Dong! Dong! Dong!
"The harvest wizard comes!" boomed the town crier amidst the peals of the great bells hung beside the grand clock. It was not just any clock. With gears upon gears interwoven upon its face, this clock told the signs of the seasons and the heavens. And today, it rang as one of its hands struck the time of the second harvest.
Townspeople scurried and hurried under a flurry of brilliantly coloured banners above the crowded streets and stalls that had been erected for the festivities. A shadow passed over the square and people fled to the furthest corners to make room for the massive gryphon touching down. Clouds of dust were cleared from the cobblestones as her long wings beat their final strokes. Bedighted in brilliant crimson and gold trappings that contrasted sharply with her milk-white feathers, she tossed her head back for a sharp eagle's screech to formally announce the arrival of the harvest wizard, drowning out the cheers of the crowd.
"Enough of that, old girl, enough, enough!" he chided and slid off her back to the ground. "You could have picked a shorter gryphon you know!"
"But the Grand Harvest Wizard must have an entrance befitting of his status!" Barked the old vixen as she returned to her natural form, her riding gear shrinking with her until it was a beautiful red collar about her neck. Ashenflame barely came to his knee, now a dainty and travel-sized companion. Her once red fur was now silver with age, just a hint of ruddiness left on the ruff about her withers.
"Behhh!" scoffed the elderly wizard as he hobbled toward the fields as the townspeople parted before him. Barefoot, his overalls rolled up to just below his knees, loose sleeves as all wizards wore, and a broad, broad straw hat that came to a fine point. Charlie squinted through his tiny spectacles that sat on his nose above his long, long beard, and clutched his staff as he climbed the special tower built just for him. The expansive golden fields stretched out before him, just outside of town, softly waving in the summer breeze. On the other side of town, the orchard, with softly bending boughs laden with growing fruits, and fields of peas and beans crawling up their poles, and then of course the vineyards along their poles and lines, completing the trifecta of crops currently growing. Ah, but those were next moon's problem. Today, under the blistering mid-summer sun, it was time to gather the grains. The harvest wizard rolled up his sleeves, tilted his head side to side with an audible crack, interlaced his fingers and extended his arms for many more crunches, and gave himself a few shimmies to get out all the pops in his old joints. "Let us begin then."
The old mage's eyes began to glow white, his irises and pupils vanishing beneath the aura, and he began to chant and wave his arms. A ripple went through the grain fields. Suddenly, the shining blades of spectral scythes began to spin low to the ground and blaze a bit below the ears of waving seeds. Detached stalks began to form into groups as Charlie flailed his arms, as if he was a puppetmaster pulling at invisible strings that drew the sheaves together and actual strings began to tie themselves around the bundles. With the expert skill of such an experienced spellcaster, the sheaves began to float through the air and neatly drop into the row of awaiting carts dispersed throughout the fields. Before the sun had reached its zenith, the fields had been cleared of the wheat, rye, barley, and oats. Charlie wiped his arm across his forehead to remove the many beads of sweat as the townspeople began to cheer again. The click-clack of horse hooves began to be heard as the carts began the procession to the mills, barns, and silos.
"Don't you think you could grind it for us too?" sweetly asked a small child awaiting at the bottom of the tower.
"What are you going to do when these old bones go back to the earth, hrm? What if another harvest wizard never comes, hrmmm? Practice your industry now, child, you may need it! Go on! Shoo! Work to learn, learn to work!" Charlie scolded the wee thing, who simply shrugged and returned to their mother.
"Be nice, they're just a half-sprite!" Ashenflame said as she lay nearby on the cobblestones, a half-eaten meat pie between her forepaws. Charlie grumbled complaints to himself as the lord of the town approached them. The old wizard tolerated the profuse gratitudes, request that food preservation wards on the larders would be inspected before they were refilled, promises of his payment to be sent to his estate, and the usual political bargaining and demanding that bored the old fox. When the lord had finally bustled off to give orders for the afternoon merriment, Ashenflame turned herself into an old dame, her collar now having become a crimson dress edged in gold. "Come, come, get dressed and let's go enjoy ourselves!"
