An Unattainable Magic

Fairies, A Letter, and the Truth

Cedar breathed heavily, dodging yet another punch thrown by Sinclair. Combative practice was not anything Cedar was very good at, but at least Paris had paired her with Sinclair; while he was shorter than her by an inch or so, they were matched with physical strength. She, however, was a bit quicker, simply because she was slenderer; he was cleverer, throwing shots people would not expect from a less than average fighter. Moment by moment, Cedar could not predict his movements, his attacks. Sinclair always had this glint in his eyes; almost taunting about how he knew things his opponent did not know. 

            Sinclair jabbed Cedar in the solar plexus, the face shot having been a distraction. The wind knocked out of her, the dark-skinned girl stumbled, taking a knee, the sign of defeat in their practice. “Check mate, once again, Cedar,” Sinclair teased, holding out a hand to help her out. “You’ll be able to beat me, some day,” he laughed as she pushed him playfully. Fixing his Mohawk so that it did not obscure his unusual, lizard tattoo, he looked to Paris. “How did I do?” the young man asked his mentor, looking to him for approval. 

            “You did well, Sinclair. You are still very forward, which against Cedar works. However, if I put you up against Orion, you will not have half a chance doing that. You will have to learn how to fight him, and others with different fighting styles. I am, in the long run, impressed with how much you have advanced in your fighting ability,” he smiled, placing a hand on his young apprentices’ shoulder. Sinclair straightened, proud in his assessment. “Cedar,” Paris waved her over to him. “You have to anticipate. Sinclair made a very good analogy; fighting is exactly like a game of chess. If you allow yourself to look beyond the moment, you will get much better,” he grinned happily. “Now, both of you, out to the garden. You have practical magic to practice. Please, find Orion on your way, and make sure he is studying as well,” Paris shooed them on their way, and headed down the iron stairs. 

            Sinclair groaned inwardly, looking out the window with a look of almost anger in his eyes. Cedar, on the other hand, giggled, almost excited about spending time in the garden. “How can you enjoy being out there with those…things?” the young man probed; his face contorted with disgust. Cedar shrugged, rolling her eyes at his dislike of the creatures that lived in Paris’ garden. Before following Cedar down to the exit at the back of the South Wing, Sinclair strode up to the third floor, towards Orion’s room.

            Knocking on his friend’s door in his unusual, obnoxious rhythm, he called; “Orion! Paris says you have to come out to the garden and practice your practical magic with us,” he snickered upon hearing the other young man groan. “I know, but what the Master Warlock says, goes!” he chimed in sarcastic excitement. Once Orion had exited his room, the two sauntered down the stairs, following the path Cedar had just taken down to the exit to the garden.

            Beautiful was an inadequate word to describe the open area at the back of the ramshackle house; there were dozens of trees, with fruits and flowers of every color of the rainbow. Most were unavailable to the public, inventions of past apprentices. The grass was a pleasant, evergreen color and the smell was always pleasing. One large, beautiful oak tree sat at the center, with stone benches surrounding the base. The leaves, contrary to the rest of the trees around, were average. It was the only clue as to what season it was beyond the perimeter. Although there was snow at the front of the house, and around the border of the garden, the fairies that lived there kept the garden in a perpetual spring. Fairies: the creatures Orion and Sinclair had been less than excited to encounter. Everywhere in the garden, the apprentices could hear their precocious laughter of the five-inch-tall inhabitants. 

            Due to their constant work, the smell of flowers drifted pleasantly on the abnormally warm breeze; some fairies were patrolling the border, stoking, or restarting small fires with a clap of their hands. Others were watering various clusters of bushes, some covered in berries, others with flowers. The water seemed to flow from their fingertips. Occasionally, the clatter of things falling over, the clang of metal watering cans dropping to the ground, and the pop of what any bystander would assume was fireworks could be heard. Fairies, while keen gardeners, were notoriously clumsy. Everything they did, even if it was with the best of intentions (except for gardening), seemed to be turned on its head. When they sparked from one place to another, they often overestimated the distance they had to travel, and knocked into one thing or another. 

