The Heart of Magic

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  The wyvern sniffed the air several times and craned its neck in her direction. For a moment, Morwen thought the creature spotted her, and the breath caught in her chest. She pressed herself against the ground and tried her best to stay calm. After waiting what felt like an eternity, she rose to a crouching position and steeled herself to see if it had passed. Leaves fell above, and she looked up to find herself directly into the wyvern’s eyes.

  The wyvern’s voice echoed in her head. I see you. Its voice was female.

  Morwen screamed and landed on her backside. The wyvern towered over her, wings spread. She stumbled to her feet and reached for her dagger. “Don’t come any closer.”

  This forest is under my protection, human. Your kin are not welcome here. The wyvern continued watching her but made no move to attack.

  Morwen’s brow furrowed, and her gaze fell on a second, smaller wyvern partially hidden behind the first. It’s her child.

  “Morwen, get back!” Darragh crashed through the trees, sword in hand, and the other hunters sprinted after him, firing arrows and hurling spears.

  The adult wyvern hissed and moved to shield her child. Darragh struck first, drawing blue blood, and the battle began. The younger wyvern took an arrow to the flank and retreated in a blind panic, only to crash into Morwen, who quickly recovered and trained her dagger on the creature. When the young wyvern looked up at her with a pair of frightened eyes, Morwen reached out with her mind.

  She sensed no evil in the creature—only fear. The mages had tasked her with killing the creature responsible for the attacks, but the wyvern and her child were innocent. Morwen hesitated and lowered the dagger. She couldn’t do it.

  At that instant, the adult wyvern glimpsed the dagger in her hand and hit Morwen with her tail. Morwen was knocked into the mud, and the dagger landed out of her reach. The young wyvern’s gaze lingered on Morwen a moment longer before he retreated into the storm. Morwen let out a moan and struggled to stand. She cast a glance back at Darragh, who wrestled with the adult wyvern and attempted to force the shackle around her neck.

  Lightning struck, and a pained squeal sounded nearby, where a tree had fallen on the young wyvern. The creature twisted and fidgeted to free himself but was trapped under the tree’s weight.

  “Hold on!” Without thinking, Morwen sprinted through the flurry of arrows to the wyvern’s side. Squinting from the strain, she tried her best to move the tree as the younger wyvern continued his attempt to escape. The tree shifted before her strength faded, and the wyvern slid free, but Morwen lost her balance in the process and stumbled backward over a ledge.

  The river, overflowing with accumulated water from the rain, roared below. Morwen grabbed at the ledge to maintain her position, reached into her cloak with her free hand, and withdrew her wand. The wet earth gave way, and she plunged into the river. Cold water rushed over head, and she lost her hold on her wand. Morwen kicked as hard as she could and broke through the surface. The current was too strong to make it to shore. The rapids threatened to swallow her whole. Her legs burned from the effort, and it was all she could do to stay above water.

  A blue form streaked toward her from above, snatched her up in his talons, and carried her to shore. The last thing she saw was the younger wyvern’s face looking back at her.

  Morwen woke with a start. The storm had passed, and sunlight streamed down from the treetops. It was morning. She reached for her wand only to remember she had lost it in the river. Morwen grimaced. Baldrick would kill me. Without a wand, spellwork would be nearly impossible.

  Morwen looked around. There was no one else in sight. She was alone—or was she? She had the distinct feeling she was being observed. “Hello? Is someone there?” A trail of blue blood led into the bushes. Morwen climbed to her feet and followed the trail. She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eyes, and something darted past her, just out of sight. “You can come out now. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  The young wyvern shyly stuck his head out from behind a tree and sniffed the air, as if to assess the veracity of her claim through smell. He cautiously emerged from his hiding place, and the two regarded each other for a prolonged interval.

  Are you a human? The wyvern studied her with large, round eyes.

  Morwen nodded.

  I’ve never met a human before. Mamma says you’re dangerous.

  “Some people are.”

  Why did those hunters attack us?

  “The villagers think you and your mother are monsters.”

