Chapter 11

One morning, Renard pounced on Elaine's stomach and knocked the wind from her. 

"Ooof!" she moaned. 

"Wake up!" he barked in her ear. "Wake up! Wake up!"

"I am awake you fat fox!" Elaine grumbled, standing up. "What do you want?"

Margaret walked up and dropped a sword at her feet. "Today, you will be doing something different. You'll take a break from reading and studying—"

"Thank goodness," muttered Elaine. 

"To train with Renard in fencing."

The fox was leaping around with excitement. Elaine's interest started to peak at the mention of swordplay. She looked at the sharpened swords in their leather scabbards.

"If I'm learning magic, why do I need to learn to fence?" she asked. It was not in a tone of sarcasm; she really wanted to know.

Margaret replied, "Because in close quarters, a sword can be just as dangerous as magic. Plus, you never know when magic will leave you at just the perfect inopportune moment." Margaret's voice dropped at the end. She was filled with a sadness that Elaine did not understand. 

Elaine drew a sword out of its sheath. Although it gave her a bit of fright to think about what it would mean to learn how to use the swords—fighting someone, possibly to the death, she thought back to her encounter with Sir Gregory, and how he had used his sword to menace her and her family. She never wanted to feel that helpless again. 

"All right," she said. "Let's get started!"

"Renard," said Margaret. "Quit skipping about for one moment to teach Elaine. Come on now, the sun will not be in the sky forever."

Renard paused. He closed his eyes and a look of concentration swept over him. His whiskers began to disappear, and he grew taller. Hands emerged from his paws, and clothing replaced fur. 

When he stood fully formed as a man, he gave himself a little shake and said, "Let's begin."

They spent all afternoon going over the basics of fencing: where to stand, the correct posture, how to move, how to never let the enemy move from Elaine's line of sight. When Renard began showing Elaine simple moves and combinations, he was impressed with how quickly she learned. 

"You're a natural," he said. "All that cowering and running from spiders must have given you pretty quick reflexes."

"And all that rabbit and squirrel is slowing you down, little fat fox," replied Elaine with a grin. 

"Oh, ho! The wench is saucy in the woods."

"I still haven't forgiven you for jumping on my stomach this morning."

They took a short break. The forest buzzed and hummed with energy Elaine was beginning to understand. The forest did not seem so terribly dark and frightening now. She was slowly learning its secrets. Once they each had taken a sip from Elaine's water pouch, Renard switched teaching tactics. 

"Now we will practice all that we've learned with a mock fight. Your goal is to land a blow on me."

They put away the sharpened swords for blunted, practice swords. 

"Now," Renard held up his sword. Elaine did the same. "Begin."

Elaine started in a flash, hoping to catch Renard off guard. She worked through the combinations that she had been taught, but Renard was true to his fox nature and quicker than the blink of an eye. He did not try to counter-attack, but simply let her pour on the offensive, and he easily blocked her thrusts. 

"Come on, come on, is that the best you've got?" he taunted. 

Elaine pushed harder. 

"You'll never get any better fighting like that," he said. 

Elaine re-doubled her efforts. Her arm burned from holding up the sword and her legs ached from holding her position. 

Then, Renard said something that made her lose her self-control 

"You know," he said slyly. He parried her thrusts easily. "I was the one who marked all those other trees with X's."

Elaine stopped, for just a moment. Then, thinking about how she had almost gotten lost forever in the woods, how she was set upon by the thieves, a spark ignited in her, and she became furious. 

She charged at Renard, yelling at him. She swung and tried to land blow after blow, but Renard dodged them all. She couldn't believe that he had tricked her like that, how he was the one responsible for almost getting her killed by those thieves. Her thrusts became wilder, more erratic, as she took greater and greater risks. 

Finally, after a miscalculation, Renard managed to knock the sword out of her hand. Elaine only paused for a moment before charging directly at him and tackled him to the ground. Renard hit the earth with a jolt, and a small "oof" escaped him. Elaine raised her fist to punch him, but Renard slipped out of her grasp, flipped her over, and caught both her wrists with one hand. With the other, he slipped a small knife out of a sheath and held it to her throat. 

"Be still," he said. 

Elaine kept moving. 

"Elaine, be still!" he commanded again. "One of the most important lessons you can learn is to know when you've been defeated."

"Why did you do it?" she yelled at him. "I trusted you, and you made me get lost in the woods! I could have died by the hands of those thieves."

