Magic of a Different Kind
Godric ran the distance in half the time now. His legs growing stronger and faster with each trip from Moor to their secret clearing by the river. He broke the forest line, greeting Avalon who often arrived first, but always received a physical greeting from Fenrir. The pup grew faster than Avalon and Godric, but for a Dire Wolf that was to be expected. The animal’s size doubled and Godric had difficultly bracing for Fenrir’s force when he jumped on the boy. Avalon never seemed to have a problem.
“Still cannot make it across?” Godric motioned to the smooth stone in her hand then for her to pass it to him.
“My aim has never been the best, even my younger brother aims better than me.” Avalon explained when picking up another stone. While her distance and weariness of him remained, she was less threatened by his presence.
Godric fiddled with the stone in his palm, then held it in such a way that when he thru it, the stone effortlessly skipped numerous times across the river’s surface then reached the other side. Avalon, baffled ran over and took his hand, trying to concluded what magic he had used to do what she had not. Godric laughed, revealing he had used no magic, no trick, but had simply practiced in a method and skill of his own to accomplish his goal.
Avalon frowned, throwing another stone after carefully watching Godric again. It skipped four times before sinking.
She tossed a rock for him to catch, “Show me again.”
In the era they both lived, muggles and possessors of magic existed together, but not in harmony. The island was divided into numerous warring territories; villages, tribes, clans, kingdoms, covens; fought in the open and behind the veil. Neither children knew the other’s surname, they did not ask, and they did not want to know--a family name can determine a friend or an foe. They were children in an adult’s war, forced to grow up in battle and were to be sent to die in it.
They were not muggles, but they were not of magic of a similar kind and yet despite this difference they trained together.
Magic was not among the skills they desired to test on one another, but physical combat was preferred. They understood magic could not be depended upon--especially against muggles. Godric’s father agreed to this ideology as did Avalon’s older brother, however not everyone shares the same thoughts.
“If my father knew of our shared time, he would certainly try to kill you.” Avalon leaned back and stroked Fenrir’s head.
Godric let out a laugh, “Salazar, my elder brother is the same--he is like you and is untrusting of those not his kin.”
How long their time together would last, neither could be sure, but both were unsaid in their intent on making it last. In this world they lived in, their time together allowed for them to forget the troubles of beyond this river. It was times like these they shared their dream: creating a place where children would not fight in an adult’s world. Somewhere safe from the muggles, where the magically-inclined can learn magic in a safety and without prejudice. It would be hidden from the rest of the world, near a forest filled with wonderful and strange magical creatures. Of course nothing too dangerous--it would be bad if someone stumbled across a sleeping dragon...and were a foolish couple, whom will not be mentioned, which woke said dragon. Yes, Godric and Avalon agreed that was less than desirable. Though Godric thought it would make a thrilling tale when they were older.
“Yes, let us tell how Bold Godric ran faster than my loyal Fenrir from a dragon!” Avalon finally laughed.
Godric smiled with accomplishment, then smirked, stroking his chin, “Bold Godric? I like the sound of that--how I courageously charged to meet a dragon head on!”
Avalon rolled her eyes, rocked back then pushed herself to flip to her feet, “A sleeping dragon at that. To think poking it with a stick was enough to wake it.”
Break time was over. Talking of the future was enjoyable, but none of it would be possible if either died before accomplishing their dream. They trained, incorporating outside traps and distractions to hone their skills and awareness. In a real battle often there was numerous enemies closing in and rarely did someone fight one on one for long.
Evenly matched, Avalon and Godric pitted themselves against different beasts of magic and none. They studied beasts and creatures of the nearby forest, later arriving earlier and earlier to explore further into the wood.
Avalon knew and showed Godric creatures and techniques no sorcerer had ever known. It was as though she was one of them, these magical creatures, living as they do and understanding them more deeply than normal humans could. The boy listened carefully, though never fully understood--Avalon had him stand completely still, keeping his arms up he held two branches of Folk’s-Glove in each hand. A short time passed and the purpose of this act was revealed as balls of feathered light floated all around and progressively landed on him. The lights dwindled little, showing the lights to be fairies, all enticed by the smell and presence of their mirrored bloom.
