Chronicles of Valarian 6: The Magician and the Knight

“Wait, are you serious, Val?” Fen asked me, his yellow eyes wide as he tried to process what I had just told him. I didn’t blame him for his confusion, he was brought up on stories of the Great Beasts abilities and probably couldn't understand why they weren’t fixing this. “The Balance is broken and the Great Beasts aren’t doing anything to fix it? That’s impossible, that’s the job of the Great Beasts.”

“Not anymore,” I sighed, swishing my tail in the empty air below the windowsill I was sitting on. “The Supernaturals have fought one too many battles and now we’re going to pay for it with some great calamity.”

“And... you don’t know what that is?” Fen asked me hesitantly. He was twisting his long fingers together incessantly as if to work out his nerves through the contortions.

I huffed, shutting my eyes and turning my snout to the sky. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be forced to go around fighting the Great Beasts, now would I?”

Fen didn’t react to my venomous tone of voice. “I see,” he murmured softly. I cracked open one eye only to narrow it again. He was reacting to me less than usual. He didn’t even seem to register what I had said about fighting the Great Beasts.

Like his entire family, Fen was under the impression that I was the type of Supernatural that needed to be protected or at least not charge into battle without a care in the world. As if I was some sort of human. But the Great Beasts should have warranted more concern than a normal battle.

While I found this habit extremely annoying, it was more worrisome that he wasn’t concerned. “Are you worried that your village Elder will find us out here?” I asked. Since we were hidden in the shade of the plum trees next to the village church while the rest of the village was inside listening to the Elder drone on about human religious nonsense, I figured Fen might have been worried about getting in trouble.

It made no sense to me why Fen would care about something like that. The sermons or whatever the Elder was reciting was more boring than watching mud dry and I had no idea why the villagers subjected themselves to that torture. Humans were strange creatures. Fen wasn’t human and thus didn’t need to act like one.

Even if he was concerned about getting caught, it was probably safer for Fen to be out here anyway.

I had felt it the moment I burned my way onto this island, the feeling in the air. Though the weather today was gorgeous, blue sky unmarred by clouds with a soft breeze to contest the heat of summer, the village was awash in darkness. Anger, fear, bloodlust, and righteous pride all infused the air around the village, coating it like a thick fog of miasma. The covering stuck to every rock, tree, and person in this entire place until I could barely stand to be in human form any longer. Even in my fox form, I could still feel my skin prickling like a thousand locusts were running underneath my flesh. Though it was marginally better. Even as it stood now, I could barely breathe through the poisonous emotions.

Fen remained oblivious to it all, his powers not yet strong enough to pick up on the true magnitude of it. Even though all the emotions were directed at him.

“No,” Fen shook his head. “The Elder’s sermons are the most boring thing I have ever had to sit through. It’s something else.” Worry and confusion swam through his gaze, contesting with each other for dominance.

I said nothing, if he didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t. Fen very rarely didn’t want to talk.

“There’s something wrong with the village today,” it all came out of him in a rush. Like the words had clawed their way out form his throat and thrust themselves into the air in desperation.

My entire body tensed like I had been stabbed and I whirled on him so fast I almost fell off the windowsill. “What did you say!?” I demanded. Fen took a step back, probably wondering why I was acting so hysterical, but I didn’t care.

Fen couldn’t have felt the miasma in the air, he just couldn't. If he had...I gulped, my throat suddenly feeling tight. If he had, then he was getting more powerful. Definitely not good.

“Everyone seems angry,” Fen said carefully. He must have been worried about the effect his words would have on me. “It always gets worse around my birthday, but this year..” he paused, searching for the right words. “This year it’s different. More malevolent than ever before.” His eyes were darting around like he was in a trap, I didn’t blame him. I would feel the same way if I were stuck in this village. “I don't get it,” he finally admitted, thrusting his hands into his hair and pacing back and forth. My tail started swishing from side to side in agitation. All of his nervous energy was starting to get to me, too.

He glanced up at me, his expression crestfallen and sad. “I’ve never done anything to them. Why do the villagers hate me so much?”

I resisted the words threatening to spill from my tongue. They don’t hate you for what you have done, they hate you for what you’re destined to do. Instead, I shook my head and met his lemon-yellow gaze with my own gold. “I’m sorry, Fen. That’s how humans are. They are cruel and selfish creatures that fear anything that has the potential to be stronger than them.” Which, admittedly, was most things. No wonder they were always so quick to persecute and hate Supernaturals. Humans were weak.

“I’m more human than most magical creatures,” Fen said sadly. “And yet they still want me gone.”

“Don’t let it get to you.” I replied. If I had gotten this worked up over every insult hurled my way, then I would have never been happy. Fen was a fool for caring so much about them. “Humans are small and insignificant. They’ll die and their memory will fade while you endure.”

Fen straightened like I had caused him pain. “So all humans are worthless to you?” he demanded, sudden anger replacing the sadness. “What about Emily? What about my father? Are you saying they are small and insignificant to you?”

I was momentarily taken aback. I was stating what was the truth and I did not understand why Fen was suddenly so angry. I blinked, then irritation swiftly overcame the confusion. I bristled, standing up on the sill. A feat only pulled off by my superior reflexes. “There will be more like them,” I snapped back at Fen. “Humans are born to die. We were born to live. That is the way of the word.”

Bells tolled above us, their deep sounds echoing through the air and through the rising thickness between the two of us. Two animals caught in a struggle in a poisoned town. The doors of the church opened and villagers streamed out into the sunshine, their voices washing over us in a drone of unidentifiable noise. Neither of us reacted.

