Jeff seated himself on the blanket in front of the brazier and lit it with his firestarter. With the fire going, Jeff threw a handful of incense into it and closed his eyes as he breathed in the spicy fragrance. He let the scent fill his nose, focusing in on it until no other senses distracted him, his mind contracted to a pinprick of consciousness surrounded by the heady aroma of magic.
From that point of absolute nothingness, Jeff began to assemble his perception of himself, what he would be sharing with whoever, whatever was listening. His physical appearance, the way he brushed his hair from his eyes, the way he walked, the way he laughed. His history, where he came from, who his parents and siblings are, his life in the magister’s tower. The things he likes and dislikes, the flavour of khlour, the smell of baking bread, the joy of books and the misery of standing in the freezing rain watching over a pregnant cow. His hopes and dreams, the things that drive him, his desperate desire for magic and a bigger life than his parents had lived. This is who I am, Jeff thought, holding the collected images of himself together into a coherent whole. This is everything about me.
Somewhere out there was a being that could be his companion-friend-partner. Jeff cast out the perception of himself, calling out to anything that was listening, here I am - this is me.
Jeff held his mind in stillness, focusing only on the composite image of himself. Slowly, carefully, he opened himself outwards and waited for an answering call, for the joining that would indicated he’d found himself out there in the world.
**********
The response hit him like a hammer blow, smashing into his mind and physically knocking him over from his seat on the blanket. Sprawled on the ground, Jeff screamed in agony as the other poured into his mind, crushing as if the whole mountain had collapsed on top of him, the immense size-weight-depth of the other beyond comprehension. Just as suddenly as it had hit him, it was gone. His mind rang with the aftershock and he just lay on the ground, stunned into immobility.
Eventually, Jeff recovered from the shock and slowly started to pull himself together. It was still light outside the cave, but he couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he had begun the ritual. It could be a week later, for all he knew.
No, less than a week, definitely. As his head began to clear he realised that he hadn’t eaten anything since the ritual had begun and he didn’t feel nearly weak or thirsty enough for a week to have passed. No more than two days, certainly, probably less.
It suddenly dawned on him that he’d succeeded in his desperate attempt, that he’d made contact and bonded to a familiar! With a rising sense of exultation he realised that he could just tentatively sense that new bond in the depths of his mind, linking him to that far-off other. Perhaps not so far away, Jeff realised. It’s not like he had anything to compare it to, any way to measure the strength of the connection. He could certainly sense the direction though, feeling the irresistible pull of it against his soul.
He felt shaky as he staggered to his feet, but Jeff couldn’t bear to sit here, waiting for his familiar to arrive. He quickly used a leaf-covered branch to sweep away the patterns he’d made in the cave, reducing them to random smears of colour and stuffed all his possessions into his pack without regard for their protection. The only thing that mattered to him now was reaching his familiar.
Jeff kicked dirt over the fire, picked up his walking staff and left the cave, certain of his direction with the seductive appeal of the bond drawing him on.
**********
Three days later, Jeff was scrambling over some of the steepest scree he’d ever crossed, heading ever deeper into the mountains. Bruised, sored and thirsty, Jeff forced himself onwards, ever closer to that elusive siren call that drew him like a moth to flame. He must be nearly at the next kingdom now, he though, recalling some of the maps he’d studied in Geographics. He couldn’t believe how far he’d travelled in these three days.
Suddenly, he reached the top of the scree and found the terrain levelling off into, of all things, a road. Not a particularly well maintained road, more of a track really, but still nonetheless definitely not an animal path. Panting with exertion, he was mildly amused by the realisation that his thoughts on how far he’d travelled probably weren’t too far from the truth. Slumping down and dumping his pack, he scrabbled around in it for something to eat and drink when a voice behind him startled him into whipping around.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Warl, warl, warl… wut hev we hear, boys?” The rough accent of the speaker was no preparation for his tatty, dishevelled appearance and the band of men around him. The array of miscellaneous weapons facing him were certainly in better condition than their wielders, though. “Anovva coney frum the low-lands, eh, jus’ ripe fer pluckin’.”
I’m in real trouble here, thought Jeff. Bandits that just wanted your possessions would probably demand them and move along. They certainly didn’t stop for conversation. He thought frantically, but there didn’t seem to be a way out of this. He certainly couldn’t outrun them and there was no way he was going to outfight them.
