Violet Wings Read online

  "Behold the Violet fairies." Andalonus spoke lightly, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

  Meteor was smiling. "Congratulations."

  "You, too," I said, wondering if it bothered him that my reserves and level were higher than his.

  "I wonder," Andalonus said, "if Violet fairies or a Blue genie will agree to be friends with a common Red?"

  "Don't be a fool," Meteor threw in. "Leona and Zaria will be famous and envied and talked about behind their wings. They'll need friends--real friends. And so will I."

  Andalonus broke into a grin. "I'll be famous now, too-- as the one who knew you well, when you were nothing more than two moody fairies and a pompous genie." He pulled an ear and laughed.

  Meteor closed one eye. He began to float upward.

  Andalonus took to the air. "Tomorrow, Zaree, Leona!" he shouted, catching up with Meteor.

  I looked after them as they raced away. "I wish we'd

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  never had to learn our colors. Everything has changed," I said mournfully.

  Leona tossed her head. "Nothing has changed. We've only learned what was true all along. We're important! You and I will go down in history."

  "I don't want to go down in history." I wasn't even trying to hold up my wings anymore; they trailed in the sand, gathering grit. I wanted to plunge into the pool beneath Galena Falls and wash away the last two days, but the iron band would take me under.

  Leona blew out a big breath. "You have ten million radia! More than anyone else in Feyland!" Her eyes glittered, and I knew she wanted me to say something about her Level Two Hundred, and how it made her the most powerful fairy ever born.

  Instead, I grimaced. "My feet are sore, Leona. And my wings hurt."

  She nodded, letting herself limp a little now that there was no one around but me. "The minute I get home," she said, "I'll free myself again."

  "How?"

  "A breaking spell," she said. "You could do it. Say, 'Resvera den.' That's the spell. Touch the titanium clasp with your wand. If you touch the iron, it won't break."

  "Oh." I wondered how many spells Leona had already memorized. I didn't know a single enchantment except

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  the simple little spell for opening locks, the spell everyone over the age of seven had heard how to do.

  Leona brought out her wand, swishing it back and forth. "Meteor was right about friendship. Think how different it would be if you and I weren't friends." She gave me a sidelong look. "If there had to be another Violet, I'm glad that it's you."

  Before I could ask what she meant, a crowd of fairies and genies came flying toward us at top speed, Leona's parents at their head. At the sight of them, the iron bands seemed tighter against my wings, and I stepped behind Leona as if she could shield me.

  "Is it true?" Leona's mother called as soon as she was near enough to be heard. "Are you Violet?"

  "Why are you wearing iron bands--is it to control your extraordinary powers?" called a genie with ears so big they flapped.

  "Did you have any idea of your color before today?" yelled a pink-winged young fairy with fuzzy blue skin.

  Leona waved her platinum wand, its blue stars shining. As the crowd crammed in closer, I slipped away. No one would miss me--especially not when they had Leona to admire.

  I went into the nearest sonnia field and hunched low among the flowers. Grabbing a few red petals, I stuffed them in my mouth, desperate for relief from the pain. But this time, the sonnia didn't help.

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  Slowly, I made my way home. If anyone had seen me, they would have mistaken me for a wounded troll; I moved without any grace, thinking only of one step and then another.

  I could hear parents announcing their children's colors from the rooftops. "Red!" was called without enthusiasm. "Orange!" and "Yellow!" were repeated with pride, and "Green!" was shouted with glee.

  Finally I tottered through our door and closed it behind me.

  Beryl had gone with Bloodstone to submit the class list; she would not return for at least a few more hours, and I was glad. I didn't want her near me. Not her, not anyone.

  That wasn't exactly true. I did want someone, but that someone had left long ago and would never be back.

  I settled into my favorite soft perch, thinking sorrowfully of my mother. Strange that in the past two days she'd come to mind so often, when I had put her out of my mind for years. What would she have said about my being a Violet fairy? Well, she wouldn't have led a mob of gossips to barrage me with questions, that much I knew.

