Chapter 5
It was not hard to find her. In this quiet little Hollow, everyone is friendly. Everyone is willing to extend a kind hand to a stranger, because more often than not, that stranger will turn out to be a fairy willing to bless you or curse you, depending on your generosity. Small villages always have the best hospitality. However, even in this one, there is a thread of discord running through it. A distrust, a general unease. Just like in all of the kingdom. I'm not sure anyone really acknowledges it, so slow it has been in coming. But it's here. One more poisoned well from the madness of the king and his empire.
Even if several kind tailors and sheepherders had not pointed the way, I would have found her. There is no mistaking the swirl of magic, a faint, lavender light hovering around her. I have lost everything, lost all of my gifts, yet this stays with me. The ability to see magic, but never again to touch it.
She does not know what lies inside her, this blossoming girl. She will soon discover it.
*
"Magic?" The word hung in the air, electrified, all of them afraid to touch it.
They all were gathered in the living area of their home. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling fire. The air was pungent with bread made with rosemary and the remaining beef stew on the fire. Elaine looked ashen as she turned her head first from the strange, old woman to her parents and back again.
"I can't be magic," Elaine said.
"She's too chicken to be magic," whispered Daniel.
"Daniel, quiet," commanded their father in a low tone.
Elaine stood up and began pacing around the living room. She clutched the sides of her head, as if she had a bad headache.
"There hasn't been anyone born with magic in generations," she said, as if that solved it all, as if stating something could erase this problem.
The old woman replied, "That's what the kingdom wants the commoners and peasants to think. They are afraid of any display of magic outside the royal house."
"How do you know?" Elaine said accusingly. Who was this woman, coming into our home, telling lies, only to stir up mischief? What good will it do? She is probably silly or insane, thought Elaine.
The truth had been a quiet explosion. The old woman had knocked on their door innocently enough, asked for a cup of hot soup and some bread for a worn-out traveler. Indeed, the woman had looked ragged enough, torn clothes, thin, cloak, spotted with holes and white hair that was grayer with dirt than any other color. She looked as though she had sprinted in a race, no small feat for a woman her age. The lines on her face were deep, as though they were gorges cut by rivers.
They had welcomed her in, fetched her a wooden chair, the bottom scraping along the floor, Elaine's mother fussing over the house not being clean enough for guests. Daniel had asked for a sweet, and by a miracle, the old woman had one, proffering it on an open palm.
Harold offered her a cup of hot mulled wine, and she accepted, on the condition that it was weakened with water first. Once the color returned to her face, they all set down to the table.
Slowly, the old woman guided the conversation to news of the kingdom, the general state of things. She asked whether there had been any strange goings-on in town. No one said anything about the fallen beam and the knight. Unconsciously, they all glanced at the king's portrait on the wall, terrified to say a word contrary to him or his knights.
Elaine's stomach had twisted, for she knew what she was hiding. The old woman could sense her discomfort, she knew how painful it was for someone to hold a secret, like a thorn, pressing into one's palm.
"Have you ever had anything strange happen to you, Elaine?" she had asked. "Something you couldn't explain?"
Elaine had only shaken her head no, looked deep into her mug of tea, the ginger and rosemary mingling in the steam.
"Elaine, I believe that you may have a special gift," said the old woman.
And then she spoke that word that changed everything.
*
I tried to protect her, my beautiful daughter. I tried to shield her from all of this, from this terrible decision that she must now make. I tried to keep her safe from everything, every shadow that passed over her door, every nightmare that darkened her sleep. Maybe I tried too hard. She is so meek, my daughter. To my shame, I am afraid of sending her away, because I know she might fail.
But I must. This is what I must do. This is the fruit born of sixteen years of hiding and deceit. I didn't know that with hiding and secrets, that they are revealed in time. They always are. What is hidden in the dark will always come to light.
I know I have to let her go. Love gives us wings, but reasons to stay. I hope I have given her both. But now it is her time to fly.
*
"Why me," Elaine whispered. "Can't it be a knight or a lord?"
"Because you're the only one with magic," said the old woman gently. "You're one of the last ones blessed with this gift. The way the others are held, only someone else with magic can save them. They are so heavily guarded that only someone with a great power can break them free of their prisons."
Elaine looked the old woman square in the eyes. She couldn't help. She couldn't possibly help.
"What do you want me to do?"
The old woman stood up. She walked slowly to Elaine, took her chin in her old, wrinkled hand. Jasper jumped up into Elaine's lap, as if he were protecting her from her fate.
"So much my dear. There is so much to be done." She let go of her chin. "But first, we must begin your training. A power such as yours has not been seen in generations. You first must learn how to wield it, how to handle it. With the blessing of your family," and here she turned and gave a slight bow to her parents, "we will go deep into the forest, where even thieves and vagabonds fear to go. I will teach you the ways of magic. You will learn and grow your powers. When you are ready, you will help me find the others and rescue them."
Leave?
Leave the village? Go where even thieves and vagabonds dare not go?
Absolutely not. Elaine shook her head. "No," she said. "I can't do it. Find someone else."
Harold gave a small, firm nod, almost too small to be seen. He did not want to lose his baby girl to the shadows and the unknowns of the forest.
