Crossing the Sweetwater

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It was clear that the mentor-trainee relationship between Elise and I wasn't getting off to a good start. For one, she'd woken me up at an unholy hour in the morning. Two: I might have flung a few perfidious curses at her in my delirious state. Three: she had marched me out of bed, and had forced me into one of the numerous dresses crammed into the wardrobe. She'd offered no sympathy, impassively watching me wince while I pulled a clean shift over my head, the still-healing lashes on my back throbbing angrily.

I cradled the delicate flute in my hands, resigning to an inward groan as I recalled the events of the morning. It had been a week since I'd arrived in Heidelberg, but I hadn't the opportunity to explore the city yet. Lord Himmel had promised me that he would give me a tour of his lands once I was deemed a competent enough sorcerer by Elise.

However, looking at Elise's proud, upright form, it looked like it would take a long while before she'd pronounce me as a decent Magus. Throughout the lesson so far, she'd only explained the theory of performing magic. I knew that it was important, but her drawls only grated my nerves, as though she were implying that I could never match her in ranks.

Still, I learned that what separated Magi from regular sorcerers was their source of magic. Sorcerers had to drink daily from the Fountain they were bound to, while Magi could simply summon magic by themselves, drawing from their 'cores'. This well of energy would be depleted with every spell they cast, but would refill itself within a certain period of time.

"Do you understand what I've just said?" Elise's voice dragged me out of my stupor.

"I'm sorry?" I was absently fingering the music sheets set before me. The musical notations were friendly little squiggles which enticed me to let them come to life.

Elise heaved an impatient sigh. "I said"—her eyes flashed dangerously—"our method of performing magic is precisely the same as common sorcerers. The only difference is that we have a bigger Core to draw up from."

"Oh," I offered stupidly. I looked at my flute. "Does this mean that I'll finally have a chance to put theory to practice?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Not until I've demonstrated first."

My fingers twitched to put the flute to my lips, to savour the feel of flesh upon wood. But I gave in, nodding my head with faux cheerfulness.

Continuing to pin me with suspicious eyes, she reached down and pulled a case up onto her lap. It popped open once she released the latches. Then she drew the instrument out: a violin. Only now did I truly see her slender fingers, its tips marked and scarred with crusted skin—an indicator of a violinist.

In one swift movement, she took out the bow and drew it across the delicate strings. The resulting chord was harsh, piercing, making me jump in my seat. Elise flashed a devilish grin at me, before propping the violin against her chin in earnest.

She began to play.

It was a merry jig: sharp staccatos and quick, agile notes. It struck a vague chord within me. I remembered a festival before the plague, and someone was playing the fiddle like Elise. Men and women were dancing around in circles, laughing, cheeks flushed red with excitement, structure found within their sporadic movements. I remembered the lingering scent of spices and perfume in the air, as well as the powerful stomps of feet against the ground. I had been standing out of the circles then, watching the dance intently. A man was holding my hand. My father? I didn't know.

I tried to picture the man's face. Was it sharp and withered, or was it bold and strong? Did he have a hawkish nose, or an aquiline one? Was his hair thinning out and streaked with grey, or did it retain its original colour, whatever it was?

I suppressed a huff of frustration as the memory eluded me. It had always been this way: I couldn't recall my life before the plague, as though the Piper didn't just steal the other children and our magic away.

Slowly, the frustration melted away. In its place was joy. But this joy wasn't of my own accord-there was a ring of foreignness to it that made me uneasy. I felt like I was forced to be happy. I attempted to push the happiness away, only to feel its weight pressing upon me, heavier than ever. Panic clawed in me, but Elise's spell was stronger. I took in a deep breath, allowing myself to submit to it. There was no way I could fight this.

Abruptly, the spell cut off. Elise had stopped playing. Nausea gurgled at the base of my throat. I couldn't contain it, and I retched onto the ground. Elise wrinkled her nose in disdain, and drew her bow across the violin strings once more. It was a quick, sharp chord; the mess disappeared into thin air. As I subconsciously wiped the edge of my mouth with my sleeve—a habit I'd have to break soon, I belatedly realised—I stared at the spot where I had just retched onto.

It was speckless, completely unmarked, shining like the rest of the marbled floor.

"How...?" My lips were slightly parted. Although I knew that it was magic, I still couldn't help the sense of wonderment.

