by Julie Abe
The pain of that extraction spell would be nothing compared to the pain of losing my magic forever. “There must be some sort of mistake. I’ve created tons of spells, I swear. I’ve done plenty of good.”
“Some magic is not enough magic,” he snapped.
“There was that time I helped my father with an oven that combusted—I enchanted a box to hold in the heat so he could keep baking. I’m handy with repairing things.”
“Once,” he sniffed. “Is this what we should let our magic be reduced to? The realm needs us to do real spells, not cook up party snacks.”
I squeezed my arms around my book, as if it could shield me from Grottel. “But I—”
“Aren’t you the witch who summoned a field of cabbage instead of flowers when you attempted creation enchantments?”
“The farmer didn’t need to worry about harvesting anymore! Plus, it’s because I have an affinity for repairs rather than creation magic—I mean, at least I think I do.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I have received reports from some of the citizens you have ‘helped.’ The only reason you have a so-called affinity for repair magic is because you keep breaking things, is it not?”
“Well, I—”
He spoke over me, magnifying his voice throughout the hall. “And when you tried weather magic, you brought down a thunderstorm instead of sending off rain clouds?”
In one of the rows behind me, Conroy snickered. My blood boiled.
“But I fixed it!” I protested.
“And for all of these cases, you took a nap before you ‘repaired’ the problems you created?”
“I didn’t want to, I just…”
I had run out of magic before I could fix the thunderstorm, and Mother, who usually helped sweep up my mistakes, was off on the queen’s business. So when I’d fallen asleep, drained of magic, a crack of thunder had woken me up. It’d been the talk of the town, but I hadn’t realized word had gotten to Grottel, too.
I glared at Conroy, who sneered as he twirled his ticket in his hand.
But then I looked around the hall. Nearly a quarter of the witches and wizards were shaking their heads more and more vigorously, rumbling with disapproval.
I felt like a piece of dust, about to get charmed into oblivion. I’d dreamed of being a witch like my mother all my life. I needed to be Eva Evergreen, Novice-Witch-in-Training.
If the Council took my powers, I’d be just Eva, a magicless girl.
I tried to speak. “Sir, Grand Master…”
The rest of the Council overpowered my words, muttering as loud as the Torido Rivers rumbling on by.
But Mother’s voice soared above the rest. “I believe Eva deserves a chance to become a Novice Witch.”
She stepped to my side, the worry on her face mirroring mine. “There’s a shortage of us, Hayato. We need all the magic we can get, especially with the Culling coming.”
Grand Master Grottel shook his head. “She’s a liability. As if a girl with a pinch of magic could shield the realm against the Culling. Go to the infirmary, girl.”
His henchmen reached for my arms, one of them stepping between Mother and me.
“Wait, wait!” My throat tightened as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
One of Grottel’s cronies reached out to pluck away my witch’s hat, and I scrambled backward, my chest pounding as I bumped into a chair.
My precious book, The Guide for Questing Witches and Wizards, tumbled from my arms and fell open to chapter five, with the familiar drawing of a girl heading off on her Novice quest, a broom resting on her shoulder and her hat set at a jaunty slant.
This was my favorite chapter. I had always imagined myself to be just like her. I swallowed the lump in my throat and held back my tears.
“Chapter five…” I murmured, kneeling to gather the magical tome in my hands. “Chapter five.”
“Move,” growled one of Grottel’s henchmen, towering above me.
“Chapter five. The rules for our quests.”
“Huh?”
“Grand Master Grottel,” I said slowly. Wild hope bloomed in my chest, as if I’d cast a spell on myself. I reached out and picked up my dear, favorite book and brushed it off. “I may have peculiar magic. I may only have a little bit compared to Mother or you or any of the witches or wizards here, but I still have magic.”
“Not enough.”
Slowly, I stood up. “Even a pinch of magic is enough.”
