by The Awethors
* * *
Max and the sorceress were closer after he learned the truth, which she found to be strange. She had spent so much time worrying about him hating her that she hadn’t taken the time to realize how much he adored her.
Over the course of the next year, Max learned much more about sorcery than he ever could have hoped for. She taught him how to focus his energy into materials to make them freeze or melt. She taught him the ways of the stars, and how to find his way home by using nothing but the clear night sky. She also taught him simpler tasks, like how to write with a pen and ink, and how to draw with charcoal, or paint with melted wax. It was important to her that he learned such practical talents so that he could study and explore different ways to express himself.
The sorceress could not deny that she loved watching Max focus. It was like peering into a glass as dye was poured into water, something simple on the outside but intensely complex upon closer inspection. She often found herself sitting, watching him with the sudden intrigue and admiration of a mother watching her child. She felt as though she had brought him to such a high place of intellect and talent. This growing feeling of pride was new to her, but she accepted it.
Things were not always good between them. The sorceress tried her best to make him eternally happy, but her attempts were in vain. One afternoon, as autumn leaves fell from the trees overhead, the sorceress sat in the grass, plucking dandelions for a salad. Max was murmuring to himself as he sat a few steps away from her, staring at the ground. She heard a curse word fall from his lips, and with a raised eyebrow, moved to stand beside him.
“Max, you are fifteen years old. Is that any way to speak to the grass?” she teased, knowing full well that he’d probably learned the word from her.
“Shut up!” he snapped at her, eyes still glued to the grass beneath his feet.
The sorceress was taken aback by this; his words hit her like a slap across the face. She’d been taking care of him for five years now, and he’d never once said anything remotely cruel to her. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he spat, turning to look at her. His eyes glowed an angry shade of red.
The sorceress’s first thought was that he had been possessed by a demon, and that she’d have to perform some kind of exorcism. And then she remembered that this was not one of her fairy tale books, and the symptoms he had meant something else entirely.
“Max, what are you doing?” she asked calmly.
He gestured emphatically to the ground beneath him, where dozens of daisies lay drooped and wilting. Now she understood.
“Max, darling, you have to calm down.” She chose each word carefully, unable to stop herself from reaching out to touch him.
He slapped her hand away, resisting any ounce of help. “You don’t understand! I was trying to make them grow! They were supposed to grow to be as tall as me, and then some! And then they were going to live forever, through winter and everything...”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “You don’t have that kind of power.”
“Their lives are so short. Why can’t they live forever? WHY CAN’T THEY LIVE FOREVER?” he demanded, his voice cracking. For the first time, the sorceress caught a glimpse of the anger that was within him, the explosive, crackling fire that raged beneath his childlike surface. He wasn’t just a child throwing a tantrum now; he was an angry young man with fire in his eyes and ice in his heart.
“You don’t have that kind of power, Max,” she repeated, though her voice quaked. “Nobody does.”
“Well I SHOULD! I should... I should have... I should have saved them. Why couldn’t I save them?!” He was yelling loudly now, and sounded nothing like a child.
The sorceress flinched; he looked as though he was about to hit her. When he moved his hand, a glittering ball of electricity left his fingertips, aimed toward her face. She dodged the spell quickly, feeling suddenly feverish with guilt. She had not only neglected to tell him the truth until a year ago, but she had avoided teaching him proper offensive and defensive sorcery as well. She didn’t have long to lament about this, however, because another ball of energy was coming her way, this time in a shocking shade of blue.
Swift as a bird taking flight, the sorceress gathered all the energy she could muster, opened her palms and clasped the sphere firmly. She pushed the energy down, dividing each molecule with her mind until there was nothing left but a single yellow flame that hovered in the center of her palm. Sweat trickled down her neck, but she ignored it.
Max’s eyes faded back to a warm brown. His rage reverted to frustration, and then sadness right before the sorceress’s eyes. He collapsed into her arms, shaking his head furiously.
“I’m so sorry, my lady, I’m so sorry!” he said over and over again, his body shaking. “I-I don’t know what happened... I don’t know how to control it...” His mouth opened to say something else, then closed as he stood up straighter. He was a whole head taller than the sorceress now, making her look younger than she really was. Tears trailed down his face in shimmering streams.
“It’s all right, my darling, it’s all right,” she replied, managing a gentle smile. She took his face in her hands. “I know why you have trouble like this sometimes. I know why you’re angry. I know why you cry.”
He shook his head. “I feel stupid. I’m not a child anymore. What’s wrong with me?”
The words made her heart swell and deflate all at once. “I... Nothing’s wrong with you, Max. Nothing at all. You’ve experienced serious emotional trauma. And because you’ve decided to study sorcery, sometimes your strong emotions come out in the form of magical energy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
His eyes were dark. “I almost hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just so...so...” He searched for the right word.
“I know. I’m sure you’re feeling about a thousand things right now, and that’s perfectly fine,” she told him. Without another moment’s thought, she placed a kiss on his nose, then took his hand to take him back inside.