Chapter 22
Alden’s pale shock took in his trembling hands as the last of his magic’s faint presence faded. He made another attempt to summon his powers, but all he managed was a single spark that hovered in his cradled palm for a moment before it flickered out like a snuffed flame.
His shoulders drooped. “After weeks of exertion drawing on my reserves, it appears my magic has finally run out.” His tone was flat, emotionless, as if he couldn’t summon enough strength for anything more.
His powers had been gradually waning with each challenge, growing especially weaker with the tasks that had occupied our time these past few weeks that specialized in divination and herbology, leaving him nothing for this second to last exercise in transfiguration magic. Even with the dark force preying on his magic, Alden had always managed to possess just enough to accomplish each task in innovative ways…only to have finally reached his limit.
Despite having witnessed his repeated failure to summon the powers, part of me couldn’t believe they’d suddenly vanished. Memories from his confident display of magic during his efforts to convince me to become his apprentice and his frequent demonstrations during his tutelage weren’t that long ago, nor were the spells he’d woven just the day before…only for them to disappear like elusive vapor.
For as much as his powers had been slowly slipping away, my own remained unaffected, even though I no longer possessed the protective barrier created by my cursed frog form. This phenomena had caused Alden no end of puzzlement whenever he used every spare moment to research the still unknown force affecting his magic. We were no closer to discovering the culprit behind these dark events…nor the motive, and time was rapidly slipping away to solve the puzzle.
“Have your powers disappeared entirely?” I asked.
“There’s just enough remaining for me to barely discern their presence if I search for it, yet not enough to perform anything except for perhaps one or two more of the most menial spells, leaving the transfiguration magic required for the upcoming challenge beyond my current realm of possibility.”
Which meant that after all this time, our journey had finally reached its end…and not at the destination we’d aspired to when we’d first embarked.
Concentration furrowed his brow as he made another attempt to summon his powers, only for them to flicker out once more, leaving Alden staring after them with a desperation that willed them to return. “Magic has always been a part of me. I can’t fathom a life without it. Without my powers…” He slumped forward, elbows leaning on his thighs, as though the strength to hold himself upright had been taken along with his magic.
I wasn’t sure how to encourage him, especially as I felt a pang of guilt, wondering how much power he would have left if he hadn’t expended so much the day before creating two potions, transforming me back into a human, and then easing my pain with countless small spells. But I forced those thoughts away, unwilling to dwell on my own unhappiness when I glimpsed the utter brokenness on his face.
“Who am I without magic, Maeve?”
As someone who’d spent a lifetime wrapped too tightly in my own identity as my brother’s caregiver, I was the person least qualified to impart advice. But though my own vision was often clouded when it came to my own role, it was easier to recognize the limits Alden had placed upon himself.
But even as I observed the discouragement weighing heavily upon his shoulders, I was at a loss on how to comfort him. I’d been so certain that Alden would succeed in his magical endeavors and had given my all to help him—both for his sake and his promised reward that would help my brother—that I hadn’t considered the possibility of what I’d do should he fail.
I rested a reassuring hand over his; he stilled at my touch. “Even if you failed to accomplish the goal you set out to achieve, the venture wasn’t a waste considering how much you’ve grown in your power and knowledge throughout it. Even without your magic, you’re still Alden—a man who’s more than just a talented wizard; you’re many things, including an honorable prince and my talented mentor.”
He sighed. “I’ve done so little as either that I can’t in good conscience claim such titles.”
“Even when you were busy studying your magic, you always found time to both mentor me and see to your royal duties.” I could still see him bent over a stack of reports within my memory, his precious magic tomes closed to ward off temptation. “Not to mention you’ve always taken the time to see to your subjects’ needs, including twice ailing my brother’s spirits with a selfless display of your magic.”
He was silent a long moment as he took in my words before his hand stirred from beneath mine, flipping over to stroke my palm. “I never viewed such accomplishments as anything noteworthy, but I’ve likely failed to give myself enough credit. I’ve spent so long focusing on my magic I’m not sure how to fully embody any other role, but perhaps this is an opportunity to live up to the royal one I was born to. After I escort you home I will return to the palace.” His shoulders squared with determination, though his face remained bereft.
