Raptor

The moonlight sat neatly upon the tops of the trees. The white gleam was in perfect contrast with the dark, starry blanket of the night sky. Each orb shone brightly as it hung delicately above. All life had welcomed the soothing calm that this night had brought and surrendered its all to the dark's cool embrace. But the wind blew ominously beneath the illuminated canopy. The trees concealed a secret. Death was hanging in the air.

Ittal ran swiftly through the forest, branches thrashing her mercilessly in her face as she sped through. Her feet barely had time to keep their balance before she thrust them further into the unknown. Her legs betrayed her heart's desire for freedom, however. The pursuer was close. She felt their presence. Murderous intent followed her with each footstep through the mass of leaves, twigs and all manner of woodland clutter. It was hopeless.

This place is too unclean, she thought to herself. I can't perish here. Not now. I must flee with every ounce of strength I have. My life must remain pure. Clean. Untouched from this wilderness filth.

She kept repeating these thoughts to herself, trying desperately to urge her traitorous limbs to come to their senses. What good would they be if the rest of her body ceased to function? They would become macabre decorations for a filthy forest floor riddled with dirt and insects. Or perhaps they would become a decadent meal for some carnivorous creature, all too pleased with their good fortune.

No. These thoughts were evolving too rapidly. And none for the better. Ittal barely had time to push these dreadful images from her mind. A great gust of wind swept from behind her and a beast in front. For a brief moment she thought she could hear a single word on the wind.

Thuiil.

In an instant, the weight of the beast fell on her. The initial blow almost knocked all of the air from her already struggling lungs. Everything went black. Had the weight on her chest not been so oppressive Ittal would have believed she passed out.

She could hear footsteps approaching her. The woman tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths in and out. Her heart beat vigorously in her chest. It felt like it was crashing against her ribcage. It was looking for a way out. The frightened organ was determined to claw though anything impeding its escape.

"Good work, Chicklet."

An upbeat voice came from behind. Ittal opened her eyes and saw a small barn owl resting on her chest. Its dark, beady eyes penetrated her gaze and burned its foreboding image deep into her mind. It spoke softly, mockingly to her in its own bestial language.

"I suppose you're the mage I've been sent to dispatch. Would I be correct in my assumption?" the voice asked her in a springy but proper tone. "You wouldn't have run from me if you weren't, I imagine. You sorcerers sure aren't the brightest. You make my job all too easy when you give yourself away like that. My poor companion barely got to stretch her wings properly"

Ittal cursed to herself. How could she let fear grip her so fiercely? Her foolishness had given her away. Now she was in the middle of this dreaded forest. Pinned against the ground. Getting needlessly filthy. The very thought of it all made her shudder in disgust.

A man stepped into her view. He had short, brown hair that was shaved down even shorter on the sides. His mouth had a long, slender moustache with a strip of hair down the middle of his chin. The whole facial hair entourage looked very similar to the letter "T" if you squinted at it hard enough.

"Come, Chicklet. Excellent work, my love!" praised the man.

The light-colored bird flapped its wings and flew to an outstretched arm. The bird's feathers were colored like a lightly toasted slice of sourdough bread, a light cream shade with complimentary tones of dim brown. A tasty reward was offered and very excitedly accepted. The bird was gone, but the weight on the mage's chest still remained. She lifted her head to look. Resting on her was a somewhat small metal coin with an unidentifiable rune blazing on its surface. The glow slightly illuminated her face.

Magic.

The mage did everything in her power to hide her devious grin. Magic was a force she knew very well. The reassurance eased her mind, and she began to think more clearly. Thoughts of escape quickly filled her head. Freedom was mere moments away. All that needed to be done was act. Swiftly. Decisively. Hope filled her with newfound stamina and confidence.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you were able to run through these woods so well," said the man, circling her with slow, deliberate paces. "There's very little light coming through the trees. Chicklet, would you take this and hang it high in the trees for me? Thank you, love."

