Mood Swings

By A. M. Reynwood

Oh, schni—!

An explosion rattled the keep. Smoke slammed into the stone walls and bounced back in scrolling curls, blocking out the daylight peeking through the windows. Coughing, Athelbert  heaved open the iron-studded door of the wizard’s study and stumbled into the corridor.

The smoke poured out after him, filling the air with a thick, gray haze. Athelbert groped for the door handle, half blind, and leaned back on his heels to haul the door closed before more could escape. I saw that going better.

He needed to get this cleared up before somebody started panicking. Thank the stars Master Thaddeus was out of town on an errand until morning.

At the end of the hallway hung a large window, its diamond panes looking out across the bailey. Athelbert threw it open with a puff of smoke and leaned across the sill, gasping. He blinked his eyes clear. Then wished he hadn’t. “Frogbogging bloddskittles.”

Of all the things to see after a failed spell casting, it had to be Tightwad Tarbunkle. Worse, he was walking with Jane—holding her hand, no less.

Athelbert leered at the nobleman’s feathered hat. A pox on you, skanky troll globber.

Rich and devilishly handsome, Todd Tarbunkle was the envy of every young man in town. Petite and charming, Jane was the local heartthrob. And Athelbert’s first crush.

Not that he’d admit it to anyone. The only thing he had over Tarbunkle was his height, and so far the only good that’d served him was reaching the taller shelves in the study.

By now, most of the smoke had leeched through the open window. He bowed his head. And froze.

His hands, gripping the casement, were green.

No, that can’t be right.

Athelbert peered closer, and his stomach dropped into his boots. They were definitely green. He ran to the mirror hanging above a table in the hall and gawked at his reflection. Skin, eyes, even his hair—all the color of summer spinach. “This is terrible! Master Thaddeus will… He’ll ground me! And what would Jane say? I’m a freak!”

Panic surged through his discolored body, making his fingers and toes tingle.

Calm down, Berty. There has to be a solution. There always is.

Taking deep breaths, Athelbert returned to the study. Lingering smoke drifted in hazy swirls, smelling of hyssop and fried eggs. Despite the force of the explosion, nothing seemed out of place. The shelves still stood, filled with books, animal skulls, and jars of candied orange peels. Even the brazier where he’d mixed the spell’s components seemed no worse for wear.  The only out-of-place thing was the spellbook lying on the floor where he’d dropped it. He picked it up, still opened to the Divination spell he’d intended to cast.

So much for my first solo commission. If he couldn’t fix this and get the right spell to the customer, Master Thaddeus wouldn’t trust him to fill orders ever again. Especially after last year’s botched Translocation spell. He’d barely escaped murder charges with that one.

Athelbert shivered at the memory. This was his last chance to prove that he did have it in him to become a wizard in his own right.

Athelbert bit his viridian lip and scrolled down to the Cautionary Notes at the bottom of the next page. “‘Using a dropper to dispense the chromolithiodiomide is advised’—That would’ve been good to know earlier. ‘Excess will result in alterations to the spell’s nature. Recorded side effects include itchy eyes, mild schizophrenia, and dermachromokunosis.'”

Please tell me there’s a footnote for that.

An asterisk.

“‘Dermachromokunosis is a rare condition, causing the radical re-coloration of the skin reflecting the subject’s dominating mood.'”

Athelbert groaned, paced, raked his free hand through his emerald hair. According to the book, he had two options for a cure: a bath in troll snot and vinegar, or getting over his mood.

The former would be dangerous and horrendously disgusting. But the latter—get over Tightwad Tarbunkle stealing Jane right out from under him?

Impossible.

“Trolls it is, then!” Athelbert snapped the book shut and marched from the study.

He hurried through the castle grabbing what he needed, pausing only to consider whether he should take three pairs of  musty socks or four. Placating trolls was a tricky business even when you weren’t trying to collect their mucus. He grabbed four.

With any luck, he’d be back by sundown. If he pulled an all-nighter, he could have the Divination spell done on time, too.

Athelbert ran across the bailey, holding the hood of his robes over his head. At the gate, he skidded to a stop.

Clad in luscious scarlet and a scandalous neckline, raven-haired Jane stood by the gatehouse in a cluster of young women.

Athelbert backed up. He couldn’t chance her seeing him, not when he looked like a cabbage patch.

But she was right there. More importantly, Tightwad Tarbunkle wasn’t.

After a moment’s hesitation, Athelbert slunk down an alley toward the maidens. He could spare a few minutes. Peeking around the corner of the stables, he was just yards away. Well within earshot.

One of the young women curled a finger in her blond locks. “And how is little Tarbunkle, anyway?”

Jane laughed. “I’ve got him hook, line, and sinker. He’d trade his birthright for me.”

Giggling. The sound sent shivers through him.

“Are you keeping this one?” asked another.

“Ha! Not a chance. Once I get that diamond, I’m on to the next fish.”

“Who’re you angling for this time?”

Jane tapped a delicate finger on her glossy, smirking lips. “What do you think I can lure out of a wizard’s apprentice?”

Crouched behind the stable, Athelbert gasped as though he’d been sucker-punched. She’s a player? He slouched against the wall. Maybe she and Tarbunkle deserved each other after all.

Athelbert stared down at his palms. The green was slowly fading away, but it was hard to muster any relief. He dropped his face into his blue hands.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A. M. Reynwood lives on a wee farm in Arcadia, NY where she can usually be found reading or hoarding the kitchen for her small bakery business. Since 2013 she has published a seven-novel speculative fantasy fiction series as well as a whimsical short story, and is always working on another tale to tell.

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