Chapter 2
My unexpected encounter with the wizard occupied my mind throughout my entire journey home. The farther I traversed, the more I wondered whether I’d imagined the entire exchange, even as I kept expecting him to reappear…only he never did. Had he given up trying to persuade me to become his apprentice? The thought brought both relief and a strange sense of disappointment, thanks to the impractical side of me that yearned to embrace his offer.
“It’s for the best; my family needs me.” But speaking the words aloud did little to convince my rebellious heart eagerly stoking my imagination with every possibility for how I could use my newfound powers that up until a moment ago I didn’t even know I possessed.
The woodland scenery grew familiar once I returned to the twisting path that led to my cottage, yet everything around me seemed new, as if the woods had changed…or perhaps for the first time, I was seeing them as they really were.
Magic is easy to notice once one knows what to look for. It exists everywhere, but only those with a discerning eye can discover it. The wizard’s words echoed in my mind with every step, causing me to look around the forest he claimed was enchanted with new eyes.
I searched the air for any sign of magic, but saw only the breathtaking beauty of my surroundings—tall trees of cedar and aspen with clumps of ferns growing at their bases and hidden treasures of acorns, pinecones, and mushrooms nestled beneath their boughs, just waiting to be discovered. Vines hung from the leafy canopy, where golden sunlight filtered through to dance across the melody of flowers scattered across the undergrowth, adding bright touches to the amber forest grounds. Sunlight glistened off the vibrant colors, while the air hummed with birdsong, an invisible force that had always filled the forest but which I was now beginning to wonder might be something more.
Was it truly magic after all?
As I reached the edge of the woods, I crouched down to pluck some cheerful bluebells to brighten my brother’s room. I rested them carefully across the mushrooms filling my basket and stepped into the clearing where my two-room cottage awaited me.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”
I startled at the now familiar voice and spun around to find the wizard leaning casually against an evergreen, arms folded and wearing his characteristic smirk.
I sighed. “I wondered whether you’d turn up.” I pressed my hand against my pounding heart, willing it to still.
“Oh?” He raised a single brow. “Magical intuition?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s nothing of the sort. Wizards are simply predictable.”
He shrugged. “Determined seems the more apt description.” He straightened and glanced towards the sky to frown at the sun, much lower than when we’d parted ways. “It took you nearly an hour to traipse the woods, time wasted considering I was able to cross the same distance in mere seconds with a simple transportation spell.”
I did my best to contain my curiosity but it stirred to life at his purposefully cryptic words. Against my will the question tumbled out: “What sort of transportation spell?”
“There are many different types.”
He paused with a look inviting questions, and to my annoyance several simmered on my tongue. I hadn’t considered that multiple spells could fulfill a similar purpose. What nuances dictated the differences between the various transportation spells? But humoring him would only alert him to how much his offer tempted me, which would only encourage him; he was already difficult to resist as it was.
I took a steadying breath and calmly pushed these wonderings aside as I fixed an indifferent expression on my face. “It doesn’t matter that it took an hour longer; I had an enjoyable walk that your magic caused you to miss entirely.”
He blinked, as if he hadn’t considered this, and I departed with a triumphant smirk. He frowned after me but thankfully made no motion to follow as I entered the house.
Mother looked up from the pot cooking over the hearth with a welcoming smile, one I couldn’t return. Guilt twisted my heart at the sight of the nearly prepared dinner. That blasted wizard had caused me to neglect my chores and create inconvenience for my overworked mother.
“My apologies, I’m later than I promised.”
Relief softened her tight worry. “It’s no matter considering you’ve arrived home safely.” She cradled my cheek. “I hope you enjoyed your time in the woods.”
Enjoyablewas not how I’d describe today’s events, but I managed a smile as I set the basket down. “I gathered a lot of mushrooms. I’ll chop and roast them, then help with the bread as soon as look in on Corbin.”
I carefully took the flowers and headed for the adjourning room I shared with him and Mother. I knocked softly and peered inside, expecting him to be asleep as he often was in the late afternoon, only to find him sitting up in bed playing with his toy blocks atop the covers.
