Spellcaster's Flame - Chapter One

Chapter One:  Fallen Stranger

            The penniless girl sat across from me, staring at the crystal ball between us. 

“Madam Devereux,” she asked, shivering slightly as a breeze stirred the red fabric of my tent, “will you please tell me my fortune?”

            She looked so desperate that I felt like I should give her some hope.  “Of course.”  I thought for a moment, my hands hovering over the crystal ball, mist swirling and looping around its insides.  “You will meet a tall, dark stranger very soon.  You will have a handsome beau, yes, a beau.” I thought for another second. “Sometime after that you will leave home and go on an adventure.  You will get into some trouble, and –” I paused dramatically.  “Mina says that you will –”

            “No!” The penniless girl jumped up and pointed a finger at me, her blue eyes narrowing in anger.  “That’s not how it goes!”

            “What’d I do wrong?” I asked, scrambling to my feet, wiping grass stains from my hands.

            The girl – or, rather, my sister – scowled and said, “You’re Madam Devereux, not Mina, that’s the way Pa’s story went!”  She nudged a wooden box on the ground with her toe.  “And this isn’t a good crystal ball, either.”

            I frowned.  I loved the puzzle box.  It was made of polished pieces of wood, each slender rectangle a different size or color.  The pieces could move and turn.  If I pressed the wood in a certain order, the box would snap open to reveal a hollow ball where I liked to hide things.  Some days it would contain a flower I’d found outside, others it would have a drawing I’d made.  Today it held a sparkling quartz rock I’d found just after I’d left the house. 

            “Crystal balls,” she went on with a tone of superiority, “aren’t wood, they’re clear and – and you’re supposed to see things in them.  I heard one of the women say so at the Festival last year!  But you can’t even play right, Evie!  Fortune tellers don’t just stare at the clouds, they look at their crystal ball!  This is so stupid, I don’t want to play anymore.”  

             Sasha and Marta, the dolls we’d been playing with earlier, were knocked over as she stomped to the edge of the hill and crossed her arms.

            What had I done wrong?  She’d been the one who wanted to play fortune tellers in the first place; she’d suggested it after hearing Pa’s story.  Why didn’t she want to play anymore?  I picked up the dolls and the puzzle box and tentatively took a step toward her.

           Her sand-colored curly hair blew in the breeze as she gazed across the countryside.  In the distance I could see the village of Pillaf – the small town below the hill where we lived – and the road that snaked its way up our enormous hill to our house.  The tree beside us rustled, summery green leaves brushing against each other.  A few blew off and swirled toward us.  Thalia lifted a hand to the side of her head to keep her loose hair in place. 

            “Thalie?” I asked cautiously.  I called her by the nickname I’d given her when I was three, the ‘th’ sounding soft on my tongue.  “What’s wrong?”

            She turned back to me suddenly.  I clutched the dolls to my chest as her eyes flashed angrily.  “You,” she said, “you’re what’s wrong!  You’re such a baby, Evie, playing with dolls.  I don’t have time to be playing such childish games anymore.  Grow up already!”

           “But I like dolls!” I protested, squeezing them tightly in my hands.  “What’s wrong with dolls?”

           Feeling taken aback, I looked up at her with wide eyes.  Was this because of the Big School?  Thalia had – ever since last autumn when she’d turned eight – begun attending the school in the village.  I called it the Big School because that’s where all the big children went to learn.  I wouldn’t be going there for at least another year.  However, in the time that Thalia had entered school she’d changed and sometimes she didn’t seem like my big sister anymore.   

            “Thalie –” I started to say. 

            “We can’t be little forever, Evie,” she said, her voice sharp.  “I want to grow up as soon as possible, then I can get away from here.  I don’t want to be around smelly sheep all my life, ick!”

            “Sheep aren’t that smelly,” I said thoughtfully.  “They’re fluffy like pillows.”

            “Have you ever had to clean up their dung?” she retorted.

            “Well...” I said, avoiding her gaze and looking at the ground.  I knew she knew perfectly well that I’d never had to.

            She snorted and turned away. 

            Suddenly, she said, “Oooh!  Evie, look!”  She’d been watching the road and now, instead of looking angry, she looked excited.  Her arm was stretched in front of her, pointing something out for me.

            I stood up, dolls and puzzle box cradled in my arms, animosity forgotten.  “What?” I asked, full of curiosity.  When I was by her side I saw a small dust cloud rising far below.  A dark figure was walking up the road, weaving this way and that.

            I clutched Thalia’s arm.  “Is it a drunk?” I asked fearfully.  I’d heard Pa telling Ma about such men in the pub one night when he thought I was asleep.  After that I hadn’t wanted to go into town for days and no amount of pleading or threatening on Ma’s part would make me budge.

            “How should I know?” Thalia scoffed.  Then she grinned slyly.  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

            “What’s that?” I asked.

            “Let’s go closer!”  A wild gleam was in her eyes; a wild gleam that told me I was probably going to get in a whole lot of trouble in a very short amount of time.