The owl's wings began to flutter once more as it obeyed its master's command. It was carrying what looked to be a hollowed-out egg of some sort. It was being carried by a thin piece of twine that was attached to the top with a small metal hook in the small talons of the sweet avian companion. The bird found a nice resting spot and nestled itself close to the strange contraption high on a long, thick branch amongst the trees.

"I really do love this part. Let there be light! Ignis!" commanded the man.

Sparks shot into the air towards Chicklet's curious companion after an articulate movement of the strange man's hands. They hit the outer wall and ignited within its hollow shell. A faint warm glow enveloped the surrounding area and quickly swallowed up the darkness within the trees.

"Ah, that's much better. Wouldn't you agree?"

The man was now walking closer to Ittal so that he would be easier to see. He was wearing a white linen shirt underneath a lightly-colored tan vest and brown leather gloves. He was also wearing brown pants that ruffled slightly as they were tucked into his leather boots. He also wore a black cloak.

The cloak had a patch stitched into it that was currently resting on his right shoulder. The patch was an insignia. The one that filled her with so much fear earlier that evening. It was a rising sun coming up over the horizon. The image stood for something unanimously considered dark and ominous by all mages. The Order. An organization whose sole purpose was to see to the extinction of all magical humans in the world.

"What should I call you, good sir?" asked Ittal, gaining confidence enough to speak to her assailant, still struggling beneath the weight of the curious contraption upon her chest. "After all, if you're here on business I'm guessing I should cancel my plans for the foreseeable future. Or is this your demented idea of picking up girls? If it is, you clearly need some wor-"

"No, no. I'm most certainly here on business. I assure you," he cut her off, shaking his head and waving his hand. "People like you call me many things. Killer. Monster. Lackey. Hell, some of them even call me charming! But you can call me Raptor. That seems to be what the people in the taverns are calling me."

As he moved around her, the light flashed against something metallic under his cloak. It was the hilt of his sword. The sight of the weapon brought back the fear the mage had finally managed to dissipate. It was only a weapon, but it was different than any mundane tool handed to every soldier of every kingdom on the planet. This one she could sense. Was it magical, too? She hoped she wouldn't find out.

"Hmm," mused Ittal. "Raptor. Very fitting since you're travelling with that winged pest of yours up there."

"Yes, I thought so as well. I like that my faithful companion is somehow honored in my new title," agreed Raptor, walking towards to Ittal now.

When he was next to her, she asked, "What if I wanted to be a little more familiar with you? What is something more personal I could call you?"

She was trying to stall him as much she could. While she had time to buy, she was syphoning magical energy from beneath her. He knelt down and smiled. Then he chuckled and shook his head. He reached for the coin and placed a finger on it.

"Ray dan!" he shouted, and the weight of the coin immediately returned to that befitting a small piece of pocket change. The light from the rune sank into the metal and disappeared without a trace.

He grabbed her shoulder, lifted her up and told her, "You won't be around long enough for a more personal relationship I'm afraid."

Ittal was now sitting up. It allowed her rage to rise in a more natural direction. Now was her time to act. She had bought enough time to syphon the energy she needed. It was time to go on the offensive. This was do or die, and she had no intention of dying tonight.

A hissing sound rang in the air. It paralyzed her. She began to sweat. A cold sweat. Her hands began to tremble from fright, and her heart began its desperate escape attempt once more. The sound she heard was the sword being drawn from its scabbard.

"I'm glad you're ready to fight," he said, removing his cloak and scabbard with his free hand. "I don't like it when they surrender their lives. It's much less enjoyable, and it doesn't quite give as good of a stretch, if I'm being honest."

She stood up and turned to face her executioner. She was ready. Ready to show him how terrifying mages could really be. He's killed other mages before. So what? None were as pure as her. No other mage could have been as pure or unblemished as she was. But curiosity got the better of her.

She realized she had no idea what Raptor was capable of. He is very talkative. His arrogance might betray him. Maybe there was more to learn about him. She could size him up. She could learn a weakness. And exploit it.

