The Ice Eyed Mage

Chapter 1

"Now, Tilly, be careful on your way home."

"Thank you, Magister Crowley. I truly appreciate your help." The old woman cooed as she left the man's home. Crowley waved the next customer into his simple cottage.

The young man was the county mage and helped all the people within the county limits, which included three large towns and several smaller villages. As a mage, he did everything from healing the sick to summoning small storms to wet the fields. He specialized in destruction magic, however, and, while he enjoyed helping people, he felt trapped and limited. He was lucky though, most warlocks like him were integrated into the military and fought against the Furies relentlessly. He had purposely failed the warlock tests in order to dodge the deadly work.

Azeroth, the country of the Furies, had terrorized the human country of Thrint for almost 10 years. Furies were terrifying creatures with deep red skin, bat-like wings, claws, horns, and snake-like tongues. They fought barehanded for their claws could cut through most armor. The only help against them was magic. They supposedly ate human flesh as well but that was one of the things many realized was propaganda. Crowley had seen one before, and while he didn't like them, he wasn't afraid of them nor did the propaganda scare him.

He had set up his home deep in the human kingdom so it was quite safe from the monstrous red-skinned beasts. He didn't have to worry about getting gutted like the fish at the market. Nor did he have to worry about the amount of physical and mental strain of working as a military warlock. All he had to worry about is healing the sick and reading the loveliness of hopeful marriage partners.

Crowley was bent over a young farmer's injured foot weaving the greenish-blue threads of healing when there came a pounding on his door. He sighed, annoyed at the apparent rudeness and the lack of patience. He groaned slightly as the pounding resumed.

"I'm coming, you annoying bastard." He grumbled, the last bit under his breath, stood and strode to the door. He ran a hand over his clothing to smooth it out before opening the large wooden door. Two men in crisp forest green uniforms stood at attention. Royal soldiers didn't stray too far from the capital so seeing them was rare for the average folk. The underarms of his shirt became moist with sweat and jittery vibrations covered his hands.

"What can I do for the Royal Guardsmen? Is someone injured?" He smiled at the men, not only as a service provider should but also due to the lack of wavering in his voice. The first soldier who was also the highest-ranking smiled back at the mage but his eyes flitted across the small room. His smile grew again as he spotted the farmer.

"No, thankfully no one is hurt quite yet. However, we are on the hunt for a Fury. One was spotted on this side of the border a while back and we have been chasing the beast for a few weeks. Somehow the bastard escapes us and has moved into the area.

"We are checking homes and warning the people of its presence. If you see it please don't hesitate to call us. Please, as a mage I warn you, this one can use a small amount of magic as well so please be extremely careful. Whatever you do, do not engage." The soldier gave him a card with a phone number, saluted, and left.

"Dear gods, I hope that beast stays far away from here. None of us would stand a chance against that thing. Not only does it have claws but it can use magic too? Terrifying." The farmer shuddered at the thought.

"Do not fear, Maxsin, those soldiers are the strongest in the country and have killed dozens of them. We are safe with them here. Now let's get back to that foot." He smiled and hid a sigh of relief. Thankfully his long black hair had been swept in front of his left eye. If they had seen it the soldiers would've handcuffed him and brought him before the king. He would rather die at the hands of a Fury than to go back to the capital.

He worked in silence, finishing the farmer's ankle without a word. He waved the man away once he was done before closing and locking the door. He walked to the bathroom sink in a slight daze. Why would a Fury be here? What are they thinking? Stupid Fury!

Like lightning, an unwanted memory popped into his head and he quickly splashed his face with ice-cold water hopping to make the feeling it brought go away. His eyes locked with themselves in the mirror and he sighed at his appearance. He was always proud of his deep bronze skin for it didn't have a single blemish other than the single beauty mark under his left eye. It was this eye that made him ashamed. While his right eye was a simple jet black his left was an icy blue which, in a certain light, almost appeared white. He hated the eye and constantly covered it up with patches and his hair.

He had long ago shaved the right side of his head until only a light fuzz was left. The left side, however, was left untouched and allowed to grow. When he first shaved his head his hair came down to his ear, now it nearly touched his elbow. When he restyled his hair he also placed a spell on it, coloring it a jet black, hiding its original color from the rest of the world.

He splashed more water on his face before moving to the stove. He cooked a simple stew in a large pot and ate alone as usual. He looked his secret spell tome over as he ate the bland meal. He had memorized most of them by now, but he liked re-reading it over again so he would never forget it. He flipped to a simple transmuting spell hoping to turn his metallic well-water into a good wine. As his fingers were taking aim a light knock came from the door.

At first, he ignored it thinking it was nothing but his imagination but it came again, a little louder this time. He rolled his eyes and prayed that it wasn't those soldiers again. He grumbled as he stomped over to the door. He was prepared to snap at the uninvited guest for even the villagers knew not to disturb the mage at such a late hour. As he opened the door, however, he simply looked confused at the hooded figure.