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thecharmingwarlockThere are two types of bards: those who recount events with precision and those who add finesse. There is no issue with exaggeration. After all, no one remembers a dull tale. If one wants history to be remembered, then they must be an exciting storyteller. Yet, exaggeration in a tale does not refer to the spewing of venom. Sure, deception is key to survival. On the other note, to be caught in a lie would be damning for any bard. Should people across many towns and providences begin suspecting a storyteller of falsehood, then they could never trust that bard’s accounts. Perhaps, such is the reason for enlisting scribes with the sole duty of recording history.
Nonetheless, I would prefer the bard’s presentation of events. During my younger days, I have always been fond of bard culture. Stories, both true and fantastical, excited my young heart more than jewels. The stories of a renowned bard are more precious than a chest filled with gold. As the bard travels between town and city, they become an agent of connectivity. Anyone that encounters the bard are in some way bonded to others who took the time to listen.
Race no longer matters; Elves, Humans, Dwarves, Tieflings, and every other being become a part of the audience. Although performances may vary, one matter remains unchanged, they’ve heard the same tales. True, a bard’s performance may vary as they learn new methods of engaging their audience. However, the heart of a bard’s tale stands strong and personalized. For instance, two bards may recount the same battle. The first performs with broad gestures and a booming narrative. The dramatic display is their preferred technique in reeling in an audience. Yet, down another street, the second bard takes out an instrument. Perhaps the lyre is the storyteller’s lover. Passionately, the second bard tells his story through song. More people gather around the skilled musician. Now, the scenario is not meant to classify which method is better; rather, the example demonstrates how a bard’s energy can draw those around them.
Evidently, you may say that the bard I choose to hear is the latter. A traveler by foot, the first bard that piqued my thirst for tales was an old dwarf by the name of Nyr. An odd encounter one would suggest should they believe that all elves and dwarves resented one another. No, such was not the case. The elves of my city, Umndeni, respected the dwarven bard. Once Nyr was invited to the city, he was always welcomed to return. He would walk across the bridge and shuffle towards the inn. There in the street, he would perform. With his trusted lyre, Nyr would recall the details off his recent travels.
A bard is more than a storyteller, they are the teachers who pass onto their students a determination for freedom and a passion for travel.
“We learn based on our footsteps,” Nyr would tell me.
“What’s your meaning?” I’d ask with a young child’s stare.
“The roads we walk and the towns our feet bring us to all point towards something important to learn. In other meanings, we learn best with each mindful step.” The dwarf smiled at every opportunity to share with youth.
My twin brother and I would visit Nyr at the inn. Frequently, we would pay for his lunches. In a gesture of gratitude, Nyr imparted us with a new lesson. Our father grew frustrated with how often we diverted our attention from our studies to the inn. Apparently, he didn’t want someone else teaching his children about life when simply “knows best.” Our father had always been strict; from parenting to scholastics. After the loss of mother, he became increasingly controlling. At least, I hoped that he wasn’t as overbearing to her as he was to us. There was a point in our childhood when father would prevent our trips to the inn. With magic, he could ensure that both of his dear sons were able to attend schooling as they should. To our father’s lack of knowledge, we developed a plan of reaction.
“Let’s sneak out,” I suggested to my brother.
With a catty grin, Ihlathi agreed.
“As soon as he’s asleep,” he explained. “Then we can ask Nyr for a bedtime story.”
The plan went on well for a few weeks. The old bard was apprehensive at first. After all, “children should not wander through dark streets.” Yet, with a bit of magic, anything is possible. Nyr decided to teach us a sneaky trick. Without wanting to alarm the fellow gatherers at the inn, he brought us to a small table in an enclosed nook. Everyone else was too busy with their drink and talk so the lesson could go underway.
“You two are elves so you both should have a lot of magic within,” he stated with a sense of affirmation.
“Glad, that you’re confident,” Ihlathi replied with a slanted smile. “Our father hasn’t taught us any magic yet.”
“I’m not sure if he will,” I huffed to add. “He uses magic to keep us home all day. I doubt he would teach us any spells since we would simply leave more often.”
“That’s a shame,” Nyr shakes his head. “If only he were more compassionate, then he wouldn’t drive his own children out of their own home.”
“Well,” Ihlathi beamed. “At least we are clever enough to come visit!”
“Don’t worry I have an idea,” Nyr placed his hand inside of a small pouch and removed an object. “Within my hand are two magic rings. Should they work, then both of you will be able to turn invisible. The rings will be able to keep you two lads safe while walking out at night.”
“Really?” I rose in my seat. “That’s cool!”
“What if they don’t work?” Ihlathi said calmly.
“Well,” Nyr sighed. “Then I’m going to have to ask that you both to stop coming here late. I know your father holds some resentment. Yet, I would be more damned if any ill fell onto you both for visiting me. I think of you two as my own grandchildren after all.”