"You seem to be able to use magic too," she said, now drawing more energy from the earth, buying more time for herself. "How do you go on using the very thing you're meant to destroy? It makes it all seem a little hypocritical."

"Now that's an excellent question!" said Raptor, visibly excited and willing to part with the information.

He rolled up his sleeves and revealed runes etched onto his arms. They looked like they were tattooed on. Both arms had the same runes on them. He also removed his gloves which concealed the same runes, smaller, on each hand.

"These are what are known as Elder Runes," he lectured. "These , specifically, are "elemental runes," and each character corresponds to a specific element: terra, fire and wind. These are imbued onto us when we join The Order. I also have a large rune on my back that allows me to gather the magical energy in a quick moment to use these smaller runes on my body. I also have what are called "catcher runes" etched into the blade of my sword here. It's the same kind of rune you saw on the coin Chicklet so expertly subdued you with."

The barn owl let out a soothing sound almost mockingly toward Ittal for being caught so easily by the small bird. It nestled closer to the illuminated egg contraption and closed its eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from the flame inside. Chicklet made herself comfortable for the show that was about to start. Her job was over. It was her master's turn now. Raptor walked several paces away from his captive before turning back again to continue his lesson.

"The catcher runes," he continued, flashing his weapon boastfully, "allow me to enchant items that have the etchings on their surface. I use them in combination with my casting runes to achieve my desired result. That coin trick is something I'm especially proud of. I create a gust of wind to carry my casting phrase towards it. Chicklet drops the coin onto the target as it catches the terra spell. The spell I use allows me to manipulate the gravitational pull of an object which makes it seem heavier than it normally is. It's absolutely terrific when trying to subdue flighty individuals."

"How are you able to control any of this energy you gather?" Ittal asked almost teeming with rage now, angry at the fact that a mere lowly human could sully the sacred magical arts. "How can you store the energy without actually containing inherent magical properties? I didn't think humans could control it naturally unless they were a descendant of a mage themselves."

"You would be correct," Raptor confessed, throwing his arms up on either side as if surrendering himself to the truth he was about to reveal. "In normal circumstances, I would be your normal run of the mill human, terribly ordinary in all its dull glory. But these runes are imbued in a way that draws out magical energy and allows us to control it. As a sorceress, your body is the vessel that holds your magical potential. For us goons of The Order, our special runes act as that vessel."

"So I just need to separate you from your precious tattoos. What a pity. You'll probably lose too much blood to retain consciousness once I rip off a leg. Or maybe I should go for an arm? After all, they aren't nearly big enough to carry as much blood in them."

"You really are quite a jokester, my dear witch. Many have tried before you, and I assure you, many will try after you."

Raptor closed the distance between the two of them with light, broad steps and brought his sword up underneath Ittal's chin. The cold of the metal took her by surprise. The feeling of the point stung her skin like an angry hornet. He was far too close. She needed more time and space to cast the spell she had decided on. She would have to expend some of her energy to create that valuable distance.

"I've taught you a thing or two so why don't you show me what all you can do?" he asked, mockingly, tapping the tip of his sword underneath her frigid chin. "I hear you have become quite the adept polymorph, Ittal of Fengvrie. I wonder what sort of creature you've imagined ripping my limbs out with."

"You should leave your curiosity be. It really will get you into so much trouble, my dear sweet bird of prey," she hissed and contorted her fingers. "Pressa!"

As she uttered the spell she thrust her hands toward Raptor. The magical energy coursed though her entire body to her fingers, manifesting itself as an invisible force that sent the man flying towards the trees with a surprising jolt.

"Aera! Stabille!"

Raptor used the wind spells to push off of any nearby surfaces and stabilize himself. He was hoping he had caught himself quickly enough to close the distance to the mage, but he was already too late.

"Reptili ecalanthe!"

Ittal felt the energy shift throughout her body. She could feel her blood changing. She felt her bones growing. She felt her joints dislocating. She felt her skull warping. She felt every bit of the changes that happened.