Avalon emerged from the wood, her silence of footsteps allowed for the fairies to gradually notice the second human's presence--upon seeing the girl, half glided to her and landed on her shoulders and palms. Her magic was attuned to them, not because her body produced it similar to theirs, but because her was of nature itself, an inheritance that is the basis of all he people's power.
Godric laughed, the tingling of the fairies tiny feet tickled him. That was just the beginning, with everything he learned, Avalon learned just as much. Though their world was the same, the parts they had lived in were entirely different and in this world differences were what caused one person to kill another. For these two however, they maybe the only two who worked to see differences as something unique, not something to fear.
“That is a wand?” Avalon asked when shown the seemingly inconspicuous wood.
It was easy to sense the magic within. A Red Oak with a Dragon Heart String of about one foot in length. The people of her village were sensitive to magic and could have known these details on their own though Avalon who was not meant to be sensory type warrior as her younger brother was destined to be; she had to be told. No...she was not destined to be a warrior of any kind if her father had anything to say about it--it was disgraceful. All the other women in the village fought, were treated equally and yet father made no effort to allow his daughter the chance to improve herself. He seemed set on waiting for her to die quickly in battle, or to become a housewife though that mentality is what allowed for all her battle-related other siblings to die before her. To him, if someone is not born strong they will never be.
Godric placed his wand to his lap, “You do not have one? How do you use magic?”
Avalon brought out a piece of parchment from her satchel and showed him the rune-like markings drawn on it. It is much like a spell, though rather than speak it to summon the power, it is drawn. A formula if one would call it. Explaining this to an Outsider could mean death to her, but Avalon had been given no reason to be un-trusting of Godric, despite him being a sorcerer.
The girl reached to a stick and cleared off brush from the ground. Using the stick, she carefully dragged the tip in the ground, pushing the rubble until what was on the parchment had been copied larger in the dirt. Avalon placed a handful of rocks into the formula’s center and had Godric keep back. She knelt down, placing her hands on the circle--light flashed and sparked around and in a strange entanglement of sound and smoke, foreign to the wand-ed, came a statue of Fenrir. With a satisfied smile Avalon bent forward and grabbed the statue, holding it in her hands.
“This is ‘my’ magic--what we call ‘Alchemy’.” Avalon explained when inspecting a seemingly simple act of transmutation she had failed at numerous times before.
Godric excitedly jumped closer holding the statue and glancing between the circle’s center and back. He questioned the location of the stones, if Avalon had teleported them elsewhere and in return retrieved this statue.
What he held in his hands were the stones, the same mass and material she had placed there only in a different form--those are the rules of alchemy: equivalent exchange; to gain one thing, something of equal value must be given in return; that is the law of nature itself and one that should never be broken.
Drawing a formula is not enough to perform alchemy however. Natural magic, that which Avalon absorbs into her body from her surroundings is required to activate the ‘contract’ to achieve the desired outcome. Avalon took back the statue and returned it to the circle, placing her hands once more on the circle and returning the stone back to its original forms.
As Avalon erased the circle with her foot, Godric spoke as he swished and flicked the wand in his hand.
The rocks in his palm rose in air as though they were a bird’s feather floating in the breeze. Avalon’s she’s widened in wonder and awe, such a thing that was beautiful and not associated with war and death. She hesitated when reaching for the stones, Godric assured her of her safety and with that the girl poked at the floating masses and saw them float effortlessly regardless of her influence.
This what not the magic she fought against on the battle field. Those spells were wild and violent, colors flung in every direction with no harmony, but this was calm and peaceful; nothing as what she had seen nor what her father warned her to be dangerous and a disruption of the natural order. By his word...people like Godric...they were demons, the betrayer’s of Mother Nature. Avalon’s gaze lowered, her father has probably never given Godric’s people a chance--a man ruled by their people’s tradition and customs.
Avalon lifted a smooth and rounded stone, skipping it across the river where it landed on the opposing side.
“Teach me.” She spoke tossing another stone in her hand repeatedly, “I want to learn more about your people's magic and you.”