Micah or the end of Magic. Chapter 3.

Chapter 3.

 

Elsewhere.

 

Jek lived deep in the shadiest part of the Dark Forest, where the trees grew so thickly overhead that no sunlight ever reached the forest floor. His people shunned the light, which they found painful.

They ventured into the lighter parts of the forest only at night, gathering the nuts, berries, herbs, roots, and mushrooms on which they lived. The forest was generous, and life was peaceful. No humans came so far into the darkness, so Jek’s people were undisturbed. They did not hunt the animals either, and the wild boars, deer, and birds moved freely among them.

Jek’s people did not write anything down. Instead, they had storytellers who remembered everything that had ever happened to the tribe and passed it on to the next generation.

During the day, in the quiet hours between foraging and sleep, the storytellers entertained the tribe with tales of their past. From these stories, Jek knew that his people had not always lived in the Dark Forest. Long ago, they had dwelt in caves in the distant mountains.

He had listened in horror to the tale of how the Dark Forest had once been attacked by evil creatures, beings that hated all life. Wherever they passed, they destroyed everything, leaving even the soil empty of creatures. The tribe had fled deeper and deeper into the trees, but the fear of those beings had never left them.

After much debate, the tribe had decided to return to the mountain caves of their ancestors. But humans had cut down the trees in the valleys, leaving open land that had to be crossed.

They travelled by night and hid during the day. To their dismay, humans lit fires at night, and even the faint glow of those flames was painful to the tribe. They tried to explain that they meant no harm, but neither side understood the other’s language. The flickering shadows cast by the tribe frightened the humans, who piled more wood onto their fires, making the light even worse.

The tribe split. Jek’s people returned to the Dark Forest. The others continued toward the mountains. The storytellers did not know whether those travellers had survived. None had ever returned.

The evil beings were eventually driven away by a human female who built herself a cottage in the forest. No one knew whether the cottage still stood or what had become of the woman.

But now a new problem plagued the tribe. Jek’s family was dying.

He watched helplessly as his grandparents faded away. They were not ill, and none of the herbs the tribe used for medicine helped. The older members simply grew faint, then stayed the same for a while, then grew fainter still, until at last they vanished. No one knew what to do.

In desperation, Jek decided that if the human woman had once saved the forest from evil beings, perhaps she could save his people now. He had no idea how long humans lived, but he hoped she might still be there. Without telling anyone where he was going or what he hoped to achieve, he set out.

The stories he had heard all his life said that the human’s cottage lay somewhere west of his home, near a road that ran through the forest.

He travelled through the trees at night and hid in the darkest shade he could find during the day. At last he reached the road. The trees and bushes beside it were thick enough to shelter him from the daylight.

Whenever humans rode past, he kept perfectly still. They made so much noise that he had no trouble slipping deeper into the shadows. Their loudness amazed him. His own people moved in total silence when they searched for food.

On the third night, he saw a light through the trees. Carefully, he crept closer. The light came from a cottage among the trees.

He waited until the light went out, then knocked softly on the window. Nothing happened. Summoning his courage, he knocked again, louder.

The window flew open. A woman’s voice called out. Jek could not understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable, she was angry.

He took a deep breath.

“Please,” he called. “I mean you no harm, but I need help.”

The window slammed shut. A moment later, the front door opened.

The woman stepped outside and spoke again. Jek still could not understand her, but her tone suggested she was asking a question.

He repeated his plea and, feeling very exposed, moved into a patch of faint moonlight so she could see him.

He heard her gasp. She spoke again, then waved her hands in front of her face. Jek instinctively stepped back into the shadows.

“You should be able to understand me now,” she said.

“Please,” said Jek. “I mean you no harm, but I need help.”

“You are a long way from your home in the mountains,” the woman said. “I don’t remember ever seeing a wraith in this part of the world.”

Jek blinked. “What is a wraith?”

“You are,” the woman replied. “Aren’t you?”

Jek shook his head. “I have never heard of wraiths, and I have never been to the mountains. My people live in the deepest part of the forest.”

“Well, well, well,” the woman murmured. “I knew there were supposed to be wraiths in the forest, but I never expected one to knock on my door.”

“Please,” Jek said. “Are you the Witch of the Dark Forest?”

The woman nodded. “I am Calizone. And you are?”

“I am Jek, and I need your help.”

“You had better come inside, then,” said Calizone. “The fire has gone out, so it is dark in there.” She turned and went inside.

Jek hesitated. He had never been inside a human dwelling before.

