Redhawk
Always and never changing
Well, the first book is "finished" and with an editor now, for some more hard edged grooming...before I attempt to sent it out! My unending thanks to Chrispenycate for his time and accuracy! And everyone else who added their thoughts! I thought I might post the first half of Chapter 1 of Book 2. All comments welcome and greatly appreciated.
The flickering light from the candles barely offered enough of a glow to make out the vague, mostly transparent, form of the child that almost appeared to sit on the stool next to Henri Brook’s tall worktable. The Mage fed a bit more of the stored energies, which had originally belonged to the waif, back to him slowly, carefully, but steadily. The boy’s form wavered slightly and then seemed to become more than it had been, almost stable! Not that you could really tell for sure that his hair had been the color of corn silk nor that his eyes had once held the pale blue of the sky at early dawn. More it was a hint of his prior form, that he had worn and been when he lived his grubby life, mostly alone, on the streets in the worst part of Cooperstown.
Brooks was not a demonstrative man, quite the contrary. He had practiced for most of his adult life appearing to be concerned not the least little bit over what anyone around him thought, said or did. The exception was with his Lord and Master, Masci Hathaway, with whom it was best to attempt a balance between arrogance, compliance and complete humility; a poor and challenging combination to blend, but one that had served Henri’s needs to survive his employment for over 17 years. Now, seeing and more, sensing, the flickering hint of what the child had once been, as he remembered himself to be, caused a sudden burning in Henri’s eyes. To his shock and dismay, a single tear from each eye rolled free and down his cheek to drop upon the always clean stone floor.
The Mage swallowed back the cry that had threatened to give voice to his dismay, both at his own reaction and that which prompted him to feel anything at all. This was tricky work, for the child though dead, could still function for his master’s purpose; and that would serve Henri’s purpose as well. To find that wretched girl for Hathaway was all Henri Brooks allowed himself to focus upon.
He had certainly failed to locate her again. Nor had his lower assistants managed to come up with even a thread of her to follow where she must now hide. All that he knew was that she was not dead; and that, unfortunately, had not served to placate Hathaway even a little bit. In fact, after two months of relentless seeking by every possible means both Arcane and physical, the vengeful Lord had not only murdered a number of lightskirts from the same part of town this child had been taken from, but had finally snapped and killed one of Henri’s best assistants!
The lad had been damned good at what he did, with potential to learn and do more. Henri supposed that it might have been in his best interests, for the long run of years to come, to have quit with that oh so likely young mage. However, he did not plan to be present or employed by Masci Hathaway for any longer than he must. He would have been pleased to have had that young man step right in, if desired by the youth and Hathaway, while he stepped once and for all out.
The spirit of the dead child flickered again and Brooks shook himself, took a deep breath and finished feeding the power essence back into its former home. He chanted softly, so as not to scare him this time…binding the energies to hold fast. The boy’s face took on a look of surprise as his spirit energy settled within him, remembering who he was and almost, the horror of his untimely death at the hands of an enraged and lunatic Hathaway. The Mage put a quick stop to that memory, another tear rolling down the side of his nose, replacing it with one of servitude, tapping what should have been a child’s normal curious nature at this age, had this child have had the energy and time to ever be a normal boy. He wanted to sniff back what was accumulating in his nose and wipe the tears away, but could not stop now, not for anything THAT mundane! “Look, look, Mick, see, look at all the food! It is yours my son, all for you…” The illusion he wove was enough food to feed this street waif and every friend he had possibly ever had or thought was his friend for a month.
He swallowed hard a moment and took another deep breath, thinking how odd, how very odd I feel… My son? Christ, what possesses me? Another breath to focus with, “I need you to do a little job and when you return, all of this will be yours, and more; see, look there is a clean bed, warm blankets and a little brazier burning that will keep the chill off of you on any cold night! One task is all I ask of you Mick, and all of this will be yours forever, and you do not have to share it.”
The boy, who might have been four or five, or, his growth stunted by lack of good food and reasonable care, perhaps even six or seven, craned his head slightly to look past the tall man. Henri shifted slightly for him to better see the illusion woven to tempt him, and the boy smiled. It was a real smile, like that of which any child might give upon seeing something that he has long desired to have. That it was an illusion did not matter, for to him all of life was now an illusion that he could no longer touch, or feel touching him either; although he did not understand this; and more than before Henri Brooks felt his eyes welling with tears he dared not shed.
“Wotcha wanna me ta do?” His voice was soft, high, and not easy to understand between the softness, that he could not help in his present and final state of being; and the speech of an unschooled lower class street brat that no one had ever bothered to teach even the most basic of polite skills. Henri swallowed several times and wished he might have a drink of the brandy on his desk just behind and to the side of where he stood now. “Wot, wot I gotter do fer dat grub over dar, tell me mister wotcha needs?” The boy was beyond interested, almost frantic.