His tongue stuck through the gap created by his two missing front teeth as he smiled. “Maeve!”
His warm joy and the blessing of seeing him dispelled my lingering annoyance from the wizard, leaving only my adoration for my dear brother. I swept him into as tight of a hug as his little frail body could allow.
“It’s good to see you, Corbin.” I kissed his cheek before holding out the handful of bluebells. His dark eyes lit up.
“You kept your promise.”
“I’ll always fulfill all my promises.”
He reverently took the flowers and smelled them contentedly before carefully arranging them in the nearby vase with the others, most of which had already wilted, yet their color still brightened the otherwise stark room. The nightstand contained his collection of trinkets, which I did my best to contribute to with each venture outside—from flowers of various kinds, to uniquely shaped leaves, to pebbles, acorns, and pinecones that my brother never tired of playing with. Each offered him a glimpse of the outdoors he was often too frail to experience himself.
I settled on the bed beside him and stroked his hair before lowering my touch to his brow to check his fever. As usual his skin was heated, his usually dark complexion pale; no matter how much he rested, his precarious health never seemed to improve.
“How are you feeling?”
He offered a brave smile even as the corners of his mouth tightened, the sign of his almost constant pain, too acute for someone of his tender seven years to bear. If I truly had magic there would be only one thing I’d want to use it for. I closed my eyes, searching for whatever power the wizard claimed I possessed, as if a thorough search would allow me to find it, dormant yet ready to be of use…but I sensed nothing.
I opened my eyes with a quiet sigh and forced a smile. “Have you had a good day?” I asked gently.
He nodded even though I knew he’d likely been restless, as he usually was. “Will you tell me a story about your time in the forest?”
I nodded. “I had quite the adventure with a magical light that led me to a rather eccentric wizard.” I winked as if I was only spinning a fantastical tale, nevermind that had been exactly what had occurred. My heart warmed at his grin; at least I could help him in this way, no matter how small.
“What sort of magic did the wizard have?”
“He could talk to his tracking charm—a sentient yet slightly mischievous ball of light—and disappear…only to reappear a mile away.”
Corbin’s eyes widened with delight. “What other spells could he perform?”
His innocent inquiry only stoked my own curiosity I fought to suppress, one I had few answers for, considering I hadn’t allowed myself to ask the wizard the questions I’d yearned to. “I’m not sure.” I hesitated. “If I had magic, what powers do you think I’d possess?”
His brow furrowed in concentration before he smiled. “You’re always happy, even when things are hard; you always make me feel better just from being near me, whatever you cook is extra delicious, and you tell the best stories.”
Could such simple things truly be magic? While I doubted his observations indicated I truly possessed power, his words caused my heart to swell and I loved him all the more for them.
“I’ve never considered such things to be magic, but it makes me happy I can do anything to bring you joy.” I gave him a snuggle. “Would you like to sit in the kitchen while Mother and I finish preparing dinner?”
At his enthusiastic nod, I carefully lifted his thin body, cradling him in my arms as I carried him into the next room. Mother kissed the top of his head in greeting as I settled him in a chair near the hearth, ensuring he was close enough to enjoy its warmth even beneath his layers of blankets. Once I was assured he was comfortable, I assisted Mother with her preparations, beginning with the mushrooms.
I frowned into the basket. The contents had been as I’d left them when I’d gone to check on Corbin…with one obvious alteration. I held one aloft, drawing my family’s gaze. Corbin giggled in delight and Mother gasped. “I’ve never seen such a large mushroom. It almost seems…unnatural, especially considering to my limited knowledge the woods aren’t enchanted.”
I pursed my lips. “Indeed.”
Though the wizard wasn’t nearby—unless the scoundrel was currently invisible, a possibility I couldn’t entirely dismiss—his amusement at yet another successful trick stretched across the distance separating us. I could almost hear the smug explanation he’d likely render were he present—using magic to create larger mushrooms meant the food I foraged would last longer, with the added benefit that I could perform this longevity spell even from a distance, as he’d so aptly demonstrated.
