Beauty and the Magician (Tales of the Red Witch Book 1)

Chapter 22 - The magician's past

The sun was setting over the water while groups of workers were busy pulling in boats, tying them off, and offloading various things. It was the end of the day and most of them were anxious to be off home.

It was a life Eben had known once.

Eben paced back and forth down the long pier in Hafenstadt, stopping every so often to greet the fishermen who waved cautiously at him. They recognized him, of course; he was the spitting image of his father after all. Or so his aunt would have him believe. He had grown up here, not far from where he currently stood. He wasn't sure why he found comfort here now, when he had spent so many years running from it. He had not had a bad childhood, but family always had expectations. They surrounded you like an eggshell and shatter when you eventually break free.

If things had been different, if he had not been picked by the powers that be to be a magician then perhaps he would be one of those fishermen, pulling in his nets and docking his boat. He would bring his catch to market and they would dry it or salt it and prepare it for sale all over Landet Gress.

No, he knew that life had never been meant for him.

There were many aspects of being a magician that he enjoyed. Flying away as a crow was one of them. Being able to build Other and leave this world behind was another. But there were things that he found himself fighting against. The position came with responsibilities and he wasn't at all sure he liked that aspect. And why did he keep getting pulled into terrible situations? He could admit his faults, he was barely an average magician whose only real skill was with charms. That was his own fault, he had spent too many years shirking Skywark's lessons and searching for the easy way. Circumventing his master's expectations. For some reason he had always felt the need to do the opposite of what he was told. It was that flaw that led him to seek out the chest that he was told not to open.

He felt Skywarks's disappointment in him even though his discovery of the chest had not happened until after his death.

He picked up a pebble and threw it into the water. He watched as the ocean birds swooped down to investigate the offering. No doubt they had hoped it was some kind of food. It would seem that they also had expectations of him.

He sighed.

He had spent the last week combing Hafenstadt and Jegerborg looking for clues and managed to discover very little. What he had found, only raised more questions and pointed him in a direction he was reluctant to travel.

He was finding that he could no longer deny that magic was involved in Andri's disappearance and he couldn't help but wonder about her. The description of the mysterious women Stefan and Andri had met at the Bull and Thistle had matched her somewhat. Though she had been far from elegant when he had met her.

He wanted to deny it, surely there are other red-haired women in the world. But there was only one who could do magic and who would possibly be mad enough to kidnap a prince.

He had known she was free, it was his own careless action that had let her out in the first place. But he had not heard anything about her in the years since. Perhaps a part of him had been hoping that she had just gone away.

His master, Skywark had told him about the chest on his deathbed and made him promise to not touch it. He had told Eben only that it contained a darkness called Demelza. Eben had wished that Skywark had told him what exactly that meant and why it was there in that box. He wished he had thought to ask.

Eben had failed at keeping that promise. He had been heartbroken when his master died and was overcome with worry that he would not be able to live up to the great Skywark. He had been invited to take Skywark's place on the council and he had tried for a little while to make it work. He never could understand why they had made him the offer. Surely there were other magician's more worthy of the honor.

It had all been very overwhelming.

That was when he went to the chest. It had spoken to him. It's sweet promises of power were tempting. He was not able to help himself. He had opened it. What came out of it was not what he was expecting.

He thought of the old wooden chest. He knew it's exact location, sitting upon a shelf in his bedroom at Other. He kept it to remind him of his mistake. He kept it to remind him that he had let something loose, something he very much didn't want to meet again. The chest didn't call to him anymore. It had all been a trick. It had only been her all along.

He thought back to what he had found at the Bull and Thistle and at Jegerborg. He was certain he had found traces of dark magic at both places now. A feeling in his bones was telling him that that was what the crystal was trying to tell him. That was what the purple glow meant.

The real question was who had cast it? And why? And what had it done to Andri? And where exactly had they found a source of dark magic?

Such things were not supposed to still exist.

An uneasy feeling bloomed in his gut.

Either way, he had to find out. He had made a promise to Hendrik and he owed it to Andri. Even if that meant doing something he despised and avoided like the deadliest of plagues. He would have to write to people and ask for help. He shuttered as he thought about Dreluna's letters. But he could not deny that they would provide much needed information.

He sighed, feeling more sure of his path forward. He had to follow the most likely possibility. It could not be her. Three years, though he had to admit that he had not exactly been looking for her. In fact, he had been actively avoiding any news of red-haired magicians.

He turned his head away from the breezy dusky port towards his small shop door hidden down a narrow alleyway. He should head home where it was safe, where he didn't have to think about other magicians, or promises, or Andri. It would be peaceful there, well at least when Toby was asleep. He had a lot to do but he couldn't bring himself to leave the comforting pier just yet.

The inky light of dusk was painting the docks in a pleasant glow that calmed him. He had already been gone from home too long. What's a few more minutes? He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked out over the water until darkness completely enveloped him.