The Unordinary Life of the Enchantress

Chapter Twenty-Six: An Art So Lovely

The morning's sun had made its way well above the horizon, sending its warmth and light gleaming across the mountain. The travellers' descent was accompanied by the dissipation of the mist and storm clouds that hovered heavily over the mountaintops, a golden glow replacing the darkness.

One step before another, they took caution to avoid a treacherous fall down the steep slopes. As the ground loomed below, almost taunting their exhausted bodies and beckoning their fall. To save themselves – and one another from the deathly slip, they gripped one another and made their way down.

As they neared the foot of the reflective mountain, a small gathering of well-to-do villagers aided them, relieving the exhausted group of their bags and tools, leading the way to the Master's abode. Hurrying inside, the Enchantress let her tired body fall onto a cushion-less, wooden stool. Her coat fell from her shoulders and a relieved sigh escaped her as she let her shoulders hunch, resting her elbows on her knees.

In a similarly exhausted state, the researcher trudged through the door after her, his knees giving way as he stepped into the welcoming warmth of the house, letting himself fall gracelessly onto the wooden floorboards. His hands still clutching his mist-marbles to his chest, he let his eyes begin to droop. Tendrils of sleep's darkness barely touched his consciousness before the vigorous footsteps of the Master stomped into the house.

"Come now, get up!" she ordered. "Go rest in your rooms, leave your mist-balls with me. I'll have those ready to go by sundown."

The boy lifted his head, eyelids struggling to remain open. "What? Aren't they already done? We made them, and we can use them – what else is left? Shouldn't be looking to practicing with them?"

The Master sighed, shaking her head pitifully at the pile-of-a-boy that clogged the entryway. "You can use them, sure. But how will you carry them around without worrying you'll break them? Or lose them? Give them here, I'll make them something a little easier to wander around with."

Barely awake, but not as exhausted as the boy, the Enchantress heaved herself from the stool, sluggishly wandering towards her teacher and handing her the spiralling ball of mist. She gave herself a satisfied nod before dragging her feet to the staircase, using her hands to lug herself up the stairs and to her room.

Pleased with the Enchantress's compliance, the woman looked to her other student, holding out an expectant hand. Without the energy to lift himself up, the boy merely slid his hand against the floor, laying the seven mist-balls gently onto the floor. He then curled up, pulling his coat around his frame and letting his mind slip into a comforting slumber.

With a sigh and shake of her head, the Master crouched by the boy to pick up the glimmering pieces. She rested her hand on his head, letting it rest on his hair for a moment before slowly lifting it. With the motion of her hand, the boy's figure lifted from the ground, hovering just above the wooden floor panels. With a steady hand, the woman carefully rose, keeping her palm a constant distance from the boy. She walked slowly to the staircase, following the railings up. Zel, wary of the Master's weary state, followed along closely, keeping her hands just below the researcher – as if to catch him should he fall.

"You do realise," the Master began, "that even if I drop him, you won't be able to catch him – keep your hands there and you'll tumble down these stairs with him!"

Defiant, Zel turned her head from the woman, her unseeing eyes narrowing to match the grimace on her lips. With an incredulous huff, the woman shook her head, leaving the child to her ways as she carefully carried the boy to his room. After gently placing him on the bed, leaving Zel to wrap him in covers, she dragged her feet back down the stairs.

Barely allowing herself a rest, the Master brewed herself a mug of a dirt-like tonic, grimacing as she downed the mixture of coffee, tea, and other energising ingredients. She heaved a sigh, gathering the mist-balls from the kitchen's countertop and striding towards her study, collecting knick-knacks from the tabletops and shelves on her way.

***

The sun loomed high above the horizon, not yet ready to set, when the Enchantress awoke from her slumber. What had awoken her was not the excessive timespan of her nap, but the strange sounds of metallic clanks and whirrs from downstairs. Mind still groggy with sleep, she meandered down the staircase, letting the noise coax her to its source.

Without bothering to knock, she opened the door of her mentor's study, eyes in a squint and confusion written across her features. With tools in hand, the woman at the desk twisted and curled sticks of metal and curls of wire. The dimming light of near-sunset filtered through the parted curtains of the room's single window, painting the haphazard setting with the hues of the sun.

In the Master's fast-moving hands, the bronze rods of metal glowed gold, shining and glimmering as she curved them to her liking. Concentration froze her face in a grimace, her eyes trained on her work. The Enchantress leaned against the doorframe, hypnotised by the process before her. She watched on as the Master lifted her mist-ball, letting the sunset bounce off it and paint rainbows across the tabletop, the dancing lights bouncing around the room with the rhythm of her work. Placing it carefully in a decorative cusp of curls and flicks, she cautiously encased it with a matching cusp, raising a tool and using two small wires to latch them together.

Placing that one carefully on the table, she moved on to the researcher's seven mist-balls. Sliding seven small, just as decorative cusps to the workspace before her, she began to carefully mount each mist-ball onto a cusp. Satisfied with her handiwork, she leaned back to consider what she had before her. Not yet satisfied, she reached for another handful of brass wire, curling them together until she had seven, uneven leaves, emboldened with the patterns of the wires curling together.

She took each leaf and carefully attached them to the bezels holding the marbles. With a nod, she lifted two of the encased marbles, one in either hand, and brought them nearer. Her face lit up with a smile as, with a clack, the pieces joined together.

One by one, she connected the mist-balls, distinct clicks sounded from every motion. Still, the Enchantress silently watched, her jaw agape and her eyes wide as the seven mist-balls joined together to form a single, sparkling ring, and around it, the leaves came together as the intricately embossed petals of a starflower.

Satisfied, the woman placed the pendant on the table, reaching into her drawers. Extracting two, well-weighted chains, she began to latch both works to them, effectively creating two pendants for her pupils to adorn. With a sigh, she leaned back in her seat and admired her work, tilting her head as her eyes shone with accomplishment.

"You can take yours now," she sounded, barely turning her head to acknowledge the Enchantress. "All done, go ahead and take it for a spin! When the other one wakes up, have him join you."

Taken aback, the Enchantress hesitated before making her way to her mentor. As she approached, the older woman lifted the necklace from the table and held it out for her to take. Hands gently folding over the bronze-encased spiral of mist and colours, she accepted it, raising to her eyes to marvel at the workmanship.

"It's lovely..." she breathed. "But why a necklace?" She tore her gaze from the dancing mist to look to the Master.

"If I made a staff again, you'd be prone to losing it – or having it taken off you," the Master explained. "As a pendant, you can wear it concealed – hide it in your clothing, wear it under your cloak. Nobody would be able to locate – or break it." Her gaze turned pointedly sharp with the final words.

With a knowing purse of her lips, the Enchantress gave a nod of appreciation before turning to leave the study.

As she made her way away from the study, she reached to the nape of herneck, securing the necklace around her décolletage. With the cool metal of thependant on her skin, a calm washed over her, slowing her heartbeat and stealingher breath as her mind cleared. A smile crept onto her lips, a skip found itsway into her step, and she felt strength surge through her. This is it. We'regoing to go back, and we're going to win.