  Monsters? Mamma protects the forest and all its creatures. She’s watched over the forest since the last of the fairies disappeared.

  Morwen thought back to Darragh’s fight with the adult wyvern. It was all because of a misunderstanding. The wyvern hadn’t started the fires. At worst she was guilty of eating the villagers’ sheep and goats. “I know that now. I didn’t before. The villagers are afraid of you, just like you’re afraid of them. I can help them understand.”

  He sniffed the air. Do you have magic? You smell different than other humans.

  “I’m training to become a mage.” She bowed. “I’m Morwen. Do you have a name?”

  The wyvern bobbed his head up and down. I’m Patch. It was a suitable name, as a patch of dark blue scales surrounded his right eye.

  Morwen offered a warm smile. “Pleased to meet you, Patch. Thank you for rescuing me from the river.”

  He paced around her. Why did you help me?

  “You needed my help. It was the right thing to do.”

  Patch came a little closer. You’re strange, but I think I like you.

  “I’ve never met a wyvern before. Are there others like you in the forest?”

  Just me and momma. He flicked his tail back and forth restlessly. I can’t find her anywhere.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll help you find her.”

  Thank you.

  Again she noticed the trail of blue blood beneath the wyvern. “You’re hurt.” One of the hunters’ arrows protruded from Patch’s scales. When Morwen reached for the arrow, Patch shied away from her touch. “If that wound isn’t looked after, it could fester. I can help you, but you have to trust me.”

  Patch stared into her eyes and relented at last. Morwen stroked his scales to calm him and gently removed the arrow, prompting a shriek from Patch that sent nearby birds flocking from their perches. Relying on years of training and experience, she cleaned and bandaged the wound before administering a healing elixir from her satchel. Fortunately, her satchel was enchanted to withstand elemental damage, or the river might have ruined the spellbooks and potions inside.

  “All done! That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  I feel better. Patch waved his tail enthusiastically and rose to his full height on his two legs in a show of strength.

  “Let’s find your momma. Do you know where she might go?”

  There is someplace, but it’s supposed to be a secret. If I take you there, you have to promise not to tell anyone.

  “I won’t tell a soul. You have my word.” Her answer seemed to satisfy him.

  Patch shook his head when Morwen started walking. Not like that. The wyvern lowered himself to the ground and gestured for her to climb onto his back.

  Morwen hesitated, unsure.

  Don’t be afraid. It’s not dangerous.

  She crossed her arms in protest. “I’m not afraid!”

  Then what are you waiting for?

  She climbed onto the wyvern’s back. “Here goes nothing.”

  Hold on tight.

  “What? I thought you said this wasn’t dangerous!”

  Before she could say another word, Patch spread his wings and took off in a dash. Morwen’s eyes widened in alarm, and she threw her arms around the creature and held on for dear life. Patch beat his wings, generating a gust of wind that caused the trees to sway, and soared into the sky.

  Morwen laughed with unrestrained joy and he spread her arms as the wind caressed her face. She had never f
elt such utter delight.

  Patch craned his neck to look back at her. Are you having fun?

  She nodded rapidly. “This is incredible!” The wyvern dove, forcing her to tighten her grip once more. “Showoff!”

  They landed just outside a yew grove near the forest’s heart. The trees were towering giants, and their roots ran deep into the earth.

  Morwen climbed off Patch’s back, and her brow furrowed. “There is magic here. I can feel it.”

  Patch led her past the trees into the grove. When Morwen saw what waited ahead, her eyes widened in amazement. An entire community resided inside the grove. Morwen had never seen so many varieties of magical creatures before, and certainly not in one place. There were broonies, goblins, hobgoblins, imps, gnomes, griffins, leprechauns, pixies, and pecks, in addition to several species she didn’t recognize. They were everywhere. The creatures gathered around a great ash tree that loomed above the yews. The tree seemed to move with a life of its own. Its trunk pulsed with golden light, and its swaying leaves glowed with matching colors.

  Morwen’s gaze lingered on a large, solitary eye embedded in its trunk. “An elder tree.”

