Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

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Raneth
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Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

Post by Raneth »

I've been thinking up one shot stories about magistream, trying to come up with a good one for an artist here. I don't have a perfect one yet, but these are short stories about magistream that I thought up and posted in various places in the past. I figured this thread could be my magistream drabble thread, where I post these little one-shot stories that don’t really fit in their own thread.

Without further ado, some drabbles and such!

This one was my entry to ShaiNeko’s writing contest #3. The premise behind the contest was to come up with a holiday celebration for the world of Magistream. The contest thread has vanished, but I saved the story. It was also the inspiration for The Weak Student.
Spoiler
The branches of the trees obscured the pinking dusk sky. Leaves skirled around his booted feet, and he checked his map for the seventh time that hour.

Back at the keep, people were probably just beginning the equinox celebrations. Rayen could picture it in his mind-flagons of juice and ale for the older students being passed around, enterprising Tienkos tipping the glasses into the laps of unsuspecting students. Haunches of meat would be served to everyone, student, creature and master alike, as Belmos gave his yearly speech.

But not Rayen. He had come to Silva Forest for solitude before the festivities began, thinking to get some exercise before the enormous meal.

He had gotten exercise, alright. Checking his map again, he snorted in disgust and looked at the sky instead. In just a few minutes, enough stars would be out that he could navigate that way.

He couldn't believe his misfortune. His first year as a student at the Magi Academy, and he was lost in Silva forest on the day of the equinox celebrations. He didn't even have a fully grown creature to help him yet. If only he had a gryphon, he could ride home. He already missed Feo, his tiny Koi hatchling.

As he walked on, wondering if Feo missed him in turn, the sky purpled and then the night set in. Rayen tried to map his progress by the stars, using the lessons he had learned in class, but the stars seemed to trick him-the skeletal branches of the trees above blocked just enough of the sky that he couldn't be sure about his calculations.

At that moment, he heard a whuffing sound from the trees above, and his heart skipped a beat. Dark shapes flitted overhead, just large enough that Rayen knew they weren't normal bats or birds.

“Hello?” he called. He wasn't afraid, he told himself. It was probably just...just something harmless, he didn't know what.

Then something brushed past him, touching his leg, and he leapt in the air in surprise. “Who's there?” His robes whirled as he turned, and he heard a high pitched, eerie scream, like nothing he head ever heard before. With a choked cry he began to run, his heart pounding in his ears and drowning out any other sound. He was lost, he was going to be eaten by wolves, and on the day of the equinox too!

He kept running, crying out in pain as branches seemed to bend out of their way to intercept him, slapping his robes and tearing holes in the careful stitches. Leaves crunched under his feet, then rushed as he became mired in a pile of them. His run slowed to a walk, then to a standstill as he panted, standing in a pile of leaves. Branches, silhouetted in the harvest moon, blocked his progress, as though the forest didn't want him to go any further.

“Where am I?” he called to no one, his voice lost in the inky blackness.

A tiny mew answered him, and he looked around wildly.

A winged cat alighted on the branch nearest to him, the moonlight shining from behind it and making it impossible to tell it's coloration. It mewed again, a happy trill, and touched it's nose to Rayen's trembling outstretched hand.

“Can...can you take me home?” he asked it.

It tilted it's head and mewed again. A bark answered it from behind Rayen, and he turned to see a kitsune, it's many tails wagging like a waving hand. It touched it's nose to Rayen's ankle, and suddenly the dark night no longer seemed so claustrophobic. Rayen could see the winged cat now, a dark brown tabby.

The winged cat mewed again, and hopped forward through the branches. Calm descended over Rayen, and the branches seemed to bend out of the way as he followed the cat, the kitsune at his heels.

As he walked, he heard other inhabitants of the forest, all flowing like water to some special place, some place that Rayen knew nothing of but the forest did, and it lead him as it lead everyone. Direwolves and kitsunes coursed through the leaves, while winged cats leapt from branch to branch overhead. At times Rayen sensed the movement of larger animals, nandi bears shuffling in the same direction, and at others he heard the sound of tinkling bells and chains. Decessi scurried underfoot, rabbits hopped, and rare birds that Rayen did not know the names for flew overhead, above even the winged cats.

The forest played around them as they walked, the leaves, visible now to Rayen's enhanced sight, all colors of red and yellow and orange and brown, and they spun and swirled around the student. The winged tabby cat chased them through the air, launching itself off of tree trunks in it's playful attempts to catch this leaf, then another.

The games ceased as Rayen entered a clearing, an enormous bowl that the moon shone down upon, illuminating what looked like every inhabitant of the forest. Bears, kitsunes and wolves mingled below, while winged cats and birds perched in trees. The sound was a mix of happy meows, chirps and chuffs, the screaming yodels of the foxes, the barks of the wolves, and the huffs of the bears. Rayen watched in wonder.

The winged tabby cat perched on Rayen's shoulder, the weight settling naturally, and mewed quietly in his ear. As he did, everything seemed to quiet, and Rayen felt the forest, as he felt every other creature there.

The forest would sleep, as the seasons changed, and as it did it would protect those it could. Rayen felt the quiet acceptance of the rabbits and bears, who would sleep with the forest until spring. The deer, rare, would keep traveling, to the frigid lands of Arkene. The Decessi nodded in unison, their fate set. The Kitunes, bids and winged cats would seek warmer climates, some seeking the protection of the magi that lived so close. Rayen felt a surge of gratitude from them, and his heart warmed.

Finally, the wolves would travel, ranging around the forest as it's protectors while the blankets of winter snows set in. They were the forest's main defense while winter was at its height.

Rayen fell deeper into the trance of the Silva Forest's equinox promise. The nights after this would be long, the days cold, and every year, Rayen learned, it's inhabitants gathered to listen to it's promise-to return when winter ended. It was not like the equinox festivals Rayen knew, but he understood how important the message was. Someone from the keep must know it, and return the message, and this year it was him.

And then it was over. Rayen opened his eyes, to find the weight of the tabby cat gone. Creatures moved around him, regarding him with silent respect as they left the clearing.

Rayen no longer needed his map, nor the stars. He left the forest, pausing once to look back before he continued on to the keep. He would be in time for the Keep's celebrations, but he must report to Master Belmos before he joined his friends. The promise of the Silva Forest, given every year, was more important.
This one was my entry for Tinnidawg’s KEG doni giveaway.
Spoiler
His appeal to the magi had failed. The disease was incurable-no known spell or potion could alleviate the symptoms.

The doctor strode into the forest, puffing on his pipe. He knew he shouldn’t smoke, but when half the village lay ill with the strange fever, concerns for his own health no longer bothered him. A spiraling rash, with a texture like moss, twisting around the legs and arms, and when it reached the chest-death. The village had taken to calling it moss fever.

And not even the magi could help. The letter lay crumpled in his pocket, a symbol of doom for his village. As a man of science, an appeal to the magical Keep had galled-but in the time it took for the reply, it had turned to hope. Now even that was gone.

He sat on a stump, vines twisting around his feet. Smoke from his pipe puffed into the air. All he could do was make his patients comfortable, and hope the disease didn’t strike him down next.

The bushes to his left rustled, and he froze. Stupid. He had only wanted a private place to smoke, but coming into the overgrown forest, alone? The sleepless nights were getting to him.

He stood slowly, turning to the village. If he left quietly, most animals in the forest would leave him alone.

Then the cat stepped out of the bushes.

Not cat. Kitten. A black panther kitten, to be precise, with a sinuous, spike covered tail that was more than twice the length of its body. It stared at him, green eyes flashing.

The doctor let out a shaky breath. Just a kitten. “Well hello, little one.” The doctor patted the small beast’s head. “I’ve not seen your like around before.”

The kitten kept staring at him, its spiked tail a question mark above its head. It rubbed its face against the doctor’s knee, winding its way around his legs, being careful to keep the sharp spines away from him.

“Interesting,” the doctor muttered. If this were any other time, he would spend more time with this creature, perhaps study it. But for now, he had work to do.

***

The cat followed him.

He tried to shoo it away at first, but it insisted on staying a few feet behind him. Eventually, the doctor gave up. Perhaps it would cheer up some of his younger patients. It seemed friendly enough.

His first house call was the home of the village blacksmith, whose son had lain ill with the moss fever for a week. The doctor did not relish telling the man that his child would die.

The room was dark, the candles guttering around the sleeping boy. The boy’s mother led him to the bed, where the doctor performed his cursory examination. The moss like patterns had spread to the boy’s stomach.

“It is a matter of days,” the doctor said quietly. The mother just stared.

Then the kitten leapt to the bed. The mother jumped, and the doctor moved to scruff it.

The cat twisted its tail around its body, the spines shiny in the candlelight. Liquid dripped from the spines upon the boy’s chest, hissing just slightly. The boy’s mother gasped.

The rash receded. The cat brushed its spined tail over the boy’s stomach, and wherever the spines touched, the rash vanished as though it had never been.

Then the boy’s eyes opened.

***

A few weeks later, the doctor sat with the kitten on his lap, comparing it to the picture the magi had sent him.

A spinetail. Most were fierce, with long green spines. The ones on this kitten were green, but a darker green than the one in the picture. And the liquid from the spines was a poison, according to his tests, but one that could cure as well as kill. No spinetail the magi knew of, according to their letter, had such poison, but a learned potion mage was already on his way to come visit the doctor’s new pet.

The doctor put the letter aside, patting the spinetail on the head. Since the inhabitants of the village had recovered, she roamed further every day. He hadn’t named her, either. It didn’t feel right.

He had a feeling that when the magi arrived, she would be gone. It wouldn’t be a total loss for the magi, though. Even now, the blacksmith was carving a statue of the small kitten.
This one was inspired by pure sillness. Morg had mentioned something about someone sending a ton of eggs to Master Belmos and how sending too many might blow up his keep. It was originally posted in the HWYD Thread.
Spoiler
“Do you think this is too many?” The young magi surveyed the room, the frozen eggs stacked neatly on top of two large blankets. There must have been nearly a thousand, with over a dozen of every known species.

“Nah, it’s Master Belmos. He can handle it,” his friend answered, taking out a wand. “Now watch. A transfer spell is easy, especially with frozen eggs.”

The older magi waved his wand, the air shimmering around the eggs. They faded, once, twice, then vanished.

“It worked!” the young magi said with awe.

At that moment, the entire castle rocked, both magi stumbling. A roaring like the sound of an angry dragon filled their ears.

The young magi darted to the window. “Look!”

Chunks of stone flew from Master Belmos’s tower, arcing down to the grassy banks below. Small shapes of every hue rocketed out of the hole in the building, spreading in every direction before falling to earth.

“Our eggs…” the older magi breathed.

The two magi exchanged glances. Then they both ran.
This last one was inspired by the September midmonth doni, the Berahn, and originally posted in the Berahn's release thread.
Spoiler
“This is never going to work.” Patyr crossed his arms, his bright scarlet robes rustling in the quiet room.

“Be quiet. The merchant said these would let you see anything from really far away, and that they even let you see tiny things. He called them far-seers.” Tomas twisted the dials on the side of the contraption, something inside the tubes squeaking.