Fen sneered, “What must it be like for you to have never loved anything other than yourself? I would rather die than live like you,” he spat the words out at me and I knew I had touched a nerve. Something that niggled at his soul and his thoughts that he tried to ignore, until my words brought all of his doubts and fears to the surface. Fen was more like me than he realized, it was just like a wild animal to strike when threatened.

He huffed, his chest rising and falling with swift motions. His hands clenched into fists at his side. Abruptly, he spun on his heel and turned his back on me, throwing more words at me as he left. “Besides, I’m not even immortal.”

Soon, his dark form was lost in the crush of villagers. I watched the crowd until they all disappeared from sight and then let out a long breath, lowering my body back down to sitting. I gazed after the remnants of Fen’s musty scent.

“Not immortal, huh?” I said aloud, a deep feeling of pity washing over me. I ruthlessly pushed it aside, hating myself for feeling that. “How did it go?” I tilted my head back as I thought. “Magic and metal will never pierce his body, death shall never cross his soul, so long as magic lives within him,” I recited from memory, then I tilted my head back down. “My foxfire burns anything it touches to ash in seconds and yet it can’t burn you. How is that not immortality, Fen Wolf?”

…

After that less-than-nice interaction with Fen, I decided that the best thing to do to get my mind off of unpleasant truths was to go annoy some humans. It truly had been too long since I indulged myself in my favorite pastime.

I contemplated the best possible place to get my kicks in as I dove through the worlds in my blur of foxfire. Then, I came to a decision. I haven't been to Britain in ages, that would be a great place to start. I flew through my fire until I found the space I was looking through and burned straight through.

I materialized on a grassy hill overlooking a large flat plain of soft green grass blowing gently in the northern wind. The trees beside me cast shade down on top of me, shielding me from the summer’s heat. The summer sun high above me in the sky shone down on the scene below me.

Shining brightly in the sunshine like well-polished mirrors, knights wearing head-to-toe metal armor hacked at one another viciously with their weapons. Blood arked through the air like melted rubies. Bodies and broken weapons littered the ground and stained the grass brown. Banners fluttered in the wind, their vibrant crests proclaiming their houses and fighters to all who witnessed them. On one side, bright red banners with a black crow insignia, on the other, a blue crest with three golden crowns in a line.

“Well, well,” I said to no-one in particular, not bothering to contain my surprise or excitement. A battle was being fought right before my eyes! That certainly was more entertaining than simply annoying some humans.

I grinned and got ready to throw myself into the fray and kill as many humans as possible when a noise from behind stopped me in my tracks. Something was whistling through the air towards me. I threw myself to the side just in time to have a pitch-black sword blade stab through the air where I was not seconds earlier.

I hit the ground and spun, sending streams of foxfire towards my assailant.

Something smashed into the foxfire in the middle and the two forces exploded outward. I dug my claws into the soft ground to stop myself from being flung away by the force of the blast.

“Impressive, as always, Sir Percival,” said a human voice. This one sounded old and scratchy, like age had taken a hard toll on the speaker. “How did you know this one was here?”

“I felt it with my abilities,” replied a second voice. This one, as opposed to the first, was young and low. Definitely a male voice, but there was a very dangerous-sounding edge to it, like the voice itself was a blade. Hard and sharp, and ready to kill. “It is powerful, we should be aware.”

The dust had been clearing the entire time and now I could finally see my attackers. One was an elderly man wearing a deep blue robe with golden thread embellishing it. His hair was pale grey and long, with a long white beard hanging from his chin. His face was wrinkled with age, though his blue eyes shone like that of a man a quarter of his age. Though what peaked my interest the most was the gnarled wooden staff he held in one hand. A magician’s staff.

So this man was a magician, a human who used magical objects to channel magic. This meant that the user themselves had no magical ability, as opposed to sorcerers or warlocks, who were born with their powers. I knew humans liked to pretend they had power, but magicians were just sad. They spent all their lives training and studying to get even a fraction of the power I had had from birth.

He wouldn’t be any threat to me.

His younger companion, however, might be a different story. The other man wore a dark blue leather knight’s outfit with spikey black shoulder plates, breastplate, gauntlets, and boots. It was an outfit that provided more movement than protection, which meant that this guy didn’t care about getting hurt. His hair was jet-black and short, barely passing his forehead. His eyes were even darker than that, they were so dark I couldn’t tell pupil from iris.

Though what concerned me the most about this guy wasn’t the murderous look in his black eyes, nor the determined twist of his lips, or his lack of real protective armor. No, the real concern was the two black swords he was holding in each hand. He was a dual-wielder. I hated dual-wielders, they were always such a pain.

Still, though, they were both human and I was still immortal. How much damage could they even do to me? I would fight them, win, and then go after their comrades. That was sure to be amusing for me.

“What is this beast, Sir Percival?” asked the magician. “I have never seen a fox that color before. It must be an impressive creature. "

“I do not know,” Percival, the dark knight, replied. He was watching me warily, he must have realized I was more dangerous than I looked.

‘It?’ I thought with a rush of anger. What kind of stupid, irritating human was this guy!? I wasn’t an ‘it’. I was Valarian of the Foxes. I gritted my teeth and transformed into a human in a sudden burst of fire.

I relished the looks of shock plastered across both of their faces at my sudden change in form. “My name,” I said, my teeth exposed in a not-quite-a-grin. “Is Valarian.”

And then, I lunged at them, my hands full of fire and claws.