"Make me the potion that will make him age to death in a day," demanded Spryte, vibrant body erect where she perched upon a shelf.
Gavin's father, Brock, sat on low bed planks, flipping through the potion book. He shook his head as he turned to another seemingly blank page.
"No, I don't have these ingredients," he answered.
"What?!" Spryte burst out with an aggravated flittering of her wings. "Why not?"
Gavin laughed silently beside his father, who gave the fae dragon a look.
"I told you. Very few things grow on this island. Even the crops that do have to be treated with potions and special magic." Brock continued looking at the book, his expression serious.
That doesn't sound good, Rib thought, his head inside the doorway. What about what we need?
The sod house he peered into was simple but homey. On either side lay a couple beds laden with sheep skins. At the center was a fire, Sky's flame he assumed, with a pot hanging over it. Other such household items lay about, including a couple instruments that reminded Rib of Gavin.
"Here," Brock said. "This is one I can craft. The cure for the firesap."
"What would I want that for?" Spryte hissed. "I'm trying to ruin Griffith's life!"
Brock sighed. "The man has a passion for wizardry, does he not? If you cure his firebreather, he may never be able to craft potions again."
Grudgingly considering it at first, the fae dragon's face slowly began to brighten as she thought more about it.
"Yes?" she uttered. "Without his wizardry he'd be heartbroken. No one would fear him. We could dethrone him at once!"
"Very well," Brock said, and stood. "We will need to find the Royal Well."
"Sir, wait," Damara spoke up from a corner. She'd been so quiet all this time, Rib had forgotten she was even there. "Please, will you look at the recipe for the muffle moth cure?"
It's in there, Rib thought. I know it is.
Brock frowned slightly. "Ah, yes. I think I saw it in here." He appeared to find the page, then dismayed Rib with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry. Half of these magics I've never seen in my life. I can't craft this."
No?Rib swiveled his gaze to see Damara's reaction. This was our last hope for the Wystilians.
The young woman closed her eyes and swallowed. "Do you have any other solution?" Her voice was impressively steady.
Could there even be one?
Brock looked to his son, whose expression reflected Rib's concern.
"Perhaps," the man responded carefully. "But you must confirm it with your Captain. It could be very dangerous."
Damara nodded. "I'll talk to him. Just tell me."
Brock cleared his throat, leaning back against a wooden post. "When Lord Griffith sent his servants here, there was one firebreather that was never cured. Wycker. He'd already entered the phases of madness and no one could come near him."
"So if I brought him and the book to Wystil, Damon could craft the cure," Damara connected immediately.
"Yes, but you can't simply bring Wycker to Wystil," Brock said. "You'd be dead before you reached the shores. No, what you need is bewitchment powder."
"What?!" Rib cried, but everyone ignored him.
That's what Griffith used on me! That's what Zheal uses on Memory!
"And you can make that?" Damara asked, clearly interested.
Brock nodded and flipped back to a spot in the book. "It's actually the same recipe as the firesap cure, only without the last step. It says here to boil gull bones in a potion, let them dry, and crush them into a fine dust. That's the bewitchment powder. To make the firesap cure, you just mix it into the liquid of the Royal Well."
"I'll take it," Damara said. "Enough powder to last the trip."
Brock rubbed the back of his neck, as Rib had seen Gavin do countless times before. "I'm afraid I don't have a surplus of ingredients even for this, but I will craft as much as I can."
"The firesap cure first," Spryte dictated from the shelf, her tail curled around a little clay pot.
"Yes." Gavin's father headed for the door and Rib moved out of his way. "For that, we must go to the bogs."
Everyone filed out of the sod house, Spryte leading, then Gavin and Damara. This was their third day with the Islanders, their first two having consisted of nothing but celebration over the return of Brock's son. Now, Spryte wouldn't wait any longer for what she came for, and Damara seemed just as restless except quieter.
Suddenly wondering where Mortaug and Jasper were, Rib glanced around the small village. He saw Jasper making Hesper do tricks for Gavin's little sisters, who laughed and clapped their hands. Damara had already found Mortaug, and appeared to telling him of the new plan.
Will he agree to it? Rib worried. It's risky but it's Wystil's last hope.
Thankfully, the Captain nodded, setting a hand on Damara's shoulder. Rib could just barely hear the young woman murmur, "Thank you," before turning back to Brock.
"Alright," Gavin's father said as she stopped before him. "The Royal Well is a rare plant, but the more of us searching for it, the sooner we'll find one."