I turned the book around and pointed at the top of the page. My blood felt like it was dancing from a spell, zipping from my heart straight down to my fingertips. “Chapter five, section twenty-three.”
I read it out:
REQUIREMENTS TO PASS THE NOVICE QUEST
All those with magic must go on a quest.
To show themselves worthy of passing this test.
ONE: Help your town, do good all around.
TWO: Live there for one moon, don’t leave too soon.
THREE: Fly by broomstick, the easiest trick.
The rules are simple for the valiant, clever, and strong.
But if you cannot continue, you do not belong.
I shivered as I read the last line. But the law was absolute. The Council lived by these rules. Without them, our realm would be weakened by those using rogue magic, meaning some sort of magic that wasn’t overseen by the Council. A spell gone wrong by an unchecked witch or wizard. A mistake that turned deadly.
There’d been incidents years back, as magic waned and some witches and wizards cast magic unchecked. A rogue witch had, with one wayward spell, decimated an entire town. Now, apprenticeships and the quests ensured that witches and wizards were trained and licensed and swore by the mission of the Council: Do good.
“It says that any Apprentice gets to go on their journey. As long as they have magic.” I stared down Grand Master Grottel. “Let the judge be the leader of the town that I end up in. I swear I’ll uphold the Council’s rules and do good.”
Those who hadn’t sided with Grottel nodded in support.
Grottel scanned the hall, a vein throbbing in his forehead. Then his eyes narrowed at me. I fought my nervous urge to try to charm myself into the ground. He couldn’t possibly disregard the rules of the quest—it would be like disregarding the rules of the Council.
Kaya and a handful of Mother’s closest friends shifted closer toward us. The air brewed thick with a heaviness, like clouds forming before a thunderstorm.
“The rules are much too lenient,” Grottel snapped. He flicked his hand at Norya, who scribbled something onto a paper and tapped her wand, casting a quick spell. She bowed low, the paper held high as she raised her hands above her head.
He jabbed his wand at the paper. It glowed gold and lifted up into the air. The crowd hushed in surprise.
Grottel growled, “Evalithimus Evergreen, although you have yet to show any noteworthy enchantments, we hope to see that your pinch of magic is not a fluke.”
He flicked his wrist and incanted a spell. “Fly to the girl.” Grottel, like my mother, was powerful enough to be able to use the barest of commands for simple spells. The golden ticket shot into the air and fluttered down to my fingertips.
I clutched the ticket, my hands shaking with excitement, and read it out:
ONE BOAT TICKET TO A TOWN IN NEED
FOR YOUR NOVICE QUEST
My heart soared. “Thank you, Grand Master Grottel. I promise I’ll do good by the Council.”
“Good luck with your attempt. Your boat leaves in an hour,” he sniped. He turned on his heel and stalked away.
Norya hurried up to me, a kind smile warming her eyes, and handed over a black tube. “Your Novice quest rules and application—keep it safe, and make sure to get the application properly signed. Best of luck to you, Apprentice Evergreen. I hope to call you Novice Evergreen when we meet next.”
As Norya hurried off to follow Grottel, Mother wrapped her arm around my shoulder with a cheeky grin. “You’ve made Hayato l
isten for once. You’ll be a witch like me in no time.”
I smiled as if I was as certain as she was.
But sweat trickled down my back as I stumbled out of the Council Hall, in Mother’s footsteps and to Father’s awaiting arms. How in the realm was I going to pull this off?
CHAPTER 4
DO GOOD
The wind fluttered the brim of my witch’s hat and it lifted up, as if it was planning to fly off on its own adventure, but I tugged it firmly down. I clutched my knapsack and broom, staring in awe at the tall boat bobbing in the water. We had rushed from the Council Hall to the docks, so I could catch the midday boat from Okayama, and made it just as they’d started boarding.
“All packed? Got the croissants?” Father patted my knapsack and then blinked quickly, staring at the foaming peaks of the river as if it was to blame. “Darn that water, spraying in my eyes.”
