Draken lays awake that night, biting his thumbnail as the day’s events linger in his mind. The past, the future, new powers and impending war. It’s a lot to take in. Of course he’s glad to learn the carnal possibilities of witchcraft. Mastering the sex summoning technique is definitely a new personal goal. Still, it was a disturbing journey to take. Delights of the flesh aside the scene of the future is unshakable.

The smoke, blood and death of war feel imminent.

“That guy knew me,” he mutters. “He was … will be a friend.”

He wasn’t expecting to die there. Knowing he would die he wasn't expecting to share his last moments with a version of his friend who he hadn’t yet met. Draken feels a sinking sensation.

He should have been expecting it and the fact that he wasn't can only mean one thing.

“I’m no friend at all, I didn’t… don’t tell him shit!” It’s like a punch in the gut, knowing that given a second chance he’ll do the same damn thing. Lying to a friend’s face, letting him think it’ll all turn out fine while knowing full well that he’s gonna die. The worst part is that he knows deep in his guts that seeing the future won’t change a thing. He dreads the day he meets Jack because he knows he’ll never be brave enough to tell him the truth. He’ll smile and laugh with him knowing that his days are numbered and convince himself not to think about it.

“Damn it,” he rasps, “there’s got to be something I can do.”

If not for the doomed soldier who wrongly calls him friend at least for the people who call him friend today.

“Totally unsurprised by my appearance, which means we can’t have long.” The only difference Jack had noted was a slight change in his height. Thinking on that detail Draken figures there’s not more than two years before it all goes to hell. The stories from the last war don’t bear thinking about. Kids swept up off the streets and thrown to the front lines to be chopped to pieces. Not his crew, not if he can help it. Money, resources to stay a step ahead of the war machine. That’s what his people need and he needs to get it to them.

“This is no time to retire from the life.” War can mean disaster for his peers but it also can mean opportunity. War means shortages, rationing, high taxes and demand for forged papers.

His vision of the future is like the ultimate inside tip.

If his crew can invest now, when war is declared they can make out like bandits.

The plan forms solidly in his mind like a glittering diamond and he feels the thrill run through him that only comes from devising a brilliant scheme. To make it work he’ll need more funds which means more work, which with magic on his side will be a different game. Not the long game he thought it would be but a mad dash toward wealth.

***

Draken holds his resolve into that day’s studies with Hood, Keeping his eyes open for anything which would come in handy as a thief. However keeping his eyes open proves a challenge in itself. The day’s training under the wizard is far dryer than anything he could have imagined.

No thrilling initiations or perilous spells to learn. The dust in the air irritates his nose as he stares down a stack of books.

“Reading is key,” Hood says with a grin, adding another four books to the pile.

He feels a tingling in his nostrils as they protest the dust from the eighteen volumes with a sneeze.

“You’ll get used to it,” Hood laughs. “A wizard needs to since theory comes long before practice. No ridiculous initiations here, just reading and concentration. You may think it dull but knowing your basics prevents accidents. Sloppy wizards end up as a mess on the floor. ”

He adds another stack of books to the pile, stirring more dust into the air.

Having left a good twenty books on the desk Hood jotts down a two page chapter-by-chapter reading list, pushing it gingerly into Draken’s hand.

“Consider this your initiation.”

The wizard doesn't stay long. After a few minutes he seems satisfied that Draken is actually studying and throws on a cloak.

“I’ve got an appointment, I trust that you can study on your own. Just in case, I’ve put away the magicyte, should you get any stupid ideas about doing more than just reading.”

The door slams behind the wizard and Draken finds himself alone in the cavernous library. He sighs in relief, things could not be going better.

Alone at last he slips four hunks of magicyte from his sleeve. Easy enough to palm after the wizard trial. He was planning to sell them but now he’s glad he didn’t. Using his assignments as a guide he targets his reading towards spells which might be useful in burglary. Nothing too complex, simple enough to put together with limited training.

***

Three hours of genuine study later and Draken is getting a picture of how few spells fit the bill.

Most of the useful ones are prohibitively complex with warning lists as long as his arm.

Invisibility spells if done wrongly can cause spontaneous combustion and the less said about intangibility the better. Realistically speaking he has to consider a real possibility of failure and doesn’t intend to die if he can help it.

He taps his finger slowly on the desk as he ponders the three remaining enchantments.

The first, Catseye Possession is fairly simple but if wrongly cast can leave him comatose for a few days. Not the worst but it doesn’t leave much room for deniability where Hood is concerned.

The next option, Sleeping Mist has the benefit of being a timed spell that won’t backfire if miscast. The problem, however is a truly colossal one. If poorly cast it will kill its victims rather than put them to sleep. A disaster the young thief is not prepared to take the blame for.

Finally is the Level Nine Golem, which unlike higher level animations has no mind of its own.

It’s controlled by a crystal and if the spell goes badly the worst that can happen is the automaton going out of control. Considering that what he plans to make won’t be bigger than a cat he can live with the thought of it running loose.

“I think we have a winner.”

The first thing he’ll need is molding clay. Luckily he remembers spotting three barrels of clay in Hood’s workshop. It seems a little strange that the stuff comes in three colors but he doesn’t think much of it. That anal wizard probably color codes everything.

He scoops a handful of the red tinted clay and slaps it down on the workbench.

Keeping the commands simple is key, that much he’s picked up from his day of reading. Getting over complicated will only make the thing go crazy. He smiles to himself, thinking that the command he has in mind is simplicity itself. Steal any unattended gold or jewels it finds in people’s houses. He can guide it from house to house with the crystal controller and let the command take over, then collect the reward, easy money.

