Spell Fade (2 page)

Chapter Two

It had been nearly twenty years since the Queen’s death had left Pavlora without a royal ruler, not that it made much difference to him. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. Ruled by Queen or ruled by wizard, it still meant a day full of tending Mother’s farm. As if summoned by his thoughts, Mother popped her head into the barn.

“Breakfast is waiting on you,” she said with a smile.

He returned it, and answered, “Be right there.” She disappeared as quickly and quietly as she had appeared, leaving only the small smile on his face as evidence she’d really even been there. He simply shook his head.

His mother. Except, she wasn’t actually his mother. She had been clear about that since before he could even understand what she was telling him. She had known his real mother, even loved her, and had been there when he was born, but she was merely his guardian. She had been entrusted with his care by his father shortly after his mother’s death.

Strange. He felt such sadness for a woman he had never even met. He had once thought it was merely sympathizing with his surrogate mother, but now he knew better. It was his fault she was dead. Mother had never said it, and he didn’t think she believed it, but he could feel the truth of it. If not for him, his real mother would still be alive. His smile faded, and his mind refused to follow the thought any further. Instead, his thoughts turned to his father.

He knew almost nothing of the man, and Mother refused to speak of him. There had always been a sense of uneasiness when he had tried asking about his father, as if she didn’t approve of him, or his decisions. He knew his father was still alive, but had no idea why he had been abandoned. The only explanation she would ever give him was it was for his own protection, but from what, Mother never offered.

He spent much of his youth despising his absent and selfish father. As a young man though, the hate tempered to mere indifference. If his father cared nothing for him, then he would reciprocate.

“Dartan!” It was Mother again, and his response was nearly a surprised scream. Somehow he managed not to spill the bucket of feed in his hands. “Breakfast is getting cold,” she scolded him. “Now come and get it.” Again she disappeared so quickly he had only his racing heart to confirm she had been there.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he muttered to the upturned snouts searching for their morning meal. “I’ll be right back.” A chorus of grunts answered him as he exited the small barn. It was a short walk back to the house in the early morning gloom, but he stopped part way, taking a moment to look around. It had been over a year since the death of his village’s resident wizard, yet their farm had prospered. It had been one of the only ones. He remembered well the day the wizard died, as did most of those who now remained.

Wizards were not common and lived pretty much wherever they pleased. Most communities, including his own, were happy to have them, trading goods for magical services. It wasn’t the life of a wizard that posed a problem, it was the death. This was especially true when they passed as this one had, suddenly and unexpectedly. There had been no time to prepare, no one trained to take over and uphold his enchantments.

After his death, the entire village seemed to hold its breath, unsure of anything in their lives. The spell fade started off harmlessly enough. Men awoke next to wives with a different hair color, or larger nose, or smaller bosom, and, after a bit of awkward silence, there was general agreement that it didn’t matter. What followed was much more serious. Fields turned to dust, crops withered, and animals thinned overnight, then wells dried up, and at least one entire family completely disappeared. Requests to the capital for magical assistance quickly turned to desperate appeals, but all went unanswered.

Within six months over half of the villagers had been affected, and Dartan’s farm was one of the only to remain untouched. Not that he was surprised by that fact. Mother had never looked favorably on magic, and specifically wizards. If he discovered she had ever visited the wizard, he would not soon let her forget it. No, he shook his head, all they had was the result of hard work … and some luck.

Beyond his own farm was another lucky family. He and Aliet were only a year apart, and her family had lived in the village for generations before Dartan and his mother settled next to them. Her parents were suspicious of the boy and his mother when they first arrived, but Dartan and Aliet were inseparable almost from the beginning. The only one who seemed even more concerned about the instant friendship than her parents was her older brother, Marcus.

A small smile touched his lips as he pictured Aliet perched atop the fence marking the boundary between their farms. Her wild hair blowing in the wind and mischief in her eyes, she was headed to see him even as Marcus looked on disapprovingly. In the rising sun, he could almost see it.

