The Warlock from Goat's Head

         Eric crouched behind a large tree listening for the sounds of anyone chasing him. He’d messed up big time. He’d ruined the special hide set aside, specifically for the prince. He figured he was an outcast now. The lanky teenager turned to the dark forest, frightened by the long road ahead of him. Of course he intended to make for Alaysia, the capital of Shada. Lost in his fantasies of grandeur, Eric Tanner set off, straight down a rather steep slope.
         The Warlock Maverick was hiking up a rare game trail, eyes set on the small path ahead. A cacophony of twigs snapping and this odd sort of yelling broke his concentration. He straightened, staring up the sheer hill. Someone (a mortal by the sounds of it) was hurtling towards him and obliterating the trail.
         With a sigh Maverick summoned his powers and raised his scarred hands, directing them at the human missile. It was as if time itself had been slowed to a snail’s pace. Using his magic, Maverick raised the boy above the undergrowth, righted him, and set the mortal before him.
         The young boy couldn’t have been more than eleven, with hair as black as ink and eyes as blue as a mountain stream.
“Hello, Mortal, is this a new sport? Or are you mad in love and thus suicidal?” Maverick said as the boy continued to stand and stare.
         Maverick himself looked to be about twenty years of age. He, too, had black hair, though he tended to color it magically. This month’s color was pink, in honor of spring. He had green eyes, seeming to flicker with flecks of gold. While this mountain boy wore a common shirt and breeches, Maverick wore the high fashion of Alaysia.
         “You can speak, correct?” He knew the lad had a tongue. How else had he been yelling?
         “Who are you?”
         Maverick fought a scowl. These country brats had no manners whatsoever. “You’re a rude one. I’m Maverick, high Warlock of Alaysia.”
         “But the Warlock’s dead.” Maverick was beginning to wish he’d just stepped out of the boy’s way and let him tumble to the rocks, about a half mile below.
         “The King’s Warlock is dead, my dear boy. Now for your first manner lesson: what is your name?”
         “Tanner. Eric Tanner.” I’ll have to change that when I get to Alaysia, Eric thought.
         “Tanner,” Maverick muttered “What a unique name. I can only guess what your job is.”
         “Well, I used to be a tanner.”
         “Used to be. Why aren’t you? Did they realize your lack of potential and downgrade you to a scut job?”
         Eric was beginning to dislike his rescuer, though custom warned him otherwise. “No, I’m running away to Alaysia.”
         “You’re running away to Alaysia? My dear boy! You’ll never make it! And if you do, which would be quite a bit of luck, you’ll be laughed out of every respectable place of business.” Maverick, who was only trying to help now, watched the boy’s expression darken. Guessing correctly, he was able to dodge the lad’s assault and freeze him with a bit of magic.
         “I’m a warlock, my boy. Do not test me. I was only trying to help. You’re better off here, picking leaves for the dinner’s stew or whatever it is.” What Maverick couldn’t possibly have guessed at (or known about) was the boy’s next move.
         “I ruined the prince’s toy, you stupid Alaysia noble!” Neither expected the bout of purple fire that emitted from Eric’s hands. Maverick dropped the boy in surprise and slammed into a tree, ten feet down and away.
         “Master Tanner! Why didn’t you tell me you were a mage?” Maverick applauded as he checked his body for injury.
         “I’m not a mage,” Eric whispered, dropping into a crouch and staring at his red hands.
            “Tell that to the magnificent bruise my chest will have in the morning!” Eric jumped as Maverick spoke from behind him. He carefully lifted the boy’s hands and examined them.
            “The mark of your first casting, Master Tanner, will stay with you, as long you shall live.” He showed his own right hand, scarred by a large, lightning bolt. “I was fighting a gang of noble brats when I accidentally electrocuted two of them.”
            Maverick helped Eric to his feet. “It seems you’re in need of training, Master Tanner; training, which I’ll be glad to aid you in. You’re starting quite a bit late, obviously, but you are not the oldest person to start training. Our own late King’s Warlock was fifteen when he began his training.”
            Eric nodded along; glad to see that he’d met an insane person, someone just as insane as he was.  “Where are we going?” He thought to ask, interrupting Maverick.
            “Hm? Oh, Alaysia, of course. I need my home, and my supplies.” Eric brightened; he was actually going to Alaysia.