  The pain in my wings seemed worse than ever. I stood up, clenching my fists. Six more days of iron? I would go mad.

  My punishment seemed an unforgivable cruelty. I could not keep my wings from shaking. The more they shook, the more the iron hurt, until I felt as if a million fragments of sharp ice were being driven through my bones.

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  Why hadn't Beryl fought for me? She was supposed to look after me! Instead, she had stood by while Bloodstone fastened iron around my tender wings.

  I had to do something. If I didn't, my bones would come apart and my wings would never lift me again.

  Drawing my slender stylus, I tried to feel the power of my magic. It had to be there. I had Level 100! Reaching deep in myself, I finally found it: a fiercely comforting fire. It leaped into my wand like flame along a fuse.

  Stretching over my shoulder, I tapped the band. "Resvera den," I said. Break.

  The band snapped, falling away. My bruised wings unfurled. I sank onto a nest of pillows. Waves of warmth washed through me, filling the aching void the iron had made.

  "My magic is waking," I said to the empty room.

  A while later, I stood up and tripped on the iron band. Glaring at it with hatred, I pointed my wand. A second later I was looking at a pile of reddish dust settling into a hole in the floor.

  The iron band had disintegrated.

  What would Beryl say? What would she and Bloodstone do? I stared at what was left of their punishment. I couldn't say I was sorry. Far from it. For an instant, I imagined how it would feel to throw the red dust in Bloodstone's face and ask him how he liked it.

  I opened my watch-face cover and looked for a long moment at the tiny golden hand pointing to full Violet, and

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  the little rectangle showing the luminous 100. Leona's words came back to me: "You have ten million radial"

  And no idea of how to use it.

  "A mentor," I said aloud. "I need a mentor. Now."

  I flew up the wide stairs that my father had built for his children before we could fly. My wings buffeted the walls because I went too fast. I bumped down the hallway and fell against the door to my mother's room.

  I tried the handle. It turned easily. Of course. Beryl would never have shut me out of this place. Only I would do that.

  I had stayed away for five years.

  I drifted in softly, as if I might disturb someone. My mother's room was clean all the way to the top of the lofty ceiling. Beryl must have tended it.

  A mosaic of colored tiles covered the floor in a spiral pattern. Silky yellow pillows lay in a nest near the window. On the wall hung a painting of Earth trees: aspen, spruce, and pine.

  I put my hand on the painting. My tired wings fluttered. Was it a family flaw to become Earth-struck? If so, I was carrying that flaw forward. Despite having my wings twisted by a human child, despite my uneasiness about the boy that Leona had met, and despite the punishment Leona and I had endured, I still felt drawn to Earth. The painting seemed to say that my mother had loved Earth, too.

  She had loved Earth, and she had gone to her death there.

  I turned away, looking at the side wall where copper

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  cupboards of all sizes hung in neat rows, cupboards tall and thin, short and wide. Could one of them be holding my mother's spellbook?

  Most of the cupboards opened easily. They held nothing but hats and slippers. Then I came to one that was locked.
/>   Meteor had been the one to teach me how to open locks. "You say 'Upandos' before speaking the name of your favorite seed, then touch the lock," he had said.

  What was my favorite seed? Sonnia? It ought to be: I was a fairy, and fairies lived on sonnia.

  "Upandos sonnia," I said, placing my hand on the lock.

  It didn't budge.

  What was really my favorite growing thing? A vivid memory of the maple tree I had seen during my afternoon on Earth rose in my mind. Would a seed from Earth open a lock here on Tirfeyne?

  Would a seed from Earth help me get the spellbook of a fairy who had been killed by humans?

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  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A TROG IS A MYTHICAL CREATURE. IF TROGS EVER existed, they died out long ago. and yet, ignorant fey folk persist in believing that trogs can be found living deep within troll country.

  A TROG'S HEAD IS SAID TO RESEMBLE THAT OF AN EARTH TOAD, EXCEPT THAT A TROG'S EARS ARE VERY LARGE, ALLOWING THEM TO HEAR WHISPERS FROM A LONG DISTANCE. TROGS REPORTEDLY WALK UPRIGHT, CANNOT FLY, AND EXUDE A PUTRID ODOR THAT EVEN REPEATED BATHING CAN NEVER ERADICATE.

