by D. Levesque
She turns and looks at me curiously and says, “What did you want to try?”
“Well, you are casting the spell by saying the words, but as you are a first time caster, I want to verify something, and just maybe get you out of a bad habit,” I tell her with a smile.
Sylvana looks at her excitedly and says, “The habit hasn’t been ingrained in her yet! You think that if she starts now, it will be harder to get her out of it?” she asks me.
“Correct. So mom, what I want you to do is cast your healing spell, but instead of saying the words out loud, say them in your head, and imagine pushing your magic through the words in your head? Got it?” I tell her.
“But, I always saw Lily saying the words,” she says to me, me, confused.
“I know, but now I want to teach you another way. I want you to cast the spell silently, in your head, but push that power from your pool through the words in your head instead.”
“All right, if you are sure this will work,” she says with a frown. She lifts her hand back up and puts it over Lina’s wound.
Suddenly I can see the magic flow from her to Lina, and the wound on Lina’s arm heals over slowly. She looks back at me in surprise. “It worked!”
Sylvana looks at me in astonishment. “Others can do it! It’s not just you, Brandon!” she says, then runs up to me and says, “Can I try something, oh heart of my heart?”
I look at her oddly and say, “sure?”
She is still in her half-hybrid form, and suddenly a claw comes out of one finger, and she slices my arm.
“What the hell, Sylvana!” I tell her in shock.
“Oh hush, you big baby. It’s for progress,” Sylvana says with a grin. Then she puts her hand over the slice, and I see it’s not that deep, more like a large scratch.
She closes her eyes, and suddenly magic leaves her and crawls over the wound she just caused, and it heals over quickly.
She opens her eyes excitedly and yells, “It worked! I did precisely what you told your mother to do, and it worked! How come we haven’t ever done it this way?”
“You used to actually,” Roger says.
“What?” we all ask him in surprise.
11
“What do you mean we used to cast spells this way?” Sylvana asks Roger slowly.
“Well, I have been around a long time, and going back just 100,000 years, you Elves weren’t saying the words when casting a spell,” Roger says as an explanation.
Sylvana walks up to the floating ball and grabs it as if grabbing a face. I assume Roger knows she isn’t threatening him as he doesn’t zap her or anything.
“Are you saying that we used to always cast the way that Brandon does?” she asks him fiercely.
“Hmm, yes?” he says, now sounding unsure. I would say the intensity of Sylvana’s words and the look on her face might be worrying the diminutive Fairy, even inside his cocoon.
“Then, by all that is holy, why are we now using words!” Sylvana screams, throwing her hands up into the air.
“I am not sure. I wasn’t around for that event,” Roger tells her placatingly.
I glance over at Trent, and see that he is looking at us with big eyes. Shit. I don’t want this to get out.
“Mother,” I tell her, pointing to Trent. “I honestly don’t want the fact that we can cast without words getting out yet.
My mother looks over at Trent and shakes her head. “No, he is good, Brandon. He has worked for my family for a very long time. His whole family has. They are trained to keep our secrets.”
“Are you sure?” I ask her, hesitantly.
“I am,” she says, nodding her head firmly.
“All right then. I trust your judgement.” I turn to Sylvana. “You say that humans cannot cast magic, correct Sylvana?” I ask her, trying to work out this mystery and change the subject at the same time.
“Correct,” she says, turning to me. “Only us Elves can use magic. Werewolves use their magic to transform, and Vampires use it to control others. They could not, until now,” and she points to Lina and Johanne, “cast spells.”
“Roger, did the progenitors create humans as well?” I ask him.
“Yes, they created all the races, from humans to Pixies, gnomes, gargoyles, Elves, you name it. They never found another sentient race, so they decided to create them. Why?” Roger asks me.
“Do the other races not use magic?” I ask him.
“What? No, all races have magic in them since they come from the progenitors,” he says, stumbling over that word since he wants to say Elveesians. “Some use their magic differently, as the Vampires and the Werefolk do. Gargoyles use it to fly, Pixies the same.”