“How creative.”

“Sh! It’s walking past.”

Tomas pressed himself against the window, raising the far-seers to his eyes. Immediately, a distant mage came into focus, a rope tied to her waist. And behind her walked the Berahn.

“Got it!” He twisted the dial further on the far-seers as he followed the creature, focusing on its back. This far away, ensconced in the highest tower in the Keep, it would never even notice him. He could be the first mage to see the city on a Berahn, in all of its miniature glory. He would write a report, become famous, maybe even become an Archmage!

Then his blood went cold.

Inside the highest tower on the creature’s back, a man in bright scarlet robes stood next to another man, who had shoved himself against the window of the tower. Tomas could barely make out the pair of far-seers held up to the man’s face.

“What is it?” Patyr asked. “What do you see?”

“Nothing.” Tomas dropped the far seers, something shattering as it hit the floor. In the courtyard, the Berahn kept walking. “I didn’t see anything.”
This one is a very short drabble about the latest V-Day release, the kissing fish.
Spoiler
“I’ve done it!”

The door to the study banged open, the two mage students jumping in alarm. A mage in a blue robe dashed into the room, a quill and paper in one hand. His soaked robes clung to his body.

“Professor Trent? What have you done?”

Trent whirled, water droplets sprinkling the student’s papers. “I’ve discovered the powers of the Carithas Fish! I’m going to be famous!” With that, he dashed off, the door banging once again.

***
Two days later, Trent’s paper was released. “A study of the magic of the Carithas Fish-methods of action in humans.”

“So,” the student asked as he lounged by the stream, the paper in hand. “Kissing it, huh? Makes sense.”

“How do you think he figured that out?” the other asked, raising an eyebrow.

Silence reigned for a moment, a talvar in the trees chirping.

“Let’s not think about it too hard."
A while back, Cassowary had a kind of Magi RP thing going. I had two short posts about glasshoppers and joining societies:
Spoiler
Bernard rubbed his eyes and stared at the text below him. The small looping letters swam in his vision, and he read the same sentence for the third time- "thermodynamics in magic follows a different pattern than is oft noticed in normal physics-"

Chirp.

Bernard looked up at the sound. "What the hell was that?" he said the to the empty alcove. Not many students came to this part of the library, where the drier texts could be found. Not that his research was dry, of course-it was interesting, really! He had just been doing it for too long, and-

Chirp.

The small chirp halted his disorganized thoughts. Damn he was tired. His mind always ran away from him when he needed sleep.

Chirrupchirrupchirrupchirrupchirrupchirrupchirrupchirrup

Ok, that was the most high pitched cricket noise he had ever heard. The sound echoed in the tiny alcove, and Bernard ducked under the table, then looked at the walls.

Aha. A tiny cricket sat in the corner, and Bernard flared his magelight brighter. The light flickered through the pale cricket, glowing as it would on glass.

It took his tired brain a moment. A new creature. "How long have you little guys been around?" He peered at the cricket, then back at his book. The cricket chirped again, hopping away toward the main section of the library.

Bernard blinked slowly. "Ok, that's it. Time for a break." And time to get a little glass cricket of his own.

***

Bernard walked through the halls of the keep, his pegasi behind him. It was a bright day-perfect for flying and avoiding his studies.

As he passed people, he began to slow down, noting a strange new mark on their robes. He jumped in surprise when someone walked past with a koala that had leaves sprouting from its fur, the mage chattering to her friend about a new guild for herbalists.

He sighed. Another new club. First the Dark Brotherhood, which still wanted 10k from him, then the trident marks everywhere, and now this. He wondered how expensive it was.

He checked in his pockets, and sighed again when a glasshopper jumped out. Maybe one day he would find a club he believed in enough to join-that is, when he got enough gold for it.
This was posted in the gifting thread, as a thanks to all my gifters:
Spoiler
“I can’t believe all the gifts I got!” Tim ran up the stairs to his room, arms laden with eggs. His roommate Raif ran behind him.

“You should write thank you letters,” Raif said as they entered the room. “Especially to whoever gave you that Pazuzu. That’s rare, you know.”

“I know!” Tim set his eggs down on his bed, then stepped back to admire them. “That is a lot of eggs, though.” He bit his lip. “There has to be a faster way to do this. Writing all those letters will take forever.”

“I handwrite all my letters,” Raif said, putting his nose in the air. “And address each one separately. It’s just polite.”

Tim snorted. “Hello? We’re magic students. We have magic now.” He stepped to his writing desk, closing his eyes. “I’ll just use a spell! General feelings of gratitude should work, right?”

“That seems like a bad idea…” Raif had just begun to speak when Tim suddenly collapsed.

***

In the fiery reaches of Voltar, Anna blinked when a small letter floated down from the sky. She plucked it out of the air, out of the reaches of the fiery breath of her resurrection horse.

“Thank you so much!!! Love Tim.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. Who was Tim?

***

Up in Arkene, the head mage on the research expedition, Timothy, watched as his assistant dug into an ice core, a celestial butterfly fluttering over his shoulder. Two letters popped into existence above their heads.

Jorge grabbed one. “I am so thankful for your hard work! Love Tim.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” Jorge’s said with a grin.

Timothy showed his assistant his own letter. “While I do appreciate you, I didn’t.”

***
Archmage Thane sat at his desk, warming a frozen egg. His temple cat sat on the desk by his side, watching.

A letter appeared over their heads, Thane nearly losing the thread of the spell. His temple cat batted it out of the air, plopping it down on his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he made out the message.

“Thank you for your hard work maintaining the school! Love Tim.”

Thane just chuckled.

***
Raif watched out the window, rolling his eyes. He had already dragged Tim into his bed. It was nothing more than magical exhaustion, brought on by accidentally sending a thank you letter to every single mage affiliated with the keep, whether they were on the grounds on not.

Outside, dozens and dozens of pieces of paper were still popping into existence, raining down on the heads of all the students and teachers.

Tim was going to have a fun time when he woke up.
This one is about the Krusos, which are awesome.
Spoiler
The sun shone down on the city, the keep resplendent in the distance. People filled the square, oohing and ahhing at baubles and trinkets that vendors sold in their stalls. From afar, a man’s voice shouted about a new invention, and the scents of spice and baked sweets mingled in the air.

“Hold still!” Pete shouted. The krusos at the end of his leash wriggled in the dirty street in an attempt to eat the collar off its neck. “I’ll get you gems, just try to behave today!”

The krusos stopped wriggling, perking up its head at the word “gems.” It trotted next to Pete’s leg, sniffing the air.

Pete sighed. Seeing the fair today would be difficult with a krusos on the end of a leash, but he had promised his mentor he would take it out for some exercise. The tiny thing hated being cooped up all day in the drafty halls of the castle, and Clara had been working on a paper for the past three weeks with no time to tend to it since it had hatched. So the task fell to Pete.

“C’mon, little guy. Let’s explore.”

The kryuos gave a shrill, whistling cry, and a woman and her two children hurried away from the noise. Pete smiled sheepishly.

“None of that, now,” he said, kneeling down and patting the creature’s head. “Be good, okay?”

The krusos just shrieked again, and Pete stood up, rolling his eyes. First thing, he needed to get the creature a gem. That would occupy it for a few hours.

Stalls lined the edges of the village square, and Pete kept his eyes peeled for the telltale shine of a gem or jewelry stand. He smiled and nodded at bakers who pressed cakes and pies toward him, and the glint of fancy weaponry caught his eye at a blacksmith’s stall.

Finally, he came upon a woman selling sapphires. As soon as the krusos drew near, it leaped into the air, flying toward the stall and pulling the leash.

“Whoa! Hold on!” Pete commanded, and the krusos fluttered to the ground by the stall, letting out a piercing shriek.

The vendor winced, and over the krusos’ noise Pete managed to arrange to buy a set of sapphire earrings. He tossed one to the krusos immediately, the creature nabbing it out of the air and sticking it onto the side of its tail. It fell off, and the krusos gave a small whistling sigh.

Pete herded the creature and his purchases away from the stall, giving embarrassed glances at an older mage student who walked by with a tylluan on her arm. Why couldn’t he be babysitting a well behaved creature? The krusos rolled around in the dirt again, marring its dark coat with mud while it tried in vain to stick the sapphire to itself. At least the noise had stopped.

“Hey!” the shrill tenor of a vendor caught his ear, and he looked up to see a crowd of people gathered around a stall. A man stood on a platform, something dangling from his open hand.

“C’mon,” Pete said, tugging the leash. “Let’s go see that.”

The krusos held the gem in its mouth as it half walked, half let itself be dragged closer to the stage.

The man on stage bellowed. “A new invention! Stick anything to anything, with Tod’s Amazing Adhesive Strips!” With a smooth movement, he took the strange thing from his open hand and touched it to his hat. When he removed it, the hat stuck to the strip, dangling in midair as though it were tied with string.

Pete looked back down to the wriggling krusos, an idea forming in his mind. “How much?” he called.

***

“So how did…what on earth happened?!” Clara exclaimed as she walked into the room. Pete looked up from the book he was reading.

Clara’s krusos lay on a pillow, its body covered with a combination of sapphires and Tod’s Amazing Adhesive Strips that fastened the gems to itself. It looked up, cheeping happily, and a sapphire hanging from a strip of adhesive dangled from its tail when it waved it in greeting.

“Just a little, um, experiment,” Pete said. “He’s never been better behaved!”
This one was a contest entry for the Lost Nurseries contest. A prompt was given, about a lost nursery somewhere in the world.
Spoiler
“I’ll be back, girl. Just wait. Take care of the eggs, you hear?”

Blaze rested her head against the side of her cage. The magical bond that linked her with the mage thrummed even as the man closed the door, a swirl of cloth the last thing she saw as he left the cave.

Her mage usually took her with him, letting her fly free, the flames of her wings warming even the air that was heated from the volcanoes of her home. But not today. He had put her in a cage, waved his hands over the eggs that rested on the table next to her, and covered them with tarp. Then he was gone.

Blaze blinked, the cage rattling as she shifted her weight. A red feather fell to the floor. She would wait. She would take care of the eggs. Her mage would come back.

***

Blaze grew hungry. The seed her mage had left had been eaten, broken shells strewn on the ground. Her wings were tired from fanning warm air over the eggs, but she couldn’t stop for long. She had to take care of them.

She tapped the cage bars with her beak, the sound sending her fluttering anxiously in the small space. Then she tried it again. There was nothing else to do.

The magic bond still thrummed, but her mage felt far away. She was hungry.

With a squawk, she flapped her wings hard, flames soaring. The metal cage melted, twisted, and she spread her wings to their full length. With a crash, it fell to the floor, metal bars screeching against the stone ground as she broke out of it.

Blaze hopped unsteadily on her taloned feet, bobbing her head as she stared at the eggs. With a few more flaps of her wings, she moved more warm air over them. Then she leapt into the air, circling, and left the cave.

