Fafnir's Heart

[Iliad]

This will be a multi-part magistream story - I'll try to consistently update. Thanks!

[Iliad]

Everything had started on a summer day.

Looking back, Isa remembered the strangest things about it. On that day, it had been hot, but dry; if he sat in the shade of the Keep and stared out at the landscape in the sun, it looked almost like a hazy kind of mirage, like if he stayed there long enough the people passing by wouldn't be able to see him at all. A train of caravans had been passing through, so the air outside the main gates smelled faintly of Ibex and stirred-up dust. Someone had hung a wind chime in their study on the first floor and the bead would every so often clink against the glass ball that held it, the white paper tail fluttering like a streamer in the slight breezes that crept up the hill.

Isa had no doubt that had the day continued as it was, it would have been uneventful, and maybe he would have gone down to the Koi pond so he could take refuge in the cool, shaded glade, or down to the Lake. Maybe he would have spent some time with his creatures. However, all of that was conjecture, because he remembered looking at the shadow of the wind chime streamer cast a flickering shadow over the wall when he first heard a loud scream coming from the forest next to Remy's.

It was desperate, more full of fear than anything he had ever heard. He jumped from his perch on the front steps, not waiting for any other healer to hear the sound. If that keening indicated a wound as serious as it sounded, he couldn't waste a single moment. "Calvary," he snapped, already taking off at a run. If his steed heard him, he would soon feel the thrumming of their bond growing stronger as the Resurrection Horse cantered to him. Sure enough, halfway across the wide bank around the Keep toward the forest, he caught a glimpse of bright orange fire out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Calvary making haste toward the same spot where he was heading, his hooves pounding the ground in an urgent tattoo.

Isa managed to catch up to him right as they reached the edge of the forest, and another eerie, keening wail rose out of the foliage. Only stopping a moment to grab a needed breath of air, Isa pushed his way through the bushes, Calvary's mane and tail setting leaves alight just for a moment so they could forge a path through the thick brush. As he glanced back for a single moment, he saw others running across the bank too. But he couldn't afford to wait: the second scream had sounded weaker than the first, which meant one thing. Well, he supposed it could mean the second one was provoked by a lesser attack, but it probably meant that the person in there was getting weaker.

As he ran, he kept an eye out for any other trails besides the one Calvary was making. As the leaves whipped past his face, he almost missed it, but - it was there, and the footprints were fresh. He turned sharply, and heard his horse's hooves stop as he turned to follow Isa.

The path let into an open clearing, and Isa skidded to a stop. He would have gasped, but he was already gasping for air in the humid, oppressive atmosphere. On the ground were two people: one was a girl, and she was conscious. From the staff in her hands, she was a mage, but her basic air magic did little to deter the giant wolves who bared their teeth and stalked gradually closer to her. One of her legs was bleeding from a deep bite wound, and her robes were torn just below the collarbone in a slash, staining the chest of her gray clothing with dark red. And behind her, lying on the ground, was the familiar face of Remy. A wound on his head bled crimson onto the stone beneath it. From where Isa was, it looked like he was unconscious.

In the dim light of the woods, Isa could barely make out the mottled coats of the Direwolves, and only the illumination cast by Calvary's mane and tail threw enough firelight on them that he could see them. But the wolves saw Calvary too, and their pupils dilated in their glowing eyes as they laid eyes on the new prey. Isa felt a rush of primal fear shiver its way down his back as he caught the glint of firelight on their bared teeth.

As one began to pad toward him instead of the girl, Isa somehow managed to regret everything he'd ever done in his life. Only Calvary's presence at his back stopped him from turning tail. Taking a deep breath through what felt like his own lungs trembling, he quickly forced his hands up.

"Ifrit's circle!" he rushed, and a haphazard line of fire drew a circle in the ground, flames rushing up through cracks in the earth. They licked up the damp grass like kindling, flickering over the ground and drawing closer to the wolves in cracks and hisses.

As the flames' heat drew higher, the Direwolves stalked back, low growls rumbling in their chests. Isa's fire wouldn't last forever.

"Come on!" he shouted shortly, running to the girl. She didn't need any further prompting, and together they grabbed Remy. Isa took his legs, and she grabbed him under the arms. With Calvary behind them, Isa and the girl ran for the forest's edge, only short of sprinting because they didn't want to make Remy's head even worse than it already was. As the forest entrance drew closer, Isa began to hear the low vibration of growling at his heels, and lurched forward, casting a fearful glance back. Almost nipping at Calvary's hooves, the Direwolves were advancing in leaps and bounds.

Isa redoubled his speed. "Go!" he shouted to the girl in front of him. She didn't turn, but he saw her shoulders hunch and her footfalls sounded faster, dully thumping against the ground in an arhythmic, frantic tune.

He felt his heart thumping heavy in his chest.

Gradually the sunlight grew brighter and brighter. Isa had never felt such relief as the relief he felt when he felt the sun on the crown of his head. But there was no time to waste. He knelt over Remy first, watching as the girl set his shoulders and head down on the verdant grass. Distantly he registered the other healers running from other places to where they were, but before they reached him, he spread his hands over Remy's head wound, holding them slightly above the torn skin, and muttered the words to a healing spell, trying to hold his flames in check. Healing mages had two distinct types of magic: healing and elemental; but it was hard for Isa in particular to dam in the elemental while healing.

But he did, and white magic spread from his hands to Remy's head, covering it like a salve and mending the flesh. The blood that stained his head receded slightly, enough that it looked less like a bad wound and more like a minor scrape. That would be left up to the other healers to fix.

"Sit still," he commanded of the girl, and she stopped dithering around in the grass and immediately sat herself down in front of him. He healed her chest wound before the other healers finally caught up and carted them off to the infirmary. Isa did not follow.

He went back to the edge of the woods, and he could see there, just inside the treeline, the Direwolves toeing the edge of their territory and sounding off vicious growls and caterwauls. But why? Why would they attack Remy, their trusted companion for years upon years? For some reason, Isa did not think it was because Remy had done them wrong, but then what was the reason for all of this? He met the eyes of one of the Dires in the front, but the reflective deep yellow eyes told him nothing, only reflecting the dark silhouette of the trees against the sky.

As he watched, the wolves slunk back into the forest, leaving behind no trace.