The old mage softened and his eyes twinkled as he waved an arm that changed his overalls into robes and hose. He extended an arm, which the vixen gladly accepted and interlocked her arm with his. Jams, cheeses, and small loaves from the last of the previous year's harvest were being served with wine to celebrate the second harvest. Bards were playing jigs for pretty maidens and spry lads to dance to. Puppeteers had little booths where they acted out scenes with their hand puppets and engaged with passersby. Charlie found himself regularly crowded as a variety of sweets and goods were offered to him by those wishing to curry his favour and perhaps receive a blessing or have a wish granted. Ashenflame gladly and gracefully intercepted his admirers. Her arcane powers lay in shapeshifting different forms of fauna and manipulating fire, so she could not perform the services that were begged of her husband, but she could distract clamouring children and most adults with fire magic by creating etheral and colourful butterflies, birds, and her personal favourite, dragonflies.
When the shadows lengthened and stretched long over the ground, Ashenflame became a gryphon once more, and her dress became the trappings and riding gear it was before. Charlie mounted her back and off they went as the townspeople waved to them below. The old mage pulled his cloak tight about him against the cool evening air. They had a longer ride on the morrow. Charlie was one of many so-called harvest wizards, mages who had dedicated much time and study toward crops. When to plant, when to harvest, how to grow, how to rotate, and most importantly to the tired populace, how to cast spells to speed harvest to prevent losses due to pests and weather.
He had not always been a harvest wizard. No, back in his youth, when he first stepped foot into the mage academy, he had other aspirations. Charlie had desired becoming an immensely powerful wizard who would serve directly under a king, to turn the tides of war to protect his country, to cast great spells that would prevent natural diasters, to walk as a god amongst mortals, albeit a benevolent one, to create a paradise of an empire to live in. But then, he had gotten involved with Ashenflame and all her troubles.
She was one of many fae-touched mortals, descended from a long line of foxes with elemental abilities, and had once been a target of a power-hungry madman from Bhadarukia who collected magical animals and artifacts to use as parts for his golems. A passing dragon had unintentionally interrupted Drake's collection of her and her parents. Her parents had been captured, so the dragon raised the fox kit himself, and taught her a little wind magic to use in addition to her natural fire magic. Charlie had met her at the mage academy when she still only dreamed of avenging her parents.
Charlie smiled bitterly at the memories. It was a lofty goal. Drake had been an assassin with his own dreams of grandeur, but more disposable income to attempt to obtain it. He had the skills to remove the emperor but needed muscle to keep his usurpation of the throne. Drake had amassed all the armies he could manage and was building his siege weapon, a dragon golem. Ashenflame had made many attempts to infiltrate his fortress but had been brushed away like a gnat, until Drake's pet tigress caught sight of the golem and decided to betray her captor. With Scirei's help, they had managed to destroy the golem and Drake. Scirei assumed command of Drake's fortress shortly afterward and began training her own assassins and mercenaries for hire. Scirei had been personally trained by Drake and her skills were coveted by many lords and mages who desire an indirect approach to their problems, and she became quite wealthy.
The stark reality and ugliness of politics turned Charlie away from his original plans to serve a king, and was content to spend his life on arcane and archaeological studies, teaching archaeology at the mage academy, until he eventually assumed the position of a harvest wizard where he felt he could be of more use to his fellow citizens. Ashenflame was always faithfully by his side, enjoying the adventures in faraway lands as he hunted relics and forgotten truths. They had kept loose contact with Scirei throughout the years as every so often she was requested to retrieve a lost item and preferred to delegate those kinds of tasks to those actually interested in it.
"Have ye gone to roost up there?" Ashenflame asked with mild irritation. Charlie blinked a few times and realized they had returned to his manor. He apologized and dismounted. Ashenflame became a little fox once again and padded along behind them as they went inside. The manor was built into the side of a mountain and had many chambers recessed into the slopes. Charlie employed the help of gnomes to help maintain his library and continue his studies. Gnomes were funny little creatures with an unquencable thirst for knowledge. Their small sizes also made them useful in fetching tools and objects that leaped from his desk or bookshelf and chose to hide in a remote corner.
Ashenflame drew a bath for them, stepped inside, and raised the temperature of the water with her body heat until it was at a level she enjoyed. Charlie joined her, his aching bones enjoying the heat.
