A Wizard's Tale Page 9

loved playing with shadows. She would stand in front of her shadow all day and pretend like she was moving it as she danced around it. You can imagine her surprise when one day, she actually took some of the shadow and held it in her hands. Eira and I were very close. We loved playing together. You can imagine my jealousy when I found she could do something I couldn’t.”

  She became thoughtful for a moment. She had a smile on her face. “I miss that girl. I knew her for only seventy years of my long life before… ” Her voice choked.

  “You don’t have to tell me this.” I told her.

  “No, I want to.” She took a breath. “Anyway. She taught me how to use Dark Magic. We were just playing, of course. But Dad… Dad saw bigger uses for this magic. He thought it would be a good defensive weapon to protect ourselves from the Dwarves, not use it to cause yet another war with them. But once we started teaching others to use it, that’s what it turned into. Another weapon to wage war. We really thought we could win that time, but it just ended in another stale mate. Dwarves are resourceful.

  “Once I was eighteen, my Dad sent me off to help in the war. I was glad to oblige. I had lots of experience with Dark Magic, and I wreaked havoc upon the battlefield. Eira joined and helped me soon after. We spent so long fighting that war, and it was such a pointless waste of life. I can’t believe I was ever part of such mass slaughter, and what was more, I thought it was for the best. I was always looking for a way to protect Eira. She was a completely innocent wide-eyed girl. She never wanted to fight, like I did. She just wanted to look after me. She couldn’t stand me going off to war without her each morning, never knowing if I’d come back, so she decided she wanted to go with me. She came with me out of nothing but love, whereas I had only decided to fight because I thought Dwarves were inferior. And she was the one who paid.

  In our seventieth year, we fought what we thought would be the deciding battle of who would win the war. We fought in a narrow canyon; outnumbering the Dwarves by hundreds. But it was a trap. They used the pincer movement, and attacked us from behind in the narrow canyon.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “I had never, and never since, seen so much red in my entire life. I can still hear the screaming. And Eira—she was—dragged off, captured, and I never saw her again. If they killed her, I do not know, I have always hoped she’s alive somewhere but…” she bit her lower lip, trying to push back tears she had not thought about in a long, long time. “Oh God—seeing her dragged off like that, screaming, was the last I ever saw of her!”

  She buried her face in her hands and wept. I gave her as much time as she needed. And I knew, just then, that this girl, who realized her mistakes, this imperfectly wonderfully flawed person, was the only person for me.

  People tend to think heroes are those who take up arms and go to war to protect citizens. To me, heroes are those who can admit their mistakes and make amends. It doesn’t take courage to pick up a sword and swing it at someone; it takes courage to realize that doing so was wrong. Nothing is so hard in life than letting go of your pride, and saying that you’re sorry.

  And Caitria, my lovely Caitria, had this ability in abundance. And I loved her for it.

  She breathed in and dried her golden eyes. “It was another ten years still, before we finally signed a treaty with the Dwarves. And five years after—after… Eira…”

  I put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to say it again.”

  She smiled and kissed my forehead. “Thank you, for putting up with me. I’m such a mess. Five years after—that—we had a small battle with the Dwarves in a desert-land to the east. I was fighting with vengeance and hatred more than ever. I was so stupid. I thought if I killed all of them, I would finally feel better about losing Eira. It just made me feel more rotten. Us mages though, we are no good in close quarters. And Hunters--Dwarves who are trained specifically to bust through the front line and get to the back where Elves keep their mages--carved through our lines. A Dwarf raised his axe and swung, I blocked with my staff and it shattered. I fell down from the blast. He was too quick for me. He swung again, and…”

  She was silent. I had never seen her so lost within herself. “And I was dead.” She completed. “My Father was heartbroken. He couldn’t accept the death of the only family member he had left. He took the darkness from my very hair and enveloped me in it. The color fled and… this is all that’s left of the girl I once was.”

  I was flabbergasted. But I knew she was telling the truth. Caitria did not lie about such things. I could hardly believe where I was; captured as a slave in an Elvin village sitting next to a woman who was once dead.