She had never been in the cage for so long before. The sky and the hot sun healed her fatigue. With swooping circles, she landed in the trees, eating her fill of the nuts and pine needles. It was not the filling fare her mage usually brought her, but it was enough.
When she had her fill, she stopped, peering toward the south. Her mage was in that direction. She should go to him.

But the eggs would be alone. She couldn’t leave them. He would come back.

With a flap of her wings, she headed back toward the cave.

***

The eggs weren’t hatching.

Every hour when she was not sating her hunger, Blaze would fan the eggs with heated air from her wings, just as she had in the past when she took care of her mage’s new companions. But it had been weeks, and nothing was happening.

She lay her head close to one egg, a small one with a curled tail. She could hear nothing from within-no movement, no beating heart that signified a growing creature.

She chirped softly, nudging the egg within the cloth coverings. Then she heard it-a single thump, heavy and slow. They were alive.

Chirping to each egg, she listened for all of them. Each one had a steady, thumping heartbeat, but it only beat once every time she listened. So slow.

Blaze rested her head by the eggs, a red feather falling to the floor as she sensed for her mage. The bond had grown weaker-he was far, far away.

***

The bond fraying woke Blaze from heavy sleep.

Dust had gathered in the corners of her mage’s workroom, and her task had grown from fanning the eggs with heated air to using her flames to drive away rats and spiders who would crawl on them. She had placed her molted feathers around the eggs, replacing the cloth that had begun to unravel. Now, though, the air made her shiver. It had been a long time, and she knew, in some way, that she would sleep soon.

Blaze raised her head, her mage’s magic thrumming in her senses. Anxiety filled her, and she flapped heavy wings, a long red tailfeather falling to the floor as she took to the air.

Something was wrong.

She flew down the passage, light from outside giving her strength. She made it nearly to the entrance when the bond snapped.

Her keening cry rebounded through the cave, and her wings locked to her sides. She hit the ground hard, her world whirling around her. Her anchor-her mage-was gone. Feathers littered the ground as she rolled.

She lay for a few moments, feebly moving her wings and claws. Her strength was gone. Her mage was gone.

Inside, the eggs waited. Blaze closed her eyes. Her last though before bursting into flames was that she must protect them.

***

The phoenix chick tumbled from the egg into a pile of fluff. For a moment, she gave a chirping keen. She had lost something. Something important. She was alone.

She blinked huge eyes, her belly cramped with hunger. Distantly, from another life, she remembered important things. One, food could be found on moss, lichen, and other things on cave floors. Crawly things were good. Two, if she flapped her wings enough, she could ward off predators by using flame. And the last was that she had to protect something. Something important, in the cave.

The phoenix chick wobbled on weak legs, pushing through faded grey feathers that littered the ground. Back into the cave.

Ants and beetles that crawled on the floor became a quick meal as she made her journey. Cobwebs clung to her as she walked, and more than once a rat had to be convinced to leave her alone.

Finally, her entire body trembling with fatigue, she found it. What she had to protect.

A rusted, broken metal cage lay on the floor. But that didn’t matter. On a table lay a group of eggs, surrounded by tatters that had once been cloth and faded, fraying feathers. With one last hop and a jolting flap of her wings, the small phoenix landed on the table, nuzzling next to the eggs, her body radiating heat.

A small thump gave her comfort. She didn’t feel so alone anymore.

***

By the time the phoenix was grown enough to fly, the tattered cloth that had protected the eggs was nothing but threads. She replaced it with fuzz and feathers, her chick’s down now beautiful red plumage.

She spent much of her time by the eggs, a simple life of protection. There were dozens of them, jeweled eggs with all sorts of markings-curling tails, horns, spikes, and in some cases flames. None were close to hatching, but somehow she knew they would. One day.

Sometimes she wondered how they had gotten here, and then terrible loneliness would bloom in her breast. Old memories, from another life, would haunt her.

But they were no longer important. Only the eggs were.

***

Creatures from outside left her alone. No creature would approach a phoenix in its prime. But as time passed, her feathers began to fall again. And something came into the cave.

A hound, its body as hot as hers, with fangs twice as long as her beak. It’s loud sniffing at the cave entrance brought her fully awake from her spot on the table, and she answered with a challenging shriek.

The hound bellowed, and the phoenix leapt from the table. She would protect the eggs.

Flames poured from her wings as she flew out of the entrance, the hound leaping and snapping, catching a loose tail feather in its teeth. With angry shrieks she swept down and buffeted the hound with her wings.

Then she heard a sound she hoped she would never hear. A sick cracking of a shell as an egg hit the floor.

She abandoned the hound, shrieking as she entered the cave. A man with a black cloak was taking the eggs. One-the egg with the curly tail-had hit the floor and broken.

Flame filled the room, the rusted cage melting the floor. Magic swirled, and the man fled down the passage.

The phoenix landed on the ground, nuzzling the cracked egg. She waited for the thump.

None came.

She gave a keening cry. Then she leapt up to the table, her feathers falling one by one, and rested next to the remaining eggs.

Her body’s flames warmed them for days when she died once more.

***
When she hatched again, it was next to the eggs she remembered, her silent companions for lifetimes. Bugs and rats swarmed the floor, and she remembered losing one-but there was no sign of it.

The phoenix grew once more on insects, and when she took to the air she went back to her charges. Her life-her lives, and existence-would not end until she made sure they were safe.

***

The world changed as she protected the eggs.

For years, sands blew inside the cave entrance, lumping against the cave walls. The phoenix lived a long time then-if she died while sand blew inside the cave, she would be buried, her and the eggs. She had to use her wings to fan it away from them.

At times, she heard humans outside the cave. She chased them away. No men in black cloaks would harm another of her eggs.

It was five cycles since she had lost her mage, his face and presence a distant memory, and she was growing old once more.

When her feathers began falling again, the phoenix liked to rest by the eggs. She lay her head over one, a small egg with spikes, her once lustrous red feathers formed in a new nest.

Then she heard it. A footstep. Like the man in the black cloak.

She fluffed her feathers, her body heating, and shrieked a warning.

But the person who entered came in with her hands out, calming magic winding through the air. A phoenix stood on her shoulder, a young one, his feathers bright and warm.

The woman stopped, staring at the phoenix and her eggs. She slowly reached into her pack and pulled out a map.

“Is this it?” The phoenix tilted her head, uncertain. “Is this…are these yours?” She approached the nest, and the phoenix hissed a warning.

“It’s alright,” the woman said. “You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?” The phoenix hissed again. The woman gave a sad smile. Then she waved her hands.

It took a moment to figure out what had happened. Then she heard it. Thumping heartbeats. Normal, healthy, quick heartbeats, inside the eggs.

One egg cracked, then another. The phoenix chirped, hopping to the edge of the table, as they began to hatch, small creatures tumbling out onto the table, chirping and purring and whining for food.

The phoenix fanned them with her wings once, and they moved toward her. A memory of something-maybe her mage’s smiling face-flashed in her mind.

“Will you let me help them?” The woman was talking to her, and the phoenix turned her head. “I will take them to the Keep. They will find magi, like me. Companions.”

The phoenix turned back to the hatchlings, and looked again the magi, and the other phoenix on her shoulder. She lay down on the table, closing her eyes as heat overtook her body. Her task was done.

When she woke, it was as a small hatchling, ensconced in the sunny warmth of a nest, a magic bond anchoring her. Overhead, a beautiful stone building shone in the sun.
This was my entry for another writing contest, Journey to the Unknown.
Spoiler
Sweat dripped down the back of Aran’s neck as he unrolled the map that Anita had given him, and he peered down at the left hand corner. Chicken scratch lettering spelled out the word “Biben.”

Folding the map back up and placing it in his pack, he squinted through the heat haze at the shimmering town in the distance, his stomach fluttering. He had been walking for ages, so this must be it. The last stop before he walked off the edge of the known world.

“C’mon, you,” he snapped at the hellhound, who was currently sniffing at another jerboa rat burrow. “Let’s go.”

With a growl that raised goosebumps, the hellhound that Anita had entrusted to him followed.

Despite being visible a long way off, it was hours before Aran trudged into the village, dust skirling around his ankles. He had removed his heavy magi robes, wearing nothing but a simple traveler’s tunic, but he was still drenched in sweat. With a groan, he leaned against the wall of a dilapidated looking building, pulling out his waterskin and chugging what remained.

When he was done, he pulled out the map again, flipping it over. “Biben,” Anita had written. “A small town on the edge of Voltar. They may know something about the artifact.”

He stuffed the map back in his bag, staring at the hellhound in exhaustion. A magical artifact, in the middle of the desert? Off the edge of where cartographers had gone? Impossible. Anita must be as crazy as everyone said she was. No one had been this far southwest in…well, ever.

On top of that, “small town” was a stretch. The building he leaned against currently looked to be the only one that hadn’t half caved in. A few more spots of brown in the distance could be houses, or maybe just rocks. He suddenly wished he hadn’t finished his water.

“Hello?” He called out, stepping back out into the sun. “Is anyone here?” No answer.

“Hello? I need a place to stay.” His hellhound barked, the sound flat in the expanse of desert.

A door banging open made him jump, and an old man emerged from around the corner. Aran’s eyes widened. A dawn cinersi perched on the old man’s shoulder, its feathers gleaming.

“Who are you?” The old man asked. The cinersi tilted its head, peering at him.

Before Aran could answer, the hellhound trotted up to the man, wagging its tail.

“Well, aren’t you a good boy.” The man patted the hellhound on the head, a smile breaking across his weathered features. “What’s his name?” He called to Aran.

“I, uh, haven’t decided yet."

“That’s too bad.” The man narrowed his eyes for a moment, but Aran barely noticed, staring at the cinersi. No one he knew at the keep had such a rare creature-he had only heard about them. What was such a priceless creature doing out here?

“You haven’t answered my question.” The old man walked over, the hellhound heeling by his feet. “Young man, who are you and what are you doing in Biben? We don’t get many travelers.”

Aran straightened his spine, meeting the old man’s gaze. “My name is Aran Leven, and I am a magi from the Keep.”

The old man’s eyes narrowed for a moment, before comprehension dawned. “Oh, the Keep! The one to the north, yes? East of Silva?”

“Yes. That’s the one.” Aran suppressed an urge to roll his eyes, and masked it by leaning down and grabbing his hellhound by the scruff of his neck, the heat from the creature’s fur nearly singing his fingers. “I’ve come quite a ways. You’re the last town on my map.” The hellhound scratched furrows in the dirt as Aran pulled him closer to his side.

“Yes, no magi ever come here. It’s a shame, truly. Such history!” The old man threw his arms out wide, indicating the dilapidated buildings and scrub brush. Aran decided that cinersi or no, the man must be as crazy as Anita.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, Aran. I am Thomas, the Elder of the town of Biben. This is Lorelai.” He motioned to the cinersi, which chirped a greeting that sent chills down Aran’s spine. “Our town no longer has an inn, but perhaps a temporary home can be made for you from one of the older houses. Come this way.”

Oh goody. An abandoned house. Aran followed, hoping he would at least get something decent out of this trip. A night with spiders and rats certainly wouldn’t be it.

