The Chase - 2. Chapter 2

“My liege, I humbly offer my own life in apology for the mistakes of the men. The Wizard has escaped.” said the head guardsman, Lord Bryant.
He was a handsome man with long dark hair, as black as night, grey eyes, and a scar across his left cheek. His Second in Command, Lord Pasley, a blond man with not nearly as much grace or good looks, stayed completely silent next to him. They knelt before King Harry VI, his Royal consort Princess Gertrude, and the Royal Advisor Sir Davrem Ayabara, who stood to his right. Her royal highness sat on a slightly smaller throne than the King, to his left. Her brown hair fell about her, beautiful, almost porcelain face with dark brown eyes, in ringlets that allowed her ornate tiara to be just visible atop her head. She was perfectly proportioned in every way and always wearing a dress to make enough conversation for the servants for months.

Lord Bryant was one of five people who knew that Her Royal Highness had more say in the running of the Kingdom of Renshire than was good and proper. He had more sense to stay silent, though, seeing as it was apparent that the King, himself, was not a part of these five people. The King sat on his larger throne, his ginger, almost orange, hair dangled around his face and finished around about his third chin. To say the King was an overweight slob was an understatement.

Her Royal Highness leant towards His Royal Highness’ ear. To anyone else it would seem as though, as wives generally do, she was asking him a question, or gossiping about frivolous things at an inconvenient time. Lord Bryant knew different.
The King nodded. Lord Bryant closed his eyes. He would not allow her the satisfaction of the fear in his eyes. He was not ready to die, yet, but he was more ready than the rest of the guard. He had lived an honourable life. The makers would welcome him to the ever-after.
“No, His Royal Highness would do well to consider the alternative.” came a far too loud whisper from Sir Ayabara. “It would make much more sense to do as he says, my liege.”
The King’s anger was plain on his face. He was not used to having ‘his judgement’ questioned.
“You will kill the second in command.” came the booming voice of King Harry. Princess Gertrude smiled. For such a pretty face her smile did not do much for it.
Lord Pasley looked, wide eyed, from Lord Bryant to the King and back again.
“But... but His Majesty...” began Lord Bryant.
“No. You will carry out the Royal word with no hint of your own opinion.” Said the King, rather shortly.
“Yes my King.” replied Lord Bryant, as he bent down to Lord Pasley, to whisper to him. “I am sorry old friend, but you must be braver than I. Look straight into the eyes of your executioner. For this was her decision.”
At the word ‘her’ Lord Pasley quickly shifted his gaze into the eyes of the King, to a look of shock at Lord Bryant, and then a glare at Princess Gertrude.
“I shall fetch the Executioner, for the gallows, my liege.” said Lord Bryant.
Her Majesty, again, whispered into His Majesty’s ear.
“No. You will do it, Lord Bryant. Here.” There were gasps at the Kings word. This was not proper.
“His Royal Highness what is the-” Began Sir Ayabara.
“I will not be questioned!” He bellowed. All fell silent.
“As my King wishes.”
He drew his sword with all the grace of a master swordsman and, in a matter of two minutes, he had brought the number of people who knew of the real ruler of the Kingdom up to six and then right back down to five, again.

A mere half an hour before this, Adrian had broadcasted his flight plan through the astral plane, as per Wizarding law. His blonde hair was shoulder high and framed his pretty face with his light green eyes. His dark blue robes were full of pockets with ingredients for spells hidden in every one. Magic could be wielded in different ways, all of which depended upon your Animagi, or animal spirit. Around Adrian’s neck there was a necklace showcasing his own Animagi, the Frog. Being one with the Frog, as with many others, meant your magic, even with small feats, could only be channelled through magical items, such as Mandrake root, Pixie dust and ground Unicorn horn. However with most of the larger feats magical items were always needed. It was the least economically sound way of practicing magic, but at least Adrian was one of the few that could do it. Some people would never know the joy of tapping into the magic of the world.

