After helping Kyleria with her washing, Kel felt refreshed. It had been good talking to someone who understood him. 

He flung open the doors to the workshop to find Caaron at work preparing solutions for tinctures. It was a cramped room, lined on either side with hand-made shelves that held items he had found wondrous when he was younger. Bottles of all shapes and sizes, containing materials of varying color and viscosity. Some of them looked like ordinary water, others sparkled or sloshed around in the bottle of their own volition. It was a mix of alchemy and magic that Kel wasn't sure he would ever truly understand. Other shelves held measuring devices and tools: scales, beakers, compases, scoops and strainers. An assortment of cutting tools hung on the wall next to him. Caaron had even set up a system to run water from the well into a basin in the corner of the room. No one in town knew about it and the old man was very careful to guard it as a secret. 

Caaron looked up from the boiling cauldron he was currently leaning over, huffing impatiently when he saw the boy. His long hair was wild and out of place and he had a few singe marks on his face from where he had undoubtedly been a bit overzealous starting the fire. Kel held back a laugh - he looked more like a crazed witch than a wise man today. 

"Step inside, young man. Did you get everything I asked for?"

Kel nodded and undid the clasp of his bag and began to unpack all of the herbs and plants he had collected. As a wise man, Caaron was a fairly competent apothecary, though he was the first to admit that he was not very good with formulae or instruction. He created tinctures and salves the way he had been taught by his master, with specific ingredients and a touch of intuition. The book knowledge that corresponded with these skills was encoded in folklore and "common" sense that the wise man claimed he was too old to try and unlearn and do in a scientific manner. "I've no time to teach you the theory. And I certainly don't have the time to learn it m'self. I can teach you the practice and that's enough."

Kel thought it was a bit hypocritical of him, demanding Kel learn magic slowly, as if building a tower brick by brick, while he himself worked with and taught medicine like a savant chef. Not that Kel knew what that was yet.

He grabbed a handful of the miniscule purple flowers he had picked on the hill by their house  and placed them on the table.They called them mountain flowers here but he had been to the mountains once as a child and the hill was nothing compared to those vast white peaks. He wasn't sure anything grew there.

"Cattails, please." Caaron held out his hand, without looking back at the boy.

"Why do we harvest these, again? They seem worthless." Kel eyed one of the dirty looking plants as he handed them over, like an ugly bouquet, to the old man. 

"To treat wounds, if you must know. Came in handy during the war. You roast the flower and use the charred remains to dress the wound." The wise man grimaced. "Now, though, we use it for accidents; Boar wounds and the like."

Kel nodded thoughtfully. It probably didn't feel pleasant, having roasted cattail stuffed in a wound. Granted, bleeding out probably wasn't pleasant either. "And the flowers?"

Caaron didn't look up. He sliced the cattails just below where the stalk met the flower, depositing each into an appropriate jar that he placed on the shelf.  "Nausea, exhaustion and for help sleeping, depending on how we brew them, of course. Some people need them to treat impotence."

"What's impotence?"

The old man froze for a moment. "Just another malady," he said hurriedly.

Kel, knowing that tone, decided he would just ask William or Kyleria the next time he saw them.

"And the sassafras?"

"Oh, that's for brewing. It produces a delicious drink. No medicinal purpose whatsoever."

"But you told me that was the most important one!"

Caaron turned around and smiled. "And it is - no point in living if you can't enjoy life. And this drink is quite enjoyable." He turned back around and began to fiddle with the cauldron again.  "Now chop those up after you've washed them."

Kel did as he said, pumping water into the basin  and rinsing dirt from the sassafras roots. Once they were done, he brought them over to  the table and began to carefully chop them. After a moment, he looked over where Caaron was putting the flowers into jars and beginning to fill them with whatever solution he had concocted in the cauldron. The glasses made a pleasant tinkling sound as he stirred each one.

"I was wondering. When can I start studying the black book?"

The tinkling sound ceased suddenly. Chaaron's voice was suddenly grave. "You can't use that book. Not yet." The black book was the oldest and rarest in Caaron's collection. Despite this, it gave the impression of being almost brand new whenever the old man took it down to consult it or when dusting the shelves. Not that the black book needed it; dust seemed to avoid it altogether, curiously enough. A single brass latch held the pages closed, as if they could spring open at any moment. Kel had been obsessed with it since he first laid eyes on it, almost five years ago. 

"But I need to cast something stronger, more powerful, and I need to do it soon!"

"Relax boy. You have two years until they can take you. And the Academy won't even hear your case until you are of age. Keep building up your skills, bit by bit, and base it on a firm foundation of knowledge. If you tried to use that book now, it could eat you alive." Kel wasn't sure if he meant that literally. The old man's face softened into a smile. "Be patient. You'll be ready soon enough."

"But I want to start now. And I've read all the other books you own. That's what - five spells? When will I be ready? What if I fail and  have to work for the Hardstadts? You said it yourself - I don't have any faerie magic in me, right?

