men recoiled at the sight of him. At the scars on his face, some from the horrors he fought, some self inflicted to remind himself of the suffering that followed every failure.

---

"Not inviting is it?" Baise asked.

Ahead of them was the remains of a fence. Half of the posts were still in place, but the rotten wood would not have contained any livestock.

Of the two buildings, one had a collapsed thatched roof. The other hand clearly been badly repaired, but it still looked habitable. Just.

 

[Lysander]

“Never is.” Lysander responded, a slight frown on his face. “I had asked others if anyone lived here, they said no one did.” He glanced at Baise, trying to keep the “are you sure?” Look out of his eyes. It wasn’t hard to do, mitigating that into no more than slight curiosity. “I checked, too. No smells of fire, no food or waterskin.” Neither buildings had windows, Lysander had to step inside to confirm this.

He wasn’t as thorough as he usually would have been if he had heard someone did live here, or had seen something to suggest that there was a person camping here. Did he get caught in some sort of illusion magic? The thought crossed his mind but Lysander didn’t like it, this brief feeling of foolishness.

As if by a favorable hand of luck, the door opened. The hinges squeaked much like Lysander had remembered them doing, and a dark head poked out, first looking at the the left and then the right: seeing Lysander and Baise standing and admiring his pretty piece of property. The bearded man’s head disappeared back into the shadows of the house.

Lysander sighed, marching up the rest of the way to get to the door. He didn’t knock. The was another squeak then a cry of defeat from the rusted hinges and the door was pushed through the doorframe. The dreadlord stepped into the dank space, the smell of mold and mildew as if the roof above them struggled in keeping out the rain.

“Come out.” Lysander said, looking on either side of the large room. The man was hiding, he had to be. Or else he had accidentally squashed him with the door. Lysander went to check that possibility first.

Baise

 

[Baise]

Lysander clearly favoured the direct approach. Baise drew a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his mouth and nose as he stepped into the darkness. The smell still reached him and his displeasure reached his eyes.

Baise wondered how Lysander would smell any fires over the damp stench.

"If he runs out of one of the doors, you'll hear a raven," Baise said quietly.

"Helo-oo! We' just want to talk" Baise called out.

There was no one behind the door.

"Hello?"

 

[Lysander]

Lysander threw Baise a look, expecting the mage to do something about there being nothing behind the door. Although perhaps that was for the best. This man seemed to be their only lead currently and if Lysander had killed him it would’ve been a shame. Only because they would’ve had to work harder to find clues, not because he was worried much about the man’s life. He had to be acting suspicious for a reason.

His little disappearing act only seemed to confirm this further for Lysander.

In a corner was a slight shadow that waxed and waned, slipping slowly from one wooden beam to the next as slow as sap dripped from a tree.

Baise

 

[Baise]

There were times when a spell required the most complex weave of magic to undo it. It was like trying to knit a scarf that when pressed to another scarf, slipped into all the spaces and unwound the threads on its own.

There were times when it didn't.

Feeling the flow of carefully placed and familiar magics, Baise dropped to one knee and picked up a loose piece of brick.

He threw it.

"Ow!"

The glamour peeling back was like the end of a dream. Like the shadow in the periphery of your vision, except that uncertainty passed right where you were looking.

"Neat trick," Baise said with a shrug.

 

[Lysander]

The glamor was gone, though Lysander didn’t know it was called such a thing and was fae in nature. He very much believed that any mention of fae to be myth, and while he believed in magic, he saw it much like time: something that moved through him, not him moving through it. He couldn’t imagine a being entirely made of magic or magic so concentrated in one place, one person.

“There he is.” Lysander said, sounding unimpressed although he was very much glad that Baise had found the man so quickly. His face, however, had softened ever so slightly with a corner of his mouth barely tilting up. He was very much impressed.

“W-who are you?” The man was hugging himself, pushing himself against the dirty wooden wall as much as he could. Lysander looked over his stocky build, finding his hands to be large and broad, the perfect hands for a farmer or a shepherd. His dark blonde hair was long, Lysander couldn’t tell where his beard ended or began in regard to the matted locks.