I was grateful the mysterious wizard wasn’t nearby so I wouldn’t be forced to lie that I didn’t find such a spell useful when in my heart I knew it was. Yet even the chance to use my magic in such a way wasn’t enough to convince me to accept his offer, not when an apprenticeship would separate me from the family who needed me far more than they needed the extra food or the convenience of making my chores easier.
I bit my lip to suppress a sigh as I took up my knife to prepare these engorged mushrooms for the stew bubbling over the hearth.
Mother gnawed her lip as she cast the unusual fungi a wary sidelong glance. “They’re not poisonous, are they?”
That was unlikely, even for a wizard determined to drive me mad. I shook my head and Mother’s shoulders relaxed before she took up her own knife to assist me.
The evening passed with us working side by side, conversing with Corbin from his cheerful nearby perch. When the soup was nearly finished and Mother had just pulled a fragrant loaf of bread from the oven, I took up the bucket to draw fresh water from the well for us to enjoy with our supper.
The garden was aglow in sheens of slanted light from the setting sun, casting a dancing layer of gold across the herbs and vegetables growing in tidy rows. The evening spring breeze felt pleasant against my cheeks, damp after standing so near the hearth. I hummed as I drew the water and headed back to the cottage.
“Did you find the engorgement spell useful?”
I startled and sloshed half of the bucket down my front, drenching me in a chill that seeped through the fabric. The wizard who’d suddenly appeared at my side was instantly remorseful.
“My apologies. Here, allow me.” With a low murmur, he swiveled his finger in a circular motion to summon a small handful of wind, which he guided in my direction to dry my soaked blouse.
I could only stare, trying not to be too curious about something that had no place in my ordinary life…but the lure was impossible to entirely ignore, especially when it stoked my ever-present curiosity from a flame into a roaring blaze that was becoming more and more difficult to stifle.
“You can control the elements?” The question escaped before I could contain it; I bit back a growl of frustration as the wizard’s eyes met mine with a knowing gleam.
His lips curled upward, somewhat mischievously, as if he’d purposely chosen such a spell to pique my interest, leaving me to wonder whether he’d startled me on purpose so he’d have a reason to demonstrate.
“Control isn’t the correct word; nothing is strong enough to control the elements—they’re an entity entirely their own. However, magic is a tool we can use to manipulate them to an extent, especially the more we understand them. It’s like building a relationship—the deeper the trust, the more cooperative the elements become, and the more willing to do one’s bidding.”
He patiently finished drying my wet clothes before tucking the gentle breeze away as if he was pocketing the force rather than having borrowed it from the air.
“Imagine how much more efficient it’d be to dry clothes this way rather than hang them on the line.”
He didn’t need to prompt the thought, not when my imagination had already conjured several uses for magical wind…but I was too proud to admit such a thing. I couldn’t allow my desires to sway me, ones already difficult to resist when he repeatedly tantalized me with hints for what awaited me should I accept the offer that still seemed far too good to be true.
He likely would have pressed the matter further if Mother hadn’t chosen that moment to peer outside the ajar window. “Are you talking with someone?”
Her eyes widened with curiosity and surprise, and it was no wonder. Our home was nestled amongst the trees with no near neighbors; while we technically were part of the small nearby village, my parents had chosen to build our home in a more secluded spot. Hence we’d never truly assimilated into village life, though we were friendly with the others when we on occasion crossed paths. However this was a rather rare occurrence as we often had little time for anything other than providing for ourselves and caring for Corbin.
I spun around to face the wizard, but once more he’d vanished. “I was practicing a story to tell Corbin over supper.”
Her puzzled expression relaxed into a gentle smile. “He’ll be delighted. I’m looking forward to hearing it myself now that dinner is ready.” She ducked back inside the house.
Though the wizard was seemingly nowhere to be found either in our garden or the surrounding forest, I sensed his heated gaze following me as I carried the bucket—now full, the wizard having replaced the water he’d spilled without my notice—into the cottage.
