by Demi Harper
Unthinkingly, Benin activated Arcane Sight.
Hamadryad
A venomous hybrid of the rattlesnake and king cobra species.
Primary element: earth (poison)
Primary class: reptile
His shoulders slumped in relief at seeing the information overlaid onto his vision, along with the acid-green aura now surrounding the hamadryad. For some reason, Arcane Sight hadn’t worked on any of the bizarre creatures they’d encountered while hunting Cores underground, and he’d been beginning to worry the ability was somehow broken.
Or worse, that he was broken. As a single-element sorcerer, and a pyromancer at that—the rarest kind, yet also the most often mocked for their typically short mortality rates—the others already made him the subject of their ridicule most of the time. How much worse would it have gotten if he could no longer even identify familiars?
Nearly all his peers had their own familiar; had gotten theirs years ago, in fact. The thought of them all as bright-eyed young apprentices queuing up with their family’s gold in their hands to buy their licenses made him sick. Mostly with envy—not that he’d admit that to anyone.
He’d dealt with that particular disadvantage the same way he dealt with every other: with a sneer on his face and a shrug of his shoulders. The best kind of armor, on the outside anyway. Most of his classmates believed he genuinely didn’t care about being the odd one out, that not having a magical animal companion was a choice rather than a cruel twist of fate. As if anyone in their right mind would choose not to have one.
The only way Benin would ever afford a license was via sponsorship from one of the Guild’s high mages. But given his most recent predecessors’ track record of early, conflagration-related deaths, nobody wanted to patronize a pyro—or ‘hothead’, as they were commonly known. It would literally be like burning money.
And so Benin was now forced to resort to desperate measures.
He scowled at the snake. It scowled back, an impressive feat for a face without eyebrows. Belatedly, he realized that instead of metal bars or wire mesh, the walls of the serpent’s enclosure were made of thick glass. As the creature’s head rose to eye-level, Benin found out why.
With a lightning-quick movement he’d have missed if he blinked, the snake jerked its head and spat. A wad of thick clear-white substance splattered against the transparent surface. It was probably venom. He hoped it was venom, and not just that the snake was pleased to see him. Either way, he was glad for the protective glass barrier that separated them.
Behind him, Coll flinched backward.
“—ing cobra!” he cursed.
Benin was impressed the warrior had recognized one of the creature’s component species. “How did you know?”
“What?”
Benin rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe not.
Coll gave the hamadryad’s tank a comically wide berth, then asked, “So what kind of animal are we looking for? Owl? Cat? Toad?”
“Haven’t spent much time around mages before, have you?”
“Well, no. Just you, actually, but my dad once told me a story about a wizard who…”
Benin shook his head and tuned him out, focusing instead on examining the next exotic caged creature: an antlion, which was an impractical hybrid if ever he’d seen one.
As he moved on to the next enclosure, Coll’s voice filtered back into his awareness.
“—kind of animal are we looking for, then? You never answered me.”
I’m not sure. I have no idea how any of this works. I think… I think I’ll know it when I see it?
Benin replied, “Something unique. Not a cat, or an owl, or a gods-damned toad. I won’t know until I see it, but it will definitely be something you’ve never seen before.”
“So, not all that familiar after all?”
Coll waited, mouth open in an expectant grin, and it was all Benin could do not to smack him. Why did I bring this utter fool along again?
“This. Is. Serious,” he managed to say without shouting. “All the high mages agree that the best kind of familiar is one with a primary element that complements its owner’s.”
“Complimentary… you want something that tells you how great you look in those robes? Because I can do that. Ben, you look great in those robes.”
Benin ignored him as he scanned the cages, occasionally glancing back at the dark doorway to make sure their presence had not been discovered. “The hamadryad would work,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Its earth-based abilities would complement my fire nicely without opposing it, and the poison could have interesting possibilities. But… it’s a dirty great snake. Who wants a dirty great snake around them all the time?”
“You know, that’s exactly what my last girlfriend said to me the first time she saw me without pants.”
“Yeah, no snake. If I could find a different earth-based creature, though, maybe…”
Coll sighed heavily. “Trying to make you laugh is like trying to get blood from a stone. Or milk from a minotaur, as my dad used to say.”
Benin rolled his eyes so hard he swore he glimpsed brain. No way he could let that one go by without comment. “Except minotaurs are all male. And males don’t lactate, do they, Coll?”
“I think that’s kind of the point? I dunno though. I’m no beastiologist.”
“That’s… not a thing.”
He frowned. “Is too. It’s what Tiri is.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is!”
“Nope.”
“All right, what is she, then?”
Benin sighed and looked up from his inspection of what looked like an electric mouse to give Coll a withering stare. “Tiri is a…”
Ah. What is it again? Something about crypts. And insects.
“She’s a crypt… a crypt… ugh…”
“Oh yeah! A crypty-antologist.”
“Something like that.”
Benin shook his head, tuning out Coll’s latest inane muttering about undead bugs and zombie spiders and returning to his assessment of potential familiars. He discounted the yellow mouse-thing crackling with lightning—Benin’s own element, fire, was quite volatile enough, though there was no denying he and the electric mouse would make a formidable team—and moved on to the next row of enclosures.
