The Sorcerer jostled the remaining drops into a ruby swirl and shook his head.
Perhaps he’d get another week out of the Trainer, but no more.
He glanced at his collection of vials. He had nothing that could compare to this one.
Most of the essences were yellow because the weak of will were easy to catch. Melancholic blues were too ascetic for the drive of lust. His black essence was a rutting brute, nothing seductive about him.
Maybe one of the greens would be acceptable. They were the romantics, the poets, artists, and dreamers.
He hadn’t another red because that kind of man was the most rare.
The Sorcerer cursed himself.
He should’ve introduced the essence of another man to his protégée much sooner under the reasoning that the most skilled seductresses take on many lovers.
Yet when the time came to transform, the Sorcerer always gave in to the lure of the Trainer’s red.
In all these years, he’d never been so careless.
He knew how perilous it was to take on the essence of another man.
Whenever he transformed, that man’s identity would take over and he would absorb the memories and personality of one who left a piece of himself behind in a garment marked with his blood or sweat, and the Sorcerer would fall into the passive role of an observer.
But at last, he could feel again.
Sentiment, affection, and attachment could destroy him, but to have them again was always such a relief.
The Trainer was the most intoxicating essence he’d ever had.
The first change the Sorcerer noticed was the surge of passionate joy; he became delirious with a love for life.
When he stepped out of the mist from the cauldron engulfed with the Trainer’s essence for the first time, and saw the girl gaping at him in horrified disbelief, he almost laughed out loud.
But she still couldn’t resist him.
The Sorcerer hardly blamed her; he was every bit as seduced by the Trainer as she was.
The Sorcerer used to watch them when they came to his parts seven years before.
When he first heard the rumble of their horses, he had thought another posse had gathered to hunt him down.
This was a common occurrence after his conquests, and he had recently claimed the daughter of a neighboring patron.
The Sorcerer smiled as he recalled how beautiful she had been with her fair hair and luminous skin.
Yet she was utterly ridiculous, fancying herself in love with the essence he used to seduce her.
The Sorcerer had chosen a green, a playwright of lyrical romances, because she dreamed of performing on stage.
Although she was engaged to another man, the maiden couldn’t resist the temptation to realize her fantasy, acting out one of the young man’s more scandalous plays to its climax when the leading lady surrendered to the call of the flesh.
After the seduction had reached its consummation, the playwright’s essence collapsed.
When the maiden had woken up to the reality of what she’d done, that was the moment the Sorcerer claimed the payment of her heart.
That conquest had left him in an irritation of malcontent that would persist for weeks.
These girls were all alike.
The Sorcerer always seduced them through their vanity.
The highborn girls were more than willing to disgrace their families and sell their hearts just to gratify a fleeting illusion.
It was too easy, really. The terminable sameness of it all was tedious.
If the Sorcerer didn’t need them for his immortality, he wouldn’t bother with the little fools.
So on the day he heard the resounding gallop of horses halt at the river before the Ancient Grove, the Sorcerer shook his head in disgust. With the spell he used to safeguard his Caverns, the humiliated fiancé and dishonored father were absurd if they believed they could ever find him.
Nonetheless, the Sorcerer poured the liquid cloud to watch them become lost in the trees.
Then he cast his mind, the Sorcerer was surprised to see the Patron’s daughter instead, riding with young man who was clearly in service to her father.
The girl had changed much since he last saw her.
She wasn’t a woman yet, but she was no child either.
The Sorcerer had never seen her escort before.
The young man was handsome, but the patches holding his pants together showed he was not her equal.
Yet the young man lacked the downcast humility of servants. There was a devil-may-care gleam in his eyes, even when he shuddered and peered into the dark trees.
“I see your point, little Miss. This place doesn’t feel too good.”
“I told you,” she said. “Can we go now?”
“Let’s head north a bit first. If it gets no better, I promise you we’ll leave. Okay?”
The girl frowned, gazing in the direction he pointed where the trees stood half as tall as those before her.
With long skirts flowing down the flank of her horse, she looked like the proper young lady she was born to be.
It was incredible she was even here.
The Abandoned Valley and Ancient Grove were forbidden and her father was known for being strict.
There was fear in the girl’s eyes, but she still nodded her agreement.
The Sorcerer couldn’t believe it.
Her escort had sharp instincts.
The northwest end of the Valley edged the woods of No Man’s Land. There the border separated them from the country to the west.
The Sorcerer had no power there beyond the ability to watch them through second sight.
The distance was enough to put the girl and the strange young man at ease. They stayed for the rest of the afternoon.
The Sorcerer was intrigued with what he saw.
The pair returned most days that summer, riding through his domain in haste to the northwest side of the Abandoned Valley where the light was softer, the trees shorter and the air filled with the music of birds.
The Sorcerer watched over them every time they came.
He learned the young man had been a wanderer who adventured in the most exotic reaches of the world, stowing away on a ship only to return to the country of his birth.
Like all vagabonds when they finally came home, he was met with suspicion wherever he went until he convinced the Patron to hire him to train the gray colt he always rode.
The girl had never interested him before with her homely face and sullen demeanor.
But over the following months, the unloved daughter of the Patron blossomed under the Trainer’s influence.
And the Sorcerer changed his mind.
Each day, the adventurer regaled her with jokes and outrageous stories.
With her solemn nature, the girl scowled at him often.
But one day, she finally grinned and soon afterwards, started to smile.
The girl burst into her first giggle towards the end of spring.
She looked startled at the sound, hiding her mouth with her hands.
By mid summer, she broke apart into peals of laughter, throwing her head back just like the Trainer did.
Her metamorphosis was absolutely compelling.
For the first time in far too long, the Sorcerer was intrigued.
