This is the 4th piece in a continuing series. To read the first 3 parts, just click the home tab and scroll down.
Tribba watched quietly as Edgar prepared for the battle. Worry overwhelmed her as she began realizing just how inept Edgar really was. She should have listened to him, but it was too late to change it now. Something had to give.
“Edgar, I never asked you why you are traveling all that way to see the great druid. Can you do magic?” Tribba asked.
“I used to be able to,” Edgar answered. A long sigh escaped from between his thin lips before he continued.
“In Royal Town, where I come from, magick is a way of life. If you aren’t born with the gift of magick, you must go to Magick School or you will become an outcast. My mother is a very magical woman, and everyone expected me to be the same. I’m not, and I doubt I ever will be. I have yet to graduate from Magick School because I failed the simplest spells. I can’t turn a handkerchief into a rose, or a duck into a swan. I can’t even cast a spell for bounteous harvests or something as simple as fixing my sister’s glasses. What little magicked I had, well…that’s a short story.
Every year, the juniors challenged the seniors to a magical duel. The cost of losing is the loss of magic. Seniors, with their superior skills, expected to win. The juniors who lose can gain that magic back over the next year, so it works out to where it’s not a loss. But…should a senior lose, whatever type of spell or magic he was working is lost. Never again will he be able to use magic to do whatever he was doing at that moment again. And I, um…I lost the very first round. I was forced to use what real magick I had—I was supposed to create a potion for healing—and it didn’t work. The bird died and along with it so did my magick. It’s gone. The school administrator sent me to the great druid to remedy that. If Harmlet can’t fix me, no one can. I’m not allowed to return otherwise.”
Tribba watched the emotions fade on Edgar’s face. She witnessed as fluid seeped from his eyes and he quickly brushed them away. Her heart hurt for him and she felt worse than ever.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said softly. She opened her arms and embraced him. “Regardless of what’s happened in the past, Edgar, I believe in you. You can do this.”
“What if they choose a magic game? I can’t compete!”
“You can, and you will win. You aren’t the first to compete with no magick. You won’t be the last.”
“I will never defeat them, not even at my own game,” Edgar said wistfully. “I want to be the champion, but…”
“Then you must start thinking like one!” Tribba said, interrupting him. “We have four days ‘til the Games begin. Come, we have work to do!”
I gave David Wiley this prompt: This picture: http://heirloomartist.tumblr.com/post/37151614476/0rient-express-summer-fairytale-by-alex
I’m also linking up with 3 Word Wednesday. The 3 words there fit effortlessly into my story this week: battle, fluid, harvest.
I welcome honest feedback. Won’t you please share your thoughts in a comment?
Thanks for stopping in!