Spells

The color had all drained away. No sunlight and no rain. Everything was dry, and dust settled on all the broken walls. He stood at the doorway and looked into the library that now only half stood. It was strange to see people still here, milling through the books and stepping over chunks of wood or plaster. It seemed as though nothing had changed for these people.

For him? Everything was different now. There was no way for him to find his way back to the world where books were painted in rainbows and sparkles. He let a small smile tug up the corner of his mouth. It was foolish that he had once thought that this was a magical place. There was no magic. Just guns, bombs, fire, and death.

Turning and trying not to think of the killing, he moved on down the street. Much was crumpled into the street, and many buildings had been completely lost. Oddly, several others stood untouched. He sat down on a large beam that had once held up the Crooked Tavern's roof. Elbows propping up his head, he closed his eyes and found that sleep could find him easily in this grey world.

A heavy hand lay upon his shoulder, "Elwyn?"

Flicking his eyes open and jerking his head up, he found his father kneeling in front of him. It took him a moment to find his place. He was sitting on the wet dirt road that ran through town. The day was bright, and the people bustled by them. A few slowed to regard them, but they were used to this strange boy and his odd behaviors.

"You had another spell," father said, offering him a hand up.

Elwyn took his father's hand and was reminded how small he was. The urge to explain rushed over him and almost let the words spill out. But fear clamped his jaw tight before anything could be said. What would this giant of a man think of his son if he knew that such visions came to him? Nothing had ever come of them, but he knew that they would with time. Deeply, into the marrow of his bones, he knew that they told him of the future.

In silence, he followed his father home. The routine would be observed. Mother would tuck him into bed, and his father would fetch the doctor. They would fuss, and nothing would come of it. There was no sickness gripping him. He knew that, and the doctor would confirm that again. He already had the explanation that his parents were looking for, but he was afraid to give it to them.

"Elwyn?"

His father had stopped and was looking at him. It was obvious that his father had been speaking for a while and was now seeking to know why he had not been heard. Saying nothing, he took his father's large hand and looked into those concerned, loving brown eyes. Tears came, and he could do nothing to hold them back. Thoughts of father's death washed over him. That had been shown to him a hundred times over his 15 years of living. Was it soon?

"What's wrong?" Father asked.

Standing in front of his son, he wiped away the tears. Father was a half-orc, tall and broad. Elwyn had taken after his mother, who was an elf. He was also tall but thin, with long limbs. If one passed him quickly, it would be easy to assume he was his mother. It did not offend him. After all, his eyes were the same pale blue and his hair the same long silver locks. Father treated Elwyn much the way that he treated his mother. They were both made of softer stuff, and his father understood and loved them for it.

"I'm alright," Elwyn whispered.

"I wish you would tell me what plagues you," father said.

"I can't."

It surprised Elwyn that he no longer tried to deny it. Looking at father then, he knew that there was no point in it. Father had seen his son clearly, and false reassurances would not erase that. While there were many things that father could not understand, people were not one of them. Elwyn figured that father's gift was seeing people as they are.

Staring at each other for a long time, both regarding the other with careful consideration. The father was trying to decide how hard to push his son. And the son was relaxing into a different understanding of his father. After a time, the father turned and started walking again. Elwyn followed. They walked for some time before Elwyn realized they were not heading home.

"Where are we going?" Elwyn asked.

"You're going to meet a friend of mine."

There was no further explanation. Father led and son followed. Twilight had perched on the horizon before they arrived at the small hut outside of town and deep into the woods. It was constructed of mud and wood. Animal bones were stacked beside the door, and a tree was adorned like a Christmas tree. But as they got closer, he saw that these ornaments were not the cheerful kind. Bits of bone, dried herbs, and small dead animals hung from the branches. The pathway was cut only by the travelling of feet.

A man stepped out from the hut and watched them approach. He was a half-orc like father. His long red hair grew in a stripe down the center of his head. Red lines had been tattooed over his skin. Long tusks protruded from his lower jutting jaw. His eyes were as red as his hair. But his skin was pale.

Father and this stranger clasped hands briefly. There was no other greeting exchanged. Both turned and briefly regarded Elwyn before looking to each other again.

"He has spells," father said.

The other man nodded. Father turned and walked away. Without being told, Elwyn knew that he was staying behind. Oddly, he felt comforted by being so far from the town. Visions only came to him in the places where things would happen. He was confident that less would happen in these woods than in town. Startling him, the man grasped Elwyn's hand as he had his father's.

"Togar," he said as he released Elwyn.

"I'm Elwyn," he said softly.

Togar did nothing to acknowledge the statement, turning and stepping back into the hut. Elwyn hesitated, but then followed Togar in. There didn't seem to be anything else to do. It was a small single room. Bundles wrapped in leather were stacked throughout. Herbs hung from the ceiling. Clay pots and glass jars contained various unidentifiable things and squatted between other items. It smelled of the earth and death. It was a stuffy and strange place. But there was something comfortable about it.

Against the back wall, there was a heap of furs, blankets, and pillows. Togar flopped down and wriggled himself into the pile. Snoring came quickly. Elwyn stood and watched the man's breathing rise and fall. Walking here had left him tired, and he longed for sleep. With a shrug, he lay down next to Togar. The heat was intense and quickly lulled him into slumber. As he fell asleep, he caught a scent from the pillow that he suspected had helped him sleep.