“What about gnomes?” I ask him, confused, since what can gnomes do?
“They use it to dig through the earth. Same with the Dwarves. They dig through solid rock like it’s butter,” he says.
“Dwarves are real?” I blurt out.
“Well, yes,” Sylvana laughs her musical laugh. “All those races you humans write about, from us Elves to the Dwarves, are real. They aren’t made up.”
“So can I meet a Dwarf?” I ask her curiously.
“Not unless you dig very far down,” she says, shaking her head. “They have pretty well hidden themselves. You would need to dig pretty far to find them. I think if I remember, the closest tunnel to get to them is roughly three miles underground. We haven’t seen them ourselves for over a thousand years.”
“Roger, you mentioned Pixies. Aren’t they the same as Fairies?”
“No. I guess you can say they are a subset of Fairies. Much smaller, not as smart. Actually, Pixies are pretty dumb by all standards. They are also very sneaky and mean,” he says.
“Think of a Pixie as a trickster version of Roger, and much, much smaller,” Sylvana says.
“So why can’t humans use magic?” I ask the room.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” says Roger with some embarrassment.
Looking at Sylvana, who is blushin, for an answer, she says, “We Elves don’t know either. We just know that we have tried to help those humans we have befriended to access their magic, but haven’t had any success.”
“Too bad no human is here for me to test something on,” I say with a sigh.
“Hmm, actually there is,” Trent says.
“Looking at him in surprise, I say, “There is?”
“Well, of course,” he says with a deep chuckle. “We don’t hate humans. You know one already and enjoy his food almost every day.”
“Miguel!?!” I ask him incredulously.
“Yep, the one and only. Miguel and his brother are both humans. Want me to go get them?” he asks me curiously.
“Yeah, but can you get whoever is off today? We still need a cook, and if I do what I want to do, it might take them out for the rest of the day.”
“You still owe me a bite,” he says, glaring at me as if I had forgotten.
“No, you are tonight before lights out,” I tell him with a laugh. Nodding, he heads out to the cabin next door.
“So how come the Dwarves went into hiding?” I ask Sylvana.
“Partly to get away from humans, but also Dwarves prefer to be underground. They are creatures of the deep, and they are a very secretive race. They prefer to be with their own. My father’s father told stories of going to a Dwarven city that was connected to the earth’s core for heat and energy.”
“Do they hate the other races?”
“Not really, they aren’t what you would call ‘racist’. They just prefer to be with their own kind. They always have. Like the Werefolks, their magic is innate, and they can dig through anything quickly and easily, even solid rock. They are also rock shapers. The art they create is amazing. My father still has a sculpture that was created for his grandfather in our home. It glows from the inside. Yet it’s stone,” she says proudly.
“Man, I would have loved to have met a real Dwarf,” I say enviously.
Just then, Trent comes back into the cabi
n, followed by Miguel. He sees everyone in the room and starts to get nervous.
“Trent said you wanted to see me, Brandon? Or my brother?” he asks me, looking around apprehensively.
“Yes, I did. I wanted to test something out, but I need your permission. I wanted to bite you to—,” I start, but Miguel shakes his head vehemently.
“No go. I love working for the Werefolk, but I am not looking to become one,” he says passionately.
“Do you hate the thought of being Were?” Sylvana asks him.
“No,” he says, turning to her. “I hate the idea of burning out young. I have seen enough of the Werefolk to know what happens. No, thanks.”
“Well then, you are lucky, since what I want to do is see if I can turn you into a mage,” I tell him with a raised eyebrow.
He opens his mouth and closes it again without saying anything. Looking around, he sees that no one is laughing or making a joke of it. He looks back at me.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he whispers.
“Well, it’s a test of sorts really, since I am not sure if it will work. But if it does, you should have access to power. Just as if I bite Trent here, he will be immune to silver but won’t be a caster. Since you are human, I hope that I can turn you into a mage.”
