Chapter 8
Maeve
“ [With the added Scene,should this Chapter be split up? It is the longest chapter in the book now, but I have had chapters over 5k in previous books, so it may be fine? I’m curious what you think.] Did it work?” Despite the question being the least pressing it was the first I could think of to ask. To my relief, words rather than the useless croak that had plagued me since my transformation emerged. I was surprised to note that the voice was completely unfamiliar—pitched in a low, masculine timbre, another piece of my identity that had been stripped away by my accidental curse.
Wizard Alden’s smile dispelled the discouragement that had clouded his expression for the past hours, causing my heart to beat more quickly than I was used to; I wondered idly if frogs’ hearts functioned differently than humans’. Not to mention my entire body was hot where I rested on his palm that gently enveloped me.
“It worked.” The tension in his shoulders eased, as if in relief.
Despite my own amazement at the success of his spell I was tempted to frown at the implication in his words, but it seemed that my new lips weren’t inclined to form in that way. My disgruntled speech would have to do.
“It seems rather irresponsible for you to cast a spell you lacked confidence in, especially on an unsuspecting creature who didn’t ask to be given the ability to speak. How do you know I wasn’t content with my limited communication?”
Nothing could be further from the truth, but just like the days spent as his apprentice, something about him made it impossible to resist riling him.
His eyebrows rose. “It seems the spell has given the frog an attitude in addition to words.”
“You take too much credit for your magic; your spell was one of communication, not the confidence for me to stand up for myself.”
Amusement twitched his lips. “Are all frogs this feisty?”
I tried to shrug…another gesture that had disappointing results with my new body. “I haven’t met my match.” I chose to remain silent about the fact that I hadn’t met any other frogs at all.
“Then perhaps I should hunt down a more compliant one; you seem like you could potentially give me all sorts of trouble, something I can’t afford given my current circumstances.”
“Yet trouble is far more interesting…something you well know, else you wouldn’t be entering such a grueling competition.”
The spellbook gave an annoyed rustle, and though I found a strange thrill in our word spar, I couldn’t ignore its reminder that I had far more pressing concerns—primarily returning to my human form so that I could go to Corbin.
Time to focus on the matter at hand. “Your skills in transposing language are quite impressive. Do your abilities also extend to human transformation?”
His brow furrowed. “Transforming anything into a human—whether something that was previously human or has never been—is some of the most advanced magic that is unfortunately well beyond my mastered skills.”
The hope that he would be able to reverse my curse had guided me until this point, keeping me from abject despair. Following my transformation, I’d turned the library upside down in search of a reversal spell as well as for any information about the magical competition so I could track down the prince’s whereabouts. I’d tried all manner of means—forming a tracking spell, creating a portal, using the enchanted parchment he’d left behind to write a message, and manipulating the magic circle—but my transformation seemed to have suppressed my magic, making it impossible to access my powers.
It’d been quite fortuitous that my master had saved me the effort of an arduous journey by summoning his spellbook when I’d been trying—and failing—to encourage it to lend its wealth of knowledge to my predicament, as if magic worked behind the scenes to come to my aid. Yet it’d done me little good when for hours he’d been too occupied with his challenge to even notice me. I’d never considered that even after finally getting his attention he wouldn’t be able to help me.
Even with his granting me the speech needed to make my request, I’d encountered another obstacle. “What if…it was to reverse a curse or a spell gone wrong? Would your limitations still apply?”
“No matter how the transformation was done, the principle is the same.” He tilted his head to study me with a thoughtful air. “Is becoming human your aspiration?”
“Of course, for I’m—” To my astonishment, a ribbit swallowed the words. I blinked in confusion and tried again, but once more a frustrated croak overcame my voice.
Why couldn’t I tell him who I was? Panic set in, more acute when it seared through my small body. Wizard Alden was awaiting my response with admirable patience, considering he believed I was nothing more than a mere amphibian.
My green body curled in on itself. “I desire to become human.”
I managed those words without difficulty, which confirmed my fears that I was only prevented from speaking of the curse…which meant I wouldn’t be able to tell Wizard Alden I was his apprentice.
He considered my request. “There may be a way to help you achieve that wish…but it’ll be impossible unless I win this competition, which means I must find another spell to place upon you.”
While he rummaged through the books he’d brought for ideas on the other two enchantments this challenge required from him, I occupied my time frantically searching through the spellbook for the frog spell I’d accidentally performed so I could better understand its conditions and limitations. Scrawled at the bottom were the words: Classified as a Curse.