"Fifteen more to go!" Ashenflame said cheerily. Charlie groaned. "Hey, you chose to remain a harvest wizard while all the others moved on to become battle mages. Be glad of honest work in the fresh air!"
"I would be more glad not to constantly hear about war or pending war," Charlie grumbled and began scrubbing his back. "War, death, mayhem, destruction, maiming, you'd almost think it's like the kings don't have to actually live in the world they create for the rest of us," he said with scathing sarcasm.
"All the kings now are mages. They can create whatever world they want to live in without dealing with the consequences inflicted on the mundane," Ashenflame said and groomed herself like a cat with her forepaw.
"But when the world is reduced to rubble and all the rivers are turned to acid, they cannot subsist on their gargantuan egos," Charlie grumped.
"Until then, there is another large, beautiful field awaiting us tomorrow, with lots more pastries!" Ashenflame said excitedly. "So let's bathe and off to bed!" Charlie continued to grump his frustrations as they finished their bath and prepared for bed.
Each town and village greeted them as merrily as the last, grateful for his assistance with the grain harvests with harvest wizards in short supply these days. Each knew their place along his route and each paid handsomely to be spared of weeks of toil in the fields. Nonetheless, Charlie had started demanding in recent years that they demonstrate on the first sheaf that they still understood how to harvest on their own. He had two weeks to rest before the month of grapes arrived and he had to return to each of the settlements to pull in the vineyards, peas, and beans. Another two weeks, and then he was back again to sow their fields. Finally, he could rest. Four months of quiet over the winter and then the growing year would begin again with the plowing. What a mercy they would do their own weeding!
Charlie sat in his armchair one evening in his library, rubbing his tired eyes. He had not slept well. His slumber was disturbed by unsettling nightmares. Disjointed fragments of bleakness and despair, but they felt so very real when he was in them. They had begun to plague his waking hours. He could be sitting on a beneath a towering tree overlooking a beautiful lake, and for a moment the tree would flash barren and gnarled, broken and twisted. Or passing through a town, and for the span of a breath, the walls were crumbled and decayed. Families he had known for years and expected to grow up strong and healthy would be suddenly frail and bent in mourning over withered corpses. But for just a moment, barely lasting the time for a dozen grains of sand to fall in an hourglass. It was disorienting. Was he losing his mind?
His brooding was disrupted by the pulse of a white light upon his desk.
"Oh, bother, what now?" Charlie grumbled as the obsidian disk rhythmically flashed. He picked it up and an image appeared on the glass of a brooding Tuskland woman with wild hair and long earrings. "Yes, sister?"
"Have you had the dreams?" she hissed.
Charlie paused for a moment before he answered. "Yes."
"Then you know the time is close," she pressed.
"Yes," Charlie repeated.
"What have you chosen then?"
"The only thing I know to do: to prepare them for what's coming the best way I can, without causing a panic."
"Many will die," she scowled.
"Have you not chosen the same?"
"Of course," she said grimly. "As have many others, the only way to avoid the unavoidable."
"Do you know how much time we have left?"
"No one does," she said and slowly shook her head, her tight curls swaying. "We could try delay it, but we cannot stop it, and risk being killed prematurely."
"Then we will not stop it. We will continue to prepare, and when the time comes, we will accept our fate."
She nodded. "Fare thee well, brother."
"Fare thee well," he replied, and the image vanished from the obsidian, displaying only his own reflection. He gently returned the obsidian to his crowded work table, and looked around sadly at his library. So much knowledge and none to pass it on to. His wife was a different species and they never bore young. Neither had ever taken an apprentice.
"Working late, master?" came a tiny voice. Charlie looked down at the little gnome who had entered his study and he was struck with a profound idea.
"I have the greatest responsibility for you, little friend," he said suddenly and grabbed a pen and parchment. The gnome looked nervous as he frantically scribbled on the paper. He rolled it up, sealed it with wax, magically replicated it into several copies and shrank them to a size the gnome could manage, and gave them to the gnome. "Take this to your people. Spread it around. I need gnomes, lots of gnomes!"
"Y—yes, sir," the gnome said with a puzzled expression as Charlie began grabbing various items and stuffing them into a bag. "Where are you off to?"
"No time, no time!" and out he ran through the door.
