Nodding, Master gave a significant look to the area we had just left. “He’s supposed to be the prodigy but it was you that defeated it. He’s also jealous, now, of how close you are to Bannen. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but his familiar doesn’t choose to stay with him most of the time.”
Now that he said that, I realized I’d never seen Derek’s familiar. “I don’t blame the poor creature, I wouldn’t stick around a master like that either.”
Master gave a hum of agreement. “Regardless, a jealous person will go to ridiculous lengths to get their petty revenge. Both of you stay on your toes.”
“We will,” Bannen responded, staring at Derek out of the corner of his eye.
I caught Shunith’s eye and the wolf silently promised to back me if it came down to fight. I gave her a scratch behind the ear, grinning to myself. Derek might be able to get the drop on me, but he wouldn’t be able to outmaneuver a wolf.
Was it petty of me to hope the moron did try something?
Nothing eventful happened on the way back to Corcoran. We slept that night at the hotel, caught the morning train, and were back at the guildhall by noon. Derek appeared strangely well behaved, but that was likely because his master sat on him to prevent any more mischief from occurring. Shunith and I were both highly disappointed.
As soon as we entered the front door of the guildhall, Venn waved and greeted us with, “The wandering heroes return! So? Did we win?”
“We did,” Master responded, a bounce in his stride. “In fact, Rena defeated it.”
“Hoo?” Venn gave me that grin that made me feel as if I’d just won a lottery. “That’s our girl.”
Mazey, sitting nearby, snorted. “Of course she defeated it, she’s our little Destructive Mage. My question is, how did Bannen get hurt?”
“Grass rose and up slapped me,” Bannen answered deadpan.
“Do tell,” Mazey drawled.
Shaking my head, I let him tell the story, as I really didn’t want to do anything more than rest. Yesterday had taken a toll on me, in more ways than one. I was a little hungry, though. Maybe I could fix myself a quick snack before lounging around in my room? Assuming there were any snackables to be found. In this place, that wasn’t always possible.
Venn said something to Master. I didn’t catch most of it, until he said the words ‘Magic Council.’ I abruptly stopped, listening hard.
“—a letter here, all official and embossed,” Venn said solemnly. “They’re quite put out with you for not sending that boy back. They’re insisting on it being done today.”
“Well that’s not going to happen. After the fight we had, I don’t have the power to do it today,” Master denied bluntly. “It will take at least three days to build up the strength I need. I’d have to pull in another mage to help me.”
“Then pull someone else in. But I don’t want trouble with the Council, Jon, so settle it somehow. Do it before they starting banging on my door.”
My desire to eat fled. In fact, I felt rooted to the spot. Would they send him home today? Without even giving me any time with him? Maybe to them, it was just a person I had known for two weeks, but to me, I was losing my best friend.
Master came to me and put his hands ever so gently on my shoulders, bending so that he could look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Rena.”
I stared back at him, feeling lost. I couldn’t say that it was okay, or that I understood, as emotionally I wasn’t feeling that cooperative.
Not knowing what else to say, Master backed away and went for his workroom. “I’ll call Vonda to help me. Bannen, be ready to leave within a half hour.”
“Understood, sir.” Bannen came over, sliding his good arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a hug. “Rena.” Then he stopped, words deserting him.
“I know.” I did know. I didn’t want him to leave either, but what choice did any of us have? I’d been focusing on this problem for two weeks and still didn’t have a plan to get around the Council. I hated it. I didn’t think it was just the bond talking this time, the idea of him being separated from me. He had slotted himself so neatly into my life, by my side, that I couldn’t imagine what tomorrow would be like without him. I knew that I’d lived sixteen years without Bannen but I couldn’t remember it. I didn’t want to remember how to do that.
I wanted him here, with me.
And I didn’t think I could ask him to stay.
He pulled back, looking at me, searching my face for something. I didn’t know what. I just knew that whatever he wanted from me, he didn’t find it. With a small smile that looked brittle and false, he let go and went upstairs to pack.
