“Children, I’ll tell you the story of your grand-grand-grand-uncle Caw,” Ms Blackbeak said.
“Again?” one small raven asked.
“Not that one, listen to me: Caw!”
“Oh, sorry. I misheard.”
Oh dear, Jet will be trouble, she thought. But we’ll tackle problems one at a time. And now it’s lesson time.
“So. A long time ago…”
*****
Caw perched on his favourite branch, utterly amused. The man below had everything he needed, apparently: long flowing robes (hood included), dark makeup under his eyes, and Caw could smell the poison in his daggers (the one on sight and the hidden one) even from up here. He held a black wand in his left hand. He even had a silver skull with ruby red eyes dangling from a necklace (oh how shiny).
What he was lacking was the attitude. And any talent, of course.
The man shouted some incoherent words and pointed the wand.
Nothing happened.
The man swore.
Caw laughed.
“Who’s there?” the man said.
“I did,” Caw said.
“You can speak?” the man said.
Ah, he’s not completely useless, Caw thought. He understands me.
Caw glided down to a lower branch, but stayed out of reach.
“Of course I can,” Caw said then. “All ravens can.”
“How come I’ve never noticed before?”
“You need to pay attention. Also, we seldom talk in the presence of humans.” And he cawed. “This is what you usually hear.”
“Ah.”
Caw tilted his head. The skull glinted.
“Trying your head at some magic, eh?” he said.
“How do you know?” the man asked.
“Oh, I know magic.”
“What?”
“Are you hard of hearing, perhaps? I know magic.”
“Ha!”
Oh dear, Caw thought. Well, this was expected.
“Your pronunciation is terrible,” he said. “And magic is all in the words. Basic magic, at least. Pay attention: before pointing your wand, you should say…”
And the magic words flowed. The man could feel them.
Hm. Not completely useless, indeed, if he can sense that.
“Try it yourself.”
He did.
It worked.
It was a simple alteration spell. The small plant the man had pointed his wand at grew larger for a moment, then it stopped.
“Will you teach me more?”
“For a price,” Caw said.
“What’s your price?”
Caw smiled. The man didn’t realize he was smiling, of course.
“I’ll name it when the time comes.”
“I accept,” the man said.
Ah, the bond. How easily created.
“Good. We have a deal.”
“Should I name you, or do you already have a name, raven? Quothe, Nevermore, Huginn, Muninn?”
“Where did you get those names from?”
“Visions.”
Ahhh. Visions! Not useless at all!
“Caw. My name is Caw. Yours?”
“Oqill.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Oqill. Now, lesson two…”
*****
“Everything’s ready.” Caw said.
“I still sense something’s wrong,” Oqill said.
Fantastic, Caw thought. I was never mistaken.
“What do you feel?”
“Something’s… amiss? You’ve always taught me to trust my instinct, Caw.”
“Yes.”
“Let me check the grimoires again.”
“All right, but the spell has a schedule.”
“I know, I know.” Oqill adjusted his goggles and scraped his beard as he bent over the tome. How time had passed. “Just let me check again…”
Caw said nothing. The necklace skull glinted, reflecting the light from the cauldron’s fire and the energetic vials.
“I cannot see anything,” Oqill said finally. “We go ahead.”
“Fine,” Caw said.
The cauldron bubbled. The liquid changed colour. Oqill opened a spigot on the side of the cauldron and poured a measure. He doubted for a second.
“Immortality…” he whispered.
Caw raised an eyebrow.
Oqill drank.
He changed.
He was small. Black. Feathered.
He was a raven.
“Wait, what…?”
A hand grabbed him. He looked around. His face? But… younger?
“Hello, Oqill the raven,” his mouth said. Only it wasn’t his mouth any longer.
“What…? How…?”
“This,” Caw the raven said, pointing at his rejuvenated human body, “is my price.”
And with a swift movement, he placed Oqill the now immortal raven in a cage.
*****
“That’s fun, Ms Blackbeak.”
“It is, children,” she said. “But remember, this was a long time ago. And nobody but Caw has done it again. You must never trust humans. And above all…”
“Never talk in their presence!” a chorus sang.
“Good. Now go have your lunch.”