“All packed,” I echoed.
“I saw you got a copy of Potions of Possibilities.” Mother frowned, prodding her cherrywood wand at the buckles of my knapsack, checking that they were latched and secured for the thirtieth time. “I know potions are out of fashion, but you may find that tome useful.”
“Along with the smoked mackerel, the huge bag of rice, the Do Good needlepoint, and the thirteen jars of odds and ends you’ve already snuck in?” I said. “My knapsack will probably sink the boat.” Father hid his laugh.
“I just want to send you off right.” She raised an eyebrow and pointed her wand at me. “Don’t make me charm you into staying.”
I knew she’d never do that. With every wish I’d made hoping to become a witch, she’d also believed that I’d become a witch like her, too. I whispered, quieter than the rush of the river, “I’m going to miss you both so much.”
Mother pulled me in for a hug, resting her head on top of mine. The smooth silk of her dress brushed my skin, and I breathed in her spicy cinnamon scent, slowing down my racing heartbeat.
“One last thing that I made for you,” she said, and pulled something from around her neck. A tiny hourglass smaller than my thumbnail, made of two glass stars meeting together, dangled on a bronze chain. Bronze, like the color of the Novice rank. My heart swelled; Mother must have picked the color wholeheartedly believing in me. “It’s charmed to your quest window, so sand trickles down as time passes, and the top star will empty out when your time is up.”
I slipped the chain over my neck. “Thank you, Mother.” Now I had a bit of her to take with me, wherever I got sent.
“One moon will pass in no time.” She brushed at the droplets of mist forming on my hat, smiling gently. “Don’t forget to meet with your town leader as soon as you get off. And have the best time with your guardian, too. But more than anything, never forget the mission of all witches and wizards, Eva.”
The first day of the Novice quest would be simple enough: meet with my new town leader, secure a guardian as the liaison between me and the town… and, always, do good. “I won’t forget.” I didn’t need a needlepoint to remember that. Even with just my pinch of magic, even if I was a fluke, I wanted to do good just like my mother.
“The Culling will hit the realm before the end of the year, though.” Father rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Come back before then.”
“It’s still early summer, Father. I’ll be home in one moon, well before it starts.” I waved the star-shaped hourglass at him, yet prickles ran down my neck.
Seven years ago, the Culling, a strange, cursed force of nature, struck the realm. Every year since, it pelted the land each autumn with anything from a sudden blizzard on a once-sunny day to an earthquake that deepened the abyss between Rivelle Realm and Constancia, the realm to the south.
In previous years, witches and wizards had tried to spell the Culling to weaken its hold on the land. Those enchantments had only enraged the Culling, which sucked up the powers of the charms to ravage the realm with an unstoppable fury.
The scrying witches and wizards could only see the rising force of nature hours before it slammed against the realm. Each time they scried for a source, something—or someone—had blocked them.
Mother believed that rogue magic was at work. Or even something far more sinister…
At previous meetings, she’d pled for Grottel to look into the possibility that the Culling had been formed through blood magic. The Hall had been in an uproar, but her words had rung true to me. It could very likely be a rogue witch or wizard sacrificing their own blood in exchange for terrifying amounts of power. But Grottel refused to listen. He’d said that the Culling was because of the current imbalance of magic within the land. That the Culling showed there were too many weak witches and wizards who couldn’t help the realm in times of need. He pointed to the other six realms as an example. Most of the other realms had less magic than us. Since Rivelle had been the first to form a Council to organize its magic users, he claimed that our Council had helped Rivelle keep the most magic.
And Grottel pointedly argued that all blood magic had been stamped out hundreds of years ago. He insisted that the source of the Culling came from one of our neighboring realms. To placate the concerns, he had sent out convoy after convoy of scrying witches and wizards, to traverse past the borders of Rivelle Realm.
Years later, they’d found nothing.
But the Culling—whether as a tornado, earthquake, or other disastrous form—continued to plague the realm every year, wrecking everything that dared stand in its path.