To her credit, Elise didn't point out the absurdity of my question. "For us sorcerers who use our magic through artistic means, we are more in tune with the workings of the unseen. Or energies beyond the physical." She gestured towards the floor. "When you made a mess just now, I cleaned it up with a quick spell. That was physical magic. When I'd made you feel joy, that was mental magic. I could've tried to do it more subtly, of course, and manipulate you to do what I wanted, but I needed you to know the full force of my magic—our magic."

A chill ran up my spine when I looked into Elise's ancient eyes. They didn't quite fit into her smooth, well-defined face. "So we cannot perform magic without instruments?" I asked.

She shook her head. "You and I share a similarity: we cast our spells through music," she explained. "It varies for each individual. Some may use tools, like pens or even sticks. Some are more connected with the elements, using power through fire or air. Some, like us, utilise abstracts, such as paintings and writings."

But she had chosen to play a violin, while I felt most comfortable with a flute. "And yet we use different instruments?"

"Yes. In abstract magic, there is always a certain form of it that's most attuned to our soul. In my case, a violin is the best way I can project my magic. In yours, it's the flute." She tapped a finger against the dark spruce of her instrument for emphasis. "It's not to say that we can't spellcast without them, it's just that we work best with them."

I nodded. Suddenly, I understood why the guards in Hamelin always had such eccentric items with them: matches, rings, ribbons. I always assumed that they were tokens from the place they'd come from. But they needed those items with them in order to be able to defend us from the monsters. Otherwise they were as useless as us common folk.

"Now, you shall try your hand at magic," Elise said. Her hand struck out, toppling the stands and allowing the sheets to scatter all across the ground.

"What are you doing?" I squawked.

Elise fixed a baleful look on me. "Isn't it obvious? I want you to put everything back to its normal position."

Of course. How could I be so idiotic? I raised my flute to my lips, focusing solely on the collapsed stands and the fluttering papers. I took in a breath—

"Before you attempt anything, I want you to picture the image of what the mess was before it became a mess," interrupted Elise. "Then, seek out a tune that sounds best to you. Decide its key first; its melody after. The rest should come to you naturally."

Elise's lecture fresh in my mind, I began to play. I held the image of the stands and sheets upon it in my mind, while I searched for the right song. I tried a minor, then a major, and kept my fingers moving, feeling my way through the music. However, nothing was coming to me. There was no...spark in my playing.

Desperately, I tried out different tunes: a sombre march, a buoyant landler, a slow waltz. Nothing was working. The tunes came, frantic and dissonant, till I couldn't tell if I was breathing properly.

"Stop. Stop, Klaudia." Yet my fingers kept dancing over the holes. "Stop."

Elise grabbed my wrist, twisting it forcefully, snapping me out of my lull. I gasped at the sudden pain, dropping my flute; it collided against the ground with a resounding crack. I was panting heavily. Cold sweat pasted curls to my forehead and neck. My head felt so light. The world seemed to be swallowed in a haze.

My instructor dug her nails into my arm; agony spiked throughout my body. I took in a deep, sobbing breath, finally returning to my senses.

"Do you feel better?" I managed a weak nod. She took up a flask by her feet and handed it to me. I sipped blissfully refreshing water from it. "You didn't focus properly—that's extremely dangerous. Thus, you allowed your mind to be overcome by magic. You were so intent on controlling it that you didn't notice it was trying to control you," she said.

We were sheltered from the winds, yet I was shivering. My heavy silk gown didn't protect me from the cold of my insides. "But—but you said that it was my own magic, uninfluenced by any other factors—"

"Yes, I know I said that," Elise cut in. "However, keep in mind that even we Magus draw from the earth, one way or another. Wherever we go, the undercurrents follow. We have managed to beat this wild magic into submission through viable methods, but this is the very same magic that fuels the monsters that roam the wastelands. It has been corrupted, and we, channelling it through our bodies, are susceptible to it as well."

Eye sockets hollowed out; skin purple with black veins running beneath it; no nose; mouth opened inhumanly wide, with at least four rows of jagged fangs lining it. The memory of the fluzwîb grinning at me from outside my carriage window flashed in my mind. It was the very first monster I'd encountered during the journey from Hamelin to Heidelburg, when we'd rounded a river bend. It hadn't dare to come near, only remaining in the stream where it haunted, but even from a distance it was disturbing enough. I couldn't sleep for two nights straight after I'd seen it.

"I see." I knew why Lord Himmel was so 'confident' in me now. There were two ways to learn magic: live or die. And now that I've taken the plunge, there was no going back.

I certainly wasn't going to choose death.

