Free Wizard's Heir (A Bard Without a Star, Book 1) by Michael A. Hooten

Gwydion’s
thumb. Gwydion kissed his nose, then reached in to set him beside Smooth Nose.
    She stopped whining, and after
a quick check on the pup, she looked back at him with a question in her eyes. “Until
the heavens and earth pass away,” he whispered. She thumped her tail twice.
    He backed away from the den,
stumbling over the uneven ground. Math was waiting at the bottom of the hill.
“I am ready to go,” Gwydion said.
    Math said nothing, only raised
his wand. When he brought it down, the forest swirled into nothingness, which
then became Math’s tower. Goewin still held the old man’s feet, and the
windows still whistled with the winds. And for Gwydion, none of it was even
remotely the same as when he left.

Chapter
7: Boar
    Gwydion spent the rest of the day in a pensive state. His
chambers seemed even more alien than they had the first time, and his
experiences as a wolf kept turning over and over in his mind. It had seemed
more real, more permanent than his time as a deer. He missed his mate, and the
warmth of her body curled next to his in the nighttime. He knew he was human
again, and he felt the bonds dissolving between himself and the pack. It made
him weep in both sorrow and frustration.
    Servants brought him food which
he ate without tasting, and when it was too dark to see any longer, he slept.
Bran did not come to his rooms, and Math did not summon him. For three days he
paced, floating in a world somewhere between humans and wolves, unsure of where
he might end up, but on the fourth, he awoke with a clear head. He got
dressed, and went up the stairs to see his uncle.
    “What did you learn, nephew?”
Math said.
    “Much,” Gwydion said shortly.
    “Was it good or bad?” the old
man pressed.
    “Both. Neither.” Gwydion shook
his head. “Good and bad aren’t the same to a wolf.”
    “But you are a man again.”
    “In my physical form, yes. But
something is shaping within me that is new. My time as a stag was
overwhelming, but my time as a wolf was something even more.” He shook his
head again. “I do not know if I still know myself.”
    Math leaned back. “Yes, I see.”
He stroked his beard idly. “There is one challenge left. Do you need more time
to assimilate before beginning?”
    “I don’t think so,” Gwydion
said, frowning. “I think it would be best to continue, without any more delay.”
    “Come forward, then,” Math
said, drawing the wand from his sleeve.
    This time, Gwydion strode
fearlessly onto the dais and past Goewin. Stopping at his uncle’s side, he
said, “I am ready.”
    The wand descended for the
third time; Gwydion felt the changes come over him, this time compacting his
body into a smaller frame. There was less pain, and he thought he might be
getting used to shapeshifting. His body sprouted bristles and his nose
stretched into a snout. He snorted and grunted a question at his uncle.
    “You are a wild boar,” Math
replied. “Now go, and explore.”
    The chamber swirled, but
Gwydion found that his mind was clearer than the previous times. He saw the
swirling for the illusion it was, but the glowing portal that opened before him
was real enough. He stepped through it, and onto a greensward lush with early
summer growth.
    Gwydion marveled at the new
senses he had acquired in his new shape. His nose was even more sensitive than
it had been as a wolf, and he could feel the power in his muscles that made him
a dangerous foe even to humans. He began to run, and quickly realized one
limit of his new shape, settling into a trot that kept him from feeling like
his lungs would explode.
    The grass gave way to small
trees, and his nose picked up the faint traces of another boar. He hesitated,
remembering with painful clarity what happened when he encountered others in
his previous transformations. The thought surprised him, and he was still
marveling at the ability to think rationally without being overwhelmed by
instinct when he realized that the other boar he had