“Ah! But you’re a better teacher than father!” I cried out against the thought of staying home.
“That’s true,” my brother agreed.
“Well, let’s see if you two will be able to use the rings,” the dwarf replied.
He opened up his palm. My brother and I passed glances at each other with our mouths agape. Rings? There seemed to be nothing in his hand!
“They two are invisible,” he laughed unable to resist the comical appeal of our faces.
“Very well,” Ihlathi said with his head held up. “So, how are we supposed to even keep these on our person? I’m sure we would just lose them.”
“If you are able to use them,” Nyr began to explain. “Then you two will be able to feel their magic. That is how you will keep track of their location.”
I shook my head from the eminent doubt and smiled; “Let’s give it a go.”
We both took one of the rings. Nyr placed them on our finger. As the mysterious object and my hand made contact, I could feel a little pulsation. That must have been the magic he was mentioning. I peered at Ihlathi in efforts to see if he felt any sensation. Locking eyes, he shrugged his shoulders;
“Nothing seems different,” he observed.
“My finger does tingle a bit,” I replied.
“That’s the magic my friend,” Nyr grinned. “Now, if you are able to focus on that energy and concentrate, then you will turn invisible.”
Concentration? Well, I was at a loss. I tried to feel the energy of the ring. Once I latched onto the pulsation, I didn’t know what else to do. Even after some coaching from our dwarven friend, nothing happened. Ihlathi and I were both visible as the sun. Suddenly, we were overwhelmed with disappointment. Failing to use the invisibility rings meant that we would not be able to visit our friend and teacher.
“I’m sorry,” the dwarf responded to our emotion. “Don’t worry, with practice the rings will work. Until then, you two can just hold onto them.”
“Wait, really?” I asked. “Aren’t these pricy?”
“Think of them as a gift,” Nyr smiled. “Though understand that I’m trusting that you two won’t commit any mischief whenever you both figure out how to use the rings.”
“I promise,” Ihlathi said with a salute.
“Yeah, I promise too!” I followed suit.
“Good,” the dwarf grinned. “Now you two should return home before it gets any later.”
With resistant “goodbyes” my brother and I headed back to the house. Carefully, we walked down the dark windy streets. I remember that the wind felt nice that night. There was a new challenge at hand for us to tackle: Invisibility. Ihlathi and I talked about how cool it would be to achieve such an ability. Although we vowed to do no mischief, the temptation to bother father and not get caught would be fulfilling. The only caveat was that we could not loose our rings. I don’t know what would be worse: loosing magical rings, or losing a gift. The sentiment attached added to their value.
“I wouldn’t sell these for the world,” Ihlathi said as he flopped onto his bed.
“Neither I,” I replied while climbing through our bedroom window.
I can remember the next several days of attempting magic behind our father’s back. Ihlathi and I kept the rings on our fingers. Should we place them down, then we were afraid of their disappearance. I slowly felt more of the ring’s magical flow. For a moment in my childhood, I was the teacher. The only assistance I could provide Ihlathi, was a description of how the energy courses through one’s finger. The energy radiated outward from the ring’s center, causing the veins to pulsate along with the ring’s vibration.
“That’s it!” I shouted with glee one afternoon.
“What’s it?” our father asked with a scowl.
“Oh, I just have been,” I fumbled for words while looking down at the parchment in front of me. “Excited by my read of this text!”
“Good,” father smiled. Then he dreadfully crossed his arms. “Explain.”
With a blank stare and a stammer, I relayed as much of the details as I could recall. (Retrospectively, I do not remember what was read).
“I’m glad that you seem to be concentrating better Umlingo,” he smiled while patting my head.
Once he departed from the room, my brother let out a sigh. Within another moment he
asked; “What did you figure out?”
“Our own magic has to flow into the ring,” I began to ramble on my discovery. “Then, we match our energy with that of the ring. Once the ring’s energy and our own resonates, then invisibility should be reached!”
“How exciting!” Ihlathi restrained his excitement. “So, can you make the spell work?”
“Absolutely,” I paused. “Not.”
“You were never good with execution were you,” my brother shook his head.
“Well, then, you unlock the ring’s power!” I huffed while pouting.
Ihlathi and I stared at one another in silence. After another awkward moment had passed, we both broke out in laughter. Father returned to our study room and passed a disapproving gaze. We silenced and peered over our parchments. Once we were safe to speak again, Ihlathi grew excited.
“What if you use your energy to help me with my ring?” he asked as though I would comprehend his revelation.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can explain as we try,” he replied with certainty.
He took my hand and placed it above his own. Faintly, I began to feel the energy emanate from his ring. I smiled, maybe we could figure out the secret while working together. I poured my own energy into his hand. Acting as a source, I was able to give Ihlathi more magical energy then he seemed to possess. My brother closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. Within another half hour or so of silent concentration, Ihlathi succeeded.
