The carriage creaked to a halt as evening grayed the world. Out the window, Thed saw a structure even more pitiful than anything in the village they breakfasted at; a stoney ring base and sticks crudely daubed together, with a small rounded door like a rodent’s nest.

  “We’re here,” called Mr. Brice. The carriage rocked again as he hopped off and came to open Thed’s door.

  “I was promised there would be sheep,” Thed quipped.

  Mr. Brice’s humorless face did not flinch as Thed climbed down with Massudi riding on his shoulder, leaving the warm blankets slumped on the carriage seat. The mossy soil squelched underfoot. “I suppose the sheep are elsewhere. Come, let’s meet your new master.”

  “Do you know anything about him?”

  “Only that he is very wise and is to instruct you… in the ways you need instruction.”

  “Even I knew that much. Master Willousbhy is your bonded mage though, you haven’t met this master with him before?”

  Mr. Brice failed to acknowledge the question until they arrived at the door and he delivered three sharp knocks. “Sometimes you just need to trust in your elders, young master.”

  Silence.

  He knocked again.

  Still no reply. Mr. Brice sniffed before pushing the crude door open to reveal a mess of shadows: a stool knocked legs up, ripped fabric and a wooden dining set scattered across the floor. Spotlit by the door’s gap, the collapsed form of an elderly man with a mane of unkempt gray hair.

  Lifeless gray skin, blood dried black. He was dead.

  Mr. Brice started to shut the door when a blur of motion came from within, a dark frame lunging at them from just beside the door’s opening where it had been cowering.

  A metallic clang sang out as Thed fell butt-first onto mossy soil, ice cold wetness rushing through his pants. Mr. Brice stood with a jagged red dagger only an inch from his face, held back only by a filament sword he had drawn with inhuman reflexes.

  Thed gasped, too panicked to move. The attacker was a svelte man in a dark suit, hair parted down the middle.

  “Who are you?” asked Mr. Brice without agitation.

  “Nobody to you. Nothing that will mean anything to you soon,” growled the man before pushing their blades locked, forcing Mr. Brice to stumble backwards.

  Thed was on his feet, and as soon as the killer saw him, his eyes narrowed.

  He’s here for me.

  Thed touched elementalis without thinking, drawing an orb of flame into his palm. “Stay back!”

  Massudi hissed.

  The man took a step closer before jumping back in defence as Mr. Brice fell upon him. They met point for point, red dagger against silver thread of filament, each time a metallic sting of steel on mithril ringing through the air, the curve of the filament seeming to bend with speed until eventually it whipped too fast and caught the murderer in the throat.

  A gout of golden fluid poured out. But Mr. Brice continued striking the man, first cleanly slicing off the hand that held the blade, then a few fingers off the other hand held up weakly in defence, and finally the villain's entire head — sending it sailing into a reedy puddle.

  Thed’s heart was pounding in his ears, the fireball he’d held for a moment simply dissolving into spent energy as the body of his would-be killer fell to the ground in front of him. Mr. Brice panted softly, holding the blade towards the corpse as if it may rise again as he kicked it. “What in the world…”

  The golden fluid that had come out of his neck wound was now oozing from the neck, arm, and hand injuries. Staring into the decapitated stump, Thed saw that instead of any blood, bone, or other gristly bits of flesh there was instead a strange honeycomb like material.

  He was here for me.

  “Do you have any idea what this is?” asked Mr. Brice, eyes flitting about.

  “No.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Thed nodded, running a hand over his robes. “Thanks to you. He would have killed me if it weren’t for you. Just a few steps closer…”

  “I’m sorry he even got that close to you, young master. He had unnatural strength and I underestimated him. It will not happen again.” He kicked the corpse again. “Bastard. A creature that looks just like a man but has a queer golden fluid instead of blood. That’s a new one.”

  Thed hugged his arms, he felt very cold. “And the man inside… the one who was going to be my master. I suppose we should bury him.”

  “You're right, we will. But first let me check—”

  Without warning Mr. Brice grabbed Thed's bicep and dragged him painfully to the ground.

  The voices of several angry men echoed across the clearing, followed by a shocking boom. The another. Gunshots.

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  Thed could feel the damp heat of Mr. Brice against his ear. “Run, but stay low. Follow right behind me. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Jrrrrrr…” whimpered Massudi, now curled under the collar of Thed’s robe.

  He ran bent double, Mr. Brice’s rear-end filling his vision as another shot rang out, whistling through the grass. Instinctively, Thed turned back and saw a trio of figure arriving from the same road they had just come by. Light haired men in fine dark suits; they were near the carriage now.

  One of them leveled his rifle again.

  Time to be heads down again.

  Heart pounding, another shot roared as Thed sped downhill after Mr. Brice, through a rocky outcropping. Ahead of them lay a terrifyingly open green pasture in all directions between them and the tree line. With a grim resignation, Thed had to acknowledge he did finally see a few sheep.

  “We don’t have much time,” said Mr. Brice, stopping and turning back. “If those men are creatures like that other one, I don’t think I could stand against three of them on my own, guns or no.”

  “I can help,” said Thed, a growl of assent echoing from under his collar.

  “Thank you, young master. But this is no place for someone of your potential, with your unique gift, to be risked. And I’ve no intention of throwing away my own life fruitlessly. But know this, with my bond to Master Willousbhy, if I am killed then he will know, and no doubt come immediately. But I don’t think we’re that desperate yet. Can you run quickly?”