Renard pressed the knife to her throat. Elaine stopped thrashing, although she glared at Renard. She was breathing heavily, and she hated that she had been outfoxed by...well, a fox. Renard looked down on her with an expression of amusement and exasperation. Sweat dripped from his forehead. He sheathed his knife. He held out a hand to help her up. 

"No, you wouldn't have, I knew exactly where you were. And I didn't make you do anything. You left perfectly well on your own. You needed to be shown that you're not half as clever as you think you are." He winced, rubbed his back. "But you're starting to become braver. I can't believe you tackled me." 

Elaine glared at him and took his hand. He hauled her up. "We're even now, from this morning," she said. Elaine turned to Renard, and something about him seemed different. Renard seemed tall and handsome, even if he were half fox. His shoulders were broad and his auburn hair seemed to burn in the afternoon sun. 

Renard laughed lightly. "I think you win that time, but as for fencing...tsk tsk. You cannot let your emotions run away with you. It was my intention to make you mad, and you fell for it. In everything, especially fencing, you cannot let your emotions get the best of you. Otherwise, the enemy will. Now, raise your sword. Let's go again."

They practiced until the sun went down and they could no longer see the end of their swords.

*

It's going to be very hard betraying this girl. Margaret, too, I suppose. I should not say "betraying," it won't be betraying. Not really. I have been with Margaret for so long that she probably knows already. But I answer to a higher power than either Margaret or Elaine. It will not be so bad. It will be for the good of the kingdom, I swear. 

The little one has come far. I thought she would fail after the attack of the thieves, I really did. I thought she would go screaming to her home, and never return, but she came back. That shows something about her, I suppose. 

She is improving in her fencing and magic. She has learned so much in so little time. I had better take care not to show her too much, otherwise, she might defeat me in the future. 

And we can't have that, now can we?

*

Elaine did not know that she could be sore in so many places. She hurt in her body, in her mind, and in her spirit. Her arms ached from fencing; her legs, ankles, and thighs ached from running practice. Every night, only after she had memorized at least twenty spells did Margaret say she could sleep. She read books on magical practice and magical theory, and when she slept at night, she saw strange ancient symbols dance before her eyes, and she heard the remnants of the ancient language in her ears. Her dreams were filled with flight, with stars, and lightning strikes. 

After a few weeks of practice with the leaf, which Elaine could now lift with ease and manipulate at will, Margaret showed her how to channel her magical energy. 

"You must become one with the energy before you fully know how to use it," she said. "Imagine a flame before you. Count until you become one with that flame. Pour all your fear, all your anger, worry, and sadness into it. Concentrate. Then you will be able to unleash your magic fully."

So Elaine practiced every night, without fail. She imagined a flame and counted her breaths until it seemed as though her breath, the flame, and she were one. Some nights were harder; some nights, she felt so worried about her parents that she could scarcely concentrate. Some nights, she fretted so much about living in the forests. She was still afraid of the shadows in the night, of the things in the woods that snapped twigs underfoot. Yet, as time went on, it became easier and easier to concentrate. 

She found that, once she concentrated, she could lift heavier things than leaves. She practiced moving stones, pieces of wood, even tried to lift the fire from the firepit once. 

Margaret shook her head. "That's still a bit advanced for you, yet," she said. She repeated the same when Elaine tried to lift herself. 

"Why can't I fly?" she said. "If I can lift objects, and I'm an object, why can't I lift myself?"

"To magic yourself takes the strongest sort of magic," replied Margaret. "You'll be able to do it when you're ready."

Margaret and Elaine also practiced transformation. 

"Remember," said Margaret. "All magic is, is the transformation of energy from one form to another. It is an irrefutable law that energy cannot be created nor destroyed; it merely changes form. When you transform dirt into water, or lead into gold, all you are doing is changing the energy of it."

Elaine concentrated and felt herself change an ant into a small berry. Tears formed in her eyes. It might not have been the biggest transformation ever, but she was proud of it. It represented how far she had come. She had gone from someone not knowing or understanding magic to being able to transform one thing into another. 

"Renard, look!" she cried. "Look what I did!"

"Yes, excellent," Renard yawned. "In another hundred years or so you might change a beetle into a sandwich."

Not even Renard's sarcasm could bring her down that night. She fell asleep with a grin on her face and laughter in her heart. 