Wizards and Enchantresses were always paid well for their services, and he’d just been offered a job in the Royal Court. He’d been one of the top students in his Magic School. He had thought the position he applied for had been filled, but he was glad to say he must have been mistaken. He was due in the palace tonight and thought he could fly there now and have ample time to regain his energy reserves before meeting with the King in an hour. He had hired movers to move all his worldly possessions to the palace and had said his goodbyes. This was it; the moment he really became a man.

He took a pinch of ground Unicorn horn from a pocket concealed near his left shoulder, a pinch of rosemary from a pocket near his right hip. He placed them both in his right hand and reached into his right hand sleeve to remove a crystal that had been blessed with fae magic. He sprinkled the mixture onto the crystal, and nothing happened. He frowned and sniffed the crystal.
‘Ah, more Unicorn horn.’ He thought. Reaching for a touch more powder he sprinkled it on the crystal, which momentarily glowed a bright white. He blew on it, and felt his feet leave the ground, and he was off; racing towards his new home. He smiled as the night air rippled his hair and laughed. Flying was one of his favourite things to do. He twirled around and flung his arms out, flying over villages and fields and – WHAM!
He was tumbling through the air, screaming expletives. He could hear another scream, that of another man; obviously the cause of this catastrophe. They hit the ground in an aching heap and quickly managed to untangle themselves from each other. He brushed himself down, quickly, glaring daggers at the boy standing across from him. It was dark, but he seemed to be around the same age as Adrian.
“Watch where you're flying, you maniac!” cried Adrian. “What do you think you're doing? I'll bet you don't even have a LICENCE!”
“MOO!” was disgruntled cries of many of the cows nearby.
“Oh... not this again...” came a faint voice.
“What do you mean not this again? Did you even file a flight plan?” he ploughed on, feeling frustrated. “My flight plan was filed ten minutes before I took flight. There was no record of a clash!”
“I’m... sorry?” said the other boy in an almost weak voice.
“You’re sorry?” Adrian was fuming, by this time. “Just... just please tell me you’ve got a license.”
“I... I... why?” And with that the boy collapsed in a heap on the floor.
“Oh my stars!” Adrian took some pixie dust out of a chest pocket and blew it into the air. The dust hung in the air and began the shine a bright light onto the scene. He’d need it if any healing was needed. Hopefully this was not the case. Healing had been one of Adrian’s worst subjects. He flipped the boy onto his back and saw the boy, properly, for the first time. He was around his own age, with brown hair and as he checked the boy’s pupils he noticed their stunning shade of blue. He also noticed that the hand he had used to turn him over had left a red mark on the boy’s cheek. It looked like blood.
“Oh shit. No, no, no!” Adrian began to panic. He unfastened the robe at the hood and eased the left arm out of the cloak. There was a shoulder wound that was bleeding profusely. He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a vial of Vampire blood. He would stem the bleeding and then he could set to work on attempting to repair it, using the blood. He hoped he had enough energy for it, as he was running low, as it is, after the flight. Stemming the blood flow would require the saliva of a magical being. Adrian spat into the wound. The blood flow began to lessen and finally ceased. You thought magic was always a pretty thing didn’t you?
The lack of blood allowed a look into the wound. You could clearly see white, meaning that this wound was a cut right down to the bone.
“How the hell did this happen? Why did this have to literally drop out of the sky and into my life?” He began to drop blood into the wound and wave his free hand over the wound after each drop. He did this for 5 drops, and then searched wildly through two or three bags hanging at his belt.
“No! Why did I leave my black cat hair?” He needed mammal hair to complete the healing. Black cat hair is sometimes needed specifically, but some spells only called for animal hair, like this one.
“Idiot!” he chastised himself. Why was this happening?
“Moo!” Came the cry of a nearby cow, obviously annoyed at the bright light.
‘You really are an idiot, aren’t you, Adrian?’ came a voice in the back of his head as he rolled his eyes. He quickly reached to the nearest Cow and apologised before yanking a few fine hairs from the cow’s hide. He then reached into a bag hanging at his belt and removed three salamander scales. He rubbed them together in his hands and then covered the wound with both hands. His hands began to glow, and he felt his energy draining, and draining until it ran out, and the cloud of light surrounding them disappeared. The wound was mostly healed but it was still red and would be painful to the touch, but Adrian wouldn’t be using any magic again until after he had slept. There were pieces of what looked like bone that he brushed off the wound. Whatever the wound was caused by had obviously been strong enough to chip off pieces of his collar bone. Thankfully the healing would’ve repaired most of the damage, including the damage to the bone. He picked up the boy’s staff and tucked it into the boy’s cloak, which he began to refasten. When he was done he picked up the boy and set off for the farmhouse in the distance. He had enough money to compensate the farmer, if he so wished to be compensated. Usually commoners would be humbled enough by the presence of even one Wizard to offer the shirt off their own back if he should so need it. If he were to offer a room up for free Adrian would at least bless his fields in the morning as a thank you.

