Magic Awakens

by Lucia Ashta

  Now that I was better, Maggie had taken to going into town some days instead of sending Thomas. But I’d seen her when she left this morning. She’d left on foot.

  Maggie skidded to a halt directly by the front door, bathing us in a cloud of dust that would have otherwise been intolerable. She jumped down from the horse and stood in the swirl of dirt.

  “Winston, the second son of the House of Chester, and several of his men are in town. He found out that Clara’s been staying with a man with a questionable reputation.” She spit the words out as quickly as she could. There was no time for apologetic looks. Marcelo was well aware of the reputation that preceded him and all magicians.

  “If Clara doesn’t prove that she can’t marry him because she’s sick, he’ll fetch her away with him.”

  My eyes widened in alarm. I turned to snap accusingly at Marcelo. “Did you know about this?”

  “Of course I didn’t,” he snapped back. “How far behind you are they, Maggie?”

  “Not far. They should be here in under an hour. Maybe sooner.”

  “Maggie, will you be okay to stay behind?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You know they may be violent.”

  “Yes, Sir, I do. I’ll say that I know nothing and that you two just took off.”

  We were all quiet for a moment. Even though I’d led a relatively sheltered life, I knew what sires and their men were capable of. Marcelo and Maggie knew it even better than I did.

  “Maggie, you don’t have to do this,” I said. “You could be hurt.”

  “I’ll be all right, whatever it is, Milady. This is my duty. If he finds you here—” Maggie couldn’t finish. “Well, let’s just say that he made it overly clear that he wouldn’t be a gentleman about it. He wasn’t shy in his descriptions of what he’d do to you.” Maggie looked down with these last words, affording me the dignity that Winston had not.

  Whatever Winston would do to me would only be the beginning of a lifetime of unpleasantness at his side.

  “Is Thomas here?” Marcelo asked.

  “I believe so, Sir.”

  “Go fetch him right away. Tell him to prepare my horse immediately. And tell him to bring anything he has to defend you and meet us in the house. Tell him to be as quick as he can.”

  Maggie was already in motion. I watched her run toward the stables with a deep sadness in my heart.

  Marcelo yanked me by my arm inside the house.

  Escaping Reality

  Marcelo had ordered me to gather only the essentials and throw them in a bag. But this was not an easy request for a young woman of the nobility. I had so many extraneous things and garments that in the end I couldn’t decide what was important and what wasn’t.

  My mind was racing ahead of itself in anguish and concern for Maggie so that I couldn’t concentrate. In the end, I grabbed only two dresses and my hair and toothbrush, threw them in my small leather bag, and closed it up. I pulled on my winter coat, wrapped a scarf around my throat, and went to find Marcelo.

  But I didn’t need to find him. He found me. In fact, he ran right into me, dropping his two bags. He didn’t hesitate or take time to recover from the impact. He snatched his bags up in one hand, grabbed me with the other, and ushered us out the back door, toward the stables.

  He half pushed me as I kept looking over my shoulder. I wanted to say goodbye to Maggie. I hadn’t thought I wouldn’t get the chance to hug my friend before we left.

  I felt responsible for her well-being. Winston was coming for me. If I’d accepted my parents’ wedding arrangements, Maggie wouldn’t be in harm’s way.

  “Move it, Clara. There’s no time for farewells,” Marcelo said, correctly interpreting my backward glances. As if to make his point, the sound of horses reached us. It wasn’t loud yet, but the ground beneath us vibrated. They would be upon us before we could get away without being seen.

  Marcelo didn’t have to tell me what the sounds meant or insist on the renewed urgency of our departure. I broke into a run before he did.

  “Sir, I prepared your horse and another for the lady as ya wish,” Thomas yelled out. He was standing at the ready, holding two horses by their bridals at the stable entrance. They were saddled to ride.

  Marcelo flicked an efficient glance at me while we took the last running steps to reach Thomas. “Can you ride?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “Do you ride well?”