"You comprehend, yes?" I portrayed my answer through my eyes. "Good. Now we shall try a different method. Strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't challenge me, girl. Strip. No one will disturb us until the allocated time is over, so don't fear anyone walking into this room now. Besides, you have nothing to hide beneath there, do you?"

I gritted my teeth. I tried to bow to her instructions, but my nerves were automatically holding me back.

"Do not make me force you, Klaudia," Elise warned quietly.

I immediately complied. I didn't want to be controlled to do something again. Muffling a cry as my bad leg jarred my hip, I stood up and peeled everything off until I was only wearing a chemise. Fortunately, the dresses were easy to take off. Elise pursed her lips thoughtfully; I folded my arms across my chest.

"Your back," she said. "I want to see it."

I turned around so that my back was facing her. I heard her getting up from her chair, and soon enough, I felt her fingers prodding my wounds. My teeth bit down on my tongue, stifling a string of curses.

"Didn't you see anyone to treat this?"

I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "The Mayor wouldn't allow any physician to come near the place. The maids did give me a few herbs though."

"Has he always been this way?"

I didn't answer.

"Tell me the truth," she hummed. Magic was laced into her words. "Has he always been this way?"

"Yes," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

She allowed a pregnant pause to follow. "Hmm, not surprising, really. He was always jealous that he wasn't ruling over a more prosperous town. He must have always taken his anger out on the servants, hence the maids' help. But...how long have you had these wounds?"

"Two weeks now."

"Didn't our carriage overseers notice anything?"

"No. I hid in my carriage and continued to apply the herbs every day. Besides, there wasn't much cause for me to interact with them or venture outside." I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

"Ah," was the only warning she gave before she pushed me towards the wall and slammed me into it.

Elise quickly dug her fingernails into my flesh, straight into the openings of my wounds. My back shrieked with pain. The memory of being thrown about by the Major surged throughout me, unwelcome and terrifying. I remembered the night he had given me the wounds: him looming over me, riding crop in hand; and me sprawled on the floor, sobbing and broken. Past and present blended together, blurring my senses, forming a clear, single word in my head.

Torture.

I screamed, letting some of the stress out, but not by much. Elise pushed deeper into my wounds. Although I had a chemise on me, it wasn't any less painful when the Mayor had first given me the lashes. I fought against her, attempting to escape her grip, to no avail—she was only slightly taller than me, yet she had the strength of a titan.

"Heal yourself." I barely heard her over my dizziness. Stars danced before my eyes. The pain extended to all my limbs, filling them with pins and needles. I let loose another scream; tears were steadily streaming down my cheeks.

"Heal yourself," she repeated, and I knew that she wasn't going to release me until I did so.

Choking back a sob, I forced myself to sing.

The melody came to me instinctively this time. It was a lullaby, one that sought to help all children to forget their nightmares, one that sang the troubled to sleep. A cool wave poured forth from between my lips, and warmth rooted itself in the pit of my stomach.

The coolness spread, a blanket of reassurance blocking out Elise's prodding fingers from my wounds. I continued to sing. I didn't want to risk pulling myself out of the spell halfway and possibly infecting myself by accident.

Assuming that that could happen.

Eventually, I felt my wounds closing. I hummed now, keeping the melody flowing, like rivers that hastened into rapids or slowed into streams at different points. It was soothing, the most comfort I'd ever felt ever since I'd left Papa Gunter.

Once I was sure that my back was completely healed, I released the melody, letting it die away instead of cutting it off abruptly. Elise had already removed her fingers from my back. I turned around to face her. She was nodding in approval, a hesitant smile on her lips.

"Yes, that's good. Desperation always works," she remarked cheerfully.

"Desperation?"

"Desperation. When I asked you to clean up the mess, the circumstances weren't pressing enough for you." She tilted her head to one side, considering. "However, when I'd made you feel pain, made you feel as though you were going to die, you saved yourself."

Tentatively, with one hand leaning on the wall for support, I reached for my back, feeling the skin beneath. There were scars, but they were a blessing compared to the open wounds from before.

I had healed myself.

A sudden thought struck me. "Can—can't I heal my leg?" It was a long shot by half, really.

A pang of disappointment hammered in my chest when Elise shook her head. "Disabilities which have been there by birth cannot be reversed."

"Oh." I knew the answer before I raised the question, but it was disheartening to confirm the truth. "So what do we do now?"

Elise raised her brows at me. "We continue the lesson, of course. You have much to learn."

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