Magic Awakens

by Lucia Ashta

  In his stormy way, Marcelo made it clear that I was simply an obligation or a burden, depending on his mood. He looked for the way to fulfill his responsibility toward me so as to be free of it.

  I missed Gertrude’s affection and loving support so terribly just then that it physically hurt. When would I see her again? I cared very much that Marcelo would see me crying, but I couldn’t hold the sadness back any longer. I cried with feminine composure and restraint as much as possible, but I cried.

  I cried for a long time, my dependable horse leading the way to Dunladun, even though I had no idea where Dunladun was. And when no tears were left to shed, I discovered acceptance for my position in life. I rode in comforting silence for a long time, until Marcelo called from behind that it was time to stop for food and drink.

  *

  We stopped for the night at the halfway point to Dunladun. We had another long trek ahead of us the next day, but at least now we would rest. I walked into the inn gingerly, as exhausted from riding as I was from emotional release.

  Marcelo found us a remote table to dine at, apart from the regular rowdy customers. Sparse conversation punctuated our dinner. I said almost nothing and was relieved when Marcelo deposited me in my room and left me. In minutes, I had washed up and was in bed.

  Sleep was merciful. It came swiftly, and it took every unpleasantness with it. I slept soundly until the sun peeked through curtain-less windows.

  Outrunning That Which Cannot Be Outrun

  We rode side by side, every step taking us closer to Dunladun. I woke with a fresh outlook. I resolved to accept how things were and to learn all that I could about magic. If this was where my life was leading, then it was important that I understand my gifts. Perhaps I could find power in a life that had been devoid of it.

  Marcelo treated me with unusual compassion and consideration, as if my outburst had led him to see what he hadn’t before. He’d started treating me as a young girl, one that he needed to make allowances for. That’s not what I wanted, but I had no desire to say anything about it then. He would soon witness my transformation.

  The day was quiet, with both of us immersed in our own thoughts. The rhythmic melody of horse steps was mesmerizing, and it lulled me into a peaceful calm.

  What happened next occurred without my conscious decision, just as when I’d accidentally made the lake bubble, except that later on I would remember it all, as if I’d been a casual and unconcerned observer watching myself from outside my body.

  It began with a rumbling of the earth so tenuous that it was difficult to differentiate between it and the pounding of hooves.

  Then there was another rumble, still subtle, but more difficult to dismiss. I, however, continued to stare ahead, oblivious.

  Marcelo turned my way. If he’d been an animal, his ears would have pricked in alertness and his tail stood on end as he anticipated something.

  Marcelo might have attempted to interfere with what I was inadvertently doing then. But he didn’t. He’d been absent when I’d affected fire, and he’d been a remote witness when I caused the lake to bubble. Observing me through the process up close could provide the understanding to help me control my powers.

  A third rumble shook the earth and commanded attention. The ground moved for only moments, but it was more than sufficient to panic the horses.

  They tried to shake free of their riders.

  Instincts from years of riding kicked in. I squeezed the reins tightly with one hand, wrapped my other arm around my horse’s neck, and clamped my thighs around his body while I leaned in to him. Had I been riding sidesaddle, I would have fallen.

  Once the horse returned his fore legs to the ground, I secured my other arm around his neck too. When he jumped again, I was nestled into him as closely as I could be. My face pressed against his neck, and I remained peaceful. My body was there, but I was someplace else.

  My serenity affected my horse. He was the first to settle.

  The other horses continued with their resistance. Those that trailed behind us, attached only by ropes, jumped and pulled at their fastenings. Their instincts screamed at them to run away, though they had nowhere to run to. The earth that shook surrounded them, corralling them.

  Marcelo had anticipated what might come, and he was prepared for his horse to rear, already soothing the animal.

  But then it happened again. This time it was worse. There was no calming the horses anymore.

  The earth rose beneath us in undulating ripples. As if the earth magic radiated out from beneath me, it continued in waves, up and out in every direction. The road that had looked solid moments before was malleable, and I was shaking it out like one would a dusty rug, over and again.

  The horses were uncontrollable. They fought for their survival. As they couldn’t free themselves of us, they took us with them. They raced ahead on the road, as if they could beat the rolling motion with speed and determination. They tried to outrun the magic with everything they had.

  But they couldn’t. Not so long as I was astride my horse. And I was. I held onto my horse as if my life depended upon it, which it did—had I fallen, the horse that galloped behind me would have trampled me.

  My horse and I moved as one seamless creature, and we took the earthquake with us as we went. It was localized, and I was its centralized focal point.

  By this time, Marcelo was attempting to stop me. However, I was impervious to his shouts. The horses were loud, my stupor profound, and Marcelo seemed a world away.

  The dirt road continued to roll beneath us, giving the surreal impression that the horses were riding the crest of a continuous wave, trying desperately to stay on it to avoid the crashing surf.

  The horses charged. Their muscles, streamlined for just this kind of movement, performed at peak efficiency. We sped toward Dunladun, our very lives the motivation.

  I remained entranced, bewitched by my own wandering mind, and noticed nothing.

  Eventually, after longer than I could have ever imagined possible, I snapped out of it.

