Familiar Trials_Fledgling

by Taki Drake

  The third area of familiar ranking was said to be intelligence. In this case intelligence or cleverness was the ability to work things out logically or intuitively and come up with solutions that weren’t necessarily like those that were provided by somebody else. Dascha was looking forward to how those are going to be combined into a ranking and if that ranking was used for anything good.

  She also knew that the overall ranking combined contributions from varying perspectives. Someone else had mentioned minimal versus general versus assertive skills. It would seem that she had lots to learn.

  Finally, Stinky, the ferret, was done with his morning preparations. He shook himself free of water, incidentally splattering everyone else before announcing happily, <>

  Dascha made a small sound of amusement, glancing over at Kevin. The old alley cat had concealed his laughter, but his twitching tail telegraphed how entertained he felt. Both Dascha and Kevin were ready for anything after a few minutes of grooming in the morning. They had been ready far earlier than the rest of their friends but were content to wait for them before going to the breakfast area.

  Trey was still muttering about his crunched feathers. Dascha hadn’t realized how vain he was until she heard his litany in the morning of all the things that he needed to do to get ready to face anyone else. His exhaustive list of feathers to preen and arrangements to make made her eyes glaze over well before the fourth set of instructions.

  Jack, the wolf hybrid, took even less time to prepare than Kevin or Dascha needed. Looking as if he was sound asleep up to the last second, he simply stood up, shook himself, and was ready to leave. He even offered to let Trey ride on him so that Trey could continue his grooming while they made their way toward food.

  <> said Stinky.

  <> suggested Jack.

  After a quick agreement, everyone split to find their own food.

  <<<>>>

  It’d been a quick breakfast for everyone. Less than 15 minutes had passed, and they had rejoined each other by the entryway rock and were ready to start the activities of the days.

  Each of them heard during their breakfast time that the next two days would be organized roughly into three parts per day. The first day would be lessons and the second would be the actual trials in three areas for the newer members. Dascha was very intrigued by the idea of the lessons since she thought it might use the strange areas that she had tried yesterday with the tiger. However, most of the others were looking more favorably toward the games part of the schedule.

  The whole group of newer familiars was directed toward the areas that Dascha had explored yesterday. She noticed the storyteller and two other animals that she did not know were channeling groups of ranked familiars toward different areas. When they got closer to the front of the entry, their whole group was waved off to the first area on the left. This was the one that Dascha had tried out the previous day, so she had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen.

  Settling herself on the ground, her tail wrapped carefully around her front paws, Dascha was surprised and pleased to see that the tiger was not the instructor for the day. Instead, a grizzled old wolf was sitting in the middle of the circle on the polished stone. He was so old that his muzzle was entirely white and white streaks of fur traced down his body from flank to hock.

  The sound of a melodious gong split the air, resonating to the ground and echoing off the rock faces scattered around the area. As soon as the melodious tone had stopped, the old wolf came to his feet.

  <
  <
  <
  <
  <
  <>

  A medium-sized owl perched on a branch close to the circular platform spoke up, <>

  The old wolf lowered his ears an apology before saying, <
  <>

  There was a considerable amount of rearrangements as the birds dove down toward the memshare arms and animals stretched out to better arrange themselves over its length. Dascha had staked out a section for herself and got her friends to sit next to her. This made it easy enough for them to simply stretch out so that all of their bellies were against the bubbly rock. Once they were set, Trey flew down and carefully arranged himself and his tail feathers between Kevin and Jack. Protected by the largest members of their small circle of friends, the fragile firebird obviously felt the safest.

  Dascha was watching the areas around them as the familiars found comfortable positions. A flash of white to her side drew attention, and she turned her head to see the white cat that she and Stinky had rescued the previous night slowly and carefully making her way toward Dascha.

  The approaching feline was obviously shaky. Her tail was partially down, and her steps were faltering. But determination seemed to be driving her. It did not appear to be the same cat that Dascha had seen the first day. Gone was the pampered looking feline, leaving behind an animal with visible scarring and bedraggled fur.

  The cat’s shaky, but steady progress brought her up to where Stinky and Dascha were stretched on top of the coral. The white Persian carefully sat down about two feet away from Dascha and said, <>

  <> answered Dascha.

