Spell Fade

by J. Daniel Layfield

The smile faded, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes. There was something there much more substantial than a memory. Was Aliet early? No, the body framed by the rising sun in no way resembled her small, slender stature. He took one step towards the fence, but that was as far as he got.

  “Dartan!” Mother, again. “If I have to tell you one more time to come and get breakfast, you’ll be feeding it to the pigs!” she threatened. She didn’t wait for his response, slamming the door behind her. Dartan turned back to the fence, and was not surprised to find the figure had disappeared. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and finally went in for breakfast.

  Dartan spent most of the rest of his day chasing shadows. The overwhelming feeling of being watched had him constantly looking over his shoulder. Each time sure he would see the same figure from that morning again, but he saw nothing. As the day wore on, his uneasiness grew. Soon he began to catch glimpses of movement in the corner of his eye, only to turn and find nothing. He grew desperate. As afternoon waned he began trying to catch his observer by surprise. Screams of “Ah-ha!” rang through the air as Dartan whipped himself around without warning, but he didn’t even see a bent blade of grass.

  Full on dusk settled in as Dartan finished his chores, later than usual, and he decided to give it one last shot. A shadow on the far side of the barn caught his eye, and he bolted for it, spade raised high above his head, yell poised on his lips. After an entire day of seeing nothing, he nearly fell backwards when he rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a figure.

  “What are you doing, child?” It was Mother, standing steady, but with a look of concern for him in her eyes.

  His face recovered from the shock quickly, but his heart refused to quiet. “Have you felt,” he began, then changed his mind. “I mean, have you seen anything strange today?” Her look didn’t change, so he frantically continued. “Anything unusual? Anything at all out of the ordinary?”

  “Yes,” she said with a raised hand to stop him. “I certainly have, child.”

  “Really?!” Finally some validation of everything he had been experiencing – all of the feelings and glimpses. “Where? What?” He could barely contain himself.

  She folded her arms across her chest, narrowed her eyes, and silently looked him up and down. She shook her head, then turned back towards the house without another word.

  Me? He shook his head, then almost laughed aloud, imagining how his antics must have looked. “Me!” he called out to her, but she didn’t respond. At least Aliet had not been around to see his behavior. Looking like a fool in front of Mother was bad enough, but with Aliet there would be merciless and unending teasing.

  Wait. Why hadn’t she shown up today? His relief changed suddenly to concern. She normally stopped by every day, and if she wasn’t going to, he knew about it. Had she said anything yesterday? No, not that he could remember.

  “We’re not going to have a repeat of breakfast this evening, are we?” Mother called from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. He couldn’t see her face from where he stood, but he knew the tone. He would not get three warnings before he saw his dinner tossed out to the animals.

  “No, ma’am,” he quickly called back, headed for the open door without another glance around. Had he bothered to look he would have seen the figure watching him again from the fence line between his farm and Aliet’s.

  Chapter Three

  There was no escaping the hooded figure. Instead of hiding in his peripheral, it now stood firmly in his path at every turn. While there was no malice in its presence, he sensed it wanted something from him. But what?

  Tired of running, Dartan finally stood his ground and faced the figure. Although, truthfully, he could see nothing of a face under the darkness of its hood. Dartan opened his mouth a demand for answers on his lips, but no sound escaped them. He tried to cough, to clear his throat, but there was only silence. He feared he may have been stalked and captured by Death himself.

  “He’s not ready.” It was Mother’s voice, coming from somewhere in front of him, past the hooded figure. Again, he tried in vain to call out a warning to her.

  “That’s not your decision to make,” replied an unfamiliar voice. “And, ready or not, his time has come.”

  Dartan strained to see around the dark figure, looking for Mother, but the blackness was growing, filling his entire field of vision. This was it, he must be dying. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wishing to witness Death lay final claim to his body. Nothing happened. When he creaked open his eyes he was staring at the ceiling in his room.