He bypassed several more mildly interesting yet wildly impractical possibilities, including a massive segmented worm with rock-like flesh, a turquoise turtle with what looked like an enormous onion bulb on its back in place of a shell, and a tank containing what was apparently nothing more than a regular carp which Arcane Sight explained would be ineffective if removed from water.
He was beginning to lose hope of ever finding the perfect familiar—until an orange flicker in the far corner caught his eye, and Benin found himself staring in wonder at one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever laid eyes on.
The little animal was curled up asleep in a corner, its nose tucked beneath a bushy tail that covered most of its body in a softly glowing blanket of deep red-lit fur. Benin couldn’t stifle a gasp at the sight of that tail; the fur was shifting, slowly and gently, but not like fur in a breeze; rather, like slowly flowing magma. There were patches that alternated between darkening and glowing so seamlessly it was as if he were watching the embers of a campfire waiting to be stoked.
This tiny beast was about as perfect a thing as he’d ever seen.
“Ben?” Coll sounded nervous. “Ben, you’re making grabby hands. Why are you making grabby hands?”
At the big man’s overly loud voice, the fiery fox’s pointy ears twitched and its eyes blinked slowly open.
Benin’s older brother used to joke that his sibling’s first words were, “Burn it with fire.” While this probably wasn’t true, he did have a natural affinity for that finest of elements, and as a pyromancer he found himself drawn to it like the proverbial moth. Even had this not been the case, though, he would still have been mesmerized by the thing before him.
Sleep
y sunset-orange eyes assessed him from across the enclosure. For a long moment they just stared, set to glowing by the reflected light of the tail they were peering over. Then the tail unfurled, revealing it to actually be three tails, joined together at the base like the curling prongs of a wrought iron fence. The creature stood, yawned, stretched, and then padded delicately over to him.
Entranced, Benin inched closer to the bars, easing himself down into a crouch so he could admire it more closely.
The more the creature shook off its sleepiness, the brighter its trio of tails glowed, until the deep red embers began to flicker more brightly. Orange flames licked along the tails, crackling softly. As it approached, its glowing aura illuminated the sign attached to the front of the cage.
Emberfox
Endangered and dangerous.
NOT FOR REASSIGNMENT.
(Element: fire)
Benin didn’t need the sign, or Arcane Sight, or even regular sight, to see that last part. Even if he’d been as blind as an elderly blesmol, the heat radiating from the emberfox was akin to that of a clay oven, and it smelled like… well, he couldn’t quite put it into words other than it smelled like warmth. He reached a hand toward it.
“Ben?” Coll stomped closer. “I think I just heard—”
“This is the one,” Benin whispered, his gaze locked on the emberfox’s. The creature was sitting down again, barely three feet away, tails curling neatly around its feet. It tipped its head to one side, as if it were waiting.
Waiting for him.
His fingertips were just inches from its coal-smudge nose. It sniffed the air, tensing, and Benin froze too, not wanting to alarm it. Not wanting to be any further away from it than he already was. Ever again.
“Ben—”
“Shhh!”
But it was too late. Perhaps responding to the note of urgency in Coll’s voice, the emberfox flinched and started to back away, flaming hackles now burning a dangerous yellow-orange.
“Inside voices, Coll!”
“Sorry!” he shouted, hands raised. “But I definitely heard something from outside. We should go. Now.”
To the right, a massive enclosure rattled as something huge moved within. In the rising light from the emberfox’s fur, Benin saw a hulking shape throw itself against the bars again.
More noise was beginning to come from other directions. Disgruntled growls, rattling cages, angry yowls—all around were the rising sounds of discontent and fury. The Menagerie was waking up.
And now there were voices coming from outside, accompanied by the light of alchemical globes.
Guards. Shit.
Five
Thank You, Electric Mouse
Benin
Benin fumbled with the lock on the emberfox’s cage. It was seemingly just a regular old-fashioned padlock, so he clutched it in one fist and activated Molten Palm.
Nothing happened.
He did it again. The heat emanating from his hand was such that the metal should have glowed red and then white before melting away entirely with a molten sizzle.
The padlock didn't even glow.
Benin cursed. Of course a cage containing a fire elemental would be constructed from heat-proof metal.
He cut off the flow of mana to his hand, ending the ability, and began to look around instead for something with which to pick the lock. Where's Tiri when you need her? That woman was uncannily adept with a hairpin. Probably from a lifetime of breaking into libraries after hours.
Behind him, Coll was hopping from foot to foot like a cat on a barbecue, both hands gripping the haft of his hammer. Benin had forbidden him from bringing his shield for fear it would impede the man's already abysmal stealth, but the warrior had refused point-blank to part with his hammer. "Hurry, Ben! Hurry!"
Benin stood straight and rounded on him. "Never, in the entire history of tense situations, has saying 'Hurry!' ever helped the person trying to hurry to actually hurry. Do something useful for a change!"
Coll glanced between the lock and Benin. "Stand aside."