  “Very.”

  Winston and his men were racing down the drive now. The driveway was lengthy, but it wouldn’t be long before they reached us.

  Marcelo started to hook one of his bags on the side of the saddle but then thought better of it. They were loaded with his books and would slow us down.

  “Leave your bag,” Marcelo told me.

  I dropped it immediately.

  “I’ll send word of where you can send them,” Marcelo told Thomas.

  “Go now, Sir” Thomas said. “They’re already here.”

  With a glance at me, Marcelo set his horse at a trot. We couldn’t race right past Winston and his troop, not with Maggie and Thomas remaining behind.

  I edged my horse right next to Marcelo’s. Whatever he did, I’d imitate, and I had the feeling whatever he did would be sudden and unexpected. I was alert, all my senses heightened by threat and fear.

  Maggie was at the lake house’s front door. I got to say goodbye to her after all, even though it was silent. She met my eyes, and we said everything in that look and my sad smile.

  Then she turned toward the approaching riders. My eyes burned at the courage and selflessness I witnessed in her.

  I looked toward the riders as well. Righteous anger and determination swelled within me, and Marcelo snuck a wary glance at me. Under his breath, he whispered sternly, “Control yourself. No powers.”

  I understood Marcelo’s clipped message. I shouldn’t allow Winston or his men to see what I was capable of. It was beyond dangerous. If evidence of witchcraft caused hysteria among even the most rational of townspeople, it certainly would provoke a significant reaction in Winston.

  Even though I knew relatively little about him, I knew to be vigilant. Bullies sought to exploit the disadvantages of others. Winston would certainly use the threat of exposing my magic to coerce me into submitting to his will. And if he ever disclosed my secret, there was only one possible outcome for me: the town pyre or submersion in the lake. With my red hair, I’d likely be subjected to the same fate as the unfortunate baker’s daughter.

  I realized how important it was that I keep my powers hidden. Regardless, this was a most difficult demand. I didn’t yet know how to control my powers.

  Like a tickle in your throat, which couldn’t become a cough, or a sneeze building that couldn’t be released, I squirmed, uncomfortable in my own skin. I didn’t know what would happen, and I didn’t know how to stop or direct whatever might. I just knew I was getting angry, and that worried me.

  Marcelo guided his horse over to where Maggie stood. I followed.

  Winston stopped in front of us all.

  At first, I was confused. Winston looked like Samuel, and Samuel was kind. I hadn’t met Winston. I’d based all my fears on Samuel’s impressions of his brother.

  Perhaps I’d been wrong to think so poorly of him. A flutter of hope passed through me.

  But that hope flew away faster than a startled finch.

  “So you’re the wench my parents think worthy of marrying me?” His voice had a pitch to it that didn’t quite fit the body. He was a young man of average size, but his voice was that of an entitled boy.

  I was afraid to speak. We still didn’t know exactly what Winston had planned for this meeting. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t escalate the conflict. I remained silent.

  Apparently Winston’s remark had the same effect on Marcelo as it did on me, because the vein on the right side of his neck was bulging.

  “That’s not how a lady should be addressed, and
I won’t allow such disrespect to her honor to take place in my presence.”

  “Oh, you’re going to defend her honor, are you?” Winston’s men, used to his bullying taunts, laughed loudly. Half the men laughed because they feared Winston; the other half laughed because they were just as foul as him.

  The laughter died down and all that remained was a very important silence. It made Marcelo’s response sound as strong as it was meant to be.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Those of the men who were as horrible as their master chuckled. Those who rode along out of obligation noticed the power in Marcelo’s statement and backed away from Winston. Their movement wasn’t visible, it was only energetic, but I felt it, and I’m certain Marcelo did too.

  Marcelo nudged his horse a step closer to Winston. This time I didn’t follow. “What are your intentions here today?”

  “My intentions?” Winston threw his head back and laughed. It was a terrible sound. Involuntarily, a shudder ran through me. That my parents would consider marrying me away to a man such as this was unthinkable. Yet that’s the way it was: reality.