  It wasn’t because of anything Marcelo did or said, nor was it because of the horses’ desperate fleeing. The moment was simply complete and over.

  I came to, and as soon as I did, the earth stilled.

  Nonetheless, the horses continued to run.

  Too agitated to notice that their surroundings had settled, it took Marcelo several minutes of determined reassurance to get the lead horses to reduce their speed to a trot.

  Once the horses realized the earth was unmoving, they ground to a halt. Their breathing came heavy and loud. Sweat coated their bodies. Muscles twitched and bulged.

  I found Marcelo. He stared right back at me, eyes, a startling blue, wide and intense. He glowered until I wanted to turn away.

  He swiveled in his saddle, taking in our surroundings. A small town was visible atop the crest of the upcoming hill.

  “We’ll stop there,” he said. “The horses need water and rest. And we need to talk.”

  Marcelo didn’t wait for my response. He was in control again.

  At first, the horses resisted Marcelo’s signals to move. But his voice was stern, and the horses and I obeyed.

  We made our way to the town slowly. The horses were tired. The monotonous sound of hooves hitting earth reigned again, but this time I was careful not to let myself become distracted by it. Although the dreaminess lingered, I was beginning to understand that I might have caused the uproar.

  When we finally arrived at the town, we found that it was smaller than it had appeared, and we were lucky to find a countrywoman with a modest cottage willing to take us in and feed us in exchange for a few coins.

  Her teenage son tended to the horses. We could see them through her kitchen window. They drank greedily and ate some grass, but then they sank to the ground in uncommon horse behavior.

  The woman noticed it too. “Ya been running those horses hard, eh?” I had to interpret dropped consonants and clipped vowels.

  Marce
lo tried to brush her comment away. “Yes, we’re on our way to Dunladun. We must arrive there by nightfall.”

  “Well ya should have no problem doing that. Yer only a few hours away. But ya must let them horses rest first.”

  The woman turned her attention back to the stew and bread she was sharing with us, and Marcelo gave me a sharp look. I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me, at himself, or both.

  “Well, at least we made good time,” he said. “We’ll talk after we eat.”

  Obviously we wouldn’t talk about what happened in front of our curious hostess. I nodded meekly, not sure how I felt about our impending talk. Part of me dreaded the upcoming discussion, another looked forward to it. I was ready to understand what was happening to me and to take control—at least I thought I was.

  The matron excused herself, saying she had washing to tend to, and left us alone. Still, Marcelo let it go while we ate. The woman’s stew, though meager in its ingredients, was very tasty, the result of a cook skilled with spices and making do. Marcelo and I ate hungrily, sopping up the last bits of stew with bread baked that morning, but we didn’t ask for seconds.

  With the taste of ale still on our lips, we found a spot under a tree that the sun warmed. My tailbone screamed at me as I sat, but we settled in. We could see the horses from there. As soon as they started moving again, we would continue on our journey.

  I leaned my back into the tree trunk and sighed loudly. Finally, I turned toward Marcelo.

  *

  “You had no idea that you were causing the earth to shake, did you?”

  So it had been me.

  Marcelo’s voice sounded surprisingly calm. “I watched you very closely this time, and it didn’t look like you were aware of what you were doing in the least.”

  “I wasn’t.” This fact was both terrifying and thrilling—terrifying because I still had no control over something so dangerous and powerful, and thrilling because I could only begin to imagine what I would be capable of doing once I understood it better.

  “Again, you were thinking of nothing at all when it happened, is that right?”

  I nodded. Marcelo was looking straight at me. “That’s what I thought.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “You must learn to control what you’re doing. You go someplace else when you connect to the elements. Once I tried to stop you, I yelled at you and you didn’t hear me.”

  “You yelled at me?” I was shocked that I wouldn’t hear him; he’d ridden right next to me.

  “Yes, I yelled at you repeatedly, but it didn’t matter how loud I got or what I said, you remained wherever you were. You didn’t even notice that your horse was rearing, trying to throw you.”

  I didn’t know whether to be alarmed or amazed. “My horse reared?”

  “Several times. I was grateful that you have obviously been taught to ride well. You held on tightly and leaned into your horse. But it didn’t distract you from where you were.”

  “I didn’t know.” My voice was softer this time as I turned to look at my horse. Aware now of his revolt, I looked at him differently, with distrust, though I didn’t suppose it was fair to blame him for what he’d done.

  “It’s truly incredible that you didn’t realize what was happening. Your horse was jumping, I was yelling at you, and the earth was shaking beneath you. And still, you were able to remain so intrinsically connected to the earth element. You have a connection with the elements I’ve never seen or heard of before.”

  I turned toward Marcelo again. I had an idea of what that might mean even before he said it, and I felt a surge of excitement for the first time, despite the gravity of the situation.

  “That means you may have some of the most powerful magic in existence brewing within you, just waiting for you to connect with it and learn to use it.”

  Marcelo studied me with dark, hooded eyes, and I wished desperately to know what he was thinking. Whether he liked it or not, he’d become a part of whatever was happening to me.

