How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Eleven

After their victory over the shadowy kidnapers, the four fugitives traveled swiftly. Their stolen enchanted cloaks allowed them to move nearly unseen through the forest at night, and as long as Kazé stayed out of the direct moonlight his fur remained ink black. They camped during the day in areas with good visibility. This took away any advantage that the cloaks gave their assailants. Kazé had caught the scent of their pursuers on the wind several times, but they were too few in number to make a frontal assault so they held well back and waited for an opportunity. 

They traveled solidly for little more than two days before reaching a clearing on the river's edge. Just before they crossed the tree line, Cariolta caught the scent of burgundy silk on the air and stopped. It was magic. The rustling of leaves in the wind muffled their movements as they circled through the underbrush to get a look. What they found was an aged wizard and, presumably, his apprentice silently facing off against Prag, who was staring back blankly with his jaw hanging loosely and a bit of drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth.

The decision was made with nothing more than a quick glance between the compatriots. Kazé charged through the last of the underbrush at lightning speed, his paws barely touching the ground as he flew towards the distracted wizard. Kish and Cariolta sped after him as quickly as their human feet could carry them, aiming for the apprentice. The boy bounded out after them, curious as to what all the excitement was about.

The old wizard returned to his sense just in time to see Kazé bearing down on him and he and began to conjure a spell that would tear the wolf in two. The words tangled in his mouth, however, as he saw Kish break through the bushes. His mind swirled with the images from Prag's mind and his focus drained out his ears. An instant later he found himself flat on the ground with a pounding headache and an uncomfortably heavy wolf on his chest.

The apprentice found himself at the sharp end of two swords and a spear as well, though he took no particular notice of the danger. He paid as much mind to the ambush as a grazing cow might pay to a passing moth.

"So much as a twitch from either of you and you'll be practicing your magics in several pieces." Cariolta snapped in an uncharacteristically vicious tone. "What business do you have with this man?"

"Now let's all just calm down. Nobody's been hurt." The ageing mage, having been floored so easily, decided to carry the pretense of a bumbling old man. "We're just looking for a friend of ours that went missing in these parts. This fellow here surprised us and I just stunned him a bit. He'll be fine in a few minutes. Just a misunderstanding I'm sure."

Given Prag's charming character and his soothing way with people, Cariolta was unsurprised that someone's first reaction to him would be to stun him, if not out of fear, then perhaps just to shut him up.

However, Prag was not stunned, he was well and truly ensorcelled; It takes a wizard of some skill to lock up a man's mind like that.

Kish didn't buy into it either. She knew nothing of magic, but there was something familiar about the old wizard—the way he looked at her, perhaps. She didn't trust him, though she couldn't say why.

Kazé didn't suffer the pangs of doubt that the humans might have. He could smell the deceit dripping off the man beneath him. If a single finger moved on the old man, he'd tear out his throat.

"That's him there!" The wizard said so suddenly that Kazé almost killed him. "The boy I'm looking for, that's him."

The strange youth, who had finally wandered into the middle of the clearing stared back at him blankly.

"Don't you recognize me boy? It's me, your master." The wizard obviously expected the young man to know him, but the boy continued to look around with the same vacant curiosity that he always did.