  SUPPOSEDLY, TROGS HAVE SUCH VILE DISPOSITIONS THAT THEY ARE UNABLE TO FORM COMMUNITIES BUT LIVE TO ANNOY EACH OTHER AND ANY OTHER SPECIES CROSSING THEIR PATHS.

  --Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

  Maple," I said. "Upandos maple."

  The latch clicked. The cupboard sprang open. Sure enough, inside was a book. When I drew it out, it felt strangely light in my hand, almost weightless.

  Cinna Tourmaline, it said on the cover. Spellbook.

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  No young fairy was supposed to read her mother's spellbook until permission had been granted. I knew that quite well. But my mother was not able to grant me permission. And I badly needed her help and guidance. Now.

  Scarcely breathing, I opened the cover. On the first leaf, under the seal of King Oberon--an imprint of a crown in golden wax--was my mother's record of magic: Cinna Tourmaline, Registered Level 100, full Blue.

  My mother had been endowed with powerful magic. Yet she had lived humbly. As would I.

  I began turning the pages. I skimmed past directions on how to make big soap bubbles and other trivial spells. As I skipped ahead, the page fell open to something that caught my eye.

  Gag Spell

  Requires Level 10 magic

  This spell is not to be used lightly or for personal gain. It will render the subject unable to speak. Requires 15 radia, which will last for three hours. Each additional three hours uses another 10 radia.

  A long-lasting gag spell uses 10,000 radia.

  The wand must be pointed at the subject within a distance of 21 wingspans or from a viewing booth with the scope focused on the subject. Infuse to Level 10 and say, "Reducto et eloquen."

  "Gag spell," I muttered, and wondered what it meant to "infuse."

  At random I slid my thumb into a page farther on.

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  Spell of Disclosure

  Requires Level 22 magic

  This spell will reveal all the spells that have been cast by a given wand, back through a period of one week. Requires 50 radia.

  A spell to disclose all magic worked by a particular wand, going back centuries, uses 50,000 radia.

  "Fifty thousand!" I thought of the Gateway of Galena. How much radia had it taken to create spells that kept children in, and kept most adults out?

  Touch your wand to the wand whose spells you will be disclosing. Infuse to Level 22 and say, "Disclosan nos enchanterel."

  When I heard Beryl come back, I shoved the spellbook into its cupboard. Dreading what she would say, I crept downstairs to find her sitting on a perch, staring at the pile of iron dust. She was tucked so far forward, I couldn't see the expression on her face.

  "I know you won't believe me," I said, "but I didn't mean to do it."

  Beryl lifted her head. She looked even older than she had the night before. Her eyes seemed out of focus. "I do believe you, Zaria," she said. "Why do you think I was so concerned about your visit to Earth? Why do you suppose I worried about what you might have done if you had carried a wand?"

  I didn't know what to say. I had expected a tirade, not weariness and worry.

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  "Mr. Bloodstone and I discussed you and Leona," she went on. "We agreed that in view of what we have learned today, it would be appropriate to lift your punishment."

  I knew I should say thank you, but I couldn't.

  Beryl's chin sagged. "I ought to report you for turning a set of iron bands to dust, but I will not."

  "You're not going to tell Bloodstone?"

  "Only if you tell your friends that you took it upon yourself to undo your punishment."

  "I won't say anything."

  "Then I will also keep this a secret." She flapped a hand at the iron dust. "You must reconstruct the bands. I know the spell." She sighed. "Visualize the object the way it was and say, 'Recre redoutum?"

  Self-consciously, I drew out my wand as she watched.

  "Wait!" Beryl said sharply. "You are calling forth all of your magic. Do not use more than is called for; that is wasteful."

  "But--"

  "Imagine a furnace. How much heat is required to melt platinum? Then imagine a stove. How much heat is required to boil water? You see the difference?"

  I nodded.

