The Innocence of Teacups

Swat-crash-bump. Freyr threw Sasha right into him and the weight was so much he collapsed to the floor, with Sasha on top of him. Flickering from red to normal, Freyr silently sat himself down, pulled up his hood and wrapped his cloak tightly round himself. While he gently pushed Sasha from on top of him and laid him on his side.

They were away from Spirit Land sat in a patch of thin trees and still Sasha shivered. So did his master from time to time however he was being very subtle about his chill by sitting straight and still inside his cloak.

Knowing warmth was needed he set off in search of firewood. When he returned to his master and companion he had gathered in his arms as much wood as he could carry and set to work lighting a fire; something which was tricky to get right but after numerous attempts managed to gain a spark and whoosh, hello warm glow. Sasha watched the flickering flames a moment then fell into a deep shivery sleep.

Nervously he patted the ground next to him, really wanting Freyr to join them round the fire. His master totally blanked him. Silent treatment. The only other time this tactic had been used was when he’d accidently lost a whole pouch of silver at the biggest market in Kazara. He clutched his pack a moment then pushed one of his knives into the bottom, away from Sasha’s sight then he took out his book and pretended to browse through the paintings to stub out the awkward silence.

When he got to the end of his first round of slowly turning all the pages and was about to start over Freyr spoke up. “You cannot hide inside a book.”

He could certainly try so flicked back to the first page.

“Leaving me to run off with a practical stranger hurt. Why would you be so cruel?”

Too many lumps. He pushed the book off his knee then reached into his pack and took out his parchment and ink. You’ve been using dark magic. It’s illegal and I won’t be part of it. He held his voice out to Freyr.

The parchment got snatched away but rather than read Freyr wafted it round in the air while spouting off. “Look at this! You can write and never told me. How many other secrets are you harbouring?”

No more secrets. He shook his head.

“Liar. You told me Sasha was dead. He’s a Sapphire Knight so I wouldn’t have been too annoyed at your failed attempt at killing him. I’m guessing he doesn’t know you killed his friend. You’re such a coward.”

He snatched his parchment back and forced down all the lumps in his throat so he didn’t choke. Needing to get words out quick he wrote them all down as fast as possible then crumpled the parchment in his fist. What was the point when Freyr never listened? He was lecturing away right then.

“You can’t kill someone’s friend then go round being pally with them, unless of course you’re acting as a double agent.”

He un-crumpled his parchment and finished writing down what he wanted to say, needing to even if his wants, no needs, would never be acknowledged. When done, Freyr lay siege to his parchment and mockingly read it out loud in a whiny voice.

“You’ve been using dark magic. It’s illegal and I won’t be part of it. I feel uncomfortable killing for you. Why do you make me? I know I’m a sneaky coward and it hurts. I’m sorry I ran away from you without saying goodbye but if I’d told you I would never have left because we have good days. I was only trying to help you and you threw your favourite teacup at me. I couldn’t kill Sasha because he treats me as though I’m human, like you do on a good day.”

He scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt and clenched his hands for being mocked when he didn’t even have a voice to verbally speak with. Only he knew how he sounded inside his head.

“Sorry,” Freyr said and held his parchment out to him. “I should have discussed the magic issue with you. Then maybe we wouldn’t be having this feud.”

Our feud has been brewing a long time. Your dark magic pushed me over the edge. It wasn’t just the magic, it’s the way you treat me.

Freyr read his next few sentences and creased up his brow in confusion. “I think I am quite fair to you.”

You just mocked me when I can’t even speak. I got a teacup thrown at me for helping you out that dungeon under the graveyard. You demand I kill people because they want to rob us, when I know on most occasions this is a lie.

A laugh escaped Freyr. “Of course I should have known you weren’t thinking those killings were for my coins. It’s easier to play along though isn’t it? Seems you’re wanting in. I can give you a cut. Apprentice becomes assistant. Yes?”

Freyr did not get where he was coming from at all. I want out.

“You always have to be over-dramatic!” Freyr exclaimed and threw his arms up in the air.

Him being over-dramatic? A grin spread across his face. Freyr was the one with eccentric behaviour. His massive grin got noticed almost straight away which made Freyr smirk.

“There you see proof. Me and you are a partnership like it or not. You need me to function, and yes I’ll admit I’m glad to have you around.

