Warding Spell

Two hares boxing in the tall grass, Bellwyn and Danzing watching.

A boar comes running at Bellwyn. Bellwyn casts a warding spell. The warding spell becomes an invisible wall that keeps the boar at bay. Puzzled, the boar sniffs the moist ground (countless smells but nothing unfamiliar). It wants to get closer but can’t, pressing and pressing, the warding spell so mystifyingly buoyant. Soured into disgust, the boar runs across the field, glad to be rid of them. Bellwyn and Danzing laugh, frightening the hares. The laughter is a spell of its own, bringing Bellwyn and Danzing closer and closer until they tumble down a gentle waterfall of blue flowers the size of pinheads, Danzing on top of Bellwyn, Bellwyn on top of Danzing, tumbling into love.

The spell finishes and Danzing says, “You understand, Bellwyn, don’t you, that I’ll have to leave soon.”

“Yes, Danzing.”

“You understand, Bellwyn, what I’ve turned into?”

“I think so, Danzing.”

“I broke my vows a long time ago. Even before I met you, Bellwyn. I even took money for reinvigorating a well. They were so grateful and insistent and I needed the money.”

“I’ll miss you, Danzing.”

“Come with me.”

“Young witches can’t leave home until their magic’s matured.”

“I’d say your magic’s matured.”

“It’s not your opinion that counts, Danzing.”

“It never is.”

“What will you do, Danzing? You can’t run from the Zephyrs forever.”

A rogue Zephyr is always hunted down. Caught, they’re imprisoned until death. Most rogue Zephyrs prefer death to capture.

“I won’t be running forever. Just until my eventual death. And I’m pretty good at running, and hiding under magic. What I’m not very good at is being gallant. I’m sorry for asking you to run with me, Bellwyn. It wasn’t my choice to be a Zephyr. And now I’m trapped.” A large flock of birds flies by and Danzing cries, “Look how free those birds are.”

Bellwyn sits up.

“I know how to keep you safe,” she says.

Bellwyn whispers a transmutation spell into Danzing’s ear. Danzing changes into a crow. Bellwyn quickly tidies her clothes. Wrapping a dazed Danzing in a handkerchief, she flies deep into the Blue Forest.

“Queen of the southern crows!” she calls out. “Queen of the southern crows!”

The queen, along with her attendants, flies out to greet Bellwyn.

“Bellwyn,” she says. “What is your need?”

“Your majesty, I have brought you a mate.” Bellwyn releases Danzing.

“He is a fine mate,” the queen answers. “I will accept him as my consort.”

Bewildered, Danzing is married to the queen of the southern crows. With the queen’s magic lying on top of Bellwyn’s, he hardly remembers being Danzing the Zephyr.

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