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As the years passed, Damion began to grow increasingly lonely. He rarely had any time to himself away from his training and studies, and began to grow noticeably unhappy. The only time he wasn't lonely or depressed was when his father came to the valley to visit.
Lord Michael traveled to the valley frequently to spend time with his growing son. They would usually spend most of their time wandering together through the orchard, discussing everything he had learned since his father's last visit.
Lord Michael was very proud of this son. By Damion's seventh birthday, he stood eye to eye with his father, and was incredibly strong. The long hours of training with Sly had hardened his muscles and quickened his reflexes, and he never failed to impress his father with his ever-growing skills in combat and magic. The feats that his only son was capable of performing were completely mind boggling, and Damion enjoyed the fact that his father took such a great interest in his growing powers.
But the visits were always short, and Lord Michael would have to return to his responsibilities at the castle. Damion would return to his training and studies, and the loneliness would slowly return. He would often find himself wishing there was someone he could confide in, someone he could talk to, and share his thoughts and fears. He liked his teacher and trainer, and loved his Aunt Skie very much, but he could not bring himself to discuss his innermost feelings with adults. He needed someone who could relate to what he was feeling. He needed his own private friend.
Lady Skie and Damarius noticed the gradual change in Damion's attitude, going from an energetic child, eager to learn and explore the world around him, to a sullen, depressed child that was drawing farther and farther away from his loved ones.
Finally, Lady Skie decided they had pushed the young boy far enough and he needed more time to himself to relax. From then on, Damion had a lot more time away from his studies and training to do as he pleased. This seemed to relieve his loneliness somewhat. He enjoyed being outdoors, and spent most of his time exploring the valley, or fishing at the stream. But after a while, his loneliness returned, and he would once again find himself wishing for a friend.
Then, not long after Damion's ninth birthday, he had an unexpected visitor. He had climbed up to the secret hollow hidden away in the vast canopy of the enormous willow tree, and was lounging on a pile of blankets and cushions that he had smuggled from the linen closet in the cottage. He had been spending a great deal of time in his hollow, gazing out over the valley at the deer grazing near the edge of the clearing, or watching the bright colorful songbirds that swooped through the treetops as he dreamed of the world outside of the valley. His loneliness seemed to ease somewhat when he was hidden away in his secret hollow, and he began to spend almost all his time there, hoping to make the pain he felt more bearable.
He had been trying to read a book that Lady Skie had given him on the history of the elves, but he just couldn’t seem to keep his mind on the task at hand. He finally tossed the book aside in disgust, then sat back against the smooth wall of the hollow rubbing his eyes. It seemed very difficult to keep his mind on anything as of late. The moodiness he felt only seemed to be growing with time, and now dominated his thoughts.
He had spent most of the day toiling in the garden with Damarius while the old man tried unsuccessfully to draw him into a conversation about what was bothering him, but Damion only shrugged his question away, claiming he was fine.
Sly had left the valley several days before for supplies, leaving Damion with a great deal of free time to himself. He had spent most of the time hidden away, not wanting to have to face Lady Skie or Damarius, who seemed to watch his every move with worried expressions. He was beginning to grow very frustrated, and that frustration seemed to almost suffocate him. He desperately wished he had someone he could talk with, and trust with all his worries and secrets.
Without really knowing why, he drew in his magic, feeling the familiar energy gather about his body, tingling throughout every fiber of his being. Gazing out of the opening of the hollow at the darkening sky, he released his will as a silent cry, pouring all his loneliness and heartache into the silent plea, sharing it with the universe. He fell back into the cushions, drained of all his energy, but still feeling frustrated.
Suddenly, there was a flutter of feathers at the entrance of the hollow. Looking up, he was surprised to see a large owl staring back at him with bright golden eyes. Its feathers were as white as snow, and its great unblinking eyes belied a keen intelligence as it stared back. Its strong gripping talons were long and razor-sharp, and it seemed peculiarly calm despite his presence. It cocked its head back and forth, almost as if it were studying him, then it glided over to land silently on a large pillow that Damion had pilfered from the cottage.
“Well, hello, my feathered friend.” He said, surprised by the bird’s boldness. “Where did you come from?”
“You summoned me.” Came the response, more in his head than spoken aloud.
Damion's jaw dropped open in surprise. He looked around suspiciously, then rose to his feet and looked outside the entrance of the hollow. There was no one to be seen. He slowly returned to his seat, staring at the large owl in confusion.
The huge owl ruffled its feathers in irritation. “Who are you looking for?” It watched Damion intently, its head cocked questioningly.
“You can talk? B-But you're just a bird!” He stared at the owl in astonishment.
“I am not just a bird!” The owl squawked indignantly. It lifted its head high and puffed out its chest proudly. “I am a great snow owl. I am the largest, most graceful owl ever to fly these mountains.” It cocked its head again, gazing at Damion with great unblinking eyes. “Surely you can recognize this. Perhaps you are not as intelligent as I first thought.”
Damion shook off his surprise. “How is this possible? How are you able to talk?”
The owl ruffled its feathers irritably. “I am able to speak to you because you summoned me here. Only you are able to hear me.” It calmly began to preen its feathers. “You may as well get used to me. I am going to be around for a long time.”
