Lucky or Unlucky? 13 Stories of Fate

by Michael Aaron

  Charlie finally felt like he knew the answer. “You would learn the spells, Master. You would study and prepare for when people come to see you.”

  Caldonan stared at Charlie. “And?”

  “And?” Charlie felt more confused than ever. He wracked his brain for some sort of an answer. “And…they pay you for the spells?” The last word was pure question.

  “That’s right. I spend time in my study learning and creating those spells that I think my customers will need. They come to me and I cast those spells, then they pay me. If I am wrong about what they want and don’t have the right spell available then they go to someone else and I make no money. Do you understand, now?”

  Charlie started to nod, then shook his head. “How does that have anything to do with the spells I’ve learnt?”

  Caldonan threw his hands up in the air and sighed more heavily than before appearing to count to himself. “I don’t know if you are purposefully being dense today, Charlie, or if it really hasn’t occurred to you, so let me spell it out for you.”

  He took a very deep breath and started to speak again. “The goal of any tradesman is to learn his craft well enough that people will come to him to purchase his wares. In my case, my wares are spells. I have collected and learned the spells I’ve learned because I know people will come to me for them. Things like cures for disease and spells to strengthen their crops. People will pay for those.”

  He shook his head and continued. “I learned some of those spells when I was an apprentice like you are now. For the day when I was no longer an apprentice and struck out on my own.”

  Caldonan watched Charlie for several moments. “You know, for when I was no longer an apprentice?”

  Charlie simply sat on his stool, watching his master.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Charlie! You need to learn useful spells that you can earn money from or you will starve when you leave me. Is that plain enough?”

  “When I leave you?” Charlie suddenly saw his life of leisure vanishing in a puff of smoke. “You mean, I won’t be here with you forever?”

  “Charlie, is that what you thought? Where did you ever get that idea?”

  Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just always thought I would stay here with you, serving you and learning. When you were old, I would take care of you.”

  “I see. And, when I was old, who would earn the coin that would let us continue to eat?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie admitted. “I never really thought about it.”

  “Well, think about it now. Imagine I am old and unable to cast spells to earn money any more. It’s just you and me. Who would be the one to earn the money?”

  “Me?” Charlie asked weakly.

  “And what would you do to earn that money?”

  “Sell my spells to people?”

  “Very good, Charlie! But what spells could you sell since, as we’ve already discussed, people won’t pay to have their wood chopped?”

  “New spells that I learn, I suppose,” Charlie said.

  “In your studies, have you learned how many spells an apprentice wizard is capable of learning?”

  Charlie had, in fact, come across that number. “Twelve, Master,” he said smiling and feeling rather proud of himself.

  “And how many did you say you have currently mastered?” Caldonan said, just a little too innocently.

  “Twelve,” Charlie replied, realizing at last what his master had been hinting at.

  Caldonan smiled then. “I believe you finally understand. As the next step in your apprenticeship, it is time for you to start earning money. A portion of that money will pay for your room and board and instruction. The rest is yours.” Caldonan stopped speaking to think for a moment. “But what spell will you learn, I wonder?”

  He brightened. “I know! The farmers in the area will be breeding their herds in a few weeks. You are to learn a spell to increase the fertility of the herds and improve the strength of the offspring.”

  “But, I already know twelve spells, Master. How can I learn another?”

  Caldonan dismissed the question. “You can unlearn what you have learned. Simply dispose of one of your current spells and learn the one I have told you about.”

  Charlie trudged his way down the road towards the monastery where his best friend Ambrose lived. Ambrose would know what to do and that was good because Charlie certainly didn’t.

  How could Caldonan order him to unlearn one of his precious spells? Each and every one of them were as dear to Charlie as his own children. Well…his own children if he actually had any.

  Charlie turned his vision inward to his mind and watched the golden sparks that were the spells buzzing around. The new one was already part of the happy swarm.

  Charlie couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

  That smile quickly disappeared as he considered which spell he might have to unlearn.

  Surely Caldonan understood how special and important each spell was? But then again, Caldonan was old and unkind. He probably didn’t care about his spells the way Charlie did. He had probably learned and unlearned so many spells over his life that he no longer felt any attachment to his magic.

  That must be it. Caldonan was heartless and could no longer feel the joy of his own magic.

  Charlie hoped he would never feel that way. What would be the point to being a wizard if you couldn’t enjoy it?

  Well, other than the power, obviously.

  For several steps Charlie considered never returning to the tower that was now his home. Maybe he should just keep walking and never have to unlearn any of his precious spells.

  But no! As Caldonan had so ruthlessly pointed out, Charlie had no ability to earn money with his magic. Well, beyond doing simple drudge work, which really didn’t pay much at all.

  He would have to find another way.

  Charlie quickened his pace and, within another hour, he saw the low wall that surrounded the monastery. Ambrose had helped him out of jams before. He could do it again.

  Immediately inside the gates of the monastery began the acres of garden that seemed to be the monks’ mission in life. As always, several of the brothers were bent over, weeding and harvesting the garden’s bounty.

  It took Charlie several minutes of searching before he finally spied the bent over form of Brother Ambrose.