I felt tears build in my eyes but I didn’t have the right to cry, just like I didn’t have the right to beg him to stay. He’d only been with me two weeks and he’d been hurt twice protecting me. Guarding me was hard, beyond difficult, I knew that. If I asked him, if he stayed, odds were he’d be hurt on a regular basis. A man can only beat those odds for so long before Death comes knocking and doesn’t take no for an answer.
Knowing that, how could I ask him to stay? When I could give him no security even if he did?
I sat there on the bench, staring sightlessly forward, feeling the bond writhe like a live eel. It almost felt like a breathing attack would hit but it never did, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn’t my lungs protesting, but my heart. It writhed and contorted and squeezed until it felt like I couldn’t breathe at all.
Master Vonda arrived ten minutes later, gave me a sad smile, and then went into Master’s workshop. I knew that it wouldn’t take them long to put the portation spell into place. Perhaps this was akin to pulling out a thorn. It would be more painless to do it quickly than to let the wound fester.
Even with one hand, Bannen was packed and downstairs within minutes. As he moved, I shuffled into the workroom, seeing that the open corner on the left side already had the spell in place. I had to actively fight to keep from reaching out to him. If I even brushed his arm right now, I’d end up clinging like a limpet.
My eyes burned. Watching him standing there, ready to go, turned the bond from a squirming eel to a firebreathing dragon. I didn’t want him to go. He’d been amazing, the best guard and friend I could ask for, and I hated to lose him. There was no way that anyone would come along that could replace him. My nails dug into my palms to force myself to stay still. I couldn’t latch on to him.
Bannen turned and stared at me hard for a moment, his face unreadable.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. Hold it back. I had no right to make decisions for him. I bit my tongue hard enough that it almost bled.
Bannen dropped his pack and gathered me up in a gentle hug. It unleashed my tears and I tried to hide it against his shoulder. Putting his head side by side with mine, he whispered against my ear, “You don’t want me to go.”
Of course I don’t! I wanted to scream at him. I choked it back, finding words, stupid inadequate words that didn’t mirror at all what I felt. “I ca—” my voice caught and I tried again. “I can’t be that selfish.”
Bannen’s breath stuttered against my ear. “Selfish? You think asking me to stay with you is selfish?”
“You’re injured almost all the time because of me,” I whispered into his shoulder and that, admitting that out loud, that was beyond painful. More painful than the bond screaming like a banshee. “And even if you stay, you can’t stay as my familiar, and that doesn’t give you any security. It’s not fair to you.” Every word was true but I hated myself for saying it.
For a long moment he just stood there, arm around me—sards, but I’d miss the safety and comfort of this, being in his embrace—and didn’t say anything. Then his arm around me tightened. “Purple.”
What? I went still, tears suspended.
“Rena. I need you to be selfish. Please,” he requested, voice soft but urgent. “I don’t want to go. So be selfish. For me. For both of us.”
Really?! My head jerked up and I turned just enough that I c
ould see his eyes. “Even with everything that’s happened? Are you insisting on staying?”
He let out an amused huff. “I spend half my time being injured. Trust me, I’m almost immune to it. You think I grew out of the habit of breaking bones after I turned thirteen? That’s not a deterrent and I don’t need a familiar bond to be connected to you. You mages complicate things. I demand the right to stay. So please, be demanding. Now would be good.”
Considering Master and Vonda had the portal up and almost ready to go? I understood his urgency and felt a flash of it flood me. Spinning, I stayed half in his arms as I demanded, “Close it. Release the spell.”
Master had this look on his face as if he wasn’t really that surprised but at the same time was stubbornly going to go ahead. “Rena. You can’t keep this young man. He needs to go—”
“I’m not going.” Bannen’s tone brooked no room for disagreement. “You can hold that portal up indefinitely but I’m not leaving her.”