“Here we are!” Lorelai leaped off Thomas’ shoulder, circling the house once and then landing on the roof. “Blessed by a cinersi, too. You’ll sleep safe.”

“Thanks.” Aran hefted his bag and headed inside, the cinersi peering down at him as he opened the door. Dust greeted him, and he sneezed twice, his eyes watering.

“Make yourself at home.” With a squawk that still somehow echoed deep in Aran’s chest, Lorelai took off, shingles raining down onto the porch.

“C’mon you.” The hellhound glanced once at Thomas before padding inside, and Aran shoved the door, trying to ignore another shingle clattering down as it closed.

Just one night here, then he would move on to try and find the artifact. How he would find a rare magical artifact in the middle of the desert, he wasn’t sure, but if it was magical enough he could probably sense it, he hoped.

A jerboa rat skittered out through a hole in the back wall, and his hellhound whuffed at it apathetically before turning in a circle and lying down.

Aran sighed. Maybe one night would be too long.

***

Dust plumed through cracked windows as Aran made the main room livable, spreading out his sleeping roll and pumping water from the side of the house. The water tasted coppery, but he filled his waterskin anyway.

The afternoon wore toward evening, and he spent the time taking a nap, sleeping through the worst heat of the desert day in the cool, dark interior of the house.

Hoofbeats roused him, and for a moment he thought he was back at the keep, listening to young students train their pegasi at the field.

“Hey! Magi!” A woman’s voice brought him back to reality. His hellhound whined at the door, pawing at the warped wood, and Aran opened it, intending to greet what must be another villager.

Instead he stared at the fiery, skeletal horse that the woman rode. He blinked hard, waiting for the dream to end or for the horse to resolve itself as an illusion.

“Hello? Thomas told me to tell you to come to his home. He’s got dinner planned for you.”

“S-sure.” Heat enfolded him as he came down the steps. The creature tossed its head, the air around its mane shimmering like the heat off of the desert.

“Is that a resurrection horse?” He finally managed. Another creature that only the most powerful and venerated of magi owned. Who were these people?

“This is Sellio.” The girl leaned down and patted the fiery mane, her hand coming away unscathed. “He’s a Valarn breed. Do you know them?”

“Y-yeah, I know them.” Aran shook his head, willing his heart to stop racing. “You said Thomas wanted me?”

“Yes. Follow me. He’s set up a small dinner for you, since you seem to have traveled quite far. We haven’t seen a magi in a long time.”

“Oh.” He followed behind, Sellio setting a slow walking pace that he could match easily. His hellhound loped at the horse’s feet, at times looking up and barking. Sellio paid no mind to the bothersome hound, merely flicking his tail at the rough noise.

“There are more there, see?” The girl pointed. It occurred to Aran that he should have asked her name, but the thought was eclipsed at the sight of a herd of skeletal horses, some with blue flame and some with red, galloping around ruined houses.

“Where did they all come from?”

She shrugged. “They’ve always been here. You act so oddly-are they so strange to you, a magi?”

He tore his gaze away from the sight, meeting her eyes. “I-no, of course not.” He adjusted his robes, his hellhound whuffing at him in a way that he swore sounded like amusement. “They are just a pretty sight, is all.”

“They are far from the prettiest around here.” She smiled. “Wait till you Thomas’ menagerie.”

“It sounds intriguing.” His heart began to race, and he mentally rehearsed the ingredients for a sleeping potion. He was a magi, and these people were merely villagers-backwater ones, at that. He should be the one impressing them, not gaping like a student fresh from his first catch at the stream!

But he couldn’t keep himself from wondering how all these rare creatures came to be here. First a cinersi, then both breeds of resurrection horse-what next?

***

The answer was pheonixes. The fire and ice phoenixes he was used to, but Thomas’ menagerie turned out to include a large number of peacock phoenixes, which Aran only knew about from books. Their tails folded and unfolded as his hellhound darted and made false lunges at them, sparks glinting from the long feathers.

Aran’s skin crawled as he watched them. There was clearly something going on in this town, something that not even Anita had predicted. Surely she would have warned him if she knew.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” The girl asked. “They’re my favorite.”

“Sure. They really are.” Maybe the artifact really was nearby. But no artifact he knew attracted magical creatures-they typically were not motivated by magical artifacts the way magi were. So why…?

“Come, Aran, Elysa. To dinner.” Thomas ushered them out of the bird filled room. “I’m sure you have fun stories of the keep to tell us, Aran, yes?”

He nodded quickly. He couldn’t let on how out of his element he felt. These creatures were rare to magi, but apparently they were common as dirt here in this tiny town, and reacting to them the way he had been would only make him look bad.

Thomas’ wife prepared the food, a luxurious spread of soups and fried vegetable platters that were probably made from the tough scrubs that grew near the desert. The fibers caught in his teeth, but the taste more than made up for it.

“So, Aran. What brings you here from the Keep?” Thomas asked as the plates were cleared. Elysa leaned forward in her chair, also clearly interested.

Aran leaned back in his chair, trying to appear nonchalant. “Well, I suppose that’s what you can help with. I’m looking for a magical artifact-someone at the keep told me it can be found somewhere out here. She wants me to bring it back.”

“What does the artifact do?”

“Well, it’s supposedly a stone that channels magic. That’s what she said.”

“Is it valuable? Why don’t you keep it?” Elysa asked.

Aran blinked. She almost sounded…no. The idea tempted, for a moment, but then he discarded it. “I couldn’t do that. She already gave me a hellhound,” the hound’s tail thumped under the table, “so taking the stone if I found it would be…like stealing.”

Elysa nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer.

Thomas scratched at his chin, his gaze unfocused. “So, lad, tell me about the northern Keep.” Northern? “Are creatures treated well there?”

“Of course!” Aran replied. “I have never heard of anyone mistreating their creatures. Even those members of the dark brotherhood, while they practice strange magics, would never harm a creature.”

“And yet, creatures are bartered and passed from magi to magi, yes?” Thomas said, tapping his finger on the table in thought. “Like your hellhound. You did not hatch him.”

Aran frowned. “Does that matter? I care for him nonetheless. Anita gave him to me with the understanding that I would treat him well. All magi are expected to do so-if they do not, they do not become magi.”

Thomas’s gaze drifted, his dark eyes unfocused, until Aran’s hellhound moved out from under the table, nuzzling the older man with his nose. Thomas stroked the fiery animal, and soon his face brightened, the tension in the air fading.

“Well then. Elysa, why don’t you take him to see it tomorrow?”

Elysa nodded, a peacock warbling from somewhere inside the house. “That sounds fine to me.”

Aran tilted his head. “To see what?”

Thomas grinned. “The artifact, of course.”

***

“C’mon mage, it’s not so far.” Easy for her to say, considering she rode a flaming horse.

Aran trudged along beside Elysa’s mount, his feet kicking up puffs of dirt from the arid ground. His hellhound ranged ahead, his explorations growing more and more pointless. Even the jerboa rats didn’t dwell here, where the sun baked the ground into clay.

“I’ve heard tales that this was once lush and green-like up north,” Elysa’s voice bobbed as her horse walked. “But the winds changed, ages ago, and brought the sand.”

“Sand?” Aran put his hand over his eyes, peering into the distance. The ground shimmered in the heat. It looked like water, or glass.

“Further west. It blows when the winds do. Be careful.” She smiled sadly.

“Be careful of wha-” Then his hellhound howled.

The wind blew up like hot air from an opened furnace, dry and burning. Aran threw up his arm to cover his face, and in moments his hellhound was beside him, supporting him against the wind.

And the sand. Each grain sliced like a knife, and Aran shut his eyes tight. He knelt down, his hellhound covering him with his heated fur.

“Elysa!” Aran shouted, and groped for her, or for her horse. He found nothing. Where had this blasted sand come from? Could Elysa have…no. She had a magi companion, but she had shown no sign of having magic.

The grains began to pile up around his hellhound’s feet, the creature lifting its paws in discomfort. He whined, a mournful sound that let Aran know he was in pain.

“It’s alright, shh.” Aran leaned down, touching the hellhound’s paws. He had no idea where Elysa and her horse had gone, but he had larger worries at the moment, the sand blinding and deafening him, his hellhounds whimpers growing fainter.

“Shh…” The sand blew stronger, slicing grains. His hellhound whimpered louder, and blood dripped from his paws. Aran tried to put a shield around them both, but it was a flimsy thing made of air, not a spell he was particularly good at. The sand sliced through it almost immediately, and he cursed. He couldn’t protect them both, and knew he could barely protect himself.

“Alright, listen.” He looked into his hellhound’s eyes. “Your name is…Helio. Like the sun, okay? Now run out of here. I can cover myself. I’ll call you by name when I’m safe, okay? Go back to the village, Helio.”

Helio licked his face, his tongue swiping away the sand that stuck against his cheek.

Then the wind died. Helio’s whimpering ceased, the air around them still and silent.

Sand rained from Aran’s robes as he stood. The desert before him had transformed, sand clumped around him up to his knees. He turned, the sky blue and clear in all directions.

“Elysa?!” He called, his voice faint. He coughed, spitting sand. “Elysa!” Helio barked.

Something glinted in the distance. Aran hurried over to it, then cursed as he fell, something catching his foot. Helio romped over the sand to greet him, sniffing at the rock. Then he whined.

Aran sat up, pushing Helio’s snout away. His hellhound barked once more, and Aran winced.

He brushed the sand off of the rock, and was reward with the shiny glint of metal. He picked up the rock-no. A perfectly square brick, made of pink-hued sandstone. The glint he had seen was gilded decoration, mostly tarnished now. He cast his senses over it, but found only residue. It had been magical once, but no longer.

A jolt went through him as he cast his senses farther. It wasn’t just the one stone he had tripped over-there were more, under this sand. In fact, even the sand itself held traces of old magic.

Helio trotted out farther, sniffing at the sand and barking periodically. Aran had a feeling he barked at more than just jerboa burrows. Maybe Elysa had led them to where he could find the artifact, and then turned back. But why the storm?

He had no time to consider it. Helio barked louder, digging furiously, sand spraying from under his paws.

“Slow down, you’ll hurt your paws more.” Aran dragged him away by the scruff, peering into the hole he had dug. He pulled up another brick, with runes etched into its side. He tilted his head, peering at them. He could have sworn he had seen their like somewhere before.

“C’mon, Helio.” He stood up and brushed as much sand as he could from his robes. “There’s something here.”

He followed Helio as the hound sniffed out more bricks. They were obviously from a building-a very old building, perhaps one that had been ground mostly to dust eons ago. Each one had runes, or if not, then the faintest trace of magic, used long past. None of them, though, matched what Anita had suggested was here. Their magic was old-hardly an artifact.

Helio began to dig once more, and the sand around him began to cave in, as though a whirlpool had opened beneath him. Aran leaped and grabbed his scruff just in time to pull him away as the ground opened, the sand pouring into the newly formed hole with a hissing roar.

Aran coughed, eyes wide as the sand rained down, a waterfall of grain. Anita hadn’t said anything about this.