“If you’d not come snooping underneath the graveyard and broke my casting I’d have been left without a soul. You see I summoned a phantom to ask it a question. In return for an answer phantoms take away energy. Unfortunately for me this one was rudely taking more than required. Thank you kindly for your assistance. I only threw my cup at you because I never wanted you to witness me using dark magic.”

His hand patted at Freyr’s shoulder. Maybe he was being soft but there was something very genuine in that explanation which was on the verge of an apology.

Why didn’t you want me to see?

“Dark magic makes me feel filthy. You’ve no need to see me degrading myself.”

I’m sure you have your reasons.

“Strong reasons. And this is nice being able to read what you’re wanting to say. Tell you what I’ll buy you a big ledger to write away in.”

He smiled his thanks then put quill to parchment. There was a lot to ask and little parchment left so he’d have to make do and ask the most important question until Freyr bought him a ledger.

A spirit told me she found me on the mountains. Do you know anything about this?

“Unfortunately I do. I was hoping to keep this nastiness away from you, but you had to go wandering off into Spirit Land, didn’t you? You weren’t abandoned at my front door, oh no, I found you when I was strolling through Spirit Land on my way home from Zoticas. I figured those spirits must have been raising you seen as you were accustomed to them; everyone else gets cold when around them, as you’ve probably noticed.” Freyr paused his explanation to snigger at Sasha. “Anyway I tried to walk away from what I’d witnessed, not being the parental type, problem being it didn’t feel right, no matter how much I told myself to keep walking I couldn’t. So I snatched you.

“You hated me taking you and tried to thump me away but made no noise so I soon realised you were mute. At first I thought you were dumb but couldn’t abandon you after taking you. I was planning on selling you to be honest. Then you mimicked me with the teacup and I figured there might actually be some intelligence in your head. After that I found part of me becoming attached to you so called you Eagle and began trying to train you up, despite not wanting to be landed with a child.”

Guilt piled up so he was fit to explode. Unable to physically explode he put his arms round Freyr instead. Freyr went all stiff at being hugged.

“I did try and teach you talking but I’m afraid living with spirits must have damaged your ability,” Freyr said in a flat tone to try block out the emotional moment. “You are being utterly ridiculous. I never wanted you. Now I find I’ve grown too used to you and want you as an assistant. Fly off from me if you must. You’re right, you shouldn’t have to put up with illegal magic.”

On the last free space of parchment he wrote: I’ll be your assistant despite being against dark magic. I’ll put up with it like you did with some needy kid. Sorry I ran off without saying goodbye. I was selfish.

“Not to worry the fault is mine. My magic frightened you away.”

Magic! Bursting to have another question answered he resorted to writing on his arm. Are you a warlock?

Freyr gave a pursed smile though thin lips. “Sorcerer is the preferred term and yes I am,” Freyr said as he smudged the ink from his arm then threw his parchment into the fire. “Best your dim-witted companion doesn’t see our conversation.”

Freyr rearranged his hood and slanted his eyes at Sasha who was stirring in his sleep. What was going to become of the knight? He pointed at Sasha and tried to look as hopeful as possible. Nothing was said, Freyr just kept his lips pursed and closed his eyes. Anything could happen.

Tucking a hand against his bruised rib, he settled down by the fire with his head against his pack. They were experiencing another clear sky. The clouds must have drifted into his head because there were storms raging in there rather than a brain thinking rationally. Sasha was one of the most decent people yet he ran to a scoundrel. The storm settled. Deep down under the moods Freyr was decent too.

In the morning he was woken to find those two speaking to each other. Freyr still had his hood up and Sasha would give off the odd shiver as though he had a nervous twitch but apart from this everything seemed normal, even though he knew this wouldn’t be the case. He stay laid down and listened to them talk, to try work out what game Freyr was playing.

“I was telling your Eagle I’d escort him home. You two must have come to some major disagreement.”

“Our quarrel is none of your business,” Freyr tried to control himself from snapping and only half succeeded. “In any case I tracked after him. He’s not used to being on his own. I would have said thank goodness you picked him up however you got into major trouble yesterday.”

“I know, I know, I’m never usually so clumsy, it was as though those spirits were all waiting for me. I’d no idea they were petrified of priests.”

“They sure are. I have been in Spirit Land several times before without being hassled. My spiritual presence overloads their vision.”

