Chapter Four: A Troll, A Contract, and Blue Blood

"We'll have to make a couple preparations in order for this to work," Lukas said, retrieving a packet of powder from the inside of a book. Mathias sat patiently at the dining table, Emil's special salmon fillet long since finished, dishes piled up in the sink. He watched as Lukas scurried around, gathering mysterious powders from the strangest places; he even pulled a packet from behind Emil's ear.

"It's a convenient place to store things," he answered upon hearing Emil's incredulous sputtering.

Finally, Lukas selected a fine, green powder and sprinkled it at his feet, mumbling incantations as he did so. Mathias watched with a mixture of fear and amazement, but mostly he was just happy that he got Lukas to cooperate with him. He had seen a terrifying, vulnerable side of Lukas just now, and it only made him want to help the magician more.

Mathias smiled as he watched Lukas work. His eyes, a deep indigo, were focused on the powder gathering beneath him, and his lips trembled as he murmured. I wonder how old he is, anyway, Mathias thought, he can't be any older than I am… He definitely doesn't look so.

A puff of green smoke snapped him out of his musings. Mathias blinked, and there floated Gudmund, bowing before Lukas.

"Sorcerer," the troll greeted, "it's very unlike you to call upon me so soon."

"It's a bit of an emergency," replied Lukas, "Mister Fisher and I are to make a contract."

Gudmund glanced mischieviously at Mathias, who beamed in response. "So it is. Well, have you gathered the necessary spells?"

Lukas gestured to his pile of powders. "I have."

"Do you have a pocketknife?"

Lukas reached over and pulled a small folding knife out of Emil's left nostril. "Not funny!" the boy shrieked, clutching at his nose, "what else have you been hiding on my person without me knowing, huh?"

Lukas simply smirked as he handed the knife to Gudmund, who produced a large roll of empty parchment from thin air. "I understand that, in exchange for having his curse broken, Mathias Fisher has agreed to break the curse placed on Lukas Thomassen, alias the Sorcerer Norge?" asked Gudmund.

"Sounds right," said Mathias. His eyes widened as he saw the roll of parchment unroll by itself, writing appearing on its blank surface.

"Then, Lukas, will you draw the circle?"

Lukas nodded, gathering his powders. He painstakingly sprinkled them in symbols around himself, Mathias, and Gudmund. A white circle, red and blue stars, green runes, black stripes, with Gudmund's contract at the very center of it all. When he was done, he tossed the empty powder packets outside the circle and asked Gudmund to continue.

"Mathias, please stand here," Gudmund motioned towards the red star, "and Lukas, you stand in the blue one. Now, I need you to say your vows."

"I, Lukas Thomassen, solemnly swear to break the curse put on Mathias Fisher, and will uphold my vows until I die or complete the task at hand." A pen floated into Lukas's hand and he signed the contract with a flourishing signature.

The pen floated towards Mathias and he hurriedly repeated Lukas's actions. "I, Mathias Fisher, solemnly swear to break the curse put on the Sor-er-Lukas Thomassen, and will uphold my vows 'til I die or complete the task at hand…" he awkwardly took the pen between both his petrified hands and scrawled his initials next to Lukas's name on the contract. "It's the best I can do, I hope it works."

"It's fine," answered Gudmund. Taking Lukas's hand gently in his, the troll pricked the magician's index finger to draw blood. Mathias noted with surprise that his blood was a deep blue, rather than a normal red. Lukas smeared his finger on the contract, covering his signature with an ultramarine smudge.

Must be part of his curse, realized Mathias, unless he's not human in the first place…

His thoughts were cut short when Gudmund faced him, penknife in hand. Mathias held out his arm, allowing Gudmund to slit it in the proper place. He watched his blood, a healthy crimson, drip onto the parchment over his initials, and suddenly he felt heavy.

"You have signed the blood contract," Gudmund announced solemnly. "You must uphold your vows, or risk death. Good luck, and may you both learn something from this." He called upon his winds, and a chill ran through Mathias's bones for the second time that day. The powder scattered, its job done, and Gudmund disappeared.

Once the shop had settled down, Mathias said, "well, I guess if I'm gonna be breakin' your curse, I should get to know ya better."

"It's quite late, and I've had a very long day," answered Lukas, "I think I'm going to go to sleep."

"Or that," shrugged Mathias. "Good night, I guess."

Lukas gave a small smile, one that sent Mathias's head spinning. "You're welcome to come by tomorrow, though. We open at nine AM, sharp."

Mathias's excited whoop could be heard all throughout Little Whirling.