Part of my basic training had included a lesson on magical terminology. Curses, I’d learned, contained various distinctions…including the inability for the victim to share its details, thus increasing its power. It appeared that despite having cast the frog spell on myself by accident, I remained subject to these conditions.
I muttered a dark oath. Bother with such technicalities.
I slammed the spellbook shut, earning not only its disgruntled ruffle but Wizard Alden’s notice. His eyes widened. “Do you know how to read?”
“Of course,” I snapped. I paused, trying to think of something I could add to give him a clue as to my identity, but before any ideas came to me, the wizard nodded, eyeing me with interest.
“It appears my communication spell was quite thorough.” He looked a little puzzled by this, but shook his head and continued. “This makes you a much more interesting enchanted object. I wonder if I can claim your ability to read as a separate charm, which means we only need one more.”
“You’re assuming I’m willing to cooperate.” My voice came out a little more sharply than I intended, but my inability to communicate as I wished was frustrating.
More importantly, if he didn’t possess the necessary skills to help me, I had no further reason to stay. Whether it was as a frog or a human, I would find a way to return to my brother and remain by his side until he got well. Wizard Alden would eventually realize my fate after his competition ended and he returned home to find me missing, which would finally allow him to provide the assistance I needed. While waiting would prove inconvenient, being a frog hardly mattered when Corbin needed me.
I scanned the clearing for the direction that would most likely lead me home, but it was impossible to gauge beneath the darkness, so I chose one at random to more quickly escape the prince; I could be more selective come morning. I hadn’t gone far when I was plucked mid-hop by the wizard himself.
“Please, you mustn’t leave. I need you for my entrance challenge.”
“That’s of no concern to me.”
“Even though my earning a position on the Enchanters’ Council would grant me access to the advanced magic currently beyond my reach…including that of human transformation?”
I stilled. “Would you truly be able to turn me into a human should you win?”
He nodded. “The arrangement is mutually beneficial, considering my learning such a difficult spell would provide me a solid foundation for the more advanced studies my new position will require.”
I searched his grey eyes—they’d taken on a light shade of green today to match his robes. He appeared earnest, and while the man had often frustrated me with his habit of withholding information, he’d never lied, giving me hope I could trust him.
A possibility suddenly occurred to me. “Does this advanced magic include…spells of healing?”
I held my breath as he considered the matter. “Does healing magic also interest you?”
I hoped this interest of mine would guide his thoughts towards his apprentice who’d also been intrigued by the healing arts. But either his mind was too occupied with his own interests for him to make the connection, or he hadn’t cared enough about my background to remember.
“I believe there are some particularly powerful ones,” he said in answer to my confirming nod.
I couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed by the visions suddenly flooding my mind, all of Corbin as he ran around playing with the vibrancy of a normal child rather than the frailty that had consumed him his entire short life. Healthy, well, whole. Though I hesitated in delaying my return to my brother’s side, at least the time away would allow me to find a way to prevent him from suffering from poor health ever again, a more powerful wish.
“If I agree to help you,” I said slowly, “you must promise to not only do all in your power to turn me into a human, but grant me access to this healing magic.”
“I promise.” He extended a finger, I rested my tiny green hand over the tip, and we shook on it.
By this time the light of early dawn had begun to tinge the horizon, drawing Wizard Alden’s gaze to the sky. “It’s nearly morning. That doesn’t leave us much time to arrive at the competition. Unfortunately there’s no time for rest, but lack of sleep is nothing that a simple rejuvenating potion can’t cure.”
He procured a bottle from one of his many pockets and downed its contents in a single swig. Surely even the most potent potion couldn’t make up for a proper night of rest; the prince’s need I’d witnessed in the weeks of my apprenticeship to push forward in his ambitions bordered on unhealthy. Yet that didn’t suppress my desire to send that very potion to Corbin to use for the many nights sleep eluded him, or for Mother who faithfully gave up her own rest on those nights to soothe him.
Eyes brighter after his dose of energy, the wizard began to flip through the spellbook with renewed vigor, searching for a third enchantment. He repeatedly shook his head, muttering about lacking the necessary time or skill for each. Finally he paused to thoughtfully study a page before lifting his gaze to give me an appraising glance.
“This is something a friend and I used to do when we were young, more as a prank than for actual magical benefit, but I wonder…”
He returned to the book and I hopped closer to peer at the page entitled Basic Telepathy.