            A different sort of meeting was taking place a mountain ridge away. Two shadowy figures stood, hidden from even Maverick’s Sight.
            It appears that Maverick has picked up a hitchhiker. Shall we assist him in removing himself of such a terrible burden? The shorter of the two hissed, not unlike a snake.
            Not yet, Dragan. I wish to see what Maverick is going to do with his new toy.

            Despite what Maverick had said about the journey to Alaysia, it wasn’t problematic. The two stopped in a little village at the base of Mount Stone, and Maverick bought his new apprentice his first pair of boots and a durable, comfortable, and fashionable cloak.
            Late one night as the two were drifting off to sleep Eric turned to Maverick and asked, “What were you doing in Goat’s Head?”
            “What was I doing? Well, to tell the truth, I was hunting for a rare bird that only breeds in your area. I need an egg for a potion I’m working on. I was actually on its trail when you decided you’d have a moment of fun in your escape from angry tribes’ people.”
            “I tripped.”
            “I tell you a long winded tale and your only response is “I tripped”? Maverick sat up, his tall frame illuminated in the dying firelight.
            “Go to sleep Maverick. I’ll yell at you about your murder of baby birds in the morning.”
            “I’m making eggs for breakfast. Common magpie eggs, though.”
            “Maverick!”

            It took five days and four nights for the two to reach the outskirts of Alaysia. Maverick sat on a hill, next to the former mountain lad, and enjoyed the view of his city. If he pretended, it looked like London.
            “So, where do you live exactly?” Eric asked, turning.
            “What? I live in a place where that cloak will get your throat cut. Here, give it to me, I’ll disguise it. Don’t worry Master Tanner, it’s nice and warm where I come from. Even the worst of winters are warm as summer’s breath. Though summer herself …”
            “You’re doing it again.” Eric got to his feet so as to free his shoulders of the wonderful cloak.
            “Some have mastered the art of ignoring me not annoying me, Master Tanner.”
            “I’ve only known you for a week!”
            “You need to calm down, Eric. It’ll do you good.”

            The couple soon joined the traffic entering the glorious gates of Alaysia. There, hidden by carts and lines of slaves, Maverick disguised the two of them as simple peasants (not such a hard feat for Eric, as he already was one, though the lovely boots did have to go). By the time that the two reached the gates four hours later, young Eric had learned a few simple incantations from his new mentor in an attempt to starve off boredom. Soon enough they were wandering the streets of the capital city.
         “Are you hungry? Because I am.” Eric nodded distractedly; too busy gazing at the first big city he’d ever been in. Maverick noticed and smiled to himself, having always been a big city man. He remembered, though, the first time he’d been to a village. He’d been gawping like his apprentice was now.
         “Drink it all in, young one. We’ll be moving off the pretty streets as soon as I talk to someone.” He bent down to whisper. At least he didn’t have to stoop so far; this time someone was close to him in height.
         That caught Eric’s attention. “Who? Another warlock?” Maverick smiled
         “There are not a lot of warlocks, Master Tanner. We are a small race, which is good. Considering we live forever, forbidding a fatal spell or a horrible death, be happy.”
         Eric stopped in the street, staring open mouthed at Maverick.          “We’re immortal?!”
Maverick silenced the lad with a flick of a finger. “Hush, Master Tanner. That is our one secret.” With that he grabbed the boy’s hand and tugged him down the street, forgetting to return his voice.

         The warlocks were unaware that they had shadows.
         Are you prepared, Dragan? Mentor asked of Apprentice.
         I am if you are, master. Dragan whispered, watching his young quarry.