XxX

When Mathias told Berg that he would only require his help in mornings and evenings from then on, Berg was relieved yet slightly skeptical. "You're staying with the Sorcerer, now?" he'd asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yep! He's breakin' my curse, but only if I break his. To do that, I gotta hang around him and figure out what's up." Mathias replied excitedly. "He's a frigid li'l bastard, but he really ain't that bad after all."

"Well, I'm happy for you," said Berg, "I hope things go well with him."

"We'll be best buds before ya know it," Mathias winked, "so if ya wanna find me anytime else, I'll be at his place."

"Duly noted," Berg answered with a small smile.

XxX

Irale, the crown city of the Kingdom of Oliennon, was at rest beneath the blanket of a warm night. Silver-trimmed buildings cast shadows in the empty streets, lined with brick worn to smoothness by the endless tread of feet. The moon hung large and heavy in the sky, a ripe golden melon ready for harvest. Its light was briefly cut off by the shape of a long dragon, winding its way across the night.

The dragon landed soundlessly on one of the silver-shingled pagoda roofs of the Oliennon Grand Palace. Moonlight bounced off its white scales and it growled, slightly irritated by something only dragons could fathom. It stretched and slithered down, beneath the pagoda roofs and into the palace itself.

It entered a chamber decorated in silks and more silver, all glimmering in the moonlight streaming through the open windows. A bed, lavishly carved, sat in the center of the room, and on its satiny covers, dressed in robes of silk to match the chamber, sat a slender man of ebony hair and moon-pale skin. Sensing the intruder, the man spoke.

"Welcome back, dragon."

With a puff of shimmery smoke, the dragon was gone, and in its place stood a man in white robes. He ran a hand through choppy chestnut hair before bowing deeply. "Your majesty, Queen Yao," he greeted.

"Yong Soo," Queen Yao returned, "I trust everything has gone well?"

A look of annoyance crossed Yong Soo's face and he narrowed his eyes. "I was spotted, your majesty. King Ivan's forces drove me out."

Queen Yao tapped his finger on his throne impatiently. "Of course. Dragons aren't very common in my husband's kingdom. You would have done better to retain your human form." He sighed, gathering his robes and sliding off the bed. "Have you completed your mission, at least?"

"I have, sir," answered Yong Soo.

"Then show me what information you have gathered."

Yong Soo stood, arms stiff at his sides, eyes narrowed at the Queen. "King Ivan's forces are numerous," he said, "they outnumber us two to one. However, they rely on traditional fighting methods and artillery rather than magic."

Queen Yao let out a short burst of laughter. "Of course. The Great and Powerful Wizard King is indeed Great and Powerful... If he is the only Wizard in the kingdom."

Yong Soo smiled at this. "My Queen. You and your soldiers are superior in magic, and I advise that we take advantage of that. However, I also advise that you gather an army of Oliennon's most powerful magicians as well, just in case."

"You speak wisely, my dragon," Queen Yao looked satisfied. "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually," replied the dragon, "They plan to drop bombs on our city of Pon within a week's time."

"We can't have that, can we?" grumbled the Queen. "Wake the Head General. At sunrise, Ivan's little outskirt town of Barell will rise in flames. Just a warning."

Yong Soo grinned devilishly, revealing row upon row of sharp, serrated teeth. "Consider it done, my Queen."

When Queen Yao grinned back, his was more ferocious than any dragon's could have been. "Your mission is completed, for now. Go rest. We will reconvene in the morning."

Yong Soo bowed once more. "As you wish, my Queen."

XxX

Mathias awoke that morning to the sounds of bombs falling far away. He blinked sleepily as a feeling of guilt threatened to form in the pit of his stomach. The sun's rays weakly crept through his window, illuminating his bedroom in the reds of blood and fire… The fire falling from the sky and the blood spilling from the people of the unfortunate city far from Little-Whirling-By-The-Sea, yet nowhere near far enough.

This is war, he realized, this is real!

Berg arrived barely half an hour later, his eyes dark and rimmed with the redness of sleep. On his arm was his sister Belle, who shared all of his good looks and none of his sour charm.

"Queen Yao has bombed Barell," he said grimly. He lit his pipe and took a long draw from it before exhaling smoke all over Mathias's kitchen.

Belle coughed as she fed Mathias his breakfast. "Acacia and Oliennon are officially at war," she said, "Us, the townspeople… We don't stand a chance!"

