Wild Mage

Genevieve stood in the centre of the clearing, silent and steady. The wind whipped the dying leaves around her in a susurrus of autumn, though the bright gold and orange reminded her more of flames than decay. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

One minute.

Two.

There, she thought in triumph. I see you now.

She opened her eyes and began to draw on the power hidden in the hearts of the trees, collecting the ancient strength in the palms of her hands. She couldn’t help but smile as the mossy taste of the woods flooded her throat. Forest gathering was always her favourite.

Soon enough she had enough power circulating through her to begin her task. After pacing out a circle of about ten feet, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bag of ashes. She carefully poured the ashes around the outline of the circle, taking care not to let the wind disturb the line, and then tucked the empty bag back into her pocket and knelt down in the centre of the ash-drawn ring. She raised her arms to the sky and began to chant softly. The wind died immediately, dropping the few final golden leaves to the ground and one onto the bright red of her hair, and she smiled again without breaking the chant. The sibilant sounds of her murmured spell mimicked the soft shhhhhhhh the dying leaves had made; as a wild mage, the natural world seeped into everything she did.

The speed of the chant increased, and she could feel the spell beginning to work. The power rippled over her arms, raising goosebumps on her bare skin, and she gathered it into a sharp point. She hesitated for a moment, praying to a God she knew didn’t exist, then launched the spell upwards. It had a long way to travel, so she wouldn’t know for a while if it had worked or not.

“But it will work,” she whispered to herself. “It has to. Rowan, I’m coming for you.”

She sighed and got to her feet, brushing the grass off her knees and picking the leaf out of her hair. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed. It was something Rowan had taught her, a way to center herself back in her own body after doing magic.

“Evie,” he had said, “you’re going too deep. You need to bring yourself back or else you’ll be lost forever. Here, try this.” He had taken her arms and had made her hug herself, arms crossed over her chest. “Feel the pressure on your skin. Feel the texture of the fabric. Feel your heart beating. Your body will lead you home.”

Though she hadn’t seen him in two years, she still used his technique every time she cast a spell. In a strange way, the feel of her arms around herself had become a reminder of him and of what she had lost.

“And now I’m going to lead you home,” she promised.

She gathered her things and headed back to her one-bedroom apartment tucked above the small bookstore she worked at, stopping only to pick up a quick dinner from her favourite Chinese place. She sank onto the couch, exhausted. The spell had wiped her out. The taste of the forest still lingered in her mouth, but it was soon covered up by the flavour of chow mein and sweet and sour pork. She turned on the TV while she ate, idly flipping through the channels, looking for something to distract herself with, and finally settled on a movie she had seen approximately 400 times. She could hear Rowan laughing at her softly in her head, but she didn’t care.

I’m still feeling a little ungrounded, smartass, she told him. I had to send a piece of me with that spell to track you, and so I need the comfortable. The familiar. Hence, Chinese and a movie I can quote word for word.

Imaginary Rowan didn’t reply.

She finished the movie, cleaned up the few dishes she had from dinner, and washed her face. It felt weird to be going through the motions of a regular night when she finally had a chance to actually find Rowan and bring him back to her, but until the spell reached him, there was nothing else she could do. She looked at herself in the mirror, her bright green eyes staring back at her questioningly.

“I felt him today,” she whispered to her reflection. “I did. He’s alive, I know it. I will find him, and I will save him. The spell will work. I have to have faith.”

She dried her face roughly, trying to shake off the doubt she had seen in the mirror.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would know if her magic had worked. And if it had, tomorrow would be the start of her journey to bring Rowan home.