“I’m Carolyn,” said the woman in response. Her voice was clear and pleasant. She looked at Bloom with interest.
“Do you teach?” asked Bloom. “And if you do, is my daughter too young to learn?”
“The younger the better for music lessons,” replied Carolyn willingly. “It is her arm I am concerned about.”
Bloom thought about using the limb re-growing spell for the second time.
“You know, I am a widow, like yourself,” said Carolyn, giving Bloom a mournful glance.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” answered Bloom. “That is very sad to hear.” He was quiet for a moment. “Can you teach Amelliea even a little?” he asked hopefully, returning to the subject of lessons. “I’m sure she would benefit greatly from your teaching. If you are willing to come to our home once a week for an hour, I would pay you well for your time.”
“I would be glad to,” said Carolyn, with a smile.
They made arrangements for the first lesson the following week, and glad to be leaving the silent stares of the villagers, Bloom and his daughter made their way home again.
Bloom and Amelliea arrived at the cottage late in the evening. The wizard prepared a simple supper and fed Amelliea before tucking her in for the night. He gently rocked her crib with one hand and opened the new storybook titled The Seer.
“Long, long ago a Princess was hidden,” he read. There was a picture of a princess in a silver dress resting on a bed of pink silk. “She is awaited, time’s greatest seer,” it read on the second page. The same young woman was pictured with her eyes closed and her fingers to her temples as if she were deep in thought or witnessing unseen images in her mind. Bloom turned the page, “Though gone she be, she sleeps in waiting. In a tower so tall, it can reach forever.” The princess was drawn looking down from a sparkling glass tower. “She will return, bringing grace and splendor. When waiting is over, the lands shall flourish.” The final illustration depicted a field so heavily laden with flowers, fruits, and luscious plant life that Bloom decided with a sigh that such a fantastical drawing could only belong in a fairy tail. Still, the story stirred him deeply and long after he went to bed he lay awake unable to forget the picture.
Chapter 17
A Perfect Ear
Carolyn the harpist began to visit weekly and before long, Amelliea was strumming a few simple cords on the old harp all by herself. The woman made every effort to attract Bloom, trying hard to get him alone and capitalize on his loneliness. Bloom was well aware of what she was up to and politely complemented her on her new dresses, but did not engage her romantic interests. The most unexpected outcome of the weekly music lessons was the discovery of Amelliea’s lovely singing voice.
“The girl can sing!” announced Carolyn one day after trying to explain a series of simple notes by singing them and finding that Amelliea could easily repeat her song. “Why, the child has a perfect ear!”
“Her ears are very cute,” agreed Bloom.
“No, what I mean is, she can hear music and she can sing it perfectly on pitch without referencing notes!”
“Is that normal?” asked Bloom.
“Normal?” cried Carolyn, “It is a very rare auditory phenomenon!”
Singing was immediately added to the weekly curriculum, and within a few days Amelliea began humming and singing her favorite songs with such ease, that Bloom marveled there was ever a time before she knew how to produce these sweet and lovely sounds. Not wanting to feel left out of Amelliea’s musical endeavors, the wizard would often join in for the simple part of a song or whistle a supporting melody alongside his daughter’s singing.
Chapter 18
First Match
When Amelliea was five, Bloom took her into the village to visit the welder. After reading countless books about the brave legendary warrior, Beastador Willdenwild, Amelliea had begun daydreaming of a real metal shield. Bloom decided one day that he would order a special shield to be made for her. He designed the child-sized piece of armor himself. The shield would attach with a hook to a metal cup that would go over Amelliea’s missing arm. The cup would be held in place by several leather straps that would go around her chest and buckle across her back.
“Should you really be encouraging the poor little thing to play such boyish games?” asked the welder. “At this rate, she is likely to get hurt and end up bitterly disappointed by her own inadequacy since she is clearly meant for a simple, quiet life.”
“She is not a poor little thing,” answered Bloom, “and there is nothing wrong with her. Amelliea is a healthy child with a natural interest in fencing.”
“Suit yourself,” said the welder doubtfully.
Bloom handed him the sketches of the armor, and scratching his head in thought, the welder went to work planning out the job.
Amelliea tugged on Bloom’s sleeve. “Daddy, look!” she said. Outside on the street, a fencing lesson was taking place. There were five other children of varying ages lining up and being directed by an older man. One of the children did not have a sparring partner. “Can I go, please?” begged Amelliea.
Bloom looked nervously at the young boys fencing in the street. Their swords were light and quite small but they were made out of real metal and were sharp enough to do harm. Amelliea would be the only girl, on top of having only one arm. “No,” said Bloom, feeling the word cut him inside as he spoke it. He never wanted to tell her she couldn’t do something because she was born different.
“Why not?” asked Amelliea
“Because, you—because they…” stammered Bloom, unable to tell her she was not ever going to be like other people. He looked at her large beseeching eyes. “Listen Amelliea,” he said getting down on one knee and putting his hands on her little shoulders. “They might not be very nice to you, and you will have to be strong, and not let their words hurt you, understand?”