"We're thinking of leaving for the Republic of Efizel in the south," added Berg, "Nothing certain yet, as Queen Yao has only encroached on the outskirts of King Ivan's expansive lands, but until this idiotic war is over, we are not safe."

Mathias didn't reply; instead, he pushed his stone fingers through his wild, blond hair, a habit he'd retained from the days he had useable hands.

"You've hardly said a word all morning, Mathias," Berg said, taking another drag from his pipe, "normally I can't get you to shut up. Is something the matter?"

"Yes," Mathias answered in a watery voice, "it's just… I was the one who started this, y'know? All by pointin' out some silly li'l dragon on top of King Ivan's castle."

Berg shook his head. "No. Queen Yao and King Ivan started this war. That dragon was one of Yao's henchmen. The war was already on when we visited Crownheim that day."

Mathias remained silent. The only sounds he made came from his chewing as Belle fed him.

It was Berg who broke the uncomfortable quietude. "Come. Let's see if your favorite sorcerer can cheer you up."

XxX

Unfortunately, Mathias's so-called favorite sorcerer had curled into a ball on his couch and refused to move. Instead, it was Emil who greeted them, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"We heard the bombs this morning as well," he said, "it's made the Sorcerer so nervous," he leaned in close and added in a whisper, "Barell is where his old mentor lives."

Lukas sobbed. Wrapped up in his blue bathrobe and folded in upon himself, he resembled just another pillow on the couch. Mathias swore for a moment that the sorcerer had sprouted tassels.

Closing the door behind Mathias, Berg, and Belle, Emil sighed. "Oh dear... he's turning into a pillow again." He pulled out his wand and prodded Lukas gently with it, murmuring a spell in a soothing voice. The transformation reversed itself, leaving Lukas as he was, in his human form. Emil turned back to the group. "We need to leave him to grieve. He cared about poor old Mrs. Willowby dearly."

At the mention of Mrs. Willowby, Lukas let out a painful howl. Realizing he'd said something wrong, Emil clapped his hands over his mouth and excused himself into the other room. He came back with a wool blanket draped over his shoulders, and Mathias realized that it had just gone from pleasantly warm to deathly cold in the Sorcerer's shop in a matter of moments. No doubt Lukas was the cause of the sudden drop in temperature.

Berg and Belle stood shivering, wondering aloud why it had gotten so damn cold. Mathias gestured towards Lukas before approaching the huddled lump on the couch and laying a stone hand over what he assumed was Lukas's back.

"Hey, Lukas…" he started softly.

Lukas shivered. "Get your hands off of me," he moaned.

"Right." Mathias withdrew his hand, slightly hurt. He pushed aside those feelings before looking at the magician again. "It was terrible, what Oliennon did. I'm sorry it happened."

"She's dead, I know it…"

"You'll always have her with ya," Mathias tried.

This time, he received a one-eyed glare in response. "That's stupid and clichéd."

"It's true, though. Ya learned your magic from her, so it makes her a part of ya." Mathias sighed. "This war's been goin' on for only a few days and it's already ruined a bunch of lives. You're right, it's horrible. It's gotta be stopped somehow."

Lukas uncurled himself and met Mathias's gaze with the eyes of a man in mourning. His golden hair was unkempt and his dullened eyes were ringed by dark circles. "You're saying hopeless things," he snapped, "we are but nothing to the kings and queens of our lands."

This time, Mathias had no response, clichéd or otherwise. He stared guiltily at his own feet before Lukas crawled over and nestled himself in the space between Mathias's arm and body. His breath came out in shaky puffs of fog that smelled of last night's fish, but Mathias settled his arms around the magician anyway and absorbed the sound of his pitiful sobs.

They stayed like that, unquestioning, as Emil made hot chocolate for everyone and lit the fireplace. Gradually, Mathias noticed, the frost on the windowpanes turned to rivulets of water and Emil had shed his wool blanket. Lukas's sobs had been reduced to sniffles with the occasional hiccup, yet the sadness in his eyes lingered.

"Are ya all right?" Mathias asked.

Lukas rose from his seat and retreated to his room without another word.

The silence hung heavy in the air, broken by the quiet scrape of the chair Berg had been sitting in. "I believe it is time for my sister and I to go," he said, extending his elbow. "It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Steilsson. Please take care of Mathias."

"Do come by again," replied Emil, "perhaps when the circumstances are not so grim."

"We look forward to it. See you, Mathias." And with a wave, Berg and Belle glided out of the shop, leaving Emil and Mathias alone.

"I've never met Mrs. Willowby myself," Emil said as he set to washing the dishes, "but I know she means a lot to my master. They wrote each other quite often."