  “Ambrose! It’s me, Charlie.”

  Ambrose stood at the sound of his name and wiped sweat out of his eyes. When he recognized Charlie he smiled. “Charlie. I was wondering when you would get here.”

  That was odd. Charlie never visited Ambrose on a regular schedule and he hadn’t sent word ahead to tell his friend that he was coming.

  Ambrose carefully made his way out of the garden to Charlie. “I would offer to shake your hand, my friend, but as you can see…” He held up his hands to show the drying mud from his labours.

  “That’s okay, Ambrose,” Charlie said. He cleared his throat. “Say, Ambrose, what did you mean you were wondering when I would get here?”

  Ambrose grinned. “Come with me and I’ll show you. Much easier than explaining.”

  He led Charlie out of the garden, stopping only to wash and get a drink from one of the monastery’s pumps. Then he took Charlie into the main building and to his cell.

  Ambrose ushered Charlie into the stark room and closed the rough wooden door behind him. “I think a little privacy is needed.”

  “So what’s with all the secrecy, Ambrose? And what did you mean back in the garden?”

  “Only this,” Ambrose said, digging under the pallet that was his bed. He pulled out a dog-eared book and held it up for Charlie to see. The word Almanack was emblazoned across the front.

  Charlie took the book from his friend and looked at it. He flipped through a couple pages. He shook his head. “I don’t understand, Ambrose.”

  Ambrose’s expression didn’t change. He took the book back from Charlie and spent a few moments finding a page. He held it up again, this t
ime showing Charlie the open book. The title of the page was simply, Wizards.

  “I don’t understand,” Charlie said.

  Ambrose shook his head and smiled. “I was reading the book last night before bed when I came on this chapter.” He looked at Charlie expectantly. “Don’t you see?”

  When Charlie shook his head, Ambrose gave an exasperated sigh. “Charlie! It’s clearly a sign.” He waited to see if Charlie grasped the implication. When nothing was forthcoming he spoke again. “A sign from God! He has finally seen fit to speak to me through this book.”

  “From…God?” Charlie said the words slowly, trying to make sense of his friend’s excitement. “That happens a lot, does it?”

  “No! Of course it doesn’t, Charlie. It means…well never mind what it means. It was just a sign to me that you would be coming, that’s all.”

  Charlie could hear the disappointment in his friend’s voice but chose to ignore it. What was important right this very moment wasn’t signs and messages from God. What was truly important was his problem with learning a new spell.

  “Ambrose, tell you what. One day soon we can go to the Golden Gamecock in town, share a couple pints and you can explain the significance of all this, okay? Right now, I have a huge problem!”

  Ambrose shook his head and sat down on the pallet. “Okay, Charlie, I’ll bite. What’s gone horribly wrong in your life this time?”

  Charlie felt a little hurt by his friend’s tone of voice. “Why did you have to go and say it that way, Ambrose?”

  “Because, Charlie, the only time you come to see me is when you have a huge problem.”

  “That’s not the only time I come around! I come just to visit you, too.”

  Ambrose just sat and smiled at him in that unfair, annoying way he had. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is or do I need to guess?”

  “Well, if you’re going to be like that, perhaps I won’t tell you,” Charlie said, more than a little petulantly.

  “Fine, Charlie,” Ambrose said, getting up. “Then, I must be back to the gardens and my weeding. The plants will not flourish on their own. There are many mouths to feed in the area.”

  He was almost out the door before Charlie spoke. “Stop, Ambrose! Please, I desperately need your help. I am at my wit’s end.”

  Ambrose muttered something Charlie didn’t quite catch, but when he turned, there was a bright smile on his face. “How can I help you, Charlie?”

  Charlie sat down on the pallet then and told Ambrose the whole, sad tale. How Caldonan was being unfair by forcing him to unlearn one of the useful spells he knew and replace it with another to earn money.

  Charlie walked briskly toward town. Ambrose had not disappointed. He had pulled out the Almanack and read the entry to Charlie about wizards. Being a wizard himself (or at least an apprentice), Charlie knew most of the information already. What had escaped him, however, was how wizards sometimes used wands and staffs.

  “To focus their power,” was what the Almanack’s author had written. It didn’t say much more beyond that, but Charlie got the impression that maybe, just maybe, he could also store spells in said implements of wizardly craft.

  If that were the case, his problem was practically solved. All he had to do was find or create a wand or staff.

  How hard could that be?

  Charlie was in luck when he reached town. It was market day and farmers and traders from all around the town were on the streets and set up in the market-field. Charlie didn’t bother with any of the street vendors, even though his stomach was quick to remind him it was empty. The few coins he possessed had to be saved for the purchase of a staff, or at least a wand.

  To soothe his belly’s complaints, Charlie pulled a piece of dried meat from his pack and gnawed on it as he entered the market.

  Tents and stalls of every size and color lined haphazard, winding trails through the field. Some vendors were simply farmers seated with their wares. Others had menacing guards glowering at everyone who passed by. The sights, smells and sounds mesmerized Charlie, almost making him forget his mission.