I hate morphing into this beast. It's such an unsightly abomination, she thought with vivid disgust and loathing. It's dirty. Grotesque. But it's my only hope. I need this power to defeat the mage killer. My life depends on it. My magical brothers and sisters depend on it. The world depends on it.

Where a young sorceress once stood was now a somewhat large bipedal reptilian creature. The creature was still humanoid in shape but not much else. She now stood several feet taller than her opponent and had a tail that was as half as long as she was tall. Her claws protruded several inches from the tips of her fingers, and her fangs flashed menacingly in the dim light of the egg lantern.

"Come at me, killer!" she hissed, licking her toothy maw with a hideously serpent-like tongue. "Let me see what you're really made of!"

"You looked much nicer before," said Raptor, abandoning his previously nonchalant attitude for a more serious scowl and stance. "At least it makes the next part easier."

He twirled his blade in the air and shifted his weight to his back foot. His left hand rose to meet the flat of his blade then moved it up towards the crossguard. He gently rested his fingers on the sparkling steel.

"Ignis!"

As he shouted the spell he slid his hand up the blade of his sword. Sparks shot out and caught some of the runes. The blade was instantly engulfed in flames. Chicklet opened her eyes from above. The small owl always seemed to enjoy her master's bouts.

Ittal and Raptor leapt at each other with fierce roars. The polymorph swiped at her target with murderous talons, but this wasn't his first battle. He was a professional. His lunge turned into a spin that brought the tip of his sword so close to the beast's neck the scales could have melted from the heat emanating from his weapon. Each swift strike Ittal was able to throw, Raptor was able to nimbly dodge or deflect. Flashes of flames and claws on steel danced sporadically through the dim glow of Chicklet's warm companion high in the trees. Each flash was as bright and as quick as a flash as lightning. The trees echoed each clang and clatter that rang melodically, symphonically under the canopy of leaves.

A low sweep from the tail hurtled towards the swordsman's feet as the creature spun. He jumped backwards, flipping his body. She struck high, anticipating where his throat should be, and missed. As he passed over her striking tail he cut horizontally and removed half of the scaly appendage. The severed mass wiggled briefly on the ground before dissolving entirely out of existence.

Ittal didn't feel any pain from the removal of part of the tail. It was a magical extension, after all. The nature of the tail also meant there was no blood which was always a huge relief to her. She could never bear the thought of being spoiled by something so unclean. She had to be careful now. The rest of the limbs were hers, truly hers. Losing them would ruin her pure image. No more symmetry. The metallic odor of the vile crimson liquid. These are the thoughts that kept her on the offensive. She had to wear him down. There was no other way.

For every swipe there was a deflection. For every kick, punch or bite there was only air resistance. She caught a glimpse of his face. A smile. He was enjoying it. All of it. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She altered her form and sullied herself to gain the physical advantage over him, but he was having fun. Fear began to creep back into Ittal. A chill overtook her. The chill slowed her movements just enough.

A swipe. A slash. Warmth. Pain. Ittal slowly turned her gaze towards the warmth. Another slash. More warmth. More pain. Ittal saw it and dropped to her knees.

Her right hand had been cleanly removed along the wrist. Her left was severed diagonally through the forearm. Her scales began to dissipate, and she could feel her body begin to revert back to her human form. Once more, she felt every change.

Raptor knew she was finished. He looked at her in the dim light of the egg lantern. Somehow, he had only just now looked at her. She was beautiful. Her chestnut hair laid softly on her head despite being haphazardly disheveled because of the events prior. Her skin was pale but looked soft to the touch despite the streaks of blood now beginning to cover her. She was simply beautiful despite her being the target. The mission. The job. He extinguished his sword and went to her.

She began to softly cry as her weight shifted forward. She was going to hit the dirt again and be even more unclean. Everything disgusted her. She couldn't stop herself from falling, but to her surprise, she never hit the ground. Warmth. Something caught her. There wasn't another sensation of pain. When she was rolled around she was looking directly into her killer's eyes. They were mournful.

