The Magic of Living Things

By Abigail Falanga

Gray sky. Gray walls. Black iron gate.

“Do your magic, girl!” Shouts harsh as gravel. “Stop holding back. We know you can do it!”

Dirt-brown boot, crunching into her side. Dung-colored ground.

Whimpering, Alia pressed into the corner. One of her captors seized her by the hair and dragged her forward, slapping her face.

“Do the magic, drudge!”

“I can’t,” she sobbed. “Please! I don’t know how.”

“Liar!” He shook her so that she bit down on her tongue, then dropped her abruptly.

Alia spit black speckles of blood into the dirt and fought to quell her tears. She’d tried to comply when they grabbed her from the University kitchens. But the magic they demanded was beyond her. Lashing out and trying to run had only earned her more bruises.

“We don’t have time for this,” growled the lookout from near the gate.

“No change! We gotta break this spell for this to be worthwhile.” The third checked the inert form they’d thrown onto a pile of sacks. “Enchantments aren’t my specialty. How was I to know it was an endless-sleep curse, not a knock-out?”

Number One snarled. “The girl is our best bet, if she would work her magic!”

Alia drew a breath against the pain in her side. “I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen a glow come from your hands, drudge. Once it even revived a dying herb. Stop pretending you have no magic!”

“I’ve never done it on purpose,” Alia pleaded. “Why do you think I came to this city? To learn!”

“Little girl fancies herself a princess,” Number Three sneered. “Noble enough to marry Prince Roald, eh?”

Alia flinched at the name. Prince Roald often visited the University kitchens. He was kind to her. The other maids mocked her for it, but… every story about him was of honor and courage, not abuse. He was the only light in her world.

And she was still only a scullery maid. “I don’t have money to attend the University, so I work in the kitchens and pick up what learning I can.”

“Then we’ll pull your magic out of you.”

“What?” Alia scrambled away. “No—please! You are all wizards; you’ve trained at the University. Show me what to do, and I’ll do it! Please!”

Number Three pinned her down. “Your magic is special, girl. Rare. Nowhere to be found in books.”

Swearing at her, Number One yanked her arm straight and twisted her wrist. “The magic, girl, where—is—it?”

Alia shrieked, struggling despite Number Three’s harsh grip.

“Shut up!” Number One barked. “Won’t do you any good.”

Pain blazed up her arm as he twisted again. And as a bolt of magic flew from her hand.

He twisted harder, squeezing muscle and tendon and bone.

Alia’s vision wavered. But somehow, it was working. The magic she had never understood and could never control coiled from her tormented hand and shot like a beam of light. Where it struck, color erupted. The wall rippled into vibrant blue, a flowering vine twisted up it. Beyond, the sky showed the flush of sunset.

Lookout jumped upright.

Number One paused to glance over his shoulder, then snarled, “Not like that, drudge!” and twisted once more.

Again, warm magic shot from her along with a scream of agony.

Something in her wrist snapped.

“C’mon, bring him to life. Wake him up.”

“I don’t know how!” Alia wasn’t sure if she shrieked the words or merely thought them.

“Hey!” Lookout shouted. “Change of watch. Now’s our chance to get into the palace.”

Number One swore, throwing Alia from him. “Can we do this part without him?”

“Got to. The binding-spells take effect at midnight. We can do the shield-breaking later…”

The voices receded, the gate clanged shut. Silence.

Alia gulped ragged breaths around dry sobs, cradling her hand.

The courtyard was empty. Gate locked. Warm color splashed unevenly across walls and ground, like that which decorated her small village home. Even her blood seemed redder. And for the first time since they’d taken her, she was alone.

Yet she couldn’t escape. Even the attempt was impossible with her broken wrist and the pain in her side.

No, she wasn’t alone. They’d left the other man, cursed to wakeless sleep by mistake. The one she was supposed to rouse.

Alia dragged herself to her feet and stumbled to the sacks where he lay motionless. Might as well see who her fellow prisoner was.

She nudged aside the cloak they’d thrown over him, and gasped.

It was Prince Roald!

His handsome young face was so still he might have been dead, his hair bedraggled and muddy, his eyes closed. Snuffed out now. All his color drained into gray.

Alia sat next to him and wept afresh. Why? Why had they taken the crown prince, the first in battle and valor, the shield and hope of this nation? What terrible scheme did those four warlocks have in hand that could possibly require such treachery?

She closed her eyes, leaning against his warmth. She loved him, and now they were both lost. Yet somehow, this felt right. For an instant, despite the pain, she felt the stillness, the rest, the gentle flow of life, the quiet magic of growing things…

The sacks rustled and Alia yelped, eyes flying open.

The courtyard glowed with color and life. Plants grew across vibrant walls. The warmth of her magic still shone in every cranny, but more than all this—

Prince Roald sat up, running a hand through golden hair.

Alia gasped.

“What’s this? Where am I?” her prince said. “What are you doing here in such a state, fair lady? Who did this to you?”

“Warlocks,” she replied. “You must escape.”

Roald stood and helped her up, gentle where she winced, anger kindling in his eyes. “We escape together. I’ll need your help fighting these warlocks.”

“What can I do?”

“Look around.” He laughed. “This gentle magic of yours is more powerful than any dark sorcery!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways—with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

---

More Stories | Author Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter