Around the Corner
--- Paige dePolo
Theo’s mouth was full of blood, but at least he hadn’t made a sound. Any price was better than that of losing his target. The pain of his stubbing a bare toe on an uneven cobblestone would be nothing in a few minutes, after all, it was nearly time.
Theo flexed his long fingers and drifted after the man, his target. The idiot was obviously wealthy, who else would have a cloak of that quality? Who else would casually wear a full money pouch on their belt? This particular specimen was either new in town or hopelessly dimwitted. In Teng the lawbreakers would always be quick off the mark, quick to take advantage of the situation, especially the thieves.
The idiot halted ahead, and Theo immediately leapt into a doorframe. Had he been spotted? No, the man was just adjusting his gloves. Honestly, who was this guy? He obviously wasn’t a long time resident of Teng. Nobody just idly stopped on street corners in the rough town. His preening complete, the target walked away, turned sharply into a large house at the end of the road, and vanished.
Theo smirked and looked downward at the innocuous pouch. He would eat that evening. He slipped the drawstring and triumphantly stuck a questing hand into its depths. What riches were awaiting him? But something was wrong. He paused, then pulled a handful of beetle wings, not coins, from the pouch.
Trembling with fury, Theo replaced the wings and angrily slipped the pouch in his pocket. Sparks began to trail from his fingertips. He quieted his magic at once and glanced warily around. Nobody was nearby. A familiar curse flitted through Theo’s mind. He called down silent imprecations against the god that had looked upon his birth. Magic was purportedly a gift from the gods. Such a gift had no place in Teng, however.
Theo began to walk away. Evening was approaching and he still had no money to show for a day’s dishonest labor. He strode with an energy fueled by frustration. Then he stopped, for Theo had been gifted with a clever mind. Beetle wings were one of the harnesses serious mages used for their spells. There was another mage in Teng. He was not alone.
The stubbed toe lodged a faint protest as Theo sprinted towards the distant house. “He has the materials for spells,” Theo panted. “He had to have formal training. Maybe he could teach me.”
The verbalization of his inner thoughts brought Theo up short at the little gate leading to the house. “No,” he stated firmly. “I’ll just ask him how to give the magic back. I didn’t ask for it. I don’t want it.”
He pushed open the gate and ignored the icy feel of the latch. He was at the door. His hand rose to knock on the dark, heavy wood. He hesitated. Knocking on a stranger’s door in Teng was foolish. Knocking on a mage’s door would probably be tantamount to suicide. Mages were regarded with outright hatred in these parts, so this one probably lived on a healthy diet of suspicion.
Theo tilted his head and regarded the final barrier. He nodded firmly and closed his eyes. All he had to do, hopefully, was show that he also had the gift. The sparks again flared in his hands. His knuckles were a hairsbreadth away from the door.
It was then that the beast struck.
Clawed paws ripped through the tin shirt Theo wore and tore into his shoulders. Theo reacted with the instincts born of years of scrapping for food. He twisted at the hips and slammed the creature into wall of the house. A scaly tail whipped across his face and Theo felt an involuntary scream rip from his throat. He reached up to free himself from the claws, scrabbling at the hard body of the monster. He screamed again as teeth closed about his wrist. Bone crunched. Theo’s scream choked off as the tail slowly wound around his neck. Gasping for air, he fell backwards, his thin body writhing on the mage’s doorstep.
Light dazzled Theo’s eyes as the door opened. Then a soft voice whispered, “Hst, hst, Ket settle. Away, Ket.”
The choking scales disappeared; the claws were wrenched free. Strong arms lifted Theo’s injured form. He struggled feebly in the arm of his rescuer. “Demon,” he bleated hoarsely. “Demon.”
A gentle laugh crashed against his ears. “No,” came the soft whisper, tinged with amusement. “Not demon. Dragon. Mist dragon to be precise.”
“Dragon,” Theo whispered. His mind reeled from the pain of his wounds, the lack of air in his body, and the weight of this revelation. Darkness rushed towards him, and Theo gratefully succumbed.
**all fiction is property of the author and EAL Magazine, please do not use or copy in any form without permission**
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