  Dartan lay still as the images and feelings of the dream slowly drained from his body. The only thing that remained were the voices.

  “His time has come?” Mother mocked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  There was an irritated huff from her male visitor before he answered in a voice increasing in volume as he spoke. “It means there are things happening out of my control, and only he has the power to stop them.” He paused, and his voice returned to its normal tone as he added, “Either he is ready, or he is dead.” There was another pause, and then, almost too low for Dartan to hear, “Everyone will be dead.”

  “Oh, it’s life or death, is it?” Dartan had heard that tone from Mother before. “Well, by all means, just take him and throw him right into the middle of it, unprepared.”

  “He won’t be unprepared,” the man replied. “That’s why I’m here. Your job is done. You’ve raised and protected him to the best of your ability, but now-,”

  “The best of my ability?” she interrupted. Dartan could hear the anger and could even picture the scarlet streaks certainly spreading up her neck by now. He had not incurred her wrath many times, but it was a sight one did not forget. “I was torn from my own family and life, plopped on this farm, and saddled with what should have been your responsibility for the last twenty years. We’ve not seen or heard from you even once during that time, and yet somehow everything has turned out just fine. The truth is, you know nothing of my abilities.”

  “Nor you of mine,” his voice was low, and while Dartan wasn’t positive it was a threat, it did quiet Mother.

  Dartan had no doubt he was the subject of their conversation, and it was strange listening to them talk about him as if he weren’t just in the next room. Who was this man Mother had allowed into their home, and how could Dartan be his responsibility? He had never heard her talk about him like this to anyone, and in the quiet that followed he found himself straining to hear everything.

  “Shh!” the voice commanded. “Be quiet, woman.”

  “I’m not talking,” she hissed back. Dartan held his breath, waiting for one of them to speak again, not daring to move.

  As he lay listening, a warm feeling began to envelope the top of his head. It slowly melted down towards his face, and pushed against his eyelids, causing them to grow heavy. He closed his eyes, and in the blackness a shape began to form. It started as a swirling grey mist, and he grew uneasy as it slowly solidified into the unmistakable shape of a hood. Just as in his dream there was no face, but two brilliant white lights now blazed where eyes should have been. The light swept left and right, searching, until it finally shone directly into his own eyes. It blocked out everything else, and was so painfully bright it forced his eyes open. He was again staring at the ceiling.

  “It’s him,” the man stated. “The boy is awake.”

  “Of course he is, you old fool,” Mother cackled. “He’s been awake for most of our conversation. How’s that for a special ability?” Dartan wasn’t sure whose method was more disturbing, but he didn’t have long to wonder.

  “Dartan,” Mother called to him. “That’s enough eavesdropping. Come out now and meet our guest.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “I know he’s anxious to meet you.”

  “Coming, Mother,” he answered with no enthusiasm. No sense in pretending he’d been asleep. He rolled from the bed, quickly dressed, and walked the few steps into the kitchen.

  Upon ente
ring the room, Dartan wondered if he might not still be asleep. The old man seated across from Mother did not have a hood covering his head, but the robe he wore looked exactly like the one on the figure tormenting him since the day before. The man’s eyes met his own, and when Dartan blinked the old man’s image was replaced with the faceless hooded figure for an instant. His breath caught in his throat, and when he opened his eyes, two pairs were staring back at him.

  “Are you all right, child?” Mother asked with a note of real concern. “You look pale,” then absently added, “as if you’d seen a ghost.”

  “Or something from a dream,” the man added with only the faintest hint of a smile. Mother eyed him, but didn’t comment.

  “I’m fine,” Dartan managed to stammer out. “Still just waking up is all.” Mother nodded and directed him to a chair.

  “Have a seat, child,” she said. “You’ll want to be sitting down while you talk to that one,” she added with a finger pointed towards the old man. He had been on the other end of that accusing finger enough times to be glad he wasn’t its target this time. “I’ll make us something to eat,” she said as she rose from the table. While she shuffled around behind him, Dartan turned his full attention to the old man.