“We’re searching for someone.” Lysander said, not bothering with the question asked.

“I can’t help with that.”

“We’re looking for the Dreaming Man.” Lysander took a step towards Baise and the man. The man, frightened, shook his head, still clutching his own biceps. He began to slide down the wall, sitting down on the ground and wrapping his heavy arms around his legs. He pressed his forehead into his knees. “You know him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You got the wrong man.”

Baise

 

[Baise]

"Why do you live here?" Baise asked.

He didn't know why, but the question was suddenly important to him. Not the chase do Lysander's quarry, but how this situation had come about.

Baise knew better than to judge a book by its cover. He found Lysander fascinating and wanted to know his stories. Likewise, he wanted to know the truth of this man - if they were a man.

"Deviants and conjures!"

The voice boomed out before the man could even answer the question.

Baise show Lysander a knowing glance.

"Do you want me to stall him?"

This was more important to Lysander than it was to Baise. He had dealt with worse than a witch hunter, but he still didn't relish the prospect of being cornered by such dangerous fanaticism.

 

[Lysander]

Baise’s question made the man in question quiet, although his mouth opened, no sound came out. Lysander would’ve jumped on it, if he could while ignoring the new voice. There was a small crease of frustration on his brow, barely able to be discern by the shock of black hair that covered Lysander’s forehead.

“No,” Lysander said, turning away from Baise. “Don’t let him run away. I’ll handle whatever is outside.” Lysander’s slight frown didn’t waver, considering the three words used. Deviants, plural. Conjures, plural. He didn’t like a man that had so much knowledge while still being outside the home. Lysander went outside, hands near but not on his weapons.

“You.” He pointed at the scarred man, not bothered by the unsightly face and body. Dreadlords were often just as ugly. Lysander didn’t say anything else, continuing to stride forward instead.

Baise

 

[Baise]

“You.” He pointed at the scarred man, not bothered by the unsightly face and body. Dreadlords were often just as ugly. Lysander didn’t say anything else, continuing to stride forward instead.

The scraggy, gnarled face immediately snapped towards Lysander. The Witch Hunter lifted his chin and looked down his hawkish nose at him.

"You?"

The candles across his shoulders flickered in the breeze.

"Man who summons beasts, worshipper of devil's and sodomiser of imps! Emerge and call out 'you'?"

-

Baise pulled an amused look towards the strangers. He dropped his voice to a low whisper.

"That one has a way with words," he said.

"Now, I think we might all have to run from that lunatic soon, but I'm very good to know why you live out here alone?"

"Don't like people, don't like being near them."

That seemed to be evident in the way his large hands trembled.

"Well then," Baise said, "the more interesting question. Who talk you to summon an illusion like that?"

 

[Lysander]

His dark brows might not have narrowed in irritation but the singular twitch in Lysander’s left eye said more than he had the entire day: the suggestion of sodomizing imps perhaps being the greatest insult he had ever received. Not even the cruel and heartless proctors had managed to insult Lysander in such a way that didn’t involve his brother or Academy lover.

Lysander continued to stride forward. Smaller than the witch hunter but with all the confidence as if he were much larger, Lysander only stopped when there was no more than a meter between them.

“I was here first.” Lysander said, simply stating fact. “You can look around when I am done.” He added, his only compromise.

---

“I… it’s…” the man hesitated, watery eyes bouncing about the dilapidated building as if he could find an answer in the cobwebs or rotting rafters. “You don’t understand. It’s never on purpose. I’d never… if I could go back and change it all, I would.” His voice held a pleading edge, fingers shaking in fear. Whether it was from Lysander and Baise, the witch hunter, or something else entirely had yet to be determined.

---

The air began to cool all around the persons in the outskirts of town. The smell of clove and cedar began to intensify with every passing minute, temperature continuing to drop as if a strong wind had swept all the heat away.

Baise