[Ward] BINGO: Free Space: Dark (,The)

[pineapplechild]

Luka was in his library when he felt the Dark’s interst piqued, and felt his wards examine something delightedly. Curious (like the cat), he slipped into a meditation and followed the sense of delight, to find a young boy caught in the tangles of his dream-wards. The Dark was purring and tendrils rubbed against his hands like particularly homicidal cats. The boy was swearing at them, showing an inventive streak for what appeared to be a 12-year old.

“- You! Let me go, you demented shadows!” Apparently tiring of this approach, flames began to lick from his clenched fists. The Dark hissed, laughingly, at his attempt to burn the Shadows away, and curled closer to him.
As Luka came closer, some of the Dark peeled away from the boy and came to his side, butting at his knees in welcome before settling in at his side like well trained hounds.

“You!” the boy yelled. “Get your damn wards to stop groping me, you pervert!”

Luka cocked his head, and examined the boy. Young, to be wandering the dream paths. Inexperienced, too, for his line back to his body was tight and strained with distance. His projection of himself looked about 12, was tow-haired and blue-eyed, and his school uniform (navy trousers, white oxford, red sweater with a blurry crest on the breast, tie hanging out of one pocket) hung loosely on his too-thin frame. He practically blazed with power on the grey dream plane.

“They are of the Dark, kid.” He chuckled. “If you are going to look so tasty, expect some Powers to take an interest.” But he held out a calming hand, and the Dark retreated from the boy, dancing in a circle around him.

“Don’t call me a kid.” The boy snapped.

“You are the one caught in my wards. I am allowed to call you what I want.”

The boy deflated. “Sorry.” He muttered. “I was looking for a friend of mine and got lost.”

“So far from your body? I am not surprised.”

The boy eyed him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Luka shrugged. “The further from your body, which the majority of your power is tied to, the less you will be able to perceive your surroundings accurately in dreams.” He explained.

“That’s what Hogarth meant, then, with his blather about seeing with the eyes.” The boy muttered to himself.

“That’s just dumb. I would have thought it would have a further range.”

Luka raised an eyebrow. The boy was using *Hogarth* as a reference for dream-travel? No wonder he was having trouble.

“A further range? Little boy, how far do you think you have come? This is England, and I rather think you are American.”

The boy paled and then snapped at him. “I couldn’t have come that far!”

“I assure you, this is my home in England.”

“I was just trying to go find Kit in Pennsylvania! That’s only like an eight hour car ride!”

“So why did you not drive, little boy?”

“He’s on a centaur reservation, visiting his parents.” The boy muttered. Comprehension dawned on Luka.

“Ahh. The Alegany Reservation is notoriously well warded. If you were trying to dreamwalk there, I am not surprised you got lost.”

The Dark had been drifting back toward the boy, and a few were nosing at the boy’s body-line. The boy spun around.

“Quit it! That tickles!” he yelled at the shadows. The Dark, happy to have his attention again, purred.

“What is *up* with your damn wards!” the boy said angrily to Luka.

He shrugged. “They like you. You are quite attuned to the Dark, you know.”

“No, I am *not*.” The boy said angrily, more truly angry then he’d been previously. “The Dark is what got my parents killed.”

Luka shrugged again. “Possible, but unlikely. In any case, you should return to your body soon. I believe sunrise is approaching you, and the line to your body is too thin to last in the day.” He smiled, showing teeth. “And the Dark would love to have your spirit, but I don’t think you would.”

The boy paled. “How do I go back?” he asked in a small voice. “I thought I’d just be able to go back the way I came, but if I got this lost…”

Luka regarded him carefully. “Yes, I don’t think that is the best option under the circumstances. I can offer you a Fetch, to guide you home, but you would need to tell me where your body lies.”

Fear of losing himself warred with the fear of having some unknown sorcerer know where he lived. The boy looked at his body-line, apprehension written in every line of his face. Taking pity on the boy, Luka held up his hand so the boy could see the rune on the palm of his hand and added “You needn’t be too afraid. I am sworn to upkeep the Council’s Laws, and it would go against them to allow harm to come to a minor who had not violated those laws.”

“I am *not* afraid!” the boy exploded.

“Really?” Luka grinned, and the Dark surged around him.

“Bastard.” The boy muttered, stepping back a half step automatically.

Luka shrugged. “For a given value.”

“Fine. Bullworth’s Acadamy, 300 Pawling Ave, Troy New York.” The boy snapped.

Luka inclined his head, taking pity on the boy. Whoever the boy’s master was, he was an idiot and hadn’t given the boy enough lessons in courtesy or bargining at all. “And in return, my name and a fetch to guide you home. I am Luka Reinahardt.”

He concentrated and called one of the fetch bound to him. The Fetch melted out of the Dark, taking the form of a short, broad man with atrocious taste in suits.

He frowned at the fetch. The Dark’s sense of humor was somewhat idiosyncratic. “Appropriate, but not appreciated.” He told the Fetch. “You are to guide this boy to his body, before sunrise. Go.”

The Fetch bowed mockingly, and held out a hand to the boy.

The boy, who’d watched all of this with wide eyes, looked to Luka first, and when he nodded, took the Fetch’s hand.

“Safe travels.” He told them as they took off into the grey of dreams. The Dark yearned after the boy, but returned to his wards easily enough.
—

It was only after several months at Ravencroft, with access to the library, that Neil realized how much trouble he could have gotten himself in, walking the Dreampaths unknowing. He winced at the thought of that first bargain, with the Dark Mage Reinhardt. Someone had favored him that day, to have found a Council-sworn mage, even a Dark one like Reinhardt. And Reinhardt hadn’t gone particularly out of his way to screw with him, either, even giving him his name and the Fetch. Hell, he had his suspicions about why the Bullworth Magic Instructor had been so keen to get him transferred to Ravencroft, when previously he’d been happy to have nothing to do with Neil.

Kit had made him write a thank you letter. It wasn’t hard to find Reinhardt; he’d found the Council’s mailing address on the internet, then sent a letter (an actual dead-tree letter, they didn’t have an email address!) inquiring after one of their members. He’d been told that yes, Mage Reinhardt was sworn to the council, and in fact oversaw the —-shire area. They wouldn’t give out his mailing address, but any mail addressed to Mage Reinhadt could be sent via the Council. So he had, and had only gotten the reply of piece of parchment, thick between his fingers, with a letterhead of a strange jagged sword, and a beautifully handwritten London address. The same Fetch had hand-delivered it to him, at Ravencroft, with a roguish smile and an even more eye-searing paisley shirt.

The letter stayed folded in one of his notebooks until the day that Headmistress Samantha Davens and Dean Lyantos came to tell him that although Britton was likely to recover, he wasn’t allowed to stay at Ravencroft.

“Demon summoning.” Davens kept saying incredulously. Neil thought about protesting, about how he hadn’t summoned anything, but he knew better. Teachers saw what they wanted to see.

His uncle would be there that afternoon. Neil planned to be long gone before then.

Alone in his dorm room, Neil looked over his empty room, belongings crammed into one large trunk and a backpack. He scuffed the toe of one of his trainers against the floor, and snorted, hand tightening on the parchment with the address on it and the plane ticket to London.

“Well, what did I expect.” He said the empty room. “He did say the Dark wanted me.”