"I really do hate this part," he said apologetically. "Please forgive me, my lady."

"Why do you do this?" she asked softly. "The Order is using you. They're afraid of us mages. They send other humans to put a stop to it. Why would you willingly seek out your kin to stifle the progress of our people? We could have the world in the palm of our hands."

He lifted his head away and said, "I owe my life to The Order. They gave me something I needed when I needed it most. They keep Chicklet and me fed. They give us purpose. So I took an unbreakable oath. That oath binds me to The Order and my duties."

"To Hell with your oaths and duties!" she said with tremendous effort. "Burn it all to the ground. Take back your life. Atone for your sins. Save us humans! Save our world."

"That day will soon come, but it won't be me who plays a part in it. That is a tale destined for another warrior at another time. I must carry out my duties. Until the day I draw my last breath. I'm truly sorry. Please, believe me."

"I... I do. I believe... you," she said, struggling to let the words escape her lips.

He set her down and placed the point of his sword on her chest. Regrettably, he thrust his blade downward. It was a decisive end. The edge of the blade broke through the bones of the sorceress the entire way down. Ittal's heart was pinned eternally, now, inside its skeletal prison. It would never get the chance to escape.

Chicklet flew down from her perch bringing the egg lantern with her and landed beside her master. He offered her a tasty reward, and she solemnly accepted it. He praised and petted her. She was comforted. And she comforted him. She nuzzled his cheek and spoke soft, soothing words to him. He didn't understand his companion's song, but he understood its meaning.

Raptor extinguished the light of the egg lantern and gathered firewood as the sun began to peek over the horizon. He piled it all into the shape of a bed of twigs, built it several feet from the ground and laid Ittal's lifeless body upon it. He chanted his spell, and the pyre blazed. And he wished the mage an eternal peace. He and Chicklet stayed until the infernal tempest subsided and the embers gleamed silently and sleepily.

The man and the bird travelled back into the town of Hingstra and had a fulfilling breakfast of scrambled eggs, three strips of thick-cut bacon, a couple slices of toasted bread with a pat of butter evenly spread across one side of each and a frothy mug of the locally brewed cherry ale at the quiet Sinking Duck Inn. Chicklet happily ate pieces from the bread while the man called Raptor enjoyed the rest for the two of them. A hooded figure entered the inn and requested the private room, motioning for the duo to join him. The man called Raptor gathered their things and followed with Chicklet on his shoulder.

"You eat quite lightly when there is cause for celebration," rasped the hooded man. "Why don't we get you a little something more for you, Iskra? Or should I call you Raptor now?"

"No, no. Iskra will do fine," said Iskra, the man called Raptor. "We are dealing in business after all, and business does require a degree of professionalism. Speaking of which, do you have my next job, Hilgafor?"

"Someone is very eager to get back into action," said Hilgafor. "As a matter of fact, we just got a hit on the next one. He's warlock towards the western coast. He goes by the name of Merla of Speidath, or something or another. He tends to stay around Craggath this time of year. Oh, before I forget, here's your payment for last night's success."

The man set a fairly decent-sized, clinking pouch on the table along with the parchment regarding the warlock to the west. He pushed them towards their rightful owner, and Iskra accepted them dutifully.

"Did the polymorph give you much trouble?" Hilgafor asked.

The question appeared to take Iskra by surprise. He paused, briefly. Then he looked up at the man. His face was as solid and cold as stone. Then, after some reflection, he smiled.

"No problems," he said, finally. "It was just another mission. Another job. If you'll excuse me, Hilgafor, I must make for Craggath in search of our oh so dangerous warlock."

The two men exchanged good-byes and went their separate ways. Iskra saddled a horse and set out west. Chicklet roosted herself on the pommel of the saddle and closed her eyes. It would be a long journey to the coast. Chicklet nestled herself in close and began to rest. Until the next mission. Just another job for two birds of prey.