“Woah it worked!” I said staring through my brother’s invisible form.
He did not speak to me. Yet, I could understand what he wanted to do. Ihlathi left the room, only his footsteps could be heard. Fortunately for him, father removed the magical barrier from the home. Good behavior is rewarded with some freedom. At least that day we were permitted to explore the backyard. Rest assured, I had to maintain Ihlathi’s secret escape. Otherwise, there was no telling what father would do in reaction of our mischief.
An hour passed with no sign of my twin. My head grew heavy and slumped onto the parchment that I was reading. A flash of color passed through my mind’s eye. Deep within a trance, I found myself in my brother’s shoes. He was walking down towards the inn. The many people littering the street could not see him. The magic still presented itself to him. He bumped into a woman while entering the old tavern. She glanced around and saw another elf.
“How dare you?” she spat her misplaced venom at the unexpectant passerby.
He merely shrugged her off. Angered with being ignored, the woman became aggressive. My brother continued his path; further, not willing to break his concentration. Nyr was sitting with a group of elves- enamoring them with a grand tale. Once he peeked over into Ihlathi’s position, the bard grew alarmed. The spell worn off and Ihlathi became exposed!
The vision faded when I felt a stern hand on my shoulder. My body jolted upright. I turned to face my father, afraid that he discovered my brother’s disappearance. His amber eyes pierced my core.
“Where is your brother?” Father’s voice attempted to restrain his discontent.
“Um,” I could only utter a squeak.
He grabbed me by my blouse. Pulling me closer to his nose, he asked again; “Where is your brother?”
To our surprise, Ihlathi’s voice piqued from the doorway.
“I’m right here father,” he said shocked to see the angry elf. “I was in the restroom.”
“Very well,” Father released his grip. “I think it best if you two finish your work. Dinner will be ready in forty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Ihlathi attempted to coax father.
Perhaps, that was not the best decision. As father exited the study room, he passed a suspicious glare at us. He couldn’t have figured out the truth that easily. Could he? My young thoughts spiraled in my mind. I shook my head and gathered my schooling materials. We had to clean our station before going to dinner. While I placed my study parchments back onto the bookshelf, Ihlathi approached me with a wicked grin.
“It worked!” He chimed. “And father doesn’t have a clue.”
“For now,” I said with a lack of confidence. “I thought he was going to throttle me until I told him where you were.”
“It’s fine Umlingo,” my brother patted my shoulder. “I saw our friend and oh how shocked he was to see that we were able to conjure the ring’s magic.”
“Hm, what did he say?” I began to ask. “Especially if knowing how difficult of a task that was for us.”
“I explained the whole process to him,” my brother smiled. “He was amazed to hear how well we worked together. I think with more practice we would both be able to use the ring. Then we can sneak back at the inn for a tale.”
My brother’s smile was contagious. I absorbed his positive glow and beamed. What good the ring could serve us! We wouldn’t be prisoners of our own home anymore. As time for dinner came, Ihlathi shared another secret;
“I already ate…”
“Shite,” I whispered.
We sat down at the dining room table. There was an assortment of meats and vegetables. For dessert, father prepared a fruit pie. Yes, although our family had enough gold to pay for servants, father was against outsiders from entering the house. He instead prepared all meals and maintained the home. Every detail had to be satisfactory to his design; moreover, providing a distrust in another’s capabilities to achieve the standards that he reaches. He sat down and waved his hand. We gathered food onto our plates. On the other seat, Ihlathi serves himself a smaller portion than usual. Father’s eyes discerned the difference in appetite.
“Not hungry?” he asked my brother. “You don’t seem to be acting like yourself Ihlathi.”
“Oh, I feel a little ill,” the other lied.
“What a shame,” our father was not one fit for compassion. “If you require rest then, you may retire to your room.”
“That’s fine,” he answered with a sheepish smile. “I can stomach a bit of gnash.”
“Suit yourself,” father nodded and continued with his meal.
By the time dessert approached, my head was overwhelmed by a tingly sensation. I was unsure as of why, but I had a poor feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong. Our father may be hiding the fact that he indeed knew about the ring’s magic. How naïve we were to doubt it ability to sense an aura. Such thoughts are retrospective. As a child, I had no idea about magic detection. After all, even though father uses magic, he failed to teach us the fundamentals: we were not of age to be studying the arcane.
Ihlathi may not have consumed much of his dinner. Yet, he was never one to miss dessert. My brother eagerly took the pie. He did not notice the grin on father’s face. I looked to Ihlathi and gave a small cough.
“What’s wrong?” father asked with aggravation.
“I drank poorly,” I replied.
“Be more careful,” he stated with an affirmation that he bought my lie. “People don’t only choke on their food, but water as well.”
“Yeah, you can’t be too quick Umlingo,” my brother chastised playfully.