She nodded, even though she clearly did not understand, and had no idea of what was to come. Still, Bloom understood that he could not protect her from the cruelty of others forever and he would be doing her no favors by keeping her from her dreams.
“Alright, you may go and join them,” he said, following her out into the street and ignoring a contemptuous stare from the welder. The trainer looked up at them as they approached.
“My daughter would like to train with you,” said Bloom.
The trainer looked at Amelliea’s missing arm with judgment. “We don’t have an extra practice sword,” he said dismissively. The boys behind him stopped their practice to watch the scene.
“That’s alright,” piped in Amelliea, “I have my own.” She waved her carved wooden sword in the air. The boys all laughed loudly at the sight of her toy. Not sure what to make of their reaction, Amelliea looked up at Bloom, and he gave her a reassuring nod.
“Fine, lets see what she’s got,” the trainer smirked.
Amelliea lined up with the rest, facing a boy who looked to be about a year older than her.
Bloom was not a great swordsman himself, but he had received professional training in the Sapphire Kingdom long ago when he had befriended the Prince. Over the past few years, he had taught Amelliea everything he knew and the little girl had insisted on practicing nearly every day. After a while, the play fighting had become more serious and resulted in a good deal of actual practice.
“Begin!” commanded the trainer, giving his students no instructions on purpose to test their natural form and witness their skills organically. He must have expected Amelliea to cry and give up forever after failing miserably on her first attempt, but this was not what happened.
Upon hearing the first command, Amelliea came at her opponent with clean, practiced strikes. The boy stepped back in surprise. Amelliea kept on coming. She jabbed forward, and the boy jumped out of the way, unable to block her strikes.
“Time out!” commanded the trainer, and the fighting ceased. “How old are you?” he asked Amelliea.
“I’m five,” said the girl.
“W
here did you learn to fight like that?” asked the trainer.
She pointed to Bloom. “My daddy taught me,” she said.
Bloom smiled at his child and winked at the welder who was looking on, utterly aghast.
“She cheated!” cried the boy who had been beaten by the one-armed girl. “Her weapon is much lighter than this heavy piece of junk!” He threw his sword on the ground.
The trainer picked up the discarded weapon and handed it handle-first to Amelliea. “You need a teacher,” he said.
Chapter 19
A Fighting Spirit
“How can something that isn’t there attract so much attention?” asked Amelliea one evening after returning from fencing practice in the Village. The other children had been teasing her to no end about her missing arm. They invented new nicknames for Amelliea every week, and their cruelty knew no bounds. At eleven years old, Amelliea was the most agile swordsman in the group, and all the boys were jealous. They ganged up on her and took every opportunity that presented itself to punish her for being better than them, even though what looked like pure talent was mostly earned by persistent practice.
Bloom looked across the table at his adopted daughter. “If you want, I can grow you a new arm,” he offered.
“No!” said the girl, “I’m going to beat all of them as is, imperfections and all!”
“People always beat down on a fighting spirit,” said Bloom, “And although you will have to face that kind of thoughtlessness many more times, you must never begin to believe the cruel things others say.”
“They hate me!” said Amelliea, “They all hate me!”
“It is difficult to tell a person’s true character, perhaps someday you will be surprised to find that not all of them are your enemies.”
“They say I am nothing more than a lousy invalid!” cried Amelliea, tears welling in her brown eyes.
“Nothing can be more crippling than living with such a restrictive mentality,” said Bloom, putting his arm around her. “They do not know what is possible, and you challenge what they believe each day. These unkind words are but the growing pains of their limited minds.”
“Next week, I swear I’m going to give those boys something to complain about,” said Amelliea.
“Revenge is not justice,” reminded Bloom. “Come now, let us practice some magic.”
Amelliea sighed heavily. As talented as she was in fighting, she was not the least bit inclined to learn magic. Though she had easily mastered reading and writing, and thoroughly enjoyed learning history, mathematics, botany, astronomy, geography, and many other subjects, Amelliea had never managed to cast even a single spell, and she found the learning of magic impossibly tedious. “Father, I am too upset for a magic lesson tonight.”
“Last week you had a different excuse,” said Bloom. “You simply must learn magic, even though it is difficult. I am the last wizard, and you are my only daughter. If you do not choose to learn it, then it will die with me.”
“What if I don’t want to learn it?” she asked.
“Magic will assist you in becoming a great warrior.”
“Magic is cheating,” said Amelliea. “I want it to be a fair fight.”
“And what if your opponent is stronger than you? You could use magic to make it an equal match.”
“I would rather lose than cheat.”
“But you must!” said Bloom.
“What if I simply cannot? What if I’m not like you?” she asked.
“Some day you may bitterly regret not knowing it,” warned Bloom.