“Now, why doesn’t yer be a gud fella and toss over yer pack an’ anyfing else you has in yer pockets?” suggested the lead bandit, emphasising his ‘suggestion’ with an encouraging wave of the wicked looking blade in his hand.
What do I do, thought Jeff, on the verge of panicking. Even if I do as they ask it’ll only buy me a few minutes at best, not nearly enough for a sufficient head start. Running, fighting, compliance, all of them seemed to end with him being dead. The only chance he had was… could he?...
Jeff levered himself to his feet and, leaning on his staff, stood facing the bandits. “I am Javik Thane, Magister of the Silver Order and Servant of Pyrea.” Jeff pulled himself upright and assumed the sternest expression he could muster to cover his rising panic. “I am known by one and all to be a merciful man. Run, now, and I may kill only some of you.”
He raised his staff above his head and began to intone a spell in his most sonorous tones. He couldn’t really remember what the spell was for, something about healthy crops, but that hardly mattered. It’s not like the spell was going to do anything anyway.
Jeff almost lost the act as he saw the bandits eyes widen in fear and the first of them turn to run. A sudden flash of lightning striking the mountain nearby, followed by the deep, bass roll of thunder, sent the rest of them scampering away in terror.
Jeff collapsed to the ground, relief making him weak in the knees and stared at the sky while he caught his breath. It only occurred to him then, looking skywards, that there wasn’t a single cloud to be seen.
**********
Jeff ran out of food that night. There was only so much gathering one could do up in the mountains, especially when travelling six or seven leagues a day. Water was not a problem this time. He ran across, or fell into, streams and rivulets often enough and he now had three empty bottles that he could fill each at each one.
After two days of eating only what he could forage, Jeff was getting desperate. His pace had slowed to a crawl as he spent more and more time searching for edibles. At these altitudes, the pickings were pretty slim and even the moss was starting to look delectable. By nightfall three days later, Jeff’s mind was fogged with fatigue and hunger. When it became too dark to see, he simply collapsed to the ground where he was and rolled himself in his blanket, too tired to search for proper shelter.
When he woke the next morning, Jeff found himself curled up against the bole of an apple tree. He could scarcely believe his luck. He gorged himself on apples, even knowing that such quantities of fruit would make him feel ill, and stuffed as many into his pack as it could hold. Feeling ill was certainly better than slowly starving to death, he thought. He was reluctant to leave, but there was little point in staying and that elusive voice was still calling him onwards.
It was nearly noon when, munching on another apple, Jeff abruptly realised that apple trees didn’t grow in the mountains and even if they did… it was springtime. Apple trees would be in bloom, not groaning under the weight of boughs heavy with fruit.
Jeff suddenly felt a great deal less hungry, and looked at the half-eaten apple in his hand with suspicion before tossing it away.
**********
A few hours after tossing his haul of apples away, Jeff reached what he felt sure was near the end of his journey. Carved into a rock face so vast that it vanished into the clouds above was the gaping mouth of the biggest cave he’d ever seen. Even though the pull of the familiar bond was stronger here than it had been since he first bonded, Jeff felt reluctant to enter the cave, the oppressive darkness weighing down on his spirit. He’d come so far though, there was no way he was giving up now.
Jeff pulled one of his remaining torches from his pack and lit it with the firestarter before gingerly entering the cave. Although there were many branching tunnels, the familiar bond seemed to pull him along, making the decisions about which path to take for him. For more than two hours, Jeff wound his way slowly deeper and deeper into the mountain, the air getting damper and stiller, with the light cast from his torch the only illumination.
Eventually, Jeff began to notice a change in the air. It wasn’t as dank and stale, or nearly as damp as it had been. If he held his torch behind him, he could almost make out light in the distance. He began to move more rapidly, sensing the end of his journey. He was right, there was light ahead.
Rounding a corner, Jeff walked into what felt like full sunlight. Blinking, tears streaming from his eyes, he held his hand up to shade his face from the light and saw… claws… claws the length of his leg, black and polished as obsidian, sharp as swords.
Against his will, his eyes drew upwards and in frozen panic he stuttered “It’s a… it’s a…”
“Ah,” said the dragon, closing the book it was reading to peer short-sightedly down at him through a pair of wire-framed half-moon spectacles. “My new familiar is here.”