WandWpart21

I staggered out of my tent some hours later, totally zonked. Figuring out the magic that would let me pull in a motorcycle from my own world had proved more exhausting than sex ever was. Aside from the logistics of it, I had forgotten about the whole gas issue. I could steal a bike with a full tank, but how the hell would I keep it full? Maybe some kind of doubling spell. "Increase Mass". Yeah, well, I didn't know. With my luck I'd increase mass to the point the whole damn thing would explode right under my butt.

Good fucking grief, I was tired. The elven senses had worn off completely, and given me some backlash besides. I felt drained, a little sick. I thought I'd managed to create a spell that would keep both Jalin and myself safe while I grabbed what we needed, but it had taken a lot out of me. Portaling spells like this, especially into other worlds, were supposedly impossible. It wasn't like snapping fire at some jerk's ass, which I could do with ease. Probably too much ease, given my Scot-Irish temper. They weren't instinctive spells, you had to plot very carefully indeed or you could get lost somewhere between worlds. I was better at the off-the-cuff, instinctual magic.

But I felt uneasy at the remembrance of dragon magic in the forest, what it had brought with it. Bad memories or not, I'd have to talk to Carson about it.

I was tired, and I was aching. Adding that worry again didn't sweeten my temper. Should only have known that Do'nar would show up about this time.

"Wizard!" The battle-roar seemed to fill the universe, directly before I was yanked into an embrace that tossed me around like an abused carrot. Jesus Christ, this guy was big! Strong too. Not Carson, but close. Being in his affectionate grip was like being mauled by a tornado.

"Huh?" He actually stared at me, the stupid shit. He was pretty much holding me in the air in two big hands. "I'm, it's Do'nar, wizard! Shaving my beard hasn't changed me so much!"

That was my bad. And my curse, to be such a television/movie freak. "Er," I said. There being no way I could possibly explain it to him. "Just set me down, you big honking monkey!"

He burst out laughing. I couldn't help but join him. Shit, who am I kidding? We hung on each other and fucking howled. I guess some of it was relief that he didn't seem at all ready to kill me yet.

But he was my friend, he was glad to see me back alive. Jesus Christ, I coulda kissed him right in his movie-star face for that. With war coming, I coulda kissed him all over his bad self just for being alive, too. Showed how tired I was, for sure.

Fortunately for both of us, I managed to restrain myself. I just pulled back instead, grinning a bit. "Okay, Do'nar. You jumped my butt, you're glad to see me. But I know you got another point I won't like. You always come loaded with 'em. And you better grow that beard back quick, I can't handle you like this."

He sobered quickly, though biting back a smile. "No, the sacrifice of my beard worked, by Thor! And off it stays. Here you are, Hawk, the same loud jackass I remember at last. And you are right. This will not please you." He drew a breath, then stuck his jaw out and swelled his chest as I'd seen him do before when he had news he didn't exactly enjoy imparting. Although without that pumpkin-sized beard, the sticking-out-his-jaw bit wasn't as impressive. His chin-dimple hitting you in the eye just wasn't quite the same.

"We have a council of war. The Warchief has called all the heads of the clans, as he can do at need. Within a few hours, they will all be here. And you yourself are considered a warlord of the Tribes, so your part will not be easy. You will be asked to translate some dialects, tell what you have learned while away, and even perhaps to be, er, diplomatic." He started guffawing again at the thought.

I wasn't quite as entertained as he was. "Warlord of the what! My bare ass! I will be kicking Carson's butt for this one! Do I look like a warlord of anybody's flaming tribe!?!? Much less a diplomat."

His hazel-eyed gaze drilled me, consideringly. "You look like an sex toy, wizard. Though a somewhat oddly-dressed one half the time. And those unfamiliar with you may doubt your power because of it. Sneer at your presence, even. Our Tribe knows better, but to the other tribal representatives, you may have to show proof. And I for one will enjoy that sight, by thunder!"

I was stammering in outrage. It took me a minute, to realize the sort-of compliment in these remarks. As well as the contradictions. Not that I gave a fuck.