“Brandon, we humans cannot cast magic. Period,” he says, shaking his head. “Trust me. My family has been around the Werefolk and the Elves for a long time. We’ve been in service to them for well over a thousand years. While some of my family members are now Were going back generations, some of us cannot take what happens when a Were burns out. So we choose to stay human. And some of the humans are Allies and Friends with the Elves, even working in their courts,” and here he bows to Sylvana, who smiles at him.
“It’s true,” Sylvana says. “His family has been with us for ages. We hate that as humans they die so young, compared to us. If I remember, your sister is in my court, isn’t she?” she asks him.
“Maria,” he says, nodding. “She calls me all the time and tells me the wonders of your court. But,” he sighs, “If anyone should get first try at this, it should be my sister. She is the one who has always wanted to be a mage for as long as I can remember. I am happy being your mother’s cook, and so is my brother. We worked hard to get here.”
“And I am happy to have you both,” my mother says with respect in her voice.
“If you want to test this on anyone, I am sure my sister would jump at the chance. As for me and my brother, who I am sure will agree with me, we shall have to decline,” he says, bowing to me.
“If you are sure? The next question is, how would we go about getting your sister here so we can test this on her?” I ask.
“I got this,” Sylvana says. Reaching into the back pocket of her pants, she brings out her cell phone. She opens it, and I guess calls a contact before putting the phone to her pointy ear.
After a couple of seconds, someone picks up. “Ophenia, it’s Sylvana. Can you get Maria on a portal to here, where I am with Brandon? No, I don’t need her as a maid,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I need her because she is human. What? No, I am not going to sacrifice her. Gods, where do you come up with some of your shit? It would be best if you retired I think, Ophenia. Just get her here, you old bag. Thank you. Love you too,” she says, hanging up the phone.
We all stare at her in open-mouthed shock. “What? She’s my aunt,” she says, laughing at all of us. “We always talk like that. Anyhow, she will be at the portal in about an hour. Can you go get her Trent, since she knows you? If that is all right, Lianne?” she says, asking my mother.
“Of course, dear,” my mother says, nodding with a smile. “It will be nice to see Maria again. It’s been a couple of years.”
“So, what will we do for the next hour or so?” I ask the gang.
“Well I don’t know about you, but I am starving. I think some food is in order. What did Jose make today for supper?” Johanne says.
Miguel laughs at her. “Well, I heard he was going to be making his beef stew with homemade bread.”
Abruptly my mother gets out of her seat and says, “Let’s go. I am not missing that.”
Looking at her in surprise, I can’t help it but laugh. She looks back at me and grins. “Wait ’til you try it. You will know why I don’t want to miss getting some before Jose runs out.”
“Runs out? Shit.” Suddenly, we are all scrambling for the door to see what this stew is like.
Sitting back in my chair, I groan at the amount of food I have eaten. I look around and see everyone else is doing the same. That had to be the best beef stew I have ever had. And my God, the bread. I didn’t think bread could be that fluffy and buttery before you actually spread butter on it. Even the girls are sighing. My mother ate just as much as me, if not more. Where she packs it in that slim form of hers, I have no clue.
“Now do you see why I hate that Jose and Miguel are here instead of in my home in my Realm?” my mother asks me, with a smile directed towards the kitchen.
“Yeah, I can. I love the food they have made for us here. Most nights I have been so tired that I haven’t paid attention to it, but that stew? Damn, I could eat that once a week.”
“Well I used to until they volunteered to come here,” my mother says with a sigh.
“Why did they do that?”
“Because you are your father’s son,” she says with a warm smile. “They have heard the stories about you from your dad and wanted to meet you. So when we decided to open a camp back on earth with a posting for two cooks, they jumped at the chance. By the Gods, your dad was sadder than me to see them go,” she says with a laugh.
