The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  “Eric isn’t a stranger. He’s my cousin.”

  “Strangers, family, friends, it’s all the same,” insisted the hermit. “From now on, you are to take nothing from anyone without paying. Do you understand?”

  Will did not understand. Family was how one survived, at least as he understood it, but he simply answered, “I don’t have any money.”

  His grandfather nodded. “Then you take nothing.” He paused then, staring at the cot. “Still, you’re right. You can’t keep sleeping on the floor. How much do you think a cot is worth?”

  “Eric doesn’t want money for it,” insisted Will.

  The old man fixed him with a hard stare. “Listen up. I’m not going to repeat this a third time. From this day forward, you accept nothing without paying or trading something of equal value. As long as you’re my apprentice, you will owe nothing, you will accept no debts. Consider it part of your training.”

  Will was staring into the corner, muttering angrily to himself. “He’s crazy, absolutely nutters…”

  His grandfather disappeared into his room for a moment and returned with his hand outstretched, a gold coin in his palm. “This should cover it.”

  Will’s eyes bulged. A single gold crown was worth dozens of cots—hell, it might be worth more than the hermit’s entire ramshackle dwelling. He reached for the coin, but the old man snatched it back.

  “What did I just tell you?”

  He stared at the old man in confusion.

  “Accept no debts!” said his grandfather emphatically. “Tomorrow you’ll take the axe and saw and go cut wood. You’ll do so every day until you’ve cut enough to last us the entire winter. Then I’ll give you the coin, which you will take to pay your cousin for his generous gift.”

  The payment was far more than the work was worth. “A cot isn’t worth an entire gold crown,” said Will at last.

  “It is to a man about to freeze to death,” said his grandfather.

  Chapter 11

  It took Will nearly two weeks to cut enough wood to satisfy his lunatic grandfather. During that time, he was still expected to keep up his reading practice in mornings, arithmetic in the evening, and as always, he was not allowed to leave the candle behind at any time.

  The old man did give him one break, though. He didn’t make Will cook during that period, and he got his first real chance to try his grandfather’s cooking, which was a revelation in and of itself. The first meal the old man made was a simple affair; roasted carrots, peas, sliced radishes, and an assortment of greens.

  It didn’t look like much, though it was arranged artistically on the plate, but the first bite to reach his tongue told a different story. “Wow!” exclaimed Will. “Oh, wow! What did you do to it to make it taste like this?”

  “Not much,” said his grandfather nonchalantly. “A little oil and vinegar for the greens. The peas I blanched and sautéed with butter. Most importantly, I didn’t cook the carrots into flavorless mush as you seem so fond of doing.”

  For the first time, the hermit’s complaints about Will’s cooking made sense. If this was what his grandfather expected, then what Will had been giving him wasn’t much better than pig slop. He cleaned his plate and was delighted when he was given more. His compliments seemed to sit well with the old man.

  After he finished he sat back, feeling replete with food and warm in the heat coming from the hearth. He almost didn’t mind the fact that his entire body was sore from chopping and hauling wood. Relaxed, he asked a question, “Why don’t you get a dog?”

  The hermit looked quizzically at him. “A dog?”

  “You’re always fussing about the deer getting into the garden. A dog would solve that,” offered Will.

  His grandfather stared into the embers, his expression somewhat sentimental. “I used to have a couple of dogs, but they died a long time ago. I haven’t had the heart to get any since then. Plus, I don’t think the landlord would appreciate it.”

  “Landlord?”

  “The goddamned cat,” clarified the old man, picking his teeth with a splinter of wood. “He really doesn’t appreciate dogs. He’d probably increase the rent.”

  How much could one cat eat? wondered Will, but he didn’t bother voicing his thought. Instead he asked, “How long ago was that? When you had the dogs?”

  “Oh, it’s been a while,” said his grandfather. “Before you were born.” He chuckled, then added, “Before your mother was born.”

  “You must have been a lot younger then,” suggested Will.

  “Not so much,” said the hermit. “It’s all relative I suppose, but I was already pretty old by then.”

  Unable to restrain his curiosity, Will was direct with his next question. “How old are you?”

  His grandfather looked up sharply. “None of your damn business.” Then he stood and dusted himself off. “Time for bed. Make sure to clean the dishes before you sleep.”

  ***

  The next morning Will rose early, and after stuffing himself full of eggs and buttered toast, he began his reading. After a couple of hours of that, his grandfather informed him that he was free to go and finish the woodcutting. With any luck, he thought he might get enough to finally finish the task.

  As he started out the door, axe in hand, the old man reminded him, “Only dead wood. I know you’ve scoured the woods clean close to the house, but don’t be tempted to cut a live tree. You couldn’t afford the payment. Take your time and go farther out if you have to, even if it means you need to spend another day at it.”

  His grandfather had been giving him similar warnings every morning, though Will really didn’t understand the prohibition against cutting live trees. He knew better than to go against the old man’s orders, however, and he couldn’t think of much worse than spending a day at hard labor only to get no supper. “I won’t forget,” he assured his guardian.