  How old was he, Dartan wondered. It was hard determining his age since most of his face was covered in white hair. It spilled off his head, framed his face, and rested on his shoulders. His eyes, and the wrinkles around them, showed some age, but everything else was covered in a white beard that disappeared somewhere under the table. From what Dartan could see, he could be the same age as Mother, or over a hundred.

  Dartan quickly realized he wasn’t the only one observing. The old man’s eyes looked him up and down before resting an unimpressed gaze on his eyes. Dartan stared back, attempting to look disinterested, but that quickly changed when the old man disappeared. It was only for a slit second, but it was enough to make Dartan recoil from the table in surprise, scratching the chair legs loudly against the floor.

  “What has gotten in to you this morning, Dartan?” Mother asked.

  “He … not there … and then,” Dartan struggled with the words, becoming increasingly frustrated. Mother’s face changed to a look of concern, while the old man went from one raised eyebrow of interest to two raised in shock. What was happening to him? The disappearing old man, the dream, the hooded figure – there was only one explanation for all of it, and now it was in their home.

  “Magic!” he finally blurted out, finger pointed at the old man. That one word unloosed his tongue. “He’s a wizard, Mother!” She started to respond, but was cut short by the man.

  “I’m the wizard, actually,” he corrected Dartan.

  “You mean, they finally sent someone to help our village?” Dartan asked, unsure what this had to do with him.

  “No, boy,” the wizard shook his head. “This village is all but dead. Think bigger.” This dead village was his home, and Dartan knew almost nothing of the world beyond its borders. ‘Bigger’ could mean anything, and he didn’t care for the wizard belittling his home.

  “Oh, so you’re peddling potions and spells to desperate people in a dead village, who are looking for any help to just get through another day?” Mother dropped a pot hard against the stove, and Dartan didn’t blame her. Even he wondered from where such an outburst came.

  “Dartan,” Mother whirled around from the stove, “that is not how we speak to guests in this house!”

  “No, it’s quite alright,” the wizard said. “Considering his upbringing, I’m not the least bit surprised at his attitude towards wizards.” Compliment or insult wasn’t clear, but Mother simply waved her hands and returned to the stove. The wizard then turned to Dartan. “I’m not sure exactly how a door-to-door charlatan is supposed to be ‘bigger’ than your previous guess, but try again. This time think much, much bigger.”

  Dartan swallowed hard. He didn’t know much about magic and wizards, but he did know who was at the top. He leaned forward and whispered, “The Great Wizard, Alain?” The wizard nodded his head slightly and Dartan leaned closer. “But you don’t look anything like him.” Alain almost laughed aloud as he looked down at himself.

  “And here I thought I looked every bit the part of a wizard,” Alain said.

  “Perhaps you do,” offered Dartan, who had only seen one wizard in his life, “but you don’t look anything like Alain as I’ve heard him described.”

  “Really?” Alain leaned back, stroking his beard. “And where exactly,” he asked, casting a glance in Mother’s direction, “would you have heard someone describing me?”

  The tray of food slammed loudly onto the table between the two. Before Dartan could say anything, Mother’s face was directly in front of his own.

  “And that,” she explained, “is the reason I don’t like wizards.” Alain’s eyes grew wide in mock surprise, but it was obvious this argument had played out in various forms many times before. Mother continued her side without any prompting. “The only thing worse than their secrets or arrogance is their inability to be direct. They can’t just come right out and say something. No, they have to be mysterious and all-knowing about it.” She punctuated her rant with a wave of her hands and a “Bah!”

  Alain simply shrugged his shoulders and asked, “So, has she told you anything about me, boy?”

  “No,” Mother interrupted. “Of course I haven’t. I’ve done just as promised and have kept him as far from magic as possible.”

  Alain’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward in his seat. “But that was only in his youth, right?” he insisted. “Surely by now he has grown curious. He has shown signs of talent,” he pleaded.

