Wish (Scales 'n' Spells 3)

Gunter was right at his heels. Impressive, really, for a man who spent most of his time reading.

They passed no words between them as they sprinted, both keeping a weather eye on the light. It was still going strong, but now heading more their way. She was going any possible direction, so the pursuit must be hot and heavy indeed. And that meant they needed something of a plan.

“Gunter,” Warin panted, feeling the exertion after a long flight in the weight of his limbs, “when we reach her, cover her. I’ll take the enemies.”

“Okay,” he agreed, also sounding a touch winded.

They kept running. And running. Warin felt time tick away, a fickle thing not on their side. Time never was. As long as it was taking to reach her, the odds stacked against the mage’s safety. She must be resourceful to hold off this long. But if she was still running, then that meant—

The light abruptly winked out. Warin cursed soundly, but over the heartbeat in his ears and the rough breathing, he thought he’d heard breaking glass. A distress beacon was cast with a mirror, wasn’t it?

Gunter sped ahead of him, stretching out long legs, and rounded the corner of a brick building without slowing. Trusting he must have heard something, Warin drew on what last bit of speed he could, trying to keep up with him.

As soon as he rounded the same corner, he heard it. The sounds of a fight in progress, with spells being cast back and forth.

“Lokkte gev adi!” a male voice said strongly, but there was a hint of fear in his words.

“Eeoe,” another voice grunted.

The scene in front of his eyes threw Warin back into another time entirely, when dragons and mages still ruled the world. Three men were in open conflict with each other, spells being thrown back and forth like a bad fireworks display, sometimes splashing harmlessly against the snow-covered pavement as they failed to hit their mark. Two of the men wore dark, somber clothes, and there was something odd about the spells they cast. They didn’t come from elements and spoken words, but from a wand-like device.

The third man wore brightly-colored clothes, short blond hair plastered to his temples with sweat, and he was casting strongly from behind a glowing-gold ward he held in front of him. And at his feet, shards of glass, from what used to be a handheld mirror.

Not a she, then. The thought went through Warin’s mind without penetrating, because frankly, gender wasn’t important. A mage was in trouble, that was all that mattered. He dove into the fray with a snarl, feeling his dragon instincts clamor to the fore. His dragon demanded he shift again, throw his enemies into the ground, and turn them into a bloody paste. Warin passed Gunter, who was already coming into a defensive stance in front of the mage.

“Scheiß—” one of the somber-dressed mages said in alarm, already back-peddling.

Warin gave him no quarter, crashing hard into him, throwing a punch into the man’s solar plexus. Fighting in human form might feel odd to him, but it didn’t mean he had no knowledge of how to properly go about it. The man crumpled around Warin’s fist with a gasp of pain.

Twirling, Warin immediately attacked the other before he could try for Warin’s undefended back. He lashed out with a roundhouse kick, throwing the man well back and smashing him into the side of a building.

He spun again, ready to attack the other and put him more permanently down. Warin had no chance to do so before the mage in a black coat fumbled something from a pocket and yelled in German, “Los geht’s!”

In a snap, both of them disappeared.

Warin stood panting, frustrated beyond belief that his enemies had planned an emergency portal, just in case. He growled out a few choice words but didn’t let it bog him down further than that. The one thing war had hammered into his head was that those who stood still, lost. He wouldn’t make that mistake with a precious mage in tow.

But the frustration drained from him when he turned and truly looked at the unexpected mage without worrying about his safety. He was young. Younger than Warin would have initially guessed. He had to be in his early twenties. His pale face was flushed from the exertion and glistened with sweat, but there was more to it. The man’s large blue eyes were captivating with a lovely hint of color highlighting his eyelids. Full lips were parted and damp as if he’d just licked them. What would he taste like if Warin licked them as well?

Blinking at his own stunning train of thought, Warin was even more surprised when his dragon perked up his head to take a closer look at the mage. He couldn’t remember the last time a person had captured his attention in such a way. And his dragon had never cared one way or another. Yet, now his dragon very much agreed that they should lick the mage. He looked very yummy indeed.