The spell faltered, I could see part of the design break down as Master’s attention wavered. He stared at Bannen with the oddest expression that I could decipher. “You want to stay? But your family—”
“I’ll visit them. Talk on a regular basis. But I’m not going back.” Bannen stared him down with an open challenge in his eyes.
“But, but, but—” Master stuttered out, head jerking in between the two of us. Beside him, the portal failed entirely, the schematic actually splintering. Master Vonda let go of her spell without a fight, a half smile on her face that said she approved.
“Staying,” we maintained in unison. Then we caught each other’s eyes, surprised at how in harmony we were, and amused by it.
“I’m all for this,” Vonda announced, “but we have to come up with a plan on how to maneuver around the Council. They’re not going to let this be just on your say-so.”
“As to that,” Bannen had this look on his face like a cat that knew how to get into the cream, “I have an idea.”
Bannen seemed to have some sort of plan about what to do, but I carefully didn’t ask him any details. Right now his instincts were high, partially because he was hurt, partially at the threat the Council represented to the bond. I know he wanted to stay, he’d said so, but I wasn’t sure if he would feel the same after the bond was broken. After being with me for over two weeks, he couldn’t be under any illusions of what this job entailed. But at the same time, the bond encouraged him to think well of me, to want to be with me. Holding him to any decision he made now would be the height of unfairness.
I needed to ask him again after the bond was broken.
We delayed a day but couldn’t put it off any longer; it had finally come down to the point that I absolutely had to break the familiar bond. I’d seen mages that had lost their familiars—for days they were like dead men walking. If we were to deal with the Magic Council, we needed to give ourselves time to recuperate.
I had a margin of hope that I wouldn’t be as bad because I would still have Bannen with me. I wouldn’t be losing him, per se, I just wouldn’t be magically bound to him anymore. Still, I harbored no illusions. This was going to hurt.
Badly.
We retreated to my workroom to do it, as I didn’t want an audience, and no one really ventured in here. Master came in quietly to act as a witness and I think to offer moral support. He didn’t say a word and I could see him fidget with his sleeves, worrying at them until they lost all shape.
Bannen stood in front of me, braced as if expecting an attack, but with a game expression that said if the attack came from me, he’d take it. I looked at that expression and felt my stomach bottom out.
I did not want to do this.
In fact, I’d rather drive a stake through my hand than do this. I felt perfectly confident that it would hurt less and wouldn’t cause as much damage.
Perhaps Bannen could see on my face how I felt, or maybe he didn’t need to, but either way he gave me a small smile. “You can do this,” he assured me in the gentlest tone that I had ever heard from him. “Just speak a word and wave your hand, simple as that.”
There was nothing simple about this and he knew it. We both knew it. I couldn’t force a smile onto my face or give him any reassurance. I felt…terrified. The one thing that every mage dreaded the very moment they started a summoning spell was the day they’d lose their familiar. To axe that connection with my own magic—I couldn’t begin to categorize how horrifying that felt.
Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard, forcing down the nausea. I had no doubt that when this was over I’d have to throw up somewhere.
Perhaps it would be like a bandage. It would be better to yank it off quickly than prolong it. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath for courage, then another. Nothing felt different so I abandoned that tactic and snapped my eyes open, found the familiar bond in a second, and spoke the four terribly short words it took to dissolve the bond between us.
The bond unraveled in front of my eyes, disintegrating into thin air in magical splinters, like sparks flying upwards from a dying fire. I felt the bond crumbling in slow motion, mouth open to take it back, desperate to do so, please let me take it back.
Worlds too late, of course. There was nothing that I could do now.
Master stood off to the side watching us with a pained look in his eyes as he knew how much this hurt, having lost his first familiar to old age. He offered me no cold words of comfort but his eyes spoke volumes.
I put a hand to my chest, sure that dissolving the bond had put a hole in it, sure that I must be bleeding out, because the pain racked me from head to toe, indescribable. I had to be bleeding. When the pain was this intense, there has to be a physical injury linked to it. My hand came away dry and I stared at it, uncomprehending.