My heart lurched. If he returned to the palace now, he would officially be out of the competition. Though I recognized the hopelessness of the situation leaving us no other option, we’d come too far to give up now. “You can’t give up on your dreams. Perhaps there’s a way—”
He shook his head. “I can’t compete in a magical competition without power of my own. There’s nothing more to be done. I did my best to come up with a unique transfiguration spell, but in the end my power wasn’t enough. But though I will undoubtedly be forced to give up my magical studies, I won’t abandon you or our contract. Though I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to offer, I’ll still tutor you to the best of my ability so that despite my lost powers, you’ll be able to continue your own education.”
While I’d wondered about my magical training, admittedly I’d been more concerned about our paths diverging, not for the sake of Alden the wizard…but for Alden as my dearest friend, someone who’d only become more dear as our time together extended.
Though training under him would be better than never seeing him again, our relationship as apprentice and master wasn’t quite the same as what we shared now. I wanted to create a spell to bottle this moment so that it would always remain, but I doubted even the strongest magical force could ever stop time.
Alden’s faded powers prevented him from creating a portal to transport us to my village, and such magic was still beyond my skill level, requiring us to walk to the nearest village, where we could arrange for transportation.
After a short distance the trees began to thin before the woodlands eventually ended, opening up to a path that eventually led to a quiet hamlet of quaint buildings and picturesque fences overlooking the countryside of grazing sheep. Alden’s attention became immediately entranced by all the sights and sounds that, while entirely ordinary to me, were part of a world different from which he was accustomed to.
Such a provincial area wouldn’t have the means to transport us to my village, but rather than leave we found ourselves lingering to explore, as though we were unwilling to put this chapter of our lives behind us. Though Alden’s flowing wizard robes drew a lot of attention, for all the villagers’ curiosity they remained unquestioning and friendly.
Yet behind their welcoming smiles, I sensed the strain and weariness that lay beneath their patched clothes and simple means, their hunched posture evidence of the invisible burdens they bore. It took some exploration along the winding dirt roads before we came upon the source in the form of a well; rather than being filled with refreshing water to alleviate the thirst brought by the warmth of the day, it was nearly dry, with only a pittance of muddy liquid at the bottom.
A wizened man with a stooped back was perched on an overturned bucket nearby. At our questioning looks, he shook his head.
“The rains didn’t come this year as they usually do,” he said simply, spreading his arm to indicate that the recent lower amount of rainfall had affected not just the well, but the nearby fields.
Alden peered into the nearly depleted well with a concerned frown. “As the reigning monarchs and crown princess, my parents and elder sister are already heavily involved in the needs of the kingdom…but they can only do so much on their own. As a result, I imagine smaller villages and hamlets such as this one are too often unintentionally neglected. I should have been doing my part instead of focusing solely on my magic that in the end led to nothing; without it, I’m not sure how much aid I can offer now.”
“A prince doesn’t need to possess the power to command the rain in order to restore a well.” I possessed some knowledge of the small task force required to dig a deeper well after the one in my own village had nearly dried after a long drought that had hit our area of Rosileya a few years ago.
In our wanderings we’d discovered that this particular hamlet’s population consisted mainly of the elderly, women, and children, limiting the manpower that would be required to engineer such a project. As a royal, Alden possessed the resources to provide the required assistance, but I wondered if there was something more he could accomplish.
I stood on tiptoe to reach his ear. “Though as a royal it would be easy to hand the project over to a committee, I wonder if there’s something more you specifically can do, especially as this situation is urgent and there would undoubtedly be a delay before any help could be sent from the palace.”
His eyes bulged. “Me?”
I nodded. “I’ve never quite understood the reasoning for your being so at odds with your royal identity. There are many princes in the world…but there is only one magical prince. Rather than try so hard to separate yourself from the role you feel you did nothing to earn, perhaps instead you can instead find a way to embrace it in a way that only someone of your rare abilities and position can accomplish.”
I saw the change bought by my words—life flickered in his eyes that for so long had been overshadowed by discouragement. He slowly took in the hamlet with a look as if seeing it for the first time.
“For years I’ve always feared who I’d be without my magic…only to finally be faced with the reality of needing to find purpose outside of being a wizard. Should my powers ever be restored, I resolve to use my magic for the benefit of my subjects. Until then, I will work towards non-magical solutions while tutoring you in magical ones.” At my startled expression, the corner of his mouth curved up into a mischievous grin. “Did you already forget my promise to continue your magical education?”
“I didn’t expect to resume my apprenticeship with a task well beyond my abilities. I feel I have little to contribute beyond my current advisory role offering creative solutions to magical problems.”
“Unfortunately we don’t have such a luxury when the one you’re mentoring is nearly entirely out of magic.” As if to emphasize his point, he held up his empty hands, devoid of any magical life. “Luckily, my misfortune will provide you with the perfect opportunity to grow in your powers.”
My anticipation at the possibility was nearly eclipsed by my rising apprehension. “You could always borrow my own reserves.” It was a spell Alden had stumbled upon midst his research in the siphoning force, but as before when I’d made the suggestion, he shook his head.
“I could never take your power for my own selfish whims.”
Using my power to help his subjects and also to win a competition whose prize I had a vested interest in wasn’t at all selfish, but before I could protest, he waggled his finger.
“Even if your gesture is for a noble cause, I wouldn’t be a proper mentor if I failed to provide you with an opportunity to stretch yourself as a witch, just as I’m stretching myself as a royal.”
The part of me used to putting others’ needs above my own ached to protest, but his words alit my mind with possibilities that I’d previously shelved with all my other interests and dreams. His invitation allowed me to tentatively peer into the locked trove containing my curiosity and enthusiasm for magic, along with my desires to further develop my power.
My enthusiasm must have reflected in my expression, for Alden took it as acceptance and rolled up his flowing sleeves. “The first spell I’ll need to teach you is how to wield your first element: water.”
I’d seen enough of his prowess with elemental magic to guess which type of water spell would be required, similar to when he’d refilled my spilled bucket the day we’d met.
Alden began our lesson with his favorite topic: the theory behind the spell. “For all of magic’s power, it can’t create something out of nothing, but must rely on a foundation that already exists. Wielding the elements begins by summoning the required matter; once we possess the material, we can then manipulate it to do our bidding in a variety of spells.”
“Which means we’ll be summoning water not from thin air, but from another water source in order to replenish the well?” That wasn’t as complicated as I’d initially imagined, especially since summoning charms had been part of my basic arsenal since the early days of my training; though I still struggled with the charms, at least I wouldn’t be building my knowledge from nothing.
While I understood the theory, it was another matter to implement it. It wasn’t enough to summon water by creating a magical connection between my current location and where I was drawing upon; I had to forge a magical trench in my mind’s eye for it to flow so that I could continuously pull from the source as often as I needed.
As much as I anticipated finally exploring the magic that had captured my interest from Alden’s very first demonstrations, I couldn’t help but recognize its limits. While restoring the well would help this little hamlet, it would do little to replenish the damage brought by the lack of rain in the nearby fields…at least without additional labor from the worn out villagers as they repeatedly carted water across the vast distance in order to water them. I winced at the thought of the stoop-shouldered man now seated next to the well painfully hauling small bucketsful of water over and over.
“Are you alright, Mae? Would you like me to explain the spell again?” Alden’s patient tone coaxed my thoughts from the puzzle that had distracted me from his tutelage. At his inquiry, the spellbook flew closer, already open to the section on elemental magic in an effort to be helpful.
I blinked rapidly to clear the lingering wisps of thoughts away. “I was wondering if there was a way to tweak the spell to not only restore the well, but transport the water to the far fields to help the suffering crops.”
He glanced towards the fields, whose dry soil had caused many of the crops to wither, which would likely result in a poor harvest and a long, hungry winter for the residents of not only this hamlet, but all those in the region.
“I’ve never considered combining elemental magic with a transportation spell, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility; spell patterns can be layered on top of one another prior to casting.” He considered the puzzle. “I wonder if by creating a permanent summoning spell we could create some sort of magical irrigation system between the well and fields.”