  "Magic is like heat. Use only enough for the spell you are working. It is called infusion."

  "How's it done?"

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  "Your wand, child. Look at it. Find the line along the side that shows the amount of infusion."

  I examined the stylus, which was no longer plain black. A narrow seam running down its length shone with light from base to tip.

  "When your wand is full," Beryl said, "it means you have infused to Level One Hundred, which is the highest level you can produce. The reconstruction spell needs only Level Twenty. Pull back on your magic."

  I imagined the magic in the wand returning to me. The light in the seam flitted down the wand and vanished.

  "It takes a bit of practice to control infusion levels," Beryl said.

  Thinking of all the spells I had read upstairs, I felt faint. What if I had tried working any of them? I didn't know the first thing about using my wand. I didn't know the first thing about anything!

  My knees gave out, and my fluttering wings didn't catch me. I sank to the floor.

  "Zaria?"

  I curled my wings around myself. How I wanted to hear my mother's clear, soft voice directing me, helping me, showing me what to do.

  "What is it?" Beryl asked.

  "My mother." I began to wail.

  "At last," Beryl muttered.

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  "She'll never know I'm Violet," I wept. "And she can't help me learn to use my magic. And my father . .. Jett ... It isn't fair."

  Beryl crouched beside me. "I thought you would never get around to crying for them. When they disappeared, you were so silent! Never talked of them, never went near their rooms ..."

  That was all she said. She stayed with me, though, and helped me crawl into my nest of pillows.

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  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  FEY MAGIC HAS BEEN DIMINISHING FOR CENTURIES. IN its present dismal state, the majority of fairies and genies have only Level 4 magic or less.

  NO ONE KNOWS HOW THESE LEVELS OF INBORN magic come about. Sometimes a certain family will seem to carry a tendency toward high-level magic, only to be disappointed by an offspring born with low-level magic.

  --Orville Gold, genie historian of Feyland

  When Beryl woke me early, it took a little while to remember the seemingly impossible events of the day before. I was a Violet fairy with Level 100 magic. I had turned a set of iron bands to dust. And I had cried for my family.

  Beryl lost no time reminding me that she expected me to reconstruct the iron bands.

  Her words were short and sharp as she guided me through the spell, and I won't say it went smoot
hly. At first the magic in my wand kept spiking to the top and then dying down. I had to grip my concentration tightly to get

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  it right. When the iron band had been reconstructed and lay on the newly smooth floor, Beryl sat very still. She wore a pained expression, as if someone had twisted her wings.

  "Beryl?" I said. "Why did you always tell me that iron interferes with magic?"

  "Because it does."

  "Then how can an iron band be destroyed by magic? Or reconstructed?"

  She sighed. "The truth is, Zaria, I did not know it was possible to do what you have done. Turning iron to dust!" She shook her head. "And then, to reconstruct it . . ." She folded her hands nervously. "It would be best if you tell no one about this."

  "No one?"

  "No one. Promise me, Zaria."

  I mumbled a promise. My wings had begun to ache. Beryl wasn't acting normally. She wasn't treating me like a nuisance the way she usually did, but I wasn't sure what it meant.

  She surprised me by offering to teach me a transport spell.

  "Beryl," I said hesitantly, "if I'm Violet, why would I need to be careful of using radia?"

  "Your stores may be rich," she said briskly, "but if you are careless, you will burn through them. Now, listen closely. The transport spell requires Level Eight. To put those iron bands into my basket, you will probably need about three radia, but if you were to move your self somewhere--to

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  school, for instance--you would use at least twenty radia. That would be very wasteful."

  I nodded, and waited for her to teach me the spell.

  "Infuse your wand to Level Eight. That's right. Get close to the iron without touching it. Hold its destination clearly in your mind as you point your wand and say, 'Transera nos.' The basket in front of you is the destination this time. Always be careful to focus on the exact destination or the spell may misfire and the item end up somewhere else."

  I pointed my wand at the iron band and concentrated on Beryl's basket. "Transera nos."

  The iron band clattered into the basket so fast it was as if time had not existed.