“And if this blight was no more? If you could study what you wished? What books would you be interested in?” I asked.
Elden cocked his head, “Hmm, I have always been fond of plants, things that grow. They work their own kind of magic, one as natural as the setting sun.”
“That would explain the dirt on your fingernails when I happened upon you in Jel’s cottage.” I said, fighting back the blush that crept over me. I was feeling quite bold.
“Jel and I have been studying the blight for quite some time.” Elden nodded, “I had been splicing several species of apple branches together on one tree when I came upon those eggs. One of them was starting to rot with the blight. I figured Jel would want to study them.” He then rummaged through the stack of leather-bound books that had appeared earlier.
“These are my father’s journals. In here, he writes that humans lost their magic the same moment the curse was born, and he was made to flee his ancestral home of Winterthorn. He was only a youngling when he lost both his father and mother during The Great Darkness.” The king opened the first book of handwritten tomes. He flipped a few pages and landed on the sheet he wanted. “He was convinced the loss of human magic was connected to the curse on the lands. The blight. Here, father writes that if only he could find a human craftsman with magic, perhaps it would be enough to set things right.”
“So, if it’s true and I have magic, then wouldn’t that be enough to break the curse?”
The Elf King shook his head. “Father writes that some great magic had been broken in Winterthorn and he believed it was only there that the magic could be put back into balance.”
The answer was simple, if not daunting in a world-shattering way.
“Then we must go there.” I stated, even as nerves squirmed in my gut.
“Go there?” the Elf King started. “Go to the mountains crawling with a killer shade monster? You’ve yet learned to wield your own magic.”
“There’s a shade monster here as well. One that you captured.” My legs throbbed, and I pulled up the hem of my skirt to expose the infected part of my lower leg. The black lines had grown, stretched farther across my skin since morning. A ticking clock to my own demise. “Or have you forgotten?”
The king’s eyes turned to steel.
“We don’t have time to wait. We only have five weeks until Christmas, until…”We die.
“It is a five-day journey to Winterthorn.”
“Then I will learn all I can about my baking along the way.” I could travel quite easily with my cookbook and lucky wooden spoon from Daisy.
But I would have no oven, no proper baking pans or tabletops to prepare my creations. No careful measuring of ingredients. I had no idea what was out here past the castle walls. I bit my lower lip, my leg throbbing an insistent reminder.
I’d need to make it work. There was no other option.
Even though the thought of wielding magic made my heart stutter at my own inadequacy, I wanted it to be true. And if, indeed it was true, then I could really make a difference back home.
Perhaps I could stop the blight from spreading to the human lands.
“I will show you all I know, and perhaps then we can come to an agreement about travel plans,” the king said.
We got to work scouring through the old parchment and tomes, learning as much as we could about the Great Darkness and human magic as the sun set behind the trees surroundingthe castle. A few of the very old journals had been written in the hands of humans. I felt awed as I read the words from my ancient ancestors. They spoke of eternal winter. How they were once welcomed by the elves, but had since been shunned, forced out of the Undying Lands.
The words filled me with a deep dread…I yawned and stretched. Pinks and oranges spilled in through the gilded windows and my head dipped. I rubbed at my eyes.
“You need rest, Little Baker.” The Elf King said.
“Rest?” Rest was the last thing on my mind. “What time is it?”
“It is long past dinnertime.”
I blinked at the darkness that lay beyond the windows. We’d been scouring the tomes since morning and it’d only felt like it’d been a few hours. Though the scattered teacups and half-eaten biscuits on the tabletops told a different story.
“I think we’ve read as much as we can from your books here,” I said. Everything confirmed what we knew. The magic and the blight were all connected. “The answers lay in Winterthorn.”
The king pulled in a deep breath, but did not contradict me.
“Teach me what you know of wielding magic along the way.” I lifted my eyes up the considerable height to the king’s piercing gold eyes. “If intent is the first pillar of magic, what are the others? So far all of my magic has been by accident. How do I wield it purposefully?”
The king raised a white eyebrow and crossed his large arms across his broad chest. “You wish for me to be your teacher? Give it thought, for I have never taught magic before. I do not quite?—”
