Magic. #2
“I’ve never practiced magic,” I told him.
“I don’t often,” he admitted. “I hate having to cover the marks until they fade.”
“The blotches fade?” I asked, intrigued.
He nodded. “When a wizard stops casting spells, the marks disappear. A few weeks ago, I reluctantly performed a memory loss incantation on a baron Fletcher stole from. I couldn’t let my cousin lose his head—thankfully, the stain’s fading fast.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to cast a spell if I wanted to,” I admitted, my cheeks warming with slight embarrassment. Calling myself a witch felt almost fraudulent.
Bash raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly a master sorcerer, but if you’d like, I could show you something magical?”
I nodded eagerly.
“Closen theer aga.” Close your eyes, he murmured.
I obeyed, plunging myself into darkness.
“Think of a flower,” Bash whispered in my ear, his breath sending a tingle along my neck. “Now open your eyes.”
I peered through the slits of my eyelids to find Bash standing before me, his cupped hands empty.
“Bloma a blostma, ette’t schewen. Doe thou palma ordain a blossoma growan.” Bloom a bud, let it show. In my hands make a flower grow, he said as something sparkled in the center of his palms.
A glimmering ball of light hovered in the air just above his skin. I watched, captivated, as a tiny forget-me-not bloomed in his purple-stained hands.
Reaching out, I gently plucked the delicate flower, admiring its beauty.
“A forget-me-not!” I exclaimed, elated. “They’re my most cherished flow…” I faltered.
For a fleeting moment, I felt my Finn disguise slip, exposing a part of Niamh hidden beneath.
“They’re beautiful,” Bash said softly, his gaze fixed on the periwinkle petals pinched between my fingertips. Clearing his throat, he looked away. “Follow me. There’s something I want to show you.”
We walked for a long while, edging deeper and deeper into the forest, the fog thickening with every step I took.
The sharp sting of nettles bit at my shins as we waded through overgrown weeds. Streams of silver light spilled through the canopy of leaves above, casting a faint glow on the shrubbery below.
Something in the undergrowth caught the light—shimmering subtly in the haze.
Bash pressed his finger to his lips, shushing me as he crept closer to the glittering object. At first, I thought it was a cluster of crystals. But as we edged nearer, I realized the sparkling scales were shifting…breathing.
“Be careful,” Bash whispered as he reached out his hand.
I took it, stepping carefully over the trunk of a fallen tree—almost concealed by the curling mist.
“I don’t know why it’s snoozing here, in the forest, but it’s got reins wrapped around its neck, so clearly it belongs to someone.”
“What is it?” I asked, struggling to recognize any part of the satiny creature cloaked in vapor.
“A wyvern.” Bash crouched, picking up a fallen stick and tossing it at the beast.
“Don’t disturb it,” I muttered, but it was already too late.
The creature’s wings unfurled, shaking off the leaves and moss that had settled on its back.
I gasped as it reared its head from the undergrowth, its long neck stretching toward the treetops.
Iridescent eyes blinked sleepily before the beast snorted, sending snot flying from its snout.
Droplets splattered against my face as I stared up at the wyvern, awestruck.
“Studi, studi.” Steady, steady, Bash instructed, coaxing the wyvern out of the dense woodland and into an open plain.
With each forward step, the creature’s enormous talons tore up the grass beneath its feet, while plumes of smoke puffed from its nostrils. My breath hitched as I took in the thick, lead-like spikes gleaming along its spine.
“You want to ride him, or should I?” Bash asked, pulling back his white locks and tying them away from his face.
I noticed that under the moonlight, the strands of his hair shimmered like stardust.
I gestured toward the wyvern. “After you.”
Bash chuckled and offered his hand. “Together?” He raised an eyebrow, his contagious smile spreading across his face.
“Won’t we get caught?” I asked. “Surely our heads will end up on spikes?”
I was desperate to uncover the magical remnants in Lyonesse, but I knew soaring through the moonglow wasn’t just dangerous—it was deadly.
“Fog’s hanging low tonight,” he replied. “As long as we don’t fly lower than the mist, we’ll stay hidden.”
“Have you done this before?” I asked, glancing between the blinking wyvern and the grinning Bash.
He nodded confidently. “Many times. Once we’re sky-bound, no one will see us.”
“I’m trusting you know what you’re doing,” I remarked, hesitating before accepting his hand.
Bash pulled me close, encircling my waist in a firm grip. “Grab the spikes—pull yourself on,” he instructed, effortlessly lifting me as I dug my fingers into the wyvern’s scaly hide and cocked a leg over its thick neck.
Bash mounted behind me with ease, his arms brushing past my sides as he seized the reins coiled around the creature.
“Meve forewearde.” Move forward, he commanded, kicking his heel into the belly of the beast.
The wyvern lurched into a trot, quickly gathering speed as it barreled through the dense foliage.
Leaves whipped against my face, spilling a blur of green across my vision, like watercolor bleeding across parchment.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable whip of a protruding branch that could cost me my head.
Bash’s arm tightened around my torso, anchoring me securely to his chest while his other hand steered the beast skyward.
“Heh.” Higher, Bash said.
The wyvern obeyed, its wings beating powerfully as it soared toward the stars.
My stomach somersaulted at the sight of the kingdom shrinking below—the distant camp looked like brown freckles on green skin.
My legs trembled, gripped by a single, unyielding fear—being bucked off and sent tumbling to my death.
“Scared?” Bash called over the rush of wind.
I shook my head, too frightened to even speak, yet unwilling to show weakness.
“Why are you shaking then?” he teased.
“Don’t let go!” I yelled, my voice cracking to reveal the fear I struggled to hide.