by Lucia Ashta
The water and I knew what we were doing. But where was the fun in life and in the total enthrallment of magic and powers unleashed if play was not a part of it?
The element and I were simply feeling each other. Like the touch of a lover, it was important to experience the curves each caress encountered, taking the time this touch deserved. It was important to know uniqueness and similarity. It was most important to become one with each other, especially when we were never truly separate and distinct in the first place.
And in that moment I offered them immediate proof of my intention, because I no longer needed to prove anything, to them or to myself.
The sea settled at its new, sloping height. It regained the pleasant rhythm of a cresting and crashing sea that proved no danger to three wizards and an owl atop a castle.
Mordecai and Marcelo were looking down at the water, looking for an explanation for this unexpected turn, when I did it.
It was as seamless as the ebbing flow of the sea. It was perfect.
There, within my open arms, rolled a ball of pure water essence.
It grew from a small seed, yet its power surged to full size before the magicians could notice.
When they did, I was all they had ever hoped I might be.
I stood, with as much strength as the water I held between outstretched hands. The water shimmered and turned in one continuous motion, like a small version of the greater sea barely below us.
But the sphere wasn’t birthed from the sea, although it looked like the water that had just displayed its power for us. It was birthed from something greater than one body of water. The essence of all water upon the planet swirled and held in front of me.
I didn’t see it the way my companions did with their open eyes.
But I felt it. And within that water, there was nothing I didn’t know.
Chapter 7
We remained that way, with me standing at the edge of a castle rampart that used to overlook the water far below, but was now being splashed by regular waves that crashed and misted against stone that only remembered rain water. When Mordecai grew tired, he unceremoniously sat where he’d stood, craning his neck up at a constantly moving mass of water that would have mesmerized even someone without magic in his veins.
He stared. Marcelo stared. Sir Lancelot stared with his characteristic wide-eyed look. Yet I saw more than they did, with my eyes closed.
Finally, after the sun moved across the sky, I opened my eyes. The water was beautiful.
She was grace and power, and also gentleness and strength. She was a living contradiction that knew there was no such thing. She was pure magic.
When it was time, I lifted my arms and guided the sphere of water up and over the rampart and then down. The sphere blended with the water that surrounded it homogeneously. In a blink, the definition that marked the sphere was gone, disappeared within the greater whole.
An overwhelming sense of calm filled me as I watched the risen sea descend back to its usual levels. It happened gradually, one wave at a time. However, this time, the waves were gentle, mere whispers of what they could be.
I continued to give myself to the water, to the hypnotic lull of waves and ripples that floated several ways at once, overlapping each other in an optical illusion. It was impossible to tell which way the water really flowed then; it would be a topic of heated debate later for father and son. We all understood the truth, and the discussion was a mere exercise of wit between two men that enjoyed each other’s intelligent company: The water moved every which way at once.
Water was everywhere. It was both within us and beyond us.
We knew it. That’s why each one of us could be a powerful magician.
Within our passions and our truths lay power sufficient to stand a chance against a dark magician that haunted legends, even if we didn’t yet understand the reasons behind Count Washur’s disfigured version of the truth.
Chapter 8
What happened when I came out of the trance wasn’t what the magicians with me expected. But it made perfect sense to me.
I didn’t have to think about it. When I had my first thought that didn’t swirl like water, the idea was there, waiting for me. I wouldn’t have to wait anymore.
The time was fast coming.
“I’ll create the earth element now.” I was a young woman in a world dominated by men. Worse, I was a novice in a world where lack of experience could cost you your life.
It didn’t matter. I wasn’t asking for permission anymore.
“You want to create earth now, child? After what we just experienced?” Mordecai’s incredulity was pronounced despite its breathlessness.
I didn’t answer. My response was written all over me. Confidence rippled across me in echoes of the water. Certainty replaced my former self-doubt through and through.
I’d never seen Mordecai like this. He was flustered like Sir Lancelot got, although now, ironically, the Irish owl was steady. “Are you quite certain? Now?” Mordecai’s eyes darted from me, to the wall, and the impending sea just beneath.
“I am.”
He huffed. He shook his head. He huffed again. He was jumpy, a lack of serenity I’d never observed in him before.
He closed his eyes and forced in deep, steady breaths. Behind weathered eyelids, he gathered both his courage and his usual self.
He visibly settled. “Well then. I suppose you should do what you want.”
I smiled, playful. “A man’s never said that to me before.” I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time a man stepped out of my way to allow me to follow my own will. I’d come a long way from the daughter that ill-replaced a son and heir. I didn’t stop to wonder what my parents would think of me now, whether they would be horrified or impressed to find me wielding power like they wanted to, although they longed to wield power in the world of men. I would wield power in a world greater than that. “I like it.”
Marcelo stepped forward and smiled too. “Perhaps we should go down closer to the ground if you are to create earth now. Just in case.”