I hoped that encounter would be the last I’d see of him, but fate had one more interaction in store before the day concluded. Later that evening as I stepped into the settling darkness to gather firewood to stoke the hearth I did so cautiously, on high alert for any glimpse of a handsome wizard or his flowing green robes.
He wasn’t anywhere to be seen, yet I still squinted through the fading light as I trod the familiar path to the stack of firewood. Suddenly the darkness dissipated, thanks to a handful of firelight cupped within an all-too-familiar palm to illuminate not only the path, but the wizard’s smug greeting.
“You!” I gritted my teeth. Whatever game he was playing, he was annoyingly good at it.
His unrepentant grin only widened. “Shall we continue our lesson on the elements? Fire can be wielded as a source of light for your chores…quite useful, is it not?” The flame flickered in his hand, as if silently taunting me.
In all truthfulness, fire would prove quite useful, especially in the winter when the extended darkness made my chores more difficult, as well as for dear Corbin when he grew frightened at night, magic that would allow me to comfort him much more quickly than lighting one of our precious candles.
Yet my stubbornness persisted, too much a part of me to be so easily dispelled. I’d been getting along just fine with candles until now and they’d continue to serve me well in the future. Below my desire for self-reliance lay a deeper issue, a lingering doubt that this stranger could so persistently attempt to convince me to learn magic out of pure benevolence. Yet the flame drew my gaze nonetheless, so beautiful against the night, even otherworldly, such a contrast to my ordinary surroundings.
“It can even change colors.” He demonstrated, using his mysterious magical force to cause the orange flame to ripple through a variety of other shades, a confirmation that magic worked behind the scenes to create the phenomena before me. “Do you have a favorite?”
He so happened to ask this when the flame settled on a rich plum, as if he’d somehow sensed through some magical sixth sense that was indeed my favorite. While I doubted magic could allow one to read minds, I had to wonder…
Much to my own annoyance, that wasn’t my only question. “How can you hold it without burning yourself?”
He brightened. “Become my apprentice and I will share this and all of my other magical secrets.”
I sighed. “I can’t.” Despite my increasing desire to understand, it appeared that my curiosity would forever remain unsatisfied.
I expected him to press his cause, but when he next spoke it was about a rather unexpected topic. “You had an interesting discussion with your brother.”
My breath caught. For an anxious moment I wondered if the man truly had rendered himself invisible…before I considered an alternate explanation, less alarming but still just as annoying.
I scowled. “Eavesdropping?” I took an instinctive step to place myself between the wizard and my home, as if I had any hope of protecting them should he choose to use his magic maliciously.
He maintained an entirely innocent expression as he spoke a word I couldn’t quite decipher and snapped his fingers. Suddenly the sound of Mother’s bedtime story from within the house accompanied by Corbin’s cheerful laughter surrounded us, as clearly as if they stood beside me.
“Magic can do all sorts of things…including overhearing what one isn’t supposed to, a trick which often provides some fascinating insights.” He snapped his fingers again to instantly mute the conversation we’d briefly overheard, his eyebrows raising. “Eccentric wizard?”
My cheeks warmed at the insult he’d inadvertently overheard. “I had to call you something, considering I have yet to know your name.” I gave him a pointed look, which he ignored.
“You were discussing magic.”
The heat filling my cheeks deepened, as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have, but the wizard only seemed intrigued, even pleased.
“It’s natural to be curious,” he said. “I myself am quite interested in the ways your brother believes your magic has manifested itself.”
“The things he mentioned aren’t magic.”
The wizard tilted his head. “Aren’t they?”
I frowned, suddenly unsure. He continued.
“Let’s analyze your supposed skills: he said you have the ability to bring joy to others, which leads me believe you have a natural affinity for emotional spells. Your storytelling skills likely prove a natural connection to spoken spells, your ability to make your food extra delicious makes you inclined towards potions, and your ability to make your brother feel better is naturally healing.” He extended his hand, as if in invitation. “Don’t you desire to further develop these gifts?”