  The tree hummed, speaking through a hole that served as a “mouth,” as she approached with reverence. Such trees were exceptionally rare. There were few left in Fál, which explained the forest dwellers’ desire to keep its existence a secret.

  The goblin that attacked Morwen on the road blocked her path to the tree, and his companions moved to surround her. “I warned you to keep out of this forest. Now we can’t allow you to leave.”

  Patch hissed at him. Leave her alone, Tik. She’s my friend.

  The goblin pointed his club at Morwen. “You would bring a human into our midst?”

  Morwen held up her hands in a show of mock-surrender. “I mean you no harm. I came here to put a stop to the attacks.”

  The tree spoke, producing a deep groaning sound. “The girl speaks the truth. She is not a threat.” Its voice was impossibly old.

  Tik glared at Morwen but lowered his weapon. “Then you’re in the wrong place. We didn’t start the attacks—your people did, when they invaded our forest.”

  “Someone set the fires that destroyed Croom and Murroe. If you didn’t do it, then who did?”

  Tik rolled his eyes in annoyance. “The witch, of course.”

  Morwen frowned. “What witch?” The truth hit her at once. “Tabitha.”

  “She calls herself a druidess, but she’s nothing of the sort. I believe she is one of the Witches of the Golden Vale. She wants the elder tree and its magic for herself, and she’s willing to do anything to get it. Only the threat of a wyvern has kept her away.”

  Suddenly everything made sense. As more humans built settlements around Lakewood Forest, the goblins had grown more aggressive in an effort to keep the grove a secret. They were only trying to guard what was theirs—as was Patch’s mother, who protected the grove from outsiders. Tabitha must have set the fires to trick the locals into thinking the wyvern was a fire-breathing dragon. The people’s fear had done the rest.

  Patch looked around, searching for his mother. Where’s Momma? I can’t find her.

  “They took her!” A short man in patched trousers and an overcoat came running into the grove, leading Nessa behind him.

  “Croker!” Morwen exclaimed. She wrapped her arms around Nessa. I knew it. It appeared he had been feeding the forest dwellers information from the villagers. That explained why the goblins had attacked Morwen and the others not long after she glimpsed the clurichaun.

  Croker’s face was flushed from the journey. He looked at Patch and panted for breath. “They took your mother.”

  Tik bared his fangs. “Who took her?”

  “The hunters. They chained her and took her back to the village. Tabitha has her now. She means to lure Patch to her so she may capture him as well.”

  Morwen groaned. “This is my fault. I crafted the chains they used to bind her.”

  “I knew it!” Tik jabbed a long, spiderlike finger at her. “She’s as bad as the witch!”

  Croker shook his head. “She’s not.” The pronouncement caught the goblins off guard. “I saw her put herself in danger to rescue Patch from the hunters.” The clurichaun held his red hat in his hands and looked up at Morwen with an almost bashful expression. “I was wrong about you, lass. You’re not like the others.”

  Tik turned away from Morwen and motioned to the other goblins. “Take up your arms. We make for Adare at once!”

  Morwen cleared her throat. “You’re making a mistake. I’d wager Tabitha wants you to attack Adare. Your raids and ambushes have been successful in the forest, but you won’t stand a chance against the villagers in the open. You’d be wiped out, and there would be no one left to defend the grove.” Worse still, bloodshed between humans and goblins could set back relationships between species across the entire kingdom.

  “So we should do nothing? That wyvern has watched over us for years, and you would have us abandon her to the witch?”

  “No. I’ll go.”

  Tik’s hardened expression faltered. “You?”

  “Aye. I’ll sneak into Adare and rescue Patch’s mother. It’s the least I can do after helping them capture her.”

  “You have courage. I’ll give you that. But what can you do against a witch?”

  Morwen narrowed her gaze at him. “I may be young, but I have magic too.”

  He regarded her with considerable skepticism. “Have you ever been in a fight before?”

  “Well, not exactly, but how hard can it be?” The show of confidence didn’t seem particularly convincing.