Everyone agreed to come, including Mortaug and Jasper. Gavin's three sisters wanted to follow too, but Brock refused, reminding them, "The bogs are dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Rib echoed, coming up beside Gavin's father as they headed out of the village.
"People can easily get stuck in the mud there," Brock explained. "You need to be prepared to pull someone out if they call."
"Oh."
Even mud can kill humans? Rib shook his head. That's saddening.
The small group made their way past steaming, brilliantly colored pools and icy mountains to where the beginnings of a forest grew. Entering the yellowish brown tree line, Rib suddenly thought of something.
Oriole once told me Huskhns came to the Islanders before they were chased out. Maybe Brock saw Memory!
"Have you met Zheal?" Rib asked, padding alongside Gavin's father.
The man cast him a glance before stepping over a fallen log.
"Quite some years ago," Brock answered. "He appeared with a dozen men and demanded a magic mixture from me, since I had the Eyes of Kings. Bewitchment powder, actually."
"Bewitchment powder?" Rib repeated after him, stiffening. "Did you give him any?"
"Of course not," the man said. "I asked the Colony to chase them away."
Where did he get the powder to bewitch Memory with, then?
"So they've been camping on the beach ever since?"
"Oh, no," Brock replied. "Those men only arrived a few weeks ago."
"Did you ever see a dragon with them?" Rib urged. "Lavender grey? My size?"
Gavin's father creased his brow. "The one Zheal rides? I've always wondered about her."
"She's my sister! Zheal enslaves her with bewitchment powder."
"Hmm." Brock ducked under a low hanging branch. "No, that can't be right. I never saw the bewitchment magic inside her body."
"What?" Rib blinked in confusion. "Would you have been able to?"
"Yes."
"W-well?Where did you see her? What was she doing?"
"I only glimpsed her when the Colony showed me the Huskhns' camp. She was flying away with Zheal on her back, to scout the Island it seemed."
No. Rib refused to believe it. She must have been bewitched. It's the only explanation.
"Here we are," Brock told the group and they all halted before the sodden green field stretched in front of them, encircled by trees. "The first bog of many. Careful where you step. If you get stuck, call for Rib."
"I'll go with you, Father," Jasper told Mortaug. "In case you need me to call for help."
The Captain gave his son a half smile.
Everyone began to head forward, when Damara asked, "What does the Royal Well look like?"
"You'll know it when you see it," Brock answered, smacking a bog beetle away from his face, though it was persistent. "It has liquid puddled inside it."
"What doesn't?" Gavin joked as h
e squelched in the mud. "I didn't know my boots were what we were looking for."
Brock gave a thin smile to his son's humor, nothing at all like Gavin's broad grin. But other than that and their difference in age, both men looked very similar, stocky and dark with short black hair.
The group spread out, eyes to the ground. Rib had trouble not watching the humans take big, funny steps to avoid puddles, while he simply glided over to the nearest dry spot.
It startled him when he came across a drowned sheep, with only its horns and part of its back out of the water. The most disturbing thing about it was that its spine and ribcage, where they broke the surface, were totally visible, the flesh having decayed away from the bone. But everything else submerged looked almost as though the sheep had just gone under, fluffy and complete.
Like something I'd find in Griffith's Fairy Realm, Rib thought. He could almost imagine the ghoulish animal coming to life and paddling away.
Rib searched for a long time, not once having to come to someone's rescue. Neither did anyone call out victory in their hunt. He was beginning to wonder whether they should move on to another bog, when something caught his eye. It was a plant with pitcher-like leaves no bigger than a chicken egg. Each round leaf bulged towards the bottom and opened at the top with a lid of sorts looming over the gap. Both the rim of the pitcher and the edge of its lid had clear, jagged teeth.
Gaping jaws, thought Rib. It's almost menacing.
The outside of it was verdant, but icy blue veins spread across like cracks in ice. Springing up from the center of three or so of these leaves, was a banded stalk topped with a flower. Rib gazed at the unique petals that composed it, vaguely reminded of a wyvern with spread wings.
Rib was just now remembering a drawing he'd seen of this plant.
This must be the Royal Well!
He was just about to get Brock when a bog beetle flew towards the plant, buzzing into one of the opened bulb-shaped leaves. The insect headed for the beads of bluish liquid sticking to the inner walls, but soon got caught in the fluid puddled at the bottom of the pitcher.
