Immortals

Nowadays, when people say that­­ Boos is a magical place they mean it has beautiful landscapes, a mild climate, and a certain amount of castle ruins among modern city buildings that make tourists feel that the present and past mixed bizarrely, inseparably in this country. There were times, however, when people said "magical" and meant it in a very direct, very unambiguous way. Full of magic. Full of magicians. Those times, alas, are over. The ancient kings saw magic as a threat to their reign and made everything in their power to get rid of it. The magic was f*******n. The magicians were killed or banished. Their books were burned, and their knowledge was forgotten. Years later, people started to think that magic was not such a bad thing after all. There were legends of encrypted magic books, full of spells, that magicians hid somewhere, and not one person spend years haunting old libraries, museums, and what was left of old castles in search of these books. They found nothing. And they would probably be angry if they knew that centuries ago, Martha Dorath found what they were looking for without any effort. When all of it starts, Martha is a merchant's wife. She is a simple, absolutely unremarkable woman, who all her life does what she was taught to do, who never dreams about anything remotely reminding of wizard craft. She doesn't need it. She has everything she could dream of. Martha's thirty-five, and she has a family, a rich husband she loves who buys her whatever she wants, five children, and loving parents who live nearby. So when she finds an old book, full of spells written in someone's sprawling handwriting, in the attic, her first thought is to get rid of this nonsense. Just out of habit – checking that book doesn't contain any important papers or letters, forgotten between the pages she skims it. Some of the spells draw her attention. They are practical. For example, it seems very convenient to find out where is her husband when he comes home late or if their neighbor told her the truth about not stealing their silver pot. That kind of magic she could use and she does successfully. There are spells that seem useless and senseless. Sharing someone's pain? Causing the spirit's trial? Declining the gift? What's that for? And there is one, in particular, that gets her thinking. She is a simple woman meant to lead a simple life and die in her time. The power of this fact is so obvious that down-to-earth Martha never thinks about escaping death, it doesn't frighten her, it is the usual way of how every life ends. But she sees the spell and starts thinking - and pushes it all aside eventually, it is pointless. A year later her mother is dying. Mother is always soft with her, softer than most women are to their daughters. Mother always has a kind word to her and due to her gentle disposition and father's love and respect for his wife Martha was never beaten, not even once– and she is aware of how rare that happens. Mother convinced her father to marry her to Ihor, a young man that Martha liked at the first sight, even though there was another suitor – older and richer. Mother didn't forget her after Martha got married and did come to help with the children and the house. So losing such a mother is entirely impractical – and unbearable. Martha is never one of those who are ruled by their feelings, – down to earth, right?- but the night she finds out that her mother is dying she runs to the attic, grabs the book, and starts off at mother's house. She kneels down near her mother's bed, opens her book, and reads the spell. Mother is weak but conscious. She watches Martha through the lashes, eyelids tense as if it is hard for her to keep her eyes still even in this half–shut state. When the spell is read it seems for a moment that something changes in the air. Mother's pale cheeks turn a little pink, and her breath becomes even but then she looks at Martha in terror as if she is a ghost or a death, shakes her head, and whispers something so quietly that it is impossible to recognize any word. The next moment she stops breathing. Ihor finds Martha in despair. The spells never failed her before. Did she read it wrong? She might have done something wrong. She was so anxious and scared that she must have missed a word or two. And although when she re-reads the page three times she doesn't find what exactly mistake she made, it becomes clear, that she needs to be more prepared for the next time. For some reason, the idea of the next time seems natural to her. She knows she won't make the same mistake again. Mother's death does something to her, the fact of mortality becomes frightening. Martha needs to make sure she will keep everyone she needs alive. She practices the spell many times. She uses it on Ihor and herself countless times. Every time it seems to her the spell worked. She feels something, some tension in the air around Ihor's body but it dissolves quickly. Inexplicably, her husband becomes gloomier every time she does the spell. "You didn't happen to find any old books in the attic, Martha, did you?" he asks once, frowning. "What books?" "I don't know. Something about wizards maybe?" he says carefully and she understands that he doesn't want her to know about the books. That makes her angry. If he could lie to her face, why should she tell the truth? "Why would you keep those books in the attic in the first place? You know they're forbidden." "My grandfather kept those, I thought that I threw away most of them. You know me I do not approve of that stuff. I just thought maybe I missed one or two and you happened to find them?" "I did not." Lying is easy. She feels the c***k between them caused by his word becomes deeper. Why would he keep things from her? "Was your grandfather a magician?" she asks curiously. "How did he have those books?" "No, he wasn't. His friend gave him them leaving the country when they started to haunt the magicians." "And he didn't think it was dangerous to do that?" "I don't understand it either," Ihor shrugged. "Grandfather was a very devoted friend but this was irresponsible. It's still irresponsible. If anyone finds out we have something to do with magic, we are going to be in so much trouble. Do you understand?" "Why are you telling me this?" Martha asks. Is it a coincidence that he starts this conversation after her trying to do the spell? Could he feel that she was doing something to him? "I don't know–" he says watching her closely. "Just thought it was worth saying." "Why did you think I found any books at all?" "Just came to my mind," he's lying. He's lying. "But if you say you didn't I believe you." They don't talk about it anymore and although Martha is hurt by his not telling the truth she still tries to do the spell on him again. He is her husband and she loves him after all. This time nothing works. A few days later Martha doesn't find the book in the attic. It doesn't matter. She has written all the spells that she needed. And this particular spell she knows by heart. She tries to use it on her kids to save them at least. Pointless. Ihor dies at the age of sixty-three. She tries to do what she did to her mother one last time – it doesn't help. Her oldest son passes away from the disease – she can't help it. Her old friends are dying leaving her alone and she can't do anything about that. After all, she comes to terms with it. Death must be so powerful that no spell in the world can beat it. It seems reasonable. Many people she loves die. She expects her own death with anticipation of meeting them all once again. And she still has children and grandchildren. It comforts her to know that they will live, life won't stop with her passing away. It happens to her when she is so old that death doesn't seem scary anymore. She is walking across the street slowly, her legs are weak, trembling when suddenly a carriage shows up at the corner. The horses rear, someone is screaming and Martha feels herself falling. It isn't even painful, just loud, fussy, and not pretty. Martha would prefer to be at home when it happens but she knows her time has come, she knows she wouldn't open her eyes anymore. She wakes up in the hospital morgue, making the doctor faint. She broke her neck, he says, she was dead. And then Martha realizes something that makes her sick. The spell worked on her.