The smile faded, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes. There was something there much more substantial than a memory. Was Aliet early? No, the body framed by the rising sun in no way resembled her small, slender stature. He took one step towards the fence, but that was as far as he got.

“Dartan!” Mother, again. “If I have to tell you one more time to come and get breakfast, you’ll be feeding it to the pigs!” she threatened. She didn’t wait for his response, slamming the door behind her. Dartan turned back to the fence, and was not surprised to find the figure had disappeared. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and finally went in for breakfast.

Dartan spent most of the rest of his day chasing shadows. The overwhelming feeling of being watched had him constantly looking over his shoulder. Each time sure he would see the same figure from that morning again, but he saw nothing. As the day wore on, his uneasiness grew. Soon he began to catch glimpses of movement in the corner of his eye, only to turn and find nothing. He grew desperate. As afternoon waned he began trying to catch his observer by surprise. Screams of “Ah-ha!” rang through the air as Dartan whipped himself around without warning, but he didn’t even see a bent blade of grass.

Full on dusk settled in as Dartan finished his chores, later than usual, and he decided to give it one last shot. A shadow on the far side of the barn caught his eye, and he bolted for it, spade raised high above his head, yell poised on his lips. After an entire day of seeing nothing, he nearly fell backwards when he rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a figure.

“What are you doing, child?” It was Mother, standing steady, but with a look of concern for him in her eyes.

His face recovered from the shock quickly, but his heart refused to quiet. “Have you felt,” he began, then changed his mind. “I mean, have you seen anything strange today?” Her look didn’t change, so he frantically continued. “Anything unusual? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”

“Yes,” she said with a raised hand to stop him. “I certainly have, child.”

“Really?!” Finally some validation of everything he had been experiencing – all of the feelings and glimpses. “Where? What?” He could barely contain himself.

She folded her arms across her chest, narrowed her eyes, and silently looked him up and down. She shook her head, then turned back towards the house without another word.

Me?
He shook his head, then almost laughed aloud, imagining how his antics must have looked. “Me!” he called out to her, but she didn’t respond. At least Aliet had not been around to see his behavior. Looking like a fool in front of Mother was bad enough, but with Aliet there would be merciless and unending teasing.

Wait. Why hadn’t she shown up today? His relief changed suddenly to concern. She normally stopped by every day, and if she wasn’t going to, he knew about it. Had she said anything yesterday? No, not that he could remember.

“We’re not going to have a repeat of breakfast this evening, are we?” Mother called from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. He couldn’t see her face from where he stood, but he knew the tone. He would not get three warnings before he saw his dinner tossed out to the animals.

“No, ma’am,” he quickly called back, headed for the open door without another glance around. Had he bothered to look he would have seen the figure watching him again from the fence line between his farm and Aliet’s.

Chapter Three

There was no escaping the hooded figure. Instead of hiding in his peripheral, it now stood firmly in his path at every turn. While there was no malice in its presence, he sensed it wanted something from him. But what?

Tired of running, Dartan finally stood his ground and faced the figure. Although, truthfully, he could see nothing of a face under the darkness of its hood. Dartan opened his mouth a demand for answers on his lips, but no sound escaped them. He tried to cough, to clear his throat, but there was only silence. He feared he may have been stalked and captured by Death himself.

“He’s not ready.” It was Mother’s voice, coming from somewhere in front of him, past the hooded figure. Again, he tried in vain to call out a warning to her.

“That’s not your decision to make,” replied an unfamiliar voice. “And, ready or not, his time has come.”

Dartan strained to see around the dark figure, looking for Mother, but the blackness was growing, filling his entire field of vision. This was it, he must be dying. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wishing to witness Death lay final claim to his body. Nothing happened. When he creaked open his eyes he was staring at the ceiling in his room.