“Well, Mick, I need you to take a little trip. I need you to help me find a lady.” Now the child sucked in his lower lip, pondering a moment that which Henri had said. His face looked worried. “I know a bright lad like you can easily manage this Mick and I’ll help you all I can, believe me I will.”
“But, but I don know of no ladies mister, be willin I is, but truly, I don know no ladies, least no fer yur likes!”
“Ahhh, but see I know what the lady looks like, my boy, and I will be sure you know what she looks like too! Then, simply to seek her you must turn your hand with bold efforts and remember where she is so you can show me. That is all you need do, and then to home and all of this should you come to me. See how easy a task this is?” The child nodded slowly as Brooks began to feed the image from his own memory of her, the lady, into the boy’s mind. But, then the child suddenly looked as if he might weep and that almost caused the ever stoic Brooks to fall to his knees with the most unaccustomed urge to comfort him. His stomach churned a moment and he felt almost blindingly dizzy. “But, mister ain’t yur gonna let me eat notta bit even afer you sends me way to look fer her, ain’t hada bite o’nothin, nor nota bit fer so long a day, as I recall it. I’m hungerin now, I say, mister!”
“Oh Mick, of course, how silly you must think me, of course you can have something to eat before you go…here son, do help yourself.” The child wasted no time and stepped boldly, if about two inches off of the actual stone floor, to the food. Henri sent a thin tendril of magic to the illusion…”let him believe it is real, let him touch it, hold it, make it taste good to him, let his memories serve to feed him as he has never had before, just once, let him feel full!”
Henri took a deep breath and let it out only as the child began to stuff his mouth with the tender beef and some bread that had it existed, would have been hot, soft, fresh and smeared with sweet butter. Mick turned and grinned at the Mage, his cheeks bulging, his hand holding a wedge of cheese to stuff in as soon as he could. “Careful, son, you’ll choke!” Henri realized what he had just said, and didn’t know if he wanted to laugh in hysterics or begin to cry in earnest. The spirit of the dead child did not notice; he was too enthralled with the array of bounty that lay spread before him. Foods he had only heard of or glimpsed for a moment in a street vender’s stall before being cuffed and told to be about his business, since twas unlikely he had any coin to spend!
Brooks sat on the stool and watched. For several long moments of pleasure, which Henri seemed to feel too, at the freedom to taste those marvelous foods, all fresh; meat that wasn’t rotting, or tinged with green. The foods that should be warm, truly warm and the ones that should be chilled actually chilled as if pulled from cold water. Cheese, hard and soft, grapes, ripe apples, even a few oranges, spiced pork wrapped in cunning rolls of thin pastry baked brown and tender, easy to hold in the hand. Suddenly, after a time, Mick discovered the little cakes, so small but each one sweet and tasting of things he had never imagined. Even berry pies that were full of ripe fruit and sweet juice! And, a flagon of apple cider to wash it all down with, Henri had forgotten nothing in crafting this illusion. Had the boy been living, a most serious bellyache would he have had; but likely to have been willing to endure such a pain, to have been able to experience such foods, and an end, finally, to the gnawing hunger he had known all of his short waking life.
Henri let him eat his fill, such as it was. There would be no bellyache for this child, so what would be the harm. No, he thought to himself, it will only bind him more to me and my will, there is no reason to caution him, let him once feel full and safe. Several more unexpected tears fell from the Mage’s eyes; and now he did reach up and brush them away, sniffing loudly as he did so.
”Wots s’madder mister sir?” The boy had noticed the sniffing, no doubt. “Dat lady you wants fer me to look fer, she yur daughter, er yur wife? She be wid-in da city walls now aren’t she? I can be find her fer you mister, I know alotta people there, I’s pretty small an can get in a lotta places, a bigger boy mighta be seen, I can find her!” His stomach fully sated for the first time in his memory, Mick moved to Henri’s side, reached out and dared to pat his knee, a look of horror came over both their faces as the little hand passed through!
“Wot the bloody!” Burst from the child while Henri pulled himself together quickly. “Tis nothing Mick, but you have a new body now, you can do wonderful things, be not afraid child, this is much better for you than before, don’t be afraid my son, tis a fine body and twill serve you so much better than before…” The man was babbling almost out of control and thought franticly; I must calm him, I must calm myself, he must not be fearful, but I must be sure he is calm and able to do what I need him to do! Brooks took several deep breaths, as practiced over the many years.