He placed the boy on the floor so he could knock on the door of the thatched bungalow. It was wooden, and reminded him of the family’s farmhouse where he spent his childhood. He gave a brisk four knocks and was greeted a minute or so later by a middle-aged plump farm wife, with a kind face, and the smell of a stew they had obviously eaten for their dinner still lingered. She wore bed linins, as though she had been woken by the knock.
“By the stars, what has happened?” she asked, looking shocked at the boy lying on her doorstep. He showed her his Animagi necklace as proof of him being a Wizard.
“I have healed him to the best of my abilities, ma’am. There is no need to worry. My name is Adrian, and I humbly ask if we may stay the night, so his wound can heal better, and I may replenish my magic. I would be willing to offer Gold, and I will bless your fields if you allow us board and maybe some bread and cheese in the morning.” He bowed, and was surprised to feel her lightly slap the side of his face as he did so, in an almost playful manner.
“Don’t be silly, child. I would be happy to provide a warm place to stay for a Wizard. You humble us with your presence, and if my husband knows what’s good for us he’ll accept your blessing, but I will not accept your money. Now let’s get this boy inside, shall we?”
She called for her husband, a tall balding man, with as kind a face as his wife’s, who was all muscle from working his fields, to help move the boy inside. Adrian and the farmer lay him on a bed just off the main room, which contained two wooden single beds, the farm wife holding a candle for light. Adrian reached into the boy’s robe, and pulled out his staff engraved with what must be his Animagi, an eagle. He propped it up against the side of what would be his bed for the night.
“This boy is also a Wizard?” asked the farmer.
“Yes, he is.” replied Adrian.
“By the stars, wife, two Wizards on our farm.”
“I cannot, in good conscience, let you both stay in these beds. Please sleep in our bed.” said the wife, starting to fret.
“I do not want special treatment, my good woman. I do not want you to give up your marital bed just for me. And I will not hear any more on the subject.”

After they had made sure the boy was as comfortable as possible the farm wife began to boil some water for Adrian to clean off his blood and mud stained hands and Adrian was finally introduced properly and. Their names were George and Isabelle Hunter, and they had been married for 12 years, all of which they had spent tending the fields they owned. This year’s harvest was not looking well.
“What happened to your friend, in there?” Isabelle asked, finally, unable to contain herself anymore.
“Wife, it is not our place to question Wizards. I apologise, Wizard Adrian, she’s a curious one, Isabelle. Her mouth has gotten her into trouble before.” said George.
“Nonsense, George. You are perfectly within your rights to ask, Isabelle. In truth I do not know who he is. We collided, mid-flight, and while I was shouting at him, in frustration, he fainted from blood loss. The wound was fresh, probably minutes old. And please, just call me Adrian.”
George and Isabelle exchanged a look of confusion, but it passed.
“I am glad you were honest with us, Adrian. But that means we do not know who the other Wizard is, or what he did to procure such a wound.” George pointed out.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have less than half an hour ‘til he awakes, and as long as I keep hold of his staff he will not be able to harm anyone. Healing draws strength from the healer and the person being healed. That is why a Wizard can never heal themselves. He will be too weak to harm a fly.”
As Adrian cleaned his hands and face in the water they told him of their children. They had two sons and a daughter. Their son, Owen had become a blacksmith’s apprentice two years prior, and had since married the Blacksmith’s daughter. Their other son, Andrew, had been killed in a bar fight six months before. Finally their daughter, Harriett, had been taken as a child to the magic school, after she had shown signs of channelling.