“I didn’t know an overload was possible. My essence felt as though it was slowly being drained away.”

“Zotican essences are weak because you don’t believe or appreciate the deities.”

“Shrines are built by humans not gods.”

A valid point, one he knew he and his master had similar views on. However Freyr was pretending to be a priest and even if he knew and believed another’s opinion would still argue against it, hating to lose any dispute and would end up going over the top and threatening his cover as a kindly priest. On one occasion he recalled Freyr had made himself up as a sensitive servant, in order to get his hands on two rather grand chalices however they’d been forced to make a swift exit out of Mayor Brudbree’s house after being told he’d not shined the silver nearly enough. Instead of apologising as any other servant would do, Freyr inspected his work and declared it fit to eat off, therefore shining it anymore would be a waste of his time. Mayor Brudbree got angry which made Freyr even more out-spoken, until they were run out the house.

“Zoticans have closed minds you mean. For all your freedoms your leaders indirectly disallow the belief in religion. They manipulate your free thinking.”

Quickly he sat up and placed a hand against Freyr’s arm in warning.

“Good morning, we were just having a friendly debate over religion. Weren’t we?”

“Err yeah, yes, real friendly. I’m afraid I’m a non-believer.”

“How do you explain those spirits fearing me then?”

“Smokes and mirrors. They believe you’re an almighty priest so have conned themselves into being frightened of you.”

“Preposterous,” grumbled Freyr. “Smokes and mirrors, huh.”

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just my opinion.”

“You see me as a joke is what you’re saying. I’m all smokes and mirrors with no substance.”

“See Eagle, I told you my mouth gets me into trouble. I do apologise for offending you, priest.”

Freyr waved his hand as though batting away Sasha’s words. “I come across many non-believers. Not to worry. This religious fool will walk a man of arms to the toll booth in case he gets himself in anymore deathly situations.”

He could see Freyr repressing one of his snickers as Sasha thought over what had been said. Wiping people across the floor with words was probably Freyr’s strongest talent.

“You see when applied correctly,” Freyr murmured to him when Sasha was busy sorting through his pack, “smokes and mirrors are much more powerful than the sword.” The snicker escaped then Sasha came over, ready to travel, causing Freyr to quickly change his wicked smirks into pleasant smiles and nods of encouragement. “Ah all set for a lovely walk in this divine sunshine. I think yesterday’s chills have almost left me.” With a flourish, Freyr swept off his cloak and handed it to him. “Best you put this away in your pack, mine is rather full.”

Sasha was staring at them both in puzzlement, and being the free speaker he was never paused to contemplate what he’d worked out might be dangerous to voice out loud. “In church you treat your apprentice appallingly. You made out he was dumb and not even capable of sweeping a floor. Now you’re letting him pack away your belongings.”

“Yes well we were having a bad day. It’s me who is sick in the head. I have a condition. I spout off obscenities when stressed or annoyed. I simply cannot help myself. I don’t know how you put up with me, Eagle. He’s such a help when my mind takes off. I really don’t blame him for running off after I threw a teacup at him. It’s the worst I’ve been in a long while, but we’ll get through won’t we?”

Bravo for this performance. No more was said on the subject and they went on their way, along a cobbled path which was much easier on the eye than the dirt tracks winding round Kazara. They were walking under real trees for a few seconds then those trees turned into glass. His eyes stared wide at glistening transparent bark, and delicate leaves which were so thin they looked as though they would shatter if an ant went to rest on the tips. He doubted an ant could climb such slippery glass. A small smile tweaked on Sasha’s face as he admired the trees welcoming him home. The smile slipped as a young lady with flaming red hair came running down the road with a sword swinging at her side, and sapphire cloak furling. She stopped right in front of them.

“Lanzo sent me a letter saying you would be back yesterday. I’ve been waiting at the boarder for you. Where is Lanzo?”

Sasha threw himself on top of the young lady and tears seeped from his eyes. “He got killed by the wicked warlock we went after!”

His stomach tightened. He took a step away from the Sapphire Knights while Freyr loomed over them looking all sympathetic. He felt practically sick as this young lady’s face glowed red and she embraced her fellow knight. Had she been Lanzo’s lover? Maybe.

“Oh Sash, I am sorry.”

“Me too. I... it’s...”

“It’s tragic. How? He’s always so careful.”