"I'm listening!" I said, grim as death. And I was. When I would kill him for all this was just another note on my agenda. "First you say 'diplomacy' and then you say 'show 'em my power.' You saying I should diplomatically remove all their beards like I did most of yours?

"I would enjoy that in some cases. The envoy of the Flame Moon tribe is a stuck-up bastard, and so proud of his stinking beard it could make one vomit."

"Well, I'll let that one go, since you got nothing but a crater in your chin to be preening over now." I said it dryly. Oh yeah, the threat of being involved in a council full of windbag strangers who would think I looked like a sex toy had cured me of all nervousness, and of tiredness too. Sheer outrage always did that to me. Christ, it better not be like a droning staff meeting at Berkley High or I would kill everyone.

"Huh?" He stared at me for a dumbfounded second, then managed to catch the insult. And fortunately, roared with laughter until his eyes squirted tears. "You are truly yourself, gods help us all! Especially those who are not yet your friends. But I meant nothing so drastic as torching our allies, it would be rude. At least, unless the damn council lasts more than an hour, in which case I may help you with a common torch." He grew serious again, then.

"For all your beauty, you are Lord of the Land. As the Nightwolf is Lord of our people." He rubbed his chin lightly with one hand, as if he still had a beard there. "I have thought, over the days you have been gone. And I know who and what you are, now."

He smiled. That damn icepick, again. "And I thank you for the sex, by the way. Though I would have preferred Irenea as a partner, the witchwoman was unexpectedly good."

"You are greater than you believe, Hawk." His voice was quiet, amiable almost, as he strolled around me with his hands behind his back. Studying me with an almost clinical air. Me? I was so furious now I was damn near hopping in place. And yet there was something about this that shut me up, made me listen to him instead of kicking his ass as I wanted to do.

"The Land has chosen you, for some reason. Always before, as I understand, this has been a role filled by a great warrior. Not an, um."

"Sex toy!!!????" I snarled it out. I was pissed off clear through to my asshole and out the other side. I wasn't even listening to what he said, really.

Why didn't I just blow him to pieces with a firebolt? I dunno. Maybe sheer amazement. Maybe because it was Do'nar. But I think the look in my eyes made him realize how close he'd come to being spareribs, because he actually burst out laughing again.

"I am sorry, and I understand I am also lucky" he said almost meekly. "But I need you to listen to me, wizard! If you please, I will tell you a story of this land."

He grinned at me. "C'mon, wizard. We can head to the council chamber as we talk." My god, it was almost the same as our first friendly chat here, except unfortunately I hadn't been groped first by a hot horny kid. "Council chamber?" I grumbled, falling into step with him. "You gotta be kidding."

"A room in the arena," he agreed. "We do not have councils, so often. War is not a thing we discuss. Mainly, we just do it! Fight what enemies come against us without much speech about it. And usually win. But this thing of East and South joining against us, that is a thing for speech beforehand. Because there is reason for it, beyond mere battle."

"The gods are now at war, Firehawk." He said it quietly, but the soft statement seemed to shake the world. "Can you not feel it? You must. You are the Land's Chosen. You are Firelord. And both you and the Nightwolf, you have come here for a purpose. And he badly needs your support in this thing, though he was reluctant to ask it. Your people need your help."

He sighed heavily. "I would rather you had not been the Fated Ones. That you and he could just be my friends, in an innocent world full of daisies, would please me better, by the gods! The Wolf, he is my Swordbrother. We have fought back to back many times. There is battle-trust between us, and to my great honor also friendship.

He waited, polite but anxious. Of course he couldn't just accept it. Big honking bastard! Ah shit! I searched for the proper words, and found them.

He got it in one, slapping my arm lightly. Then carrying on in his serious tone so I could look up again. "You are not a Warrior. And yet you are something, someone, that I like." He shook his head ruefully, with a crack of laughter that admitted to both of us that he didn't understand it either. "What you are is beyond my reckoning. These things are beyond me, I am a simple fighting man."

He grinned at me. Pulp Fiction in tribal leathers. It was positively eerie. Thank god his eyes were hazel not blue, or I mighta run screaming.