            Once outside, Orion and Sinclair saw Cedar speaking to a pair of fairies who seemed to have adopted the apprentices; a brother and sister pair named Noc and Diena. Noc was a border patroller; he could manipulate fire, and his deep, amber hair and ruby eyes reflecting that. His twin, Diena, was paler than he, with amethyst hair and penetrating, ocean blue eyes. She worked on keeping the plants watered and could manipulate the element. The boys groaned in unison; Diena seemed to understand she was not particularly helpful outside of gardening, but Noc…he was always determined to assist the apprentices in their studies. The three apprentices fell into a natural, albeit individual, pattern of study, which they were all very happy with. Although they barely spoke, their rhythm was one of practiced agreement, where they had had to figure out how to simultaneously work together while giving each other their space. 

            Orion, after practicing for a while, sat quietly on one of the benches, and removed a letter from the pocket of his pants, staring at it. He could hardly believe what was written, nor could he believe who the letter was from.

‘Draoidheachd,

                        The length between our last correspondences troubles me, my cub. I have done much contemplation on the state of our relationship and have decided that I am displeased with what it has become. I realize now, after many moons, that I have not treated you as a boar should treat his cub. As you may well be aware, I have several campaigns under my belt, least of which is the abolishment of this abhorrent council. I need your help, Draoidheachd. It has been brought to my attention that, amongst your fellow apprentices, is the daughter of Blaire Walker. This girl, my cub, is worth more to me than most anything else in my plot.

            There is a flaw in her ability. While, from what I have been brought to understand, she can get into one’s mind, it leaves her vulnerable to the same. She must not know it is coming, and if you can allow her to enter your mind, you can convince her to leave that disgraceful excuse for an educational establishment and come with you back home.

            I encourage you to think about what I have said, Draoidheachd. 

            Until the next, I remain,

Your Father’ 

            Orion had not seen or heard his clan name since he was a cub, as his father kept referring to him. He ran a hand through his sandy hair and sighed. Absidae and he had an uneasy beginning to their relationship, and he did not know how he could adjust that. Before he had much more time to consider what, he had just read, he heard a loud pop near his ear. He let out a low growl and turned to face the small fairie. “Noc, I’ve asked you to not disturb me,” Orion grumbled. 

            “Yeah, yeah, I know; just wanted to see what you were up to. I recognize a council seal a mile away!” Noc chimed, reaching for the envelope. Orion hastily stuffed the item back into his pocket. “No fair! Secrets don’t make friends,” Noc taunted, clicking his tongue in distaste. 

            The young werebear stood abruptly, knocking the fairie from his perch. “Good thing I don’t want to be friends with the likes of you,” he brooded, sauntering away from his perch. There was too much for the young man to worry about, and he could not be bothered to play nice with the obnoxious fairies that inhabited the garden. 

            “Where are you going?” Cedars calm, crisp voice rose about the popping sounds of fairies working here and there. “Paris told us to practice,” She gestured for him to come back to the garden, which Orion ignored, gently shutting the door behind him as he retreated into his room. “What crawled up his rear?” Cedar mused, looking to Sinclair. 

            Jitterbug perched on his shoulder; Sinclair shrugged as best he could under her weight. “Moon cycle?” He suggested blankly, chewing his lip as he counted days in his head. “The new moon is in three days, and you know how he gets right before that. He should just stay in his bear form around now, it calms him down enough,” Sinclair struggled to shrug again, glaring playfully at Jitterbug. He turned his yellow eyes to Cedar, who was twirling a loose curl around her finger thoughtfully. At one time, Sinclair would have considered her quite beautiful; not that he did not still, only now they were more like siblings after spending four years together. “Look, he’ll snap out of it. Orion always does, and then he goes back to playfully hating everything, instead of actually hating it.”

            Cedar laughed, shaking her head. A loud pop sounded between their feet, causing Jitterbug to hiss in fear. Noc looked up at them both and sighed. “I was aiming for your head, Tree Girl,” he clapped his hands together, disappearing with a loud c***k and reappearing with a pop on top of Jitterbug. “GAH! Get me off this thing!” He whined, running the length of the snake until landing with uneasy feet on Sinclair’s shoulder. “Look, keep the legless lizard away from me. I got some news for the two of you,” Sinclair made eye contact with Jitterbug, who gave a disgusted hiss to the fairie before slithering into the bushes. “The Magic Bear got a letter from the Council,” Noc disclosed once the snake was out of sight. 

