Magic Awakens

by Lucia Ashta

  The book had to be centuries old, and I poured over its every detail. I ignored Marcelo’s instruction to limit myself to the chapters that discussed fire. I couldn’t help myself. My brain raced ahead of me, attempting to take it all in at once, thirsting for any new knowledge. It wouldn’t let me skip a word.

  Everything about the book ignited my curiosity, particularly the dedication scrawled in a messy hand at the front. It said:

  To my dear Marcelo,

  May this book guide you better than it did me.

  Remember, if you have it within you, you do not need it outside of you.

  This book will guide you toward what you already know.

  Yours always,

  Albacus

  Who was Albacus? And how long ago had he written this inscription, its ink feathering with age, each letter appearing to have its own aura of faded sepia ink.

  I was a fast reader and had moved far beyond the inscription by the time Marcelo came to collect his book for the night.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I love it.”

  His outward expression said he doubted this, but his eyes told me he was secretly pleased. Marcelo was a man of a great many contradictions, especially since I didn’t know him well enough to discern the deeper meaning of his words and actions.

  “Did you read much?”

  I hedged my answer carefully. I didn’t want him to know that I was reading the whole book until I’d already done so. At this point, he didn’t know how rapidly I could read.

  “I read the entire time since you gave me the book, and I’m learning a lot. But that’s fairly easy, since I knew absolutely nothing about magic before you lent me the book.”

  “Do you have any questions that came up from your reading?”

  “Oh, I have lots, but none that need answering now. Perhaps if I keep reading, the book itself might answer some of them. Whatever questions survive once I’ve finished, I can ask you then. If that’s all right with you,” I added, reminding myself who was the teacher here and who was the pupil.

  He studied me. He didn’t hide what he was doing. He looked me up and down while he deliberated. “Yes, that will be fine. We’ll speak of it at the end.” His tone of voice was hesitant, as if he were suspicious of something more significant than my reading sections he’d suggested I skip.

  “How are your burns feeling tonight? Has there been any change?”

  “No change. They’re about the same.”

  “Well, get some good rest. You need it.”

  “Good night, Marcelo,” I said to his back as he walked out the door.

  The beautifully illustrated illuminations from the book—most of them alchemical representations— flashed through my mind, and I sensed they would follow me into my sleep. Perhaps there my inexperienced mind could make more sense of them.

  *

  Plants walked my dreams, and unusual-looking humans walked alongside them, some of them with body parts of an animal nature.

  Humans and near-humans danced beneath bright moonlight, laughing raucously. A fire burned within the circle they created through linked appendages.

  I realized they were laughing at the fire, and with that realization the fire acted.

  The fire spread furiously and quickly. It burned across the expanse between the bonfire and the circle of dancers in a heartbeat. The flames licked at the creatures, determined to show them who was most powerful.

  There were no screams. The creatures continued to laugh while they burned and disfigured.

  The fire spared only one.

  The creature—no, a man—moved closer until he fully obscured everything taking place behind, blotting out the twisting and melting figures. He wore a mask that covered the top half of his face. A large beak of a nose, painted a bright violet, distracted from the features I could recognize. Black plumes flared at the hairline, ostentatious as they swayed.

  But then I took in eyes and lips. Blue eyes, so bright they appeared to be glowing. A wide mouth with full lips.

  It was Marcelo.

  The instant I realized it, the dream came crashing to a close, a portal sucking shut, a vacuum collapsing on itself. And out of the nothingness that my dream was rapidly becoming, I heard Marcelo’s echoing words.

  I am coming for you. You are who you become.

  The Elements within Us

  I woke, startled and flushed. Faint light outlined the shutters, telling me the sun had only just risen. I pushed onto my elbows and looked around the room that had become so familiar to me in the last weeks.

  Maggie slept on a cot, positioned strategically before the fire. The fire’s tendrils illuminated her face in constantly shifting patterns.

  I began to settle. My heart beat more slowly. The dream had disturbed me, and I didn’t even understand what it had all meant. It had been unusually bizarre.

  I didn’t want to wake Maggie, so I sat as still as I could and reviewed what I’d studied in The Magyke of the Elementes the day before. What impacted me the most was the author’s insistence that all of the elements were already present within us, so it was natural to work with them.

  The book argued that water made up most of our bodies. This was news to me, and I marveled at how something as solid as our bodies consisted of something as fluid as water. Because water was such a significant part of us, it was the easiest to learn to manipulate, and the novice pupil should begin there.

  Obviously, I hadn’t. I’d inadvertently interacted with fire before understanding anything that The Magyke of the Elementes insisted was imperative to know before delving into this most dangerous yet rewarding art of magic.

  The book warned that if the student didn’t comprehend the nuances of fire and treat it with the honor it deserved, the consequences would be disastrous.

  But fire, like water, was also within us, though not in as great a measure. Fire was innately more volatile than water, so we had less of it. Fire was evident in our passions and anger, and it was within the spark that was responsible for the beating heart of life.