After carving the detailed commands on one crystal and basic controls on the other, Draken then shapes the clay into a crude humanoid shape. He chants over the warped and misshapen figure, ordering his will upon the two crystals. His skin prickles as he feels a power rising all around him. He is overcome by a focus so intense that he doesn’t notice the dropping temperature, doesn’t hear the buzz in the air or feel the heat on his skin.

If he’d read his assigned studies he’d know that none of this is normal for an earth type spell.

Draken, in his zeal mixed and matched elemental runes. Having read ahead in his books he’s come out with the impression that mixing runes is common practice. This, however is only true for mid and high level spells involving upwards of a dozen runes. To give his golem autonomy he’s borrowed a rune from an advanced imp spell, thinking himself incredibly clever.

All of this culminates in a painfully blinding flash.

When the spots vanish, his eyes follow a swift movement. The golem, having leapt from the table scurries across the floor, giggling like the imp from which it’s runes were borrowed.

“Stop!” Draken shouts as the thing darts hither and yon.

Snatching up the command crystal he points it at the little red golem.

“I said , stop I command you!”

It pauses for a moment, looks at him quizzically and continues it’s mad dashing.

“Stop running, I command you.” He repeats, shaking the crystal like a pepper pot. Drakens eyes dart from the golem in alarm as he hears the front door open. Just then the little thing darts under his legs.

“What the devil!?” He hears Hood shout.

“Draken!!!” The wizard’s voice booms with unnatural bass. Even as his heart jumps in his chest the boy falls to the floor, entangled in what he soon realizes is a tightening rope.

Tugging at it with nimble fingers seems to do no good so he reaches out with sorcery only to have his concentration throttled as the rope contracts around his neck.

Draken gags, desperate for air as he is pulled feet first toward the door.

“Fool,” Hood says contemptuously. “Disobedient fool.”

A swift kick to the gut leaves Draken groaning as the rope goes slack.

“Now, tell me what you did.” The edge in the wizard’s voice brokers no argument.

***

“I must admit I’m impressed that you could create even a defective golem at your current level, boy.” Hood smiles despite himself.

“I only wanted to make you proud I ...” Draken’s lies are snuffed as the rope constricts instantly and painfully.

“Try the truth.” Hood says. “Why did you disobey my orders?”

“I made it to steal for me!” Draken admits between pained gasps.

“Truth at last.” Hood says, the ropes loosen just enough for Draken to breathe.

“So, you thought you’d make yourself a little burglar, did you? A harmless servant to sneak into rich people’s houses and bring you armloads of treasure. ”

Draken nods slowly, nervously grinning.

“You already knew i was a thief when you picked me. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. When you think about it, it’s pretty funny. ” Draken groans as the rope bites into his flesh, tightening with sudden ferocity.

“It won’t be funny when people are dead you greedy little prick!” Hood yanks the rope, pulling Draken to within an inch of his hawk like nose. His eyes flash like lightning and for an instant the kindly wizard is a vicious beast. Draken is afraid.

“Nobody’s gonna die, that … that spell isn't dangerous, I made sure!”

The back of Hood’s hand seems hard as wood and stings like a wasp. Draken shakes his head to clear the stars from his vision.

“You didn’t study the basics. Tried to build a castle with no foundation. As a result, that golem of yours is made out of explosive clay. Which you would have recognized by color had you bothered to read the assignments I gave you!” The wizard’s voice echoes through the house.

The boy’s mind conjures a distinct scene to his inner eye. A woman who looks uncannily like his own mother rocking a squealing babe pauses her lullaby to look up at a sound. Spotting Draken’s impish abomination her eyes go wide before she and the babe are blasted to bloody cutlets by the explosion.

“I think i’m gonna be sick.” He groans, unable to banish the imagined scene from his mind.

“You’ll be worse than sick if innocent lives are lost, you’ll be punished.”

Hood kneels at Draken’s side, holding something round and ominous in his hand.

“As the law dictates you’ll be left to my mercy and I will show you none. What I hold was created by a master whose apprentice hunted and killed an entire bloodline. In his calculating fury the master devised the ultimate punishment, here’s a taste.”

Something like a static shock pops at his arm as the orb brushes skin.

***

Draken suddenly finds he’s not himself but rather a man stripped bare and chained to a wooden post. Sharp splinters scrape into his back and a flickering of light draws his eyes to a black robed magistrate holding a torch aloft.

“Cornelius Collier, you are guilty of high treason, rape, regicide and desecration all crimes delivered most brazenly upon the noble personage of the High Wizard. In their wisdom and mercy the Magician’s Council has left your trial and punishment to your peers and as your peers we, the city of Gold Seal carryout your execution.”

The magistrate lowers the torch to the straw, wood and kindling at his feet. Draken finds himself screaming in a voice not his own as the fire swaddles his ankles and legs in a blanket of pain.

“No! You can’t do this to me, I’m a hero. I saved you from him!” He vainly struggles against the heating chains burning his skin. Wild, unreasoning hatred rises up like a flood, drowning the pain long enough for him to gather more strength. .

“These freaks are enslaving us all!” He shouts with fanatical fervor. “Magic is the work of the devil and you bow to it like demons yourselves.” Somehow his dry mouth generates enough spittle to froth. Perhaps it’s the moisture from his tear ducts for as the flames rise and the pain becomes unspeakable he cannot even cry.

***

“Only a taste.” Hood repeats. Draken is himself again.

“There are nine hundred and ninety nine deaths as bad or worse and just as real for you to live through if you fail.”

The rope falls limp from a stunned Draken. Hood smiles warmly.

“It’s time you started searching for that loose golem.”

Draken stands on unsteady feet as his whole body shakes. Overcome by short, quick breaths he can’t form a word and can’t stop himself from crying.