* * *
For a while, everything went smoothly. At the age of fourteen Max could boil water and heal minor wounds with nothing but his mind. He had the intelligence and wisdom of a true sorcerer, and he wasn’t even fully grown. She could tell he had grown some, however, because his hands were now bigger than hers.
“Look at those hands of yours,” she remarked one afternoon as they were both cleaning the house. “They’re so strong, yet so gentle at the same time. You can do a lot of good with those hands of yours, you know.”
He laughed softly. “But, a sorcerer doesn’t really use his hands all that often, does he?”
She gestured to his hands. “You’d be surprised how much good can be done without the use of sorcery.”
Max’s smile shrunk a little, his eyes glazed with nostalgia. “I know that, my lady. I remember learning how to braid hair because of my sisters. I guess I was good at it.”
The sorceress nodded and smiled. “Precisely. And along with that comes many other esteemed talents, far beyond the powers of sorcery.”
He stopped cleaning to look at her with raised eyebrows. “Really? Like what?”
She tried to hide her smile with her hand, but was unable to hide the giggle that came from her lips. “Many things, you silly child,” she replied, “Making, creating, mending, reassuring... There is a softness in your fingertips that is even more powerful than brute strength.”
A blush settled in his face. “But I can be strong too... like you said?”
“Of course. But it is a rare thing to be so gentle and so strong all at once. It’s also commendable. So ah… good job.” She grinned at him, and he laughed.
“I feel as though all you do is compliment me,” he replied with a small shake of his head. He went back to cleaning for a few moments, his fingers tracing over the dust that had collected on the shelves. The items the sorceress owned were always unique and intriguing, but most of them were just unexplained trinkets that he’d never given second thoughts about. There was something on the shelf that caught his attention: a mirror. It was silver and gold and shimmered multicolor in certain light. He was drawn to it immediately, though he wasn’t sure why. “My lady... this is a very interesting mirror you have.”
The sorceress looked up, her eyes falling on the mirror as it lay flat on the shelf. “That, my dear, is no ordinary mirror.” The familiar feeling of caution clouded her heart.
“What does it do?” he asked, reaching out to hold it. She wanted to stop him, but she knew she couldn’t. She recognized that look in his eyes; the curiosity in them was remarkable.
“Well, it... it shows one’s past,” she told him, “It’s not at all as useful as your own personal memories, mind you…”
Max stared intently at his reflection in the mirror, at the colors that flicked in his eyes and his lips. A different image was already forming. It was a much younger version of himself, a round-faced little boy with intensely curly hair and the eyes of a cherub. He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling a little shocked. It was as though he was watching his childhood take place before his own eyes, watching it unfold from a bystander’s point of view.
In the mirror, little Max was running through a garden that was much bigger than he, chasing after a little girl. Her hair was dark and curly like his, but her eyes were the color of the sky. “Come get me, Max!” she yelled, and the sound resonated through the room. Someone else was singing. It was another girl close to the house, throwing autumn leaves up into the air. She was a little bit older than the two young ones, and her long dark hair was in braids. “Come along children, supper’s almost ready,” a woman’s voice said.
“Mother?” Max said softly, squinting a little as he watched the vision in the mirror change before him.
It was a dinner table lit by a single candle in the center. There wasn’t much food, but it was enough. Five children sat at the table, filling their bellies with turkey and bread. Their parents were too tall to be seen within the small mirror’s face, but Max knew they were there somewhere.
“Mommy, how much do you love us?” little Max asked, after swallowing a particularly large mouthful of food.
There was a small laugh from the table. “To the moon and back!” the woman replied.
“Mommy, how far away is the moon?” one of his sisters asked, eyes sparkling in the low light.
“Very far,” she said, and from somewhere else in the room, the father chuckled.
“Is it a long journey?” another little girl asked.
“Even longer than your beautiful hair, Elizabeth,” the mother told her daughter. The girl blushed and the whole table was full of laughter and giggles. It was a sweet scene, one that made the sorceress feel a little embarrassed. She felt like she was wandering through Max’s memories, even though she was only listening. No one had ever used that mirror but her.
Meanwhile, Max couldn’t stop watching. His memories poured into the mirror in the form of someone else’s visions. They flooded by, starting off slowly, then tumbling out of control. There were a lot of memories outside in the gardens or fields. Sometimes he saw faces he recognized but couldn’t name. There were family members, neighbors, old friends and imaginary friends. There were birthdays and celebrations, days that were wonderful and days that were terrible. Just when Max thought he was too overwhelmed to watch anymore, the visions broke off and changed into something much darker.
It was nighttime again, but there was a storm up above the family’s house. Thunder cracked the skies and made the ground beneath them rumble. Even as Max held the mirror in his hands, he could feel it vibrating from the strength of the sound. The children were huddled under the table this time, holding hands in a circle, but little Max was nowhere to be seen. The rumbling sound was growing, changing. It was no longer just thunder in the sky.
The sorceress heard the sound coming from the mirror and couldn’t take it any longer. She stood up quickly and made her way over to Max, where she placed her hand over his. Something made her hold on, and the magical mirror began channeling both their memories now, paneling back and forth between scenes.
Little Max was running down the stairs of his home with a piece of paper in his hands. “Look, look! I drew you a picture!” He seemed very proud of himself.
The vision changed, and the sorceress was there, watching the sun set and the storm approach. It was a beautiful sight, as the last light of day slipped from beneath the violet clouds and circled to earth. But as the storm grew, so did the darkness. And the darkness brought something far more terrible than any storm.
The image changed again, and Max was being pulled away from the staircase by his eldest sister. “Max! Come with us. It isn’t safe near the windows or the staircase.”