Mick’s almost blue eyes were wide with surprise. “I gots a new body now an all dis grub I ken have too? How I gets this? You gives it to me mister? Why?”
Chapter 1
The flickering light from the candles barely offered enough of a glow to make out the vague, mostly transparent, form of the child that almost appeared to sit on the stool next to Henri Brook’s tall worktable. The Mage fed a bit more of the stored energies, which had originally belonged to the waif, back to him slowly, carefully, but steadily. The boy’s form wavered slightly and then seemed to become more than it had been, almost stable! Not that you could really tell for sure that his hair had been the color of corn silk nor that his eyes had once held the pale blue of the sky at early dawn. More it was a hint of his prior form, that he had worn and been when he lived his grubby life, mostly alone, on the streets in the worst part of Cooperstown.
Brooks was not a demonstrative man, quite the contrary. He had practiced for most of his adult life appearing to be concerned not the least little bit over what anyone around him thought, said or did. The exception was with his Lord and Master, Masci Hathaway, with whom it was best to attempt a balance between arrogance, compliance and complete humility; a poor and challenging combination to blend, but one that had served Henri’s needs to survive his employment for over 17 years. Now, seeing and more, sensing, the flickering hint of what the child had once been, as he remembered himself to be, caused a sudden burning in Henri’s eyes. To his shock and dismay, a single tear from each eye rolled free and down his cheek to drop upon the always clean stone floor.
The Mage swallowed back the cry that had threatened to give voice to his dismay, both at his own reaction and that which prompted him to feel anything at all. This was tricky work, for the child though dead, could still function for his master’s purpose; and that would serve Henri’s purpose as well. To find that wretched girl for Hathaway was all Henri Brooks allowed himself to focus upon.
He had certainly failed to locate her again. Nor had his lower assistants managed to come up with even a thread of her to follow where she must now hide. All that he knew was that she was not dead; and that, unfortunately, had not served to placate Hathaway even a little bit. In fact, after two months of relentless seeking by every possible means both Arcane and physical, the vengeful Lord had not only murdered a number of lightskirts from the same part of town this child had been taken from, but had finally snapped and killed one of Henri’s best assistants!
The lad had been damned good at what he did, with potential to learn and do more. Henri supposed that it might have been in his best interests, for the long run of years to come, to have quit with that oh so likely young mage. However, he did not plan to be present or employed by Masci Hathaway for any longer than he must. He would have been pleased to have had that young man step right in, if desired by the youth and Hathaway, while he stepped once and for all out.
The spirit of the dead child flickered again and Brooks shook himself, took a deep breath and finished feeding the power essence back into its former home. He chanted softly, so as not to scare him this time…binding the energies to hold fast. The boy’s face took on a look of surprise as his spirit energy settled within him, remembering who he was and almost, the horror of his untimely death at the hands of an enraged and lunatic Hathaway. The Mage put a quick stop to that memory, another tear rolling down the side of his nose, replacing it with one of servitude, tapping what should have been a child’s normal curious nature at this age, had this child have had the energy and time to ever be a normal boy. He wanted to sniff back what was accumulating in his nose and wipe the tears away, but could not stop now, not for anything THAT mundane! “Look, look, Mick, see, look at all the food! It is yours my son, all for you…” The illusion he wove was enough food to feed this street waif and every friend he had possibly ever had or thought was his friend for a month.
He swallowed hard a moment and took another deep breath, thinking how odd, how very odd I feel… My son? Christ, what possesses me? Another breath to focus with, “I need you to do a little job and when you return, all of this will be yours, and more; see, look there is a clean bed, warm blankets and a little brazier burning that will keep the chill off of you on any cold night! One task is all I ask of you Mick, and all of this will be yours forever, and you do not have to share it.”
The boy, who might have been four or five, or, his growth stunted by lack of good food and reasonable care, perhaps even six or seven, craned his head slightly to look past the tall man. Henri shifted slightly for him to better see the illusion woven to tempt him, and the boy smiled. It was a real smile, like that of which any child might give upon seeing something that he has long desired to have. That it was an illusion did not matter, for to him all of life was now an illusion that he could no longer touch, or feel touching him either; although he did not understand this; and more than before Henri Brooks felt his eyes welling with tears he dared not shed.
“Wotcha wanna me ta do?” His voice was soft, high, and not easy to understand between the softness, that he could not help in his present and final state of being; and the speech of an unschooled lower class street brat that no one had ever bothered to teach even the most basic of polite skills. Henri swallowed several times and wished he might have a drink of the brandy on his desk just behind and to the side of where he stood now. “Wot, wot I gotter do fer dat grub over dar, tell me mister wotcha needs?” The boy was beyond interested, almost frantic.