“Everyone else on Windiffera is just fine without knowing magic, and I too will be just fine,” she said.
In time, Bloom gave up on trying to teach Amelliea magic. She had no interest in the subject on top of having no talent for it. At first Bloom felt deeply disappointed by this turn of events, but after a while, he came to understand and respect that Amelliea had her own path. She wanted to be a warrior, not a magic wielder. Bloom slowly came to terms with the knowledge that he would be the last of his kind and he would never get to teach a willing student. He decided to write a few books, just in case his knowledge should be needed long after his death by someone who wanted to learn but had no teacher and knew not where to begin. Bloom began writing in the evenings, explaining the principals and properties of magical spells. He focused on explaining how to go about learning magic, and how to grow one’s powers. He hoped that someday, the texts would find the one who needed them.
Chapter 20
Enemies and Friends
Many years passed and Amelliea grew into a young woman of exquisite beauty. With warm brown eyes, a lovely face, and thick golden hair that trailed down past her slender waist in a wavy cascade. She was adored by the villagers and had many secret admirers. Amelliea had mastered the harp single-handedly, and had developed a lovely singing voice. So enchanting was her singing that rumors of her talents and beauty began to slowly spread across the land. Amelliea’s music teacher Carolyn still visited weekly, and though she had long given up on winning Bloom’s heart and affection, Carolyn had been adopted as part of the family.
One day, when Amelliea was sixteen, her fighting skills were tested in real combat for the first time. Amelliea had been training all afternoon with her fencing team. Too tired to take off her practice armor, she sat outside the fencing court polishing her weapon. She had long since upgraded to a more modern sword, and she always took excellent care of it. The simple handle was sturdy and comfortable, and the wide silver blade was etched with the words, victory follows courage.
“Are you walking home again, stubby?” asked one of the boys. He was Amelliea’s least favorite person in the world. He had an unpleasant smile, and cold, unfriendly eyes. “It’s lucky you still have two feet,” he snickered.
“It’s lucky I’m not in the mood to school you in manners,” responded Amelliea, glaring at him.
“You are just jealous of my ride!” the boy continued mocking her. He patted his horse on the nose.
“You call that a horse?” asked Amelliea.
“Don’t insult my noble steed,” he said.
“More like a noble deed!” retorted Amelliea. “How much did you pay for that haggard old donkey?”
The other boys laughed at her comeback.
“Be careful, half-link, or I might stop taking it easy on you in practice,” warned the boy.
“You’re only taking it easy for your own benefit. We both know that if you really tried to fight me, I’d humble you so hard your self-respect would never recover,” she said, standing and gripping her sword.
At that moment, they heard a loud commotion up ahead in the street. The students all looked up to see a swarm of Gator riders charging into the village. Amelliea had heard of the Gators before, but nothing could have prepared her for the terrifying sight of the black-clad warriors racing forward astride vicious-looking green reptiles. The reptiles snapped their jaws, revealing many rows of teeth. The Gator riders broke shop windows on either side of the street and stole what goods they could find. They piled food, blankets, and supplies into their carriages and chariots. As the Gators thundered down the cobbled street, villagers screamed and ran every which way.
“Head for cover!” commanded the trainer to his students. The boys wordlessly obeyed, but Amelliea was not about to let the Gators get away with their treachery. “Amelliea!” cried the trainer from the shelter of the fencing court. “Get over here, now!”
Ignoring him, Amelliea ran forward and took a fighting stance. An instant later, the Gators surrounded her. Her trainer tried to get to her, but in the mill of the Gators, chariots, and villagers, this was simply impossible. Most of the Gators ignored the one-armed teenage-girl standing in the middle of the street, but one man clad in black decided to school the rebellious youth. Drawing his weapon, he swung his sword at her. Amelliea immediately blocked his strike, her practice showing up the moment it was needed. Though she was talented for her age, Amelliea’s skills were no matc
h for the Gator. The man moved as lightening, and all Amelliea could do was block like crazy and retreat. One of the Gator’s strikes came at her right side, where she was missing an arm. The swift cut would have left a deadly gash in her stomach, if someone from behind the girl did not block the attack for her. Amelliea glanced over only to find the same awful boy who had teased her earlier fighting by her side. Together, the two teenagers fiercely fought the Gator rider until a few moments later the man leapt onto a passing chariot and was gone. A cloud of dust trailed behind the last of the retreating Gators. The village was decimated. Broken glass lay in jagged shards across the cobbled street.
“I thought you hated me,” said Amelliea to the boy. “Why did you help me?”
“Because I didn’t want to see you get hurt,” he said.
“What?” asked Amelliea in shock.
“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, and the only way I can get you to look at me is by insulting you.”
“But you are so mean!” said Amelliea.
“Hey, you’re no peach yourself!” said the boy. She lunged at him, and he leapt away laughing. Amelliea swung her sword at the boy, but he ducked out of the way.
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 10