  Stinky nodded his agreement and scooted further away from Dascha. The black cat also scooted back from the ferret, opening up enough space on the coral arm for the injured cat, in silent invitation.

  TT glanced at both the ferret and the other cat for a long moment. Then moving slowly and carefully, she got laid herself down in the open space. Dascha could hear the small moan of pain as the cat laid on its stomach. Resolving to watch out for the cat even though it was unrequested, Dascha prepared herself to participate in the lesso
n.

  The slow arrangement and rearrangement of the familiars along the arms of coral stone eventually came to a stop. The old wolf, who had been watching the activity, straightened his body and surveyed the waiting familiars. <
  <>

  Without further introduction, the old wolf laid down on the polished stone and breathed deeply three times.

  Based on her experiences from the previous day, Dascha also laid down and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could hear her friends around her doing the same, although a split second after she had started, unconsciously following her lead. The young cat knew that they were looking to her as a partial guide since she was the only other one who had experienced this method.

  Once again, there was a swirl of interesting colors and visual artifacts in Dascha’s mind. This was followed by an abrupt clearing of the foremost sparkles leaving a crystal clear scene in front of her.

  Worry and fear. Dascha could feel the concern over being in time and the worry over damage. She could feel the panting of her own breath and the play of tired muscles over her chest as she ran full tilt after her magic user. The mage was young, in his early 20s. He had a short staff in one hand and was running full out. She was running slightly to his left, keeping pace with him, neither pulling ahead nor trailing behind. They were in a big hurry to get somewhere, and she wasn’t sure where. The knowledge and the sharing mind didn’t make a lot of sense to her. Some of it was just tantalizing clues of the situation, but the immediacy of the motion and how she automatically ran at the back of the mage told her how they fit together, how they work together.

  The path took a bend, and the pair of them turned with the path. They broke out through the woods and into a clearing. Without wording, without communication, she broke left as the mage went to the right. There were two hulking behemoths waiting in the clearing. One of them was pounding a huge club into the carcass of a dead horse. The other giant was attempting to grab an armored knight.

  The fighter was battered but still on his feet. Weaving a protective wall of flashing blades and spike shield, the fighter was protecting a huddled group of unarmed people. A flashing thought came from the mage to the wolf. <>

  Skidding to a halt, the mage planted his feet and raised the short rod in his hand. Following up the physical action, the mage released a word that sounded as if it hurt the man’s throat. A flashing fireball came out of the end the staff and grew as it slammed through the air into the horse-beating giant.

  There was no plan to anything. The wolf, operating on instinct and desire, ran past the other giant, the one fighting the knight. Once, twice, the wolf’s teeth flashed ripping at the hamstrings of the one giant on his way over to the other one.

  The slam of a 3-foot fireball into the giant was enough to draw his attention toward the mage. However, with the attack so rapid and unexpected, the first indicator of additional forces in the second melee was the horrific pain of a wolf’s favorite type of attack.

  The slashing pain across the back of his legs grabbed the attention of the large giant. Unable to bear his weight on his left leg, he slammed his knee into the ground and roared in agony. The defending knight was so focused that he saw the opportunity without the necessity of any sound or warning. Pulling all of his flagging energy into one last attack, the embattled fighter executed a skillful and perfect lunge skewering the throat of the giant and continuing his blow to cleanly remove the head.

  Meanwhile, the wolf had continued on toward the other giant. The mage’s fireball crashed into the front of the clueless behemoth, setting his beard and parts of his clothing on fire. The pain of that had not quite reached his consciousness as he roared and took two steps toward the mage. Knowing that a charging giant would be difficult to stop, the wolf sprang at the danger to his mage without thought of his own safety.

  Trusting his mage not to kill him, the wolf concentrated only on the giant under his claws and teeth. Snarling, ripping and climbing, the wolf wrecked horrendous havoc on the now screaming giant as he worked his way toward the back of the monster’s neck. Futilely, the giant first attempted to hit the wolf with the club, only damaging himself in the process. Finally, the giant fell to the ground and tried to cover the back of his neck and head protectively with his arms, but he was too late. The thud of the giant crashing to the ground shook the land in all directions.

  The wolf continued to rip, the sour and acrid taste of the giant’s blood and flesh thick and nauseating in his mouth as he continued to try to reduce the danger to his mage to nothing. However, he was not lost in his rage. This was a cold and calculating battle, not an emotional one.