Bannen sank slowly to one knee, bowling over, breathing erratic and all over the place. His pain drew me out of it for a moment and I reached for him. “Bannen,” I gasped, feeling that urge to throw up rise again.
Ignoring his broken arm, his hands reached out to me, gathered me in so that he could wrap himself around me, head burrowing into my neck. “Sards I didn’t think it would hurt this bad,” he gasped against my skin, almost sobbing. “Rena, tell me this isn’t hurting you as badly.”
I shook my head in short bursts, tears streaming out of my eyes.
He collapsed more onto the ground, dragging me into his lap, rocking us gently back and forth. “I’m still here,” he whispered into my hair, pressing a kiss against the crown. “Shh, shh, sweetheart, I’m still here. I haven’t left you.”
“I know,” I gasped and I did know, this pain was irrational, there was no reason for it. Bannen hadn’t died, he hadn’t left for the other side of the world. I had no reason to mourn him or miss him or anything like that. But even with his arms tight around me, his voice against my skin, I felt a dreadful loss that threatened to crack my heart apart. I held him desperately and cursed every councilman’s name I knew silently in my head. “This will get better,” I promised him, promised us both. “The separation is too sudden, that’s why it’s hitting us so hard. But we’ll be fine, we’ll weather this, the pain won’t be so bad after my magic settles.”
“Of course,” he agreed but his tone said otherwise, that he knew that it would be weeks or maybe months before it didn’t feel like we carted around an abyss in our chests.
Master came over and laid gentle hands on our heads. “Stay right where you are for as long as you need to,” he counseled quietly. “Don’t feel like you have to separate and force yourselves to get up until you’re ready to do it. It’s hard enough as it is, you don’t have to make it even harder. I’ll keep everyone away from you until you’re ready to come out.”
“Thank you,” I gasped, because just the thought of letting Bannen go filled me with renewed panic and despair.
I heard Master leave even as Bannen ran his hand over my head, stroking my hair and the nape of my neck, trying to ease my muscles into something as
ide from iron rigidity. I desperately needed the contact but couldn’t do more than just grip him in return. I might have been leaving bruises I held him so hard but I couldn’t make myself relax at all.
Bannen didn’t complain.
We sat there curled up together until I felt my legs try to go numb. It didn’t make me any more inclined to get up. I could feel time creeping by as the light outside the window grew gradually darker but not even that swayed me. My mind whirled with chaotic thoughts, nothing really connecting or making a lasting impression. In truth I didn’t really want to think of anything. I just focused on the heartbeat and warmth of my once-familiar and breathed.
“This Council of yours is a bunch of sarding morons,” Bannen said abruptly, tone scathing. “They seriously thought that it was a good idea for me to just break the familiar bond with you and then step into a portal? To the other side of the world?”
I hadn’t thought of that, but if we really had gone through with the orders they’d listed out…he would be in Z’gher right now. I shuddered violently at the thought. “That would have been horrific.”
“You would have collapsed,” he said bluntly and then flinched. “Forget that, I would have collapsed. I’m not handling this any better than you are. Only it would have been worse for me, a little, because I would be in a country that doesn’t have as much magic and there literally would have been no help for me. Those sarding fops didn’t think of that at all, did they? I bet they didn’t.”
Call me petty, but I liked every insult he said about that stuck-up group of meddling fools. “I bet you’re right. I’m so glad you said purple.”
“Me too,” he said and for the first time I heard a smile in his voice. “I’m glad you were selfish. I can’t imagine what would have happened to both of us if we hadn’t held firm.”
I didn’t want to even imagine it. I felt a little better, just marginally, enough to relax my hold on him enough that he could breathe. I lifted my head enough to meet his eyes. I could tell he had been crying at some point too—his eyes were red—but he met my gaze levelly. This seemed a very good opening for me to ask, “How do you feel about staying?”
The Human Familiar (Familiar and the Mage Book 1) Page 20