“But why? Look, Adrianna, I drew you a picture.” He handed her the piece of paper, and she smiled a little before setting it on the table. Then she sat down in one of the chairs and pulled him close.
Little Max was confused. “Why are you all hiding under the table? Where’s Mom and Dad?”
Adrianna’s hazel eyes were filled with a sudden sadness, just before the image shimmered and dissolved. Instead of the calm, reassuring eyes of his sister, Max was now looking into the mirror at the fierce, bulging irises of a humungous reptile. It seemed to be staring into him, straight through his body and into his soul. He shivered as he watched. It was then he realized the creature was not looking at him, but at someone else in the vision.
A slightly younger version of the sorceress stood in the frame of the mirror, looking up at the black dragon with stern eyes. She didn’t say a thing at first, watching the creature with silent hatred. The dragon and the sorceress stared at each other, a moment of tension so great even the mirror they held began to quiver.
The younger version of the sorceress made a gesture toward the dragon. “Go. Wreak havoc. See if I care.”
Eyes glittering greedily, the dragon spread its scaly wings and lifted up into the sky. The image changed
again, and it was the old town of Amarelle, sitting quietly and awaiting certain doom. Street lamps were lit, but people had locked themselves in their houses. They had heard the sounds of roaring thunder and hid away, but it was not thunder. It never had been.
A whole slew of dragons dove down from the clouds, fire flooding from their mouths. Their giant wings fanned the flames, spreading them from trees to pastures to buildings, where they caught and flared violently. It was a storm of flame.
The mirror began to feel warm in Max’s hands. “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “No.”
The flames continued to spread across the city, engulfing the houses and the people in brilliant light. Most of the people were asleep, but some could be heard screaming, their voices falling from high balconies or tumbling from windows.
One house still had its lights on, and the front door burst open. A child ran out, his body shaking with fear, making him stagger as he ran. It was Max, and he was wailing, “Water! Water! I gotta get water!”
“MAX! GET BACK HERE!”
The dragons were getting closer to the house, but the little boy continued to run. He was headed for the town well.
The mirror that fourteen-year-old Max currently held became increasingly hot, almost painful to hold. His eyes watered as he watched the image unfold in front of him: the dragons swooping down over his house, his whole family screaming in terror and agony, and the flames swallowing everything in sight. A searing pain flooded through his fingers, and he felt the burn as though the dragons were emerging from the mirror right then and there. With a small whimper, he let the mirror fall from his grasp.
The sorceress was quick; she caught the mirror just before it hit the floor and swiftly placed it back on the shelf. The memory faded, but it left strangely shaped burns on Max’s palms. She turned to him and took his hands in hers, immediately soothing the burns with coolness.
Tears fell from Max’s eyes like a flood that had been long barricaded. For a while, he stood there, silently crying. But soon, crying turned to sobbing and he buried his face in her shoulder. She stood there and let him sob, despite everything she’d told him before about controlling his emotions. She knew better than most that there was a time for control, and there was a time when no amount of self-control could prevent an overflow. Crying had its place.
Once he was finished crying, Max lifted his head to look at the sorceress, his eyes red and his nose dripping. She said nothing at first, but wiped his face with a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. “I was doing so well.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, though her voice quavered. “You have every right to be upset. This is why I tend to avoid that godforsaken thing. I’d prefer to leave the past in the —”
“Why did you do it, my lady?” he asked. His voice was steady now. His rapid recovery was alarming. “Why?”
The sorceress swallowed nervously. She didn’t bother asking what he meant; she knew what the boy meant, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid his questions any longer. “I... Well, it’s kind of a long story.”
He sniffled and sat down at the table. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The sorceress stared at him for a moment, watching the curiosity in his eyes outgrow the sadness, and the fear that still lingered there as well. She drew in a long breath and exhaled, before sitting across from him at the table.
“I made a deal with the wrong kind of sorcerers,” she explained quietly. “I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain. They were angry with me. Those dragons were my punishment.” She thought he would want to say something or ask a question as he usually did, but he just sat and watched her, waiting for more. So, she continued. “They gave me what I thought was the wisdom of the greatest wizards in history, and I was to repay them with interest, in the most crude way. In exchange for access to knowledge and tutelage, I was to pay a hefty price... They wanted souls. Lives. A thousand and one, to be exact. I had to kill a thousand and one people with the use of sorcery. In doing so, they said that I would obtain endless amounts of magical knowledge.”
Max sniffled and rubbed his nose, like the child he still was.
She proceeded. “Of course, I refused to make such a deal, even after they’d showed me amazing things... I knew I was a sorceress, but I am no killer. I don’t...” Her voice faltered and she suddenly found it very difficult to look at him, even though he refused to take his eyes off her.
Much quieter this time, she continued. “They were very angry with me... They followed me back home. They threatened me, they threatened my home... No amount of begging would persuade them... I had nothing else to offer. No wealth… just my life, my home, my town...”
Still, Max said nothing. She gave him a quick glance before looking back down at her lap. Her vision became blurry with tears, and the aching feeling behind her eyes felt too familiar. “So, they sent the dragons... They knew I loved Amarelle and its people dearly... They knew all about me and my life, because I told them. I told them everything.” She shook her head, altogether frustrated with herself. “I shouldn’t have let them do it. I should have stopped them. But I didn’t... I... I let them go. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” A terrible sob slipped from her lips and she buried her face in her hands.
She did not want to look at Max, out of fear and shame. But she did not have to move at all then, because he moved to stand beside her and wrap his arms around her quaking shoulders. He held her tight and let her cry against him, just as she had done for him.
“My lady?” he said quietly, once her sobs subsided. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”