He didn’t hone in on the warning that I attempted to give him. I guess my lie was too believable even for my twin brother. I refused the pie, claiming that I was too full from dinner. Father nodded and set aside the pie dish. He did not cut a slice for himself. In a moment, I realized why. My brother shot upright in his seat and began talking in tongues.
“Where were you today?” my father asked, no growled.
“I went to the inn,” Ihlathi answered- clearly enchanted by some truth speaking serum.
“What did you do there?” father continued his interrogation.
“I visited Nyr,” he replied. “I just wanted to hear some tales.”
“Tales?” father mused over the word. “Was that all?”
“I wanted to show him the…” my brother’s words trailed off and he collapsed head first into the plate.
“Show him what?” my father glared at me. His gaze was intense and full of rage.
“He wanted to show the drawings,” I lied. “We were drawing portraits of dragons. They aren’t very good, but we wanted to help tell stories too.”
Whether or not my father was convinced, I could not decipher. He released a long sigh in effort to calm himself. He rose from is seat and approached me. Placing a hand on my back, he smiled.
“Very well,” father said. “Time to retire.”
He lifted Ihlathi and brought him to the bedroom. While left in the dining room, I sat still. When he returned, my father demanded help clearing the table. I exhaled my nervous breath. To show any signs of discomfort would provoke suspicions. Through a silent procession, the dishes and leftovers went to their designated locations. I stood by the sink. Looking outside the window, I saw that the sun was setting behind the horizon. Soon the night sky will bless us with the moonlight and a myriad of glimmering stars. Father lightly tapped my head. Concentrate. The word was insinuated by his glance. I returned to my chore, thinking about how Ihlathi was doing alone in the room. After all of the kitchen musings were passed, I left to brush my teeth.
I wanted to be swift to return to my twin’s side. There was no telling what side effects magic can hold on a younger body. Asides, I had no understandings of magic, nor could I surmise the potency of a truth serum. Father bid me a good night and shut the bedroom door. Once he was well out of earshot, I could hear snickering. I turn my head to the other bed. Ihlathi was chuckling to himself.
“I pulled a fast one, didn’t I?” he voiced with mischievous delight.
“Excuse me?” my voice dropped. I was confused.
“I couldn’t help prevent myself from talking about Nyr,” my brother began to explain. “Yet, there was no room in the nine hells for me to squeal about the rings.”
“Oh,” I uttered a basic reply. My words were lost in my mind.
How was my brother able to stop the effects of a magical potion? As though he read my mind, Ihlathi answered my question.
“Concentration,” he beamed. “I had to focus my attention on passing out. With a bit of luck and intent, I succeeded!”
I blinked my eyes. If concentration was the only necessary piece in combatting a spell, then I should learn to focus more. The rings, we could continue practicing magic with their will. Once we are able to master the invisibility rings, then perhaps Nyr would have other charms or spells we could learn.
“Maybe Nyr could teach us magic!” I said excited by the prospect.
“That would be great!” Ihlathi jumped out of his bed.
The noise alerted father. We heard his footsteps approach the door. My brother retreated to the confines of his blanket. I turned my head towards the wall. The light of a lantern poured into the room. I could see my father’s shadow on the wall in front of me. For a moment, he paused before leaving. Upon the quiet closure of the door, I exhaled.
“Close call!” I whispered across the room to Ihlathi.
We laughed as young boys would when escaping a parent’s capture. After discussing more about magic, we fell quiet. Elves do not sleep, but we do enjoy a meditative state. That night, while in a trance, my mind’s eye fluttered in and out of focus. A swirl of color washed over my internal gaze. Within the vision, I felt a sense of shock and then fear. The sky was black and the only light came from a…hand. I’m sure that my body twisted and contorted while in bed. Uneasy, I didn’t want to see the causation of the negative emotions. I couldn’t prevent my sight from delivering a horrific scene.
In the dark streets of Umndeni, two shadowy figures emerged from a back alleyway. One was tall while the other, exceedingly short. They were dueling with magic. The short character tumbled over, rolling away from their foe’s blast. Pulling out an instrument, the short one rallied their defense. Swiftly, the tall figure shuffled out of the energy’s pathway while cackling. The voice was familiar; however, the sense of malice caught me off guard. The vision began to blur as though a misty veil overcame the battle field.
Suddenly, a scream bellowed throughout the night. The gruff voice shook my core…
“Nyr!” I woke from my trance in a hot sweat.
My body convulsed from the vision’s negative energy. Ihlathi tumbled out of his bed and rushed over to me.
“What’s wrong?” he sounded distraught.
“Nyr!” I repeated the dwarf’s name through sobs. “He…he is dead!”
Before my brother could ask any further questions, a knock racked the door. Slowly, a light crept into the room. To my utter contempt, father entered with a wide grin. There was a primal intensity in his eyes that confirmed the truth of my vision. Ihlathi latched onto me while we both stared at our father with complete shock. He walked closer to us, with an outreached hand.