Sasha smudged away his tears with the back of his hand and pulled away from the red haired woman. “This warlock was bloody fast. The fastest I’ve ever seen.”

“With magic?”

“No with two knives. I’ve got one of them.” Sasha held out a hand to him, indicating at him to hand over the knife which he did reluctantly. “The bastard dropped it. I’m going to kill him with this knife when I find him.”

The red haired woman took the knife and twirled it round in her hands. “He killed Lanzo with a knife. Are you sure he was the warlock you were after?”

“Positive.”

“Think about it, Sash. Wouldn’t a warlock be more apt in magic than he is with a blade? He’d most likely have killed Lanzo with magic.”

“Not if he wanted to cover his tracks,” Freyr chimed in.

“And who are these people?” The red haired woman shoved the knife into Sasha’s hands and strode over to Freyr. She stood her tallest, looked his master right in the eye, and held her gaze until she got her answer.

“Oops how rude of me. Kalama this is Freyr, he’s a priest from Violet Town, and that’s his apprentice, Eagle.”

Kalama rolled reddish brown eyes and huffed, “priests!”

“They’ve been very good to me actually.”

“What will you bring home next? Remember the seven vagabonds we found roaming round your rooms? Lev was furious and she’ll be unimpressed by these story tellers.”

“Another non-believer hey Eagle?” Freyr all but chortled then turned to Kalama. “Not to worry my dear, we aren’t planning on going all the way home with your friend. No I was merely escorting him to the toll booth. You see he got himself into some bother with spirits. He went as cold as marble, and they almost crushed my assistant’s ribcage thanks to his clumsiness.”

“You clod!” exclaimed Kalama and slapped Sasha on the shoulder blade. “Just because Lanzo got killed doesn’t mean you can be negligent of your surroundings.”

“Looks like he won’t be needing our company now he has someone else to escort him home. What’s say we take a stroll into these sculptures?”

He nodded wanting to run away from his guilt as cowardly as that was. What he could do with doing was writing sorry onto anything and leaving the second knife with the message. He would have done if there wasn’t Freyr to think about. “Right Sasha we’ll be off now. Farewell!” Freyr gave a valiant wave and off they went without looking back.

“You don’t have to leave now, oh never mind, goodbye, nice meeting you,” Sasha called after them then was distracted by Kalama’s scolding.

Once off the path and out of eyesight, Freyr went into his pack and threw a blindfold at him. He caught the black cloth and wrapped it round his eyes. Time for a spar. Ears strained to hear all around him as his opponent sleuthed around, trying to be deadly silent. A sweeping of air came from near his right shoulder. He moved swiftly to the right and ended up colliding into a tree sculpture. It was important to know your surroundings. Be cautious of trees.

He and Freyr whirled round the trees with as little grace as possible seen as fighting came with no manners or there’d be no need to fight in the first place. On this spin round he noticed Freyr was not as sharp usual. When they came to the end of their session he pulled his blindfold off and was face to face with a sweaty faced Freyr. This was nothing to do with that man’s age, he was sure his raggedness was the fault of magic.

They sat to have a breather. Clink clink went Freyr’s coins as they were counted. Well whatever relaxed you. His way of winding down was to simply sit and enjoy the sun shining on his face. Coins clinked for a long while. When they stopped clinking he tilted his head to see what Freyr was up to. The coin pouch was clutched in Freyr’s fist and steady rhythmic breathing told him sleep had seized him. This waiting round to give Sasha a head start was only supposed to last a couple of hours at most however it was best to let sleeping sorcerers slumber on, especially when exhausted from getting energy drained from impolite phantoms.

What would they be doing in Zoticas? It could not be trading seen as they’d left all their stock at the church with Silver their cart horse. Day transformed to night as he made up stories about what they would be doing in Zoticas. Halfway through one scenario, consisting of Freyr and him conning some sorcerer out of his earnings, a piercing cry filled the air. His thoughts were replaced by a squealing ringing which caused Freyr to shuffle in his sleep. He massaged his ears as the air screeched in ringlets.