My mind immediately fixated on the last magical skill he’d mentioned. “You can use magic to heal?” The wizard opened his mouth to respond, but in my excitement I talked over him. “You must teach me. Please.” This skill alone caused the excitement at the prospect of learning magic I’d worked so hard to contain to finally burst free.
For someone who’d been driving me mad from the moment we met with his attempts to persuade me to embrace my skills, the wizard’s expression faltered. “Ah. Well, certainly magic is often used for healing, but…” He made the admission reluctantly, as if afraid to part from his primary bargaining chip. Conflict struggled on his face before compassion softened his expression. “Who’s ill?”
Emotion clogged my throat. “My brother. He’s been sickly ever since he was born. It’s a miracle we haven’t lost him.” It was a reminder I’d fiercely clung to ever since the winter when he’d almost died…the same brutal season that had stolen Father’s life. “I’ll learn whatever I need to if it means I might be able to heal him.” When the wizard remained silent for too long, fear eclipsed my rising anticipation. “Can magic not be used in such a way?”
He hesitated a moment before sighing. “It can…but the journey to wielding such power is an arduous one. I fear if this is your only incentive, the length of your training might lead you to give up before you see the results you desire.”
“But I will see results…won’t I?” That final accomplishment was all that mattered, regardless of the challenges involved.
He bit his lip. “In theory…but I cannot fully promise. The healing arts are some of the most difficult magic you’ll ever encounter; even I am not entirely proficient at it. And while I suspect you might have an aptitude for it, I cannot guarantee success.” His shoulders slumped. “Still being in training myself, I only have so many spells to demonstrate. At this rate I fear it’ll require my entire arsenal before I can persuade you. If you’re unable to achieve the one aspect of magic you’re drawn to…I have nothing more to offer you.”
I stared at his face, now robbed of all its former confidence, weighing my options. I didn’t need any other spells to be convinced. The thought of healing Corbin was enough to capture my entire will; I’d go to any lengths to help him.
Yet I worried that the cost, even for something as precious as the chance to heal my dear brother, would be too high. Would even the promise of healing be worth the sacrifice of leaving my home? Turmoil swirled within me as I considered the cost of missing out on spending time with my family, being unable to comfort Corbin when he was distressed, missing out on watching him grow up, and helping my single mother—giving all this up for a mere possibility.
“Would I be required to train away from home?” I asked, hardly able to imagine what it would be like to be separated from Corbin long-term.
The wizard nodded. “Your training will occur at the capital.”
So far away. I bit my lip indecisively, wrestling with the decision, and noticed him watching me with an expression of patience rather than the eagerness he’d displayed so far. “I can’t imagine traveling so far from home, leaving my family behind. Do you have any younger siblings?” If he did, he might better understand my anxiety at parting from my own.
A strange expression flickered over his face, not quite anger, but a mix of pain and disappointment, with a hint of something that looked like foreboding. I half expected him to refuse to answer, but he nodded.
“Yes, I have a younger sister, though we’re not close enough for me to miss her in the same way you’ll miss your brother.” He cleared his throat. “While you would be required to live in the capital, that would grant you access to medicines that could aid your brother until your skills are up to the task.”
It was a fair exchange, yet even so I worried about living so far from the home, a nearly three days’ journey. I couldn’t possibly make such a drastic decision now, but did this wizard have the patience to give me the time I needed to consider?
One more question weighed heavily on my mind. “Why do you want me as your apprentice?”
The wizard smiled. “I’ll divulge my reasons in time should you accept the position. But beyond my own interests, you have the potential to become a great witch.” He glanced up at the starry night. “I’ll give you tonight to think on it and return in the morning to hear your decision. If you decide not to pursue this path and all it entails, I will leave you be.”
I raised my eyebrows in astonishment. “Will you truly give up?”
He held up his hands. “I have nothing more with which to persuade you. Allow this to be your first lesson in magic: it can never be used to rob anyone of their will. I will not force you on this path. If tomorrow you’ve decided against it, I will respect your wishes.”
And with these words he vanished once more.