When it settled, he peered into the dark hole, dust still pluming from the fallen sand. He nearly fell when Helio rushed past him, the nimble hound leaping into the dark, the dull glow of his fiery fur providing illumination.

With a sigh, Aran slid down on his butt, landing without much grace onto the pile of sand that had fallen in. It wasn’t far, but he rubbed his back as he stood up. First a town full of rare creatures, then random sandstorms, now this.

The hole led to a tunnel, which stretched down underneath the sand. Helio barked, the sound echoing off the walls.

“Shush.” Aran summoned magelight, following the tunnel. “Don’t bring this place down on our heads.” Contrite, Helio followed.

The tunnel’s walls were smoothed to near perfection, and Aran’s spine tingled. This was no natural tunnel leading to a cave. In some places, the same bricks that had littered the ground outside had fallen, the same runes decorating them. As Aran moved his light along the sides, he saw more of them, spidery script. Runes of…he thought back to his classes. Runes of protection. The same ones that were worked invisibly into the walls of the Keep.

He stopped walking, his light blinking. He took a deep breath before moving on, Helio’s nails clicking on stone.

The tunnel turned sharply, and he arrived in an enormous cavern.

No. Not cavern. He moved his light higher, pouring power into it, a glinting star in the center of the room, the arch that formed the foundation of what must have once been an ancient castle.

Or an ancient Keep. Eggs sat on pockets of sand, flaming eggs of resurrection horses and phoenixes, cinersi and peacocks, glowing like tiny red stars.

Helio looked up, and Aran followed his gaze, moving his light higher. A carving decorated the stone overhead, a rising sun. A mark had been slashed through it, perhaps a crack from an ancient earthquake, or perhaps something else.

“Surprised, mage?” Aran whirled, Elysa appearing out of another tunnel, Sellio burning bright.

“What is this?”

“You think your Keep was the first? The only one?” She laughed. “You sought an artifact, but you’ve found more than just some magical stone.”

Aran couldn’t speak, staring at the eggs in the sands, the carved sun overhead. History surrounded him. “Who were they? What…what happened to them?”

“Who can say?” Elysa dismounted, the sound of her landing echoing in the empty space. “But you are the first magi to come here since they left. No maps, no legends, remember this place, only that there may be magic here.”

Helio barked once more, whining at the eggs, and Aran winced. “But the creatures...they remember.” It all made sense.

“Creatures who don’t die. They stayed behind.” Elysa waved her arm, motioning to the eggs in the sands.

“What…what will they do?”

Elysa smiled. “You may have failed to find an artifact to bring back to the Keep, but you’ve found them instead. You’ve proved you care for your creatures, or you would not have found this place.”

Aran knew what she would say next. Helio leaned against his hip, sighing with contentment.

“They need to follow you to their new home.”

A silly story about Spambots:
Spoiler
“There he is again!” Claude pointed, and Rebecca leaned closer to see. “See, I told you.”

The student sat under a willow tree by the stream, his shabby robes covered in dust. Mud spattered the hem of his cape, which was obviously too long for him. He didn’t move or speak, apparently just staring off at the mountains in the distance.

“Who is he?” Rebecca’s serendin wound around her shoulders and sniffed the air. Maybe he was curious too.

“No one knows. He never talks, or even goes to class. They say he doesn’t even have a creature yet.”

“No one’s talked to him?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

“Not from our year. He’s…weird, or so I’ve heard.”

“That’s nonsense.” Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ear, stepping out from behind the trees. “Someone has to introduce themselves. He’s probably just new and frightened.”

Claude shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. All this, over one shy new student? She strode over to the boy, kneeling down next to him. Her serendin leapt off her shoulders and began to sniff at the grass.

“Hi,” Rebecca said, sticking out a hand. “I’m Rebecca. What’s your name?”

The student looked up with wide eyes. “09)(((342 DOWNLOAD THE BEST MOVIE EVER FREE!!! 76^&7^%%8!!”
And the followup, the spambot birthday party:
Spoiler
“Think she’ll like them?” Jordan asked, hefting the package. Blue ribbon trailed from the bow on top, catching on a branch here and there as she and Claude navigated the path.

“I think so.” Claude pushed another branch out of his way. “Damn, why is the party here? You’d think everyone who has a birthday today would want their party somewhere a little less…overgrown.”

Jordan shrugged. “Rebecca’s an earth mage. Maybe she likes it.”

Noise began to greet them as they grew closer, and Claude pushed his way into the clearing. Jordan’s eyes widened.

Rebecca sat alone, her serendin wound around her neck as it for protection. Her blue party hat sat askew.

Around her, dozens, maybe even hundreds, of people filled the clearing. All of them wore torn robes of varying shades of grey or cremey white, some with a few splashes of red or blue that spelled nonsensical things, no spell Jordan or Claude had ever read in their textbooks. There were no creatures to be seen other than Rebecca's serendin.

And everyone was shouting.

“DOWNLOAD FREE MOVIES!!!!!”

“WANT TAKEN AROUND IN A GOLF CART!!!?”

“MICHAEL KORS HANDBAGS 50% OFF!!!!”

Claude stared, then hurried over to Rebecca. “What is this?” he shouted over the din.

“I don’t know!” Rebecca threw up her hands. “I thought it was going to be a birthday party!”

A student in torn brown robes ran past. “BUY WORLD'S BEST BOOTS!”

Rebecca sighed, her shoulders slumping, and Jordan hurried over. “C’mon,” Jordan said, guiding Rebecca to her feet and handing her the present. “Let’s get out of here.”

She hoped Rebecca would still like the boots and handbag.
Stuff that's still on the boards:

Winter (slightly sad): 54-the-den/98166-winter.html

The Storm: 54-the-den/147837-the-storm.html#p15739636

That's all for now. I encourage everyone to make their own MS drabble threads! :D
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Re: Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

Post by Piney »

I really love the Berahn one. XD All of your stories are great! Can't wait to see more!
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Re: Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

Post by PaleoMage »

Piney wrote:I really love the Berahn one. XD
Same. That's probably the best explanation of the Berahn cities I'm ever going to read. XD
Also, I think I'll make one of these threads myself. I don't have the time or motivation for a full-on book-length story, but short stories... I'm interested in trying some of those.
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Re: Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

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Entertaining as always. :) The Berahn story is my favorite so far also.
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Re: Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

Post by BluMajica »

I love the Master Belmos one most... lol - almost disturbed the library.
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Re: Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

Post by Raneth »

The other post filled up, so I'm staring a new collection here:


This one is a short summation of Ivan and the war of the Keep from April Fool's Day:
Spoiler
Ivan was always a quiet mage. He chose to spend most of his time by the side of the stream, collecting pebbles and stones. His roommate thought him a bit odd given his penchant for rock collecting, but most gave little thought to it.

His teachers, too, didn’t pay much attention to him. He was perfectly average at every skill. Healing? Average. Combat magic? Average. Animal husbandry, botany, potionmaking? Average, average, average. Even his creatures were rather plain.

It was only in his fifth year that Ivan discovered the skill that made him unique. And that skill was mind magic.

Ivan discovered that he could make people do what he wanted, and believe what he wanted them to believe. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite so average. And he wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

He put his plan into motion in the spring of his sixth year. He had heard legends of the oblivion pillagebeast, a creature who every logical mage knew was myth. But with well placed spells and a little application of his power, they were myth no more.

Even the most talented of magi fell to his glamour. Within hours the keep was in an uproar, with students fighting teachers who now inexplicably followed Ivan, the new master of the castle. Dragons and gryphons circled the skies, and the students called in their rarest and most powerful creatures to do battle. All of the battles were fought over four small eggs, which, due to the influence of Ivan’s magic, most believed to hold the power to destroy the Keep itself.

But the glamour could not hold forever. As more and more fell victim to Ivan’s spell, the combined power of their magic and belief broke through the illusion, and the eggs were revealed for what they were--nothing more than the choicest rocks from Ivan’s collection.

With the spell broken, order was quickly restored. All that remains of that day are the rocks. Ivan had enchanted hundreds with his illusion, and they were distributed among the magi in the castle so that they would not confuse unsuspecting villagers. With their magic, the students of the castle dissolved the illusion and revealed the rocks beneath it.

No one knows what became of Ivan. Some believe he used his power to escape, or perhaps he used his power just to make people believe that he is gone. Still others believe that the leaders of the Keep have imprisoned him, with the intention to use his power in the future when it is needed.

When asked, however, many teachers will deny ever having truly fallen for Ivan's magic. To this day, many claim it was all a prank, carried out on Ivan's graduation day.
This one is a short, humorous story about the Silendarus unicorns and their ability to cure any poison:
Spoiler
Jake and Quentin stumbled away from the bright mage lights that lit the city, the music from the inn following them into the night via their raucous singing.

"I'm sho happy ... hic... that I pashed!" Jake crowed as he swayed off the path toward the tree line of the forest.

"I knew you would," Quentin said, slapping his friend on the back. "You'll be an aweshom...awsh...a great healer."

The brush by the path rustled, and Quentin froze and grabbed his drunk friend by the arm. Both men nearly fell over. "What was tha?"

"Wha--hic--what?" Jake twisted in Quentin's grasp. The night was still and silent, even the sounds of the city behind them having faded.

Something snapped in the forest, and then Jake started to giggle. "Look!" he pointed. "It'sh just a...a..." His eyes widened.

"Fires, it'sh a unicorn!" Quentin gasped.

The stately creature stepped out of the brush, leaves clinging to its dark coat. The horn on its forehead glowed gold and white, and it bowed toward Jake. With a trembling hand, the young man reached out, lightly stroking the unicorn's forehead.

As soon as it had come, the unicorn turned and vanished, the only sound of its passing a rush of air and a leaf falling onto the path.

"Whoa," Quentin said, blinking hard. "Wash that really a..."

"Yeah. A unicorn." Jake stared at his hands, then back at the dark forest, new magic thrumming through his body. "I've bonded with a unicorn." He broke into a grin. "I really am going to be a great healer!"

Then he blinked. He craned his neck up, looking from Quentin's widely grinning face and eyes glazed from drink, back to the dark trees where the unicorn had vanished. His grin faded.

"Hey!" he shouted into the forest, all trances of drunkenness gone. "I paid a lot for all that mead!"
This short drabble is about the Tarax:
Spoiler
"Ten years? That's all?"

"Yes. Tarax rarely live longer. I'm sorry, Alexa." The professor at the head of the creature studies class frowned at the young girl. The tiny tarax hatchling stirred in Alexa's pocket, poking its head out. The girl patted it with one finger, mind racing.

Her companion had just hatched. Her first companion, that she had raised up money for so she could enter the Keep. None of the creatures in the stream had called to her, but Seda had.

And Seda would be gone in ten short years.

Alexa narrowed her eyes as the professor moved on to discuss earth Serendins. There had to be a way.

***

"Hold still, Seda," Alexa whispered. The magelight shining above her desk cast her dormitory room in shadow. The tiny tarax stopped bouncing for a moment, but its grassy fur still shook with repressed energy. Maybe that was why they died so fast, she thought with a frown.