         Eric sat, a smile frozen on his face, on an overstuffed armchair. He’d just seen the man he’d met barely a week ago place a kiss on the lips of another man. He was fighting the urge to run screaming. It was extremely unnatural.
         “Zachariah! It’s been near a year!” Maverick said, excitedly. He cast a distracted look at his apprentice, and a frown creased his brow. He ignored the boy and his odd expression and turned to his old friend.
         “It has been a long time, my friend. Where have you been now? Mesopotamia? India? America?”
Maverick smiled.           “No, just into the mountains. I was looking for ... something.” He saw Eric brighten for a moment, knowing the truth and surprised that he’d hide something so trivial from a friend.
         “An apprentice? You sure came back with one.”
         “I did, didn’t I? No. He nearly ran me over up there. Those mountain idiots and their stupid sports, eh?” Zack smiled and looked at the boy. He was staring out the window. Sometimes Maverick could be so blunt and not notice who he was hurting.
         Zack changed the subject. “Well you must stay for dinner, the both of you. I’m sure the boy hasn’t had half the food I have at the table alone.”
         “Mav –“Eric began, suddenly, still staring.
         “Your first dinner in Alaysia, Master Tanner.” Maverick cut in, having not heard his apprentice. Eric nodded and rose eagerly. He didn’t tell his master or their host about the two men standing across the street - the very same men he’d seen a lot lately.

         The boy has noticed us, master. Dragan declared, as the lad disappeared from the window.
         I know, my apprentice. It is all going to plan. He will or he won’t tell Maverick. It does not matter. All will come in due time.

         It was true, Eric hadn’t seen (or eaten) such splendor ever. Somehow the King’s feasts didn’t even come close to comparison. He noticed that their disguises were gone by the time the first course was served. Maverick was back in his splendor.
         Master Zachariah had offered Eric some of his nephew’s clothes, if he wished to dress up for dinner. Eric had never dressed up for a meal a day in his life. Maverick, seeing Eric’s unease, jumped in to assure the lad that he didn’t have to dress up if he didn’t want to.
         “Slow down on your eating, lad. You don’t have to eat it all,” Master Zachariah leaned over to whisper as Eric tried to consider cleaning his plate after the third course.
         Suddenly Maverick jumped to his feet, his eyes fixed on the window at the end of the dining hall. He apologized and jogged to said window. Sitting on the outside sill was a hawk. Seeing this Eric jumped in surprise.
         “Ah, his Familiar is here. My lad, you may not be around for dessert. Do you wish for me to request a sample for you take on the road?” Eric looked at Master Zachariah.
         “His what?” His manners seemed to have flown out the window as the hawk flew in.
         “His Familiar.”Seeing that boy’s confusion he smiled an apology “Every warlock has an informant of some kind, always in animal form. He’ll explain it better when he begins your training.”
         “Eric.” They both looked up as Maverick re-entered the room, the bird on his shoulder. “Zachariah, a pleasure as always. I’m so sorry that we have to leave like this. I will have you around, as soon as I get him trained up a bit.”
         Zach smiled and grabbed his friend into a deep hug. Then he turned to a maid and said, “Get the lad some chocolate, please.” She nodded and dashed off. It was Maverick’s turn to smile uncomfortably.
         He pulled Eric away for a moment and spoke urgently. “Do you remember that fire you did to me when we met? I’m going to need you to repeat that when we get to my house. I’m also going to have to hope you have a few more emergency mechanisms.”
         “Why?” Eric sighed, exasperated.
         “I’ll tell you on the way.” It was then that the maid returned, holding a beautiful piece of chocolate. She strode towards her master who pointed at Eric. Maverick backed away, frustration darkening his spring green eyes.
         “Thank you,” Eric said, with a grin of delight at the pretty maid. He hadn’t seen a prettier girl since Helena Stone died in childbirth last year.
         “Thanks,” Maverick snarled, causing raised eyebrows from his friends. She curtsied to her master and the boy and trotted off.
         “Good luck on your latest adventure, my dears. And do come back Eric; I rather enjoy the company of someone who isn’t always a grump.” Maverick muttered something under his breath and tossed his apprentice out the door. He turned and blew a kiss at his old friend and once lover.