"And so you should be." His voice was nearly fond. I just couldn't believe this shit. Or maybe, in a funny kind of way, I could believe it all too well.

"We will go to council now," he said, most quietly. "And Hawk, you may have knowledge we lack, but you don't know everything about this matter, by Thor's bare arse! I will teach you what you lack. And it feels damn good to know some things you don't!" he chuckled.

He was not kidding me, the prick. We walked into an arena that now boasted a table full of swearing, drinking warriors I'd never seen before in my life.

Carson was at the head of this table, and to say he looked grim would be putting it lightly. How many tribes did he rule? Twelve? Well, it looked like they'd sent four or five biker badasses from every one of them. I had never seen such a mob of large and noisy people, unless maybe watching a brawling match on WWF teevee counted. My bad boy looked to be yelling his head off, too. I say "looked" because though his mouth was moving, you couldn't even hear him, above the racket these men and ladies made.

Well, at least I could help him out with that problem. In fact, that might be an amusing way of showing my stuff that wouldn't accidentally blow someone's head off.

I threw a limited Silence spell. Usually meant to shut up other wizards so they couldn't Voice a spell at you, but whatever works I always say. I was much better at it now, too, which delighted me a bit. Because suddenly Carse's deep, wrathful voice filled the whole room. "------every one of you if you don't shut up!" he roared. I had no trouble guessing that the word "kill" had also figured in that sentence somewhere.

A big moose of a guy sitting across the table, hefting a mug nearly as large as he was, made some smart remark. Or at least he tried to. Looked pretty amazed when nothing came out. I heard Do'nar behind me, chuckling evilly.

The guy's eyes were bugging out as he vainly attempted self-expression. His mouth flapped and nothing happened. I couldn't help it, I started laughing myself, joining Do'nar. Carson stared at us both, obviously exasperated before a thin smile touched his lips. "My thanks, beloved," he said calmly.

Did everyone turn and stare at me then? You bet they did. I felt like strutting. There was anger on some faces, but mainly astonishment and some degree of beginning respect.

I left the spell on until everyone had shut their yap and stared at me. "Hi, there," I said brightly. "I'm Firehawk. You might have heard of me. The Warchief needs your attention. Has he got it?"

The dozens of warriors nodded as one, as if their noggins were on strings. I heard Do'nar laughing helplessly behind me and was pleased as hell that I seemed to have made his day again.

I barely processed that he seemed to be wearing one of my teeshirts, looking cute as the devil in it. Or would have, if the face above the shirt hadn't been the stricken, pale countenance of a shock victim.

His mouth moved on the syllables of my name, without sound. But it wasn't the fault of the silence spell. And I heard him inside my soul, rather than out loud anyway.

And as his smoky eyes pulled away from me to stare in mute agony at Carson before dropping to the ground, I realized he wasn't gonna tell me, either.