            The two apprentices shared a glance, and then looked back at Noc. “What would the Council want with Orion?” Sinclair puzzled, picking up Noc and placing him on a branch at eye level. “Did you manage to read any of it? Who was it from? What did it say?”

            Noc growled, his eyes slits of aggravation. “I don’t know what the Council wants with the Magic Bear, I only read a few lines, it was from his father, and I don’t know what the whole letter said,” the fairie grumbled on one breath. Sinclair smirked, but apologized. Fairies, he remembered, had to answer every question they were asked, truthfully, or they would suffer. What they would suffer, none of the fairies would ever tell; they would only shudder fearfully at the mention of lying. “What I managed to read was something about a plan, and then about the New One. I didn’t get any details, except that they hadn’t spoken in a while.” 

            “I wonder what his father wants…they haven’t spoken since before Orion came here,” Cedar mumbled, perplexed by the situation. “Maybe you could go talk to him?” She looked at Sinclair, her eyes filled with a loving concern, a feeling he knew she would feel for any of them. “Please, Sin? You are his best friend. He’ll talk to you,” Sinclair couldn’t deny that, and so he nodded, heading back inside their home, making his way towards Orion’s door. 

            Cedar looked around at the garden, watching the few icicles that hung onto the oak tree in amazement. Tomorrow was the last day of Winter, and soon new buds would begin to form as the snow melted around all Ceokia. She marveled at the one tree ability to disregard the fairies’ magical border. With that thought, she went about the garden, helping here and there to urge buds along. The fairies loved her, because she was always willing to help with the garden; in turn, Cedar loved the fairies for their quirks, their chaos, how everything they tried to do for the good of the situation ended up turned on its head. It always made her laugh. 

*                                                                                                                                            *

            The second sun was high in the sky by the time Absidae looked up from her book, her neck sore from being bent over for so long. She laid her pen on her notebook, looking over the eleven or so pages of notes, sketches, and ideas. When Sid finally pulled her eyes away from her books, she noticed Tristan sitting at his large, oak desk, also bent over piles of books and pages of notes. His hair had fallen from its usual tail at the base of his neck and was now scattered around his shoulders and face, giving the allusion that he had some kind of green feathers being blown around him by some unseen wind. Quietly, Absidae stood, trying not to disrupt Tristan in his work. Her black leather boots make it easy for her to pad softly to the door, and Sid was nearly there before Tristan noticed.

            Tristan smirked, amused by her attempt to sneak past him. “You don’t have to worry about being quiet around here. I am used to working in chaos; the fairies from the garden tend to visit and bring me different herbs and plants to try in various potions and salves. Plus, now that you are my student, you are free to come and go to the tower as you please. You do, however, have to tell me where you’re going?” A green eyebrow arched over one of his stunning, copper eyes. 

            “Just down to find a snack,” Sid murmured, her eyes downcast shyly. Tristan waved her on her way, and she descended the stone stairs softly. As she padded down the steps, a wave of calm melted over her; she was finally doing what she wanted to do. With the power of her mind, Absidae could ease people into a deep serenity, and with the abilities she would learn from Tristan would only make it easier to heal those who were hurting. Paris made the right choice, she thought to herself, as she made her way into the kitchen, I know I will do them all proud. Sid smiled to herself, grabbing a large mug for tea from a cabinet and turning to the stove to see if any tea was warmed. 

            “I just poured the last mug from that kettle, but I started another one,” Orion announced, frightening Absidae to the point that she jumped, dropping her mug. The werebear moved swiftly, grabbing it before it could hit the ground. He chuckled, handing it back to her. “You spook as easily as a cat, Sid,” he joked, smiling kindly down at her. Absidae tentatively took the mug back from him, but he suddenly clasped her hand. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, not of any of us. We will not hurt you; everyone is here to learn. We’re all friends,” Orion lifted his empty hand to the side of her face, tracing the scar there. “Whoever hurt you was a vile thing, and I swear here, no one will ever hurt you again,” he murmured, his eyes locked on her. Something between them felt almost electric, and it shocked them both, but not enough for either to break their intimacy. 