Although I had an affinity for repair magic, my unreliable fixes wouldn’t stand a chance against the Culling.
“Even if the Council frowns upon you returning home early, come back anytime,” Father added. “Don’t listen to those stuffy witches and wizards.”
Mother laughed. “That’s exactly what you told me years ago, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t laugh. Returning home without passing my Novice quest would mean I’d failed. The Council would strip away every last drop of magic from my blood.
I couldn’t imagine my future without magic.
As we waited for my turn to board, a little girl stumbled into me and I barely caught myself from tumbling into my father. Mother scooped her up before she could fall. “Careful now, dearie.”
The girl’s cheeks dimpled. “Thank you!” She scurried away.
My skin prickled.
“Where are her parents?” I craned my neck.
The little girl had slipped through the hordes until she stood at the end of the long pier. “Mama?” The girl waved her hands up at the grimy ship windows. She looked only two or three years old. “Mama!”
A worker walked past, heaving a tower of boxes. I tried to call out but I was too far away. He bumped into the girl, clipping her on the forehead.
Her smile melted into tears. I gasped as the girl’s arms flailed as she blindly wobbled toward the rushing river. “No!” I cried, grabbing my wand. “No harm… on ground…”
Orange light spluttered out. My magic wasn’t strong enough.
“What are you charming?” Mother spun around.
Trapped air burned in my lungs. I had to do something.…
The girl teetered over the edge and her shrill cry shot through the pier. Time seemed to slow as she fell, her eyes frozen in fear while waves licked at her, about to pull her under.
Mother whipped out her wand. “Stay safe and sound, fences all around!”
Golden light flashed. Vines sprouted from the wood, weaving into a net. It caught the girl and pushed her back to safety. The branches wove along the length of the pier until the warm glow faded, leaving behind a fence.
A pale-faced man pushed through the gathered crowd and folded the girl into his arms. “Izu! Don’t ever run off again!”
The little girl pointed over his shoulder. “Witch!”
“Izu, it’s rude to point—” He turned around and his mouth dropped open. “Are you—are you the Nelalithimus Evergreen?”
Mother tugged the brim of her wi
tch’s hat. “At your service.”
“Thank you so much, Grand Master.” The man bowed deeply. “It’s an honor.” His eyes flickered to me, at her side, and the wand in my hand. I stepped back into the crowd, letting curious onlookers push past. This was Mother’s work, not mine.
“Thank you, thank you.” The little girl stared up at my mother in awe.
My chest tightened. If only my spell had worked right, they would’ve been thanking me.
After one last bow of thanks, the man settled his daughter on his shoulders and headed back to the boat, still shaking his head in wonder. “The Nelalithimus Evergreen…”
The crowd slowly broke up, shooting final glances at my mother. They were probably trying to memorize every last detail of her to tell their families back home.
Mother slipped her wand back into her pocket as a smile danced on her lips. “I’ve been telling the dock captain to put up a barrier for years. Stick-in-the-mud wouldn’t pay the carpenters’ guild, yet didn’t want to ask for an enchantment because he was afraid the carpenters would be insulted.” Then her eyes sparkled. “I think this counts as a valid reason, right?”
Father’s grin matched hers. “They’ll have to accept it now.”
My fingers tingled, as if my magic longed to help, too. But my charm had spluttered out.
A horn blew. “Last call!” shouted the attendant at the loading ramp. I jumped. I couldn’t miss the boat. Mother’s hand curled around mine in a tight squeeze as Father helped me hoist on my knapsack and sling my broomstick over my shoulder. Mother’s eyes misted as she and Father wrapped me in one last hug. She didn’t pretend it was from the river’s spray. “We’ll miss you, Eva.”
As I hurried to the line, the shadow of the boat loomed over me. My stomach roiled like I was about to get swept out into the waves like that little girl. After I boarded, I wouldn’t have Mother’s spells to save the day.