  “You’re asking us to put our faith in you—a human. How do we know we can trust you?”

  Morwen didn’t have an answer, and for a moment, no one spoke.

  The elder tree bent forward and stretched its branches toward her. “What is your fondest wish, Morwen of Cashel?”

  Morwen didn’t have to ponder the question for long. “To become a mage.”

  “You must choose.” The tree fixed its eye on her, and Morwen felt as if it could see into her very soul. “If you follow the path before you, you will risk everything you have worked for.” Its meaning was plain. If she set Patch’s mother free, she would fail the mages’ task. There would be no second chances.

  Morwen bowed her head. “But it was my dream.”

  “Are you willing to sacrifice your dream to help another?”

  Morwen hesitated under the weight of her decision. There was no turning back. “I am.”

  The elder tree straightened again and withdrew its branches. “Her heart is true.”

  Tik and the goblins looked on her with newfound respect. “Very well. We will put our trust in you.”

  Morwen steeled herself for the task ahead. Defeating a witch would not be easy. She had never been in a magical fight before, but she would find a way, even without a wand.

  Patch spread his wings. I’m going too. Mamma needs me.

  Croker stepped forward. “I will go as well, lass.”

  “Thank you.” Morwen grinned and planted a kiss on the clurichaun’s forehead. Croker blushed a deep shade of red and seemed at a loss for words for once. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” The elder tree called to her. “Morwen of Cashel, you are worthy.”

  Morwen’s mouth hung agape. The tree had deemed her worthy to take a branch for a staff. She knelt before the tree and held out her hand. When she touched its trunk, the tree and its leaves glowed with overwhelming golden light. Morwen felt a surge of magic, and the grove faded away.

  A silver fox watched her, and at its feet rested a silver crown. The fox vanished in a puff of smoke as she approached, and behind her loomed Cashel’s throne, which lay empty. Morwen heard an angry growl. The throne room disappeared like the fox before it, and in its place stood a great bear, full of wrath. His fur was red like blood, and his claws were sharp as blades. At first Morwen was afraid, but something inexplica
ble drew her to the bear, which stared at her through its one good eye.

  The vision faded, and when the golden light died away, Morwen was holding a staff of ash wood.

  “We’re here.” Morwen pulled back on the reins, and Nessa came to a halt. Patch, who flew under the treetops to avoid being spotted, landed beside her.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Croker fell off the wyvern’s back, stumbled to his feet, and wobbled in place before emptying the contents of his stomach into a nearby bush.

  “Quiet!” Morwen held a finger to her lips. “That’ll teach you to drink your fill before flying on a wyvern’s back.”

  “I’m a clurichaun. It’s in my nature.”

  Patch ignored them both and peered past the trees, where Adare lay outside Lakewood Forest. Archers watched the village’s perimeter. Morwen dismounted, hitched Nessa to a tree, and lowered herself to her belly to escape the sentries’ notice. Croker, short enough to take cover behind the brush, remained standing.

  Patch craned his neck to look back at Croker. Where’s Mamma?

  “There. The witch has her chained up behind the tavern.”

  A pained shriek came from behind the tavern.

  They’re hurting her! Patch’s eyes widened in alarm. She needs our help.

  Morwen restrained the young wyvern before he could rush from the woods. “Wait.” Guards—likely bolstered by Laird Roche’s men—patrolled Adare in increased numbers. “Tabitha is using your mother as bait. If you go out there, they’ll catch you. What we need is a diversion.” Her gaze lingered on Croker, and the clurichaun’s brow arched in surprise.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “You did say you wanted to help.”

  Croker groaned. “I was thinking something more along the lines of moral support.”

  Morwen rolled her eyes. “No one would find anything unusual about a clurichaun near a tavern.”

  Croker grumbled something under his breath, took a drink from a flask inside his overcoat, and emerged from the forest. As Morwen predicted, the guards hardly noticed the clurichaun’s approach, and he slipped inside the tavern without objection. A few minutes later, a great commotion came from inside, and a pair of villagers forcibly ejected him from the tavern.