Page 2 of Heart's Flame

Vian sighed, watching his best and oldest friend in the world drain the pitcher he’d only just started on. When they’d been boys at the same school—Vian learning to control his magic and Coren in guard training—they’d been paired often for fighting since they’d been of a similar size. They could have become rivals, but instead had taken the path to friendship. Vian raised his glass and took a drink, eyes raking over his friend’s face.

The jovial attitude Coren was projecting wouldn’t be spotted as fake by anyone who didn’t truly know him. Coren was well liked among the Ferron guard and townsfolk, but Vian knew there were only a handful of people he allowed close. His friend had too many secrets that needed kept.

One of those people was the reason Vian was in this tavern tonight, just outside the capital city’s walls on the edge of one of the great forests that were constantly trying to reclaim ground from the mages and humans that had settled there centuries ago.

“Do you know where he’s gone?” Vian asked quietly, staring into the last dregs of ale in his cup.

“There’s a cave he favors in daylight. I found tracks there, but no sign. That’s when I called for you.”

It was unheard of for a mage to have an elemental affinity. The elements and nature were the cornerstone of witch magic, but Vian had always been able to tap into the earth—to draw strength from it, to find people based on their connection to it, and for the very few people who knew of his abilities to be able to reach him. Mage power was supposed to come from within, natural born magic housed within a human shell and shaped by a human will. He had that—a deep, still reservoir of magic inside him—but it wasn’t the only magic he had. He’d learned at an early age to keep his discoveries about his additional earth magic to himself, lest he be cast out and branded a witch, shaming his mother forever.

“Witches are weak, paltry shadows of mages. They’ve no real magic of their own. Only borrowed power.”His mother, Araminta, had only been a Captain of the Conservatory Mages back then. She was the High Mage now. The mage all other mages followed. The only thing his mother hated more than witches were Nulls, and under her rule, the mages of Ferron had killed or driven out those criminals.

Vian nodded and glanced around the tavern. No one was paying them any real mind as this was the place they always met for a drink and to break bread together, so when Coren needed him for something the Conservatory wouldn’t approve of, they could meet and leave without suspicions being raised as to what a King’s guard and a Conservatory mage were getting up to this time of night. He knew some assumed they were lovers, however, the moment anyone saw Coren with Laikan, those suspicions were cast aside. His friend was hopelessly besotted with his betrothed.

With his eyes cast down, Coren said softly, “I wish I knew better how to help him. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.” He looked up, dark eyes meeting Vian’s. “Or if someone found out about him.”

“I know. We’ll find him and make a place more secure for him.”

Coren let out a big breath. “Thank you, Vian. You truly are a credit to mages everywhere.”

“Come off it, ass,” Vian grumbled as Coren slipped his jovial mask back on. He went to stand, but before he could, Coren reached across the table and gripped his forearm.

“Seriously, Vian, you’re a good friend to have.”

He nodded, feeling the same about this human who’d long stood by his side. “As are you. Now, let’s go get some mud on our boots.” They stood and headed for the door, tossing the barkeep a couple coins as they passed. Coren walked out. Vian was behind him, but just before he stepped through the door, he turned to glance over all the patrons enjoying their drinks and dinner. He didn’t see a head of pale hair anywhere.

* * *

Trekkingthrough the woods was dark and miserable. Rain found its way past the canopy above to soak Vian’s hair, running in rivulets down his face and neck to slip beneath the treated hide of his cloak and soak into his clothes. Chill wind whipped around them, cutting to the bone.

Once they were far enough away from the village’s edge, Vian stopped in a small clearing. There was barely room between the intertwining branches to see the black sky above, but the ground was clear and that was what he needed.

“Here,” he called to Coren who was several steps ahead of him. “You have something of his?”

“Yes,” Coren said, turning back and reaching into one of the pouches connected to his belt. He pulled out a thong of braided leather. In the center, a polished stone of pearl white was set amongst the threads. “This is his. He wears it always.”

Vian held out his hand. After a moment’s pause, Coren placed the necklace in his palm. Mud squelched beneath the knee Vian lowered to the ground. Awareness—like he’d felt back in the tavern—washed over him. He glanced behind him, but nothing could be seen save the darkened trunks of trees and shadows cast as rain clouds moved over the full moon.

With a deep breath, he shook off the feeling of extra eyes upon him, gripped the necklace in one hand, pressed his other to the earth, and dug his fingers into the soft ground. He felt the weight of the stone and leather in his hand. Conjuring an image of Laiken in his mind’s eye, he pushed his will out and into the earth.Find him.

A thread of his magic surged outward, diving deep and moving fast beneath the ground. The image in Vian’s mind blackened and flickered until with a pop, the visage of a wolf—scrawny by werewolf standards—huddled and scared filled his sight. Laiken raised his shaggy head, sniffing the air before pulling curling closer into himself. There was blood on his muzzle. Vian hoped it belonged to an animal.

Werewolves, especially newly made ones like Laiken, were prone to losing themselves to the hunting frenzy of a full moon—until they’d made their first kill of the night. It was a common misconception among people and why wolves and other werecreatures were so feared. Eventually, Laiken would be able to control that frenzy, hunting and running under a full moon without fear of hurting anyone. Older, more experienced werecreatures, could even turn at will. This was only Laiken’s second moon and Vian remembered with clarity the panic he’d felt when Coren had reached out to him during the first one, terrified that his lover would hurt someone and trusting that his friend—a Conservatory Mage—wouldn’t take Laiken into custody...or worse.

Vian opened his eyes. The image of Laiken vanished, but the thread between the necklace and Laiken’s location created out of Vian’s earth magic was strong. “I’ve got him. He’s not far.” He stood, not bothering to try and clean the mud off his pants. “Be warned. He’s made his kill.”

Coren paled. “A human?”

“I don’t know. He’s huddled and scared. We should approach cautiously so he doesn’t run.”

Coren nodded. “Lead the way.”

As they made their way, the closer they got to Laiken the harder the prickle at the back of his neck was to ignore. Someone was following them, and although he didn’t know how, Vian was sure it was the blond man from the tavern. He’d only gotten a glimpse...but there had been something familiar about the shape of his jaw and the strong line of his shoulders.

Growling, low and interspersed with whimpers met their ears. A moment before they passed the carcass of a deer, Laiken, still in his wolf form appeared from behind the trunk of a large tree. He ducked his head, ears pinned back against his skull and bared his teeth.

“Easy, Laiken,” Vian said, stepping farther from the body of the deer. Behind him, Coren did the same.

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