The End of Magic (Young Adult Dystopian Fantasy)

by GM Gambrell

Thirteen

  Duncan, over the next following days, became restless cooped up in his garden and in the now bare shed. The Magistrate had taken everything from the small building except his bed. They’d even dumped the icebox out onto the floor and he’d nearly gagged on the smell of rotting fruits and vegetables. The garden was still brown and wilting, despite his watering and repeated attempts to tell the plants it was all going to be all right. It was as if the plants sensed something was going on in his life and that they quite likely wouldn’t be needed anymore. Assuming he was found guilty, he wondered if the Magistrate would lock him up for eternity in an isolation enchantment and if anyone would take care of his garden.

  The chickens were the most upset.

  “What do you mean you might not come back?” Henrietta balked. “What are we supposed to do if you don’t?

  “I’m sure my parents will take care of you. I’ll ask them to make sure.”

  “Your parents will eat us!” Henrietta squawked and the other hens joined in. The clucking got so loud Duncan had to leave. He understood their fear of the future. He shared it.

  Unable to coax his plants to life, calm the chickens, or speak further with his parents, who’d avoided him since he and his father’s conversation, Duncan headed for the only peaceful place he knew. At least in the library he’d be able to take his mind off everything that was going on, though he knew spending a lot of time reading in the secret library would only taunt him. He wasn’t ever going to solve the mystery of where magic began if he were imprisoned for life. He’d never discover more about the people that came before or know all the secrets of their downfall.

  Everyone he passed in the streets either looked away from him or whispered to each other as he passed. They weren’t quiet enough, though, and he could hear some of what they were saying about him. The word terrorist and bomber were common enough, and one woman even scooped up her toddler and instantly teleported away on seeing him. He felt like even more of an outcast than he had his whole life. People had always looked down on him for his magic, but now they thought he was a criminal too. He could see it in their eyes.

  The school was no better. Students on the first floor openly mocked him, pointing at him and jeering. He kept his head down and headed for the entrance to the library in the ancient kitchen. He climbed down the stairs but the usual joy he felt at entering the library was gone. He was simply going to entrench himself in the books so he didn’t have to face the stares and taunts of the citizens of New Dallas. He was running away from his problems, he knew, but he didn’t know what else to do. It was a long climb down to the eighteenth floor, and when he finally stepped out and went to the arch, he found the inscriptions covered with a glass seal. He tried touching the button for the nineteenth floor, but as he expected, nothing happened.

  “Oh, Duncan,” he heard Marissa say from behind him. “I’m so sorry. They’ve locked you out of the secret library.”

  The anger at being denied access to his favorite place was overruled at the anger he felt towards his lifelong friend. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?”

  Marissa stared at her feet. She knew what he was talking about. There just wasn’t any doubt. She’d lied to him by omission his entire life.

  “At first I just didn’t think about it. We were kids. Who cared who our parents were? But as we grew up, I knew that my dad was the only reason that you got to stay in school, and I wanted you to stay here, with me. I…didn’t think you’d like me any more if you knew my father was the Lord Probate.”

  “You’ve been helping me all these years,” he said, the accumulated anger since he’d found out fading away as he thought about what his friend had done for him. “I should be thanking you.”

  “I did it because you were my friend, Duncan. You’d have done the same for me.”

  Duncan tried imagining a world in which he had magic and Marissa didn’t, and couldn’t. “I’m sorry I was angry.”

  “It’s okay…but,” she paused, “my father says I should stay away from you now. He says…” she was obviously sad at what she had to say, “…he says that being associated with you will taint our family’s image. I tried to tell him about the truth spell, but he refused to listen. I don’t know what’s come over him. He’s never been like this.”

  Duncan didn’t want to tell her what his father had said, what he thought the Lord Probate’s plan was. He didn’t want her any more worried than she already was. “The bombing was pretty bad. I can understand why he’s on edge. Even if I didn’t do it, someone did, so there’s a problem he has to deal with and taking it out on me is the easiest way, at this point.”

  “But I don’t understand why he’d say no to another truth enchantment,” Marissa countered. “It would prove you innocent.”

  “I don’t know, either,” he said, feeling as helpless as she did, “but I think it will be all right. “ He was lying, of course. He didn’t think anything would be all right.

  “No Duncan, it isn’t going to be all right. They’ve already had the trial. The Lord Probate, my father, met with the Magistrate. They are going to announce it tonight. It’s not going to get better. They are going to come looking for you, and then they’re going to put you into suspended animation forever. You…you have to run.”

  “You’re sure.”

  She shook her head sadly and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “I…” What did you say to a friend whom, one way or another, you’d never see again?

  “There isn’t anything to say. Just run.”

  And run is just what he did.