Dartan lay still as the images and feelings of the dream slowly drained from his body. The only thing that remained were the voices.

“His time has come?” Mother mocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was an irritated huff from her male visitor before he answered in a voice increasing in volume as he spoke. “It means there are things happening out of my control, and only he has the power to stop them.” He paused, and his voice returned to its normal tone as he added, “Either he is ready, or he is dead.” There was another pause, and then, almost too low for Dartan to hear, “Everyone will be dead.”

“Oh, it’s life or death, is it?” Dartan had heard that tone from Mother before. “Well, by all means, just take him and throw him right into the middle of it, unprepared.”

“He won’t be unprepared,” the man replied. “That’s why I’m here. Your job is done. You’ve raised and protected him to the best of your ability, but now-,”

“The best of my ability?” she interrupted. Dartan could hear the anger and could even picture the scarlet streaks certainly spreading up her neck by now. He had not incurred her wrath many times, but it was a sight one did not forget. “I was torn from my own family and life, plopped on this farm, and saddled with what should have been your responsibility for the last twenty years. We’ve not seen or heard from you even once during that time, and yet somehow everything has turned out just fine. The truth is, you know nothing of my abilities.”

“Nor you of mine,” his voice was low, and while Dartan wasn’t positive it was a threat, it did quiet Mother.

Dartan had no doubt he was the subject of their conversation, and it was strange listening to them talk about him as if he weren’t just in the next room. Who was this man Mother had allowed into their home, and how could Dartan be his responsibility? He had never heard her talk about him like this to anyone, and in the quiet that followed he found himself straining to hear everything.

“Shh!” the voice commanded. “Be quiet, woman.”

“I’m not talking,” she hissed back. Dartan held his breath, waiting for one of them to speak again, not daring to move.

As he lay listening, a warm feeling began to envelope the top of his head. It slowly melted down towards his face, and pushed against his eyelids, causing them to grow heavy. He closed his eyes, and in the blackness a shape began to form. It started as a swirling grey mist, and he grew uneasy as it slowly solidified into the unmistakable shape of a hood. Just as in his dream there was no face, but two brilliant white lights now blazed where eyes should have been. The light swept left and right, searching, until it finally shone directly into his own eyes. It blocked out everything else, and was so painfully bright it forced his eyes open. He was again staring at the ceiling.

“It’s him,” the man stated. “The boy is awake.”

“Of course he is, you old fool,” Mother cackled. “He’s been awake for most of our conversation. How’s that for a special ability?” Dartan wasn’t sure whose method was more disturbing, but he didn’t have long to wonder.

“Dartan,” Mother called to him. “That’s enough eavesdropping. Come out now and meet our guest.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “I know he’s anxious to meet you.”

“Coming, Mother,” he answered with no enthusiasm. No sense in pretending he’d been asleep. He rolled from the bed, quickly dressed, and walked the few steps into the kitchen.

Upon entering the room, Dartan wondered if he might not still be asleep. The old man seated across from Mother did not have a hood covering his head, but the robe he wore looked exactly like the one on the figure tormenting him since the day before. The man’s eyes met his own, and when Dartan blinked the old man’s image was replaced with the faceless hooded figure for an instant. His breath caught in his throat, and when he opened his eyes, two pairs were staring back at him.

“Are you all right, child?” Mother asked with a note of real concern. “You look pale,” then absently added, “as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“Or something from a dream,” the man added with only the faintest hint of a smile. Mother eyed him, but didn’t comment.

“I’m fine,” Dartan managed to stammer out. “Still just waking up is all.” Mother nodded and directed him to a chair.

“Have a seat, child,” she said. “You’ll want to be sitting down while you talk to that one,” she added with a finger pointed towards the old man. He had been on the other end of that accusing finger enough times to be glad he wasn’t its target this time. “I’ll make us something to eat,” she said as she rose from the table. While she shuffled around behind him, Dartan turned his full attention to the old man.