“Do hurry up,” Calizone called. “I won’t hurt you. I have always wanted to meet one of the forest wraiths.”

Jek stepped inside.

Calizone closed the door behind him.

“Sit down,” she ordered.

Jek obediently sat on the floor.

“Not on the floor,” Calizone said with exasperation. “Take a chair.”

Jek stood, and Calizone showed him what she meant. He perched on the chair carefully, unsure whether it might collapse under him.

“Are you as sensitive to light as your mountain brethren?” Calizone asked. “Humans prefer to see who, or what, they’re talking to.”

“The light is painful,” Jek said cautiously. Being shut inside made him feel even more uneasy.

“I think I can help with that,” said Calizone.

She crossed the room, muttering to herself as she avoided the table in the centre. After a few minutes she returned holding a bundle of cloth.

“This won’t harm you,” she said. “And it should keep you safe from the light.”

She wrapped the cloth around him from head to foot. Jek shuddered. The fabric felt strange, almost prickly and cold at the same time. He wriggled instinctively.

“Keep still,” snapped Calizone. “I know it’s unpleasant, but it will protect you. I’m going to light a lamp now, so don’t be afraid.”

Jek shrank back as she waved her hands. Nothing happened.

“Drat,” Calizone muttered. She tried again, more firmly. This time the lamp on the table flickered and then lit.

Under the cloth, Jek could see the glow, but it was dim enough not to hurt him.

“I knew this stuff would come in handy,” Calizone sniffed. “Now, who are you, and what do you want with the Witch of the Dark Forest?”

“Our storytellers say that many, many winters ago, you saved the forest and my people from two evil beings that were destroying the world,” Jek began.

Calizone sniffed. “Not me,” she said. “But yes, a witch did that.”

“We did not know how long humans live,” Jek said. “Now my people are dying, and we do not know why.”

“Disease, or what?” Calizone asked.

“We don’t usually get illnesses, and my people do not normally die,” Jek explained. “It is the older ones. They do not seem ill, they just grow faint. Then they stay the same for a while, then grow fainter still, until they disappear.”

Calizone did not answer at once. She stood and paced the room, then went to the window and stared out into the darkness. At last she turned back to him, her expression troubled.

“Did you notice how hard it was for me to light the lamp?” she asked.

Jek shook his head. “I have never seen a lamp lit before. I don’t know how hard it usually is.”

“No, of course not,” Calizone said. “Silly of me.” She sighed. “It is one of the first spells anyone learns. It should be as easy as snapping one’s fingers. But at the moment it takes far more effort than it should. The spell I used so we could understand each other is simple too, yet it took real work to make it hold.”

She folded her arms.

“What you’ve told me confirms what I feared. Something is draining the magic out of the world.”

“But we don’t do magic,” Jek protested.

“No. But you are magic,” Calizone said. “There is a difference between things that are magic and things that do magic. Your people, and others like you, exist because of magic. Witches like me use magic.”

“I don’t understand,” Jek admitted.

“You, your people, the others of your kind in the mountain caves, the Fire Demon in the far south, the Ice Queen in the frozen north, and the Dragons… all of you exist only because magic exists. Take away the magic, and you cease to be. And something is draining it.”

“Dragons?” Jek echoed, puzzled.

“Great big fire‑breathing lizards,” Calizone said.

Jek leapt to his feet. “Fire!” he squeaked.

“Don’t worry,” Calizone soothed. “They live on an island far out at sea and never leave it. Or very, very rarely.”

Jek sat again, trembling. “So, my people are disappearing because they are magic, and there is less magic now?”

Calizone nodded. “You are not the first visitor to come worrying about this. The Fire Demon sent me a message from the far south. The heat in his kingdom is cooling.”

She pointed to her oven.

“He sent one of his smaller demons. They are made of fire. When the magic went, the poor thing almost went out. I had to put him in my oven to warm him.”

“I would not like to meet something made of fire,” Jek said with a shudder.

“No,” Calizone agreed. “They are rather frightening. But he wasn’t the only one. The Ice Queen from the frozen north sent a messenger too. Her ice is melting.”

“Her messenger was made of ice,” she added. “It nearly melted away, but fortunately the magic returned before it turned into a puddle.”

“Where is the magic going?” Jek asked.

Calizone shook her head. “I don’t know. And if it all goes, the world will be a very different place. What is strange is that it doesn’t fade gradually. It goes, and then it stops going. It is as if someone opens a door and the magic drains out, and then they shut the door again.”