"Elaine, I promise that I will protect you," said the old woman. "I promise that I will give you the knowledge and skills to fight on your own, to face whatever danger or obstacle come your way."
Elaine's mother, silent so far, spoke up. "Why must she rescue these others? Who are they? And what do they have to do with us?"
Harold gave his wife a quick squeeze on the hand, a small pressure that said, Yes, good job, good questions.
The old woman gave a deep sigh. "Because they will be joined in force to fight against the kingdom."
"Shhhhhh!" Harold hissed. He glanced to the wall, to the all-seeing eyes. "No one needs to fight against the kingdom. We have been blessed in the past, and more blessings will come."
Then the old woman changed. It was a change so subtle that Elaine wondered if it had been a trick of the firelight. She seemed to grow, to tower over them all, even though she was a shrunken, shriveled woman.
"Do you not realize that you are starving? That you and your whole village will starve come the next few winters if things do not change? Do you not realize that the king and his brood have become crueler, exacted more taxes than was ever necessary? Do you not realize he rules through force, might, and fear, rather than justice, goodness, and right of rule?"
Elaine's father only shook his head once, unwilling to see what was before his eyes.
Suddenly, Elaine knew that fear was not inborn; it was taught.
Her father was afraid. He was the strongest, bravest person she knew, and he was afraid of losing her.
Elaine had noticed these things; how could she not, with the soldiers breathing down her neck?
With all her family staring at her, Elaine felt an unbelievable pressure. She didn't want to do this, couldn't possibly do this. She was the worst person for this task, this monumental, looming, horrifying task. Even Daniel would be better at this than she would be. All that Margaret had told her swirled in her mind. Once she accepted it as truth, and she knew it was true, that pushed her a little more toward the edge.
You have tono
No. She didn't have to do anything. Elaine leaned back deeply into her chair, as if she could escape into herself, make herself so small that she could disappear forever. She wanted to stay. She hated to think of leaving the comfort of home, with all its familiar sights and smells. Jasper waking her in the mornings with his soft, wet nose and warm, gentle purring. The morning sun sparkling off the river; the sheep bleating in the afternoon; the weekly market with traders bringing saffron and pepper, silk clothes that no one could afford anymore, tin trinkets, copper coffee pots, and coin purses so tiny and delicate you could have sworn they were made by fairies. She wanted to stay in the flow of this time, this simple life. It wasn't easynothing in the kingdom was easy anymore. But it was simple. Never changing.
She feared the responsibility of it all. Her? A Rescuer? Preposterous. She couldn't rescue a housefly. She didn't even have the responsibility of handling the money of the bakery. And this woman expected her to hold the responsibility of the kingdom in her hands?
Absolutely not.
The kingdom was what hurt her family. She had no loyalty to it. The kingdom was what disappeared her cousin. One day he was talking against the king, the local crazy man; he had gone mad from eating the plants in the woods, too silly, too lacking of wits to pay attention to what entered his mouth. He was never the same after the mushrooms that grew on the logs. The bright purples ones, with cream flecks. But he was starving, and too proud to ask his own family for help. He ate them and was never the same.
Everything out of his mouth was nonsense after that. No one took him seriously, especially not after the day he ran naked through the town, screaming about ghosts and goblins, when everyone knew goblins lived on the far side of the world.
Still. He started railing against the king one day. Spouting words of death and down with the royals. He disappeared three days after that, never to be seen again. There weren't even any soldiers in the town that day. Only people Elaine thought were her friends, neighbors.
So to fight directly against the kingdom like that? To take a stand and essentially scream to the world was tantamount to painting a huge X on her back, like a target for an arrow. She wanted to help her family, and the best way to do that was to be silent.
Yet, whispered a tiny voice. Wouldn't magic be the best way to help?
She looked up at her family. Her mother said, "Darling, we will support you whatever you decide. The Great Sky Spirit will guard your path."
Maybe if she had an edge, any edge over the kingdom, she could better protect her family. Maybe if those knights returned, she could protect them better, make sure that nothing would happen to them.
Her eyes filled with tears. How could her mother be so brave when she wasn't?
Maybe, if I learn, then I could learn to not hurt anyone anymore, she thought. Like Zachary.
Skies above. Zachary. She still hadn't talked to him since the fire incident. And she wouldn't until she knew how to set things right. She didn't want to continue hurting people. And she knew, deep down, that if she continued to ignore this, this problem, then she would never be able to control it. She would spiral wildly and others would be hurt, perhaps even worse. That was the last thing she wanted.
Plus...whispered an even smaller voice, so soft that she could barely hear it. Just think of it. Magic. No one has wielded magic in this town for generations. You could heal the crops. You could heal the people of their ailments. You could help so much for so many.
And then, the tiniest voice of all: You can do it.
There. Here it was. She stood up. She turned to face the woman called Margaret. She couldn't believe she was going to trust this stranger. In her world, old women were either fairies or hags; they would either grant you wishes or eat you alive. Only time would tell which one Margaret would turn out to be.
Just one day. She could trust this woman for just one day. She would go into the forest, the place where all her horrors mingled together. She would go, learn all she could, and return as quickly as she could. She would do it.
Standing a bit straighter, she said, "I will go."