He placed a hand on my cheek and said:
“Boys should not wander out at night.”
Never before has the elf shown signs of violence. From that moment, we learned just what our parent was capable of.
Nonetheless, I would prefer the bard’s presentation of events. During my younger days, I have always been fond of bard culture. Stories, both true and fantastical, excited my young heart more than jewels. The stories of a renowned bard are more precious than a chest filled with gold. As the bard travels between town and city, they become an agent of connectivity. Anyone that encounters the bard are in some way bonded to others who took the time to listen.
Race no longer matters; Elves, Humans, Dwarves, Tieflings, and every other being become a part of the audience. Although performances may vary, one matter remains unchanged, they’ve heard the same tales. True, a bard’s performance may vary as they learn new methods of engaging their audience. However, the heart of a bard’s tale stands strong and personalized. For instance, two bards may recount the same battle. The first performs with broad gestures and a booming narrative. The dramatic display is their preferred technique in reeling in an audience. Yet, down another street, the second bard takes out an instrument. Perhaps the lyre is the storyteller’s lover. Passionately, the second bard tells his story through song. More people gather around the skilled musician. Now, the scenario is not meant to classify which method is better; rather, the example demonstrates how a bard’s energy can draw those around them.
Evidently, you may say that the bard I choose to hear is the latter. A traveler by foot, the first bard that piqued my thirst for tales was an old dwarf by the name of Nyr. An odd encounter one would suggest should they believe that all elves and dwarves resented one another. No, such was not the case. The elves of my city, Umndeni, respected the dwarven bard. Once Nyr was invited to the city, he was always welcomed to return. He would walk across the bridge and shuffle towards the inn. There in the street, he would perform. With his trusted lyre, Nyr would recall the details off his recent travels.
A bard is more than a storyteller, they are the teachers who pass onto their students a determination for freedom and a passion for travel.
“We learn based on our footsteps,” Nyr would tell me.
“What’s your meaning?” I’d ask with a young child’s stare.
“The roads we walk and the towns our feet bring us to all point towards something important to learn. In other meanings, we learn best with each mindful step.” The dwarf smiled at every opportunity to share with youth.
My twin brother and I would visit Nyr at the inn. Frequently, we would pay for his lunches. In a gesture of gratitude, Nyr imparted us with a new lesson. Our father grew frustrated with how often we diverted our attention from our studies to the inn. Apparently, he didn’t want someone else teaching his children about life when simply “knows best.” Our father had always been strict; from parenting to scholastics. After the loss of mother, he became increasingly controlling. At least, I hoped that he wasn’t as overbearing to her as he was to us. There was a point in our childhood when father would prevent our trips to the inn. With magic, he could ensure that both of his dear sons were able to attend schooling as they should. To our father’s lack of knowledge, we developed a plan of reaction.
“Let’s sneak out,” I suggested to my brother.
With a catty grin, Ihlathi agreed.
“As soon as he’s asleep,” he explained. “Then we can ask Nyr for a bedtime story.”
The plan went on well for a few weeks. The old bard was apprehensive at first. After all, “children should not wander through dark streets.” Yet, with a bit of magic, anything is possible. Nyr decided to teach us a sneaky trick. Without wanting to alarm the fellow gatherers at the inn, he brought us to a small table in an enclosed nook. Everyone else was too busy with their drink and talk so the lesson could go underway.
“You two are elves so you both should have a lot of magic within,” he stated with a sense of affirmation.
“Glad, that you’re confident,” Ihlathi replied with a slanted smile. “Our father hasn’t taught us any magic yet.”
“I’m not sure if he will,” I huffed to add. “He uses magic to keep us home all day. I doubt he would teach us any spells since we would simply leave more often.”
“That’s a shame,” Nyr shakes his head. “If only he were more compassionate, then he wouldn’t drive his own children out of their own home.”
“Well,” Ihlathi beamed. “At least we are clever enough to come visit!”
“Don’t worry I have an idea,” Nyr placed his hand inside of a small pouch and removed an object. “Within my hand are two magic rings. Should they work, then both of you will be able to turn invisible. The rings will be able to keep you two lads safe while walking out at night.”
“Really?” I rose in my seat. “That’s cool!”
“What if they don’t work?” Ihlathi said calmly.
“Well,” Nyr sighed. “Then I’m going to have to ask that you both to stop coming here late. I know your father holds some resentment. Yet, I would be more damned if any ill fell onto you both for visiting me. I think of you two as my own grandchildren after all.”
“Ah! But you’re a better teacher than father!” I cried out against the thought of staying home.
“That’s true,” my brother agreed.
“Well, let’s see if you two will be able to use the rings,” the dwarf replied.
He opened up his palm. My brother and I passed glances at each other with our mouths agape. Rings? There seemed to be nothing in his hand!
