Page 20 of Charmed

“Some master you are,” I grumbled. “Running off to pursue your own selfish interests and abandoning your apprentice when she most needs you.” But even unleashing my anger without risk of being overheard did little to lift my despondency.

With a dark mutter I stomped to the supply closet to retrieve the necessary ingredients to start over, only for a sudden knock to deviate my course. A courier stood on the other side of the door, bearing an envelope inscribed with a familiar hand. My spirits immediately lifted.

“Message for Miss Maeve, Apprentice to His Highness.”

I eagerly accepted it. It’d been nearly a week since I’d heard from my family, whose lack of magic forced them to send their messages via the post rather than the magical circle, making each few and far between.

My smile in anticipation of reading of my family’s adventures and seeing Corbin’s most recent drawing faltered the moment I noticed the roughness of Mother’s usual neat penmanship, as if my name had been written in a hurry. Heart pounding, I tore the message open. It contained a single line.

Corbin is very ill. Fear cinched my chest, trapping my horrified breath.Corbin!

For a moment I could only stare at the horrible words, which shook with my trembling hands. All at once my strength vanished and I collapsed to the floor, clutching the now crumpled letter to my chest.

Corbin…

This wasn’t the first time he’d suddenly taken ill, and the memories of the past moments only escalated my fear. The panic searing through me compelled me to action while also leaving me paralyzed, as if Mother’s news had cast a spell that rendered my limbs frozen.

Eventually worry for my beloved brother urged me to my feet and up the stairs, where I took every coin I’d earned from the pouch in my room and hastily scrawled a note:Get whatever medicines he needs at the apothecary.

I set both these at the center of the transporting circle Wizard Alden had set up and touched the outline with my powers. It illuminated and reached its light up to swallow the note and money.

Yet despite having offered whatever assistance I could and trusting our village apothecary’s capabilities, my anxiety lingered, especially with the vast distance separating me from my brother. Leaving home to learn magic felt unbearably selfish when he lay sick without my being at his side to nurse him or comfort him as I always did.

This thought haunted me as I struggled to distract myself with my studies, but all I could think about was Corbin’s flushed face and heart-wrenching moans as his illness seared through his fragile body. My helplessness surged. I tried to reassure myself he’d get better like he always had in the past…but what if this time hedidn’tand we lost him like we had Father all those winters ago?

Fear fueled my desperation. I quickly abandoned my usual tasks and began frantically searching the books Wizard Alden had left behind for something—anything—that could help my dear brother, a search made more difficult considering I possessed little information about what afflicted him. Midst my rummaging, the spellbook eventually stopped its daily dose of sulking and wandered over to examine the uneven stacks piling up around me.

I knew it’d be foolish to attempt an unknown spell when I still struggled with the most basic of tonics, but panic blinded me to sense. What good was possessing magic if I couldn’t use it to help the one I loved the most? Corbin’s well-being was of far greater importance than any of the magical parlor tricks Wizard Alden had taught me.

I stilled when I caught sight of a faded title of a tome of simple healing spells blending into the shelf, as if hiding from prying eyes. I held my breath, hardly daring to hope as I shakily pulled it out and flipped through its contents, finally settling on:A brew to escalate the body’s natural healing.

Some of the anxiety cinching my heart eased as I scanned the listed ingredients, all of which I recognized, and all on hand in the general supply…other than the filipendula, which I’d have to pick from the batch of herbaceous flowering plants growing in the nearby forest.

I took a steadying breath to calm my rising anxiety. I could do this. Even if it took me an infinite number of attempts, I’d make a tonic for my brother to help him get better. Then I’d abandon my apprenticeship and walk day and night until I arrived at home to tend him myself.

I gathered all the other ingredients before stepping outside to forage the remaining one. I found a clump of filipendula plants growing along the forest trail closer that I remembered, a fortuitous find considering time was of the essence. I carefully gathered a small basketful and returned with quick, agitated strides.

Inside I found the spellbook hovering over the recipe with a studying air. After a moment’s deliberation, I tentatively approached to graze its spine. “You’re the only other magical being of my acquaintance. Won’t you help me prepare—”

It darted out of my reach before I could even finish my earnest plea. I sighed. It appeared the spellbook still didn’t like me. While its assistance would be of great help, if I prepared my potion with a level head and to the best of my abilities, I’d undoubtedly succeed. I rolled up my sleeves and set to work.

Despite the brew being at a slightly more advanced level than the others I’d attempted, this one seemed slightly easier…or perhaps my magic sensed my desperation and was lending me its powers. At least I hadsomeassistance despite my master’s absence and the fact that his familiar currently hovered in the corner with its usual determination to ignore me.

I painstakingly prepared the ingredients and added them one by one—the perenalcone sap, the apifilliam roots, the cepharantha bulb, and finally the filipendula, carefully minced and stirred in the juice of armelina fruit. I lifted this final concoction to add it to the potion when the spellbook suddenly stirred and hastily flew towards me, spreading its pages out to block my hand.

I frowned. “What’s gotten into you?”

I tried to reach around it but it only darted into my path, causing me to lose my hold on my minced filipendula so that it tumbled to the table, sloshing some of the precious mixture over the bowl’s edges. I glared at the book.

“What did you do that for?”

No response, save for its continued flapping. I grumbled a few unsavory words as I envisioned the great satisfaction I’d get from ripping out some of the interfering spellbook’s pages.

These fantasies fueled my movements as I hastily salvaged what I could of the ingredient, chopped up some more filipendula to make the measurements even—which once more caused the mischievous spellbook to flutter frantically about. I seized hold of it to prevent its continued interference; it wriggled about trying to escape, but my grip was firm as I dumped the final ingredient into the simmering cauldron.

Poof!

The moment the ingredients made contact with the potion a puff of green smoke billowed up, enveloping my senses. Tingling began in my fingers and toes before spreading up my arms and legs to encapsulate my entire body, leaving me lightheaded.

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