  “What happens next, Marcelo?” I asked. After a lifetime of my parents planning out every one of my steps, where I could anticipate the details of my future all too clearly, I had no real idea what to expect.

  “We ride to Dunladun and wait there for your father’s message. As soon as it arrives, we ride again. It’s even more urgent than I’d previously realized that I get you to Albacus and Mordecai. They have much more experience than I do. They may have seen this before.”

  I chuckled without meaning to, and Marcelo’s head whipped my way accusingly. He had just lived through a harrowing experience because of me, and now I was laughing?

  “You don’t have to look at me like that. I understand how serious this all is. It’s just that I’ve always felt forgettable in my life in Norland. My parents barely pay attention to me, unless it’s to marry me away, and no one other than Gertrude cared much about what I did. I was never particularly good at anything, nor was I particularly bad at anything. I led an average, forgettable life.

  “Then suddenly I become this anomaly with skills you’ve never seen before and that I don’t even know how to control. It’s a bit funny how life takes these unexpected turns, and we have no way of knowing when they’re coming. Don’t you think so?”

  No, Marcelo didn’t think so. He glowered at me, which made me chortle again.

  “Sorry, I can’t help myself. Maybe I’m just delirious from the intensity of the last many weeks.”

  I looked away from the angry magician to compose myself, and when my face was sufficiently serious for his liking, I turned back to face him. “It looks like it might still be awhile before the horses are ready.”

  The horses hadn’t moved since they lay down, fatigue and the aftermath of adrenaline keeping them put.

  “Do you think maybe I should practice a little magic with you while we wait? Try to make some progress with learning to control it?”

  “No! I’ve had quite enough of your magic for one day. The horses have rested enough. We ride to Dunladun now. And for the love of everything holy, try to keep your mind from wandering. Don’t even think about the air.” And he stalked off, toward the horses.

  I watched him for a second, frustrated. Then I stood and tried to brush the dust from my dress. But there was no point. After days of riding without a change of clothing, my dress was dirty, brown around the hem. Mother would be horrified to see me like this.

  There was nothing I could do about it. I had neither coins nor influence. I was on the run. I just wasn’t sure what I was running from anymore.

  Were we still running from Winston, or were we running from me now?

  Beauty within Magic

  Dunladun was far larger than I anticipated. I’d heard of the town to the northeast of Norland before (visitors shared stories of their travels with Father and Mother) but I never realized how densely populated it was. People rushed here and there, sometimes with baskets or bundles under their arms, sometimes on their way to pick them up. Children played in the streets, their loud calls barely audible over the clacking of horse hooves and the general bustling of the town.

  The streets were dirty, with refuse visible everywhere. Even so, my disheveled state made me uncomfortable. Upon our horses, we passed ladies in high fashion, with colorful dresses, elaborate collars, and feathered hats. My dress had once been as fine as any I saw, but not anymore. Several women cast haughty looks my way.

  Marcelo seemed to know where he was going. We made our way down the middle of the main street, passing other riders along the way. Pedestrians kept to the sidewalks to avoid piles of manure, only jetting across the street when they needed to.

  We rode past varied storefronts, and I wished I had the luxury to explore the town. It was far more exciting than Norland. There were markets and tradesmen as in Norland, but there were also merchants of fine goods. I longed to see the fine papers, inks, and stamps, and to purchase a leather-bound sketchbook for my new adventures. We passed a bookstore, an
d the urge to peruse its inventory was so strong that my horse felt it and momentarily slowed.

  But Marcelo kept his gaze forward and our path straight. He didn’t startle and turn to look as I did when two boys shouted at each other from opposite sides of the street, nor did he jump when a man whistled loudly at a passerby that hadn’t seen him.

  My horse walked next to Marcelo’s obediently; there was nothing I needed to do. My head swiveled left and right. By the time we reached the inn, I was nearly dizzy from the overwhelming sights and sounds, and it was a great relief to finally dismount and head inside.

  However, the interior was dim and cold in comparison to the sunshiny, colorful outdoors, and I thought the overstimulation was better than this. In the end, my preference didn’t matter. Marcelo told me to sit in a chair removed from the comings and goings of the inn staff and their patrons while he arranged our lodging, and I did.

  Once I sat, my body sped toward exhaustion. I didn’t want to get back up, not even to go outside and take in more of the sights of city life. The recent days had been long and arduous.

  By the time Marcelo returned to fetch me, I’d melted like butter into the chair. I felt him standing over me, and I opened my eyes.

  “I thought you were asleep. Do you want to eat or would you rather skip dinner and go to your room to sleep?”

  I thought about it for a moment. Sleep sounded divine. Yet my stomach spoke up with a noticeable rumble and made the decision for me.

  Marcelo looked me up and down like he hadn’t in a while. “You should probably head upstairs to clean up first.”

  “I can’t do much about my appearance. I really wish I could. I’m very uncomfortable like this. But I have no change of clothing, and my dress is filthy from the dust of travel and the sweat of horses. I don’t even have a comb to run through my hair.”

  I tried to run my fingers through my tangled curls and grimaced. My hair had never been in this state before. I would have quite the time getting it back to normal.