"I'm sure she wouldn't want to see him so sad," Mathias answered grimly. "I sure don't."

Emil smiled. "Lukas has seen a lot in his life. He'll grieve for a bit, then recover." His eyes glazed over, as if lost in thought. "It's how he's survived," he added quietly, "I'm just surprised that he latched onto you."

"I was a little surprised myself," admitted Mathias, "but I couldn't just turn him away like that. Does he do that often?"

"Never. Normally, he barricades himself in his room to think about things, or he'll turn himself into an inanimate object to avoid thinking about things. Once, after being dumped by a girl, he turned himself into a phonogram that played only sad music. Though, this is much more serious."

As amusing as the image of Lukas as a phonograph seemed, Mathias couldn't laugh. "My heart hurts for him," he said, "is this part of the contract or somethin'?"

Emil finished putting the last of the used mugs away and shrugged, drying his hands on his trousers. "I'm not sure, myself," he answered, "seems you two have a bond, though, be it from the contract or otherwise." He allowed himself a smile. "I'm glad you came around, Mathias Fisher. You might be closer to breaking his curse than you think."

Mathias snorted, a laugh. "Pretty good for not knowing anything," he said.

Emil returned Mathias's laugh. "You'll get there. I'll be cheering for you."

"Thanks, kiddo."

Emil scowled. "Don't you dare call me that," he reprimanded.

XxX

For the rest of the day, Emil showed Mathias around the shop, under the pretext of, "if you're going to be here, then you might as well help out." Mathias, whose only experience with magic had been getting cursed, was delighted to learn that magic had beneficial uses as well. He let Mathias hand spells to customers who had ordered them, and taught him how to clear the dust from a surface with a simple wave of his hand. Granted, it took a couple of tries for the dusty shelf Mathias had been practicing on to clean itself and not sprout thick black hair on its surface, but by the end of the day, he was giddy with excitement. Magic, which had always been a foreign concept to him, was finally at his fingertips! He could clean all the dusty surfaces he wanted with his new power. He felt, in short, awesome.

Lukas appeared in the kitchen around dinnertime, wrapped up in his duvet. By then, Emil (with Mathias's help) had already prepared a delicious-smelling pasta. He planted himself at the table, staring blankly at its now-clean surface with red-rimmed eyes.

"Mathias," he said finally.

Mathias rushed over to kneel by Lukas's side. "What's wrong?"

Rather than reply, Lukas dropped his head to rest against Mathias's shoulder. Mathias felt a jolt of pain shoot into his heart, taking hold of its core with a dull ache that saddened him. He tilted his head to rest against Lukas's. "Still not feelin' good, huh?"

"No."

"It's a stupid war done by stupid people. They're ruinin' lives." Mathias said firmly.

Lukas was small and cold against him, exhaling breaths in puffs of steam that could be seen. He shivered and pressed closer to Mathias, a beacon of warmth and light that pierced through the cold darkness surrounding him. He closed his eyes. Since the beginning of his curse, never had he felt so secure. He felt Mathias's arm wind its way around his shoulder, the rough granite of his petrified hand brushing against his cheek.

A small part of his consciousness told him it was wrong, it was impolite to rub up against this almost-stranger like a domesticated cat. He pushed those thoughts away. How could it be wrong when Mathias felt like home?

Next to him, Mathias began to tremble.

"Um, Norge," he began, "my legs are crampin'. I gotta get up."

Eyelashes fluttering open, Lukas sat up. He felt the warmth seep away as Mathias stood and rubbed his aching legs. At the same time, that small part of his consciousness grew larger, and embarrassment took hold of him. He turned away from Mathias only to see Emil standing before him, a plate in his hand and a smirk on his lips.

"You've gotten quite close in such a short time," he teased, setting Lukas's dinner on the table.

Lukas cocked his head, eyebrow raised, and set to eating his dinner, choosing to ignore the truth of his apprentice's words.

AN: Guess who's in college now beyotchesssss

I really love this AU and this story so if you could leave a li'l something in the review box, I'll love you too~~

I heard about the politician Lukas Bondevik, which makes me a little uneasy. So I'm working on changing all instances of Lukas's last name to Thomassen. Lukas Thomassen, the Sorcerer Norge, the best in all the land.

But yeah, classes start tomorrow so I'm not exactly sure how much time I'll have for writing now! Makes me sad :( but there are a lot of clubs I'm planning on joining, including writing and art clubs, so I'll get to exercise my creative muscles at least!

Ta-ta for now!