"You have magic, boy. Just not faerie magic." He sighed impatiently. "Now stop this talk and get back to work."

"Can’t I just run away? Like the Grey Peregrine? Steal away into the night with half the mayor’s gold and his larder to boot!?" Something was upon him. He was manic. With only two years to his fifteenth birthday, Kel felt the walls closing in. It was not enough. His progress was too slow. And no one around him was feeling the urgency he felt. If he had to work for Derry there was no telling what would happen to him but none of it would be good. 

Caaron snorted. "Boy, the Grey Peregrine is just a fairy tale that poor people tell each other to feel better that they aren’t rich enough to be stolen from."

"You know I don’t like that phrase." Kel's countenance darkened. The "F" word was not mentioned in their household. He could read it in books all he wanted, but hearing it spoken out loud was unbearable. 

Caaron sighed, his ash-smudged hand to his forehead. "I know...I'm sorry." He sniffed, wiped his nose with an arm. "But it’s a legend, a myth. Nothing to aspire to."

"A very recent myth, from what Kyleria was telling me. She wanted me to tell you to put up wards tonight. Apparently he was in Ferryton last night."

"Ah. Then in that case..." Caaron was silent for a moment. "Still you have to be patient. We know your strong suits. You are set to be a fine wizard. One day. For now, slow and steady with the basics. Magic is, and always has been, dangerous." 

"Being a slave is dangerous too!" Kel exclaimed. Angry and distracted, he sliced at the sassafras a bit too aggressively and his hand slipped.The knife was so sharp that he had barely felt it, but there on his index finger was an inch-long gash pouring blood onto the chopping-board.  

The old may eyed the blood spilling from between Kel's clenched  fingers. "Have a cattail - I'll get it ready for you..."

Kel gritted his teeth as he applied pressure to his cut finger, stemming the flow of blood. "It's not that deep. A bandage is all I need." 

"No boy, let me do you this one kindness." He unrolled a paper cylinder of dark, charred matter and began to work on binding the small, if profusely bleeding, wound. "I'll arrange to get you more books," he said softly, winding a clean bandage around Kel's finger before tying it off.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"You will!?" 

"Yes, but you're still only learning cantrips." There was an edge in the old man's voice that kept Kel from saying anything else. It was enough for now. "Now finish cutting the Gibbs-damned sassafras."

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It was midnight, cool like most spring nights, when Kel slid silently down the ladder, cloak fluttering tight around him. There was no  moon this night, but he knew how long he had been lying awake, waiting. He crept around the corner of the house, careful to stay outside the stakes that Caaron had put down earlier that night. It wouldn't do to be mistaken for a thief and from what he had heard, getting caught in a ward wasn't a very fun experience. He sidled up to the window of the study. There was a stake here too. Oh well. He was sure he and Caaron wouldn't be a target for the Grey Peregrine. He only went after people who had money. If he was a he at all.

Kel muttered a phrase that he didn't understand but had memorized from watching Caaron set up the wards. There was a thin popping sound and he knew that the enchantment had been broken, albeit without setting it off. He gritted his teeth - he truly did feel like a thief, but what was the alternative? He could keep studying new cantrips all he wanted, but there was no way he was getting out of here unless he learned something real. Curling his fingers in a beckoning motion, he addressed the window. It slid open with an audible creak (he would have to learn a quieting spell soon) and he let himself silently inside.

The black book was still there. Unprotected and unhidden. Caaron, despite what he let on, truly trusted the boy and Kel felt more than a little guilty taking the book in the middle of the night. Still, while Caaron was clearly motivated to help him, the man himself knew very little of the magic that Kel himself was attuned to. To be sure, the old man wielded considerable wisdom and he knew the ways of healers and traders. But he produced very few spells. Warding was his specialty in that regard, along with some alchemy that even he himself couldn't explain. For everything else, Caaron could only provide Kel with his advice and his collection of books, scavenged from collectors and likely, thieves.

He lifted the book off the shelf and made his way to the window. It had a strange gravity to it, as if there were made of something other than paper. The binding felt cool to his touch and as he climbed back through the window and crept back around the house, it remained so - unnaturally cool. 

Obviously, the best place to work would be the barn - bigger space for bigger spells. The big doors creaked as Kel entered, the lonely lamp in his sleeping loft above the only source of light, casting strange shadows through the boards.  Kel pointed to the four corners of the barn and light flooded the room. He squinted his eyes and it dimmed to an acceptable level. Then he sat in the center of the room, cross legged, and gingerly slid the clasp of the book open. 

The book naturally fell open to the first page and Kel felt the glyphs and diagrams swim before his eyes. TO SUMMON A USEFUL THING, it read. This was not a simple spell. This was a ritual. A large working. It was like a quilt made of several spells layered one-onto-another. This would be difficult for even an experienced sorcerer. 