Another night, when the moon was full and snow was beginning to fall on the ground, Elaine huddled closer to Renard for warmth. He let her, for he also needed the warmth of companionship. He just hated to admit it. She was shivering, and her teeth were clacking from the cold. 

She saw Margaret remove the velvet cloth from the mirror again. 

"What are you going to show me today?" she asked. 

"Look, and you will see," Margaret replied. 

Elaine gazed into the mirror.

*

The silver that the king stole from the monk went directly into purchasing more soldiers. There were always more soldiers for hire from the lands across the sea. They did not care who or what they were fighting for, as long as they got paid. And, with their pockets lined with the king's silver, they were paid extremely well. 

For a little while, at least. 

There were one or two knights who had objected to the king's actions. They told their town chaplains whenever they went home for the holidays. They all conveniently disappeared, however. No one ever saw a trace of them again, nor of the chaplains to whom they told their secrets. 

No matter, though. The king's army was growing, and he could afford to silence those who went against him. 

Until it was an entire village. 

The poor town, they had the terrible misfortune to be located in the perfectly wrong spot, at the worst time in the entire history of the land. They were a border town, and it was not unheard of for barbarian tribes from the north to come raiding now and again. In truth, it was more likely that the northern barbarians would engage in trade, for the kingdom had good, quality steel, and the northern tribes made exquisite jewelry, blankets, and clothes. The kingdom could not make fine cloth as they could, and they would always need sturdy blankets and clothes come wintertime. Still, the northern tribes became greedy once in a while, and they raided to take what wasn't theirs. 

They made a perfectly convenient excuse. 

The king's best friend and closest counselor burst into the throne room, where the king was deciding how much he should raise the taxes this year. He wanted another palace, this time by the sea, and it would take millions of gold coins to fund it. 

"Your Majesty!" the counselor cried out. 

The king jerked up from his plans and papers. 

"Speak," he said. 

The counselor bowed deeply. "Your Highness, malicious rumors are spreading against your name. The village on the border is maligning your generosity. Plus, I have it on very good authority that some of them are planning a rebellion against Your Grace."

This, of course, was nothing more than a pack of lies. It just so happened that the counselor had a sworn enemy living in the village. The man had married his youthful sweetheart, and the counselor had never forgiven him for it. Only that day, he had heard that the man had been complaining about the tax increases. Of course, complaining about the tax increases was only a short step to complaining about the laws of the land, which was only a tiny step away from treason. 

But the king did not need any more nudging than that. He was already half-mad, paranoid that someone was coming to steal his throne or that barbarians were invading. He wanted everyone to worship him, not only as a king, but as a god. 

The king stood up. "Gather the troops," he commanded. 

They immediately set off for the village. 

When they arrived, all that lay before the king was a sleepy village, of perhaps twenty homes, made of brick, mud, and thatched roofs. Outside fire pits glowed, and goats and dogs trotted along the muddy paths. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that this was a seat of treason. 

"You are sure about this?" asked the king to his counselor.

The counselor nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, Your Highness."

The king nodded once, then took a torch from a knight. 

One by one, he began to light the houses on fire. Smoke filled the air, as people inside began coughing. He put everything he could to the torch: houses, barns, stables, even the fencing around the village. He left nothing. 

Inside the houses, people began screaming. Many of the strong-bodied tumbled outside, hacking and coughing, trying to draw clean breaths of air. But many more were trapped inside the burning buildings. The screaming became louder, as people began to panic. Sounds of wailing children filled the air, and the smell of smoke choked everyone.

Neighbors burst inside, hacking at doorways with axes or knives, trying to help their loved ones escape. 

The king and his men galloped away. 

That night, no one had a home standing. All was ash and cinder, the cold remains swirling around in the wind. They were forced to leave; no one could sleep on the cold, hard earth. In an instant, everyone lost everything: clothes, food, toys, books, beds, possessions gathered from lifetimes; all of it, gone. 

People wept as they gathered what little remained. A shirt here, a child's rattle there. A handful of wheat. One ear of corn. That was all that was left to them to see them through winter. They couldn't survive like that; that had to move. 

So they left. They scattered to the four winds, each home torn apart, as people went out in search of food, in search of work, anything to help them live, to help them make it until the next winter. 

They shed bitter tears. With each step away from their homes, their hearts became hard, even as their shoes fell apart. This was unprovoked. This violence had no meaning. The worst was that no one would believe them when they said it was the king. But it was. No one wanted to believe that their leader was the originator of the violence; but he was.