  He wandered the market for almost an hour before he finally saw something interesting. A woman sat in the shade of a faded and patched open-sided tent watching people pass by. As she sat, she whittled on a forearm-long branch of alderwood.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Charlie said, ducking into the tent. “May I ask what you are making?”

  The woman who had looked old from afar and positively ancient and gnarled up close, eyed Charlie up and down. “And who be you, barging in here uninvited and asking an old woman such a question? Perhaps I’m carving a switch to tan your britches?”

  Charlie knew from personal experience better than to irritate anyone old and crotchety. He backed up a step. “My apologies, madam. I just saw you working and I thought maybe you were carving a wand.”

  A dangerous glint flashed in the crone’s eyes and she looked even closer at Charlie. “And what does a young scamp such as yerself know of wands, hmm?”

  Charlie took another step back. “Well, lady, I am an apprentice to the wizard, Caldonan, if you must know. My master has used a wand to practice magic in the past.”

  “I see, young apprentice,” the woman said, leaning toward him. “And ye be right in yer guessing, though matters such as wands should not be spoken of openly.”

  “What do you mean, ma’am?” Charlie asked, feeling, for the first time, a bit of bravery in the face of the old woman.

  “The common folk don’t like bein’ reminded of magic and such. The display and talk of wands and other such things is usually kept to the privacy of one’s home.”

  “Oh.” Charlie suddenly felt very foolish. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I did not mean to be rude or put you in harm’s way.”

  The old woman threw her head back and laughed at that. “Don’t ye be worryin’ none about old Hilda. I can take care of myself.” Her expression sobered then. “And, while ye were right about what I be makin’, I’m afeared that it will do the likes of you no good. This wand be made for a woman only. For a young man, such as yerself, it be naught more than a pretty stick.”

  Charlie’s face fell. “Oh, well, thank you anyway, ma’am. I guess I should be going.”

  “Wait, young man, for just a moment. Ye have me curious. Why would ye be wantin’ a wand? I know Caldonan and he holds little use for such except in his research.”

  “I need to learn another spell, and I think a wand is the only way to do it,” Charlie said. “My master has instructed me to learn a spell that will help earn my keep, but I have already learned the most spells I can.”

  “Ye have learned twelve spells already? That be impressive, youngster.”

  “Thank you, but I must learn a thirteenth because I don’t want to lose any of the ones I already know. I had hoped to find a way to…I don’t know…store a spell.”

  The woman nodded. “Wands can hold magic, true enough. But ye will need to find one crafted by a wizard like yer master.”

  “But where would I find such a person?” Charlie asked. “The only wizard I know is my master.”

  She considered Charlie’s question for several moments. “I’ve heard tell of a wandering wizard who sometimes comes to these gatherings. I believe his name is Alcheron. Ask around and ye may find him.”

  That sounded promising! “Thank you so much, madam! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  She smiled, showing crooked and rotting teeth. “Fair thee well, young man. And please, send my regards to yer master.”

  Charlie nodded and almost ran out of the tent. Once back in the sunshine, he looked around, hoping the mystery wizard might be nearby. That didn’t work so he had to do it hard way, asking, one person at a time.

  Another hour passed and Charlie was beginning to think Alcheron was a wild goose chase. Many of the vendors had heard of him, of course, but none had seen him.

  He was about to leave when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
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br />   Charlie turned to face a middle-aged man wearing a nondescript brown, homespun robe.

  “I hear you have been asking around for Alcheron,” the man said.

  “Er…yes? And who are you?” Charlie asked.

  “I know Alcheron. I can take you to him.”

  “Really? Please do!” Charlie said. He eagerly followed the man away from the crowd, in behind many of the tents. A small voice of alarm shouted out in his mind. Charlie ignored it and continued following until they were well away from the crowds.

  The man turned and pulled a wand from his sleeve and pointed it at Charlie. “Now, you will tell me why you have been asking about me.” He looked closely at Charlie. “Should I know you because you don’t look at all familiar!”

  Charlie held his hands up and spoke quickly. “I…I’ve been looking for you because I’m hoping you can help me!”

  “Help you?” The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How?”

  “Well, Mr. Alcheron, sir, I’m an apprentice to Caldonan. I need a wand or a staff or something to store spells in so I can learn a new spell that my master has ordered.”

  “A wand? You want me to help you with a wand? And why should I do that?”

  “I can pay!” Charlie held up his few coins. “I need to learn another spell because my master has ordered it. A thirteenth spell.”

  “Why not just unlearn one of your current spells?” Alcheron asked. He looked at Charlie again. “Did you say your master is Caldonan?”

  “Yes, sir. And I don’t want to lose any of my existing spells. I worked too hard to learn them.”

  Alcheron didn’t seem to be listening. “Caldonan, you say? Hmm.” He hummed to himself for several moments.

  “You know, young wizard, I believe I might have just the thing to help you out,” he said, looking intently at Charlie. “I think it is very important for established wizards such as myself to help out the up-and-coming like you.”

  Charlie was surprised by the man’s abrupt change of attitude, but didn’t argue. This sounded too good an opportunity to pass up.