Of Mice & Magic: Book 1 Ravenspell

Chapter 6: Nightwing (part 2)

"So you intend to go through with it?" Vervane asked Amber. "You're going to risk a trip to the pet shop with this human?"
"Yes," Amber said.

"Can you really trust him?" Vervane asked in a low, secretive voice. "I mean, he is a human. What do we know about them?"

"Not much," Amber admitted.

"He did save me," Bushmaster reminded them. "I think he's a good human."

"How do we know if there even is such a thing as a good human?" Amber objected.

"Look at him," Vervane whispered. "There's not a hint that he ever was human. What he once was and what he shall become are two different things. He's a handsome mouse now. Princely, even, I'd say."

Amber agreed. "Wonderfully, terribly handsome."

"I wonder," Vervane asked. "Did you make him handsome, or was he already handsome as a human?"

"I don't know," Amber replied. "Humans all look ugly to me, with all of their bald skin. I didn't think much of him, especially when he kissed me."

"He kissed you?" Vervane asked.

"Yeah," Amber said. "And when he did, I looked up his nose. It was spooky up there."

Vervane chuckled, an old man kind of chuckle.

Amber laughed too, more of a school girl titter.

There was a scuffling sound as Ben rolled over.

Amber glanced at Ben, wondering if perhaps he'd been awake, listening to them talk about him. But he breathed evenly, and he looked as if he were asleep.

"Still," Vervane grumbled, "my heart warns that you should be careful with Ben."

"Oh, I'll be careful," Amber replied. "If he tries to bite me or tries to run away, I'll just zap him!"

"Magical powers may keep him under control," Vervane said, "but they require vigilance. In time, you'll wear yourself out trying to force him. But there is a greater power at your command . . ."

"What?" Amber asked.

Bushmaster had been listening quietly, but he swiftly interjected, as if the answer were obvious, "Friendship."

"Friendship," Vervane agreed, had reached the conclusion so swiftly. "You want to make him your slave, and I'm sure that he will march with you for as long as you force him, but a friend would walk with you eagerly, no matter how dark the path becomes."

"I don't think he likes me much, "So how do I make him a friend?"

"You do not make friends," Vervane said. "You can't force someone into it. Instead, you must give friendship, as the singing voles do."

"The singing voles?" Amber asked.

"They live far to the north," Vervane said, "and I have never met them, though their fame has spread wide. The singing voles live in huge cities where dozens of burrows are connected by underground tunnels.

"Sometimes, when a wolf attacks, it will try to dig through the tunnels. And that's when the voles band together to protect one another."

"How?" Amber asked.

"They sing," Bushmaster said.

"Sing?"

"Yes," Vervane offered. "They sing. While the wolf digs into one burrow, a vole will go to the mouth of another and begin to sing in a warbling voice, until the wolf chases after him. Thus, he risks his life for his kin. He offers everything he is or hopes to be. And when the wolf gives chase, the singing vole dives back into his burrow, while another on the far side of the colony goes out and takes up the song. Eventually, the wolf tires and wanders away, searching for easier prey—like a moose or a bear."

Amber fell silent.

Bushmaster said, "Those who offer their lives to their friends are called the Givvin. It's a great honor to be so named."

"I'm not giving that poopy human anything," Amber said. "Not after what his kind did to and friends."

#

From his vantage point, Nightwing considered. He could attack Amber now. She was ignorant of the ways of magic, and that gave him an advantage. But she was also very powerful. One false move and he could end up squashed like a mosquito on the windshield of a truck.

No, he saw something more to his liking: Ben. He wanted Ben. The human boy was filled with magic power, a vast ocean of it, just waiting for Nightwing to drain it.

But in order to get that power, he would have to break the umbilicus magicus, the magical connection that allowed a flow of power between Amber and Ben. Normally, he'd just have killed the wizardess in order to steal her familiar.

But Nightwing saw a safer way to handle this, a way to steal Ben away without risking his own life.

Still, I'll need help, he decided. He cast a small spell that silently sent a message to a fellow wizard, one who lived far way, near Shrew Hill. "Meet me near the freeway an hour past dawn."

Distantly, the reply came, "Yea, master, I do thy bidding."

Nightwing glanced up at the moon, and it filled him with longing. He whispered, "Ah, sabulous pearl that graces the night, the huntress Diana in her flight . . ."

In an effort to learn the distance to the moon, he let out a shriek in such a high pitch that even dogs couldn't hear, then counted the seconds. But no echo returned. The huntress Diana remained ever mute to his call.

He saw a possum struggle over a fence into someone's backyard and tiptoe to a bowl of dog food while its owner snored and twitched in slumber.

Darwin the tick was asleep, sucking blood like a babe with a bottle in its mouth. One of Nightwing's veins collapsed, and Darwin began making loud sucking sounds, as if he were drawing air through a straw. The noise startled the tick from his slumber. He pulled out his proboscis. "Hey," he said, "you're a pint low! Why don't you go catch a mosquito? I could suck the blood out of it before you gobble it down."

"Because, you gore-bellied bloat," Nightwing said, "the chill night air is as void of insects as your heart is of kindness or your head is of reason."

"Why do you always insult me?" Darwin asked. "Aren't we friends?"

Nightwing shot back, "In this world, there are only two types of creatures: victims and accomplices. Be grateful, Darwin, that you are my accomplice—for now."

Grudgingly, Darwin jabbed his proboscis back into the bat, his mandibles digging in almost to Nightwing's spleen. Angered at the jab, Nightwing grabbed the tick's bloated belly and gave it a squeeze. The tick's belly was like the bulb on an eye-dropper. As soon as Nightwing pinched, the blood in the tick's gut squirted back into Nightwing's veins. Immediately Nightwing felt a boost of energy.

Darwin pulled out and whined, "Hey, give that back!"

"You wanted more to drink," Nightwing said, "so drink up. It's on me—or in me, to be more accurate." He gave a simpering laugh, and wrapped his wings around himself to conserve heat.

Dawn was coming. Nightwing hoped that Amber or Ben would show themselves before sunrise. Though he wasn't a vampire, Nightwing still feared the touch of sunlight. It made him feel vulnerable, naked somehow, and he dared not challenge a strange sorcerer beneath the sun's baleful gaze.