In the mirror, Elaine saw their eyes fill with despair. They were scattered to the four corners of the earth. Families were ripped apart, pulled by the need to find work, to find food, to simply survive. Old grandparents succumbed to sickness; babies starved and mothers wept over the loss of their children. Some men became so desperate that they started stealing anything they could find. Violence beget violence. Hunger and desperation brought forth more misery into the kingdom. No one was the same after that.

*

When Elaine looked up from the mirror, she was crying. She didn't understand the needless violence she witnessed. She could not understand how greed and envy would motivate people to burn houses, sending innocents into the world with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. She could not understand how people needlessly died.

"Why?" she asked Margaret. "Why did they do that?"

Margaret sighed deeply. How she wished she had an answer for everything. She deeply desired to give Elaine a simple answer, one that could be solved with magic. But, as she very well knew, sometimes in life, there were no easy answers. Nothing was ever as simple as it first appeared. 

"The king wanted to control the land before it left his control," she replied. 

"But they weren't doing anything!" cried Elaine. "Nothing! And he came along and just started burning everything."

"Elaine, think," said Margaret. "Think about how you feel in this moment. Conjure up exactly what you are feeling."

Elaine paused and closed her eyes. She felt angry; no, she felt more than anger. This was deeper than that, more painful, more white-hot and blazing than simple anger. This was rage. 

How dare the king brutally slaughter innocents? How dare he destroy homes all for the sake of greed? 

The fury began to rise in Elaine; she felt it humming in the air around her, vibrating her very core. Without realizing it, she was tapping into magic. Large objects began to float around her: boulders, fallen trunks of trees, even Renard and Margaret. 

When she opened her eyes, she saw her display of power. It felt as though she were running; her heart was pounding, her blood sang in her veins, and her thoughts were clear and focused. She felt formidable; she felt invincible. No wonder Margaret wanted to teach her how to run. This feeling was so similar. She had come very far from being unable to lift a leaf. She gently set everything down. 

"Who else does he have trapped?" asked Elaine, her voice barely containing her fury. 

"Look and see," said Margaret, holding out the mirror once again. 

*

Elaine saw a young woman with dark black hair, an aquiline nose, and round cheeks chained to a wall. The young woman had deep circles under her eyes, and she looked as though she had not slept in several days. She was in a room filled with sunlight, and someone splashed water on her. She jerked her head.

"Wake up!" someone called. "No sleeping!"

The young woman thrashed against her chains. 

"Let me go!" she called. Although her voice cracked, groggy and suffused with fatigue, it was strong. She fought fiercely against her binding. 

"Cowards!" she called. 

*

The image faded. Elaine turned to Margaret and asked, "Who was that?"

"Nicole," she said. "She is one of the most powerful magicians the kingdom has ever seen, with the exception of yourself."

"What can she do?" asked Elaine.

"She can render people unconscious and put them to sleep," responded Margaret. "What's more, she can enter their dreams. That's why they are keeping her awake—to prevent her from entering their dreams."

"How is that so powerful?" asked Elaine. 

"She once put an entire kingdom to sleep for one hundred years," she said. "And besides, haven't you ever had a dream that was so vivid that you thought it was real? Have you ever woken up from a nightmare drenched in sweat?"

Elaine thought and nodded. 

"When she enters people's dreams, she has the ability to make them see whatever she wants. She can influence people's thoughts and decisions through their dreams. She can create monsters or give you the things you want most in the world."

Elaine paused. "I see," she said. 

The next day, Elaine re-doubled her efforts to learn. She studied even harder, memorized more spells, and concentrated in her mindfulness practices even more. She now had a single imperative: defeat the king. Now her magical training made sense. It was not just about her anymore, not just about what it could do for her or her family. The kingdom was at stake. She had to help her people, no matter the cost. She had to do something to stop the evil king and his minions. 

Before, she had been learning to simply control her magic. She did not want to be labeled a freak or some strange creature, singled out for doing magic in her village. She had simply wanted to learn the very basics, so she would not hurt the people she loved or cause unintentional harm, and that was it. She thought that maybe she could turn bread into fish or multiply what they had, so she could feed the entire village. Now she saw the problem was greater than simply what was going on in her life, or even in her village. It was throughout the entire kingdom. No matter how much she helped her village, if she kept her head down, there would always be people suffering, and there would always be injustice. She vowed to study harder than ever before.