She had magic. She was a mage now. All she wanted was for her creature to stay alive. She couldn't lose Seda. Other students may not realize it, but ten years...that wasn't very long. Her mother had only been alive for the first ten years of Alexa's life, and that hadn't been enough.

She reached for her power, the magic blooming in her body. Next to her, her tarax was a shimmering beacon of racing energy.

Alexa reached for it with her magic, forming one powerful mental command. Slow down.

***

"Oh wow, that's Archmage Alexa!" the boy hissed. "She invented the freezing spell!"

"Shh!" The other student clapped a hand over the boy's mouth. "We're supposed to be studying."

The ancient archmage, her hair silvery gray, looked over her shoulder at the two boys and smiled. She remembered well what it had been like to be young and have to fight to keep quiet in the library.

As she walked away, a tiny tarax, a hatchling for 80 years, poked its head out of her pocket.
This was an entry for Namyre's contest, the premise of which was Magi Final Exams:
Spoiler
Damiel gnashed his teeth, and his gold torveus lashed her tail next to him. Clawneth had always been sensitive to his moods.

He was three months into the year. Three months, three entire months, of wasting his time working in this stupid mountain village, watching people herd goats and churn butter while he sat and grew lazy and useless because he had never needed to use his magic even once. He was going to fail his final exam, the exam that would finally allow him to be a full fledged mage, and all because that stupid Thane hadn’t told him what he needed to actually do.

“Hi!”

Oh, great. Damiel rolled his eyes as a small boy climbed the rock he sat on, his tiny rewin dragon scrambling up too. Tad had been following him around for the last three weeks since the boy’s family had moved here for whatever reason.

“Hi Damiel!” The kid plopped down beside him, Clawneth moving her tail out of the way. Tad’s rewin piped a greeting. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Damiel hoped the kid would leave him alone.

“Can you tell me about the keep?” Tad asked, kicking his feet against the rock. “Like about how you learned about magic and stuff?” He patted his rewin on the head. “Or how to train creatures? I want to train Scales!”

Damiel sighed. Every time Tad managed to find him, he asked about the keep, and every time he brushed it off. “Not now.”

“But you said you weren’t doing anything!” Tad whined. “And I saw you light a fire with magic yesterday! Teach me!”

Damiel snorted. “You can’t do it.”

“Not if you don’t teach me!”

“Look,” Damiel said with a wave of his hand. “You may have a dragon, but you’re not a mage. You need to be able to use magic to do things like that. You can’t. End of story.”

Tad frowned, pulling his rewin closer. “How do you know?”

“Because I can use magic, and I can sense if people have magic.” It was a rare skill, and a valuable one. Apparently not good enough to pass this exam, though. “You don’t.”

“So? You can still tell me all about the keep!”

Clawneth huffed in what must be laughter. “Look, kid,” Damiel said, patting his dragon on the flank. “What’s the point? You’ll never go there.”

Tad opened his mouth then closed it, and finally pouted. “Because…if I can’t go there, I want to know about it anyway!”

“Hm.” He fell silent, hoping Tad would leave, but the damn kid just kept staring at him.

Damiel let out a gusty breath. This was such a waste of time. What was he doing here, stuck in this backwater village, when he could be out there doing great things for his final exam? Some students went out and made discoveries, tamed great creatures, or even performed independent research in uncharted lands.

And he, the top of his class and the most powerful student in the keep, had to be stuck in this village, and now he had to entertain some brat?

“The keep is for mages, not people like you,” he said, standing up and snapping his fingers. Clawneth spread her wings, the torveus dragon dwarfing the boy and his tiny rewin, who chirped in surprise. “Don’t waste my time.”

Tad wilted, his eyes going wide and his mouth turning down. Damiel leapt on Clawneth’s back, ignoring the kid. He would patrol the village again. There had to be something, anything, he could do to prove he was strong and talented enough to pass the exam. He couldn’t take staying in this boring place much longer.

Clawneth leapt from the rock, leathery wings beating the air. Damiel breathed in the clean scent of the wind as they rose higher, the smoky stench of the village and the mulchy scent of the mountain pine trees dissipating. Nothing was better than flying.

The thatched houses of the village looked like toys from up here, and Clawneth wheeled in a circle, the dragon’s shadow passing over the mayor’s flock of goats. The animals didn’t even look up, content on cropping the tough grass that grew in their pen. Smoke curled from the decrepit house on the side of town, which had lain cold and abandoned since Damiel had moved here. That must be where Tad’s family had moved in. A lone figure pulled weeds from the porch.

Back on the cliffs, Tad and his rewin were nothing more than a speck of color against gray.

Damiel spiraled down past Tad’s new home, heading to his own tent that he had set up in the forest, a good distance from the village. His task had been to work in the village, but he couldn’t stand the sheer number of people, the sights and sounds and stinks of such a close knit community. He did his job helping out the blacksmith. But he wasn’t about to live there.

The grass flatted under the rush of Clawneth’s wings, and Damiel leapt from his dragon’s back. As he neared his tent, Clawneth growled, sending goosebumps running down his neck and shoulders. That was strange.

“Relax, girl,” he said, turning to look over his shoulder. Clawneth lashed her tail. “What’s wrong?”

Clawneth growled again, flaring her wings and tensing as though she would leap back into the air. Damiel left the tent entrance, hurrying to her side. “We’ll go hunting later, I promise,” he said, patting the beast on the scaly shoulder. “You hungry?”

Clawneth huffed, the pupils of her dark gold eyes wide. She raised her head, sniffing the air, and pulled her lips back to reveal long fangs. The band of magic that had connected them both since he had pulled her egg from the stream flared, sending a current of dark anger through him.

Danger.

Damiel’s eyes narrowed, and he called upon his magic. A sense of the earth filled him, as did hot anger that would spark into whatever form he wished it. Whoever would dare attack him, or his belongings, would dearly regret it.

Leaves rushed in a circle, and then an enormous shape rushed directly over his head. He flared his magic, throwing up a protective circle around him and his dragon.

Green scales flashed in the sun. Another torveus. But this one was wild.

And apparently it wasn’t attacking him, but the village.

Finally. This must be it. He reveled in his magic, in his control, as it spun through his body. Adrenalin flowed through him in a hot rush, narrowing his vision and speeding his heart. This would be easy. He could protect the village. This must be how he would pass his exam!

Clawneth didn’t need to be commanded. She lowered her head, letting him jump on, and took to the air in seconds, tearing after the other torveus.

The wind whistled in his ears, and Damiel let out a whoop. During his first year, his mentor had told him something that stuck with him even now, and the words replayed in his mind.
“You were born in the wrong era, Damiel. In the days of old, during the mage wars, you would have been happy. But we don’t have any use for a war mage these days.”

Well, now they did. Damiel leaned forward, calling on his magic, focusing on the green shape ahead of him. The green torveus wheeled around the treeline, darting low, and its claws caught the roof of a house, sending the thatch and wood tumbling. It opened its mouth, going for a goat that had frozen in fear.

Damiel called his magic, and a searing hot bolt of fire hit the creature right between the eyes, flame curling above its protective scales. The dragon snapped its mouth shut, its fangs clamping down inches from the petrified goat. With flaps of its wings it arced back up into the air, and Clawneth roared a challenge.

An answering roar made Damiel turn, straining his back. Another torveus was tearing at a house before it launched back into the air, and screams from the villagers reached his ears.

“Up, Clawneth!” he commanded, and he held on tight as his dragon flew skyward. He had a plan.

The village receded beneath them, and Damiel surveyed it. The first torveus was circling Tad’s house, thatch and kindling clutched in its claws as it tore at the roof for the fun of it. The second, a monstrous brute, had begun stomping near the rocks Damiel had been resting on earlier. It’s long tail sent a windmill careening to the ground in an explosion of stone. Straw, rock and thatch littered the ground beneath its claws.

Damiel set his jaw, grinding his teeth together. He held up a hand, calling his power.

Lightning arced in two directions, and he channeled it down, through both torveus. Roars of pain met his ears, and he grinned. He maintained the power, coalescing the lightning into ball lightning, sending it again and again at the dragons.

The beasts quickly had enough. The creatures roared, and the first looked up at the sky, as if it knew where the pain was coming from. Clawneth roared again, daring the wild creature to attack.

But instead the torveus fled, disappearing into the mountain forest, and the second followed soon after. Damiel took a breath, slowly relinquishing his power. The attack had been swift and brutal, and now there was nothing but silence. Below, three houses were destroyed, along with the windmill, and dozens of goats lay stunned or bleeding on the ground. Gouges had been torn into the cliffs by the village.

Closing his eyes, he summoned his power for one last thing—a message to the keep. They would need aid for reconstruction.

And, he was sure, Thane would declare him a mage when he saw how he had defended it.

***

Damiel and Clawneth circled the village for an hour before he saw the speck on the horizon. It grew closer, forming into a trio of pegasi and their riders, who headed down into the village and landed in front of the mayor’s home.


Damiel let Clawneth circle the village one more time, but no traces of the torveus appeared. "Alright, Clawneth," he called. "Down!"

The dragon dove, the village rushing up in mere moments. Thatch and hay blew in the rush of Clawneth's wings as they landed.

Damiel's heart flipped. Thane was speaking to the mayor. The portly mayor gestured to the cliffsides, then at the ground, rapidly explaining something about wheat. He paused when he saw Damiel, and the archmage turned as the wind from Clawneth's landing blew his long green cloak.

Damiel froze for a moment before speaking. "I defended the village," he said. He cleared his throat, then spoke louder. "I kept the village safe. As safe as I could."

"Thank you," the mayor said, giving a short bow of his head. Damiel nodded back before meeting Thane's eyes.

"Have I passed? Am I a mage now?"

Thane narrowed his eyes, his gaze distant. Damiel turned, but he couldn't see whatever the archmage was looking at. When he turned back, Thane shook his head.

"Not yet. You have made no progress, as far as I can tell."

Damiel's stomach dropped, a heavy pressure sinking him from the inside. Sweat prickled on the back of his neck. "What?"

"I must speak with the mayor about the village. If we must, we can discuss this later. Damage has been done. Your exam must wait." With that he turned, the mayor launching back into an explanation of the materials needed for repairs.

Damiel stared, Clawneth at his back. He had defended the village. He had undoubtedly saved lives. Without him, it would have been way worse than just a few destroyed houses.

And he had made no progress?!

Swallowing down anger, he leapt once more onto Clawneth's back, wheeling into the air. Thane took no notice of his departure.

***

He gripped Clawneth's spines so hard his knuckles ached. The chill air at high altitudes did little to calm his anger and frustration.

He flew down lower, finally landing in a clearing within the woods, a good distance from the village and close to his tent. He slid off of Clawneth's back, cursing, and struck a tree with a loosely formed bolt of flame and water, the hissing of the steam complementing his mood.

Of course he wasn't going to pass his exam. Thane had never told him what he needed to do! He, the top of his class, the most powerful student in the keep, was going to fail not because he couldn't do it, but because he couldn't figure out what he had to do! He could drive off two dragons with ease, but somehow that wasn't good enough?