  Earth and air were also a part of us. Our bodies were of the earth, our spirits of the heavens. Our mothers birthed us into a lifetime on earth, to walk it and hopefully to leave it better than we found it. When we died, our bodies returned to the earth. From beginning to end, it was indelibly tied to our existence.

  And just as the element of earth defined our lives, so did the element of air, as human beings had both a body and a spirit. One couldn’t exist without the other; a person had to possess both to live.

  Air was as integral to our beings as any of the other elements, though it was the easiest to overlook, invisible to the eye.

  Any single one of these four basic elements was incredibly powerful and could be devastatingly destructive. Water could form tsunamis, floods, and ice storms, extinguishing life quickly, or it could withhold its nurturing and most life would fall victim to drought.

  Many cultures contained legends of ancient floods that wiped out most of humanity, as it was with the story of Noah and his Ark. The ways in which water would transform and cause harm if it so chose were too many to mention.

  Fire could burn its way through almost anything, killing as it spread. It might come from the sky, the spark of lightning setting ablaze the ground. It could rumble and sputter within the earth, threatening explosions of molten lava. It might devastate entire regions, bringing all life to a halt.

  Earth could shake and split, opening up vast, gaping wounds in its crust and swallowing any life. Earth could shake us like a dog shakes its fleas. It could deny its fertility so that food wouldn’t grow.

  Like the other elements, air could be equally annihilating. Hurricanes and tornadoes ravaged anything in their path, and even the slightest imbalance of air would devastate a human being who relied on the breath to survive.

  Each of the fundamental four elements contained the opposing potentials for nourishment and devastation.

  Within a studen
t who took care to balance body, mind, and spirit, the four elements coexisted harmoniously. But in the absence of equilibrium, any of the elements might flare, causing the person to display unhealthy destructive emotions and actions.

  The Magyke of the Elementes insisted that it was only a pupil who possessed emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health that should consider engaging in elemental magic. The book warned that danger likely awaited the student who moved forward without ensuring this prerequisite.

  However, these dire warnings did nothing to scare me away from learning more. On the contrary, I was so anxious to continue reading that I found myself hoping Maggie would rise soon so that Marcelo would bring me the book again.

  Before long, Maggie granted my unspoken wish. She began to stir, and the day suddenly looked much brighter.

  I cautiously observed the fire while I waited for her to waken fully. I wanted to reach out to the fire, to engage it, to see what secrets it would share with me.

  The flames eagerly responded, rising a bit higher. A wave of fear rushed through me and temporarily quelled my enthusiasm.

  There was no way around it. I would have to wait to learn more.

  The Unique Path

  The day came and went much like the one before and much like the next. I was so engrossed in my reading that I forgot about the pain and the discomforts of bed rest. By the third day of reading, The Magyke of the Elementes suggested exercises for the initiate to begin engaging the elements. After my experience with fire, I knew it wise to wait for Marcelo to try any of the practice lessons.

  Nevertheless, despite the nagging guilt that told me I was doing something I shouldn’t, I tried the briefest and easiest practice lesson. I couldn’t help myself.

  I was alone in my room. Marcelo had checked on me that morning, and he likely wouldn’t again until after lunch. Maggie had just left, telling me she was off to do the laundry. Chances were as good as they got that I would be undisturbed.

  A pitcher of water was on the bedside table. I snuck one last glance at the door before I focused my gaze on the water inside it. As encouragement for the exercise, the book reminded the reader that the secret to doing magic was in understanding that the elements were already within us. We controlled them every day—unconsciously—but, by focusing will and mind, we could bridge the few steps between the unconscious and conscious levels.

  I stared at the water like I had the fire, until my gaze blurred and I no longer noticed its details, until I no longer thought much about what I was doing at all. And as I looked at it, the water sloshed once and then diminished to waves and later ripples.

  I observed the water as it took its time returning to stillness. The waves and ripples lessened so gradually, so minutely, that I thought they had no end.

  Finally, however, all indication of motion ceased.

  The water’s movement had been minor, but there could be no doubt that I’d caused it. There was no other explanation for it. The pitcher sat, just as it had, physically undisturbed by its environment.

  I didn’t try to suppress the grin that spread across my face. I experienced the greatest joy I’d felt in a long time. My entire body tingled with excitement, at a vague sense of accomplishment and at the potential of what was to come.

  I was capable of doing magic.

  How had I not known this until Marcelo came into my life?

  *

  When Marcelo came to retrieve the book that night, I worked hard to contain my excitement. I still had another day of reading left, and I didn’t want to do anything that might interfere with my ability to continue.

  I suspected Marcelo might be displeased with me when he learned that I hadn’t limited my reading to the chapters about fire. But it was worth the risk; I felt that more strongly now than I had before. What the book was teaching me was invaluable, if only because one of its exercises had already shown me that my abilities extended beyond fire into water.

  “How’s the reading going?” He no longer began his queries with my physical health. I imagined he was as curious as I was about what it would be like for him to instruct me in magic, even if he only wanted to teach me the minimal.