His first instincts were to crawl close to Freyr and maybe even wake him up if the screeching persisted. The screeching kept up and he ignored his first instincts when he spotted a shadow reflecting off the glass trees. Slowly he crept over to where someone was staggering about in obvious pain. The someone eeerrreeed away, stumbled over his long black cloak onto his knees, and gave another eeerrreeeer on clutching at the heart. Quickly he ran forwards to assist them. His hand was about to reach to their arm however the urrrher turned his head. He yanked his arm away and panted as bloodless lips went up, like a ravenous dog threatening prey, revealing pointy canines. He caught hold of a glass tree and hugged it close, as though to hide himself. Those teeth looked like vampyre fangs. This man’s face was pale beyond belief. There was foam seeping from his mouth and eyes were rolling skywards, leaving only the whites. Evil looking.

“He-elp me-e!”

Help a possible vampyre, no way. Helping evil would be an evil act in itself. Vampyres terrorised, killed, sucked blood. It would be best to leave such a monster to die. Even still it looked to be in a lot of pain and might not even be a vampyre. What a dilemma.

Its breaths were getting tight. Horrible screeching noises were fading to groans. He definitely should stray away from helping vampyres. Despite this thought he loosened his arms from around the tree, as the possible vampyre clutched the ground and hung its head in despair. To watch the vampyre dying somehow put a sadness in his mind. So much so he moved over to this night creature and crouched down beside it, with a hand against its shoulder for some support. A quiver of cold came from off the creature and tickled his fingertips shooting up his arm. Slowly the creature lifted its head, took its hand away from the heart and gave a sneer to show off glistening fangs.

What had he done? Possibly been tricked. This thing looked similar to the painting in his book. It must be a vampyre. Bloody crap! He should have left well alone.

“Thank you for your assistance.” The vampyre patted at its chest then took a huge breath of relief. “I thought I was doomed to leave this world for a worse place. Tonight was my last night. I was cursed you see.”

Quite rightly cursed too.

The vampyre stood up and straightened out its cape which had gone all askew. “Are you alright? You look almost as pale as me.” The vampyre gave a laugh at its own joke. “I bet it’s my prominent teeth which put you off me. Am I right?”

Time to go. He took some large steps back and in his rush fell over himself. Oh heck it was following. A hand was held out to him.

“Being evil is extremely difficult. All I get is people running at me with wooden stakes or stampeding away screaming VAMPYRE. I blame bards with their outlandish stories.”

Warily he took the vampyre’s hand which resulted in him receiving a hearty shake. “I am, Night Protector Prince Alaric Vulfgang. It is truly a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” With this introduction over, Alaric pulled him to his feet then kept hold of his hand. “Don’t trouble yourself trying to tell me your name; I am well aware you have been cursed yourself.”

Cursed himself? He lifted an eyebrow to try showing Alaric he was bewildered and would very much like to hear more.

“Sorry didn’t you know? Would you care to sit on a cloud and I’ll tell you all about your curse?”

Sit on a cloud, no thank you, he would much rather keep his feet on firm ground. He shook his head. After all sitting on a cloud was impossible seen as clouds were a misty substance. Never mind the shake of the head; Alaric totally ignored his protests, by clutching tightly at his wrists. Slowly they began to rise off the ground, levitating. He struggled really not wanting to go any higher than the inch they’d already travelled.

“Relax,” Alaric said. “I’m a totally safe flier. I’ve only ever dropped people a couple of times.”

Dropped people! His hands gripped tightly round Alaric’s wrists as the speed in which they were going got increasingly faster. So fast they were laid flat on their stomachs in the air. Alaric was grinning away at his discomfort. He stared down at the glass trees with a new perspective. Few people could say they’d seen the ground from up in the air. Brrr was cold up here. Alaric took them round a cloud instead of through it, to avoid them getting wet with the water collected inside. Once round the cloud they went further up and oh heck his breaths were tight; he could barely get any out.

Plonk! Alaric deposited him on top of a cloud but he could no longer even think about enjoying the experience. Gasps tried to come from his mouth alas nothing. Alaric sat cross legged, peering down at the world while he silently suffocated. All this was probably a scheme to kill him then drain away his blood. What a fool he’d been to help a vampyre. Not knowing what to do with himself he swayed about, which drew Alaric’s attention.

“What are you doing? Be careful or you’ll fall off our cloud.” Alaric attempted to steady him then gave a grin. “Oops I almost forgot.”

His eyes bulged as Alaric’s hands clasped round his throat. Wasn’t it enough for him to be suffocating? Oh no Alaric wanted to throttle him too. Hands kneaded round his windpipe until the bone felt as though it had turned to ice. A breath squeezed down his throat. Alaric withdrew his hands then lots of breaths cascaded down his cold throat.