         “The house has been attacked.” Maverick said, as they strode down the street.
         “How do you not know it’s not a robber?” Eric thought to ask as he took a careful bite of his treat.
         “Because, Tanner, mortals cannot see my house (for its entire splendor) nor can they gain entrance. This is no simple robber. It’s either another Warlock, or someone else of power.” Suddenly Maverick turned his head and spoke to the bird still riding on his shoulder. “Scout ahead and see who’s come for a visit, Marie.” The bird screamed and took off.
         “And no one notices the strange man with the screaming hawk,” Eric thought to add.
         “If you keep bugging me I’m going to make you forget you ever met me and then you’ll be stuck in Alaysia with no memory and no one to help you develop your powers,” Maverick threatened, his voice cold.
         “How do you hide from the mortals anyway?”
         “That, my boy, I’ll have to teach you one day. For now, I’ll be hiding the both of us ... and the screaming hawk. She can talk. She just chooses to act like a normal hawk.” Maverick turned down a narrow alley.
         “So what do the mortals see when they look at us?”
         “I look more ... mortal. You are just you. Marie is invisible as far as they can see.  Now hold all questions until we can find out what’s going on.” Soon enough, the narrow alley widened into a slightly larger street. All along the streets were sagging houses, many on the verge of collapse. Eric couldn’t help but stare. He’d never thought that Alaysia could have such ruin and dereliction.
         “I expected better of you, mud hut boy.” Maverick hissed, scanning the sky for his hawk.
         “Its ‘stone hut boy’ and even we take better care of our houses.”
         “He’s learning the art of sarcasm! I’ve taught you something of worth! Come, let’s hurry, my apprentice. I fear we may not like our guests. If Marie hasn’t returned yet, I’m worried.” Maverick picked up his pace, not catching a single eye. Not like many people were out.

         It took Eric a while to see Maverick’s home. Later Maverick would explain how it was his powerful glamour over the house that blinded Eric. All seemed fine, minus the open front door, as far as Eric could tell. Maverick, muttering a string of curses, raced up the steps and into his foyer. He thought his spells would reveal the intruders and their identities. He was clotheslined by a simple sucker punch.
         Eric stood on the steps behind him, staring at the person standing over Maverick. It was the young man from outside Zachariah’s house. He smiled evilly and for a moment the image of his mortality was gone, replaced by a horrible thing. He chuckled darkly, and motioned for the untrained warlock to come closer. He barely made it over the stoop before Maverick’s last incantation finally kicked in. The former tanner (as of a week ago) collapsed on his new mentor’s body, called to Sleep.

         Both warlocks awoke instantly, confused. They were bound, upside down, in the first floor drawing room. Two men sat opposite them on a small couch. Eric bucked, recognizing both. His voice was gone; otherwise he would have told Maverick how he recognized the both of them from their journey.
         “Dragan, it’s been a long time. I heard you died.” Maverick was able to speak, and made simple conversation.
I heard you were hiding in India. Eric jumped (which shouldn’t be possible when one is upside down). They were talking in his head.
         “Why does everyone think I was in India? What do you want this time, my dear demons? And must you sit on the couch? I happen to like that one and I’m going to have to throw it out. “Maverick had a way of reminding Eric of his own mother, always asking nosy questions.
         "We, too, have heard that there are hints of a powerful warlock in the north of Shada. We thought Raven would be the first to set out. By the time he was dead you were long gone. I sent Dragan to track you down. An easier task than I thought. There are few oddly dressed men walking north.
         Maverick grit his jaw, and cast a worried look at Eric. The lad seemed to be holding up pretty well for his first telepathic conversation.
         “Victorious,” Maverick muttered to his apprentice. “Once a demon king.”
I still am the king, you idiotic warlock. Victorious snarled, his expression contorting into something of anger.
         “Temper, temper, my friend. It will betray your weakness,” Maverick quipped. “What am I saying? Go ahead and show us your weakness so I can have an excuse to re-do the drawing room.”
         
         Eric hung, ignoring this all, devising a plan. Maverick and the things could banter all day, for all he cared. He let his head hang loose and ignored Maverick’s gaze when cast. He thought of the shorter thing and how it hissed like a snake. He wanted to be the snake that struck it down. He could feel his body becoming smaller and his skin cooling. He smiled to himself, beginning to truly enjoy his new found powers.
         Maverick watched, horror-stricken, as Eric began his transformation. He was stunned. It took years and years of practice to successfully turn. He’d only mastered the art himself about thirty years ago. He was proud to see the lad he hadn’t had a chance to train successfully turn into a ... was that a copperhead?!