  He set off toward the west, the direction opposite that of the village, since it hadn’t been scavenged for wood quite as much. He remembered seeing a fallen tree in that area previously, which should provide more than enough wood. The only downside was that it was farther away than he would have liked, which meant a lot of extra hauling to get the wood home.

  The ground had a gentle upward slope, since the hills that separated Barrowden from the village of Branscombe lay in that direction, but Will figured that was a good thing. It meant the trip back, while carrying a load, would be much easier.

  Despite the cold wind of late autumn, the sun was shining brightly and there were no clouds that day, making his hike an almost cheerful affair. Will found himself whistling as he went, and he began to study the plants along his path. At this time of year most of the trees had lost their leaves, but some of the hardier perennials that lived beneath them were still green. Mentally, he named them as he went.

  As he walked, a thought occurred to him. He’s supposed to be teaching me herbology, but I haven’t had a single lesson on the topic. It’s all been reading, math, and cooking. He glanced at the candle in his hand. And whatever this is supposed to teach me.

  His eyes fell on a tall plant he didn’t recognize. “What’s this?” he muttered. It was unusual for him to encounter something his mother hadn’t taught him to identify already. Ovate and dentate leaves, square stem… Mentally, he made note of its features for future reference. It stood almost three feet tall and was still green despite the late season.

  Concentrating, he focused on the plant, attempting to use his strange extra perception to learn something about its properties. He was disappointed, as he got the sense that it wasn’t useful for much. It wasn’t astringent, antiseptic, or good for any other purpose he could discern. It was edible, though, and it resembled sage, so he wondered about its taste. If it had a good flavor, he might be able to surprise his grandfather at dinnertime.

  His mother had always warned him about trying new plants, but that had been before he discovered his special ability. Reaching out, he started to pluck one of the leaves, a
nd as soon as his fingers touched it, he felt something new. A strange essence stirred within the plant, something he didn’t recognize, mysterious and tempting.

  Will plucked a large leaf and held it to his nose, noting a scent reminiscent of sage. Maybe it’s a variety of sage I’m not familiar with, he thought, before biting a small portion from the leaf. The taste didn’t match. It was more like lettuce, with a faint, thyme-like flavor. He pressed the rest into his mouth and chewed.

  The flavor remained mild, but a slightly bitter aftertaste began to build. Despite his former caution, he picked a second leaf and began chewing it as well. The bitterness grew stronger, along with a smoky flavor that hadn’t been noticeable before. “This would go well with some of the milder greens,” observed Will.

  The candle flame was shifting now, changing color. It had done that before, but in the past it had always been shades of yellow or orange. Now it had turned pink and was shading toward lavender. “That’s odd,” he muttered.

  Then the ground fell away from his feet, and he found himself spinning. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He couldn’t think at all. The world had become a swirling mix of colors, and he could only watch, mesmerized as his body melted into the earth that reached up to swallow him.

  A timeless period followed, filled only by shapes, textures, and strange colors. His body was gone; he was gone. His self had faded away to join the infinite beauty that surrounded him. Emotions remained to him, but he felt no panic or fear, only peaceful curiosity, awakened by his newfound connection to the universe.

  Eventually the experience faded, and he discovered himself again, lying quietly on the forest floor. The treetops swayed in the wind above him, somehow reflecting the gentle motion of his own soul. From the sun and the angle of the shadows, he could tell that less than an hour had passed, but although his mind seemed to have recovered, the world was not the same.

  Squinting, Will tried to focus his eyes, but no matter how he tried, his vision remained a mixture of perfectly normal shapes and bizarre streamers of color. It was similar to the glimpses he had seen in plants before, but now it was everywhere. He could see energy pulsing within the trees, moving to a slow, steady beat. Wide, diffuse bands of light that were almost too faint to see floated through the air, moving around him as though he had fallen into some giant, ghostly river. More energy moved through the earth beneath his feet.

  Everything was connected.

  Then Will noticed the candle, which had fallen to the ground beside him. It hadn’t changed, but he could see a slender thread of light connecting it to his chest. Is this magic? he wondered. Am I seeing magic?

  The sound of laughter floated to him through the trees in high tones. A girl? Will stood and looked around but saw no one close by. Bending over, he reclaimed his candle and axe, then he took a step in the direction he thought he had heard the laughter coming from.

  The sound vanished, and somehow he felt he had moved the wrong way. Stepping back, he heard the girl’s laughter again. Turning his head from side to side, he could see the faint streamers of light diverged there, slipping into two similar but different forests. Not that way, this way. Acting on instinct, he turned a different direction—it was hard to describe, but he stepped sideways, entering the other forest. The laughter grew louder.

  “Follow me!” said the girl, teasing him. Her voice sent a shiver down his spine, tickling instincts he hardly recognized.

  Will looked around. “Where are you?”

  “Over here!” she shouted, but when he looked, he only caught a flash of bright orange vanishing into the underbrush.

  Leaping to follow, he crashed along at a reckless pace, trying to catch up to her, but she remained ahead, and always just out of sight. He continued the chase, his heart thundering in his chest, until he heard the sound of rushing water ahead. When he broke free of the trees, he saw a rocky river-bank, and the girl had stopped at the water’s edge.