Though the idea seemed sound in theory, the application turned out to be much more difficult. While I possessed enough skill to create the spell’s foundation, unfortunately the final layering magic was beyond my current ability.
After several attempts to teach me what would be required, Alden eventually realized this too. He frowned. “The weaving of the two spells is too complex for your current abilities; I will need to lend you my powers in order to complete our vision.”
I immediately protested. “But your powers are nearly depleted. Are you sure you want to use the last of them for this spell?” He wouldn’t have been compelled to help if not for my unnecessary suggestion.
His hesitation only lasted a moment. “If this uses the last of my magic, at the very least I can be assured that I used my powers to assist my subjects at least once.”
He stepped up to wrap his arms around me from behind and rest his hands over mine. I stiffened before allowing myself to melt against his chest, a cocoon of warmth and security.
His lips tickled my ear as he leaned in to whisper instructions. “Conjure an image of a floating river and trace a mental path between it and the well. Neither distance nor the objects that stand in the way matter, so long as you visualize this binding thread of golden light that weave these two points together.”
I did my best to obey, but it was nearly impossible to wrangle my faltering concentration from his heated proximity in order to focus on the intricate spellwork. The exertion was exhausting, but I felt sustained by his presence as well as the last of his magic that seeped from his touch to weave seamlessly with mine.
An inaudible hum vibrated through my body as our powers joined. I felt the sensation of building pressure before water suddenly tumbled from my hand, splashing into the well. I gave a gasp of surprised joy and Alden tightened his hand around mine, gently helping me hold it in place to fill the well; it was a long, arduous process that left my powers nearly spent, even as more would be required for the rest of the spell.
For the next layer, Alden murmured instructions on how to mold the path I’d created for my summoning charm into a magical irrigation system, from which he needed to perform the final piece of the restorative spell.
Together we cast our magic across the dry landscape like a brush of watercolor. Sparkling, life-giving water flowed in all directions along magical channels that led to every field in the hamlet, not only saturating the parched soil but breathing life into the wilted plants. Streaks of green crept along each leaf, and the bowed stems quivered as they slowly straightened. When the enchantment faded, I stared at our handiwork in wonder. My creativity combined with Alden”s knowledge and careful attention to theory had made magic so much more interesting and powerful, the perfect complement of both of our strengths.
Alden fought for breath, but seemed pleased when he met my gaze. “Good work, Mae. With your talent, you have great magical potential.” He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, a sensation that lingered even as he stepped away.
When we turned from the well, we found many of the villagers gathered around us, staring at their replenished fields in wide-eyed wonder. Their gratitude followed us as we walked along our invisible spell and Alden taught me first how to check the durability of a charm. Upon discovering some of the roads flooded from weak areas in the irrigation system that had cracked due to my inexperience, he next taught me how to alter spells that had already been cast in order to patch them. Each bit of imparted knowledge watered my parched curiosity.
In one particularly wet and muddy section of road I slipped; Alden laced his hand through mine to keep me from falling…and didn’t relinquish his hold even after I’d steadied on my feet. Our hands remained entwined while we strolled the village, a gesture that along with Alden’s earlier kiss stoked my hope in the possibility that even after we’d reverted to our previous relationship of mentor and apprentice, our relationship was deepening into something more.
As we wandered, I took great pleasure in watching Alden interact with the villagers. I was content to remain in the background and allow him the opportunity to get to know some of his subjects and respond to their needs, taking nearly as much pleasure in each interaction as Alden seemed to. With my home’s seclusion and Corbin’s needs, I’d never had much of a relationship with my own village, something I now hoped to remedy when I returned home.
My heart warmed with every glimpse of Alden’s joy, softer than the excitement magic had brought him but just as tender. “You seem to be having fun,” I murmured during a pause between exchanges.
He smiled. “I always associated my title with a list of duties or as a measuring stick of my worth that took away my personal accomplishments, but today has helped me better understand its true purpose.”
I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so glad. Even without your powers, you deserve to have purpose.”
“As do you. I haven’t forgotten to help you find your own.”
My lips twitched. “Performing such a service while also taking charge of my magical education? What a thorough mentor you are.”
He winked. “You are my dearest apprentice.” Yet I sensed a deeper magic lay beyond the precious sentiment, one I yearned to explore further.