  “Of course.”

  He pointed. “Well then, let’s make for the treeline and be gone. Stay away from me though, and don’t run in a straight line: duck, stop and turn unexpectedly to make their aiming more difficult. But end up near that bent oak. From there we’ll loop wide, back around to the road, and then return by whatever means necessary to Abingsdale. Ready?”

  Thed shook his head, ruing his naturally poor athleticism. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mr. Brice.”

  And with a nod, they both bolted out into the open green field in two separate directions, pursued by the roar of gunfire.

  More than anything, it all just felt unreal. Thed leaned against against bent oak to rest, then collapsed to his knees, still gasping for air. They’d been running so long that the sun had set, and the full moons gave only enough dim green light to the world to stumble forward by.

  I can’t…

  Mr. Brice’s normally stoic face was open mouthed and glistening with sweat as he stepped back over, panting. He just nodded, pacing due to his inability to sit.

  After a moment’s repose, Thed pulled open his collar to see a pair of little red eyes glaring back at him. “Massudi, climb the tree and let me know what you see.”

  “Jyukrrr.”

  Obediently, the little imp scampered off Thed’s shoulder and vanished into the canopy above. A sensation of what Massudi saw, rather than the vision itself, flooded him. Clarity, clean air, no sign of the filth of pursuers.

  Massudi scampered back down, his warm body feeling uncomfortably hot against Thed’s neck where he perched. Thed pet the little fellow between the ears.

  Such an odd thing, to feel the emotions of another creature. And yet it felt so entirely natural that I didn’t second guess it at all.

  Thed noticed Mr. Brice eying him as he pet the imp. Thed cleared his throat, “They’re not behind us.”

  “If you’re sure… what did it see?”

  “I’m not sure.” Thed confessed.

  “Then how do you know? Is it capable of speech?”

  “Massudi is an empathy demon, he navigates and communicates based on emotions. I just sort of felt what he felt up there.”

  “But is it even capable of understanding what we’re doing? What we’re —”

  Thed felt a flicker of hatred in his heart. Massudi growled. “Jyukrrrr…”

  Mr. Brice squatted across from them. “I mean no offense. I learned long ago that it’s best to not ask too many questions of wizards, but it’s important for me to understand our situation.”

  Thed pushed away the creeping resentment and chuckled. “I think he’s already over it. And it’s completely reasonable Mr. Brice. Massudi and I are still figuring out the nature of our connection ourselves.”

  Mr. Brice nodded before standing. “Thank you. And if they’re not pursuing us into the woodlands then it can only mean one thing: they’re going to attempt cutting off our retreat back to the abbey.”

  “What do we do then?”

  The bondsman stared skyward for a long moment. “Rest for now. No fire. Sleep if you can, young master, and I’ll keep watch. When there’s light enough to move we’ll move on, but I’m not sure which way is our surest bet.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brice.”

  “It’s nothing. Have a good rest, young master,” he said before departing to sit on a nearby log, atop an embankment.

  Thed took a long breath before settling down to lay between the broad root bases, on the bed of soft moss. It was getting cool now, uncomfortably so. He tugged his hood lower, and closed his eyes even though his mind still raced.

  Here I am sleeping under a tree, bastard child of a Tautha. I don’t even have a home now, not a real one with real parents.

  He swallowed hard. Pulling shaking little Massudi back under his collar. There was no point in feeling sorry for himself, especially not while he was being hunted. He willed away the sting as a though struck him.

  If I’m half Tautha, I’m of the forest folk of myth. Can I communicate with the forest itself?

  A cloud front had come over the world, putting it into even greater darkness as Thed grappled for the tree until he felt the rough valleys of bark under his palm. He willed the forest to speak to him, he willed for the tree to share its ancient wisdom, and the secrets of his own bloodlines. He clenched his eyes and prepared to received something unknowable from the universe, and received nothing.

  He pulled his hand back, glancing to make sure Mr. Brice wasn’t watching.

  Gods, I’m stupid.

  Arms crossed, Thed muttered and cursed as a stream of anger ran over him, memories of the indignities the last few days had inflicted on him flashing and vanishing until, spent, his mind just drifted and eyes grew heavy. His body suddenly felt warm.

  The warmth was not that of the forest, but of the abbey kitchens after a long day of making bread and mutton stew for the boys of her dormitories. Thed was in the kitchens, was it his turn to drop off plates from his class again?

  And like a vision before him, stood Rosetta the scullery maid. Beige shirt half unbuttoned and her pale bosom exposed nearly to the teat as she walked forward, pink lips smiling. She had something to say, and Thed felt his body preparing to receive her. She walked closer, so that her chest pressed against his own, and then slid back and forth so that she struck him with a surprisingly uncomfortably weight to the chest.

  She opened her mouth to speak. “JYUUUKKKRRRR!!!!”

  Coughing, Thed sat up, knocking Massudi off his chest in the middle of one of his jumps. Mr. Brice came hurtling over. “Young Master! What is it, are you hurt?”

  “Nothing,” said Thed as he awkwardly crossed one leg over the other. “Just a bad dream. I guess Massudi could sense it.”

  “If you’re sure. Your imp just started going berserk, what—”

  Heat ran up his neck, but Thed only raised hand. “As you said yourself earlier, sometimes it’s best not to ask too many questions of wizards.”