Wizards and Enchantresses were a very rare thing. No one knew how or why people could channel. Sometimes it ran in families. Sometimes it skipped generations. Sometimes you couldn’t find any magical lineage no matter how far back you went, but it was always the same for any child. They would be taken from their family and their family name would be erased, meaning those of common descent would not be discriminated against. From then on they were children of the Kingdom, and schooled in all the arts of magic. Magical children almost never saw their families again. Wizards were much too high up in the social classes to be seen to have real ties with commoners. It was a sad, but true, fact.

It had been around twenty minutes, so they decided to go back to what turned out to be their sons’ bedroom. Adrian was quick to pick up the staff resting on his bed, and sit on it, resting the staff on his lap. A few minutes passed and the boy began to stir. He had already regained a lot of colour, but he was still a little pale. He slowly opened those beautiful eyes, and looked straight at Adrian.
“Where am I?” his voice trembled slightly.
“You’re safe.” Adrian told him. “These people have allowed us to stay the night. You’ll need it to recover from your wound.” He indicated George and Isabelle
“No! I need to leave now.” He said, attempting to move from the bed in panic. Adrian leapt up and pushed him back down. He began hyperventilating.
“You are in no state to move. If you attempt to leave I will tie you to the bed myself.”
“You do- don’t understand... It – it’s not safe. Where is my staff?”
“George, Isabelle, could you get some rope, please? He needs to lay down more. I can’t have him up in this state.”
They nodded and left to get some rope from the stables.
“This is a-a mis-mistake. They’ll find m-me.”
“Who? Even thirty seconds of flight is enough to cover over ten miles at the speed you were going. Unless you’re fleeing another Wizard or Enchantress whoever it is will not be catching up to you tonight.”
At this the boy’s breathing began to normalise, somewhat.
“In the morning we can contact the authorities or something. We’ll get this sorted.”
“No! Please no!” his breathing began to grow wild again, as George and Isabelle re-entered the room carrying some rope.
Adrian told them to tie his arms and feet to the bed, and they did so, but not without voicing how uncomfortable they were with tying up a Wizard, and apologising as they did it. All the while the boy struggled against them. Adrian thanked them and told them it was probably best if they were to go to bed. If was almost midnight, and he was not going to calm down with them crowding around him.

The boy continued to struggle for about 15 minutes, until he finally gave up. Adrian waited a minute or so, then asked:
“Are you calm, now?”
“As calm as can be expected, in these circumstances.”
“What is your name?” There was a short pause before the boy answered.
“Louis.”
“Okay, Louis, do you understand why I am forcing you to stay in that bed?”
“You healed me... I need to regain my strength.” It was as though it had only just dawned on him.
“Correct. Do you understand that I am not trying to hurt you? I’m trying to help you.” Again there was a pause.
“Yes. Please, though. Don’t contact the authorities. It’ll just make things worse.”
“What would you have me do? You crashed into me, obviously fleeing somebody. I’m no healer but that looked like a sword wound to me. And you made me late for my new job!”
“I’m sorry. By the stars I am sorry, just please... let me go in the morning. You’ll probably never see me again.”
“You need sleep, Louis. Please. Just go to sleep. I will decide what to do, tomorrow.”
Adrian began to undress to his undergarments ready for bed.

Adrian had his back to Louis as he undressed. He did not see that Louis was stealing glances at him. ‘Louis?’ he thought to himself. ‘What on Earth made me think of that name first? He is beautiful, though. Please, if the sun and stars do not shine on me, and I die tomorrow... At least let the last thing I look at be a face even half as beautiful as his. Then at least I can go to the ever-after happily.’
Adrian was in bed by now, and heard the sobbing begin. He wanted so much to reassure Louis. To hug him, and tell him everything would be alright, but he couldn’t. He’d probably be turning him over to the authorities tomorrow. Every sob broke his heart just a little bit more every time.