He did, but not without rolling his eyes. "Not every problem is a nail, Coll. A hammer can't solve everything. The lock is heat-proof; it's probably barbarian-proof as well—"
The head of the hammer smashed into the padlock, breaking it into pieces which fell to the floor with a satisfying clatter. The emberfox whined, cringing away from the noise.
Outside in the hallway, the approaching voices rose in confusion and annoyance. Benin heard running footsteps, then a shout as one of the guards caught sight of the open door.
The emberfox had heard the shout too. It had stopped whimpering and was now glaring towards the door, teeth bared, a growl rising deep in its throat. Benin glanced in that direction too. He instantly regretted doing so. He had to squeeze his eyes shut against the near-blinding auras of all the creatures he'd examined with Arcane Sight.
What had before been relatively faint colored auras were now a blazing rainbow that shone with the strength of the creatures' emotions and the flaring of their abilities. Benin was forced to half-close his inner eye so as to still be able to see anything else.
When he looked again, two armored figures had appeared in the doorway. One carried a short sword held out in front of them. The other held an alchemical globe, its eerie white light an unnatural contrast to the vibrant auras of the caged creatures.
The figures immediately split up and began to prowl the aisles in search of intruders.
Benin swung the cage door open. He crouched once more, reaching out a hand toward the emberfox. "Come on, beautiful," he whispered. "We have to leave. Now."
He almost pulled his hand away when the creature turned its attention back to him. Its teeth—small and sharp like little pearl triangles—were still bared, and it was still growling softly. The waves of warning heat emanating from its fur would have been unbearable for Benin to tolerate, were he not a pyromancer.
Fire is in my blood, as it is yours, little one. We're meant to be together, you and I. Come.
He willed it to come closer. Looking past its snarling heat, he saw its pupils were wide with fear, and it broke his heart a little to see it in such an animal.
"Whatever they've done to you, it will never happen again," he swore. "I'll protect you with my life." He felt a little embarrassed saying it out loud, but as he spoke the words, he knew them to be true. He would do anything for this creature.
The emberfox did not retreat from the passion in his voice. Its eyes met his, and for a moment he could see nothing but those burning coals. His eyes began to heat up in response. When the heat grew nearly intolerable and he was sure his eyes were about to melt, it mellowed and moved down to his chest, filling it with the luxurious warmth of a hearth fire on a winter morning.
It expanded and grew hotter, rolling and spreading to his stomach, his loins, along to his fingertips, then all the way back up to his head, where it pooled in his eyes once more before releasing across their invisible connection and back into the emberfox.
The next thing he knew he was on the ground, gasping. Tears streamed down his face from the power of his connection with the emberfox, and more fell from his closed eyes when he felt the sudden cold emptiness of that connection's absence. He groaned. What happened?
A gentle weight on his arm made him open his eyes.
He was lying on his back in front of the open cage door. The emberfox had one foot on his arm, testing its firmness. Apparently satisfied, it proceeded to climb on to Benin's chest, treading over him casually as though he were nothing more than a human stepping stone to freedom.
It stopped beside Coll, who was peering around a nearby row of enclosures. The warrior looked down. The emberfox raised its chin in greeting. Coll gave it a nod in response, then addressed Benin.
"There are two of them. I could easily take them—"
"No!" Wiping his face, Benin climbed to his feet and hurried over. In the next aisle, one of the guards—the one with the short sword—flinched back
from a sudden burst of sparks in a nearby enclosure. She cursed and rubbed her eyes.
Goodbye, night vision. Thank you, electric mouse.
"We need to get out of here without being seen," he whispered to Coll. "The Guildmaster can't know we came back."
He frowned. "What's the big deal?"
"Oh, come on! How many times must we go over this? The Guildmaster will punish us for disobeying his last orders. He might even have us killed. Or worse, exiled from the Guild."
"But aren't we basically exiling ourselves by staying away?"
"For now, yes. He can't officially banish us if we're not there for him to do it, can he?" Benin tapped the side of his head. "Think."
Two more guards appeared in the doorway. After calling out to the others, one of the newcomers made their way down the central aisle. The other remained to guard the doorway.
Shit.
Distracted by the new arrivals, Benin almost didn't see the guard closest to them preparing to round the next aisle. At a gesture from Coll, they bent over a little and tiptoed around the corner of the cages. The emberfox followed at their feet, its flames barely visible, as though it somehow understood the need for stealth. Benin longed to touch its glorious fur, ached to reclaim that bond they'd shared for a fraction of an instant, but he was afraid he'd drive the creature away. Besides, now wasn't exactly a good moment for him to risk passing out again.
"I know you're in here somewhere," the guard muttered. She sounded as nervous as Benin felt. The butterflies in his own stomach felt ready to burst out in the form of vomit; he hated this sort of sneaking around.
But desperate times called for desperate measures. If he was to become a high mage regardless of his standing with the Guild, he needed a familiar. And any sympathy he might have felt toward the nervous guard—who was just doing her job, after all—vanished when he recalled the terror in the emberfox's eyes at the sentries' approach.