  No, not a girl, he thought. She was a woman, young no doubt, but in full possession of maturity. When she turned to look back at him, his breath caught in his throat.

  Hair the color of flames cascaded down her back and over her shoulders, but it did nothing to hide the sight of her nakedness. She smiled at him with pearl-like teeth that seemed to sparkle in the autumn sun, distracting him for a moment from her small but pert breasts. “You’re alone,” she announced in a delighted tone, clapping her hands together.

  Will had no response for that. He continued staring, drinking in the view. When she gestured for him to come closer, he took a step forward. Moments later he found himself just inches away from her, so close he could feel her breath. It smelled of mint and lavender.

  Her eyes were an unnaturally bright viridian, but it was the pupils that were most startling, for they were slits, like those of a cat. “You’re not human,” he mumbled.

  “But you are,” she responded, her lips curling into a smile. “Would you like to kiss me?”

  Yes, yes I would, screamed his hormones, nearly drowning out his reason. Instead, he answered, “W—what?”

  The strange woman pouted, then ran her hand down his chest, trailing her fingers across his stomach. “Are you afraid? My price is a small thing, though I can sense it growing as we speak.”

  For a moment he could hear his grandfather’s angry voice, echoing in his memory. “Accept no debts! Think of this as part of your training.” He took a step back, away from the woman. “I have nothing to pay you.”

  “Oh, but you do!” she returned, while her eyes silently devoured him. “What I want is something you would dearly love to give.”

  Despite himself, Will asked, “What is it?”

  “A fair exchange,” she said, her voice sly. Then she stepped closer and put one hand behind his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. “I will give you pleasure beyond measure, and all you need give me in exchange is your seed.” Lifting her chin, she leaned forward to bring her lips to his.

  Will jerked, turning his head to one side before she could kiss him. “No.”

  “But why?” she asked. “You have plenty. You can make hundreds of children when you return. I only need one.” Her hand stroked his thigh, moving upward until it reached…

  Startled, Will stumbled backward and fell, landing heavily on the rocks. He felt something under his hand and discovered it was the axe. He had dropped it without realizing it. Will lifted it as the strange woman started to settle down on top of him.

  She hissed, making a sound like an angry cat as her eyes fell on the hard metal of the axe-head. Leaping sideways, she was suddenly more than ten feet away. “You dare bring iron to this place, mageling?”

  The candle flame swirled, reacting to the chaos of emotions within him—relief, fear, and no small amount of disappointment. “I came here by accident,” he managed to say.

  The woman’s eyes shifted as quickly as her mood, going from anger to twinkling with amusement. “No one enters the fae realm by accident, manling.”

  He could feel the truth in her words, and thinking back on it, he could remember the distinct moment he had chosen to step sideways, seeking to follow her voice. “I didn’t realize what I was doing,” he explained. “Now, I just want to leave.”

  “I could show you the way,” she teased, “for a price.”

  “No thanks,” said Will immediately, though deep down he couldn’t help but wonder if he really meant it.

  The woman was walking back toward him, this time more slowly, making sure to stay on the side of him as far from the axe as possible. “What is your name, manling?”

  “W—” he started to answer, then caught himself. “You expect my name for free?”

  Her laughter tinkled in his ears. “Fair exchange then, my name for your own.”

  That sounded fair, but he still hesitated. What if learning his name gave her some power over him? “What would you do with my name?” he asked.

  “So cautious, so careful,” said the fae wo
man. “You would be worth knowing, if ever you escape the sun-drenched lands. Names exchanged are no sinister thing. A name can be used for finding and calling, just as with friends in your own world.”

  Will’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you could summon me?”

  Her answering smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So dark are your thoughts. Are you a warlock, mageling?”

  He shook his head. “No.” Not yet, anyway.

  She moved closer and bent her head to his neck, inhaling. “You have no smell of wickedness. Very well. To answer your question, if I were to call your name you would hear it, wherever you might be. What you choose to do afterward is your own business, though you would be able to find the closest door to reach me if you chose to come.”

  “And if I called your name?” he responded.

  “The same.”

  “Is there a price for calling?”

  She whispered into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Only if one is set during the exchange. Would that please you?”

  “That’s not necessary,” he stammered, finding it difficult to think with her so close.

  “Then a simple exchange it is, are we agreed?” she asked.

  Will nodded. The hand holding the axe handle was white-knuckled and beginning to ache.

  “I am called Tailtiu,” she responded. “And you are?” She breathed her words into his ear before taking the lobe between her teeth.

  “William Cartwright,” he blurted out, unable to help himself. Then her sharp teeth bit down on his tender ear, sending a tiny jolt of pain, and an even larger spasm of pleasure, through him.

  Tailtiu pulled away, sighing. A single drop of blood on her lips. She reached up with one hand and wiped it away, then put her finger in her mouth to clean it. A purring sound rose from her throat and she licked her lips once more. “You taste good, mortal. So much potential…”

  “That’s my blood,” said Will. “That wasn’t part of our exchange.”