“The more advanced spell that would allow two people—or rather two entities—to truly wordlessly communicate is beyond my capabilities…beyond almost anyone’s capabilities. But this temporary spell will allow me to send you an impression without speaking, although it will only last for a few hours.”
He once more busied himself in the book before picking me up and once again cast a spell. This time the effect, while still noticeable, was much milder. I frowned up at him, wondering how exactly the charm worked. Before I could ask, I felt the strange sensation of prodding in my mind, followed by the distinct image of a small, buzzing black insect. I gave a startled jump before saying, almost involuntarily, “Fly.”
Alden beamed. “Excellent. I can’t send any complicated messages, but a simple impression seems to work.”
Wizard Alden hastily packed the supplies he’d used to complete the first challenge before using the map’s guidance to draw another portal, this one much more carefully than the first he’d created for me. The completed portal glimmered invitingly, beckoning us to enter.
He wasted no time carefully placing me on his shoulder and tucking the spellbook beneath his arm. I clung to his collar as he stepped through the sparkling light; an airy, floating sensation prickled my warty skin as the magic swallowed us up. Miles melted away with a single step, so that when the light gradually faded, new surroundings came into focus.
Dawn cast a sheen across a vast clearing, empty save for the crowds of enchanters all dressed in flowing robes in an array of colors. Even with my less attuned powers I sensed the magic filling the air, humming in the presence of so many talented wielders, as palpable as a soft breeze.
Wizard Alden suddenly swore and hastily ducked behind a towering pine. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I was so anxious to arrive at the competition that I almost forgot the most important element.”
The air tingled as he lifted his hand. With a few murmured words, he cast a sheen across his face. By all appearances nothing happened. “A disguise spell,” he explained in answer to my puzzlement. “One enchanted to only work for the participants of the competition; anything else would be too exhausting to maintain. The last thing I want is for anyone to recognize me as the prince.”
“Do you fear your title will grant you the position before you have a chance to earn it?” I asked.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“You mean your title has already granted you a position?”
He pursed his lips, which was answer enough. He double checked that his disguise was firmly tucked around him before ducking back into view. He muttered a phrase to summon a tracking spell, but abruptly stopped halfway through and the spell fizzled out. I swiveled my head, trying to see what had distracted him. He was squinting into the group of wizards and witches, staring at a tall young man whose back was turned to us. After a moment, Alden sighed and shook his head, returning to his spell.
This time a glow lit his palm before lifting off his hand and moving smoothly away from the group of enchanters. Silence filled the spaces between us as we trailed the light that led us deeper into the seemingly empty clearing.
Wizard Alden studied the air, as if searching for ripples in the magic. When he found one, he caught hold of the invisible folds of a tent entrance, parted it, and stepped inside.
A woman awaited us, wearing shimmering silver robes that matched her flowing hair. Upon seeing her Wizard Alden immediately stiffened before sweeping into a deep bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Enchantress.”
Her smile was serene as she lifted her hand in silent invitation for him to straighten. “The pleasure is mine. It appears you’ve passed the second component of the first challenge—it’s one thing to decipher and break a magical lock, and another to be able to detect an invisible force.”
She lifted her gaze to the ball of light still hovering at Wizard Alden’s side. “A tracking spell, a simple but effective method. It’s important for an enchanter to possess a mastery of the basics, for the fundamentals are just as valuable as the advanced techniques one hopes to acquire.”
Wizard Alden pocketed his light and rummaged through his robes for a parchment, which a simple spell caused to float into the enchantress’s hand. She caught it easily and rested a pair of spectacles on the tip of her nose to study its contents.
“Twenty years old—the official age of an adult—with fifteen years of formal study, during which you’ve mastered all the essentials and achieved excellent marks, all of which puts you in an enviable position for the upcoming challenges.” She tapped the page and the ink refreshed with additional information for her to continue reading. “It appears your skills have even progressed enough for you to acquire an apprentice. Obtaining the role of Master raises you well above many of your peers.”
My breath caught. Surely the prince hadn’t chosen me as his apprentice just to tick off a box in the credentials for this competition? I’d no sooner wondered this when I remembered the parchment Wizard Alden had been scribbling only a few short days ago—apprentice being only one item on his list of magical goals. Only now did I realize that the list had been tailored to ensure he had all that was required to earn a coveted position on the Enchanters’ Council.