Still, if he could figure this out, he could show it to the town council. And then they would have to let him attend the Academy. And then he would be free.

Determined, Kel set to work. There were seals, intricate lines he had to draw on the ground using chalk. Light was required at specific points of the seals, which took up a significant amount of concentration at first as he adjusted his light spell. Then there were herbal components, which he rarely worked with. After several trips to the workshop and a brief foray into the edge of the yard, Kel had all of the ingredients he needed. Chants in languages he had only begun to study were required as he burned some of the herbs. Thankfully, the words were all clearly written which, for a spell book, was somewhat miraculous. Interestingly, one part of the ritual also required that he ingest cattail. He silently thanked Caaron for sending him out for those earlier. 

When all of the layered spells were done, it was time to bring it all together. For some reason, Kel recalled sewing Rylia's doll back together, tugging the one last knot to complete the job. He took a deep breath and uttered the words to trigger the spell. Dajii Jehami! The words held a fell weight to them, as if they were only meant to be read and not spoken. He braced himself for what was to come. And then - nothing. 

Nothing happened. 

Kel looked around, examined every part of the room, every angle of the seals, every point of light. It was all perfect. He chanted over the herbs just to be sure, but even he knew that the intent of the language was the most important part of an incantation. And his intent was focused - he was going to summon a useful object. Check. So why wasn't it working?

Frustrated, he paced around the middle of the largest seal, flipping through the first few pages. He'd gotten everything right. There was no further instruction. Perhaps there was an appendix. He flipped the book over, to get to the back of the very dense book when it seemed to grow even heavier when he wasn't expecting it. He let a yelp out as it dropped from his hands, the clasp catching on his bandage as it fell. 

"Hal's Fire that stings!" He exclaimed as he went to pick up the book. Bright red drops of blood splattered on the seal. Great - he had completely reopened the cut. I'm getting William to mend it tomorrow, he thought to himself, exasperated. Dajii Jehami. He muttered the words to the spell to himself, disappointed. What a waste of a night. 

Suddenly, the lights - every single point of light he had created - went dark, as if snuffed out by a phantom wind. Then, a strange violet light, dim and ghostly, emanated throughout the barn. Glyphs, jagged and smudged, hung in the air. They weren't the elegant, eldritch marks that he had seen all those years ago when his family was taken. These glyphs were more menacing, a glowing purple flame scratched against the fabric of reality. Kel wasn't sure what they said or what language it was, but it felt...unwholesome. There was a popping noise and then the glyphs and light were gone. In their place, someone - no - something stood. 

It was the size of a child, smaller than Rylia, even. A dark shape, illuminated only the single lamp ten feet above them in his loft. 

Not knowing what else to do, Kel evoked a single point of light in the corner of the room. He gasped. The thing was a deep, shadowy purple with large, protuberant eyes. No irises. Just huge white eyes. Fangs protruded from beneath its upper lip on either side of its mouth. What in Gymn had he summoned? It opened his mouth and produced a raspy series of clicks and gurgles before finally seeming to find its voice.

"Hullo," It said glumly.

"Erm...hello." Kel could feel himself shaking. 

"What are you?" The thing looked him up and down, bobbing its head almost comically. 

"I'm a boy." Such a stupid response, but he didn't really care about sounding stupid right now.

"Oh." It seemed to regard him dubiously. With such large pupils, it was hard to tell where the thing was actually looking.  Something must have gone wrong with the spell. Ken wondered if this had been such a good idea. The spell was supposed to summon a useful thing. He had thought he would summon a wondrous item. Like Kyleria's pouch. This thing was not very useful, he thought, but it certainly might be dangerous.

After a moment of silence, Kel steeled himself. "And what, may I ask, are you?"

The thing cocked its head "I'm boy." 

"No...you're not." There was nothing boy-like about the creature that stood before him. 

"I'm boy," the creature insisted. 

Not wanting to antagonize the forsaken looking thing he had just summoned, Kel decided to try a different tack. "Okay, fair enough - you're a boy. So...where are you from?"

"Around." It sniffed. "Where is here?" The creature turned its head at an almost impossible angle, like an owl, before whipping back around.

Guin's Word, this was creepy! "It's Fellow's Glen. It's my home."

"Plane?"

"Huh?"

"What plane, this?" Its eyes bore into him with a gravity that reminded him strangely of the book's weight. 

Kel was utterly confused. "I'm not sure how to answer that."

"Ah. Understand." 

The more he talked to this thing, the less afraid he was. He could feel his courage returning, like the feeling of warmth returning after jumping in cold water. "Did I...summon you?"

"Sure." The creature didn't say much, that much was apparent.He opened his mouth to ask another question when the room was suddenly awash in that awful purple light again. 

"Bye," the creature said. There was a loud pop. The light and the "boy" were gone. 

Kel collapsed, shuddering and trying to catch his breath. What have I done? he thought to himself, lying on the floor well into the morning.