The gnome scratched his head a few times, shrugged, and began to tidy the study. He would begin delivering the letters in the morning.
"Come, wife! To our final adventure!" Charlie announced as he burst into the bedroom.
"It is barely even dawn," Ashenflame complained and yawned widely, exposing her fangs and making her whiskers bristle.
"I've already packed. Away! Away!" Charlie said as he grabbed a few more items and began to shoo her from bed.
"Away to breakfast and then whatever this 'final adventure' is," Ashenflame grumbled.
Despite Charlie's impatience, Ashenflame was firm about a hearty breakfast, insisting that no adventure worthwhile could be begun without proper fuel beforehand. Thus satisfied, she waited instructions as his steed. "Where are we goin'?"
"To the oracle!" Charlie said profoundly and danced in place until his wife would change forms.
"I told you we needed a good breakfast! Do you know how much strength these old wings take? That's a few good days of flapping, but heaven forbid you instantport, no, gotta be all archaic and use feather power," Ashenflame roundly scolded her husband without pause as she became a gryphon, he slid into the saddle, and she launched into the air. Charlie's mind was whirling with several thoughts at once, the least of which was on his wife's nagging.
It was a cold flight. The oracle lived high in the eastern Arnthian mountains.
Charlie calmly tugged his wife's mane to halt. Ashenflame stopped her trot and patiently waited. A scuffle had broken out between some local children in the alley. All but one left, and he exited alone, gingerly holding a blackening eye. Charlie blinked away another vision. "You there, boy, where are your parents?"
"I have none," snarled the boy. "Too poor not to die of fever."
"Grandparents? Aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters, brothers?"
"Fever," he replied gruffly.
"Quite an epidemic," Charlie acknowledged.
"The same one that made all those shiny new gravestones you passed by outside of town."
Charlie nodded. The ruling elite had inflated the cost of training and components to increase the cost of medical care while embedding mistrust of witch doctors and their herbs at every turn, leaving populations vulnerable to outbreaks, natural or fabricated. Another statistic and accounting entry in the ever expanding coffers of the financial wizards and their beneficiaries. "Well, then, seeing as how you don't have any real ties here, climb aboard."
"And go where and do what for you? You look too old to box my ears the same as the overseer in the field but I'm sure you're capable of some kind of mischief."
"Not for me, oh, no, I can look after myself to the end of my days. Just an offer to put you over your own field someday," Charlie said. "All you have to do is study hard. Everything to know about plants."
"Sounds boring."
"Well if you want to stay here getting your ears boxed and worrying about ever having a full belly, be my guest," Charlie shrugged and gave Ashenflame a nudge with his heels to continue.
"Wait," the boy started and held up his hand. "How big of a field were you going to give me?"
"The biggest in the world," Charlie said grimly.
"Come off it," the boy scoffed. "You're not serious."
"Do you doubt the power of the greatest of the last of the harvest wizards, boy?" Charlie demanded with one eye enlarged as he gazed down at the impetulant urchin. "I've walked these dirts nigh five hundred years! I have grown gourds far larger than your squashy head!"
"I gotta see how you'll pull all that off then, oh mighty wizard!" the boy began to approach the horse, and stopped. "Um, what is your name?"
"Charlie Hawkins, and this is my wife, Ashenflame," he said and lovingly patted the horse's neck. She tossed her head and nickered. "And just who might you be?"
"Ferdinand Wynfall!" he said proudly. "And presently unwed to woman or beast."
"Ah, yes, good. You just might make something of yourself if you are industrious," Charlie nodded and gestured for the boy to join him. Ferdinand spryly climbed aboard and Charlie nudged Ashenflame to continue.
"So, uh, is this really your wife?"
"Yes, child, and if you refer to me as a 'thing' again, I'll buck you right off and stamp on you!" Ashenflame said over her shoulder, causing him to audibly yip.
"N-no offense, ma'am!" he squeaked. Ashenflame burred and snorted.
Charlie snapped his fingers and a heavy tome landed in Ferdinand's lap. "Your lessons will begin with some light reading as we return to Baba."
"'Light?' Baba!?" Ferdinand squeaked again. "That crazy old witch with the chicken house that eats people?"
"You'd best mind your manners or I'll personally feed you to her ravenous chimney!"
