What a Sorcerer Is

A dragonfly brushed the surface of the pond from the tip of her slender paws, its eyes same to opals. On its back basked a tiny crystalline figure. As light as a draught, dew as her only clothing.

“Sir Henox, where are we going now?”

     Gretel was drying her hands against her dress, having already drank and cleaned the remaining traces of cinders.

“In a village a little further east. Just a few steps away.”

“A new destination! I can’t wait to be there.” She rejoiced.

     Folding back the map he just checked, the sorcerer observed the fairy with a sceptical eye. So, denial had finally taken hold of her.

“We just left a village where you barely ended up burnt on a pyre. All of this through the fault of people who wanted to live so badly that they lost their mind. Which, by the way, is already quite upsetting. And this is the little wariness it inspires you?”

“Hmm?”

     As ludicrous as it may seem, she didn’t seem to understand what he meant.

“How can you be still willing to travel?”

“Oh. I hadn’t asked myself that question.”

     A jaded look.

     Gretel averted her gaze, thoughtful. Like the times it happened to her, she began tapping her fingers together.

“Mmm… I still can’t remember my past. I mean, of my life before this one. When I wasn’t a fairy. But there’s a thing I am sure about. When my previous life had ended, I was still little. The only thing I can recall is walls. From all sides. I think I was a lot at home. So this time, I want to be able to see what I couldn’t. Even if sometimes, it’s not very pretty.”

     She wished to add something. But hesitated.

     He waited.

“Do you… hate Desphia’s villagers?”

“They simply disgust me. It’s not about love or hatred.”

“Me, I feel sorry for them. They seemed sad. It’s normal to be sad when you don’t have much time left.”

“Anyway, humans don’t live for a long time. Some years more or less…” He retorted.

     Though his voice lacked his usual conviction.

     Retrieving the little fairy he replaced over his shoulder, the sorcerer resumed his walk.

“That’s exactly why they care so much about it. It’s precious. You also ensured to save time, right? You told me that you managed yourself to live for a long time.”

“Yes…” He dwelled on. “I was a fool at the time. There was something I tried accomplishing at all costs, so I needed time. Though even sorcery does have its limits. This time I took, it was for nothing.”

     For a while, he remembered the presence he felt at Desphia. These hands wrapped around his neck. This mocking voice that seemed to know him better he did.

“Sir Henox, how does one become a sorcerer? Is it as for fairies? Is one born like that?”

“No.” Henox smirked, his thoughts subsiding. “You become one through practice. Most of the time, creatures aiming at becoming a sorcerer are those who don’t hold any magic in them. It is a core part of this world, so not possessing any is like a defect, a lost piece. Sorcery allows them to fill that gap.

“So, you can win magic when you don’t have?” Gretel asked, tilting her head.

“It doesn’t work like this. A being who is born without magic can’t acquire it. It’s like a curse left by Kishar. It can’t be added to a human body. They’re like water and oil. However, there are two manners to make up for that lack. You can pervade objects with magic to give them supernatural properties, to cast spells. For that, the simplest is to use magic crystals like the ones we saw in the forest. Objects like the magic grimoire you used at my place are crafted this way. It’s the mages field of work.”

“Ooooh! I like grimoires a lot. I would love to craft one too.”

“It’s not as simple as it seems.”

     She pouted. What was complicated to do clearly wasn’t her passion.

     Meanwhile, their steps led them to the foot of a mountain. There, a large opening invited to sink deep into.

     As they entered, they should have been bathed into darkness. Nonetheless, one by one light spheres began to glow, as so many fireflies. It wasn’t before passing by them that Gretel realised they were flowers. Flowers so light they seemed to float at the end of their stems, ready to fly away. And all it took was a blow for the gold powder corolla to disperse in the air. Going to settle at the ceiling, it was like a small starlit sky.

     If Gretel got distracted, she soon focused her attention back on Henox.

“And the other way? Which is the other way to use magic?”

“The one of learning to call on what, in nature, is source of magic. Of course, it implies to gather enough knowledge to know which creature is gifted with which magic, for instance. A sorcerer must learn to command respect to these entities so that they lend them their magic when needed. That said, for them to accept it is generally necessary to give them a compensation.”

“A compensation?”

“Yes, something they are fond of. It can be their favourite treat, at least for the less demanding…” He trailed off. “In my case, as I focused on necromancy, it’s souls that I had to learn to control.”

     In the distance, a vague commotion. What sounded like water falling drop by drop, drop by drop. Dozens of them.

     Mingled to voices.

“But they aren’t creatures.” Gretel tilted her head, puzzled.

“It’s what there’s of most powerful in a creature, what remains even after their death. They have the power to move objects, to give them a will. And this will, I learnt to instil it in other things. Like in the earth. That’s what allows me to create golems.”

“And can you bring them into other things?”

     Seeming worried, she couldn’t help but imagine a table suddenly beginning to float… A haunted object… The little fairy swallowed.

     Henox didn’t realise, though he fell silent for a long while.

“Sir Henox?”

“The problem isn’t to make them enter but to make them stay in there. I had been forced to note it when I tried to control them… What I wanted was to be able to put back a soul into a body. Unfortunately, was it the body it belonged to or another one, once the soul is untied from the body it can’t sew back the tie.” Henox paused, his expression turning serious. “So that the body withers, letting suffer the soul inhabiting it.”

     It took Gretel a few moments to recognise the feeling reflecting in his voice. Bitterness.

     She hesitated. She was afraid of asking a question she shouldn’t. She was afraid of giving him another reason to abandon her.

     Though, at the same time, she wished to better understand him.

“Why… did you seek to become a sorcerer?”

     A silence.

     The drops’ noise had enclosed.

     Merely ignoring her?

“For the same reason I sought to overcome my mortality. I wanted to retrieve something I had lost. Something a human couldn’t hope to bring back.

     Maybe because of the time they had spent together, maybe because of the hallucination he had at the village, he kept on.

“It was my brother.”

“Oh… I…”

“It isn’t important.” He interrupted. "In comparison of the time I spent without him, the time I got to know him was very little. I often have the feeling that I imagined his existence.”

     Gretel was about to answer when his steps subsided. Turning her gaze, the little fairy beheld a throbbing village. Huge teapots crafted with windows and white marble doors. Wooden watering cans whose smoke billowed out of the nozzle. Other houses with even more audacious architecture.

     And, in the streets, many small bearded men with goose’s feet.

     Plop, plop. Plop, plop.

     Their footsteps echoed in the cave.