  “Why couldn’t he have just let me be? I am not meant to be here. He could have spared me a life of watching people I love either get killed or waste away slowly. ”

  “You’re meant to be here,” I said hastily. “I know you are. Everything happens for a reason.”

  “This reason makes no sense. Why am I still here when my innocent little sister isn’t? My hands are stained. Hers were clean. I can’t go on believing in fairy-tales anymore, Keenan. Not when I have defied the laws of the world when there are so many more people more worthy of life.”

  “It’s not a fairytale. I know it isn’t. And Caitria… you’ve come to a point in your life where you either start believing, or you give up and waste your second chance. You told me yourself you didn’t want to die alone.” I held out a hand.

  Her long elegant fingers dangled in the air for a moment, trembling. She relaxed them and took my hand. “I just want to be me again. Not this ghost of a girl who once lived. But Father took that away from me forever.”

  “You’ve always been you,” I said softly.

  I faced her on the bench and she turned my way. She raised her hand to wipe her tears away, but I stopped her. I smiled slowly and dried her eyes with my thumbs. I held her face in my hands for a moment. Through her oncoming tears she began to smile, too. I slowly moved my hand to a strand of hair that was in her face and moved it aside. I examined her features and she examined mine.

  I had never known someone as well as I did her in that moment, inside and out.

  We saw each other for about three years, finding time when we could. I never knew what Caitria had done to me that night so many years ago, while I was unconscious. I didn’t care either. She had my love and trust no matter what. It was strange that she herself wouldn’t tell me what she had done but I assumed it wasn’t anything unethical.

  Lately, though, I had been feeling sort of weak. Like my energy was sapped. I had trouble sleeping and I got terrible migraines.

  One day, when Caitria was leaning her head on my shoulder with her eyes closed, she asked, “can I see your wings, Keenan?”

  “My wings?”

  “I bet they’re the prettiest. I know the color often reflects your personalities.” She said.

  “I’m afraid you’d be disappointed. They are losing their color.” I murmured regretfully.

  “Why?” She asked, lifting her head from my shoulder and wrapping her arms about them.

  “They are dying. When part of a Pixie’s wings get clipped, the rest of them starts dying slowly. Soon, they will disappear altogether.” I couldn’t hide my sadness. I didn’t have tears to shed anymore at this point in my life, but there were few things that brought a Pixie down more than losing their lovely wings. It felt like the warmth left their bodies, and they weren’t Pixies at all anymore. A half-life was the best way to put it.

  “Let me see them.” She was now entirely serious, determined to help.

  I let them out of my back. I hadn’t even dared look at them this past year. I knew it would only break my heart. And it did.

  They were no longer that beautiful, shining crimson red. They were pale, deteriorating lavender, losing all life and luster. Caitria was aghast. “I forgot my people did such awful things. Goodness. You’ve been living in this village as a slave all these years. I have to find a way to get you out of here.”


  “Don’t bother. The dark magic will bring me back. We might both be killed.” I frowned, looking at my feet.

  “You miss them don’t you?” She tilted my chin to look at her. “It’s alright.”

  “I’m too old for tears, Caity.”

  “I’m two-thousand, and I have never been too old for tears.” She countered.

  “I just… can’t cry anymore. I spent them before I made those marks on my wrists.” I breathed out a sigh.

  “You will someday.” She assured me. “I hope they will be tears of joy, though. But your captivity, there has to be something to do about that.” --------------------------------

  “There’s nothing to do. I don’t want to have to watch you die like…” I looked away.

  “Like watching a Human die? Who was this Human friend of yours, who convinced you to turn away from your religion and believe in his?” She inquired.

  “Pan. And… I don’t know. I just used to be such a pathetic creature. And then I met him, and he seemed so happy. I decided I wanted to be like that. I thought it might have to do with his religion. And then, I found myself praying to his God when I thought my life was going to end—and a miracle saved me. That’s why I’m this amazing person you know today.” I said with a grin, tweaking her nose.

  She giggled. “You are amazing. I have, uh, known Humans myself. As I said before,