  “It’s going great.” I smiled and tried to conceal some of my enthusiasm.

  He looked at me with renewed suspicion. “How far have you read?”

  Again, I was careful with my answer. “I’m ready to start the second to last chapter tomorrow.”

  He studied me some more. I was beginning to feel like some kind of foreign specimen the way he kept looking at me.

  “Do you think you’ll finish reading The Magyke of the Elementes tomorrow?”

  “I do.”

  “Then perhaps the day after tomorrow we’ll go over any questions you have about the book, before you start the next one.”

  I nodded. “Yes, that would be wonderful.” In truth, I didn’t have any pressing questions. More than anything, I wanted to figure out those things I didn’t yet understand through experimentation. I was eager to attempt more of the practice lessons.

  I would have to think of some questions to ask Marcelo. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who appreciated disappointment.

  *

  The book finished by discussing the practical applications of elemental magic. Even as inexperienced as I was, I knew the uses of elemental magic must be far vaster than what the book suggested. It spoke of using fire to heat your food and to light a candle or a bonfire. But it didn’t explain how to do anything beyond the predictable.

  The Magyke of the Elementes taught that water magic could be used to fill pots for cooking, glasses for drinking, and bathtubs for bathing. It didn’t say that the water for the bath could be heated, though I knew it could, by combining fire and water magic.

  The book’s exploration of earth and air was similarly limited. The magician could use earth magic to plane small plots of uneven land, to fill holes in the ground, and to clean houses by removing dust in one sweep of wizardry. There was no mention of making the earth shake or moving large sections of land, or of uniting earth and air magic to cause sand storms.

  In its chapters dedicated to air wizardry, the book mentioned using air to blow out candles from across the room and to create a slight, localized breeze to cool you on a hot day. It didn’t indicate that you could combine air and fire magic either to raise or lower the temperature. It didn’t discuss the possibilities of employing air magic to create storms and then to change the atmospheric pressure to intensify them.

  My imagination rapidly surpassed the limits of The Magyke of the Elementes. What would happen if a magician, witch, wizard, or sorcerer—I was still unclear about the differences in nomenclature—were fluent in the four basic elements of nature? Could a magician unite fire, water, earth, and air to create tempests of unimaginable intensity? Could he merge the four elements to sculpt matter and create that which hadn’t existed before, simply by unifying components from nature that had the elements as their origins?

  Could such a magician suck particles of earth from the ground and press them together to form a shape? Could he then imbue this figure with the water that hydrated and gave body, with the fire that gave personality, and with the air that gave breath to life forms?

  I didn’t know if these were questions I could ask Marcelo. Was this thinking he would sanction?

  But then, perhaps it was more important for me to discover what I was capable of than to seek Marcelo’s approval.

  I’d never thought of dismissing others’ expectations of me before. I’d sought my parents’ approval before I realized what approval was, and I’d never stopped.

  Without doubt, I had crossed the line that demarcated the permissible and the forbidden with Father and Mother the moment I cracked open The Magyke of the Elementes. Since I’d already risked the discontent of my parents, it seemed that I should continue and risk that of Marcelo. What if that were the only way to discover who I really was?

  So when Maggie helped me outside a
nd set me up on a blanket in the midday sun to meet with Marcelo, I had already deliberated with myself for hours about the wisest course of action. When Marcelo sat down opposite me on the blanket, the part of me that had never felt so alive before reared its head and took over, disregarding my promises to myself that I would at least be cautious.

  Marcelo and I looked toward the lake, allowing the sunshine to illuminate our faces. Blue highlights reflected throughout his black hair.

  I looked at his face and wondered at his age. The way in which he carried himself had led me to assume that he was much older than me; his attitude was one of experience and wisdom. Yet looking at him now, I wasn’t so sure anymore. He appeared youthful and vibrant, and that confused me.

  Drawn to him and a radiance I hadn’t seen in him before, I exclaimed, “I was able to do a little water magic.”

  I held my breath waiting for his response. This was not according to my plan.

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time, until I feared he might not say anything at all. I watched him run through a gamut of emotions that I interpreted as anger, frustration, fear, acceptance, and then, finally, curiosity.

  “Why?” was all he said.

  “I couldn’t help myself. It’s all so exciting. I want to try it all. But that’s all I did. I waited for you to do the rest.”

  Sheepishly, I looked down, pretending to find the flowered print of my dress most interesting. “I read the entire book, every word.” Although wearing clothing was a great relief after so many weeks limited to a nightgown, I didn’t even see the tight little blue flowers I pretended to examine.

  When I looked up again, Marcelo appeared resigned to what I think he’d known all along: He would have to teach me magic, more than he wanted.

  Then, he shocked me.

  He smiled, and I realized I still didn’t really know him at all.

  An Uncommon Pupil

  We stayed outside for hours, until I couldn’t withstand the chill of late winter any longer, though I tried. I didn’t want my time with Marcelo to end.