We slowed when I spotted a crippled boy near Corbin’s age sitting in the shade of an elm on the outskirts while his friends played, hungrily taking in their warm smiles and contagious laughter.
My breath caught at the longing filling his eyes, the bravery he attempted to foster, making me feel as if I was looking not at a stranger but instead at my dear brother.
“Teach me the spell,” I pleaded with Alden. “Any spell.”
His expression sobered once he caught sight of what had captured my attention. “Magic can’t cure everything, Mae.”
Deep down I knew that, else Corbin would have been healed the moment I discovered my powers. But that unwilling understanding didn’t lessen my crushing helplessness, especially when such an admission would force me to also come to terms with the fact that despite my dearest wish, I wasn’t strong enough to save Corbin either.
Alden’s faded powers would eliminate him from the competition, forever barring me from the cure I’d rested all my hopes on. Though deep down I knew I couldn’t always be his protector, I wasn’t strong enough to relinquish my control by giving up the possibility.
Suddenly I found myself facing a similar existential crisis to the one Alden himself was experiencing. While Alden had lost the opportunity to fulfill his lifelong dream due to circumstances beyond his control, my own purpose had always been fixed on on my brother’s precarious health.
“There still must be something we can do for him,” I pleaded.
He considered. “Perhaps we can cheer him up, just as my enchanted bluebells brought joy for your brother.”
I frowned. “Will that truly be enough?”
His lips twitched. “You’re the one who admonished me not to make magic so complicated.”
I never imagined I’d find myself in a position where I’d be forced to take my own advice. Such magic seemed far too simple in the face of trials and heartache to make much of a difference…even as I’d witnessed firsthand how such a simple gesture had delighted Corbin, even when it couldn’t take away his pain. Could the service I’d rendered all of these years truly be enough to make a difference, both for Corbin and this little crippled boy now?
I relinquished Alden’s hand so I could kneel in front of the boy, who peered up at me with blue eyes bulging with curiosity. “What’s your name?” I asked gently.
He ducked his head shyly. “Calvin.”
Even his name was similar to my dear brother’s. My heart wrenched. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
His gaze darted towards the playing children. “I want to join them but my arm hurts from propping up on my crutch for too long.”
After a moment of examining the wooden crutch, I came up with a possible idea. I turned to Alden. “Is there a spell for something to take on an attribute of something else, such as wood taking on the sensation of a pillow?”
He nodded. “I can teach you the spell.”
It took much trial and error for me to cast a charm of a more intermediate nature, but eventually Calvin was tentatively standing and bearing his weight on his crutch. His entire expression lit up as he leaned on the formerly uncomfortable wood and discovered the impression of a cushion.
“That’s so much more comfortable. Thank you.” He eagerly hobbled over to join the other children, leaving his own spell of satisfaction at being able to help him even in this small way in his wake.
After this success, I didn’t want to stop with Calvin. With my magic and creative ideas alongside Alden’s knowledge tutelage, together we performed dozens of simple spells for all we came into contact with—ranging from charms to enchant the flowers growing beneath the gabled windows to play music with each petal its own section of an orchestra, to using a tracking spell to help a farmer recover some of his chickens that had wandered away, to Alden teaching me how to weave the elements together to duplicate the all-purpose cloth he’d submitted for the competition to assist some of the less abled villagers, to using magic to enchant objects to perform menial chores.
Though none of these parlor tricks had as drastic an impact as our restoring the well had, the resulting joy was just as tender. Each cast spell did more than grow my magical knowledge; it seemed to grant Alden purpose, even without him being the one to perform the actual spell.
Yet none of the magic impacted me as much as my interaction with Calvin. I thought of him long after we’d departed the village. I’d spent my entire life so consumed with tending to Corbin that I’d never considered who else might be suffering like him—different ailments, yet just as devastating to them and their families as Corbin’s illness was to ours. Even for those who didn’t have as serious of trials, there were undoubtedly less obvious needs that would benefit from my service.
Upon returning to my village, I resolved to step outside the walls of my own home to see if I could find a way to bring joy to those living near me…with magic, a willing heart, and my own two hands.