Clawneth tilted her head, swiveling it toward the forest. Damiel tamped down his anger, listening. Was it the other torveus again?

Quiet sniffles came from the trees. No, definitely not another dragon.

Damiel headed toward the sound, alert for anything. He nearly stumbled over Tad, who sat curled up next to a clump of leaves.

The boy pulled his knees closer, hiding his tear streaked face. Damiel leaned down. "What?" he turned, looking for danger. "Is something here? Did something attack you?!" He called his magic, but could sense nothing.

Tad sniffled, the sound sending a jolt of annoyance through Damiel. "No," he blubbered. "I ran away from the dragons, but now I can't find Scales!" it ended in a wail. “I thought he was with me, but he wasn’t!”

Damiel sighed, his rush of adrenalin fading. The tiny rewin? He almost snapped at the boy to use his magic, but caught himself. The boy had no magic. He shouldn't even have a dragon in the first place. Maybe the creature had just left.

The boy kept crying, and Damiel couldn't find the will to tell him that. "How did you find him in the first place?" he asked instead.

"M-my dad." Tad sniffled again, another round of tears flowing. "My dad g-gave him to me."

Damiel frowned. "Why?"

"H-he was sick. He told me to care of him." It clicked into place. "And now I lost him!" Tad wailed again, and curled his knees up tighter against his chest. "The big dragons..." he looked up, his face bright red and stained with tears. "Do you think..."

Oh, blood and ash, he wished he hadn't come here. What was he supposed to do? "Torveus don't eat other dragons," he said.

"Th-then where's Scales?"

"...I don't know."

Tad put his head in his knees again. “I tried to go back, but there are trees everywhere.” He mumbled into his knees, his voice thick with tears. “I can’t find him!”

Damiel stood there, and kicked lightly at a leaf. Where was the damn rewin? Why would it suddenly abandon the kid? Especially if his father had passed it on.

Unless it was dead. Or hurt somewhere.

Damiel turned and left, another sniffle emanating from the boy on the forest floor. Clawneth huffed as he entered the clearing again.

"C'mon, Clawneth," he said. He mounted quickly, heading toward the cliffs. That was where the torveus had been, and most likely close to where Tad and Scales had been during the attack.

He told himself that if he found Scales, the kid would leave him alone out of gratitude. In his mind's eye, though, he couldn't banish the sight of Tad's crushed expression, alone without his father or his dragon.

He was going to find that stupid little rewin.

Part II

Clawneth passed over the village, her shadow flickering over the mayor. There was no sign of Thane or the other mages and their pegasi. Damiel supposed they had left, their business concluded, and were probably already winging their way back to the keep.

They alighted on the cliffside, closer to the treeline than where he and Clawneth had been sitting last when Tad had come to bother them. The path here snaked into the forest and then down to the village. If the rewin was lost, it would be somewhere here.

Damiel swallowed hard as he began walking the path. The wild torveus had damaged more than just the town.

Trees littered the path like broken toys, and in places the trunks lay in threes, cleanly slashed through by the dragon’s claws. Green scales shimmered in the sun that shone in through the branches of the trees that remained, and they littered the forest floor. It was destruction for destruction’s sake—the mark of a torveus taking out its anger.

“I’m glad you’re not like this,” Damiel muttered to Clawneth. His torveus huffed, sniffing at a tree that bore deep punctures that were most likely from fangs.

Damiel stepped up onto a fallen trunk. Sharp branches jutted ahead of him. If the rewin had been caught in this…

Okay, think. If the creature was alive, it was magic. He should be able to sense it, even as weak as it was, and if he couldn’t, Clawneth could. “Clawneth, find…” He didn’t know what command to give. “Find little dragon. Understand? Little dragon.” He tried to send a pulse of magic similar to the one he would imagine feeling from the rewin, but he usually paid so little attention to Tad and Scales that it probably wasn’t much help.

Clawneth blinked at him. Of course. This was stupid. The little thing was probably just dead. He should have just been honest with the boy.

Instead he turned to the forest. “Scales!” he shouted, amplifying his voice with magic. “Where are you?!”

He felt foolish as soon as he did it.

But impossibly, a quiet chirp answered him.

Clawneth swiveled her neck toward the forest, and immediately began clamoring over the fallen trees, her wings folded against her back. Damiel stood immobile, too shocked to do move.

If it was alive, why was it here?

Clawneth stopped in front of an enormous fallen tree, looking back at Damiel. She gave a confused, growling chuff that ended in a whine, a sound Damiel had never heard her make before.

“Alright.” Damiel leapt over fallen trunks and skirted around jutted branches. He cursed when one cut his leg, and resisted an urge to light it on fire. Soon enough, he was by his dragon’s side.

His stomach turned. His first thought was that the rewin was truly dead.

Blood stained the trampled grass around it, and both its wings were broken. Bone jutted from membrane. But as he watched, its flank lifted, and it gave a soft trilling chirp.

Damiel’s head swam, and he reached out. Clawneth was there, her side warm. He couldn’t look at the tiny creature. He had never been able to heal anything. His powerful magic was suited for war, not for this.

Tad didn’t need to see this. Damiel didn’t want to be seeing it.

Clawneth huffed, her breath stirring the leaves that Scales lay on. Damiel closed his eyes, swallowing down nausea and a strange tightness. He had defended the village, but he had failed Tad.

The rewin’s eye opened, and it fixated him with a yellow-green gaze. Very shortly, Damiel knew, it would be dead. He was shocked it had survived this long. Damiel’s heart flipped, a different kind of adrenaline flowing through his blood. It was a sick, rushing kind of feeling, one he couldn’t identify.

He was a mage. The most powerful student in the keep, able to defeat two dragons by himself. And he couldn’t do anything.

Clawneth huffed, her magic filling him. She craned her neck, down toward the village.

Of course. He couldn’t do anything. But Thane, or one of the other magi, could. If one of them could heal Scales, Tad would never have to know.

“Clawneth!” he gasped. He leapt onto her back, billowing her wings with gusts of air. “Go. Find Thane!”

In moments, they were winging their way away from the village.

***

Wind whistled in his ears, and he urged Clawneth on faster, using his magic to push them to greater speeds and lend his dragon more energy as they flew over the mountains. Torveus were not known for swiftness, but with all the strength he poured into the spell coupled with Clawneth’s own simple determination, this was the fastest they had ever flown.

His lips and face were chapped from the rushing cold wind of high altitudes by the time he spotted their quarry. Thane, and his two companions, flew ahead. “Faster, Clawneth!” he shouted, and the dragon redoubled her efforts, her great leathery wings pumping.

Thane was the first to turn, and the group of pegasi halted so fast that Clawneth blew past them, wheeling around with a wrench that nearly threw Damiel from her back. “I need help!” he shouted, his voice lost to the wind. He circled again, this time focusing a spell. “I need help!” With the spell, it was a giant’s bellow.

Thane raised a hand. “I told you. You must discover your exam on your own.”

Damiel grit his teeth. “Forget the exam! A creature is hurt, damn you!”

Thane raised an eyebrow, and Damiel thought he nodded but wasn’t sure considering he was once again circling around the group of pegasi. But he must have heard, because the group of pegasi turned back, heading toward the mountains.

By the first mage, they were slow. Damiel rushed back, flying as close as he dared to the group. “Which one of you can heal?” he demanded.

The man on Thane’s right raised his hand. With a muttered spell, Damiel plucked him from his pegasus with a grip of air, depositing him on Clawneth’s back. The man shrieked, grabbing Damiel’s shoulders.

“Hold on,” Damiel commanded. “Clawneth, fly! Hurry!”

With great beats of her wings, Clawneth left the pegasi in her wake.

***

“Here?” the healer asked. “In this wood?” He stood by a cracked tree, peering into the tangle of destruction that the wild torveus had left. It was too thick for Clawneth to land in.

“Yes. Hurry.” Damiel led the healer to the right spot, helping the older man when he fell trying to climb over the same broken tree Damiel had stood on a short time ago. He heard no trills as they grew closer, and a heavy weight settled in his stomach as they approached.

“Oh, my,” the healer said, kneeling next to the motionless rewin. “Oh dear.”

“Can you heal it?” Damiel demanded. “Tell me you can.” His heart thudded, and he watched the still form, waiting for that slight rise and fall. It had to be alive.

“I…Is it yours?”

“No. It’s owner isn’t a mage. He wouldn’t know if…”

“Ah. It’s not quite gone yet.” Weight lifted from Damiel’s shoulders when the rewin’s eye opened, gazing at him from the forest floor. “Give me time. I can save it. But I will need to take it back with me, to the keep. It will need special care.”

Damiel ground his teeth. “You can’t just heal it here?”

The man turned patient eyes on him. “Healing magic does not work that way. I can stabilize this creature. But I cannot give it vitality and life it doesn’t have. Only time will restore that, and it must be watched carefully.”

Blast. “It’s owner misses it,” Damiel said.

“I am sorry.” The man knelt down, laying its hands on the small broken dragon. The wings bent back to their normal shape, but nothing else seemed to change. “If you want to help, you can bring its owner to the keep to stay with it while it recovers.”

Damiel stared as the man carefully picked up the rewin dragon, the creature sickeningly limp in his arms. Damiel sighed. He had no idea why he was doing this. This had nothing to do with him. He should never have gone looking for Scales.

But now that he had, he couldn’t fathom leaving the creature alone to die, and leaving Tad without any knowledge of what had happened. Mage or not, Tad deserved to know. He wanted to be with Scales. If it was him, and Clawneth was the one hurt…that’s what he would have wanted.

“Fine,” Damiel said. “I will.”

***
Damiel stared out the window of the keep, at the familiar grounds where he had spent nearly a decade living and learning.

If he didn’t pass this exam, it would all be wasted. He should be back in the village, doing who knows what. It was a waste of his time to be here babysitting Tad while Scales recovered.

But at the moment, he didn’t care. And somehow, it didn’t feel like a waste of his time.

“Look, Damiel! Scales is walking now!”

Tad’s small companion wobbled across the room from its bed of plush blankets, heading on shaking legs toward the window. Its wings were wrapped in bandages, splinted to its sides, but the repeated attentions of the healers in the past week had sped up the healing process exponentially. Scales had come from death’s door, and would most likely be fully healed in another week.

“He looks great, Tad. Soon he’ll be flying again,” Damiel said.

“You think so?” The boy beamed at him, his eyes bright. Tad had been excited about the keep, but he hadn’t left Scales’s side until he knew for certain the little dragon would be safe.

“I know so. The magi here know what they’re doing.” He had to smile as he watched Tad follow his rewin’s slow progress across the room. Scales nuzzled the boy when he finally reached the window, and Tad picked him up to look outside.

Damiel sighed, a strange sort of pride filling him at seeing Tad and his companion so happy. He left the room, heading into the hall. He should see to Clawneth.

He didn’t get far before he nearly ran into a familiar man in a green cloak. The archmage smiled at him.

