The Magic Mirror

Into The Lair

"COME IN!" Graves said irritably. Naros pushed open the door to his master's chambers and dragged the girl in with him. Her head was dropped and her limbs slack. The human hadn't recovered from the ride yet. It was for the better. Usually- when they recovered- the humans screamed. Naros hated it when they screamed.

"What is this?" asked Graves, his voice rife with disappointment.

"One of the two," Naros told him. "The knight wanted this one to run- I think she knows something."

The sorcerer raised a prudent brow and bent down to the girl to lift her face by the chin. The girl's eyes rolled back in a semi-conscious stupor and her head fell heavily back to her chest as Graves released her.

"...so it is," he murmered.

Naros ruffled his feathers as the room seemed to shudder. The raw power of a sorcerer so great as Graves could shake the very foundation of air and the strength of it often depended on the mood of its maker. When ever the lair shook it was safe to assume that Graves was not pleased.

"Master," Naros continued. He was trying his best to diffuse the situation. "I will be off to fetch the next immediately-"

The room gave a terrible jolt and from the door beyond the master's back there came a terrible, feral yell.

"Naros..." said Graves in an unpleasantly low and dangerous sort of voice. "How many days has it been since I asked for this capture?"

"...a few.." Naros suggested. He hated that all answers to human questions were expected to come with numbers. They were always counting sums on their fingers and toes, making sure they hadn't been short changed or hadn't missed a day of the week. As for Naros he didn't have the fingers to count on in the first place- which was how he liked it- and so he could only answer with a vague and uninspiring 'few'.

"So naturally I expected this-" Grave grabbed the girl by the back of her tunic and pulled her up as if she were a hunter's catch. "...a few days ago!"

"There were some difficulties-" Naros began to explain quickly. "-they are a tricky two-"

Naros puffed to the side as a spark flew from Graves' hand. That little hot ember alone was what usually happened to birds around here that didn't do well. If it hit the bird would go up in flames instantly and be disintegrated into dust in mere moments. The only reason Naros wasn't dead right now is that he had seen it done so many times he could anticipate it well before it struck.

"Wretched creature!" Graves declared. "You ought to have died with Haviers! The two of you never did me a bit of good!"

Before Naros could think better of it he said, "With out us you would be nothing!"

It was a stupid and intolerable thing for a bird to say. The sorcerer's hand shot out and grabbed Naros by the throat. In this circumstance Naros would have normally swooped out of the hold in a cloud but the rules were quite different once Graves had him. He was bound to Graves by magic, after all, whether he liked it or not he was at the mercy of his master by ancient laws. If Graves so pleased his end was near. But something in Naros's words must have rang true, for Graves released him with a tired sigh.

"Go." His master turned away. "Tell Hazzlefrad to get me the mirror."

Naros left his master's chambers obediently and demurely as the best lackeys were meant to but inside his mind there was reeling storm of confliction. He whisked himself down the obsidian halls, wings dragging behind him while drips of water slipped off of the dank, stone ceiling and followed him with their echoes.

"...without us.." he muttered to himself. The idea had some life to it. "..with out us, indeed. He wouldn't be a thing with out the birds.. running around at his every whim, meeting every demand... and poor Haviers... it came at such a price to you... and with so little thanks."