A Tale of Magic... (18 page)

“Has anyone ever told you what a lovely smile you have?” Madame Weatherberry asked.

“Not that I recall,” Brystal said. “Then again, I haven’t had many things to smile about.”

“I hope that changes once we get to the academy,” Madame Weatherberry said.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Brystal said. “How much longer until we get there?”

“We still have one student to pick up in the Southern Kingdom, and then another in the In-Between after that,” Madame Weatherberry said. “With any luck, they’ll be easy recruits, and we’ll arrive by tomorrow evening. I can’t imagine how exhausted you must be after a day like today, so please, feel free to get some rest.”

An enormous yawn escaped Brystal’s mouth and confirmed Madame Weatherberry’s hunch. Brystal stretched out across the satin cushions and became so comfortable she was asleep within seconds. Overnight, the golden carriage traveled into the Northwest Foothills of the Southern Kingdom. Brystal awoke the following morning more rejuvenated than she had felt in months. Instead of colorful fruit, the vines on the carriage’s ceiling grew muffins, bagels, and other breakfast pastries.

“Good morning, Madame Weatherberry,” Brystal said, and helped herself to a muffin. “Did you sleep well?”

It appeared Madame Weatherberry hadn’t moved since Brystal went to sleep. She was looking over the Map of Magic and was so captivated by it she didn’t respond.

“Madame? Is everything all right?” Brystal asked.

Still Madame Weatherberry didn’t look up from the map. “How peculiar,” she said.

“What’s peculiar?” Brystal asked.

“Oh, forgive my concentration, dear,” Madame Weatherberry said. “I’m a little concerned about the potential student we’re traveling to. He’s changed locations twice since last night and seems to be heading to a third.”

Madame Weatherberry turned the Map of Magic around so Brystal could see what she was referring to. In the northwest corner of the Southern Kingdom was a bright star moving ever so slightly toward the border of the In-Between. The name beside the star was
Xanthous Hayfield.

“What do you think that means?” Brystal asked.

“Well, it simply means he’s on the move,” Madame Weatherberry said. “But I’m worried about what he’s moving
from
. We should try to reach him before he crosses the border.”

Madame Weatherberry snapped her fingers and the unicorns started galloping even faster. The rolling land and oak trees of the Northwest Foothills zoomed past Brystal’s window so quickly she couldn’t even see them. Madame Weatherberry kept a close eye on the Map of Magic as her and Brystal’s stars approached the young man’s star.

Suddenly, the air outside was hazy and the carriage filled with the smell of smoke. Madame Weatherberry snapped her fingers again and the unicorns slowed to a normal pace. She and Brystal looked out their windows and saw that the land was scorched for acres around them. Many of the trees and bushes were still ablaze, like the area had been hit by a recent wildfire.

The debris continued for miles down the path, and then, strangely, the damage ended at a large wooden barn. The barn was a blazing inferno with flames stretching well above its crumbling roof. It was as if the wildfire had paused to take a rest inside before moving on.

“Now we know what he was running away from,” Brystal said. “Do you think he escaped the fire?”

Madame Weatherberry squinted as she inspected the burning barn.

“No, I think he
is
the fire,” she said. “Brystal, stay in the carriage. Things may get heated if we overwhelm him.”

“
May
get heated?” Brystal asked.

The golden carriage stopped a safe distance away from the burning barn. Madame Weatherberry climbed out and approached the barn while Brystal watched from the carriage. The fairy moved her hands in big circles through the air, summoning a sudden rainstorm that extinguished all the flames. Once the fire was out, all that remained of the structure was its charred framing and support beams.

To Brystal’s amazement, a boy about eleven years old was sleeping on the ashy ground inside the barn. He had golden hair and fair skin, and his clothes had been significantly singed in the fire. Although his clothing was damaged, there wasn’t a single burn mark or scratch on his entire body.

“Hello, Xanthous,” Madame Weatherberry called to him.

The boy awoke with a fright. He was startled to see Madame Weatherberry walking toward him and quickly hid behind a burned beam. Brystal gasped when flames appeared on his head and shoulders. Madame Weatherberry was right—Xanthous wasn’t
running
from the fire; he was
creating
it.

“Stay where you are!” he said. “Don’t come any closer!”

Madame Weatherberry gave the boy a warm smile but didn’t stop her approach.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“No, but I might hurt
you
!” Xanthous warned. “Stay away from me or you’ll get burned!”

With every step Madame Weatherberry took, Xanthous became more and more anxious. The fire on his head and shoulders flickered with more intensity, and the flames traveled down his arms and torso.

“Lady, I mean it!” he yelled. “I can’t control it! You’re putting yourself in danger!”

“Xanthous, you have nothing to fear,” she said. “My name is Madame Weatherberry and I promise you aren’t going to hurt me—I’m just like
you
.”

“Just like
me
?” he asked in disbelief. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but there’s no way you’re like me! Please, turn around before you get burned!”

To prove him wrong, Madame Weatherberry raised her arms above her head and her body was suddenly engulfed in bright violet flames. Brystal and Xanthous couldn’t believe their eyes and both their mouths dropped open. The boy’s state of shock temporarily extinguished the fire on his own body. Once Madame Weatherberry thought her point was achieved, she lowered her arms and the violet flames vanished without leaving a blemish on her skin or clothing.

“I told you,” she said. “I’m magical just like you, and we can do all sorts of things that other people can’t. Your fire is just the beginning.”