“They two are invisible,” he laughed unable to resist the comical appeal of our faces.
“Very well,” Ihlathi said with his head held up. “So, how are we supposed to even keep these on our person? I’m sure we would just lose them.”
“If you are able to use them,” Nyr began to explain. “Then you two will be able to feel their magic. That is how you will keep track of their location.”
I shook my head from the eminent doubt and smiled; “Let’s give it a go.”
We both took one of the rings. Nyr placed them on our finger. As the mysterious object and my hand made contact, I could feel a little pulsation. That must have been the magic he was mentioning. I peered at Ihlathi in efforts to see if he felt any sensation. Locking eyes, he shrugged his shoulders;
“Nothing seems different,” he observed.
“My finger does tingle a bit,” I replied.
“That’s the magic my friend,” Nyr grinned. “Now, if you are able to focus on that energy and concentrate, then you will turn invisible.”
Concentration? Well, I was at a loss. I tried to feel the energy of the ring. Once I latched onto the pulsation, I didn’t know what else to do. Even after some coaching from our dwarven friend, nothing happened. Ihlathi and I were both visible as the sun. Suddenly, we were overwhelmed with disappointment. Failing to use the invisibility rings meant that we would not be able to visit our friend and teacher.
“I’m sorry,” the dwarf responded to our emotion. “Don’t worry, with practice the rings will work. Until then, you two can just hold onto them.”
“Wait, really?” I asked. “Aren’t these pricy?”
“Think of them as a gift,” Nyr smiled. “Though understand that I’m trusting that you two won’t commit any mischief whenever you both figure out how to use the rings.”
“I promise,” Ihlathi said with a salute.
“Yeah, I promise too!” I followed suit.
“Good,” the dwarf grinned. “Now you two should return home before it gets any later.”
With resistant “goodbyes” my brother and I headed back to the house. Carefully, we walked down the dark windy streets. I remember that the wind felt nice that night. There was a new challenge at hand for us to tackle: Invisibility. Ihlathi and I talked about how cool it would be to achieve such an ability. Although we vowed to do no mischief, the temptation to bother father and not get caught would be fulfilling. The only caveat was that we could not loose our rings. I don’t know what would be worse: loosing magical rings, or losing a gift. The sentiment attached added to their value.
“I wouldn’t sell these for the world,” Ihlathi said as he flopped onto his bed.
“Neither I,” I replied while climbing through our bedroom window.
I can remember the next several days of attempting magic behind our father’s back. Ihlathi and I kept the rings on our fingers. Should we place them down, then we were afraid of their disappearance. I slowly felt more of the ring’s magical flow. For a moment in my childhood, I was the teacher. The only assistance I could provide Ihlathi, was a description of how the energy courses through one’s finger. The energy radiated outward from the ring’s center, causing the veins to pulsate along with the ring’s vibration.
“That’s it!” I shouted with glee one afternoon.
“What’s it?” our father asked with a scowl.
“Oh, I just have been,” I fumbled for words while looking down at the parchment in front of me. “Excited by my read of this text!”
“Good,” father smiled. Then he dreadfully crossed his arms. “Explain.”
With a blank stare and a stammer, I relayed as much of the details as I could recall. (Retrospectively, I do not remember what was read).
“I’m glad that you seem to be concentrating better Umlingo,” he smiled while patting my head.
Once he departed from the room, my brother let out a sigh. Within another moment he
asked; “What did you figure out?”
“Our own magic has to flow into the ring,” I began to ramble on my discovery. “Then, we match our energy with that of the ring. Once the ring’s energy and our own resonates, then invisibility should be reached!”
“How exciting!” Ihlathi restrained his excitement. “So, can you make the spell work?”
“Absolutely,” I paused. “Not.”
“You were never good with execution were you,” my brother shook his head.
“Well, then, you unlock the ring’s power!” I huffed while pouting.
Ihlathi and I stared at one another in silence. After another awkward moment had passed, we both broke out in laughter. Father returned to our study room and passed a disapproving gaze. We silenced and peered over our parchments. Once we were safe to speak again, Ihlathi grew excited.
“What if you use your energy to help me with my ring?” he asked as though I would comprehend his revelation.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can explain as we try,” he replied with certainty.
He took my hand and placed it above his own. Faintly, I began to feel the energy emanate from his ring. I smiled, maybe we could figure out the secret while working together. I poured my own energy into his hand. Acting as a source, I was able to give Ihlathi more magical energy then he seemed to possess. My brother closed his eyes and furrowed his brows. Within another half hour or so of silent concentration, Ihlathi succeeded.
“Woah it worked!” I said staring through my brother’s invisible form.