  “Are you telling me, or asking?”

  “Now who’s being indirect?” Alain scolded. “Does he have the gift or not?”

  She waved her hands dismissively again as she moved away from the table. “How should I know? Can’t you tell one of your own?”

  “Perhaps,” he pondered over Dartan a moment before adding, “if I were physically here.” His image flickered again as though to prove the point. “So, what about it, boy? Do you feel like you have the gift?”

  Dartan didn’t even have to consider the question. He had never felt special. Orphaned by a dead mother and uncaring father, he had decided long ago he was lucky just to be where he was. There was no reason to expect or hope for anything more.

  “Despite its grim beginning,” Dartan answered, “I have received many precious gifts in my life.” He glanced towards Mother as he spoke, but she pretended not to notice. “But do I feel magical?” He simply shook his head. “There have certainly been days when I wished I could have waved a hand and had my chores completed, but it’s never happened. The only thing keeping this farm going is hard, back-breaking work.” His eyes met the wizard’s, and he hoped the small shaking in his knees was not noticeable under the table. This was the only conversation he had ever held with a wizard, and he was daring to insult him, to mock his talents? Then again, Alain had come seeking him out, and to this point he felt he owed him nothing.

  Alain, for his part, seemed to be barely listening. It wasn’t until Dartan mentioned the farm that any sort of life returned to the image of the old man. It suddenly grew clearer, more vibrant, and his eyes brightened. “Yes, the farm, of course,” he said absently to himself. “Why of all the farms in this village do you suppose yours has been the lone one unaffected by the passing of the wizard who lived here?” He didn’t pause or even look to them for an answer. Dartan wondered if he was really even speaking to them at all. “Its fortune must be due to some other source of magic, and I reason that source must be the boy.”

  “Well, I reason that it’s due to nothing more than fortune itself,” Mother interjected. “With so much bad luck in the boy’s life, he was owed a bit of good.” Unable to stop herself, she continued, “Besides, we aren’t the only farm unaffected. Our neighbors have experienced the same good fortune as ourselves, which makes sense to me when
you think about it. After all, we share some of the same soil and water.” She paused a moment and lowered her eyes before adding quietly, “I believe they may be owed some good due to their misfortune as well.” She let out a small sigh. “That poor man had to leave his own life, and practically raise his sister on his own.”

  “Sister?” The wizard’s interest was piqued.

  “Yes,” Mother answered. “She’s only a year younger than Dartan, and her parents died not long after we arrived here. I think that’s one of the reasons she and Dartan are so close.” Dartan gave her a warning grunt, followed by a stern but slight shake of his head. Mother feigned innocence, but stopped talking.

  “Is she a short, nymph of a girl,” Alain asked, oblivious of the exchange between Dartan and his mother.

  “I suppose so,” Mother ventured. “Why do you ask?”

  “I think I gave the poor girl the scare of her life yesterday,” he said with a small chuckle, but may have reconsidered had he noticed Dartan’s stone face.

  “Is she alright?” Dartan asked flatly.

  “Well, of course she is,” he answered with the same laugh. Then he added a little more heartily, “Although, I wouldn’t expect to see her around here anytime soon. She probably thought she saw a ghost.” He stopped abruptly, finally recognizing the rising anger in Dartan’s face.

  “So,” Dartan began, unflinching under the wizard’s gaze, “you think scaring young women is funny?” Had he been paying attention, he would have heard Mother choke on her drink.

  “Not at all,” the wizard replied with a broad smile. “What I do find funny is how a young girl can scare an old man who should have been paying more attention.” Confusion slipped onto Dartan’s face for a moment, and the anger began to ebb. “We were both so focused on you, Dartan, she passed right through me before either of us even noticed the other.”

  Still feeling some of the tension in the room, Mother sought to diffuse it. “You’ll have to forgive the boy,” she explained. “As you can tell, he has some strong feelings for the girl.”