The Dragon-Mage Series
First Impressions
Alain watched yet another villager disappear down the road and let out an all-suffering sigh. It was the fifth one he'd asked about the local mage's residence, and all of them had given him the same answer: a warding sign, and whispered apologies as they hurried away. He was beginning to think that respecting his grandfather's promise was not such a great idea after all.
During the reign of Alain's grandfather, Fresal had been caught in a border dispute that had threatened to escalate in a full-scale war with a neighbouring kingdom, but the matter had been settled with the help of a powerful and somewhat recluse mage by the name of Varen. But why couldn't the man have offered the mage riches or lands as a reward, like everyone else? Instead, he'd promised that once his youngest grandson reached majority age, he would spend six moon-cycles as the mage's apprentice.
What kind of bargain was that? And why would a decrepit mage ask that the promise be honoured? The matter had served as food for thought on Alain's journey. He comforted himself with the thought of spending a cozy winter away from court, as he doubted the old man would give him anything more difficult than cleaning his house and keeping the fire on. Mage Varen had to be older than Fresal's archmage, after all.
His journey had been pretty much uneventful, and Revele far enough inland to be considered unimportant at best, but he didn't really like the villagers' reactions when he had mentioned the mage. By all accounts, mages that lived in towns and villages throughout the kingdom brought prosperity to the area.
Figuring he'd perhaps have better luck with the younger generation than he'd had with their parents, he eyed a group of children playing in front of a house. He motioned the oldest of them over and asked, "Do you know where Mage Varen lives?"
Wide-eyed, the boy pointed further up the street. "A-ask at the inn, kind sir." He quickly snatched the copper coin Alain offered him and took refuge in the house.
The inn was pretty easy to locate - the largest building flanking the village square. Alain tied his horse well within reach of the water trough and went inside.
A middle-aged woman wiped her hands on a rag and turned toward him with a smile as he approached the counter. "What will it be, young sir?"
"A cup of your best ale, if you please." He placed a silver coin on the abused wooden surface. Then he added two more. "And perhaps some information."
The innkeeper eyed the coins with interest, and Alain considered that a good enough sign. "I am looking for Mage Varen's residence."
It seemed the woman found the wall behind Alain intensely interesting. Her face grew pale, and she swallowed a couple of times before snapping out of it and pouring the prince's drink. She put it in front of him, then bent down and whispered, "Are you sure you want to go there, young sir? No offence, but he's not exactly fond of unexpected guests."
Alain grinned and leaned over, their foreheads almost touching, and whispered back, "He's expecting me."
The innkeeper pulled back quickly, looking quite flustered. "Ah. Erm, I see... so then..."
She reached for the coins, but a gloved hand covered them before she could snatch them. One was then pushed toward, the other two in front of Alain.
"So you're Sophalain." The voice was deep, definitely male; the tone quite bored. "Keep your money, and finish your drink. I'll be waiting outside."
Alain was left staring at the stranger's retreating back, or rather at a nondescript cloak and what looked like a waist-length raven cascade of hair with interwoven blue ribbons. He frowned for a moment, then turned back towards the woman.
She seemed remarkably busy with polishing a cup, and refused to meet his eyes. "He was expecting you, all right," she grumbled under her breath. "No wonder he showed up here." She finally looked up. "You heard him, sir. Finish your drink and get the hell out of here before he gets annoyed and decides to place a curse on the town or something."
Alain stared. "That was Mage Varen?"
She nodded, almost reverently. "Aye, that's him. Though why a nice man like you would seek the likes of him is beyond me. He's definitely as weird as they come" - she stole a quick look at the door - "and even more so than some. Lives all alone in the woods and only shows up for a couple of hours on market day."
Alain drowned his cup and stood up. He left the coins on the counter, and turned to go.
"Be careful, sir!" she called after him.
As if he wouldn't be, Alain reasoned as he stepped outside.
He stopped to stare at the man leaning against the water trough and smirking at no one in particular. It was not an old man's face, and the brown cloak didn't cover a mage's robes. The man was dressed more like a huntsman, and a chill passed through Alain as he realized that, if this was indeed the man he had sought, he would be spending the autumn and winter with a devastatingly handsome male.
A frighteningly handsome man, he amended as he approached. The eyes sizing him up made his steps falter.
"Did Mage Varen send you to be my guide?" he asked, still half-hoping it was the case.
Wishful thinking, really. He knew what the answer would be. The innkeeper had seemed like a kind woman - she wouldn't have been lying to him.
"Don't be daft, boy. I am Varen." He pushed himself up and handed Alain the horse's reins. "Now let's go. It's a long walk to my home."
Walk? "Walk?"
Amber eyes narrowed, the smirk widened. "Oh, excuse me, your highness. Would you rather fly?"
Alain clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. Not because the gaze intimidated him, but because he was willing to bet the impression he got of the mage's hair and cloak suddenly floating were not a trick played by his imagination.
"What an obedient young man you are," the voice mocked as the mage started walking the way the prince had come.
Leading his horse, Alain followed Mage Varen out of the village, and then off the forest path. It was a beautiful day, truly, but he didn't feel like admiring the landscape at the time. Instead, he pondered on the amount of power it would take this man to look not a day over thirty sun-cycles despite the fact he must have been at least several times older. The pact Alain's grandfather had struck with him had happened seventy sun-cycles before, and by all accounts Mage Varen had been around for quite some time.
"Awfully quiet, are you Sophalain."
Alain clamped his teeth, clenched his fists. He didn't care for the tone used, but it wouldn't do to insult the man he'd been spending the next two seasons with from the first day they met. Still, it would be better to get one thing straight. He refused to be called by his full name for the duration of his stay. He hated it.
"Call me Alain!" he blurted out.
"Alain." The way in which it was said made him shiver in a whole different way than it should have. "It will be interesting having you around. Now wait over here while I climb up that tree and pick some feverbane, will you?"
Alain whispered a few swearwords under his breath once the mage was far enough, but he could have sworn that the sound he heard moments later was muffled laughter.