            The sound of Sinclair clearing his throat from the garden door was enough to separate them, and Sid swiftly poured herself her tea, grabbed a slice of cinnamon bread, and glided back up to her tower. “What was that all about, eh Moon Bear?” Sinclair teased, shoving his friend playfully. “Got a little crush, have you? It is no doubt she is pretty, but is she really your type? Frightened so easily when Cedar nearly cried the first time, she saw you as a bear?” His prodding was meant to be in jest, but Orion turned to him fiercely. 

            “What’s it to you if I do like her?” Sinclair held his hands up in surrender, and the young bear finally saw the look in his friends’ eyes. He softened and shook his head. “Look, if Cedar could entertain a Lizard Lover like you for more than an hour, I may yet have a chance,” He shoved Sin lightheartedly, and his yellow-eyed friend shook his head, making a rude gesture before Orion chased him back into the garden.

*                                                                                                                                            *            Tristan had resigned his studies hours ago, but he had told Absidae that she was welcome to continue her work; she had decided she would do so, so as to catch up with the other apprentices who were all near her age. Sid was starting her magical journey late in her life, and it was not until nearly midnight that she realized her stomach had been growling for at least a half an hour. Deciding she needed to eat, and probably sleep, the young woman decided to retreat from the tower for the time being. Perusing around the kitchen, she contemplated what she was learning. Healing herbs first, then the dangerous ones; Sid resigned herself to only use harmful herbs in the direst of situations. Absidae’s thoughts were interrupted by a small creaking noise on the stairs. Not wanting to give away the fact that she had heard whoever it was, she tensed her shoulders slightly, and turned her head almost unnoticeably towards the sound. From her peripheral vision, Sid could not see who was headed towards her. She tightened her grip around the plate in her hand, and as the footsteps neared her, Sid lifted the plate and whipped around, her auburn hair clouding her vision as someone grabbed her wrist, preventing her from smacking them over the head with a plate. Absidae gasped, her hair finally clearing her vision. Her eyes locked on Orion’s, and he smiled playfully.

            “Are we going to go through this every time someone enters a room that you’re in alone?” He teased, releasing her wrist. “No one is going to attack you here,” his voice was soothing, and Sid felt a wave of relaxation wash over her. His eyes were much more of a striking, tree bark brown than the chocolate Absidae had originally noticed, and she felt captivated by them. Orion’s smile faded into a soft smirk, and when they finally broke eye contact, Sid felt as though something was missing. “What are you doing down from your tower?” He asked, moving past her towards the cabinet. 

            Absidae shook her head, straightening her back as she moved towards the other side of the kitchen with her midnight snack.  “I was hungry, I haven’t eaten since I came down for tea,” she gestured to the place across from her. “Will you join me?” Orion nodded, and sat down with his own plate of food. “Do you get hungrier the closer you get to your moon cycle?” She asked tentatively, knowing the last time she had prodded him, he had fled her presence. 

            Orion paused, and then nodded. “Being nearer my moon cycle does many things; I get more irritable, more tired, and hungrier, I’m much more on edge and ready to fight over the slightest inconvenience. That, Sid, is why I retreated to my room when you approached me about my ‘tragic back story’ earlier. I do not see why you should not know, however. I have two brothers; I am a triplet. That is rare enough when it comes to werebears; single births are the accepted norm, while twins happen on occasion. Triplets, as with any birth really, are very rare. I am also the runt. My boar and sow left me to die in the woods; I was in an orphanage until I was sixteen and came to Paris three years ago.” Absidae gasped, but Orion held his hand up. “It doesn’t bother me anymore; my brothers are strong and work for my father in the council. I learn and hone my magic, and someday I’ll show him what he missed out on, having me as a son.”

            “I hope he already knows it,” Sid complimented shyly, looking up at him from the rim of the mug of tea she had in her hands. “I’d like to see what a Moon Bear looks like, I’ve never seen one in person,” Absidae’s voice was nervous, tentative, and almost frightened to ask. “Maybe tomorrow?” Orion smiled, and nodded, before bidding her goodnight and vanishing up the stairs. Absidae breathed a sigh of relief, glad she had not insulted her new companion. It was strange to think that, after having only been among the fold of these people who understood her, who accepted her, for two short days, she felt as though she belonged. So, Sid did up her dishes and padded her way back to her room, bidding goodnight to her little lizard, and falling asleep under the calming, blueish gray glow from the crystals that floated on her ceiling. 

*                                                                                                                                            *