	War Council Prelude PG-13. maybe R for language. There is absolutely no sex, dammit. I was stressed when I wrote this one, couldn't even remember what a dick looked like. ************************************************** I staggered out of my tent some hours later, totally zonked. Figuring out the magic that would let me pull in a motorcycle from my own world had proved more exhausting than sex ever was. Aside from the logistics of it, I had forgotten about the whole gas issue. I could steal a bike with a full tank, but how the hell would I keep it full? Maybe some kind of doubling spell. "Increase Mass". Yeah, well, I didn't know. With my luck I'd increase mass to the point the whole damn thing would explode right under my butt. Good fucking grief, I was tired. The elven senses had worn off completely, and given me some backlash besides. I felt drained, a little sick. I thought I'd managed to create a spell that would keep both Jalin and myself safe while I grabbed what we needed, but it had taken a lot out of me. Portaling spells like this, especially into other worlds, were supposedly impossible. It wasn't like snapping fire at some jerk's ass, which I could do with ease. Probably too much ease, given my Scot-Irish temper. They weren't instinctive spells, you had to plot very carefully indeed or you could get lost somewhere between worlds. I was better at the off-the-cuff, instinctual magic. Portal spells, of course, were dragon magic. Yeah, Jalin might be more help than I knew, come to think. But I felt uneasy at the remembrance of dragon magic in the forest, what it had brought with it. Bad memories or not, I'd have to talk to Carson about it. I was tired, and I was aching. Adding that worry again didn't sweeten my temper. Should only have known that Do'nar would show up about this time. "Wizard!" The battle-roar seemed to fill the universe, directly before I was yanked into an embrace that tossed me around like an abused carrot. Jesus Christ, this guy was big! Strong too. Not Carson, but close. Being in his affectionate grip was like being mauled by a tornado. All I could do was squall. "Put me down, Barbarino, you dumb Viking fuck! Help! You amazing dickhead!" "Huh?" He actually stared at me, the stupid shit. He was pretty much holding me in the air in two big hands. "I'm, it's Do'nar, wizard! Shaving my beard hasn't changed me so much!" Yeah, right. Well it really wasn't his fault he looked like John Travolta, now was it? That was my bad. And my curse, to be such a television/movie freak. "Er," I said. There being no way I could possibly explain it to him. "Just set me down, you big honking monkey!" That he understood, and he did so, grinning slightly. "I'm glad you're alive, wizard." "Yeah, right, beardless wonder. Missed you too." He burst out laughing. I couldn't help but join him. Shit, who am I kidding? We hung on each other and fucking howled. I guess some of it was relief that he didn't seem at all ready to kill me yet. I loved the big stupid idiot. In a different way than I loved Carson, of course. But he was my friend, he was glad to see me back alive. Jesus Christ, I coulda kissed him right in his movie-star face for that. With war coming, I coulda kissed him all over his bad self just for being alive, too. Showed how tired I was, for sure. Fortunately for both of us, I managed to restrain myself. I just pulled back instead, grinning a bit. "Okay, Do'nar. You jumped my butt, you're glad to see me. But I know you got another point I won't like. You always come loaded with 'em. And you better grow that beard back quick, I can't handle you like this." He sobered quickly, though biting back a smile. "No, the sacrifice of my beard worked, by Thor! And off it stays. Here you are, Hawk, the same loud jackass I remember at last. And you are right. This will not please you." He drew a breath, then stuck his jaw out and swelled his chest as I'd seen him do before when he had news he didn't exactly enjoy imparting. Although without that pumpkin-sized beard, the sticking-out-his-jaw bit wasn't as impressive. His chin-dimple hitting you in the eye just wasn't quite the same. "We have a council of war. The Warchief has called all the heads of the clans, as he can do at need. Within a few hours, they will all be here. And you yourself are considered a warlord of the Tribes, so your part will not be easy. You will be asked to translate some dialects, tell what you have learned while away, and even perhaps to be, er, diplomatic." He started guffawing again at the thought. I wasn't quite as entertained as he was. "Warlord of the what! My bare ass! I will be kicking Carson's butt for this one! Do I look like a warlord of anybody's flaming tribe!?!? Much less a diplomat." "No." He said it so curtly, he actually shut me up. His hazel-eyed gaze drilled me, consideringly. "You look like an sex toy, wizard. Though a somewhat oddly-dressed one half the time. And those unfamiliar with you may doubt your power because of it. Sneer at your presence, even. Our Tribe knows better, but to the other tribal representatives, you