“What do you mean, I summoned you?” He asked, still unable to believe what was happening.
“I heard your call. I heard the loneliness and sadness in your cry. I have also been longing for companionship since I lost my mate, so I chose to answer your call.”
“But that doesn't explain how you can talk.” He felt as though he were dreaming. “And why can't you talk to anyone else?”
The huge owl stretched its wings, the tips of each brushing the walls on either side of the large hollow. “When I answered your call, a link was formed between us. Our minds are now intertwined in a way that can never be broken. I can hear your thoughts, and you can hear mine.” It paused for a moment to rearrange several feathers, then continued. “By my answering your call, you and I have now become bonded for life.”
Damion took several long moments to absorb this, then slowly moved a little closer. “Well, what should I call you? If you're going to be around for a while, then you will need a name.”
“I have never needed a name before.” The owl chirped. “But if you must, you may call me ‘Most Magnificent One, King of the Mountain Skies.” It lifted its head and fluffed its feathers impressively.
Damion laughed, amused at the owl's vanity “How about I just call you Snowfeather?”
The owl returned to preening its feathers. “If you insist. Tell me, how is it one so young has such an unusually powerful aura?”
He shrugged. “I can use magic, but I usually only use it when practicing with my teacher, Damarius. He says he has never seen anyone with powers like mine.” He frowned. “I really wish I was just a normal kid though. I don’t have any friends, and I had to come to this valley so I would not hurt anyone with my magic. And I only get to see my father when he is able to come and visit. I love my Aunt Skie, and Damarius and Sly, but I just can't talk to them. I don't know what to do!”
All his worries and fears seemed to pour out of him in a vast flood. He moved a little closer, and reached out a tentative hand. “You have beautiful feathers. May I feel them?”
Snowfeather fluffed his feathers at the compliment, then hopped closer so Damion could stroke his neck.
“So…. Were you forced to come here against your will? I mean, did… did my magic compel you to answer my call?” Damion didn't like the idea of enslaving an animal against its will.
“I was not forced to answer your call. I chose to answer it.”
Damion was completely confused. “But why would you answer my call? Why bond yourself to me for the rest of your life?”
“I felt your loneliness. Ever since my mate was killed by an eagle, I have been alone. When a snow owl takes a mate, we take them for life. I lost my beautiful mate, so now I am alone in the world.”
“Why did the eagle attack her?” Damion asked, feeling a pang of sorrow for the great bird’s loss.
“Snow owls and eagles are mortal enemies.” The huge bird replied with a chirp. “Many of my kind have lost their lives to those scavengers.”
Damion suddenly understood. “So you chose to come to me instead of living the rest of your life alone.”
Snowfeather glanced around the hollow. “This is an adequate den. You have good taste, for a human. But you will need to provide me with a perch. I can't just hop around down here all the time. It’s beneath me.” It fluffed its feathers importantly. "And try to limit the amount of light in here. In case you didn't know, owls are nocturnal. Too much light irritates my eyes.”
This statement brought Damion back to the present. He hadn't thought of what Aunt Skie or Damarius would say about Snowfeather's sudden appearance. “Oh no! What am I going to tell Aunt Skie? She hates surprises!” He glanced at the large owl. “And this is definitely going to be a surprise.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I had better tell Damarius first. He will know what to tell her.”
He climbed out of the hollow's opening, and scampered down the great willow's trunk to the ground below, then paused momentarily as Snowfeather glided down to land softly on his shoulder. He quietly entered the cottage, avoiding the kitchen where his aunt was surely preparing dinner, and quickly made his way to Damarius's study upstairs, pausing only a moment to knock politely. “May I come in?” He asked, opening the door a crack.
The old wizard waved him in, looking up from the book he was reading. He looked at Snowfeather for a moment, then to Damion, his face unreadable. Finally, he said. “Is there something you would like to tell me?”
Damion shifted uncomfortably. “Well... I kind of... well...” He shifted again, not knowing how to explain.
Damarius suddenly smiled and nodded knowingly. “Don’t worry, young one. I heard your call. I know what happened.”
Damion was horrified. “You heard?” He hadn't meant to announce his worries to everyone.
The old man laughed. “You seem to forget the fact that you are not the only sorcerer here.” He glanced at Snowfeather. “And this owl answered your call?”
Damion looked stunned. “You know?”
Damarius laughed again. “Of course. I did the same thing when I was young.” He smiled sadly, and his eyes grew distant. “He was a ferret named Peliklies. He was my best friend for many years. But old age finally caught up with him, and he passed on. I still miss him, even after these many years.” He looked back to Damion. “Your feathered friend is what is referred to as a familiar. He is bonded with you, mind and spirit, until death.”
Damion relaxed somewhat. “Then I’m not in any trouble?”
The old wizard shook his head. “Of course not. You have done nothing wrong,” He glanced at Snowfeather once more. “Although it may be a little difficult explaining this to Skie. She hates birds.” The large owl squawked indignantly at this, and he laughed. “No offense, my feathered friend.” He rose to his feet, and sighed deeply. “Well, I guess we had better go get this over with.” He said with a resigned expression. “I hope our dinner is already finished. I don’t want to have to cook it myself if she runs screaming from the cottage.”
Omensent: Birth of a Dragon Lord Page 12