            “No!” I said obstinately, stamping my foot.  “Ma and Pa said not to talk to strangers!”

            “Fine,” she said, “just stay here then and be a baby.  See if I care.  I’m going to get a better look!”  With that she slid down the grassy hillside and slipped into a clump of bushes far below.

            I didn’t want to go near a drunk, but I didn’t want to miss out on something that could lead to a real adventure either.  My curiosity took over like it had so many times before and a few moments later I found myself crouched next to Thalia under a green canopy.  Our dolls were still clutched in my arms, the puzzle box pressing awkwardly against my stomach.

            The figure drew closer.  Our hands brushed aside clumps of leaves and we peered out eagerly.  The stranger was walking slowly, stopping every few feet with a hand pressed to his side.  He had a pack on his back that bobbed with every step.  The person was tall and wearing a dark cloak with the hood drawn up so it was impossible to tell whether it was a man or woman.  I wondered why he was wearing such a thing in this heat.  Wasn’t he hot?  Then that matter was pushed out of my mind as he lurched past our clump of bushes. 

            Suddenly I knew there was going to be trouble.  Even as I heard his ragged breathing I knew we would be found. The stranger halted.  I clutched Thalia’s sleeve, knowing I couldn’t stop what happened next.

            She held a finger to her lips, signaling me to be silent.  I shook my head, trying to get her to understand that wasn’t the problem.  She glared at me and I let go of her sleeve.  A moment later the feeling grew worse again and I clutched at her desperately.  It was no good.  My nose tingled.  I screwed up my face, trying not to, but a moment later...

            “Ah – ah – ah-choo!”

            Thalia threw daggers in my direction and I sniffed, a finger under my nose, staring at her sheepishly.  The figure turned toward us.

            “Sorry,” I mumbled.

            “Dimwit,” she retorted in a hissing whisper.  “Now you’ve got us caught.”

            “Who – who’s there?” the stranger asked, sounding frightened, and took a step in our direction.  The voice reminded me of honey – rich and pleasant – and it was unmistakably male.  We froze, our whispered conversation faltering as we drew closer together.  He drew back an edge of his cloak, his hand on a sword belted at his waist.  Shakily he pulled it from its scabbard.

            “Show yourself!” he said, trying to sound fierce, but his voice trembled.  Suddenly a cough racked his entire body.  His sword point fell to the ground while his other hand clutched at his left side.  When he finally stopped he was breathing heavily and there was a bit of a wheeze to his voice.

            “I know you’re there!” he said as he drew his sword up again.  “Come out so I can see your face!”

            In a bold move Thalia made to stand up.  I grabbed onto her arm, but she shook me off.  She stepped out of the bushes and onto the dusty dirt road. 

            The man actually took a step back.  “Why, you’re only a child!” he exclaimed. 

            “Who are you?” she asked.  “Are you a drunk?”

            He stared at my sister for a moment before answering.  “I don’t...see why I should...answer you,” he said, coughing some more, “but no, I’m not a drunk.”

            “Who are you?” she said impatiently.

            “Who are you?” he replied.

            “Thalia Brownstone,” she replied promptly and haughtily.  “And this is my sister E –” She stopped, realizing I wasn’t there.  “Evie!” she snapped, turning back to my hiding spot, “Come here!”

            The bush rustled as I reluctantly did as she said.  I didn’t like strangers, but I knew she’d tell Ma if I didn’t listen to her; Ma always told me that I should listen to my older sister (though she never mentioned how much that same sister always got me in heaps of trouble). 

            I looked down at the ground as Thalia introduced me.  “And this is my sister, Evie.”

“Told you so,” I muttered quietly, determinedly not looking at the traveler. 

            “What?” she snapped absentmindedly, still staring at the man.

            “Stranger,” I said pointedly, raising my eyebrows.  “Tall.  Dark.  Told you.” 

            She looked half flabbergasted, and I took the opportunity to stick my tongue out at her. 

            “It’s...a pleasure,” the stranger said raggedly.  “My name...” He stopped, coughing.  “My name is Malc,” he said when he’d settled again.  “I was told in the village that...there’s a medicine woman...who lives up here.  I need healing; I’ll pay whatever the price so please...”  He stopped again and this time the cough was worse than before.  The sword that had been lowered now dropped to the ground with a dull clang.  Malc put his hands to his hooded face, holding them to his mouth.  When he drew them away, his palms were bloody. 

           I took a step back. 

           Malc swayed on his feet and, a second later, fell to his knees. 

           Thalia stepped forward.  “Are – are you alright?” she asked, though clearly he was not.  A fearful note crept into her voice. 

           “Please...” he whispered.  He turned his head in my direction and, even though I couldn’t see them, I felt his eyes pierce me.

           Malc gave another horrible cough that didn’t seem to stop.  His hands grasped desperately at his side as he doubled over.  He let out a raspy moan, hands clenching.  He lifted his head once more to stare at me, silently asking for help, and then he fell, crumpling onto the road in front of him.