“I’m… I’m… I’m
magical
?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Why else would you be able to produce fire from your skin?”

“I thought I was cursed,” he said.

“It’s perfectly natural to feel scared and confused,” Madame Weatherberry said. “Magic is a very misunderstood concept in our world. I’m sure you’ve been told it’s a loathsome and demonic practice, but that isn’t true. It may not seem like it now, but you’re actually blessed with a very powerful gift.”

Xanthous shook his head and backed away from her. “You must be mistaken,” he said. “I’m not
blessed
with anything—I’m a walking disaster! I have to be stopped!”

“And you think crossing the border is going to help?” Madame Weatherberry asked.

“What are you talking about?” Xanthous said. “I’m not headed to the border.”

“Then where are you headed?” she asked.

“I’m going to the Northwest Lake!” he said.
“I’m going to strap boulders around my feet and drown myself before I cause any more damage!”

After he confessed his plans, the boy fell to his knees and began to weep, but instead of crying tears, glowing embers sparked out of his eyes. Madame Weatherberry and Brystal were heartbroken to hear about Xanthous’s intentions. The fairy knelt beside him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“My dear boy,” she said. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“But it’s the only way to stop it!” he cried. “And I don’t want to hurt anyone else!”

“What do you mean
hurt anyone else
?” Madame Weatherberry asked. “Did something happen that made you run away from home?”

“I don’t have a home to run away from anymore,” the boy cried.

“Why is that?” Madame Weatherberry asked.

Xanthous shook his head. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “You’ll think I’m a monster.”

“My dear, I have a very long history with magic,” she said. “I know how complicated an introduction can be. Even though magic comes from a good place within us, if we don’t have control over our abilities, sometimes they cause unfortunate things to happen. So unless you intentionally caused harm, whatever happened was
not your fault
. Now, please, start from the beginning and tell me what’s brought you here.”

Just like Brystal’s first interaction with her, it didn’t take long for Xanthous to sense Madame Weatherberry’s kindness and realize she could be trusted. After he took a deep breath, the embers stopped sparking from his eyes, and he sat up to tell her what was causing him so much grief.

“I suppose I always knew this day was coming,” Xanthous said. “My mother died while giving birth to me. The doctor told my family it was due to burns she received during the delivery, but he couldn’t explain what caused them. My father must have known it was my fault because he refused to hold me or give me a name. Eventually, the midwife called me
Xanthous
because of a warm yellow glow I was born with, but it faded after a couple days.”

“Many of us are born with signs,” Madame Weatherberry said. “I’m sorry yours came at such a tragic cost.”

“Me too,” he said. “As I got older there were more signs. I always had a fever, I never needed a coat in the winter, and things would melt in my hands if I squeezed them too hard. About a year ago, everything got worse. There were sparks whenever I coughed or sneezed, there were flares when I was surprised or scared, and sometimes I’d have a nightmare and set my sheets on fire. But a few days ago, my father came home from the pub, and he started beating me.…”

“Because he discovered your magic?” Madame Weatherberry said.

“No, it wasn’t because of that,” Xanthous said. “My father has always hated me since my mother died.… But a few nights ago, he caught me with something, something I shouldn’t have had, something he had warned me to stay away from.…”

The memory was clearly painful for Xanthous to relive. More embers sparked out of his eyes and the flames returned to his head and shoulders.

“You can spare any details you’re not ready to share,” Madame Weatherberry said. “What happened
after
your father caught you?”

“As he was hitting me, I became angry—
really
angry,” Xanthous recalled. “I felt all this heat building up inside me, like I was a volcano. I knew something bad was about to happen, so I begged my father to stop and run away, but he wouldn’t! The next thing I knew, there was fire everywhere! It came out like an explosion! Our house burned to the ground and my father… my father…
my father
…

“Your father perished in the fire,” Madame Weatherberry said without having to ask.

Xanthous rolled onto his side and sobbed so hard his embers turned into two fiery streams. His entire body was consumed in powerful flames and Brystal could feel the heat even from inside the carriage. Madame Weatherberry raised her hand and created a shield around the boy so his fire didn’t spread. Once all his pent-up emotion was released, the flames died down, and Xanthous returned to normal.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Madame Weatherberry said. “What you’ve experienced is nothing short of tragic—but a tragic beginning doesn’t mean you have to have a tragic ending. I know it feels like the end of the world right now, but you are not as alone as you think you are. There is an entire community of people
just like you
who can help you through this trying time and teach you to control your abilities.”

“I don’t deserve to be helped,” Xanthous said. “I hurt everyone who gets too close.”

Madame Weatherberry reached toward the golden carriage, and the armrest across from Brystal opened on its own. A crystal medal with a red ribbon rose out of the compartment, floated out the window, and flew into Madame Weatherberry’s hand.

“Here,” she said, and placed the ribbon around his neck.

“What is this?” Xanthous asked.

“I call it a
Muter Medal
,” Madame Weatherberry said. “It stops the magical abilities of whoever wears it. I invented the medal myself just in case I encountered a child like you. It doesn’t matter how upset you get—as long as that medal is around your neck, your fire won’t return.”

Xanthous didn’t believe her. He scrunched his forehead as he tried to think the most troubling thoughts possible—but his skin remained perfectly normal. The boy even slapped himself across the face a couple of times, looking happier with every smack, because the flames never appeared.