may have to show proof. And I for one will enjoy that sight, by thunder!" I was stammering in outrage. It took me a minute, to realize the sort-of compliment in these remarks. As well as the contradictions. Not that I gave a fuck. "But I understand if others don't. That you are more than a pretty face. Stop sputtering, Tyr curse you, and listen!" "I'm listening!" I said, grim as death. And I was. When I would kill him for all this was just another note on my agenda. "First you say 'diplomacy' and then you say 'show 'em my power.' You saying I should diplomatically remove all their beards like I did most of yours? He smiled. If he'd drawn a dagger, it would have looked the same. John Travolta? Oh yeah, with an ice pick in his teeth. "I would enjoy that in some cases. The envoy of the Flame Moon tribe is a stuck-up bastard, and so proud of his stinking beard it could make one vomit." "Well, I'll let that one go, since you got nothing but a crater in your chin to be preening over now." I said it dryly. Oh yeah, the threat of being involved in a council full of windbag strangers who would think I looked like a sex toy had cured me of all nervousness, and of tiredness too. Sheer outrage always did that to me. Christ, it better not be like a droning staff meeting at Berkley High or I would kill everyone. "Huh?" He stared at me for a dumbfounded second, then managed to catch the insult. And fortunately, roared with laughter until his eyes squirted tears. "You are truly yourself, gods help us all! Especially those who are not yet your friends. But I meant nothing so drastic as torching our allies, it would be rude. At least, unless the damn council lasts more than an hour, in which case I may help you with a common torch." He grew serious again, then. "For all your beauty, you are Lord of the Land. As the Nightwolf is Lord of our people." He rubbed his chin lightly with one hand, as if he still had a beard there. "I have thought, over the days you have been gone. And I know who and what you are, now." He smiled. That damn icepick, again. "And I thank you for the sex, by the way. Though I would have preferred Irenea as a partner, the witchwoman was unexpectedly good." My jaw dropped. I simply, absolutely, had nothing to say. He studied me pleasantly. The big, honking bastard! "You are greater than you believe, Hawk." His voice was quiet, amiable almost, as he strolled around me with his hands behind his back. Studying me with an almost clinical air. Me? I was so furious now I was damn near hopping in place. And yet there was something about this that shut me up, made me listen to him instead of kicking his ass as I wanted to do. "The Land has chosen you, for some reason. Always before, as I understand, this has been a role filled by a great warrior. Not an, um." "Sex toy!!!????" I snarled it out. I was pissed off clear through to my asshole and out the other side. I wasn't even listening to what he said, really. He knew it, too. He reached down through my mad, grabbed me by the shirt. And shook me hard. Why didn't I just blow him to pieces with a firebolt? I dunno. Maybe sheer amazement. Maybe because it was Do'nar. But I think the look in my eyes made him realize how close he'd come to being spareribs, because he actually burst out laughing again. "I am sorry, and I understand I am also lucky" he said almost meekly. "But I need you to listen to me, wizard! If you please, I will tell you a story of this land." "Okay," I managed, after a couple minutes of heavy breathing that I just couldn't control. "Make it brief." He grinned at me. "C'mon, wizard. We can head to the council chamber as we talk." My god, it was almost the same as our first friendly chat here, except unfortunately I hadn't been groped first by a hot horny kid. "Council chamber?" I grumbled, falling into step with him. "You gotta be kidding." "A room in the arena," he agreed. "We do not have councils, so often. War is not a thing we discuss. Mainly, we just do it! Fight what enemies come against us without much speech about it. And usually win. But this thing of East and South joining against us, that is a thing for speech beforehand. Because there is reason for it, beyond mere battle." His grave hazel eyes studied me as we walked. I disliked it intensely. Do'nar sober and in a thoughtful mood was beyond bad, dammit! "The gods are now at war, Firehawk." He said it quietly, but the soft statement seemed to shake the world. "Can you not feel it? You must. You are the Land's Chosen. You are Firelord. And both you and the Nightwolf, you have come here for a purpose. And he badly needs your support in this thing, though he was reluctant to ask it. Your people need your help." That was unexpected. And it shut me right up, I'll tell you. I felt like a big, fat shit again. He sighed heavily. "I would rather you had not been the Fated Ones. That you and he could just be my friends, in an innocent world full of daisies, would please me better, by the gods! The Wolf, he is my Swordbrother. We have fought back to back many times. There is battle-trust