He did not speak to me. Yet, I could understand what he wanted to do. Ihlathi left the room, only his footsteps could be heard. Fortunately for him, father removed the magical barrier from the home. Good behavior is rewarded with some freedom. At least that day we were permitted to explore the backyard. Rest assured, I had to maintain Ihlathi’s secret escape. Otherwise, there was no telling what father would do in reaction of our mischief.
An hour passed with no sign of my twin. My head grew heavy and slumped onto the parchment that I was reading. A flash of color passed through my mind’s eye. Deep within a trance, I found myself in my brother’s shoes. He was walking down towards the inn. The many people littering the street could not see him. The magic still presented itself to him. He bumped into a woman while entering the old tavern. She glanced around and saw another elf.
“How dare you?” she spat her misplaced venom at the unexpectant passerby.
He merely shrugged her off. Angered with being ignored, the woman became aggressive. My brother continued his path; further, not willing to break his concentration. Nyr was sitting with a group of elves- enamoring them with a grand tale. Once he peeked over into Ihlathi’s position, the bard grew alarmed. The spell worn off and Ihlathi became exposed!
The vision faded when I felt a stern hand on my shoulder. My body jolted upright. I turned to face my father, afraid that he discovered my brother’s disappearance. His amber eyes pierced my core.
“Where is your brother?” Father’s voice attempted to restrain his discontent.
“Um,” I could only utter a squeak.
He grabbed me by my blouse. Pulling me closer to his nose, he asked again; “Where is your brother?”
To our surprise, Ihlathi’s voice piqued from the doorway.
“I’m right here father,” he said shocked to see the angry elf. “I was in the restroom.”
“Very well,” Father released his grip. “I think it best if you two finish your work. Dinner will be ready in forty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Ihlathi attempted to coax father.
Perhaps, that was not the best decision. As father exited the study room, he passed a suspicious glare at us. He couldn’t have figured out the truth that easily. Could he? My young thoughts spiraled in my mind. I shook my head and gathered my schooling materials. We had to clean our station before going to dinner. While I placed my study parchments back onto the bookshelf, Ihlathi approached me with a wicked grin.
“It worked!” He chimed. “And father doesn’t have a clue.”
“For now,” I said with a lack of confidence. “I thought he was going to throttle me until I told him where you were.”
“It’s fine Umlingo,” my brother patted my shoulder. “I saw our friend and oh how shocked he was to see that we were able to conjure the ring’s magic.”
“Hm, what did he say?” I began to ask. “Especially if knowing how difficult of a task that was for us.”
“I explained the whole process to him,” my brother smiled. “He was amazed to hear how well we worked together. I think with more practice we would both be able to use the ring. Then we can sneak back at the inn for a tale.”
My brother’s smile was contagious. I absorbed his positive glow and beamed. What good the ring could serve us! We wouldn’t be prisoners of our own home anymore. As time for dinner came, Ihlathi shared another secret;
“I already ate…”
“Shite,” I whispered.
We sat down at the dining room table. There was an assortment of meats and vegetables. For dessert, father prepared a fruit pie. Yes, although our family had enough gold to pay for servants, father was against outsiders from entering the house. He instead prepared all meals and maintained the home. Every detail had to be satisfactory to his design; moreover, providing a distrust in another’s capabilities to achieve the standards that he reaches. He sat down and waved his hand. We gathered food onto our plates. On the other seat, Ihlathi serves himself a smaller portion than usual. Father’s eyes discerned the difference in appetite.
“Not hungry?” he asked my brother. “You don’t seem to be acting like yourself Ihlathi.”
“Oh, I feel a little ill,” the other lied.
“What a shame,” our father was not one fit for compassion. “If you require rest then, you may retire to your room.”
“That’s fine,” he answered with a sheepish smile. “I can stomach a bit of gnash.”
“Suit yourself,” father nodded and continued with his meal.
By the time dessert approached, my head was overwhelmed by a tingly sensation. I was unsure as of why, but I had a poor feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was wrong. Our father may be hiding the fact that he indeed knew about the ring’s magic. How naïve we were to doubt it ability to sense an aura. Such thoughts are retrospective. As a child, I had no idea about magic detection. After all, even though father uses magic, he failed to teach us the fundamentals: we were not of age to be studying the arcane.
Ihlathi may not have consumed much of his dinner. Yet, he was never one to miss dessert. My brother eagerly took the pie. He did not notice the grin on father’s face. I looked to Ihlathi and gave a small cough.
“What’s wrong?” father asked with aggravation.
“I drank poorly,” I replied.
“Be more careful,” he stated with an affirmation that he bought my lie. “People don’t only choke on their food, but water as well.”
“Yeah, you can’t be too quick Umlingo,” my brother chastised playfully.
He didn’t hone in on the warning that I attempted to give him. I guess my lie was too believable even for my twin brother. I refused the pie, claiming that I was too full from dinner. Father nodded and set aside the pie dish. He did not cut a slice for himself. In a moment, I realized why. My brother shot upright in his seat and began talking in tongues.