It's stuck, Rib observed, almost pitying it as it waggled all six of its legs inside the liquid. I better tell Brock I found his plant?
. . .
"Yes, very good," Brock said, crouching over the plant as everyone else crowded around. Carefully plucking one of the bulb-shaped leaves, he tipped it over an open flask to let the fluid inside pour in. He did this to each, flicking out the beetle trapped in the third.
When he had finished, the man corked the flask and handed it to Gavin.
"Damara," Brock said, standing up with the empty leaves. "Consider this." He held out the picked apart plant and pointed to the bluish liquid beads sticking on the inner walls. "This nectar is what grants people the Eyes of Kings. Rub it in your eyes and you will see magic the rest of your life.
"I'll admit it's overwhelming at times, but for you it should prove quite useful. Should the bewitchment wear off Wycker, you will know ahead of time. Act accordingly, and it may be the difference between life and death."
As Damara silently considered it, something occurred to Rib.
I could see whether Memory is bewitched or not! I'd know how to help her.
"What about me?" he asked. "I'll be with Wycker, too."
Unless I stay here to wait for Memory, he realized, but pushed the thought away.
Brock gave him a funny look. "I've never heard of a dragon with the Eyes of Kings."
"I don't care," Rib replied. "I want it."
Damara cast him a glance before telling Brock, "We'll both take it."
She's actually accepting? Rib was surprised. What will that make her, a witch?
He watched intently as Brock handed a leaf to Damara. The young woman ran her finger along the inside of the leaves, gathering the bluish nectar.
"One more warning," Brock said just as she was about to apply it. "Beetles will have an infinite interest in you."
So that's why Damon's always got bugs on him?
Damara merely smirked before touching the nectar to her right eye. Surprise registered on her face and she squeezed her eye shut, quickly applying nectar to her left.
Everyone waited as she blinked, rapidly at first, then slowly, as though hardly believing what she saw.
What is it like? Rib yearned to know.
"Here, do it for me!" he said, eagerly crouching down and readying himself.
I'm going to be the first magic-seeing dragon in the world!
To his delight, Gavin volunteered and took the next largest leaf from his father. Rib tried his best to stay still as the young man reached his nectar-coated fingertip towards his face. But right at the last moment, Rib's second eyelids snapped involuntarily shut and Gavin touched his left one.
Oh no!
Wait?
Rib was amazed to see that it was still working, the liquid spreading over his inner eyelid while he blinked. He kept his other inner eyelid shut for Gavin to do the same to it, then closed his eyes completely as Damara had done.
What? He could feel the nectar soak in, perplexed when he almost began to see through his outer eyelids.
When he opened them, a vivid sight to behold met his eyes. With his second lids shut, it was as though the world had changed. Stunning new colors revealed themselves to him. The air had thin hues wafting in whichever direction the breeze took it. Plants no longer blended into a spread of green, but stood out drastically from one another, only matching those of its own kind.
But what astounded him the most was everyone around.
He gawked at Gavin standing directly in front of him. His friend no longer appeared to him as flesh, but a whole system of magics working and moving inside him.
Rib could see Gavin's skeleton, his heart pumping blood into his veins, the breath filling his lungs. It was like when Damara disappeared layer by layer of flesh to bone, except this time everything was in a baffling array of colors and he could see everything at once. When he tried, he was even able to see through Gavin's entire body and focus in on the magics behind him.
It was all so overwhelming, he opened his inner eyelids to again view the world as he remembered it, plain and simple.
Gavin grinned at him.
"You look stunned," the young man laughed. "Well? Am I handsome in magic?"
"You're bewildering," Rib croaked.
"Ah." Gavin smirked. "It's part of being a fool, I suppose. Hey, what was it that happened right before I touched your eyes? There was some sort of movement, I think."
"My inner eyelids closed," Rib mumbled.
"That's interesting," Brock commented, stepping up beside his son. "I see you've chosen to stop looking through them."
Rib nodded. "I can't believe you see like that all the time."
The corner of the man's mouth lifted in good humor. "I've gotten used to it. How is it, Damara?"
Oh, right. Rib turned to the young woman rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands. I'd forgotten she's taken it too.
Damara furrowed her brow, gazing up at Brock. "How do you sleep?" she asked. "I can see even when my eyes are closed."
The man sighed. "Yes, I failed to mention that. But you'll find that some magics are not as easy to see through, like the parchment of that potion book you've brought. You may want to cover your face with something similar so there's not as much to look at when you try to rest."