“I am proud of you, Damiel,” Thane spoke, and Damiel stood up straighter, even while his mind whirled in confusion.

“Proud? Why?” the memory of the day a week before flashed through his mind. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Damiel!” Tad shouted, his voice full of laughter. “Scales is following you!”

Damiel turned, waiting while the small creature toddled over to him. It nuzzled his leg, giving a small trilling greeting, much stronger than the one it had given when it lay dying on the ground. He leaned down, gently scratching its chin.

“You’ve done what you needed to do for your exam.” Damiel looked up with wide eyes from his position on the floor as Thane spoke. “I never doubted your power. You have great skill. But now, you have finally shown the compassion necessary to be a mage.”

“What?” Tad nearly skidded into Damiel as he ran to assist in patting Scales’s head. “Weren’t you already a mage?”

“No,” Damiel said in wonder. He broke into a smile. “But I am now.”
This is about Decessi, and was inspired by the cool Halloween banner.
Spoiler
Briony leaned forward on her pegasi’s back and patted her companion’s dark mane. From their position on the mountainside, the Keep looked as small as a toy. “Watch with me, girl. The lights will cheer us up.” Her breath came in clouds in the night air.

Nathia snorted, tossing her head. Briony sighed.

“I know. I miss him too.” She shifted her pack, where a pinto pegasus egg lay nestled between layers of cloth. Nathia’ foal would hatch soon, but it would never know Tam, its father and Briony’s second companion. She had pulled him from the stream mere days after Nathia.

And years later, mere days before this cold night, he had died. The cold of autumn was a harsh time to fall ill, even for a magical creature like Tam.

Nathia whinnied, and Briony peered down at the valley. The lights began flickering to life.

The lights were all a pale yellow, faint from this far away. Briony thought back to her time as a student. The legends of the lights were many. Some said they signaled the beginning of the flow of Decessi. Others claimed they were wisps of untamed magic. Other, more practical magi always told her that they were mere pranks played by students.

Now they were like candles, floating down the stream. As it rounded the bend, they disappeared, only visible in one section of the winding water. Strange. But beautiful.

Nathia suddenly flared her wings, cold air surrounding Briony. She didn’t have time to shout before Nathia leaped from the rock, taking Briony up into the star spangled sky.

She gripped her pegasi’s mane, coarse hair between her fingers. Wind rushed around her, and she let it happen. Nathia would never harm her.

Then she saw something even stranger than the lights.

Below, the lights danced and circled. But above, the sky pulsed with a light red glow, and transparent shapes wheeled and weaved as Nathia approached.

Briony’s mouth dropped open. Some of the shapes were creatures. Wingless creatures.

Direwolves and kitsunes had joined winged cats and pegasi and gryphons, and even dragons, in the silent dance. Rare creature, too, ones Briony had seen only in books or seen by the side of her most powerful teachers, arced around her against the red sky. Below, the lights mimicked their movements.

“Nathia, what is this?” Briony asked, her voice hollow among the silent shapes.

Then one emerged from the crowd. A pegasus, one that looked familiar. Nathia whinnied even as Briony cried out “Tam!”

She knew as soon as the other pegasus approached. Tam—and these other creatures—weren’t really here. Or they were, but not in any form she could interact with.

Tam whirled around them, his hooves and mane flying in the wind despite the fact that it didn’t touch him and no stirring of air marked his passing. Stars glowed behind his body. Briony reached out a hand, but instead of feeling the familiar warmth of a companion, she touched only air as he passed by.

“Tam,” Briony said, and he flicked an ear toward her. Then he dove toward the stream.

“Wait!” Briony said, and Nathia dove after him.

The ghostly creatures behind them made no sound, disappearing into the reddened sky as Briony turned her back on them. The stream zoomed toward her, and a light in her vision, moving just as fast as she was, zoomed closer too.

Then Tam pulled ahead, and the light vanished just as his form hit the stream. An egg appeared, one with a long gray tail.

Nathia pulled up at the last moment, her wings straining and feathers flying as she barely made the landing. Briony leapt from her back, turning to the stream.

A decessus egg bobbed toward her. A strange creature, given stranger life. She lifted it, water dripping onto the grassy bank, and as she did Nathia nuzzled her hands.

“Maybe you’ll meet your foal after all, Tam,” Briony said.
This is a small piece about the Luteus Owl:
Spoiler
“So it’s here?” The hot sun beat down on Raleigh’s face, and he wiped his forehead. The white sands of the beach swam in his vision. His Puvia hovered overhead on warm thermals from the ocean, a large shape compared to the seagulls that wheeled overhead. His student Tabitha walked beside him.

“Yes,” the mayor said. “A strange creature, never before seen on the island. It won’t move, no matter what.” The mayor's sandals flipped sand in small puffs as she walked. “I’ve seen plenty of birds in the Callisto Islands, but never one like this. I thought it best to contact the Keep. I’ve had two sailors swear it’s a new species.”

“Hm. Well, lead the way.” Raleigh followed the woman down the beach, anxiously considering the possibilities. The trip had been long and he had taken time off from studying the molting of Opulus Velox feathers, and he had to pay the boatman extra to bring Tabitha along, but the Callisto islands were as far east as anyone had explored. If he discovered a new species, perhaps one that had flown from some exotic place over the ocean, he would be famous!

“There, you see?” Tanya pointed. Raleigh peered ahead at the grove of palm trees, squinting in the light.

His hopes plummeted. Of course the sailors thought it was new. Of course it had refused to move from the tree.

“That’s just a Luteus, isn’t it?” Tabitha said.

The small Luteus owl swiveled its head, then blinked at the group of people. Its brown and orange feathers clashed horribly with the lush green of the palm tree it sat in.
This is a silly little story about the Savis mice. Cookies!
Spoiler
“Alright, Jess, just stay here. Don’t touch anything, especially not the eggs.” Todd stared down at his five year old sister, who stood in his dormitory room. The fields of the Keep rolled outside the windows. On his bed sat four eggs, which should be close to hatching. Even Jess knew not to touch those.

“Cookie,” she demanded, stomping her foot dangerously close to his first year potions project. Todd scooped it up and placed it on his desk with a scowl.

The benefit of having his parents so close to the Keep were that he could visit whenever he wanted. The drawback was currently staring at him with her grubby fingers sticking out her mouth.

“Cookie!”

“Not now!” Todd snapped. He hated babysitting. Surely, though, she would be fine in the five minutes he needed to run down to the fields to feed his pegasus. “Stay here, okay? Uh, sit!”

Unlike his very well trained pegasus, she just stomped her foot again. Rolling his eyes, Todd left, her high pitched “Cookieeee!” echoing in his ears.

He could be quick. Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried out to the stables, the laughter of the stablemaster following him as he nearly tripped grabbing Cathin’s favorite oats.

He relaxed while he filled her trough, his pegasus nuzzling him before beginning to eat. Her wings were nearly full grown. Soon he could fly. He could finally visit cities and towns farther than his hometown, a mere two miles away from the Keep, where his annoying tiny sister always begged for things. Like cookies.

Why did she want cookies anyway? It wasn’t like…

Todd’s eyes widened. Cookies. He hadn’t noticed it since the first day getting the egg, but cookies. His Savis egg, that looked, and smelled, like a cookie.

He dropped the bucket and ran.

His feet pounded on the carpet, and he nearly crashed into someone’s direwolf as he raced down the hall. The door to his room hit the wall with a bang.

“Cookie!” Jess said, holding up a grubby fist. Todd’s heart stopped.

Then she opened it, to reveal a tiny mouse curled delicately in the palm of her hand. It sniffed her thumb, then squeaked happily. Its magic wound around hers, a budding band of ability.

Todd sighed, walking over and patting his sister on the head. “Yes,” he said, mentally saying goodbye to the mouse. It would be happy with Jess, who would probably start at the Keep within two years. “Yes, Jess, cookie.”
This is a short little story about the Vetus:
Spoiler
“This is exciting,” Tina said, the cold wind making her big ears look pink. “I’ve never been so far north before.”

“Me neither,” James answered back. His feet crunched on the brittle twigs that lined the deer trail, mingling with the sounds of the other students from their navigation class. Their little field trip had taken a week, but now they were far north enough to examine the trail markers that would lead to Arkene. James’ serendin hatchling was wound around his shoulders, and tasted the cold air with its tongue.

“See here, class,” Professor Roke said. “That marking? It is commonly used by traveling magi. Not all magi have flying mounts, and many earth magi explore the area. That mark indicates another mage is nearby. Now, who can tell me the most important thing to look for on trails like these?”

James listened intently, then grimaced when an elbow took him in the gut. “This is stupid,” Bruce hissed, glaring at Professor Roke. “I came here to look for creatures, not for marks on trees.” His nearly grown phoenix spread its wings on his shoulder, sending a rush of heat toward James.

“Be quiet, Bruce,” Tina whispered. “Some of us are here to learn.”

“C’mon, to this boring old geezer?” He waited, but James just shook his head. “Fine. Cya losers.” Bruce ducked into the undergrowth, soon becoming hard to see through the thick pine trees.

“Good riddance,” Tina said. James nodded. Ever since Bruce had threatened to smash every “useless” koi egg he found in the stream, he had never much liked the other student.

James put Bruce out of his mind, listening intently to the information from the professor, about types of trees this far north and the markers other magi left to tell when there would be an approaching storm.

“WHOA!” Bruce’s booming voice made Professor Roke stop, and the class turned, voices buzzing with whispers. “C’mon guys, check this out!”

Tina and James exchanged glances, then followed the voice along with the rest of the class.

The group pushed through the trees, pausing when they spotted Bruce—and a beautiful birdlike creature on the ground with wings that looked like flame. It slithered in such a way that it looked like it was dancing, its wings outstretched.

“It looks like its ice skating,” Tina said, her voice full of wonder.

“Now, class,” Professor Roke said, his voice hushed. “That is a—”

“It’s a fiery, awesome creature, and I want it!” Bruce said. He took off at a run. His phoenix leaped from his shoulder into the air with a fiery flap, calling out in a squawk that James swore was meant to tell Bruce to stop.

The creature looked over at the charging student, then slithered faster, spreading its wings wide. James saw it immediately—ice crystals formed all around the creature, making a trail of ice that made it so easy for the creature to practically skate over the ground the way Tina had said.

Bruce never had a chance.

As soon as his feet hit the icy trail, he skidded, then slipped. The beautiful bird weaved, then disappeared between the trunks of two enormous pine trees. Bruce kept going, and pine needles rained down on him after he hit the trunk of one headfirst with a thunk that made James wince. His phoenix alighted on the ground next to him, giving an annoyed chirp.

Professor Roke sighed as he went to help the dazed student up. “And that, class, if why you never chase a Vetus.”
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Pretty ponies...
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NyxNoire
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Re: Raneth's Magistream Drabble Thread

Post by NyxNoire »

Should not be reading this in the middle of the night, laughing out loud isn't welcome among my neighbours. :lol: I think I'll wait until daytime to read them all.

Thank you for collecting them here. :D
<3 Thank you so much for my pressies! <3
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