Saturday, April 16, 2005

   Chaper 1: Blues
A boy was sitting inside one of the many little huts of a village. He looked to be about twelve, with very frizzy hair that matched his eyes, the brown of the forest floor. Blues was his name, although it matched his looks terribly.
He was sitting by a small desk that held a thick, green-glowing candle. It was the only source of light in his hut. Blues loved the stillness of his two-room house in the morning. On a perch by a glass-less window roosted a pale-colored dove, head tucked beneath a light brown wing. Opening a large, leather-bound book on his desk, Blues sighed. After paging about halfway through, he started to read. The words were arranged as in a dictionary, except they weren’t really words at all. The book was filled with strange expressions like ‘mendouroldis’ or ‘queglery’. Anyone, whether mage-blood or not, would know that it was a spell book.
Blues opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a big, scratched glass jar. Inside sat at least twenty little, spidery creatures called wills, clinging onto several leafless branches. The only difference from these critters to spiders was that they had wings (Blues had torn one of these off to keep them from flying away).
He swiftly opened the top and caught an extremely fat one, holding it by a leg while he screwed the top back on. It wiggled and swung itself around and around in circles until Blues placed it on the table.
The will scurried to the edge of the desk, but it was too dizzy to move fast enough to get off the edge.
“Stay here, you!” Blues whispered as he grasped the little creature by a different leg and dragged it back into the middle of the table. Purposefully, he tore the leg out. With the same hand, he quickly pulled out a long, thin, and completely black wand out of his sleeve.
“Reparium,” Blues muttered. No one would have noticed anything change visually, but those who had mage-blood and a trained ear would be able to hear a soft, far-away-sounding hum. It grew louder as the will froze, and a lump appeared were the leg used to be. The lump grew longer and hairier, until a new leg replaced the old.
“Thanks,” Blues said to the will as the hum of magic died. After he slid his wand away again, he pushed it off the end of the table and into the jar with its others. He replaced the top, rolling it back into the drawer. Then, he gathered a paper and pencil, and started to write.
“Blues! Breakfast time,” A gentle voice called from outside.
“Coming, Dad,” Blues responded, blowing out his candle and tucking his wand into a sleeve.
It was still dark out. Where the sun was supposed to be shining was covered by black clouds—that were not thunderclouds. When Blues stepped out of his home, he knew something was wrong.
“Why is it still dark?” he asked his father.
“No clue,” he answered, “I don’t have much experience in that topic. Ask Rain.” Blues knew that his father was specialized in magical monsters, not weather.
“Why don’t you call her by her real name? I find ‘TearCloud’ much prettier than ‘Rain.’”
“Well, her being the mage and me just a wizard,” his father sighed, “calling her a lower-rank name makes me feel less... untalented.”
“You’re not just a wizard—you’re an archwizard. Get it right.”
“Great, that’s so much better than a normal wizard,” Mr. Corelli said sarcastically.
He looked up at his father; a strong man, although age was slowly catching up with him. He had dark brown hair, like Blues, but it was streaked with gray.
“After eating breakfast, you can go practice some spells in the forest,” he told his son, leading the way up to the family’s main hut.
The town was built in the valley of a forested mountain range. As soon as anyone reached the age of eleven, he got a house of his own. Blues’ hut was right next to the forest. It was covered in ivy, so you could walk right past it and never know it was there.
“How’s your studying coming along?” Mr. Corelli asked as they walked.
“Fine. I think I’ll be ready for Welding,” Blues answered with a touch of excitement. “I can’t wait!”
“Yup, it’s fun there,” his father said. “You’ll get a chance to party, but you’ve got to work for it. And a year is never complete without breaking a few rules.” He smiled to himself, having been one of the most mischievous kids Welding ever had.
“How big exactly is Welding?” Blues asked to keep the conversation up. “I heard it was a few hundred acres in diameter, or something.”
“Why’d you ask? You’ve been there before.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen the whole thing!”
Mr. Corelli took a moment to think about it. “With my experience, I’d guess Welding’s about, well, say big enough to hold a hundred metallic dragons.” Blues was used to his father’s view on the subject—-he was a skin-archwizard, specialized in animals.
The familiar smell of pancakes tickled Blues’ nose as he entered the main house. This lovely stone building consisted of a few rooms, most bedrooms for the younger kids. The largest space was the dining room, where the family gathered to eat. The walls were wood stained a light, golden color, contrasting well with the dark cherry floor.
“Good morning, Mom,” he said cheerfully as he passed a brown haired lady holding a large plate of pancakes as he hurried to take his place.
All of Blues’ siblings were already gathered around a large round table. The Corellis had a distinct sitting pattern: Mr. and Mrs. Corelli sat together, in seats close by the kitchen so that they could get more food. Lila (nineteen) sat on her mother’s left, beside Valsin (seventeen), Etude (fourteen), his identical twin brother Symphony (fourteen), Blues (twelve), Melody (ten), Gavotte (nine), Musette (eight), and the youngest, Bourree (six). They all had brown hair and brown eyes, thanks to their parents.