He reached for my hand. I let him take it. I wouldn’t argue with his logic. “That sounds like a very good idea.”
I allowed my fiancé to lead me down the stairs, even though I could fly.
Chapter 9
We reached the ground floor, traversed the entryway, and stepped out the heavy front door. Carlton, curious to see us pass without stopping, followed us outside, mimicking his usual behavior of punctilious service. However, now he was there more to satiate his curiosity than to serve. He was beginning to realize that the magic taking place at Bundry Castle was unique, something that might never be repeated, like a passing comet that wouldn’t again be visible from Earth during his lifetime.
He wouldn’t be disappointed. None of us would be.
Given all the time I had just spent connecting with the water before moving on to create the element, my creation of earth took a fraction of the time. It wasn’t that it took less time, it was that I was already vibrating with aliveness, and I couldn’t wait to become who I was meant to become anymore.
I could feel it rushing through me, pulsing as strongly as my heart as it contracted and expanded. Ba-bum Ba-bum. Ba-bum. And I knew what it was. It was my power. Although, in reality, neither the power nor the ability to create the elements was really mine. Magic and the five elements existed all around me, independent of anything I might choose to do with my life.
I didn’t have power. I didn’t create. Not precisely at least. I culled and pulled from that space that both surrounded and filled me. This space, this existence, was alive with the full potential of what it could be. It titillated with ripeness. It was electric, ready for anything.
I’d simply learned how to dance with it, within that part of me that didn’t think, because thinking just caused problems most of the time. It was like the games I used to play with my sisters, where two of us would hold the ends of two jump ropes and spin them in opposite directions at on
ce. When it was my turn to jump, I waited, watching the ropes hit the ground. I watched until I began to feel the rhythm of the ropes slapping hard earth. And every time, my body synched up with the ropes, and moved along to their rhythm, as if it were a piece of music I’d memorized long before. There was no movement, even though I didn’t stop moving. There was only perfect harmony. I felt the ropes, and they felt me.
That was also how it was with the five elements. There was a time when I’d feel the flow of them. If I stepped into the current just then, I could stay in it as long as I wanted. I could float downriver, gazing up at the sun lazily. I understood that only what was supposed to happen would. Only good things could come of it, because it felt so good, so perfectly right.
I was already there with the earth. The water moments before reminded me how easily I could reach out to the passing current and slip into it. Slipstream. The magic was always there. All I had to do was slip into it.
I didn’t consult with my companions before starting. I’d already started long ago. Was there ever a time when I wasn’t able to access magic? I doubted it.
I began right away and, when they realized it, a deafening stillness quieted even the singing of the birds.
I spread my arms out to my sides just as I had with the water. And that was it. Instantly, a small ball of earth hovered between my hands. Like a miniature planet, it was perfectly spherical, rotating continuously.
I couldn’t tell precisely where it came from. My magic wasn’t precise. Particles of the earth element were everywhere, within everything. One moment they were in one place, and the next in another, between my hands. Just like that.
I left my eyes open this time. It was becoming easier to focus on my magic even when faced with visual distractions. Eventually, I’d get to the point when it wouldn’t matter whom I was with or where I was. The powerful magician would surpass surroundings, understanding that she was only barely within them. True magic occupied an entirely different plane of existence, one that lived just behind the curtain of perceived reality. Once I arrived there, I’d be able to stay as long as I wanted. And the only one keeping me from it was I.
All of us admired the ball of earth. It was solid, though none of us reached out to touch it. Again, the magicians were mindful not to interfere with what they understood in terms of a spell. That was how they did it; they used spells to perform magic. Spells performed best when they were allowed to reach their fruition. Like most things that were given life, they didn’t like to be stunted. Who did?
The ball continued to rotate, and I wondered if it perhaps imitated the rolling motion of the planet we stood on. The ball was, of course, part of the greater whole, and the Earth was the largest representation of the earth element I was aware of. But I wasn’t certain. I didn’t really care much about it anyway. I could stare at the ball spinning between my hands all day. It was beautiful. The earth was beautiful.
I identified that space of contented connection to all that was in existence, and I remained within it for a long time, so long that I lost count. But a point came at which I’d be finished, for now. I let the ball of earth disperse. It responded. It burst into nearly invisible particles and spread across the breeze that surged to aid it.
It was hidden from the eye, but not gone, never gone.
I stayed where I was until the magicians beside me began to stir and make sounds again. Rustling, shuffling, audible breath. All that had quieted in awe of the earth element renewed its movement. Birds sang again and leaves spoke of the beauty of the sunshiny spring.
I’d called into form all of the elements other magicians identified in their magic. I’d been able to manifest physical representations of fire, air, water, and earth.
However, one still remained relatively unexplored, and only I knew of it. Yet it was perhaps the most powerful. It was the one that bonded the other four to each other. It gave life to magic, and magic gave life to life.