         Eric slid along the floor, enjoying the feeling. It was easier than he thought. Certainly easier than flying like a bird. He wondered if the things were affected by snake venom. He sure hoped so. They were both standing now, watching his quick approach. They weren’t trying to stop him. Maybe they didn’t know how dangerous copperheads were? Few did, outside of the mountains. Besides enduring Maverick’s insults he would soon teach his mentor how much better the mountains were. If he lived.
         He wondered if he could still speak in Common. He didn’t care but it would be interesting to say something like die you horrible beast right before he bit down. He noted that his captors seemed to wear no clothing, making it easier to find a target. Like the man’s ankles, perhaps? Copperheads didn’t fly (though he’d heard of some snakes very far away that could) making a wrist or chest bite impossible. Oh well.
         The thing seemed to notice its dangerous predicament a moment too late. It was as Eric reared back, fangs out, that the thing looked down, alarmed. By the time he tried to step on the snake boy he’d received a large and painful bite on his ankle. If only Eric had known he was biting the Demon King. He slithered back to watch how fast his bite reacted. The other thing was just standing there; torn, perhaps, between aiding his master, attacking the boy, or watching the trained warlock.
         He chose wrong and turned to lunge at Eric. Maverick could have sworn he saw the copperhead smile. Meanwhile, he was letting a cutting incantation wiggle up the demon ropes. He dropped soundlessly to the floor, knowing from the mortal-like wail that Dragan too had been bitten. Eric rose where a deadly mountain snake had lain, a wide grin on his beautiful face.
         “Fine job, Master Tanner. Now you punch him. I’ll punch the other. You have been in a fight before, I presume?”

         Young Eric Tanner sat in the yard, pulling weeds in the warm spring sun. It was unnaturally warm, almost like summer. Maverick had promised that Eric didn’t know summer till he spent it in the city or better yet the desert (as he would if he kept messing up his disillusion charms). Marie screamed from an adjacent rooftop, just sitting up with the disillusioned pigeons. Eric looked up, nearly blinding himself with the sun, was surprised to see an owl in the day. It dropped onto the dividing fence and stuck out a leg. Attached to said leg was parchment. Eric accepted its delivery and it took off with a shriek at Marie. Eric stood and walked to the house, not taking a nosy peek. It was probably for Maverick. He’d learned just last week not to pry, especially when he’d read a letter from Master Zachariah to Maverick. The things in the letter alone were unforgettable. The things they suggested were worse.
         Maverick was sitting in the kitchen shelling peas and muttering things from an open spell book. Distractedly, Eric worried about his dinner and what spell it would contain.
         “You’ve got mail, Maverick,” he said, causing his master to jump.
         “You didn’t set off my charms! I may let you go to Zack’s for cake if you keep your disillusion ... why do you have parchment?” Eric frowned, still getting used to his master’s distractions.
         “Mail. For you. I’m going to poison myself again.” he snarled, irritable with a sun headache.
         Maverick grabbed the dropped parchment and opened it. He pursed his lips as Eric turned for the door.
         “Wait.” Eric turned again, sighing loudly. “It’s summons to a council in London!” Maverick laid the paper on the counter and turned it to his apprentice. Eric leaned over it.
         “But you’re banned from London,” Eric muttered.
         “I forget. I’m banned from a lot of places, my friend. Run! Get my writing things. Then, since I’m making your supper, write a reply. Remind them that I’m handicapped with an apprentice and banned from London.” Maverick picked up his knife again before adding as an afterthought, “And suggest they move it to Alaysia. Not on my watch is my first apprentice missing his first council meeting. Oh, and tell Marie she needs to become human for a while. She’s still with the birds, right?”
         Eric smiled to himself as he ran. He didn’t miss his old life, not by any stretch of the imagination. His new life, and his long one, was about to get interesting, and he couldn’t wait.