Damara clenched her jaw but gave a curt nod.
Rib glanced through his second lids once more to see her eyes, colored with the same magic as Brock's, and no one else's. Jasper came up to Damara, peering into her face.
"I can't even tell the difference," he said. "Father, look."
"Are we ready?" Spryte spoke up, hovering over everyone's heads. "Let's go."
Rib followed after everyone else, thankful to still be able to see things as he was used to them.
I suppose I was a little too eager for these Eyes of Kings, he thought. It's a good
thing my second eyelids closed when they did.
But now I'll be able to see when Wycker's bewitched?
Or Memory.
The decision of whether to return to Wystil or stay on the Island and wait for his sister in case she ever came back weighed down on him. He looked ahead at Gavin, who walked with his father, but turned to offer Damara help across a large puddle.
He has the same options as I do, Rib realized. Stay for family or go back.
His friend gave him a surprised grin as Damara accepted his offer, getting her over the water before heading on.
What will he choose?
. . .
So this is what wizardry looks like to the wizard, Rib thought, tentatively peering through his magic lenses. The dragon flame Brock worked with was clearly different from normal fire, ever unfurling with its inexplicable color.
Rib observed the different hues of each ingredient Brock put into his pot. Every once in a while, the man would stir it and Rib could see the multiple magics fuse into one. When Brock had finished with the bubbling blend, he dropped tiny bones inside and moved on to a second pot hanging beside it.
The man prepared the second potion the same, but waited on the bones. Rib looked again at the potion book Brock referred to, still amazed by how neatly Damon had written with magic onto each page. Rib never learned to read, but he knew the Wizard could have done a far messier job.
How long must it have taken him? No wonder he was upset when Griffith stole it.
"It says here that I need to add the blood of the bewitcher," Brock said.
Rib saw Damara's hand fly to her waist, but hover as it found nothing. With an irritated expression, she replied, "I need a knife."
Wait, Rib thought as one was handed to her. She's just going to-
Without hesitation, the young woman slit open her palm and let the blood run into the pot Brock indicated.
"That's plenty," the man said. "Son, will you get her something to wrap that with?"
Gavin was already taking Damara's hand, a clean strip of cloth at the ready.
Rib watched them both, growing ever doubtful about what Gavin would choose, and what he himself would choose.
Stay or go?
. . .
"Wycker lives on the Mangled Islands," Brock told Damara, handing her the sack of powder he'd crafted. "Just follow the coast that way and you'll see them. When you find Wycker, you'll be able to see the firesap if it's flaring up inside of him or not. Either way, don't wait to bewitch him."
The young woman nodded. Behind her, Mortaug and Jasper were setting up the boat for sailing. Waves lapped the black beach of the bay everyone else stood on as they waited to bid them farewell.
Rib looked from them to the Merry May, stressed as he knew it was time to make his decision.
They all think I'm leaving. I probably should?
But what about Memory?
Spryte zipped past him, carrying the flask of firesap cure to the boat. Not once had the fae dragon let go of it since Brock gave it to her.
"And here is more of the firesap cure," Gavin's father said and gave Damara a similar flask. "For when Wycker has served your purpose. It won't extend his life, just keep him from going mad again. Although, from what I heard about him, he still won't be too pleasant."
"Thank you," Damara murmured, slinging the flask over her shoulder. Tucked under her arm was the precious potion book, and in her hand the sack of powder. Looking to Rib, she asked, "Are you ready?"
This is it! Rib panicked, tense as she moved to get in the saddle on his back. Do I decline?!
"Wait," Gavin spoke up, and stepped from his family. He rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly. "I think?maybe I should go, too."
"What?" Rib stared at his friend. "But your family-"
"No, it's alright," Brock interrupted, clapping a hand over his son's shoulder and looking him in the eye. "I'm proud that you've made a life for yourself out there. You're a free man. There's nothing that makes me happier."
Gavin looked as though he were about to cry. He faced his mother, who nodded, crying herself.
"I love you," she told him as he embraced her. "Just please be safe."
Gavin's three little sisters began to wail, saying, "Don't go, brother!" He knelt and hugged them each.
"I'll come and visit," he promised. "I will."
Rib watched all this, feeling as though he could cry too if he had tears.
I have to go, now that Gavin is, he thought. I have to see this through?
But I'll still find Memory.
I will.
Chapter 18