Mr. Corelli sat down, and Mrs. Corelli placed the plate in the middle of the table.
“Enjoy,” she said with a smile as she sat down. Blues took a pancake, spreading strawberry marmalade all over one side and rolling it up. He nibbled slowly, somehow not feeling nearly as hungry as he usually did. Blues didn’t understand what was bothering him so much. His eyes wandered to the window behind Lila. It was still dark.
“Is something wrong, Blues?” his mother asked him. “You don’t seem quite as talkative as usual.”
“Oh. No, I’m fine,” he lied. He waited in silence for everyone to finish eating, slowly chewing on his pancake to pass time. Then, excusing himself, he got up and walked out the door.
Blues headed to the forest. Usually the sun would glow the creepiness out of it, but today it looked dark and threatening. He hesitated if he should really go in, but the mature part of his brain told himself that he was a baby to be afraid of the forest. Quickly, he pulled his wand from his sleeve. He pointed it at himself and, concentrating to keep the spell as quiet as possible, whispered “Glost Neon.” After a mumble of magic passed, Blues slipped his wand away again. His body now glowed the same soft green color that the candle in his hut did.
Lighting himself a way into the forest, his magic somewhat dampened his fears. His fingers stroked the soft wood of his wand. He wasn’t going completely unarmed into the dark. With a little chuckle, he considered the irony: a shadow-blood afraid of the dark. But, then again, shadow needed light.
Strange, he thought when not even a will crossed his path. Usually the forest was flooded with creatures, from fiery Rocs to gentle Eohorns. Where is everyone?
He walked further into the forest. He listened hard every time the wind rustled the leaves overhead. A twig tickled the back of his neck. He spun around and around, shivers running down his spine. All he wanted to do was try a spell, and get out. A part of him desired to run home, back to his cozy house. Yet, he kept walking deeper and deeper into the forest, as if a magnet was pulling him in. His heart pounded in his ears.
Quite suddenly, Blues noticed he had walked into a clearing. His eyes left his glowing feet and he looked up. His breath came faster, and his mind seemed to quiver as it programmed what he saw.
In the clearing, there were scorched tents that were arranged in a circle, roasted and black. In the middle was a fire, or what used to be a fire, from which fluffy black clouds were billowing. It looked as if the fire had blown up. Fear swamping all judgment, Blues turned to run. But his shock was broken by something in his mage-hearing. It sounded like a plea for help. The source was near, but Blues had never even heard of anyone using mage-sound to ask for help...
There is someone in the fire, Blues decided. Hardly hesitating, now that he had his mind set to the cause, he approached the fire, whose clouds covered the sky and created the darkness. He half-expected to see the shadow of a person lying in the ashes, but as he came closer, he saw the outlines of a bird. A bird?
Blues’ heart twisted with pity. Who would dare to do this? he wondered, shuddering at the cruelty. He reached into smoke to grab the creature, regardless of what kinds of dark magic it might possess.
The fire was moderately cool, but as Blues’ groping fingers touched the quill-covered body, he thought he had brushed living fire. Yelling with surprise and fear, he tried to pull away, but then the body became cooler, until it was nearly too cold for any bird or living thing. Desperately hoping that it was still alive, Blues pushed his hand under the bird’s chest and lifted it out of the smoking ashes.
The macaw-sized baby was covered in black dust, so he used hand to brush some of it off. Beneath the ash was the sweetest bird Blues had ever seen—-gold skin covered in spiky quills that would someday turn into red-and-orange feathers. A violet crest crowned the head of the chick. It looked up at him with wide, turquoise eyes, and opened its hawk-like beak in an attempt to make a sound, but none came.
“Shhh, I won’t hurt you. I’m Blues. You’re safe with me,” Blues told the bird, attempting to be reassuring while his own heart knocked like a drum in the inside of his skull. The big, thoughtful eyes closed, and its head hung limp against Blues chest.
“Oh no, please don’t die on me!” He stroked the crest with a finger, wanting the eyes to open, but they didn’t. The body became colder. “Please don’t die, you haven’t even lived yet...oh no, no, no.” Blues looked around desperately for something to wrap around the bird, but he found nothing but his own black robes. He hastily pulled it off himself single-handedly, wrapping it around creature, careful not to pull it too tight. Thankful that it was a warm summer morning, his mind seemed too numb to wonder about what people would think when he returned home.
He turned on his heels, and ran.
He ran so fast that he felt his heart was going to explode. The bundle he clutched to his bare chest was becoming colder.
Finally, between the trees, he could see his hut. A blonde-haired man in bright orange robes stood near it. Blues thought he had seen him before, but there was no time to be spent recognizing him. Before he knew it, they were face to face.
“There’s a camp ‘ the forest. I found her ‘ in fire,” Blues gasped, with his last bit of energy, holding out his burden to the man. Just as he took it, Blues fell on the hard gravel road and fainted.
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