“Better yes?”

Much better. He joined Alaric in admiring the view. How magical to be up in the air amongst all the stars and clouds. Well stars were higher up. He wondered if Alaric had ever sat on a star.

Alaric gazed at the moons before turning his attention to him. “Someone has stolen your voice.”

If his voice was stolen it meant he must have one somewhere.

“Maybe you know something someone doesn’t want you to speak of.”

He shook his head. To his knowledge he’d never owned a voice. Freyr suddenly popped into his mind. His master had never wanted him to learn how to write. Could Freyr have taken his voice on snatching him from the spirits? A horrific thought however Freyr happened to be the only magic wielder he knew.

“Do you have any powerful magical enemies?”

He shook his head again. At least there were no enemies he was aware of. He and Freyr must make loads with all the terrible things they did. He folded his arms and hugged himself. What a wretch he was.

“I’ll keep an eye out for your voice when I’m out and about friend. May I call you friend?”

He nodded then gulped. Friends with a vampyre. What would people think if they knew? Sasha was convinced they were evil, yet this one seemed good natured so far.

“I sense your apprehension,” Alaric sighed and looked away from him, at the moons with velvet purple eyes. “To my knowledge there’s only two of my kind left. You humans killed us off when all we tried to do is protect night creatures.” Alaric sighed again and rested his chin in his hands. “Just me and my father left. Only he’s no use having fallen into madness. All he does is stare at the walls, rarely talks to me, and barely eats. Then some light sorcerer cursed me. I had a year to find someone kind enough not to run away scared or threaten me, before my heart stopped. For a year I’ve suffered with nightly heart attacks. Thank the moons you came along but now you fear me too.”

He tapped Alaric’s shoulder to gain his attention when gotten he pointed at his pointy canines then at his own throat.

Alaric let off a shrill laugh. “I never drink blood. I mainly survive off of fruit juice that’s probably why my teeth are so sharp.” Alaric held up his hand and encouraged him to meet him palm to palm. “I’m neither living nor dead because I am immortal, but that doesn’t mean I’m void of blood. I have some, just less than a human. It is true the sun burns my skin and would blind me. I am but a creature from the in-between. You were kind to help me even though you thought the worst and probably still do.”

He was beginning to see past the scary image of gothic blood sucking murderer. Sasha had probably never even met a vampyre before so how could he judge one as evil? He touched his heart in acceptance of their friendship, which had Alaric grinning away.

“How splendid to have a friend. I shall keep our bond in place.”

What bond was being spoken of here? He remembered a cold sensation passing between them but couldn’t comprehend coldness being a bond. He looked at Alaric as inquiringly as possible. It worked.

“I can sense your feelings and if I want you will always be able to find you.”

Being bonded to a vampyre that sure was different.

“I hope you enjoyed sitting on a cloud.” Alaric held out his hands. “We’d best get you down in case you freeze over.”

It hardly took anytime at all to arrive on the ground and once there he went to sit with Freyr, figuring Alaric might carry on his way. No such luck, he ended up having Alaric come walk right with him. He didn’t have the heart to tell him to leave. When they reached a sleeping Freyr, Alaric went for a snoop round their packs. He wanted to laugh as Alaric crept round Freyr, took up his money pouches, and juggled with them. If Freyr woke up he’d be snarling and cursing at such a careless display. He went into his own pack as Alaric fooled around with Freyr’s belongings. He came out with his ink and rolled up a sleeve. Clumsily in the dark he wrote on his arm and held it out for Alaric to read.

“My name is Eagle,” Alaric read then said, “What a noble name. It suits you. Who is your friend?”

Master Freyr

“Master Freyr,” Alaric whispered, gave a low bow, then put down the money pouches. “He’s so serious.”

He nodded his agreement.

“And confused in himself. He’s fighting a battle inside.”

How can you tell?

“I sense many things. Being a vampyre I have six senses rather than five.”

What battle was his master fighting? Something was terribly wrong and he was sure dark magic was the cause.

“Dear me look at the moons. I must be on my way before the suns replace them. Thank you again for breaking my curse.”

Alaric gave a grand wave then ran off into the sculptures leaving him to sit with Freyr. Strange friends were trickling towards him. Definitely best his master was ignorant of him grabbing the attention of a vampyre prince.