The time would soon come when I’d be able to engage the fifth element apart from the others. That time wasn’t yet, but it was edging the horizon, about to break free of it and rise, shining as brilliantly as any light show nature had ever put on, outshining the salmons and purples that painted the sky with their magnificence.
Chapter 10
That morning, we deviated from our normal routine. Instead of joining Mordecai in the small library after my morning walk with Marcelo, I strolled the castle grounds. It had been their idea, and I didn’t argue. The time we’d spent together studying and preparing had been as intense as any time I’d shared with the magicians so far. The break was welcome, although I suspected that they encouraged me to leave so that they could discuss me in my absence. That was all right too. I knew the time was coming. I was aware of a lot of things now that I hadn’t noticed just a few days before.
I walked at the slow pace of leisure in a small, enclosed garden to the side of the building. It was hidden from view of the steep approach to the castle by another stone wall, making it relatively safe for me to enjoy alone. I was certain Marcelo was aware that Count Washur and his underlings, Salazar and Winston, were a constant threat to me.
It was possible that Count Washur would decide not to wait any longer and appear at the castle anytime. He’d said he’d wait until I was ready. We interpreted that to mean until I was powerful enough. But how powerful I’d have to become, we didn’t really know.
Besides, I’d reached a point where my powers were perhaps as dangerous as any of the magicians’ studying dark magic in the castle at Washur. It was strange to think of magic as dangerous. All magic had its source within the five elements, none of which was inherently dangerous. However, magicians wielding magic like a weapon could be hideously dangerous. Count Washur would fling dark magic at us like daggers.
I moved thoughts of the threat of darkness away to make room for nice things. Roses bloomed with enthusiasm. There were red, yellow, and white ones, in various stages of opening. Some offered themselves to me now; others waited to share their elegance another day. At the end of my first circuit through the garden, I found a single rose bush crowned in buds of my favorite color. The roses here were salmon colored, a vivid mixture between red and pink that was marvelously better than either one alone.
I observed the flowers until my gaze blurred and thoughts of Gertrude replaced what my eyes could see. Suddenly, I was unsteady on my feet. I walked as quickly as I could to a nearby bench and sunk into it.
I leaned my head into my hands beneath a tree the fierce winds that raced across the mountaintop had bullied into growing sideways instead of up. Then, without knowing they would come, the tears poured out of me. They had been long overdue.
In the privacy I had so little of, my shoulders wracked and my chest heaved until I’d let quite a lot of it out, though I knew there was much more of it left.
My little sister, the one that I loved more than I loved myself, was at the mercy of a sadistic madman. I had no idea how he’d gotten her away from Norland. Certainly my parents wouldn’t have allowed it. Would they have? Another sob tore through me as I admitted to myself that I couldn’t be sure. If Count Washur’s offer had been good enough—rich enough and advantageous enough—they might have agreed to it. Was that what happened?
When I was last with Gertrude she possessed a beautiful innocence. Could she still have that after whatever Count Washur was putting her through? Did it hurt to be transformed into a cat? Did she remember who she was, or would she lose her mind when she was forced to become something she wasn’t and had never been intended to be?
I could torture myself endlessly with questions for which I wouldn’t find answers in this garden. I had to wait to go after Gertrude until Mordecai and Marcelo decided we were ready. As anxious as I was to rescue her, I realized it would be a mistake to attempt to rescue her too soon. Count Washur would kill us in a moment if we gave him the chance.
My peaceful walk through the garden had morphed into something else, a catharsis perhaps.
I sat under the tree until the sneaky Bundry wind chilled me, even though it was springtime.
While the hour passed, sadness and regret grudgingly gave way to joyful memories of love shared with the only sister who was so much like me. By the time Marcelo came out to get me, the tears had dried and concealed their trails. Hopeful thoughts and empowered intentions embraced me, reminding me that I was strong and that love was always stronger than darkness. I didn’t have to read a book to learn that lesson.
There was more power in goodness than in its opposite. I couldn’t articulate why, but I felt it as surely as I’d ever felt anything. Because my intentions in facing Count Washur were formed in love, I’d be more powerful than him. We’d defeat him, because his heart had collapsed in on itself centuries ago. What had made him the way he was? Something had to have caused his cruelty, because he couldn´t have been born this mean, could he? I didn’t think it was possible. Weren’t babies born innocent?
Marcelo approached me respectfully. Even though physical traces of my cathartic release were gone, he could sense it. I was the one he loved. He saw things in me the others did not.
He also understood me better. He knew not to ask what had happened. That would undermine the power I’d settled back into. It would take me back to desperate thoughts of a little sister staring at me, pleading, through amber human eyes that didn’t belong in the body of a cat.
“Are you ready, my darling?” It was the right question to ask.
I turned to him. The sun streamed in, illuminating his body from behind. He looked like an angel right then. He was an angel sent to guide and protect me on this treacherous earth walk. He’d revealed himself to be vastly different than the condescending and uncaring man I had mistaken him for when we first met.
I took his hand and allowed him to help me stand.