The Princess and the Bear - Mette Ivie Harrison [28]
“We come to ask about a creature we have seen, a cat man,” she said, intending to speak in the language of the hounds, though when it came out it sounded different than before, and she could see from the bear’s attitude that he could understand her.
The wild man’s magic must have made it possible, just as it made it possible for him to be understood by all.
The wild man nodded, as if not truly surprised. He would know the tale of the cat man, of course. “And what does it do, this cat man that you have seen?” he asked cautiously.
“It destroys life. It sucks it from the earth and leaves nothing behind. It is not even like death,” said the hound, struggling with the limitations of a hound’s language even here. “It is a coldness that the forest has never seen before, for death there always brings forth another life. And this brings nothing.”
The wild man nodded. “Unmagic,” he said.
“Yes,” said the hound softly. She prepared herself to receive some terrible magic once more, to help the forest.
But the wild man sighed. “There are many stories of the beginning of magic, but not so many of its end. Some say that the beginning is the birth of the first twin and the ending the birth of a second. All that happens between the two is the agony of a mother waiting for relief.
“Others tell that time itself is a lover’s chase that seems long to those who are running but to others is but a moment that is drawn out until the anticipation is over and the lovers united. When the lovers, who are magic and unmagic, fully embrace, they will cause a conflagration that will destroy each other and all other living things.
“It has been my task to hold off this final destruction. It is an eternal battle, without hope for peace. For the end of magic cannot be bargained with or bribed. It presses forward, relentless and unendingly powerful. But still I fight it.
“Because while I cannot stop it entirely, I can delay it. With each victory I hold back the power of the unmagic to allow magic for another year, or another century, or two centuries to allow more children to find the happiness that only comes from the play of magic in the forest, more animals to see humans not as enemy but as kin.
“Yet I find myself growing weak.”
The hound could not believe it. The wild man held more strength than she had ever felt. She thought of what he might have been before now and had a glimpse of why the bear had feared him so.
But if he could not help them, then this journey had been useless.
“It is not time for the magic to end,” the wild man continued. “So while I no longer have the strength to leave this place and go to do the work of magic out there”—the wild man waved behind them, down the mountain—“I can still bring those who are necessary to me and use them to help me gain another decade—or more.” He stared hard at the hound.
The hound was frozen, but the bear moved between her and the wild man. She was grateful for his attempt at protection, though she doubted he could stop the wild man from doing what he wished to her.
The wild man’s voice spun out like steam under the boughs of an oak. “I once worked within the fabric of time, moving forward, always forward, as it does. But I do so no longer. To save magic, I shift between times. I tinker here and there, then step back and see what else must be done. Always to save the magic.
“So it was that when I came to you, King Richon—”
The bear stiffened at the mention of his old name, as if touched by old wounds.
The wild man took a breath. “To stave off the power of the unmagic, I had to make you live another life. You had to cease being a king and become instead one of the creatures that suffered by your mistreatment. You had to feel the need for the magic that holds humans and animals together, and that took many years.
“Yet your kingdom needs you to return, so I held time open for you to go back and be king once more. If you so choose.”
The hound’s head ached.