  This reality had short, groomed blonde hair, unruffled by riding. His smile was big and clean. He sat upright on his horse, his attire, impeccable.

  But his eyes leached iniquity. It was an awful image to face. I placed all my hope in Marcelo, that it would not become a reality I’d have to face every day for the rest of my life.

  “My intentions are to take my future wife—who’s clearly in well enough health to marry—away from here. She’ll ride with us to Chester, where we’ll marry as planned.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Marcelo said in a voice that was too calm.

  “How dare you! It’s my right. The Count of Norland has made an agreement with my father, the Count of Chester, that this girl is to marry me. Therefore, she’s mine, and I can do with her as I wish. This is in no way your concern. Now, step away.”

  “No.”

  “Excuse me? I must have misheard you, because no one speaks to me that way.”

  “I just did.”

  Winston drew his sword, and half his men followed suit. They took one step forward. The other half of Winston’s men stayed where they were, physically distancing themselves from Winston without having moved at all.

  I noticed for the first time that Marcelo carried a sword at his side. However, he didn’t move to draw it.

  “I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. You and your men are going to sheathe your swords, and you’re going to turn around and return to Chester, or wherever it is you came from. You’re going to leave without harming anyone. No one here has done anything to harm you.”

  “Well, let me tell you all the ways in which you’re mistaken. Someone here has harmed me. This wench has. She’s my property, and it’s my right to have her. And you’re harming me by interfering with what’s rightfully mine. I suppose the servants haven’t harmed me, though this one here could be good for a little fun. I like the dark and swarthy look.”

  Some cackles rose from the men nearest him, and one shouted out, “He likes all the looks, don’t he?”

  I looked at Maggie. She appeared terrified.

  I thought I might vomit, and I began to tremble involuntarily. Immediately, I tried to squelch the shuddering. But it didn’t make a difference. I couldn’t stop the violent shaking; it was fear manifesting. I just hoped Winston or his men wouldn’t notice.

  “You’ll do as I say and retreat peacefully, leaving everyone unharmed. Or I’ll make you.”

  I noticed Thomas had moved closer to us. He stood leaning on a shovel. I didn’t think he brought the shovel because he was planning on digging.

  “Oh yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?” Laughter hung on Winston’s face.

  Now Marcelo drew his sword. The telltale shliiing pierced Winston’s laughter. He paused, but just for a moment. “You think a sword scares me?”

  “No. But mine should scare you.”

  A flicker of doubt crossed even the hardiest of Winston’s companions, but Winston remained unaffected. I had no idea how Marcelo, with his one sword, would defeat a dozen armed men.

  But I also knew what Winston apparently didn’t: Marcelo was a wizard.

  Maggie and I watched Marcelo closely. We had no idea of Marcelo’s capabilities, and we didn’t want to miss whatever came next.

  “Maggie and Thomas, go inside the house and bolt the doors. These men won’t be bothering you any longer.”

  Maggie looked regretful that she would miss the show, but she didn’t hesitate in complying. I heard Thomas throwing the bolts and Maggie pulling the shutters shut.

  Marcelo looked at Winston’s companions. “You are free to go, as long as you cause no harm here. I have no quarrel with any of you.”

  None of them moved. They couldn’t decide if they were more afraid of Marcelo or Winston.

  To Winston, Marcelo said, “You too can leave unharmed if you leave right now. But you can never bother Lady Clara again. Forget her.”

  Winston moved closer to us. He lunged at Marcelo, sword first. Marcelo deflected Winston’s sword. Then he led his horse away from me, effectively drawing Winston away with him.

  I edged farther away, to the side of Winston and his troop, pointing my horse toward the open driveway beyond them. I knew Marcelo and I might need to make an escape. We were vastly outnumbered, and Winston and the men behind him gave off the impression that they’d killed many times before. They emanated a general disregard for the life and well-being of others.