“Where were you today?” my father asked, no growled.
“I went to the inn,” Ihlathi answered- clearly enchanted by some truth speaking serum.
“What did you do there?” father continued his interrogation.
“I visited Nyr,” he replied. “I just wanted to hear some tales.”
“Tales?” father mused over the word. “Was that all?”
“I wanted to show him the…” my brother’s words trailed off and he collapsed head first into the plate.
“Show him what?” my father glared at me. His gaze was intense and full of rage.
“He wanted to show the drawings,” I lied. “We were drawing portraits of dragons. They aren’t very good, but we wanted to help tell stories too.”
Whether or not my father was convinced, I could not decipher. He released a long sigh in effort to calm himself. He rose from is seat and approached me. Placing a hand on my back, he smiled.
“Very well,” father said. “Time to retire.”
He lifted Ihlathi and brought him to the bedroom. While left in the dining room, I sat still. When he returned, my father demanded help clearing the table. I exhaled my nervous breath. To show any signs of discomfort would provoke suspicions. Through a silent procession, the dishes and leftovers went to their designated locations. I stood by the sink. Looking outside the window, I saw that the sun was setting behind the horizon. Soon the night sky will bless us with the moonlight and a myriad of glimmering stars. Father lightly tapped my head. Concentrate. The word was insinuated by his glance. I returned to my chore, thinking about how Ihlathi was doing alone in the room. After all of the kitchen musings were passed, I left to brush my teeth.
I wanted to be swift to return to my twin’s side. There was no telling what side effects magic can hold on a younger body. Asides, I had no understandings of magic, nor could I surmise the potency of a truth serum. Father bid me a good night and shut the bedroom door. Once he was well out of earshot, I could hear snickering. I turn my head to the other bed. Ihlathi was chuckling to himself.
“I pulled a fast one, didn’t I?” he voiced with mischievous delight.
“Excuse me?” my voice dropped. I was confused.
“I couldn’t help prevent myself from talking about Nyr,” my brother began to explain. “Yet, there was no room in the nine hells for me to squeal about the rings.”
“Oh,” I uttered a basic reply. My words were lost in my mind.
How was my brother able to stop the effects of a magical potion? As though he read my mind, Ihlathi answered my question.
“Concentration,” he beamed. “I had to focus my attention on passing out. With a bit of luck and intent, I succeeded!”
I blinked my eyes. If concentration was the only necessary piece in combatting a spell, then I should learn to focus more. The rings, we could continue practicing magic with their will. Once we are able to master the invisibility rings, then perhaps Nyr would have other charms or spells we could learn.
“Maybe Nyr could teach us magic!” I said excited by the prospect.
“That would be great!” Ihlathi jumped out of his bed.
The noise alerted father. We heard his footsteps approach the door. My brother retreated to the confines of his blanket. I turned my head towards the wall. The light of a lantern poured into the room. I could see my father’s shadow on the wall in front of me. For a moment, he paused before leaving. Upon the quiet closure of the door, I exhaled.
“Close call!” I whispered across the room to Ihlathi.
We laughed as young boys would when escaping a parent’s capture. After discussing more about magic, we fell quiet. Elves do not sleep, but we do enjoy a meditative state. That night, while in a trance, my mind’s eye fluttered in and out of focus. A swirl of color washed over my internal gaze. Within the vision, I felt a sense of shock and then fear. The sky was black and the only light came from a…hand. I’m sure that my body twisted and contorted while in bed. Uneasy, I didn’t want to see the causation of the negative emotions. I couldn’t prevent my sight from delivering a horrific scene.
In the dark streets of Umndeni, two shadowy figures emerged from a back alleyway. One was tall while the other, exceedingly short. They were dueling with magic. The short character tumbled over, rolling away from their foe’s blast. Pulling out an instrument, the short one rallied their defense. Swiftly, the tall figure shuffled out of the energy’s pathway while cackling. The voice was familiar; however, the sense of malice caught me off guard. The vision began to blur as though a misty veil overcame the battle field.
Suddenly, a scream bellowed throughout the night. The gruff voice shook my core…
“Nyr!” I woke from my trance in a hot sweat.
My body convulsed from the vision’s negative energy. Ihlathi tumbled out of his bed and rushed over to me.
“What’s wrong?” he sounded distraught.
“Nyr!” I repeated the dwarf’s name through sobs. “He…he is dead!”
Before my brother could ask any further questions, a knock racked the door. Slowly, a light crept into the room. To my utter contempt, father entered with a wide grin. There was a primal intensity in his eyes that confirmed the truth of my vision. Ihlathi latched onto me while we both stared at our father with complete shock. He walked closer to us, with an outreached hand.
He placed a hand on my cheek and said:
“Boys should not wander out at night.”
Never before has the elf shown signs of violence. From that moment, we learned just what our parent was capable of.