The realization left me numb with shock, an emotion that quickly rose into anger at being so ill-used. I glared up at him, though apparently amphibian expressions left something to be desired as the wizard didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. But far more concerning than my wounded pride was what this development could mean for me…and Corbin. If Alden cared about me only as a stepping stone in his goals, I couldn’t trust him to have my—and my family’s—best interests at heart, in which case perhaps I should be thankful he hadn’t yet discovered who I was.
Deep in thought over my betrayal, I was unprepared for my role in the entrance requirements when Wizard Alden carefully took me from his shoulder and rested me on the table between me and the enchantress.
“In fulfillment of the first challenge, I present my enchanted object.”
The enchantress studied me carefully. “A frog is a rather simple object to enchant, leaving me to wonder if it’s merely a desperate attempt to arrive with something before the deadline. Did such a simple magical lock really give you so much trouble as to cost you so much valuable time?”
Wizard Alden gritted his teeth. “The lock itself was fine. There were simply…other complications that forced me to depart late.”
He shifted nervously beneath the force of the enchantress’s frown. “Indeed. I imagine it was quite difficult to get away from all the responsibilities vying for your time…Prince Alden.”
He immediately stiffened. For a long moment he remained rigid…before his shoulders finally slumped in defeat. “I knew the moment I saw you that you’d be able to see through my disguise, Head Enchantress Ivy.”
“It was impossible not to when I’m so familiar with your magic,” she said. “Particularly disguise spells, one of the basic fundamentals I taught you in the early years of your training. Though you did an admirable job with the charm, I’m too familiar with your style not to recognize it, especially when you performed it so hastily, a mistake you often made while under my tutelage. It appears you’re still prone to rushing through even the simplest spells rather than giving each one the care and thought it requires.”
Wizard Alden flinched at the words and lowered his eyes.
“However,” the enchantress continued, much more kindly. “Your technique is, as always, excellent.” She made a mark on the parchment before turning her attention to me. “Even with your obvious difficulties in arriving, a frog is still a step below your usual work, though I’ll reserve judgement until I see the enchantments you cast.”
At her use of plural enchantments Wizard Alden bit his lip. In the rush to arrive at the entrance challenge before the deadline, we’d had little time to discuss other charms he could use beyond giving me speech, but at least that was the place to start.
“The first enchantment is the spell of communication.” He cast me an expectant glance, my signal to spout words—whether poetry or nonsense, it likely didn’t much matter. However, I remained stubbornly silent, my lingering temper making me less inclined to cooperate. Wizard Alden leaned close to my ear. “Say something,” he pleaded.
Rather than procure words, I ensured my responding croak was as frog-like as I could make it. The enchantress frowned and Wizard Alden cast me a rather desperate sidelong glance, seeming confused that his charm could have already worn off. Against my better judgement, my hardened heart softened in the face of his blatant panic.
“Hello,” I spoke distinctly. “I’m a frog that was recently enchanted by Wizard Alden to understand the mysteries of human communication. Although at first I was annoyed he’d given me speech without my permission, the more I explore the world beyond my swamp, the more I’m coming to enjoy it.” Unsure what else to say, my words ceased.
The enchantress nodded in approval. “Impressive. Rather than taking the easy route in giving it basic speech such as that of a child, you chose the more complicated spell that granted it more advanced speech patterns and ideas.” She made a mark on Wizard Alden’s parchment. “What other enchantments did you cast?”
“The frog can also read—” he began.
“That falls under the communication spell, as you’re well aware.”
“Of course.” A flicker of anxiety crossed his face as he pressed on. “I have also established a telepathic link. Observe.” He drew a slip of parchment from his pocket and quickly wrote a word, shielding it from my view as he handed it to the enchantress. Once more I felt the strange presence in my mind, filling it with a rough sketch of a lily pad that seemed to waver on the edges, as though the temporary spell was already wearing off.
“Lily pad,” I declared confidently.
Enchantress Ivy glanced between us with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. “Telepathic communication is typically only possible between two people who know each other rather well,” she observed after a moment. “Enchanting a frog to receive your thoughts is an impressive accomplishment. However, telepathy is still communication, so unfortunately it does not qualify as a unique charm. What are its other enchantments?”