between us, and to my great honor also friendship. "But I have never imagined, having a friend such as you, Hawk, if you would let me call you so." He waited, polite but anxious. Of course he couldn't just accept it. Big honking bastard! Ah shit! I searched for the proper words, and found them. "Well, you haven't seen me blow your fat head off completely, have ya?" Sort of grunting it toward the ground. He got it in one, slapping my arm lightly. Then carrying on in his serious tone so I could look up again. "You are not a Warrior. And yet you are something, someone, that I like." He shook his head ruefully, with a crack of laughter that admitted to both of us that he didn't understand it either. "What you are is beyond my reckoning. These things are beyond me, I am a simple fighting man." "Yeah, just a big dumb galoot." I observed dryly. "Heard it before, Do'nar. And I must say I believe it now, too." He grinned at me. Pulp Fiction in tribal leathers. It was positively eerie. Thank god his eyes were hazel not blue, or I mighta run screaming. "My thanks to you, wizard. Sex toy or no, the intelligence you possess is no less than fiendish." "Well, I am honored all to hell of course. Even considering the source." "And so you should be." His voice was nearly fond. I just couldn't believe this shit. Or maybe, in a funny kind of way, I could believe it all too well. "We will go to council now," he said, most quietly. "And Hawk, you may have knowledge we lack, but you don't know everything about this matter, by Thor's bare arse! I will teach you what you lack. And it feels damn good to know some things you don't!" he chuckled. I had no doubt of that. Big honking bastard. He was not kidding me, the prick. We walked into an arena that now boasted a table full of swearing, drinking warriors I'd never seen before in my life. Carson was at the head of this table, and to say he looked grim would be putting it lightly. How many tribes did he rule? Twelve? Well, it looked like they'd sent four or five biker badasses from every one of them. I had never seen such a mob of large and noisy people, unless maybe watching a brawling match on WWF teevee counted. My bad boy looked to be yelling his head off, too. I say "looked" because though his mouth was moving, you couldn't even hear him, above the racket these men and ladies made. Well, at least I could help him out with that problem. In fact, that might be an amusing way of showing my stuff that wouldn't accidentally blow someone's head off. I threw a limited Silence spell. Usually meant to shut up other wizards so they couldn't Voice a spell at you, but whatever works I always say. I was much better at it now, too, which delighted me a bit. Because suddenly Carse's deep, wrathful voice filled the whole room. "------every one of you if you don't shut up!" he roared. I had no trouble guessing that the word "kill" had also figured in that sentence somewhere. A big moose of a guy sitting across the table, hefting a mug nearly as large as he was, made some smart remark. Or at least he tried to. Looked pretty amazed when nothing came out. I heard Do'nar behind me, chuckling evilly. "Is there a problem, Lord Strongbow?" he inquired almost sweetly. "Never before have I seen you at such a loss for words!" The guy's eyes were bugging out as he vainly attempted self-expression. His mouth flapped and nothing happened. I couldn't help it, I started laughing myself, joining Do'nar. Carson stared at us both, obviously exasperated before a thin smile touched his lips. "My thanks, beloved," he said calmly. Did everyone turn and stare at me then? You bet they did. I felt like strutting. There was anger on some faces, but mainly astonishment and some degree of beginning respect. I left the spell on until everyone had shut their yap and stared at me. "Hi, there," I said brightly. "I'm Firehawk. You might have heard of me. The Warchief needs your attention. Has he got it?" The dozens of warriors nodded as one, as if their noggins were on strings. I heard Do'nar laughing helplessly behind me and was pleased as hell that I seemed to have made his day again. And then Smitty hustled into the room, closely followed by Jalin. And what was on his face killed all my entertainment. I barely processed that he seemed to be wearing one of my teeshirts, looking cute as the devil in it. Or would have, if the face above the shirt hadn't been the stricken, pale countenance of a shock victim. His eyes met mine, and stayed frozen on me. The numb, wide-eyed stare of someone who has witnessed murder. His mouth moved on the syllables of my name, without sound. But it wasn't the fault of the silence spell. And I heard him inside my soul, rather than out loud anyway. "Oh, Firehawk!" he whispered. "Firehawk-----so sorry--------" I didn't know what the heck he had to be sorry about, at all. And as his smoky eyes pulled away from me to stare in mute agony at Carson before dropping to the ground, I realized he wasn't gonna tell me, either. Or maybe, wasn't allowed to. The thought did not make my day any fucking brighter. --TBC-