  Dascha could feel the analysis, the logic that continued to run through the wolf’s brain. It was, therefore, no surprise when she felt the wolf as his magic user yelled, “Now!” Instantaneously, the wolf sprang away from the giant’s body. A split second later an even larger fireball smashed into the prone giant, incinerating him in place before he could move.

  A swirling wind of sparkling particles washed over Dascha’s mind, carrying away the tense adrenaline rush and the stress of the scene she had just lived through within the magical reality. It left behind a refreshed mind, relaxed muscles, and the smell and taste of lemon mint. The bemused young cat had very little time to enjoy the release of tension. Before she could draw more than a single breath, she was dropped without warning into the second stage of this lesson.

  The wind was chilled and carried scents of old and rotting things heavy in its moisture. Once again Dascha was riding in the mind of the wolf as he patrolled around his limping mage. The cat could see that the mage was older, more middle-aged than young these days. She could feel the connection between the wolf and his mage as a deeper and wider bond than it had been in the first battle. In that lesson, she hadn’t even noticed the bond very much except as a way of communicating. Here it had become a foundation of their existence.

  The wolf was concerned about his mage. He could feel the mage’s exhaustion but knew better than to try to change his mind. The wolf ranged near and far but always centered around his partner. Alert for any danger to his mage, the wolf was using all of his senses to watch for threats.

  Suddenly, the smell of putrid and rotten air intensified. Racing back the short distance to his magic user, the wolf turned and faced the approaching danger. Hackles up, low rumbling snarl emerging from his mouth, the wolf body blocked his magic user into stopping. A burst of query along their bond required no words to alert him. The mage’s staff was in his hand instantaneously. Dascha could see and smell that this staff had been the earlier rod and somehow been transformed.

  The shambling mound of slime and rot stumbled through the murky trees into a cleared area and faced the mage. The wolf continued to snarl and prevent his mage from going forward, but Dascha could feel the weight of experience in the wolf and was not surprised when the wolf began to execute a series of short darting movements that somehow incorporated attacks with protection for all sides of the mage.

  Much was made clear to Dascha when she caught a half-formed thought of, <>. The wolf continued to spin around his mage making sure that the attacks were always being faced even though it looked like there is only a single attacker. The wolf was suspicious. The smells were too confusing in the dim light for
him to be sure. The shambling creature came closer, and the mage raised his staff high and released a huge spell that flew toward the undead monster in the form of a greasy looking fireball.

  This was the most dangerous moment when the mage’s focus was on his main attacker. But the wolf was his partner, his familiar. And his balance for the mage was a protection when the mage was focused. When a second creature moved out of the swamp toward the mage from the rear, the wolf was ready.

  Snarling and snapping, the wolf harried the monster and fenced off the mage from the second threat. The frustrated attacker attempted to beat off the wolf, but the familiar was too fast. The only thing that he could do was to slow the impact on the mage down. As aware of his familiar as his familiar was of him the magic user made sure that the first attacker was burnt and dead before spinning and setting his staff toward the second attacker.

  This one had gotten closer than the first, but the wolf had kept him at bay. There was just enough room for the mage to slam another fireball into this attacker, narrowly missing his wolf. Aware of his mage’s action, the familiar darted to the side just as the fireball hit. The clinging fire quickly consumed the secondary threat while the mage watched in focused attention and the wolf resumed his spinning patrol on all sides of his magic user.

  Once again, the refreshing visual and sensory cleansing swirl washed through Dascha’s mind. The exhaustion and the effort from the second lesson were swept out leaving a blank slate for the third and final lesson from this instructor.

  The third scene trickled in, providing a gentle entry into a mind that was a bit battered by so many new concepts to think about and the exhaustion of two fights. Instead of opening up in the middle of an action scene, this lesson introduced itself by entry into a strategy session.

  The wolf’s mage was old now, very old. A long white beard and a semi-stooped posture were key indications of the passage of time. The perception of age was reinforced by a sense of immense power that emanated from the mage’s staff. In the previous two lessons, Dascha had seen the staff start as a rod and grow into an unusually shaped but unscarred short staff. At this point in time, the staff was taller than the mage and darkened with time and use. It glowed to magical sight with multileveled power, and felt warm to the touch.