  Despite Marcelo’s admirable display of bravado, I didn’t know how skilled he was with a sword, or if he could defend us through the use of magic. There was an inherent danger in using magic around people such as these. The effects of Marcelo’s actions could be long lasting.

  But I soon realized there was nothing to fear. Marcelo understood the consequences of his choices better than I did.

  As he pushed Winston’s sword back, Winston’s horse reared. Winston appeared to be as surprised as I was, but Marcelo didn’t look surprised at all.

  It was then that I looked at Marcelo’s face more closely and discovered the same look he had when he was attempting to resolve a problem. I recognized the telltale signs that his mind was moving rapidly, solving the present problem through a quick consideration of possible solutions.

  His head pointed forward toward Winston, but his eyes only vaguely watched him.

  That was the first time I considered that Marcelo might be truly brilliant.

  My shivering had subsided some, but not all the way. Winston and his men would have no trouble hurting me or anyone I cared about.

  Marcelo remained calm and in control. The lives of three people and the responsibility of safe escape landed on him. He didn’t shirk from the weight of it.

  And as Winston’s horse reared again, I knew this had to be Marcelo’s magic. I didn’t know how Marcelo was affecting the horse, but it was the only reasonable explanation. Horses like these, trained in a house of nobility, were reliable and predictable.

  If the Court at Chester was anything like the Court at Norland, I knew it was likely that Winston had chosen the horse himself and been a part of his horse’s training. Winston and his horse would have grown very comfortable with each other before the horse would accompany him on scouting expeditions. The nobility didn’t take chances with its steeds.

  The astonishment on Winston’s face confirmed my suspicions. His horse didn’t usually act like this.

  “Whoa, boy. Whoa, Warrior. Whoa. Whoa. It’s all right, boy.” Winston rubbed his hand along Warrior’s neck while the horse puffed hot air. He held on to Warrior’s harness with the other hand.

  It was a miracle that Warrior hadn’t thrown him the two times he reared. Winston was unprepared for the unexpected behavior and survived it only because his instincts made him clutch the horse’s body with his legs.

  “It’s all right, boy. Shhh. Shhh.” Winston actually so
unded nice when he spoke to his horse.

  Warrior began to calm at his master’s soothing.

  But that was not part of Marcelo’s plan. There were eleven men in Winston’s company, and now eleven horses reared in a racket of whinnies and snorts.

  The men were assembled close to one another. Their horses fought for space. They reared almost on top of one another until their masters pulled them back.

  The banded group dispersed by necessity.

  Two of the horses threw their riders before galloping up the drive, disappearing quickly. The men lay on the ground for only a moment before crawling out of the way of crashing hooves.

  The remaining horses continued their attempts to throw their masters. They bucked and reared, and I knew more men would fall to the ground shortly.

  Like the men, the chaos had temporarily consumed my attention. Now I remembered Marcelo and turned to find him. He wasn’t facing the scene of thrashing horses. He faced the lake house.

  Then, he turned to find me.

  He discovered me already looking at him and gave me a subtle nod.

  I set my horse in motion. Marcelo was on my heels.

  We charged up the drive as fast as our horses could carry us.

  I looked behind me several times, but the scene was the same: riders struggling with their horses and men holding their sides or limbs in pain from nasty falls.

  Marcelo pulled up beside me.

  “What about Maggie and Thomas?” I called over the drumming of hooves.

  “They’ll be safe. I cast a spell. Winston and his band won’t be able to enter, disturb, or set fire to the house.”

  A rush of relief came with Marcelo’s answer. I’d worried that Winston would get frustrated if he couldn’t enter the house and try to burn Maggie and Thomas alive inside it.

  “Thank you, Marcelo.” I very much meant it.

  The Business of Cruel Fates

  We rode hard until our horses and I grew tired. Once we left Winston and his men behind, the trembling finally subsided. The fear and tension left exhaustion in its place. I felt like a rag doll in the saddle. I asked for a break.