Alden’s posture grew more tense as he frantically considered. “Its other enchantments. Uh…”
No ideas seemed forthcoming, as if the pressure had stifled every ounce of his creativity, and I wasn’t sure whether I possessed the knowledge to be much help. I considered every charm I’d read about in my own studies, trying to find one to help the prince, my concern for my brother guiding my desperation; unless Wizard Alden earned a position on the council, I had no hope of acquiring either my human form or a healing spell.
“I’ve been enchanted with magical knowledge.” I wasn’t entirely sure whether such a spell actually existed, but it’d been the first thing to come to mind.
The enchantress’s expression didn’t change save for a glimmer of interest as her eyes once more swept over me. “Ah, a spell to transfer knowledge into another object. Such magic is much more complicated and interesting than a communication spell. You’ve come a long way, Alden.”
He opened his mouth, as if to protest the accolades he hadn’t earned, but the spellbook rammed into his side, silencing his interference with a startled hiss of pain.
The enchantress returned her attention to me. “A quiz will verify the effectiveness of the charm. I shall ask you a question whose answer your enchanter would have acquired during his studies…and thus imparted into you when the spell was cast.”
Drat, I hadn’t considered I would be tested. What were the odds I’d be asked something I so happened to have learned during the short duration of my apprenticeship?
“Explain the theory behind using love as an element in a potion or spell.”
Apparently not very likely odds, leaving me without the faintest idea on how to respond, especially considering the question pertained to my least favorite topic, magical theory. But though my annoyance with Wizard Alden lingered, I felt a strange urgency to do all in my power to help him…for the sake of the spells he’d reward me with, of course.
The spellbook gave an impatient wriggle from beneath his arm, as if it knew the answer and was anxious to share it. With each agitated ruffle of its pages, its knowledge seemed to cross the distance separating us in order to caress my thoughts—not in words but in images and senses, similar to my communication with magic.
“Love is not an ingredient that can ever be created or taken; it can only be used if the magical wielder either develops it within their own heart in order for their magic to have access to it, or if it’s freely given by another.”
I didn’t consciously repeat the uncertain words, they simply emerged as I struggled to understand the communication emanating from the silent spellbook.
Wizard Alden’s lips parted in surprise before he hastily rearranged his expression to one expectant rather than astonished, as if he’d fully anticipated my response.
The enchantress gave a crisp nod. “Correct. Though the answer was right, the response time was a bit slow, a sign that the charm wasn’t cast as neatly as it could be. However, I’m impressed you successfully cast a highly skilled spell. Excellent work.” She made another mark on the parchment. “And the third charm?”
It seemed both of us had finally run out of ideas. “I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer at the moment.”
Enchantress Ivy frowned. “How unfortunate.”
He bowed his head and said nothing. The enchantress studied him for a long moment.
“Don’t look so defeated; the spells you managed were quite impressive, even with my knowledge of your capabilities. I’m inclined to allow you to compete, especially since I understand the disadvantage you brought to the competition—your royal duties undoubtedly limited your time to perform at your full capacity. I will present you with a choice: you can either choose to accept the extra help your title will provide in making up for the points you’ve lost so that you can enter these trials…or you can disregard it. If you select the latter, your role in this competition ends here.”
An arduous battle warred across Wizard Alden’s expression before he relinquished the fight with a reluctant sigh. “If my title…can be of help…then I’d prefer to use it to compete than not be allowed to at all.” His mouth twisted on the words.
The enchantress nodded. “Understood. So extra points for your title…as well as your disguise spell, for good measure.” With a final mark on the parchment, it vanished in a wave of her hand and a sparkle of light. “Welcome to the Magical Competition, Prince Alden.”
He winced at the address. “From this moment forward I don’t want my title to have any bearing on the competition. You are not to inform the other judges a prince is competing, nor give me any preferential treatment just because I’m royal, even for something this important to me. If I earn a position on the council, it will be due to my own merits.”
“Very well, Your Highness…or rather, Wizard Alden.” With another wave of her hand a miniature chest appeared. “Your next challenge is hidden beneath another magical lock, this one guarded by a riddle. I wish you luck in your ambitions.”
Despite his obvious pleasure in having made it this far, Wizard Alden hesitated, as if unsure whether he deserved to accept the clue. But his desire for the position seemed to be stronger than his sense of honor in acquiring it nobly.
With a sigh he plucked it from the air, picked up both me and his spellbook, and walked swiftly from the invisible tent. Although he’d successfully overcome the first obstacle on the journey to achieving his ambitions and our being about to embark on our next adventure, the joy I’d expected to see after completing the challenge was entirely absent.