"Yessir," Ferdinand said dejectedly and turned to the first page of the manual, contemplating if it really wouldn't be so bad to run away and return to the overseer. He squinted with his bad eye, now almost swollen shut. When they stopped for lunch, Charlie bade him stand still, and waved a hand over Ferdinand's eye. Ferdinand felt about his eyebrow and cheek. "I'm cured! You really are a wizard!"
"Yes, yes, wondrous stuff, don't get caught up in it. This is just a reward for studying without complaint despite half an eye," Charlie said as Ashenflame spread out a picnic.
"A changeling makes a lot more sense than a horse," Ferdinand said with relief. "Are you a wizardress?"
"Just a firefox!" Ashenflame said proudly. "I only attended the academy for a few semesters before life got... complicated... Charlie was my faithful companion through it all. My own skills have grown over the years, what with being raised by a wind dragon and then getting in touch with the roots, but nothing compared to what he had accomplished."
"What all was that?" Ferdinand asked pleasantly as he took a bite of a lump of cheese.
"I first studied to be a zodiac mage. Stars and planets, comets and meteors. How to command the personifications of the signs and utilize their gifts and weapons. We travelled about, spellcasters-for-hire, aiding expeditions for lost artifacts and rare components, until I returned the academy to repurpose my knowledge of the zodiac and learn the ways of a harvest wizard."
"You could have been a king! A god! How did you become a stodgy old farmer?" Ferdinand asked incredulously.
"Even kings must eat," Charlie said simply. "What are all the riches and powers of the world worth when you're between the same cold stone walls, day after day, up to your ears in beauracracy, paperwork, and misery? No, no, my boy, no. The greatest rewards and what should be the greatest aspirations of all is a warm home and bountiful garden shared with the love of your life. Maybe a few kids and neighbours. Anything more is unnecessary."
"So are you just wanting me to take over your garden then?"
"Boy, hindsight is twenty-twenty, but foresight will have you begging for blindness," Charlie said cryptically and would not expound further than that.
Revived by their lunch, Ashenflame was prancing in place waiting for her riders to return to her back, and once they were securely in the saddle she was off like a shot with her tail held high in the air. The sun was warm, the air was sweet with growing grasses, the bugs were chirping, the wind played with her mane, the ground rang beautifully under her hooves, and the birds above her in the boughs of the forest she thundered through sang lustily above. She felt as though she could live a hundred more centuries never love Tirhanon any less. Ashenflame neighed friendily when she spotted the chicken-legged hut scratching in the dirt and Baba in her yard pulling weeds.
Ferdinand tried to hide his recoil as Ashenflame came to a halt. Baba was ugly. The ugliest old woman he had ever seen waking or in nightmares. Her long, hooked nose nearly touched the tip of her long chin. Her long, white, wispy hair was piled into a messy bun. Her gnarled and bony, clawed fingers clutched a gnarled and twisted staff that she supported herself with while tending her garden. And wrinkled! So wrinkled. With horror he realized she was not missing her breasts, instead, they had been tucked into the belt of her apron!
"Keeps 'em outta the way while I work," she laughed in a raspy voice. "Just tie them right on up with the other flaps and I can go about my day in peace."
And reads minds, Ferdinand fretted as he blushed deeply.
"Ferdinand, this is Baba, your new instructor," Charlie said and pushed Ferdinand off the back of the saddle.
"Wait, what? I thought you were to be my instructor!" Ferdinand protested as he righted himself and regained his balance.
"I am making the way for your new field. You have the book that will teach you what I could, and Baba will teach you what I couldn't. Learn fast how to create her liniments. She'll be less likely to eat you that way," Charlie said with a smirk. Ashenflame neighed a laugh and was gone again in the blink of an eye when Charlie nudged her with his heels.
The old hag witch laughed and slapped one of her knees. "Fell right for the ol' bait and switch, you did! Come, come, boy, there's much work to be done! Or I'll grind your bones to make my bread!" Ferdinand was in no mood to test her patience or her honesty, and began to obediently follow his new master.
"You derived entirely too much pleasure in that," Ashenflame said as she stroded merrily through the forest.
"He's stong, and quick-witted. He will be fine," Charlie responded.
Work In Progress