“I am glad they came because that food was amazing,” I say, patting my stomach.
“Well I learned from them, so they are the reason some of the food you ate growing up was so good,” she says with a laugh.
“Wait, but I thought they were human? Miguel looks like he’s in his thirties,” I tell her, watching him help his brother out in the kitchen.
“They are, but they have, shall we say, some Elvish blood in them. Their family goes back generations and various family members have been working for both the Elves and the Werefolk for just as long. And when I talk about generations, I mean going back over a thousand years. Well, one of their ancestors had an Elf lover,” my mother says.
“So, they are Half-Elf?” I say.
“No, a Half-Elf is the result of a union of parents where one is Elvish and the other something else, be it human or other. The first generation that results from that union is the only generation that is considered Half-Elf. But some blood still stays in the following generations, so they still get some benefits. Most humans you hear about who live to be over 100 years of age, usually have some hidden Elf in their family tree.”
“Damn,” I say, looking at Miguel and Jose closer. “So, how old is he?”
“Miguel!” my mother yells out. He looks up, wipes his hands clean from the dough he was kneading, and heads over to her, walking around the counter that separates the kitchen and eating area.
“What’s up?” he says, looking at the empty dishes. “Don’t tell me you all want more?” he says, causing everyone to groan in pain.
“No,” my mother says with a smile. “Brandon was curious to know your age, and I didn’t want to give it out without your permission.”
“Ah, well,” he says, turning to me. “I celebrated my sixty-second birthday three months ago.”
I gape at him in astonishment. “I thought you were in your thirties!” I blurt out.
Laughing, he says, “Thanks, I get that a lot when I am here on earth. But my brother Jose is older by five years.”
Turning to Jose who is still in the kitchen, I say, “He’s sixty-seven!?!”
“Yup, wait ’til you meet my sister, Maria. I will let you guess her age.” And as if calling her name was like calling a Djinni, a gorgeous black-haired beauty of Hispanic ancestry walks through the door. She is tall, around
five feet nine.
“What, no one was coming to meet me?” she says with a smile. “Trent, you’re getting forgetful in your old age,” she teases him with a grin.
“Oh, crap!” Trent says, getting up quickly with an embarrassed look on his face.
She runs up to him and gives Trent a big hug. Looking up at him, she says in a warm voice, “I missed you, Uncle.”
“Uncle?” I ask, with a raised eyebrow directed at him.
“Well, not my real uncle, but I have been calling him that since I was a kid growing up. Just as Lianne has been auntie,” she says, walking up to my mother and giving her a warm hug, which my mother returns just as strongly.
“Sylvana!” she cries, seeing her and rushing over. They both hug like sisters who haven’t seen each other in ages. “My God, you look amazing, as always.”
Turning, she sees Johanne and does the same thing to her. “Oh my God! You look so vibrant, Jojo!” Jojo?
Turning to the kitchen, she yells, “Jose! Come say hi to your baby sister!”
“Maria?” shouts Jose, looking over the divider. Seeing her, he stops what he is doing and rushes around the counter, picking her up in a hug. “Damn, sis. It’s great to see you! Man, did you put on weight?” he says, jiggling her up and down. Maria slaps him on the side of the head, but she’s laughing.
Turning to Miguel, Jose sees he isn’t shocked that she is here. “You prick, you knew and you didn’t tell me?” he says, glaring at him.
“Nope, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Jose says with a big grin.
“Whatever! Damn, it’s been too long since I last saw you, sis. After you’re done here, you need to come into our kitchen. We still have some stew left.”
“Stew?” Maria says, smacking her lips. “Tell me you made your bread?”
“Of course,” he scoffs. “All right, I need to get back into the kitchen. How long are you staying?”
“No clue yet. I was just told to show up by Ophenia.”
She turns and looks at me with a piercing gaze. “You must be Brandon,” she says.
“Hmm,” I say, hesitantly. Jesus, does she know everyone here? “Yes?”