“Well, Mick, I need you to take a little trip. I need you to help me find a lady.” Now the child sucked in his lower lip, pondering a moment that which Henri had said. His face looked worried. “I know a bright lad like you can easily manage this Mick and I’ll help you all I can, believe me I will.”
“But, but I don know of no ladies mister, be willin I is, but truly, I don know no ladies, least no fer yur likes!”
“Ahhh, but see I know what the lady looks like, my boy, and I will be sure you know what she looks like too! Then, simply to seek her you must turn your hand with bold efforts and remember where she is so you can show me. That is all you need do, and then to home and all of this should you come to me. See how easy a task this is?” The child nodded slowly as Brooks began to feed the image from his own memory of her, the lady, into the boy’s mind. But, then the child suddenly looked as if he might weep and that almost caused the ever stoic Brooks to fall to his knees with the most unaccustomed urge to comfort him. His stomach churned a moment and he felt almost blindingly dizzy. “But, mister ain’t yur gonna let me eat notta bit even afer you sends me way to look fer her, ain’t hada bite o’nothin, nor nota bit fer so long a day, as I recall it. I’m hungerin now, I say, mister!”
“Oh Mick, of course, how silly you must think me, of course you can have something to eat before you go…here son, do help yourself.” The child wasted no time and stepped boldly, if about two inches off of the actual stone floor, to the food. Henri sent a thin tendril of magic to the illusion…”let him believe it is real, let him touch it, hold it, make it taste good to him, let his memories serve to feed him as he has never had before, just once, let him feel full!”
Henri took a deep breath and let it out only as the child began to stuff his mouth with the tender beef and some bread that had it existed, would have been hot, soft, fresh and smeared with sweet butter. Mick turned and grinned at the Mage, his cheeks bulging, his hand holding a wedge of cheese to stuff in as soon as he could. “Careful, son, you’ll choke!” Henri realized what he had just said, and didn’t know if he wanted to laugh in hysterics or begin to cry in earnest. The spirit of the dead child did not notice; he was too enthralled with the array of bounty that lay spread before him. Foods he had only heard of or glimpsed for a moment in a street vender’s stall before being cuffed and told to be about his business, since twas unlikely he had any coin to spend!
Brooks sat on the stool and watched. For several long moments of pleasure, which Henri seemed to feel too, at the freedom to taste those marvelous foods, all fresh; meat that wasn’t rotting, or tinged with green. The foods that should be warm, truly warm and the ones that should be chilled actually chilled as if pulled from cold water. Cheese, hard and soft, grapes, ripe apples, even a few oranges, spiced pork wrapped in cunning rolls of thin pastry baked brown and tender, easy to hold in the hand. Suddenly, after a time, Mick discovered the little cakes, so small but each one sweet and tasting of things he had never imagined. Even berry pies that were full of ripe fruit and sweet juice! And, a flagon of apple cider to wash it all down with, Henri had forgotten nothing in crafting this illusion. Had the boy been living, a most serious bellyache would he have had; but likely to have been willing to endure such a pain, to have been able to experience such foods, and an end, finally, to the gnawing hunger he had known all of his short waking life.
Henri let him eat his fill, such as it was. There would be no bellyache for this child, so what would be the harm. No, he thought to himself, it will only bind him more to me and my will, there is no reason to caution him, let him once feel full and safe. Several more unexpected tears fell from the Mage’s eyes; and now he did reach up and brush them away, sniffing loudly as he did so.
”Wots s’madder mister sir?” The boy had noticed the sniffing, no doubt. “Dat lady you wants fer me to look fer, she yur daughter, er yur wife? She be wid-in da city walls now aren’t she? I can be find her fer you mister, I know alotta people there, I’s pretty small an can get in a lotta places, a bigger boy mighta be seen, I can find her!” His stomach fully sated for the first time in his memory, Mick moved to Henri’s side, reached out and dared to pat his knee, a look of horror came over both their faces as the little hand passed through!
“Wot the bloody!” Burst from the child while Henri pulled himself together quickly. “Tis nothing Mick, but you have a new body now, you can do wonderful things, be not afraid child, this is much better for you than before, don’t be afraid my son, tis a fine body and twill serve you so much better than before…” The man was babbling almost out of control and thought franticly; I must calm him, I must calm myself, he must not be fearful, but I must be sure he is calm and able to do what I need him to do! Brooks took several deep breaths, as practiced over the many years.
Mick’s almost blue eyes were wide with surprise. “I gots a new body now an all dis grub I ken have too? How I gets this? You gives it to me mister? Why?”
Last edited:
